Numeria has a long history of mystery and wonder buried under its rugged landscape, for on that one fateful night thousands of years ago, the Rain of Stars scarred the land. The fragmented remnants of a ship from beyond the stars fell from the sky, scattering strange technological ruins and deadly perils across the land. Today, these sites are feared by the barbaric tribes and coveted by the sinister spellcasters of the Technic League. Yet something worse than brutish berserker or super-science wizard has risen to power in these hidden technological halls.
Private game; recruitment is already closed.
Q4 and MiniQat applying for entry.
Having finally saved up the money to travel up the Sellen, Nemeril disembarks where the Seven Tears River flows into the Sellen and journeys on foot upriver to Hajoth Hakados, where she again finds passage upriver, all the way to the town of Torch near the source of the Seven Tears. Though far from some starry-eyed innocent, the land is quite different from the marshy lands of her home back in Cordelon, and her attire clearly marks her as out of place, leaving her quite wary and suspicious that she's liable to be subject to pickpocketing attempts or cons, though it seems most travelers heading north are bound for the crusades up in Mendev and are far more gullible: easier prey by far.
It is 4 Desnus 4717 AR, late spring. The last of the late winter coldsnaps have ended, the late spring storms have yet to arrive, and the steppes of the Sellen Hills in the east of Numeria and the theoretically-arable semi-arid Numerian Plains in the center-south of Numeria have bloomed with spring greenery, the hills awash with wild grasses, small wildflowers, and the odd hardy tree. Far from the Sellen proper and the bastions of Chesed and Hajoth Hakados sits the fortified hill town of Torch, a mesa of cultivated and irrigated civilization amidst the badlands.
All is not well, however, amidst the stone homes and slate roofs. A week ago, Torch's namesake mountaintop flame has gone out. While independent, the town is heavily taxed by the Technic League, and without the income from skymetal smelting, the town's liberty might be in jeopardy—Torch may be rich, but the bulk of the money is tithed to Starfall, and the taxman is due soon.
Town councilman, Khonnir Baine, local wizard and tinker, led an expedition beneath the city's central Black Hill and found evidence of a cave network beneath the town, returning with a scrapped automaton. However, on a more thorough second expedition, Khonnir went missing. Thus, the town council put out a call for adventurers, mercenaries, and troubleshooters.
It's been a week. Three groups of adventurers have gone into the Black Hill Caves since, and thus far, none have reported back. With the local has-beens, wannabes, and thugs mostly scared off, only [u]three[/u] adventurers have answered the call, despite an ever-growing purse of reward money for the recovery of the councilman and investigation in the extinguished torch of Torch.
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Visual Aid
Q4 Trinity, introduced through her slightly corrupted speech as Qatrinnica, is on the taller side of average with a slender frame. What's seen of her skin is pale, nearly completely white, with obvious metal coating the rest of her, the occasional bit of black material visible at her joints. She is obviously inhuman, though her design is heavily based on the human form.
The symbol for 4 is upon her forehead in a blue, crystal color, behind her metallic black hair, bangs covering one of her electric blue eyes. Strange protrusions replace her ears, metal, hornlike instances curling along her jaw, and five black cables extend from the back of her neck, not reaching her shoulders.
Beside her floats a miniaturized version of herself, with a single black cord extending from this copy's back. It makes whirring, bleeping sounds as if speaking, though only Qatrinnica herself understands.
Qatrinnica currently travels lightly, all of her various gear stowed on a sash worn over the tight, black suit that serves as her clothing and apparent armor.
Nemeril's pointed ears and natural grace, paired with an almost-human build and coppery red hair mark her as a half-elf just as plainly as her garb marks her as a foreigner to Numeria. Lightly armored in just a simple cuirass of leather lamellar, she nonetheless carries a massive curved blade strapped to her back next to a shortbow, both of which are simple and utilitarian in appearance. What little of her skin can be seen, mostly just her face as she is wearing gloves and a scarf against what must be more bitter cold than she is accustomed to, is a light beige marred only by a single scar along her left jawline.
She seems to have several daggers hidden on her body, as she keeps nervously drawing them into her hands and then putting them back away, perhaps as practice, perhaps because of a sense of unease at the unfamiliar surroundings.
