Wikas "Mad-Tongue" Zuma was born into the typical life of the future common criminal. Drug addicted mother and a father who he'd never know the young boy found true family in a dangerous group of clingers known as the 'Chips'. Being naturally convincing and conniving the boy took to the life of a thug with ease, developing into the common street-scum that plagues the impoverished. Being a Chip, Wikas partook in the usual behavior of a clinger; extorting local Junks, slinging bootleg Sky, harassing Muts and even stepping toe to toe with the other clinger-chapters.
Living the typical criminal life Wikas eventually hit the typical criminal speed bump, earning five hard years of 'condensed population' and neural-habilitation. Considered lucky to not be 'processed' like most of the common scum-buckets, the once hard thug was reduced to just another convict. In Gorgado-Brand-Neural Penitentiary the common convict is given(or forced) a second chance, their minds and personalities subject to neuroscience that gets them ready to be reintroduced into society.
Wikas left the 'brain-tank' with an enforced distaste for illegal activity, a new tolerance for Muts and a knack for computer logic. His parole deal set the man up with a white-collar job at GeneSafe to be one of a million code-monkeys. Despite his intimidating tattoos and his uncouth thuglike demeanor Wikas is content with pushing keys and shooting the sh*t around the hydro. However, sometimes, when a story of a clinger turf-war or act of arson catches the old gangster's attention he can swear his computer knowledge feels fuzzy and that old devious itch forms in the back of his mind... How long is that neural-habilitation good for anyhow?
Father Hallowborne seems to be a truly trustworthy companion, I'd count myself lucky that he has so much faith in my abilities, then again he is a man of faith. Thinking about the current predicament I place my hands upon my gold-purse, feeling it's considerable weight due to the financial infusion of our benefactor, "I'd say that is a marvelous idea Samuel, my boots could definitely take a spell, I'd say they've already gone a few miles too far without a polish. Speaking of... Perhaps we could procure the services of a quaint spit-shiner. This ragamuffin town has got to have one or more simple folk in that line of business."
As the two of us walk in downtown Hidden Valley I flick the brim of my billy-cock to gaze upwards, noting a building I haven't seen since my days at university. "Father," I say grinning skyward, "How would you feel about thinning the weight of our coin so much that we float to our destination?" I point upwards to the Air-'loon Spire, drawing attention to the simple yet intriguing balloon cab service.
I'm wondering, can you post anymore info and stuff in the discussion board? Like are there buses? Taxis? Or silt-striders for us to move around with? Or would you rather take care of that for us through time lapses?
The talk with Desmond seems to be but one subject: business. Few formalities were exchanged as I let my companion do the talking, I would have taken much longer on the helm, I suppose. With the money pocketed and the parchments carefully folded and stowed we take our leave,
"Shall we be off then?"
I take my partner's lead and note his caution, "Samuel, if we're to be meddling in the business of 'Unholy' forces with such intent, then we'd best expect a more escalated calamity in a more direct manner. Perhaps our first stage should be to... well, to stage!" I gesticulate with raising my hands, "Careful planning, as well as tact; with a pinch of subterfuge and a generous amount of charm, that's the Skyraper secret formula!"
Walking to the nearest transportation hub the silent clatter of the city is broken,
"That flask from earlier seemed special in some way, would you care to elaborate?"
For a quick second, my throat lumps. Mouth agape I search for a distracting remark, to no avail I clear my throat after an uncouth amount of time, "Ah, well ahem. Alchemy and such, Father, is all about... Well, to be truthful, there are three facets of alchemy; true alchemy, that is." I rub my neck with my weaponized hand and begin again, "The first is as we discussed earlier: Careful planning... And that's just what that vial is! Aha ha!"
Sense Motive for Father: 8:
It's pretty apparent that Beau did not divulge the other two "facets" of Alchemy
I move with a slight job catching up to Father Hallowborne, my boots clopping atop the hard wooden floors. Coming out of the Bagelry I see my ally walking to the building and quickly stash my vials and reagents into my coat. Hands still pocketed I nod to him, "Ah, Samuel I apologize for the delay, but my alchemetical compulsion demanded a quick itch... We must keep our skills sharp to avoid mental oxidation, no?" I begin walking with Father Hallowborne down the cobbled path, I can plainly see that his attention focused on the damaged street, surely it must be bothering him.
"You too, Father?" my eyes are looking down at street beneath us, not for much reason, just a fixated gaze, "I have been pondering as well. That strange statue... In the courtyard. The one your astute wit activated?" my gaze fixes upon my friend. "Perhaps the two events are linked? They surely are unusual, and in such small time... And in our proximity? Coincidence is often a mask for correlation, I've found." In my coat pocket, my fingers grasp one larger vial in particular as I fish it out. Lifting my gloved hand I activate the spring loaded capsule bay and insert the glass flacon. With a flick I close the small hatch and smile to my friend, "Best to be prepared, my friend."
