Gangs of Wolfstack

The fires are dying away along the docks. Only now are the forces of the Masters taking back the streets. Still, there are places even they can’t touch. Abandoned in the chaos is an old printing house, the press long cold from weeks of disuse, the windows and doors boarded up, waiting for an owner who will never return. Whispers have run through the streets of its proximity to the great shipping lanes, of its hidden machines and buried secrets. Perhaps, for the shadowed few, it still has value…
(tl:dr: Random scenario for bit of fun. There doesn’t have to be a winner, it’s just for role-play, though if things angle that way it’s all good. For fairness sake, we’ll keep gang numbers at 30 or less, plus pets. Any takers?)
edited by The Foolsman on 3/31/2014

After hearing this intrepid rumor over a spot of coffee at Caligula’s, I send a discreet message to my good friend the Chief of Constables (along with a vintage bottle of wine). There will be no patrols along the wharf that day.

I take to the streets with my gang of hoodlums while a rattus faber squad I commissioned covers us from the roofs. I’m hopeful this distraction won’t cost me too dearly…

Gang Forces:

1 - Ruthless Henchmen
1 - Devious Henchmen
1 - Ravenous Henchmen
5 - Gang of Hoodlums
4 - Scuttering Squad

edited by Owen Wulf on 3/30/2014

(Nice. I guess I’ll put in mine, too.)

Rumor reached The Foolsman from amongst their friends in the Constabulary: they would forget to assign patrols to a certain abandoned street. How fortunate that someone had the same idea. At the first hour of morning, they gather their forces and climb into oar-less long boats, carrying with them six heavy barrels and an iron casket, sweeping out silently across the Stolen River towards the printing house…

Gang Forces:

The Foolsman
Their valet
1- Unfinished Man (Ravenous Henchman)
1- Bandaged Raven
6- Drownies (Ruthless Henchman)
20- Bandaged-Folk (Gang of hoodlums)[li]
edited by The Foolsman on 3/31/2014

(Do you have to be a gang leader? I’d like to participate, but my character would more likely end up working for someone else. Would I need to do something different?)

(No, you don’t have to lead :) Whatever works for you is great)

I’m kinda outclassed what with your small army (although my char of 260 Danger could cause some damage), mind if I pull out a fun trump card for you to wrangle with Foolsman?

edited by Owen Wulf on 3/31/2014

(Uh, sure…my force is in the limits, but go ahead)[li]
edited by The Foolsman on 3/31/2014

An alert from my rat crew on the roofs directs my attention to the water where a large band makes it way by boat. Recognizing their intentions, I find myself grateful that I let my pet out to hunt earlier. Using my whalebone-whistle I issue three shrill calls.

Let us see how these vagrants fare against Lanius, my armored plated seal, as he comes from beneath…

edited by Owen Wulf on 3/31/2014

(I’m just going to wait and see if anyone else would like to join first :))

Teresa hangs well above the street, on a rope bridge. It’s a cold clear night, and she has a good view down on that little printing house. As far as she can tell, the house is just a house. Nothing that she’d be interested in. But her criminal compatriots in the Flit? Well. They have an eye on the building. And she knows the value of favors in the criminal underworld.

Now, though. Now things are getting hairy. Another group has started making its way toward the house, and the thought of leaving her safe perch is disquieting. They look awfully intimidating. Perhaps she’s in over her head?

Ah well. It’s not as if she’s got to worry about it. She’s just the scout. The coordinator. She whistles and the other team members move into place.

4 - scuttering squad (on the street, sneaking towards the building)
1 - Araby fighting weasel (ready to be flung at an aggressor by)
1 - affable spy (coming down from a rope ladder)
2 - devious henchman (accompanied by)
1 - rather irate tomb lion
3 - criminals who actually know what they’re doing (hiding in the alleyways)
1 - card sharp monkey (up in the Flit on the other side of the house)
1 - pirate poet (loitering near the water)

(Rather ragtag bunch, but that’s what I have. Besides the three criminals, of course. Besides, I like a challenge.)

I think I too would like to join. Whilst my main (Zeel) would have no interest in such dalliances, Jass would most certainly be interested in whatever treasure lies within. In my headcanon, her criminal army is rather large, however they’d all be doing regular things. In fact, the only people participating in her endeavour would be[li]

Hazel (Her Laconic Prodigy).

Jass is more of the type to slip under everyone’s noses and take it while everyone else kills each other, however if that fails, she does have a few more allies she can call in.

1 Affable Spy
1 Canny Costermonger
1 Neurasthenic Assassin
1 Daughter in the Shadows
1 Devious Raven Advisor
2 or 3 of her gang who may not be working that night.
Perhaps a couple of animal companions (The most outright dangerous of which would be the Bengal Tiger).

Is this all okay?

(Sounds great, Zeek. Anybody else who wants to join, feel free to do so at any point)

A hiss of wings overhead; a raven lands at The Foolsman’s shoulder. “I see a seal. Coming for the boats”, it whispers in their ear. They sighed. It was too close to shore for any plated seal. Someone must have sent it towards them. Tactics would have to be adjusted.

“Find the owner”, they whisper back to the raven. It takes off in a flurry of scattered feathers. Bending low over the water, The Foolsman speaks to the waves, “We’re close enough. Let us drift the rest of the way. Go and distract that monster, will you?” The oily waters seem to stir for a moment, and shapes are seen slipping away towards the seal. The boats carry on, running up into the shadows of the docks, where a lonely tower connected to the printing house stands silent.

