|Dwayne Lee Desmond|
I glance up from the empty space that I had been staring into, first towards my companion, next to the building before us. My eyes widen as I wonder how I was so oblivious only moments before to what was situated in front of us.
"...steamatech in harmony with a stunning melody of biome?"
"No my friend, I cannot say that I have ever seen any structure quite like this." I say in responce, my mouth agape. "Where I am from tales of steam powered wonders of this scale hold the same amount of believability as children's stories."
As I scratch my head trying to comprehend how something like this is made and operated something happened to confuse me even more. The gears around the entrance began to move in a rhythmic fashion, causing the wall in front to split apart, revealing it to be a vault-like doorway which, until now, had remained tightly shut. Out of the entryway stepped our employer, Mr. Desmond, who greeted us and beckoned us inside.
"Mr. Desmond. I am a man of religion who puts much faith in creations of the divine. That being said, never in my life, before now, have I marveled so much at something created by the works of man. Your estate is outstanding."
The feeling I felt was, I imagine, close to the what a child must feel when he notices a new toy that his father had placed in his room for him. I glance towards the Professor, to see if he shares in my amazement at this marvel of technology.
"Where I am from tales of steam powered wonders of this scale hold the same amount of believability as children's stories."
Attempting to press on I cannot shake a strange feeling about Father Hallowborne. A man who places such faith in the supernatural and fleeting ploys of the divine... He has always struck me as humble; I can understand why someone of such environment would not be overtly prideful, but to take up chain and bolt against what he may as well consider a "children's story"? Truly he is an intriguing specimen.
While thinking about the inner mechanisms of humanity and technology my train of thought is derailed completely by the movement of dancing gears on the estate ahead of us. As the vaulted entrance opens in a dazzling display of mechanics our host Dwayne Desmond stands before us. I refocus my mental energy to attempt to be a pleasant guest for this man.
"...We may talk on the way, please follow me, come in."
"Please, Samuel..." I motion my arm forward, "... after you, my friend."While thoroughly impressed by this man's works I still cannot shake what I have heard about him from university. "Yes, a truly astounding château you have, Mr. Desmond. I have to inquire, are these grounds kept by indentured employees? Or do you own an amount of slaves to keep all of these machines running so well?" My questions have a condescending acid to them, it's apparently harder for me to be a decent guest than I had thought.
Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10
I glance at Beux. The moments after I had made my comment about steam powered machines and children's stories he seems to have grown slightly detached. Does he find it offensive that I do not grasp the value of these machines?
After we are greeted by Mr. Desmond I am motioned forward by Beux to enter first, while behind me he decides to comment on the upkeep of the estate. "...Or do you own an amount of slaves to keep all of these machines running so well?"
"Now, Beux, I am sure a man as hospitable as Mr. Desmond would not partake in the ownership of slaves."
|Dwayne Lee Desmond|
Quite pleased with Samuel's words,"The works of man help us bring understanding to the stories of old and legends of God." Desmond nods at Samuel's humble words.
Desmond then shoots the Professor a slight, but disgusted look. "Professor, I see you quantify the important role slavery has played in history. At this point in time though, I say that slavery is both barbaric, needless, and even economically quite a steep investment. These indenturede servants as you call them, my peers, understand the role the role they play in the undertakings this establishment enrolls itself.
The majority of the indentured servants are actually a hybrid of hume conciousness and machina prowness. They carry out the tasks set before them without hesitance, and posses qualities that of an individual. Some of these servants are quite clockwork and machine indeed. Some even dare to blur the line between man and machine. The Artificial.
The three of you arrive at a grand white sheeted table. Paintings of war, peace, inovators, and the mundane grasp the walls.
You may each inject something into the world brought by the paintings.
"I offer you tea, Dorothy" Desmond gestures to pour. "Please, drink up for the task I shall drop will be a heavy one.
