| Logs |
2010 August 16
| Neverneverwhere |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Taps Logs |
Enter Dominic
Traveling to a strange town has every opportunity to be a nerve-wracking experience. Compasses work, of course, and there are maps, but a lot of the infrastructure that existed Before Disaster (B.D.) has fallen into disuse. There are records of trips cross-country taking mere hours with enormous aeroplanes or just days with cars and huge, broad roads. Nowadays, it's back to smaller roads and slower travel.
That might have worried some, but Dominic's sense of direction made the trip less an object of dread and more one of adventure. After all, he was fifteen years old and off to make his fortune. It wasn't that he didn't love his family or that they didn't love him, but his hometown was tiny -- and being the eldest of eight kids meant the quicker he got on his own feet, the more resources his folks had to take care of the young ones.
It was lucky he'd been given a good map and some solid directions to get to Springfield. It was bad luck, however, that the man who'd sold him the map hadn't known the High Mayor of Athens was being hard-pressed by the depredations of the City Planner of Trenton, who was intent upon expanding his physical resources. Athens was quickly running out of willing participants for their garrison, and the High Mayor was squeamish about forcing unwilling citizens into violent conflict. Travelers, however, didn't have the same rights according to the Athens City Charter, and so the press gangs had been hard at work along the route past town, keeping an eye out for fit men and women to swell the garrison's ranks.
They had also been hard at work intercepting letters and communications along that route, hoping to gain information that might give them the upper hand. That was how they had known to be looking for a lad of Dom's description headed for Springfield. After all, a Natural Tap with a perfect sense of direction would be a huge asset in night sorties.
The pressgang has already been at work today. There are a quarter-dozen or so fresh recruits in the wagon, taken off the little Oriental woman's caravan as they'd left town after delivering the shipment of wool and brass ingots – no need to let hale and healthy young lads go to waste on being drovers! She'd had a couple pensioners that could just as easily drive the wagons for her, and she herself was just too tiny to be any good in a fight. As a result, the pressgang members were feeling laconic and relaxed, and when Dom hove into sight on the road they perked up slightly, looking forward to a nice, easy recruitment.
It doesn't seem anything too threatening at first. Toll booths and checkpoints have been common over the past week of walking for the young man. This up ahead looks like just another border checkpoint: a rough gate made of a heavy pole across the road, and a half-dozen men milling about. The heavy-barred paddywagon was off the road, hidden in a copse of trees; no need worrying unfit travelers – and definitely no need in alerting those they'd want to invite to spend a few years on the Mayor's mercy.
Dominic perks as he sees the waystation... perhaps children are considered adults at his age, but that doesn't mean there isn't still a bit of naivete about him. "Good afternoon!" he calls to the folks ahead, putting away his map. "A lovely day isn't it?" He adjusts the brim of the hat his mother gave him to get a better look at those folk he is approaching... not taking it off entirely, or the sun will be in his eyes, of course.
The fella that seems to be in charge is sitting a big horse that looks more suited to draywork than riding. It makes the wiry little man astride the horse's back look even smaller by comparison. There is, however, a sense of authority and cockiness about him, "Oh, it's a wonderful day so far. We're a customs team. The Lord High Mayor is dreadful strict about unsavory substances crossin' his borders. 'Fraid we're going to need to search you and yer bag."
Dominic is self-conscious of how he looks, then... it's not as if he's especially well dressed, but his clothes are a bit stained from travel, and these are the first people he's seen in a good long while -- since he set off for Springfield. At mention of his bag the lad frowns, but shrugs and unslings it from his shoulder. "You're welcome to see for yourself, sir. Not much to my name but a change of clothes and some food." He, of course, is armed with a old dagger -- it's not like he could afford something expensive like a crossbow. He was a little worried about his money being taken from him, though, and had hidden it in what he thought of as 'expertly' in the toe of his boot. He takes a moment, after all too trustingly handing over his satchel, to re-attune himself, sliding his mind easily into the local leyline to search ahead... "How interesting, a rockslide. Must be on the lookout; take caution," he murmurs to himself.