Rolling Knowledge (history) for information about Torch and its namesake flame=11
Rolling Knowledge (local) for information about Torch and its namesake flame=24
As a young girl growing up just outside the small town of Novoboro in the River Kingdom of Cordelon, Nemeril was forever fascinated by the strange bubbling black liquid that was so precious to alchemists. While most of the liquid harvested by the town ended up being used for mundane purposes like lamp oil, it was forever her joy and delight to behold the clockwork creations of several inventors drawn to the high quality oil, using it to lubricate gears and fuel tiny furnaces.
It was from these tinkerers that Nemeril first learned of the Whisper in Bronze, but where most are attracted to Brigh because of the joy of creation, Nemeril saw opportunity of a different sort. The oil which attracted alchemists to Cordelon was only one of many such rare substances useful for creating new inventions, and what truly captured the imaginations of so many travelers she spoke to were the skymetals found in Numeria far to the north. Yet unlike the oil which needed only to be scooped up and then carefully refined, the skymetals of Numeria were hidden away in strange ruins, guarded by terrible creatures made of metal and other strange substances, and so even the most plentiful of these materials was more valuable than gold.
The small town of Torch is known for a strange bonfire of purple flame which locals use to smelt skymetals. Such a place seemed to Nemeril a perfect starting location to begin a career in plumbing the depths of Numeria's ancient ruins for skymetals for wealth, glory, and the joy in seeing truly marvelous new creations... but alas while the pilot of the river boat she chartered passage on was able to regale her with all manner of tales of the flare-ups and tremors that made Torch's flame especially unique, she was unprepared to discover that the flame would have been extinguished entirely.
Mystery intrigues Nemeril, but far better minds than hers have already failed to discover the cause, so she wastes no time in volunteering for an excursion into the Black Hill Caves. It is exactly why she came to Numeria, and even if she fails to find any skymetals, the purse offered by the locals for solving the mystery will cover the cost of a room at an inn, and some gratitude and fame can't possibly hurt either.
Aaron didn't have far to go to come here to search for Khonnir; he came, simply put, from his small flat on the side of town.
Not that to look at him one might assume that. Aaron's short dark hair, bright blue eyes, pristine bronze skin and general facial structure would strongly suggest a youthful Taldan far from home. His attire would certainly go a long way to prove that out, given it appeared like a child's storybook interpretation of what an explorer's clothing looks like. From its bright colors right down to a large floppy hat with a pair of mismatched feathers in it.
At his side, in a holster, sits an unassuming pistol. At his back, a bulging backpack as if he expected to go on a morning hike. On his face sits a mildly cheery smile.
Those who know him from town, however, would be aware he has distinctly mirthless reasons to join this venture. Still, he seems eager.
The lost people are of less concern to Qatrinnica than rumor that if the flame doesn't come back up, the Technic League will come in full force. MiniQat assures her this is quite undesirable, and so, the pair and more decide to seek out the lost, and uncover why the flame has gone.
Other things lie underneath, it seems, so it may also be prudent to not just leave and instead explore, yes.
A stern dwarven matron, old enough to be old for a dwarf, purses her lips at the three would-be spelunkers assembled at the town hall*.
Dolga: "Right, you've briefed on the basics. I wish more of the council could be here, but without the torch light, taking care of the previously-burnable refuse is becoming something of a hassle. Our fourth is taken ill with a headache, and well, the missing master Baine would have been the fifth councilman. As it stands, the town of Torch is prepared to offer a bounty of three thousand gold for the return of master Baine, dead or alive. If alive, then in addition his rescuers may keep the resurrection scroll the town's saved as a contingency. There's also a general four thousand gold pot if the torch on Black Hill can be relit, but for the time being, getting Khonnir back is the priority. If we have an agreement, then I'll get to the wheres and hows. Ask."
Dolga thinks for a moment, rapping her fingertips on the head of a hefty hammer holstered at her waist before she turns to Aaron and makes an audible aside. "You may also wish to check on his daughter back at 'The Foundry'. Young miss Baine has informed me that anyone investigating her father's disappearance may use their tavern as a base of operations, as it were."
*#15 on the map at the end of the Player's Guide.
Qatrinnica looks at both of the other volunteers. She has many questions, but most of them are unrelated. MiniQat whirrs to assure her to hold off on them. Not sure of the value of the money, it sounds well enough to her.
She cocks her head, and intones with a distorted voice, "No questions from this one, currently."
Nemeril struggles to keep her eyebrows from shooting up when the reward is named, and the bonus for solving the mystery and relighting the torch, but her tongue darts out for a moment at the mention of a scroll of resurrection, wetting her lips. Once Dolga pauses for replies, Nemeril performs a simple curtsey, her arms spreading widely as she replies warmly, "Quite agreeable. A thousand measures apiece for locating Baine and escorting him, or his earthly remains, back to town. I must inquire, however, as I am new to Torch, what is the local law regarding salvage? Do we need a writ to claim and remove wealth found within the Black Hill?"
