(1) Atalantia - Scourge of Magic

Game Master mdt

Same thing, takes a bit to learn the new feat. The assumption is you're spending time learning the feats as you level up normally. Basically use the time from the retraining rules to determine how long it takes to pick up the new feat. But it takes no gold for the trainer, and you don't require training. So, 5 days to learn the new feat. Skills will be slightly different, since you can psychically reform as many skill points as you want, we'll just call it 2 days per skill point.

One morning the next week after the Doomwhale harvest, Connor got up, taking his psicrystal staff. "I'm going to look at all the temples, if anyone wants to come along. Telv, that includes you, but you'll have to change into a hawk again." The white-haired Humavian had an eyepatch covering his right eye that day.

Leaving Masiaarin, Connor flew lazily around, following the well-worn paths leading to the various temples. He paused in mid-flight before a simple hostel on the road leading away from Masiaarin, muttering "Gold. And too sharp. Let's go to the next." as he uncovered his right eye from the eyepatch.

When Tenfa's temple came into view, Connor hovered again, saying "Blue-white. I should have known." He memorized the color as best he could, before turning wing again.

At the large temple of Millicivit, Connor flew past, stating "Already seen it. Red, with a white ribbon running through it."

And so Connor (and others?) flew, returning back to the city on the evening winds that blew towards the ocean.

Telv relished the idea of flying and so welcomed any chance to do so, although Connor has to stop him after the first time they see people, as he approaches them and says "I can fly! I'm a Southern Elf!" and then takes to the wing once more.

It needs another 2-3 days in in drydock while Altina wraps up the rebuild and another 2 weeks floating a few feet off the water in the bay while she does a clean out on the other engine to prevent this from occurring with it.

(When we're a week out from completion, Connor will wrap up his religious and engineering studies and prepare for:)

(Any other suggestions from the players, GM?)

Weather is cold, and will be getting colder. The desert is a cold desert, the jet stream pulls very warm air south, it dries out, but doesn't cool off much until it hits the mountains/ocean, so the desert never gets snowy, but it does get down into the mid 40's in the winter during the day. The days are currently in the mid 50's, and the nights are dipping down to freezing at night. That's why I never had you make fortitude saves while traipsing around the desert, it was a nice cool 64 degrees 3 weeks ago.

You can pick up a 1000 GP worth of glass at type cargo at 15% off base. Formed glass is more expensive, but they also sell glass 'ingots', which are 1 lb blocks of glass that can be melted down again to be blown. You can pick them up for 8.5 sp per ingot. That's for average value glass ingots. If you want the high grade glass, that's 17 sp per 1 lb ingot. Leaded glass is 21 sp 3 cp per 1 lb ingot.

You can pick up 1 pound of copper ingots (90% Purity) for 4 sp 2.5 cp per pound. You can pick up 1 pound of iron ingots (90% purity) for 8.5 cp per pound.

If you want ore, the value of the ore varies by purity of the ore, from 5% to 75% of the cost of metal, but you'll have to make more appraise checks on ore to make sure you're not getting ripped off.

Ballista at cost is 250gp. Not installed. Installed, you're looking at another 50GP.

Flann has a habit of paying for shipmates' meals to ingratiate himself to them. On one such platonic friend lunch with Connor, Flann produces a spec sheet for a "massive multibarrel weapon" and gives what amounts to a protracted PowerPoint presentation on why it should be installed on the Elephant.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12
Roll provided mostly as a reference point for how convincing Flann is. Flann has 3800 gp to contribute to buying the gun, can fire it with a little help, and might even be able to install it.

(That is some cheap iron ingots.)
(Getting two ballista at cost can't be beat. I wish the ship's gunners could install them, but I'm not going to quibble.)
(If I've got the math right, we can still get 1,000 lbs of iron ingots, 65 lbs of copper, 95 lbs of leaded glass, and 50 lbs of high-grade glass. Somebody tell me Atalantia can't use these as trade.)