My eyes widen at the wonderful news, my eye-brows reaching an obscene peak with all of the excitement. I lift my arm, putting the glove relatively close to my face and once again play with the trigger mechanism. The old man was right! I'm unsure how I missed it before but quite simply four spring-loaded compartments pop open with a twitch of my fingers! "Wonderful! I knew I was right to be curious about such a device! Well, then again I AM most often right." I say with a smile, almost playing with the device, "Even with my humble, yet substantial, knowledge about mechanics my mind is abuzz with numerous implications for this artifact, perhaps a catalytic propelling fueled hydrokinetic displacement compound! Or even thueagmentation of its tension coiled projecting apparatus! OR PERHAPS-" I catch myself mid ramble and grin at the old bagelry owner who seems to be nodding at every step of my brainstorming but then I glance at Father Hallowborne and give an apologetic look to my company. "My apologies, friends. How very untactful of me."
I quit playing with the device and place my hand on the shoulder of Father Hallowborne. And give a quick wave to Ol Malley, "I hope you find your tiara to be of use, Samuel." I say with a laugh, making my intention to leave clear.
"... but enough of that for now, look, there is the bagelry."
Giving a solemn nod at the mention of the deceased I briskly move ahead and uncover myself when opening the door for my Holy friend. It is almost disappointing that we had arrived at our destination so quickly. It seemed that I was finally gaining insight on Samuel's inner mechanics and past, but to push the subject would be improper etiquette. "Agreed, I do hope that we can continue this dialogue in a more fitting scenario, friend."
Cracking the door open the heavily saturated air rushes forth past the two of us. I see the old sight of the Bagelry, the flour covered floor, the young commoners... I instinctually extend my left arm to my side and quickly remember the absence of a hat-rack. I turn the failed movement into an awkward gesture that resembles a fully extended arm wave and smile, "Hello again, good sir!" I speak with bold and hearty airs, "Mr. Malley! It must be surprising to gaze upon us once more, is it not? I do not recall if we had the joys of reconvening after escaping the murderous-cadaver crypt you had us investigate!" My tone is has notes of accusation and sarcasm to it.
I grin broadly and walk up to the counter, with a *slap* I place my dagger-gloved hand in plain sight on the wooded surface for our old acquaintance.
I let what Samuel says sink in for a few moments on our walk into town, for some reason I find the advice of his grandfather to be a subject of deduction. My mulling is broken when I feel the cobble under my leather boots. "I apologize for my uncharacteristic lull during our walk, Father. It's just that my attention was focused inward, is all." I pull my hat from my crown to allow my hair to breathe a bit. " I was mostly taxed with the admonition of your grandfather, Ignward was it?" I run my fingers through my hair and place my bowler back upon my scalp, "I am unsure why I find the perplexity of Demons and such to be of preoccupation for myself... But I assure you it is merely out of astute intrigue; not and never fascination."
Smiling with eyes closed to my friend I attempt to relocate Ye Old Bagelry, and wonder what Samuel has on his mind for this last trip into Hidden Valley.
Just to get it out of the way I would like to purchase:
Dagger x3
Long Sword x2
And would like to create:
Acid x2 (from my centipede's acid) - Craft Alchemy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23
Lantern Oil x1 Craft Alchemy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
Potion of Cure Light Wounds x1 Craft Alchemy: Take 20.
Father Hallowborne and myself hastily make retreat from Dwayne Demond's estate. Walking through his grounds I remain silently urging Samuel to keep following until I am certain we are out of surveillance. Walking on the path we took to our host's gate I take a long gander back, flicking the rim of my bowler.
"Well, Father... It seems that the severity of our task has been multiplied infinity fold. I hope you are comfortable with the business arrangement we had made with Mr. Desmond back there. I can say with utmost honesty that my mind is swimming in deduction." I look at my well polished boots and notice a small scuff from our previous haste... Reaching into my coat pocket I palpate the small gear we had found by the Chasm " Ah well," I again turn to my confident; clasping my hands together, "I guess we've got much to do! Shall you accompany me into town for preparation, sir?"
Most important of all I would like to revisit 'Ol Malley' for him to determine what my punching dagger is fully capable of. I would also like to inquire him about the gear that we found. And I would like to buy stuff! :D
So are we to roleplay going and buying supplies? Like walking around town and talking to one another? Or are we just skipping to the next morning and say ooc that we had bought [x] and sold [y]?
My companion stands quite abruptly and casts the visage of passion across the table that we sit at. As he speaks his mind I listen and feel assurance... Not in the brashness of his proposition but in his conviction to action. I place both elbows on the table, criss-crossing my fingers into a double fist that I rest upon my lips while Father Hallowborne completes his oration. With eyes closed and eyebrows dancing in the waltz of noesis my ears perk with Mr. Desmond's stern rebuttal.
"I will end our discussion here and let you two commerce and commence. Of course before we break free, ask any questions you deem necessary. I will then draft copies off maps and charts to you two. Thank you."
