Skyfall - Colonies of the Shining Sea

Game Master Corerue

I nod to the creature and start examining the depression in the wall: it is the only clue I have to a possible way out.

perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

Was there any result from Diyeana's Sense Motive and Knowledge(local) rolls Corerue? And sorry, hadn't realized that there had been someone else at Cassian's table when she sat down, you two ninja'd me while I was writing my post : P

Diyeana had stayed quiet throughout Talvin's conversation with Cassian. She knew of the small, quiet engineer, but her words this day were for Cassian alone. Smiling politely and saying her farewells to Talvin as the man leaves, once he's gone, she turns her full attention back to the attractive man before her. Taking her feet down she takes the offered drink into her hand and quaffs a deep draught. Making a small sigh of satisfaction when done, she then leans forward, allowing only the small smile on her lips to be the only indication of her pleasure at Cassian's earlier compliments.

"Well there we have it confirmed from tha engineer's mouth hisself. The Viligent will likely be sailing no more, or if she does, won't be for some time. I know you, just as well as I, are people of action, Vespertine, and shall not sit idly by waiting for our ship to be repaired while the war rages on around us. And as I said, I've been hankering to take the fight more directly to tha enemy, to any enemy of Cygnus."

She lowers her voice even more here and almost whispers her next words in the beautifully flowing language of the Free Cities "¿Está familiarizado con los corsarios de mi amigo? Ellos son más que simples piratas, pero en realidad secretamente trabajan para el gobierno de Cygnus, a propósito, sin enarbolar pabellón Cygnian para que puedan ir a lugares, y los enemigos de ataque, que un buque militar Cygnian no sería capaz de no, sin necesidad de iniciar otra guerra por lo menos. Por supuesto, si son capturados, están totalmente desautorizados por Cygnus y condenado a muerte como piratas y traidores."

Grinning even wider now, obviously not daunted in the least by the possibility of traitor's death, she continues in a slightly more normal voice, speaking the common tongue once again. "So what say you? I have some contacts that should be able to ind us a berth on a just such a vessel. And perhaps, Fate willing, you might just find yourself as the Captain of such a vessel once again."

Sense Motive 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15

What do I know of Gnolls and Flinds? Since they are ancestral enemy of Tabaxy, I should at least know what is in Bestiary, right?

Init 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

As the mother runs past Mirianissa leaps out of the tall grass wickedly slashing one of the pursuing puppets, the repulsive stench catching her by surprise up close, causing her to miss her swing.

AoO 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9
1d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

The conversation shifted to business a bit quicker than Cassian had hoped but that was likely for the better. He lets Diyeana finish her proposal without interruption all the while chewing his lip in contemplation. “I am... errr quite familiar with the privateers actually, haha.” he laughs as he laces his fingers together behind his head and leans back in his chair. "Sin duda, si usted recuerda mi pasado explota un buen número de sus jefes también lo hará. Te voy a decir una cosa, seguir adelante y consultar con sus contactos para concertar una reunión para nosotros. Llévame a la negociación y no solo me uno a ustedes como su piloto, yo te haré llevar ingeniero de asedio y mi mano derecha en el mando personal. Independientemente de la posición que me dan, voy a hacer el capitán en cuestión de semanas. Eso, querida, es una promesa."

I used Google Translate since I don't actually speak Spanish but really admired Diyeana's post. If anyone actually speaks Spanish and the above is horribly misrepresented tell me and I'll just use spoilers. Again, just copied and pasted it. It could be the recipe for grilled cheese and I'd never know. Fingers crossed. :)

Remember that if your in a position to you can use take 10/20, I tend to forget about those options as well. :)

As you search the door you can't seem to find a way to open it and after several minutes of searching it you find another palm sized square depression, its very slight almost imperceptible. But its there and as you press your fingers against it you feel thesquare plate give slightly, as you pull your hand away the panel folds down and reveals a lever restrain by a retaining pin.

EMERGENCY RELEASE, REMOVE PIN AND ACTUATED LEVER TO RELEASE DOOR LOCK DOWN. WARNING: DOOR WILL REMAIN OPEN UNTIL POWER IS NORMALIZED.

Before you get much farther the power surges again, except this time the room shudders along with the surging lights. Several of the tiny orbs fall from their alcoves, crashing to the floor as another alien message fills the air.

".-- .- .-. -. .. -. --. --..-- .-- .- .-. -. .. -. --. - .... .-. . .- - -.. . - . -.-. - . -.. --..-- ... . -.-. - .. --- -. ...-- ...-- .---- .- . -..- - .-. . -- . -.-. .- ..- - .. --- -. .- -.. ...- .. ... . -.. "

Sense Motive 1d20 + 5

What do I know of Gnolls and Flinds? Since they are ancestral enemy of Tabaxy, I should at least know what is in Bestiary, right?