----------------

Edit: for Flann

"If I'm understanding you," Connor replied, "it sounds like a steam cannon of some type. There's a few problems. One, something that size would either have to go on the center hull-line of the Elephant, or get put on a post at the navigator's wheel on the poop deck. Second, what ammo does it take? Because we've only got ballista bolts and cannonballs. Third, what's the range? Because Grimjowl had the height and distance advantage last time. And fourth, we're a century-old merchant ship, not a testbed for foreign weapons. Leave it for the Dragonbane fleet."

Not according to the trade goods page, it's a 15% discount

As to the costs, it depends on how much you're putting into the trade goods, I'd need to know that.

(I'm calculating on my Google Docs page, under "Loot" as:)
(2x ballista at 300 gp = 600 gp )
(1,000 lbs of iron at .085 gp = 85 gp)
(65 lbs of copper at .425 gp = 27.625 gp)
(95 lbs of leaded glass at 2.13 gp = 202.35 gp)
(50 lbs of high-quality glass at 1.7 gp = 85 gp)
(Did I miss a decimal place?)

(So I'm planning on getting two ballista, and dividing up the other 400 gp into the glass and metals.)

It's pretty evident from Flann's reaction that he had't thought much past "giant glowing gun". He has to refer back to the document the salesperson provided when he visited the shop earlier in the week.
What are the specs on the steam cannon(?)

@Connor - Nope, that's good, just needed the breakdown. Thanks.

@Flann - You never asked her for details, so she didn't go into them. You'd have to go back and ask. The GM can tell you it's rather expensive and will take 2 weeks to mount on the ship and require some structural mods to get it lined up. It's basically a rotating 8 barrel rifle driven by steam power. It basically uses the gatling stats, but it does 1d10 instead of 2d10, and requires one giant or 2 medium/smaller crew. Also, note, the gatling gun has the wrong range listed, it's listed as 40 instead of 80. The steam gatling does have a range of 40.

At some other time, Flann returns to the wonderful arms dealer he spoke to before leaving for the Prison of the Elements to discuss ship-mounted firearms, avoiding the Proctor and her possible guidance.

The gun (that they have) itself would cost 3000 GP, and mounting it on the ship would only be good for repelling boarders with it's low range. It's really more of an anti-seige weapon (designed to fire from a fixed building emplacement). Mounting something large enough to damage another ship would require significant modifications to get it lined up (as stated above). Flann figures they could get several cannons for the price of modifying the ship and buying the gatling weapon. It uses rounds that are about the size of Flann's hand.

Trying really hard to think like an adventurer with an epic destiny, Flann thinks maybe he should spend money on something practical rather than a cool gun. Flann thinks back to the airship battle. It would have taken time to move the cannon to the correct positions to fire. He wasn't sure how the weight would conflict with the ship's speed, or Connor's trade plans, but even if they didn't have the crew to man more cannons, there would be value in purchasing more. In any case, he decided to see what Connor thought before handing over any coin.

"What's our plan anyway?" Flann takes a drink. "The biggest problem last time seemed to be height advantage, so what will we be able to do this time? You're putting in some big bows, I can put in some big guns... At the end of the day, they're bigger and more experienced than us. When the odds are against you, you have to try to change the game." The Vitalist eyes the food at the table suspiciously. He never orders any food, but he does drink and smoke recreationally. "How do we weaken his position, and meet this Grimjowl character on a battlefield he's not expecting?"

It's the first time since the attack that Flann has made any indication he's been thinking about Grimjowl.

"The cuts and scrapes are trivial, and there's nothing I can do about what happened to Teath but hope we're not networked when it happens. The time in between... can feel like waiting to die. "

"Maybe we're just an annoyance to Grimjowl, and not his life's work." Connor said. "At least, I hope not. We've informed the Regent about him - Grimjowl won't find a safe port here. Bastra seemed to be where he was recruiting his crew."