It doesn't seem to occur to her that the locals might use a currency other than Absalom standard, common throughout the River Kingdoms where so few lords bother to mint their own coins.
Dolga shakes her head. "There currently isn't one, as until recently, salvage was something one brought to Torch, not dug out of some machine wreckage under the town. That said, I talked with the other available counselors and you'd be welcome to keep whatever spoils or technology you find down there—we get enough on the smelters' tariff...or did, anyway. Try that within spitting distance of Starfall and the 'League would confiscate all yer 'salvage'. Prolly' take Miss Qatrinnica there too, chop her up. But I digress."
She pauses to think for a moment. "From a more practical standpoint, instead of a writ, you might need an oilskin bag to get your gear and salvage in and out—the currently known entrance is underwater, through a tunnel in Crowfeather Lake."
The tiny doll makes a few strange sounds, after a moment and a forceful prod, Qatrinnica speaks again, "Underwater? Is there anything else within the tunnel that might be a danger?" The little one looks at the old dwarf intently for the answer.
Dolga chews her lip in thought before answering. "Khonnir noticed the tunnel when he saw footprints on the edge of Weeping Pond when he was out testing the water—the Crowfeather 'Palace' what filters the town's water being one of his projects—and saw a group of people had entered the pond around a deep spot but never emerged. So there might be folks who entered the caves before the Torch ever went out. Beyond that, Khonnir reported from his first trip that the caves had enormous vermin, scavengers, some sort'a humanoids that could blend in with the cave walls, and a nest of gremlins. He thought that the things lurking probably came up from the Darklands. He also found a wall of solid metal, 'alloy called glaucite, like the kind mined from the hills nearby, but in this, a wall, doors, things like looked like a structure. He also brought back a broken automaton, so there might be constructs afoot."
The tiny one nods, and catalogs the information for later. Qatrinnica herself seems to internalize it as well, but it doesn't quite seem like she's going to retain it herself.
Nemeril seems rather quite comfortable with the idea of having to swim into the place, though she does still end up asking, "Is there a general store where I could purchase a few oilskin bags? Magic might help with keeping my bow from being damaged if it's a short enough swim for a single breath, but then..." Trailing off as her brow furrows, her eyes then widen at a thought, "It is a short enough swim for a single breath, right? I don't know any magic at all for breathing water."
She then turns her attention to her erstwhile companions for this excursion, especially the strange seeming female who asked about danger. She bites her lower lip, pausing as she tries to think how to ask all the questions that have bubbled up so far in a tactful way, but ends up just blurting, "Are you a construct? You look so lifelike, and... and intelligent, too? I've only ever seen mechanical birds and insects and, well, this one time there was a mage with a little pseudodragon made entirely of articulated bronze, but..." She eeps and then clamps a hand over her mouth and then bows very deeply, "I am so sorry, that was horribly rude of me!"
The tiny one makes a set of chirps that sound almost like laughing at the mention of intelligent. Qat herself looks at the pointy-eared one, eyes not quite seeming to register Nemiril, but there seems to be some hint of other within that metal skull.
"This one is designated Qa-a-Trinn-n-ica," her voice distorts her speech when she mentions her name, "Carrier of Chrome Justice. I am constructed, yes." She makes no indication of offense at the half-elf's forwardness.
The tiny one beside her lets out more strange noises, "Oh, yes. This other one is designated MiniQat. She is another half of me."
[color=green]Knowledge (Engineering) 1d20 + 9 = (10) + 9 = 19[/color]
Aaron grins merrily at this. "Quite wondrous, really. Qa-a... Qatrinnica? Most impressive! And for whatever it's worth, you may both call me Aaron. Or is it all three call me Aaron? Aaron, the Foolseeker, at your mutual service in this endeavor." He turns more fully to Nemiril. "I take it you're not exactly from the region if that's been your exposure to constructed individuals..."
Regarding glaucite:
What it does see use for, is in starship hulls, blast doors, and robot armor plating, where the weight isn't a factor. Finding a wall of glaucite likely indicates a portion of starship hull is underneath the town...
Nemeril mouths the strange name silently a couple times until her eyes light up, "Oh! I see! But then you named your small companion after yourself in Taldane?" She then remembers that proper introductions can wait, and returns her attentions back to Dolga, "Is there anything else we might need to know? Perhaps something that would assure Baine that we were truly there to rescue him as allies?"
