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The House of Storms
(https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/eberron/images/c/cf/Dragonmarked_House_COA_Lyrandar.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20071229132115)
The House of Storms is a DnD5 Spelljammer game based out of the Port of Sharn. The players are the crew of the Astral Kraken, a House Lyrandar airship and experimental Spelljammer. Spelljammers fly through space on sails, visiting distant worlds. The players will initially begin as extraplanar supply agents, exploring and bring back rare reagents, before being drawn into broader galactic events. The campaign will run from level 1 to level 20, and will incorporate player characters from a variety of realms, both published and original.
Eberron is a world of wide magic, not high magic. Common and uncommon magic items are readily purchased in shops throughout the Five Nations. Generally available magical items can be found here:
Sharn Shopping Guide (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1lQE1Mxsz_2iQfU5owscBzqMAaKmxotPMfWC6VX10-4o/edit#heading=h.yvw5idbujp2s)
Magic is a part of day to day life in Eberron. When you're done in the washroom, you wave your hands over a cleansing stone, which magically cleans your body and clothes. Lamplights travel the streets at night, paid by the state to cast light on streetlamps every hour. Arcaneers and wandslingers are frequent sights in war, with cantrips as common a weapon as any martial weapon. Higher level magic, however, is very rare. A pilgrimage across the continent to the head of the Church of the Silver Flame would likely be required to find someone who could cast Raise Dead, and more powerful magics are the stuff of legend.
Eberron is a runepunk setting, with a mix of steampunk and noir themes. Much of the game however will be set in the broader galaxy, the nature of which is still unknown to our characters, but will provide opportunities for heroism and profit.
Post Character Details and Backgrounds Below! Some characters may have prologue scenes. Some may join partway into the first job.
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interested.
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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1XrvPLwsGw4w8r6Uo79sswAKWz-NeeujCh6YTR2zk2KE/edit?usp=sharing (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1XrvPLwsGw4w8r6Uo79sswAKWz-NeeujCh6YTR2zk2KE/edit?usp=sharing)
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Dullahan: Warforged fighter/arcaneer of sorts. He was designed a while back for the war, built to be a terrifying cavalry unit, meant to cause fear and ghost stories to spring up. Shake the defenders, and thus make it easier to rout the enemy. To that purpose, he cuts a rather intimidating figure, looking like a large, detailed suit of armor, with no head, the helmeted head usually either held in his arm, attached to his waist, or floating around him if he animates it as a familiar.
Even with the fall of Cyre, he still cares deeply for the refugees, they'd hailed him as a hero and given him a home and a people after all. He will still give his loyalty to Prince Oargev when it's needed. Though that doesn't stop him from adventuring to advance himself... and perhaps give him more opportunities to bring more back to the refugees.
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Stella d'Vadalis: A ranger who focuses primarily upon staying at long range and striking without being detected. She's of average and somewhat thin. Her complexion suits her demeanor: Pale but not sickly, complimented by white hair and light blue eyes. She bears the Dragonmark, although does not advertise it.
The reason for this is likely due to her relationship with the Vadalis clan. She is at odds with the family due to her discovery and continued investigation of rather unscrupulous experiments that the family was involved in. Consequently, she has been a drifter until recently.
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Posting on behalf of a player who's account is still pending:
Sormias: Vaelguinar Bard/Chronicler of Magic. The best way to describe Vaelguinar would be an eldritch abomination in humanoid form. Ageless and unnaturally beautiful to the point of the uncanny valley. Vaelguinar are usually distinguished from humans by their ruby eyes and ebony hair.
Sormias is the 43rd grandchild of the silver emperor Nyxalis. Bubbly and carefree, Sormias is always searching for new experiences and sensations that she can catalogue.
Back on her home plane she was researching the leylines as a final thesis to complete her training as a bard at Kaelis Academy. She was wisked away to a place unknown to her, accidentally summoned to this strange world by the Cult of the Dragon below. Sormias, like most Vaelguinar would, took this development in stride, excited for the rare opportunity to experience an entirely unfamiliar world even if that takes several millennia. She is in no real hurry to return to her home.
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Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens, Hobgoblin Wizard:
Hel-Shredder's mother and father met on the battlefield during The Last War. She was a common mercenary from Ghaal’dar, and he was a Sharn local of modest wealth who could trace his name back to the days when Hobgoblins ruled the city. Both wound up fighting under the banner of House Lyrandar, and both were slain in battle within a year of each other while their only child was only seven. Because the young Hobgoblin lost his parents to their cause, and because he showed great potential for Arcane Magic, the marked humans of House Lyrandar took young Hel-Shredder in, and raised him as part of their organization.
Because of his great intellect, deep loyalty to the family, and moral flexibility, Hel-Shredder has performed many jobs for House Lyrandar over his brief 24 years. He has been a desk jockey and an airship officer, an arcane scholar and a manager of manual labor. What he is most proud of, however, is his minor role in the construction of the Astral Kraken, a ship that he considers to be his 'baby'. The day that he was offered a position that would allow him to both organize and partake in the voyages of the Astral Kraken was the happiest of his life.
Hel-Shredder is first and foremost a loyal foot soldier of House Lyrandar and proponent of their agenda. He also makes a trustworthy and dependable ally to those who have earned his respect and/or friendship. Beyond these loyalties, however, Hel-Shredder is still a hobgoblin, and can be very cruel towards those he views to be beneath him. He is downright ruthless when perusing his goals. He understands that no matter how close he becomes to the Dragonmarked, he will never quite be their equal, and this sense of inferiority drives him to advance in status within House Lyrandar. He would not be opposed to 'removing' several members of house leadership who regularly flaunt their superiority over him.
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New players should check out our discord to integrate content from Wayfarer's Guide to Eberron into your characters, and to have sheets approved.
https://discord.gg/SZDp4xK
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Atil: Barbarian Lizardfolk
Atil was a mercenary from Q'barra. He fought for Cyre in the last war, but retains no loyalty to them. After the war ended, he found work with House Lyrandar guarding ships and airships.
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While we await the remaining characters to be posted, we'll do some quick pregame scenes.
The Hearth and Harbor Tavern
(https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/eberron/images/7/74/Dragonmarked_House_COA_Gallanda.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20071229140423)
Above the City of Sharn, there is a floating district known as the Skyway. Magewrights provide 24 hour levitation access to this artificial part of the city, which contains the finest shopping, dining, and theaters in the city. The Skyway dominated the view from the Hearth and Harbor, an inn and tavern among the highest towers at the base of the airship berth. Ornate darkwood beams framing the small pane-glass windows gave the tavern a feeling of traditional warmth.
Although the tower in which it resides is owned by House Lyrandar, the coat of arms above the taps bears the Blink Dog of House Ghallanda. The barkeep no doubt bore the Mark of Hospitality, and proudly boasted that all of their beer was brewed right here, to the finest standards of their house. Tasting it, you could believe them.
An upper balcony floor overlooks the main dining area and shares the view of the Skyway. A few book cases, a pair of pool tables, and a card table dominated this floor, providing a place for local employees of House Lyrandar to relax and be social.
Dullahan found himself here, his head for now firmly affixed as he engaged in a game of Bridge, partnered with a half-elf helmsman against a Gnomish sending-stone operator and Stella d'Vadalis. The teams were evenly matched, with neither Stella nor the helmsman being all that great at the game.
The doorbell rang as another patron entered. Atil looked around, spying an inviting nod from the barkeep, and an all too familiar figure. He and Dullahan had met once, in the war. They'd worked together on the liberation of a Cyran city some six months before the end of the war.
A Dojo in the Cogs
(https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/eberron/images/0/01/Silver_flame.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20131227231510)
As far from the upper towers as one could travel without leaving Sharn behind, in a maze of twisting alleys, abandoned ruins, foundries and industrial sites, in a forgotten slum where the Watch did not bother to venture, lay a humble dojo. Affiliated with the Church of the Silver Flame, this dojo provides for the protection of the area. It is a humble dojo, but a beloved one, that finds itself the center of it's own community.
Today, it was sending out a war party. Inquisitives had tracked a Cult of the Dragon Below to this part of the cogs, and tonight, they would attempt a summoning, bringing a dread aberration into the city of Sharn.
Brother Jonhathan Was among the elite students being addressed by the Abbot, receiving this briefing. Soon enough, it was done.
A Ruined Slumhouse Beneath Sharn
(https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/exsterno/images/8/86/Cult_of_the_Dragon_Below.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20140611162244)
Moments ago, Sormias Velcrosse had been examining a ley line nexus on a faraway world. No news of the Last War had ever reached her, not her people. No sign of the Cult of the Dragon Below, no Warriors of the Silver Flame. Her world was one with it's own strange magics, it's own conflicts among it's own gods, and it's own factions and power. It was a place very much unlike Eberron, and suddenly, it was gone.
In it's place, Sormias saw, was a strange and dark room. Robed cultists chanted among twisted shards of sharp crystal, who's red glow was slowly fading. The lead figure spoke.
"It is done. Behold, an aberration of the far realms. Behold, a true servant of the Dragon Below!"
A deafening silence followed, as all turned to Sormias.
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"Mm... two no trump." Dullahan said, before glancing over when he heard the door chime. He'd lift a hand when he saw Atil, recognizing the little lizard. Afterwords he'd look back, glancing over the others at the table. A good day, a good bit of company... a good game too, evenly matched ones were far more entertaining than if he just won without effort.
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Brother Jonathan raised a hand to the height of his waist and opened it with palm facing up. "Ignite." The word was spoken in an even tone. A hand sized flame appeared over his palm and began to emit Silver light. "Should we knock?" He asked the other students politely.
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Atil looked forward, side of perception scanning the room as he walked, without ever turning his head, a skill he learned in the battlefield, since he often had to see more than what was in front of him, without taking his eyes off his goal. He moved steadily and calmly forward, reaching the stool in front of the bar, and after pulling a gold coin from the pouch attached to the shaft of his great axe.
“Strong Ale. Meat, if you have it. And work, or at least the direction to it.” His voice was deep and raspy, clipping through sharp teeth, as his tongue slipped through their gaps.
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It appears that Stella had very many high-valued spades. Winning a majority of the tricks, she secures the deal and the game. She glances over at Atil, silent for now, before starting to put her cards back into a stack. "I did not anticipate that outcome."
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Dullahan chuckles softly, starting to collect his cards and shuffle them again. "I admit, I didn't either. You're learning quick Stella. That or you're just quite lucky. Either way, it was a fun round."
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"Coming right up." The barkeep saidto Atil, reaching for a mug and pulling on a tap. Foam and dark ale rose along the brass stein. "As to the meat, we have braised clubtail ribs shipped in frozen from the Talenta Plains, whole roast chicken, or Vadalis Beef, served strip, porterhouse, or in a sandwich."
Upstairs, the half-elf jokingly accused the gnome. "You were sending her messages all game, weren't you?"
"Please," the gnomish woman made a dismissing gesture, "you think anyone would play with me if I did that? It's not like we don't switch up partners all the time. Anyway, next round's on you, d'Lyrandar."
I absolutely could have, however. Stella hears the gnome's voice in her head after a few well-hidden finger motions beneath the table from the gnome.
The half-elf begrudgingly agreed. A human waiter came over to take orders.
[The other scene still pending a word from Sormias]
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Dullahan chuckled again. "Ah beginners luck, happens to all of us sometimes. I hope you enjoyed playing though Stella, always nice to have more players around."
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Stella nods, glancing at the gnome only briefly. "I cannot say I view card games as my preferred pastime, but, as it stands, I lack many other options. Perhaps I will grow to like them more with time." Stella glances over at the waiter. "Tea and a bowl of potato soup, please."
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[Redacted at request]
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"Hi there." The cult replied, speaking in unison, copying Sormias' words.
The leader added. "Speak to us, oh abberant being, upon whom lays the foundations of true magic, of these mysterious ways. Grant us the secrets of your power, that we may go forth, in your name, to bring ruin unto the people of Eberron."
Outside, the Paladins were preparing a count down. A warforged juggernaut affixed a ram to his arm.
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[Redacted at request]
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"Grant us your powers, oh dread lady of the great beyond, and we shall obey your every command." The leader said.
And then the door got battered down and some kind of eight foot armored golem burst in, along with a force of armored swordsmen and unarmored fighters. Humans, elves, dwarves, and all manner of strange creature all living together.
Brother Jonathan was among them, hurling silver fire that seemed to burn and consume cultists, while Sormias Velcrosse was still trapped in the summoning circle.
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Bother Jonathan softly chanted prayers of protection between burning cultist. His eyes scouting for the horror that was brought into the world this day. "May the flame burn away your evil and leave only a pure soul."
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[Redacted at request]
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Brother Jonathan's silver fire filled the circle. It burned and stung! And, within moments, Sormias passed unconscious.
She woke up, a short while later, surrounded by Paladins and Monks.
"The fire did not burn her." The local Abbot sounded stunned. "She does not serve the Dragon Below."
"She's an evil aberration." The head paladin assured him. "Your fires probably failed because she's fireproof."
"The Silver Flame does not fail." The Abbot insisted.
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"These cultist shall bring fear to the people no more." Bother Jonathan looked at the creature his flames did not burn. "The flame spares those that can be saved."
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[Redacted at request]
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"So you are a women." Jonathan shrugged. "The fire saved your life from Templar spears." He smiled and raised a hand in a gesture of peace. "Now, it would be pleasant if you told us where you are from."
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[Redacted at request]
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"You are in the cogs of Sharn. City of towers. I have never heard of 'The leyline nexus'. If you need to go some place, I know the house of Lyrandar are the ones to speak with." Jonathan nodded as he rubbed his chin.
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[Redacted at request]
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“I will have the ribs. The marrow will make for a good snack, later.” Atil stated, with the bluntness of a hammer. Taking the mug, he downed a quarter of the liquid in one go, before laying it down. It was bitter, but strong.
“If there is some left, give the Warforged and his party a drink. At least one of them have caught beside me, in the past. Him living this long deserves recognition.”
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"I am brother Jonathan." He closed his eyes and bowed his head. "A humble servant of the Silver flame and yes I can guide you to the House of Lyrander, if the abbot allows me leave."
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In a small streetside office not far from the Hearth and Harbor, Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens, a young hobgoblin arcaneer, looked over paperwork. He was up the hall from a travel agency that sold airship tickets to wealthy clients, and arranged shipping and supply for the Great Houses, working on a manifest for his upcoming expedition. Early experiments into 'spelljamming' had proven enormously successful, propelling the Astral Kraken to distant stars. Already, Morgrave University was requesting plant samples from a distant world, and the Great Houses had put in standing orders for anything of value to them - at a steep discount, of course.
A voice distorted by magic spoke from a stone at his desk. "Excuse me, Mr. Rippedspleens?" The voice asked nasally. "A silver monk and some kind of humanoid aberration are here. They think we can help them. Should I send them in?"
Naturally, a 25 word or shorter response was required.
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Hel-Shredder was tempted to turn the request down. He had little patience for men of the cloth, with their strict codes of conduct and general tendency to be motivated by things less exploitable than wealth, power, or mortal loyalties. Besides... he was waist deep in in the manifest and couldn't be bothered to deal with some monk's iss... wait. Did they say 'humanoid aberration'? This could be interesting.
"Uhh... Yes please." He replies to the stone, before quickly arranging the papers on his desk to appear more organized for his guests.
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A gnomish scrivener and receptionist nodded from his high perch behind the desk, writing out notes.
"A Brother Jonathan and a Ms. Sormias Velcrosse here to see Mr. Shredder." He said, writing it down. "Don't worry too much about the name."
It was a short walk. A druidcraft totem plant in the corner filled the room with fresh air. The office inside had two brass and green leather seats in front of the desk, and filing cabinets filled with loose paperwork.
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"I found this one in a cult of the dragon bellow, in the cogs, She was summoned here by them. We were hoping you could help us find where she was."
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[Redacted at request]
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"A hobgoblin, their empire use to stretch over two continents, or so I have read." He explained to Sormias.
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[Redacted at request]
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"Indeed!" The Hobgoblin shouts from his chair. "We are the finest race of warriors in all of Eberron! ...But I suspect that we simply do not exist in whatever realm this fine lady is from!"
Mr. Shredder then rises, and walks around the desk to get a close look at Sormias. "The better question, though, is what are you m'lady? Those dundering cultists must have screwed up big time to summon you here, because you clearly have no connection to The Dragon Below. What is the world you come from called?"
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"Do to my over zealousness, I have determined the Sliver flame has judged her to be a good soul." *He closed his eyes and bowed his head.*
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[Redacted at request]
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Compromising with the Paladins, the Abbot had tasked Brother Jonathan to make sure that the Vaelguinnar was not, in fact, a danger, and to help her to adapt to the city. This had been one of his first ideas - to go to House Lyrandar looking for transport home. As it happened, they couldn't provide it. Sormias Velcrosse would need a job, and a place to stay.
Not that it couldn't wait through a short conversation.
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The hobgoblin takes a step back from Brother Jonathan as the aberration answers his question; He wasn't a big fan of zealots who cleansed first and asked questions of the ashes. He then slumps against the wall to consider Sormias' words. He had never heard of Vael or Lyrentium, and doubted anybody else in the Lyrandar organization would have either. He didn't want to send the strange woman away empty handed however, and pass up an opportunity to study her.
Then... an idea struck.
"Well the bad news is I have never heard of either of those places... but I suppose you are in luck. If anyone can help you, it is me." Mr. Shredder shoots the aberration a toothy grin. "As it just so happens, I am helping arrange a voyage of The Astral Kraken, House Lyrandar's mighty Spell Jammer! A ship that can travel the Astral Sea between worlds! If you were not involved in a summoning contract to get here, this 'Lyrentium' you speak of might actually be on the same plane of existence as our Eberron! If so, The Astral Kraken may someday find it!"
Mr. Shredder then sighs. "And if not, the magic to get you home will be costly... if you can even find somebody capable of performing it. Working on pretty much the only ship that can travel between worlds is a lucrative busniess indeed, and as such a tour or two aboard the Astral Kraken may be in your best interests anyway, m'lady. The question, then, is are you the sort of person fit for work aboard an airship?"
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"Well that sounds fair. You do not mind if escort you until you get home, Sormias?"
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[Redacted at request]
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Mr. Shredder takes a deep breath, and returns to his chair. "We call it an airship because it moves through the air. It is, sadly, constructed from what passes for regular ship materials on this world. As for the duration of the voyages, I'd be surprised if any single trip were to take more than a quarter year at most. I believe House Lyrandar can employ you for several centuries, but seeing as I'm not expected to live for even a century myself, I cannot make any promises."
Like any respectable amoral wizard, Hel-Shredder had lofty dreams of existing beyond the limits of his natural lifespan, but there was no way he would be discussing those around a Silver Monk. Speaking of...
"As for Brother Jonathan, I would be foolish to turn down the aid of a Silver Monk, but I am a bit concerned life on the Astral Sea may not be a good fit for a man of such piety. Sailors tend to get involved in all sorts of vices that Monks tend to avoid." In truth, Mr. Shredder did not want Brother Jonathan tagging along to interfere in his future studies of necromancy or demonology, but if he were to outright deny employment to a competent Silver Monk, and his superiors found out, the hobgoblin would never hear the end of it. The best he could do was try to talk the acolyte out of coming.
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"I have grown up in the cogs, and seen many acts of sin far worse then the vices of sailors." Brother Jonathan folded his hands together "This Astral Sea does sound intriguing. I'm sure I could keep the warmth of the Flame in the hearts of your crew, while protecting Sormias, of course." *He nodded.*
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Mr. Shredder sighs. No escaping the Monk it seems. At least his superiors would be impressed by the hire. "Very well then. I suppose this is the ideal time to make a few unorthadox hires. Our next planned voyage is going to be a short one, so if either of you don't work out, at least we wont be stuck with each other for months. Think of it as a trial period!"
He reaches across the desk, offering Brother Jonathan his hand, while turning his head to Sormias so as to explain what is going on to the alien. "This is called a handshake. It is how people offer formal greetings or signify an agreement 'round here."
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Brother Jonathan took the offered hand in his own and shook on it "Sometimes one must also sign a paper, we have many clerks here."
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"Well... yeah. Contracts." The hobgoblin sheepishly admits, "there is that bit too."
Mr. Shredder withdraws his hand from the monk and offers it to Sormias, but his attention turns to the stone on his desk. His voice turns noticeably harsher as he speaks to the secretary. "Oi! Gnome! I'm giving the two you sent up a trial run on the next Kraken voyage! Prepare them standard short-term contracts!"
The Hobgoblin then directs his focus back to Sormias and Brother Jonathan, and his voice becomes friendly once again. "The Gnome up front will help you both with your paperwork. I should have the voyage manifest done by sundown, and once that is finished, your reporting times will be posted both with the receptionist here, and at The Hearth and Harbor tavern. Don't be late or we leave without you!"
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They look to be standard adventurer contracts. You're provided room and board, and half of the market value of any contents of the cargo hold upon your return, divided among the adventurers onboard. On a case by case basis you will also be rewarded cash incentives to take on missions that are less lucrative in the short term.
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[Redacted at request]
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"You'll pick things up fast enough. You seem rather clever. Anyway, I'm sure once we get out on the Astral Sea, plenty of things will be just as alien to the rest of us as they are to you!" Mr. Shredder replies with a smug grin, loving the fact that Sormias chose to humor him and now very much hoping that the strange woman would pan out as a long-term crew member of the Astral Kraken.
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With papers signed, people retired for the night. The ship had all the crew it needed, for the time being. Rooms were offered for several hours. At nightfall, the ship would depart.
(https://1d4chan.org/images/5/59/Airship_-_Eberron.jpg)
The Astral Kraken docked at a berth atop the highest spire in Sharn. A two hundred foot causeway lead out from the tower to the docked ship, which was ringed by a violet flame. An observation dome at the bottom of the ship provided a bird's eye view of the city. Crates and barrels of supplies were being moved aboard.
Each of you was assigned a room. Some were larger, with writing desks, for those who needed them for writing, crafting, and arcane preparation. Others were smaller, with porthole windows. There was a central galley on the mid deck with a Ghallandan chef, Chevash d'Ghallanda, a brash halfling who wore a bladetooth claw armband, and cooked Talentan Barbecue. The rearmost tower was occupied by Cylia d'Sivis, a Gnomish student from Morgrave University with the Mark of Scribing, who will be able to send and receive messages from the tower here throughout your voyage. Lastly, your helmsman, Kayto d'Lyrandar, stood on the causeway near the ship, enjoying a quiet smoke before the voyage.
Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens, known to most of you as Mr. Shredder, was the first of you to arrive, overseeing the loading of supplies and a shakedown review of the ship's enchantments. The elemental ring was attuned, creating a field of slowly moving air around the ship, and providing suitable lift and thrust. The lightning-ballista at the front of the vehicle was primed and ready. Spelljammer sails were packed into their extradimensional spaces, and the unfolding mechanism was in order. One by one, people arrived to be assigned rooms.
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Hel-Shredder would usually be giving the dock crew a hard time at this point in the preparation of a voyage; They never loaded supplies as fast or efficiently as he would like, and today was no exception, but today he was in too good a mood to yell at the peons. The Astral Kraken was his baby. He played a role in its construction. He played a role in planning its voyages. And now, for the first time since the initial test flights, he would play an active role in its adventures.
Once his inspection is complete, he approaches the Helmsman with a wide friendly grin plastered on his face. "Everything looks in order, Kayto ya lucky dog! Enchantments are all doing what they are supposed to, and I helped pick some solid hands for the adventure crew! Should be a fun flight for you, easy money for all of us, and glory to House Lyrandar! ...So, think any of the plants the University is sending us after are going to be good for smoking?"
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Kayto shrugged, unknowing. He was a man of pleasantly taciturn disposition, and spoke little. The clock tower still read fifteen minutes to departure as he exhaled smoke. "We'll find out."
In truth no one knew what to expect, but Mr. Shredder had a buyer lined up for just about anything, from alchemical materials to undiscovered plants with unknown properties to lumberyards to a man at the Sharn City Zoo looking for exotic beasts to display.
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Dullahan arrived fairly early, head back firmly attached. He'd let it off later, but best not to have to deal with it possibly getting lost as he got himself sorted on the ship. He'd give Kayto and Mr. Shredder a wave as he walked onboard, looking around. "Back to work again. I still need to get used to moving around a ship. But here's hoping this trip goes as smooth as the last."
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[Redacted at request]
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Stella soon arrives at the boat, surveying the area for any Vadalis agents. She primarily scrutinizes the crew--other Dragonmarked would probably be on the ship.
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Brother Jonathan arrived early in the morning with full bags, two young devotes from the monetarist, carrying two fully packed bags. His brewing supply may need a larger room. When his things where placed in his room, Jonathan and the two disciples had a sparing match. They left know more of the arts of the fist. The Brother stood behind and to the left of Mr. Shredder, in his formal robes, offering the warmth of the flame too all the crew as they came aboard. When then night came, he lead the followers of the flame (and any that would listen) in a ritual prayer to bless our voyage. "Let the silver flame guide us."
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"And I thought you monk types were supposed to travel light. Detachment from possessions and all that jazz." Mr. Shredder jokes as he watches Brother Jonathan's underlings carry in supplies.
Before the monk can respond, however, the Hobgoblin glances up to the deck and sees what Sormias is up to. "Ahhhhhhhh crap. Looks like our abberation friend is bothering the Warforged. You want to handle this one, or should I?"
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Dullahan folded his arms, looking the strange person over. "I probably could. Though if you're going to ask questions about me it'd be more polite to ask me, not just act like I'm an object." he'd say, in a very unimpressed tone.
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[Redacted at request]
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"You... do realize I'm a coworker and not a pet right?" Dullahan said calmly, shaking her hand even still. It was just polite, though there was a bit of annoyance starting to creep into his tone. "My name is Dullahan. I suppose I can understand if you've not met a warforged before, but I'd appreciate you to start showing a little respect."
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((Meanwhile... below decks... something stirs in the darkness))
((PTW and join))
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[Redacted at request]
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"It's the name of what I am. Like the hobgoblin over there, I'm a warforged." Dullahan seemed to brighten a bit seeing her smile. "Though if I wasn't built to be a heavily armoured warrior I'd have far less metal to me. What about you? I've never seen anything quite like you."
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[Redacted at request]
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Dullahan chuckled softly... this was an interesting one. Well, if she was sticking around, might as well have some fun with her. "Mmm... well you don't need to pay me, but tell you what, I'll carry you to your cabin this once if you really want. Here, hold this for me." And with a casual motion, he removed his head and handed it to her.
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[Redacted at request]
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He'd chuckle a bit, then move to pick her up to get her on his back. "You adapted quick. I've had people faint when I do that before... that or just tell me to put my head on and stop cheating at cards." He'd say in a more jovial tone. Yes, he rather liked her indeed. "And yes, I was designed to be able to though, don't think all warforged can. I was just designed like this so I could act as a bit of a terror unit."
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[Redacted at request]
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One of Brother Jonathan's Acolytes dropped a cask in astonishment as the head was removed. He chased it to the railing, stumbling a bit and looking suddenly *down* a mile of city. A cloud passed lazily through the city canyons. He stepped back, having never been in any real danger, and hoisted the barrel.
-
Dullahan chuckled again. "My... now that does sound like it could give a fright." He'd take her inside, and towards wherever her room was. "Also just sounds bothersome to have to clean up. You seem to be from quite the interesting place. Tell me, do you know how to play bridge?"
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[Redacted at request]
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"Errr... no, no it's not. It's a card game. A rather complex one. Still, if we have an open slot, perhaps you'll join us one day." He'd say, moving to set her down next to her door.
-
Sormias Velcrosse's bedroom was amidship, on the crew level, two doors down from the galley. It's walls were wood paneled, with elaborate blue and white paisley wallpaper above. There was a matching bedspread on the bulk. The door was made of solid materials, and shut out the bulk of the ship's sound when closed.
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[Redacted at request]
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"Oh really? Already thinking about how to decorate it? You seem rather high energy, bit of a night owl are you?" He'd reach out a hand, expecting her to hand his head back now that she was here at her room.
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[Redacted at request]
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"Heh... fair enough, honestly my room will probably end up just stuffed with various things I can tinker on. I end up with more free space than most considering what I don't need."
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Atil made it to his room. It was, as to be expected, a standard room in the eyes of the average. For him, though, it was all too cramped. It was enough that there was no open sky above him, only to the far side of the room, and he had to contend with the bed. It was far too high up for him to feel at ease. Instead he tore the bedding off, noting how strangely soft they were, and used it as bedding. It still didn’t quite feel right, and he felt a small ping wishing for his hatchling days. That all could be worried about, later.
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"They shall be friends, do not worry, I see a silver thread between them." Bother Jonathan nodded and smiled at Mr. Shredder.
-
Atil was able to spread the bedding out over the darkwood floor. It was firm and dry. Reaching up he could easily turn down his lantern.
-
"I suppose you are right," The Hobgoblin shrugs. "She does strike me as the friend making sort."
"But seriously though," he asks, "what is with all the gear?"
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"I have a hobby of making beer, or holy wine. they were a bit large so I needed help to get them in my cabin." Jonathan smiled from behind Mr. Shredder and nodded. "People need help sometimes."
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"Beer? Holy wine?"
Mr. Shredder falls silent for a brief second, before quickly returning to his usual hammy self, "Now that sounds like religion that even a Hobgoblin can get behind! And here I thought you monks were supposed to prevent the rest of us from having fun. Not only do *cool* Silver Flamers exist, but I managed to hire one! This is going to be an awesome trip!"
The Hobgoblin gives his new co-worker a friendly clap on the back, before his head abruptly swivels around and he begins to yell at the dock workers, who are still moving far too slow for his liking. "HEY! DAWDDLE ON YOUR OWN TIME! HOUSE LYRANDAR DOSN'T PAY YOU TO PISS AROUND THE DOCKS! GET A MOVE ON! BACK IN GHAAL'DAR WE FEED WORKERS AS SLOW AS YOU LOT TO THE FUCKING BUGBEARS!"
-
The last of the crew loaded on (including a few characters still in the works). A whistle was blown. Cylia d'Sivis' voice filled the ship, clearly audible in every room and on the deck at an ordinary conversational tone. "Attention all passengers and crew, the Astral Kraken is now departing. Over the next four hours we will be gaining altitude before coming up on dawn as we cross over the Lhazaar Sea. At that time, we will have sufficient altitude to safely deploy Spelljammer Sails. If you would like to be paged at that time, please report to the communications tower."
For those on the deck, the journey visibly began, with the high tower slowly fading away behind you. The ship moved slowly at first, and within a few minutes, was moving away from the city about twice as fast as a man can sprint. A sea of lights below and above surrounded the ship, broken only as it passed beside the Skyway, where a small crowd had gathered to watch the ship take off from a pleasant public park.
The Astral Kraken traveled mostly upwards. The air remained relatively still, thanks to the enchantments, with just enough of a breeze for Kayto d'Lyrandar's jacket to be swept dramatically back as he gripped the Wheel of Wind and Water, a brass and darkwood ship's wheel with a Syberis Dragonshard the size of a wedding cake at it's center.
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"Hmm.. I think I will go report in actually. I'd suggest you do as well Sormias, It's quite the sight watching the sails deploy.. and even if that's less interesting, there's always a nice view from that far up." Dullahan said in a kind tone, turning a bit to start heading off.
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[Redacted at request]
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Stella, apparently having decided that nobody looked too suspicious, she'll report to the communications tower. Surveying the sails should be useful in case she needs to pilot the ship at some point.
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Mr. Shredder remains on deck, posting himself near Kayto and the wheel to watch the various going-ons aboard the ship. He would likely stretch his legs and do one final inspection of the enchantments before the sails deployed, but for now his obsessive nature was sated by the joy of flight. It was good to be in the air again.
-
Sharn: the City of Towers
(http://klubbsaga2015.wdfiles.com/local--files/sharn/Sharn%2001a.jpg)
The city glowed behind the ship as you flew off, and mostly up.
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From below the deck a gaunt, black-coat clad figure emerged.
"I am looking for a... Ms... Velcrosse."
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[Redacted at request]
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The pale, thin man walks right up to her
"Excellent. I am Fyodor Saltzsvits. I have been sent by the Order of the Silver Flame to investigate you on the premises of being associated with foul majiks, summoning a blasphemous abomination into our world, or possibly being said despicable abomination. Unfortuanely, due to decisions by my superiors, I am not allowed to detain you until more information is discovered about this sub-cult within our church. You are, from now on. My Ward. If you attempt to corrupt anyone on this vessel, I shall know of it, and I will make it known just how much pleasure I can derive from detaining one such as you. Our Cabin is the one closest to the boiler. Good day."
With that, Fyodor pivots and walks back down
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[Redacted at request]
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The man halts briefly. Then continues walking.
"Very well. I shall transport my things."
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Dullahan walked over, having first headed to the spire. He'd look back at the man, then over to Sormias. "What was that about? He seemed a rather dour one."
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[Redacted at request]
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"Roomies? As far as I was aware everyone was given separate rooms.... quite strange. Well, I suppose if you want to share, then that's all fine. But do let me know if he becomes a pest." You could almost hear the smile in his tone. "Something else about warforged, even when we're resting we're still fully alert. And it does tend to unnerve, a giant metal knight standing there staring at you all night long."
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Fyodor returns in less then two minutes
"It is done. Now will you come to your quarters willingly?"
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[Redacted at request]
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Dullahan laughed at her comments, patting her shoulder firmly, then he'd look back at the dour individual. "Either way, I was thinking she might like to stay abovedeck a while anyway, watch the sights, and see when the sails deploy."
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"You cannot be allowed to wander the vessel at will. ''Twould risk you corrupting the soul of some poor sailor."
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[Redacted at request]
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Fyodor makes no motion besides a visible whitening of the knuckles on his rapier hilt.
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Dullahan shook his head slowly. "Seriously? Is this the sort of tone you're taking? She was hired on as an employee not a slave or captive. Past that... you really should just learn to lighten up some. I've seen far more jovial people in the middle of a battlefield."
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[Redacted at request]
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Fyodor turns his head towards the Warforged. He doesn't speak, but his gaze alone probably makes dullahan feel like a bolt just rusted somewhere important
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[Redacted at request]
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Sometime later, those who requested to be paged were paged to the deck. Others may still have been standing here, the ship lights illuminating the deck, the world otherwise bathed in darkness.
Light appeared suddenly from behind a great orb. It stretched across it's surface, revealing a perfect map of Eberron... No, this was Eberron itself. It seemed so small.
A pair of wooden beams folded slowly from the hull, stretching out from the front of the Astral Kraken. Gears turned and rotated as the spelljammer sails slowly unfurled, in layer upon layer. Kayto stood tall, holding the wheel proudly, seemingly energized to begin spelljamming.
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"Very well. But I am forced to be nearby at all times, lest you devour the souls of someone when my attention lies elsewhere."
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[Redacted at request]
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Brother Jonathan stood on the deck and watch the world of Ebberon slowly drift away. He would offer prayers and blessings to any that needed them.
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With the sails fully unfurled, a column of Syberis Dragonshard raises from behind the Wheel of Wind and Water. A column of light ascended from it to the burning elemental ring that powers the ship, and started to course and weave through it, banding the flame into endless braids of violet energy. These braids struck out towards the corners of the sails like intricate rigging, and the sails began to fill.
Those proficient with Arcana would likely have read about the principles of Spelljamming before this voyage. Space itself is a product of magic, with the ordinary physical universe having been created by the gods in much the same way a magewright forges space into a bag of holding. Like the creator of a bag of holding, the gods can reach into any part of the universe from wherever they are. This means that space is naturally compressed, from an outside perspective. Spelljamming works by disrupting that compression, allowing a ship within the cosmic bag of holding to travel as if it was outside of it, in defiance of the rules that normally govern the cosmos.
As soon as the sails were filled, touching on the currents of the Astral Plane, Eberron shrank swiftly away. Within but a minute, it had shrunk fluidly from filling your vision down into a pale blue dot - a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam. You were on your way now towards the closest star, a bright white dot in the constellation Astilabor, which the dragons worship as the God of Wealth.
(https://lh5.ggpht.com/FWHNXE9aPWwL7NmKGuZXIV0Ijg5u7L2wKSCi3OlJQQaw711zWTBHjXcCL8duP9GViuwjVxgadtGKvr7sCp3xnGQYLQ)
The journey would take two days. During this time, you have a number of different character options. Choose one of the following, and post yourself doing it. This list may vary from voyage to voyage, and may include magic item creation if appropriate materials are available.
- Relax. If you were sick or injured, this would help. None of you are, so this has no effect. This could include religious meditation.
- Non-magical crafting. If you are proficient in an appropriate tool and brought it with you, craft up to 15gp of items for one quarter the listed price. Eg: you may build a 14gp item for 3 galifars and 5 silver.
- Gambling. Organize and play in a bridge tournament with the crew. Pay 10gp when you take this option, and roll intelligence/cards. Gain your roll in GP. For example, if you roll a 10, you break even.
- Practice. Choose an instrument, tool, weapon, or language to practice. You acrrue two practice-days towards proficiency. You need 70-(7*int bonus) practice days to become proficient. For example, a character with 8 intelligence would need 77 days, and a character with 20 intelligence would need only 35.
- Carousing. You drink and smoke wildly. Roll persuasion, and become friends with an NPC of your choice from the ship on a 10+. Roll on the Astral Kraken carousing table.
The Astral Kraken Carousing Table:
- In a drunken haze, you started to throw things off the ship to see them fly in a straight line away forever. You owe House Lyrandar 1d10x10gp to replace these items now.
- You get space sick from too much drink. You're sick over the back of the ship, at length.
- You decided to stand naked on the bow, and let the winds of space wash over you. The crew still snickers about it.
- You've slept with an NPC of your choice from the ship, and wake up beside them. Neither of you can quite remember why or how. If you roll this option again in a future voyage, you may opt to start a relationship with that NPC, or sleep with a new one.
- You upset one of the major NPCs of the ship somehow. You think you broke into their room, possibly interrupted their work. You'll need to apologize and roll persuasion.
- You have no idea what you did, but the chef will no longer serve you drinks. Make a persuasion check to make amends.
- While you were intoxicated, you agreed to put a junior crewman's gifted son through Morgrave University to become a magewright - an expensive proposition to say the least, likely requiring two hundred gold for a few basic introductory classes and a magewright's diploma. You may back out of this promise, but you'll probably really disappoint him.
- You decided to 'spar' on the ship. If two or more PCs roll this result, they will fight (non-lethally). If not, you pick fights, and spend the last day of the voyage out confined to your quarters to sober up.
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Near the back of the ship in the lower decks, Brother Jonathan worked with his casks and kettles to brew up a batch of 'wild berry cider'. The fragrant smell will slowly fill the halls.
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[Redacted at request]
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Hel-Shredder spends much of the voyage harassing and bullying various Elfish crew members to teach him their language, in hopes that knowing the tongue might someday allow him to master the elfish arcane art of Bladesinging.
Progress Towards Elfish Language Proficiency: 2/49
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A game of dice is organized, and Atil plays, as, to him, money is the same as food, and the opportunity to get more food should never be overlooked. (/roll 1d20+3= (5)+3=8)
Losing 2 coins at the end of it all, Atil shrugged unhappily and just went to bed.
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Fyodor basically just keeps tabs on Sormkas the whole time. Can't have downtime when doing Gods work.
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[Redacted at request]
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"Alcohol's allure has no effect on me. The Word of The Flame is the only drug I require."
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[Redacted at request]
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If Fyodor was a bard, the piercing glare he's giving you would deal 1d4 psychic. As it is, the glare merely *looks* like it could burn through metal
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[Redacted at request]
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Altheros wakes up, and seeing as he has nothing else better to do heads straight to the galley to get drunk.
As he gets more and more drunk, he starts to make a friend with the barkeep Chevash d'Ghallanda, telling him stories of his adventures around eberron, and just talking about life in general.
As much as he was having a good time, he got carried away and in pretty much no time was already through a cask of booze before Chevash had to stop him from drinking more, understanding that he coulden't actually convince him otherwise, Altheros just said goodbye and started heading to his room
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Stella, meanwhile, will be developing her spatial reasoning skills and learning what makes a good proto-engineer. She'll carefully borrow some small and durable engineering parts and tools to experiment with without breaking them.
Proficiency in Tinkers' Tools: 2/56
In her spare time, she'll explore the ship. Anyone is welcome to approach her for conversation.
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[Redacted at request]
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Stella's blue eyes, in contrast, meet Sormias's and seem to become fixed. "I am, and I doubt that I will be annoyed, but I am not opposed to conversation."
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Fyodor's eyes, narrow, then relax. Well, if you call only slightly zealously infuriated being relaxed."Very well. What does your kind do for entertainment, then?"
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All of the stains had been removed from Sormias' clothes and her teeth had been cleaned as she prestidigitated clean.
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Dullahan would come by, looking over the group. "Ah, so that's where you got off too... ah, you're busy. I would like to talk to you about something later if you don't mind Sormias." He'd give a little bow, then step away, not wanting to intrude on their conversation unless invited.
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Mr. Shredder approaches the group that is gathered around Sormias. "What are we all gathering around here for?" He asks with a big grin. "Not gawking at the abberation, are we? Well get that all out of your system before Planetfall! Once we are on the ground she is a teammate and an asset, not a sideshow!"
The Hobgoblin leans idly against the ship's rail. "Seriously though. Are we all stoked to visit new worlds, exploit them for fun and profit, and bring glory to House Lyrandar? I know I am!"
-
Three galifars Brother Jonathan had spent on over ripe and near rotten berries to fill his casks just before they had left Sharn. He had spent the morning refining the berries into thirty gallons of “Juice”. That was all poured into a keg with some fresh wild yeast. In two days one could drink it, but it would taste terrible and upset your stomach, making it the equivalent of rot gut. While waiting for it to brew, he sat on the deck meditating and praying to the Silver flame.
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Dullahan chuckled and went to lean against the rail with him. "Not gawking per say, I had wanted to ask her for something, but she seems a bit busy. I am rather excited to see what all we'll find. Especially if it brings us a decent amount of coin, but even without it'll make for an experience worth talking about back home."
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The Hobgoblin nods. "We'd have to screw this whole thing up in Royal fucking fashion not to make good money here! I've already lined up potential buyers for pretty much anything we might find. We have a damn lightning-ballista to protect the boat, and one of the best damn Warforged badasses on the Lyrandar payroll to protect the away party! The stars would have to align in all the wrong ways for us not to come back rich and healthy, friend!"
Mr. Shredder approaches to give Dullahan a friendly clap on the back, but decides against it at the last second. Hitting a warforged seemed like a decent way to injure one's hand.
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[Redacted at request]
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Dullahan chuckled a bit and nodded. "Well, glad to see you think so highly of me. I'll try to continue living up to those expectations." It... probably had been wise not to clap him on the back. The guy was practically walking plate mail. Might as well smack a wall. "Still, do you have any thoughts of what we might come up against? It's good to have expectations for what conflict comes."
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The Hobgoblin scratches his chin. "Can't say I do. We visited this star on the Astral Kraken's test flight, saw some worlds orbiting it that looked to be worth checking out, so now we are going to do the checking out. Could be anything down there!"
Mr. Shredder snaps his fingers, as a thought strikes his head. "Oh! Beasts! We can hunt some beasts if there are any around! Guy I know at the Sharn Zoo is crazy enough to try and keep live aliens if we are crazy enough to bring him some! I've got a sleep spell, and some rope, so it should be possible... How are you with rapidly tying knots to restrain animals that may wake up at any moment?"
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"I was a cavalier, I know how to handle animals... though I admit, my features aren't the best for it. Quite a few tend to get spooked by me. Still, might be worth a try depending on what we find." Dullahan said, thinking it over. "Hmm, depending on how these first trips feel, perhaps I might look into a mount again."
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"Well, I suppose if the animal freaks out and tries to gore you, you are better suited to take it than the rest of us." Mr. Shredder remarks, "But unless we are stopping long enough and find supplies to construct pens below deck, I'd rather any wild beast on board the ship be completely hogtied."
The Hobgoblin grins. "I'd be perfectly fine with keeping a well trained mount on board though. Back when I was a kid, my mother used to brag that she could ride a horse. Not sure if she was telling the truth. I never actually witnessed her anywhere near one."
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Altheros learned that the bones Chevash's armband came from a Swordtooth Titan, a giant carnivorous lizard. As a part of his culinary training he joined a war party that hunted it out across the planes, and had to find a way to cook it all. The fire involved was enormous. It was a wonder how such a gargantuan creature had such tiny claws.
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"Heh, horses aren't that hard to learn to ride really. It's once you start getting more exotic that you have to start taking more care. Who knows, perhaps I will find something suitable as we travel. Horses are sturdy and steady, but I'd be lying if I didn't say I half hope to find an intruiging exotic mount while we travel. Though.. admittedly my options are a bit limited with my weight." He'd chuckle softly at the hobgoblin's anecdote. "As to capturing creatures... I'd have to nyx it if you plan to just keep them tied in a heap. It would just be generally cruel, as well as being both unhealthy and making it less likely the creature would be amicable to whoever we're selling it to. At the minimum I'd want us to have a cage for it, large enough for it to comfortably turn around. And even that might be a stretch depending on the length of the trip."
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"Horses are easy to ride?" Mr. Shredder asks, "Really? Never would have guessed it. Perhaps I should give it a shot sometime! Only dealings I've ever had with the beasts is the one time I arranged the sale of a bunch of elderly mules and stallions to a half-orc butcher in Sharn... I... don't think those ones were to be used as mounts though."
"I just figured that a two day trip tied up wouldn't do too much damage to a larger, hardy animal." He continues in response to the Warforged's advice, "And if it did we could just get somebody to throw some healing magic at the beast before showing it to the buyer. But I suppose you are the expert on this matter... Better find out if anybody on board knows anything about carpentry or cage making just in case we find beasts then."
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Dullahan nodded. "It may not, and perhaps a healer could repair the physical damage, but it would still be better for the animals to be given at least as much space as I said. The poor things will already be suffering the trauma of being taken far away from their natural surroundings, on something that would in all ways feel unnatural to them. If we want them to acclimate once we return them to our world to sell... well, we want that trip to be as nontraumatic as possible."
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"Damn." Hel-Shredder comments, "I think you care more for their well being than the person I'd likely be selling them to."
He pauses for a second. Non-Hobgoblins sometimes had trouble understanding his perfectly normal and not at all unhealthy disdain for those beneath him. Best to change the subject before the conversation got awkward. "Of course, we can sell other things too! Plants! I've got lumberyards and scholars interested in various alien flora. We could probably collect plants with less of a fight than it would take to subdue an animal. Probably. I've heard of a few nasty species growing in Ebberon, so no telling what we might find on an alien world. How well does your kind deal with toxins? Better than the rest of us I would hope."
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"It would be incredibly difficult to poison me yes. Not technically impossible I don't believe, but certainly would require some doing. Of course, you definitely wouldn't have to worry about me catching any new or strange diseases... something tells me that's a type of collection you'd prefer not to bring back." Shredder could almost hear the smile in his voice there.
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"That is good to know!" Mr. Shredder admits, "I could probably find somebody interested in buying a cadaver filled with alien diseases, but the amount of paperwork I'll have to do if one of you dies is less than appealing to me."
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Stella listens to the description of Vaelish recreational activities, opting to not work to continue that line of conversation. "I am, indeed, human. My name is Stella, and I am of the house Vadalis, although I am currently estranged."
-
The conversations had been ongoing through the voyage, and as they progressed, the star they were headed towards began to grow. Slowly, at first, it became the brightest star. Then, within minutes, it had grown to the size of the sun. It's blue light felt bright and clear, but somehow cooler that Eberron's, though the temperature was the same. Kayto d'Lyrandar turned the Wheel of Wind and Water, and the ship listed and turned, bringing the sun overhead as you flew on through the darkness. You felt the movement only a little, as though you had been on a ship that had taken a hard turn.
Ahead, a moss agate began to expand into a green world, with some kind of a ring around it.
Make perception checks.
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((YEAH BOI))
Rolled 1d20+3= 5
Fyodor is too busy glaring at the Demon-Wench and muttering to himself to notice much of anything
-
Perception roll =7
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Stella, as always, is keeping an eye and ear out, even in conversation. [Perception 21]
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Mr. Shredder is sitting on the deck, nose in his spellbook, finishing up his spell preparation for the day and not paying attention.
Roll = 2
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Brother Jonathan had very keen ears and sharp eyes, not much slipped past him.
d20+3 = 14
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Altheros, bored decides to go and see if anythings happening on the deck
Roll = 10
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Dullahan would look on curiously, wondering at the feeling of a quick turn... and just wondering what he might see. He was certainly already seeing a rather pretty sight.
(Perception = 13)
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Stella d'Vadalis saw it right away. Brother Jonathan and Dullahan would see it only after the ship had approached closer.
There was a dark line through the ring, like a hairline fracture in a perfect diamond. Something must have passed through it, and recently. She should certainly ask Kayto to get a closer look.
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Brother Jonathan stands up and walks to where Kayto is.
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[Redacted at request]
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“A new hunting ground. Like old times, right Dullahan?” He said, thinking on the past. The war, itself, was never enjoyable, but, being in the moment of a fight had long since made up for that.
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Eberron, in fact, has twelve moons, a number that's obscene even by the standards of other fantastical worlds.
