#sparsen driver

You ask the woman (her name turns out to be Magdeline, shortened to Deline) what kind of show she works on. She looks surprised for a split second, but then she looks at you, and remembers something. "...Ah. It's a tournament. Every week, there's a fight underneath the clock tower - scripted and choreographed, of course. A lot of rich folks come from all over the world to see it. My character is known as 'Cyclops,' and I'm featured tonight." Knowing enough about the real Cyclopes that roam the deeper forests, the name certainly sounds intimidating enough. Deline shows off the black fabric mask that gives her the appearance of having one large eye. "It's too early in the day for it, but I still like wearing this cloak part of the costume; it's nice in this chilly we've been having. Wearing the whole thing just makes me... stand out. I enjoy recognition, but not crowds. ...Either way, it's good advertisement when people see me with my hood up." The three of you talk for a while, discussing the show and the town's various attractions. It turns out that the show starts at sundown; sunrise was only a few hours ago, so you have some time to kill.

After a bit, the driver arrives... and with a huge sack of money. You've never seen anything like it. It's larger than you! "Well," he explains, "I was feeling generous, since I know Maya will need a lot of money to raise her family. That, and Mort happens to be a wanted con man, so there's no way I'm going to pay him. We found the burn marks under his visor so he must have been smuggling it under there. He wasn't even using space magic. For a recognized criminal, that seems... pretty stupid." Maya concurs. "...You're probably right about that." The driver goes on. "Either way... the caravan is in the lot now, and you can go grab your things. You can split that between Raoul and yourself however you decide, since I can't think of anyone in more need of it. And Raoul..." He turns to you.

"I wish you only the best on your travels, and I hope to never meet you again." With that, he disappears into the crowd behind him.

As your mind poorly handles all these new sights and sounds, you make a beeline for the nearest thing of comfort as if by instinct, and that thing happens to be the caravan driver. Also, you just kinda want to get away from that guy. The first thing he does in response is push you away with his cylindrical foot. "No, no no no, please, I can't be... you shouldn't be getting too attached to me." Its a bit troubling, but soon enough you come to your senses.

[Crowstone: >Ask what's going on :O ]

"...At least tell me what's happening here," you request.

He's glad to explain. "I'm... simply having the caravan searched and inventoried. I've got to figure out who stole my sparsenore... or to be more exact, where Mort put it. Its stupidly obvious he did it. When Maya and I carried him in, I saw the burn marks on his hands.... and look at him now, even."

The dude does look pretty ill. The narcotics must have built up over time, however dumb way he was handling it.

"...In any case, the only thing left to do is prove it to the authorities, so you're free to g-"

"I'm going back to the barracks." The Hawren from earlier storms himself out of the caravan, bleary-eyed and trying to hide his face.

The other one follows right after him. "Hey hey, Don't be like that, c'mere."

"....As I was saying, you're free to go after all the paperwork is done, but since I'm sure neither of us want to deal with your apparent lack of citizenship, you could just leave now while they're distracted." He leans down to grab the gadget that the hawren dropped, and starts twisting little dials on it. "...I'm pretty sure I can do a better job than the government, anyways."

"...Is that legal?" you ask.

The driver doesn't skip a beat in answering. "Of course it is! If you have any stuff left on here, though, you'll have to come back and get it later. I need to find out where this guy is hiding what he stole. He probably dropped them in one of his brandy bottles. So, uh.. I'll be in the market, alright? Now go."

Which is all very helpful information to know when you know nothing about the city. The only possession you really have to get is your satchel, which, last you knew, was in Maya's possession. Which means you'll have to get it back from her. Before you set yourself loose, you ask the Sparsen one more question, namely, wherever that blue shelled individual might be. He answers, with a rather blunt "I dunno, kid."

Seems you're on your own, then.

[tronn: >Scamper off!]

Wherever you are, there are lots of neatly lined up cars here... and a bunch of buildings in the direction opposite of the wall. There are a few street vendors lining the streets, which seem to radiate out from the massive gate that probably serves as an entrance to the city. Between the vendors, there are some more major operations, and though you can't really read the signs, you can see some clear symbols... they include one elaborate and broad diamond shape, a rectangular sign with loads of stacked triangles, and... a bank. You'd recognize that anywhere, even if you've never properly used one. In between it all, there's a small plaza-like area that people are frequently walking through, and in the distance, you can make out some kind of tower... though it looks pretty far.

You have no clue what he (or she, it's a little difficult to tell from behind) could possibly be up to. Are they some sort of brigand who took hold of the caravan, simply not noticing you there? Are they making that unsavory gesture on purpose?

They... DO look like they're on official business, though, as they aren't rapidly tearing down the place... only carefully checking each item in the car and muttering under their breath. Maybe... maybe they own the caravan, now? And Maya left you in its cargo? But that's ridiculous, all these scarves are still in here, and those bottles over there belonged to that certain rozo.