"And there we have it! How eventful, how engaging!" I sit back in my chair raising my once again empty cup of Psy Cacti. "This business agreement has been quite entrancing and, Mr. Desmond, I do hope you understand my previous roughness as only being myself to err of the side of caution; as is my nature." I place the cup down onto the small plate in front of me, smooshing the china into the remainder of Rhyulain cheese.
Scooting my chair out I sidle along the table until I am directly behind sitting-Samuel, placing my hand upon his shoulder. "Father, are you prepared to depart in preparation? Or does your riveting", my hand gives a small squeeze as I say the word through my grinning teeth, "devotion require more sustenance from our host?"
Sense Motive 8::
It is quite apparent that Beau is more than anxious to leave the presence of Dwayne and conspire in privacy with Samuel... Suspiciously so.
I sit back into my chair quite dumfounded by the apparent sass of the machine woman. Normally I would have an insurmountable amount of words for insubordination of an ordinary servant but... Well 'she' is no ordinary servant I suppose. After giving a few blank blinks I regain my composure placing my arm onto the table and lean into it. "Yes, quite a doll... I must admit I am more partial to the porcelain variety."
"...Do you mean to tell me that you believe that this fog is somehow connected to the End of Days?"
My stupor is broken when my confident begins to progress our talk of scientific expedition into his realm of prophecy and scripture. Naturally I meet such speak with skepticism and even crack a condescending smile but only for an instant. His vindication seems much more than only reciting theological theorem... The Fog is a truly tumultuous phenomena after all.
Pulling my arm from the table I place it upon my lap and straiten my posture, directly confronting Dwayne. "Well, there you have it Mr. Dwayne Desmond. You have intrigued and engaged two exceptional individuals to assist you in the intricate happenings previously prescribed. But now; on the side of frank, in what reciprocality do you engage us?"
My eyebrow arches to an obscene degree hearing Desmond demonstrate his knowledge of The Fog. I shift slightly in my seat containing the anxiety as he makes mention of traversing the foreboding cloud... Perhaps this man is the means to the end I've been seeking all these years. Placing my hand flat on the table I start "Mr. Desmond, believe me when I say that if you intend to approach, measure or in any tangible way interact with The Fog that my services are rendered unto you. Take note; however, that I shall always remember that you had promised on your word as a fellow gentleman as you claim that I and my companion," I turn to Father Hallowborne and give him a slow assuring nod, "Are to act as entirely free agents. We are not automecha and we are certainly not anything similar to your prize creation..." the last bit comes off as dismissing as I lazily wave my hand toward Dorothy.
Leaning back into my chair I attempt to disperse any airs of desperation after feeling as though I was perhaps too eager sounding with my agreement. In a prideful attempt to maintain appearance I casually and sternly push my empty teacup to Dorothy, expecting her services "Some more, Psy Cacti, half full." I say with an overcompensating amount of arrogance out of the corner of my mouth.
A small amount of shock runs through my form as my posture erects further as it usually does when I have been slighted. Miraculously I remain in control of my pride and do not interrupt Desmond with any of the sharp quips my mind is currently racing through... A few of them even to chastise my companion; Father Hallowborne, for falling for this man's 'charm'.
Knowledge(Mechanics):1d20 ⇒ 4
G%& d@!n it, I swear before I edited the post for spelling that I had rolled a 20... And looked at the spoiler :[ can we just pretend I didn't roll a 4? I don't want to have to rewrite this conversation.
Through my dignified defense I subconsciously take a closer look at his workers, perhaps to quantify their quality of life, perhaps to hopefully find secrets of their servitude when it strikes me: these workers are not humans at all! They appear to be some sort of Artificial humanoid creature hybrid. I decide not to interject this fact into our conversation... Yet.
After sitting down at the table and hearing Dwayne's proposition I must admit my interest is piqued. Crossing one leg over the other I pick up the tea cup offered to me and after a bit of silence I speak into the brew "Mr. Desmond, before I address your proposition, may I inquire something that has been tantalizing my curiosity since you had invited us to tea?" I take a long sip before continuing and savor the flavors of the leaf...
Knowledge(Nature)To identify the brew of tea:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
"I had noticed that many of your servants appear to not be entirely sapient; in fact, many of their visage give away their mechanical grafts. Now as to the morality and impact of this may be debate for some..." I swing a quick glance at Samuel only to close my eyes and continue, "... but perhaps not for others such as you and I. But then I had noticed that among many of your fantastic pieces you have donned across your walls..." I gesture with my cup of tea to the paintings, "That you have many unique paintings of The Fog." I place my cup of tea down after one last sip and stare inquisitively at Dwanye. "Perhaps this is the subject that you and I can debate the impact of?"
"Where I am from tales of steam powered wonders of this scale hold the same amount of believability as children's stories."
Attempting to press on I cannot shake a strange feeling about Father Hallowborne. A man who places such faith in the supernatural and fleeting ploys of the divine... He has always struck me as humble; I can understand why someone of such environment would not be overtly prideful, but to take up chain and bolt against what he may as well consider a "children's story"? Truly he is an intriguing specimen.
