Norm ran fast through the darkened streets, his speed borne of fear. If his best memory recollection came from being intoxicated and hovering near the void, his best thinking was accomplished when nothing but the howl of the wind filled his ears as his legs pumped and churned to propel him forward.
“What if I’m making the wrong decision? Throwing the fight… a lot of people are going to be pissed at me. And if I leave to go after Casey, who is the mob going to go after? Meringue, maybe not, but Lucy and the Smiling Orc almost definitely. So what do I do?”
Norm weighed his options until finally he came within view of the textile factory, closed up for the night and shrouded in darkness. He thought that he could hear a dull roar coming from inside. Out of instinct, he went to the side worker’s entrance and knocked. A small slit in the door at eye height opened up, and Norm could see the interior where some lanterns illuminated the hallway behind the figure at the door. Norm spoke, “Norman Riggs, I’m here to fight.”
“You’re late,” the voice behind the door said, shortly before metal clattered and locks were opened just before the heavy iron door swung ajar slightly. Norm waited for it to open fully, but when it didn’t, he shoved it forcefully to make his way inside. A shirtless man stood on the other side of the door, his body adorned in foreign tattoos and a large club in his hands. He spoke to Norm as he pointed with the club, “In there.”
Norm walked down the hall, catching the sound of a low droning buzz of a rowdy crowd as he approached, full of cheers, boos, and awws. Soon Norm found himself climbing a set of metal stairs looking around at the maze of catwalks over the factory floor, where the machines had been pushed aside to form a fence around the open ground. Two combatants were going at it, standing up and dodging blows from one another as the crowd raged on. Then, overhead someone shouted, “There he is! The main event!” and Norm found the unwanted attention of hundreds of onlookers as the crowd grew quiet. The distraction was enough for one of the fighters to get a dirty hit in, knocking the other fighter clean out.
A spokesman entered the arena by squeezing through some of the pieces of machinery, lifting high the hand of the victor of the fight, and announcing, “A dirty win is still a win! Victory goes to Markolby!”
The announcement was met with a mixed crowd, half derision and half cheers. Norm found himself transfixed, staring out at the onlookers who had resumed their excited ranting and raving. Norm jumped as he felt a firm grasp on his shoulder and locked onto the stranger’s wrist with the intent to throw them over the edge of the catwalk, but he was able to stop himself when he saw that it was a teenage boy with a scared look on his face.
The boy had to yell to be heard over the crowd, “M-Mr. Riggs, I’m supposed to take you to the backroom to get you ready for your fight.”
Norm nodded and gestured for the boy to lead. He led him over, under, and around the various catwalks until finally, they made it to the factory floor. They walked to the south end of the building, where they climbed one last set of stairs up to a manager’s office with smoked glass windows overlooking the factory floor. Inside was Norm’s blackmailer, the guard he suspected was named Tristandrew, and a rotund fellow with a mustache and an expensive suit. The suited man stood up with some effort and extended his hand to Norm, “Howdyado? Ren McGuire, I manage this mill.”
When Norm didn’t return the handshake, the guard stepped forward and said, “Now, now, Norman. That’s not very polite. It’s a good thing you don’t need an introduction. I hope you’re ready. The folks in Hirsham’s camp tell me that he’s ready to rip your head off.”
Norm broke his silence, “Yeah, well, he can fuckin’ try. I need a drink. Can’t fight without it.”
Ren gestured at the boy who had led Norm to the office, and he scampered away. The guard spoke again, “There’s a lot of money riding on your fight. Be sure to give people a good show. Folks will be betting on you all the way up to the third round, at which point bets will no longer be taken.”
Norm didn’t react, keeping silent and staring blankly at the wall behind Ren, thinking to himself, “I have to win, for Lucy’s sake. This guard be damned.”
Norm nodded simply. The boy soon returned with a mug with a dark amber liquid threatening to froth over the edge of the mug. Norm gruffed, “Next time, tilt the tankard to the side when you pour, and it won’t bubble so much. There’s some free advice for you.”
The boy offered a weak smile as Norm lifted the mug up and drained it all in one go. Norm wiped the foam from his facial hair and gave the mug back to the boy before turning to the window and looking down and out. A pair of men carried the losing fighter from the arena while mopping some blood from the mill floor.
“Alright,” Norm said, “I’m ready.”
Ren replied, “Go wait by that spinning jenny. You’ll know when to enter.”
