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Enemies of the Industrial Revolution

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Kadavro

Supernova
Joined
Apr 16, 2012
Old Sarum. Gehenna. Urbia. The Malthusian Trap. It didn't matter what it was called. Over the previous decades it was simply there, spreading like a stain as it swallowed up nearby villages, their farms picked off bit by bit by squatters and easments by Mr. Big. The rivers leading down the valley to the coast had been surrounded on all sides by mills of every sort, while the barges tried to push their way down the increasingly clogged river. The farmers might stay around for a bit. Use the large amount of night soil mixed into the river to feed their crops. But even that was hard to collect. It was either spread over the ground or simply dumped on the site of their farms, some of the only open land in the area. The urine went straight to any number of industries, from medicines to tanning to gunpowder. But what did it matter when the farms didn't get much in the way of sunlight?

It was dark. Whether because of the smog coming from factory chimneys high and low, or the cooking fires used by tens of thousands every day for preparing their family's food. When they managed to find wood. Those that had survived the centuries of farming in the area had been steadilly used up to make charcoal or to raise buildings high, to the point where they would have blocked out the sun in many streets even with a clear sky. The danger didn't even come into it. So what if it might collapse? The other buildings had bricks. The fires had made sure of that. Factories, bakeries, homes... All were risks for lighting up the shacks and townhouses. The very streets gave off the same possibility, with the oil street lamps spread about risking being pushed into them while any number of carts collide into them. Why oil? There were plenty of whales in the world. And there was less of a risk of people stealing the candles for eating. Some might say they shouldn't have been killing all those whales only to burn there blubber for the oil. That they should have saved them for the tallow they could make. Feeding the people didn't come into play. Dealing with the fog as thick as pea soup did.

Not that it was all that bad. There was plenty of gin. Beer for the more well to do who actually produced gin for those of lower incomes. Whiskey for some of the workers of the north. And with enough liquor, who cared if the bread was made with sawdust? They had more important things to worry about. Like saving up enough to spend away their stress and worries, as they traded with the nomadic, convict, and immigrant groups who had their own ghettoes in the towns. Exotic things there, same as with some of the brothels. Though you needed to be careful lest you be shanghaied.
 
There was a decent sized building on the street, the exact street, that bordered between the upper class area and the middle/lower class area. That particular part of town was always dark and hazy, even during the day because the fog was so heavy it blocked out the sun. Lights shined out from the windows though it had trouble due to the heavy drapes usually shut. The first floor of the building looked like the lobby of a hotel with a hallway draped shut. behind the drapes was a room filled with alcohol, a bar, and women serving in clothes that were slightly more provocative then normal. One woman sat at a table off to the side while smoking a cigarette which sat at the end of a lavish holder. She had long red-brown hair and a sizzling red dress with a fur coat thrown onto her shoulders. With tanned honey skin and bright yellow eyes, she watched people sift in and out of the establishment. If one knew the correct words to use at the front desk, they could get a room that cost considerably more but came with... perks. The place was technically a brothel but it had enough class not to have the words slapped right outside... sort of.


One the other side of the city, a woman ran through the shadows as rain started to pout down. She had blood smeared across her white tank top, wet black hair sticking to her face, and she looked over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being followed. With a knife gripped in her hand, blood washing off of it under the rain, she turned a corner and hid down into an alley and waited any followers out.
 
Rain. One of the few things to really clean the city down. Plants would be watered. Wells would be filled. And most importantly, the soot would fall to the ground. It would still come out of chimneys for those fortunate enough to keep having paying work on those days, but for the most part it would be washed down into the rivers, basements, and various gouges in the landscape that let away from the lime pits and spiraling pits many miles uphill. The mines twisting under the city caused tongue-in-cheek legends about giant gophers who would bring about pop their heads out of the ground someday and, if it was sunny, herald in an year of life. Needless to say, they got the details as mixed up as the Easter Bunny being a combination of a hare and rabbit.It gave something to hope for, though. Unlike the tart with the wet white corset. "Tis allies took." A man said, hunched around a small fire with some other, the overhanging buildings mostly sheilding them from the rain except for the dripping in the middle.