I have briefly described a use for certain objects I require. I hod a scroll, blueprint if you will, which holds the key to the sanctiuty and power of man. If you would accompany me or set forth yourselves, you two will become a part fragment of history that will ensure the survival of man. Father, I have aquirred you have knowledge of how this realm began and how it may end. Professor, your abiguous research methods speak of inginuity in your field, however others may view them. You two may be the personnel I need to help me carry out my endeavor to collect artifacts of old, and revitalize the security of man."
Desmond then nods and lifts his tea, slowly embracing the steaming herb.
A small amount of shock runs through my form as my posture erects further as it usually does when I have been slighted. Miraculously I remain in control of my pride and do not interrupt Desmond with any of the sharp quips my mind is currently racing through... A few of them even to chastise my companion; Father Hallowborne, for falling for this man's 'charm'.
Knowledge(Mechanics):1d20 ⇒ 4
G#@ d%~n it, I swear before I edited the post for spelling that I had rolled a 20... And looked at the spoiler :[ can we just pretend I didn't roll a 4? I don't want to have to rewrite this conversation.
Through my dignified defense I subconsciously take a closer look at his workers, perhaps to quantify their quality of life, perhaps to hopefully find secrets of their servitude when it strikes me: these workers are not humans at all! They appear to be some sort of Artificial humanoid creature hybrid. I decide not to interject this fact into our conversation... Yet.
After sitting down at the table and hearing Dwayne's proposition I must admit my interest is piqued. Crossing one leg over the other I pick up the tea cup offered to me and after a bit of silence I speak into the brew "Mr. Desmond, before I address your proposition, may I inquire something that has been tantalizing my curiosity since you had invited us to tea?" I take a long sip before continuing and savor the flavors of the leaf...
Knowledge(Nature)To identify the brew of tea:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
"I had noticed that many of your servants appear to not be entirely sapient; in fact, many of their visage give away their mechanical grafts. Now as to the morality and impact of this may be debate for some..." I swing a quick glance at Samuel only to close my eyes and continue, "... but perhaps not for others such as you and I. But then I had noticed that among many of your fantastic pieces you have donned across your walls..." I gesture with my cup of tea to the paintings, "That you have many unique paintings of The Fog." I place my cup of tea down after one last sip and stare inquisitively at Dwanye. "Perhaps this is the subject that you and I can debate the impact of?"
Having been recognized by our host and assured that no, he does not keep slaves, I begin to relax where I stand. Although I never believed that this proper gentleman before us would have been the type to own slaves, Beau's question planted the thought in my mind all the same. After all, common slaves would not have the knowledge on how to maintain such impressive machinery... or at least I would not believe that they would.
Knowledge(Mechanics): 1d20 ⇒ 11
As Mr. Desmond begins speaking, I catch a glimpse of the woman Dorthy who poured our tea. Something strikes me as off about this woman, but I cannot place why. Turning my attention back to our host I begin to consider what he is saying. I nod as he addresses my knowledge on the beginning and end of time, and sit patiently as he addresses my peer. Upon the conclusion of his speech I am just about to respond, when Beau chimes in.
"I had noticed that many of your servants appear to not be entirely sapient; in fact, many of their visage give away their mechanical grafts..."
I let out an sharp cry at Beau's words and turn another look at Dorthy. It was true, the feelings of unease I had before were now clearly caused by the mechanical way she moved and, now that I am searching for it, the slight humming sound that I now notice every time she moved. "My God, forgive my over-sight..." I whisper as I stare at her.
"...that you have many unique paintings of The Fog..."
"The Fog?" I say, bringing myself back to the conversation, although with a more suspicious eye, "What is The Fog?"
|Dwayne Lee Desmond|
Ill allow this one time bro.
The tea hints of Far East, you recognize the scent and know its trail belongs to the sands of Gerudia, a pricey import across the lands. It's name is the Psy Cacti.
"Ahh yes.. I can assure you these 'indentured servitudes,' the majority of them are programmed to function as you and I, however, the same concept applies to many of them for now.. as a hammer. Both are tools, perform certain functions. My tools just happen to appear and act like you and I.