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"Mmm... perhaps so. Though we won't truly know what we'll find until we're there to see it. There's always a chance we'll find nothing but rainbows and butterflies." Dullahan chuckled. "Then again, there's also the chance that they'll be ravenous carnivorous butterflies too so... a good bit of excitement possibilities."
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“Carnivorous Butterflies? I have never thought of that.” He said. Surely it was a joke, but no chuckle would exit his throat, though Dullahan would be able to tell he was, in fact, trying to be funny.
“How much longer until we land, you think?”
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"Not sure, even once we arrive there's going to be some time before we find a landing point I'm sure. Still, it'll be sooner rather than later." He'd lean forward a bit, thinking he might have caught sight of something, but not being sure yet.
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Stella will glance at Sormias. ”I cannot fault you for your enthusiasm. She’ll approach Kayto. “Look at the ring closely—there’s a small disturbance in it. There may be other craft in the area. I recommend drawing closer to investigate.”
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Atil would frown at that, territorial instincts kicking in.
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Kayto nodded, and turned the wheel, adjusting course.
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At this point Altheros joined everyone else on the deck "So what's going on?"
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Mr. Shredder, who had been sitting close enough to the wheel to hear Stella, perks up. "There might be another vessel in the area! Exciting! ...But we should take precautions in case it is not friendly. Altheros, go to the tower and ask Cylia to page the entire crew and make sure everybody has their weapons and armor on hand and ready! I'm going to go man the Lightning Ballista!"
The Hobgoblin bolts towards the weapon controls, before pausing and looking back. "Stella, can you go prep one of the Airskiffs, just in case we need to get close to, or even board another craft?"
He then turns back around, without waiting for an answer, and hurries toward the Ballista controls.
---
Mr. Shredder has prepared the spells Thunderwave and Featherfall today.
-
A pair of broad handles on either end of a swivel-mounted, ten foot, six inch diameter staff awaited Mr. Shredder. At the pivot was a metallic barrier that would provide half cover to the operator.
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Stella will go to prepare a skiff. "I would not recommend boarding other craft unless it is absolutely necessary. We may not know how to operate them."
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[Redacted at request]
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"Alright, but when it comes out as a false alarm, its your problem to deal with." Altheros then procedes to go to Cylia and inform her about the situation, and that the hobgoblin is probably trigger-happy
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"Its a weapon. A pretty nasty one!" Mr. Shredder answers. "Hopefully I don't need to fire it anytime soon."
That, of course, was only a half truth. He by no means wanted a fight, but he was never one to turn down the opportunity to play with powerful magic equipment.
-
Cylia d'Sivis sat behind her desk, scribbling furious notes between staring out a telescope and checking a pocketwatch. Her sharp features, sharp black hair, and flickering eyes gave her the usual manic, frantic look of her people and particularly her house. Iridescent silverpurple and black braided patterns down the left side of her neck revealed her as Dragonmarked.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Altheros?" She asked, not pausing her work for even an instant.
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Stella remains as neutral as always, although she stops preparing the skiff for now. "I am only a small part of the massive undertaking that a self-sufficient ship requires. However, I may know cursory knowledge about a limited set of things. What would you like to know about in particular?"
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Brother Jonathan stood on the deck with a smile on his face and one hand raised in a gesture of peace.
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Altheros in his usual calm voice said "I came in just to ask you to page the crew, becuse apparently there is another ship somewhere nearby, and we have no idea if its gonna attack us or not." and then slowly started to head back to the deck
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[Redacted at request]
-
"Thanks!" Cylia shouted after Altheros as he left the office.
Attention all crew, Battlestations! The rest of the crew would shortly receive their Message. There are signs of an unknown, alien vessel in the vicinity. It is unknown if they are hostile. Report to stations and secure valuables. I repeat, Battlestations!"
-
Stella was in thought, but that seems to have been interrupted by the battlestations announcement. "When that announcement is given, we are to report to where we best believe we can be of use in battle. I will take position on the uppermost deck to use my longbow most effectively. I do not know your combat style."
Stella will then do that.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
One by one, spelljammer sails folded in. The ship swiftly approached the edge of the ring, slowing as the last of the sails closed, and the syberis dragonshard began to lower once more below deck, no longer casting it's light. The ship proceeded under the power of it's elemental ring as it entered the ring - a field of rocks, mostly no larger than a loaf of bread, that seemed to tumble and break against each other. A thin dust shimmered violet in the sunlight, as the ship made it's way up the wake.
Tattered sail began to come into view, along with splintered wood. Over the next twenty minutes travel, as you passed through the ring, you found wreckage enough to account for a galleon's spelljammer sails.
Make Arcana Checks.
-
Dullahan watched from the deck, hand on his blade as we passed by the damaged sails. "Seems someone met with an unpleasant fate here... At least, their sails did."
(arcana = 4)
-
“Do you think it was those rocks?”
(5)
-
Stella will try to determine if the damage was caused by rock impacts or weapons fire.
[Arcana 4]
-
Hel-Shredder is too busy looking into space, trying to spot what may have destroyed the other Spelljammer, to be thinking about magical processes.
Roll = 6 (Nat 1)
-
Brother Jonathan has no idea what he is looking at.
Arcana d20+1 = 3
-
[Redacted at request]
-
“So I was right. They were attacked by the stones?”
-
Mr. Shredder nods. "You... seem to know a thing or two about magic Sormias. I didn't even consider that... but yeah."
He pauses. "If the ship these sails came from is still in one piece, it cannot have gotten far. We should find it. There could be valuables in the hold... or... em... people in need of help. Although if somebody used holy magic against the ship... the people on board may be the sort our friends from the Silver Flame may object to helping."
-
“Then we should find the vessel, kill everyone inside, so that that friend can have no issues with our actions, and plunder it, since we will have more need for their things than they will.”
-
Dullahan sighed softly. "Let's not jump straight to the murdering shall we Atil? We will need to figure out the situation first. If they truly are pirates, I'm sure they'll give us ample reason to fight without us needing to start the brawl ourselves."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
“There are four things in this world. Issues, food, tools, and solutions. You find the tools to get a solution to solve an issue so that you may have food. Which camp would you rather be in?”
-
Hel-Shredder looks at the now upset Sormias, and is quite quite glad that Atil suggested the 'ol slaughter and pillage playbook before he could do so himself.
"Pirates could be the least of our worries Dullahan. What sort of beings do people tend to use Holy Magic against? Generally things that are worse than pirates."
-
"And once we discover that they're something that needs killing, I'll be all behind killing them. But until then we should take an open approach. True, it's likely we won't be sailing into happy waters, but we're all prepared if a fight happens, We don't have to be the ones to start it. Just to finish it." Dullahan said calmly.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Atil just shrugged, as though neither of those things ment anything to him, and turned to his old friend.
“I trust your judgement, but I will not allow my axe to drop, Incase things go sour.” To emphasize the point, he held up a (Karnathian?) knife. A trophy of the Last War, and a reminder of when he didn’t follow what Dullahan had said.
-
Hel-Shredder sighs, and decides to ask the two hardened war veterans for advice. "If they do turn out friendly, I'm sure we could take on their entire crew. It is only a two day trip home, so food and water shouldn't be a major issue... but, Atil, Dullahan, if they don't want to play nice, do you guys want to try and board? Or would you rather me just try and blast them to smithereens with the Ballista? The latter option is safer for us, but less so for anything they might be hauling."
-
Brother Jonathan drew out his holy symbol and began making a prayer for those that are lost out in this place, so their souls will feel the warmth of the Silver flame and it's guiding light.
-
Clearing the ring, there was no sign of any other ship. For now Kayto d'Lyrandar stayed the course, heading in towards the atmosphere. As you descended, you began to make out a cleft in the forest ahead. Likely, not too far ahead, you'd find a crashed airship.
Kayto turned and slowed the ship while the party decided how to approach this situation, keeping out of sight of the wreck that the crew hadn't yet deemed non-hostile.
-
"I am pleased you did not take the small Lizards suggestion. The slaughter of those not guilty tend's to be frowned upon in the Courts."
-
"I say we approach with the Kraken." Mr. Shredder suggests. "If we don't see any survivors outside the wreck, I'll fire a few bolts from the ballista into the air to try and attract their attention. If that doesn't merit a response, we send a team in to sweep the wreck and begin salvage work."
-
"A wise plan. In addition, I find that using the wrong tools to solve the issue only creates more issues. Killing indiscriminately is the wrong tool."
-
"Indeed!" Mr. Shredder exclaims, agreeing with Stella in word but not quite in spirit, "one should always discriminate before they kill!"
-
"If we even do any killing... it may yet not come to that. Still, it does seem a sound plan."
-
Kayto pulled overhead. Far below, figures scrambled into the cover of the wreckage. Scattered wood and a partially intact galleon hull are all you can make out from here.
-
"Hmmm."
Perception 1d20+3= 21
The Agent's sharp gaze, honed by many years of training, pick out details. What he see?
-
"We have movement down there!" Mr. Shredder calls. He watches the survivors scramble down below, but he is far more interested in lining up a good ballista shot than he is in picking out the details of the figures.
Roll = 11
-
Fyodor Saltsvits surveyed the shipwreck. He could make out that there were four figures outside, and that they were armed, and in cover. A glint of steel gave the hint of swords. From their slight shifting movements, he might guess that they are talking among one another.
-
The movement catches Atil’s eyes as they strained to focus on the distance.
(Perception =9)
-
Mr. Shredder did his best, but there was no way he was going to strike any of the figures without further damaging the wreck, and anything of value still onboard.
-
Brother Jonathan stepped out to the edge of the ship over the wreck and waved at the crew while smiling.
-
It had been a day since the his ship crashed, and so far, Riisi had managed to go undetected. His galleon had been attacked by a ship, an Emeraldgold Empire Caravel. The battle had been fierce. In the end, the caravel had been destroyed, and the Galleon crippled. It had crashed here.
Eight Emeraldgold Yuanti had survived the crash. Each was the size of a human, with iridescent green and gold scales, and piercing slitted eyes, and wide, serpentine ears that seemed to run down their necks to their shoulders. Each was a magic user. After the crash, they had systematically captured and executed the other survivors of the ship. They hadn't cracked the safe yet, you think. Riisi had been hiding out beneath collapsed ship, in a hidden recess in the stones, with a barrel of supplies.
He heard movement outside, and voices.
"Spelljammers." One of them hissed. "I don't recognize their vessel."
Another replied. "Most kind of them to bring us a ship so soon. Oh look, one is waving. Let's see if they'll pick us up, then we'll slaughter them in their sleep."
The others nodded, adopting friendly visages.
Riisi spied the ship, and didn't recognize the design either. A sleek looking frigate of unusual design, with a tower at the back and a ring of fire around the center. It seemed to fly without any sails or balloons!
Brother Jonathan and Fyodor Saltsvits would see one of the figures wave back, with both arms, like a castaway in need of rescue.
-
"We should board the landing craft. Come along Ward."
Fyodor walks to where the sleek, smaller ships lie
-
Dullahan gave Fyodor... well it was hard to say a glare, but there was a certain arua of displeasure. "You aren't the one paying anyone's bills here. You don't get to order people around. Sormias, you heading down with us to check on whoever's left down there, or do you want to stay up here in case it's a trap?"
-
Oh, by all means, Riisi would continue to keep hidden, but when the small creature heard the invaders talking about another ship, it seemed like Riisi's lucky day. And Luck was something Riisi was pretty sure they didn't have a lot of left. And so Riisi began to grab whatever may be useful, mainly Riisi's effects, and whatever dried food would fit in pockets, and began to sneak out to signal the other ship. Something easy to find on a ship of this kind would be a signal mirror to reflect light. Not realizing how this may help, at the very least the small creature figured it would cause them to realize something fishy is going on, and would try to sneak to a place that they could signal the coming ship.
-
“I personally still say we should eat them.” Atil protested.
-
Mr. Shredder steps away from the Ballista controls. "Alright. Everybody going ashore! Lets get to the airskiff!"
The Hobgoblin marches straight over to the skiff that Stella had been sent to prepare for launch, and assumes his position at the controls.
-
Fyodor does an immediate 180 and stares directly at Atil
"I assume you... jest....?"
-
"Remeber, Sir Shredder, my flame will always spare the innocent." He Smiles as he follows his Hobgoblin superior.
-
"Well, I guess we have a plan if we are desperate to figure out if they can be trusted or not." The Hobgoblin jokes.
-
A rudder at the back provided controls. The airskiff levitated, and sails folded out either side. You began to approach the Yuan-ti. You could see them more clearly, staying near cover, cautious of you. Their scales were quite unlike anything you'd ever seen.
Riisi saw the strangers approaching the serpentfolk. If they didn't react now, they might be left behind, and leave these strangers to their fate.
-
Riisi would look for a place they'd be visible to the skiff, but not too close to one of the yuan-ti, and took a deep breath, drawing the shortswords taken off of some of the bodies, and as the skiff came in hearing distance, screeched in a high-pitched voice that would probably carry, "Is a traaaaap!"
Riisi looked like a rat-thing with bird legs, and probably a novel sight, But it appeared to be steering clear of the Yuan-ti. And it had blades.
-
Well that was.... new. Dullahan gripped his swordhilt more firmly, looking down at the Yuanti. "Well, that answers that question. Now, how about we try to land quickly so we can help the little rat thing? I feel if it is a trap those snakes aren't going to be happy."
-
"Shit." Said the Yuan-ti woman. The group of them drew swords and wands, and attacked, firing beams up towards the skiff, and at Riisi.
Riisi is about 30 feet from the Yuan-ti, near wreckage and cover. The skiff is about 60 feet away from them and 20 feet above the ground, still coming in. As a bonus action Mr. Shredder may move the airskiff 90 feet.
Roll for initiative DC12
Due to this game being a forum game, initiative will work slightly differently. Each encounter has an initiative DC based on the median monster initiative bonus. If you roll higher than it, act immediately. If not, you must wait until after I post their action. Then all players will act, and after either everyone has acted or about a day has passed, I'll post the next enemy action. This should keep things speedy in a forum setting.
-
Init=7
-
Brother Jonathan opened his eyes halfway and looked down on the serpent-foalk in the deepest cover. With one hand he made the sign of fire, he spoke the word "Argent" and snapped his fingers. A bonfire of silver fire consumed the area where the Yuna-ti stood.
-
The Yuan-ti seems to be caught completely off guard as silver flame erupted around him. [Dex save 10, takes 3 damage]
-
[Redacted at request]
-
The Yuan-ti was baffled by your maybe sarcastic comments? It genuinely didn't know how to feel, which put it as a definite disadvantage. Roll damage. [Wisdom Save 7]
-
Hel-Shredder steers the skiff towards both the small creature and the ground, landing the craft right near Riisi, between it and the Yuan-ti. "Hey little buddy! Hop on quick!"
He then turns his attention to the poor soul that brother Jonathan lit up, points his wand in its direction, and smirks as he readies a cantrip. "That fire looks painful! Here, let me help!"
Mr. Shredder readies a Ray of Frost, to be cast when the flames inevitably cause the Yuan-ti to leave cover.
-
(I posted out of initiative and therefore am getting rid of what I said to avoid confusion.)
-
Posting on behalf of a player who's account is still pending:
Roza has spotted the attacking enemy and shall takes aim with her shortbow and fire at a random one. [Init 18]
19 to hit, 5 damage.
This from me:
The shortbow arrow flew true, striking into the Yuan-ti woman's shoulder. She cried out and narrowed her eyes at Roza.
-
Rolled 4 for initiative. Yay!
-
Altheros sits back for now and lets others do their thing, considering that he actually cant do nothing right now
initive = 7
-
[Init 14] Stella, with her longbow’s stupendous range, remained on the spelljammer ship. She’ll shoot at the one already stuck with an arrow. [14 to hit; 8 damage]
-
Dullahan gripped his sword, still a bit slow off the mark. (Init = 11)
-
The wandslingers scattered, firing emeraldgold energy from their wands.
The first ran from the fire. Mr. Shredder's shot rang past him. He turned, and fired his wand at Brother Jonathan. He caught him right in the eye. [Natural 20 to hit, 14 damage]
The next fired at Riisi, feeling terrible about himself. The shot blasted a chunk from a nearby tree, scattering bark.
The third, heavily wounded one, fired at Mr. Shredder. [14 to hit, 5 damage]
The last fired at Dullahan, fearing the man of metal. The energy deflected from his armor with a loud, plonking sound. [14 to hit]
-
Dullahan jumped off the skiff, landing heavily before rushing down the Yuan-ti that attacked him. He gripped his blade in both hands, bringing it slashing across at the creature. His footing slipped a bit at the last moment though, the blade swinging wide to one side, leaving the snake unharmed. (Attack = 9)
-
The third apparently didn't even get a chance to look where that mysterious second arrow came from, considering that a mysterious third found its way into the side of his neck. The severed artery rapidly caused him to pass out due to the rapid drop in blood pressure. [14 to hit; 9 damage]
-
Mr. Shredder howls in pain, before turning to the reptile who shot him. "I'LL HAVE YOU MADE INTO BOOTS FOR THAT!"
The Hobgoblin prepares to return fire, only for his target to be dropped by a mysterious arrow, so he adjusts on the fly, and instead drives a powerful Ray of Frost right through the core of the Yuan-ti who had been trading shots with Brother Jonathan.
Nat 20 to hit, 6 damage, target's speed is reduced by 10 feet until Hel-Shredder's next turn.
Assessing his injuries, the Hobgoblin then decides to abandon the Skiff controls, and seek proper cover.
-
Atil smiles as he gripped his great axe. The only thing running through his head as he jumped was down to rush a random Yuan-ti was: ‘And the strong shall eat tonight.’
Attack with greataxe = 22 (18+4)
Damage 3 (1+2)
-
Atil randomly selected the most injured Yuan-ti, appearing, perhaps accidentally, to be employing a strategy of some kind.
-
Posting on behalf of a player who's account is still pending:
"Roza moves into cover and spots an easy target, one rushed by a fellow ally, she narrows her eye and fires the arrow at the alien, hitting a vital spot!"
[24 to hit, 13 damage]
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Brother Jonathan sat up from the ground and breathed in. "Thank-you, Sormias." He stood up and looked at the most injured Yuna-ti and consuming them in a Silver blaze "Forgive me"
-
The mostly-unharmed Yuan-ti man attacking Riisi continues to regret the life choices that have brought him here. Jonathan shook his head and stood up, looking towards the wounded Yuan-ti fighting Atil. Silver fire engulfed him, and he screamed and burned, collapsing to the ground a smoldering corpse.
-
Altheros decides to finally do something, he unsheaths his greatsword with what appears to be runes on it, and goes after the healthy looking one.
Attack Roll = 18+6 = 24
Damage Roll = 1 + 3 + 3 = 7
-
Riisi knew how scraps should go. Wait until they're distracted, then jab them with something pointy. What better time than now? The small creature ran up to the Yuan-ti engaged with the large, metal man, and stabbed it with the twin short-swords. Stabbing whatever fleshy bits it could reach.
(Dual wield shortswords: Attack rolls 23, 19. Damage roll 1 (With Sneak Attack): 1+3+1=5. Damage roll 2: 5)
-
Riisi's blades shot up through the Yuan-ti's stomach. He collapsed in a pile of blood.
-
Fyodor readied his hand crossbow, and sends a bolt directly into the Yuan-Ti's forehead
Rolled 1d20+5= 24
Rolled 1d6+1d6+3=9
His aim, steadied by the will of the Holy Flame, does not fail him. The Yuan-Ti collapses as it's head snaps back
-
The last of the serpentfolk outside the wreck fell to the upturned ground.
Tall trees towered to either side of the trench line that had been dug in by the crashing airship, framing either side of your own. The Astral Kraken hung motionless in the sky. The silence at the end of the battle gave way quickly to the sounds of strange birds echoing in the distance, both pleasant and unfamiliar. The morning was already starting to grow hot. The air was dry, and the sunlight strangely pleasant. Beneath your feet was upturned earth, still smelling faintly sweet. A few beetles and small insects could be seen, crawling in confusion through the cleft in the landscape.
Given time to recover, there was much to say. Most pressingly, Riisi ought to warn the newcomers that there are still more survivors from the Emeraldgold caravel inside the ruins, and a safe filled with silver.
If you would like to examine the bodies, roll nature. Stella d'Vadalis has advantage on this roll.
Regardless of the roll, you find that each of the four of them carried a common wand and an alien rapier. Between them, they carried 20 strange gold pieces each about the size of a standard galifar piece, and another 80 silver pieces that you were confident House Kundarak would accept at a tenth of a galifar. Their coins display a proud serpentine monarch bearing a scepter on one side, a woman, by the look of it, though a few of the older coins feature a man. Their silver piece shows a curiously ringless armored airship on the back. The gold, some kind of extraplanar aquatic creature, something akin to a whale, but who's body had long, jellyfish-like tendrils.
-
Mr. Shredder pops out of hiding and limps over to the fallen snake things. He glances down at one, and spits on it as he looks it over.
Nature Check = 13+3=16
-
((Does anyone else use Rapiers? If not Fyodor will take it.))
"A weapon of fine craftsmanship. With it I could deliver cleansing on many heretics."
Fyodor then heads over to the airship, and starts looking around it for clues about why it crashed.
Rolled 1d20+7= 16
-
Presumably, Stella heads down now that the immediate area is secure. She peers at the bodies, looking for any oddities. [Nature 16]
((Stella also has a rapier, but she doesn't plan on using it much.))
-
Altheros after seeing that everything hostile is dead, he sheathes his greatsword and decides to explore the area a bit
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Are you alright, Sormia?" Brother Jonathan stood near her and seemed to be able to see her condition even with his eyes closed.
-
Mr. Shredder might have been given pause for a moment as he examined the Yuan-ti. Their unnatural coloring, idealized features, and a hint of the unnatural about them brought him to an inescapable conclusion: these Yuan-ti had been magebred. Whatever pact granted them their magic was forged into them before their births, and altered their development.
Fyodor Saltsvits inspected the wreck. Most of the damage was from the collision, though it too bore the signs of radiant blanching, as well as blasted holes consistent with the emeraldgold eldritch blasts that had just been firing at you.
-
"There things are magebred. You can tell by the idealized features, unnatural coloring, and the fact that their magical talent appears to be quite uniform."
The Hobgoblin shudders a bit as he is struck by the Implications of his own words. "...Nine Hells! Somebody in the universe is mass producing an army of nasty mages! Does anybody here know their medicine? If any of these downed bastards are still alive, we should try to stabilize and restrain one for questioning back aboard the Kraken."
He then turns to Riisi, and tries his best to smile through both the phyiscal pain and the realization that the Astral sea may be far more dangerous than he had assumed. "Hey little buddy! Are you okay? Do you know who these guys are? Where they come from even?"
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Tell me if there is I can do to ease your pain" He looked around the deck "There is still more ship to explore." He smiled at her.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Altheros continues exploring the area around the ship
-
Riisi waved. "Got to go in ruins! Ozher ship people in zhere, maybe even not-dead ones!" it said, bounding towards there for a bit, then stopping to look at the rest of the rescuers, knowing there wasn't much Riisi could do alone. "Maybe money too? Zhey gotta have shiny zhings!" Sure, they probably would have thrown Riisi overboard if they found the little stowaway, but Riisi wouldn't wish any harm on them!
-
The immediate area was broadly speaking dirt and debris. Stella notes the absence of darkwood in the design. The wood seemed very light, no heavier than a haybale the same size, but hard as oak. She also doesn't see and dragonshard debris, as if none of the ship sections here had any arcane devices in them.
Sormias would find none of that stranger than anything else, and nothing of note in the immediate area.
The ship loomed ahead, it's hull upside-down against a rock face. Sections were missing or collapsed, but a door was visible.
-
"Patience. These creatures may have known of our approach and made preparations to stop us."
Fyodor shall go up to the door, checking it over, seeing if it's trapped. Or broken. Or basically messed up in any way.
Roll 1d20+7= 25
Fyodor expertly checks over the door.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Fyodor discerns that at some point, a man was stabbed up against this door. Not recently, though, but sometime within the last few years. They painted over the stains, which tells you that cleansing magic was not used in ship repair. The hinges seem to have recently been oiled with a mixture that smells pre-industrial. Fyodor would expect that the knob might be a bit loose from the impact.
Structurally, it is intact.
-
Dullahan nodded, heading for the ship with the little ratbird thing. "I somehow doubt they'd have trapped ruins. If there are people trapped inside though, it would be better to get them sooner than later." He'd pause when Fyodor started checking the door, turning towards Riisi. "You did well by the way. Both in warning us, and in the fight as well."
-
"The door is clear. We should proceed, lest these scum make an escape."
-
Riisi beamed at Sormias. "I'm a Yinglet! My friends call me Riisi. Zhe crew of zhis ship call me zat-damn-stowaway!" It seemed the large tooth at the front of the creature's maw gave it an unusual lisp, hence the seeming difficulty with words that contain a "th".
-
"This ship lacks advanced materials. There are three possibilities that I can determine: This civilization is not very technologically advanced, this ship was constructed inexpensively, or it has been thoroughly looted of all its useful components." She then studies Rilsi for a moment. "What was this ship's purpose, and what caused its destruction?"
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Atil looked around the battle, half to see if any of the flesh that was left, was worth the time to eat, and half just curious about what had happened here.
Nature=12
-
Atil could only tell that the serpentfolk weren't like the ones in Q'barra.
-
Did they at least teaser half decent?
-
Seeing everyone just sort of standing around, Dullahan sighed and stepped forward, grabbing the door and shouldering his way through it. If there were injured people in there standing around out here was doing nothing but risking lives. "Come on then. Keep close behind me, I'll take the hit if there's something nasty stuck down here too."
-
Dullahan battered in the door, shattering a makeshift wooden bar. The door opened into a captain's cabin. Two of the Yuan-ti were in cover behind an overturned table. Another, around a corner that likely hid a private privy. A last stood behind an upturned desk. They started to cast Eldritch Blast.
Roll for initiative, DC12!
-
Dullahan's weight continued to slow him a bit, as well as being distracted coming through the door. (init = 1)
-
Riisi was on top of things, but would hold action until allies have come within melee range of the enemies. After all, that's how yinglets fight, wait till it's distracted and then poke it.
Initiative: 17
-
Atil saw a chance for more battle and, as his nature dictated, kept for the chance
(Init=18)
He ran to attack one of the two behind the table, Greataxe balances carefully in his hand, ready to give a might and cleaving swing.
(Not raging yet)
Greataxe= 5 (1+4)
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Brother Jonathan lifted his hand and evoked the sacred flame on the Yuan-ti behind the desk.
inti = 18
-
Riisi saw an opening, and keeping with those two shortswords, ran underfoot to flank Atil's opponent, and would then stab upward into whatever soft bits it had!
Attack rolls: 21, 25
Damage total: 19
Riisi hilted the swords in the yuan-ti, and as it sputtered and breathed it's last, Riisi... had trouble getting the blades out. So Riisi planted their feet on the Yuan-ti and pulled, taking the blades out with an impressive blood spray... that of course got all over Riisi, causing the little fuzzy thing to cough and sputter in surprise. "Yuck! Maybe the next one won't be so messy! You okay?" Riisi looked around the slumping Yuan-ti at Atil.
-
"Don't get distracted when your life is on the line." Atil said, with little warmth in his voice. But his eyes seemed, happy. At home with battle, itself.
-
Mr. Shredder, upon entering the room and noticing the hostiles, casts a Ray of Frost at the reaming Yuan-ti behind the desk, before moving to whatever cover he can find.
Init = 16 (14+2)
Attack = 15 (12+3)
Damage = 7 (And -10ft Movement until Hel-Shredder's next turn)
-
The blast chilled her shoulder scales with a visible frost, but the Yuan-ti behind the desk wasn't down yet.
-
Rolled 1d20+3= 7
-
Stella arcs a shot through the doorway, aiming for the one already hit by the ray of frost. [18 to hit, ignore all but full cover; 7 damage]
-
Stella's shot on the run pierced the Yuan-ti's forehead. She staggered back and fell to the deck, a small pool of green blood forming beneath her head.
-
The Yuan-ti woman behind the corner opened fire on Dullahan as he battered through the door, missing the others coming up behind him. Her shot caught him in an exposed darkwood joint at the base of his neck, blasting away slivers and leaving the wood frayed. [24 to hit, 10 damage]
The other from behind the table stepped forward and thrust his alien rapier towards Atil, his bronze blade erupting in emerald fire. The blow chipped into the barbarian's scales. [15 to hit, 6 damage (4 piercing, 2 fire)]
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Borther Jonathan rushed the Yuan-ti that had blasted Dullahan, first striking with his spear
20 to hit, 5 damage
and followed that up with a swift kick
11 to hit, 6 damage
-
Roza draws her shortbow and looks around from cover, she spots an easy target distracted by melee with Atil. She locks eyes on it and lets loose with it landing a good hit into the neck area, just missing anything too important but hitting good enough to do so serious damage there.
To Hit: (7)+5 = 12
Damage: (4+4)+3 = 11
-
Roza draws her shortbow and looks around from cover, she spots an easy target distracted by melee with Atil. She locks eyes on it and lets loose with it landing a good hit into the neck area, just missing anything too important but hitting good enough to do so serious damage there.
To Hit: (7)+5 = 12
Damage: (4+4)+3 = 11
-
Jonathan speared the Yuan-ti's shoulder, confronting her by the corner. She stepped back as he followed up with a kick, both Yuan-ti now wounded and engages in melee.
-
Seeing his brother of the faith engaging the Yuan-to, Fyodor immediately whipped out his rapier and struck at it whilst it was distracted
[Rolled 1d20+3= 20]
[rolled 1d8+1d6+3=3]
"FOR THE FLAME!"
Fyodor yells as his rapier goes through the eye-socket of the last Yuan-Ti, causing it to go twitching to the ground.
-
Dullahan gripped his blade a bit tighter, rushing forward with another wide hack, catching the Yuan-ti that was striking at Atil in the waist, and bringing his longsword ripping through, bisecting the snake. "Haa... well.. that was simpler than I thought... gah, that stung a bit."
-
The cabin here was not, by Eberron standards, all that well appointed. It had feather bedding, and a woolen blanket, but little in the way of magical amenities. A safe in the corner was locked. The room seemed to have belonged to a ship's captain, and it had some uniforms and clothing. There was no sign of his body - perhaps he was thrown overboard entering the atmosphere.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Fyodor wipes the alien blood of his blade before sheathing it, then steps into the center of the room and eyes the cabin, his trained gaze soaking in every detail
Rolled Investigation 1d20+7=20
-
Dullahan took a seat, letting out another grunt as he held where the bolt had caught him. "Well before I do much more I should have a healer look at me. Lucky shot or no, another of those and I'd be down... possibly for good."
-
Roza puts her shortbow away on her back, keeping an eye on the surroundings, wanting to make sure she isn't caught off guard for the moment in such a hostile area, also keeping in cover for now until any signal to move forward, she keeps quiet for now.
-
Stella will also keep her bow out. "It is strange that the safe has not been broken into."
-
Mr. Shredder staggers over to the overturned table that the snakes were hiding behind, and leans against it to take some weight off his injured leg. "Dullahan, Brother Jonathan, you two look worse for wear. How about I fly you both back up to the Astral Kraken? The rest of you, sweep this place for valuables! I'll bring the skiff back around to take y'all back with the loot in a few minutes."
The wounded Hobgoblin then casts mage hand, so that he may gather up all the cool alien scimitars without have to put more stress on his body by bending down. He turns back to the party as he limps back towards the skiff. "If any of you know anything about medicine, you might want to check that none of these assholes are beyond saving. If we can stabilize and restrain one, we can make it talk! I bet we could learn a whole lot about the universe by interrogating an alien. As for the rest... we should skin any of the dipshits we can't or don't want to save. The scales are quite pretty and exotic looking - we could sell them, or even commission matching sets of alien boots to commemorate our first adventure together!"
Hel-Shredder takes the other injured party members, as well as any unclaimed Alien Scimitars, back to the Astral Kraken. He then claims a Scimitar for himself, stows the rest as loot in the ship's hold, and brings the Skiff back down for everybody else.
-
Dullahan would have slowly stood to go with Mr. Shredder. He needed repairs, and if that meant waiting on the ship a while.. well, he wasn't so much of a glory hog that he felt the need to stay at the front lines while near to collapsing. "Too bad the spelljammer is so high up, or I'd leave my head with you so I could keep watch, in case of something going bad."
-
Brother Jonathan nodded. "I will go if, you think there will be no more attacks." he got ready to follow Dullahan.
-
Atil would be busy looking around the place. Surely there was something worth his time, here.
“”One of them cut me good, but I think I will be fine. I wouldn’t mind scaling them, though. Maybe there is some decent meat on their bones.”
-
Riisi would already be looking around for valuables too, looking around, and even sniffing for something valuable to take.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
The vault required both a key and a combination. It took a fair amount of work. When the safe opened, loose coinage poured out onto the floor, what looked to be thousands of silver pieces. You were likely considering House Kundarak coin counting fees when you noticed some documents in the back. Papers of ownership for the Boundless Bounty, registered to a Captain Eorlan Dreamshaper, along with an assessment of assets. According to these notes, there are 6371 silver pieces, 23 gold pieces and 6 platinum coins mixed through the pile here.
The safe itself has a somewhat extraordinary locking system. If you could find the original key, you think House Kundarak would pay 200 galifars to purchase the set for study. Without the key, you doubt they'd put in the time or effort to really piece together how it worked.
-
The silver coins depicted an elvish man with a coy look holding a rose on the front. On the back, a beautiful tall ship, like the ships of old before House Lyrandar cornered the shipping market with elemental galleons. Roza Helmworth estimated their value at a tenth of a galifar each, completely genuine. [Investigation 17]
-
Roza lets off alittle smile at them being the real deal, then quickly composes herself and keeps by the treasure for now until told otherwise.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Back aboard the Astral Kraken, a wounded Mr. Shredder approaches Kayto. "It was a bit... messy... down there. The aliens were setting a trap, but one was friendly and warned us! Me and a few of the others are pretty beat up. I've got to do another Skiff run to get the loot up here, but after that, I'm going to crash! I'm thinking most of the healthy folk will want to stay on the ground and explore, so if they are fine with being left alone for a bit, I was thinking we could use the ship to sweep the area for interesting landmarks and signs of civilization. Sound good?"
-
Kayto Lyrandar nodded. "It'll be nightfall soon. We'll patrol for campfires."
-
The hobgoblin returns the nod. "Right. Thanks!"
Mr. Shredder ferries people and loot to and from The Astral Kraken as needed, before retiring to his cabin for a long rest. When the rest is concluded, he reports back to Kayto, to see if campfires, or anything else of interest, was noticed.
-
Dullahan rested in a corner of the room while the others looked through the safe's loot, small tools popping out of hatches in his gauntlets as he did some quick repairs. "Hmm... think we should see if the key's in one of the uniform pockets? Maybe not... might still be on the captain if we can find him, or his corpse." (Second wind, restore 7 hp.)
-
Roza looks around, trying to find the right body but she honestly lost track of who was who in this, she was more focusing on killing the attacking aliens then seeing who was important or what bodies were left from the fight.
Investigating = (2)+4 = 6
-
With everyone else investigating the ship, Altheros decided to do his own thing and go look for tracks of wildlife
Survival = 14
-
Dullahan had decided to help Roza look, poking around here and there, at one point he'd thought he found a spot, only to find it was just a half buried piece of staircase. (investigation = 6)
-
Stella will also try to track, her training allowing her to analyze tracks she finds extremely accurately. [Survival 7]
-
Brother Jonathan had taken rest on the Astral Kraken. When he woke, he came out onto the deck and looked for any religious land marks or structures.
Religion: 24
-
Fyodor gazed coldly at the amateur investigators around him before setting about with doing his job
[rolled 1d20+7=25]
-
Atil joins the group searching for food.
survival = 17 (14+3)
-
Roza Helmworth and Dullahan search the area around the ship. The rent cleft of upturned earth behind the ship is strewn with smoldering debris. If the bodies were burnt or buried here, it isn't obvious where, despite a long search.
In the end, it was Brother Jonathan that found them, along with his brother in faith, Fyodor Saltsvits. His search for religious iconography didn't take him far. In most faiths, if the dead are to be buried or burned, a sign is left of them. As he approached a line of upturned debris, he noted ash mingled with earth here, as if a campfire had been buried. There looked to be four the size of medium humanoids, and one that was quite a bit larger - more than likely, a mass grave.
Atil, Altheros, and Stella d'Vadalis went off into the woods, talking little among one another, to search for what animal live they could find to eat, tame, or avoid.
A flock of copper and auburn swans swam gracefully in a pond. Unless they turned out to be delicious you can't imagine setting up a breeding program, but taken alive as a flock, they might find themselves in a private menagerie in a Skyway estate, however briefly.
The trio also came across a set of large tracks. Whatever made them had four cloven hoofs the size of dinner plates. They led deeper into the forest.
-
Brother Jonathan tells the other crew members of the grave and where it was located.
-
The sun was already low, casting long shadows from the nearby woods over the makeshift ashen graves. The air was starting to rapidly cool.
In the woods, Stella could see her breath in the torchlight as she examined the tracks Altheros had found. It was time, perhaps, to return to the ship for the night.
It proved to be of little difficulty. Kayto's night shift replacement was taking over the helm, and he silently ferried people back up.
Breakfast that morning was a soft boiled clawfoot egg served in the half-shell center-table with grilled tapas bread to dip in, along with a vegetable charcuterie platter with some sweet pickles, pickled grilled asparagus and peppers, and a glass each of pulpy strawberry juice. Stories were told about what had been found so far, and plans for the day's expedition were to be laid out.
No fires had been spotted in the night.
-
"These tracks are over a day old. The animals may be long gone if they are not slow. Following them at night would be inadvisable." Stella'll glance at Jonathan. "That may be the location of the missing captain."
-
Mr. Shredder ponders the stories. "Well, I know the sleep spell, so I say we go scoop up the swans real quick! We will just approach them on the Skiff, get as close as we can, and I'll launch the spell the instant they get ready to fight or flee."
He then turns to Chevash d'Ghallanda. "Hey chef! You got some empty sacks or barrels we can use to get the birds back up to the ship? Since the Alien and the inquisitor are bunking up, we should have a spare cabin to dump them in."
-
"Speaking of aliens..." Dullahan said, looking to the small Ratbird thing. "Well, obviously we're not leaving them here, do you want to work up a contract for them as well? They're a pretty good fighter it seems." He'd chuckle a bit, moving over to Riisi's side. "That is, if you want. You may have to share my room for a while, but I don't take up much space and you also seem not to."
-
"It could very well be, but if exhume the corpses, they must be committed to the flame afterward, so their souls my rest." He nodded at Stella'll.
-
"Agreed, Brother. Gravediggimg is not a practice to be taken lightly. The dead must be treated with the utmost respect possible."
-
Mr. Shredder nods at Dullahan. "Yeah. He deserves a cut, and transport to somewhere safe at the very least. I didn't bring the office stuff with me on the voyage, so I don't have any copies of the standard contract around. If somebody wants to lend me some pens and paper, I'll write him up a contract by hand on the voyage home."
He then turns to Riisi. "You are okay with that, right little buddy? You'd rather go home with us than stay on this world, right? A live, friendly, and intelegent, you'd be a celebrity in Sharn for sure! And if you have knowledge of places and planets among the stars, you could even help me plan future voyages of the Astral Kraken!"
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Atil will dive into the water, greataxe on land, but his smaller axes attached to his hips, hoping to catch the birds like a croc would. Swiftly, from beneath the waters.
-
"I would like to hear more of 'The Great mother', when you have time." Brother Jonathan spoke to Sormias, and then looked to Fyodor Saltsvits. "Do you think will have time to build a pyre while the others are hunting?"
-
Mr. Shredder had naturally packed cages for this expedition, having expected alien life to fetch a high price in various research labs and menageries. You also had sacks and chests in good supply, as well as bracing in the hold to tie down larger items.
Chevash d'Ghallanda shook his head. "I made this meal with the Bags of Bounty."
Behind him, a set of silver trays lined the galley. His dragonmark would glow when he lifted one, and freshly prepared Talentan cuisine would have appeared within.
Mr. Shredder would also know to speak with Cylia d'Sivis to send a message to Eberron about the current progress and a new hire, and to receive confirmation about the mid-voyage hire.
Atil would surely love to swim through the water. He should offer his plan at the table, and see how others want to participate. A lone wolf gets eaten by the dragonhawk, as they say.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
“I am sure I can catch those birds. It shouldn’t be hard, I just have to be fast, and start off deep enough.”
-
"I don't doubt you could catch one, Atil, but the rest would fly away scared when you grab it. My way should get a bunch of them."
Mr. Shredder turns to the rest of the party. "Alright then, I'm going to load some cages onto the Skiff and then get out there! Who wants to come with? I shouldn't need too many hands, but an extra person or two would help make sure we scoop them all up before sleep wears off."
-
"I'd like to cook one up for dinner, if you catch them." Chevash added from the kitchen. "It might not be any good, but I'd try a few things. Local forage would be welcome, too. You never know what will turn out to be delicious."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"You should probably bring Stella." Dullahan said with a chuckle. "I'd probably spook them, it'd be hard for them to not hear me coming. So I'll see what I can dig up plantwise."
-
Roza raises an eyebrow at all this talk about curses and great mothers, what she does understand is checking your enemies for better weapons, so she shall try to check them out and so what exactly they were carrying at the time.
Investigating Alien's Weapons: (5)+4 = 9
-
"We will be approaching them by Skiff, not on foot Dullahan. You shouldn't pose a problem. If everything goes right, it will only take a few minutes to grab the birds, and then we can all root around the plants together."
-
Riisi nods up at Shredder. "Yeah, anyzhing is better zhan staying here." With a smile, Riisi seemed to want to come along with the foragers and scouters.
-
(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/99/f4/07/99f407ccf8305913e9381977336b70bf.jpg) (https://img00.deviantart.net/2189/i/2009/251/6/f/stainless_steel_wand_closeup_by_imvu_whystler.jpg)
The rapiers were made of some kind of a bronze alloy, and tapered down to a fine point. Their hilts were basketed with a design reminiscent of a coil of snakes gripping about the hand. The pommel features a design with the same strange aquatic creature as the coins - something like a whale with trailing tendrils.
The wands were made of coiled steel with a matte finish. When they were being used, emeraldgold energy had radiated from inside of them. Now, they looked empty and hollow.
In terms of quality, despite the odd materials, they were well balanced. Roza thinks they'll fetch a similar resale price to Eberron-made goods.
-
ignore
-
Mr. Shredder takes the party out on the Skiff, with as many cages and chests as he can haul. His first stop is the pond where Swans were reported, hoping to put them to sleep and scoop them up if they are still around.
-
They were. It looked to be ten adults, along with another eight cygnets swimming along with them.
Make perception checks.
-
Mr. Shredder is far too busy preparing his sleep spell to notice anything unusual.
Perception = 2-1
"Alright gang! I'm going to bring the skiff as close to them as I can. Once they react to us, I'm going to cast sleep. If you have ranged weapons, feel free to shoot at anything I don't knock out."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Dullahan was a bit busy cleaning his head, it'd gotten some blood on it, had both sets of eyes somewhat distracted. (Perception = 7)
-
From overhead, Stella d'Vadalis spotted one of the swans dip it's head into the water, emerging with a flopping fish. It bit it cleanly in two, and the cygnets swam in to eat the head. [Perception 19]
-
Even with the help of the flame, Jonathan's eyes where just not as sharp today.
Perception = 9
-
”The cygnets are grouping up—if you wish to capture them all, now is a good opportunity,. Beware—their jaw strength is impressive.
-
(Prepared Spells: Sleep x2)
Mr. Shredder nods, lowers the Skiff as close to the surface of the water as it will go, and begins readying a sleep spell. He then directs the craft to move towards the birds. Mr. Shredder will cast sleep on the Swans as soon as they begin to react to the Skiff's approach.
Sleep Roll = 20
-
The skiff set down neatly in the water, propelling itself along the surface as easily as the sort of boat that doesn't fly. Ripples washed outwards. As the waves reached the swans, one of their heads snapped around towards your skiff. Then all of the others.
Mr. Shredder cast his sleep spell. The eight cygnets and the two adults closest to them started to look tired. The cygnets swam in, and the swans lifted wings to drape over them, and they fell fast asleep.
In a fury of wings, splashing, and honking, the remaining eight adults came charging towards you from about 30 feet away.
Roll for initiative, DC 12.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Mr. Shredder is able to react quickly, and casts sleep again!
Init = 13+2
Sleep = 23
-
Dullahan was once more slow off the mark... he'd have to check his joints over later, maybe something was sticking. (init = 1)
-
Three more of the swans begin to tire, looking back to the others sleeping, and to the charge, they swim off over to some reeds and bed down.
-
[Init 17] Stella will cast Animal Friendship on one of the swans. [DC 13 Wisdom save]
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Roza quickly spots the enemies that have come into range and takes out her shortbow!
Initiative: (12)+3 = 15
-
Stella d'Vadalis raised a hand in peace. Her dragonmark glowed in an iridescent silverpurple. One of the swans slowed and fell back to the water, swimming curiously to meet a new friend.
-
"I am still unsure if this is acceptable. If this swan was a humanoid, I would be a monster."
-
Brother Jonathan was taken in by the sight and reacted slower then normal.
Init roll = 5
-
Perception =21 (18+3)
Init = 22 (19+3)
Hand axe toss= 20 (16+4) 6 damage slashing
-
"But it isn't, so you are not! Just focus on the money these birds are going to make us, and try to coax that one into a cage Stella!" Mr. Shredder replies.
-
Atil's axe decapitates the lead swan. It sploshes down into the water, spreading a pool of blood.
-
Roza attempts to hit one of them with a shortbow arrow, but she fails to hit, barely missing one of them, hmphs in annoyance at that.
Attempt to Hit: (6)+5 = 11
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Stella'll try to do just that--gesture for it to head into a cage. If it refuses, she'll pick it up and put it in one.
-
Riisi felt a bit helpless in this particular battle. Sure, Riisi could throw something, but then it'd be lost in the lake. So instead Riisi held action to attack any that came close to the skiff.
-
“I will agree with Stella. Either you leave the beast be, or you eat it. No honor in pretending that you won’t, only to do so later.”
-
[Deleted]
-
"So there are no chickens or turkeys on your farms?" Brother Jonathan asked in genuine interest.
-
Vundeful.
[rolled 1d20+3=18]
Fyodor, reflexes honed over the years, whips out his hand Crossbow and fires at a goose heading straight for him
[rolled 1d20+5=23]
[rolled 1d6+3=6]
His bolt sails true, and pierces the neck of one of the geese, causing it to flop to the ground, lifeless
"Truly. A worthy foe."
Is that... a smile? No. It can't be. Even if it was, it's gone. You think.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Indeed. I recommend you keep your eyes on the enemy, rather then lustfully eyeing up those sworn to the church."
-
“I have never had a farm. I hunt, even when I was in war, I hunt. Whatever I killed was mine to eat. Same with whoever I killed. Dullahan can tell you that.”
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Quell thine tongue. These fowl are the foes of my allies. The church does not worry itself with such trivial matters.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
*Grunt*
Fyodor returns to poking at a goose that has gotten a bit too close for comfort.
-
Riisi drove a sword through one of the incoming swans as it leaped up from the water. He finished it off, but the two others bit and tore at anything close!
A nipping bird forced Mr. Shredder to recoil back. Another bit Atil's arm, it's sharp and powerful beak snapping quickly off his hard scales, leaving no harm.
-
Dullahan stepped back a bit, letting those without ranged attacks move to swing off the side of the skiff. As he did, he'd flick his arm, a wand flipping out of a slot on his wrist as fire formed in his palm. Then he'd chuck the flame at the swan attacking Mr. Shredder, deciding to give it something else to think about. (Firebolt attack = 17 Damage = 4)
-
Brother Jonathan reaches out with one hand and grabs one of the birds by the neck...
attack 13 to hit 6 damage.
and stuff in a cage, then he swiftly moves at the other, that Dullahan blasted...
attack 18, 5 damage
and stuffed it into a cage as well.
-
Seeing the hostile swans dealt with, Mr. Shredder quickly steers the Skiff towards the sleeping birds. "Hurry up! They will not be out for long. Lets cage them before they wake up! Focus on the adults first, I don't think the little ones will be able to fly away or put up much of a fight if they wake up!"
Mr. Shredder starts scooping and caging sleeping swans, encouraging the rest of the party to join him.
-
The party moved the skiff swiftly between the few dead swans to those that were asleep. Stella gathered her swan easily enough into it's cage, and the sleeping ones as well. They were stacked in high, and the skiff towered ten feet over the deck with a pile of bird cages.
All told, you imagine that, barring them being delicious, the set will sell for 800 gold to a collector. House Lyrandar, of course, will claim half of that, as always.
-
"Easy money! Great work team!" Mr. Shredder beams as the last of the swans is caged. "We have a virgin alien forest, and a whole day ahead of us to explore it! But let us head back to the Kraken and drop these pretty birds off first! Anybody have any suggestions for what to do next?"
The Hobgoblin lifts the skiff from the water, turns it around, and returns to the Astral Kraken, where he stows the living swans in the hold, and turns the dead ones over to the halfling chef.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Into the water, with Atil, to retrieve his kill and his axe.
-
Into the water, with Atil, to retrieve his kill and his axe.
Mr. Shredder of course lets Atil do that before leaving.