Perception 5 (For Father):
Beux seems to be mulling something over and you cannot shake the thought that you may be the subject of some sort of internal evaluation.
While thinking about the inner mechanisms of humanity and technology my train of thought is derailed completely by the movement of dancing gears on the estate ahead of us. As the vaulted entrance opens in a dazzling display of mechanics our host Dwayne Desmond stands before us. I refocus my mental energy to attempt to be a pleasant guest for this man.
"...We may talk on the way, please follow me, come in."
"Please, Samuel..." I motion my arm forward, "... after you, my friend."While thoroughly impressed by this man's works I still cannot shake what I have heard about him from university. "Yes, a truly astounding château you have, Mr. Desmond. I have to inquire, are these grounds kept by indentured employees? Or do you own an amount of slaves to keep all of these machines running so well?" My questions have a condescending acid to them, it's apparently harder for me to be a decent guest than I had thought.
"... And so when I submitted my review of the deceased's prolapsed bronchus my mentor japes to the entire auditorium whilst holding the severed trachea; 'Beux, that must have been one hell of a baby shower!'" I grasp the hem of my green coat with my free hand while letting out a hearty laugh at the punch-line of my story, I look to my partner to see whether or not he followed the humor. It feels natural to let loose coming so close to our destination... Best to get out the jesting now than when we meet with our "Employer".
"Well, Samuel. I was quite apprehensive about this Desmond character when we agreed to meet him but perhaps your business style was the most beneficial course to take, despite it's lack of guile or forethought." I cast a glance to my ally as we approach the mechanical wonder of Dwayne's estate... I hope he didn't take any offense to that. As we walk along the path the end of the long trek appears to be over, the sight stuns me slightly, "Goodness, Father. Have you ever seen such marvels of automecha and steamatech in harmony with a stunning melody of biome?" My viridian eyes widen as I give my black billy-cock an upwards tilt with my off-color glove-knife hand.
Perception:1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15
The quantity of steam vehicles and balloons baffles me humble. While physics was never my forte it is apparent that what I had struggled with this man has surpassed with incredible prowess. I regain my airs and tighten my gloved grip on my packs, ready to walk forward into the industrial marvels.
Hmmm, I am honestly surprised that he would allow us to act under our own accord with no surveillance. This man is either a fool or a business man. I shan't decide alone though, it would behoove myself and Father Hallowborne if we were able to discuss the matter of "playing" this man's trust.
I guess the Professor could work on his subtly. Also Derrick, you can attempt a sense motive to get the jist of my message, just by default it sounds like nothing in particular... Desmond can try too I believe, though he could need to first be aware that I'm trying to fool him... It's up to Cody as is any DC that could be present.
"Mr. Desmond, if you would allow me and my companion to discuss some very specific events HELD at HAND we could adequately decide whether or not we wish to take part in your business dealings. The MECHANICS of our comradery demand us to be in sync a much like GEARS." I hold the cog behind me and slightly bow to Dwayne as I gesture Samuel to follow my jibb.
"... Professor, you are what some call an objectifiable man of humanity. But I find your research to be most let's say enlightening..."
My brow contorts and I feel a grimace creeping it's way to the skin of my face. A cold feeling shoots up and down my esophagus and lumps form in my throat. Surely he couldn't have known about... No... The names on the any documentation wouldn't match. I begin to feel uneasy about Desmond's prodding but he appears to have the upper hand in this exchange.
"...But.. In accepting my request, I require the utmost honesty, trust, and loyalty to this quest and my overall cause."
My hand tightens around the cog that we've found. It feels natural to keep these findings to myself. This man has considerable deducing abilities; that's for sure, and if he were to find out that I'm not being forthwith it may prove hazardous to our mission. I step closer to Father Hallowborne and say to Desmond, "Now... Mr. Desmond, of course you can see that this is a proposition that does not bequeath much mutual trust. While I have acquired my information of you only through conversation and rumor, you have accrued a substantial amount of know-how of us through seemingly precise means. We ARE entitled; under the hypothetical that we agree to work with you, to act as free agents, correct?"
"Please Father, your etiquette is clearly unappreciated by this man. This man who's; dare I say infamous, reputation precedes him." I stick my nose in the air and erect my posture, with my free hand I grasp the breast flap of my peacoat and begin, "Mr. Dwayne Desmond. Yes I've heard enough about you and your escapades whilst attending university. Everyone important knows about your conflicts with the deserving of society." I blink, remembering my company. Turning my head I quietly speak to Father Hallowborne out of the corner of my mouth, "Absolutely no offense meant, Samuel."
"Please go on with your findings."
Still on full airs I continue, "And what, pre tell, does a man of your questionability find piquing about the events that have unfolded this evening?" I grasp the cog in my hand, behind my back.
I take a step back, feeling slightly off balance when Samuel tells me his tale. "Are you to tell me that this causeway has been torn asunder?!" my voice is loud as I gesture to the ground beneath us. Calm down, Beau... You cannot lose your head like these commoners. I look into the crowd and when a few rubberneckers pass I notice the extent of the damage.