Yes, you know everything in the bestiary about their society and such, along with what I posted about how they especially despise the Tabaxi. They don't differentiate between city dweller or nomads.

And since I top Intitiative

Recovering swiftly Mirianissa whirls at the passing puppet pouncing on it with incredible agility, one claw grasping at it's throat while the other dug deep into the monster's gut, her body displaying amazing flexibility as she brought her feet up to raake the things lower back.

Despite her battle fury she restrained herself from using her teeth, loate to let any part of these stinking creatures into her mouth.

Pounce
Claw 1
1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26
1d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

Claw 2
1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21
1d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

Rake
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
1d4 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

"RUN!!" she screamed in Tabaxi, commanding the farmwife to flee as far as possible with her child.

Lol, Thanks. Google Translate works surprisingly well, so no worries, no grill cheese on the menu at present. Although sounds yum...; ) And now I just have to make sure that Di actually does have those contacts and info. DM?? And also, still curious what those original Sense Motive and Knowledge(local) rolls were for?

"Excellente" she answers simply, with a small smile.

Spending a moment more looking at her soon to be venture partner, she finally pushes back her chair and stands all in one smooth, graceful motion. Picking up her rifle and using it to push up the brim of her hat, she says with a saucy grin "Captain." She then turns to leave but after a couple of steps, quickly turns her head to look back, catching the inevitable glance of her former tablemate at her still-shapely-even-through-her-longcoat posterior regions. Grinning even wider she adds "I assume I'll find you either on here or on the Viligent? If not, I'm sure I'll be able to track you down." And with that and a little flip or her coat tails, affording the briefest glimpse of the sought after spectacular view, she saunters out of the tavern. Once again, seemingly completely unaware of the stir her passage and sway, which has little to nothing due to having been aship for the past several weeks, makes.

Leon merely grins at the sight of the flesh galley, and at the cries of dismay from some of their allies. He unlimbers his shortbow and strings in in one deft movement an arrow nocked and ready. Though his swordhand itched for the feel of his katana, funny how its almost like the limb still felt yet it had been missing for nearly 20 years now replaced by a mechanical prosthetic. The doctors call it a "ghost limb" he just calls it a painful reminder.

He sets a pair of red tinged glasses to his face both shielding his light sensitive eyes from the harsh sun but to also hide the fake that they had drained of nearly all color leaving them cold and crystalline. He couldn't help but laugh at the prospect of retiring. "You might feel the weight of age and feel like settling down for retirement. But as long as there are Cryxians to kill, me and Aurora will keep killing them. Even if we have to get our own ship and continue the hunt."

He said to the Captain as he turned his gaze to his wife. "Are you ready luna de mi vida?" He asks as he places on hand on the small of her back. As he gazes alongside her at the rapidly approaching flesh galley.

Initiative:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9 (really?)

"Soon to be so," Cassian replies with a coy grin. "I've yet to find a reason to hide from you so your search, though flattering, would merely be a formality." Unabashed, he steals a modest glimpse of what the sniper has to offer as she exits the building, parting the crowd as she glides.

It is as if the wind itself carries her from place to place. Of all the elements, none hold the slightest degree of passion as wind and fire; such is Ms. Stormwin. A flame unrestricted by the binds of earth or gravity, free to drift upon listless channels to lazily and inadvertently beset wildfire.

When there is nothing left to watch Cassian returns his book to his lap and chews away the makeshift bookmark. The night was still young enough for something of marginal interest to occur. Besides the other patrons were just getting loosened up. So long as no one spilled anything on his reading material and the delightfully dodging barmaid was still ready to top him off at the flick of his fingers, Cassian was content to believe the evening would end well for him.

Donovan chuckled at his old friend's observation. "You're a filthy old degenerate, Redgrave...but at least you're not blind." They shared a laugh, then swapped a few more stories about times past. Donovan kept half an ear and eye on Cassian's table, but the liquid tongue of the Free Cities washed right over his ears without comprehension. The most he could speak of that language were a few interesting curses, ron, and cerveza.

He did observe as the woman left though...observed in detail, and with considerable interest. That is a fine figure of a woman...

"I'm afraid I see another acquaintance I'd like to say hello to, Cedric. Keep your powder dry, mate." With a clap on the old man's shoulder, Donovan headed over to where the ex-pirate was sitting.

donovan

Cedric throws his head back and gives a loud gaffaw at your comment. "I may be partially blind, one boot in the grave but I ain't dead!" At your comment though he eyes the pretty boy at the table and gives a low growl. "No problems there. Say hello to the lass for me when you meet her, will ya?"