Norm wasn’t sure which machine that was, but he descended the stairs, spitting over the edge as he did. He watched as his wad fell down to the floor, where it landed with a splat. When Norm made it to the mill floor, he picked a machine and went and sat down near one of the levers. It was a complex thing, pieces of string connected across some spools and strange mechanisms that he wasn’t familiar with.
Norm heard the crowd's din and tried to listen to what they said but couldn’t make out specifics. They seemed anxious, or at least that was the feeling that Norm attributed to them, that of being on the cusp of something great but not knowing what to expect. Norm twanged one of the pieces of string and found it to be quite taut. He nervously plucked at the string, alone and out of view of the crowd, until something moving in the shadows caught his eye.
Norm squinted and could see that it was the boy who had brought him to the office and gave him his beer. Norm did his best to whisper, “You there, boy, what are you doing?”
The boy’s face adopted a startled expression, but he didn’t step forward.
“If you’ve got something to tell me, out with it before your boss catches you. You could”
COMPEL
If you lie or swindle, roll +shadow
1d6+shadow(2) = 6 versus 5 / 3, Strong Hit
On a strong hit, they’ll do what you want or share what they know. Take +1 momentum. If you use this exchange to Gather Information, make that move now and add +1.
“M-m-mr. Riggs, I think you’re in danger. There are people here to get you. I heard them saying that after the fight, they were going to make you pay.”
Norm’s mind raced, knowing that he wouldn’t have time to ask the boy questions, so he wanted to ask the right question. Instead, he continued to pluck the strings of the machine.
GATHER INFORMATION
When you search an area, ask questions, conduct an investigation, or follow a track, roll +wits.
1d6+wits(2)+1 = 5 versus 3 / 3, Matching Challenge Dice
“Did they talk about Vlad? Or Niko?” Norm sputtered out, quickly
The boy nodded, “Yes, for what you did to Niko.”
“That’s a good lad, now run off before they catch you back here,” Norm said to him, “And what’s your name?”
“Bertrude,” he said shortly before disappearing into the darkness.
Norm held the last vibrating string of the textile machine in place, causing it to stop moving. He thought to himself, “So the Denim Road gang is here to get their revenge then, huh? They think the only time they can come for me is when I’m tired after a prizefight. They got a big storm coming.”
Norman held the string between his fingers, pinching and rolling as he wondered how best to deal with this. Lucy wasn’t here and wouldn’t be watching, so there was no way that she could help. Casey was probably halfway to Asnor by now, and Meringue’s wheelhouse was in dealing with investors and bookstores. Norm felt utterly alone but not afraid.
He plucked the string again, sending it vibrating, but Norm couldn’t hear it over the crowd above. Instead, he traced the string with his eyes to where it went higher up the machine, where the machine had shut down with the strings intertwining and weaving where they had been used to make some sort of fabric.
“This string is just like my problems. They’re all connected and fucked up at the ends. I have to end this. Just like Drezz. Total destruction.”
Norm swore to himself: I will end the Denim Road gang. No loose threads before I leave Rockhome.
SWEAR AN IRON VOW
No Loose Threads in Rockhome, Rating = Extreme
Roll 1d6+heart(1) = 7 versus 9 / 10, Miss
On a miss, you face a significant obstacle before you can begin your quest. Envision what stands in your way (Ask the Oracle if unsure), and choose one. I choose -2 Momentum.
The task before him wouldn’t be an easy one. It was all connected, and the thought of it was nearly overwhelming to Norm: Tristandrew, the Denim Road gang, and their connections in the illicit businesses operating in the shadows of Rockhome. To be free, Norm would have to expose them all, rip the veil off of them and make it to where they could never operate again. It wouldn’t be easy, and every day that he spent here was another day that Casey would be getting further and further away, but it would be worth it knowing that Lucy was safe and that when Norm brought Casey home, he could have a blank slate, too.
Norm’s contemplation was shattered as he realized that the announcer’s booming voice could be heard from the arena, “Spectators, take your seats and turn your attention to the arena. The main event starts in just two minutes!”
Norm inched his way to the gap between the pieces of machinery and could see the arena was clear, and the announcer was walking his way. Norm stepped into the space to speak with him.
“Norman Riggs, the main event,” he said, extending his hand forward awkwardly.
The announcer returned it, “Philary Hoskins, at your service,” the man said, releasing his hand and offering a flourish.
