Jump to content


The Lord Ruler's perfect capital city, Luthadel, is doing the impossible: rebelling. Skaa half-breeds are being taught the power of Allomancy, something that the Lord Ruler's obligators said only existed in the nobility. The enslaved skaa, with their murderous benefactor, now fight back against a living god's oppression.

So, the Inquisition was formed. The nobles begin to fear assassination from all sides. The times of nobility Mistborn killing each other are over. The Steel Inquisitors look for aristocrat traitors and insurgent skaa, and the skaa try with all their strength to merely survive. The Lord Ruler's perfect Final Empire is slowly devolving into chaos.

Read the full prologue!

Topics on the forum will contain spoilers for the Mistborn Trilogy









Mistborn Series Brandon Sanderson
Allomantic Table, Symbols, and Cartography by Isaac Stewart
Luthadel Images: mking2008
Other Graphics: KChan at 17th Shard
Final Empire, Metallic Arts, and Style Guides by Chaos at 17th Shard
All original characters, places, and documentation are property of their creators. Do not reproduce or republish without permission.

A subsidiary of 17th Shard, the Official Brandon Sanderson Fansite

Lock



4 replies to this topic

#1 Lock


  • Brothel Security

17
5th Tier Elariel
  • Age27

  • Relationship StatusSingle

  • OriginLuthadel

  • Allomantic StatusHidden

Posted 22 December 2014 - 04:56 PM

Disclaimer: The RP sample is very long, and I can edit it to only show part of it if that's needed.


Lock
Skaa



Posted Image

Name/Handle: Eclipse
Contact:AIM, PM




Posted Image

Name: Lockral, “Lock”
Type: Skaa
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Place of Origin: Luthadel
Occupation: Dock Worker, Rebellion Thug
Relationship Status: Single




Posted Image

Type of Powers: Misting
Metals Used: Pewter
Degree of Skill: Novice
Status: Hidden



Posted Image

Lock is about 6’1, and extremely broad shouldered, with a muscular physique. He has short-cropped hair the color of ash with an ash smeared face. He has a tanned complexion, and his eyes are a light brown. He walks with the swagger seldom seen in skaa, and due to this he is often the target of beatings, the efforts of taskmasters to beat him down into submission. He has a puncture wound scar on his left side, the only thing left over from the knife fight that led to his snapping. He has enormous feet, toes slightly curled in from years of wearing boots that were too small for his feet. While he has shoes of the right size now, his feet are still recovering. His nose is crooked, a result of it being broken three separate times, and he is missing one tooth, his left upper incisor, not from a fight, but from tripping on the docks.

Posted Image


Lock is an extremely impulsive person, often acting before he even registers what he’s doing. This has often gotten him in trouble, as instead of trying to talk his way out of a fight, he simply hits first. His propensity for fighting is also due to the fact that he is above average in height and strength, and feels a constant need to prove himself as better than others. Since he isn’t too sharp mentally, he asserts his dominance physically, through fighting.

Lock is a very impatient person, easily bored, and always looking for some way to enjoy himself. One way he does this is fighting, but other examples of this are drinking, telling stories and listening to the stories of others.
When he’s not fighting, he’s quite observant, able to discern people’s emotions through their body language and actions, but isn’t very adept at knowing how to deal with the emotions he can read so well. An extension of this is that he is skilled at reading whether people are lying or not.

He is very honest and direct, often being insensitive with people who he knows are going through difficult emotional times, because he doesn’t understand that unlike him, not everyone wishes people would just be brutally honest all the time. However, while he may be very honest, he is also trustworthy, not counting omission as lying, and never letting secrets slip out. His emphasis on honesty carries over to his worldview, and he has a strong dislike of anyone who lies often, believing that nothing is worth lying about. He believes the Final Empire should fall because it is an empire built on lies. He thinks the ideas that nobles are superior, and that the Lord Ruler is a sliver of God are lies, and so the empire itself is a lie, and must fall.


Posted Image

Special Skills: Strong, Observant, Difficult to lie to, skilled hand to hand fighter

Strengths: Honest, Trustworthy, Skilled at reading people

Weaknesses: Impatient, Insensitive, Not particularly intelligent




Posted Image


Lock was born in 891 to Ralion and Kora in the Cracks, a skaa slum. Both his parents worked in the industrial district of Luthadel, working in a textile plant.

While Lock was not particularly close to his parents, there was one lesson that his parents drilled into him from a young age, and that was to always be honest. Lock, as a young child, often lied to get out of trouble. He wasn’t actually a very good liar, so he was always caught in his lies His parents drilled honesty into him once they had caught him a few times, and while he was originally reluctant to be honest, he just kind of fell into a habit of honesty after years of being honest out of fear that his parents would learn that he was lying if he was dishonest.