Dorothy on the other hand.. Is unique.. The perfect blend between the might and beauty of man, and the perfection of machine. She thinks as you and I. She like many of us even though, needs purpose, and therefore stands at my side in my humble abode and place of work. She can speak for herself.
The fog now.."
[/ooc] Ill respond to you Derrick later tonight or in the morn![/ooc]
|Dwayne Lee Desmond|
Desmond now turns to Sam.
"The Fog.. You will not find on many maps. It lies in the center of this whole land surrounding a massive area and perimeter. Very little is known about this Fog, and how to traverse. It has been known to perform miracles to those passing near, or spell certain doom for those entering. Explorers have tried going in by air and foot. But to no avail, it's thickness cause most to turn around and some sort of force of magnetics messes with many machines.
I believe that the key to this whole puzzle lies at the center of it, but we are not ready to traverse this fog, nor for what may lie ahead. Preparations, training, and certain key supplies are needed before this key voyage."
Desmond takes a sip from the brew, giving Dorothy a most reassuring nod.
My eyebrow arches to an obscene degree hearing Desmond demonstrate his knowledge of The Fog. I shift slightly in my seat containing the anxiety as he makes mention of traversing the foreboding cloud... Perhaps this man is the means to the end I've been seeking all these years. Placing my hand flat on the table I start "Mr. Desmond, believe me when I say that if you intend to approach, measure or in any tangible way interact with The Fog that my services are rendered unto you. Take note; however, that I shall always remember that you had promised on your word as a fellow gentleman as you claim that I and my companion," I turn to Father Hallowborne and give him a slow assuring nod, "Are to act as entirely free agents. We are not automecha and we are certainly not anything similar to your prize creation..." the last bit comes off as dismissing as I lazily wave my hand toward Dorothy.
Leaning back into my chair I attempt to disperse any airs of desperation after feeling as though I was perhaps too eager sounding with my agreement. In a prideful attempt to maintain appearance I casually and sternly push my empty teacup to Dorothy, expecting her services "Some more, Psy Cacti, half full." I say with an overcompensating amount of arrogance out of the corner of my mouth.
"Well of course Beau.. I would never indenture fellow man. You two shall be free.. agents."
Desmond's slight grin turns flat slowly at your remarks, and still when gestured at Dorothy.
Dorothy gears towards the 'eloquent' stranger, strangely appearing to exhale,"Or half-full.. Mr. Beau." Her tone monistic, but feminine enough too. She appears to mimic a lazily wave towards the professor.
She then leans to Father. "Mr.. Father. Allow me to top the brim once more." Bowing to the smoothly shaven man as she speaks, in a more optimistic tone. She then takes leave, carrying cups on tray and away.
Desmond exhales,"Quite a doll that one." Slowly blinking his eyes gesturing hands up.
The mornings before class is likely when I will be doing most of my posting. It is the only time of the day where the house is quiet enough to think.
I listen intently to Mr. Desmond's description of the peril that is ominously named The Fog. 'How have I never heard of this before?' I wonder as he tells of miracles and calamities that come from this strange phenomenon. "... the key to this whole puzzle lies at the center of it..."
I cannot believe what I am hearing, that this fog may have some connection to the end. As my companion goes on negotiating the terms of our involvement, working as free agents and such, I try to formulate my next questions carefully.
"You mentioned this may be the key to the whole puzzle? Do you mean to tell me that you believe that this fog is somehow connected to the End of Days?" I wince as Dorthy addresses me, taking my barely touched teacup, as I am more of a coffee man myself. The presence of the half-mecha makes me noticeably uncomfortable, and I am relieved to see her leave; "It is known to those who devote their lives to the Gods that through metaphorical 'fire' the end is inevitable, are you trying to tell us that the beast that is said to bring forth the Apocalypse, or at the very least some secret concerning him, is contained within? If so then let it be known that I too offer my services to you under the condition that we act as free agents."