Maybe they're some sort of inventory checker? Be it professional, or... not so professional, possibly hired by a larger band of highwaymen who decided they needed someone to keep track of their quarry. They don't look too happy about being here, anxious, even... like they don't have a firm handle on what they're supposed to be doing. It could be that they're being forced... by what? The threat of death?

...You're overthinking things again. What kind of a band of thieves would force someone else to take inventory for them? Not even your own clan did that; inventory was always taken by the head; it was a much more efficient and reliable way of knowing what went where. Nobody could forge numbers to get out with a better sha-

"Atchoo!" Thinking about clan storage reminds you of the amount of dust that was in there.

The hawren turns around to look at you almost immediately. They hadn't seen you beforehand.

"Aaaahh... H-heeelp!" He cries out in a mild but growing panic. His face looks more afraid of you than you are of him.

[Whimbrel: Sneak out.]

So, you're not gonna waste any time before getting out of his way. You hop right to your feet and scurry towards the back door, leaving the dude to have a panic attack on his own in here; its freaking you out, too. You can tell from the light outside that it's no longer nighttime, or even snowy.

Your little legs plop you right onto the ground outside, where your eyes are assaulted with an assortment of color and activity. It's nothing new... but instinct is telling you not to be out in the open. You're in a city plaza, and it's a lot bigger than the one back where you are from. The tile beneath you is warm... which is strange for winter. And there are hawrens everywhere. It almost makes you want to back up under the car again. Nearby you see the driver and a lady similar to the hawren you saw inside... and Mort, who looks incapacitated and otherwise crazy. Just like you remember him.

The driver clicks his arms together a few times in impatience. "...Sorry about that. Maya didn't want to move him," he says. "Are you sure he's going to be alright on his own in there?"

The hawren in red's voice is much more stiff. "...If I do anything, I'm probably going to have to let him calm down first." Her wings clutch into fists behind her back, and she takes a deep breath. "...Do you... have papers for this fourth passenger?"

"I don't, but.. I'm not sure if he had any to begin with. He joined us mid-voyage."

You try to push off your fears for now; you've never seen anything like this, so its all probably normal anyways. There are questions that need questioning!

First thing is first, you suppose. "O-okay... but, how does it work?"

He doesn't even hesitate to answer the question. "The same way everything works; by magic. Each of these diodes sends a signal to a set of diodes on the lead, which in turn control the speed and direction of each of those wheels. I wired them up myself."

[Whimbrel: Why is it shaped like a dog? not that we're objecting it's awesome.]

"...And as for that... well, you could really use anything you want as a lead for these things, if you have the know-how. I just happened to have this piece of junk with me. It hasn't failed me yet, in plenty of situations. I don't think I could ever bring myself to selling it after all its been through." He pauses for a bit.

"...Ehh... give me a moment."

With a sleight of his... flipper, the driver narrowly prevents a collision with a fellow caravan. The whole cart hinges on its wheels before thunking back to the ground on all fours.

"...Alright, we're all clear."

[Kieros: > Ask if he could slow it down just a little.]

No! No no no no! This caravan is moving too fast, and you can hardly stomach it! Why is everyone else unfazed?

"Slowing down isn't really an option," he says. "As long as we keep to this pace, we'll make it to town before we have to stop for breakfast. Its only a few dozen more kilometers. I'll have you know I'm a very experienced driver, if it's of any comfort."

"We could have died," you protest! "We almost got smashed! Slow down, pleaase!"

Maya chimes in from the  back as the sparsen tries to console you with physical pats between your ears. "Sweetie.. we really aren't moving very fast at all. You're just... smaller than the rest of us, is all."

For the time being, you decide to wait it out. You suppose you were never really obligated to get up from this cozy blanket and do anything, were you? So, huddling up in your corner, you just relax and try to forget about all the things that keep happening. Running away from what you once thought of as home, starving, nearly getting killed [i]twice[/i] in the last 24 hours... and as exhausted as you are, the most unfortunate thing about it all is that you can't even sleep. Nobody talks... its just a demanding silence. The sounds of Maya's needlework and the bouncing of the carriage fill the air, and while they aren't exactly intrusive, they are a nice distraction for the boring hours that go by. Perhaps you simply aren't used to sleeping in motion. Or maybe its the fact that your adrenaline levels have been on a roller coaster ride.

Or maybe something in the room has been gnawing at the back of your thoughts.

[Spira-Virgo: > Check up those interesting looking bottles~]

That is alcohol. You say with 99% certainty that that is alcohol. If it weren't for your numbed senses at the moment, you could probably smell it from over here... And you would drink it, excepting the fact that it would be wise to stay vigilant in these confusing circumstances of yours. You can usually take a few of the greater races' shots, but a container that size is ridiculous. That whole bottle is like something the clan would steal to last a whole week; it's almost larger than yourself. And he has two of the things. And aside from that, you don't know what he'll do if he wakes up.