While Lock’s parents worked in the Industrial District, due to the Cracks’ proximity to the Southbridge docks, that is where Lock spent much of his time as a child. He enjoyed chasing stray animals through the docks, dodging dockworkers, noblemen, and obligators alike. This was just to pass the time when he was bored, however, and what he truly enjoyed was roughhousing with other skaa boys his own age.

Lock was always a large boy for his age, and so he often actually play-fought with boys older than him. While most of the time he simply was having fun, there were a few older boys who felt embarrassed when he beat them in mock fights, and made the fight more real, more brutal. It was these fights that really made Lock tough mentally and physically, and also honed his fighting skills.

When Lock turned 12, he began to work down at the Southbridge Docks, running errands for anyone who would pay him. He was one of the best at this simple job, a result of his years spent dodging his way through the docks chasing stray animals.

Lock ran errands until he turned 15, when he began to do more manual labor, helping to load and unload barges for more money. This job began to make him stronger, and his shoulders broadened, once loose shirts growing tight. He continued his habit of fighting for fun, but over the course of a few years, fights that were usually simply enjoyable became moments to vent off some of the frustration that was beginning to build in him over the inequality between nobility and skaa.

While a belief in honesty had once just been held by his parents, it had rubbed off on Lock, and he took it to a new length, actually looking down on those who lied, believing that his honesty made him more important than others. This created a dissonance with what he knew about nobles. He knew they were liars, but Ministry doctrine said they were superior to Skaa. Lock couldn’t accept this, and seeing how the nobles treated skaa, began to get angrier and angrier about this situation. He took his anger out on other skaa in fights at bars and in tenements, gaining a reputation as a fighter throughout Luthadel.

This reputation grew and grew, as did Lock’s strength, until he turned 21. He stayed as a dockworker, but began to spend more time at bars during the night. It was a night no different from any other when Lock snapped.

Lock was at a bar with a few acquaintances, trying to enjoy himself, when a man who was even bigger than Lock entered the bar, slammed, a bag of clips down on the table, and said:

“I hear you’re quite the fighter, boy.”

Lock, anger rising inside him at being called boy, responded:

“And who’re you to be calling me a boy?”

“I’m the man who’s going to teach you a lesson about getting too big for your britches. If you can beat me in a fight, you get my coin pouch. If I can beat you, you can’t fight anyone else until I die. How about proving to me that your bite is as bad as your bark?”

Lock couldn’t back down, not after such a public display, and not while his physical superiority was being challenged. He accepted quickly, and they went out into the back alley to fight, with one of Lock’s acquaintances to watch the fight and confirm a winner.

The fight was a close one, but in the end, Lock gained the advantage, and tackled his challenger to the ground, holding him down and raining down punches, wearing him down, and coming within a few punches of a knockout, and the win. But before he could land those last few punches, the challenger pulled out a knife, stabbing Lock in his side. The knife sunk deep, and Lock immediately let go of the challenger, moving his hands to attempt to staunch the bleeding. The challenger pushed Lock off of him, stood up, and kicked Lock, who was in shock, in the head a few times, knocking him out. The challenger turned on Lock’s acquaintance, and offered him a portion of the money in his coin purse for his silence, and after they reached an agreement, they returned to the bar, the challenger claimed victory, and Lock was left stashed in the back of the alley behind the bar. He lay there for a full day before he was discovered by Reba. She brought him to a doctor and explained to him that he was a Pewterarm and she was a Seeker. She offered him a place at the Brothel as a bouncer and security.


After Lock got to the Brothel, he was quickly put to use as security, making sure no unwanted visitors got in, and making sure drunken nobles and skaa didn’t cause too much trouble. While he appreciated having a place to sleep, and a steady, albeit modest, income, he felt as if nothing he could do could repay Reba. And so he made sure to keep a special eye on her, making sure she wasn’t in any serious danger. While some danger was inherent in her profession, especially with nobles, he made sure to keep the worst of them away from her.

Working at the Brothel for the last 6 years exposed Lock to the dangerous, and often ultimately fatal, job that is skaa prostitution. But 6 years working at this specific brothel also exposed him to hints of something more going on. While he never actively pursued these hints, he couldn't help but overhear snippets of conversation about "jobs" and "plans" and "the cell," as well as Reba bringing up an unspecified "opportunity to get payback against the nobility" every now and again.

As he sees more and more skaa women brutalized by noblemen who didn't even recognize them as human beings, Lock's dissatisfaction with the Final Empire grows, and his rejections of Reba's offer to give him a way to fight back grow much more hesitant. While he has not yet taken any steps towards joining the rebellion, every day brings him closer and closer to seeking it out




Posted Image

Ash fell on Lock's battered form. He lay still. The wound in his side throbbed a pounding rhythm throughout his body. Ash fell from the sky, slowly covering all traces of Lock's struggle. Why did I have to accept that damn challenge? And why did he have to pull a Lord Ruler cursed knife? Lock growled his irritation, his frustration at his predicament. Come on, Lock, you've faced worse that this before. Just get up, and-"aghhhhh!" Lock collapsed, the tiniest contractions of his abdominals triggering a wave of agony. All right, maybe you haven't faced worse. And why did that knife have to be serrated? If it had only been straight-edged I could've pulled it right out.