Cedric leans against the bar and grabs up his other drink, the barkeep glares daggers at the old trenchers backside and ignores you entirely.

1d20 + 13 ⇒ (12) + 13 = 25

I am sneaking a post at work so it will be sporadic at best for the next 8 hours if any at all. Will catch up in the morning though. ;)

"The Flind are without honor - true. And they despise us with every fiber of their being. Them and their Demon Goddess. That is all true. But they are far from being stupid and they value strength above all. I would go and challenge their champion to a single combat, to prove myself. I would take the pup I rescued as proof of my intentions. They must be hurting more than us, since they don't have the legacy of High Ones to guide them and protect them. They should welcome this alliance. Of course, we should guard against their treachery, which will surely come - but for now, the honor demands we should at least try to unite the living against the dead."

I remove the pin and grab the handle, then I turn and look at the goat-man, shouting over the noise in the room, I grin at him: Are you coming? Or would you rather stay here?

Then I yank the lever.

"All right, no sudden moves. You're under arrest."

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

"Because I haven't had the time to perform any illegal or unscrupulous acts I assume you're here on a personal matter thus I reserve the right to face my accuser in a Trial by Combat," Cassian recites indifferently, as if he were reading aloud a passage from his book.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (7) + 11 = 18

He sighs as he ears his book and sets it on the table. When he finally looks up to see his old acquaintance Donovan Lynch he simply laughs,"At first I thought it was some sort of cultural barrier that shielded me from your humor but now I see that it is something much more specific to you." He kicks a chair out from under the table and motions Donovan to join him.

"Been a while, Vespertine. Good to see you're still on the side of the angels. How've you been keeping?"

"Too true, too true. Been faring well enough I suppose, the engineering deck on the relic I've been assigned to isn't quite as glamorous as riding topside but judging by repairs and modifications you can clearly see that old machine has a fantastic story to tell. At least that's the idea I entertain while maintaining and monitoring it. As of now, we're in the midst of writing a new chapter while she's grounded. Indefinitely. And what about you, Mr. Lynch? How is civilian life treating you?"

The poor humanoid covers its eyes as if lamenting the fate it was stuck with. "We di her, no scape, n't fom Sahde. Sahde i's all." At your words it lowers its hands and looks at you oddly and as you work the handle, slowly actuating it back and forth, you hear a hiss with every actuation. After about a minute the door starts to slowly open, despite the hinges on the containers the door opens without a single noise, sliding to the right to reveal a pitch black hallway.

The door is only open partially, just enough for you to slip out sideways and get into the hallway. As you stand there deciding on what to do next the humanoid moves to the containers you opened, searching quickly for something and smelling the air before pausing in front of container 14. For a moment it stares at the glass lid before reaching down and grabbing hold of the bottom of the lid. With an ease that makes your poor hands ache the creature prys the lid open and reachs in. Soon pulling out a heavy bag smelling of spices, herbs and cured meats. It shoulders the heavy bag with ease before turning to you and nodding sheepishly as it mumbles questioningly. "We go?"

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

Aurora grimaces at yue sight of the flesh galley, her mind abruptly shunted back to her time as a slave missing the drama unfolding around them as she tries to shake of the mental shackle. She shakes her head forcibly as it back in the her and now the memories crushed with an iron will most would find hard to grasp.

"I'm ready mi sol y mis estrellas." She says as she bumps his hip with hers letting him know she's alright as she forms to bladed sai more of pure shadows.

Initiative:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

I look at the containers, the goat-woman, the dark passage-way and then shrug: You can open them that easily? Let's make some more friends?

I move back in the strange room and indicate the other containers: We should not leave others to suffer.

"Because I haven't had the time to perform any illegal or unscrupulous acts I assume you're here on a personal matter thus I reserve the right to face my accuser in a Trial by Combat"

"Maybe I wanted you on an old warrant?" Donovan said lightly. "Not like you didn't fracture the law all kinds of ways back when." Taking the extended chair, he slouched comfortably in it, setting the bottle on the table. With a sly smile, he said, "But I suppose you'd street-lawyer your way out of any o' that."

"And what about you, Mr. Lynch? How is civilian life treating you?"

Donovan sighed and shrugged. "All right, I suppose. The money's right enough...plenty of work for a fellow in my line. Bit depressing, though, in some ways." Looking more squarely at the other man, he went on, "I like being my own man again, not having to snap-to-attention or deal with the brass...but I can't deny I miss feeling like I was doing something important. Compared to what's out there...somehow can't help but feel dealing with petty crime is a waste of time."

"Ever feel that way? Like there's more you could be doing?"