I sit back into my chair quite dumfounded by the apparent sass of the machine woman. Normally I would have an insurmountable amount of words for insubordination of an ordinary servant but... Well 'she' is no ordinary servant I suppose. After giving a few blank blinks I regain my composure placing my arm onto the table and lean into it. "Yes, quite a doll... I must admit I am more partial to the porcelain variety."
"...Do you mean to tell me that you believe that this fog is somehow connected to the End of Days?"
My stupor is broken when my confident begins to progress our talk of scientific expedition into his realm of prophecy and scripture. Naturally I meet such speak with skepticism and even crack a condescending smile but only for an instant. His vindication seems much more than only reciting theological theorem... The Fog is a truly tumultuous phenomena after all.
Pulling my arm from the table I place it upon my lap and straiten my posture, directly confronting Dwayne. "Well, there you have it Mr. Dwayne Desmond. You have intrigued and engaged two exceptional individuals to assist you in the intricate happenings previously prescribed. But now; on the side of frank, in what reciprocality do you engage us?"
|Dwayne Lee Desmond|
"I believe so Father. Many scripture prophesize about a mist of sorts and the fog fits that discription. What lies in the eye must be the cause of the mysterious happenings from the fog. I know not of the exact origin of these happenings, other than they cloaked in mystery and have recently sprouting up more and more. And again, I would never indenture fellow man. You two are free agents."
Desmond turns to the Professor.
".. Now you two may provide profound insight to these happenings, and if behooves you to both accompany me in some endeavor, and also act as agents on my behalf to solve this puzzle. I can provide assistnace in supplies and well as profit for your efforts. I am after all.. a gentleman.. and a gentleman always keeps his word!"
Desmond slightly points up, as if making a gesture, or point..
I clear my throat and stand up. The others look at me as I stare back at them. Many thoughts have been rolling around in my mind since we arrived, but hearing that this fog may be connected to the End of Days, I no longer feel the need to be patient with this man who I am not sure if I can completely trust anyways.
"Mr. Desmond. If you say that we may act as free agents, then I must request that you allow us to be free at this time. If this fog is truly connected to the End then we can waste no time in preparing ourselves for it. What happened not long ago in the crypt and then shortly after with the fissure splitting the city street in two may already be harbinger signs that time is growing short. It seems that something has acted as a catalyst to stir whatever is in this fog, whether it be divine, technological, or both, but I do not feel comfortable idly sitting here speaking about doing something when we could be actually doing something. You gave your word as a gentleman that you would assist us, and I ask you now to make good on your word and provide us with the assistance that we require in order to get to the bottom of this mystery."
|Dwayne Lee Desmond|
Desmond, taken back by this apparent change I'm Father's demeanor.. Nods back back takes back, sips his brew, and sets it down. His demeanor.. too changes.
"Well, by all means do something. I for one tend to not rush into things. Proper preparations, plans, equipment, manpower, contingincies, and etc.. must be put into place. And yes, I have access to many things. In due time we will aquire what is needed. But take notice, as 'free' agents, I may not always be able to provide the utmost assistance in the most timely fashion. I please ask, you sit down, if not for only a moment longer.. And we will plan the logistics and gather the material needed. Please."
Desmond takes a deep breath, resting again elbows on table, raising his brew again.
His glow starts to return, as does Dorothy with refreshments, parchment, and quill.
Gathered are empty charts, maps, and paper to assess and make travel plans and record data.
Refreshments include: Were Boar Ham&Ryhulian goat cheese, Gerudan Basil salt crackers, assortment of Aquan acquired and produced fruits.
"I... apologize. I did not mean to preach at you as I do in my congregations, I am simply eager to get started."
I sit back down in my chair as requested of me. As Dorthy returns I once again grow slightly uncomfortable with her in the room, but I try to not let it show as I reach for one of the basil salt crackers. I glance over the empty charts and maps as they are brought out.
