"You both command powerful magic. I have never seen a room repair itself in such a manner, nor the injuries of combat heal so quickly among so many. I am honored to have trialed with you both. And Tuk, that combat was quite effective. If we are to battle such large foes in the future, we would be wise to remember that tactic."
Thuurvi nods at Three. "Well, ogres and giants can be found not too far from Sylbaran, although they don't usually come that close. We shall see."
Tuk fetches his rapier and rubs the back of his neck, and then his sore nose, "That was a nice bit o' fun! I'll be takin' to the air more oft'n if t'is how lively it gets!" he exclaims.
He watches carefully as Valeros performs his 'wind-back' magic, nodding, "Neat trick, big man. " he observed respectfully.
Nodding to #3, "Remember it? You better believe it! It's my life's work....all us Tuks together..." he begins , then his shoulders slumps a bit, "Ah...together...not much together when yer the only one!"
He looks up at Thuurvi, brightening his voice , it seems by will alone, "Let them come! I figure we'll take'em down right quick! "
"It's not powerful magic, really." Ezren says to the warforged. "My spell takes a long time to cast, works in a very limited area, and does not actually restore things. It's more like...I paint a picture, and then we paint over it. When we're done, I simply remove the top layer of paint, uncovering what was there the whole time, what we just painted over."
"And my mark is mostly just a trick, yeah. It works similarly." Valeros enters the dining area, pulling his stein from his belt again as he replies to Tuk. "Once bound to my mark, someone is much less likely to be hurt severely. But being as it must be voluntary... it's useless outside of training."
"It's actually where I got the idea for the spell - his mark." Ezren explains. "It is a fairly unique Dragonmark, only mentioned in writings of House Deneith. Not without its costs, of course." He nods at Thalmor. "In principle, I think, the spell functions a bit like some of House Kundarak's aptitudes. It...preserves...an area. I don't think that is what Valeros's Dragonmark is doing, but it's the methodology around which I designed the spell."
Thuurvi winks at Tuk. "I like your spirit, Tuk. There will no doubt be occasions when merely talking with an ogre won't do the trick."
She shakes her head in wonder at Ezren's explanation. "So not a glamer then, but another...skin...on top of reality?" She adjusts her orange braid. "That's far beyond my area of expertise, but fascinating. I do often think about what is real, although I'm no philosopher nor metaphysicist."
She sits on the table. "Ezren, have you examined the artifact?"
"The pillar? No, I've not," Ezren said, joining Thuurvi at the table. "Any of you?"
Jacynta shakes her head. "I worked with the team who found it, but I left Xen'drik a long time before they got to that point."
Thalmor watches as everything mends itself, his beard cleaning itself, and his mug refilling. He grumbles a bit, but sits back down, "wouldn't know too much 'bout Kundarak marks. I get my callings from ol' reliable here." He withdraws his holy symbol, and takes a sip of beer, grimacing slightly at the slight oxidation occurring near a corner, and polishes it on his coat. He snorts, "I get power from work not luck of birth." He chooses his words carefully, and takes another sip, "feels more honest. Many folks aren't 'marked; not sure why we gotta lionize those who are." He sniffs, and peers out the window.
Dragonmarks are obviously a sore subject for him.
"Houses rise. And Houses fall." Omast declares, twisting one side of his mustache thoughtfully. "Like the chest of some great sleeping beast. Some people in the Great Houses are good. But many just helped prolong the war, prolong the slaughter," he says in a disgusted tone. "I agree, Master Thalmor. An individual's accomplishments deserve recognition. Not just a coincidence at birth, by chance. Like Roderik..." he turns to his friend. "You're great because of who you are, not what you were born with."
You clean up and have the afternoon to yourselves.
"Well, I hope we can go look at it closely," says Thuurvi. "I wonder if there's writing on it, even if it's magically concealed."
She shrugs at Thalmor and Omast. "Gods and powers mark people in different ways--no shame in using what you have. Anyhow, what you are tends to change over time. But I hear what you're saying, Thalmor, no need to unduly elevate them."