"How much for three nights" A man in heavy oilskins asked to anyone in general as he tromped in, dripping rainwater and something else onto any carpeting as he headed into one of the least grounded boardhouses. The build was built between the class lines, the same as many other shops who filled in the spaces where housing was forbidden so as to keep the riff raff away from the hgher class of people. The man headed to the counter, a seabag thrown over his shoulder as he paid little mind to anyone
 
( I hope you aren't talking about Eve because she is wearing a tank top xD )

Blue eyes glanced further down the alley at a cluster of bums around a fire. She glared at them and spit to the ground. Rain washed her saliva away and took it down the street until it was gone and all that was left was water. She turned her attention back to the road but saw no one coming or going. They must have lost her trail. Good. With knife still in hand, she walked over to the little group of men and snorted as she came under the protection of the roofs above. The fire felt nice to her skin which was very pale and bore a few scrapes with blood smeared all over the place. "Nice digs." She was being sarcastic.


A young male stood behind the counter and stated, "We offer different bundles dependent on your... needs." He glanced over the bag presumably filled with animals from the ocean. "Are you here for sleep or something a bit more... tasteful?"
 
OOC: The narrator said it, not the bums. Though they thought it.

"Tit washn't cheap." One of the tramps told, spitting some used tobacco into a little box. The others just sat there, trying to keep away from the water which, while it could clean up the city, often washed away those living outside. Miniature flood? Wave of pneumonia? The only good thing to come out of it for them was that the urine stood a chance of being washed away, unless everything just collected in the places they slept, bringing pools of stagnant water for all sorts of rodents to congregate around and parasites to call home. While it rained they could drink something other than the ground water. But what was a choice between coal and nitrates tasting well water and the soot in the rains? "New in these parts?2

"Got any grub?" The man asked while his back moved side to side. Some would think there was something in there, despite it not pushing outwards. Others would think it was uneven. Really, he just didn't have his land legs yet. He had just got his pay from many years voyaging, and he needed something to spend it on. He eyed the young man. No cabin boy, but seemed better fed. 'Nicer hips...' He glanced over the counter to see the young man's waist. "Want to go look for the golden spike?" The man asked, referring to how crews would trick the young, hairless boys and men who came onto the ships to search the bottom for gold that wasn't there. What they then did to them in the dark went without saying.
 
( mkay~ )

She grunted and shoved the knife into a holder on her hip, "No. It's still shit everywhere." The woman crossed her arms against her chest and stood around for another twenty minutes, waiting for the rain to settle. Once it had, she gave the bums a nod and walked away. After heading down the street for a few blocks, she found a storm drain and looked in each direction before walking past it and down another alley. There was a manhole hidden under some boxes, which she kicked away. The woman knelt and pulled it up, shoving it aside until the hole was fully open. She dropped down and grabbed a handle, hooking her booted feet onto another handle. The lid pulled shut and she climbed down until she plopped a few feet lower into the sewer system. It hadn't flooded, which never really happened anyway, but it still wasn't the best smelling. At least the rain cleared it out a bit. She started down the pathway, walking for a few hours until she came to base; a massive circular door that looked like something you'd find in a bank.

The younger male smiled at him, "I can provide a service to you, if you'd like." He fidgeted with some keys in a drawer. "we have a quaint suite available for you if you prefer... gold." He was trying to subtly accept the mans offer for a night of adulterous "business". The rooms were available, as were the "workers". All he had to do was ask, and pay, naturally.
 
OOC: I'm not entirely sure what the circular door is, so I won't do much on that.

The sewers were a marvel. While other might consider it best to dump the excess water from their steam engines or to try to refunnel it into other machines, here they simply dumped it. They had the room for it. sunken streets, old cave systems, mines, basements, the dens of smugglers and hedonists... It could be dangerous down there. So they had a code. Don't shit where you eat. If you were to be dragging bodies along to hide your murders you keep out of the major thoroughways unless you have a wheelbarrow or cart, and for a very nominal fee you can have the bodies be recycled into aprodisiacs, charms, experiments, candles... With so much of the other waste being dragged away for the upper class or scrounged by those needing the nitrates, the area was surpringly clear of sludge, if only because the rivers were so thick that they never leaked down, and one would suffocate under the surface rather than drown. Still, there weren't nearly enough sewer covers in the poor section of town due to the tax money going elsewhere. At the same time, the rich didn't want any openings in there area wafting upwards and lowering the property value. So people made do with what they could. Steal the bricks holding up the wall, digging in new rooms, using the hot water poured down for baths or growing mushrooms and root vegetables... Everyone had the right to their privacy.