The faces on the men around Dom shift slightly from genial laziness to acquisitive and satisfied. The man looking through Dom's bag says, "This is clean..." Another of them tells the boy to raise his hands in preparation of patting him down. Dominic lifts his arms over his head, remembering the stories he'd heard from his mates... long, long ago, when guns were carried by every man and woman for protection instead of being the nearly mythic weapons they are today, people would hide guns under their clothing -- and that's where the tradition of patting people down came from. They even had magic wands that could detect the weapons, they say! The man patting Dom down takes the lad's dagger out of its sheath at his waist and tosses it to a friend, "Off with the clodhoppers, son. Be surprised what people can hide in a boot."
Dominic uhs. Dung... and he thought he was being so clever. Well, it's not so bad, is it? They're officials, not thieves. It's a waystation. Yes, that's reassuring. "There is somethin' in, sir, but it's just my coin, not contraband," he assures, removing his boots... and under the man's watchful eye, produces the pouch with the small amount he'd saved. "Nothing else in, swear to the earth," he assures, handing over his boots to be examined.
The man takes Dom's boots and tosses them, along with his small amount of coin, to the same man that now has his dagger. "Well, looks like you're a nice truthful boy. That'll come in handy in the garrison."
The man on the horse says, "You'll get yer coin back and yer dagger. The coin at the end a' yer service and the dagger after you've made yer oath. That'll be in th' morning. Can't say the accommodation 'til then will be comf'table, but it's clean."
Dominic blinks. At first it's just, 'hey, aren't you going to give me back my boots? I need those.' "I'm sorry, sir? Garrison? Is there a garrison somewhere about?" He suddenly tenses up. "Why would I need to go to a garrison?"
The man on the horse says, laconic and sure of himself, "Because the Lord High Mayor needs good, truthful Taps to help keep his borders secure. And you're going to volunteer."
Dominic is about to say no, he wasn't planning on joining the army – there was some hope of employment or apprenticeship in Springfield, thanks to a family connection. He wasn't quite worried enough of his prospects to risk the danger and hardship of army service. "Begging your pardon, sir, but how do you know I'm..." Oh. Wait. He did rather give himself away, didn't he. "Uh. Hum." Now everyone surrounding him, and having his things, his dagger, and his boots taken away is far more telling, and the lad realizes he's in real trouble.
Dom's a strong lad and no slouch in a fair fight. This fight is not fair. They don't hurt him much, just enough to remind him that they could hurt him a lot more -- and then they take him to the paddywagon, where he joins three other likely-looking lads and one sullen looking young woman that have all the marks of being a drover. Dominic is sorer than he's felt in a long while, even after surrendering when it seemed clear he had no chance of winning. He doesn't speak to the others at first, hoping maybe if there's an ounce of privacy these other captives might tell him what's going on.
The four in the wagon don't seem too concerned about being there, and they don't speak until the Lord High Mayor's deputation has left. Once they're out of earshot the lass speaks in a quiet, urgent tone, "You OK, kid?" She looks like she's perhaps nineteen, though those nineteen years have been quite full. Once the pressgang is gone, the three young men take up posts at the stout wooden-post sides of the paddywagon, peering through the trees around them as if waiting on someone or something to appear.
Dominic looks unhappy, but bearing up as well as can be expected as he gingerly tests the sore spots on his body. "The day started out so well...what do they think they're doing, taking people prisoner on the road? Isn't there a law against that?" he demands to no one in particular. He sighs, looking his questioner in the eye, and lowers his voice. "I could be better. I don't think I'm seriously hurt..." He leans in. "Do you know what's going on?" he adds.
The girl smirks, "It might be, where you are from. But here the laws are different. We aren't citizens of His Mayorship's little kingdom, so they can do what they want. They got a little land war goin' on and they thought we'd make good fodder. Think they underestimated Her Nibs, though. Gonna get a big shock come dusk, I think." One of the lads says, "Might be earlier." Another one mutters something about it being a good thing the paddywagon is wooden.