Tuk nods, agreeing with the sentiment, "Ya, what ya do is what ya are! "
He fetches his rapier, then look sideways up at Valeros, "Wanna some more sparrin' up on deck? I'm just gettin' warmed up! "
Thalmor, once cleaned up magically, harrumphs and sits alone, nursing a stouty and thick beer for the remainder of the day. He stretches his legs briefly to examine the artifact briefly, folding his arms. He peers at it, and looks a little unimpressed, but says nothing.
In the late afternoon he heads back to his notebook and keeps writing.
Engineer spends a bit of time cleaning and organizing below decks, before stepping out into the sunlit upper deck.
Once in the open, they begin a complicated physical ritual combat pattern, switching their manifested mind blade through various forms. Most of the time,it seems like a large ectoplasmic fist surrounding his right hand. Sometimes,however, the blade forms a long wedge shaped cutting edge requiring two hands. And every once in a while a pair of smaller stabbing points jut forth from the ends of their hands. As they complete the kata, Engineer moves to the railing and simply takes in the view from so high up.
The afternoon is spent relaxing as the 'Colossus of Stormhome' continues its journey across Breland. The shores of the Dagger River are left behind, as the airship plunges into the western side of Breland for many hours. The elemental ring surrounding the ship hums and roars in the wind, its fiery core straining, and flexing. Grassy plains and rolling hills lie far beneath the ship, as the sun investigates your journey with a scrutiny that feels at once comforting as well as invasive. As the sun starts to lower in the sky, hinting of warmer colors than gray-blue, an enormous lake can be seen on the horizon. It grows and grows over the course of the next several hours, stretching several hundreds of miles east and west until it is everything ahead of you. Soon the airship will fly out over the waters. This is Silver Lake.
After awhile, Thalmor enters the cargo hold to view the artifact, and you have a short conversation. A little bit later, Thuurvi shows up as well.
In the afternoon you head down to take a look at the artifact, located in the cargo hold. You run into Aemon and Jacynta, and converse for a few minutes. Just as you are about to leave Thuurvi shows up to look at the artifact.
Afterward, you spend some time above decks sparring with Tuk, with Valeros putting you both through some drills, as he is a trainer, before spending the evening watching the sun as it nears the horizon.
You have a short nap, waking around 6 pm in the bunk quarters.
"Tuk,I notice your fighting style consists mostly of close-quarters melee, intending to foul the larger opponents footing and movement. How can I be of assistance in combat with this style? My combat prowess is largely dependent on on physical strength and force."
"Plains aren't my place, exactly, but those wetlands around the lake...I am pretty sure that's a place a Marcher could live," says Thuurvi appreciatively. "And I don't mind the heights, that's for sure."
Tuk, leaning against the gunwale, looking out at the approaching water, craned his head up to regard the tall automaton, "Well, Mr Three, when yer my size, ya gotta be a little tricksy, see? It's good to have a big , strong'un like you around. You pound'em , while I confound'em! Do we have a deal?" Tuk exclaims.
As the evening cools, and Silver Lake stretches from horizon to horizon, preparations for the ceremony this evening continue on deck. Chairs are set up, and a small stand erected for a speaker to stand on.
Aemon bustles around, talking towards you while you're in the room, 'I once dated a dwarven woman. Wonderful, she was, while Jacynta seems preoccupied with a large crate off to the side.
Aemon bustles around, talking to whoever is in the room, 'Would you mind handing me that bag of stones? They were gifted to me by a Sahuagin priest. Don't drop them!', while Jacynta seems preoccupied with a large crate off to the side.
Aemon bustles around, talking to you about various things. A musician he apparently had an affair with the last time he was in Sharn wanted to start something again, and he just couldn't see himself settling down; found it rude, even, to be propositioned that way. 'It's like she doesn't even know me at all.' He spoke of the Cul'sir giants of Xen'drik, and the dark elves you saw that one expedition, 'You remember the one. Lovely fire tattoos.' Somehow that turns into a 40-minute diatribe on the thieving Zil gnomes and their infiltration of all of the major governments, how they must have known about the Day of Mourning before it happened, and how they really learned to bind elementals. 'Trust me - no gnome could've come up with that on their own. Thieving bastards.'
