• Solo • Actions speak louder than words - Part I

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 12th, 717

Finn had his hands stuffed deep into his pockets as he zig-zagged through the rowdy crowd at the Citizen's Market. Merchants announced their wares loudly, each boasting to have the finest goods at the lowest prices. Finn wasn't interested in grapes or pies however. He'd snuck out of the orphanage right after breakfast, as had become his custom, and was shaking off any potential pursuers in the thick of the crowd. His real destination was a pet shop he liked to visit in the commercial district. The owner was an old lady he'd gotten to know quite well over many trials of visiting the shop and she always let him feed the birds before shooing him back home.

He was just about to break out of the crowd and into a narrow alley, leading deeper into the heart of the city when a loud voice called out. "C'm here you mutts!" Finn turned in the direction of the voice. A sleazy looking man in a long overcoat yanked the reigns on three whining, moderately-sized, pitch-black labradors. The perpetual smirk Finn carried vanished at the sight of the stout, broad man with a patched beard, dragging the dogs into the alley.

Finn removed his hands from his pockets and moved up to the man. "Where are you taking them?"

The man let out a guttural "huh?" and turned to look over his shoulder at the spritely boy darting after him.

"Non' of your business," he grumbled in Ith'ession and gave another firm yank when one of the dogs whined pitifully at Finn. While the dogs were quick to obey the man's violent tugs, Finn didn't relent. His Ith'ession wasn't as good as his common, but with the help of some gestures, he managed

"You're hurting them," he insisted. "Are they yours?"

The man gave Finn an incredulous look. "Look 'ere boy, these are street mutts, I'm just gettin' rid of 'em."

"They look thirsty," Finn said, having guessed at the gist of the man's meaning. He lowered himself to a crouch and gave one of the dogs a pat to which the heavily breathing animal replied with a quick lick. "Whatcha getting them rid of for?" he said, as he slipped back into common. The man grumbled something under his breath, then cursed.

"Don't touch!" The man gave another hard pull on the reigns and seperated the dogs from the boy with a shove of his large boot. Finn shot up in surprise and shot a questioning look at the man who, it turned out, was quite capable of speaking in common, though his voice was laced with a thick, rubbery accent. "They're riddled with lice. You'll get yourself infected. Now sod off, will ya?"

For a few trills, Finn remained half-crouched as he watched the glorified dogcatcher turn his back on him and drag the black hounds after him. As soon as the man turned into another street, Finn raised himself back up to his full height and gave chase, taking care not to run too hastily, fearing that his footsteps might betray his presence.

When he peaked around the corner, the bald man had just finished up loading the dogs into a large cage resting on the back of a cart. Finn inhaled sharply as the man was about to put a large padlock on the cage. He had to act quickly!

Luck was with him however, there was a loose stone in the road. Bending down he pried the cobblestone free and without a moment's hesitation slung it around the corner, aiming way over the man's head for he didn't mean to hurt anyone, just cause a distraction. After the stone had landed on the street and caused the dogcatcher to turn his head, Finn darted over to the cage and yanked it open.

At once the three dogs sprung up and shot out of their prison. "Go!" he shouted, rather needlessly, a smile returning to his face as he watched the dogs run away. His victory didn't last long however as the dogcatcher recovered from his surprise and bolted a heavy hand on Finn's shoulder.

"You little shit..." he fumed.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 12th, 717

The dogcatcher dragged him to the nearest city guard and explained the situation in rough Ith'ession, which Finn understood enough to know that the man was wildly exaggerating. Despite his protests they marched up to the citadel and the dogcatcher re-itereated his story there to a young clerk who furiously scribbled down notes while Finn was seated on a bench to the side, flanked by a stoic guard.

He had seen the inside of the Hall of Rule and Judgement a few times before, but on those ocassions he'd been let go again before the day's end, for his hijinks rarely warranted anything else than a stern talking to, and the threat of less leniance the next time. He'd never really bothered to listen to any of it, for if he had, he could have known that the Black Guard had been serious.

Bored out of his mind, and not too worried about what might be in store for him, Finn idly swung his feet back and forth and glanced around. The interior of the waiting area was purely functional. Only a few benches lined the walls, and they were hard and uncomfortable to sit on. The rest of the room was bare, save for three counters behind which clerks penned down the complaints of the citizenry. He tried to pass the time by counting the tiles on the floor, but it soon became boring and with a long sigh he buried his chin in his hands. He was certain now that the dogcatcher was thickening the story a fair bit, it couldn't possibly take that long to describe what had happened!

"We'll bring it before the magistrate, sir," Finn finally heard the clerk say after the last few notes had been scribbled down. "What's the name again?"

"Andras," the dogcatcher replied gruffly.

"Not yours," the clerk said as he pointed his quill towards Finn. "The boy's..."