"Will it be by the hour or for the full three days?" The man asked as he took the key, wondering why a deposit wasn't asked for. Did they think he had just come for some sodomy? Well, they would probably make him pay upfront for that unless he got lucky and found a bumboy who opened his cheeks for whoever came about. The women probably all had the clap anyways. So he waited for the keys.
 
( it's like a safe door. we're doing a bit of fantasy right? I just wanted to make sure, lol, I forget >> )

She walked up to the door and grabbed a hold of one of the metal arms. Tensing up, she pulled down on it and twisted it open. The door released freezing air onto her and quickly warmed. Stepping up inside, she saw the little town that was her hideaway; the town the mercenaries lived in. It was a giant metal box with machinery keeping everything inside alive. She pulled the door shut and sealed it again. The door was too large, heavy and stubborn to be openable by anyone. She was probably the only person who could open it with their bare hands. Cracking her neck and shoulders, she started down the main path. It was quiet but a few of their people were bustling about.


"Hourly is added onto your tab at the end of your stay and the payment is collected at a time that suits you. For a package deal, it will be asked for upfront." He started to type away on a keyboard and offered him two tabs with prices. The first one, for hourly, wasn't too bad. The second one, however, was considerably higher considering it would mean that who ever he wanted around would be stuck with him until he left. "All you have to do is pick a plan, money is exchanged or put on credit, depending on your package," He couldn't help but smile at the word, "and then you can start your vacation. Sir." The credit deals were mostly for those who couldn't pay or those that didn't mind visitors to the home. However, it was likely collectors would come by your house anyway if you hadn't thrown your money down in a timely fashion. Scandals had been heard of, though, they were very rare as most politicians had learned their lesson. Don't fuck the brothel over.
 
OOC: Should we skip the sailor and counterman?

The crowd didn't give overdue attention to women coming into the joint, other than that she didn't remove her boots at the door. The temperature change was weird, but it was pushed aside as merely being something strange with the fans some doctors set up for those patients who wished for discrete care, as well as for keeping bodies from decomposing. It was necessary. Without the fans the ventilation shafts might not have been as effective as they were. "They have a mission but it involves exhausting them without punches..." Some men were looking over the "bulliten" board while younger blood, thugs, apprentices, and bastards, tried to look impressive, whistling to some of the women, more for the thrill than out of any expectations of getting tail. When the women wanted a body, they would simply hire them from the mercenaries, getting the ride of their lives before sending them back under the streets. A group of brothers from a rather virile man stood in their own section. Few genetic defects, diverse in appearance... Picking the right one meant a women could get a child without their husbands knowing who's it was, then saying they got a healthy heir.

Sounded pricey, but it wasn't as if he didn't have money to burn. "Can I exchange people from one hour to another?" He asked as he set down half of the money for the second option, figuring it was better than the hour rate for the amount of fucking he was going to do until he found somone to actually manage to make him cum, rather than just be fucked and not "do anything" for him. Maybe he needed some virgins or REALLY experienced people. "Get someone else for the counter, you'll be showing my to my bedroom and bed."
 
OOC: I think so, yes, lol.

This place could get pretty rotten. Very few down here had morals as they were either mercenaries or family of a mercenary. It was all about who wanted what and when but also who they could get it from and at what price. Any merchant would have a blast- as long as they could defend themselves. She glanced over at the board but kept going until she found the hut right behind it. She went inside and walked up to the counter, slamming down a rolled up piece of paper with blood splattered on the front. "I'm here for my pay." She'd completed the job, which had been described on the paper under her hand.


"Certainly sir, you can have anything you want." Money would always be the only issue holding him back from getting something and as long as he paid, he could have it. Another counterman approached and took the position of the first. The first one clutched at the set of keys and walked to a doorway, motioning for the sailor to follow, find his room and have whatever he wanted.
 
"You've broken the seal!" One of the men snapped in Genevese, despite having been planning to do it himself, as well as knowing the boys spoke English. Still, he was being tested and he was going to place the blame squarely upon these two for disrupting the experiment. He gave a lean and mean look over the more foppish of the two. The body looked as if keeping the man alive hadn't been completely successful. Might be brain dead or his brain might be the only thing left working. "Get to the wall! Get on the ground!" He ordered in English as he looked aruond for the papers that had been dropped that the two intruders had found. He would need to salvage the experiment somehow. "One of you get in the coffin." If there was one thing Victor had learned over the years it was morality. And how it isolated those breaking its rules.