Throughout Aemon’s discourse, you are even more distracted than usual. You can hear a snuffling in one of the large animal crates, and it doesn't take long before you notice a curiously-sniffing nose pressed up against the slats of the box in front of you.
The box is made of double-layered thick pale wood. It is around 8 feet per side and is one of the larger boxes down here. Inside the box, you can sense a feeling of calm when you approach closer, as if whatever beast inside was drawing comfort from your presence.
Thalmor and Thuurvi each spend some time time down there, Thalmor conversing very little and trying to extradite himself from Aemon's tales, and Thuurvi seeming to have a conversation with you...despite you not recalling if you ever actually answered, or if it was just her and Aemon conversing but thinking you were involved.
Thalmor grunts as Aemon approaches, "hmm?" and keeps looking at the pillar.
Thuurvi tries to get a little closer, if she can do so without being seen or heard. She doesn't move far, though.
Aemon and his convo.
LOL.
And here I thought it was some shadowy figure with Sahuagin artifacts.
Thuurvi picks up the stones. "Um...dropping is a specialty of mine." She grips them with two tattoo-dark hands. "What do they do?" She hands them over as if they could be explosive.
As evening approaches about a dozen people on board besides the travelers and their friends gather on deck for the presentation. Several of the people are dressed in expensive clothing, or regalia celebrating former military service. The sun is setting, and the sky is burnt like burnished copper, reflecting beautifully off the waters of Silver Lake below, as the deep blue in the lake creeps up to embrace its twin in the sky above. A couple of moons can be faintly seen peeking through clouds, looking all the larger at this altitude, though it is surely a trick of the imagination. The air chills and clouds can be seen gathering in the distance. Overhead, the elemental rages away, washing the deck in its red glare.
Aemon gets up and begins by welcoming everyone. He has dressed for the occasion, donning a pair of khaki pants and a matching jacket, he looks ever the explorer advertised in the brochures from Morgrave University meant to entice students to register.
He begins to talk about events leading up to the discovery of the pillar in Xen'drik, the research to figure out that it came from Sylbaran, and dealing with Morgrave University and the different ambassadors from Breland, the Eldeen Reaches, and Aundair, not to mention Stormhome. He intersperses the academic dryness with stories of levity, adventure and mystery, sometimes of a ribald nature.
He is a surprisingly engaging speaker, excited and energetic about his subject matter, and a talented teacher. Even so, he is definitely long-winded, and after over thirty minutes, everyone's attention begins to wander despite their best efforts.
The Kn Local is +1 if she's thinking about them giants.
Thuurvi makes a great show of keeping one fist propping up her chin, small tusks showing, but her gaze is not really on anything at all.
Tuk sits up on a piece of rigging, alternating between listening to the wind-bag Aemon natter on, looking up at the constrained elemental or out at the countryside slowly sliding by.
Thalmor does seem to be trying to pay attention to Aemon. It looks like he makes a token effort to greet the new arrivals, but his uncomfortable manner of speaking is off-putting.
You're pretty sure you see a human amongst the crowd who is a high-ranking member of a House. Vadalis, possibly. His curly brown hair blows casually in the wind, his posture strong, self-assured. He is dressed in wealthy clothes not uncommon in the bigger cities on the Reaches, and he doesn't come across as a Cannith Artificer or a Deneith mercenary. Next to him, a man that looks very similar, possibly a relative, is dressed in livery much more common in Aundair - both are dressed in clothes that look impressively expensive.
You also can't help but notice that there appears to be an older half-orc at the back of the deck, head bowed together with Roderik as they discuss something in quiet whispers. They are interrupted as Tuk bursts out laughing from his perch at something Aemon was saying...was saying in another language you don't recognize.