At least it's comforting knowing that it's an available option.

[Crowstone: nah you're good for now :O] [Whimbrel: Check out the dog! dog dog dog]

Now there is a plan.

You wearily hobble yourself out to the front. You're much too short to see over the edge, but you can tell from all the wobbly motion and the trees overhead that the carriage is moving pretty fast. The driver notices you almost immediately.

"Oh. I was wondering when you were going to show up. Glad you did, because it was getting pretty boring out here, and I sold my book in the last town."

Well, at least he could read. Who knew driving was easy enough to distract yourself with something as hard as that?

He lifts you up, giving you a nice open look at the road and the scenery whooshing on by. The speed is ludicrous; This is easily over ten times the speed you could go walking! It makes you wonder why you didn't consider hitching a ride when you left days earlier. You did think the cities were closer together... And the control panel isn't like anything you've seen before. You've seen the parts, for sure, but never have you seen them in use. It's almost alien. You can't decide if it looks janky and hastily thrown together or planned and precise.

The Sparsen offers an explanation. "There's really not much to it... you use the dial in the middle to speed up and slow down, or go in reverse; however, if you did that, the lead would end up backing right into us, so it's forward only. The other two dials are for steering. You use the band in between to keep them even. Any questions?"

You thought there was something funny about the reverse feature. "Why can you do backwards at all?"

He chuckles a little. "Usually you can, but I sold the metal cage and replaced it with straps. It's all you really need."

You take a deep breath... you aren't going to like talking about this to unfamiliar people, but you suppose it was for the greater good... you wouldn't want to be responsible for a second man down. And they did try to defend your life there.

[tronn: >Explain that it's not a big thing, it's just something you were born with and cannot change.]

You tell them... you don't really know how you ended up cursed. Perhaps your father or mother were being too irresponsible around the torill gypsies, and their punishment was passed to the runt of the litter instead of them. Perhaps it was just bad timing, being born at the wrong time and under the wrong sign and at the wrong hour. Maybe you simply had terrible luck the entire time; the entire world around you arranged in just the perfect way to trip you up every step you take. Regardless, you don't know for sure... so unless you get an expert opinion, you're stuck like this.

You hold off a little on what you think it does. For the most part... you'll say you fumble a lot, and overshoot your magic. That's all they need to know. As for preventative measures... you simply tell them to keep you safe, so you don't end up in a position where you're forced to take action, and therefore make things even worse.

The Sparsen looks unsatisfied with your explanation, but.. he nods his head in agreement, and begins work on packing up. Maya has a look of pity.

[Zephyr Nepres: > Apologise for the satchel getting ripped.]

Since you still had her attention, you take the opportunity to move on, trying to forget about the previous conversation as fast as possible. Grabbing the broken satchel next to you, force yourself to speak again, praying she isn't upset over it. "Well... My bag needs to be fixed.. again. I'm sorry... That spacebending thread doesn't sound very easy to get... a-and... I'm sorry about breaking it again after you worked on it so much! But.. now that it's here, I was gonna ask if you, uh..."

Maya doesn't hesitate in taking it back from you. "Oh, nonsense; I have plenty more where that came from."

"Spacebending thread isn't as expensive as you think," she says, beaming. "It only took a little while to patch it up last time. Don't you worry about it sweetie! I'll have it all fixed up for you again in a jiffy."

A wave of relief washes over you as you sit down, watching her join the driver in putting away all the supplies. Hauling away Mort, turning off the artificial fire, all that. You're much too small to really be of much help; it was as awkward to watch as it was tedious to do. Finally, after a few minutes, Maya scoops you up, and everyone boards through the back.

The statue up front hums to life, and the vehicle starts rolling away toward its destination once more. As you huddle under the blanket from before, you look over the other side of the car; Mort's motionless body is definitely unsettling, especially surrounded by all his things... just out in the open. The driver calls from upfront to remind you of your suggestion, but says it's entirely up to you what you want to do; he never really intended to force you into anything. You see he brought the knife and the spear up there with him. Maya is just as busy as she was before, working away on your satchel... but she can't help but notice your silence. "...I hope you're feeling alright after that, Raoul."

Not, uh... really. Hiiri generally aren't geared for magical work. In fact, you could consider yourself quite lucky; you learned to throw sparks at a pretty early age with almost no effort, whereas most hiiri take years upon years to do that. Maya seems pretty adept, though... so you can only assume that torills are more naturally able.

