The lean but thin Dr.Craven is panting in unconsciousness, but looks alright aside from a few cuts and burns that were not very visible on Bash.
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An unconscious, naked, scarred human male is what appears when she dispels the cage.
Craven's hands quickly begin clutching his head. "UghrraAAA.." he yells as his body begins bubbling out as if something was trying to burst its way out. During this process, he was slowly growing in size. Bigger and bigger.
Hey everyone! I will be running Passing the Torch 1 & 2 as well as Siege of Gallowspire and Fate of the Scoured God over the next 2 days. As such it is incredibly unlikely that I will be able to post. Thanks for your understanding.
You all get a sense of amusement. ::Dont worry about roughness. If Bash shows up just make sure not to get his attention or be the closest to him. He eventually tries himself out...or I get control again. Though the latter is rare. If he comes, just focus on getting the Mutalibs away.::
::Crap! I'll try to hold off Bash as long as possible, but we have to take this outside.::
Craven continues flipping a test tube between his fingers. ::So...metal man, it would be best to fight them well outside of town. Bash doesn't take kindly to people hurting me and he...well...he doesn't care much about what's around him when he's angry...:: ::Oh, and he's always angry.::
The severely scarred man sits quietly, flipping an empty vial between his fingers. He does however have a bemused smile on his face.
Dr. Craven chooses to take on the look of 'I don't care either way', with a shrug. His scarred face looks generally unimpressed.
Craven raises an eyebrow and his mouth cracks a grin once more, "You misunderstand me bard. I was not being philosophical. Nor was I posturing with threats. Put just as simply, if you fidget with my mind I will no longer be me, but someone else, and that person is very dangerous. Test it if you like, but such an action will likely ruin our mission and get you killed. I do not mind this other person because they kill fools. Namely the fools who do not heed my warning. It is entertaining in a way." Craven then turns to Scrivener with no indication of surprise at their entrance, "Our status is nothing. Nothing has happened. Hypothetically we will be introducing ourselves to a noble, but our...talker just arrived." He is clearly impatient at having to explain it yet again.
"I see..." Dr. Craven sends, traling off as he gives a very slow nod. After a moment his thought continues, "Well, in case your persuasion is of a magical nature...though...Let me restart and put it bluntly. I encourage you to leave me out of your mental antics. When people start trying to futz with my mind...it stops being my mind." He adjusts his glasses somewhat uncomfortably, "I'd prefer to stay me. And I assure you, you'd prefer that as well. That goes for all of you. "Well, he finally says aloud, "we're ready to go. You're caught up. Let's go find that noble or whatever and get hired to rob his or her ancestor's tomb."
Dr. Craven's face turns from bemused to unimpressed. As he shifts his glasses he thinks flatly, "While your singing is quite talented, there is a time and place for that. Do you have any useful qualities? We are on a mission. And, while I enjoy my time away from my cell, I do desire to prove that it can be done more often. Oh on that note, you are with the wrong crew to be wanting trust."
Dr. Craven sits in a seat at a table with his sizable box on the floor at his side. He lowers the tankard he was about to drink from, revealing his multi scarred face, and pushes up his glasses. "...Huh..." he expresses with a bemused expression. "Well, now i can't say he doesn't have a sense of humor." He then shrugs, "Either way, I'm Dr. Craven."
"Well, Ozzie, what're your plans? The countess has gotten bored and left us, not a rare occurrence mind you. I can join you and present as a specialist, though I'm a terrible liar."
Whelp, guess we will. Which way to the caravan?
Ooh, I haven't heard voices in my head since Bash agreed to sleep! I would quite enjoy watching some of you enjoy yourselves. I only ask that I get a live one or two for research.
Craven is at an alchemical stand when Ozzie emerges into the thoroughfare once more. With a wicked, but friendly smile he waves Ozzie over. As his new ally approaches he sets down the vial he was looking at with blatant disgust. "Well, I didn't find anyone with any useful th ings," he says. "It's like they have only learned the basics of alchemy and then happily stopped there.Truly disappointing. Did you find anything useful?"