Dominic is shaking his head. "I can't believe... mother and father always warned me to take care of folk that might take advantage, but I didn't expect to trip over someone like that first moment I'm away from home..." he mumbles, chagrined -- then blinks, "Wait -- huh? Her Nibs? Who's Nibs?"
The lass laughs and says, "Our boss. Suraksha. Which is a damned mouthful, so we call her Her Nibs. Runs a caravan. They took us off it this morning. She went on, but I'll bet you a week's wages she's back tonight." She offers her hand, "Del. That's Sammy, Joe, and Emmet." She doesn't demand Dom's name, figuring he'll give it if he wants.
Dominic looks hopeful. "You mean she'll show up and explain to these folk to let you all go? How lucky for you! Uh..." He takes the hand eagerly, squeezing it. "I'm Dominic. Dom. I'm uh... I don't suppose Miss Nibs could do the same for me? I'd pay you back, I swear it. Rather not be in the army, truth be told." He looks rather rueful.
Del grins toothily. Her teeth are strong and very, very white, actually, "Doubt they'll be much choice in the matter. Probably not gonna be much left of this wagon."
Dominic may be a scosh trusting, but he's not stupid. "Oh." His eyes get wide, "Oh." He looks around at the wagon. "She got warriors at her back, then? Or is she, ah... really that good?"
The one called Emmet snorts, "You'd be surprised just how good a girl no bigger'n a minute can be. Probably even be willing ta let ya ride along if y'ain't afraid a' work. Sammy there's gonna be droppin' off home once we get to Cairo and we'll need somebody."
Dominic shakes his head. "Not afraid of nothing! Well... except maybe being kicked by eight men at once. But that's sorta... understandable." He perks up and is about to assure Emmett that he can be very helpful, that he's a Tap... but after what happened a moment ago, he's suddenly reluctant to share this bit of information with anyone. "I'm not a welch, and I'll do whatever she wants if she'll get me away from those ruffians." He looks down at his feet, embarrassed. "Don't even have my boots."
There's some rueful looks over at Del who mutters something about not being able to let them get near her feet. They look like normal bare feet. The lads are all bootless as well. "Might get those back," Emmet says. "But we gotta keep quiet; don't raise too much fuss, right? And wait till it's dark."
Evening comes and they're all brought a battered canteen to share and a dented pot of beans with a single wooden spoon to take turns eating from -- then they're left alone. It's clear the pressgang doesn't feel worried about escape attempts. Dominic takes the advice from the others, and continues to be as pliant as he was earlier. He's at least glad they left him his hat... he can always get new boots, he supposes, but his hat was a gift from his mother. "Should be lucky they haven't tried to move us all this time..." he mumbles, after washing the foul bean taste out of his mouth as best he can with a minuscule amount of water. There's a general sense of amused agreement with that and they settle down to wait for the caravan boss.
The first clue that something is up is the soft whispering between Del and someone standing outside the wooden bars. By then it's night, and hard to see what is there. Dominic was trying hard not to fall asleep. Considering the way those beans don't sit well in his stomach, it's not as difficult as it would seem, though it is uncomfortable. But it takes him a moment to realize Del is talking to someone at all, and not just muttering to herself like she was before. He leans over, peering into the dark curiously. There's a soft whisper, "That him? All right -- I won't leave anyone to these liars and cheats," as Dominic leans close. A hand comes through the bars, grabbing his shirt, and a softly emphatic voice says, "You. Listen to Del. Do what she says. Don't mess things up. I'll come for you when I'm done here." Then the hand releases, and the dusky figure is gone.
Dominic is a little stunned at the manhandling, but really, it's kid gloves compared to the men that bludgeoned him into compliance. "Yes ma'am," he says, but by the time he responds to the hand grabbing him, he's really more saying it to Del than the mystery woman, Nibs.