"Our original mission hasn't been completed yet." Connor told Flann. He looked thoughtful. "I've recently acquired powers that could let me both find Grimjowl and taunt him incessantly, daily. Mindhunter and correspond. I could contact Alsatia von Mythvida right now. The only reason I haven't is because of the Regent's trade treaty we're obligated to deliver back home. I believe we should do that in person, not by telepathy. It has the potential to enrich all the Clans, not just the McIntyres and Revilles."

Connor took a long draught of the ale in his tankard. "I should do a speech to the crew. Soon." he declared, setting the mug back down. "I don't like hiding information from those who could be killed by the ignorance. We're in this together. I don't have to tell the crew why we're after Grimjowl - the fact he attacked us in an ancient flying ship is reason enough for most Atalantians. But I should give them the choice of flying high and fast back to the islands, or taking our chances in the open skies with another attack. Plus there's always the dragons."

Soon as our third new player checks in, or after he goes a week without checking in, I'll move us forward, so please wrap up everything in town by Wednesday at the latest.

Connor gets word back that the Regent will give him another 300 GP, or 450 in trade credit, for the other book

(Connor will take the credit, buying universal item materials. He also sells his MW tools for half, sells his old map of the Southern Continent after memorizing it and inking another one on parchment, update his MW survival kit to maps of Vellandrus, change out his stored trail rations and other consumables in his backpack, and buy a tailored vest with griffon's mane and two blank books.)
(Connor takes the finished vest and crafts it into an all-tools vest. Yay! Finally!)
(This takes Connor over a week, to one or two days before the Elephant is due to be released from the shipwrights. So Connor is broke again, with WBL at ~19,000 gp.)

"Alotof us in the crew weren't made aware of the nature of the 'community service' we were signin' up for with your friend... Ticket out of prison that it was. I know for a fact one of us slept through briefing... Not naming names." Flann picks a small piece of fruit from a serving plate and sniffs it. "Might see an improvement in overall commitment if we get a proper call to arms."

Flann buys a small false-bottomed chest 52gp, good lock 80gp, a new canteen 2gp, and raw materials for firearm repair 1200gp.

Flann has time to do some retraining (question from discussion) before leaving, spend the gold

The group gets to watch them harvest the Doom Whales, the massive creatures look like a sperm whale with a 50 to 80 ft unicorn horn on their massive foreheads. The whales are hauled up into big stone pits, and then cut into. They harvest everything, the organs, the fat, the blood, all of it get's harvested. The bones, the ivory from the horn.

Finally their ship is repaired, and the ship is given back over to them. The ship feels odd now, it handles better, the engines respond better to the controls, and thankfully the belching and black smoke are gone. The ship itself feels more solid as you walk around on it, and the varnish shines and glimmers in the light.

Leaving the city, the group is able to make it back to their little island base without incident this time. Once they arrive, Connor sends the signal that he's ready to report in again.

Approximately a week later, a small skiff shows up.

Off of it, a small blonde woman with black, grey, and white feathered wings hops off and lands lightly. She walks up to the old house. Behind her are 3 others. The first is a slim dusky skinned elvavian, an obvious Resalian given her dusky skin and white hair. The second is a heavily muscled male elvavian with pale skin and blonde hair. The third is a whipcord lean male strix. Our new players, you can all describe your characters in detail, picture links are awesome if you can find some