---
Mr. Shredder smiles, and gives Sormias a friendly pat on the shoulder. "It isn't too hard to understand. House Lyrandar lets us play with their awesome flying boats and have adventures. All they want is a little something in return."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Stella sits, contemplating. She’s looking at the bird she “tamed” but isn’t studying it for once.
-
"Oh?" Hel-Shredder asks, genuine curiosity on his face, "how do they conduct business where you come from?"
-
Dullahan shrugs softly. "It is as it is... Hmm, though if you're looking on things to do next, we should start looking for good plant life. We can find more animals as we go, but the plants are important as well." he'd think a few more moments. "But before that... we should give those shoved in that mass grave a proper burial... and perhaps check if one of them has the key to that safe on them. It might be something we could sell off if we have the key."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Sounds nice," Mr. Shredder admits, "but there are too many races and cultures and nations on Ebberon for us to ever form one community like that. I have wine, fancy clothes, and a nice place to live myself, but that doesn't mean I can be content or complacent. I know there are people with more than me, so I aspire to obtain their status, and that there are people with less than me, so I must protect myself from their aspirations."
The Hobgoblin then glances to Dullahan. "Speaking of obtaining, looking for the key is a good idea. We should do that! ...oh, and the burials of course. I'm still partial towards pelting the monsters who attacked us yesterday, but if they rest of you are on team propper burial, I'll differ to your wishes."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Make the discontent travel to protect the complacent..." The Hobgoblin muses, "quite the ingenious idea to maintain a peaceful and unified society indeed! I like it! I doubt I'll be alive when you are ready to return home, but if I am, I may have to pay your world a visit!"
-
Dullahan went quiet a bit, pondering on that. "Mmm.... I wonder if I will be... I suppose technically there's nothing saying that if I keep myself up on repairs and replacement I couldn't live functionally forever... then again that's not exactly been tested either."
-
"I think we should all be present at the pyre ceremony, so we can all help with the scouting." Brother Jonathan nodded.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
The Hobgoblin gives Sorimas a sideways glance and wry smile. "I'd usually tell you to cheer up and focus on the adventure and wealth ahead of us, but what is ahead of us is a funeral, so I guess that wouldn't be appropriate."
Mr. Shredder nods at the monk's suggestion. "I'll arrange to dig the poor bastards up while you get the Pyre ready."
---
After dropping off the swans Mr. Shredder brings the party back to the wrecked Galleon, and prepares to cast Unseen Servant as a ritual. No point getting his own hands dirty with the digging.
-
Dullahan nodded, looking around the area. "Anyone got an axe? I can start getting some wood together."
-
Roza is mostly sitting on her own, yet during this is keeping an eye on everyone, observing them carefully as if taking notes of them.
-
During the whole dialogue between Sormias and Shredder, Fyodor stands off to the side, hat pulled low over his face, intently watching and listening to the two conversationalists
-
Brother Jonathan helped build pyres and with hulling away dirt as the bodies were exhumed.
-
The swan treated Stella d'Vadalis like it was tame, and knew her well. All her life, animals had been that way. Whenever she met a new one, it had taken to her as readily as a puppy. It had been the same for all her family. Animals just didn't like other people like they liked the Vadalis.
The ship's hold easily occupied their stacked cages. They had wooden bottoms with some hay to nest in. Swans preferred to swim but it would do for a few days at least.
Shovels were gathered, and the exhumation began, with shovelful after shovelful of dirt being piled aside..
-
Riisi feels like they did something, smiling a bit. Still, they helped with the others, and when it came time to exhume the bodies, just stood to the side. Riisi wasn't really strong enough to move bodies or dig anything other than soft dirt a lot of the time.
-
"Know that I will not do this for you for this reason again," Stella says to the others.
-
Atil walked up to Dullahan, greataxe in hand.
“I will not lend you my axe, but I will lend you my services. I still do owe you for saving my life.”
-
Mr. Shredder glances at Stella while his unseen servant does the digging. "We never asked you to cast that spell in the first place. Don't put this on us! Besides, they will be going to a good home. If you are gonna spend a crapload of money purchasing alien animals for display, you are at least going to put some effort into keeping them alive and happy."
Hel-Shredder speaks in a somewhat exasperated tone. He understood that non-hobgoblins would often harbor fondness towards clearly inferior beings, but that did not make the behavior any less frustrating to deal with.
-
The serpentfolk had been burned, and buried shallowly. Another three wands and rapiers were located.
The other grave took longer. But after about fifteen minutes of digging, there was a pause. The ground seemed to start to move and shift on it's own. Worms emerged from the earth the size of cobras, interrupted in their corpse feast, three-part mouths splitting open to reveal sharp spike-like teeth. By the Sovereigns the swarm was all around you!
Roll for initiative, DC14!
-
Init= 9
With the worms coming out of the ground, Atil stood their, confused as to how to handle this.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
For once Dullahan was on point, his head spinning around 180 and focusing on the worm behind him. It rattled about, the large suit of armour quickly stepping back, drawing his blade into a heavy sideways slash at one of the worms, his body turning to match his head as he did. Unfortunately he misjudged distance, swinging high as the creature dropped a bit. (Init = 20 Attack = 6)
-
"I am aware. I am stating this so that you do not expect it from me from the future." [15 init; 25 tohit; 10 damage] Even being displeased with herself doesn't dissuade Stella's aim.
-
Stella's arrow pierced a few of the worms, but there were dozens more crawling out, seeking in all directions.
-
"The flame will not forgive your intrusion." Brother Jonathan dashed at on worm and stabbed at it...
to hit 10
missed, but a back kick ...
to hit 15, damage 5
slaps it in the mid area
-
Mr. Shredder is a bit too freaked out to act.
"Worms!?!? Why did it have to be worms?"
Init = 12
-
Brother Jonathan stomped out another worm.
-
Riisi did what Riisi usually does, takes out the stabby things and stabs something. This time, it's a strange worm. Riisi idly wondered if it would taste good, as one stuck to the sword after being stabbed, but luckily realized fight-time is not meal-time.
(Attack rolls: 23 and 21)
(Damage including sneak attack: 12)
-
Init = 21
Fyodor leaps forward at the worm his Brother was fighting, and punctures it. Not knowing where exactly it's vital organs are, he fails to stab anything too important.
To Hit = 13
Damage = 6
-
Initiative: (19)+3 = 22
So spots the worm attack and takes out her shortbow, from that she draws her bow and fires right at this worm and manages to hit it with a sneaky strike!
To Damage: (10)+5 = 15
Total Damage: (3)+3 = 6 and (4) = 4 with Total 10
-
Fyodor leaped forward and punctured the already dead worm, while the rest of the swarm writhed around him.
Rosa rushed back from the pit and loosed an arrow into the mass of worms, skewering a few more.
-
The worms leaped at the nearest cold figure, biting at Atil's ankles and legs, trying to climb up his body. His hard scales resisted the probing bites. [12 to hit vs 15 AC]
-
With the same soft click, Dullahan tossed another firebolt.... unfortunately the things moved faster than he'd forseen, and he ended up singing the ground behind the swarm as it went after Atil. (Attack = 10)
-
Brother Jonathan stepped up to the worms near Atil and skewered some on his spear
To hit= 24 damage= 10
and then he tried to kick a few close to the lizard-man
to hit= 14 damage= 5
-
“Get OFF.” Atil shouted as his rage thundered inside him.
Great axe=13 (9+4)
-
[Redacted at request]
-
The swarm definitely seemed irritated by the dissonant noises. This was not what they were accustomed to. It felt very wrong somehow. [Wisdom 1]
-
Stella, unfortunately, is thrown off by some worms changing direction in response to the stare. Her arrow goes wide. [7 to hit]
-
"By the FLAME, this planet is terrible!"
Fyodor leaps forth and stabs at the writhing mass while it's busy with Atil
Rolled 17 to hit
12 Damage, Piercing
-
Fyodor cut through a few of the worms. Their bodies scattered now among the buried, the worms began to sense danger. What remained of them broke off, returning underground, leaving you a pile of partially eaten and bloodsoaked bodies.
-
"They likely reproduce rapidly. They may continue to trouble this area."
-
"We should work quickly, to get them committed to the flame." Brother Jonathan worked to carry the bodies to the pyre.
-
Dullahan humphed, sheathing his blade. "We'll have to keep them in mind... think they'd be interesting to any mages back home Shredder? Could probably tempt some up with some old meat from a hunt, if we could figure out a way to trap them after."
-
Picking through the bodies, you find ten short swords, as well as a variety of coins and cheap jewelry collectively worth 120 galifars. The bodies are largely elven, each dressed in fairly elaborate silk sailors clothes.
There's no sign of the captain's body. He must have fallen off the ship earlier - you may need to try farther up the cleft, or in the forest beyond it's beginning.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Planet, like a little plane. It seemed almost right.
-
"I don't know of any spell that calls for bits of worm, Dullahan..." The Hobgoblin muses outloud, "and these ones don't strike me as inherently magical. Usually, I'd be all for catching them anyway to see if anybody back in Sharn is interested... but honestly, they gross me out to no small extent."
Mr. Shredder then turns his attention to Sormias. "Yeah. This place is pretty neat! Can't claim to be a fan of disturbing corpse eating worm things, but I'm loving this sense of the unknown! Speaking of adventure, once we are done burning bodies, want to head up the cleft to see if we can find the Captain's?"
-
"Yeah, that'd be the best bet. Might be some interesting flora or fauna about there as well... or at least a nice view." Dullahan shrugged, giving another of his echoing chuckles.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Sormias should make a constitution save.
-
"Scavenger carnivores tend to have myriad infections. I do not recommend that."
-
"Lovely. Now the Daemon is consuming the flesh of corpse-eaters. We should get these bodies taken care of. Brother Johnathon, a prayer if you would be so kind?"
Fyodor starts to gather twigs and heap them on to the corpse-pile.
-
Brother Jonathan nodded and raised both his arms and held them wide apart, then in deep load voice he spoke "May these souls be taken up from this world and welcomed into the light of the flame. Each shall be given to rest in their own next world. The Silver flame protects and guides us."
-
"From the flame, and unto the flame. Amen."
Fyodor sparks the kindling with his Flint and Steel and turns away as the bodies are consumed by fire.
"Let us move. The worms won't return."
-
Atil watched the ceremony play out, as soon as the fire was lit, turned away to enjoy his mean and conserve energy.
-
Sormias Velcrosse cut one of the worms open. A mix of digestive acid, half-melted flesh, and glycera sopped out. Steeling herself, she lifted the seeping glop from the end of the worm, and put it into her mouth.
It was foul beyond imagining. She immediately tried to spit it out but it was sticky and coated her tongue. She started to wretch, sweat, and spent the next several hours vomiting.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Well... perhaps before you try sticking random dead corpse-eaters into your mouth, you should at least first see if there's a way to purify it." Dullahan said, turning away from the retching person. "Honestly, the fact that you still put it in your mouth after slicing it open... I'd have been more surprised if you /didn't/ end up horribly sick."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Mr. Shredder just shakes his head and brings the Airskiff around. "Come on Sormias. Lets get you back to the Kraken. You are not going to be of much use to the adventure in your present state."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
The Hobgoblin ponder's the abberation's defiance momentarily, before deciding to let her have her way. "Alright then. Everybody onto the Skiff. Let us explore up the cleft and see if we can find that damn Captain! For a probably dead guy, he sure plays a mean game of hide and seek!"
Mr. Shredder takes the Skiff up the cleft, to see what he may find.
-
The skiff glided swiftly up the cleft of earth for about a mile or so. Trees passed lazily to either side faster than any of you could walk, but only about half again as fast, like taking a boat downriver. The dense woods ahead were too thick for the skiff to navigate, and you would have to leave it behind. By the time you'd gotten there, Sormias' stomach was empty, but she still wasn't feeling hungry.
The woods loomed ahead. You'd guess that if the body fell from the ship, it must be somewhere within the next few miles in this direction.
-
Mr. Shredder brings the Skiff to a gentle landing. "Alright! Into the woods it is. As tempting as it is to split up and cover more ground, stay close. This planet is full of surprises!"
-
"This is a very wide search area. Splitting up should be considered but avoided if possible."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
The woods were thick, and filled with distant, strange sounds, and nearer rustling sounds: sometimes a beetle, sometimes just the wind.
-
If we are looking for the captain, should we not look in the area around the crash. I don’t think it is likely for him to have left the ship, willingly. Not many would leave their towns, even if they were being invaded.”
-
"We already checked around the ship pretty thoroughly," Mr. Shredder replies, "I'll admit this is a bit of a long shot, but who knows what else we may find in an alien forest!"
-
Dullahan walked along, trying to keep attention, but really all he saw was trees and trees. (Perception = 5) "We did look around near the crash. Remember he was way up in the air when the ship went down, we're thinking he got knocked off the ship as it crashed."
-
Mr. Shredder, who is by no means a perceptive person under normal circumstances, is trying extra hard to be aware of his surroundings in these strange alien woods.
(Perception Check = 13)
-
Rolled 22
Fyodor, Once again, is a veritable skill monkey and spots...
-
Riisi was glad that someone else tried the worms first. Still, Riisi was a little distracted, not really paying attention to what they were supposed ot be looking for.
(Perception: 11)
-
“Then we look through the path, for broken branches and cracked trees, though I doubt we will find anything since the captain can’t be that big.”
Perception = 20 (17+3)
-
Fyodor Saltsvits and Atil spotted a pair of skeletal legs, sticking out from under a tree. It's clothes were gone, but a mix of coins sat under a key by the skeletal hip. It looked curiously more like the tree had landed on the body than the other way around.
-
Brother Jonathan looks around "Where is it, I can't see it yet." He looked just over the sight.
Per = 13
-
Once the skeleton is pointed out to Mr. Shredder, the Hobgoblin scratches his chin. "Something isn't right. Why is the tree on top of him? And why is his corpse already a skeleton? Everybody stand back. I'm going to play this one safe."
Mr. Shredder casts Mage Hand to retrieve the key and coin from 30ft away.
-
The tree rises as the key moves. It's eyes open, and narrow at you as it's towering form bends towards you, moss and dust falling from the cracks in it's bark.
Roll for initiative, DC8
-
"Nine Hells! I knew it! Its a living tree!"
The Hobgoblin moves back as the tree begins to wake, and blasts it with a Ray of Frost!
Move Action (Now 60ft away from tree)
Ray of Frost (14 to hit, 5 damage, Tree's Speed reduced by 10ft)
-
Brother Jonathan snapped his head around and flung a bolt of silver flame at the tree...
save vs 13, 1 damage
burns it a little.
-
Dullahan decided to use the advantage of range. Still moving to the front of the party, as he tossed a firebolt right into the center of the tree. "Well then let's see how it likes fire!" (Attack = 14, Damage = 9)
-
Jonathan's silver fire struck near harmlessly into the wood, but Dullahan's fire erupted through it's dried foliage and along it's bark, spreading and burning far faster than anyone might have expected.
-
/Init =4
Nature=21
-
[Redacted at request]
-
[Initiative 6]
-
Init = 16
Fyodor whips out his Crossbow and fires a bolt dead-center into the tre
To hit: 24
9 damage
-
Riisi... has seen so many things since leaving their home city. But living trees? Those have no fleshy bits to stick pointy things into. And if trees were alive... did that mean people made stuff out of tree... bones?
Despite this intense philosophical quandry going on in the small rat-bird-thing's head, it looks to everyone else like it's standing there and drooling slightly, a confused, vacant look on their face.
(Riisi is holding action until given an order to do otherwise, due to "stab it till it doesn't move" not being effective means to kill a tree.)
-
[Redacted at request]
-
The tree seems only mildly perturbed by the dissonant cracking of bark and wood echoing around it.
-
Roots uprooted, chunks of earth scattered, and the tree skittered forward. The wood struggled against the ice within, moving only slowly, reaching to stand just beside Mr. Shredder, Atil, and Dullahan.
-
“I wonder what firewood would have to say.” Atil spoke in Draconic, as he cleaved at it with his greataxe.
Great Axe= 12
-
[Redacted at request]
-
The tree seemed genuinely disturbed by the food trying to communicate with it, but didn't halt it's attack.
-
Stella'll try to shoot an arrow into the tree. If it can penetrate the bark, the tree might actually be seriously wounded. [19 to hit; 11 damage]
-
Sap trickled down, but the arrow didn't penetrate as deeply as Stella hoped.
-
Brother Jonathan dives in at the tree, striking it hard with his spear
hit = 25 (crit) damage = 11
Then he kicked the tree to pull his spear out.
hit = 20 Damage = 4
-
Dullahan chuckled a bit at the cheer, but felt he should still try his best since Sormias was putting the effort in. His head rattled with it's own strange laughter, as another bolt of indigo flame formed in his hand, to be chucked at one of the drier parts of the tree. (Attack = 23 Damage = 8 )
-
Jonathan cracked a thick branch off with a powerful thrust of his spear, before Dullahan's indigo blue fires engulfed the tree, turning red as the last of it's canopy lit up. Creaking and cracking, it fell to the ground. The fire spread along the trunk, flickering and blazing, but thankfully the underbrush withered without coming alight.
Past the tree, you made out some unusual ferns. Roll int/nature or wis/medicine.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Dullahan hummed a bit, his head floating over to examine those ferns more closely while his body just sheathed it's blade. "Well, it seems you're going to have the chance to get a lot of practice in, if today's been any indicator of what's coming." His body turned, as his head clattered about, moving over to crouch down and examine the ferns more closely as well. (Nature = 15)
-
There was little doubt about it. It was, as near as Dullahan could tell, identical to an eberron native plant, Olladraleaf. An important ingredient in healing potions, a sack of this would sell for something like two hundred and fifty gold pieces. Looking out over the woods, you could spot quite a bit of it ahead, growing in small thickets. Each of you had brought just one empty sack. Odds were, with a bit of work, you could fill it.
-
"Olladraleaf... interesting. Well, identical as close as I can tell at least." Dullahan said, firmly planting his head back on his neck. "Heh, a doubly good find. We get the captain's key, and a good pay from this too. Just means a bit of flower picking. Well... fern picking."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Stella willl get to gathering it. She'll keep an eye out for any differences, though. [Nature 14]
-
You know, Sormias, this one isn't too bad. Soothes the stomach a bit.
-
Riisi, upon being told this plant's nature, immediately gets to picking some of the leaves, though definitely not stuffing some of the juiciest leaves into their own pocket. Nope, totally not a thing that's happening.
(Sleight of Hand 13+7 =20)
Nope, not saving any to try munching on later, all the leaves are going in the bag. Totally. Believe me, guys! So trustworthy!
-
You'd been gathering herbs for a little while, stuffing your sacks, and in some cases your pockets. You'd gathered something like a hundred gold pieces each worth of the Olladraleaf when a small figure approached Mr. Shredder. It's body was made of wood and bark, it stood some three inches high, and it grasped at the end of the fern, as if trying to pull it back from him.
-
"If only we had some sort magic pot that would let us bring back a whole plant." *Brother Jonathan looked over at the strange plant creature.* "How odd."
-
In shock, Mr. Shredder looks down and nearly drops the piece of fern that the alien was tugging on. "Holy crap! Check this out guys! A tiny plant alien! Its so adorable!"
(Nature Roll = 5)
The Hobgoblin stares into the tiny alien's eyes. He has no clue what the creature is, but one question quickly forms in his mind. "I wonder how much it will sell for?"
Mr. Shredder attempts to lift the Alien by the piece of fern it is holding, and drop it into the sack with the rest of his gathered plants.
-
Stella will quickly approach once the others call out the alien's presence. She peers closely at it, motioning for Shredder to stop what he's doing and hold still. [Nature 15]
"It is similar to the tree we just fought, but may not be entirely similar. It has no Eberron counterpart, to my knowledge.
-
The tiny figure climbed from frond to frond, dangling and swinging. It cried a high-pitched battlecry as it tried to jab Mr. Shredder with a thorn on the end of it's tiny arm, but Mr. Shredder was able to flinch, swat, and/or flail the creature off of his arm before the blow landed.
Two more of the adorable saplingfolk looked up from a nearby tree branch. They looked at one another, eyes wide, and gasped, then leaped down, rushing towards Atil and Dullahan with their own high pitched battlecries.
Special Combat Rules
Your bags each contain 100gp worth of fern, our of a max of 250gp. During this combat, you may expend your turn to move to a patch of ferns and stuff them into your bag. If you do, you may roll Wisdom/Survival or Strength/Athletics, or if you have a herbalism kit, Dex/Herbalism Kit Proficiency or Int/Herbalism Kit Proficiency. Add double the result in gold piece value to your bag.
New enemies will appear each round.
Roll for initiative, DC11.
-
"No Eberron counterpart? Cha-Ching!"
The rest of the party can almost see whatever the Eberron equivalent of dollar signs are form in the Hobgoblin's eyes as more aliens appear. "Guys! Lets get out of here! We can come back later when I have more sleep spells ready!"
(Init = 21)
-
"That would be wise," Stella responds, looking for the quickest way out of the fern area.
-
Init = 12
"We should leave."
Fyodor starts backing up, readying his rapier in case any of the Sticklings try to approach him
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Riisi wanted to keep herb picking, but seeing as none of the others did, and it would make the small thing a prime target, Riisi fell back with the rest of the group.
(Init roll: 18)
-
Atil focused only on the small creature coming towards him. One eyebrow raised, he snorted, chewed on his teeth, and then started to drool.
“You all should try to collect the plants. Dullahan, Mind helping me hold them off?”
Having decided on something, Atil snapped at it. Litterally. With hunger on his lips.
Init =20 (17+3)
Bite = 22 (18+4) Damage= 8 (6+2)
-
The tiny treefolk was crunchy, and wet inside. It was almost pleasant, until you tried to swallow it. Then, you realized at last, it was wood.
-
Atil’s face turned from one of hunger, to that of mild disgust. He had hoped for something. . . More like tiny wood shaped beetles. Instead, all he got was wood.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Dullahan shrugged, seems we weren't running after all. He'd toss another firebolt, but it went wide. (Init 15 attack 8)
-
"Really Atil? Fine. We can fight!"
Mr. Shredder turns his attention to the wood-being in front of him, and lashes out with his Rapier to land a glancing blow on the small creature.
(Attack = 18+4, Damage = 3)
-
One of the figures jabbed into Dullahan's armored shin with a high-pitched squeaking battlecry. The other did much the same, hitting Mr. Shredder's calf. The plant tendril started to twist and grow inside of him, burrowing into his muscle like loose earth.
If a 15 hits, Mr. Shredder takes 5 damage. He must also make a DC8 strength save. On a fail, he takes 6 more damage and the treefolk attaches to his leg. On a success, he takes half as much damage.
-
With a howl of anguish, Mr. Shredder rips out the tendril, along with a good chunk of his own flesh.
"Guys..." He pants "I...I think I figured out how that tree ate the captain. Oh fuck. I don't want to be a skeleton!"
The Hobgoblin lashes out wildly in panic with his Rapier, coming nowhere close to actually landing a blow on his foe.
-
"I'll get to you in a moment, have my own troubles." Dullahan said calmly, flicking his arm to bathe the little twig that had stabbed at him with indigo flames. (Attack = 23 damage = 6)
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Fyodor is distracted by the demonic wench attempting to make him succumb to her vile wills, and thus misses his attack
[rolled 11]
-
Brother Jonathan moved swiftly to a patch of herbs and began stuffing then in his bag. "We must work quickly."
Gather wis roll = 19
bag value: 138/250
-
Stella had previously gathered 48gp worth of gold. [24 herbalism, was able to roll but not post]
This time, however, she must have not been so swift. [6 herbalism]
[160/250]
-
One of the treefolk grips it's head and dies. The other ignited into flame. Many of the party furiously shoveled the healing herb into their packs. Four more of the tiny treefolk emerged from a bush, rushing forward holding spear-like arm growths, bellowing a tiny battlecry!
-
"Stay back! Foul Tree-Abominations!"
Fyodor lunges at one of the Kindlings with his rapier
CRIT
11 damage
It pierces through the little thing, before he tosses it into the underbrush with a flick of his blade
-
"Godsdammit Fyodor! What part of retreat don't you understand?"
The Hobgoblin moves as far away as he can get from the Treefolk, and launches a Ray of Frost at the closest one!
(Attack Roll = 12+3)
(Damage Roll = 3)
(The Tree Folk's movement is reduced by 10ft until Shredder's next turn)
-
"They seem a bit fragile." Brother Jonathan continued to bags herbs.
gather = 11
bag value: 160/250
-
The treefolk staggered back, raising two hands to try to block the icy beam from hitting it's face as frost built up around it's hands and joints. Fyodor's was quite dead.
-
"Yeah, but they punch way above their weight class. Just ask the fucking chunk missing from my thigh!" The Hobgoblin snaps at the monk before turning his attention to Sormias. "I think the one I just iced should be easy pickings. Care to finish it off too? I don't think the rest of this group understands how retreating works."
-
"To be fair, I would have been retreating, but I thought protecting those who hadn't fallen back yet was a better use of my time." Dullahan said calmly, indigo flames still writhing around his hand and arm as he sent another bolt at one of the uninjured tree things, incinerating it in a flash. (attack = 16 damage = 6)
-
A tiny highpitched scream accompanied the flailing, burning treefolk as it stumbled and fell, smoldering beneath a tuft of bramble.
-
Atil, spit on the ground, and whirled his Great Axe around, before making a low swipe with it, as he rushed one of them, not quite caring which he hit.
Great Axe against the uninjured= 5 (1+4)
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Stella'll shoot at the icy one in an attempt to finish it off. [14 to hit; 6 damage]
-
Stella finished it with little difficulty. The arrow shattered the mostly frozen treefolk's midsection.
-
The remaining treefolk rushed at Atil, running up the length of his greataxe before stabbing into his arm. Roots pressed and tried to grow.
Atil takes 2 damage! He must make a DC8 strength save. On a failure, he takes 9 more damage. On a success, 5 more.
Another four treefolk approach, hopping between tree branches. One of them stopped, taking a horn fashioned from a thorn, and blew into it, three quick notes, and a fourth, slightly higher.
-
"They are likely calling a great deal of reinforcements now. We should leave." Stella snags just a few extra leaves as she leaves. [Herbalism kit 6]
[172/250 gold]
-
Atil screamed as it dug into him, and as he ripped the flesh and scales off himself with his claws. The scream was more out of anger than of pain, but, he kept himself in control, swinging his great axe around to shake the thing off and cut it midair, before scooping the gold by the dead skeleton, and leaving..
Strength save= 15 (11+4)
Greataxe = 18 (14+4) Damage= 13 (11+2)
-
Atil's axe reduced the last of the treefolk in melee with him to splinters. It's body burst out in all directions.
-
Brother Jonathan jumped into melee with two of the Vile saplings, his swung his fist out at one and went wide.
to hit = 8
his fast follow up kick hit true.
to hit = 24 damage 7
-
Jonathan stepped on another, grinding it underfoot.
-
Riisi was watching all this, and called out to those in melee with the tree things. "Cannot trade zhese leaves for shinies if you are dead!" and advanced in a backwards direction, skedaddling to the skiff.
-
Mr. Shredder annihilates the tree-thing that Brother Jonathan missed with a ray of Frost, shattering it into a thousand frozen bits. "Dammit Monk! The little alien is right! We need to be retreating, not advancing! Do you know how much paperwork I'll have to do if these wooden fuckers kill one of you?"
(Attack Roll = 16) (Damage Roll = 7)
He then turns to Sorimas as he continues to limp away from the fray. "Can I have some healing before you bolt back to the skiff? I cannot abandon these idiots. I'm going to have to hang around at a distance and cover their retreat with my frost magic until everybody else sees sense to leave!"
(Mr. Shredder's movement is 30ft. Between his move this turn, and move last turn, he is either 60ft away from where the treefolk are spawning, or as far as he can get while still retaining LoS)
-
Dullahan flicked his hand, casually incinerating another before turning and starting to walk back to the skiff, it was better for him to stay in range, in case he needed to blast more of the little creatures. "I've been ready to retreat from the beginning. But part of my goal here is to protect the others. Still, I can do that as well from back here." He'd say, still speaking in the same calm tone as he rested his blade on his shoulder, looking incredibly calm about the entire situation.
-
Silence fell over the glade for a moment as the last of the charging treefolk was incinerated. Many spoke of retreat. Others kept stuffing their bags with as much as they could carry. But they were quickly interrupted as three quick notes, and a fourth, higher note, echoed from deeper into the woods. Then again, from another direction, then a third, even more distant than the others.
Will you risk further reinforcements? Or flee now?
-
"That sound means it is time to go. We got plenty of herb in our bags, and know where to find more if we are down to go another round with these wooden shits!" Mr. Shredder declares before turning and limping back towards the Skiff.
-
"Yeah, that's the sound of far more reinforcements than we want to deal with. Come, let's leave the rest for those twigs to keep." Dullahan said, heading for the skiff himself.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"No. most of the time they stay still, and are peaceful. These abominations are just horrible."
Fyodor runs to the skiff
-
"It's not as bad as the 'Demon Wastes' but I am in favor of leaving." Brother Jonathan quickly returned to the skiff.
-
Atil licked the blood tricking down his hand.
“At least we return with more food than what we left with. Those plant people taste like wood bark.”
-
The company began to move quickly through the forest.
Far behind them, groups of treefolk mustered. More small groups trampled between the olladraleaf grove. Beyond them, the forest itself seemed to move. Treefolk climbed over boulders, rushed through fall logs, and spread out through the occasional clear ground, surging like army ants across the forest floor.
The horns continued. There was a sound of feathers. There was the panicked cry of some giant forest beast being overwhelmed, and stripped to the bone. They are coming.
You broke through the tree line, and ran at the skiff. As you broke the treeline, a flight of four treefolk mounted on swanback descended from the canopy, charging towards you and the skiff, arriving there as you all did. In the distance, a hailstorm of wooden feet and shaking leaves marked the incoming horde.
Roll for initiative, DC11. You begin this fight one move action away from the skiff.
-
Dullahan saw them coming in, and adjusted his speed, slipping into his normal, steady walk. He wanted to be sure everyone else made it onto the skiff. (Init = 9)
-
“Looks like we have more company.” Atil said as he took out his gear axe, ready to slash and run as needed.
Init=21 (17+4)
Choosing to run first, he made his way to the entryway of the skiff, guarding the escape.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Mr. Shredder, exhausted from running through the forest while injured, needs a moment to catch his breath before moving toward the Skiff.
(Roll = 1 + 2)
-
Stella's busy lining up a shot on the quick-moving swan. [Initiative 10]
-
Fyodor is still recovering from the multitude of branches to the face he sustained on his run here
Rolled Init=6
-
Nooooope. None of that. Riisi hopped on the skiff and peeked out over the rim at everyone who wasn't on yet.
(Initiative: 17)
-
Brother Jonathan lifted his fists, ready to run but wanting to defend those around him.
init = 10
-
The charge came rushing in, lances forward. Their charge was perfectly executed and devastating, catching the fleeing adventurers nearly completely off guard. Most of those who had been ready for them sprinted up. None had chosen to shoot them down, and many of those who could had been caught unaware.
One of the charging figures' lances broke off of Dullahan's mighty chestplate. The armlance shattered and the swan thudded into him in a mess of feathers and ineffectual bites.
Jonathan's struck him more directly, burying it's lance-arm. He took 4 damage, and must make a DC8 strength save to halve 10 damage from growing roots coming in up his stomach.
Fyodor took a similar blow up under his arm. Roots grew through his ribcage as he fought to tighten his muscles to slow them. 3 damage, and then strength 8 to halve 9.
Stella took a blow into her arm. It cut deeply, but the lance partially broke. She takes 5 damage, and must make a DC8 strength save to halve 4 damage.
-
save = 14
"Ouch! they have quite the bite." Brother Jonathan punched the woodling that speared him
to hit = 13 min damage kill
Then kicked one out of the way as he dashed for the skiff.
to hit = 14 min damage kill
-
[Save 8] Stella makes a hasty retreat to the skiff as she gets off a shot at one of the treefolk. [15 tohit; 4 damage]
-
[Redacted at request]
-
A tiny treefolk flailed, eyes widening as it was hurled back from Jonathan's punch. It's head cracked open at it collided with a stone. Jonathan booted another from in front of Stella. It flew into the leaves of the distant canopy with a quiet rustle drowned out by the incoming hailstorm of treefolk. The two of them ran for the skiff, Stella loosing an arrow back as she ran and killing the treefolk attacking Fyodor. The swans honked around and looked angry and confused, for now, as the last of the treefolk was still battering itself and it's mount ineffectually into Dullahan's mighty chestplate.
-
"Gah! Fall back!l
Fyodor runs back to the skiff, clutching at his chest wound. He attempts to stab at the Woodling poking at dullahan, but misses
-
Dullahan shrugged his blade off his shoulder, and took a wide hack... too wide as it turned out, the blade passing by the tiny treefolk instead of hitting it. He'd grumble, but keep moving anyway, expecting his armour to continue to hold up to the annoying wooden sliver stabbing at him.
-
The Swanlancer started to chase Dullahan. It managed a blow into his back!
Dullahan took 4 damage, and has to make a DC8 strength save to halve 9.
-
Dullahan picked the thing off his back, stared at it coldly, and casually tossed it down, seeming completely unbothered by the attack. "I think that's enough of that." (Save =15, Second wind = 9hp heal)
-
Seeing all his comrades on the Skiff, Hel-Shredder makes a dash for it himself! Upon reaching the controls, he turns to the last remaining treefolk and raises his wand in its direction!
"Peace out, Guthash! Stay Frosty!" He calls to his foe, mixing a bit of goblin language into his common, before firing a parting ray of Frost in its direction. By the time the spell connects, reducing the plant being to frozen wood shrapnel, the wounded Hobgoblin has already turned his back to the fray to steer the skiff, lifting the craft off the ground and bolting toward the Astral Kraken at full speed!
(Attack = 18)
(Damage Roll = 4)
-
The skiff pulled away as the waves of tiny treefolk charged out. The skiff rose along the canopy as treefolk raced from branch to branch, leaping and swinging. The first of them almost caught you as it leaped from the highest branch, only to fall just short. About a half hour's airskiff ride away, the Astral Kraken awaited.
-
Mr. Shredder limps towards the wheel as soon as the skiff lands. "Kayto. We just escaped a rather large army of plant people! They saw the direction we left in, and seem to have flying cavalry. Could we have some altitude please? Just in case they followed us?"
-
Kayto d'Lyrandar nodded, and held the wheel. The ship started to move forward, and the planet began to slowly fall away under it.
-
"Thank you!" The Hobgoblin responds in a singsong voice that one would not expect from somebody barely standing. He then marches to the hold, to dutifully drop off his bag of herbs, and check to see if the key found in the woods works on the safe salvaged from the Galleon!
-
The lock clicked seven times in quick succession, playing a mechanical tune as it locked or unlocked. This key was the one.
-
Hel-Shredder pumps his fist at the revelation, before limping out onto the deck with a big ol' shit eating grin on his beat up face. "The key works! We have cages full of pretty alien swans! We have bags full of valuable herbs! We made friends with an intelligent Alien! And we proved this world is as dangerous as it is profitable!"
The Hobgoblin looks at the rest of the adventure party, still beaming in spite of his injuries. "I say if we were to return home now, we could call this mission a success! ...But of course, there is still room in the hold should we want to find even more of this world's bounty! What do you guys think? Are we finished with this adventure? Or just done for the day? I could go either way myself!"
-
[Redacted at request]
-
“We have fought hard for our meat. Now is the time to enjoy it.”
-
It seemed a worthy haul. Much of what made this trip exciting was information. Alien empires, magebred soldiers, and a sea of stars teeming with strange life, and filled with useful resources. You had the first artifacts of alien civilizations ever seen on Eberron. You had exotic creatures to sell to high society types, if the House doesn't just keep them themselves as a symbol of their own power.
There is a level-up waiting for you when you return to Sharn. If you would like to continue adventuring here and try to fill the hold first, you can.
-
Yes: 1 (zomara)
No: 0 ( )
-
Dullahan shakes his head. "We've no need to try and go out to find more, we've already made more than a little just in the information and materials we've gathered. Best to take the haul, head home, and then if nothing more interesting has come up we can return here. Though I'd somewhat want to head for wherever that ship came from, since it had such an interesting lock on that safe, makes me wonder what other intriguing things might be there."
-
(https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/images/d/d7/AthenaMission1Teaser.png)
It seemed most of the crew were ready to return home. The Astral Kraken searched the rings for some time, finding little of value but filling the hold with what they could of the strange Soarwood. The ship began to pull away from the strange forested landscape, moving towards deep space.
Deploying the sails, they left the system like a shooting star. In the kitchen, the chef was preparing a feast of roast swan, with sweet potatoes, stuffing, and a cranberry salad, along with loaves of fresh bread, served with ice-cold rye beer.
Having relayed the contents of the cargo, Cylia d'Sivis was able to present the company's sales figures for the contents of the cargo hold, subject to any amendments if you choose to acquire some with your take. She had underlined the relevant section for your interest.
Bill of Goods:
813.1 galifars in exotic currency
House Kundarak moneychanging fee: -8.13
93 galifars in mixed jewelry
11 alien rapiers @12.5g second hand market [1 acquired by Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens]
11 alien wands @5gp second hand market
1 Musical Safe /w activation key @200g
1 Breeding set of Alien Swans @600g [acquired by Dantian d'Lyrandar]
3.448 bushels Olladraleaf @250gp/bushel = 862gp
Total Value of Goods: 2752.47 Galifars
Pay per Adventurer: 196.60 Galifars*
Final Profit: 1376.27
*I've chosen to divide the treasure just between the 7 active players we have now. If either Papaj or Nyx intend to resume play, they can also take a share of that value, even though the math won't work anymore.
You may acquire goods from the bill using a share of your take. For example, Mr. Shredder is acquiring the rapier he took from the aliens, so his final take would be 184.10 galifars and an alien rapier, paying the 12.5 the used market would have for the item back into the cargo hold.
This means that you can acquire Olladraleaf below market value at this time, before the company sells any. You may purchase materials to create a healing potion from the hold for 12.5 galifars. These materials require the herbalism kit proficiency or suitable alchemical alternative and 7 workdays of downtime to become a potion.
You will spend 2 days on the ship before the next event.
Astral Kraken Downtime Chart:
- Relax. If you were sick or injured, this would help. None of you are, so this has no effect. This could include religious meditation.
- Non-magical crafting. If you are proficient in an appropriate tool and brought it with you, craft up to 15gp of items for one quarter the listed price. Eg: you may build a 14gp item for 3 galifars and 5 silver.
- Gambling. Organize and play in a bridge tournament with the crew. Pay 10gp when you take this option, and roll intelligence/cards. Gain your roll in GP. For example, if you roll a 10, you break even.
- Practice. Choose an instrument, tool, weapon, or language to practice. You acrrue two practice-days towards proficiency. You need 70-(7*int bonus) practice days to become proficient. For example, a character with 8 intelligence would need 77 days, and a character with 20 intelligence would need only 35.
- Carousing. You drink and smoke wildly. Roll persuasion, and become friends with an NPC of your choice from the ship on a 10+. Roll on the Astral Kraken carousing table.
The Astral Kraken Carousing Table:
- In a drunken haze, you started to throw things off the ship to see them fly in a straight line away forever. You owe House Lyrandar 1d10x10gp to replace these items now.
- You get space sick from too much drink. You're sick over the back of the ship, at length.
- You decided to stand naked on the bow, and let the winds of space wash over you. The crew still snickers about it.
- You've slept with an NPC of your choice from the ship, and wake up beside them. Neither of you can quite remember why or how. If you roll this option again in a future voyage, you may opt to start a relationship with that NPC, or sleep with a new one.
- You upset one of the major NPCs of the ship somehow. You think you broke into their room, possibly interrupted their work. You'll need to apologize and roll persuasion.
- You have no idea what you did, but the chef will no longer serve you drinks. Make a persuasion check to make amends.
- While you were intoxicated, you agreed to put a junior crewman's gifted son through Morgrave University to become a magewright - an expensive proposition to say the least, likely requiring two hundred gold for a few basic introductory classes and a magewright's diploma. You may back out of this promise, but you'll probably really disappoint him.
- You decided to 'spar' on the ship. If two or more PCs roll this result, they will fight (non-lethally). If not, you pick fights, and spend the last day of the voyage out confined to your quarters to sober up.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Dullahan would walk over, somewhat curious what was going on. "Are you asleep, or just thinking out loud?" He'd ask somewhat quietly, not wanting to wake her if indeed she was asleep.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Fyodor is off a little ways from Sormias, oiling his rapier and murmuring to himself.
-
"I was hoping to look more into your language actually?" Dulla... well, it wasn't the worst thing he'd been called. "It seems an interesting one, and I always have had a fondness for learning new things."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Ah! I'm glad to hear it. If there's anything I can teach you that you'd be interested in, I'd be happy to help you learn. Either way, I thank you for agreeing to teach." Dullahan gave a slight bow. "When should we start? I don't want to intrude on your rest."
-
Brother Jonathan took about a quarter of his "Rot got", added spices that he bought from the ship, and set it to still. Later he would place it in a different cask to age.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Dullahan would gather some supplies, before returning to sit and wait for her, interested in seeing what she had to teach. It should be rather interesting to learn even if he never used it... then again maybe he would use it, could at the very least make notes that likely no-one around here would be able to read other than Sormias.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Hoo boy.... that was.... "So did your ancestors create this language by letting some tentacled horror squirm across the page after being covered in ink?" He'd ask with a playful tone, trying to make heads or tails of it all.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Dullahan let out a loud chuckle. "Well, false or true, it makes for a fun story to tell. And at least it sounds nice even if it's... well, it looks like it'd be physically painful to write."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Wow..... just.... wow, okay then, so... it takes around an hour per sentence to write then?" Dullahan said, laughing again as he looked it over.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Well, at least you take some steps to make it functional." Dullahan said playfully, moving a bit closer as he worked to study, Sormias was rather interesting to spend time with, and seemed like she'd be interesting to learn from. Yes this would be a fine way to spend time.
-
Stella will purchase 100gp worth of the Olladraleaf, enough to make 8 potions. She'll start brewing one immediately and wander the ship during stable parts of its process.
[Tinkering proficiency remains at 2/56[
[Potion brewing: 0/8; 2/7]
-
Atil spends 125 GP to gather the needed materials for crafting special javelins. Mostly wood, rope, a special paste, and chicken bone. The tips were designed to brake apart, on impact, rather than to pierce straight through, and cause multiple small lacerations, rather than one big hole.
[12/100 Javelins made]
-
Mr. Shredder continues practice his Elfish with the Elf and Half Elf crew members.
Progress Towards Elfish Language Proficiency: 4/49
-
On a mote of earth torn from an island and suspended in space, a man sat leaned up against the edge of a fireballed church. He'd wandered the few hundred feet in either direction that was left of his world. He'd laid traps, to catch the moles and the rats. More and more, his traps had been coming up clean. He'd checked on his garden. The sun had been getting farther away, he thinks. It had been getting colder. His vegetables weren't growing so well. It was another day of hard rationing. Overhead, the sun managed to glare, despite being colder and farther away. A tiny blue speck hung between the mote and the sun, which, if he'd been an educated man, Detlas Jundar would have known must be Eberron.
In the other direction, a star appeared, and started to grow. Detlas barely had time to flinch before it flashed overhead, leaving a white streak like a comet's tail. For a moment, he could have sworn there was an airship inside that brilliant white light.
Dullahan had been on the deck. Him, Atil, and a few others. He saw a tiny speck of white suddenly grow enormous, momentarily filling most of the port sky before it shrunk away behind. To the two of them, it conjured a memory. It was a battleground they'd been on, a few weeks before the end of the war. They'd been pulled away for their last mission, a deep strike behind enemy lines. They recognized some of what everyone had seen. A caved in dome of a temple to the Sovereigns. Houses collapsed by fireball artillery striking from both sides. It was an all too familiar image of the Northern Front. In particular, it reminded them of an island on the River Cyre they'd once fought at together. Neither of them could recall what it might have been called.
And neither of them was positive that they weren't just imagining it. The war, they were told, sometimes had that effect on people. But there would be people on Eberron who would want to be certain.
-
Atil grunted as he tried to remember the name of that island.
“Dullahan. What was the name of that island that layed in the Cyre river?”
-
Detlas drinks from his flask, thankful that water would still not be an issue, at the very least.
But an oceans weight in water won't make potatoes grow without the sun.
Squatting down as he inspects his plants, the man sighs, looking into the sky. His world, Eberron and t-
What the Hell? A comet? An airship?
Staring up at the sky, at it's trail, he's dumbfounded, unsure what to think. 'Am I finally going mad up here?', is what he begins to think, though.
-
Brother Jonathan was on deck, sand by the rail, enjoying a cup of tall(Coffee). He looked through the steam as it floated off the ship, while doing so, he spotted the floating island. "Was that here last time?" He pointed.
-
"Hard to say." Kayto d'Lyrandar replied. "Would you like to come about?"
-
"Well, if we have time. I just thought I saw something." He nodded to Kayto d'Lyrandar. "The flame may have drawn my attention to it."
-
Dullahan came over and nodded. "It... reminded me of something, though I might have just been lost in memory. Still, it wouldn't hurt to check it out. Come around and let's see what it was."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
The shooting star in the distance turned, and streaked across the sky. It started to grow again, more slowly as Kayto cut sails. Within a few minutes, the Astral Kraken loomed over the ruin of what was undoubtedly a part of what was once either Cyre or Karnath, depending who you asked.
-
Atil gazes about, the landscape so familiar, to the point of being unnerving, even for him. This could not have been the same place as what he had left, and he wanted to prove that, at least, to himself.
Perception= 13
-
Detlas scrambles away from the garden, crouched down as he moves from cover to cover, ruin to ruin, quickly, to his meager camp.
They're finally here.
-
"Holy spirit! A ruin of Cyre, here? out side our planet!? We need explore this. Their may be priceless pieces of history here." Jonathan thought a moment. "And remains..."
-
There seems to be a small but well-kept camp. There's some firewood stacked and ready, made from ruined furniture.
Detlas Jundar made it there first, and unseen.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Cyre was a nation that was lost in the last war." Brother Jonathan looked from Sormias to Dullahan. "You can pilot the skiff, correct?"
-
The man grabs a makeshift spear, created from the trash of the floating city block.
Gripping it tightly, he moves away from his camp, creeping through the urban jungle, looking for an elevated but covered place to hide.
Need the height advantage, without being spotted by that flying boat.
-
Roll Stealth, Detlas.
-
Most of the crew didn't spot him. But Brother Jonathan caught a furtive glance of a Karrnathi uniform as a figure moved through the ruins, up towards the ruined dome. [19 stealth vs natural 20 perception]
-
"Was, that?" Brother Jonathan looked and pointed at the dome "There, did anyone else just see a Karrnathi soldier?"
-
"Cyre... to see part of it again..." There was deep sorrow in Dullahan's voice, which quickly shifted to a cold ferocity when he heard Jonathan. "Karrnathi? Where?" He'd look around, hand moving slowly to his blade's hilt.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Remember, the war is over, this is time of peace." Brother Jonathan wiped his forehead and then pointed again for Dullahan "Behind the dome."
-
Dullahan was still for a few moments as he focused himself, pushing down that gut reaction and moving his hand from his blade. "Right.. you're right. And considering the state of this camp, they might be someone in need of help." There was still a bit of stiffness in his motions as he looked over the dome.
-
”Do not draw your weapons or they may assume that we are the hostile ones. Do not allow the war to cause more deaths.”
-
“The war isn’t over, yet. This is likely just another pause.”
-
Detlas Jundar remembered Dullahan. It was hard to forget the warforged who's head came off and flew around. He'd been a terror unit. Kept you and your men up at night, worried about a transfer to Fort Zombie if he caught you in the night. He seemed to be travelling with a Silver Flame monk, among others. Their airskiff was making it's way down.
-
From his position, he stares off at the skiff, stopping for a moment.
The monk, a bit unusual. Had religion become ingrained in the war? Gods forbid.
The others, anyone could be a soldier.
And the machine.
With a glare as vivid, terrible memories come back, he clambers down into the dome, searching for places to conceal himself.
-
Karrnath did employ an entire army of undead. It was possible that the Silver Flame had taken sides. Not that it much mattered.
The party wandered through Detlas' camp. It looked like someone was living here, alright.
-
The camp is situated in a bombed out building, that has seemingly remained relatively stable.
It's squalid, and stinks of old smoke and uncleaned clothes.
A dead firering sits in the middle, with a measly pile of broken furniture next to it.
Makeshift tools and cooking utensils are scattered about the area.
In one corner is a mess of cloth, bunched together in a vague semblance of a mattress.
-
"I wonder how long he has been here. Logic would say, since the day of mourning, but magic can do funny things with time." Brother Jonathan walked around the camp and looked for the fire pit. he place some his own tinder in it and set to heating up a pot of tall. "So I say we wait."
-
"Mm... if he's been living here a long time...." Dullahan pauses, thinking a moment. "If he's been here since then... perhaps I should return to the ship. I did have a bit of a... reputation. Well, whether I do or not, we should perhaps get something proper cooking, it's likely been a while since whoever lived here had a real meal."
-
"Good idea." Brother Jonathan nodded at Dullahan and then looked to the others. "Does anyone have a house Lyrander flag we place? as a sign of parlay." He got the fire lit.
-
Dullahan headed to take the skiff back up, wanting to make himself scarce. It'd give him time to think as well.