"Finn," the boy in question piped up. The clerk wrote down the name, then furrowed his brow.

"Just a moment..."

Not a bit later, the clerk returned with a familiar officer of the black guard in tow. The officer was busy reading a list of sorts and only stopped to look up when the clerk halted, and motioned towards Finn. "That's him, I believe," the clerk said.

Finn straightened up a little at the weight of a few gazes being sent his way and did his best to avoid the eyes of the officer in particular, to no avail.

"You again?" the officer handed the paper he'd been holding to the clerk and marched up to Finn, prompting the boy to jump up from his seat and stand at ease.

"Officer Stuart," the boy acknowledged with a lump in his throat. The officer was of a broad build with rolled up sleeves and shortly cut hair. Thin scars criss-crossed his forearms, and a neatly kept beard added to his authority. Finn had gotten to know the officer fairly well in the past seasons, and after each encounter, the man had expressed the desire for their paths not to cross again.

"I hear you've been causing trouble again?"

"I was just-"

"Yes or no?" the officer demanded to know.

"Y-"

"Look at me when you're talking."

Finn shriveled a little before reluctantly meeting officer Stuart's steely gaze. "I suppose," he ended up saying.

The officer tore his eyes from the small boy before him and rested his large hands on his hips. "What am I to do with you..." he mused between clicking his tongue, "what indeed..."

Growing impatient, Andras shuffled and was about to speak up when the officer interrupted him. "Clerk, see this man out please."

"What of the boy?" Andras objected.

"The magistrates will take care of that."

Andras didn't seem remotely satisfied. "How will I get those dogs back?" he whined. With two large steps, Stuart closed the distance between himself and the ratty man. "Well you're a dogcatcher aren't you? I'd suggest you go catch them again."

Grumbling under his breath, Andras left the building while the clerk retreated to his position behind the counter, leaving just Finn and the officer standing.

"You," Stuart settled his gaze on Finn again, "follow me."

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 12th, 717

Officer Stuart's room was a small one, solely occupied by a desk, two chairs, and a file cabinet to the side. A small window in the back wall was slightly ajar, letting the ocassional breeze of fresh air as the officer sat down behind his desk and moved a pile of paperwork aside.

"Sit," he told Finn, who'd been waiting at the doorstep.

Taking a deep breath, Finn moved into the small room and cautiously sat down on the very edge of the chair while his shoulders drooped under the weight of guilt.

Officer Stuart rested his elbows on the desk and hooked his thumbs under his chin. For a few trills the veteran let silence do all the work for him and simply watched as Finn shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.

"I thought we had an understanding," he spoke in a slow, deliberate voice, letting each word sink in to the vagabond before him. "I thought I had made myself fairly clear on the last two- no, three times that I've had to suffer your presence. What part about 'don't cause anymore trouble' don't you understand?"

Finn stared at his feet and merely offered a shrug in reply.

"So you have nothing to say for yourself then?"

Finn bit down on his lips and glanced up at the officer. "He was being mean to them..." he mumbled.

"The dogcatcher?"

"Yeah..."

"To whom?"

"The dogs."

The officer let out a deep sigh. "I really don't have time for this, Finn, and I've warned you before. I am not letting you off the hook this time."

The air grew cold in the room and Finn tightened up, desperate not to give into the fear that was starting to seep into his mind.

"I could bring the case before the magistrates. Not just this particular one, but your whole," Stuart paused for a moment, "your whole collection." He stood up from his chair and paced around the room, then halted in front of the window and gazed out over the city. "The magistrates would be quite disappointed to learn that, despite all the encouragement you've been given, you still haven't mended your ways." He shot a look over shoulder. "Actions speak louder than words, Finn, and that goes doubly so for you it seems. You told me you'd do better last time we met, yet here we are." The veteran turned away from the window and crossed his arms over his chest. "You leave me no choice..."

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 12th, 717

"Riiiight then!" A toad-faced captain of the Black Guard barked across the courtyard as he marched down the line of miserable delinquents. These were the petty criminals. The sort that nicked a teacup from their grandmothers or had strangled the neighbours cat in a fit of rage.

"Yous sad little lot have been selected this fine afternoon for communial service! If you look in your right hand, you'll find a broom, if you look down, you'll see a floor that needs sweepin'. Gots any questions?"

Finn raised his hand but, given his smaller stature was overlooked until the weathered old man next to him spoke up. "He's got a question."

The captain's face darkened. For five arcs now he'd been in charge of the communial service and no one had ever dared to ask questions.

"Well," he feigned a broad smile, "I'm sure we're all dying to hear what you have to ask, squirt."

"What are we sweepin' for like?" Finn pointed towards the tiles in the courtyard. "It's clean."