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

Mirrianissa:

Battle in the Brush.

The puppet stops dead in its tracks as you tear into it, parts of it falls and slops to the ground in chunks as your claws perform their grisly work in quick brutal fashion. It barely has time to turn before your final raking strike. The other puppets continue running three towards you and the others veering around you and continuing after their original prey.

Those on the map are the forerunners of the pack and the others will be entering in subsequent rounds. Forgive the poor map, its my first attempt. :/

x3 Puppets actions: Double move towards K-6

A DM I play with posts stats from some of his creatures so that players can make a more... cinematic post and besides if you know you wasted a guy and orient your post that way then your saving me some work. ;) Call me lazy but I look forward to the awesome posts that may come of this. Some may this promotes abuse but I believe in a players ability to honor such a boon. :)

I look at the containers, the goat-woman, the dark passage-way and then shrug: You can open them that easily? Let's make some more friends?

I move back in the strange room and indicate the other containers: We should not leave others to suffer.

The goat creature shakes its head sadly. "De di her sahde no ech dem der." It points at the containers and shakes its head...

... as if saying it refuses to put others through suffering. "We go?" It reaches into the container and pulls out a tall club with black stones interspersed along its length and a hide wrapped handle for its grip. DC 15: K Geography/Nature.

"-- .- .. -. .... --- .-.. -.. .. -. --. -.-. . .-.. .-.. ...-- ...-- .---- -.-. -... .-. . .- -.-. .... -.. . - . -.-. - . -.. .-- .- .-. -. .. -. --. - .... .-. . .- - -.. . - . -.-. - . -.. .. -. ...-- ...-- .---- .- .-- .- .-. .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- .--. --- .-- .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- -.-. .-. .. - .. -.-. .- .-.. .-.. . ...- . .-.. ... .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- " The message starts again and you can tell that the series of beeps and their frequency have changed, what it all means though and this time though the message sounds incomplete. How you know this your not too sure. As the sounds fade into nothing once more the lights suddenly surge again, the room shakes and your new friend raises its strange weapon and looks wildly about the room.

"Well of course there is always more I could be doing. By all rights I should be back on The Vigilant - my assigned ship I'm sure you already know - attending to the laundry list of repairs she's in certain need of but it is here I reside in her hour of need. Now does that make me a bad soldier? Well... probably, but it's not apathy that seats me in this tavern tonight rather a nagging concern that my talents are not going to full use." he smiles lightly at the weathered brute measuring him from across the table.

"Originally I planned to relax and meditate on that thought but I've found, to my delight, that certain parties are or may be in need of a man of my skill and legacy. It seems that just because the Cynian government has refused to acknowledge my history doesn't make me absolved of it's effects. It is my reputation that provoked you to join me here is it not? If I were to tell you that the wind itself has brought to light a chance for me to return to a position like one you would expect to find me, how interested would you be in joining me in such a... lifestyle? If you're asking yourself why I'm extending this offer to you, consider it a token of respect from one infamous man to another.”

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (8) + 11 = 19

diplomacy: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

I dither for a second more, then accept that she seems to understand better than I: Okay, let's go.

I lead the way out of the chamber, through the door I opened.

I am Aelessaer. How are you known?

"It seems that just because the Cynian government has refused to acknowledge my history doesn't make me absolved of it's effects. It is my reputation that provoked you to join me here is it not?"

Donovan laughed aloud. "Aye, that's right enough. The government will be happy to make use of your talents, but never think they've forgotten who you are. You're a foreign-born pirate, lad...a few years of service in the army isn't like to make them forget that." Taking a sip of rum, he said with a twist to his mouth, "I'm not exactly a high-class citizen my own self...but I'm a native son, and I put in a decade for the crown. That goes a long way towards pardoning my youthful indiscretions. I doubt they've given you that kind of benefit of the doubt."

"If I were to tell you that the wind itself has brought to light a chance for me to return to a position like one you would expect to find me, how interested would you be in joining me in such a... lifestyle? If you're asking yourself why I'm extending this offer to you, consider it a token of respect from one infamous man to another.”

Sobering, Donovan looked hard at the other man. "I might. I might, at that. It would depend on a few things, though."

He held up three fingers. "First, I'd want to know that you're not planning anything against Cygnus' best interests. I may be out of the military, but I'm still a patriot."

"Then I'd ask what you had in mind...I've no doubt a man like you has a plan in the works, or you'd not be making this offer. If I'm to sign on with you, I'd like to have a glimmer of it."

"And last...I'd ask what's in it for me." He smiled again, rubbing thumb and forefinger together in the classic gesture. "Because patriot or not, and regardless of your reputation...I'm looking to turn a profit, son."