The knife was deep, and jaggedly serrated. To pull it out would cause even more trauma. That was one of the first rules of brawling. Anything jagged and sharp will hurt you just as much on the way out as on the way in, if not more.

So I guess I won't be getting up anytime soon... And why do I feel warm? Lock shook his head almost imperceptibly to himself, and dismissed the curiosity. It's not important right now. What was important, however, was the growing dryness in his mouth. I haven't had a sip of anything since last night.

The sun was almost out of sight. I've been lying her for almost a whole day. Dammit, Lock, you need to do something.

Lock squinted against the waning light, and noticed a young woman walking past the alley he was lying in. She's not hurrying, doesn't seem particularly focused. Perhaps I can call out to her.

"Hey! Hey girl! Come over here! Please, just give me a minute of your time!"

Lock's voice came out less like a shout and more like a croak, but apparently it carried, for the girl's head turned towards him. Yes! Finally, a way out of this torture-hole of an alley. Having a day off was rare, especially in Reba's profession. Still, she spent it as she saw fit, eating meager fare from shouting street vendors and deciding, for once in her life, to take in the sights of the docks. The smell of ash-stained water wasn't particularly pleasant, but she enjoyed the change of scenery, when paired with the lovely freedom of one day without obligation.

(HELIOTROPE)She had thought that the way would end as quietly as any other, but clearly this wasn't meant to be. As she strolled past a small, dark passage between buildings, she heard a voice. It was feeble, but the begging made her pause as she peered into the slim, darkened area, still gripping between her teeth a kebab half-filled with an unidentified meat. She hesitated, but the croaking sound came again, and she began to tiptoe into the alley, nervously.

Rebena hadn't entirely expected to find a dying man there. She wasn't perturbed, but it wasn't exactly the way she wanted to end her day. Making sympathetic noises, she knelt down beside the brawny young man, her fingers moving to brush his hair soothingly. "Shh, shh. You'll be fine," she lied instinctively, turning her head to glance at his wound. Reba was unable to hide the wince as she came upon the jagged knife plunged into his flesh, and her left hand danced across the hilt, unsure. She was used to violence, of course, but there was still a small part of her that didn't like it.

"Oh, Lord Ruler... what happened to you?" Carefully, she pulled the man's head into her lap, removing her snack with one hand and touching his cheek gently with her free hand. "Did you piss off a noble chit? My poor man..." You could find the dying in various states on the streets. Reba wasn't out and about enough to deal with such things, but it seemed almost second nature to comfort someone, especially a brawny and handsome fellow such as this. It was a pity he was skewered.

(ECLIPSE)Lock had expected the woman to approach, and perhaps ask what was wrong, but he hadn't expected such unconditional care. He hadn't been talked to this way since he had been whipped his second day on the job unloading boats, and his mother had nursed him back to health. It made him uncomfortable. This woman isn't my mother. she doesn't know a damn thing about me.

"I need a surgeon. A doctor," Lock growled, a hand weakly moving to push her hand away from his hair. I'm the toughest man on the docks. I don't need any help. But as she lowered his head into her lap, he felt oddly comforted. A large part of him wanted to resist, but he was too weak. Gah, might as well accept it. If I'm going to survive this, I'll need all the help I can get. HI He felt oddly compelled to explain himself to this woman. She's pretty, too... No, don't let your mind wander now, Lock.

"Not a nobleman. A skaa. Just a simply fight. He cheated. It was supposed to be bare-handed. The bastard." Lock moved his head forward to spit to make his point, but found there was no moisture left for spit. He let his head fall back into her lap.

(HELIOTROPE)"Do you know medicine?"
Reba saw his initial reaction to her kindness. She knew there was too little kindness among the skaa, especially in certain areas, and it didn't cost her anything to be good to a man on the brink of death. She smiled her warmest smile for him, holding his head carefully as she listened to his labored breathing.

"A surgeon... I know one. He's down Lethbridge way. I don't know if you'll make it there with..." she glanced at the knife again, eyes following the savage trail it made where in sank into the stranger's flesh. Her breathing had gone shallow in sympathy, and despite her steady nature, she felt faint looking at the oozing wound. Forcing herself to come around again, Reba looked down again with a reassuring smile, fingers trailing across his cheek and tickling the corner of his mouth. "... no, love. I ain't a woman who knows med'cine. But I can find you someone. You're a strong lad, eh? If I hold you, you can walk a bit, yeah? We might not make it far as Lethbridge, but we could always pop round Hallis'."

Hallis was, for all intents and purposes, a veterinarian. He fixed up hounds and horses for a meager fee, and could probably help a skaa for about the same price. You went to him when you needed a quick fix, something cheap and that worked half the time. It was much closer than her first choice, but she needed a back-up if she were to help the mortally wounded bruiser who glowered up at her from her lap.