The people in the audience are intriguing to you, as they usually are. Several humans of power, possibly nobles, clearly some representatives of at least one House, several half-elves, and a Khorvairan elf. You recognize the quarter-master with his shaved head and assume the young half-elf woman next to him is one of his assistants, possibly the one you saw with him earlier. No other dwarves are on the deck, but there is one other warforged. He stands in the back corner of the deck, leaning his hip on the railing, the oiled duster he wears blowing in the wind, his hat drawn low over his eyes. Another half-orc stands quietly at the back of the deck as well, head bowed in quiet conversation with Roderik, as they seem to discuss something important. He appears to have some open wounds on his body - not cuts, but more like seeping sores. They are interrupted as Tuk bursts out laughing at something Aemon was saying...in another language you don't recognize.
As the presentation continues, Aemon is interrupted a few times by questions from some of the people attending. He answers them in his rambly way, and a somewhat informal question and answer segment begins, with him moving closer to the audience, interacting with them, and getting into more discussions. On occasion, different audience members speak and argue with each other, or interject with their own ideas and theories.
Engineer #3 stands quietly observing the display, cataloguing the speech and trying to cross-reference any memories or readings they may have absorbed earlier.
Thuurvi frowns. "I'm sure I could help with this research," she grumbles.
Thalmor folds his arms and stands nearby, watching and listening.
Thuurvi tries not to yawn, then perks up after thinking of something. She leans closer to the warforged. "Three, did he say it was made in Sylbaran and found in Xen'drik? I don't know a thing about any colony in the Eldeen Reaches...not to mention sending things back to Xen'drik. Most all I've heard about were people, er, giants leaving Xen'drik. That's what my mentor--oop, sorry," she says when a more esteemed audience member turns to glare at her.
You also are not quite able to follow a joke that Aemon tells in halfling and what you assume is the language of the goblins. Something like...being on the ground with your back covered in oil? It makes very little sense, but you know Aemon...he finds humor is esoteric things that others often missed.
It also comes as a bit of a surprise to you when someone mentions some special cargo aside from the pillar...and you realize the ship must certainly be carrying some special animals for House Vadalis if there is a high-ranking member of the House on board.
Up on his perch, Tuk let out a guffaw, subsiding to stifled giggles, "....ass in the butter....that's a good one!"
"Thalmor." She points with her lower lip in the orcish custom.
"Do you recognize those two? Brothers?"
She's pointing at the House Aundair and House Vadalis representatives, who look strikingly similar.
Thuurvi scrawls down some notes for herself in Orcish shorthand.
Thalmor raises an eyebrow at Thuurvi, and responds in well-practiced and elegant form, a giantish dialect that is common to Mror - where giants are both simultaneously friends and ancient foes of dwarves - depending on the type.
"Aye, house scions often look alike. Cuz they interbreed. You should see some of the most 'powerful' Cannith types."
He gestures towards his lips, snorting.
"Weird hairlips and odd noses. But, you know, they've got a knack for magic gadgets, so they keep right on perpetuating the 'line.' Aundair has a close relationship with Valdalis - hmmm, the queen's husband is of the house."
He blinks and looks over to the crates.
"If I were to guess, that's actually the queen's consort and his... brother? Fancy d'Vadalis types, though I can't recall their names. Amazingly. We're in the presence of fancy nobility. The one who kept his seat in the house is watching that crate closely."
He snorts and raises an eyebrow. He retrieves a small mug of beer from a nearby table, and begins to drink.
He raises his eyebrows, and whispers to Thuurvi,
"The quartermaster is worried about one of the airships near us - and they weren't worried about the last ones we've met. I can see it on their face."
He raises his bearded chin in the quartermaster's direction.
She murmurs back to Thalmor in the language of Xen'drik.
"Strange ships are more important than the consanguinity of the landed gentry here and their noses, which lack the lovely and dainty upturn of we half-orcs."[b]
She chuckles.
[b]"Perhaps we should draw the quartermaster aside."
She waggles her eyebrows at the quartermaster, trying to get his attention.