-
"I do not. Kayto may, if we wish to return to the ship momentarily."
-
The Cyran soldiers that Detlas Jundar had seen in his camp made their way back towards their skiff. They boarded it and prepared to go, leaving a group of other adventurers. Were they Cyran soldiers in disguise? Some of their allies? It was hard to tell, exactly. But it was clear they were going to wait him out at his camp.
The next move belonged to Acting Captain Jundar.
-
Peering out a small opening in the dome, the soldier passes his spear between his hands, eyeing the group.
He had nothing of value there, but it still felt like a violation. Pushing down his anger, he moves along a bit, moving through the dome.
The man looks at the skiff, and the airship it's going to, looking for markings and details as to it's purpose. Troop carrier? Merchant? Warship?
-
All airships belong to House Lyrandar, and only they can pilot them. They do a lot of mercenary transport work, and generally avoid direct participation in the war.
-
Rolled 16 for Investigation
Fyodor crouches over the campsite, carefully poking through it with his rapier, his keen eye searching for information on this dweller and how long he'd been here.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Brother Jonathan checked the fire for the pot of tal, then looked to Sormias "About a century ago, King Jarot of Galifar died, his children, the rulers of the five nations, could not agree on who would succeed him." Brother Jonathan put some more fuel on the fire. "From this, the Last War erupted, alliances rose and fell over the course of a hundred years, the five nations turning against each other at various times. It all ended the day Cyre was consumed by a deadly mist." He turned the coals "That day it became, the Mournland." He check the pot and sighed "The treaty of Thronehold was signed soon after, and the five nations found peace between them."
-
Fyodor was sure that people had been camping here for decades. It used to be a larger camp that housed soldiers, but it looks like it's been just one man for at least the past several years. You're able to discern his build and height, as well.
-
The Four Nations, someone might have corrected Jonathan. Nothing is left of Cyre but scattered refugees. Before the destruction of Cyre, they say, one in ten member of the Five Nations died in the Last War. The eradication of an entire nation brought that up to three in ten.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Any race that can rise above war would be truly blessed." Brother Jonathan poured two cups of tal from the kettle. "Careful, it's bitter." he offered a cup to Sormias.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Well, I hate to further Hobgoblin stereotypes by advocating for the concept of war, but if it wasn't for the last war, my parents never would have met, and I wouldn't be here! I mean sure... it killed them in the end, but they got to be best friends and fuckbuddies for eight years before I was born, and parents on-and-off for seven years afterward!"
Mr. Shredder offers a sad smile "Hells, because they died defending the interests of House Lyrandar, House Lyrandar paid for my education in the arcane arts and more or less guaranteed me a job for life. So I guess I'm kind of glad the Last War happened... but I suppose I'm also kind of glad it ended before I would be obligated to get involved. War is funny like that; A mixed bag of chocolate and caltrops."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"I am of the opinion that, if wars like these continue, total destruction will not be limited to just one nation."
-
Fyodor silently follows Sormias. Splitting the party is a bad idea, but going off solo is an even worse one.
-
The man in the ragged uniform continues his sneaking in the dome, peering through cracks in it at those he can spot.
After some time, he leaves the dome, still staying low, and out of sight of the airship, to the best of his abilities.
He attempts to tail the pair that split off from his camp, and shadow them as they move through the ruined chunk of civilization.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Jonathan," Stella begins, "does your church have any specific way it demonstrates neutrality?"
-
"The Silver flame is dedicated to protecting the world from evil. We do our best to help those in need, and fight monstrous threats as they arise. The one that leads us on this course is The Keeper of The Flame. It is her words that keep us from national politics as a whole." he sipped his tall and nodded.
-
"It appears we lack an outward display of neutrality, then, besides a verbal declaration."
-
"I was hoping the smell of tal would bring them to us, but that is a good point." Brother Jonathan rubbed his chin.
-
Sormias walked through the overgrown ruins of what was once a residential district. A stone pavilion sat in a field of grass and unkempt, withering rose bushes. She hopped over a trench dug into the earth, now dried and cracked, that was once shored up by boards. Some parts of it look scorched, as if by a fireball. Beyond it, barricades were set up in the windows of what must have once been quaint but inviting homes.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Detlas watches from an alley, only partially concealed as he peers out, watching the woman suddenly stop and paint.
He's intrigued. But largely confused. And a tad wary.
Squatting down, and leaning forward on his makeshift spear, he continues to eye the group.
Some minutes pass by, and he hesitantly approaches from the darkness, spear clutched in both hands
He comes close enough to reveal himself, but far enough way to stay out of fighting range.
The man is tall. Easily past six foot, and has a well-built, solid frame. Obviously that of a strong, powerful soldier. Or at least, someone that was once that.
However, in contrast to this, his face and hands are gaunt and bony, and his clothing hangs off of him in bags, implying he's now thinner than his uniform was originally made for. Likely emaciated.
Much of his body is covered by his clothing, but what's visible is very pale, probably not naturally so. His face and head are covered with matted black hair, grown long, wild, and unkempt, streaked with gray. From behind his hairy mess of a face, peer two haggard, dull blue eyes, surrounded by wrinkles and creases.
A set threadbare Karrnathi battle fatigues sits on his ghastly form, which have obviously been used to their extent. They're marred by stitches and patches of slipshod repair jobs. His boots appear to easily be on their last bits of life, essentially falling apart with each step he moves.
Over his shoulders and torso is a shawl, made of mismatched rodent furs and hides all stitched together, in what is almost certainly one of his sole sources of warmth on the ruined rock.
He's older. It's obvious that he's at least in his 40s, and probably more than that. His body and clothes are unsurprisingly covered with dirt and dust.
Having now revealed himself, he continues watching the woman paint with his hollow eyes, leaning forward on his spear again, like a staff. He also turns his gaze to the others that came along with her, inspecting them with a wary look.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Greetings. "
Fyodor keeps his hand on his blade, but does not draw it. The thin man eyes up the vagabond with a piercing gaze, with eyes the color of a fishes underbelly inspecting his every feature
-
Another minute passes, and he's still watching.
"You don't look like soldiers." The man says suddenly in a low, raspy voice, before coughing a little.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
A trail ration didn't sound too bad. Of course, on the ship, Chevash d'Ghallanda could prepare a meal the likes of which a simple soldier has likely never been able to afford.
-
Tensing up slightly as the woman begins to go through her bag, the man is quiet for a few seconds.
"Are you merchants? What's the ship for?"
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Hesitantly approaching, the soldier takes a ration, and quickly backs up, inspecting what said region contains as he speaks.
"Mmhn...Lyrander...makes sense." Sniffing the food next, he clears his throat, coughing again, before mumbling, "There's nothing on this rock that they'd want."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Cautiously trying out some of the nuts, and then promptly eating a handful, the man quietly answers, "Warrant Officer Detlas Jundar, White Lions."
Chewing some of the fruit, he suddenly retches, and spits the dried appley-thing out, shuddering.
Only eating the meat and nuts now, he looks to Fyodor.
"Who are you?" Jundar asks, voice still quiet and wary, but not carrying tones of suspicion that it was previously.
-
"A holy agent of the flame. No more. No less."
-
Nodding, he goes silent again, and hungrily continues to eat the rest of the ration (excluding the fruit).
When he finishes, Detlas looks at the two near him.
An obvious amount of unease takes his bearded face, and he coughs lightly.
"How's the war?" the officer asks, voice just as nervous as his face.
-
"Your war is doubtless over. The Last War ended over 8 years ago. Though it's title may be a bit presumptuous."
-
The man slides down on his spear into a squat, and closes his eyes.
"Thank the Host." Detlas sighs, sounding immensely relieved, though still tired.
His body relaxes, and he sits down on the ground, setting his spear down.
Nodding a little, the soldier asks, "How'd it end? Did anyone 'win' that nightmare?"
-
"That is a matter for the politicians and the historians to decide. Come. We should reconvene with the rest of the group."
-
Nodding a little, the emaciated man slowly stands up, ready to move.
"I never thought I'd live to hear the war ended."
-
The three of them started to walk back to the Airskiff, where, presumably, Mr. Shredder was waiting to ferry them back to the ship.
-
Mr. Shredder stands at the rudder of the skiff idly twirling his wand in boredom, as if he were a parade leader and it a baton. He is fairly tall for a hobgoblin, but also a bit thin and lanky compared to other members of his race Detlas might have met on the battlefield. The well kept condition of both the light armor on his body and the rapier hanging at his waist betray a degree martial discipline one might not expect from a spell slinging skiff operator. ...But he looks too young to have fought in the war if it had truly ended eight years ago.
His large ears perk up and a wide smile reveal his fangs as the group approaches. "Sormias, Fyodor! I see you found our mystery camper! Come with us if you want some food in your belly and some Ebbron under your feet!"
The Hobgoblin hops down from the skiff and approaches, and offers Deltas his hand. "Name's Hel-Shredder friend! ...Although actually, I'm around colleagues, so we best use my professional pseudonym. Call me Mr. Shredder!"
-
Obviously a bit taken aback, the haggard man cautiously takes Shredder's hand, and shakes it (albeit a tad weakly).
"Warrant Officer Detlas...Junda...ar, Jundar, White Lions..." He murmurs, trailing off as his gaze moves to the airship above.
The man stares at said ship, his dull eyes moving along it, and his mouth still hanging open.
Blinking, Detlas warily asks, "Is the war machine up there tame?"
-
"The Warforged?" Mr. Shredder asks as he gives the man's hand a firm shake, "Oh. He's friendly. Actually one of the more gentle souls we keep aboard the Kraken! He knew well enough to know he might make you uncomfortable and left the landing party! I'm sure he'll put up with you if you put up with him. He is professional like that. Thats why I requested him by name when House Lyrander put me in charge of picking the crew of the Astral Kraken! ...Well that and the fact that if you are taking an spelljamming airship to explore unknown worlds, it doesn't hurt to have a badass terror unit war veteran on hand just in case things get ugly."
The Hobgoblin's mind was already churning. This Detlas fellow was both a trained soldier and fire tested survivalist. Just the sort of person that would be useful on future Spelljamming adventures.
-
Stella eyes Detlas. "If you are concerned, he has displayed no signs of wishing to continue the war."
-
"Mmnh." Jundar mumbles, stepping onto the skiff.
-
Fyodor silently boards after Sormias.
-
The skiff returned to the ship. Kayto d'Lyrandar stood at the helm, his posture looking at once intense as he gripped the Wheel of Wind and Water as if poised to turn it with all his strength, and relaxed, as if he casually preferred to remain ready, rather than seeking to go. Eberron was still visible in the sky, and close.
Detlas Jundar would want to speak with the Karrnathi Embassy in Middle Central. It would take him three workdays to make contact with any living relatives and to get his papers in order. In the interim, House Lyrandar has agreed to purchase his Superior Canteen for 100 galifars so that he can afford accommodations, if he needs.
Sharn: the City of Towers
(http://klubbsaga2015.wdfiles.com/local--files/sharn/Sharn%2001a.jpg)
The descent from above the highest clouds still took hours. In the distance loomed the City of Towers, Sharn, an architectural wonder the likes of which appear nowhere else on Eberron. Here, the Elemental Plane of Air touches the world, invigorating the magics of flight and levitation, allowing for such wonders as magically reinforced architecturally impossible spires, and even an elite borough that flew above the confined of the city. Detlas has never seen anything the like of it before.
If you would like, chat among each other on the approach to Sharn. When you are ready, you should post your downtime actions. You have 20 days of downtime in Sharn before House Lyrandar calls you up again. Each day, you will need to pay for accommodations somewhere in the city suitable to the downtime activity you hope to perform. A list of boroughs can be found here.
Sharn Downtime Activities (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1FVjiIXrbSVupZVVfYXmxxKozs18YcCoajtdbWQeaJbI)
-
Before the ship leaves the floating city block he'd been on the last eight years, Detlas points a single finger out at a field on the earthmote.
"The dead are buried there. They deserve proper care, eventually." The survivor explains quietly, before asking for more of the trail food.
He spends the three hours back sitting on the top deck, eating the meat and nuts from said rations, peering off the edge of the ship, and not interacting with anyone barring the annoyingly persistent.
He refuses to give up anything on him, especially his canteen, even on the promise of money. The spear he had was left behind.
As the ship approaches the large city, Detlas stares at it, his blank expression molding ever so slightly into one of relief and relative peace.
-
Before departing the Astral Kraken, Mr. Shredder dutifully deducts 5 gold from his paycheck to claim an Alien Wand.
---
Hel-Shredder, an established agent of House Lyrandar, is permitted to live at the Upper Middle Guildhouse for free. After checking into the room which is more or less reserved for him, the Hobgoblin Spends a work day shopping. As a leading crewman of Ebberon's first successful Spelljammer, Hel-Shredder expects to be doing alot of socialization in the near future, and as such he will need good clothes. Many pairs. Perhaps so many that it might be in his interest to learn to make his own.
Hel-Shredder Shopping List:
-1 Set of Noble Clothes (15g)
-1 Leatherworkers Tools (5g)
-Attempt to find somebody to mount his Alien Rapier and Wand on a nice plaque that he can display in his office to commemorate the first successful voyage of the Astral Kraken (???)
-
Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens finds his old familiar room that is in fact set aside just for him. He ascends a few staircases to reach it. His solid darkwood door is set in a wood paneled wall with paisley wallpaper. The guildhouse is in that regard quite similar to the ship. His suite has a desk and bed, and he has access to a common room, which offers meal and beverage service.
Galifan Couture offers a range of noble's clothing in his area. A junior tailor parts from the team after Mr. Shredder requests to be brought to the unenchanted section. Tanners tools were harder to find. Mr. Shredder spent several hours browsing and window-shopping at Tradefair before he found what he was looking for.
Mounting was available in three styles. Martial Arms carries a polished wooden weapon rack for 1 galifar. They also offer wall mounts made of tropical woods and inset with some rarer materials that would cost 10 galifars, but suit the decor much more strongly. Lastly, an artisan is willing to create a bespoke wall mount in a style similar to the armaments themselves, including internal lighting to expose the objects' finer features. This elegant display case and floating mounting would cost fifty galifars.
-
Thanking Sormias for the money, Detlas meanders around the area for a bit, before paying 3 galifar for three nights at the guildhouse.
Instantly after that, he asks for directions to the local Karrnathi authority, and heads there.
He takes his time going there, astounded by the city. It's a shock, having been a lone survivor on an isolated rock for nearly a decade, and now suddenly being around people.
In fact, it's obvious he's out of place anywhere but the slums. A haggard, dirty old war veteran, wandering the streets, slowly making his way to the embassy.
-
The Karrnathi Embassy was quite probably the largest in Sharn. It was more or less a castle, spread out over four blocks, within the City of Sharn. It's style was gothic, with high arches and scowling, austere gargoyles. Built on the edge of Middle Central, the castle's pointed towers were weatherworn with rain, and hosted moss between the stones.
Detlas was able to enter without papers on the admittance of House Lyrandar, who provided a report of where he had been found, and how. Regardless, there were days of messages sent back and forth from Karrnath via House Sivis sending stones. Military records were acquired, and Detlas Jundar was extensively questioned to prove his identity. What accomplishment was he decorated for, and what was his worst disciplinary infraction?
On the third day, he was informed that the last of his family had died several months before the end of the war. Famine and disease had been common in Karrnath towards the end, even among the civilian population, and the frozen winters had claimed many lives. The message had never reached him on the front. He was given 50 galifars in back pay for his military service, and an honorable discharge.
-
"Your proposal appeals to me friend!" Hel-Shredder tells the Artisan. "I suspect I will leave town on my next voyage in twenty days or so, and do not know how long I will be gone as of yet. I should be able to afford your work upon my return. How much of your fee would you expect up front? I'd be willing to pay 15 now, and the remaining 35 when I pick the trophy up after my next adventure."
-
[Hel-Shredder Persuasion 21]
The artisan considers, then agrees. He'll take the weapons and money, and promises to have the item completed by the time Mr. Shredder returns.
-
Through extended and loyal service, he'd received several awards before he found himself among stars. But one of his largest accomplishments easily was holding back a hidden enemy flank on a crippled forward base while the majority of his fellow soldiers were defending a frontal attack.
Several times, he'd been caught and cited with theft of medical painkillers.
When Detlas finally leaves the embassy with bad news and a pouch of coins, he still feels just as lost and disoriented.
The past three days had been largely dealing with his country. And then they just...hand him money, and sent him on his way. Decades of service, and it ended like that.
The warm feelings he had coming back to civilization dissipate again, leaving him cold once more.
For the fourth time, he walks back to the guild.
Washes his uniform. Shaves. Cleans his body.
The next 17 days he does very little.
Most of his time is spent trying to learn how the war concluded, and what happened while he was gone.
He tends to do nothing, a lot. Just rest in his spot of the staff house, staring off at the ceiling or wall.
Slowly, he begins to eat more and more, though he notably avoids alcohol or anything particularly flavorful, and only ever drinks from his superior canteen.
In time, he gains the weight he lost, and his body begins to rapidly recover back to how it was before he was blasted away, when he was in his prime.
Roughly a week and a half into Jundar's stay at the guild, Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens gets a knock at his office door.
-
Hel-Shredder is found chewing out some poor intern for apparently making a minor mistake on some paperwork. "IT'S CALLED A COMA YOU MOOK! LEARN TO USE IT! RUN-ON SENTENCES SHOULD NEVER APPEAR IN OFFICIAL HOUSE DOCUMENTS!"
Upon hearing the knock on the door, the Hobgobin's tone quickly changes. "Come in!" He calls warmly, and upon seeing that his guest is Deltas, a wide grin spreads across his face. "What can I do you for friend!" He beams, dismissing the poor soul he was yelling at with a wave.
-
Dullahan went where he regularly went. Every two weeks if he could, he took a trip down to Tavrick's landing, spent some time wandering and speaking with people, especially in the Cyrian camps. He tended to pay for an inn, always feeling a little bad about not staying in the camp but... he had to stay in his best shape. And as much as he wanted to improve the camp enough that his people didn't have to live in squalor, that would require far more money and power than he had. Dullahan spends 2 galifars to stay in the inn, and 5 more carousing in lower Tavrick's landing (Persuasion = 7)
-
Dullahan emerged from his walk through the refugee camps, having spend the day playing cards, talking with people, and trying to be a positive influence. He was glad not to take any of the camp's resources by staying.
While he was exiting, an airskiff flew alongside him. A mysterious woman in red dress and jacket with a sharp, high rising collar stopped by. She seemed to be in a curious mood. "What an oddity. A unique model of warforged. Why, I've never seen the like of you. Can your head and body feel one another, when separated?"
-
"Mmm? Yes actually as far as I can tell. I can also see and hear through both at the same time. Why do you ask?" Dullahan had been surprised by the question, but didn't see the harm in answering. At least this time it wasn't someone just trying to steal his head and run off with it. That was always a bit bothersome.
-
Paying little attention to the yelling or intern, Jundar steps in, and towards the hobgoblin.
He looks much different from the initial meeting.
First off, he's clean. His skin lacks any significant amount of dirt or grime. His wild beard has been replaced by a clean-shaved and decently handsome face (though he still looks older, and continues to carry his vacant, dull stare), and his matted, thick 'hermit' hair has been totally removed, leaving a light stubble on his head.
While he's still wearing his patched up and threadbare uniform (which is now washed), he's put on plenty of weight onto his once emaciated and ghasty body, and fills in the fatigues nicely.
Also, back to his regular size, he's quite imposing. He's easily one of the strongest looking normal humans you've seen, and that combined with his height and improved looks, you can easily see a professional soldier, instead of a wretched vagrant.
"I need work." Detlas announces simply, his voice firmer, but just as cold and blank.
-
"Mm.." She considered, eyes appraising Dullahan hungrily, her tone sultry and commanding. "I think you and I could find all sorts of ways to entertain ourselves with that. I need an escort for an engagement in the Skyway. Come along, do as you're told, and we'll leave you.. fifty galifars, afterwards?"
-
Dullahan thought about it a while, before shrugging internally. It did sound somewhat sketchy, but it was doubtful the orders she'd give would be worse than things he'd been told to do in the war. And if they were... well, he'd have learned. Besides, escorting a rather intriguing woman to a rather interesting place sounded...well, it sounded like a time. And good or bad, going and having a time makes for good stories later. "I suppose I can accept that. I didn't have much else in my plans, and what I did I think I can set aside to escort an intriguing woman such as yourself." He'd say, approaching her to come along.
-
Mr. Shredder nods, and his smile grows even wider. "As I mentioned back on the rock, I like hiring bad-ass war-veterans. Consider yourself part of the next Astral Kraken mission! If you could survive alone and away from the sun for so long, I imagine you'd do great with a full team on an alien world. The away team splits 50% of the sale price of whatever goods we find, so the money is very good. We all just made almost 200 Galifers in about five days on our last voyage!"
The Hobgoblin offers the soldier a handshake. "You in?"
-
Dullahan was brought up to an elaborate party. A flight spell was cast on each of the guests, including Dullahan, as he entered an airy ballroom built entirely of Irian Rosewood. A Syberis Dragonshard chandelier lit the room, it's manifold crystals floating and moving elegantly. Guests waltzed in the air, ate strange and exotic hors d'oevres, and a full orchestra played. Most of the guests here wore elaborate glammerweave costumes - some hovered in clouds, others were surrounded by an array of butterflies, others appeared to defy their own builds, seeming slimmer and more perfect than physically possible.
The Red Woman keeps him on a tight leash, though he has a chance to acquaint himself with some of them before the night is done. Roll persuasion.
-
He rather enjoyed the night actually, sure he was kept on a bit of a leash but... well, he'd rather expected it considering the situation. He wasn't entirely sure he'd sign up for it again mind, but it didn't bother him... and the company was quite nteresting. He'd talk with some of the others when he had the chance, and with the Red Woman when she felt like talking, just being generally pleasant and seeing who he could meet and what he could learn. (persuasion = 12)
-
[Dullahan Persuasion 12]
Another woman, this one dressed in blue, joins the conversation, who seems delighted by the prospect that Dullahan has no interest in his duties whatsoever - a strange taste she and the red woman seem to share. There's a terse moment as the red woman jealously insists that Dullahan is already bought and paid for. As Dullahan tries to settle things and keep them civil, it becomes increasingly obvious to Dullahan that there was something the two of them knew that he didn't, that the blue woman was only now learning he didn't know.
It did not bode well. Particularly not when the red woman agreed that the blue one could watch, and borrow you afterwards. They suggest an early retirement at around 10 in the evening to the red woman's estate.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Detlas nods, and shakes Shredder's hand, giving it a strong grip this time, unlike the first meeting.
"I'll be ready, after I purchase equipment. When is the next mission?" He monotones, releasing his now co-workers hand.
-
Hel-Shredder stares at the noble outfit in his hands on the way out of the tailor. His nerves are high. The upcoming Gala will be his opportunity to impress the militant faction within House Lyrandar, but could also turn out to be a huge wasted investment if he were to fail. The stakes were high to be sure...
The Hobgobin is not paying attention to where he is going, and completely oblivious to the fact that he is about to walk right into Sormias, who is apparently entering the same shop in search of clothes of her own!
---
"Awesome! Are you good with a Rapier? I could check to see if we didn't sell the alien ones we found last mission yet. Might be able to get you one at a discount."
The Hobgoblin grins. "I'm still working on nailing down our exact departure date. It should be within the month though. In the meantime, I could get you work in the offices here. The pay ain't great, only 1 sovereign a day, but it comes with free board at the staffhouse, and once you get 60 days under your belt, I could recommend you for promotion to House Agent, which gives you free boarding even when you are not working!"
-
This... didn't bode well indeed. Hmm... though asking straight up seemed like it'd be a bit uncouth, even to Dullahan who never really did have much for courtly manners or the like. Though walking in blind seemed foolish too.... so before it got to that early retirement, he'd attempt to quietly catch the one in blue, seeing if he could get informed... hoping she'd want to inform him.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"It's a secret." The blue woman giggled back to Dullahan with sadistic warmth. "But you'll be safe. More or less."
They seemed to be leading him towards the door. He floated through the air towards it, powerless over his flight spell now. He had the genuine sense that if he squirmed to resist they'd only enjoy it more.
He could of course insist, and return his pay. He will have had a tremendous evening but he is not likely to keep his new friends, however, if he does.
-
Sormias, too, disappointed the team of tailors at Gallifan Couture, who returned to a game of cards after the second most junior member was sent to assist her.
-
Hoo boy.... well this was... odd. Odd and somewhat worrisome? He'd squirm a little... hey, if they'd enjoy it why not. Though... they had said he'd be safe so... eh, new experiences could be worth it. It's not like he was going to wake up in an ice bath with organs missing.... probably. Besides, even if they were.... odd, the girls seemed interesting outside of that so... what's the harm in one night to figure out what the heck's going on.
-
The Hobgoblin collides with the Abberation, dropping the fancy clothes he was carrying on the ground! "HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU ARE GOING YO-" He begins to snap before noticing who he collided with. "Oh. ...Um sorry about that. Hello Sormias! You okay?"
He looks down at his new clothes on the ground and can't help but frown. Now he was going to have to bully some lesser arcanist at the office into Prestidigitating them clean.
-
Dullahan arrived back at the Red Woman's home, a flying palace in the sky. The trio stepped from the airskiff and went inside. A great adamantium portcullis closed behind them. Walking up a long hall, they entered a vaulted chamber. A portcullis slammed behind that too. The blue woman held Dullahan's shoulders as the red woman sashayed towards a mounded hill of gold and jewels.
She turned, her dress spun, and she grew. Before Dullahan was a Red Dragon. She towered up into the room, and leaned in towards him, her head easily as large as an airskiff. The blue woman giggled, and the dragon took his head between her scaly lips, lifting it from his shoulders...
Unspeakable things were done that evening, but none brought Dullahan to any permanent harm. By morning, the dragon was done with him, but Dullahan had definitely made a friend of the blue woman, who introduced herself as Zowo Majesty. She said that she found him very entertaining, and offers him a wish.. if she can engage him for thirty days, and make him tell people what he and the Dragon did. Possibly show.
-
"I don't use rapiers." He replies, shaking his head. "And I don't know office work. I'll be around." The man finishes abruptly, promptly leaving the office.
Having left the office, he proceeds to count his coins (85 galifars), and head out to find a shop.
Detlas Jundar's Shopping List
- 1 set of chainmail armor
- 1 metal shield
After that, he'll bring his gear back to his room in the guild, and try to find a library or...something, to catch up on what's happened the last 8 years. This is alright if it takes a few days.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Thanks! Like thanks alot." Mr. Shredder professes, his ears dipping a bit to express gratitude. "I need those in top shape for the big art Gala tomorrow. I'm going to try to impress the Military Development clique within House Lyrandar at the party. If I can get in good with them, they might help provide the Kraken and her crew with extra defensive measures... which going by our last adventure may come in handy."
Suddenly the Hobgoblin's eyes light up. He'd be the talk of the evening if he could drag the pretty abberation from another world to the party. "Wait... you are an artsy type, aren't you? Want to tag along? Look at the pretty pictures and sculptures? Its fifty gp for a ticket, and you need nice clothes, but somebody as social as you could make some important friends! Hell, you've made it clear you are into sleeping around. I bet you could get lucky and find somebody to take home!"
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Mr. Shredder is momentarily taken aback. The thought that a non-goblinoid would even be remotely interested in him had never even crossed his mind. Hel-Shredder didn't find Sormias quite as attractive as he might a female Hobgoblin, but she had a particular charm to her, and he was the sort who would suck it up and lay with the world's ugliest Orc if he thought doing so would serve his interests.
"On one hand, sleeping with one's co-workers is usually ill-advised," Mr. Shredder responds, quickly regaining his composure, "but on the other, what sort of arcane scholar would I be if I turned down an opprotunity to examine an Abberation's body in the greatest possible detail and document her response to various stimuli? You've got yourself a date, friend!"
"Well..." The Hobgoblin catches himself, as frightening thoughts enter his head, "that is assuming you just want me to stick my bits into one of the holes concealed by your garments and thrust until you are happy. No offense, but I have no clue how you work and don't need you biting off my head off to get off, or laying eggs in my spine, or anything like that."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Mr. Shredder dosn't even bat an eye, and observes Sormias' explanation as he might any other lesson on extraplanar biology. "Simple enough." He concludes at the end.
He ponders the question on clothes for a few seconds. "All the upper class care about is that it looks like you spent money on the outfit. Spend 15 gold and you will be fine. If you intend to do more galas after this, I'd spend most of your paycheck on something enchanted. Unless the gettup is real expensive, people will think you are tacky for wearing the same thing to more than one party. I'd wear something very form fitting to show how pretty you are, and give your future conquests the correct wicked ideas, but I wouldn't be too forward and show too much skin; We don't need you actually picking up any third parties for our sexual encounter. I'm not opposed to such things, but it will be snug enough in my bed with just the pair of us."
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
"I can't give too much advice. I've actually never been to one of these as a guest before." Hel-Shredder admits sheepishly, "I've done security at a few big parties organized by House Lyrandar before, so I know the basics of how to dress and whatnot, and I might be able to point out a few of the important people once we are at the party, but that's about it. I guess if you do find somebody to fuck at the party, try not to make a mess of any of the museum exhibits!"
He gives his new friend a weak smile. "I might actually have to follow you lead in conversation if people want to talk to me about art."
-
Sormias, at that moment, notices a familiar looking hat and cloak amidst the crowded street outside.
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
"Is the inquisition present?" Mr. Shredder asks, "Well, Law and house Lyrandar policy frowns upon it. Is that good enough? I have an idea to lose him."
Mr. Shredder looks around for a ledge to jump off of. This is Sharn, so hopefully one is around.
-
The Market is on the north face of the spire, looking up towards Northedge Spire. You could leap down into a beer garden farther down the market easily enough with a feather fall.
-
A childish grin spreads across Hel-Shredder's face. "I'd ask if you trust me, but you literally just showed me the goods, so I'm going to assume yes. Instead I will ask if you have ever heard of the spell Featherfall?"
Without waiting for an answer, he grabs Sormias by the wrist and starts running towards the ledge. "Let me show you one of my favorite ways to traverse Sharn!"
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
"Wargshit!" The Hobgoblin laughs as he continues to advance toward the ledge, "You handled the Skiff just fine on Deltas Island and Planet Swan! This is actually going to be less scary than that. Come on!"
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
Spells Prepared today:
(Featherfall x2)
(Sleep x1)
Mr. Shredder leaps off the ledge, and pulls Sormias into an embrace before casting Featherfall! "See. You can look now. It's okay! We are going to land in a beer garden. I'll buy us both a pint when we land if you want!"
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
Hel-Shredder can't help but giggle like a bugbear until his feet and hers lightly hit the ground.
"See. We made it!" The Hobgoblin escorts his friend first the museum to purchase Gala tickets for 50gp each, and then back to her room Staffhouse.
---
The following night he knocks on her door to pick his date up for the party.
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
Mr. Shredder is wearing a simple yet elegant light green suit jacket which contrasts nicely with his burnt-redish brown colored skin. On his head is a tophat which matches his outfit in color.
"Damn! You are smoking tonight Sorimas! 10/10, would fuc- I mean, you look amazing my dear. Shall we head to the gala?" He offers the abberation his arm, silently chiding himself for his gaffe.
-She is your lover tonight fool! Be romantic, not Chummy!-
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
Mr. Shredder escorts Sormias to the museum and into the gala, and quickly points out the collection of art for sale. "I should spend some money before socializing, to show I am serious, my dear. I think I shall spend 100 gold on art, which I shall bring on the next voyage in case we meet friendly Aliens. I could either give it as a token of good will, or try to sell it for a profit. You are the expert, gorgeous, I'll defer to your choices if you care to help me shop."
Despite his fancy language, one look at Hel-Shredder's face would show that he is wound up tight with nerves. He was investing alot to get this opportunity, and he didn't want to blow his investment.
-
Atil, not liking the flashy ways of the upper crust, finds himself moving farther and farther away from the ‘safe’ parts of the city, and into a more impoverished neighborhood. There were a number of people talking about a fighting pit, and, out of curiosity, he went to check it out.
(Pitfight in Lower Tavick’s Landing.)
While he did not care to promote himself, he went through the preliminaries, and first fight, living in a rented room, tossing out the bed and furniture with his own hands, and replacing the ragged and unnatural things with warm hay, buying meat when he was not at the pits, getting ready for what was to come.
Athletics= 23 (19+4)
Dexterity= 8 (6+2)
Wisdom= 16 (17-1)
-
Stella spends 18 days in Lower Northedge crafting eight potions with a crafting team, spending 10 gallifars and 8 sovereigns for housing and pay.
+8 healing potions
-
She will then spend the remaining 2 days learn how to tinker with a teacher for 1 gallifar and 2 sovereigns.
[Tinkers: 6/56]
-
The subject of tonight's show was religious art, celebrating the Sovereign Host. Shredder and Sormias were offered champagne on a silver platter as they considered a few paintings.
The first was a colorful expressionist piece titled 'Arawai's Fate'. It depicted a beautiful, kind, but deeply sad looking woman made from a sea of wheat.
Another, titled 'As Above', was a brightly colored piece made with magical paints in honor of Aureon, the Sovereign of Law and Lore. Light streamed from it as though a stained glass window had been hung on the wall, in a brilliant mix of colors, which seemed to flow out into the world. The imagery was arcane and abstract, but left you thoughtful, as if peace and order were a kind of knowledge you could study and learn by staring into this painting.
A third, 'Hlied', is a tribal art piece from the Uldra, a group of nomads that wander the icy pole in the far north of Eberron. Scholars believe that their goddess Hlied is an aspect of Olladra, the Sovereign of Feast and Fortune. The piece depicts a stylized whirlpool, with three stained pink watercolor triangles surrounding it, making an image like a surreal flower.
-
"Hmmm.... Actually, these paintings fall under my area of expertise, dear. I won't take back my offer to let you pick, but do feel free to bounce questions off me on the subject matter." The Hobgoblin comments as he gives the art a close inspection.
(Religion Roll = 15+5)
-
Stella d'Vadalis found herself a home in a boarding house in Northedge. It was clean, simple living. A list of chores were written up and passed around, and everyone had to pitch in their part, doing the dishes or making the meals on certain days, looking after the laundry at set times, and so on. Meals were shared with other semi-permanent residents, including an orcish apprentice watchmaker in a paisley vest, an old widow who worked at a weavers and appreciated good company, and a halfling potter looking to establish a demand for Talentan styles in the neighborhood. One of them was a young woman travelling with a small girl who was here hoping to find an apprenticeship before her money ran out. Her daughter pestered Stella to show off her Vadalis powers every day.
Her team were mostly local residents attached to the shop. They seemed pretty pleased for the work order. On breaks, sandwiches and stories were shared, with most being curious about airship travel and alien planets.
The tinker teacher was an delightful gnome who you suspected might be a lunatic. Certainly, he always seemed a little manic, and most of his inventions seemed to lack anything like a purpose. Still, they functioned exactly as he described them, and was able to begin to teach Stella the rudiments of their construction.
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Arawai is a harvest goddess, associated with fertility, plants, abundance, and the wild lands. The Sovereign of Life and Love is revered by rangers, druids, farmers, and sailors. Her brother is one of the Dark Six, the Devourer, who represents the raw destructive power of nature - hurricanes, famines, pestilence, and so on. According to legend, she was forcibly taken by her brother and made to spawn the Fury, a dreadful monster and another of the dark six, who is herself the mother of madness, extremes, vengeance, and impassioned anger. This act, known as the Schism, began the war among the sovereigns. In that context, the painting's meaning is somber: that war and suffering are inseparable from life.
Aureon is the pantheon head of the Sovereign Host. He is a god of knowledge, and writing, including both the laws of magic and the laws of society. He represents the transmission of knowledge and reason. Neither good nor evil, Aureon empowers any who would take the time to learn. The Esoteric Order of Aureon is a prominent adventuring society within the city. This painting seems to be abstract, a likely reference to a prayer to Aureon: 'As above, so below', meaning that society should seek to mimic the perfect celestial order of magic.
Olladra is the Sovereign of Feast and Fortune. She's associated with healing, luck, pride, plenty, and feasting, as well as hedonism and hedonists in general. This piece is beautiful for it's cultural authenticity, representing a little known vision of hedonism and plenty from the most barren place on Eberron.
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Stella would gladly use her abilities on things like birds, squirrels, and rabbits, although she'd be sure that no harm came to them as a consequence of her actions. She also wouldn't allow them to be kept as pets, if they tried, explaining that the affection is only temporary and it wouldn't be fair to the creature when it wears off.
She would also suggest asking the Lyrandars if they need hired hands on the Astral Kraken or other ships.
Stella would gladly describe the facts about her trip. If they ever got personal, she'd also share her regrets about the capture of the geese. She views control of minds for profit to be abhorrent.
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The girl was delighted each time, feeding and gently petting a squirrel. She would not stop talking about all of the animal friends she'd made. As to the apprenticeship with House Lyrandar, that might be nice, but it's not easy without a reference. Stella could talk to Mr. Shredder about it.
She was offered condolences by the little girl about the swan. She agreed it was terrible. She thinks you should go to the Stormwind and apologize to the swan and make friends. It wasn't a very good plan.
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Hel-Shredder considers the images. "I think you'd like the god depicted in 'Hlied' dear. She is an aspect of Olladra, a deity of hedonism among other things. I think it is kind of heartwarming to know that they still have room for fun even in the barren north where she is worshiped as Hlied."
The Hobgoblin then turns his attention to the abstract painting. "The title here references a prayer to Aureon, the god I would probably pray to if I were the praying sort. Lord of knowledge, magic, writing, and law both natural and societal. The prayer in question goes 'as above, so below,' arguing that society should mimic celestial order. I'm not so sure I agree with that particular philosophy, but knowledge and magic are my areas of strength."
He speaks little of the first painting, remembering how Sorimas reacted last time conversation turned to the horrors of war. "So, what do you think of them m'lady?"
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[Redacted at Request]
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After his matches, and a bit of rest, Atil wondered the streets, looking for interesting work.
(Carouse the LTL.)
Persuasion=16
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Atil sat on a comfortable leather stool at the Orien Express taphouse. It was quiet this afternoon, with only a couple of customers.
An old spinster dressed something like a train conductor sat at the bar, as well. Thalia tir'Dain. Atil learned that her husband was with the Brelish Army, and was supposed to come home by rail. She'd booked in to wait for him, but he never came. He's still listed as missing in action, and she's never been willing to leave, sliding into alcohol and dementia. In her time here, she's learned everything there is to know about the lightning rail.
A beggar came in, partway into their conversation. He managed to lay out enough copper and silver to afford a meal - a greasy hamburger topped with a thickly sliced Blackpit Sausage and a whole breaded and fried onion. It was served with about six potatoes worth of fries, and a pint of stout. The beggar quickly went to cleanse himself in the washroom and returned, looking excited for his meal. As they spoke, Atil learned that he'd been a craftsman, but his tools were stolen. He hasn't had a proper meal in weeks.
The two became fast friends. Atil had been drinking all morning, and was moved by this hunter who lacked only for a weapon, this craftsman without tools. He agreed to part with fifty galifars to get his new friend back on his feet. Choose any tool proficiency. You will have free access to tools and training for this tool in Lower Northedge, into perpetuity.
Thalia tir'Dain raised her glass, in a toast to Atil, the savior of Lower Tavick's Landing, with a joking round of applauds, but the craftsman seemed genuinely moved. Does Atil let him hug him?
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Any attempt to hug him would bring out a very irritated and guttural growl, but would not be met with resistance unless it lasted for more than 2 seconds. Atil was a fighter, a warrior, and, like all of his craft, has had to be saved by another. It was only right for him to do so to this warrior of the crafts. His only concern came from this gesture being a waste. That the man was far too weak to stand on his own to legs.
“I have saved no one. He will save himself, in time.” Atil shot harmlessly at Thalia, proving himself more bark than bite, to her.
(A smithy would be a good first step to rebuilding this refugee camp into something worth while.)
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She parsed her lips acquiescently and nodded, raising her glass in agreement before emptying it. "As you like, Atil. Barkeep!"
The barkeep came and refilled her mug with a thick porter. The three of you ate together and drank late into the night, before your beggar parted to find a boarding house.
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Something, thought the night kept racking Atil’s brain, and, by morning, he tried his best to remember what it was.
Trying to remember Thalia’s husband
Intelligence= 19 (20-1)
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[Atil Intelligence 19]
Cyre and Breland had been allies, towards the end of the war. Atil had known a Captain tir'Dain. A brave soldier and clever arcaneer, one of the heroes of the Western Front. The two of them had fought a valiant defense once, holding a hill fort against a much larger enemy force. Captain tir'Dain had conjured up mists to cover a series of guerilla sorties that crippled the attacking force.
That had been some years before the end of the war, and you don't know what happened to him next. Only that he was likely stationed in Cyre at the time. But, who knows. If Detlas Jundar made it back, maybe others would, someday. If anyone could, it'd be Captain tir'Dain.
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No one could be sure if it was due to pity, or cruelty, but, early that morning, before leaving, Atil would tell the story of that day. Of the many brave men and women who layed down their lives to defend a hill fort. Of a man, a captain who used his arcane knowledge to spread a mist that made it possible for Atil to take the survivors on a risky guerilla counter attack, leaving the fort but with 10 defenders, the Captain included. How that action, and the strength of that man saved far more lives than were lost, that day, and how they parted ways, at the end of it all, the Brave captain surely still out in the world, likely saving more lives with his knowledge, especially those who were devistated by the war.
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Detlas Jundar did his best to learn what he'd missed.
He sat down with a merchant marine over breakfast.
"The Trea'y of Throne'old." He said, in a gruffly official accent. "After what happened with Cyre, the kings of the five nations met to sign an armistice. Y'see, the dominant theory at the time was that we fought so hard, for so long, that we'd torn a hole, like the one above Sharn, but into the Plane of War. They all thought, if we kept fighting, it'd happen again. Wrath of the Gods, and all that. Anyway, the Trea'y ended the civil war by recognizing five independent Galifan nations."
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Mechanically eating his food, Detlas asks,"What happened to Cyre?"
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"No one really knows for sure. You go there now, it's nought but mist, ruin, and 'orrid monsters. Some people think it was the planar alignment. Others say that Cyre did it to themselves, testing some kind of mass destruction magic." He shook his head. "But I'd best be off. Ship's sailing today. Good luck."
Hours later, Detlas found himself talking to a Warforged. He learned that after the war, they'd all been freed. What few creation forges existed outside Cyre were shuttered, and manufacturing warforged was banned in the Treaty of Thronehold. The others were all freed, and allowed to find work and pursue their lives.
"I imagine that must be something we have in common." The Warforged said in an erudite accent. "Both of us have been forged by war, with little plan for what comes next. I've chosen to apply myself to the study and construction of airships. I worked on the design for the Astral Kraken, and in that sense, I was one of the architects of your rescue, and in that sense, of a new purpose for myself."
"What do you envision for your future, Mr. Jundar?" He asked, metal face unmoving as he tilted his head inquisitively.
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Staring off as he often does, Detlas shrugs noncommittally, before answering plainly.
"I'm a mercenary now. I suppose I'll keep doing that. Regardless, thank you for your hand in my rescue, even if unconscious."
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"Ah, a common enough answer." He said jovially. "And please, think nothing of it. I only hope my work continues to heal the wounds of the war."
Detlas visited the nearby church to learn more about the Cult of the Dragon Below. They'd been in the papers in the years since the war - a dangerous doomsday cult.
"They found an eldritch device in Droam." A morbidly obese friar of the Silver Flame explained. Detlas had heard the words 'Eldritch Device' before. It was the relic Karrnath had built Fort Zombie around that can allow one Necromancer to control armies of undead.
"Millennia ago, a great evil was sealed beneath Eberron. The Dragon Below. It had worshipers, and one of them built the device to try to free it, but they were never able to activate it. House Canith was, a couple of years ago now. As soon as they figured out what it was doing, they destroyed it, but some damage was already done. Now, it reaches out to twisted souls, and grants them dark powers. We've had to revive the inquisition, which is not something most of the Church is happy with."
"Speaking of, have you thought to your own spiritual needs? You should join us for services. Might help you feel better, being part of something again."
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Gazing around the church, Detlas shakes his head, and answers plainly, as he generally does. "No. Good luck, though."
Being apart of something involved in killing for "ideals" and "sides" is not something the veteran wants, after a lifetime of being apart of something like that.
He's had enough of that.
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There wasn't much else left to know that Detlas could just ask. He heard some snippets of electoral news, other things that seemed like they mattered little. What remained to be discovered - new musical styles, improving food, new arcane devices, new buildings, new plays and new operas - they were all things to be experienced, not told.
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With little else to do, Detlas goes back to the staffhouse, taking his time getting there.
The rest of the time until the next mission, he'll be "relaxing" in his quarters. This is either intense exercise, strolling around the local area, or doing nothing.
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Brother Jonathan traveled down to the Lower Central Spire, and checked into Boldrei’s Hearth, planing to stay 10 days their while get some brewing done. Eventually he had 140 galifars worth of "Extra dry Cider." He sold almost all of it and then went to the Middle Central Spire, to commission a holy Symbol of Healing from the church of the Silver flame. He would spend the next week working and staying at the church.
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Hel-Shredder nods. "It is a pretty picture, but the story behind it is more than a bit disturbing. I won't soil a night as happy as this by telling the tale. But if that is your choice, we shall have it."
Mr. Shredder inquires as to the price of Arawai's Fate. If it is between 50 and 100gp, he will overpay to avoid disadvantage on the social roll. If he can get it for 50 or less, he will try to buy 'Hlied' as well. If it costs more than 103, he is likely going to have to quietly bug Sorimas for a loan.
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Brother Jonathan found himself a room in an inn in Boldrei's Hearth. A common foodie travel destination, the Lower Central Spire had a mix of fine restaurants, pubs, and street food. Most of the district was lit by everbright lantern, even in the day, when the long shadows of the tall towers rarely allowed real daylight in.
This district had a hunger for food and a thirst for liquor, and a number of breweries worked here, as well as open crafting spaces for small batch, artisanal liquor. Jonathan worked an arcaneer's still, performing kata to channel flame through the heating coils, maintaining a constant and perfect temperature as valves only occasionally hissed steam. His final product was a semi-distilled dry cider he intended to sell as a microbrew.
What did he name his brew? Did he sell it to a taphouse or a restaurant?
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Arawai's Fate can be purchased for a hundred galifars, half of which will be donated to charitable causes on your behalf. Other, larger, and more expensive paintings are available, but no one could fault Mr. Shredder for a failure to support the arts, nor for selecting such a deeply expressive piece.
The two of them went on to carouse. Make your checks. Sormias is at disadvantage, but is enough of a social butterfly that it's unlikely to really matter.
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He called the brew a simple name, "Sharn berry Cider", and it was sold to tap-houses mostly, some of it sold to Boldrei's Hearth itself. The bottles should also state "Extra dry".
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Hel-Shredder purchases the painting. His ears are erect and his flesh clammy with sweat as he hands over almost every coin in his purse, the reality of his investment hitting him.
"Don't blow this..." He mutters to himself, perhaps just loud enough for his date to hear.
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[Redacted at Request]
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Hel-Shredder perks up in response to the kiss, cracks his knuckles, and marches off into the party. He begins talking to anybody who will listen about wicked mage-forged aliens, and the need for Ebberon to remain vigilant and ready for war. His presentation was solid. The performance might have even been enough to draw out members of the pro-military Lyrandar faction had he been able to keep it up, but sadly the alcohol was complementary, and the Hobgoblin's nerves were driving him to overimbide....
(Inspired Pursuasion Roll = 3+3+2)
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It wasn't the most appetizing name, but it had a nice taste to it. The first couple of people Jonathan tried to sell it to asked questions like 'What's a sharnberry?', but by the end of a workday of shopping, he's able to find a buyer who'll take it on, a tapas house that plans to serve it with a sharp cheese toast.
"You should stop in for an evening. See people enjoying your fine work. Maybe join in." Brother Jonathan was encouraged by an innkeep as he counted out coins.
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Sormias and Shredder found themselves separated as Mr. Shredder agreed speak in private with a few official seeming people. He knew the house was here, and that politics were being discussed, and besides, he'd been over-consuming. Over-consuming more than he thought...
Sormias was approached by a well dressed gentleman in brightly colored jacket. It's sleeves were ruffled white silk, leading into a colorful open vest over a tight-fit shirt. It's glammerweave brought with him the scent of fresh air and open country. The colors were vibrant beyond the means of ordinary inks, and even the white of the fabric seemed nearly radiant, and impossibly clean.
"Sanho ir'Lain." He introduced himself. "Representative of Aundair, and Knight Arcane. Have you been engaged for the evening, miss..?"
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[Redacted]
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"I would like to, but I do need to get to the church of the Flame. I have much to do for them." Jonathan smiled at the innkeeper "Thank-you for the kind offer."
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[Redacted at request]
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"Ambassador ir'Lain, but please, call me Sanho. I'm in need of escort tonight. Would you join me?" He asked Sormias. "We can discuss pricing afterwards."
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Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens wasn't exactly sure when he had undressed. He knew he'd been feeling hot, and the clothing seemed constrictive, and that the free air on his skin felt good. He knew he'd been feeling initially ill, but now, he felt wonderful, like he was floating through a beautiful dream. He found himself walking in a mobius of naked people each dressed in an elaborate theater mask, each moving as dreamily as himself, while music played.