"C'mon, love. Drink up first, then we'll get you standing. It's going to hurt, to be sure." She offered him a mouthful from her flask, a cheap wooden bottle bound in cracked leather. It was filled with strong, inexpensive spirits that could easily be used for cleansing wounds as they could be used for intoxication. "Take a mouthful and I'll splash some on your knife, eh? Then we have to get y'up before you lose any more blood." Reba popped the damp cork on her flask, holding it up to Lock's mouth.
Good, she knows a surgeon. And Hallis at least isn't too far. I can make it.

(ECLIPSE)The warmth in his stomach was still there, and it was growing hotter.What in the name of the Lord Ruler is this? Did I eat something bad last night? Is it some kind of rot in my stomach? Agh. If there's something wrong the surgeon will notice it.

"I think I can make it. I just need a little bit of time to get up. But first..." He reached for the flask, taking a quick swig of the cheap alcohol, letting it rejuvenate him, his mouth growing a bit less dry, warmth flooding his entire body. The warmth in his stomach seemed completely unaffected. hmm.. Interesting...

"Now for the wound."

Lock clenched his jaw as the woman poured some of the alcohol on his wound, only a quiet "aaaaggghhhhh" escaping his gritted teeth.

"All right." Lock steeled himself for the pain. He rolled sideways out of the woman's lap. The flash of pain was, for some reason, less extreme than it was earlier. He slowly pushed himself onto his knees, eyes squeezed shut and teeth gritted against the pain. The knife ground into his side a bit, but he ignored it, the warmth in his stomach seeming to diminish the pain. He managed to get his right foot up onto the stone, but he couldn't get his left leg up without help.

"I need. Just a little, aghh, help. With my leg," Lock growled out from behind clenched teeth
"That's a strong lad," she smiled still, but Reba was wondering just why she was so intent on helping him. It was as though there was a drum beat between them, pattering in her ears, or her head... she squinted faintly as Lock took a swig of the harsh liquor, concentrating.

(HELIOTROPE)Sometimes, she found that if she looked closely, some people had what she called a "second heartbeat". It wasn't always there, and not everyone had it, but she could feel faint flutterings from some people. Lock's gentle pounding must have called her to him, and although she didn't understand just what it was, she felt she had to help.

"Now for the wound." She nodded, grimly, leaning forward to dribble some of the cheap liquid on the knife. Reba winced in sympathy as Lock hissed through his teeth, and her free hand touched his hair gently, soothingly. Corking the bottle, she licked a drop of whiskey from her wrist, leaning back to let the wounded man roll to his feet.

As he staggered, the pounding grew a little louder, She flinched slightly, but years of experiencing this odd phenomenon kept her from clapping her hands over her ears in surprise. Her eyes fell on the stab wound, watching blood drip from it and stain the stones beneath her knees. He must have been laying there for hours, maybe even overnight.

Standing, Reba pressed her lips together sympathetically. "You're doin' fine, luv. Up you get." She approached him, leaning down to ease his left leg into position. Carefully, she draped his left arm over her shoulders, giving him support on his weaker side. She carefully avoided the knife, but his blood stained her dress, blooming on the grimy fabric and lending a splash of color to the dull scene.

"Here, let's take it slow. I can't drag you to Hallis' on me own, so don't go faintin' on me." She laughed, although it wasn't funny, and wrapped one arm around his waist. Reba wasn't a massive bruiser, but there was strength in her still, a mental fortitude that paired with the arms and back of a working woman.

She eased them through the streets, and for the most part they were ignored, if not avoided altogether. Still, it took some time for them to shuffle their way to Hallis' dingy house -- really just a small room at the ground floor of a tenement.

"Hal! Got a friend wi' a knife needs your stichery!" She called as she eased Lock through the front door. "Come clear off ye table!" It didn't take long for a small man with protruding teeth to come clattering down the stairs, immediately brushing the scraps of last night's meal from a stained table that sat in the center of the room.

"Mith Rebena, when you thaid he had a knife, I thought you meant he wath threatening you," he said in crisp tones, the smart effect ruined by a prominent lisp. Still, the short skaa motioned for her to bring Lock to him. "Tho... did he athk you to do thith? I know you get "thpecial" clienth, but really!"

Reba glared. "Hush up and lend him a hand. Where's your bottle?" She walked away as Hallis leaned over Lock, pushing a pair of cracked, dirty spectacles onto his nose. The doctor was too busy inspecting the man's wounds to reply, so Reba helped herself to a large, brown bottle and three small glasses, pouring shots of a dark amber liquor for each of them.

"He's got the beat, Hal," she murmured as she brought each of them a drink. Hallis looked surprised as he took his drink, but didn't say anything, merely motioning to a stack of small, dusty jars that lined an off-kilter shelf on the wall.
Once Lock made it to his feet, it got easier to move, but the pain shot through him every time his left foot hit the cobblestones. The walk passed in a blur, each step blending together, the warm sensation in his stomach seeming to push him forward, inexorably, step by step, until he reached Hallis' building.

