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The day after the day after (Hunt for Hunter plot, open)

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The midday sun struggled to reach the bottom of the alleyway. Stale puddles, shipping crates stacked five high and the odd warehouse worker decorated the street. Marcus narrowly dodged a supply truck on the small stretch of clear asphalt left in the middle of all the industry. He exchanged middle fingers with the driver and continued on his merry way, a neutral expression on his face.

On the one hand, not two days ago the Princess of Bellmuse had been kidnapped from practically right under his nose. On the other, he had a good reason he missed the kidnapping, unlike several other vastly more experienced hunters who were also at the bar: Marcus had one hell of a party with his childhood friends at the time.

That knowledge did not stop the nagging feeling he should have done more.

In an effort to get rid of it, he decided on some window shopping. The manly way of course: He perused second hand car dealerships, junkyards and other sources of metal and motor oil. In particular, there was a new dealer of spare parts in town with, according to Marcus' mates, a warehouse full of old Atlas milspec gear. No weapons of any description, but a veritable fountain of smaller, useful bits and bobs.

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The door chimed as Marcus strode in. Rows of neat, ordered shelves greeted him with a distinct smell of old leather and wood. An older shopkeeper hurried out from between them, took in Marcus and promptly frowned. Oh come on geezer, an old hoodie and cargo pants were entirely acceptable formal wear in this part of town.

“Can I help you?” the shopkeeper asked sharply. Marcus shook his head.

“Not really, I'm mostly just browsing. Though, if you've got any vehicle equipment I would like to take a look at that first.” he responded, eyes roving around. Honest to gods leather airship seats? Those had fallen out of use before the Colourless Empire, that was from back in the days that airships were so expensive only posh people were allowed to crash them.

“Harrumph. Follow me.” Seriously? A harrumph? Who even did that these days? Marcus followed regardless, to the far back of the shop. While his eyes took in the various shelves, his mind was with the shopkeeper. Not just because the guy appeared to be older than most of his merchandise yet spry enough to keep even the tallest shelves neatly ordered and free of dust. The guy, for some reason, appeared more and more apprehensive the further towards the back they got.

“Are you sure you know what everything is? If you pay me for a crankshaft while you needed a camshaft, don't come crying to me.” he bugged Marcus again. The engineer just sighed and shook his head.

“I know what I'm doing, will you just relax.” he waved off the concerns while he looked at an exhaust pipe. Decent condition on the outside at least, but Marcus knew that this model had a tendency to rust from the inside out.

“Well just know that not everything I got on display is for sale.” the man said pointedly. Prick.

“Oh calm thine tits Fauna, I'll just pen down what I want and if it's so dear to you that you can't miss it we'll talk about alternatives afterwards.” Marcus assured the man.

The final straw was when door chimed again, and the owner scurried off. Good riddance, nosy bastard.

Oh hang on, what's this?

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The member 'Marcus Goldstein' has done the following action : Dices roll


'Battle Royale' : 2

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A proper mint condition Axton 3rd Type radial engine? Holy- this was too good to be true. There had to be a catch, there had to be. A legendary relic from the days of propeller driven airships did not just end up in some shitty old start up company in Bellmuse. Atlas were notoriously stingy with exporting this particular engine in the first place, and that was when they actually produced enough spare parts around to keep 'em running.

He felt around the edges of the cylinder heads, trying to gauge how well the fuel lines were attached. There was a company in Vale that actually tried to replicate the engine, and one of the tells was the way the fuel lines were attached to the injectors. He had no desire to find out the hard way, given that improperly maintained Vale type injectors tended to flame out most spectacularly.

He felt an odd nub under his index finger. A nub that was not supposed to be here if memory served, in either design. Odd. He gave it an experimental nudge and felt something go click.

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The member 'Marcus Goldstein' has done the following action : Dices roll


'Battle Royale' :

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The cylinder head promptly lifted clean off the body, lifted by a hidden hinge. A small packet of paper lay inside. One roll of Lien, and some instruction manual or information pamphlets.

Marcus blinked, and checked behind him. The shopkeeper was still occupied with whomever entered. He steadied himself and reached with the light of his soul, pumping a sliver of aura into the engine in front of him.

Desecration - Purpose renewed - No longer the beating heart - The shadow that hides a mere trinket

The engineer staggered as if struck. He shook it off, breathing deeply to steady himself.

Well now. That was one enlightening story the engine told him. A front cover for moving men and material for Atlas? That explained more than a few things about the shopkeeper’s behaviour. He snatched the contents from the container, closed the hidden compartment and stepped back. Okay. Evidence secured, and out of enemy hands. Next step, next step, he needed a next step. He was just a first year student. Tackling something this size was not something he could do just by himself.

Teacher. Any teacher. Friends.

First though, he needed to escape, in such a way that the shopkeeper and friends wouldn’t suspect he knew. He forced himself to wander around deeper into the small maze of shelves, to try and steady himself by distracting his mind.

“Well, are you done?” the cranky voice of the shopkeeper called out to him. Marcus could practically hug the man for the gift-wrapped excuse to get the hell out.

“Fine, fine, I know when I’m not welcome.” he replied and left the store.

LOOT GAINED:
- 500 Lien
- 500 exp
- 1 Poison

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