When the quartet arrive at the house, the woman smiles with a bright smile. "Hello! You must be Connor and his crew! Welcome, I'm Sanita of Kalnath, nice to meet you. This is Kotsi Tel'Metsaka, Vim Tel'Gossamer, and Ishthraxa. Alsatia is busy with a new project, so I'm taking over as your main contact. I hope you don't mind, but I'm putting some people in your crew I have experience with." She smiles, showing off dimples. "Not that you're not trustworthy, I just think it'll help us work together if you can see how my people are treated and operate, so you can start building trust with me, and so I can get reports from my people on how you operate, so I can build trust with you. No offense, but Alsatia's a little tonked in the head, so I'm just a tiny bit worried about taking over people she trusted to work in the field." Diplomacy: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (5) + 16 = 21 She sounds sincere, and she obviously wants this to go well, but she also does have some concern about Alsatia's judgement apparently, but she's visibly trying to be nice about it. "Anyway, that's not important, the important thing is, you've all be promoted while you were away, and you have reports to make. So, off with the reports. On the bright side, because of your promotions, I don't need to get sign off from the head office about handing you new assignments, so no more sitting around waiting for the boss to make up his mind."

I can't find many images of drow females without bikinis or dominatrix gear, so we'll just go with the description. This is about the closest I could find. Though I quite like the Paizo image as well as far as facial features, and this hairstyle is pretty much what I pictured.

The Reselian stands as tall as she can, though she only hits about 5' 9". Her long, dark grey hair is put up in a braided ponytail, bound with silver. Her clothes are colored to match her purplish-gray skin, and over them she wears a masterfully made Mithral shirt. Over one shoulder a bow and quiver are strung, situated to sit just before her large, grey bat wings. For her race she is not particularly attractive, her features sharply angled and more intense than pretty.

She has a neutral expression on her face at first, though she quickly and apparently begins scanning the crew, taking in any and all details they've chosen to display about themselves. Given she looks over the brim of her spectacles a majority of the time, it is unclear what purpose they serve. When her name is called she gives them a slight inclination of her head and not much more.

It's harder to find them, but they do exist. You just have to sift through a lot of junk. Here's an example, wearing something you could expect to see at a club or something. Partially furled wings

Also, anyone with a 10+ in Kn(Local) can give me a Kn(Local) check if they like. The three newbies can give me one if they have a total of 5+ in Kn(Local).

Kn. Local: 1d20 + 17 + 1d6 ⇒ (10) + 17 + (2) = 29

Flann greets the newcomers with an earnest but forced smile. As a halvavian, and one with black butterfly wings with red and white spotted coattail patterns on the hindwings, what's probably most striking is his bright pink mop of hair. Out of his cloak and armor, it's evident he's been living off of Sustenance for a long time, thin and wiry as he is. He doesn't react to anyone's clan names. He seems most interested in Ishthraxa, though he does stop to admire Kotsi's wings.

Ishthraxa wears no armor, carries no weapon beyond a simple knife. But he is standing like a soldier waiting on the parade grounds. His short stature and lean frame seem at odds with this, but he's got scars that show he's survived some dangerous situations. Perched up on his shaved head is an arrangement of lenses, the kind sometimes used when shooting over long distances.

He'll offer his hand to his new comrades.

Haven't found a good pic yet. For some reason, there aren't a lot of Strix pictures, and those that are out there look a bit primitive for him.

Knowledge:local isn't my thing. If it's something that can be figured out with a default roll, here it is:
Default Kn: local: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16

(Rats. Connor had this big speech all prepared for the crew. But the game must go on!)
(Connor was also going to contact Alsatia via correspond. And a new contact? Troublesome!)

Connor launched the Wandering Elepant as soon as Gearloose announced their engines free and clean. He had no desire to see a Proctor coming to him, feathers clutched in one hand, to remind him of his contract obligation.

So the Wandering Elephant left Massiaran of southern Vellandrus, without fanfare, without ceremony, and Connor hoped without spies taking notice. And without godlings and higher powers interested in our minutiae. he thought to a private corner of his mind.

The flight back was at a level where breathing was hard and made the crew occasionally dizzy. Anyone who complained was reminded how Grimjowl's ship came at them from above, and sent to rigging repair duty.

Connor's free time was spent rewriting The Warehouse of the Gods, or the Prison of the Elements. His second book he entitled Blown Sheer Across Vellandrus.