What Nemeril knows of glaucite is both inspiring and disheartening at the same time. Extra heavy means limited application, but adamantine is far stronger than steel, so automatons and golems crafted of the material would be incredibly durable. The only problem is that 'mining' such metal would likely be a slow and laborious task far less profitable than returning Baine to the comforts of Torch. Her pondering of these implications leaves her a little bit absent-minded, easily failing to notice if addressed by someone she's not actively paying attention to.
MiniQat lights up in a whirr of sounds, quickly relaying information to Qatrinnica, though only a little sticks. What does stick does tell her what to expect, and now her interest is more piqued with the possibility of her origins becoming more explained. A starship, from beyond this place where little exists that could create something like herself.
Reverting toward speaking to Dolga, "It might be ne-necessary to show proof of allying, lest trickery be suspect-ected," A slow series of blinking accompany her speech.
Dolga nods at the suggestion. "I don't have a badge or token that might prove it, but he is acquainted with young Master Aaron." She points a wrinkled index finger vaguely towards the self-proclaimed Foolseeker. "Also, you all could see about visiting his daughter and getting a trinket of proof from her. As for the swim, if you're not confident in your breaststroke, you can talk with Joram Kyte, our gear-priest. He told me he can pray for such a 'water breathing' spell to split amongst a group entering the caves."
Nemiril looks to Aaron, as if to gauge his ability to swim, seemingly giving no thought at all to whether Qatrinnica might need the benefit of such magic, then turns her attention quickly back to Dolga, "I can only speak for my own swimming ability, but it would perhaps be prudent to advise Clockfather Kyte to pray to the Whisperer for such a spell in the event that master Baine requires the aid of such magic upon our return. That he hasn't returned indicates he may be injured or incapacitated if still alive, and that means he won't be in any good shape for swimming. And should he be dead, well, probably still best not to risk his ill health after such an event."
She then addresses her new companions, "I suggest we head out as soon as we can, so perhaps we should split up and then meet back here? Aaron, right? It sounds like you know the area already, so how about you check in with Baine's daughter about some trinket of proof. Qatrinnica, how about you check with the priest about the scroll, the magic, and whether there's anything he can offer in case Baine should be alive but unable to move. I can procure waterproof bags and rations and, oh..." She considers Qatrinnica properly again, "Do you require any special form of sustenance?"
Aaron nods with a cheerful grin, then turns to see Qatrinnica's reply before he departs for his task.
"I have plenty of nutritional paste," She answers. After a few whistling sounds from MiniQat, she adds, "Though I may consume human foodstuffs with no ill effect."
MiniQat flutters near Nemiril, gives her a nod and a tiny thumbs up, then pushes Qatrinnica off toward the priest. It takes a couple shoves before the larger one realizes to move, and does so. "We shall return with information."
Nemiril heads for the general store first, hoping that the waterproofed bags won't cut too much into her savings but knowing that there's no way she would get away with stealing them. Even if she had claimed to already have some, it would have been far too obvious and then ridiculously easy to prove, and she was here to get rich, not to rot away in some dungeon or get her hand chopped off or whatever passes for justice around here.
Besides bags and food, she also keeps in mind to inquire about useful tools for breaking into a place and taking everything whether it's nailed down or not, like crowbars, pickaxes and the like, though she expects to have to stop by the blacksmith for all of that. Normally that might get more than an odd glance, but she's on an official mission to delve into an unexplored ruin, so she has the perfect excuse.
@Whole party: The group says their goodbyes to Dolga as she trods back north to her foundry (#22 on the Torch map). "Oh, one last thing. If you need to buy supplies, tell a merchant yer working on Dolga's orders and they should knock off a fifth of the price. Well, technically, that fifth the town's payin' for, but eh. Come see me at my forge or the Clockfather if you need to get a hold of the council; we're likely easiest to track down."
[u]@Nemiril:[/u] You walk across town, passing over a bridge as Crowfeather Lake and the presumed entry point lies to the underground complex, noting the strange building on the far side of the pond (#10 on the map), which has a number of pipes and brass appurtenances projecting from it. Despite the recent events, the Market Square (#11) is awash with peddlers and small-merchants, most notably metal artisans, junk traders, and blown glass.