"A cog Professor? I did not see any machinery in the area, where did you find it?"
My wide green eyes snap back to Father Hallowborne, I remember the cog in my hand. "Fouwha- *Ahem* Oh yes, the cog. Quite curious no? Your observation is impeccable, Samuel. And even curiouser, though we have not found the source of where this piece came from it feels as if it has been in use not even minutes ago!" I begin to ponder, rubbing my chin with my free hand.
Peaking my head out the door way I slowly follow suit well behind Father Hallowborne's fleet of foot. In the main lobby I gaze at the bar that just the other night was rampant with joy and jollies, now it looks as if an fissure has torn it askew. Looking out of the main entrance to the inn I see a large group of people amassed around the street's center, curses I hate crowds of commoners... At the back of the crowd I am apprehensive of forcing my way through, this all could be a riot waiting to happen! Suddenly a small child; covered in pitch, bursts out of the gathering passing me at an incredible pace! She bolts down the boulevard and out of sight.
I turn back to the crowd just in time to almost be overtaken by a much larger sprinting individual. Quickly I notice that it just happens to be non other than my ally Samuel Halowborne!
"Professor!! Did you hear that group speaking? A hand apparently reached up out of the crevasse! Did you see where?"
"Father? A hand? A CREVASSE? Samuel what exactly are you speaking of? Were you just in pursuit of that youth? What precisely has unfolded since last night's galavanting?"
Perception:1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
As my companion gathers his breath I take note of a very unusual bit of junk on the ground, reaching down I pick up what seems to be a very out of place piece of machinery. I pick the gear up and hold it between my gloved fingers, giving a gentle rub to remove the earth and ash from it's surface.
My brow raises and my spirits fall as I look to the chaos that has befallen the roadways of Hidden Valley. Throwing the curtains shut I turn around quickly and move slowly and quietly to the door of our room. Upon reaching the door I place my ear to the wallpapered surface and attempt to discern what the situation is like outside of our abode. I put my gloved finger to my lips in a gesture to Father Hallowborne to remain silent.
Perception:1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
The clatter outside makes it difficult to focus on any specific noises outside. Erecting my full posture I adjust my billy-cock on my head and look over to my friend. "Father... The straits appear to be quite dire. My hypothesis is that this may be very dangerous." I take a quick and poised step away from the door and bow my head slightly while pointing at the closed door, with an almost worried sly grin I say, "After you, Samuel."
Clarity returns and I can feel my awareness sharpen, I look to my ally who rises from the ground. "I'm not quite sure, Father. Best we get ourselves situated before investigating." I rummage through the room acquiring all of my goods, packs, gloves, coat, kits and hat, all accounted for. Practically jumping into my boots I look outside the window, peeling the floral patterned drapes aside...
As the wine flows my troubles seem to empty along with the glasses and bottles. I have never been one to partake in any substance to the point of altered mindsets; aside from my alchemy, but tonight I feel there is no reason not to enjoy what I imbibe, I have good company and a good reason! Loud conversation, slurring gestures, rosy cheeks, and boasting fill our evening... Much to our company's chagrin it seems. "Well blast them! The fancy pants'! They don't know what it takes to get the job done!" I spout the drunken speech abruptly... I say, have I really had that much to drink?
Going up to our room I hang my packs on the ivory rack and throw my coat over the embroidered lounge, unbuttoning my vest and sash I lay them on the ground by the rose patterned rocker that will serve as my bed. Plopping down I kick off my boots and remove my gloves, pulling my billy-cock over my eyes I let the enigma that is my subconscious take me to dreaming.
---Level Up!---
Waking rather abruptly I find myself on the ground, face first. Peeling my face from the rosewood finish I blink with blurry vision trying to make out the shapes in the room. Uproariously I yell out "I say! as our room looks utterly the mess! As soon as I am on hands and knees I hear people screaming outside, SCREAMING, blood chilling screaming. Scrambling to find my coat I still feel as if I am in a haze, hardly balanced. After a loud unloving rumble I hear voices among the racket... "Father...? Are you awake? I say quietly.
Pulling down on my billy-cock with both hands I bolt out of Warlock's Mumbles with no other focus other than escaping the wailing voice of Darkman. In my haste I feel myself literally ram into another person! Tumbling forward with the man I am amazed to see that it is none other than father Hallowborne. "Samuel! My apologies, this is not how I had imagined our reconvening." As we stand I'm thankful to once again be in his company... This time of night in a commoner's area is not the time I'd like to be walking alone, I might've been begged.
The sun begins to drop beneath the horizon and the shadows of the alleys begin to cast. Father Hallowborne leads me to the inn in which he had acquired a room... "Father... I would never have hypothesized your taste to be so impeccable! These accommodations are truly well deserved after what we had gone through." with a smile I place my hand upon my friend's shoulder as we walk about the main lobby.