"Mr. Desmond, please proceed. Where must we go first and what must we bring?"
|Dwayne Lee Desmond|
Desmond nods in assurement.
"I do promise you, we shall act and soon. First, I will reiterate the dimensions of our operations. In the four corners of these lands, Ceasaria, lay artifacts that we must recover at all cost. The diagrams I have control over the colossal mechanism demand it. Whence these items are ours, we may begin to commence into the fog, and face the endeavors that await. I do agree with you gather that we must act in haste."
"A train leaves for the north and east lands at the end of this week.. Oh my that's tomorrow at high noon. Gather what supplies you believe you need and feel free to stay in my manor for the night if you wish. Tomorrow I will have my things packed, along with some supplies which may prove of some use to you two."
"I will end our discussion here and let you two commerce and commence. Of course before we break free, ask any questions you deem necessary. I will then draft copies off maps and charts to you two. Thank you."
Desmond takes another sip of brew.
Dorothy retreats to the wall of the room.
After you two are both satisfied with the current conversation. Go ahead and buy supplies and let me know via discussion posts you both are ready to proceed!
My companion stands quite abruptly and casts the visage of passion across the table that we sit at. As he speaks his mind I listen and feel assurance... Not in the brashness of his proposition but in his conviction to action. I place both elbows on the table, criss-crossing my fingers into a double fist that I rest upon my lips while Father Hallowborne completes his oration. With eyes closed and eyebrows dancing in the waltz of noesis my ears perk with Mr. Desmond's stern rebuttal.
"I will end our discussion here and let you two commerce and commence. Of course before we break free, ask any questions you deem necessary. I will then draft copies off maps and charts to you two. Thank you."
"And there we have it! How eventful, how engaging!" I sit back in my chair raising my once again empty cup of Psy Cacti. "This business agreement has been quite entrancing and, Mr. Desmond, I do hope you understand my previous roughness as only being myself to err of the side of caution; as is my nature." I place the cup down onto the small plate in front of me, smooshing the china into the remainder of Rhyulain cheese.
Scooting my chair out I sidle along the table until I am directly behind sitting-Samuel, placing my hand upon his shoulder. "Father, are you prepared to depart in preparation? Or does your riveting", my hand gives a small squeeze as I say the word through my grinning teeth, "devotion require more sustenance from our host?"
"Father, are you prepared to depart in preparation? Or does your riveting devotion require more sustenance from our host?"
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18
"Er, yes Beau, I am prepared to depart to go gather supplies." I say to my companion. He seems to want to get me away from our host and speak to me in private. I can not say that I am opposed to the idea either, eying Dorthy with an uncertain glance as the thought occurs. "I thank you for the hospitality this evening, Mr. Desmond, and for the information. I take my leave of you now to go prepare for the journey ahead."
I signal a blessing in the air on our host and his home as Beau and I start for the door. I give my companion an inquisitive look, to which he gives me a sharp glance in return, as if to say wait until we are out of sight and earshot.
CLINK, CLANK, COIK, CLOOK!
Father Hallowborne and myself hastily make retreat from Dwayne Demond's estate. Walking through his grounds I remain silently urging Samuel to keep following until I am certain we are out of surveillance. Walking on the path we took to our host's gate I take a long gander back, flicking the rim of my bowler.
"Well, Father... It seems that the severity of our task has been multiplied infinity fold. I hope you are comfortable with the business arrangement we had made with Mr. Desmond back there. I can say with utmost honesty that my mind is swimming in deduction." I look at my well polished boots and notice a small scuff from our previous haste... Reaching into my coat pocket I palpate the small gear we had found by the Chasm " Ah well," I again turn to my confident; clasping my hands together, "I guess we've got much to do! Shall you accompany me into town for preparation, sir?"