"The fruit of my hopes still needs time to ripen," he replies as he swallows the remainder of slow sludging foam and tar colored ale. "Perhaps it would be best to move this conversation to someplace less conspicuous. As a businessman yourself, I'm sure you don't handle your most delicate affairs while bumping elbows with a series of drunkards." When he finishes this thought he takes another look at his soon to be associate. "Then again a man in your line of work..."

Cassian feigns a weak smile and continues, "I won't divulge any specifics just yet but rest assured, if you care to join me, profits will be the least of your concerns."

Fingers crossed, Diyeana has those contacts...

With stunning alacrity, Miri's sleek body is a blur of motion as she pounces upon one of thee oncoming enemies, claws grabbing at the creatur's head, sinking in beneath the jaw as her feet plant into the monster's chest, claws biting deep as she kicks off, the grip of her hands like iron, claws tearing through rotten bone like leaves as she practically tore the meat puppet's face off.

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24
1d6 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26
1d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

Grab : Grapple 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16

Rake1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
1d4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

A throaty challenging growl arises from her throat a she faces the oncoming attackers.

Fingers crossed, Diyeana has those contacts...

Me too! GM C? Haven't forgot all about our lovely Gunslinger, have you? ; )

Also, LOVE the way Mirrianissa fights! Awesome visuals! ; D

Mirrianissa

Map updated above, Please let me know if you did indeed charge again and you should be able to alter your character position, its supposed to be open to everyone. :)

Not only does the puppets face slough off but it soon falls apart, its arms falling off and its legs quickly crumpling as whatever foul ritual that gave it life fails and allows the poor being to finally die. The other two lumber forward unfailingly, not affected at all that two of their brethren have been shredded with such ease.

Two more Puppets have entered the map, 4 remain, 2 are down

Puppet 1 - Standing in R-7
MA: Move from R-7 to Q-6
SA: Slam Attack 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

Puppet 2 - Standing in R-7
MA: Move from V-7 to R-4
SA: Slam Attack 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

The closest puppet moves in and swipes at you but fails to land a blow as you dodge it easily and as its comrade circles around you, failing to flank you fully before trying to strike you as well. It stumbles though, tripping over the frayed parts of the one you just returned to the Bone Mothers gentle hands.

Cassian Vespertine wrote:

Fingers crossed, Diyeana has those contacts...

Me too! GM C? Haven't forgot all about our lovely Gunslinger, have you? ; )

Also, LOVE the way Mirrianissa fights! Awesome visuals! ; D

I am certainly enjoying this as well, trying to catch up!

Of the few contacts you knew of the only one you could trust with this business is Old Smitty who has been a close family friend for years. He is a quiet and diligent working mechanic who is far too fond of running off his assistance, the only assistant that has held on for the last few years is Joey. A teenage runaway with the height and build of a full grown adult, he's also just as intelligent and crafty as Old Smitty which causes the two to argue constantly over repairs, opinions and modifications. Most of the time Old Smitty wins and Joey usually does what he wants despite Old Smittt's warnings or opinion.

Smitty runs a small salvage business... At least that's what he calls it, he is more of a scavenger then a salvager and owns not only a Salvage yard down by the docks, but an airship as well. The airship is run down but has served him well for years.

When you arrive you hear the usual raised voices of Smitty and Joey discussing things like two salvagers. The door to the yard is closed as you approaches and as you reach to open the gate you hear a crash, followed by a loud Boom!

[dice=diplomacy]1d20+2

I dither for a second more, then accept that she seems to understand better than I: Okay, let's go.

I lead the way out of the chamber, through the door I opened.

I am Aelessaer. How are you known?

It looks at you for a moment, tilting its head quizzically before speaking. "Bera." It follows you quietly, making little to no sound despite its hooved feet, its pack shifts only slightly as it moves and a pair of tribal fetishes shake and stir. Feathers, claws and a strange swirling pattern made out of leather make up the fetish.

Much like a Dreamcatcher.

Luckily your Sash provides you light in the pitch black halls. You are faced with two choices turning left or right.

Aurora and Leon

I haven't forgot about you and would like to ask really quick if you want to run the Airship for now in this combat or not, it is upto you and if you do not then I will speed things along. Below is some information on the airship and gaming mechanics info. Let me know and I will get the nxt post going as soon as possible.

Everyone: I will post more in a few hours, sadly I need to head to bed I will pick up with this in the morning!

Bera. Okay, let's stick together

We turn left at the end of the corridor and, finding a dead-end, I begin to examine the depression in the wall.

Maybe there is another lever, do you know anything about these things?