Outside the two other men had arrived, looking over the figures of those in the doorway. The golden eyes of the human skeleton still shone with dull curiosity, while the one beside him had his eyes covered. After muttering something to the skeletal figure, he started walking away, leaving the trees and statuary behind him. The Skeletal figure moved to the side after giving the slouching man an appraising look. He had his own form of beauty. A fair bit of stiching, but it was finely done and difficult to see. The Qausimodo had done well for himself. Much more potential than Victor, even after that one creation from the student. Well, it was time to see how he handled things.
 
( I'm totally fucking confused xD ROFL )

She ignored the cries of anger going on outside and slid the paper over to the younger male across from her. He looked it over and nodded, glancing up at her. "Password." She rolled her eyes and rubbed her fingertips across her broad but slightly rounded forehead. "Gingivitis." Her contract had come with a riddle, which was normal, and she'd found the answer on the man she'd killed. Solving the riddle was only possible by getting up close and personal with the target and the answer to the riddle was the password. This let the contractors know the mercenaries weren't lying.

The younger male nodded and stamped the paper before dropping it into a file cabinet. He snatched up a little pouch of money and dropped it into her open hand. "More work is posted outside, miss." The woman nodded and stuffed the pouch away onto her person and leaned in closer, "I don't want that rabble. Give me something better." He gave a slow nod and took out a key, shoving it into the top drawer of the desk and popped it open. He fingered through the pages and listed the types of job, "Elimination, robbery, discrete auto-theft, espionage, more elimination, whoring jobs and a few classifieds." Her brow quirked, "Classifieds?" The male stared at her and she took out a few coins, flicking them at him.

He smiled and snatched it up, dropping it into his pocket before fingering through more paperwork. "Elimination, slaughter, espionage and packaged deals which include a combination of job types and sometimes separate jobs." She nodded, "Let me see them." He slid over a few papers and she glanced over them until she'd decided to pick one. The male typed up a receipt and gave her a copy of the paperwork, a simpler copy, and handed it over. "There ye' go miss." She rolled up the paperwork and waved it at him before walking back outside.
 
The tweed dressed man at the counter continued his work, handing off a paper to the man who had been in line ahead of the dyke. Waiting for the woman to get in line, he decided it was going to be a futile effort. He frowned as he took the somewhat crumbled up paper, the ink flaked by it's treatment in the places that it didn't run from the rainwater and the steam throughout the tunnels. "You really need to stop removing these from the board without informing us ahead of time. We have had enough difficulty with your previous clients having had their contracts mangled out of recognition." He looked over the paper, trying to see the requirements for the mission with a bulky looking glass. "Take this to the Cage. If the blood is the right sort or if you have evidence of completing the job you will get your portion of the reward." He was refering to the area with the strong boxes, where the records and treasury was kept, heavily guarded by a maze of poles coated in acids and grease which acted as latters into the main area. The mercenaries got a portion of the rewards, no doubt. But just like the company stores above the surface, they already had eaten up most of it. Taxes, finders fees, middelman fees, rent, board, drink, repairs, bribes... All sunk. But she would get her money, so long as she didn't get drunk. All the women were like that here. Line cutters. Throat cutters. Check cutters. He watched as yet another dyke moved off, a bit richer, ready to head to the whorehouse like the men, no doubt.
 
She wandered out and found herself a corner to be alone. Plopping down, she tore open the package and read through the paperwork given to her. It took about an hour as the stack was pretty thick and she finally realized what it was asking of her. There was a man who'd come to the city a few years back and changed everything. He caused the burst of mercenary work, though it was likely he was totally unaware of this. He was a filthy mongrel who wanted all of the cities wealth for himself. He'd pretended to be just what the place needed and to help everyone advance with new businesses instead of industries and textiles. He put the common worker out of a job and gave fat cats more cash, power and hookers. This man was the leader of the city and he was to be eliminated.



The merc sighed and stuffed everything back inside. Perfect. The cash was worth it and the job could be done rather quickly. Granted, she would need some time to prepare but it wouldn't take long at all. She hopped up from her seat and left the mercenary city behind as she headed back up to the streets and to the whore house, er, brothel, closer to the upper class part of town.


( I have quite a few RPs right now and I'm trying to remember who your main character in this is xD because I may have just messed up with this post, rofl. )
 
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