Drexa's first two days are exceedingly successful, her third day goes well, but on the last day she throws her back out and spends it complaining bitterly to anybody who'll listen.
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Drexa’s eyes widen. She had to get her hands on some of this stuff.
Drexa spends a few days and some of her ill-gotten gains to craft a few spike snares, embracing the gnollish maxim that the only thing better than stabbing someone yourself is getting something else to stab them for you. She instantly perks up at the mention of explosives. She cackles, "Sho we take the...hrrrk...exploshives-makerrr to you. What if there are shaid exploshives therrre? Might that be a parrrt of our...hyak hyak hyak...payment?"
”Hrrrrk…a plan ish good. Lotsh of gold frrrom them…hak hak hak…maybe morrre if we play our carrrds right.”
Drexa moves in, hefts the unconscious body of Sin onto her shoulder, and skedaddles back to where she had been.
Recognizing this as a tough situation and that trying to hit the thing up close would result in her untimely demise, Drexa embraces the gnoll virtue of prudent retreat. She gets up and runs backwards, stopping to pick up a heavy chunk of scrap and hurls it at the gnoll.
Drexa cackles and tries to overclock the devices on her armor (though she doesn't quite succeed) before charging in and swinging her flail at the mutated gnoll. The failure to overclock her devices throws her off, however.
Drexa steps so she'll avoid hitting any of her allies with a blast of energy and then turns the crank on the bottom of her flail, overloading the Stasian coil and unleashing a blast of electricity, cackling all the while as her fur stands on end from the static charge running through her.
Drexa gets to her feet and swings her flail twice at one of the gnolls who'd attacked her. Neither goes well.
Drexa cackles, ”Oh, I’ll do a lot morrre than jusht nudge it.” Drexa starts to clamber up to the engine and gets to work on it, trying to reroute any remaining juice it might have into one last blast.
Drexa looks at the ship and shrugs. "Let'sh blasht the ship into shky again. Usheful to ourrr path and probably fun too."
The gnoll nods, stifling a chuckle at Tindertwig's swooning, "I am Drrrexa Crrracklefur. Good timing on ourrr part, it sheemsh." "Not bad, but take a look at...hak hak hak...thish!" She holds up a metal disc with a cobbled together metal plate at the top of it. "Thish should be packed with exploshives. Gonna give anyone unlucky enough to walk over it...hrrrrk...a hell of a bad shurprrrise."
Drexa cranks the gadgets installed on her armor as the Stasian coils on her flail crackle with energy, standing her fur on end. She moves in, swinging her flail at one of the clockwork creatures.
Drexa cackles, ”Haha, shilly little grrreen man. We arrre only mean with good rrreason. Those rrreasons are many, yesh, but we are rrreasonable. Reasons shuch as eating goblinsh and toadsh that get on our bad shide.” She winks back. Honestly, it’s a little frightening. Immediately intrigued by the workshop, Drexa hefts her flail and saunters over.
Brains and brawn were all that were needed to solve a problem. Drexa takes one of the containers of oil and applies it to the gears, her technical knowledge coming in handy. Brains, check. She then grabs the levers, feeling that they don’t seem to want to budge. Well, looks like it was time for brawn. With a strain of her fairly impressive muscles she forces the crane’s controls into motion.
”Rrrrare metal you shay? Conshider me…hrrrrrk…intereshted.” Drexa seems entirely unfazed by the goblin cuisine. If anything, she’s a little disappointed by the lack of large bones to crush with her powerful jaws. Goblin food might be strange, but gnoll cuisine is downright grisly.
Drexa takes a moment to admire the meat spit, and then silently admonish the (in her opinion) shoddy construction. "Gnollsh you shay? What shorrrt are they? Kholo, frrrom the jungles, I would guess." She cackles derisively, "Trrree huggersh, the bunch of them. Lorrrd Glash, though. Who...hrrrrk...is he?"
"Amateurs, watch and...hak hak hak...learrrn." Drexa grabs a few chunks that seem to be load bearing and nods, satisfied with her worl.
”Hrrrrk…gold and shilver, shiny! No more need to shtay here, hak hak hak, let ush get to the shcrrrapyard with all the shpeed we have.”
Drexa cranks her gizmos into overdrive again and moves in, adjusting the head of her flail to leave some hefty bruises rather than broken bones or slashes.
"If the little grrreen one'sh lockpicking doesh not worrrk, perhapsh my flail can brrreak it down."
”Yesh….hak hak hak…pershuasion with threats of grrreat violence if needed.”
Drexa finally breaks free from the clockwork's grasp before swinging her flail at the foe.
She then tries to power up the mechanisms on her flail even further but can't quite push it over the edge.
Drexa struggles and struggles and struggles to escape from the clockwork's grasp but she just can't quite manage to.
Drexa winces and growls at the blow from the clockwork. Nevertheless, she powers through the pain and swings her flail twice at the one that Tindertwig had hit , cackling wildly as she attacks!
Drexa nods in agreement with Tindertwig and likewise slips out of the room, quiet as a mouse . "I agrrree. I shay we rush in, my thunderrrflail can...hrrrk...shoften it's blows, give brrruises inshtead of brrroken bonesh."
Drexa lets out a cackle, "Hyak hyak hyak! Yesh, I shneak verrry well. We gnollsh are excellent at many things."
”Why don’t you tell me how you got on the bad side of these … f-“ he stops himself, ”ahem - foul … people. If your story makes sense, I’ll tell you some of mine.” ”I wasch born in Katapesh…hrk…hrk…to a clan of gnolls there. We raided once, a caravan brrringing technology here to Alkenshtar. It was fashcinating to me, and I had to learn morrre. My clan did not trrrusht my passion, and sent me into exile. I wandered for a time, before finding myshelf here.” When the group is all together Drexa thinks about the intel and says, ”I shay we go in thrrrough the back. When the clockworksh come near ush, which they likely will, we…rrrrg…drop to the ground to avoid their light. If needed, I could trrry to dishable them.”
Along the way, Drexa does her best to make conversation with the dwarf, "Sho, how do you...hrrk...find yourshelf in a condundrrrum shuch as thisch?"
This isn't the first heist that Drexa's planned. Back with the clan, crime was a part of their way of life. Casing, as an extension, comes naturally to her.
Drexa tries to recall what she can about the church and the scrapyard.
Drexa lets out a loud, barking cackle as she applauds the play. The powerfully built gnoll woman drains the last of her glass of whiskey before standing and following the dwarf. Though she'd be an imposing seven feet tall if she stood up straight, her perpetual and quintessentially gnollish hunch puts her at a more reasonable six feet. Her dark red clothes are stained with grease, and a complex flail is stowed at her back, the head a jumble of blades, spikes, and switches with copper wire running from the head to a complex mechanism at the base of the handle. She nods to Foebe, her voice rough and guttural and she speaks Common as if it was a language not designed for her canine snout, "Hrrrrk...Talent with invention. This ffflail on my back is not jusht for show. I can knock shkulls and make mashterworks with equalll...hrrg...shkill. Gold is good, but rrrevenge is shweeter yet." She lets out a short bark of cackling before getting it under control. Non-gnollish manners (which is to say anything better than awful behavior) are not her strong suit. |