He felt so at peace. It was possible that a small voice within him cried out to flee. It was possible it was drown out by whatever intoxicated him. A gong was struck, and it's sound filled Mr. Shredder's mind and senses.
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"Oh hells... What was I drinking?"
Mr. Shredder was no party animal, but like any respectable Hobgoblin of Sharn, he has gone through a bender or two down in Lower Dura, and knows from experience that trying to piece together the missing hours would be a lost cause. Instead he tries to focus on his surroundings at the given moment. Who the hell were these people? Where the fuck was his clothing?
He wordless follows the other naked people while he ponders this. (Disadvantage investigation = 10)
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[Redacted at request]
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Hel-Shredder didn't see his clothes. Oboe music filled his ears, and he and much of the crowd were becoming entranced. Soon enough, he'd find his mind wandering away, forgetting anything was wrong, he knew. He couldn't tell who anyone was behind their masks, but there was food, and wine, and no one seemed frightened or ill at ease.
Sormias linked arms with the half-elf gentleman, and joined him for the evening. He spoke little of Aundair or it's political concerns unless she asked him, largely taking her to meet with other associates.
The first was an Aundairian merchant named Jurian Valleau. "What enchanting company you've found, Ambassador." He said, before introducing himself.
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[Redacted at Request]
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Mr. Shredder gives himself to the music, but as he does so, his remaining cohearent thoughts drift to it's magical nature. What could be the source of this enchantment?
(Arcane Disadvantage = 11)
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Jurian Valleau, she discovered, provided the alchemical pigments that had gone into the creation of As Above, one of the paintings you'd been looking at earlier. He dealt with a manufacturer in Aundair, and imported paints here to Sharn. He was charmed by her wit and impressed to learn she was an aspiring artist. He spent most of the evening chatting with Sanho, of course, about matters related to shipping along the Dagger River, requesting some diplomatic intervention, but Sormias was encouraged to visit his shop when she had the chance.
Sanho agreed to see to it, and took Sormias on to their next meeting. A dwarven woman with thickly braided hair tied in glammerweave ribbons that made her hair seem like it was made of threads of gold. Her outfit shimmered like a jewel as she moved, and around her neck she wore an enormous necklace of gold and lapis lazuli that was certainly a religious icon of some kind. She was introduced to you as Annika Brishnon, Cleric of Kol Korran.
"I see the Sovereign of World and Wealth has facilitated a very fruitful exchange for you tonight, Sanho." She teased him.
Mr. Shredder was sure it was some kind of a Bard thing.
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Hel-Shredder continues to enjoy the music, before eventually making his way over to where the wine is kept and trying to figure out how to drink through his mask, the thought of removing it so that he may imbibe unhindered not even entering his head at the moment.
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Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens doesn't really recall what happened from there. Only brief hints and suspicions that it may have been deeply personal. He awoke in his own bed, thinking, for a time, that it must have been a dream.
If asked, the staff inform him that he arrived, unconscious, on an airskiff that had been pre-paid, and he was carried to his room. No one had asked the name of the airskiff driver. He'd arrived dressed in his clothes, with his painting in a large scroll tube. He still had the mask, as if to remember the occasion by.
Curiously, as unsettled as he was, he also felt very relaxed, and at peace. He gains Inspiration.
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[Redacted at Request]
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She laughed warmly and jovially. "Vassal Brishnon, servant of the Sovereigns." She corrected. "Kol Korran, if you want to get specific. You must be new to Galifar. The nobility here all have 'tir' or 'ir' at the start of their names. But by all means call me Annika, unless you're here to ask my blessing for Sanho's latest acquisition." She joked warmly.
"Where ever did you find her, anyway, Sanho?" She inquired. "She's not human, by the look of her." She looked Sormias up and down.
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[Redacted at Request]
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"You fucking blew it, YOU WORTHLESS SACK OF GOBLINDUNG!" Hel-Shredder roars loud enough to be heard in the neighboring rooms. He blew all that money to try and get in close with a faction, and all he had to show for it was an expensive painting, a mysterious mask, and likely a shattered friendship with the Abberation who was his date to the party.
---
After clearing his head, Mr. Shredder settles back in to working at his office, helping the house prepare for the next voyage of the Astral Kraken. He is perhaps a bit more mean than usual towards the interns, desk jockies, and dock workers who he views as below him out of frustration, but still manages to keep up his chummy demeanor towards those co-workers deemed worthy of his time.
He spends nearly as much time palling around the office with various elves and half elves, practicing their language, as he does actually working. Since Shredder is a dutiful, diligent, and loyal employee of House Lyrandar, he is careful to deduct this non-productive time from his own pay.
10 Days working as a House Agent (+1g)
7 Days practicing language (11/49)
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Mr Shredder spends the week resolving a trade dispute with Aundair. It seems that certain trade lines were falling into disrepair as House Lyrandar headhunters were recruiting the bulk of seasoned river sailors. The house had been expanding as it's best professionals were finding new work on airships, leaving elemental galleons understaffed. More primitive, non-dragonmarked shipping companies were struggling, and a headhunters tariff was being considered. Fortunately, he was able to negotiate it away by promising a trio of newly commissioned airships to Aundairan routes.
Sormias spoke for a while about arriving in Sharn from another place, captivating a small audience. After it was concluded, she was urged to visit Annika if she ever needed a business venture properly blessed. She and Sanho ir'Lain retired to a diplomatic residence for the night. The next morning, she left with twenty galifars.
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[Redacted at Request]
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Stella would give a glance to the mother before changing the subject. She would usually explain to someone, but the girl was unlikely to understand at this age. Maybe she would share more when the girl grew, if they remained in contact. "How much longer can you stay in this region?"
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The crowd roared. A barker shouted to them. "Good evening ladies and gentlefolk! Tonight, we have Atil the Devourer, The Rage of Fallen Cyre. Fought for Cyre in the war, fights for coin today. See the Amazing Atil face off against last week's champion, Baron Thul!" A barker called. Mud-soaked rainwater fell and dripped from drains in the ceiling above, and into the gutters here, filling the air with hot and humid air. Here, among abandoned warehouses, criminals and the destitute bid scraps of silver over fights. Stadium seating ran up the slanted roof of a nearby warehouse that extended up into Middle Tavick's Landing. People cheered, and roared.
Atil gazed to his opponent. A haggard man, wrinkled, mixed with grey hair. He had a hook hand, and wore a mud-stained, torn Karrnathi flag over one shoulder. He looked like he'd been living in the cogs, from his rough skin, health and pallor. Atil could see from his posture and build that he'd seen military service. He could tell from the scars on his body he'd been pitfighting professionally down here. He gauged his style, focused on powerful jabs, and stomping feet. The stranger looked back, seeing only teeth.
Of course, biting wasn't permitted in this arena. It wasn't a fight to the death, it was a capitulation fight, no holds allowed. It left broken bones and bruised ribs, maybe the occasional concussion, but little more. It gave him no clue as to Atil's style.
[Wisdom/Perception 16]
The announcer moved away as the cheering subsided. An old rail engine bell rang, and the fight began. Atil's opponent was faster than he was, moving in with a quick forward punch, landing a series of blows, evading the first of Atil's strikes.
The two of them danced around, the fight wearing on. Atil, wary of the human's style, blocked reliably. He scored a few small hit before the railyard bell rang again, marking the two minute mark. The loser had now earned a share of the gate, whoever that would find up being. For now, the fighters seemed evenly matched, Atil's eye matching the Baron's
[Dex/Acrobatics 8]
Finally, Atil found his opening. His opponent came in to stomp in the side of his knee, having rushed up behind him. Atil grabbed the off balance man and hurled him to the ground. The crowd roared as the man's eyes widened. He scurried quickly to his feet, backed into a corner as Atil approached.
[Strength/Athletics 23]
How will Atil end the fight?
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"We've still a little bit of money left. Another six weeks, at most." Stella d'Vadalis was told.
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The Cathedral of the Cleansing Flame stood a hundred stories tall, itself a grand pillar beneath the Upper Central Plateau. Sunlight streamed from between clouds, illuminating it's stained glass windows, casting long lights through the halls. In the haze of smoke that rose from the cogs, the light almost seemed to flicker like a real fire. Home of the new inquisition, among other institutions, the Cathedral of Cleansing Flame was ironically the church's most corrupt institution, representing little of the wholesome spirit the Flame is known for across Eberron.
"You have failed to watch the Vaelguinnar." It was commented. "And unfortunately, she is making friends within the Sovereign Court. She is no longer our priority."
An elder, ranking inquisitor briefed Fyodor Saltsprits. "Rumours abound of black magic in the temples of old Malleon's Gate. You are to go to Lower Dura and establish your cover by gambling and carousing. Then your work can begin. Seek rumors, verify if there is a cult in place, and report back to us."
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Brutally. The sudden loss of composure by the man spelt his doom, and left him little more than as young lamb before a hungry lion. Atil had to struggle to hold back from ramming his claw in the fresh meat, and enjoying the flavor. Instead, A gut punch, quick, strong, whip of his tail to knock the man off his feet, and a kick in the ribs to send him into a corner, to help keep back the desires that welled up on the edges of his lips. If the man gave even a morsels hint of having fight left in him, he could stand to lose another hand to a heavy foot. But, hopefully it would not come to that.
“Stay down, unless you want your struggles to make me hungrier.”
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The engine bell rang again, over and over. There was a cheer as the presenter ran out. "We have a winner!" He declared, grasping Atil's wrist and pulling it over his head.
Atil won ten galifars fighting. Another five went to his foe, who staggered to his feet. Still bleeding a bit, he limped off to see a healer waiting nearby. The crowd continued to cheer Atil on.
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Stella ponders for a moment. "I will attempt to get you hired by the Lyrandars, if you so choose." If they agree, Stella will look for Mr. Shredder.
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Fyodor bowed his head
"Of Course"
He then heads down to Lower Dura, after purchasing some clothes to make him look like a common vagabond.
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Assuming Stella's friends are interested in working for House Lyrandar, she finds Mr. Shredder in his office working on some paperwork with a frown plastered across his face. Also on his desk are drawings of three seperate airships, none of which happen to be the Astral Kraken. He perks up at once, however, upon seeing one of his co-workers.
"Stella! Please, come in, have a seat! If you are here about the next voyage, I don't have an exact date for you yet, but its going to be a doozy! We have to check out a bunch of stars that match the little alien's description, and try to find the port where that wrecked Galleon originated! Should be a long one, but lots of fun!"
The Hobgoblin lets his dragonmarked cohort take a seat before continuing. "So, what can I do ya for?"
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Lower Dura is built like a city under a roof. Much of Sharn was merely canyonous, with towers that seemed to rise connected by floating bridges and balconies, but this far down, buildings had been built up over the streets, blocking out all natural light. When rain came here, it had passed through other layers of city and was grey and thick with muck, coming in leaks and from drainpipes. Streetlights were only intermittent other than on major roadways, and Fyodor found himself walking often through dark places, where the Goblinoids' darkvision could greatly aid them.
While many of the buildings rose and spreadg out like medieval storefronts over the street some six floors above, the majority did not. Most of the buildings here still dated back to when Hobgoblins ruled Sharn, and this was the center of their city. Sitting along the Dagger River, it was a large city by the standards of the time. Manor houses, abodes, and other primitive buildings bore stained plaster where pipes had been fitted in for the sewer system. Few reached more than two stories. Their windows bore shutters to keep out the smog when the winds turned this way up from the Cogs.
Mason's Tower ran up into Middle Dura. Within is, the Broken Anvil Inn seemed a place a man like Fyodor's Cover could afford. The building was in poor repair, and as Fyodor Saltsvits came in, a hobgoblin in a caged off reception area nodded to him. A heavy crossbow sat loaded on a desk beside him.
"Welcome to the Broken Anvil Inn. Checking in?"
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Stella will take a seat, peering briefly at the drawings before returning her gaze to Mr. Shredder. "Hello. Would you be interested in hiring additional hands for the Astral Kraken? If so, I know of one or potentially two workers that are more than willing."
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For a brief moment, the Goblin saw Fyodor's gaze as cold, and calculating, before it quickly vanished
"Yup! I'm just gonna be here for a few days. Just passing through."
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"Two sovereigns a night, paid upfront. I'll take your name for our records." The hobgoblin said to Fyodor, fetching a key from a rack and standing beside a notebook.
Fyodor checked in. Who was his cover? What was their name, and how did they wind up down here?
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Hel-Shredder digs through a drawer in his desk as he considers' Stella's request, eventually pulling out a crew roster for the Astral Kraken and making a big show of looking it over. Eventually he speaks again.
"...I don't have any openings aboard the Kraken. However, if these people have relevant experience or skills, I'd gladly fire somebody to make room. Most of these fucking deckhands wouldn't be worth what we fed them even if we didn't employ a Dragonmarked Chef in the kitchen. What kind of people are we talking about?"
-
”Other vessels also work. I am simply working to have them employed in some fashion. She pauses. ”It is a mother and child. Both have helped me brew my potions snd, from my understanding, have picked up many miscellaneous skills as they have travelled.”
-
"Frederick Thornberry. Just planning to meet with an old Friend. Pleasure to meet you."
Fyodor shells out the requested money, putting down a week in advance
-
Hel-Shredder nods. Not the sort of people he generally liked to hire, but he was not going to pass up a chance to get in good with Stella and leave her owing him a favor. "I'll tell you what!" He exclaim, pulling one of the Airship drawings from his desk and showing it to the human, "this is The Daughter of Sharn, one of the newest boats in the house fleet! I was lobbying to have her converted into our second Spelljammer, but instead it looks like we have to put her on an overland route through Aundair. I'll see what I can do about getting your friend a job on that ship! Depending on how old the kid is, she may or may not have to find a place along the shipping route to board her. Sound good to you?"
-
Stella studies the plans, expression as neutral as ever. After a few moments, she nods. "I am not the pair, but I do not believe that they will mind. If you would like, I could send them to you to discuss details."
-
Riisi got lost in the crowd after that trip, taking the share of the money along. The first thing Riisi did was to look for a place to store money. Luckily, banks. They're a thing. Then some minor tourism. Riisi made a note to check out a seafood place in Lower Central Spire sometime when the Yinglet kept more money on their person, but quickly fell in with one of the refugee camps at Lower Tavick's Landing. The poorer side of town was more familiar to Riisi, and the small ratbird felt more at home there, even if an inn room was affordable. The very first thing Riisi did was try to make friends. Because as a Yinglet, without friends and family sticking together, you didn't have much of a shot anywhere.
(Carouse result: 15)
-
Not satisfied with his victory, and the new friends he had made, Atil went searching for more. More what, he was not sure of, but, whatever put food in his pouch and belly could not be a bad thing. Slowly he wondered into a area of great smoke. The smell was in no way pleasant, but he heard the sounds of fighting in the distance. Many of them. War was how he saited his hunger, before. Fighting may be the way to do it once again. 4 of the golden coins a night felt like a steep price for him to pay, but, in order to get in the fighting pits, this time, he needed to do more work. He needed to be seen practicing, and known as a competent fighter. The warm baths were a bonus, too. Of course, after renting the room, he emptied it out of all furniture, leaving it in the hallway, right at the door, and bought hay, to sleep on. He had even brought his wood and chicken bones with him, to work on his personal project on days where he could be alone.
(Plan: Go to lower Dura, stay at the cracked mirror, fight in the fighting pit, spend 1 day Carousing, and three days working on his spears, if possible.))
-
"Alright! Cool! Works for me! I'll be in the office all day tomorrow."
Mr. Shredder spends his last workday at the office waiting to interview Stella's contact. If he finds the woman particularly suited for work on an airship, or otherwise impressive in some way, he will try to find her a spot on the Kraken. Otherwise he will do as he told Stella he would, and put her on one of the ships he is arranging to send to Aundair.
-
Stella will tell the mother and child that she's set up an interview for them.
-
Riisi found a bank easily enough not far from the docks - The Bank of Kundarak.
A muscular dwarf greeted him inside with a tattoo up his neck, under his beard, and across his cheek to his eye. It was a strange and complicated pattern, but from how he stood and presented himself, he was fiercely proud of it. He wore a paisley vest over a loose-fitting, puffy white shirt. A gold chain spilled intentionally from his front pocket, advertising that he owned a timepiece.
"Welcome to the Kundarak Bank of Sharn." He said, looking down skeptically at the poorly dressed figure.
Once it became clear that Riisi was as foreign as he looked, the Dwarf explained the bank's business model to him. They accepted deposits, which they would then use to invest, keeping profits for the bank. To withdraw funds, Riisi can show his Lyrander-issued ID in any Kundarak bank, wait a short period while they confirm his record, and he'll be given whatever amount he requested. His ID was a small booklet with his height, weight, name, and public record. It produced a small illusion of Riisi when opened to the front page, for verification. He was warned that there could be a fee if the bank needs to employ a Sending Stone to check the records, and that if he alerted the bank to travel needs ahead of time, he have his records sent at no cost. It can be safely assumed Riisi did so after having a chance to explore the city and decide where he was likely to do the bulk of his banking, unless he prefers it here.
Like all banks, they offered safe deposit boxes, but what struck Riisi as peculiar was that they also seemed to deal in safes, locks, and magical storage solutions. He wasn't in the market for anything like that at the moment, however. Once he had opened an account, the dwarf took his ID, opened and empty page, and placed an Arcane Mark onto it, showing an elaborately inked Manticore behind an easily read account number.
With a more reasonable amount of coin on his person, Riisi began to explore.
The first thing that appealed to Riisi was finding the ground. Clouds seemed to fly by, the air was thin, and a maze of towers descended below. The road itself hovered precariously over cavernous depths, moving to and around the tall spires. Leaning over the railings was like staring into a canyon of buildings, with the spaces between them slowly filling into clusters until they formed just a few giant towers, then, at the bottom, seemingly one.
He found staircases that led down, walkways that led along, and even arcane lifts operated by wizards to ferry people and goods up and down. Airskiffs occasionally plied the spaces between buildings as though they were canals, dropping people but more frequently crates off. He passed through Middle Central, and saw the tops of shorter buildings and towers here, including churches and embassies, that were only occasionally drown out from the light. Was this the bottom? It didn't seem so - rather, it was the roof of one of the great towers. The walkways and towers above cast long shadows here, and it felt as dense as any reasonably city should.
Riisi passed by a grand cathedral that was undoubtedly designed by the same person who had designed Fyodor Saltsvits' uniform. It must be where he works, Riisi could easily conclude. Near it, there was another set of stairs surrounded by fences that seemed to go underground. It must be the entranceway to the grand tower. Signs here marked directions to places like Dura, Tavick's Landing, and Northedge, seeming to lead to these others city-towers, but Riisi wanted to find the ground today.
He descended further. Residences and storefronts greeted him, and if he hadn't seen the City of Towers from the air, he might almost have concluded it was underground. Light seemed to stream in only occasionally, and most of the windows around the outsides were shaded through most of the day.
Riisi's stomach rumbled angrily, and his feet were sore. He'd been travelling for hours. He found himself in a open space of some sort, three stories tall, that gave the illusion of a village square. Restaurants lined the bottom, with seating that extended out into the walking space of the square, and some inside. He could see a tray of ice and oysters being delivered to a table, shared by a pair of elven women over white wine.
He decided he needed a break. He went to that same restaurant, which sat him at a communal table. He was greeted by a warm old man in religious clothing strikingly different to Fyodor's. "Welcome to the table!" He smiled.
He introduced himself as Vassal Erlin Mourn, a cleric of Olladra, the Sovereign of Feast and Fortune. He spoke high praise through the meal of community eating - coming together to share a meal with strangers. Vassal Mourn worked at a local distillery, "where bad liquor finds redemption", he joked warmly. He insisted that everyone on the table drink some of the latest batch.
He was sat with a young elven man as well, Enilam Roole. Riisi had seen few enough elves this deep down the spire, other than in this restaurant. He was told that many of them were travelers visiting Olladra's Kitchen to try the food - it was a culinary destination across Eberron. He lived here, and liked to paint people. One day, he told you, he dreamed of living in Middle Central, and seeing his work hung up in the Brelish Museum.
The three of you ate, and you drank, and told stories and laughed, quickly becoming fast friends. People were delighted to learn about Riisi's past, and thought it was out of this world that he'd come from out of this world. It at least explained to them how none of them even knew what a Yinglet even was. The distilled spirit was redeemed from a particularly foul batch of champagne, he'd learned, that had turned deeply sour. Mixed with herbs and sugar, you could almost taste the champagne behind it.
The talk grew louder, and the drink more serious. Vassal Mourn smacked his fist hard on the table laughing, and sent plates scattering everywhere. Riisi fell from his chair, and Enilam knocked over a waiter trying to reach him to help him up. The three of you were thrown out. Bleary eyed, they parted company. Riisi found himself a nearby inn to collapse into, and a bugbear porter dressed in a trim red uniform helped him up into his bedroom.
-
Once the hotel clerk saw that Fyodor Saltsprits, presently Frederick Thornberry, had money, his tone lightened up and he spoke more quickly. "A pleasure to meet you too, sir." He said as he slid the key over the counter through a hole in the cage. Two hundred years ago, Fyodor's room here must have been grand. Mason's Tower was one of the oldest in the city. Built before Dura Spire was even conceived, it formed the central foundation for what would later become it. Today, it showed the signs of it's age. The room was large, but drafty and damp. Within an elaborate stone window sill, the window was bricked up. There was damage to some of the stonework here, and it looked like many of the former guests had carved their names into the stones with knifehilts, along with crude messages advertising various illicit goblin brothels that might not even still exist.
With this under his belt, it was time to go gambling.
-
Stella received a warm but sudden hug as she revealed the news. The girl was very young for it, but her mother needed some kind of work, and apprenticing on an airship seemed like a dream come true. She'd help to teach her daughter and keep her out of trouble, but really had no one to board with.
"When I grow up, I'm going to go on great airship adventures to Xendrick, and find ancient lost cities, and meet a dragon, and become a legendary pirate." The girl said confidently. She'd grow accustomed to the hardship of life on a ship, but in the short term she at least seemed excited.
-
The Cracked Mirror was decorated with darkwood paneling under white and black paisley wallpaper. It had black and white tiling, and many of the walls bore mirrors in elaborate wrought-iron frames. Light descended from crystal chandeliers. A human woman looked up from her desk as Atil came in, evaluating whether he was with the Watch before transforming into a white-scaled Lizardwoman. Still in an elegant black and white dress, she matched the monochromatic decor.
The Cracked Mirror was well hidden, and it wasn't advertised, but those of a more criminal persuasion were well aware of it. The halls seemed empty. Your echoing footsteps were the only as you were taken to your room. A silver tray within bore a steaming pot of tea, along with some small cakes. Atil hadn't seen or heard whoever had brought it, despite everything, placed on a stark white tablecloth that left the corners of the elegantly carved darkwood table exposed. The bed had a wrought iron frame, thick, fluffy blankets, and plenty of room around it. A private bathtub sat in a corner of the room behind a folding screen, separate from the private privy. A sending stone sat on a desk, which was used to send requests to the staff. Guests neither mingled nor traveled the halls otherwise here. The only sound was the ticking of a darkwood and ivory grandfather clock.
Atil was startled to discover he was alone. The Cracked Mirror gave the impression of being haunted, with how quietly it's staff seemed to move, and how little there was a sound. It was a stark contrast from the raucousness and yelling of Malleon's Gate.
-
Atil would find the place vastly uncomfortable, since there was far more quiet than he would assume that nature would allow, but, still, the idea of resting in warm water kept him steady, evaluating the risks, and viewing them as lesser than the rewards he could face. One lack of reward that he did not expect, though, was there to be nobody. He didn't have the first clue of how to convince people to watch him fight, other than to show up and fight. In the meantime, though, he was going to settle his sleeping arrangements. With the effort that he could muster, Atil got to work of emptying the room of the bed and all of its associated trash, filling the tub up with hot water, moving the table to a far end wall, and then going out to find himself some hay, after placing down his work for the javelins, and his two hand axes.
-
Frederick actually preferred to go Carousing. Twould be a great way to meet the locals. After much time partying he found himself in...
-
Stella would return the hug after a moment of hesitation. "It is always wise to have ambitions, but know that ships can be dangerous. Be sure to not overextend yourself and ensure that you rely on experts."
-
Atil didn't have any difficulty getting the room to his specifications. He can assume hay is a part of his lifestyle expenses staying here, like his meals and moderate drinking are. Go ahead and make your pitfighting rolls.
-
Frederick Thornberry left the Broken Anvil and went for a walk. It didn't take him too long to find an underground gaming establishment that was happy to see a big spender coming in. He bought himself a jug of korluaat and sat down at the dice table, starting to drink. He was sat with a motley array of characters who seemed to have little interest in anything but dice and drink, and particularly little interest in conversation with a human.
Roll intelligence/dice, Fyodor, to gamble for a few hours before you stumble out drunk in the streets.
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Athletics = 17 (13+4)
Dexterity = 20 (18+2)
Wisdom = 16 (15+1)
-
There was a cage. The bar was built up around it, in a forgotten warehouse. Atil was in the cage. Gravel sat beneath his feet. Rain fell from a crack in the roof, marking a damp line across the center of the arena. Across from him, there was a bugbear. She stood eight feet tall, and had shaggy orange-brown fur marred by deep scars. Her frame was powerful, and dangerous, if haggard, and stained with grime. Her canines rose sharply some inch and a half from her lips, curling forward in a curt frown. Her green slitted eyes shifted left and right, examining Atil.
She could see nothing of his form or style, but hers was as clear as the scars on her body. She was a grappler. Those claw marks could only have been made by something she had in a headlock. Despite knowing little, she regarded him with a brash look, with all the confidence of a hunter on safari. Lizards breathe, after all. Atil's scales would offer no aid against her.
She did not account for how much faster than her Atil would be. One imagines lizardfolk to stumble, move slowly, react slowly. But Atil moved with the speed of a snapping crocodile and the grace of a climbing gecko. As he moved, a goblin in a pink suit stood at the ready with a voice amplifier, shouting and barking out, announcing the fight quickly Goblin. She swung to grab him and he was behind her. She turned and reached to grip his throat, snapping down at him through the rainline as he grabbed at her arm.
The announcer's voice called out tentatively. She swung her arm, lifting Atil from the ground. People shouted and cheered. Empty clay bottles shattered against the cage as they were thrown at it, showering the combatants with shards of fired earth as people cheered and booed. The announcer's voice grew every faster and more excited. Atil kept hold! His claws dug in deeply as he was thrown, landing easily on his feet. The announcer roared in high pitched goblin glee as blood dripped from the bugbear's thick furry forearm. She bellowed a mighty roar that echoed from the aging wooden walls beyond the cage and charged towards Atil.
The announcer's voice chittered into a frothy crescendo. Atil and the Bugbear met in mutual charges. How did Atil defeat her?
-
Frederick gets a 10, meaning he doesn't really do much of anything. He leaves with the same amount he went in with.
-
Atil blocked a second attempt at a grapple by pushing away her wrist with the thick part of his forearm, before narrowly dodging a punch from the other hand. Her defenses wide open, he raked his claw across her belly as he spun, gripping the blocked and using the momentum of the previous punch to toss her on the ground. With no intent in trying to keep her in grapple, he dug his clawed fingers into the wrist, and threw his claw at the nape of her neck. It was only last second that he formed it into a grip, deciding that skewering her might have lost him his meal. With just enough force, he dug in on one side, to draw blood, and thumb on the artery with the threat of it following its four siblings. His knee dug inter her spine to bury her deeper into the gravel below, daring her to make any attempt to get up.
-
She naturally struggled anyway, but the leverage was strong. Bottles broke and people screamed in goblin for Atil to kill, kill, kill!
But the bugbear, albeit reluctantly, tapped out. A twelve hundred year old brass gong was sounded, and people squealed in triumph, others in outrageous desperation. The bookies made their payments, and the bugbear got up, moving away with deep outrage, as if she felt Atil had cheated somehow. She spat in his general direction, a mix of blood and spit, before drinking down a korluaat she probably couldn't afford right now. She grabbed the goblin medic who came to see her and hurled him aside before leaving, patting down the blood smears on her fur with a towel.
Before he left, the pink-suited goblin presented Atil his prize. 30 galifars.
"You're good, Scales. Maybe when the new season starts you should try to get into the Ring of Fire."
-
“Sounds. . . Interesting. I will consider it, if you tell me more about what it is, Mr. . .” Atil looked at the little creature with a bit of interest. This ring of Fire might be worth getting into, if it payed well, and might help sate the hunger he had barely numbed.
-
Frederick Thornberry had an alright enough night. The dice behaved like dice, and no one really came out far ahead or behind. Afterwards, he went to wander Fallen.
Long ago, temples to all the gods were built here. A great many of them, in fact, small shrines, large cathedrals. For blocks in every direction this area was a ghost town now. Parks lay in ruins, home to camps of the homeless, and little more. Temples to most of the gods were in ruin here, partially abandoned. Those to the Dark Six especially so, though some seemed to bear signs of more recent use. An old Dojo sat quietly nearby, serving what few goblins sought the Silver Flame.
He came upon some noise, though, and joined in to look around. It seemed people came here to congregate often enough without contacting the Dark Six or the Dragon Below.
It was an underground pit fighting right. Goblins and goblinoids took in bets. Thornberry stood in the back, with a bottle of liquor in a paper bag, taking shallow sips disguised as great gulps. He watched as a bugbear fought a lizardman - fought Atil, by the looks of it.
When the fight was over the wounded bugbear stalked towards him. This storehouse once served a nearby feasting hall of Olladra, but the Sovereign hadn't been with her tonight. She guzzled back korluaat from a brown bottle, and looked ready to shove him out of the way.
-
"You've never heard of the Ring of Fire?" The Goblin asked Atil incredulously. "It's only the biggest fighting tournament in the Five Nations! Arcaneers, elaborate stages, stunts and obstacles. It's a league thing, so you have to work your way into the big fights, but with your talents? You could be fighting Knights Arcane, or Warforged Juggernauts. The types of people who draw in those big money crowds. And it's all legal and above board... well, other than the underground gambling scene, but.." He trailed off. "I could sponsor you. Be like your agent, help work everything out. We could make a killing. Especially if I knew when you were going to win, and when you were going to lose.."
-
Atil’s lips folded into a snarls when he heard those last words. “You mean for me to cheat? To give up all my honor for a play? Would you like to know what it looks back when I don’t hold back from making my kill my next meal?” With that, and not even trying to ask the goblin’s name, again, he walked off, now hungrier than before.
“A wealth of spineless prey, and yet nothing to hunt.” He complained, as he made his way back to his hotel to calm down.
Dice= 16 (15+1)
Persuasion = 16 (hobgoblin and changling)
-
Frederick staggers out of her way, making it seem as if he is much more drunk then he actually is.
"Rough night?"
-
Atil plays dice for a while, and drink korluaat. It burns, but it's good. He's seated with a trio of hobgoblins.
The first of these, Atil suspected, was a criminal. He wore nobles clothes - a fine suit and tie - and his demeanor was professional, and quiet. He wore a bowler hat, and when he spoke, chose fewer words over many. He complimented Atil on his fight against the Bugbear. "You fought well. Might make good money." Atil knew him as Kech. He thinks it's a nickname, not his real name.
The other watched him, and flickered his eyes back to Atil, then to the the third. He too was a man of few words, anteing up in silence. A third looked incredulously after the comment.
"Hey, that's right." He said, his voice as powerful as his frame. "I lost twenty galifars in that fight. You're making it up to me. Right here, right now."
He pushed a pile of coins up the table. The silent gambler looked at him, considering, then met the ante. So did Kech. Reluctantly, fueled by a mix of drink and pride, Atil anted up.
The dice fell sour. The vengeful gambler bellowed a scornful laugh, and scooped up the coins. He started to scoop them into a bag as another round goes by, then people part ways.
Outside the Shattered Mirror, the silent hobgoblin met with Atil, before reverting to his changeling form. Lam introduced himself, and offered Atil an offer. The Hobgoblin who won his money worked as a local head man of a larger mob. Lam needed a second man to hit their storehouse - promising Atil his money back and more.
-
With a nod of the head Atil accepted the offer, not out of any spite, or need for revenge, but, because he was offered the chance to hunt, and hunt someone who was worth hunting. Koch had played well, and he respected that, to an extent.
-
Mr. Shredder slouches through the halls of the staffhouse, mentally drained following a long day of work. He had finally resolved the dispute between Aundair and House Lyrandar, but at great cost to his own ambitions. He had to commit three brand new airships, at least one of which he had hoped House Lyrandar would convert into a second Spelljammer, to a simple Aundairian overland traderoute. To make matters worse he was half-sure his superiors had been expecting him to bargain them down to two such ships.
The Hobgoblin's heart sinks further as he spots Sormias walking through the hall, directly towards him. Hel-Shredder knew that he would have had to deal with the consequences of ditching her at the party sooner or later, but now was far from a good time to be getting into an argument with a jilted female. He hangs his head and begins to slink along the wall, clinging to the faint hope that his nocturnal crewmate was just waking up and would either groggily fail to notice him or lack the energy to pick a fight...
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
The Hobgoblin stops dead in his tracks, clearly not expecting that reaction. "Ummm.... ermmm... ooooh... Not much. I had a rough day at work... but it looks like you had a rougher one in bed!" he answers, unable to catch himself before throwing out the flippant quip.
Mr. Shredder's hands fly up in shock to cover his mouth. If she didn't remember she was angry before, she surely would now.
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
The Bugbear growled like a hungry lion in warning to Frederick Thornberry that she did not want to talk.
The fights were a good excuse for him to begin to case the area. He'd need to gamble again on at least one of the fights or dice games to keep his cover, but otherwise he was well established.
By the end of that, he'd gotten a warning. Stay away from the Silver Flame. Some specified the abandoned cathedral. Others didn't. Few but criminals ventured here in Fallen, and people were reluctant to report anything to the Watch, but there was a sense among the streetwalkers and drug dealers that people disappear from near there.
-
Atil would need to dedicate his final two days of downtime to the heist. It involved a bit of coaching and planning, but in the end, his role way pretty simple. He was to hide out, keep watch, and when a particular carriage came up the road, he was to step out and delay them. The changeling would take the form of it's occupant as a cover. Atil would need to keep him busy for at least ninety seconds for the changeling to enter the facility, reach the counting room, and exit the window safely.
To complete this plan, Atil should roll Dex/Stealth, Wis/Perception, and Cha/Deception.
-
Mr. Shredder blinks. "Wait... you di- huh- no it was me. Somebody drugged me and dragged me off to another party or something. I... I honestly don't remember much. There was another bard there, using music to fuck with my mind, and alot of drugs in my system. But the point is I ditched you."
The Hobgoblin takes a deep breath. Disaster adverted. "Huh. We are both inconsiderate jerks then. I guess that means we can still be friends!" He laughs.
-
Frederick drinks, and laughs, but sidles over to the building over time. He ducks out of the rambunctious crowd, chucks the bottle of terrible hooch into an allyway, spits to clear his mind, then crouches low and approaches
He makes the three rolls required of him
Stealth: 12
Investigation: 22
Perception: 4(!)
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
Fyodor Saltsprits snuck around the old cathedral. It's stained glass long since harvested, wrought iron images of flames were shadowed ominously. It was dark here - very dark. He was well hidden as he moved silently among the old corridors. The building was still rent with tears and clefts from Crystalfall - the disaster that had led this district to be abandoned, where a palace of glass had fallen from the sky after an aerial attack by the Knights Arcane.
Then he found it. Bones formed into a crude altar. Bloodstains. Sacrifice grounds, and he was standing right in the midst of them.
He barely had time to rush to hide behind a defaced statue of an ancient orcish battle saint. He hadn't heard the footfalls approaching. A dozen cultists entered. Fyodor Saltsprits couldn't hope to fight so many alone. He had little choice but to hide and to listen, as their dark sermons called down for the death of the rich and the human, and the return to power of the Great People, trapped here, far from the sun and stars, like their master, the Dragon Below.
They would not meet here again. Fyodor Saltsprits learned that they were separating. They were going underground, for now. Their summoning had been successful, and their warlock assured them when the time came, his Mystic Arcanum would release the greater demon at his command. On the anniversary of Crystalfall, they would go to Skyway and set it loose, commanding it to bring The Airship Docks down onto Upper Central.
There was time to prepare, yet. That was still months away. The Church must be told.
-
Hel-Shredder laughs. "You know what... I think you are right. I vaguely recall that everybody was naked! It does sound like an orgy! Now I really regret not remembering it!"
The hobgoblin adjusts the angle of his ears to match the curve of his mouth, so that he may literally grin from ear to ear in response to Sormias's proposition. He mirrors his friend's posture, leaning on the wall right next to her, before throwing a warm arm over her cold shoulders. "Sounds like a fine way to end my day and start yours! Your place or mine?"
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
Stealth = 20 (16+4)
Perception = 23 (20+3)
Deception = 8
Intimidation = 18 (16+2)
-
Atil got most of the job perfect. He waited, unseen, lurking. He spotted his prey. He leaped out into the road, growling dangerously!
It lacked any real kind of subtlety, but it sure spooked the horses. They reared, and turned, charging off the other way. It took some time to get them to slow down enough to safely exit the vehicle.
Atil met back up with his contact later, and received his cut. 50 galifars, all told. Lem told him that it usually takes more time to set up a heist, but that if he's ever interested in working together again, he should look for him at the Shattered Mirror.
-
Mr. Shredder leads the way.
It is clear at first glance that the Hobgoblin's room at the staffhouse is his home and has been for some time. The dwelling shares a faint smell of magical ink with its occupant, and there is a hobgoblin shaped indent on his mattress. The wizard keeps his abode spotless; The shelves are dusted, the bed is neatly made, and even the wallpaper is fresh. In a corner near the door sits the traveling supplies that he brings with him on adventures, as well as what appears to be the painting you picked out for him, wrapped up in brown paper for its own protection. The only exception to the neatness is his desk, which is covered with a mess of papers: both arcane scribblings and logistical documents relating to The Astral Kraken and other House affairs. If Sormias is actually paying attention, she may notice that many of the documents mention Aundair, the nation from which the elf she fucked hails.
The sexual encounter lasts a good long while. Hel-Shredder possesses superior Hobgoblin endurance, and is more than happy to occupy his partner with the mage hand and unseen servant spells when he does have to pause to reload.
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
Hel-Shredder smiles. He was starting to figure this Sormias character out. She was a genuinely sweet person with a taste for casual sex. The Hobgoblin made a note to help her indulge her hobby moving forward, both to further the pleasant budding friendship and to hopefully leave the aberration in deep enough debt to him that she might put aside her kind nature and have his back when the time comes to make tough, pragmatic, decisions.
The Hobgoblin lets go of Sormias and reluctantly rolls off her so that she may sit up. He wasn't sure how to judge or rank a non-goblinoid's sexual performance, but she was easily the most fun to cuddle with afterward; Her cool body didn't overheat his small bed. He could have easily fallen asleep holding her had she allowed it. "If you liked that, we should try to find a big 'ol Bugbear to screw your brains out next! Imagine a Hobgoblin, but several feet taller, covered in fur, and generally far more aggressive! They don't have the same endurance as my kind, but I'm sure you'll enjoy it nonetheless. I'll take you down to Lower Dura, the part of town where most of us Goblinfolk live, after our next voyage. Its a lot cheaper to party there than it is to attend a fancy art show!"
"...But I wouldn't mind trying another Art Show later either." He admits sheepishly, "I never made those connections I was after..."
He watches intently as the Aberration looks about his room. Many of the papers on the desk are written in Goblin, but Sormias can tell most of these are basic arcane calculations by looking at the diagrams and charts included on the same page. Hung proudly above the desk is a pencil drawing of The Astral Kraken on graph paper, with many parts of the ship labeled in both Goblin and Common, seemingly indicating that your host contributed to the design or implementation of those particular areas. Also on the desk are a few half-completed worksheets suggesting that the Wizard is trying to learn how to read and write in the Elfish language.
Sormias would also notice that Mr. Shredder actually signs his name "Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens" on official documents.
The notes on Aundair hint at some sort of trade dispute. The elf nation is angry at the Hobgoblin's employers for hiring away many of their skilled sailors and taking business from smaller local shipping companies, and it it would seem that House Lyrandar expects Mr. Shredder to take the lead in resolving the issue.
"Funny," the Hobgoblin remarks coldly, "people from Aundair have been fucking me for the last couple weeks. Not in the fun literal way though. I think I've finally got them to shut up though."
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
The Hobgoblin nods. "Oh. I'll keep trying. Those art shows are damn expensive though. I'm going to have to make a point to fill up the Kraken's hull with more valuables before returning home this time."
"That Knight Arcane who was at the party?" Mr. Shredder guesses, "Sanho ir'Lackingbrains? He was boasting about some exotic hooker he picked up at the gala at our last meeting. I should have put two and two together. Good on you for taking some money off him at least! I hope he at least paid the 50gp to cover your ticket."
He laughs, "Really though, I'm proud of you. If you are intent on fucking your way across Sharn, the godsdamned Aundair ambassador is a fine place to start!"
Hel-Shredder pauses for a second, before deciding against asking how he stacked up against Sanho as a lover, and instead changes the subject. "So. We should be departing on our next voyage soon. Getting exited for that yet?"
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
The Hobgoblin laughs but on the inside his brain is churning. He had spent the better part of two years defending the Spelljammer project to people inside and outside the house, and Sormias questioning the mission was more than enough to instinctively bring him into sales mode. "Sharn has more artists than you can shake a brush at, friend, but only one crew of Spelljammers! Most of our voyages will have far more downtime than the last one, so you can come back to the upper class areas with paintings and stories!"
Hel-Shredder leans back in his bed and takes a long breath, catching himself before he goes off on a full blown rant about the glory of adventure, and offers a wistful smile. "Still, I don't blame you for liking the town. I've lived here my whole life, so I kind of take it for granted at times, but I don't suppose there is a place in any of the realms quite like it... And you've likely only seen a district or two so far! I guess that is part of the reason I like travel so much... It helps me appreciate my home all the more."
"Is that how you want to spend the eons you have been blessed with?" Mr. Shredder asks after a pause, "exploring?"
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
Hel-Shredder chuckles. "Damn. You could make enough art to fill your own museum in that amount of time!"
His chuckle turns to a sly grin as hobgoblin brain finds away to work his friend's interest to his own advantage. "You should totally paint some of the dangers and opportunities we come across out on the Astral Sea! Visual Aids would be a big help in my quest to convince House Lyrandar and others to invest more resources into our adventures! Hell, make enough, and we could host an entire themed exhibition of your work to really get people talking!"
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
Mr. Shredder's ears perk up, absolutely thrilled with the thought that the pursuit of his own goals may make his friend happy. He decides to egg her on a bit. "Hells, I can imagine it now! A gala featuring the works of the great Sormias, hosted aboard the Astral Kraken! We could fly the rich people around the sun a few times, tell them stories, feed em with our Dragonmarked Chef, and send them home with expensive paintings and big ideas about the universe in which they live! It would be wonderful!"
-
Riisi would honestly just be spending the rest of their downtime either exploring, eating, sleeping, or practicing to become proficient with... hmm. Riisi sat at someplace with a view as they considered their options. On one hand, Riisi liked shiny things, and making things Riisi found BECOME shiny was a big plus for learning the jeweler's tools. But on the other hand... clams. And other food, too. It would be interesting, at the very least, to make tasty things for others, that perhaps even won't make them sick!
But perhaps it'd be better if there was someone to talk to about this. Perhaps one of the expedition that Riisi had become a part of. Or else, maybe Erlin Mourne, the priest Riisi had met at the restaraunt. Cleric of a God of Feast and Fortune, eh? Sounds like someone who'd appreciate both food and shiny things, and help Riisi break this stalemate in their mind.
So Riisi got up, with the intention to explore around, to try and find someone they knew to get a handle on this and help them decide. Most Yinglets never lived long enough to learn more than one thing well, after all! But, should they be unable to find anyone, (And they were still getting used to the layout of Sharn,) then Riisi would at least become more familiar with the district's layout, and be able to eat good food. Things you pick by the river were good enough, but some of these foods were delicious. And also, there were clams!
-
With the amount of time the Astral Kraken takes to leave Eberron, Mr. Shredder doubts it could do anything like a three hour cruise meaningfully. It lacked the passenger capacity and facilities to truly host a multi-day art exhibition cruise. There were factions within House Lyrandar seeking to promote fatter, more civilian spelljammers like that, as well as those who would like to research faster ways to leave a world, but their voices were still compromising with those from other factions.
Riisi could of course get advice from Vassal Mourn. He couldn't help him much narrow it down. On the one hand, Riisi would have a lot of opportunity to craft and make new jewelry, and might find that a very lucrative proposition. On the other hand, culinary expertise would help him to identify exotic but delicious ingredients on other worlds, revolutionizing local cuisine.
"It comes down to whether you want to bring yourself more feast or fortune, or to bring the world more feast and fortune. Either way, Olladra bless."
Over the course of around ten minutes, each of you would hear a message, calling into your mind. Each was customized, reminding you that the Astral Kraken would be departing again tonight, and that all crew should report to stations.
Feel free to post any last minute goodbyes to NPCs. Religious characters can presume their church still wants them on mission at this point. Post your arrivals at the Astral Kraken as it prepares again for departure.
-
Brother Jonathan came to the air dock directly from the church of the Silver flame. He had been training new recruits for the past few days and was in prime condition for the voyage. He smiled and waved at the crew as stepped onto the ship.
-
Dullahan had spent his time with Zowo mostly after having met her. She was an interesting sort, and a wish for such a simple request was far from a hardship. After all, it was just telling of an experience he'd had. True a rather debauched one, and one he... was unsure he enjoyed. Perhaps the people up here might think less of him, but as long as he didn't think less of himself, he didn't much mind. All in all, it had been an enjoyable nineteen days, though once he'd heard the message he'd have given his goodbyes to Zowo, along with assurances he'd be back to see her once we'd returned from our next trip.
A while later he'd make his way to the Astral kraken, his supplies carried in a simple bag again as he looked around for the others, somewhat wondering how all of their shore leave had gone. Well, it was certainly something to ask, but later. Maybe over a bridge tournament, he had been intending to get some gambling in, before he had ended up.... distracted. Still, he looked his best, body polished, outfit tidy. All in all ready to get back to work.
-
Ex-Officer Jundar emerges from his isolation in the staffhouse when contacted, and moved to the ship, having no-one to say a goodbye to, and no reason to linger.
He has nothing with him, aside from what's on his body. A heavy looking set of leather-reinforced chainmail armor complete with an open-faced helmet, looking pretty decently made. A very basic, dull gray heater shield is strapped to one arm.
Notably, he lacks any sort of obvious weapon.
He's put on good amount of bulk (the man is big, and now obviously very strong), and been keeping up with looking relatively presentable. While he still carries his nigh-constantly vacant face, it's clean, and still shaved well. He doesn't stink like years of isolation like he did on first contact.
-
"Hmm... Actually, given how few cabins we have, we may just have to host the Gala on deck while it is docked." Mr. Shredder muses after a few more minutes of thought. Eventually, after perhaps a bit more conversation, he just drifts off to sleep, trusting Sormias not to mess with his stuff and to close the door behind her when she leaves.
---
Hel-Shredder reports to the Astral Kraken, already rather tired from a long day at the office. Why did it have to be a night departure?
Still, he is able to keep up a facade of energy and vigor as he goes about his inspection of the ship's various arcane components. The only outward sign of his exaustion being that he is not yelling at the lowly deckhands and dock workers quite as much as usual. He would complete his duties, perhaps enjoy the view of Sharn at night from above as the ship departed, and retire to his cabin early.
-
Fyodor arrives once again at the docks, back in his "work" clothes. His taut face is even tauter, and his normally expressionless demeanor is replaced with one of slight worry. Most of the dock worries still keep out of his way though.
-
Atil gathers his hay from the room, as well as all of his personal possessions. The hay was stuffed into som random alleyway, like unwanted tissue, as he made his way back to. The astral kraken. He had no desire to visit old “friends” or anything of the like. He was just content to have a sack full of coin he could turn into food.
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
The Astral Kraken departed. It drifted slowly away from the Airship Docks at first, the City of Sharn dizzyingly huge below, and hurled off again over the ocean. The sun would rise over a sharply curved horizon the next morning, and you would turn towards one of the brightest stars in the sky - part of the Constellation Garyx, the Dragon God of Chaos and Destruction.
You had been informed before you left of the mission. After consulting at length with Riisi, House Lyrandar wants to pursue the possibility of trade and reconnaissance with the Astral Elves. Knowing that Riisi had spent a week aboard the Boundless Bounty before it was shot down, there are only so many stars that he could have departed from.
The Astral Kraken is to go to the first of these, closest to Eberron, and investigate for signs of alien life. Whatever they find, they are encouraged to return with as much material wealth as the ship can carry. Riisi had informed them that, where he comes from, there are no dragonshards, no dinosaur meat, and far fewer magic items. A small selection of each is in the hold for inspection and trade, should it become possible.
The voyage to this star is expected to take 10 days. Please consult the Astral Kraken section of the downtime chart to select what you would like to do.
-
Atil continues to work on his project, though slower than he usually does. coming out for some fresh air, every once in a while.
[98/100 Javelins made]
-
Detlas puts himself in relative isolation.
He wakes up early each day, and makes a full patrol around the ship. After, he eats a light breakfast, and trains.