(ECLIPSE)Lock lay down on the table, only a small grunt of pain giving any indication he was conscious. You've made it Lock. You'll survive this. Push through the pain. And, with that, Lock's more sophisticated mind ceased thinking, leaving only his instincts to control him. And his instincts were too exhausted to do much. And so, he lay still while Hallis inspected his wound.
Hallis inspected the wound carefully, washing his hands in a cupful of the brown liquor in lieu of any clean water. As he poked and prodded, he muttered to himself, occasionally whistling between his teeth. Reba, meanwhile, was puttering about in the background. She opened the small jars, removing false bottoms and putting pinches of dust into a fresh glass of whiskey.

"Drink up, luv. This is going to hurt." She helped Lock to chug the glass, sediment and liquor and all, before washing her own hands and taking up a yard of dingy linen. Hallis put a hand on Lock's wound, preparing to take the knife.

"Now then. If Reba ith correct about you, I should be able to take thith right out of you. Clothe your eyeth and think of your thtomach. On the count of three, I want you to burn." He didn't explain more than that, but Reba looked worried. What if she was wrong?

"One... two... THREE!"
Lock's mind returned to clarity when he drank the sediment-filled drink. He almost spat it out, not sure what it was. No, Lock, you can trust him. Why would anyone want to poison you? Just swallow it. He swallowed the drink, and suddenly he realized where the warmth in his stomach was coming from. It's like I have the wood from a fireplace in my stomach! That's where the warmth is coming from.

While it had earlier been like a lone stick burning, now it was like a blazing pyre. He suddenly felt strong, alive, like he'd been sick his entire life and had only now recovered. His pain practically vanished. While he didn't really hear the doctor, he kept the fire burning in his stomach, and the doctor yanked the knife out. Skin tore, and Lock clenched his teeth, but the agony he expected never came. There was pain, and a lot of it, but nowhere near the blinding flashes of pure agony he had felt earlier in the alley.

It's out! Lord Ruler that's so much better. Lock let out a sigh, following it with a weak "Thank you..." and lay still, allowing the doctor with the prominent lisp stitch him up, and let the heat of the blaze in his stomach occupy his mind.
Reba nearly laughed in relief as Lock reacted to the drink, color returning to his cheeks and clarity erasing the mist from his eyes. She lunged forward as Hallis discarded the knife, pressing both her hands to Lock's wound. Blood bloomed along the already stained muslin, but she was beaming, face flushed with pleasure as she leaned over Lock.

(HELIOTROPE)"Looks like you're a special one, luv," she whispered, a long strand of her ash-blond hair falling over her shoulder and tickling his face. "Pewterarm, an' isn't that just lucky? Hal should be able to provide ye wi' enough dust ta get ye through this." She moved away as Hallis returned with needle and thread, but plopped herself near Lock's head, soothing his brow with her fingertips and nursing a small glass of whiskey.

"Now, Reba," Hal replied as he stitched. "You know I don't provide dutht for free." He looked over his streaked spectacles as he spoke, pausing in his work to meet her eyes. She pressed her lips together tightly, as though annoyed, but nodded in reply, glancing down at Lock.

"I'm available tomorrow afternoon," she said after a moment's hesitation. "I have time after my early morning client, but only half an hour."

"Thoundth like a date, then," the surgeon grinned toothily, then glanced down at Lock. "Ith he your beau, then? Bethideth Ilena, thith ith the firth perthon you've paid me for..." Reba interrupted him with a bark of laughter, shaking her head.

"I dunno even his name, Hal," she admitted, looking down at Lock as Hallis finished closing the wound, giving the stitches one last bath in liquor before wrapping the wound in some salvaged dressing. "I found'm like this in an alley down by th'docks. Coulda been there for hours..."

"... or days, if he'th burning pewter," Hallis mused in agreement. They both glanced down at Lock.
Wait. This woman just offered her time to the doctor for a date. Is she a prostitute? And why would she offer to pay for me? Ah, so many questions...But first, I need to tell them my name...

"Lock. My name is Lock. I won't bore you with the details, but I got stabbed, left in the alleyway overnight. This nice lady rescued me, and here I am, still alive. Speaking of being still alive, what's a Pewterarm?"
The doctor and the prostitute looked at each other for a moment, then shrugged at each other. Hallis began to clean up as Reba hastily removed her hands from Lock's face, nodding at him.

"A pleasure t'meet ye now that yer not dyin', Lock. I'm Rebena. Reba, rather. Rather flattered that ye think I'm a 'nice lady'." She grinned, cheekily, pouring another glass of whiskey and offering it to him. "As fer pewter, well. Ye know what 'Allomancy' is? Or a 'Misting?'"
Lock was unsure of himself. Allomancy. Hmm. Where have I heard that word before? Ahhhh, that minor noble on the docks, whining about how allomancy would make his job so much easier. Never really understood it past the fact that it's some kinda superpower...