The most welcome sight in the world to Connor's eyes was the first floating islands they came across weeks later. He had the helmsman steer the ship to the usual spot where the crooked house was located. Once they moored the Wandering Elephant, Connor announced "You can stay onboard or in the house as you wish - bosun, start a fire guard rotation for both!"

-------------------------------

Connor was bored enough to think about using the last of his stored crafting material, but resisted the urge. The shops of Adalantia could fulfill his latest equipment desires. Even if he wanted to craft them himself. Connor did spend time with Telv, teaching him more about civilization, and diction, how to greet people, and asking about his needs to eat or sleep. Connor spent a lot of time with the crew, as well as Flann and Adran.

Connor made a small memorial on one side of the tiny floating island to their lost companions, including Seaman Teath. He also talked to Tenfa at least once every other day, mostly about the tapestries seen in the underground city, and her preferences for marble, granite, or quartz.

---------------------------------

Wondering why Alsatia didn't reply to his correspond, Connor was surprised as the rest of the crew when the small skiff showed up. After the introduction, Connor replied "Greetings, Sanita of Kalnath. Connor of McIntyre. As Ship's Captain I would like to go over the crew's disembarking and final pay. I have a cargo hold of iron, copper, and glass to sell for their bonus."

(The others see a young, pale-skinned, slender Humavian with McIntyre-white feathered wings. Instead of the usual Humavian colored hair, Connor has bone-white hair he has chosen to wear rather longer than normal. A flipped-up eyepatch reveals his right eye totally colorless, the iris very unusual. Connor is wearing typical travelling clothes, albeit finer weave, with two necklaces (one a psicrystal necklace with a reddish stone) and a gem-filled bracelet. He also has five pouches on his belt of varying sizes, but his sleeves have Reville Clan colors, that of the lowest Clan affiliation.)

Connor looked over the three new arrivals, a Resalian, another Elvavian, and a Strix! Hero, I'm getting that 'bottom of the barrel' feeling again. The 'tel Mintakias must know we lost Elohir and didn't capture Grimjowl.

"Promoted." Connor echoed. He came to with a start. "Well, building trust is always preferred." He motioned to the moored skyship. "Let's talk privately in the Wandering Elephant. The hold has enough room for all of us, and I need to show Sanita our goods."

Connor will cautiously take Ishthraxa's hand, pointing him to the dock.

You can still do the full text of what you said to the crew! It might make some of them stay on!

You can still do the full text of what you said to the crew! It might make some of them stay on!

** spoiler omitted **

(Slight retro, then.) ------------------------------

When the Wandering Elephant takes off and achieves altitude, Connor assembles the crew on deck. "If anyone missed the First Mate's all-call and wonders what we're doing next, I'll tell you now: we're going home." He waited for the cheers to subside before going on. "I know it's been a wild flight for the past few months, and many of you don't even know what we're doing. I know many of you didn't sign on for this trip, but for various reasons, mostly involving prison, you had to come. This wasn't my first flight, and I'm still learning as Captain. But I consider every one of you a patriot."

"Our home, Atalantia," Connor continued, "relies upon trade with the Surface world. And yes, needs to protect itself from the Surface world as well. Where do we come in? Providing both trade and information to the Clan elders. Yes, we had to endure a battle most here were not prepared for. I'm proud to say we survived, not by running away, but by knowing when to stay and fight and when to cut our losses and escape. We lost crew, both in battle and after. We're not a warship, we're a merchant skyship." Connor saw the glances at their new ballista. "Not to say we cannot defend ourselves!" he amended. "By going home, with a new trade agreement from the city we just left, one that favors Atalantia in a field of expertise our countrymen have trained for generation after generation, you can tell your grandchildren you made a difference for the future. More than just dragonskin and teeth bigger than your head."