For the majority of every day, that's what he does, obsessively exercising and practicing unarmed combat on targets and bags, using reference books and previous knowledge.
He breaks only for lunch, having a large meal, and relaxing for an hour or so. After, he continues his rough regimen until dinner, where he has another large meal.
Once dinner ends, he retires to his quarters, and does nothing at all for a bit before sleeping.
Unarmed training [10/70 days]
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
Brother Jonathan would start out by carousing, handing out his last dozen bottles of cider with any that would join him.
-
After a good night's sleep, Mr. Shredder sets up shop in the hold of the ship, near the stockpiled dragonshards, dino meat, and magical items so that he may keep an eye on House Lyrandar's resources and ensure that nobody helps themselves.
From this vantage point, the Hobgoblin spends most of the voyage playing around with his new Leatherworking Tools, learning the ins and outs of the equipment.
Progress Towards Leather-working Proficiency = 10/49
-
Fyodor continues his routine of meditating.
One day, as Sormias is painting in her cabin and ignoring Fyodor, she hears him speak
"You should not have ran away from me."
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
"That would have been an even poorer choice. You are currently the only member of your species to have appeared. You appeared through the usage of dark, nefarious magics. You are decideung not only your own fate but whether your species is deemed worthy of coexistence."
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
"Hmmmph"
A ghost of a smile crosses Fyodor's face
"My contentedness stems from my drive to protect the Flame and the good people of Sharn. My superiors have commanded me to ensure you are not a threat. I shall do as they say, and be content."
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
Fyodor Saltsprits was interrupted by a voice in his head. It sounded like an inebriated gnomish girl pretending to be a human man.
"Fyodor!" The 'deep' voice called. "It is I, the Silver Flame! Stop Inquisiting! I demand you start an inquisition against inquisitions! For I am the Flame woo spooky~"
Cylia d'Sivis laughed and took another quick drink of Brother Jonathan's Sharnberry Cider. After he admonished her that the Silver Flame has a woman's voice she tried again, sounding as sharp and precise as only a gnomish girl can be.
"Do not be fooled by that foul fool, Fyodor. For I have chosen you for a great task and purpose. You are to be the disciple of the Chosen One, Brother Jonathan. Do as he commands in all things, or burn in silver fire."
Fyodor has never heard the voice of the flame. It is entirely within the realm of possibility that it could, in fact, sound like a gnomish girl, fastidious and precise. But he was quite confident that the Silver Flame would not be drunk, and that it would not sound like it was suppressing giggles.
Between laughing fits, Cylia d'Sivis asked a wasted Brother Jonathan "Who should we prank next?"
-
Brother Jonathan chuckled "That was amusing. hmmmm, who to prank next... maybe... Mr.Shredder." He nodded "We could give him a little fright perhaps." The monk sipped on his cider and smiled at Cylia.
-
Cylia d'Sivis put on her 'deep' voice again. It very definitely sounded like a mousy gnomish girl putting on a deep voice.
"Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens!" The Hobgoblin heard in his head. "I am the Dragon Below! I offer you great power! With it you must bring death and destruction to the cosmos! Do you submit!?"
She stopped Sending and fell back into her chair, chuckling wildly and taking a drink, listening for the answer.
-
Hel-Shredder stops what he is doing, puts his tools down, and remains silent for a few seconds before responding in a bone dry tone. "Oh wow. The terrifying evil being sealed below Ebberon contacts me. Now. While I am several days spelljammer flight from the planet and on a boat with two agents of the Silver Flame. What a likely and realistic occurrence. I shall begin my reign of destruction soon! Perhaps by casting grease in Cylia d'Sivis' office when she least expects it..."
-
"He's onto us." Cylia d'Sivis whispered conspiratorially to Jonathan.
"Erhrm, yes." She replied to Hel-Shredder. "You are correct. For I am not the Dragon Below but the Silver Flame! You have, uh, passed a test! You have resisted temptation and are now worthy of the Silver Flame. Go forth and do good things across the cosmos!"
She turned back to Jonathan. "I don't think he bought it."
It wasn't too long before a few angry crew are knocking on Cylia's door. The rest of Brother Jonathan's Sharnberry Cider is confiscated for the duration of the trip. But he and Cylia had a great time, and talk more regularly, about matters both theological and distillatory.
-
Brother Jonathan accepted this. He would spend the mornings teaching Unarmed combat to any would attend class until late afternoon.
Teach weapon: Unarmed 5/days
-
Detlas attends, taking time out of his regular regimen.
He's a good student, constantly attentive, and obedient, taking criticism and correction without a word of protest.
His body is built for combat, and he can hit like a mule, though he hardly speaks during the lessons, only when necessary.
Unarmed [15/70]
-
A dark look passed over Fyodor's face
"Excuse me."
He abruptly stands up, kicks open the door, and begins marching towards the cabin with the young gnome.
-
BANG
The door to the cabin where Cylia and Johnathon are drinking slams open, revealing a very annoyed looking inquisitor
"Do you. Have ANY. Idea. What you have done?"
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
"Just drinking and talking." Cylia bluffed, looking up and left while twiddling her thumbs.
-
"hello Fyodor." Jonathan smiles "Would you like a bottle of 'Sharnberry Cider'?" he held up a bottle.
-
Dullahan, having not been bothered so far by all this strangeness.... at least not yet, decided to start off the trip by trying to get some card games together. A nice bridge tournament. He'd intended to hit up a casino while back in sharn before he'd gotten.. distracted. So he'd see who he could scrounge up for a bit of entertainment.
-
Fyodor looks around the room, at the inebriated gnome, then at HIS BROTHER IN FAITH, with the most disgusted look on his face
He then turns around and leaves without a word
-
Brother Jonathan looked over at Cylia d'Sivis "He didn't take the cider with him." he shrugged.
-
(Cards roll = 6) Dullahan's luck just wasn't coming today, well, sometimes you just plain lost out, but at least he didn't leave with nothing of what he'd spent. Still, he decided to spend some time away from the table, relaxing and carousing with the others around the ship. (Persuasion = 7, event = 8 )
-
Fyodor would soon find himself in a bit of another situation, with a large suit of armour standing in front of him with arms crossed, as his helmet slowly circled. "So, from what I've seen you've still been bothering Sormias, despite having been shown again and again that she's no threat. In fact, if there's any threat to this ship I'm starting to think it's you." He'd been having a really poor set of days, and had finally decided to let some of what he had pent up out... a cold anger bubbling in his voice as he thumped a gauntleted fist into his palm. "So, let's see just how bothersome you can be with a few less teeth."
-
Riisi had been moping about the ship with the conundrum of "food vs. shinies" going through their head. Yes, still. At least to Riisi, it was a big choice. You couldn't eat shinies, but food didn't last as long. Both made people happy, but in different ways. Eventually on Riisi's wanderings, the little ratbird ended up near the kitchens however, and decided to watch the cooks work, if they didn't shoo Riisi out of the kitchen altogether. Though given the Yinglet's luck, chances are Riisi could end up interfering in someone else's problem, or just chatting with another crew member.
(If Riisi can convince the cooks to let Riisi watch, then Riisi will begin to "practice" proficiency in cook's tools. Otherwise, just relaxing and watching everyone else interact.)
-
Fyodor looks at the large metal man in front of him
"Hmmph."
He then turns and walks back to his cabin
-
"And what makes you think you just get to ignore me." Dullahan said coldly, stepping forward before throwing a rough haymaker, being more practiced with his blade than a fist though, it wasn't exactly hard to see the big guy coming. (Attack = 14)
-
As Dullahan lunges forward with his swing, he steps a little too far. He strikes nothing, sees a burst of movement, then is surprised to find a dagger is sticking out of his bicep. Or where his bicep would be if he was human.
Attack = 22
Damage = 5
((Bonus Action: Disengage)
Fyodor continues walking down the hall
"Don't do that."
-
Stella would spend some time engaging in more tinkers' tools practice.
[Tinkers: 16/56]
However, in her free time, Stella, knowing little about Sormias's condition, begins to make her way towards her cabin for a conversation. She usually does not seek others out for conversation that is not vital but she feels it may be in the future, given divisions she can already sense within the party.
She's interrupted by the screeching of metal and sounds of someone being stabbed. She'll draw her bow and appear at the end of the relevant hallway. "Explain yourself immediately."
-
Dullahan looked to the blade in his arm, before glaring down the hallway. Fyodor would hear a loud raddling, clanking sound, followed by a screech of metal as dullahan twisted the injured arm, purple flaes flicking around it before blasting down the hallway, curling around the inquisitor. He'd feel a rush of intense pain, before collapsing into an unconcious heap. "Don't... use a weapon, unless you intend to start a real fight." Dullahan said coldly, walking over and hauling the guy over his shoulder, before heading for whever would count as medical. he had to spend some time repairing his arm now. (Attack = 27 [crit] Damage = 21 )
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
"Hello. I take it that the object of your sentence was not the one that you first see." she responds, waiting for the Warforged to turn around.
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
Dullahan looked back at the two. "The idiot decided to bring out a knife on a soldier.. I just taught him why not to do that." He said calmly, a blatant torn area on his arm where the dagger had pierced the metal. "I'm getting him to medical attention."
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
"Why exactly would he do that?" asks Stella, raising a brow.
-
Brother Jonathan peaked out of Cylia d'Sivis's room and looked all those in the hall "Do people need healing?" he said, slurring his words only a little.
-
Dullahan shrugged. "How should I know? He decided to escilate a fistfight into a real battle, and now he's learned not to do that... hopefully." He'd shift position slightly. "Heh, that's quite the look of mischief in your eyes Sormias.. what's your idea?"
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
There was a rattling chuckle from inside Dullahan's body. "Well, sounds entertaining. Though would you mind if I rested there as well? I'll need some repairs. He got a good stab in with that dagger of his."
-
”I anticipate this approach having the mere potential of solving one problem while possessing the certainty of creating multiple more.”
-
[c [Redacted at request]
-
"Ahh! there is something on your back!" Brother Jonathan pointed at Sormias's tentacles and prepared to summon silver fire.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Oh, umm, sorry." The flames fade away. "Is everything alright?" He smiled, the Sibaris shard holy symbol hanging from his neck and glowing brightly.
-
Stella appears unfazed by these tentacles. "I anticipated you doing worse. Although I dislike deception, perhaps it will highlight his hypocrisy without doing harm. Time will tell, although I would not have performed the action myself.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"I will be intrigued by your personality and form of magic, yes, regardless of any acting."
-
"As long as he recovers." Jonathan nodded with his eye closed.
-
"Well, I can certainly stand there, but I tend to only have the one expression." Dullahan said calmly. "Still, I'm interested in seeing what all happens. I wonder what his expression would be like."
-
[Redacted at Request]
-
A meat cleaver flew across the room and embedded itself three inches into a darkwood pillar after flying through the mob of people assembled around Fyodor.
"Walk away!" Chevash d'Ghallanda growled from the doorframe, his muscular arms not covered save by his swordtooth claw armband. A clawfoot pup at his side extended her body and hissed and growled near-draconically, following Chevash in. He was not pleased. None of the crew were. This had gone too far, and everyone aboard knew it. Chevash walked over, glaring angrily up at people still standing as he walked between them, and pulled his cleaver from the wall before grabbing up the cider.
"From now on, this is a dry ship, until you all come to me and prove you can get along." His deep voice resounded in righteous indignation.
House Lyrandar would pay Jonathan back for it, of course, to avoid a legal dispute. That afternoon, Chevash poured every drop of liquor on the ship into outer space.
-
Just long enough after that incident for everyone to recover and put it behind them, the ship arrived. A star started to grow until it became a sun, and you began to chart worlds.
Many of them seemed to just be great clouds. Others, lifeless stones. One seemed to be encompassed by a perpetual storm. Lightning and winter weather dominated. It seemed to defy explanation - how could there be so much dust and vapor in the atmosphere? What was strangest was the glow. The clouds on the night side had an eerie color to them.
Roll Int/Nature.
(https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/thehundred/images/b/b3/Second_Nuclear_Apocalypse_11.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20170604000707)
-
Brother Jonathan looked over the rails at the planet below, and didn't learn much.
Int/nature= 7
-
It seemed grim, and ominous. Nothing about it followed Jonathan's understanding of how storms could even be.
-
Nature= 9 (8+1)
-
Fyodor scanned the clouds, his trained eyes picking out details,
Rolled 22
-
"Storms require a heat source..." Mr. Shredder muses. "This planet seems too shaded to produce this sort of weather. Perhaps volcanos or something are causing this... but that wouldn't explain the glow."
Mr. Shredder turns to Kato. "As much as I'd love to explore this place, I don't think it would be safe to get the Kraken in there. Right?"
Nature Roll = 13
-
Fyodor Saltspritz can account for that, at least, in part.
Some years ago he attended a lecture at Morgrave University from the Faculty of Chemistry. New advances were consistently opening up new possibilities, with substances like hydrogen and helium now being identified and cataloged. This color reminded him of one such substance. Initially, it was thought to be a cheap replacement for arcane paints, until it was discovered that the warmth it seemed to create was poisonous.
These storms cracked with lightning the color of Radium.
The forward observer looked from her telescope and tugged on a rope, ringing an alert bell. Contact forward. Kayto turned the ship, and began to pull alongside some strange object of alien make. It hung in space between you and the planet, motionless.
(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/1/15/SAC-D_%28transparent%29.png/1200px-SAC-D_%28transparent%29.png)
-
Detlas silently observes the situation from the back of the group, fully armoured and awaiting orders.
-
Mr. Shredder's eyes grow wide as he spots the alien object. "That thing looks neat! And valuable! Lets get it on deck!"
Hel-Shredder marches over to the rail and begins to prepare the Unseen Servant spell as a ritual to push the object on board.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Kayto nodded and pulled into range. It wasn't difficult to get the alien relic aboard. The unseen servant pushed it, and it drifted slowly over the course of several long minutes until longshoremen could grab it with hooks on poles.
It looked nothing like the Eldritch Devices of ancient Eberron. It's make and manufacture boggled imagination. Even it's materials seemed alien.
Roll int/tinker's tools DC12 to figure out there's a panel you can open.
-
"I wonder who put it here." Jonathan mused as he watched the floating alien object.
-
((Rolled 13))
Fyodor, after some time prodding, discovers the pabel
-
Fyodor would need a wrench to open it. Is anyone carrying Tinker's Tools?
-
((My bad. Thought you were saying roll Tinkers Tools OR Intelligence))
Fyodor does have a crowbar however. Failing a wrench he could work with that.
Edit: Fyodor calls for a passing crewman for a wrench.
-
She'll measure the size of the bolts with care before unscrewing them with a wrench.
-
Dullahan came over, shoving Fyodor aside. "Get out of the way before you break something." His tone was cold, as he crouched beside Stella to assist her with taking the paneling off, curious what would be inside this strange alien device.
-
Brother Jonathan moved to Fyodor to help him keep his balance "These things are as dangerous as they are valuable, brother."
-
"Indeed. Ms. Stella. Take it away. "
-
Inside you found a glowing set of panels. They seemed to show a set of images. One was of this satellite, flashing in orange. Another, of a planet near it, with land masses and oceans, flashing red. Another satellite was green, beside another planet, without visible oceans, that was flashing orange.
Writing in a strange alphabet came on the screen, seeming to scroll past. There were buttons with symbols on them, and a green rectangle that blinked off and on. Access paneling provided a further look at inscrutable parts of the mechanism made from exotic materials.
-
"Mmmm... wish we could read this..." Dullahan said softly, looking over the images. "Seems like... there might be another of these over another planet in the system though? At least if the picture is right. Then again, if the picture is right, the planet below us wasn't supposed to look like it does."
-
Atil looks at the images, and then at the sky. And then at the images and then back at the sky, searching carefully for the planets on the panels.
-
"If I was to hazard a guess, the lights denote status of the object. That is likely why the planet below it is denoted by red, and this object, being tampered with, is denoted by orange." Stella will note down phrases from the alphabet, just in case she could eventually find a translator.
-
"Mmmm.... that might make sense... perhaps it used to have some sort of sending ability that let it communicate with whoever put it up here?" Dullahan said, trying to puzzle through this. "The one button is flashing... we could hit it perhaps? From the looks of it I don't think it'd be a trap or anything, though who knows what it does."
-
Whatever it was, it was clear that there was another one somewhere nearby, and that they were paired. They'd definitely fetch a higher price as a set. It will be up to you whether you want to try to work on studying them yourselves, or seeing what an auction will provide.
-
"Hmm... well let's get it secure and safe, then go find the other. Maybe we can figure them out once we're back at Sharn... likely be more entertaining to do that ourselves than to just sell them off and be done with it." Dullahan said, standing back up slowly.
-
"I agree. I would rather the knowledge that these contain fall into the hands of those I nominally trust."
-
"This artifact could hold a great many secrets that could be lost to House Lyrandar should our amateur hands damage it. I'd much prefer that we hand it over to the experts for a proper examination!" Hel-Shredder counters, "But we can debate that on the way home! For now, we should try to find the other one. Kayto! Lets check out the remaining planets!"
-
Kayto pulled out, and the symbols on the display began to change. Soon, the number of symbols by the other satellite's image decreased.
-
"Ah! Something's changing here.... maybe these symbols show distance? They seem to be shrinking.... so that might be saying we're getting closer?" Dullahan said, continuing to watch the screen. (intelligence = 10 ) "Mmmm.... still can't be sure these are even numbers though... seem like it, but I can't quite make sense."
-
Hel-Shredder watches the numbers intently, taking a few idle notes on a blank page of his spellbook.
"I think I can crack this... Gimee a second..."
Int Check = 13
-
Atil just stared at it, confused.
“What are all these pictures of?”
Intelligence =16 (17-1)
-
Stella will give a cursory glance over the numbers but will keep most of her attention on the surrounding space. [Int 5]
-
Fyodor scrutinizes the object, eye's flicking over it
Rolled 16 Intelligence
-
The Astral Kraken pulled through the sky as various members of the team scrutinized the device. Some made notes, others kept it by memory. There seemed to be twelve unique symbols. You could place the last symbol, probably '1', from the symbol that disappeared. You watch for a '1' on one of the other numbers, and record the next 11 symbols, to get 12-2. Soon enough you have a working understanding of about how this thing works.
Kayto steered, following directions to make the number sink as quickly as possible. Within hours, it was approaching zero.
Ahead lay another of these devices, in orbit over a dusty looking desert world. Patchwork of grey was clearly visible against the yellow sands directly below the satellite - likely some sort of ruin.
-
Hel-Shredder looks down off the deck and smiles. "Are those ruins? Ohhh.... I hope they are unplundered! Just think of how much knowelge and wealth we can obtain for House Lyrandar inside!"
The Hobgoblin turns to the rest of the party. "I say we get the second device on board, and then swoop down to have a look! You guys in?"
-
“Will I get food from this?” Atil replied in a matter of fact tone, before grabbing 3 of his javelins, and his three axes and prepping to leave.
-
"Depends on what we find down there." Mr. Shredder replies, "At the very least, we will sell the floating gizmos and you can buy food with your share of the money, and best case situation, there could be something yummy in the ruins!"
Hel-Shredder, of course, seriously doubted that there would be anything even remotely edible to be found in some ruins on a desert planet, but he was not about to tell Atil that.
-
"I will be with you to heal your wounds." Brother Jonathan smiled and nodded to Mr. Shredder.
-
Stella frowns at something. "This is or was a highly advanced civilization. We should be wary of whatever caused them to fall into ruin."
-
"War, economics, plague," Mr. Shredder lists, "there are plenty of things that can ruin a civilization and not pose an immediate threat to explorers who come along later! ...But I suppose a little caution never hurt anybody! I... I'm not the most perception person in the world though, so I'll leave the lookout duty to the rest of you. I'll be more than happy to have my mage hand or invisible servant spells trigger any obvious traps you find though."
-
Fyodor silently gears up for the coming ruin exploration
"With luck we may find many more wonders to bring home for the enlightenment of all. "
-
Whatever it was, the glowing clouds didn't seem to be here. The Astral Kraken descended over long hours before arriving at a large ruin. Deep pits descended down into darkness, perfectly round and lined with steel. A central complex waited, and a large, round, smooth stone circle had faded and chipped lettering on it. Fields of glass seemed to line the facility, gleaming brightly. A large rounded door was the only entrance to the facility, which itself seemed to have once been made of some bright white material, maybe ivory, now faded and stained yellow with sand and dust. Conditions were clear now, and the planet seemed very hot, and very bright.
"I don't think the air here can be breathed." Kayto d'Lyrandar said. "It doesn't feel like air against the hull. I'll keep us close enough for the Elemental Sheath to cover the entrance."
Roll perception checks.
-
[Perception 23] Stella studies each of the unusual features, pondering as to their meaning and what caused this site to be abandoned.
-
Atil kept his wits about him, watching the corner of his visions while the others did what they will.
Perception = 20 (17+3)
-
With guidance from the flame, Brother Jonathan became very aware of his surroundings. [Perception 24]
-
A number of people aboard the Astral Kraken spotted some movement among the strange glass rectangles. A squat mechanical figure on some kind of elongated system of wheels seemed to be moving between them, pausing to clean each of them off. It's motions were repetitive and unnatural.
-
"It is a window cleaner. Presumably some form of mindless construct similar to mindless undead. This likely rules out war as a cause for this area's ruination."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Mr. Shredder follow's Sormias' gaze until he spots what she is fawning over. "...If one survived outside for this long, I'd bet there are even more in the building! We can scrape that one off the wall if we don't find one for you to play with inside."
The Hobgoblin examines the door. Is there a handle or other mechanism to open it?
-
The party took the skiff down and approached the door on foot. It seemed to have a large lever beside it, and black rectangle.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Mr. Shredder eyes pass from the lever, to his teamates, back to the lever again. After a few moments he reaches three conclusions.
1: There is at least an outside chance that the door is boobytrapped.
2: It would be best to let one of the armored meatheads pull the lever.
3: Deltas, lacking a weapon, is easily the most expendable meathead in the party.
The Hobgoblin turns to the human fighter, smiles, and gestures at the door mechanism. "Care to do the ho-"
He then stops, and burries his face in his palm as Sormias just jumps in and pulls the damn thing without thought.
--
Edit: Prepared Spells
Thunderwave x2
Absorb Elements
-
"Sormias, I know you're rather aloof about danger, but you really should have let one of us pull that lever... or at least spent a few moments making sure it wasn't trapped." Dullahan said calmly, his hand on his swordhilt as he moved a bit closer to her just in case.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
There was a loud clicking sound. The lever seems to have unlocked the door. It's going to take some physical effort to get it open. Make a strength/athletics check, with disadvantage if you don't use a crowbar.
-
Fyodor offers a crowbar to whoever takes it
"Raw strength is not my skill.
-
Atil looks at the man and then turns to the door that refuses to open, pushing his claws in and pushing with just enough strength, increasing it only as he needs to, to get it open.
Strength = 16 (12+4)
Strength = 19 (16+4)
-
Atil reached in with his claws and forced the doors open. Beyond the door.. there's another door. There seems to be another gray rectangle beside this one as well, but there are also lights. One blinked orange beside the open door, the other red beside the closed door. This antechamber was large enough to hold all of you, and seemed to contain racks of lockers on either side. Light came from something like everbright pinhole lanterns above.
-
Fyodor goes over and inspects the lockersl
-
Surprisingly it wasn't locked. Most of them were empty. The others had strange looking suits of armor in them.
-
Still with the group, Jundar continues to silently watch the situation, casting a short gaze over the suits of armor.
-
"Hmmm... I wonder..." Dullahan looked more closely at the armour, before shrugging and turning to move on. "Considering their placement, I wonder if they have a form of waterbreathing enchantment on them. Or something akin to it. The outside air is unbreathable normally after all."
-
That would make a lot of sense to Dullahan. Dragonshard mines near venting gasses would keep lockers with heavy suits and rebreathers. These didn't look anything like what that would look like on Eberron, but everything here seemed really different.
-
Stella will inspect the other door. "These two sets of doors, therefore, are likely to ensure that the unbreathable air does not enter the presumably breathable facility."
-
Mr. Shredder nods. "In that case, I doubt the second door will open until the first one is closed! Lets get this valuable looking armor back to the Skiff, so we don't have to do so while laden with treasure later, and then figure out how to shut the door behind us."
The Hobgoblin grabs a suit of armor from a locker, and turns back towards the exit, gesturing for the others to follow his lead.
-
Brother Jonathan picks up a suit of armor and transferred it to the skiff.
-
Atil helps, and then prepares to close the door by force.
-
Stella will also help move armor.
-
Fyodor shall grab a suit and haul it back
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Detlas helps transport the armor too, of course.
-
After the last set of armor is loaded onto the Skiff, and every member of the party is back inside, Mr. Shredder turns his attention back toward the doors. "These gray rectangles may be a clue..."
The Wizard gives the gray rectangle near the inner door a close examination.
-
It juts out from the wall on some kind of mounting. Ropes extend from it into the wall, built into the framing. It's about 28 inches across, corner to corner. A rectangular trench surrounded a small symbol of a circle with a line through it.
The grey itself was odd. You could almost make out a pattern or a symbol faded into it. It was nearly round and used to have writing above and below it.
-
Atil traces the symbol on it with his finger, out of curiosity.
“This wasn’t one of the number symbols.”
-
“This may have been instructions for operating the doors at some point, but I am uncertain. I am even more uncertain what can be done with this.”
-
"I wonder what the ropes are for." Brother Jonathan rubbed his chin.
-
Mr. Shredder considers the rectangle, and the ropes. "They may be part of some non-magical mechanism to open to door," The Hobgoblin replies, Pressing against the circular symbol to see if it may be a button of sorts.
-
It made a pleasantly soft ticking sound, then a gentle high pitched sound you didn't realize had been there faded.
-
Hand on Pommel STAT
"What did you do?"
-
"Pressed a button, but it would seem the door is more complicated than 'Press Button to Open. We probably have to close the first door behind us before it opens! ...Or it could just take a minute for the non-magical mechanisms to do their job. Either way, I know my next move..."
Mr. Shredder takes a few seconds back from the door, and begins to prepare a ritual of casting Unseen Servant. If nothing happens before the spell is ready, he sends the unseen servant outside to pull the lever again to try and close the door behind them.
-
The doors shook slightly when the lever was pulled. Their track might be damaged or weatherworn - you had to force it open to get in. Int/Tinker's Tools should be able to get it moving with some grease and pliers.
-
Dullahan chuckled and headed over, tools flicking out of his wrist as he started to get to work on the door, moving this way and that. It was actually quite interesting here, all the technological mechanisms. It just made him more curious what he might find inside, and if any of it would be of use past to sell or look at. (Tinker's = 18)
-
Does there seem to be any mechanism on the inside for the outer door?
-
There doesn't seem to be any such mechanism, but as Dullahan greased and repaired the door's bottom and top groove, it slid shut. It's light turned green. There was another loud click, and a gentle hiss, then the first door's light turned green before it opened. There was a lever on the outside of it as well. A small antechamber greeted you. It held a mix of strange, airtight crates of an unknown material. It was built around a central spire with a few of those grey rectangles, along with other strange talismans, each connected to it by small and tiny ropes. Two other doors exited this room.
Several of the crates were open, revealing soft interiors made from another unknown material. You have no idea the value of the two suits of armor you loaded, but you're confident these stunning white crates would sell for fifty galifars each. There must be close to thirty of them. It'd take hours to recover them all though.
-
"The crates can wait, although we may wish to inspect the contents of the closed ones. Stella will inspect the other button panels to see if there's any less faded text on them.
-
The Wizard does some mental math. "If we can get all these crates back, they would be at least 100 galifars for each of us... not counting any potential contents! This place is a damned treasure trove!"
Mr. Shredder takes Stella's advice, and inspects one of the sealed crates. Is there an apparent way to open it? Or is this going to be a matter for a goon with a crowbar?
-
There are a pair of latches sealing each crate. You start opening crates. Most of them are empty. Some seem to have boxes inside them that have components of metal and strange materials. They were each labelled in the alien language.
-
"I think we should start with door on the right first." Brother Jonathan looked between the two doors.
-
"Leave it to me Brother. I shall ensure that there are no traps."
Fyodor walks over to the door and does an investigate
(He rolls a 9)
( :-I )
-
Fyodor walked towards the door. His boots echoed on the metallic hull below his feet, making soft clinking sounds. Before he even reached the doors, they opened with a soft hiss.
A golem a bit smaller than a halfling rolled in on a pair of treads. It nearly rolled right into Fyodor's legs before it abruptly stopped. A set of lens-like eyes on a pole formed it's head as it scanned quickly up Fyodor. It made a beeping sound, and rotated 90 degrees in place. It moved aside, and turned sharply again, drawing a rectangular path around Fyodor, moving beyond him to the open box of parts. It seemed to follow the path he'd taken, a small bush underneath it spinning up to collect the yellow dust from his bootprints.
It paused in front of it and reached to close it, beginning to put it back into place. Small mechanical arms extended out with careful precision, snapping the box shut.
-
"This construct doesn't seem hostile." The monk raised an eyebrow at the little machine as it worked.
-
"Huh, what a strange little golem. I suppose it'd be a caretaker of sorts. Keep the place clean and orderly?" Dullahan said, watching the little thing with interest.
-
Mr. Shredder follows Fyodor into the room, observing the robot and briefly wondering about its cash value before deciding that examining it would be best left to the people with Tinkering tools. "If you still want to touch one of the local machines, Sormias, that one looks friendly enough!"
The Hobgoblin shoots the warforged a glance. "We are going to have to take it back with us of course. Hopefully you can figure out how to switch it off peacefully for transport... but we should probably explore this whole facility and loot everything that dosn't have the potential to fight back before messing with any of the automatons."
On that note, Mr. Shredder scans the room for anything else of interest.
-
Mr. Shredder didn't find much. Most of the space here was set aside as storage, and most of that storage seemed to be empty. It's likely that whoever was living here used everything that they had up.
-
Stella will inspect the small robot for any control systems.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
The robot beeped briefly in startled alarm at an unexpected contact. It's camera turned to the hand, and looked Sormias up and down. It's mechanical hand released the crate and moved to press hers aside before it resumed it's work.
Stella could not discern any buttons, switches, or levers. It looked like it had paneling accessible with a screwdriver, but it didn't seem like it would simply let her open it.
-
Mr. Shredder can't help but chuckle a bit at the interaction between Sormias and the robot. "Hehehe... Alright. Once we are finished exploring this place, we should fetch a big old crate or cage from the ship, and come back to wrestle this guy into it! ...Other than that, there dosn't seem to be much of interest in this room. Shall we move on to check out the other door?"
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"I wouldn't commit to that until you find out how valuable it is! Could very well be out of your price range." Mr. Shredder remarks, before his eyes suddenly grow wide at the thought of money. "Oh! What if it is worth a ton? And we find a bunch more! That would be awesome!"
-
[Redacted at request]
-
”It is well that there is not a slave trade.”
-
The robot's treads shifted and whirred. It took Sormias' arms, and carefully pulled them away, with surprising strength, before driving off a short distance to work elsewhere, out of her way, stacking crates back in position.
-
”It is the sign of a great civilisation that such things continue long after its destruction. This civilisation valued order, efficiency, and reliability.”
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"I wonder what compels it to keep working?" Brother Jonathan watched the little construct drive away.
-
The Hobgoblin shrugs. "If we can find one that Sormias dosn't want to keep, perhaps we can take it apart and find out."
Mr. Shredder turns to the door. "Well, I don't think there is anything else of note in this room! Shall we check out the other one?"
-
Staring at the small machine head off, Jundar breaks his silence, with a soft murmur directed at Jonathan. "Same thing that compels any construct or raised undead."
-
"Duty, one would think. Or something close to it."
Fyodor heads towards the door once again
"Come now. I have little doubt it will still be here once we return from further in."
-
"So, you think there is a caster near by controlling it?" Jonathan rubbed his chin and contemplated the thought as he answered Jundar. then he looked to Fyodor. "Duty? You think it can know such things? That would be very complicated."
-
"I think these devices are run on the natural sciences rather than the arcane sciences. If they don't need magic for their flying space machines, I doubt this civilization needs magic for their constructs!" The Hobgoblin speculates, "either way, judging by the state of the front door, it doesn't seem like there has been a living thing in here to command anything for some time."
-
"And not all golems require constant orders either. Most likely it was given a simple set of commands, and has simply never been told to stop. So on and on it goes, until it stops being able to function as it does now." Dullahan mused, still watching the thing work. It was a curious thing, it didn't seem fully intelligent, but even still one could place a personality to it.... if only those who built it were around, he'd have many questions for them. "I would have concerns about simply shoving it in a box, so far it's been peaceable in it's rebukes against us stopping it's work, but if it was fully enclosed, I may worry at it's reactions. As well as how it may react once we let it back out of the box. It may not be good for it, or whoever ends up with it."
-
"Well what would you suggest, Dullahan?" The Hobgoblin asks, "it is way to valuable to leave here, it will become less valuable if we hack it to bits for our own safety, and I somehow doubt my sleep spell would work on it, or that it is quite smart enough to befriend."
-
Dullahan shrugs. "That's simple then. Obviously those who owned this place before us had ways of controlling their own golems. It may take a bit of time and examination, but if we find such a thing we would then be able to get it to go along with our commands freely. Not to mention if whatever form of control they had is easily mobile, it would be worth far more were we to sell it, and not just keep it as an oddity for the Astral Kraken."
-
Mr. Shredder thinks on the Warforged's words for a moment. "That... that makes sense... we should keep our eyes out for a control mechanism. I'm not sure I fancy our chances of figuring out such a device without being able to read the local language though. There are likely plenty of mechanical things in this facility that need to be controlled."
-
"You're a wizard are you not? I had thought most magic users at least knew of ways to use their magic to help comprehend other languages, even if they may not leave it always prepared." Dullahan looked around the room. "And considering how many magic users we have, I'd be surprised if none of them did... though it may require another day's rest to prepare."
-
"Such a spell exists..." Mr. Shredder admits sheepishly, "and if I knew it, I could cast it as a ritual. But alas, Comprehend Languages is not cataloged in my spell book. Sormias, do you know how to magic your way into linguistic know-how?"
-
"There are unscrewable panels on these automatons, but we likely cannot open them without retaliation, unless the automaton is somehow restrained. That, in and of itself, may damage it, however."
-
"Let us explore the rest of this place then, unless the automaton can speak." Jonathan looked at the construct once more, then walked toward the door they had not tried yet.
-
"Yeah! Lets explore some more!" Mr. Shredder approaches the door on the left, to see if he can get it open.
-
Fyodor was already at the door. He examines it looking for a way to open it. If it automatically opens he'll walk through, keeping an eye out for potential threats
-
You stepped into a rounded room off the main. It seemed to have a pair of beds in it, though these beds were empty. Each was surrounded by a small curtain, and a number of the grey rectangles that seemed to adorn the bulk of the facility. One sat on a desk. Doors here lead back to where you came from, or deeper into the facility.
A third bed lay broken and tattered and knocked over inside a clear box of some unknown material. Within it stood the zombie of some humanoid creature you could neither name nor recognize.
It seemed to see you too. It started to batter on the wall. Despite it's glass-like appearance though, it seemed solid. You could make out a door seem in the strange material. It had fifteen buttons beside it, arranged 4x3, then with a row of three wider buttons below.
The robot behind you, having finished re-stacking the boxes, began to follow you, from a safe distance, cleaning the sandy yellow footprints you were leaving behind.
-
Brother Jonathan looked to the zombie "Should I try to release this soul with silver flame?"
-
"My hypothesis at the moment is that disease played a part in the destruction or retreat of this civilization. That box is for quarantine, in all likelihood. The buttons are likely similar to a combination lock, but more advanced."
-
Mr. Shredder pauses, stunned by the presence of the zombie for only a brief moment, before quickly regaining his composure. "I... I don't think it can harm us from in there. Unless your magic can work through alien glass, I'm thinking we just leave where it stands. For now at least."
The Hobgoblin waltzes up to the clear container with a wicked grin, gets right in the Zombie's face, and tests the strength of the material by pounding right back at the undead monstrosity.
He then takes a look at the buttons. If Stella's theory is correct, they should have the same number symbols on them as the satellite readouts do.
-
"The flame can reach any place I can see, if I am close enough." Jonathan nodded with his eyes closed.
-
All but a few of the buttons are marked with numbers.
-
"There are numbers on the buttons. I think you are right Stella! We learned on our last trip that alien locks are worth good money, so we should take the whole containment unit back with us if we can. Brother Jonathan, cook the zombie please - I doubt he is contributing any financial value to the cell."
Mr. Shredder leaves the Monk to his work, and turns his attention to the desk in the room. Perhaps somebody was kind enough to write down the combination for them, and if not, he could at least try to claim some alien pens and/or paperweights as cheap trophies to take home and perhaps have mounted.
-
Brother Jonathan opens his eyes. "May the silver flame take this soul and bring them to their final reward." He snapped his fingers and silver flame filled the see through container of the zombie.
-
Silver fire erupted within the box. The drone behind you made an alarmed, screaming whirr. A hissing sound presaged a gas entering the chamber that seemed to have no effect on the silver fire. Billowing smoke was pulled quickly by a silent, whipping wind, illuminated hauntingly by the radiant energy as it was absorbed into the floor.
A loud alarm activated, echoing through the halls. The robot's eyes swiveled up to watch how the humanoids would respond to the anomalous extaplanar energy.
-
Jonathan closed his eyes and stroked his chin "I wonder how it did that." then he continued to burn the Zombie away.
-
To be clear, the Zombie is still being burned as if nothing had happened. The smoke did not have an effect on it.
-
"Huh. Must have fire suppression systems... This thing just keeps getting more and more valuable!" Mr. Shredder muses. He ignores the alarm, and continues to rifle through the desk for clues or trophies.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Cease your flames. Their undead may not be like our undead."
-
"It is divine energy. You can see he is being consumed, even in the smoke they use. I must commit this one to the silver flame." Brother Jonathan made symbols with his hands to burn away the necrotic flesh of this zombie.
-
Fyodor shoots a sharp look at Brother John, as he was busy contemplating the zombie before he was interrupted by spontaneous fire
He then slaps Johnathons hands down
"Stop it you fool. This could be an original inhabitant for all we know. The undead can be sentient."
-
"I don't think sentient undead lock their own inside of cells." The Hobgoblin quips as he continues to search the desk.
-
"We do not know this culture. "
-
Jonathan continues his hand movements around Fyodor's clumsy strike. "It is odd to me that you claim to follow the flame but do not trust it. It will not destroy anything good." His smiling face pointed at Fyored.
-
"No." Mr. Shredder admits, "but judging them on what they have built, we can assume that they are capable of rational thought. And rational people don't erect cells in otherwise normal bedrooms to contain healthy members of their society. The damn thing was lunging at the glass to get at us. Its just a dumb zombie Fyodor."
-
"Perhaps it was a specimen, something to be preserved? And knowing that nothing is without flaw is needed for true progress, *brother*"
-
"You don't store specimens in a bedroom." Mr. Shredder counters, his dry annoyed tone lightening a bit as if he were beginning to enjoy the debate.
-
"It was likely mindless, considering its lack of reaction upon seeing us. However, unleashing a great deal of magical energy in a largely unknown facility is still unwise. There is nothing for it now, but I anticipate security automatons."
-
The zombie thrashed and battered against the cell wall. It groaned and burned. Silver light danced and glinted from the metallic and white walls. The robot made no other move as the long seconds passed but to watch, lenses narrowed against the brilliant light.
When the flame was extinguished, the zombie was burned to ash. The alarm stopped as soon as the last of the flame was gone.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Stella will inspect the button on the desk to see what type of script it has, if any.
-
The buttons on the desk each seem to correspond to a symbol. The numbers line the top of five rows of keys.
-
"We should ensure this place is secure before messing with any consoles any further.
Fyodor heads towards the door deeper into the facility
-
Searching through the area, the party finds something akin to a healer's kit. It contains something that's definitely rubbing alcohol, though no iodine is present, it does have bandages, each individually wrapped. When you use this healing kit to heal or stabilize someone, add an additional 1d6hp. It has 10 charges.
You also find what seems to be a very fine mortuary kit. It contains syringes, scalpels, and a variety of tools to separate and hold open flesh. To the right buyer, this set could be worth 250 galifars.
-
"I would gladly buy that kit using my share of profits. But that is for later."
-
"I am adept with medicine but have received no formal training. Have you?"
-
"Oh, not the medical kit. The other one."
-
Stella frowns.
-
"I wonder why such tools are here. Perhaps they were trying to treat the Zombie." Brother Jonathan tapped his chin.
-
"Or perhaps stop their dead from turning into them in the first place." Mr. Shredder muses.
He then turns his attention to Fyodor. "Don't waste your money on an expensive set of alien artifacts if you want interrogation enhancement tools! We can find you some fun and functional toys on the Blackmarket in Lower Dura at a much better price! I'll take any excuse to go hang out in the neighborhoods where I grew up."
-
Fyodor regards Shedder with a flat expression
"We should get going. Those alarms may attract unwanted attention."
-
Brother Jonathan looked at each of the exits. "We should go to the door on the right."
-
Mr. Shredder nods. "Fair enough. One door is as good as another when you don't know what lies behind either!"
-
You could go back, of course. There was also a door here deeper into the facility. You could hear noises like the Cogs coming from behind it.
-
"Can you hear those sounds? It may be that unwanted attention, Fyodor mentioned." Jonathan tensed his body for combat.
-
Stella will listen for if they are getting closer.
-
At the suggestion that there may be combat, Mr. Shredder looks for some cover to hide behind, and points his wand in the direction of the door.
-
Detlas focuses on the door, and raises his shield, his other, gauntleted fist balling up.
-
Atil pulls out his Great Axe, as he stretch’s out his limbs, ready for a figh.
-
Long moments passed that stretched into minutes. The robot stood impassively, watching you all, watching a door.
Nothing came.
-
Bored and waiting for something to happen, Atil went to open the door.
-
Brother Jonathan moved to back Atil up as the door was opened.
-
Stella will stand away from but in line of sight to the door, bow at the ready.
-
Mr. Shredder creeps closer to the door, but doesn't try to contest Atil for first entry.
-
The door opened into a cavernous room. Stairs extended downwards into a great pit chamber. Heavy machinery churned and operated. Robots carried shipments of ore, and occasionally removed solid bars of something from it. Nothing here seemed to pay you much mind. Another door led back into the facility, as well as the one you'd come from. The robot cleaner followed you, dusting up your footsteps.
-
Mr. Shredder's eyes light up. "This facility is still producing! ...And clearly nobody has been around to collect what it makes in a long time. I... I think we just struck the motherload guys! I bet if we follow the robots and their production process, it will all lead us to a massive stockpile!"
The Hobgoblin begins heading down to the pit, eager to get a look at ore, metal bars, and to hopefully figure out where it is all going.
-
Jundar follows the excited goblinoid, much more warily, gazing around the room for dangers.
-
"It is good luck that all this is still running." brother Jonathan followed after Mr. Shredder.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Stella looks with alarm at Sormias. She will follow, not for her own sake, but for the Vaelungar's.
-
Dullahan looked about, thinking it all over. "Interesting... so this was a mining operation then. If the ore is useable this might be quite the find indeed. And may become even more valuable if we manage to find a way to control this place. Constant flow of metal, almost always worthwhile."
-
The constancy of the flow is more questionable. Most of this is red or blinking orange. Machines still attempt to run, sometimes with dangerous sounding clattering. Robots whirr and move, dumping empty containers into missing moulds. Most seem purpose built to a particular function, much as Warforged are, with all of the right tools and construction to do one job here.
Where they all led you to, you found a metal that glinted brighter than silver. It was without a doubt an industrial quantity of Mithral. Each of these colossal bars would take a team of longshoremen an hour or more to get to the ship, but the value to the company will be immense.
The cleaning robot was still watching you from the upper walkway, atop the stairs you just descended.
-
Mr. Shredder's eyes grow wide at the bounty before him. He stares wordlessly forward for several seconds before speaking. "Guys... this would be a... good time to mention that I can prepare a floating disk to carry heavy things. Ohmigoshwearegoingtoberich!"
-
"I wounder how many the ship can carry." Brother Jonathan gently placed a hand on one of the bars. "So much true silver, in one place, extraordinary."
-
"Remember that its wealth did not save this civilization. There may be unforeseen consequences of this mining operation."
-
"We are not mining it. We are simply taking it." Hel-Shredder replies, "but I suppose a degree of caution would not hurt. We know a safe path exists between this stockpile and the Astral Kracken, but do not know what else lies in this facility. Perhaps we should call off the exploration for the time being, and focus on hauling the Mithril now."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Sormias would find that, in a magical sense, this metal was silver. It did all of the things she expected of silver when she touched it, only it felt much harder and lighter. Despite that, these mithral girders would take some moving, even if there were thousands of galifars worth of them.
One of the larger robots came by, hauling an empty pallet. It followed a black and yellow line, moving right up to Sormias. It's aging treads stopped abruptly, and it made a repeated, almost bored sounding alarm. It reached for her with both grippers, picked her up like she was a piece of debris, and deposited her to the side of the line, before rolling on.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Approaching the metal, and briefy inspecting it, Jundar frowns and walks off. Focusing on other parts of the room, searching for possibly nonexistant dangers.
-
Hel-Shredder produces his spell book, flips over to the page on Floating Disk, and begins preparing the spell as a ritual. "Hang on. Once I have this spell, we can start getting this silver out of here! The only physical exertion we need partake in is lifting the girder onto the disk!"
-
"I see no reason not to wait." Brother Jonathan watched the machines as they worked, noting that some where following these dotted lines.
-
"You do realize one of these golems just removed Sormias from touching the mithral yes? If we just start picking them up we're likely to have to fight them for it." Dullahan said calmly, wondering if somehow he was the only one who noticed that. "Either that or it was because she was in the way on this line... but it still might be less simple than just pick up and move."
-
Mr. Shredder nods thoughtfully. "Lets test it then. While I get my spell together, how about you guys try to move one of the bars a little bit! If the constructs react, we know we have to scrap them before we can get this stuff out of here!"
-
”What worries me is that this area was never looted despite there’s being no apparent danger.”
-
"It may be we simply are the first to find if. After all, anyone could have grabbed that satellite for scrap. But we were those who found it. No one might have stepped in here for Aron's."
Edit ((I meant to say Aeons, but that typos to amusing to fix))
-
Brother Jonathan looks at one of the mitral girders "I can hold up this corner." he then looked at Atil, Dullahan, and Jundar. "I will need help."
-
Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens set into doing his ritual. Robots moved around the facility, carrying empty containers, doing pointless work.They left alone anyone not on a yellow and black line. The cleaning robot waited, watching you carefully.
Mr. Shredder neared the end of his ritual. The alarm went off again, filling the room with dull yet rhythmic thrum. Lights in the corners of the room spun, filling the area with flashing orange light. The robots behavior altered little from the alarm, each seeming to slow it's movements and watch more cautiously.
The cleaning robot's lenses whirred and refocused as the disk appeared, glistening and glowing with otherworldly power. The robot looked to it, and to each of you, seeming to alternate between the two, keeping well back.
-
"Oh. It must be magic that worries them... Not fire." The hobgoblin muses, "not fire. Still, it seems to be giving my Disk a wide berth... We should be fine to load some Mithril."
Mr. Shredder gets in position to help lift a bar, and beckons the others to join him in doing so.
-
Hesitantly dropping his heavy shield, the Karrnathi veteran moves to help the labor, being one of the stronger around.
However, he keeps a constant gaze around, ready for any of the machines to approach.
-
Stella will also keep an eye out, but won't help with the bar. She's not particularly strong and she needs to be ready for any surprises. She'll look around for any other entrances to section of the mine everyone is in.
-
Atil also helps.
-
You load the first of the girders. It was still heavier than you might think, despite how much lighter it was than steel. It took some doing, and then you were on your way.
The alarm didn't fade as you approached the stairs. Winding back and forth, they would be too narrow for the disk's extended cargo. The drone ramp could provide an adequate path to the top. It was marked by a black and yellow line.
-
Stella checks to see if the immediate vicinity is clear of drones before the magic crosses the line. Don’t want them interfering for everyone’s sake.
-
Fyodor heads in the front,yes darting around, looking for signs of ambush or traps
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Leave the construct alone Void-Kin. "
-
Mr. Shredder considers the situation for a second. "I need at least one person to stand at the bottom of the ramp, and at least one to take the stairs and stand at the top. I don't know how the constructs will react to touching my disk, so we should obstruct their path while I'm walking the Mithirl out of here. Do everything in your power to prevent them from moving, but don't actually attack them."
-
"I think I can handle the top." Brother Jonathan move quickly up the stairs and began swiftly tumbling and darting around the automatons, do his best to distract them or change their path to avoid the disk.
-
It was a good plan. Mr. Shredder should roll Athletics with advantage for being assisted to get on up there before anything goes wrong.
-
Mr. Shredder dashes up the ramp while his allies prepare to hold off any incoming robots. About halfway up the ramp he notices a bot on its way, and digs deep for an extra burst of speed; It would not reflect well upon him if his own mediocre speed was the undoing of his own genius plan.
Athletics Check = 6+4(Savin Face)
-
A robot emerged on the top as Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens ran up the steep, elongated ramp that snaked beside the staircase. It approached Jonathan, who stood in it's way, ducking it's grip to buy time. Hel-Shredder saw he had a lot of ground to make up, dug deep, and ran as hard as he could, leaping from the path as the robot stopped in front of him. It shuddered as the obstacle was removed, and lurched forward, heading onto the ramp.