The general store (#2 on the map) is a single-story stone building run by a rough-set Kellid woman, Inkrit Kollisum with dirty blonde forelocks and facial tattoos, although she doesn't look the barbarian-warrior-type. A small metal sign out front proclaims "For weapons and armor, see the Guildhouse or Dolga's Foundry. We have most everything else". The inside is a scavenger's dream, with adventuring gear a'plenty, from chalk and crowbars to rope, pickaxes, a variety of lockpicks, hand tools, lanterns and oils, and the sought-after waterproof bags, the posted price of 6 sp each.
[u]@Aaron:[/u] You approach the familiar confines of the Foundry tavern (#12 on the map), which consists of three one-story buildings: the Tavern proper, a metalworking foundry and workshop separated by a fathom for fire-prevention reasons, and the Baine family home behind both. You duck your head inside the tavern to find it quiet—the cloakroom at the entrance is empty, and the half-dozen tables and long bar in the common room are empty of both patrons and Val, though the fireplace that shares a flue with the kitchen still has embers.
[u]@Qatrinnica:[/u] You make the short trek from the town hall to the Temple of Brigh (#17 on the map), an "E"-shaped stone cathedral that looks more functional than decorative, although the portico is strewn with bronze and silver wind chimes, counter-balanced hanging art (think mobiles), and brass clockwork statues. The high priest of the temple is an aged human man wearing a heavy leather smock over a mail hauberk, who stops and notices Qat's clearly mechanical nature.
Joram Kyte: "Oh, thought for a moment I was seeing a waking vision of The Whisperer. How may I help you, child?"
As he finishes speaking, MiniQat chirps, buzzes, and falls into your hand, chirping in Binary. "010001010101001001010010010011110101001000100000001101000011001000110001."
"Help is.. What again? Items of aid in some form. Partitions... Pardon, my brain is error, error, error." She looks and blinks slowly at her miniature self with a blank expression, though a tinge of worry is in her broken mind.
The priest seems surprised and looks at you in contemplation rather than fear, as if trying to make out Qat's construction.
You're hit with a powerful, stabbing headache, like someone stabbed a live wire into your forehead. The initial shock goes away and is replaced with a mere splitting headache, a constant painful pressure. As you come to your senses, MiniQat does too, but visibly out-of-sorts.
Nemiril is quite clearly fascinated by Inkrit's tattoos, admitting as much out loud as she leans up against the counter, "I love your ink, such beautiful work. But alas, I have business. I am on Dolga's orders to provision an expedition to find and retrieve Master Baine. I require waterproofed bags, rations, and a number of tools." She has purse enough to splurge, but excess weight won't help, so she carefully weighs several different tools appraisingly, "You happen to have a crowbar stocked? Might be we'll need to pry our way in to rescue Baine."
The shopkeep nods, before answering in a noticeable Hallit accent.
Inkrit: "Yas, Dolga is paying for one parte in five. Wy do have iron crows—prying bars, though allini in iron. If you wollnt something in eksoatisk metal, fine the artists or the guild."She drops a nearly-straight iron crowbar (with the forked end at an angle, the opposite end a flat wedge) with hexagonal cross-section onto the counter with a noticeable thunk. Roughly painted along the length is "2-Au.p."
As you glance it, you're hit with a disorientingly-bad headache, like a stiletto shoved through your temples. After a few long moments, it resolves itself to just 'really bad'.
As you again get your bearings, you hear a piercing scream through the store's open windows, which your keen ears recognize as that of a humanoid girl. If you had to place it, it would be roughly a block away to the southeast...which would be the area that Aaron had left to check.
"Error... Apotheosis. Apologies, system error. Memory, memory. Check. We sought you out for potential aid in the search for Master Baine. Something with water," She blinks slowly, her eyes flickering as she speaks. "Magic, aye aye are sea."
The tiny one makes rude sounding blerps and honks, but stays within her larger self's hands, rubbing at the large numeral upon her torso as one might their head from a headache.
Nemeril swears in Elven as pain sears through her head, raising one hand to her temple to massage her forehead as the other goes to the dagger at her belt. She squints around as if expecting an attack, but sees nothing out of the ordinary, though her heightened awareness is enough to hear a scream from somewhere outside. Tossing three gold coins on the counter, she says hurriedly, "I'll take four of the waterproofed bags, stock one up with rations and an iron crow and I'll be back shortly to settle up properly, okay?"
Nemeril then rushes out of the general store and off in the direction of the scream, blinking extra often against the light outside being a bit too bright with the throbbing inside her skull.
Aaron, upon hearing the scream, races for the sound.