Del nods a couple of times and then starts tying a rope she's suddenly holding around the bars on the gate side of the wagon. She doesn't look up as she speaks, "Gonna get real loud here for a minute or two. Don't shout. Don't even whisper -- just get out ahead of me and follow this line. Gonna be horses at the end..." She looks at Dom, "You'll hide when we get to the horses. A mount'll be along for you soon. Don't run. Don't panic. And don't try to strike a light." She smiles tightly, "Might not be exactly what you're expectin'."
As if waiting for Del's cue, the darkness is suddenly split by noise -- a huge and horrific roaring, the hoarse shouts of confused and startled men, the terrifying shriek of a horse's scream. Seconds later the sound of drumming hooves fades away down the road as the pressgang leader's horse takes off in a panic. Dominic jumps in his seat, and swallows a cry, remembering what was told him at the last minute.
At about the same time something lands with a heavy thud on top of the barred wagon, causing it to shake a bit. A low, slightly breathless snarling is almost drowned out by the sharp retort of strong wood shattering from a powerful blow, and three or four of the bars practically disappear. The wagon rocks again as the unseen thing leaps away, and there are more roars and the sounds of breaking wooden objects. The shouts start turning into screams.
Del reaches out and put a hand on Dom's shoulder, reassuring him as the enormous noise of animal roars and shattering wood fills the night. She urges all four males out of the wagon ahead of herself and takes up the rear, coiling the rope as she comes along behind them, scuffling her feet as she moves along behind them -- though how she expects to obscure their path with bare feet is hard to say. Dominic grabs a tight hold of the rope and goads himself into motion, leaping from the wagon and hurrying across the open terrain... he can hardly see, and would be lying to say he's not scared. He can barely concentrate enough to sense the way ahead of him, trying not to stumble and fall in his hurry to do as ordered and escape.
The uproar fades slightly as they make tracks, although the leaping firelight glowing through the trees behind them is an increasing incentive for speed. Dominic is trying not to hear those noises, his heart racing, fight-or-flight response pumping adrenaline. Using his Tap talent to help him through the night, and feeling the ebb and flow of the terrain ahead of him that he cannot possibly see, also helps distance himself from his fear. Knowing the earth, he almost becomes the earth, sure and fast for the most part. Enduring. But he does not stop till he reaches the end of the rope.
Fairly soon Dominic can see a very faint glow up ahead, and as he follows the rope he eventually realizes it -- as well as the rope -- are tied to a low-hanging tree branch. There's a worried snort and the scent of horse, and the small starlight lantern reveals three hobbled horses standing nearby. Dominic skids to a stop, his feet aching but not too badly hurt. He leans against the tree with the lantern, looking up at it gratefully as he catches his breath. He blinks at the lantern as he keeps staring at it, noticing not only its effectiveness at controlled illumination, but the extremely expert craft in how it's made.
The three lads mount up on the horses, speaking quietly to the beasts as they unhobble them, then unloop the reins, each of them taking off at a swift run as soon as they're well-settled. Del waits until they're gone, then hands the lantern and the rope to Dom, whispering, "Stay put. Stay out of sight." Then she takes off – and there's no way a simple human woman can run that fast.
Dominic realizes only after the first two have taken off that they're all suddenly leaving! He's about to ask what's going on, when Del is pressing the lantern into his hands... and then she disappears into the night as quick as an arrow. Now he's alone again, and the fear returns. He swallows. Did they really just leave him? No, wait... there was supposed to be... a mount. A mount? How will it find him? He looks around, trying to hide the light from the lantern even further with his body, looking for a large tree to hide behind. The press-gangers could find him. Or worse... that animal.
It's only seconds later that the swift thudding of heavy, running feet comes to Dominic's ears. It gets closer, clearly a four-footed creature by the sound of it. The running slows, turns into a padding walk that approaches through the trees. A moment later, as Dominic holds up the lantern, slitted scarlet eyes flash brilliantly at him through the darkness. Dominic shrinks back, though he swallows his fear and does not run... Del said not to run. She also said not to panic. Well, one out of two. "He-hello?" he whispers at the eyes.
