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IC [DRYH] Beware the Tacks Man

Pandorym

Magitech Construct
RPGnet Member
Validated User
With a loud thud, the last of you are thrown into the dank, grimy cell by one of Officer Tock's clockwork lieutenants. The mechanical policeman creaks as it slowly turns and slams the cell door shut, locking it with a massive gear-laced key that horribly mimics the appearance of the one sticking out of its back. It haltingly faces you, staring you down with its smooth face ever-frozen into its terrible grin. Then, it speaks, a creaking sound that chills you to your core.

"That will teach you to not pay your taxes. The Tacks Man always collects what is his. You will stay here until Officer Tock comes for you. You will be judged and sentenced in ten hours, forty-seven minutes, and thirty-nine seconds." The Clockwork Lieutenant sounds out each word extremely slow, as if having difficulty speaking. Then it lurches away, the clicking and turning of its key fading away as it moves off out of earshot.

And now, here you are. Stuck here with two other people you don't know, in a place you can't understand, captured by things that look like men but aren't, and filled with a terrible sense of loss from what was taken from you - stolen away by a malefic being with a push-pin for a head in an immaculate business suit with razor-sharp fingers that end in deadly points.

The Tacks Man.

You must escape. In this City gone Mad, you must get out and reclaim what is yours. You've already been awake for far too long, and now you're Awake. You can do something. You can fight back.

You must.

Because if you don't, you're fairly sure that after those ten hours are up, you won't be around anymore.
 
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Baeraad

I'm so tiiiiirrreeeeed...
Validated User
"Wait!" Lawrence grabs hold of the bars of the cell door and shakes them desperately. "Come back! There has clearly been a misunderstanding - all my deductions were completely legal and valid, I can prove it!"

He has no idea what he's even saying, but at this point he's learned to just go with the madness - and anyway, if life has taught him anything, it's that bullshitting to the bitter end may not let you win, but at least it keeps you in the game a little longer.
 

brahnamin

Will GM for Beer
Validated User
Max props himself against the nearest wall and watches the rumpled suit shake the cage. "Forget it, man," he says out loud with no real conviction and looks around the dingy concrete and cinder block box. At least there are no roaches. They'll come when the lights go out. "Do you think somebody gets paid to come up with the depressing ass colors they paint these places with?"
 

JoanieSappho

Not drunk enough for this
Validated User
Sat in her quiet little corner of the cell, Johanna remained silent while the two men spoke, her eyes on the ring that she absently turned around on her finger.
She knew what it meant, and it had the sense that she had worn it for quite a while, but she knew what rings on that specific finger meant and still she couldn't remember quite when she had gotten it. Or who from.

"I thought we were supposed to get a phone call," the British woman spoke up, when her eyes finally moved up to her cellmates. "Not to mention, I'm fairly sure they're not supposed to stick me in with guys. I don't know about you two, but I don't really want to see what sort of sentencing they do around here."
She stood and attempted to smooth down her rumpled shirt, meeting little success as she peered around the cell.
 

Pandorym

Magitech Construct
RPGnet Member
Validated User
Looking around the cell, you see that it is clearly something made with the idea of holding prisoners, but not really crafted as such. The walls are jumbled cinder blocks with rebar sticking out of them that haphazardly form a barrier to prevent you from leaving, though you can see right through it in many areas. The bars keeping you imprisoned are bent at awkward and often impossible angles, you could easily stick your arm up to the shoulder straight out, and even reach the maze of gears that constitutes the lock for this makeshift cell - though without the key, you have no real clue how to unlock it. It's dingy, dirty, grimy and nasty, with rust everywhere even though there's not a drop of water to be seen.

The only other thing of note in the area is a massive grandfather clock hanging sideways on the wall, with the clock face hanging off by a spring, but still functioning. It's ten hours until thirteen o' clock (wait, what?), when you'll be judged. The only sound besides your own speech and movement is the constant, hollow ticking of that clock, constantly in your ears.
 

brahnamin

Will GM for Beer
Validated User
The watchmaker's apprentice kips to his feet and shuffles over for a better look at the lockbox to see if it's legitimate clockwork that he might suss out or if it is as batshit as the rest of the place.

" 'M Max," he mutters, not really looking up at the other two. "We get outta this box, either of you know how to get outta the city? I can get places, but I can't find places anymore." He absently rubs his shoulder where the Tacks man pinned him to the pavement. "I can't find places anymore."
 
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Baeraad

I'm so tiiiiirrreeeeed...
Validated User
"Absolutely!" Lawrence says with his best trustworthy smile (which is, by this point, a little frayed around the edges). He has no intention of leaving the city, because his creditors and his ex-wife will just hunt him to the ends of the Earth anyway, but he'll agree to anything if it gets him out of this hole. "Get us out of here, and I'll take you by the hand and lead you right up to the city limits, my friend!"
 

JoanieSappho

Not drunk enough for this
Validated User
"I ... I'll try, at least." Johanna's voice lacks the false confidence of Lawrence's, more honest perhaps, but far less certain. "We'll see if we can get out of this cell before we try getting out of this city, though. One thing at a time." She fiddles awkwardly with the hem of her shirt.

"One nice, simple step at a time, not worrying about the ... all of the ... whatever the hell's going on." She's quite clearly trying to remain calm and collected, and just as clearly managing this by the slimmest of margins. "A-and, Johanna."
 

brahnamin

Will GM for Beer
Validated User
Max nods to Ponytail and Rumpled Suit and checks out the lock mechanism in earnest. Maybe he could scavenge some spare parts from the grandfather clock to use as tools. He would see what he would see.
 

Pandorym

Magitech Construct
RPGnet Member
Validated User
Max nods to Ponytail and Rumpled Suit and checks out the lock mechanism in earnest. Maybe he could scavenge some spare parts from the grandfather clock to use as tools. He would see what he would see.
Examining the kit-bashed lock made from a mess of gears and metal, you find that with the proper amount of jury-rigging you just might be able to open this thing. And luckily for you, why, you've got a really annoying clock on the wall just bursting with parts...
 
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