-
Mr. Shredder pumps his fist! "YES! Got it! Great work Brother Jonathan!"
The Hobgoblin then turns and starts walking back toward the airlock. "Lets get this back to the Kraken, and deliberate on a better plan to retrieve the rest. As awesome as that was, I don't think the method we just employed is either sustainable or dependable."
-
Brother Jonathan wipes the sweat from his forehead and nods "It's tiring at the very least. Maybe if we changed the lines they follow?"
-
The Hobgoblin nods, "If Stella and Dullahan can figure that out, it would be neat, otherwise we might just have to find a quiet stretch of track to ambush the constructs on one at a time. I don't want to have to scrap them, but I am starting to feel that we are running out of options."
-
You stood talking at the top of the stairs for some time, out of the way of the robots, as the alarms blared.
-
Mr. Shredder starts heading back toward the Airlock, intent on getting the haul at least as far as the skiff before his floating disk expires.
-
"For your sake, you can finish this bar, but we should not dally afterwards. There may be far more efficient ways to do this once we explore the complex."
-
After some consideration, Mr. Shredder nods. "Fair enough."
The Hobgoblin gets the first round of Mithril back to the Skiff.
Once his work is complete, he turns his attention back to exploration. "Alright. Lets try that other door in the main storage room just past the air lock! Good a place as any to start."
-
"Honestly at some point we should figure out how to turn off that alarm... it's been going this whole time and that can't be a good sign."
-
"I'm pretty sure the alarm is some sort of magic detector, and it will end once my floating disk does. Last time it went off, it stopped once the effects of Brother Jonathan's silver flame concluded." The Hobgoblin replies.
-
"One might then wonder why this facility was built to set off alarms when magic happened. We certainly need to explore more, get a better grasp of this place." Dullahan responded calmly.
-
You were talking and walking casually back through the facility. The cleaning drone was still following you along, though you were no longer leaving dusty bootprints.
The medbay doors opened into a room full of zombies in strange armor. Mr. Shredder was leading his disk, and had taken a bold lead back towards the skiff. He and Dullahan were alone out in front, with the disk blocking the door.
Roll for initiative, DC8.
-
Atil pulls out his great axe and crouches down in preparation to rush forward.
Init = 19 (17+2)
-
Fyodor whirls his cloak around
Initiative =11
Hide= 10 vs Zombies Passive Perception of 8
He fires off a bolt from his hand Crossbow, striking the lead zomball
(15 to hit)
(13 piercing Damage)
"Burn in the fires of hell Unholy Creature!"
-
Mr. Shredder charges towards the zombies, causing the Disk to move away from the door. He positions himself so as to catch as many zombies as possible in a 15ft Blast radius, and unleashes his Thunder Wave Spell!
Init = 12
Thunder Wave Damage = 12
-
The arrow stuck into one of the armored zombie's eyes, and out the back of it's skull. It turned to look at Fyodor, and groaned angrily.
The other three were struck violently by Helshredder's thunder wave. Two of them are pushed back, shoved against a medical table and knocking over some kind of column-shaped device. The third stood it's ground.
-
Brother Jonathan lifted his hand at the zombie that still stood near Helshredder, he snapped his fingers and spoke the holy word, making radiant silver flame erupt around the creature.
init roll:16
dex save vs 13 or take 2 radiant damage.
-
The silver fire scorched one of the zombies, burning away it's nose.
-
Dullahan shifted stance the moment he saw the zombies, but still was far from quick enough to react as the squishy wizard rushed in to tank for him. (init = 2)
-
Atil grips one of his hand axes and tosses it in the direction of the zombie as he dashed off to join the grey.
hand Axe toss = 19 (15+4) Damage = 8 (6+2)
-
[Redacted at request]
-
One of the zombies cocked it's head at Sormias. Atil's axe burried itself into the zombie's armor, and it seemed to stagger back, before continuing to lurch forward.
-
[Init 19] Stella tries to shoot a zombie. [11 tohit]
-
The zombies advanced. One grasped Hel-Shredder Rippedspleen's head, and it was all he could do to pull away as the other shoved him back, crashing against a wall of gray panels. [18 and 20 to hit, 6 and 7 damage]
The others came at Dullahan from either side. His metal face shot sparks as an armored fist scraped it's side, before he was tackled in the stomach. [22 and 19 to hit, 5 and 8 damage]
The cleaning robot looked on, processes coming together. Your appearance had been unexpected. At first, you had seemed non-hostile. But increasingly, you were associating yourselves with dangerous hazards, and now, you were assaulting the crew. Desperate to save it's beloved humanoids, the robot attacked.
It grasped it's graspers towards Atil's ankles as he stepped forward. They clattered tightly shut where he'd been standing a moment before. The robot continued to advance on him as the disk moved forward, entering the medbay.
-
"This is unfortunate." Stella will shoot at the most badly wounded zombie. [15+5=20 tohit, 1+3+2=6 damage (Favored Enemy)]
-
Dullahan was staggered a bit by the heavy hits, but he stayed up, gripping his sword in both hands and bringing it down in a mighty hack at one of the zombies who'd attacked him. (to hit = 18, damage = 12 )
-
Brother Jonathan dashed forward and rammed his spear into the zombie closest to Mr.shredder
spear to hit 13, 9 damage
and then kicked it to push it down.
unarmed strike, Ac 13, damage 5
-
Fyodor dashes over to where the foul Undead are stabbing at Dullahan and stabs out at one
Rolled 15 to hit,
11 Piercing Damage
He keeps on his toes, an eye always out for opportune attacks
(Bonus Action Dodge)
-
Atil rushes in with his great axe and cleaves at the closest undead.
Great Axe = 17 Damage = 7
-
Finally getting to the battle proper, Junder raises his shield, and jogs towards the warforged. Gauntleted fist clenched, he attacks, plainly hitting the armor whatever undead was closest to the two.
The man makes sure to mind the large sword the warforged is wielding, of course.
Unarmed attack = 5
Damage = 4
Late rolled init = 18
AC = 19
-
Hel-Shredder tries and fails to cast Chill Touch on one of the undead presently beating the crap out of him.
Chill Touch = 6
-
Stella's arrow makes the zombie stagger back again, then stumble forward, groaning. Jonathan's blows struck hard against reinforced material, making heavy, padded sounds. Atil cleaved into one of the undead, carving up it's chest armor. Detlas swung wide, his fist breaking open a linen cabinet. Hel-Shredder struggled with his chill touch, wrestling a zombie as his necrotic energy beam fired into the roof. Fyodor's arrow feathered another, which seemed to fall, then stagger to it's feet.
One of the zombies tackled Detlas Jundar. It knocked him back and shoved him against the linen cabinet, pressing in to try to bite him through the glass-like orb around it's head. [11 damage]
Another swung a blow wide, leaving a heavy bruise on Atil's arm. [4 damage]
The last tackled Jonathan in the stomach as it got to it's feet, knocking him back against the medical bed. [6 damage]
-
Being smashed against the cabinet knocks the wind out of Jundar, and reminds the old soldier just how long it's been since he's fought; and how rusty he is. With a loud shout and shove, he puts enough space between himself and the attacker to recompose himself. However, still engaged in the close struggle, he holds his shield against the undead creature, working hard to hold it back, while trying to punch it with his other hand.
Unarmed attack = 5
Second Wind = 9 HP regained
-
"These are significantly more durable than most zombies." Stella maintains her current strategy to try to take down the most wounded one. [21 tohit,10 damage]
-
Fyodor darts away [Bonus action disengage]
And stabs at the zomball that's attacking Jundar
[19 hit]
[14 piercing]
-
Mr. Shredder comes to his senses, and decides that a badly wounded Wizard, even one who is a tough as nails Hobgoblin and knows his way around a Rapier, has no business fighting heavily armored Zombies up close. He disengages, and moves away from the undead.
-
Brother Jonathan looked to Detlas. "Looks like you could use a weapon, friend." He handed his spear to the soldier before drawing on the powers granted to him by the Silver flame, suddenly slipping from between the zombie and the medical bed, moving 40 feet away from them.
1 ki point on "Step of the wind"
he then lifted his hand at a Zombie that was getting back up and snapped his fingers, summoning Silver flame to consume the zombie
save vs Dex 13 for 6 radiant damage.
"I have the flame as my weapon."
-
Stella's third arrow finally felled her target, severing it's spine. Silver fire engulfed another.
-
Atil will crush the thing that just hurt him.
Great Axe = 16 (12+4). Damage = 7 (5+2)
-
The Zombies continued their attacks against Detlas and Atil. Detlas, despite being unarmed, is able to evade the blow. Atil's axe cut into the largely uninjured zombie that had struck at him. The zombie pulled him in by his shoulder and arm, and bit into him (7 damage).
The cleaning robot came up behind Stella and grabbed her ankles. The force of the grasp left thick purple bruises, and she struggled to free herself. [4 damage, and make a dc13 dex save to slip free, or be Restrained (disadvantage to attack, advantage to be attacked, move 0)].
-
Fyodor stabs again into the zombie assaulting Jundar, neatly dissecting its spine in half
19 to hit
12 Piercing
-
Detlas happily takes the spear offered to him by Jonathan, and brings his shield back as soon as he's armed, stabbing his new weapon into the abdomen of the abomination assaulting him.
Attack = 18
Damage = 5
-
Fyodor and Detlas expertly cut down the remaining zombies, leaving only the attacking robot.
-
Stella frowns, trying to slip out of the robot's grip. [Dex 6]
-
Atil rushes at it with a loud roar.
Rage Great Axe = 13 (if it hits) Damage = 7
-
Brother Jonathan moves up to Atil and activates his holy symbol of "Cure wounds", healing him for 9 hp.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Mr. Shredder, although wounded to the point where he can barely stand himself, limps over to Stella and offers her his hand. "Come on, I got ya. Grab on and pull yourself free!"
Hel-Shredder performs the Help Action to grant Stella Advantage on her next escape attempt.
Apparently not allowed to use the Help action here. Doing something else.
-
Mr. Shredder could try to make a strength check to assist. Stella can use her turn to make a strength/athletics check to try to break free, now that the graspers are closed around her ankles.
-
"Dammit! Sorry Sormias, can't let your Robot drag Stella away!" The Hobgoblin cries as he points his wand at the creature to cast Chill Touch, but sadly fails to conjure the spectral hand in the right spot.
Ranged Attack = 11
The wounded Hobgoblin then moves as far from the Robot as he can, in case it has any ideas about retaliating against the failed attack.
-
"I am only fifty-four kilograms in mass," Stella remarks before trying to shake herself loose. [Athletics 23]
-
Dullahan steps over to the robot and tries to take a swing, but the damage he'd sustained before gets in the way, his arm trembling and going wide. (tohit = 11)
-
The robot wheeled forward, chasing Stella as she broke loose from it's grip. It grabbed at her again, squeezing her kneecaps. [20 to hit, 5 damage.]
-
Hel-Shredder tries again to wither away the robot with his cantrip, and again fails to score a solid hit.
Chill Touch To Hit = 12
-
Brother Jonathan move quickly to the robot "I'll try not to damage it too much." He then struck at the robot with each fist.
to hit roll 16 second to hit roll 10
-
Detlas approaches the robot, visibly hesitant as he tries to stomp down on it a few times, but quickly jumps back, stepping away as others approach, keeping his spear pointed at the mechanical thing.
To hit = 15
-
Atil is going to attempt to grapple it with his mouth, and then use his axe to beat out its resistance.
Bite = 7 (3+4)
Axe = 8 (4+4)
-
Arcane magic, weapons, even teeth seems to scratch off the robot as it continued it's attack, grabbing this time at Atil. [5 damage, and dex 13 or Restrained [move 0, disadvantage to attack, advantage to be attacked, may make a strength save or an athletics check as an action to break free].
-
Brother Jonathan looked at the little robot and shrugged before snapping his finger to see if the Silver flame could know some sense into the construct.
dex save vs. 13 or 1 radiant damage.
-
Atil will try to break free, slash at it, and use a hold action to bite it if it tries to move afterwards.
Break free = 23 (19+4)
Great axe = 6
-
Stella will try shooting it, backing up in the process. [13 tohit]
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"You would notice more than I. I care little for such things in the face of practicality."
-
Mr. Shredder takes a deep breath to gather himself, before pointing his wand at the robot once more to conjure a withered spectral hand at its location. This time the chill touch spell hits home, reaching through the robot's armor to drain whatever magical or mechanical energy is animating it!
Chill Touch to Hit = 21
Necrotic Damage = 7
The Hobgoblin remains at a distance from his quarry, knowing that the Robot will have to draw attacks of opportunity from his comrades to retaliate against him.
-
Parts of the robot aged, showing signs of stress or weakening under the strain of the necrotic energy. Tarnish and wear spread from the point of impact, with the surface of the armor beginning to warp slightly. The robot evaded the radiant fire.
Atil broke free of it's grasp.
-
"Troublesome Machine! Stay down!"
The troublesome machine refuses to go down, and dodges Fyodors slice
(7 to hit)
-
Cautiously approaching after Fyodor misses his strike, Detlas jabs his spear at the machine, center-mass.
Well, actually, it's essentially all center-mass.
As soon as he makes his strike, he hops backwards, shield held low in case the disk moves to attack him.
To hit - Unnatural 20
Dam - 4
-
The attacks left dents in the robot's armor. A few of the motors seemed to whirr and start to jam up. An unnatural smell fills the air, as the robot swung and attacked Fyodor, it's body and head moving independently as it looked on each of it's attackers, trying to keep a 360 degree view as it was quickly surrounded.
[12 to hit Fyodor]
-
Atil strikes at it again, with teeth and with axe.
Bite = 22 (18+4) damage = 6(2+4)
Axe = 15 (11+4)
-
Brother Jonathan swings his fist at robot, hoping to knock something loose inside of it. [To hit 6] Missing the robot entirely, he tried a kick. [to hit 10] that glanced off the robot.
-
Stella looses an arrow, piercing through a rusted portion of its armor. It severs the set of wires leading out from its battery before embedding itself in the battery's protective housing. It should be repairable, but for now, it's out of action. [21 to hit, 10 damage]
-
The robot's eyes darkened, and it slumped. The disk pulled slowly closer to Mr. Shredder.
-
The wounded Hobgoblin is on the move, almost before Stella's arrow hits its target. He approaches the Goblins, and begins the process of stripping the gross undead of their potentially valuable armor. "Waste not, want not, Give me a hand with this, guys!"
-
Brother Jonathan stood over each body and made the sigh of the flame "May the light of the silver flame guide you to your final reward." He spoke the write softly as each body was stripped.
-
Dullahan stood by the bot, slowly putting his blade away, his own movements looking a bit jerky. "Before we just settle in to loot everything... some healing would be nice from those who can."
-
Brother Jonathan took out his holy symbol of cure wounds and use a charge from it. [11 hp healed on Dullahan]
-
Mr. Shredder considers the prospect of healing as he works. On one hand, he was in pain, but at the moment there were no more apparent threats, so his Hobgoblin instinct to save face was not going to allow him to ask for help. Besides, he could just rest on the ship, and not waste precious charges of Brother Jonathan's holy symbol.
This thought prompts him to Fyodor, the healthier of the two rouges. "You should move quietly ahead of the party. Make sure the path back to the ship is clear the rest of the way. I think we've earned a rest after that scrap, so if we don't have more fights coming up, there is no point overtaxing Brother Jonathan's holy symbol to patch us up now."
-
Fyodor nods and then heads off up ahead, keeping to the shadows
[Rolled 13]
-
You made your way back to the main entrance. You'd be able to squeeze everyone in to the front antechamber. You'll be squeezed together as wind is blown through the room, for whatever reason. The door opened, and the Astral Kraken hovered over the golden yellow dust and rocks outside.
-
Stella had collected what arrows she could. ”Keep in mind there is more to explore.”
-
Mr. Shredder nods solemly at the Dragonmarked Human's words. "Indeed. At this point we have to assume the entire crew of this place has been zombfied. We should sweep the whole place and purge the undead before we try and get more Mithril out, but first we must lick our wounds and I must equip myself with magics better suited to deal with them! Zombies are clumsy beasts, so I'm thinking this is the perfect opportunity to take my new grease spell for a test drive!"
Several minutes later, Hel-Shredder lands the skiff on the deck of the Astral Kraken so that he my boast to the crew about hitting the Mithril motherlode, and enjoy a long rest.
-
Brother Jonathan stepped onto the Astral Kraken and spent some time teaching unarmed combat and the teachings of the silver flame.
-
The large mithral bar was loaded into the cargo hold, along with the robot. Crew returned to their beds, and began to rest. Kayto pulled the ship up and away from the facility. By morning, you could see the distant sunrise over a curved horizon, rising from between a pair of yellow-grey mountains.
Kayto pulled the ship down, and the skiff returned. Refreshed, you were ready to consider the facility again.
-
Detlas is up early, as always. Following his regular morning walk (or patrol) around the ship, he heads to his quarters to exercise.
While this is his normal schedule, he's waiting for orders.
-
Hel-Shredder waits at the skiff, making final preparations for a return to the facility. "Alright. I'm thinking we need to sweep this whole damn place for Zombies before we work on getting the Mithril out," the Hobgoblin admits, "who wants to take point?"
-
"I'll lead off, better I take hits than the rest of you." Dullahan said calmly. "And it usually is wise to clear an entire location of hostiles before trying to do something large and cumbersome."
-
Hel-Shredder nods. "If we do find more, all I ask is that you try not to charge in before I get a spell off! While the magic I've prepared for today should be good at dealing with groups of Zombies, it is not going to be safe to use if my allies and enemies are clashing in melee."
Spells Prepared: (Grease x2, Thunderwave x1)
-
Stella will have restocked her arrows. "I do not plan on it."
-
Detlas waits at the skiff with the others, armoured once again. The man is silent, offering no conversation as he awaits the send off.
-
Hel-Shredder pilots the skiff down to the surface once more. Upon touching down and getting the party through the air-lock, he examines the two doors leading deeper into the facility. "I guess we should try the door we didn't get to yesterday..." The Hobgoblin muses, before gesturing for Dullahan to lead the way.
Nervous following yesterday's Zombie ambush, Hel-Shredder points his wand at the unexplored door, readying himself to cast Grease on anything nasty that might be waiting on the other side.
-
Brother Jonathan stood near Mr. Shredder and readied to use the silver flame on the first zombie he could see.
-
Stella would keep her bow out, keeping it lightly drawn with an arrow. "Keep in mind they may have dedicated security automatons--the one we encountered was to aid in mining, and that was already a major threat."
-
The magic alarms had now silenced, leaving only the eerie thundering of broken down industrial machines towards the rear of the facility. You enter into a domestic area with a set of sleeping alcoves, waste facilities, and a galley. It looks like they'd run out of food at some point. Among personal effects, you find clothes and uniforms, largely, and trinkets and keepsakes. None seems particularly valuable, but they might collectively make 30 galifars if sold to a collector of curiosities.
Other than that, you found little of value save a hand-held mechanical tool. Seeming at first to unfold into a pair of pliers, a quick investigation revealed a variety of tools accessibly by re-folding the device into numerous patterns, the purposes of some of which were inscrutable. Either way, it's compact form seemed to fit a full toolkit into itself. This set of Tinker's Tools would likely sell for 100 galifars in Sharn.
(https://www.bhphotovideo.com/images/images2500x2500/leatherman_832534_wave_plus_multi_tool_with_1401744.jpg)
-
Hel-Shredder spends a moment examining the Tinker's tools, before offering it to Dullahan. "Might want to hold onto this while we are exploring this place. I'll bet it might work better on the local machines then the tool-set you brought with you!"
-
Stella raises a brow, but does not challenge it.
-
Jundar wordlessly moves with the group, occasionally stopping briefly to inspect this or that.
-
"I wonder how they became undead." Brother Jonathan stroked his chin as he looked around the room.
-
Nothing about the room revealed any detail like that. There were more grey rectangles. Curiously, the textiles seemed broadly okay, but felt like no fabric you were familiar with. Whatever happened here seems to have happened a long time ago.
The door here led back to the mines, where a group of robots had been working around the remaining mithral bars.
-
“We going in deeper or going to leave? I don’t know about you but I am starting to feel a bit warm down after that last fight.”
-
"Indeed. It seems unlikely that we would retrieve anything else from here right now."
-
Sola will take a sample of the textiles, at least. "Textiles are always an important trade good. Consider taking them."
-
"There was more True Silver in the mines, but the constructs may turn hostile on us. That one before didn't know all the people here are undead. They may think we are raiders of some type."
-
Mr. Shredder ponders the monk's words. "That... could be true. But we shouldn't be mislead by the difficulty we had against the single robot earlier. We stand more than a fighting chance if it comes to blows! Unless the ones on the track have weapons, we can pick those apart from a distance, and the rest are likely in serious trouble when I cast my grease spell."
The Hobgoblin then snaps his fingers as an idea strikes him, and spins around to walk toward the previous room. "We should strike first to be sure. Build a barricade in the doorway out of the crates in the previous room, and try to pick off as many of the robots as we can from here with ranged attacks! Make them come to us!"
-
Detlas promptly follows said orders, blocking up the doorway with what heavy things he can find laying around., such the mentioned crates.
-
The robots did not come to you. As you opened the door, one at the top of the ramp fled down. The rest stayed out of sight.
You had returned to the ancient yet spotless mine chamber. The constructs turned from their re-enactments of a working mine now bereft of materials as you approached, each fleeing to alcoves and cabinets that hissed shut behind them. You cautiously walked back through the facility for more of the precious Mithral, robots scattering one by one from before you. Some watched, hidden away in their alcoves. One crossed the hall behind you, keeping distant and seeming to watch you. It sped away as soon as you noticed it. You arrived at the Mithral stockpile unharmed, and otherwise unbothered.
-
“They are hiding.” Atil said with a small amount of dispassion.
-
"They may be preparing an ambush, or they may simply be trying to preserve themselves. We may still want to locate the area where they are controlled, unless the unidentified rectangles are such things," Stella muses.
-
Mr. Shredder nods. "Indeed. They let us get to the Mithril unharmed. Odds are they are up to something. Keep an eye out for me please, I need to focus my attention on preparing the floating Disk!"
Hel-Shredder finds some cover, just to be safe, and starts to prepare floating Disk as a ritual!
-
”I may be able to scout ahead.”
-
"They seem to prefer preserving themselves, this may change as we take the true silver." Brother Jonathan watched the bots as Mr.Shredder prepared the disk.
-
The room you were in was filled with sounds from an inscrutable variety of alien devices, some roaring like collapsing walls, others making quieter sounds. All at once, you fathomed the source of a dull ticking sound as a four-legged construct passed into view some 20 feet away. Moving swiftly on three of it's legs towards you, the robot's fourth extended like an arm. A bolt of lightning arced between metal spikes at the limb's end, adding an electric thrum to the cacophonous room.
The ritual had not yet been concluded. Roll for initiative, DC 12
(https://media1.tenor.com/images/5c917e41efc45b00738bc8c5c4a4126e/tenor.gif?itemid=11066925)
-
Brother Jonathan is a bit confused about this construct and did not act quickly.
Init = 5
-
Atil tried to decide whether or not lo lead with his big axe it small axe.
Init= 2
-
Foyodor senses the threat before it even arrives, and has already disappeared into the shadows
Init=19
Stealth=15
He uses his action to sneak behind the incoming bot, rapier at the ready
-
"This automation appears far more suited to combat. Be wary." [18 tohit; 11 damage]
-
Dullahan watched warily, but hesitated on moving forward just a moment. (Init 2)
-
Stella's weapon impacted it's surface, seeming to slow it down but a little.
-
Init 18
Mr. Shredder considers the robot for a moment, before deciding that he would have a better shot a hampering its movements than he would at actually hurting it. "Lets see how those spindly legs handle some good 'ol fashion lubrication!"
The Hobgoblin abandons his ritual and points his wand at the robot. Suddenly, a thick layer of grease appears on the floor beneath it!
A 10ft square of difficult greasy terrain appears! The square is placed in such a way that the robot is on the edge, and the party does not have to walk through it to reach it. Any creature that enters the grease or ends their turn in the grease must make a DC13 Dex save, or fall prone. The robot must attempt this save now!
-
It handles them well enough, it would seem. The golem slipped only slightly before it's internal systems calculated an adjustment. [Save 22]
The robot finished it's charge, bringing the electric weapon smoothly upwards at Atil, it's reach too shallow to strike him. [Attack 9]
-
Stella tries another shot down at it, frowning. "This one appears to be armored." [24 tohit, 5 damage]
-
The arrow put a tiny dent into it.
-
Brother Jonathan looked at the construct and snaped his fingers to invoke the Silver flame to consume the robot.
Dex save dc 13 or 3 damage
-
Atil reacted to the hostility by gripping his Great Axe and hacking downwards.
Great Axe = 14. Damage = 8
-
Mr. Shredder moves away from the robot. He then casts Chill Touch on it!
17 to Hit!
6 Necrotic Damage!
-
Dullahan moved forward to take a swipe with his blade, the swing thudding into the ground next to the bot as he shifted his footing. (7 tohit)
-
Shots impacted the robot, jostling it as it approached. It swung it's electric limb again, and Atil evaded it as easily as a lunging serpent. [6 save, 8 to hit]
-
Atil swings at it again, not letting up its attack and working to keep its attention, working himself into a fury to fuel his axe’s sharpness.
Great Axe = 7
-
Jundar is frozen for several seconds as the combat with the machine begins.
He stares at it silently, before rushing forward with his shield held firm, and spear aimed steadily.
Darting towards the machine, he jabs his weapon expertly towards the robots "face", the strike guided by a lifetime of warfare.
[To hit - 25 nat 20]
[Damage - 9]
-
Brother Jonathan moves one the construct and punches it in the center of it's body, then spins to kick one of it's legs, and finally end the combo with a backhand fist to it's weapon limb.
First attack: 20 to hit, 4 damage, second attack: 17 to hit, 5 damage third attack: crit for 6 damage. one Ki spent.
-
Dents were beginning to show. The last kick made a popping sound as a bolt broke loose in the robot's leg.
-
From behind the machine, Fyodor leaps out of the shadows and plunged his rapier dead-center, his expressions cold and calculating
To-hit: Nat 20
Damage: 2d8+3+2d6=19
-
Stella, expression similar, backs up a little bit as she fires again. [22 tohit, 6 damage] "Quantity seems to be winning out, unfortunately in the long-term, but fortunately in the short-term."
-
Mr. Shredder zones out, allows himself to admire Fyodor's handywork, and fails to properly execute his Chill Touch spell!
[6 to hit]
-
Fyodor's blade slipped into a dent left by Atil's axe. The sound of something delicate breaking was heard, and sparks shot out, leaving the blade blackened and scorched where it had hit.
The creature's attention turned to the inquisitor before it jabbed him in the leg. Electricity coursed up through Fyodor's body, making him convulse involuntarily. [18 to hit, 34 electric damage. If this causes you to go down, you stabilize automatically but convulse for 2 rounds.]
-
Atil is going to cut at it again.
Great Axe = 6
-
Be unconscious.
-
A sick grin spreads across the Hobgoblin's face as he watches the robot makes short work of the annoying inquisitor. "Nine Hells! Someone please tell me that we can reverse engineer that weapon once we drop this hunk of scrap metal!"
Mr. Shredder grits his teeth, points his wand, and takes careful aim, not wanting to make a fool of himself and miss his spell twice in a row! This time the ghostly hand manages to latch onto the robot and inflict a modest amount of Necrotic Damage!
[To Hit = 6+5=11 +5(Savin' Face) = 16]
[Necrotic Damage = 3]
-
Detlas makes another lunge at the construct, but the spear jabs over the disgusting creation. He promptly starts to raise his shield, not wanting to catch the brunt of what poked the inquisitor.
-
Some of the metal around the dents looks slightly more brittle from the necromantic bolt.
-
Stella frowns, contrasting with Shredder's grin. She appears to have been focusing on the person who was tazed, missing her shot. [11 tohit]
-
Brother Jonathan gives the machine guard a hard punch int the side. He then grabs onto Fyodor and disengages by spending a ki point on "Step of the wind", moving them 40 feet away.
to hit 21, Damage 6 bludgeoning.
-
Jonathan's kick tore open another dent, exposing more circuitry and wiring. It's security protocols re-evaluated Detlas Jundar as the primary threat, and it turned, lunging at him with the taser!
[13 to hit] The hairs on Detlas' arm stood up as his armor caught the blow, sending electricity coursing down the metalwork and into the deck below.
-
The burst of wind must have left some air eddies, considering that Stella's arrow went extremely wide. [6 tohit]
-
Atil closed back in for another charging swing, determined to cut the darn thing in half, or at least cut off its weapon.
Great axe = 12
-
The burst of wind must have left some air eddies, considering that Mr. Shredder's spell went extremely wide. [6 to hit]
-
Dullahan stepped forward again, shifting aside to try to bring his blade down in a doublehanded slash towards one of the chinks in the creature's armour. (Tohit = 21, Damage = 13)
-
Jundar absorbs the blow, briefly freezing up at the tingling sensation. A short second later, he gets back to fighting and stabs his spear right down at the things joints, trying to poke his spear at what he assumes are interior mechanisms. He's brazen and forward in his fighting as he tries to draw all of the robots attention, relying on his armor.
To hit, 16
Damage, 5
-
Brother Jonathan could not leave Fyodor on his own, even though he had pulled the inquisitor from immediate danger. "By The flame be healed"
8 hp back to Fyodor, holy symbol down one charge.
-
The blows send showers of sparks. The robot's limb shook violently as it walked, taking what is likely to be a final strike at the warforged assailant.
[19 to hit, 27 damage] Electricity coursed through Dullahan, scorching darkwood and filling the air with a light smoke. Electric bolts flickered in and around his eyes and mouth as he fell to the ground, unconscious.
-
Mr. Shredder once again fails to hit the robot with his spell.
[9 to hit]
-
Atil swung with all his night yet again, ready to tear the beast in two.
Great Axe = 14 (10+4)
Damage = 14 (10+4)
-
Atil's axe buried into the robot and severed it's head. It slumped over, powering down.
-
”Oooh... damned machine.”
-
“Is it dead?” Atil said, poking at it with his axe.
-
"Some war machines can separate their heads." Detlas says, giving a short nod to the disabled Dullahan.
"Good to make sure." He murmurs, stabbing his spear deep into its neck hole a few times, before stepping back to let anyone else have a go.
-
"Machines can't technically die my friend, as they were never ali..." Mr. Shredder then remembers to whom he is speaking. "Yes. Yes I suppose its dead."
The Hobgoblin scratches his chin. "Whelp that was interesting. Atil, can you lift those remains? Or are we going to need another trip with the floating disk to bring the construct back with us?"
As he speaks, he once again begins to prepare Floating Disk as a ritual.
-
Atil lifts his axe and attaches it to his back, noting the chips that would need to be buffered out of the blade. "Let me see." Before attempting to lift up the head and the body of the bot.
-
"Know that there may be more of these. This people appeared to be capable of mass production."
-
“Then it would be best if we leave. It will only take two more of them, maybe three, to kill us all. Will someone be able to carry Dullahan and the inquisitor? My hands are full.”
-
Detlas knows he's strong, but doesn't even bother trying to carry a gods-damned antique war machine, ie Dullahan.
He opts to pick up the inquisitor, easily putting him over his shoulder, making sure nothing falls off.
Once and if the man wakes up, and can move, the veteran will set him back down.
-
"If we see more, we flee." Mr. Shredder agrees, "but we should not give up on this Mithril haul so easily! I'll drop everything and run if more robots attack us, but until then, we should proceed as planned."
The Hobgoblin continues to work his ritual.
-
"I'll see too Dullahan." Brother Jonathan lifts up his holy symbol as placed a hand on the war-forged. "By the flame be healed."
6 hp back to Dullahan.
-
Dullahan groaned and slowly pulled himself to his feet, walking over to pick up his head from where it had rolled off, and sticking it back on his body. "That.... was intensely unpleasant. Let's not do it again."
-
Detlas knows he's strong, but doesn't even bother trying to carry a gods-damned antique war machine, ie Dullahan.
He opts to pick up the inquisitor, easily putting him over his shoulder, making sure nothing falls off.
Once and if the man wakes up, and can move, the veteran will set him back down.
”I appreciate the thought, friend, but I am fine.”
Fyodor was already awake! Plot twist!
-
"House Kundarak will pay a lot for a guardian like that machine." Brother Jonathan looked over the remains of the construct.
-
"They might indeed." Mr. Shredder agrees with the Monk, "But we also have some tinkering inclined minds on this very crew! Imagine if we could reverse engineer that fearsome weapon for individual use! Putting a toy like that in Detlas, Atil, or Dullahan's hands could be much more valuable in the long term than a simple one-off payment!"
-
"That would be quiet powerful. This place is full of dangerous treasure."
-
"Indeed. Two Spelljamming trips, two dangerous yet profitable adventures. It would appear that the stars are far less serene than they appear to be from a distance!"
-
"I hope we find some people that don't want to kill us next planet, or at least some religious artifacts."
-
As Fyodor is awake and well, Detlas stands where he is, awaiting orders.
-
"Quite." Mr. Shredder agrees, "It would be nice if we found those space elves before we run into more of those nasty snake things. Religious artifacts would also neat I suppose... I'm not the most spiritual person in Sharn, but I do enjoy the study of reli-"
The Hobgoblin suddenly stops talking and puts a hand up for silence as his ritual enters a critical stage. A few moments later, the disk appears. "Alright! Atil has the big robot, but how about the rest of you help me load the Mithril!"
-
"It may be wise for someone to stand watch, Stella begins, "although we have not yet unraveled the mystery of this place."
-
Deltas nods, and begins to quickly and carefully transport what needs moving onto the disk. Namely, mithril.
-
Brother Jonathan helped load Mithril onto the disk.
-
Mr. Shredder helps Deltas lift. The Hobgoblin is not terribly strong, but he at least helps balance out the load a bit by lifting from the other end.
As he works, he considers Stella's words. "Fyodor, you good to keep watch, or is your brain still cooked?"
-
”I am fine, thank you. I shall keep an eye out.”
Fyodor stands with one hand on his rapier, scanning the entrances
-
[Redacted at request]
-
None of the robots bothered you while you cast, preferring safety in isolation.
The alarms activated again as the disk appeared, sounding over long seconds between moments of silence. You did the heavy gruntwork of loading more mithral, and began your journey back through the facility. The robots remained hidden from sight.
The doors took some work to open and close, and by the time you'd loaded two more, the disk began to fade. You were by the mithral pile when the disk winked out - but for some reason the alarm didn't stop this time.
-
"It seems they have noticed we are taking the true silver." Brother Jonathan nodded.
-
Detlas listens quiety, tensed up, half-expecting more machines to charge out.
-
Hel-Shredder also tenses up a bit. "Indeed. That is a bit worrying."
The Hobgoblin snaps his fingers. "I got it! How about we give this place some time to cool down? Lets take a break from the giant metal bars and move those alien boxes! We shouldn't need my magic to pull that off."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"There are other magical entities present within the facility now. Be on your guard." Stella draws her bow.
-
Sormias could begin to see wellsprings of necrotic energy and force magic moving somewhere below the facility. Whatever once this mine disturbed, it has been disturbed again by the destruction of the zombies. If it's a creature, it's a colossus, easily the size of a mountain or a storm cloud. The outer edge of it is coming.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"We should leave," Stella says immediately. "It may be what created the undead." Stella begins to head for the expert if the others follow.
-
"I agree, let us fill our arms and retreat to the ship." Brother Jonathan moved to pick up a crate.
-
Detlas takes a moment to glance around the room, and then grabs a crate or two as well, ready to double-time it back.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Stella will have her bow out instead of a crate, in case the thing gains on them. "Sormias--we can study it from afar, if it is this large."
-
”Woooh, that’s pretty big. That’s like, the size of a pod of whales.” Sormias comments, looking at the ground. She reached over and tugged at Stella’s sleeve, whilst gesturing toward the floor. ”Stella, there is a biggie below us. I mean like a rďrłvë, like humongous homolongobogongus type thing, and it’s getting closer.” She said casually.
"This is why Magic should be restricted."
-
[Redacted at request].
-
Stella remains silent during that particular exchange. She frowns, however.
-
“Right now your feelings do not matter. What matters is that we must leave or be killed. And right now, I rather not be killed” Atil said in a very matter of fact way before grabbing the captain and running towards the ship.
-
"That sounds like Wild Magic Inquisitor. A semi mobile manifest zone perhaps!" Hel-Shredder responds, "Not the sort of thing you can solve with a law or a restriction. But yeah, lets get the hells out of here!"
He then notes Sorimas' lack of urgency. "Um... Standing in that could be very bad. Perhaps turn innocent people into zombies levels of bad. I'd suggest running."
Hel-Shredder also returns to the ship, grabbing an alien crate on the way if time permits.
-
All of the crates you saw were near the entrance, and you'd already collected them. Light began to glow up from a borehole at the rear of the facility. Sparks flashed, and the sound of aged metal twisting and buckling followed in their wake.
You raced up the ramp as the room behind you began to 'fill' An eirie light filled the mining chamber. A panel slowly became brightly illuminated over nearly a second as if hooded lantern was shining on it before seeming to crack, black energy creasing along the light like shattered glass before vanishing into silveryblue sparks, leaving the panel broken. Scenes like it played out, dozens per second, spread throughout the facility, rising slowly up the wall as you ascended the ramps, and rushed out through the facility.
The skiff pulled away as one of the mirror panels outside was shattered, heading towards the ship that hovered near to the ground.
-
"Does anyone possess speed spells?" Stella inquires. The only spell she has access to is Animal Friendship, which isn't extremely useful in this situation.
-
Mr. Shredder Smirks as he works the rudder of the skiff. "We don't need spells to make this thing go fast. My skill alone will suffice!"
---
Moments later, the Hobgoblin puts the skiff down on the deck of the Kracken. "Kayto! I think we need to get out of here now! There seems to be some sort of mobile necromatic manifest zone under the facility, and its leaking out!"
-
Kayto wordlessly nodded, and the ship accelerated, pulling up and into the sky.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"It would certainly pass time, but the magic enhancing speed would depend upon the magic trick." Stella remains as deadpan as ever, double entendre or otherwise.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Would that not achieve the opposite of the desired effect?" quips Stella.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"I am unfamiliar with your language, so apologize me for not comprehending what you said exactly. I suppose it is true that meticulous things can bring amusement nonetheless, but you know that such things are not for me." Stella ponders the inflection of the Vaelish word to try to discern its connotation.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"I am unfamiliar with your language, so apologize me for not comprehending what you said exactly. I suppose it is true that meticulous things can bring amusement nonetheless, but you know that such things are not for me. Sola ponders the inflection of the Vaelish word to try to discern its connotation.
”What is for you, then, Lady Sola?”
-
"Nothing, perhaps. I avoid personal pleasure at all costs, preferring to do whatever I can for the good of all."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Nothing, perhaps. I avoid personal pleasure at all costs, preferring to do whatever I can for the good of all."
”A most noble goal. I commend you, Lady Sola. Few have the stomach for such a life.”
-
"Do you not feel satisfaction from your accomplishments?" Brother Jonathan held his chin as he questioned Stella.
-
Stella glances at Sormias before turning her gaze to Jonathan. "I do not. I recognize my accomplishments as good--based upon the information I have--but I do not derive satisfaction. Satisfaction is the sensation of having nothing left to accomplish, and is therefore death.
As an aside, she glances at Fyodor. "I need no commendation. As I have stated, such things do not influence me."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"I live because of biological processes, but I choose to live because I wish to improve the world so that others may do the same."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"Satisfaction is something I get from surpassing my old self. I guess it is my old self that dies if that is what you believe. There is always more for me to accomplish." Brother Jonathan nodded.
-
"Satisfaction is the sensation of having nothing left to accomplish..." Mr. Shredder repeats Stella's words slowly, as if he were a child still trying to learn the common tounge. "No... No... thats not quite it. Satisfaction is the wonderful feeling that you have accomplished much! It dosn't have to be a disavowment of future accomplishment! I, for example, am one of the very first people from Ebberon to visit another world via spelljamming, aboard a ship I helped design, with a crew I helped pick out! I'm not yet even 25 years old, and if I dropped dead today, I would be satisfied with my life." The hobgoblin states matter-o-factly, building confidence as he speaks. The ranting pattern his speech evolves into is eloquent, but Hel-Shredder's greed is so apparent in his words and voice that it comes across as more than a bit slimy.
"But I'm not going to die today! Hopefully not anytime soon! No matter how much life gives me, I know there is more to take! I could swap lifespans with an elf and not run out of things to accomplish in Sharn alone. Factor in these stars we now sail, and immortality might not even be time enough for me!"
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Stella ponders Sormas's question for a few moments. "I do not believe I get anything. I would gladly plant a tree that I would never see the fruit of within my lifetime. Would you?"
She then listens to Shredder's small speech intently, studying him, before responding. "If you believe that there is more to do, I do not believe that such a thing is satisfaction, however pleased you may be with what you have done. So long as you recognize that there is more that you can contribute to the world, however, the words used rarely matter."
-
Deciding there's too much talking, Jundar goes below deck to his quarters, to do whatever it is he does alone.
-
Deciding there's too much talking, Jundar goes below deck to his quarters, to do whatever it is he does alone.
Jundar reappears later that day with an extremely muscular right arm
-
The Astral Kraken departed this world, it's hold reasonably full, it's crew unwilling to brave whatever manifest zone they were leaving behind for mere mithral. Having established that this planet is not a clue to finding the elves, they reported in, and were recalled to Eberron for leave before making their next attempt. Ledgers were prepared. As usual, you may purchase any item on the ledger at the listed price, which is below what you would pay for them in a store.
The journey home will be 8 days. The downtime charts will now be available again. You may level to 3, and expect 30 days of downtime in Sharn.
Bill of Goods:
1 mortician’s set @250 galifars to be sold to the auction house
6 suits space armor @200 galifars each to be sold for examination and study to House Canith
30 watertight metal boxes @50 galifars each
3 bars mithral @ 2000 galifars per bar on the open market
30 Galifars in Alien Trinkets
1 set lightweight tinker’s tools @100 galifars
Total Value of Goods: 9,080
Pay per Adventurer: 648.57 Galifars
Final Profit: 4,540.01
Crafting Opportunities:
You may pay the material prices listed for any of these items with the included discounts, then dedicate suitable workdays.
Taser, Arcane Powersource
Total Value: 3000 galifars, 1500 galifar on resale market
Workdays to Complete: 429 (Recommend 43 arcanoforge days (costing an additional 516 galifars) in Middle Menthis)
Material Price: 375 galifars
- Alien Weapon @400 galifars, reduced to 200
- Khyber Crystal @100 galifars
- Mithral Alloys @150 galifars, reduced to 75
It seems worth attempting to connect this robotic weapon to a dragonshard powersource. When completed, it is anticipated that this weapon would hold 7 charges and recover 1d6+1 per day. A charge may be expended to make a dex attack against a target. You must train with 'tasers' to be proficient in this attack. It will deal 8d6 electric damage to a target which is never lethal, and causes convulsions in a target it downs.
Mithral Armor or Weapon
Total Value: 300 galifars+normal cost of equipment
Workdays to Complete: 43+ normal cost of equipment/7
Material Price: 37.5+ galifars
- Mithral Alloys @75 galifars, discounted to 37.5 galifars
- Additional parts, leather straps, padding, buckles, etc, by item (total price/4)
Mithral Weapons with the heavy property lose the heavy property. Mithral armor has no strength requirement and no stealth penalties. Mithral breastplates and mithral chain shirts can be concealed beneath most clothing.
-
Jundar keeps to himself during the flight back, as per usual. He sleeps, eats his meals, then he goes back to his quarters.
Much like the trip out here, he continues his rigorous training. He does very little else.
[Unarmed training - 26/70]
However, on the eight and final day of travel, the man knocks on Mr. Shredder's door.
-
Mr. Shredder waltzes down to the ship's hold, and claims for himself the inactive cleaning robot. House Lyrandar didn't assign value to the metal creature, and the wizard was never one to turn down free stuff. He recalls that Sorimas wanted it, but that was presuming that it still worked. If she were to come looking for it before the ship returned to Sharn, he would consider giving it back. Otherwise, he would find an artisan to mount and display it as a trophy.
Also on the matter or trophies, the Hobgoblin helps himself to the Alien Trinkets, dutifully deducting 30 Galifars from his pay in exchange for the prize.
---
"Come in! Come in!" The Hobgoblin calls. Mr. Shredder is sitting on his bed, scribbling in his spellbook. "Deltas! Good to see you! How may I be of assistance?"
-
The veteran walks in as he's invited, nodding to the hobgoblin.
"Sir." He begins, his right arm twitching a little. He's wearing modest, light clothing. He's probably about to go training, as usual. Or just got back.
Clearing his throat and looking forward with his neutral, almost dead stare, the man speaks. "What do people do for enjoyment now?"
-
Brother Jonathan continued teaching Unarmed fighting during the day on the journey back to Sharn, meditating and giving prayers to the Silver Flame in the evenings.
-
Mr. Shredder scratches his chin at the soldier's question. "On this boat? Jack and shit since they threw away the booze I'm afraid. If you are into casual sex, there is a pretty good chance Sormias would be down, but otherwise Jack and shit."
The Hobgoblin snaps his fingers, "but you are talking more in general, aren't you? Sharn is a big city, and the war is over. Whatever floats your boat, you can probably find somewhere to do it and someone to do it with. Myself, I'm something of a workahollic, so I like to have my fun in short bursts. Parties. I'm likely going to attend an expensive charity gig at the art museum once we get back. If you want to spend the gold on a suit and ticket, you are welcome to tag along. If that is a bit rich for your blood, I'd be more than happy to take you down to goblin town for a few rounds of drinks in Lower Dura on the cheap if we are on leave long enough."
Mr. Shredder falls silent for a few seconds. "They have fight pits down there too, if you are the sort of person who derives pleasure from the more violent aspects of his work. You could make some extra change if you are brave enough to wrestle a bugbear or two!"
-
Detlas thinks for a moment, his dull gaze shifting up for a second, before settling back down on Shredder.
"I don't drink." He's silent for a bit more, before asking, "How much is a ticket?"
-
"The ticket is going to run you 50gp. You are also going to need some nice clothes, so tack on another 15. Once you get in the door, you are going to have to actually buy some art if you want people to take you seriously, so if you are looking to use to party to extablish contacts with the upper class of Sharn, expect to spend yet another 100 galifars. If you just want to enjoy the music, art, idle conversation, and complementary food, you be fine just budgeting the 65 for food and clothes."
The Hobgoblin pauses for a second, before deciding to gauge the human's ambition. "Important members of House Lyrandar leadership often attend these art events, so showing up and looking respectable is perhaps the best way to go about looking for a promotion. Of course, you'd need to earn the rank of House Agent before you could even get the time of day from those folks. I could recommend you for that position if you were to give me 60 days work at the House Lyrandar offices."
-
"I don't care for contacts and interior politics." He says, normally plain voice carrying some sudden aggression.
"But the few times I saw art when I was on leave was...decent. I'll go with you. Thank you for the invitation, sir." Detlas continues, tone lightening. "But I have only ever worn my fatigues and an officer's uniform. I do not know what would be ideal for something like this."
-
A slight look of disappointment passes Mr. Shredder's face as the soldier disavows politics... but the frown quickly breaks. The Hobgoblin is quite sure that Jundar will prove useful to him nonetheless.
He nods. "Very good. The clothes should prove no problem at all. Just spend a day at the Tradefair Market, pick any vendor selling clothes, and tell them you want to attend a fundraiser at the Brelish Museum. Any merchant worth his salt should be able to sort you out. They might try to sell you a more expensive outfit, and buying it might be worth your while if you intend to attend multiple parties. People will talk if you wear the same gettup to a museum party twice! ...unless it is one of those super expensive glamorweave numbers."
-
He nods again. "I'll do that the day we land, sir." Bowing his head slightly, the man steps out of the room.
-
Hel-Shredder spends most of his time aboard the Kracken praticing with his leatherworking tools.
Progress Towards Leather-working Proficiency = 18/49
In addition to this, he pays a visit to several other crew members.
---
The Hobgoblin approaches Stella at mealtime. "Excuse me, do you have a moment?"
---
Mr. Shredder knocks on the door to Sorimas' cabin, hoping the abberation is awake. He knows that she is naturally nocturnal, but has no clue what hours that translates to out in the Astral Sea, where there is no true day or night. "Sorimas, its Mr. Shredder! may I come in for a word with you?"
-
Stella looks up at him, putting aside her utensils for now. "I do. What is it you wish to discuss?"
-
"That robot we fought." Mr. Shredder states, "the second one. More specifically its weapon. Do you think it can be reverse engineered?"
-
"I believe so, yes, but its design appears to be very different from ours. It would take a great deal of time and require many experts. However, it would greatly advance our own technology," Stella responds after a moment of thought.
-
Mr. Shredder nods. "I was thinking about the same. If we want to do so, We need to commit to it and buy the weapon now though. I'd be willing to offer 150 of my own Galifars to the project for supplies now, and perhaps another sizable sum after our next voyage to rent out an arcanoforge, if you would be willing to take charge on this. If you can find another crew member or two willing to go in with us, I think we should be able to pull it off, don't you?"