Turning to your bag, you witness its broken state. Without the intact spacebending thread, its not as useful as it was, aside from storing small meals like you did before. That knife is way too big and cumbersome for you to just carry around, so you suppose you'll have to leave it be, and hopefully you'll figure out a new way to lug the thing. Of course, that's only if you remember to pick it up. As for the other part of your inventory... that... can stay where it is.

[GreatKaiserNui: Check if victim survived.]

Well, he has a pulse, which is good. You don't want to be charged with murder as well as possible theft. He's unconscious, though. Hopefully things will be a bit more calm around here.

Maya is quick to get back to her feet, evidently catching only a mild dose of your unexpected sparkshow. She tiptoes her way around to the sparsen's side, remaining cautious about the scene before her. It's pretty clear now that what you did wasn't normal to these guys; the sparsen even remarks, "There's no way a hiir could have done that."

[tronn: >Lie like there's no tomorrow, to make yourself look more dangerous than you are.]

You don't even skip a beat in taking advantage of their doubt. Still dizzy from the experience, you stand yourself as proudly as your wobbly legs will allow, and puff your chest to boast. "W-well, you can't know that for sure! You s-saw me do it with your own eyes! He almost hurt me..." You pause. Your throat grows parched as you think of the next thing to say "S-so just... just..."

They look like they're either worried or unconvinced. It's not really looking good, and your lack of confidence over the matter is crushing you. Your insecurity is making you deflate.

[The Froggy Ninja: Tell the truth.]

Feeling self-defeated, you pull your ears over your eyes, hiding your face from embarrassment. "J-just... stay away from me. I can't control it. I-I'm... c-cursed..."

"Cursed?" Maya doesn't seem to buy that either, but... she at least has the decency to go along with it. "You poor little g-"

"You're cursed? No no no no, that doesn't sound good for business at all! I'll have the decency to take you into the capital, but as soon as we're through with out business with the authorities, you'll have to find your own way." Maya seems to have just silenced herself; she's looking pretty uncomfortable, and you can certainly say you are too. It feels like all those countless times you've been scolded by your elders, for things entirely out of control. The sort of thing that ultimately drove you away.

The driver goes on to ask, "What are the details of this curse of yours? The more we know, the more losses we can avoid." It sounds humiliating at first, but he continues. "...And, the closer we'll be to finding a cure for you." You feel a little flutter of hope fly within your chest.

"Now listen. You might have agreed to stay under the Sparsen's watch, but you still have to be under [i]my[/i] watch. If you try to pull anything and I catch you, you can be sure I will personally see to your punishment. Do you understand?"

You get two or three good steps away from him, but his head and his knife don't seem to get any farther away. He's a presence, gliding oh so nearer to you. At this point, you're starting to suspect that he might be racist, or drunk. Probably both. The real sad thing is that you can't blame him for either of those; Rozo and Alcohol go hand in hand, probably for biological reasons.

"Now you listen." You look up in time to see the driver saving your hide. "I will not have you acting so hostile. Hiiri are people too; they have lives just like everybody else, and you know it. I'm going to tell you to put the knife down, since you are clearly in no state of mind to be owning it."

Looking behind him, you see Maya preparing some kind of spell, but she's shaking.

He analyzes the situation, but doesn't move.. "....I get your point. Back away, and I will sheathe it."

"I don't think you understand. Put your weapon down and we'll let you away."

[AgentBlue: Grab onto the Sparsen. Hug tight for safety.] [tronn: >What is the driver's name?]

Thinking it best to get away yourself, you shamble over to the driver for a hug... and things get silent quick. You try to break it by asking his name. "...Is there something I can call you, Sparsen sir?"

It takes a second for him to respond. "...That's not really important."

"Ahem," Mort starts, "I am not comfortable with all these spears and magics pointed on me."

Maya reminds him of the terms without skipping a beat. "And how do you think Raoul felt when you did just that the last two times? Put it down! ...Sheesh, you're acting more insufferable than usual."

"Why would I do that?" He says, "You could attack me at any time with those weapons of yours, and I would be defenseless! I say you back off first, and I will agree to sheathe my knife."

[Crowstone: ask if you can sit on tricycledog] [tronn: >Check out the ridiculous dog-thing. Finally!]

You might be curious, but you know better than to poke around without asking first. "Can I climb the dog?"

More silence.

The sparsen waits for you to go do it, but realizes you won't do anything without answer. "...Yes, you may climb the dog."

You peek out at it at first, now ignoring the argument around you. What a mysterious beast. How could such a being pull this cart while balancing so precisely on those wheels? It's so perfect and still, like a statue! Those perfect, glowing green eyes, and that sleek, chiseled black form...

...That's just a statue, isn't it? That raises even more questi-

OH.

Your ears are filled with the booming sound of his voice as you're hoisted into the air! "Is this what you were afraid of? Is it? Get away from me!"