Moving through the trees is a simply enormous beast. White fur frames the huge head, and shadows stripe across the heavy, broad forehead and powerful forelegs. The animal stops, sniffing at him -- then the monstrously large tiger starts stalking forward again. The mouth opens, baring glittering white, curved fangs. "Herro. Romirric, yess? Rime ‘oo gho."
Dominic would have thought nothing else could have surprised him at this moment. But a point in the tiger's favor -- even though she's clearly a beautiful, sleek, feline killing machine, the ability to talk and provide at least nominal assurance keeps him from fleeing or fainting. He takes off his hat, hugs it to his chest. "Uhm... okay," he murmurs, and looks dubiously at the lantern. "What should I do... I mean, with the lantern?"
Suraksha leans forward and, with a hoarse chuff, blows the candle out. She growls, "Zzhick. Hurry." She glances over her shoulder, then impatiently back at him. Back toward the way they came there's the sound of yet more shouting and chaos as the pressgang tries to figure out just what the hell happened. One shout is clearly of disgust and fear as one of them finds something rather gory. Suraksha chuckles rumblingly at that.
Dominic swallows and gingerly climbs aboard the tigress, goaded further by the shouts. She's soft, but he's not really able to appreciate that -- more trying to figure out how he's going to hold on while riding her. He couldn't explain why, at the moment, he believes the tiger to be a 'her,' either. He finally ends up holding onto her with his good right arm, as he holds the cooling metal lantern with a sturdy stick in his left. "Ready... I hope." His knees tighten around the tigress's midsection as well, just as he was taught with a horse.
Suraksha chuckles rumblingly again, starting to move as soon as he says the word 'ready.' It's not like riding a horse -- she sways too much from side to side for that. Laying flat on her might work. Dominic quickly realizes that, and ends up more flat on his belly as she speeds up, gripping her tightly. Her padding starts to quicken as she heads for the road, and soon thereafter she's galloping along the beaten dirt road at a swift, relaxed gait. The young man can't tell if the heart he hears beating is his or hers. That said... this is quite an experience: feeling the dashing tigress galloping on the open road, powerful muscles working under him.
Dom can feel they are heading west-northwest through hilly country with some unstable hillsides above them. The rockslide he sensed earlier is across the road and the tiger has no problem going right around it. It's a good thing altogether, as the tiger is moving so fast he didn't have a chance to warn her. It's not long before the sound of clopping hooves and creaking wagons can be heard, and faint lights can be seen winking and swaying up ahead of them. The tiger starts to slow, giving a soft, chuffing roar, and a voice calls out, "She's back!"
Dominic finally lets out a sigh of relief... people! Other people. They're safe. "Thank you," he mumbles into fur. The caravan's inhabitants spill out of wagons and off the backs of horses and other animals, gathering Dominic up to hustle him off toward the wagons; Emmet is amongst them, while Del stays back with the big cat. Dominic barely has a chance to say a grateful goodbye to the massive great-cat as he's ushered off. "She's amazing," he says to Emmet, when he notices the young man.
Dominic is swiftly and efficiently tucked into a covered wagon, along with the other three young men, where two pleasant older people check him over for injuries and ask what he was carrying that got confiscated. About a minute after that a small, dusky-skinned woman slides easily through the canvas, glancing around with sharp eyes, "We all good here? How's the new kid?" She sits on one of the many bales within the wagon with her legs crossed, and starts swiftly braiding her mass of curling, jet-black hair. Del is right on the woman's heels, her boots making a heavy clacking sound on the wood of the wagon's floorboards. Emmet tosses Dom his boots and hands him back his dagger more carefully. They don't find the small stash of coin, though, so either the head man was lying, or just a thief.
Dominic is more becalmed now... he's retrieved his hat from under his coat and straightened it out, resting beside him as he has his aching feet tended to. He answers all questions politely, sort of overwhelmed by the hospitality, and is putting his boots back on when he notices the dark-skinned slip of a woman. "Uh... I'm okay, ma'am. Grateful to y'all, for sure," he speaks up.
