Completed A Happy Patron [Job Thread]

[Hanen]

I. THE INTERVIEW The bar was dark, the liquor gritty, and the interviewer’s voice had a rustling-leaf quality that made Hanen’s fur stand on end. All in all, it was one of the most reassuringly normal interviews Hanen had experienced. “You should understand your primary job will be diffusing tension, not creating it,” his interviewer said. “Some people may see an eight-foot bouncer bearing down on them and decide to escalate.” Hanen smiled nervously. The interviewer had given him the impression the job was a sure thing, but with this line of questioning, he was becoming less confident every second. “You’re saying it would be better if I looked like a preteen girl?” he joked. “Yes, that would be ideal. Understand, a patron that escalates needs to be removed. A patron that is removed stops playing. And a patron removed often enough may never be permitted to play again. Our goal as a business is to have people play, and continue playing as happily and for as long as they can. We don’t doubt your ability to handle yourself in a dangerous situation, but it is best to as far as possible prevent those situations from occurring.” “I can be non-threatening,” Hanen protested. The interviewer quirked an eyebrow and dropped their eyes to Hanen’s twisted lip. He squashed the urge to hide it behind his tankard. “It’s not just appearance. It’s voice, posture, body language—any two-bit actor could tell you that.” “If we needed a two-bit actor, we’d pay you two bits,” the interviewer quipped. “You will be required to attend three nights of conflict resolution job training, under the supervision of an experienced employee. It will be an unpaid period, where you will perform all the duties expected of you as a bouncer.” Hanen sat up straighter. “So… I can have the job?” “I have a final question—would you say you’re short tempered? Inclined to hold a grudge?” “I’m wouldn’t say I’m resentful, no.” “Good. Then I will leave you with the bill.” It took nearly all of the spare mizas in Hanen’s pack to pay for both their meals, but it hardly mattered. He had a ticket out of poverty! All he had to do was not screw up for the next three nights—not drive away any patrons, not leave a bad impression. Hanen was a dedicated worker by habit. It shouldn’t be a problem.

[Hanen]

II. OLIVIA As it happened, his trainer was a preteen girl. She looked him over with obvious distaste. “This is who they pick to replace me? Well, don’t I feel loved.” Hanen didn’t say anything, but he must have looked unhappy, because she felt the need to explain herself. “It’s nothing personal. It’s just, I was a pretty good gambler in my own right before I was hired on. I was a regular here, and you’re just a—I don’t think you’d know the term! Obviously they think any monkey can do this job. No offense.” Hanen wasn’t sure what to say to any of that. “You’re—leaving?” “Yeah, that’s why they were looking for more bouncers just now. They’ll probably need, like, three to make up for the amount of work I’ve been doing. A lone grunt like you is not gonna cut it. As for me, I’ll be living the high life, getting married and moving to Syliras.” “Married?” “Yes, of course, and she’s be—hey, don’t give me that look! I’m twenty! Twen-ty! Gods, I’m sick of people looking at me and just making assumptions.” “I can’t imagine what that’s like.” She snorted. “No, I suppose you can’t. Count your blessings, furball. It isn’t fun.” “Hanen.” “Yeaaahh, I’m gonna know you for only three nights, so don’t expect me to remember that. But if you care, my name’s Olivia. Olive skin, Olivia. Easy to remember. Now, we’ve got some training to do.” The job training seemed to mainly consist of Hanen following Olivia around like a large, hairy shadow, while she explained in a rapid staccato her thoughts on the job. “Okay, so, truncated orientation: the language here is a bit different from what you find in the street. We have a lot of words for games, have different terms for people and their betting behaviors. There’re a lot of animal names: railbird, pigeon, fish, whale—but I’m not gonna explain any of that because you’ll pick it up on your own anyway. Now heeeeere is a great example of one of our main duties!” They were approaching what looked like a drunken argument between two patrons over the merits of different card cheats. “Bending the cards like a granny!” one man burbled, weakly clawing at the other man’s side. “Pigmentation is the future.” The other seemed to be trying to fend him off, but his sense of perspective was so skewed he was batting at the air. “You can straighten cards, you can’t get rid of ink stains,” he frothed. “And I know you, you petching hypocritical shiner, you can’t get any more old-school than that—” “Hello, gents,” Olivia said, coming up between them. “You’re causing a disturbance. We’d like to remind you that unauthorized violence is prohibited within Ionu’s Wager.” “Look, you brought the bouncer down here, you’re being too loud—” “I’m not the loud one—” Olivia sighed. “Help me separate them, please.” While they lugged the men to sofas behind the bar, Olivia kept up her stream of information. “See, we mostly just look for overt cheating, people who drank too much, and potential fights. Usually knowing a bouncer is nearby and a polite reminder is enough to get patrons to behave. But this is a high-risk establishment that doesn’t ban weapons, so that’s not always the case. Things can get really bad, really fast. You’re trained in combat, right?” “Yes.” “You’d have to be, to work here. My suggestion is to keep training. This will probably be a lot more difficult than whatever bullshyke fight club you were in as a kid.”