Most important of all I would like to revisit 'Ol Malley' for him to determine what my punching dagger is fully capable of. I would also like to inquire him about the gear that we found. And I would like to buy stuff! :D
As the eloquent man takes leave, he shares his notes, maps, and prints on the table.
The day is still bright and shop keeps stand. Ol Malley may be running around.
Lemme know where you both are and I'll adjust as such. Role play with Ol Malley, but any other purchases may be made on the side with a brief description.
"I wouldn't say that I am entirely comfortable with it, but if Desmond speaks true then we must abide by his plan all the same." I continue walking swiftly alongside Beau, he clearly is still in a hurry to put the manor house far behind us. "As my grandfather Ignavis told me once when I was very young, if you have the chance to kill a demon, don't you dare run away." I glance at Beau, "It seems likely that within this Fog, I will have that chance. I shall accompany you in to town to make preparations, my friend."
I let what Samuel says sink in for a few moments on our walk into town, for some reason I find the advice of his grandfather to be a subject of deduction. My mulling is broken when I feel the cobble under my leather boots. "I apologize for my uncharacteristic lull during our walk, Father. It's just that my attention was focused inward, is all." I pull my hat from my crown to allow my hair to breathe a bit. " I was mostly taxed with the admonition of your grandfather, Ignward was it?" I run my fingers through my hair and place my bowler back upon my scalp, "I am unsure why I find the perplexity of Demons and such to be of preoccupation for myself... But I assure you it is merely out of astute intrigue; not and never fascination."
Smiling with eyes closed to my friend I attempt to relocate Ye Old Bagelry, and wonder what Samuel has on his mind for this last trip into Hidden Valley.
Just to get it out of the way I would like to purchase:
Long Sword x2
And would like to create:
Acid x2 (from my centipede's acid) - Craft Alchemy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23
Lantern Oil x1 Craft Alchemy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
Potion of Cure Light Wounds x1 Craft Alchemy: Take 20.
I spelled Samuel's grandfather's name wrong in my above post, it should be 'Ignavus'"
As we walk silently in to town once again searching out Ol Malley at the Bagelry I am startled by the sudden speech by mynormally sociable companion.
"Ignavus, actually. I don't blame you for hearing it wrong, it is a foreign name I am told, although I was never told exactly where he came to this country from..." I do not speak for a moment or two, as I am trying to find the right way to respond to the Professor's comments. "With all due respect for your intellect and sense Beau, if you would ever have met him I would dare to say that your intrigue very well may have given way to fascination; my grandfather was an... interesting man. His obsession with demons and their destruction made it all but impossible for me to grow up without forming my own interests as well. I never got a chance to ask him exactly why though before he passed away... but enough of that for now, look, there is the bagelry."
"... but enough of that for now, look, there is the bagelry."
Giving a solemn nod at the mention of the deceased I briskly move ahead and uncover myself when opening the door for my Holy friend. It is almost disappointing that we had arrived at our destination so quickly. It seemed that I was finally gaining insight on Samuel's inner mechanics and past, but to push the subject would be improper etiquette. "Agreed, I do hope that we can continue this dialogue in a more fitting scenario, friend."
Cracking the door open the heavily saturated air rushes forth past the two of us. I see the old sight of the Bagelry, the flour covered floor, the young commoners... I instinctually extend my left arm to my side and quickly remember the absence of a hat-rack. I turn the failed movement into an awkward gesture that resembles a fully extended arm wave and smile, "Hello again, good sir!" I speak with bold and hearty airs, "Mr. Malley! It must be surprising to gaze upon us once more, is it not? I do not recall if we had the joys of reconvening after escaping the murderous-cadaver crypt you had us investigate!" My tone is has notes of accusation and sarcasm to it.
I grin broadly and walk up to the counter, with a *slap* I place my dagger-gloved hand in plain sight on the wooded surface for our old acquaintance.
The Bagelry smells of familiar spice; Gerudan herbs, Romain Crust, Ryhule Cheese, and Antarticia Snow Berries. The sign reads this special today, 2 cp per Bagllete.