Giving my bow to all of the fine and illustrious ladies as well as my nod to the gentlemen I feel just at home among the deserving and cultured, I hope my company understands how to hold himself given the class of these accommodations. "Father, are you one to enjoy spirits?" I gesture to the winery where there are fantastically dressed women and men talking about important matters over some rosy wines.
Carefully, very carefully, I creep to the counter to meet my provider. Looking at his goggle covered eyes I see he is biting his lips anxiously, truly this man is an artisan first, salesperson second. I look at the wares he has produced and immediately my tact drops It's guard. "By science!! These hues, these aromas, this viscousity, this amount! How... Wha- Even in University my professors could not even DREAM of producing drafts such as these! Bu- You? I..." the short man gives a grin bigger than I had ever seen. "Har har har har har! Thought yourself to be the professor and me the student? Mr. Skyraper, your ego be what loses yer words, not me potions! Har har har har har!" insulting but I can not argue, it doesn't seem to be the fact that these viles exist that pokes at my heart, It's only that I didn't create them. Nose and back stiff I retort with "Well... It's not as if these are entrily original, they're just refined. I on the other hand create drafts both unique AND potent!" my acid feels sharp but his skin is thicker than i would have guessed.
"Har har har har!" the halfling chuckles "Professor, please no need, no need. See this draft here? Call me the shortest giant if you find one quite like this just anywhere!" holding up on diamond shaped vile with a red/green swirling liquid he bears another amazing grin, "Oh? Please, what exactly does that draft do that one I could make couldn't?" I feel i am losing my cool and fast but this man is just insult after backhanded insult! Darkman continues on and on how if a lizard were to have the slightest drop of this potion it's terrible claws and teeth would rival a dragons! Pssssh posh! Bull honkey! Poppycock! "Quite a fiction you've woven good sir but i know that to be undeniably impossible! Such a draft could not exist, the acranical reaction would merely destabilize the natural elements of the host! Your lizard would become nothing but a mound of Alchemetical goo!"
Suddenly the door flies open and the outside light breaks through the haze, the shop keep's goggles turn to red. "Insulting blaggard! Yer ignorance be just as unwanted as yer arrogance!" he drops the cloth over the potions making them disappear once more, "Don't you come back until ye either have the knowhow to make the draft outta notin but Circonium or til Ye got the money to buy it offa me!" his shrill voice drives me out of the shop post haste, it seems I had gotten to him.
As I stand in the door way it feels like I had made an enormous mistake... Shrunken heads line the walls and strange clock-work contraptions fill the air with a ghastly haze that smells something between rot and sweet confections. The tone of the room is a dark blue, why I cannot say. Apprehension takes hold and I almost turn back before I hear a rather high pitched voice "Oh goodness oh gracious, bless me heart! Welcome to me shop!" glancing around I try to locate the origin of the joyful speaker... Nothing! "Th-thank you, Professor Beau Jericho Skyraper at... Your service?" my introduction is lacking I know but this is quite unsettling. "Professor?" the voice has a surprised upward inflection, "Bless me stars, yer a tall one you are Professor!" as the voice sounds closer than before i lift one knee and both eyebrows as I catch a glance of the provider of this establishment.
Two green circles like shining emeralds stare up at me, crowned with a black turban and dressed with white mutton chops that look like they belong on an ogre I can now tell my robe clad company is a halfling of venerable age. "Har har har har har! Oh Professor, now ya can't say that a lil old halfman frightens you!" the small man holds his stomach as he chrotles in his squeakey voice. "No, no, no..." composing myself I regain my stance and try to put on my usual arrogant airs "... Sir, It's only that I have just gone through quite the ordeal, I have no reason to be afraid of a halfman after my that recent event." after the condescending remark I take foot into his shop proving my confidence. "Dont be so sure, Mr. Skyraper... A book canna be judged by its cover, or size." with that the little man closes the door with a slam leaving me in relative darkness. My finger caresses the trigger mechanism as i yell out, "I say! Is this any way to treat a prospecting customer!? I hear the arching of electricity and suddenly a blue orb ignites with light, the two green circles hovering above it as i make out the outline of both the provider and a desk.
"Har har har har har! Well Ye still here, Professor! I reckon It's a dandy way to treat one!" the halfling lifts a cloth from the desk and where it was flat a plethora of different colored viles seemingly pour from the silk curtain. "Welcome to the Warlock's Mumbles, Professor. Warlock Darkman be at yer service!"
With unscripted places and people such as wondering into a random shop shall we wait for your description and personifications? In a real life campaign this would be moot because you would be there to actively describe and portray NPCs on the fly but on a play-by-post it seems like we'll be wasting a lot of time waiting for the go ahead on a nonissue shop or person.
Also (quite funny) I did not inquire about any sort of lodging in my last post... Who ever told me about this Inn was either mentally shaken or trolling me :P
"Wise decision, Father. You're concern about our fatigue is well placed. That tome, I hope it brings us some good." As we both make our way to the surface we shake hands and promise to rendezvous at The Leaf Cafe one hour after sunset.