(ECLIPSE)"Nice to meet'cha too, Reba. So Allomancy, like the superpower stuff the nobles got? I got it?"
Reba grinned wryly, sipping at the glass before offering it to Lock. Hallis muttered something disparaging from the other end of the room, but she ignored him and nodded. "I suppose that's one way ta look't it." She conceded. "It's... special. Mistings can eat or drink metals and then... well, 'burn' 'em, as it were. For example, I can use bronze. When I burn bronze, I can... hear when other folks use Allomancy. It's like a drumbeat. I heard it when you was callin' me into the alley."

(HELIOTROPE)She sat back, leaning her chair back on two legs and looking thoughtful. "Most folks don't learn if they got it or not unless sommat bad happens to'm. Like you almost dyin'." Reba glanced down again. "But, luckily, ye gots pewter. It makes ye stronger, faster... and heals ye better. S'why I gave ye some earlier, hopin' I was right. Most folks woulda died pretty quick with a wound like yours, but y'was hangin' on all right in that alleyway 'fore I came along."
Lock took a sip, then responded, everything clicking in his head.

(ECLIPSE)"Ahhhhh, all righty then. I think I got it. I've been wondering why it felt like there was a fire in my stomach ever since the alley. So I can get stronger and faster if I swallow pewter, and you can find others who can use powers like us if you swallow bronze."

Lock understood, finally. The pieces had come together in his mind, leaving him satisfied. So the nobles have been lying to us the entire time. They're no better than us! But then something started to gnaw at him.

"But wait. Can't the obligators use bronze too? And if they found us, wouldn't they kill us?"
She nodded, smiling faintly. Hal joined them with a small pouch in hand, slipping the small, yet heavy bag to Reba. "Yes, that's true. We could definitely be found if we keep burnin' our metals." She hesitated. "But I know a safe place f'r us. I've been tryin' to decide whether'r not to go there for the past few days, but I think ye've helped me decide." The surgeon eyed Reba.

(HELIOTROPE)"Do you really think he'th truthtworthy?" He lisped, his voice low. Hallis looked closely at Lock, his mouth pushed to one side in doubt, but Reba laid a gentle hand on his forearm, smiling.

"I have a good idea. He'd make an excellent bouncer, too." Hallis shrugged at Reba as she spoke, moving away again, and her face settled into a more serious expression.

"Y'aren't currently employed, are ye?" She asked Lock, taking a large swig from the bottle in her hand. Her cheeks were flushed with the drink, and it was clear she was trying to give herself a bit of liquid courage.

Rebena had inadvertently found herself among the rebels a few days earlier, her Seeking putting her hot on the trail of a few Misting rebels. Luckily, she had survived her encounter with the traitor Obligator, and was offered a position at one of their cells, disguised as a brothel. She had been on the fence about abandoning her current place of employment, but joining with the rebel movement was enticing. Besides, her current long-term clients would likely seek her out again, so she wouldn't be losing business.

That, and Lock would be able to keep burning pewter in order to heal more quickly. The rebel Smokers would keep him safe. All she needed now was an excuse for him to join her at the new brothel.
Hmm. A safe place. I could use one of those. But she's a prostitute... Would I have to go to a brothel? Then again... Lock suddenly remembered something that had happened last year. He had seen a skaa, hanging by a hook through the throat. Could that be me? I don't want to die. I'll go...

(ECLIPSE)"Well, I wouldn't say I'm employed. I get payed, but that's on a day to day basis, without a real employer. And you saved my life. I owe you one. I'll go to your safe house."

He smiled at her. She really is a generous one. Nothing like the stories Ma told me to get me to avoid brothels.
This woman saved my life, and is offering me a safe place to stay.

"You saved my life, there will never be anythin' for you to be 'fraid of. Ain't no one who can beat me in a fair fight." Of course, it's not always a fair fight. No, Lock, no doubts. You need to protect this woman. She saved you, so you need to make sure you can do the same.

"I should be ready to leave soon, so long as I can get some chow in me. Haven't eaten in almost a full day!" Lock's stomach growled in agreement, and he laughed at the coincidence.

Lock, you need to get more information than this. Where are we going? Why is it dangerous? Why was Hal nervous about me going there? You know what. This woman saved my life. She wouldn't knowingly lead me into harms way. I can trust her.

"Yep, we should be out of your hair soon Hal!" Lock said cracking a smile.

(HELIOTROPE)Reba's smile was warm, relieved... she was an expressive sort, strangely passionate for a skaa. "Well, luv. Yer a Pewterarm. It won't really be a fair fight anymore, least not f'r anyone up against you who en't also a Misting." She stood, stretching, before offering her hands to Lock to help him sit up.

"I don't know," Hal replied to Lock's comment, glancing dubiously at the pair. "I have a feeling I'll be theeing both of you a lot more often." Reba's glowing expression dimmed slightly, her smile sliding off of her face.