O' Malley turns to the both of you and cocks a brow. He smiles.
"Ahh my good sirs.. What do I owe the pleasure? Murderous? Cadaver? Crypt? When did I have you do any such thing thing!? ... Oh wait.. Yes I did! Moving on..
These items, treasures, you both now hold.. Lemme see.. Ooh lemme see!"
Malley turns his head to the side. Turns the trinkets over, sighs, coughs, and ahhs can be heard.
In a more serious manner.
"All right from the top:
To recap, the Tome, or Parchment, details and describes historical or biblical events, End of Days and the like.
This glove here, now I'm in better light and early day, perhaps a more detailed approach. Hmm.. Yes.. For you? This will suit nicely. Expert Craftsmanship. The glove, or its name is Vain's Catalyst, perfectly hides a blade that retracts and extracts as a free action. It can hold four separate vials, which can contain anything from spell components, potions, poisons, powders, goop, soup, soda.. Sorry. The blades extraction system also works in hand with the vials to serve as a catalyst or ignition. This baby can light fuses.. Bombs!
Will include meta game on how to use as well.Father Man! That head thing! Or more technical the Lord's Crown,the remarkable antique piece, yet also stylish. A small holy symbol protrudes the centerpiece. It seems it can be activated (swift action) to shine a bright light (cone) or intensify the holy signal (swift action). Its shape and design also help the bearer quite possibly deflect blows(Deflect AC1) and adds to the bearers charisma (+1 on charisma based checks).
Very nice find."
O Malley rests his elbows back on the counter.
My eyes widen at the wonderful news, my eye-brows reaching an obscene peak with all of the excitement. I lift my arm, putting the glove relatively close to my face and once again play with the trigger mechanism. The old man was right! I'm unsure how I missed it before but quite simply four spring-loaded compartments pop open with a twitch of my fingers! "Wonderful! I knew I was right to be curious about such a device! Well, then again I AM most often right." I say with a smile, almost playing with the device, "Even with my humble, yet substantial, knowledge about mechanics my mind is abuzz with numerous implications for this artifact, perhaps a catalytic propelling fueled hydrokinetic displacement compound! Or even thueagmentation of its tension coiled projecting apparatus! OR PERHAPS-" I catch myself mid ramble and grin at the old bagelry owner who seems to be nodding at every step of my brainstorming but then I glance at Father Hallowborne and give an apologetic look to my company. "My apologies, friends. How very untactful of me."
I quit playing with the device and place my hand on the shoulder of Father Hallowborne. And give a quick wave to Ol Malley, "I hope you find your tiara to be of use, Samuel." I say with a laugh, making my intention to leave clear.
Taking in the crisp morning air I walk the main stretch of road outside of the bagelry, keeping myself parallel to the giant fissure that now bisects the street. Again I wonder what could have possibly caused such a disaster. I shiver as a cool breeze moves across the way. I cross my arms and, seeing that the sun was already creeping over the buildings, I decide to return to the Bagelry to see if Beau had awoken. It was time to get this invertigation of biblical proportions started.
I move with a slight job catching up to Father Hallowborne, my boots clopping atop the hard wooden floors. Coming out of the Bagelry I see my ally walking to the building and quickly stash my vials and reagents into my coat. Hands still pocketed I nod to him, "Ah, Samuel I apologize for the delay, but my alchemetical compulsion demanded a quick itch... We must keep our skills sharp to avoid mental oxidation, no?" I begin walking with Father Hallowborne down the cobbled path, I can plainly see that his attention focused on the damaged street, surely it must be bothering him.