"When we get back to the floating islands, we'll make port. It will be were we disembarked. If anyone wants to be cashiered, I'll write your letter of service. There are other skyships out there, if you prefer fighting dragonswarm and smugglers. Never forget the terrors of the Surface you lived through on this journey, the creatures and magic" Connor said, running a hand through his newly bone-white hair, "we've all experienced. Tell the others. Keep meditating and growing your powers. We're going back with a smaller cargo than I would have liked, but if anyone stays on, I suspect we'll be turned around and sent again to the Surface."

"Now, as for our trip back. You know there's a rogue sky-vessel out there playing pirate. And their pirate Captain seems to have it in for us. That's the reason we're above the clouds right now. I hope you packed your winter gear, because we're not going back down any time soon. We've got our engines rebuilt like new, so we're going to use them all the way back, and make a new record for time. I can't promise you liberty in Atalantius, Antalus, or Anrive. I can promise you if you'll stay on the Wandering Elephant, I'll do my best to become a Captain with a prize crew. Many of you have shown me your worth time and time again." Connor's voice grew wistful as he looked out over the men and women assembled, as well as Flann, Telv, and Adran in the crow's nest. "It has been an honor to serve our country, and our employers, with you."

"One last item." Connor stated, steel coming back into his tone. "Any ship returning from the Surface is inspected thoroughly and gone over with a fine-toothed comb for arcane contraband. I don't have to tell you that there are worse things than being torn asunder in a mana storm." Connor ran a hand again though his altered hair for emphasis. "So if anyone picked up a 'trinket' in the last few weeks, dump it over the side. There will be no discipline at this time. But it'll be your hide, if not your life, if we get back to Atalantia and fly too close to Ash for safety. Or something drops out of your pocket in front of the inspectors. And I happen to like the new varnish on our hull. First Mate, you have the watch."

----------------------------

Connor doesn't sense anything other than mild distrust/hostility from the new crewmembers, and nothing from the new contact, it's like trying to read a blank page in the dark.

When the new people were introduced to the crew, a young Human woman walked around and said hello to each of them, shaking their hands in a mechanical way that suggests that she was new to the practice. She introduced herself the same way to each of them "Hello new friend! I am Telv, a Southern Elf!" see the magical girl form link in my alt for what 'she' looks like.

One note, the 'Southern Elf's ears are outrageously long for an elf, and point out to each side.

"Charmed." Kotsi says politely, turning the bulk of her scrutiny to the suspiciously chipper "elf".

Does the smile hide a dagger or is it merely a probe? You can never tell with surfacers.

"Likewise," Vim chimes in, offering his hand. His voice is melodic and sweet, and he pairs it with a generous smile.
"Vim is the name, if you please."

For anyone, really, but especially for an Elfavian, Vim appears particularly strong of body. An attractive man, he wears a fashionable suit, clearly custom-made and dramatically cut with sharp, well-fitting lines made to emphasize his strong frame. The whole thing should look a bit ridiculous given where he is, and should he ought to seem far more out of place than he does down here in the docks; whether it's the confidence he exudes or something else, he makes it not only work but works it quite well. Vim makes sure to walk with his confidence showing, clearly wanting to be seen as less than he is: a well-trained eye can pick up on the balance, power, and intent found in each of his steps.

More than a few passersby on the way back the Elephant's quarters throw lingering looks at him. Vim's multi-colored butterfly wings, marking him as a likely member of Clan Astradia, flit occasionally in the direction of those looking at him, as if to wink and wave. The wings themselves seem to sparkle in the light more than most Astradian wings would, and some parts seem to take on an opalescence when seen at just the right angle.

I am also having quite a hard time trying to find a picture of a dude with butterfly wings who has clothes on. Suffice to say, Vim is an attractive, strong fellow with impeccable taste in clothes who may or may not be hamming up the pretty-boy image in sort of an "I-like-nice-things-but-I'm-good-at-my-job" James Bond kind of way. He's got long, bright butterfly wings with multiple colors in an alluring pattern than maybe(?) is subtly changing every so often, that catch the light and shine occasionally. They go quite a bit down his back, and culminate in a series of beautifully jagged prongs. Wing Shape, and Wing Color.