"A small price to pay," she replied quietly. Just as quickly as she had sobered, she perked up again. "Speakin' of which, I think I got enough clips left for a bowl at Lem's. He's got somethin' on the fire today smelled real good. Should be able to get a quick bite on our way, eh? Maybe two bowls for my giant." She winked at Lock.

Some of her girls said she got too attached too quickly, and Reba had to grudgingly admit that they were right. She'd always been a bit of a mother hen, and clearly helping Lock had kicked in her more tender instincts again. She hoped, quietly, that her choice to become a part of the rebellion would sit well with Lock. He might not be able to back out once he fully recovered.

(ECLIPSE)Lem's is always good, that should be a good place to try to get a little more information out of her on this here "safe house". Lock began to wonder at Hal's comment. What is that supposed to mean? But as the smile left Reba's face, he knew. She was a prostitute. And she'd payed Hallis with the thing she was payed to do.

He responded with a smile, saying,

"Lem's sounds great! Haven't been there in years, but I do remember hot food and a warm fire. And that's all I need."
Reba grinned, her good humor seemingly unfazed. "Thanks, Hal," she spoke as she stood, approaching the surgeon. They embraced, but Hallis glanced over her shoulder to Lock with a continued look of wary disapproval. Of course, Reba missed it entirely, and soon enough she and Lock were out the door and on their way to buy a few bowls of thin stew at Lem's.

(HELIOTROPE)She didn't speak much as they walked, save to make sure he wasn't in too much pain. At one point, she casually nudged his hand with her own, brushing past it as though by accident. She managed to tuck the pouch of pewter dust between his fingers. "Put it in your drink whenever you need to replenish your stores," she said casually, stepping closer to him so as to avoid brushing against a lesser Obligator as he hurried past. Her eyes flicked up and down the priest's form, and distaste was clear on her features.

Lem's was a tiny place, more a one-room hovel in the bottom of a tenement. Like Hallis', it was grimy, with the key feature being a long bar in the back, stacked with bowls and glasses. A massive stewpot sat in the center of the room, and splintered tables and chairs were propped up inside and out. Lem himself passed out bowls for a few clips, and Reba chatted with him as she purchased meals for herself and Lock. She seemed to know many of the customers, although they clearly didn't have the money to waste on a woman in her profession... but Reba liked to make friends, it seemed. She brought a bit of vibrancy into any room she entered.

(ECLIPSE)The surgeon had saved Lock's life, but Lock wasn't liking the looks Hallis was shooting at him. Lock returned the look with a scowl, starting to get irritated at the little lisping man. But before the situation could escalate at all, Reba had whisked him out the door, and they were on their way to Lem's.

Lock's mind was racing. So I'm a pewterarm. I'm stronger, faster, and faster to heal than normal people. This is perfect! I'll never lose a fight again! I'll never be in the situation I was in last night. Never again will I feel so powerless. As these thoughts rushed through his mind, he felt Reba's hand brush his, and felt a glass vial enter his grasp. Discreetly, he slipped it into his pocket, nodding to Reba in acknowledgement, then putting his head down as an Obligator walked by, tracking him out of the corner of his eye. He saw Reba's expression, and found himself feeling the same distate.

As they arrived at Lem's, Lock's eyes flitted around, taking in the grimy, run down scene, and while it wasn't luxurious, it felt familiar. Reba's friendliness with the other patrons made Lem's feel even more warm and inviting, and while Lock didn't put his guard down fully, he felt it lowering slowly with every spoonful of stew. As his guard lowered, however, his tongue loosened as well.

"So, Reba, where exactly is this place you're taking me?"


(HELIOTROPE) As they ate, Reba led them outside to some of the rough tables and chairs that sat near the large, empty windows of the shop. They let light and ash in equally, and it made just as much sense to eat beneath the mended awnings as it did to sit inside.

Reba glanced upward as a few fat drops began to drip from the sky, but mostly ignored them as they pattered between the ashfall. She kept her stew close to her mouth, cradling the clay bowl in one hand and carefully pushing broth and barley and mushrooms into her mouth.

"Now, if I told you outright, it would spoil the surprise," she smiled, lips greasy with the fatty soup. "But trust me, it is a safe space. We will both be welcome there, and I'm sure they won't mind an extra guard for the ladies. One can never be too careful around nobles."

She straightened up slightly, the rain picking up pace. It mostly missed them, but a lethargic wind blew some into her thin, blond hair, slicking it against her scalp. "I..." she paused and looked around at the mostly empty street. "I understand if you don't want to get involved in all this. It can be a messy business. A girl can be working hard one day, and killed the next. You don't have to come with me, not if you don't want, but I think y'd be happy there." Her smile was crooked now, one half of her face lifting with only a trace of reassurance.