The Foolsman held out a hand, “Archimedes.” The valet passes them a blunderbuss. A bandaged woman climbs ashore and begins to pull aside the boards covering the door. The others take up bayonet-rifles and begin to unload the wares.

Jass stood upon the roof of an office. Some clerk or other that facilitated the legal transportation of goods, the sort she was used to getting around. She’d heard rumours that there was a printing house of great value, a fine way to expand her empire for sure.[li]
&quotThis should be a simple job. Get in, situate what we can. Failing that, we loot the place. Don’t worry, this one will be a nice simple job&quot
&quotNo Overgoats this time?&quot Hazel asked.
&quotNo Overgoats&quot Jass confirmed. Hazel looked calm for a moment, then looked down and frowned.
&quotNo Overgoat, just a…is that meant to be a seal?&quot
Jass looked down to confirm that her Prodigy was correct, there was indeed an armoured seal coming to shore.
&quotSeems the rumour has spread. Remember, if it gets too much, run. I will not allow you to die&quot. Hazel rolled her eyes.
&quotYes Mum&quot.
Hazel never noticed it, but that piece of sarcasm actually made Jass smile.

Ummm…did I scare everyone off?[li]

(I’m still here, just waiting on the others :))

(I lost internet for four days, I did not think this would still be ongoing)

Seeing the wharf getting about as crowded as a bawd house when the army comes home from war, I resolved to reach that printing house before anyone else. A crash of wood alerted me that Lanius had hit one of the boats in the river, so me and my men rushed across the street.

edited by Owen Wulf on 4/3/2014

[Don’t worry about scaring people off. It just may take a while for replies, because this is a rather intense scenario with a lot of factors involved. I’m definitely in for the long run.]

Oh no. This wasn’t good. This was too early for them to make a move. Well, too early to be convenient for Teresa’s team.

The spy, after a moment’s hesitation, began moving surreptitiously toward the shore. Things would be getting messy very quickly, and she didn’t want to be in the center of it. Backing up the Poet would be the only course of action. The criminals and devious henchmen ran in with their knives, one goading the tomb lion until it roared and charged the group heading toward the building.

Teresa checked her pockets, to make sure that her emergency weapon was still in place. She doubted anybody else would be up on the rooftops right now, but it wouldn’t hurt to be ready for a confrontation of her own. And it would certainly come to one if she had to use her gun. Somebody would spot her then, for sure.

No one noticed the scuttering squad sprinting for the building.[li]
edited by dismallyOriented on 4/4/2014

Really? Tomb lions? The Foolsman briefly considered sending a patent application to the Bazaar. No, that was silly. It would be simpler just to kill everyone who had the same idea, and then claim it was theirs all along. That was what wealth creators did. They were so smart. The sound of a longboat splintering put pause to this stroke of brilliance. They had time to turn about and see the prow of the old boat and two barrels sink beneath the waves. The Tomb Colonists raised their weapons at the plated silhouette beneath the waves.

“Hold your fire!” shouted The Foolsman. Damn the expense. “Is that door open yet?”

The valet pushed the bandaged-woman aside and shattered the lock with the butt of his rifle, “Yes ma’am”

Their tone abruptly changed, “How exciting! Everybody up the stairs! Make sure nobody follows us, Priam. Also, call me ‘sir’ for a little while.”

“Yes sir.” replied the valet. He waited until everyone was climbing the stairs of the loading tower, pulling aside five henchmen in passing, “You heard the master…” They set to work, pulling down heavy boxes and old pieces of machinery to block their entrance. As the gap of moonish light shrank, three settled back, aiming their rifles at the entrance in case they should be interrupted before the work was finished.[li]
edited by The Foolsman on 4/4/2014[/li][li]
edited by The Foolsman on 4/4/2014

Another group, this time from the streets - and they have a lion!

&quotMake for the house, I’ll hold them off!&quot I hollered before running straight for the motley crew barreling down the pavement. Waxwail knife in one hand, I pulled out my ratwork derringer and fired into the group, hitting one armed thug in the shoulder and sending another ducking for cover. The tomb lion I would have the privilege of disemboweling as it’s flesh turned to ash upon my blade.

edited by Owen Wulf on 4/4/2014

At length The Foolsman and their gang reached the top of the loading tower, where a covered bridge led across to the uppermost storey of the printing house. All that stood between them and their goal was a solid iron door, bound in rusted chains.

“Who are they trying to keep out?” cried The Foolsman. Not even Hell put as much effort into their deterrence measures.

“There’s no lock!” said a bandaged man, putting his shoulder into the door on afterthought, “It’s too strong to be broken down!”

The Foolsman chose to take it as a challenge, “How many barrels did we save?”

“Four, sir” replied the valet.

They cautiously tapped at the floor of the bridge. It was a newer addition, apparently, made of half-decent steel. What need had Mr. Pages for a loading tower anyway? Why were ships needed for newspaper? Too many questions, and there was vandalism to be sanctioned. “We only need three. Prime a barrel.”


“Prime…a barrel…take said cork from said barrel, roll it over to said door so we get a nice trail for detonation, and then take said shelter. Clear enough?”

If the valet had reservations, he said nothing. The wax sealed cork of a barrel was broken, and set in the manner ordered. The gang took cover as The Foolsman knelt at the tail of black powder. They struck a flint; a bright hissing tongue of flame began to race for the barrel. The Foolsman calmly walked towards the valet, fingers in their ears. This was going to be fun.