[Hanen]

III. THE GAME “Oh, shyke. That petching raccoon is at it again.” “Sorry?” “Over there.” Hanen glanced over at the man Olivia indicated. His face was beet red, his shirt collar soaked in sweat. He didn’t look like a raccoon, though. Instead he reminded Hanen strongly of a boar he’d found a few years ago, caught in brambles during a summer heat wave. “Looks like he’s having a rough time,” he said. “That’s putting it mildly. That’s Aryn Riverbottom, a notorious chaser. He’s been on a losing streak for over a month, but he keeps trying to make up for his losses by placing larger bets. It’s a disaster. The poor bastard’s going full-tilt now, which means he’s about a hand away from betting his life again.” Hanen took a moment to parse through the jargon. “Wait. Again?” “Most people aren’t here to spill blood, you know? If you’re going to wager something other than money, the other players need to be willing to accept it. Riverbottom’s gotten away unscathed three times now. Honestly though, it’s obnoxious of him to keep putting the other patrons in that position. Sometimes I almost wish someone would take him up on it.” Hanen hummed, scrutinizing the other players at the table. One stood out—a tall, thin-boned woman covered with tattoos who drew cards with the fluid snap of a frog snatching a fly from the air. “She might,” he said. “Hm. Good eye. She’s pretty new to the area, so I don’t know her name yet. Definitely a shark—doesn’t even try to hide it. But I’m not so sure you’re right about her—she hasn’t done anything violent so far. Might not even be armed. We’ll just have to wait and hope your first night doesn’t turn into a disaster, yeah?” Her voice was more muted, though. Hanen guessed it was from concern. He watched as another hand passed by, with Riverbottom remaining in the game. He was growing progressively more agitated though, and sweated more profusely. He kept shaking his head from side to side, perhaps in disbelief, perhaps in an attempt tear away the invisible brambles binding him to the game. “Stop concentrating so much on that table,” Olivia warned. She nudged him away from his position, towards the back. “Haven’t you played sports before? You need to keep your attention diffuse over the whole field, or you’ll start missing things.” Trying to keep Riverbottom’s table only in his peripheral vision, Hanen circled around the establishment. After coaxing an almost dangerously intoxicated woman into get transportation home, he glanced up to find Riverbottom trembling, hands almost losing their grip on the cards. It was happening, exactly the way Olivia had predicted. “I…I don’t have anything left to wager,” Riverbottom said, “except for my own body and soul. Seeing as I have nothing else I… I bet my life on this hand!” Some of the other players winced, but before anyone could respond, the tattooed woman slid a knife from her sleeve and slammed it on the table. “Should I win this hand, I will be pleased to collect on that wager,” she said. Hanen caught Olivia’s eye, and she nodded. Full attention now, so long as he wasn’t too obvious about it. He closed in so he was within twelve feet of the game, and pretended to be occupied with the next table over. Two players quit, scooping their remaining coin into pouches and scurrying straight out the door. That left three people at the table: Riverbottom, the tattooed woman across from him, and a bald man with an unsettlingly placid expression to the side. They set down the cards. “I’ve won another hand,” the tattooed woman pronounced. “So that’s forty mizas from this gentleman, and—” she gripped her knife. Riverbottom swallowed. Yet as she drew her hand up by her ear, the bald man next to her leapt up, and shoved her to the ground. Her knife clattered a few feet away. He began kicking her ribs. “Stop Riverbottom!” Olivia ordered. She barreled towards the pair, but Hanen couldn’t afford to watch her. Riverbottom was scrambling for the door. “I don’t want to die!” he yelled hysterically. Despite being a relatively tall man, he slid past Hanen’s arms easily, dashing to the wall opposite the bar and weaving around tables in an effort to make it to the exit. Hanen was too large to weave, and the gambling house too full to make overturning and throwing around tables a good idea. He needed to be faster. He needed to be faster or Riverbottom would get away. Faster! Hanen brought his fists up to his temple and screamed. As he did so he felt his djed flowing, the familiar feeling of his lower body becoming lighter. A weight seemed to be lifted off his mind, too. He could see the way ahead clearly. One empty table, a few feet from the door. He bounded towards it, pushing it in front of the door scant seconds before Riverbottom got to the front. Frantic, Riverbottom tried pushing it back out of the way, giving Hanen the opening he needed to restrain him. He pinned both arms to his sides in a violent hug, and sat quickly down, bringing Riverbottom with him. He looked over Riverbottom’s head to see Olivia restraining the bald man with a headlock, while the woman, blood dribbling out of her mouth, leaned on the table and drew her knife back— She was going to throw it. She was going to throw it right at him. Hanen had already let go of his djed—any attempt to dodge would probably result in overgiving. His mouth opened in disbelief as he watched the knife arc straight towards him--and embed itself in Riverbottom’s neck. He bled like a stuck pig.