“Hey, listen, I was thinking that surely a man of your flair and showmanship could really get the crowd going, right? I really want them to be hype for the event, and I’ll put on a better show, and we’ll really feed off each other, you know?” Norm asked
“But of course, sir! Yes, yes, the crowd is quite hype already. Did you have something in mind?”
“Yeah,” Norm nodded, “Yeah, I do. There are lotsa gangs in attendance, and I think that if you challenged them to represent and see who could make the most noise, that would really add to it all. This is a safe zone or something, right? All the gangs know that there’s no fighting in here, so what’s the harm?”
“Well,” Philary said uncertainly, “I’m not sure that Ren would want such a thing, just in case things do turn ugly.”
“Oh, what’s the harm?” Norm asked
COMPEL
Trickery and deceit
Roll 1d6+shadow(2) = 6 versus 5 / 10, Weak Hit
On a weak hit, as above, but they ask something of you in return. Envision what they want (Ask the Oracle if unsure).
ACTION / THEME ORACLE: LEARN & TRADE
The announcer spoke, “It’s not that Mr. McGuire wouldn’t allow it, you see. It’s just that in a cheer-off like that, I’m sure that one gang would be angry if I declared the other the winner. I’m afraid that they’d follow me home and...well, you know, do what these violent gangs do.”
Norm replied, “Well, if you’re really worried about that, I would tell you to stop doing work like this around gangs. Secondly, let me show you a little move that can take down even the mightiest of men. You just…”
Norm took a step back and then brought his foot up forward in a kick, stopping just shy of striking Philary in the crotch, “And then when they’re down on the ground, you’ve got options. You can kick sand in their eyes, give them a kick to the head, or hell, even run away. How’s that sound?”
Philary looked delighted, “Alright, alright, very funny. Yes, I think I could do that. But, not to worry, I know exactly which gangs are here. Oh, heavens, look at the time. The fight starts now!”
Philary ran back towards the arena, pausing just at the edge of the light to straighten himself up, and adopted a booming voice, “AND NOW, THE EVENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR, THE UNRESTRICTED FIGHT BETWEEN GAMLI “THE GATE” HIRSHAM AND “STORMIN’” NORMAN RIGGS!”
The crowd cheered. From across the way, Norman watched a mountain of a man, easily 7 feet tall and equally as much wide, lumber into the arena. Norm walked out in the light, doing his best to appear nonchalant.
Philary spoke again, “But first, let me hear the crowd get loud!”
The crowd roared in response, so loud that Norm could feel the sides of his head vibrating as Philary continued, “It’s time for a sound off! Represent! Let me hear it from the Baker’s Dozen!”
A group of gangsters sitting on top a long, cylindrical machine hooped and hollered. The boys from the bakery certainly looked like they never missed any meals.
Philary kept going, “And now, get loud, Denim Road!”
Norm noted their position, all gathered together seated on a catwalk that spanned across the side of the arena opposite the Baker’s Dozen, watching as they clapped and whistled. Their telltale denim jackets looked crisp in the light.
Philary flared and pointed to another section of the catwalk, shouting, “And the Copper Hands! Let me hear you!”
The leather-clad gang banged on the catwalk loudly with their signature metal gloves, producing the most ruckus as Norm could hear. But, looking about, he realized that there were plenty of other non-gang members in the crowd, easily two hundred people sitting atop machines, across catwalks, and even some watching from the skylight above. Norm soaked all of this in, knowing that the fight would begin soon.
“Well, alright then, it sounds like the Copper Hands are here in full force! But enough about that, it’s time for the fight! Here are the rules! The most important rule is that if a fighter goes down, the referee, that’s me, will count to ten.”
Philary paced across the arena, continuing, “ If they don’t get up after ten, they lose! This is a three-round fight! If after three rounds nobody has gone down, the crowd decides!”
The wheels in Norm’s mind were placed in motion, “So that’s why I have to throw it, according to Tristandrew. I’m the crowd favorite, so of course, they’ll say I won.”
Philary crossed the arena again, “There are no weapons allowed! Fighters must remain on this side of the arena’s walls! But that’s enough from me! Fighters, are you ready?”
Norm realized that he had been standing there, arms limply at his sides, observing all of his surroundings. He put one foot in front of the other to assume a fighting stance and gave a serious nod to the announcer.
Across the arena, Hirsham put the palms of his hands together and bowed slightly.
“FIGHT!” Philary yelled, quickly moving out of the way.
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