"You too, Father?" my eyes are looking down at street beneath us, not for much reason, just a fixated gaze, "I have been pondering as well. That strange statue... In the courtyard. The one your astute wit activated?" my gaze fixes upon my friend. "Perhaps the two events are linked? They surely are unusual, and in such small time... And in our proximity? Coincidence is often a mask for correlation, I've found." In my coat pocket, my fingers grasp one larger vial in particular as I fish it out. Lifting my gloved hand I activate the spring loaded capsule bay and insert the glass flacon. With a flick I close the small hatch and smile to my friend, "Best to be prepared, my friend."
|Dwayne Lee Desmond|
"Good morning my good sirs. I trust this passing time has been pleasant enough? Good."
Dwayne nods affirmatively.
"Now here are your notes and briefing. If you two require a map of the land and layout you need only ask. Although I am sure you have something on hand."
"And of course a payment up front.."
He hands each of you 100gp..
"I was expecting another young man. But I won't bother for now. If he ever decides to show I'll cart him to where your way about may be. I for now will be manning operations here. But don't be surprised if I bump into you along the road, as I my part to play as well."
"The first artifact should be somewhere near this capital. If you are to come across it 'accompanying cog', I have an instrument, compass, that may assist you in finding it."
Desmond hands you one more trinket before bowing and opening the floor.
I take the compass from Desmond as he leaves for the door. I look at it's intriquate copper and brass design admiring the handiwork. "Beau my friend, this is an admirable piece." I pace about anxiously. I suppose the only thing left to do in the area is leave it. Shall we be off then? All of this waiting is making me nervous. I would hate to be here if another fissure were to open. Let us find the cause of these unholy events and put a stop to them."
As the professor and I walk out of the shop I remember him playing with a larger of his flasks earlier. "That flask from earlier seemed special in some way, would you care to elaborate?"
The talk with Desmond seems to be but one subject: business. Few formalities were exchanged as I let my companion do the talking, I would have taken much longer on the helm, I suppose. With the money pocketed and the parchments carefully folded and stowed we take our leave,
"Shall we be off then?"
I take my partner's lead and note his caution, "Samuel, if we're to be meddling in the business of 'Unholy' forces with such intent, then we'd best expect a more escalated calamity in a more direct manner. Perhaps our first stage should be to... well, to stage!" I gesticulate with raising my hands, "Careful planning, as well as tact; with a pinch of subterfuge and a generous amount of charm, that's the Skyraper secret formula!"
Walking to the nearest transportation hub the silent clatter of the city is broken,
"That flask from earlier seemed special in some way, would you care to elaborate?"
For a quick second, my throat lumps. Mouth agape I search for a distracting remark, to no avail I clear my throat after an uncouth amount of time, "Ah, well ahem. Alchemy and such, Father, is all about... Well, to be truthful, there are three facets of alchemy; true alchemy, that is." I rub my neck with my weaponized hand and begin again, "The first is as we discussed earlier: Careful planning... And that's just what that vial is! Aha ha!"
Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 3
"Ah planning, yes I agree. I am sure whatever plan you have in store will be effective. After all, I've trusted you thus far, and it has worked out well."
I take a moment to think about what we should do next. With so much that has happened lately it seemed a many forked road as to where to start.
"It seems to me Beau that before we can begin to go anywhere we must first acquire some form of transportation. Desmond gave us a good sum, so what say we purchase something to move us along."
Father Hallowborne seems to be a truly trustworthy companion, I'd count myself lucky that he has so much faith in my abilities, then again he is a man of faith. Thinking about the current predicament I place my hands upon my gold-purse, feeling it's considerable weight due to the financial infusion of our benefactor, "I'd say that is a marvelous idea Samuel, my boots could definitely take a spell, I'd say they've already gone a few miles too far without a polish. Speaking of... Perhaps we could procure the services of a quaint spit-shiner. This ragamuffin town has got to have one or more simple folk in that line of business."
As the two of us walk in downtown Hidden Valley I flick the brim of my billy-cock to gaze upwards, noting a building I haven't seen since my days at university. "Father," I say grinning skyward, "How would you feel about thinning the weight of our coin so much that we float to our destination?" I point upwards to the Air-'loon Spire, drawing attention to the simple yet intriguing balloon cab service.