It also bears mentioning that Vim uses the 6pp Augmented form of Everyman as part of his daily routine, so for the most part, his appearance is relatively up to him. Rest assured, what you're seeing during the intro is the 'real' him.

Flann flinches at Vim's introduction. "I suppose we're all rather lucky your parents weren't as fond of Induce Pain." The Vitalist pauses. "That would have been a mouthful."

Flann reaches out to gather together those willing and new to the crew into a collective with Connor. It feels like disinfectant with a slight wood polish aftertaste, but it'll take twenty years off the wrinkles around your eyes.

Vim laughs at Flann's joke, and politely ignores the flinching.
"They were in on the joke, I think," he adds. "Talented bunch of Vitalists themselves and I think it's safe to say they thought I'd follow in their footsteps-- also safe to say that I didn't."

...

Feeling the tug of Flann's collective, Vim allows himself to join.

Connor led the group onto the skyship, waving down the fire guard left onboard, and ducked into his Captain's quarters. Coming out with three thin books in hand, he showed the newcomers and fellow adventurers the roundabout way down into the cargo hold of the ship.

The hold, open to the sky for light and air, nonetheless had no chairs, just various boxes strapped down with hemp rope, and an obvious large anti-magical strongbox to the stern of the room kept in place with necessarily large and heavy iron chains.

"Make yourselves comfortable. Here's our cargo, Sanita. One thousand pounds of smelted iron, sixty-five pounds of decent copper, ninety-five pounds of leaded glass, and fifty pounds of high-quality glass. All in ingots ready for the craftsmen, should the price be right." Connor said, indicating box after box.

"The most important result of our months-long mission to the Surface," Connor continued, turning around and leaning against a tall crate, "is that the city of Massiaran on the southern coast of Vellandrus is plagued by dragons, and is willing to pay twenty-five thousand platinum pieces for the leader dragon's blue head. With the skyship crews that defeat the dragon and his kin keeping whatever in its' lair. I think that's something all the elders should be told, immediately. And not just because I'm under a geas to deliver the trade agreement post haste."

(Roll call, mdt? I haven't seen Adran in a week. I want to make sure everybody is here before I start the introductions.)

I think he's busy RL, I think he said bot him didn't he?

(I can introduce Adran, then, and let him catch up.)

Connor didn't like this situation. A new handler, with enough people to do some damage and take their information to others. And a Resalian in the group!

Connor concentrated, keeping his voice level. He shifted from being in the sunlight pouring down into the hold into one of the shaded areas. Manifesting correspond with a tall, humorless Elvavian in his mind's eye.

Suppress Display DC 19: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (17) + 12 = 29

"That concludes our cover story." Connor stated. "Let me introduce myself, again. Connor of McIntyre. A Shaper who only wanted to open a jewelry business. Instead I was set up and sent to prison, and transferred to...a certain Special Operations Branch of one of the Clans. Our first mission was to find out where a particularly successful gang of smugglers were getting their toys from. That resulted, through no fault of our own, in Atalanta losing a city block last year. So we were sent to the Surface instead, and came back with some unsettling news about dragons, Northern drow, and coming across a rather ambitious and disagreeable lizard-man named Grimjowl."

"One of our missions included Anshrin of Anrive island. Where the Stalmorttas started a little war? We were in the middle of that, and later destroyed a skyship Grimjowl had managed to get his claws on. We thought the lizard-man was gone for good after that, but Special Operations told us he had acquired another skyship. We were sent to find the lizard-man, and his ship, but he found us first. Then we got a little side-tracked on the Southern Continent on the Surface. I've had to pick up ship's captain on the way, our last captain...was lost. Permanently." Connor said, without joviality.