Craven happily drinks his new beverage. At Ozzie's question he shrugs and shakes his head, "No, but admittedly I have been out of my box in some time so, it leaves me a bit sheltered."
Craven looks around as they are lead through the open air markets with unconcealed wonder. The gadgets in particular catch his eye as the group passes. All the while his large box of a backpack jingles away as the beakers and vials tap against each other with the sound of concealed wind chiimes. When the small of the chemicals and spices became stronger, Craven piqued with interest once more. Craven gave no objections to Ozzie's choice of coffee shop and happily jingled in tow. He threw Nephre an amused look as she made her announcement, his scarred eyebrow raised. "Enjoy...?" he replied a bit quizzically, but said nothing more. At the half mustache man's provocation, Craven picks out a gold coin, on it was a city silhouette that was surrounded by seven angel looking characters. "Do you still have drink?" he quips back with a scarred smile.
Dr. Craven stands for a moment, looking up toward his rented room, and then shrugs. In a single deft motion he spins and pushes his spectacles back into position. "Why not? Maybe these simpletons have stumbled on something of value," he says cheerily with an obvious undertone of condescension. "I'll go to the market." The doctor strolls over to stand next to Ozzie with his hands wrapped around the shoulder straps, giving off a bit of a childish posture.
The good(?) doctor acquires a room for the night, seemingly carefree.
Dr. Craven nods cheerily, though such an act appears a bit unnerving for a a man with his extensive scarring. He then follows behind swaying as he walks, which causes his pack of alchemy to jingle loudly.
Dr. Craven folds his arms, causing his pack to jingle again. He looks very disappointed, the kind when a show you were looking forward to is cancelled.
Craven steps away from his monstrous companions and quietly chuckles to himself. This is getting interesting.
Dr . Craven looks around with bemused interest as his pack jingles with the chiming of beakers and vials. Well, miss countess, as usual I follow your lead. I'm not a great liar so...well, you know.
Dr. Craven simply gives a smile and slight nod toward the Countess.
Craven smirks and speaks up again, "I suspect he's going to be hands-off about this whole thing. He's looking for a group to continue this B-team status. Part of the whole deal is organizing ourselves. So! The Countess and I will be going to present ourselves as a professional delving crew. Anyone who wishes to join can do so. I see no reason to coordinate beyond that." Craven then stands. "I assume you are okay with this?" "We will be going. If there is a crew going straight there, then hope that you get it done before us. I have little care if other teams succeed. You all matter little to me. We will succeed, so try to stay out of our way."
Craven's face wrinkles in contemplation for a moment. He says flatly, "Deeply ironic. Simply put, I can't die. Bash won't let me." He then shrugs and holds his hands to the sides, palms up, "He tends to be both reliable and vindictive in that way." Craven shrugs again, "Place me wherever you want, with my tinctures I can probably succeed at either."
With a little smile and a cocked head Craven looks over to Nephre, "You realize that such a statement doesn't endear yourself right? It establishes you as a potential liability to either part of the plan."
Dr. Craven silently raises his hand for both Plunder and Pillage.
"Now, now Miss Corpse, you have asked the same question as several others thus far, 'why us?'. And the answer is obviously, 'because I want to see if this works'. You see, judging by the fact that none here knew why they were here, the conclusion is that they are trying this little 'evil on a leash' thing out." "Though this may not be the first time." "With the simplicity and flexibility of successful avenues, it is the perfect...test, if you will. He's already told us how long the leash is. The question remains, what is it made out of? Spikes? What manner of shock therapy will he/they use?" Craven then leans forward, steepling his fingers, "Or, what's the stick?"