Suraksha grins, her white teeth flashing as she adds, "Call me Suraksha. You're Dominic, yes?" She's wearing an elaborately embroidered, loose silken tunic that falls to mid-thigh, and apparently not much else -- her feet are bare and a bit dusty. Her fingernails and toenails gleam through the dust though, painted a rich golden-green that matches her eyes. "So, where were you headed? Need a job? Got any useful skills?"
Emmet's voice is quiet and amused, "She don't mince words. Be sure to speak yourself straight." Suraksha grins cheerfully at Emmet, but doesn't contradict him. The man is perhaps twenty, but the sort of twenty that has been working his whole life and has a lot of experience under his belt. Suraksha, on the other hand, looks to be about 15 to 18 years old.
Suraksha glances over at Del, adding with a bit of worry, "You all right, Dellina? They didn't twig to you?"
Del shakes her head, "Nah. Handed over my boots and knife and then got all surly with them – got 'em all discombobulated. The lads also kept them off-balance, so they never got around to patting me down. Guess they figured I'd handed over anything important." She turns her head as if to spit, and then realizes she's inside and doesn't.
Dominic does notice, even before Emmet speaks up, that the small woman is right to the point. "Springfield, ma'am... er, Surak-sha. Had a map and all. No job yet, though I had hopes..." He is a little bemused by Suraksha's age, but everyone seems to be treating her like the boss, so he looks at her with the same eye. "I'm a woodlander... and a Tap. Can feel the earth in my mind. Figured someone would find some use for me with that." He swallows. "You and yours saved me... my skills are yours if you have use for me," he offers bravely.
Suraksha looks relieved, leaning over to pat the woman's arm. She glances over at Dominic with interest, "A Tap! Excellent, excellent. What's a Woodlander? No, no, we want you only if you want a job -- don't feel you must stay if you don't want to." She grins again, and in the lamplight of the crowded wagon's interior her teeth flash again. She has rather... pointy canines.
Dominic shrugs, though he's a little unnerved by those teeth. "Just mean that I know how to get along in the wild and all -- taught what's safe to eat, what plants are dangerous, how to read what the forest is telling me. Some of it taught, some of it I just know." He bites his lip. "Really, I owe you, yannow? Maybe we could give it a go... and if I do well, we can see about making it permanent?" A thought comes to him, "Not sure I should go to Springfield at this point, not if those men are still alive. I darn told 'em where I was going, like a fool. Might be safer with you, if you got a place." He squares his shoulders. "I'll even groom and feed your mighty cat-beast if you want me to."
Suraksha laughs at that, along with everyone else in the wagon, although it's not mocking or malicious laughter. Del says, "You'll be good with the animals. I can tell." Her lips twitch a little bit at mention of the "mighty cat beast."
Suraksha nods, still grinning, "You'll do." She glances at Del, "Set him up, would you please, Del? We can find out more about his Tapping after he's had a good night's sleep and some hot food." She rises to her feet, which makes the tunic fall more decently down nearly to her knees, and pats Dominic's shoulder, "Welcome aboard, kid. Get some sleep." With that... she's gone.
Del nods and says, "Will do, boss-lady."
The caravan doesn't actually stop for the night, but Del gets Dom bedded down inside a wagon that looks like it's made just for hauling sleeping people: there are three bunks stacked along each wall with a very narrow aisle down the middle. The mattress is straw, but it's clean, as are the blankets he's given. Del is quick and quiet about explaining that they'd usually stop for the night, but that's not always practical in rough country. She promises to get him set up with a bedroll and such in the morning. She also tells him not to worry about the cat, since she takes care of herself. She seems amused by that.
Dominic can surely believe that. "I would like to thank her properly, though. I'll have to think of something nice a big cat would like," he murmurs as he tucks into bed. He is so very tired, now.
Del laughs and pats him on the shoulder, "Won't be as hard as you think." Then she too is gone, leaving him to sleep with a couple of drovers and a seemingly frail young woman.
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