Don't forget about me! :)

Mirrianissa

Map updated above, Please let me know if you did indeed charge again and you should be able to alter your character position, its supposed to be open to everyone. :)

The closest puppet moves in and swipes at you but fails to land a blow as you dodge it easily and as its comrade circles around you, failing to flank you fully before trying to strike you as well. It stumbles though, tripping over the frayed parts of the one you just returned to the Bone Mothers gentle hands.

** spoiler omitted **

Diyeana grins as she hears the old, familiar song or Smitty and Joey arguing. She pauses for a moment at the sound of the boom, but is not too worried as while she knew their arguments could sometimes get heated, they neber meant any true harm to each other. Still...could be something else...trouble.

Deciding not to take a chance, plus provide herself with some fun, should everything be alright, she decides to enter another way. Leaving her rifle in its shoulder as she knew she could draw it faster than most could even imagine, Diyeana calls upon her natural born powers and, with a summoned burst of wind, is lifted up and over the fence before her.

As she soars over the fence, her keen eyes search for any signs of trouble Smitty or Joey may not have caused by themselves. Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26

(If she sees nothing)
Looking like a dark angel descending from heaven as her hair and longcoat flair about her, she lands perfectly, her posture and gaze confidant and cocky. With the grin still on her face she tilts up her hat and says "Hi fellas! Sounds like you might need a lady's special helping touch in here."

I just tried the map as well and it takes me to the login screen.

"The fruit of my hopes still needs time to ripen,"

Donovan smirks. "That is bloody poetry, that is. Do you write for the theater?" Stretching ostentatiously, he says, "In my old neighborhood, we'd say instead that you haven't got the eggs to hatch the chickens you plan to eat, just yet."

"Perhaps it would be best to move this conversation to someplace less conspicuous. As a businessman yourself, I'm sure you don't handle your most delicate affairs while bumping elbows with a series of drunkards." When he finishes this thought he takes another look at his soon to be associate. "Then again a man in your line of work..."

Rather than take offense, Donovan laughed. "Can't say I haven't conducted many a complicated negotiation in dives worse than this one. Of course, sometimes the negotiating happened less with words and was more of a...physical nature."

"I won't divulge any specifics just yet but rest assured, if you care to join me, profits will be the least of your concerns."

"Oddly enough...I believe you. If most any other man made as vague a promise as that, I'd call him a liar to his face. But for some reason, you strike me as a man who gets what he aims at."

Standing up, Donovan said, "I have a room downtown...ask for me along Wandsworth Street. The dodgy end. In the meantime, good fortunes." He takes a last slug of rum, and leaves the bottle for Cassian, heading back out in the street, whistling cheerily.

Diyeana grins as she hears the old, familiar song or Smitty and Joey arguing. She pauses for a moment at the sound of the boom, but is not too worried as while she knew their arguments could sometimes get heated, they neber meant any true harm to each other. Still...could be something else...trouble.

Deciding not to take a chance, plus provide herself with some fun, should everything be alright, she decides to enter another way. Leaving her rifle in its shoulder as she knew she could draw it faster than most could even imagine, Diyeana calls upon her natural born powers and, with a summoned burst of wind, is lifted up and over the fence before her.

As she soars over the fence, her keen eyes search for any signs of trouble Smitty or Joey may not have caused by themselves. Perception: 1d20+7

(If she sees nothing)
Looking like a dark angel descending from heaven as her hair and longcoat flair about her, she lands perfectly, her posture and gaze confidant and cocky. With the grin still on her face she tilts up her hat and says "Hi fellas! Sounds like you might need a lady's special helping touch in here."

As you land you see Old Smitty walking away from his airship hanger, which is billowing smoke and looks like it has seen better days, as does poor Smitty's jumpsuit. Joey on the other hand is laughing as Smitty brushes past him, his face blank save for the determined look in his eyes. He also doesn't seem to be bothered by the small patch of flames burning brightly up his left sleeve and shoulder. At the sound of your voice, Joey stops laughing and gawks at you. He doesn't gawk for very long before Smitty smacks him on the head with the butt end of his massive mechanics wrench. "Be useful for once and go put that fire out before it consumes the hanger..."

Rubbing his noggin Joey jumps up and goes to fight whatever lie inside the hanger. After he'd gone Smitty turns and eyes you warily for a moment before cracking the smallest of smiles. "Been awhile lass, what has this old sod done to gain the likes of your company. You still have Joey twisted around your finger, but he's young, me on the other hand... I know your a wily vixen. So whatcha be needing?"

Her blood pounding, the rush of combat filling her with a primal exhilaration, Mirrianissa's perceptions heighten as she sees past her attackers, their actions seeming almost frozen in the air around her as she looks beyond them to their master, green power beginning to swirl at the tip of his odd staff, sees the fat creature's protecter standing alongside both blind to the farmer rising behind them.