"Come now Lehk, if he told us that we'd lose out on the fun of figuring it out ourselves. A better question might be, 'Once we retrieve it, what's to stop us from taking it ourselves?'. He's haggling the carrot here and has failed to state the stick." Dr. Craven finally speaks up from his bemused silence in a playful tone, "A family of inventors and engineers. So, who built the elder Mutalib's tomb? Or better yet, who designed it?"
Craven lounges in his chair with a continuous bemused look on his face.
Dr. Craven follows into the new room with a smile and a bit of jingling from his alchemy kit.
Hmm.. I'd venture that he's somewhere around 40ish years old now so, he's been around for about 20ish years
I'm working on the profiles of both Craven and Bash, as they have fairly different stat blocks. As for the backstory, Craven came to the area a while back. He isn't from the area, but he is essentially from the area. He concocted the Philo stone and Bash went on a rampage. He was thus placed in the formidable cell to contain Bash.
Our host is a member of the Foreseen Parity. They are known as protectors of the timelines and guides of the winds of fate. Basically, interplanar custodians. Dr. Craven adjusts his spectacles as he look on the revealed host. Now that adds up. Who would be the most interested in knowing everything about this lot? A celestial. Huh, neat, he thinks to himself. After the others have said their initial reactions, the 'doctor' smiles a wry smile and gives a loud, slow clap. "So," he starts bemused, "What's the carrot? And what's the stick? That's it right? You've brought the 'scum and villainy' to your, bigger on the inside, haberdashery. What now?" A short moment after asking this question the unendingly scarred face of the 'doctor' contorts into a half mocking, half surprised face, "You cheeky...celestial. You need our help, don't you?"
Dr. Craven holds up a hand at the fae. "No thank you, imbibing has a tendency to..," he pauses for a moment as if choosing the right words, "..have a negative effect on my mood." He then gives a smile and bows his head. Turning to the group once more and placing a hand on the bulge on his left chest, he says with mirth in his voice, "I'm just not myself when my mood goes sour."
Dr. Craven's eyes alight with amusement at the sight of the red-dressed human woman. He gives a mocking bow as she sits in her chair. "Oh, Bash is not going to be happy to see you. Sorry lady, he's not a fan. So far just some phallic expressions and displays. It was inevitably soon leading to comparing. No appearance from the author of our letters." The scarred man then turns to the others, gives a deeper bow and addresses, "I have the pleasure to present her ladyship, the Crimson Countess." He also gestures widely with his arms toward Jasmine.
An exceptionally scarred man works in a lab with beakers, bottles, and all manner of other alchemical devices about. The lighting comes only from the multitude of fires under the respective multitude of beakers filled with bubbling liquids. Though the sources themselves produce little light individually, the refraction from the various liquids, glass containers and the metal walls light up the metal room surprisingly well. The only exit to this room is a metal door that has a small window. Holes in the ceiling are made visible by the channeling of smoke that would otherwise quickly fill this cell. The man turns the page of the notebook he is writing in to see a fancy, gilded paper. He starts slightly in surprise, adjusts his glasses, and reads the note. A wry smile creases his face as he says,"Well Bash, it looks like 'your services' are requested. How delightful." A deep rumbling seems to respond to his words. The man then takes the paper from his notebook and holds it up to the small window and shouts, "I have been summoned! I don't suppose you'd kindly unlock the door?!" ************** The exceptionally scarred man enters the establishment with a slight flair as he swings the door open joyously. He then immediately turns around, seemingly responding to some words from outside. He receives a portable alchemy kit from the outside and slings it over his shoulder easily (despite it looking quite weighty). He then makes a shooing motions with his hands and says jokingly, "Oh, calm down. There are some guards in here. They'll scream if you are needed." And with that, he lets the door close and walks over to the others gathered. This average sized human has a pretty normal build and wears a brown leather lab coat and simple brown boots. The only odd thing about this man, aside from his scars is the slight bulge that is on the left side of his chest. He adjusts his glasses slightly and, with the smile on his face inquires, "So! Who here desires some destruction?" Current Campaigns
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