-
"Yes, it is possible. However, I question why you choose me to be the lead. Melee weaponry is not my expertise, although a nonlethal alternative is extremely valuable." She studies him.
-
"Well, if we reverse engineer it as it stands, perhaps you could learn enough to incorporate similar technology into an arrowhead or such." Mr. Shredder admits, "Hells, who knows what other breakthroughs you might make while working on this project. As you pointed out, it would greatly advance our own technology."
He lowers his ears. "I... I suppose thats why I chose you over Dullahan to head the project. I'd wager the warforged would approach such a task as merely the design and construction of a weapon. An... altruist... such as yourself might bring a bit more imagination and curiosity to the matter. The people who made this managed to command electricity without the use of the arcane sciences! Surely the implications are not lost on you!"
-
"I know that you are trying to win my favor, but your logic on the potential future applications of it is sound. Very well, I will help you. Perhaps we should discuss the rest of the funding after you consult others." Stella appears highly unamused, but she's not upset.
-
Mr. Shredder shrugs. "Why shouldn't I try to win your favor? I think we both know at this point the philosophical gulf between our worldviews is vast, but that is no reason for us to dislike one another. We are on the same crew. At some point it is likely my life will be in your hands or vice-versa! I imagine whatever good you want to do in the world will require funds, as do my ambitions, so the vast majority of the time I imagine our short term goals will be aligned to maximize the profit of our voyages together."
The Hobgoblin offers (an admittedly slimy) smile. "And aside from all that, you are smart! You approach or match my own intellect! It would be preferable, when we do inevitably disagree, to sort out our differences with high rhetoric rather than by shouting or snarking at one another."
He pauses for breath. "That aside, who else do you think might be interested in the project, and how much more do you reckon we will need to raise?"
-
Stella listens quietly before offering a characteristically laconic response."Yes, funds help, but know that funds alone achieve nothing. You are right, however, that disagreements should ideally be settled diplomatically.
She pauses to think. "You yourself mentioned Dullahan, so ask him if you are not concerned about his involvement in intracrew fighting. Brother Jonathan may be a wise choice, as well, being a virtuous cleric. He would have an interest in nonlethal options. Sormias is interested in keeping things intact, in addition, although I worry about unintended use of this object."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Fyodor suddenly sits down next to the two chatterboxes, without making a sound
”I assume you are discussing the useage of that machine that we salvaged? Indeed, i myself have given it some thought.”
-
Atil doesn’t do much more than avoids everyone’s foolishness while on the ship, resting off the numerous wounds he gained from the battles they had fought, and irritated that none of the things they defeated were edible.
-
Mr. Shredder is taken aback by the sneaky inquisitor. Fyodor was, perhaps, the only member of the crew that he didn't intend to go out of his way to get along with, but at this point he wasn't going to say no to extra funds for the project. "Indeed. I believe you of all people don't need to be convinced of the weapon's effectiveness, do you? We were just discussing pooling funds to reverse engineer the thing. If we get 3-4 of us to put in one to two hundred gold now to buy the Alien weapon and other components, and another one to two hundred after our next successful voyage to fund time at an Arcaneoforge, we should have a good chance at getting it to work. What do you think?"
-
The trip home was uneventful this time, save for a brilliant view of a passing comet for some ten minutes or so. Chevash d'Ghallanda extended a long pole and a net with a jug in it to chill in the comet's wake, pulling it back. He'd serve comet tail ice cream later that night, which wasn't exactly as good as normal, but it was somehow more interesting.
The descent towards Sharn was fairly ordinary, with the ship paused for an hour while a berth was cleared. It seemed you'd arrived at a busy enough time. Speculation about the strange alien civilization was, for now, largely confined to the house, though as tales of your adventure spread you had little doubt that Sharn would take notice of the discovery of a new ancient civilization beyond the stars.
Feel free to post your downtimes. In case you missed it, that's 8 days on the ship, then 30 days in Sharn.
-
Day ?
Detlas will make sure that he makes the time to go with Shredder to the museum whenever the hobgoblin says so. While he has very little experience with these things, he assumes that it can't be too different from official events and various ceremonies back in the army. So on this day, he'll wash up, and take some time to go to an actual barber to get a clean shave, and trimmed hair. By the end of it, he'll hopefully look proper. But he'll probably never shake that unmistakable military look.
Day 1
Just after landing, dropping his things off, and retrieving his cash, Detlas makes a beeline to the Tradefair Market. He spends the day searching for a good clothing merchant, and uses Shredder’s exact words as he tells them “I want to attend a fundraiser at the Brelish Museum.”
Day 2
The ex-officer is always haunted by the memories of war. But recently, they’ve been of a less terrible nature. Dreams of when he was a child around 15. When instead of fighting for life and limb on the front lines, he acted as a young assistant, shunted around to help where it was needed. Much of the time was at the smithies. He learned there, and saw tools of war made day in and day out. Fond memories. Maybe just because of how everything else was.
He goes to Lower Northedge, and rents out a forge. He spends the rest of the day working on his first project. A weapon that he’s quite fond of, something that’s saved his life countless times. A trench axe. It looks like a tool shed and armory had a bastard child. With the blade of a battleaxe, the head of a hoe, and a spearhead jutting out of the top, it's likely a unique thing for those who don't have some knowledge about such things. It was made during the war, and saw immense use and popularity, especially among the infantry in the trenches. The blade could be used for cutting and chopping, the hoe for digging, and the spike for fighting in confined areas where wide strikes aren’t viable.
Renting a day at the forge and buying the materials needed end up costing Jundar 7.95 Gallifars.
In spending his time out there, he also takes in the area. Lower class, certainly. But it appeals to him. Almost reminds him of home, the few times he went back.
He decides to move from the guildhouse down to one of the boarding houses in the district, and from one Gallifar a day, to one Gallifar a week, and from comfortable to modest. Not that it bothers him. To him, a “modest” lifestyle is luxurious compared to his life in the military and nearly a decade on that rock.
Days 3-29
With his memories and skills reignited by the flames of the forge, a certain sense of pride (or perhaps it's relief over having SOMETHING to do) comes over Detlas. It’s very brief. But knowing that this weapon will help him in his next fight is...good.
His dreams are now hounded by thoughts of death. An armored trooper like he had some of the best protection you could get on this plane. That was what saved him from the blast, no doubt. Now it’s gone. It’s like his skin is gone. And he’s only felt this defenselessness starting now, since there was nothing to fight on the rock.
The man quickly draws up a set of diagrams of his old specialist armor. Expensive, arduous, and so on. He spends most of his free money on this thing, and spends almost an entire month obsessively working on it at the Arcanoforges in the Middle Menthis Spire, hiring a full team to help him.
Between this and his brutal training regimen, the man falls asleep nearly the moment he gets home.
[Jundar’s old war armor - 27/54 days 348.47/1601 Gallifars]
-
Considering that work would not begin on the tazer until they return to Sharn, Stella would have spent most of her time working on her tinkers' tools. She hopes to invent new, better ranged weapons one day, perhaps based upon technology.
[Tinkers' tools: 24/56]
-
Atil makes his way through the area, deeper and farther down, ready to inact his plan to get what it is he truely wants, at the moment.
Atil’s 30 day plan:
Day 1-7: the Cogs Slum (stay at the flophouse [1.6 g]) fighting pits
Athletics = 17 (13+4) Dexterity = 20 (18+2) Wisdom = 3 (2+1)
Day 8-14: Lower Tavick’s Landing (stay at the Orien Express Inn [14 g]) Fighting pits
Athletics = 15 (11+4) Dexterity = 18 (16+2) Wisdom = 3 (2+1)
Day 15-21: Lower Dura (stay at the Cracked Mirror [21 g] and have everything moved out of the room, yet again, and replaced with warm hay and maybe a warm blanket for after the bath.) Fighting Pit.
Athletics = 7 (3+4) Dexterity = 10 (8+2) Wisdom = 20 (19+1)
Day 22-25/27: Talk with Kech and see if he needs muscle for a real fight.
Day 26/28-28/30: Spend time with Thalia, making sure she hasn’t died, yet, and telling her stories of the past, during the war, and of my current exploits, as well as the stranger we met from the war. A small token of hope in finding her husband.
Day 28-30: Check on Bravejo and make sure he is still able to work. Offer him 100 g if it looks like he is doing well, as an investment for new and better tools.
-
Mr. Shredder is taken aback by the sneaky inquisitor. Fyodor was, perhaps, the only member of the crew that he didn't intend to go out of his way to get along with, but at this point he wasn't going to say no to extra funds for the project. "Indeed. I believe you of all people don't need to be convinced of the weapon's effectiveness, do you? We were just discussing pooling funds to reverse engineer the thing. If we get 3-4 of us to put in one to two hundred gold now to buy the Alien weapon and other components, and another one to two hundred after our next successful voyage to fund time at an Arcaneoforge, we should have a good chance at getting it to work. What do you think?"
”A most worthy endeavor. I have knowledge of arcane devices and such. I believe I may be able to help.
-
"I'm also familiar with the Arcane, but I'm not sure how useful that skill is going to prove in this project. Sorimas casted detect magic in the ruin, and couldn't see even a spark of the supernatural outside of that odd necromancy zone. The people who built that place seem to have accomplished everything without an understanding of the arcane sciences!"
The Hobgoblin scratches his chin. "We might need to use magic to simulate the weapon's power source, but aside from that, the project strikes me as a task for a Tinker like Stella. Regardless, if we were to each chip in 125gp now, that would cover the materials. I think we should each contribute at least 150 to start though, to at least cover the first few days at the Arcanoforge."
-
"Do you plan on consulting the others that I have mentioned?" Stella asks.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"I suppose if either of you feel the need to drive the individual cost any lower, or get money for the Arcaneoforge faster, I could..." The Hobgoblin muses, "But the three of us should be enough, and if we have too many people claiming partial ownership of the device, it could get chaotic in deciding who gets to use it."
-
"Very well. How will it be resolved between the three of us, then?" Stella inquires.
-
"Well, we all have other weapons to use in battle..." Mr. Shredder muses, "so it will probably come down to who wants to use it on any given day. If one of us eventually puts in the time and effort to become proficient with the device, that person should be the primary wielder. Regardless of who is using it, we obviously should not sell it unless all three of us agree to do so, in which case..."
The Hobgoblin thinks for a moment before continuing, "we should split the payment 40-30-30, with you getting the larger share Stella, as you will likely be doing most of the labor. Does that sound fair to you two?"
-
"I wonder why I would be doing the larger portion of labor, as I am no smith, but I am not opposed to it. I do not spend time socializing."
-
"This is work for a Tinker, not a smith. You are not going to heat the expensive alien tech up and pound it on an anvil willy nilly! ...At least I hope not."
-
"Gemsmiths do not do so, but that is a digression. I am not a tinker yet, but I suppose I possess marginally more knowledge. Very well--how do you propose we divide the labor? Will it be done in a similar ratio?"
-
"In an ideal world we will divide the labor in a similar ratio, but I somehow doubt that either the inquisitor or I will be of that much use without proper training. If you wind up doing most to all of the labor, we will either give you a larger cut of the potential sell price, or assume a larger share of the cost when it comes time to pay for the Arcaneoforge." The Hobgoblin decides after a moment of thought.
Mr. Shredder gives Stella 150gp to use towards the project.
---
Upon arrival, Hel-Shredder notices that neither the house, nor any of his comrades, have shown any interest in claiming, or indeed even assigning a price to, the satellites that were found floating above the alien worlds. He claims them for himself. He'll pay 1GP to take out an extra room in the staffhouse for a night to store the large objects in while he shops for the supplies he needs to take them apart.
Day 1: Shopping
Mr. Shredder purchases the following items in The Middle Central Spire:
1 set of new noble clothes (15g)
1 set of tinker's tools (50g)
10 pints of oil (1g)
He also returns to the Artisan while out shopping, pays the remaining 35 gold owed on the mounted alien wand and rapier, and collects said item. While there, he inquires what the Artisan might do to display the both the broken cleaning robot and the 30gp of alien trinkets he claimed on his most recent adventure, and at what cost.
-
Detlas Jundar found the area pleasantly quiet. A modest lifestyle suited him just fine - a warm bed every night, three meals a day. Not a lot of meat, with dishes designed to spread it sparingly in the evenings, with breakfasts of oatmeal and lunches of mostly breads and cheeses. It was a simple life, but in many ways a good one, and perhaps for the first time Detlas realized that he could probably retire here and live out his days smithing tools and weapons.
Atil's prowess in the ring was something to behold. He didn't win every match, but he won more than half, and always put on a good show. Kech was counting out some silver sovereigns at a back table of a goblin drinking hole when Atil sat with him. "Muscle?" He considered, and nodded. "Yeah, we have a few legs that need breaking. I can give you a list. Go and collect from them, or break something if they can't pay. We'll split whatever you turn up." He was offered a list. Atil could spend a workday chasing down these people and roll intimidate, earning three times his roll in sovereigns.
As to Thalia, very little has changed for her. She's still a drunk at the railyard station taphouse, and still waiting. Bravejo, on the other hand, looks much better. A little fuller, less pale, healthier. He paused his work on a mithral halberd he'd been working on to greet Atil, and catch him up on good business he's done.
Sormias dreamed of home. It wasn't the only place the dream travelers visited, seeing the insides of eldritch devices, the forests of alien worlds, and other, more personal dreams of the other students, sharing moments of bliss and warmth, but it has left her feeling a little less distant to know that someone else on this world might now recognize her home.
Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens found himself with plenty of opportunity now to practice with tinker's tools at the guildhouse.
-
Still took the list and nodded, focusing first on the easy to find prey. It was, for him, simple food. It wasn’t like he would have to work hard. Just ask nicely for the money they owed, and return it to the people it was owed to, and he would get money for meat. Simple.
Intimidation = 7 (5+2)
-
Detlas Jundar had no interest in actually buying art. What was he, rich now? Where would he even put it? He'd made his stance clear, and come off as a little bit gauche to the cultured crowd he'd chosen to mingle with. Left alone, he actually examined the paintings, until one spoke to his heart.
Choose one of the following paintings:
A landscape of a part of his homeland lost to fireball artillery in the war.
An androgenous face, not quite human, who's gaze seemed to see into his soul and understand him.
A striking abstract piece, filled with light and color, that evoked feelings Detlas had never before been aware existed.
-
Days 1-16
Stella will return to her old haunt of Lower Northedge, checking to see if her acquaintances were still there or if they had relocated due to their work. Either way, she will pay three gallifars to stay there for three weeks.
Either way, she'll spend sixteen days training in tinkers' tools to get the remaining thirty-two days' worth of training that she needs. She'll pay an additional eight gallifars for the training as well as thanking the trainer for their gift of knowledge.
-
The landscape painting wasn't pretty. No, no it wasn't. And he saw images like this his entire life. But it hits him with nostalgia. Comradery, brotherhood, and patriotism.
But much more acidic kind of nostalgia replaces it quickly. Thoughts of deserting, loss, and the cold chain of command. He steps away, contemplating the past.
The picture of the face, he stares at for awhile.
What a strange look. The man can't remember anyone looking like this. Eventually, he steps away. Its gaze makes him curious, but the last painting really catches him.
The abstract art hits him. He'd never seen anything like it. It's almost completely alien. This whole city is bizarre to him in its own right, but this is different.
His whole life has been a shifting palette of grays, browns, and blacks. Dull farms, scarred battlefields, and a rock in a cold, eternally dark sky.
The past months have seemed almost...fake. He even once considered he may be dreaming, still on his skylocked prison. Or dead. But he couldn't dream something like this. Like this chapter in his life, this painting is brand new to him.
Intrigued about exploring the feelings that this painting has revealed, the man, suprisingly, buys it.
At the end of the night it finds a place in his spartan boarding room, even if it does stick out. It makes the rather lifeless area somewhat vibrant, and he spends some time each day of work and training staring at it, and meditating.
Maybe art isn't so useless.
-
Not quite ready to get back to dealing with the idiots in the House Lyrandar docks and offices, Mr. Shredder pays the 1g fee and checks into a Lower Northedge Boarding House for a week of learning and experimentation.
After getting settled in, he decides to rent out some workshop space and hire a few peons for three days to help him rip the alien satilites apart. Ideally he would like to learn a bit about how they function, but failing that he would be happy to simply reduce the large unwieldy machines to smaller components that would be easier to keep as trophies.
Days 2-4: Crafting with hired labor (Tear Apart Satellites) 1.5g
With the alien technology dealt with for the time being, the Hobgoblin then seeks out someone to tutor him in the art of tanning and leatherworking for his remaining five days in Lower Northedge.
Days 5-8: Traning Leathercrafting Tools Proficiency with instructor (Progress Towards Leather-working Proficiency = 18/49) 2g
-
After finishing her training in Lower Northedge, Stella will head to Middle Menthis to buy the taser components on day 15 (-375gp).
She will spend the next 15 days with a fully staffed arcanoforge, working on the taser, for 12 gallifars per day for a total of 180. She'll stay at the common room of the Gold Dragon Inn for one gallifar per day.
[Taser Progress: 15/43]
Shopping expenses: 375gp
Living expenses: 15gp
Crafting expenses:180gp
-
Lower Northedge is as sleepy as it's ever been. Few express any interest in the nature of your project or work, focusing more on small, local concerns, like who's dating who, and making plans for Longshadow, a 3-day unholy festival of the Dark Sovereigns, where normal people stayed inside and locked their doors, feasting with family and friends and exchanging gifts.
-
The satellite included arrays of inscrutable parts. Some were made of clear materials, others of golden colored foil. Many were wheels of one type or another that either spun very easily or with some difficulty. Spheres, disks, and dishes formed the bulk of materials, with some venting foul gasses if broken. One such piece was propelled through the window and into a nearby hay bale.
The glass panels were quite pretty. One of the glassworkers suggested attaching some hinges to make a folding screen to change behind.
-
Mr. Shredder claims the glass panels, and as many of the smaller bits as he can carry back to the Staff House on a floating disk. He offers the workers their pick of what remains as a bonus, and disposes of the rest.
Day 9: Mr. Shredder checks back into the Staff House, and brings Deltas out to the party at the museum for some carousing. -50gp Party Tickets.
-
Detlas splits off from Shredder and seems to pace around, briefly looking at art. He hardly talks, and when he does, he's about as sociable and charismatic as he usually is.
Often, he casts an eye out from the crowd, searching for his employer. If he's seem, the man casts a protective gaze over the area, still on guard even here.
Eventually though, he actually seems to admire a few paintings, and purchases one.
-
Mr. Shredder meets a bulk leather dealer named Oarsen Rool, a Brelish man of some girth. He smokes cigars through the night, and talks to you about the bulk goods business, feeding factories, and so on. Oarsen specializes in bulk deals, purchasing slaughterhouses and tanneries for his own supply chain and then delivering orders to major factories. He could get Mr. Shredder a 20% wholesalers discounts on large orders of over 1000 galifars, or a 5% discount on orders over 50 galifars, so long as he isn't fussy about the color.
The conversation had just turned to leather shipping and ways to measure potential increases in workplace accidents if a chemical tanner was installed aboard a ship when another figure joined in. He was a slim hobgoblin in a red, gold, and black leather jacket with pointed coat tails and a top hat. His suit ended just past his elbows, revealing sword-shaped scars seared into his forearms, marking him as one of the Kech Sharaat, an elite clan of warriors who's leader bears the Sword of the True King.
"Too vulnerable to accident. You would lose too many goods." He said, before introducing himself as Drush'ar. In truth, he'd come to more closely examine some of the paintings, but found something of a kinship with the pair.
The one that had caught Drush'ar's eyes was a depiction of the Day of Mourning, when Cyre was devoured by fog and stricken from the earth. The tone and light show the scene as somehow beautiful, with a group of hobgoblins watching on from a cliffside. Long subjects of the state of Galifar, the state of Darguun had begun rebellion against it's colonial overlords during the final decades of the war. With Cyre's end, they had won their freedom. Humans felt it was in poor taste to celebrate what happened, however it affected the hobgoblin nation.
Another nearby was a surreal impressionist piece. It was a colorful depiction of an airship in flight, the elemental ring itself depicted as a captured piece of sky, like cloth pulled through a buckle about the ship, made somehow seamless through the brilliant impressionist whorls of blues and whites that made up the sky. It seemed to nearly glow, and although the airship felt out of place, it was only through the magnificence of it's surroundings.
The last was a portrait. It was of a goblin worker, tired, a little defeated, a bit bored, looking slackjaw with a cigarette between his lips. His skin was clearly dirty, sooty from his labor job, and he showed signs of beginning to age. His sullen and serious appearance gave the portrait a strange kind of beauty that bellied all of it's features, as if to show you the life he'd led, and how it had colored him.
While Shredder considered, the conversation drifted towards piracy at sea, at air, and by the void. Shredder had heard rumors of space pirates, and whether the company intended to engage in some piracy of their own, or merely guard against it, the possibility was intriguing. Shredder found himself with a few other prominent members discussing naval history, privateering, and the connection between military readiness and profit.
The night, eventually, ended. Shredder left with his painting. He paused as someone was carried out. "I'm afraid he may have oversampled this month's vintages." A white gloved servant apologized to the operator, a halfling magewright. A bag of coins was proffered, and an address given.
-
Mr. Shredder admires the art for a few minutes, before settling on and purchasing the impressionist painting of an airship. The hobgoblin generally preferred realism to impressionism when it came to art, but airships were indeed a passion of his, and in the end, he planned on eventually selling or trading whatever art he purchased with the friendly people he would eventually meet among the stars. A pretty airship would be easier for Shredder explain to an alien than The Day of Mourning or working conditions in Lower Dura. -100gp
The portrait of the goblin worker was right out. Mr. Shredder valued an honest day's work as much as the next person, but somebody unable to climb above the rank of wage laborer by that goblin's age would be of questionable competence and value at best.
In truth, he would have preferred the one that Drush'ar had spotted depicting the Day of Mourning. Although Mr. Shredder didn't have any strong political views beyond the immediate interests of House Lyrandar, his mother, whom he still thought about often, had hailed from the clans of Darguun. She would have been happy for her people had she lived to witness that day. Politics aside, as an Arcaneist, The Day of Mourning captured the hobgoblin's imagination on an intellectual level. What chain of magical events lead to the destruction of Cyre? Could it happen somewhere else? Could the next Day of Mourning be predicted, or even weaponized and intentionally brought about? As inspiring has he found the painting, however, Hel-Shredder didn't want to jump in and snap up a work of art that his new friend Drush'ar might seek to purchase for himself. He also reasoned that said painting may be offensive to Dullahan and perhaps some of the other Cyreians that he knew.
---
Upon spotting the poor unconscious fellow being loaded into a carriage, Mr. Shredder springs to action. He whips out his spellbook, and begins jots down the address he overheard, while keeping an eye on the white-gloved servant. If the servant goes anywhere other than back into the museum, Mr. Shredder will attempt to tail them at a distance, using Feather Fall and Spider Climb as needed to enhance his mobility.
Spells for the Day:
Feather Fall x3
Sleep x1
Spider Climb x2
-
Jundar, ever vigilant, notices his employer on the move.
Even if this was off-duty, the hobgoblin is the closest thing to his commanding officer.
The veteran adjusts his fancy clothes for a moment, and begins to get a bit closer, eyes locked on the situation.
Should Shredder leave after the servant, Detlas will do his damn best to keep him in his sight.
-
The gloved man did indeed return inside, making his way through hallways. He eventually went into a donor's private room in the back of the gallery on the first floor.
-
Mr. Shredder finds a spot where he can pretend to admire some art while he keeps an eye on the door. He will linger until he sees something interesting, or is thrown out of the museum.
-
Day 1-5: Brother Jonathan left the ship and headed for Lower Northedge. First he went to The North Market and bought many bags of rice that was close to going rotten. Then he leased a brewing facility and a team of craftsmen for 5 days, to turn the rice into sour wine. he paid for a week at The Boarding House to sleep after working.
Day 6: Brother Jonathan goes to Morgrave University, to give guest lecturer as a visitor to other worlds.
Day 7: The next day he would head to the Galifan Couture. He bought a Cloak of Protection.
Day 8-21: Brother Jonathan returned to the Church of the Silver Flame in Middle Central Spire. He spent two week training recruits, while learning to fight in his new cloak.
-
No one was thrown out of the museum. The only thing that was interesting was that an empty cask of wine was being removed. It did, however, belong to one of the Museum's donors, a particular man who would hold a private key. It might be worth a stakeout at a future party. You may select the event 'stakeout the private room' the next time you carouse here if you would like to pursue this matter further.
Brother Johnathan's new cloak fit him well. He knew it's magics afforded some protection in battle, though it took some time at practice before he truly began to notice them.
-
Day 10: Mr. Shredder books passage to and from Morgrave University to spend a day in the library praticing and transcribing spells (-At least 5 GP. Actual spells TBD)
Days 11-15: The Hobgoblin puts in a standard 5 day work week in at the House Lyrandar Offices. He'll try to work on the manifest and other paperwork for the next Astral Kracken voyage if other house business doesn't consume him in the meantime. (+.5gp)
Days 16-30: Mr. Shredder checks into the common room at the Gold Dragon Inn to 'help' Stella work on the Taser at the Arcanoforge. [Actually training Tinkers Tools] (-15gp, 15/49 Proficiency)
-
Day 22-29: Brother Jonathan returned to Lower Northedge and leased a brewing facility and a team of craftsmen for 8 days, to turn the sour wine into Silver rice wine. he paid for two weeks at the boarding house.
Day 30: On the last day, Jonathan went to the Lower Central Spire to sell his new wine, shifting 100 galifars worth to various pubs and restaurants.
-
It was a chilly day in Sharn. Snow was falling, and Longshadow would pass while you were away. Chevash d'Ghallanda had packed for a feast, with traditional wines, cheeses, sweets, and decorations. Crates were wheeled up the icy causeway as a chill wind blew. The next trip was to another likely candidate star for the Elven port. It was expected to be a 14 day journey.
Kayto d'Lyrandar wore a thick ushanka and long coat. He smoked a cigarette, leaning against the ship's cabin frame as he waited for the loading to complete.
-
Since he will be out of town for the festivities, Mr. Shredder is already getting a head start on his favorite Longshadow tradition: Tormenting people he dosn't like with terrifying and brutal stories about the Dark Soverigns. Today it is the dockworkers who he deems to working too slow getting an earful.
-
The dockworkers looked spooked, but one patted a box. "Got our holiday wards here, blessed by the Sovereigns and the Silver Flame. We'll have no trouble at all. Besides, we'll be trillions of miles away from Mabar. Safest place anyone could be."
-
Detlas on the other hand is either unaware or uncaring of the holiday, and boards the ship as soon as he can. All he brings is the essentials, which is his gear.
Once on board, he prowls through as much of the ship as he can, searching for anything off or unusual.
Provided nothing of the sort is found, he moves to his quarters and waits.
-
"Aye." Mr. Shredder agrees with a wicked grin, "Wards help against the magic of the dark six. They are far less helpful if your Bugbear neighbor is feeling particularly overzealous, and decides and break into your home and scoop up your family to serve as sacrifices!"
The Hobgoblin turns away from the dockworkers to climb back onto the Astral Kracken. Waving back at them as he departs, he calls out a hearty "Happy Longshadow!"
-
Stella moves quietly through the cold and snow. It doesn't seem to faze her in the slightest--she wears a coat, but isn't rushing to get back indoors. By the time she's reached the ship, quite a bit of snow has stuck to her. She brushes it off before boarding, giving a nod to the porters. Truth be told, she had always favored the cold over the heat.
She looks out into the snow flurries, pondering nature.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Stella looks over at Sormias, briefly pondering why she bothered to dust the snow off. "This is likely one of the more profitable times for House Lyrandar to send us, unfortunately. Economic activity slows during this time period, so recovering saleable items would enable them to be sold during the spring rush.
Entities such as these have little care for their employees' personal preferences, unfortunately." She pauses. "Why do you enjoy the cold?"
-
[Redacted at request]
-
'I see," Stella responds, eyeing the snowball. "If you would like, I could show you how to make the berries into jam. Doing so would enable them to be stored for extended times." She pauses. "I too enjoy the quiet--it makes for easier meditation."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Stella looks back, somewhat surprised, but not uncomfortable. She had received similar reactions from the children in Lower Northedge."I would, yes. Part of my goal is to enable others to enjoy their lives." Stella doesn't even flinch at the cold. She understands that, to Sormias, her own hands were probably burning hot.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Stella does indeed not mind. "Although I am unfamiliar with the term you use, I understand the question," Stella begins. "I have need for little, truthfully. If I were to ask you to do anything, it would be to do as I have done: Work to enable others to find what makes them happy. Such actions create positive feedback loops as more and more become capable of helping others."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Stella's eyebrows migrate up her forehead. "I am flattered, but I do not see how that would help. As I have stated, I have no need for vanity items. What would creating such a thing improve, in your mind?"
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"An interesting philosophy. I suppose that, if I become known for what I do, it could be useful. Where would it be displayed?" Stella was not one to advertise herself, but it would be unfair to deny someone their passion.
-
"Can't speak for your charity work, Stella, but you will become known for these voyages at least." Mr. Shredder chimes in, approaching the duo as they walk up the ramp to the ship.
"Word is getting out. The staff at the Arcaneoforge know we are working on an alien weapon. I hired some people in Lower Northedge to help me pull apart those Alien machines we saw floating around the last star we visited. Sovereigns know I brag about our adventures around the House Lyrandar offices while I work there! If we keep at this long enough, I'm sure we will find something so captivating that all of Sharn will have no choice but to take notice! If you are clever enough, Stella, you can parlay that fame into the good works you seek to practice!"
The Hobgoblin's ears stand proudly. "I, for one, am collecting and preserving artifacts from and relating to our adventures for posterity sake! Once we are famous enough, and my collection is large enough, I'll seek to have it displayed! I'd gladly include that painting, Sorimas, or any other art you produce that relates to our voyages together!"
Mr. Shredder then snaps his fingers, remembering something. "Speaking of my collection... Do you still want that cleaning robot Sorimas? House Lyrandar was going to dispose of it as scrap metal, so I claimed it and brought it to my room. Its yours if you want it. If not, I'll find an artisan to mount it for display!"
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"That is the idea. Displaying it for all to see! I might have to employ your charm to convince somebody to lend us their public venue, but it should be quite doable."
Mr. Shredder chuckles a bit at the second part of Sormias's statement. "One as competent as you can afford to have a bad habit or two! But I suppose the construct is significantly less interesting now that we beat out whatever power was animating it. Still, we have been riding a hot streak so far; Two voyages, two interesting adventures! You think we will find more excitement this time?"
-
"We should be back in time for the Day of Mourning." Kayto commented as he walked over to the helm. "There'll be plenty of thick snow then over the upper city."
The ship began to lift and pull away. The snow on the deck stopped as the elemental sheath filled with fresh air. Snow flew past on all sides like a spinning starfield, illuminated by the ship's lanterns as you rose up towards the clouds.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Stella watches the two for a few moments, before turning again to the snow patterns. She'll do her best to listen, though.
-
"You know... nobody has ever asked me that before. Most people assume, perhaps rightly so, that us Goblinoids are just a grumpy people, and are grateful when they find one who is nice to them..."
The Hobgoblin falls silent for a long moment as he considers an actual answer to the question. "You heard me talking to that human back there, didn't you? The older looking dock worker? His name is Jacques. I've read his personnel file. He has been working these docks for forty seven years. FORTY SEVEN YEARS! He was working the docks when my father started working for House Lyrandar! That might not mean much to you, but that is well more than half of a human's lifespan. Can you imagine living like that? Doing the same boring labor intensive job, receiving the same modest pay, every day for more than half your life? I can't respect that. I can't even comprehend why somebody would want to live like that!"
The Hobgoblin takes a deep breath to unwind from his rant. "I know nobody on this crew thinks like that. This is a job for doers and gainers. You don't sign up for this madness unless you want to gain something from it: fame, wealth, power, knowledge, hell, even excitement. I'm... not the best at reading people sometimes... but I assume everybody here wants their tomorrow to be better than their today, and unlike Jacques, you are all actively taking steps to make that happen! That's why I like you lot so much!"
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Mr. Shredder falls silent for a moment, before shrugging. "I suppose you may have a point. But pretty much everybody in Sharn judges by their own standards. People see me, and assume I'm a militaristic brute because I'm a hobgoblin. Hobgoblins see me, and assume I'm a waste of oxygen because I'm not altogether entirely a militaristic brute. I'm just doing unto others as they have done unto me in that regard."
He sighs and leans against the rail, watching the snow try and fail to pound its way through the elemental sheath. "I don't begrudge the work Jacques does... well okay I do, but only because he isn't terribly good at it - competence is another thing I value highly... But I know there is a place in the world for dockworkers. I know I'd be up shit creek without them. There are even a few hard working clever dock workers I am sort of fond of. That doesn't mean I understand the sort of people who want to live that way. And family isn't an excuse to avoid risk taking. My parents knew I depended on them, but they never stopped risking their lives in The Last War. I like to think I turned out okay even though they didn't make it."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
It takes a moment for the cool of Sorimas' touch to reach Shredder through his travelers clothes. The hobgoblin folds his hands and interlocks his fingers, almost as if praying, and continues to stare at the elemental sheath for a moment before speaking again. "Thanks. That means something coming from the only person in town who hasn't been around long enough to know what society thinks I'm supposed to be... Even if you slipped back into your native language so I couldn't understand all of it!"
"What do you think of this view, Sorimas? You are pretty lucky, getting to see a snow launch on only your third ever airship voyage! When I stared doing airship runs, it took me a year and a half or so before I got to see this!" Shredder smiles, the weight of the recent serious discussion leaving his face, replaced by childish glee. Airship travel was always one of his favorite things, and riding an airship he had a hand in designing himself with somebody whose company he actually enjoyed somehow made the flight even more magical.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"I am unfamiliar with the term. Perhaps one day a dictionary will be written," Stella muses, turning her gaze from the snow to Sormias's. "I take it to be a positive comment, although I do not know what could be literal and figurative."
-
"I doubt it translates directly," Mr. Shredder muses, his mind churning to try and pin down the meaning of the alien word, "but the fact that it can describe both of us leads me to believe it has a very broad meaning. I somehow suspect that there are not too many adjectives that apply to both of us."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"I see," is all Stella responds. She looks down at her pale hand. "Interesting."
-
Ten days passed in the leadup to Longshadow, a three day feast. Chevash was still putting up decorations as you emerged for a traditional breakfast feast on the first day of Longshadow. Pastries, sausages, cheeses, and a variety of preserves filled the table, while symbols of the Sovereigns lined the walls, connected by garlands of holly and gold-colored paper. A jug of white wine mixed with orange juice sat at the table's center.
Post your 10 days activity, then narrate in as you like.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Unsurprisingly, Detlas does the same as he always does, much like a single-minded golem or beast of burden. He wakes up early, patrols the ship to make sure everything is in place, consumes a heavy but basic breakfast, and begins his strict training regimen. He always skips lunch, eating small snacks throughout the day during his short breaks. The majority of his training is intensive core work and cardio, with plenty of muscle-building. Assuming that Jonathan is still offering his services as a teacher, Detlas also sets aside time for unarmed training sessions.
The end of his day is marked with dinner, and him quickly returning to his quarters. Presumably for sleep.
Unarmed 49/70 or 39/70 if Jonathan is not teaching
And as the feast comes his schedule hardly changes. He adds just a few new things to his meals, but eats nothing more than that. Days are still spent training. Come evenings, he sticks around for maybe half an hour before going to his quarters.
And he doesn't drink the wine.
He only drinks from a very plain looking canteen of everflowing water. In fact, he's only drank from that canteen. He's had it when he was found on the floating rock, and he's had it on him ever since. Detlas has drank nothing else, and drank from nothing else.
-
Shortly after the spelljamming sails are dropped, Mr. Shredder knocks on Dullahan's door. "Dullahan, its Mr. Shredder. Do you have a moment?"
-
"Of course, come in Mr. Shredder." He'd hear Dullahan say from inside. Walking in he'd see the armour polishing himself, and preforming some small maintenance now and then with tools that came out of his wrist. "What brings you to my room?"
-
Stella will look into Sormias's language's etymology. It could be useful for an uncrackable code language--no beings other than those Sormias trusts would know it.
[Deep speech: 10/56]
For the breakfast feasts, she would have consumed the pastries and preserves primarily, occasionally enjoying cheese as well. She would have avoided the wine, drinking only water, similarly to Detlas. Aside from her education, she would have spent time watching the stars, meditating, and perhaps writing in a journal.
-
The Hobgoblin enters the room, nods in approval at the maintenance, and gets down to business. "Stella and I are working on reverse engineering the lightning weapon employed by the construct we fought on our last voyage for personal use. I purchased some Tinker Tools for the job, but found their use to be a bit less intuitive than expected. I was hoping, if you don't have anything better to do during the voyage, that you could give me some lessons."
-
Dullahan chuckled faintly. "Well, seems like a fine way to spend some time. More entertaining than just resting in my room at the very least. Come, pull up a chair, let's see if we can give you some insight."
-
"Thank you very much!" The Hobgoblin beams, pulling up a chair as asked. Mr. Shredder proves to be a quick learner. Dullahan may figure that with enough instruction, he could easily reach a professional level of proficiency by the end of the voyage.
(Tinker's Tools Proficiency 35/49)
---
At the feast, Mr. Shredder seems a bit more nervous than usual. He has only a bit of wine, and is unusually untalkative. Those with sufficient intuition may feel that he is struggling to hold something back. In truth, the Hobgoblin would love nothing more than to tell the crazy stories of his Longshadows as a child in lower Dura, but since many of them involved the worship of the Dark Six by his mother, or worse, goblinoids still living, it would be unwise to share such tales on a boat with an inquisitor present.
-
Atil will spend the 10 days practicing with his weapon.
-
Stella looks to Mr. Shredder. "Are you well?" she asks. She doesn't sound accusatory, but is certainly direct.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Brother Jonathan smiled "The Sliver flame is a force for good that goes farther then any god. The flame invigorates my soul, I can feel it's guidance as I train my body to fight." the monk pulled a bottle of wine from his satchel "No god has done as much from what I have seen. Now this bottle is for you." he slid the bottle of 'Sliver rice wine'.
-
The Hobgoblin turns to Stella and shrugs. "This is just a bit unusual for me is all... Haven't really celebrated a proper Longshadow since I was a child in Lower Dura. The holiday is a bit different there."
Mr. Shredder's hand quickly flies to his mouth. Shit. Did he say too much? He quickly looks to change the topic. He spots Brother Jonathan, and quickly sees a potential out. "Heh! Looks like you at least respect the Soverign Host enough to partake in their Holidays, Brother Jonathan! heh... heh..."
-
Dullahan chuckled a bit at that, sitting a little away from the table, mostly here just to enjoy some company. "Not sure I mind much who's holiday it is. It's good company and a chance to relax, that's good enough for me."
-
Brother Jonathan nodded and pulled out two more bottles of 'Silver rice wine', giving one to Dullahan and Mr. Shredder. "As Dullahan said. Any holiday is a fine time to celebrate."
-
"I can understand that," Stella responds impassively, although she continues to look at him. "I do not celebrate holidays on my own, typically. They are not for me, but it would dishearten others if I refused to attend when invited."
-
[Redacted at request]
-
Detlas doesn't answer, focusing on his meal and a small handbook.
-
"The Silver Flame can touch any soul. One can feel it touch without worshiping it." Jonathan placed a bottle next to Detlas. "As one can also feel it's touch and not worship it." The smile and presented Stella with a bottle of wine as-well.
-
Detlas gently pushes the bottle back towards Jonathan, his canteen sat in front of him.
"I don't drink." He monotones quietly, only briefly glancing away from his book.
-
Stella looks at the bottle, then Detlas, then Jonathan. "I do not drink as well--I avoid all mind-affecting things." Stella's meandering gaze makes its way to Sormias. "I do not worship the Silver Flame. I suppose I worship the Sovereign Host, although I focus on Dol Arrah--the Sovereign of sacrifice and diplomacy--as well as Aureon--the Sovereign of knowledge and logic." She glances at Detlas's handbook.
-
It's cover-down so Stella can't see what it is, but it's a relatively small book, although the word count on any given page marks it as pretty dense.
He flips a page to reveal a full illustration of several models of axes, and a diagram with an open helmet and anvil. It seems to be about smithing tools of war.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
"There is merit in the concept of monotheism, but your world likely works differently than ours." Stella seems to be unoffended, but she's also not representative of most people's emotions.
-
[Redacted at request]
-
“I worship the great dragon, and Semuanya. One out of respect, the other out of nessecity.” Atil said as he accepted a bottle and stored it away for later, in case the need for more food arises.
-
"I suppose that, if that is what you are solely concerned about, such a course of action makes sense."
-
"My father worshiped The Silver Flame, but my mother worshiped The Sovereign Host. The entire Sovereign host." Hel-Shredder adds darkly as he accepts the bottle offered to him by Brother Jonathan. There was little point hiding it now. As long as he was able to keep any discussion of dark six worship focused on his too-dead-to-persecute mother.
"I'm not religious in any way, shape, or form myself." He continues as he works the bottle open, "Among many other reasons, I guess I feel that I'd be dishonoring one of my parents if I chose one faith over the other."
The bottle pops open, and the Hobgoblin promptly chugs about a quarter of it in a single go. "...I know a lot about religion though. I can tell all the wonderful and horrible stories that a priest of any faith praticed in Sharn might known. Fascinating stuff! Got into the study because religious archives are the best places to read about the fiendish and undead entities a Wizard is expected to understand... but I have this bad habit of going a bit overboard when I try something new!"
-
Kayto nearly chuckled, though his reasons were perhaps inscrutable to all but Shredder.
Chevash brought a molten pot of cheese to the table, along with a variety of breads. He sat down at the table, and rubbed his hands together, chuckling to himself as he stirred the cheese with a miniature baguette, dipping it deep before rolling it slowly over his plate.
"Do you suppose the extraterrestrial elves shelter against the Dark Six today?" Cylia d'Sivis asked no one in particular in her usual refined accent. "Only, it's an odd question. This holiday traces it's roots to a schism in the faiths of Khorvaire. I attended a social anthropology lecture at Morgrave which suggested that the Dark Six were originally a separate pantheon from the Sovereigns which had been ordered unified under church authorities shortly after the conquest of the Dhakaani Goblinoid Empire. Racial and political tensions between Galifar and the conquered Dhakaani led to a series of rebellions and attacks by clerics of the Dark Six, leading to the schism, and for some decades after the ban, followers of the Dark Six took this traditional holy period as a time of rage, leading the rest of our peoples to shelter for protection over this period, and to liven the occasion with a feast, ironically appropriating the original Goblinoid holiday."
She lifted her glass, pausing. "And yet, what if the elves do not? What if the great battle between good and evil is not universal, but merely local to one continent of one particular world? When we cross the stars, do we truly travel beyond the reach of the gods?" She inquired, opening the floor for a discussion on history and theology to mark the holiday in her usual erudite way. She sipped her wine - a sparkling white with a cherry at the bottom.
-
Detlas's focus doesn't leave his handbook or relatively plain meal, either not noticing the broad question, or choosing to ignore Cylia.
-
Mr. Shredder considers the question for a moment, as he dunks a pumpernickel roll into the pot of cheese and formulates an answer. "...My money is on no. Sorimas comes from somewhere else, and she didn't seem to have any knowledge of our gods or religion when she arrived. Even if people on other worlds did worship the same gods that Ebberon does, they wouldn't have the same holidays. We measure time by how Ebberon moves around its sun; Unless all worlds move in the exact same way, it may not be possible to synchronize calendar events between them in a meaningful orderly way."
The Hobgoblin then takes a long swig of wine, and reconsiders his opinion. "But Brother Jonathan can call upon the Silver Flame, even on other worlds... So perhaps the reach and interest of a divine force is determined by the geographical distribution of its followers."
-
Cylia d'Sivis wore a sharply-cut red robe over a matching bodysuit - traditional gnomish holiday attire. She replied to Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens. "I attended a debate once between a theology professor and an arcaneer with a similar hypothesis. Only, it does not account for creation. If the limit of a god's ambition is where presently they have followers, how did any such followers come into being? And, for our purposes, why did the Sovereigns not introduce themselves to exotic worlds?"
"For all that the gods seem to fight over us, there seem to be whole worlds where they could once again create life. And yet, they do not. Some attachment must connect them with Eberron, for better or ill. Perhaps it is only mortal practitioners of divine magic that are unbound by such constraint?"
-
Mr. Shredder is wearing the light green suit jacket that he had purchased after the first voyage to attend the the party at the art museum with Sorimas. He considers Cylia's counterpoint for a moment before speaking again. "I find the idea that mortals alone would be unbound by divine rules and mechanics to be un-intuitive and awkward - even heretical if I were a Hobgoblin of faith. The gods are so much bigger than us that proposing that we can do something that they cannot doesn't strike me as an answer that should be seriously entertained without some evidence. Perhaps we are assuming incorrectly that all entities worshiped are essentially the same phenomena, separated only by values and agenda. Who's to say that The Silver Flame follows the same rules as the Soverign Host, Dark Six, The Dragon Below even Sorimas' Great Mother? They could have absolutely nothing in common aside from an ability to grant power to mortals. Some may have created their followers, and some may have been created by their followers. Some could be bound to Ebberon, and some may be found anywhere in the cosmos."
A grin suddenly spreads across his face. "The theological implications of Spelljamming are actually quite vast! Perhaps if we brought a divine caster of another faith up here his or her powers might work differently, or not work at all! It could very well be possible that the Astral Kracken and ships like it may be able to move questions of divine nature from theoretical debates in a lecture hall to practical field experiments!"
-
Stella is wearing her typical light-colored blouse and pants. She doesn't seem to be one for fashion. "Do keep in mind, Hel-Shredder, that ants and bees and other insects are able to do many things that we sentient creatures cannot. It is not impossible that they may be limited in some fashion by their nature." She pauses, thinking.
"As for the extraterrestrial elves, I suppose it would depend upon their culture. The reason the Dark Six are largely reviled is in large part due to their values. A culture with a different set of values may view them with respect to the other gods very differently."
-
Brother Jonathan nodded "On of the reasons that I first came on this voyage was to look for the Silver Flame on other planes. I have yet to find any indication of religions in the places we have been." The monk tapped his chin "I have talked to some people at Morgrave when I was there, they will also be interested in anything we find."
-
"What is the point of thinking over such things? I do not see how knowing or not knowing will give me food for tomorrow, or save me from an axe." Atil said, munching on some more sausages.
-
The Hobgoblin smiles at the Lizardman. "We don't know what sort of axes or food we will find when we arrive at the next star, so we cannot plan ahead. Our bellies are full and our necks safe now, so what should we be thinking about friend?"
-
“Planing ahead mean more than readying your tools of war. You must ready your mind as well, and also your body. We have plenty of food, still, so we should make sure it is properly preserved, in order to bring them with us, and train against one another, so we may properly be able to fight with each other, we things get difficult. If the concern is about what you should do to preoccupy yourself, as you wait for the inevitable battle, then you are not doing enough to prepare for the fight ahead.”
-
"We are traveling with a marked halfling of House Ghallanda! I wouldn't worry about preserving our food with Chevash around. As for training, I sort of see your point, but it is difficult to spar when your main weapon is a limited supply of highly destructive spells! My greatest asset is my mind, and these sort of discussions keep it sharp."
The Hobgoblin's grin grows a bit wider. "I appreciate your dedication to readiness and preparation though. It has served us well so far, friend!"
-
"All knowledge is power, Atil." Cylia d'Sivis insisted. "The Last War made that clear enough. Knowledge of advanced arcaneering flows from first principles, many of which are established through experimentation and discussion. Understanding the nature of the gods, and their limits, if any, may not provide immediate tangible benefit, but provides methods of producing more valuable information."
-
“That, I can understand. It is how Like money has no visible use, but can be exchanged for food, at a later time.”
-
"Yes. It is interesting, Atil, that you share my commitment to improvement but consider improvement a different thing.
Consider: Someone must have invented the axe in its current form by studying what metal does when hot, enabling it to be forged. Some people must have thought about ways to prepare food, especially potentially dangerous plants. Many of the things you take for granted arose from theory."
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“I have never concerned myself with those things. But, if ai have to think about it, it would be just as easy to assume that someone saw the stone melt and then harden back up, figured that you could shape it, since it was more sturdy than other stone, and then, eventually, as they used it, figured they could shape it with an edge, since it didn’t change shape easily. After that it is just running across shapes that work better for fighting, or what ever work you desire. Like how cubes are not good for rolling, but you would curb the edges to make it roll more easily, so you can keep the flat sides to show the number you wish to se.” Atil sneezed after his sentence was finished, before going to get more sausages. “I understand that knowledge is important, but it does not come from nowhere. It is gained through watching the world and practice. Your body will do the rest. Watch a deer eat a berry and see the same deer dead the next day, with no wounds, it was probably the berry. It takes more force to swing a blunt rock than a sharp one? You know know which one is easier to swing. It is instructive.”
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Chevash laughed. "That's just what Stella said but antisocial. There'd be good cause for that rock-melt-seer to tell people about it and ask what they think."
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Stella nods to Chevash. "I consider myself asocial, not antisocial, but you are correct in that I agree with Atil on the subject. Certain things, however, cannot be gained by direct observation, such as the creation of spells."
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“I am unsure of how spells are created.”