The tigress is with that one she thought, a savage grin crossing her fiercely beautiful features.

She could only hope the farmwife had it in her to out pace the puppet things a bit longer, as she gave the farmer time to act.

Stepping forward she slid between the creatures, close enough to see their dead eyes try to follow her movements as she brought her left arm dragging along after her, claws shering their way through one monster's chest, bone and vile flesh flying free as she twisted, tail providing her with perfect balance to bring her right arm in a scything slash across the other puppet's spine.

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28
1d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28
1d6 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

Crit confirmation

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15
1d6 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23
1d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Perception 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21

"That is bloody poetry, that is. Do you write for the theater?"

”I can’t say I’ve had that pleasure. I’d never have spied you as a man of culture,” Cassian retorts cheekily.

"Can't say I haven't conducted many a complicated negotiation in dives worse than this one. Of course, sometimes the negotiating happened less with words and was more of a...physical nature."

”Funny what conversations have the ability to dissolve into…”

"Oddly enough...I believe you. If most any other man made as vague a promise as that, I'd call him a liar to his face. But for some reason, you strike me as a man who gets what he aims at.”

Dealing solely vague promises was a common practice. The less details given the less you’re constrained by the shackles of truth and weight of your honor. Happily, Cassian accepts the compliment with a bow but keeps his mouth closed until Donovan is finished speaking.

"I have a room downtown...ask for me along Wandsworth Street. The dodgy end. In the meantime, good fortunes."

’Which dodgy end?’ Cassian begins but instead replies, ”Tie up whatever loose ends your working on in the next day or so, I’ll be wanting to finish this conversation by then. I thank you for the company and for the drink, Mr. Lynch. We will be in contact soon.” Cassian shakes the grizzled trencher’s steely hand in his own ands bids farewell. Waiting until the man turns the corner out the door to check the contents of the bottle left behind; ”About half a shot,” he laughs.

Hailing down the barmaid one final time Cassian pays off his tab and asks with a smile, ”I’m looking for a clean private room to stay in tonight and possibly the remainder of the week. You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find one at this hour, would you?” Upon receiving the information he desires he gives a wink and departs.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (17) + 11 = 28

After paying the innkeeper and settling in, Cassian begins his normal routine of checking exits and quick escape paths. He slides the chamber pot in front of his door then spends a half an hour running a whetstone over his swords before kicking his boots off and relaxing on the bed with a book in hand, falling asleep shortly afterwards.

Paying 3g for the food/drinks/tip and 2g for an inn with ‘Good Accommodations.’

"The Flind are without honor - true. And they despise us with every fiber of their being. Them and their Demon Goddess. That is all true. But they are far from being stupid and they value strength above all. I would go and challenge their champion to a single combat, to prove myself. I would take the pup I rescued as proof of my intentions. They must be hurting more than us, since they don't have the legacy of High Ones to guide them and protect them. They should welcome this alliance. Of course, we should guard against their treachery, which will surely come - but for now, the honor demands we should at least try to unite the living against the dead."

Kel nods to your words and then sighs at the last of your words. "Honor demands much of us young one, yet we are too few to travel far from our home and Envoy's are far too vulnerable. Perhaps first I will send you on an important mission, along with some Beleghtor warriors deep into the heart of the ruins to recover an Artifact of the High Ones. It will be dangerous and if I had time I would do this myself, but I am needed here."

Bera. Okay, let's stick together

We turn left at the end of the corridor and, finding a dead-end, I begin to examine the depression in the wall.

Maybe there is another lever, do you know anything about these things?

Bera looks at the symbol for a long time, shuddering in fear as the vaguely female visage stares past the pair of you. She shakes her horned head at your question, continuing to stare at the image fearfully. [smaller}"No, Bera no c'me her..."[/smaller]

Will post more shortly~

Go on and control the airship I haven't a clue as to what to do with it.

"I stand ready for whatever you command!"

Roger that Leon, sorry hopefully I can expand the Airship rules abit later ;)

With Captain Barnabus at the helm of The Red Dog, bellowing orders to the rag tag mercenary group, the ship barreled out of the cover of the floating isles. Its wood burning engine at full stroke as the engineers beneath deck pushed the vessel to its limits, coaxing as much speed out of their engine so that they could close the distance. As they made their approach the Flesh galley didn't remain idle. Its deck swarmed with scores of undead, like maggots crawling over a bloated corpse, the foul abominations could be easily seen rolling additional weapons to bare on the smaller vessel barreling towards it.