[Hanen]

IV. AFTERMATH To Hanen’s amazement, the scuffle hadn’t caused the other patrons to interrupt their games. The bald man Olivia was restraining stopped struggling, and spat on the ground once released. “He owed me money,” he said, by way of explanation. “Couldn’t let her just off him.” “You know the drill Boris,” Olivia said. “You’re not welcome here for half a season. I might not be here, but this guy will, and he’ll bend your body into a pretzel if you step out of line. Right?” “Right,” Hanen said vaguely. He was still holding Riverbottom’s body. He wasn’t sure what to do with it. Dragging it to an alleyway or dumping it down a well was his instinct, but he was pretty sure that would be inappropriate. Boris slunk away, and Olivia’s eyes softened. “Here, big guy. I can show you what to do with him. We have some sheets in the back and we—” “No.” The tattooed woman had pushed herself away from the table and wobbled forward a few steps. “His body, now. Give it to me.” “What?” Olivia said. “His corpse. I want it. Give it to me!” “What the petch do you want his body for?” Olivia said hotly. “You already killed the man. Don’t you think his family might want it for a funeral?” “He bet his life, body and soul. I won that bet, so his body belongs to me. Hand it over.” “I’m not going—” But without really thinking about it, Hanen had dragged the body over to the woman. She slung it over her shoulders as one would a dead ram, grimacing. Then she smiled at Hanen. Her teeth were filed down to points. “It’s a fine establishment that employs useful and reasonable creatures such as yourself," she said. "I will be sure to spread the good word.” Olivia shoved him behind the bar once the woman had left. The sheets she mentioned were piled in a box above her head. “Sure loved your professionalism back there. You do realize the only people that interested in a corpse are people planning to do something skeevy with it right? Magically skeevy. But you had no problem just handing her what she wanted, without even wondering what she’ll get up to with it?” Hanen considered. “I wonder. It didn’t seem like the right time to ask about it.” “So it isn’t that you’re stupid, it’s that you don’t give a shyke. You heartless animal. What about his family? Someone is going to have to explain this to them. It would have been hard enough already, and you…” She stormed by him, snatching her coat by the door. “If anyone asks, I’m not taking my pay for tonight. I’m not coming back to oversee the rest of your training, either. Petch all that. I’m out.”