"Our 'Special Operations' team is both covert, disallowed, and expendable. We do the things the Clans can't for various reasons." Connor continued. He pointed at the other older adventurers in the cargo hold in turn. "Adran here is our scout. In the crow's nest above when we sail, but his sharp eyes are also good at finding traps and picking locks. He's an Aegis. Don't arm-wrestle with him." Connor indicated the other Halvavian. "I trust Flann Swallowtail with my life, and not just because he's a Vitalist. He's also got a sharp mind to figure out puzzles and problems. His aim with a firearm isn't bad, either."

Motioning at the Wingless Elven girl, Connor said "Telv is new. He, she, helped us out of a rather confining situation on the Surface. Let's just say Telv has...abilities that make him, her, valuable. Telv is also an innocent, so rather than just lose him, her, on the Surface, we've decided to take Telv under our wing. I'm hoping to make Telv a fine, upstanding member of society one day. Probably long after he, she, has moved on from being with us."

"Our ship's crew," Connor told the four newcomers, pointing above, "are sailors and riflemen who wound up either in prison, or needing to get out of the islands, or both. So the Wandering Elephant is their limited parole. You'll have to pull your weight, not only as ship's crew, but as Special Operations agents. The crew don't know this, so they might treat you like landlubbers until you prove yourselves. Any additional information you'd like to share?" The last was directed to Adran, Flann, and Telv.

Sanita listens patiently, and then interrupts Connor when he gets to his offer to others. She holds up a hand. "I already know all this, Connor. I'm waiting for a detailed report. Did you manage to kill this Grimjowl person? Did you find out where he got his ships? Did you find out who's supplying him with technology from our islands?"

Connor flinched as if listening to something else.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9 (Yep, we're dead.)

"Short answers, no, no, no, and no." he retorted. "Grimjowl's getting his lizardmen from Bastra of Vellandrus; they fit the other lizardmen we've killed on Grimjowl's ships. We crossed from Pallandrus to Vellandrus to find that out. We were also ambushed by Grimjowl above Bastra, and the Elephant sustained such damage that it took us six weeks in Masiaarin to get repaired. We lost Art, Elohir, and Volita, and one crewmember. The cost of the repair was the trade agreement with the Regent of Masiaarin, so we came back first. Rather than lose our own ship, or give Grimjowl another one."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25 (Okay, let's try.)

(Edit: adding Mythic Surge! Thanks, Flann!)
Feeling the need to potentially save his own hide and that of his compatriots', Connor reached further within himself, feeling how he felt when he faced Tenfa, the silver dragon, Althenia, She Who Must Not Be Named, Bast, Dargasium, and the Regent. The emotion became an upwelling inside him, like his psionic mind-energy.
Mythic Surge to Diplomacy: 1d6 ⇒ 6 (31!)

Yes Flann, you can take 10

Sanita frowns, but it seems to be one of thinking, rather than annoyance. "I see, that's information at least. I hope you have more details? And more than just a trade treaty? Not to negate how much that is worth, I grant you, but it's not my primary focus." She takes the treaty offer from Connor, and glances over it. "Did you have time to write up your notes on your adventures? I really do prefer to have a written writeup." She raises an eyebrow questioningly.

The 3 newbies know she likes details details and details.

Visibly relieved, Connor handed over the three books he was carrying, coming forward to Santina. "My journal, and two penned documentaries. The journal and Prison of the Elements should be considered 'eyes only', there are serious ramifications in them; Blown Sheer Across Vellandrus is broad enough for any ship's captain or ambassador to read." The treaty, and a map of the Southern Continent, was on a larger-than-normal parchment.

"As for Grimjowl," Connor replied, stepping back, "we didn't sit on our thumbs for six weeks. I have psychic reformation now. Which means, I have mindhunter and correspond. So not only can I find Grimjowl, I can contact you when we get within range."