Another set of necrotite shells fired from the upper decks of the Flesh Galley, aimed for the more fragile hull of the Red Dog. As the volley of green flaming ammunition rocketed towards the mercenary airship her pilot proved his immense skill. Several men on board hit the deck as the ship descended rapidly and started to turn. As the necrotite shells passed just over the bow of their vessel the Red Dog veered portside, sending those who weren't holding onto something sliding across the deck. As the enemy galley came into view on the starboard side, a great shout rose under the decks. Followed swiftly by the loud report of the starboard side Falconets returning fire on the enemy ship.

Barnabus stabbed his sword into the deck and cursed the airship pilot. "Dammit Zed! Don't help them by shaking us off you daft fool!"

He was cut off as the Red Dogs scored the first hit, scattering several undead and tearing a hole in the hull of the enemy ship. His jaw suddenly dropped as another set of booms shattered the silence. The Red Dog shook as her pilot failed to dodge out of the way and she took two direct hits from the Cryxians. Barnabus grimaced and stared at the enemy ship with a look of grim determination, his mouth twisting into a frown as he shouted "Ready Grenades!". As you turn your eyes back towards the Cryxian vessel you spot what has upset your Captain. Warjacks two of them and a third marching to join its brethren on the upper deck of the Galley. The pair were hastily being reloaded by thralls as they stood on four dark metal legs and swiveled and shrieked loudly at the approaching enemy.

Zed was sweating profusely as he leaned into the wheel and brought the Red Dog out of its portside descent and started taking it starboard at an accelerated rate. Below decks shouts and the sound of something crashing could be heard, the gunners were having a hard time with their pilots wily tactics but, as the portside of the Red Dog got a full view of the Cryxian vessel, another thunderous report came from the second set of Falconets launching death back at the Cryxians.

The Red Dogs are rewarded for their grim determination, as both shots stuck true and a massive explosion lit up the lower decks of the Cryxian vessel. A foul green flame sprouted from the rear of the Enemy vessel as the Red Dog had succeeded in crippling their enemies engines. The enemy was sunk. The Cryxian vessels headlong push into the phenomena stopped and the strange ripple started to reject the ship, pushing it outward and driving the vessel in reverse.

Without its engines the Galley was floundering and was certain to go down into the sea below. The sudden reversal in their momentum caused the Galley to twist and spill one of the striders over board, along with several dozen of its undead crew along with it. As several of the gunnery thralls tried to stop their cannons from going over, they too found themselves tumbling hundreds of feet to the ocean below.

With the enemy ship floundering the Red Dog readjusted to a direct course, allowing their gunnery crews to reload and hopefully overtaking the galley before it could attempt to recover. As they moved towards it though the strange ripple in the air started to waver and then it, strangely, started to expand. The Cryxian vessel, which had almost recovered succeeded in avoiding Rolling over was struck by the ripple and sent rolling off into the air. As the Cryxian vessel failed to avoid rolling over this time its remaining crew on deck were sent hurtling into the air along with the other four legged warjack.

Then without warning and utterly silent the ripple closed instantly, vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared and leaving no trace that it had existed, save for the rolled over Cryxian vessel. Barnabus though didn't allow the shock of the sudden turn of good fortune to distract him from seizing the moment. "Zed, ascend and get us above their hell blasted hull! Everyone ready grenades and prepare to strike fast! WE're gonna crack them wide open!" He turns to Leon and Aurora, nodding to them and handing them a set of crude looking grenades. "I don't know what god decided to give us their help but I'm not wasting it! Time for some running and gunning mates, lets give them hell!"

Barnabus smiles smugly as the Red Dog makes its way over the floundering Cryxian Vessel, which was still struggling to stay afloat on whatever foul magic it had left. As they hovered above the hull of the bow of the rolled over galley the gunners below deck helped make a hole with a single falconet. At such close range it punched a hole in the hull and by the look of it part of the upper hull deck as well.

As several Red Dogs start descending onto the deck they don't immediately encounter resistance, which is strange but they Red Dog mercs are heavier then the pair of you and not as skilled.

The floor is yours you two. Give me your actions and I will respond as quickly as I can. :)

"I stand ready for whatever you command!"

Kel smiles, he looks satisfied and then waves to the door of the great hall. "Make your preparations and return here at dawn tomorrow, if there is any you wish out of the Beleghtor to go with you then peak now and I will see them gathered here to accompany you. More will be explained in the morning."

"I trust in your wisdom and guidance to choose my battle companions for me. I shall return at the appointed time."

Mirinissa:

The Master - Initiative1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
Mirinissa Fort Save DC 18 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15
Mir: you can roll your own fort save if you want, you don't have to accept my roll. Same goes for everyone else as well. ;)