Walking the streets of Hidden Valley I take note of small haunts and minute shops... This area is much too common for what I am looking for. Taking the to time introduce myself I ask important looking individuals for the most prominent Laboratories and Botanies in town. In one particular case a young laborer had stifled my conversation with a passing nobleman, his intent was kind enough but his lack of tact had me sending the rude sod on his way.
I've not got much information, a few names but no particular location. "In this area..."s and "I believe the Wizard..."s but nothing solid enough for me to make an all day's walk. Strolling down the alley ways I take note of the sun's position and make a vow to enter the next Acranium I come across.
"Hrrrmmmm... Warlock's Mumbles? *Sigh* I guess if nothing else I can ask for a more notable establishment." Taking off my billy-cock I give the iron rimmed door a slight rap before entering the emporium.
I can't make untrained knowledge checks :[ but I know someone who can! :)
After looking over the glove I stuff it into my packs, it'll fetch a high price to someone- *Snikt*
I look down and protruding out of my satchel is a blade! Quickly I open the flap and fish out the once-docile glove. Holding it in front of me I plainly see the blade sticking out from under the wrist! I inspect the mechanics of this weapon and take note of an extremely simple spring-rail system that hides the blade in an ergonomic yet deadly manner. Fiddling with the contraption I am surprised to feel the triggering system activate flawlessly again and again, quite a piece of work! Multiple locking locations too; one on the top of the wrist, like a punching dagger, one on the underside of the wrist and one between the index finger and thumb.
Almost playing with the contraption I notice Father Hallowborne looking quite ready to leave these catacombs. "Father, I believe our business in these accursed tombs is long and over, let us return above." saying that I remove my right glove and replace it with the new found weapon... Now if only it were more fashionable.
Huh... It'll be difficult having me forget about Father. How about we say you had agreed to find us a place to stay for the night while I do my own thing?
Opening the chest with an almost apologetic look towards Father Hallowborne I sift through the contents. Mostly a mediocre amount of wealth, my heart sinks. "Father, before you object to this I want you to observe this tome!" just from the cover I can tell it is of a religious persuasion, "Here, I'm sure this does not count as grave robbing at all! If anything it's theological unearthing." my tone humorous and witty I quickly look down and avert eye contact with my companion, the joke was perhaps a bit... Grave.
*Snicker* I do what I can to compose myself. Placing the theocratic novel on the ground by Samuel's feet I once again kneel down and reach into the chest, producing a glove. "Hrmmm... What a peculiar fashion cycle they must have been through at the time of their resting. Or perhaps? I'm just not sure," Holding the glove close to my lantern something about it just seems... Strange. "Perhaps...?"
Appraise:1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
"I say!" My eye glittering, "Perhaps it may be worth a pretty penny!
I have taken an old tome from the first room, some centipede's acid, 30gp, a ring, the painting(Haha, I forgot about that!) and now a strange glove.
After this ordeal it brings much to mind and Father Hallowborne makes a very good point... What did we learn down here? What was the point of all of this? In retrospect it almost seems like a trap! Perhaps we were sent to our expected deaths in this crypt. "Father, you ask a very potent question... What indeed is our next move?" I grab the lantern off of the ground and once again secure it to my sash. As I look around the room I take note of the chests and vases about the rotunda. "Now... Father, please bare with me on this and try to view what I say in a pragmatic sense." I sheath my dagger and remove my hat taking on an unintimidating appearance. "Surely you've heard tales of grand adventurers who have been in situations that we had just bested..." I gesture my hand to the dead dead, "Now in this circumstance it would seem to behoove us to prepare for similar encounters and such I was only thinking; if you permit, perhaps these chests and coves my contain what could be useful to us in our journey!"
Walking about the room I push the chests and vases to the center of the compartment. Standing over them I look to Samuel, "If your beliefs prohibit this in any way, Father, just let me know of your concerns. But speaking with rationality... This cache may have either answers or tools for our coming sojourn."
I hear the clutch release and the bolt launch, filling my mind with hope...
*Whiiiiz*
I hear the projectile zoom past me, filling me with dread as the creature begins it's assault on my friend...
*Tink-crack*!
The bolt breaks on the bulkhead behind us, I'm already leaping in the air, both hands on my dagger aiming for the spine of the undead. I have to kill it before it attacks Father Hallowborne...
As i land upon the ghoul I take it down face first, just in front of Samuel. It stops moving immediately. Straddling its back I look down and let out a relieved sigh. Pulling my knife from it's neck I slowly stand and look to Samuel. Running my hand through my hair I notice my hat had fallen off during that last felling blow. I pick up my billy-cock and place it on my crown. "Father... Quite a stupendous show we put on, wouldn't you agree?" I say with the cockiest grin a person can imagine.
As the horrors walk by me, one taking a bolt from Samuel's crossbow, I feel the extract I consumed take control of my muscles. In an instant I can feel every movement executed perfectly, from shoulder, elbow, wrist, fingers... I can almost feel the dagger as an extension of my body as I give a terrible upwards rip under the undead's jaw.