A vein in the captain's neck started pulsing and his face grew dangerously red. "Wh- what? What did you say?" With just five big steps the distance between them was closed, and altough the captain was somewhat vertically challenged, he still hovered over Finn and appeared to get great enjoyment out of that fact.

"This here is communial service. We serve the community by sweepin' this here courtyard which we've been sweepin' for innumerous arcs! Have broom, will sweep, that's my motto! Now get on with it!"

While the majority of the assembled got to work, Finn lingered in defiance, unable to see the point of sweeping a courtyard that had been sweeped the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that... Fortunately, the plumb captain was a man of good spirits and, after having received some civil encouragement to the left side of his head, Finn soon got to work, calming himself with the thought that at least he hadn't been brought before the magistrates just yet.

As he made his way across the courtyard, more brushing the floor than actually sweeping it, Finn couldn't help but listen in on a conversation two of the workers were having.

"I've seen 'im go in and out three times already. He's a rich cunt, im tellin' ya," one of the workers whispered in a low voice, "roit damn ready to be plucked if you know what im sayin'."

"And he has no guards? No protection?" the other inquired.

"Didn't look like it. He seems to be friends with this fuck-you sized giant though. Damn big fellar. Big muscles an'all. Totally bonkers that one."

Finn lowered his pace and kept sweeping the same exact spot. He had a hunch just who the two workers were talking about.

"I think I've seen him lumberin' about too," the other voice replied. "he has this big-"

"Eyepatch, yeah. That's the one."

A third voice joined in, fainter than the others, but still audible. Finn didn't dare look up, worried that he might arouse suspicion if he did.

"So what's the plan exactly?"

"My mates have a room in the inn. You remember Booker? He's in on it too. He'll get us the keys..."

"So when they're asleep..."

"No," the first voice whispered. "That's too much of a risk. We'll cause a distraction. Maybe a fight in the room or a fire. Then we strike."

"When?"

"The 14th at..."

"Sssh!"

Finn was violently shaken from his deep concentration when a broom poked into his side. "You!"

It was the Captain.

"You're supposed to sweep the floor ya lazy brat, not caress it!"

He yanked the broom from Finn's hand a violently sweeped the floor. "That's how to do it!"

Finn barely caught the broom as it was being tossed back at him then started sweeping again.

"Roit then," the Captain barked after a few trills of disapproving observation. "You'll be doing double duty with the next lot." The man shook his head, and his double chin flubbered from one side to the other. "I've never seen a more idle boy..." he mused aloud.

"The next lot?" Finn piped up.

"Yes, the others, we have three more groups for the day..."

"And they're all gonna sweep this courtyard?" Finn gave the man an incredulous look.

"I don't like your tone boy," the Captain threatened. "Come to think of it, I don't like your face, I don't like the sound of your voice, and I damn sure don't like your technique. I'll keep this simple so even you and you're walnut sized brain can understand: broom, floor, sweep!"

Any thought of informing the guard of what he'd just heard was promptly swept from his mind and he simply did as he was told until three bells and three groups of delinquents later, the exercise finally ended and he was allowed to return home.

His hands were red and sore with blisters from the work, but he was all too aware that he could have ended behind bars with the pile of paperwork that the Black Guard now had on him. It'd be better to lay low for a while and not get involved with anything.

OOC

Right. This last post in particular is a set-up for a follow up thread involving Alistair, Fridgar and Finn. Just thought I'd mention that in case it was confusing!

[Arlo Creede]

Review: Rewards

Finn O'Connor

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 0/5 (Solo Thread)
Structure: 5/5

Knowledge:

Animal Husbandry: recognizing cruel training methods
Animal Husbandry: Dogs: recognizing physical signs of distress
Deception: using readily available resources to distract or mislead
Detection: recognizing general intent based on tone of voice
Detection: studying and memorizing one's surroundings
Discipline: poor decisions and their consequences
Intelligence: comitting the details of conversation to memory
Psychology: the physical manifestations of guilt
Psychology: fear and its physical impact on the body
Stealth: using crowded locations to your advantage
Stealth: the art of blending in
Stealth: measured (distance) pursuit to avoid detection
Stealth: using distractions to your advantage
Stealth: listening to others without appearing to

Other:
Hall of Rule and Judgment: becoming a familiar location
Andras: dogcatcher
Officer Stuart: member of Black Guard
Officer Stuart: has grown impatient with you
Captain of the Black Guard: abrasive and harsh

Fame: repeated troubles with the law -1. good deed done for dogs +1. Net 0
Devotion: N/A
Loot: N/A
Magic: These points may not be used for magic

Comments: Nice story. Clear, easy to follow and entertaining. Your ooc explains that it's part of another story but this one seems to stand on its own as well. No troubles following it. Just a couple minor misspellings/usage errors...reigns (reins) for instance. Otherwise no structure problems. You know how it works. If I've missed or overlooked something, I'm a pm away. Thanks!