(ECLIPSE)Lock looked down longingly at his bowl of soup. A small rivulet of broth remained, and, picking up the bowl, poured the little bit left into his mouth. It wasn't enough to satisfy his hunger. This was his second finished bowl, but his stomach yearned for more. Why didn't you savor this one, Lock? Every bowl costs money, and you don't want to take any more money from Reba, do you? You can go hungry. Lord Ruler knows you've done it before.

He refocused his mind on the matter at hand, scowling a bit, and putting his head down to avoid any rain in his face as it began to rain. "So, ladies, nobles, and guards." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "You're talking about a brothel."

He said it as a fact, not a question. His suspicions had been confirmed.

(HELIOTROPE)"Look. Working in a brothel is..." he paused, searching for the right words. He picked his head up, finishing his sentence. "A bit unsavory for me. But, with my new abilities, I'd only bring pain to my family if I went back there. And you know as well as I do that you have to do everything you can to survive."

(ECLIPSE)He picked his head up, looking at the ash falling from the sky, the ever-present symbol of the Lord Ruler's tyranny. I may not be a rebel, but I will survive. That is my own, personal, rebellion.

"I'll do it."

(HELIOTROPE)The woman stared at her own bowl, eyeing the half-finished stew as a way to keep herself from looking up at Lock. She'd let enough hints drop, of course, because who was really ashamed of prostitution? It was commonplace, especially among city skaa, and was just about as bad as working in a factory, or the docks. At least prostitution was paid for, rather than being raped by a noble for a week before being killed. Reba was lucky to be barren, she guessed as she swirled the greasy broth around the wooden bowl.

Abruptly, she pushed her leftovers to Lock, seeing the hunger in his eyes. He had to heal from a massive wound; she had a meal and a half a day, sometimes more. "I'm sorry." She sighed. "I'm sorry it's unsavory. I'm sorry it's dangerous." Slowly she looked up, one bright eye framed by her stringy bangs. "But you are a better man for accepting it, rather than dismissing it outright. We'll be working for Matron Veil, and she's as level-headed and even-handed as ever a Matron was. You'll have housing, and food, and..." Reba trailed off. His pick of the working girls didn't seem to be enticing to him. Still, she managed that half-smile of hers and shrugged. "... and friends. We can stay close. Keep an eye on each other. People like us are... useful to Matron Veil."

She hadn't mentioned the rebellion yet, but her gut was saying it would be okay to start hinting. Nothing obvious, not where the Obligators might hear, but once they were settled in to the new brothel... she hoped it would work out, in the end.
Lock took the bowl, feeling guilty for accepting it. "Thanks," he said quietly, and instead of polishing it off quickly, he ate a bit, then simply held it in his hands, letting the warmth spread through his hands. He knew this could be the start of a new chapter in his life.

(ECLIPSE)"Of course. I owe you my life, and I'll make sure I repay that debt. You'll have nothing to worry about so long as I'm near. And I'm sure I can make myself useful for your Matron."

Lock looked down once more, unsure how to deal with the enormous amount of kindness shown him by Reba. No one had shown such kindness to him for longer than he could remember. I may not be able to repay her now, but someday I vow I will repay this.

"Thank you, again, for everything you've done for me."

Edited by Eclipse, 01 January 2015 - 12:46 AM.


#2 KChan

601
Lord Prelan

Posted 31 December 2014 - 08:28 PM

Hooray, another skaa Pewterarm! One quick thing though: I'd like to see a little bit more clarification on the connection between his brothel work and his affiliation with the Rebellion, as that's not really mentioned at all in his app. Once that's spelled out, please post a reply to let me know to re-check the app and we should be good to go. Thanks! :)

Posted Image
Posted Image


#3 Eclipse

17
5th Tier Elariel

Posted 01 January 2015 - 12:46 AM

I edited the first app, so now the last 2 paragraphs in the history section talk about how he hasn't attempted to join the rebellion yet, he may do so soon. I kind of want to RP him joining the rebellion, so I left it so he could make the decision to seek it out in the RP.

---Eclipse---

Player Characters:


Nobles:

Votir Zerrung, Bernard Urvon, Celestine Beliveaux


Skaa:

Avyn, Turnol, Lock(WIP)


Obligators:

Bertram Urvon(WIP)


In the Works:

Bastian Urvon: Mistborn

Astor Urvon:Urvon Heir

Trenton Urvon


#4 Moru

230
Tineye

Posted 04 January 2015 - 12:56 AM

Lock looks like he would be a good ally to the rebellion. Even if he is the most honest skaa.

I definitely approve!

Posted Image


Posted Image


#5 KChan

601
Lord Prelan

Posted 04 January 2015 - 05:28 AM

Looks good to me, so I'm going to go ahead and stamp my approval on this. Just be cautioned: attempts at joining the Rebellion IC have been hard to get going for some reason, so it might take a little work.

Either way, that's two! :)

Posted Image
Posted Image






3 user(s) are reading this topic

0 members, 3 guests, 0 anonymous users