[Hanen]

V. THE SHACK The streets of Alvadas were not often kind to him, but they were that night. Within a chime, Hanen had found the door to Riverbottom’s shack. A young woman with puffy, red-rimmed eyes answered the door. “Oh. It’s you.” The young woman stepped aside, allowing Hanen into the little hovel. It was stripped almost bare of furniture, and had quilts hung up against the walls in an effort to make it less drafty. Hanen settled himself on the floor, while the woman sank into a small pile of cushions across from him. “You were expecting me?” “Not really. But it isn’t exactly hard to figure out who you are. A woman named Olivia came by an hour or so ago. So if you wanted to tell me your side of the story, don’t bother.” “I see.” He hesitated. “I expected you to be angrier with me.” “I am angry. I’m pissed. But I’m tired, too. Or—maybe—would it sound strange if I said I was relieved?” Hanen said nothing. The young woman’s voice took on an airy quality, like she was talking to herself. “I mean, we used to live somewhere once. Not here. Not like this. And we would do things—and he wouldn’t look so petching desperate all the time. Desperate and terrified, when it would have been so easy just to—well, his parents were fishermen. I sent our daughter to live with my sister half a month ago. And I was—was considering leaving—him. Guess you saved me from that, huh? At least I don’t have to blame myself when I hear about it.” Hanen remained quiet for a minute. “I find suicide disgusting,” he said, finally. The young woman startled, and fixed him with a look so full of hate it made Hanen’s fur bristle. He pressed on. “But I’ve learned over time that all creatures only have a few tools with them that allow them to survive. Once those tools stop working, there’s nothing they can do. They can’t exchange the tools they have. If a bird has a beak that can only crack small seeds, and the small seeds run out, it cannot break open the larger seeds to eat. It is a small-seed bird, and it will look for the small seeds it feeds on until it starves to death.” “Aryn was no bird,” the young woman snarled. “He was human. Unlike some.” “You don’t need to blame yourself. You don’t need to blame him either.” “Of course I don’t blame him. I know exactly who to blame.” The young woman rose up out of the cushions, her eyes wild. “I know exactly who killed him, and who held him still while he was being killed. I know who took his body so I have nothing to bury, and who handed his body off like he was nothing more than trussed poultry.” The young woman advanced towards him. With Hanen still sitting down, they were at eye level. “Get out of my house. If you come near me again, I’ll petching kill you. I don’t care who you are. I’ll chop off your arms. I’ll cut open your abdomen and sew your stomach closed and watch you starve. And when I’m done I’ll put you in a stew and bring you to a potluck, so you can be eaten like any other beast.” Hanen left. Word count: 3,023

[Kaleidoscope]

 

Hanen

Skills

• Persuasion: +1
• Socialisation: +2
• Intimidation: +1
• Observation: +2
• Flux: +1
• Endurance: +1

Lores

• Alvadas location: Ionu’s Wager
• Policy of Ionu’s Wager: Allow the players to play as long as possible
• Olivia: Previous bouncer of Ionu’s Wager
• Gambling: Oddly interested in animals
• Being a bouncer: Looking for fights, drunks, and cheats
• Aryn Riverbottom: The dead chaser
• Observation: Keep an eye on what’s around you, not just in one place
• Flux: Knowing one’s limits

Comments
Hi Hanen! I’ve really enjoyed reading this thread. I find your writing style very refreshing, surprising and wonderfully Alvadas-esque. Good work!

I wanted to draw your attention to a few things and possibly leave some tips for your future writing.

• Observation is often rewarded for saying things like, “Hanen looked over at the woman” etc. Merely writing about the surroundings in the thread will not give you observation points.
• You mentioned hours at some point. In the future, remember that Mizahar uses a different system. We have bells (hours), chimes (minutes) & ticks (seconds).
• I couldn't award you many skill points in this thread. Not because of bad writing, but simply because there was a good deal of dialogue. For a future job thread, I would love to see more skills being developed, so perhaps you might try using less dialogue. However, this is just a suggestion.

If you have any other questions, please PM me!

Comments: Please note that if/when you start roleplaying in Fall, you will need to pay your Summer expenses. I look forward to seeing your return.

Enjoy your grade, and please don't forget to delete/edit out your grade request. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to send me a PM.