With the rearing strike I feel the knife extend deep, past the throat and into the cranium. From feeling the blade's position I quickly give a surgical twist, separating the brain stem at the base. Pulling my blade from the once-again-dead's head I step quickly to the undead not yet struck by Father's crossbow bolt... Jabbing quickly with my steel knife.
Because the undead has already acted, and I go before him in this case it COULD be a flat footed attack... I will treat it as such and change it if Cody overrules
Sneak Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
1d4 + 2 + 1d6 ⇒ (3) + 2 + (4) = 9
In a flash I feel my strike glide past the unaware creature's defenses. My scalpel landing behind it at the base of the skull. Again, my mark is true... One more severed brain stem. The dead ichor spills out as I push the body off of my blade with a shrug from my shoulder, ready to face the final ghoul.
Would you like me to do both of my rolls this post? For my attack of opportunity and my next turn? Also, please play it Derrick. The game is fantastic.
Despite the cleric's jesting words I cannot argue, my aim is indeed off today! After a moment of frustration, contemplating my next attack, I notice the undead seem to lose track of my presence... Perhaps Father's prayers are more powerful than I had expected. Though I notice I am still entirely corporeal I take note of what has happened and use my new found covertness to move to a more advantageous position.
With a sly grin I quietly move around to the flank of the left most deadite, the slowest moving one. On my way over I put my index finger to my lips in a humorous gesture to the corpse. I reach into my breast pocket and pull out a small yellow vile... Carefully I pull the cork out of the top and imbibe the liquid. True Strike Extract. With perfect steadiness I grasp my steel blade and get ready to plunge it into the unliving flesh.
In this scenario I will gain an attack of opportunity against the undead during it's next movement, this will also be a flat footed attack, hopefully with me attacking the slowest undead he would be the last one to move on their turn, will not take up my attack for my coming turn and will be the attack to apply my True Strike.
My companion's aim is keener than I had thought! "I say, that'll teach these ghastly corpses a thing or two!" I yell with bravado. Grasping my knife by the tip between my thumb and index finger I launch yet another of my blades into the thinning group of abominations.
Throwing my dagger:1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Well... This is embarrassing.
Slipping on my bloodied glove I feel the scalpel wobble as it leaves my hand... Again flying unceremoniously towards our enemies. Despite the danger I look over at Samuel, hoping he is focused more on reloading his crossbow rather than my horrible dart skills. Damaged ego aside I quickly focus on the task at hand and produce yet another dagger from under my vest.
More information on the sociological roles of the different classes. Awaken society is split into two "factions". The Flock, made up of arcane casters are the majority of the Awaken's society and can be seen as the bulk of their culture and efforts. The Clergy is only just smaller than The Flock and are made of divine casters. The Clergy focuses on the will of the gods and understanding the gift of Magic over the practice. All of society is based on a strict caste system, based on your efforts for the gods or their favor of you.
The Flock:
Wizards: students of Magic, closer to theologians than priests. They study and practice their gift at various universities and guilds. A standard wizard is fairly high ranking in society and actively puts in hours like a job terraforming the planet. Sorcerer: the most common person on Mammon. While they do act as terraformers they also often have more mundane jobs to keep society running. Think Harry Potter wizard society, they range in class but make up the lower caste almost entirely. Bard: bards are not much more than sorcerers that have specialized in spreading the will of the gods through entertainment, stories and songs. Magus: the Magus are elite enforcers of The Flock. They come from only the upper caste and are used to hunt down rogue Awaken and belligerent Asleep, using the dual mind as precognition. Witch: witches are hardly part of The Flock, they are almost lost in the embrace of Kloysster and Schll. They often find pleasure in the terraforming magic and use it for the will of the gods, not The Flock. Alchemist: Alchemists are more likely interested in the properties of the gift magic as opposed to the art. They are usually in the middle caste, providing services and farthing the will of the gods. Summoner: Summoners are often a very high caste and rare person. They are charged with the uncommon magic of morphing living things to the god's will.
The Clergy:
Cleric: clerics are common practicing Awaken that have devoted their lives to the gods. They are often looked to for understanding the dual minds visions and to help with the terraforming. They make up the majority of The Clergy. Druid: druids are free practitioners of the gift of Magic, primarily interested in the terraforming magics. They usually hold no caste but are not considered outcast... At least not by The Clergy. Oracle: oracles are gifted members of The Clergy. They are very high caste due to their gift and are often sought after because of their abnormal understandings of the dual mind. Paladin: Paladins are incredible followers of the gods. They are often lower caste that attempt to raise to high caste through service and are often viewed as paragons of the gods, despite their beginnings. Inquisitor: Inquisitors are members of The Clergy from a lost tradition. They were initially used to hunt The Asleep and It's rumored that is still their purpose. Ranger: rangers are often a low caste in The Clergy, hardly even practicing. They often use their gift only to make a living but usually prefer their martial prowess. Monk: Monks are an odd group in The Clergy. They are rumored to be now gifted Asleep but that claim is a volatile one, often debated with spells over words. They hold a middle to low caste.
