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Sorry to hear this, Tierce. I hope things get better and you may, at some point in the near-future, find yourself better and enjoying your hobbies once again! On another note, I would be interested in continuing, only if you truly feel up to such a task, Marik. This and S&S are two of the Aps I've been wanting to play most.
Quigly continued to distance himself from the vile, little monstrosities and soon found his back to the wall (quite literally). Shaking his head, the gnome sorted for another spell and sent a second arcane charge in the gremlin's direction. "By Nethys' contrasts! I had no idea I could do that," he shouted, eyes bulging in surprise after the bolt rocketed toward the monster.
"Oh bother!" the gnome exclaimed, clambering to get away from the unexpected creatures. "It appears as if our curiosity has dealt us an ill-tempered jest." Stumbling through the inner-workings of his jumbled brain, the cloud-headed inventor sought a spell. He forced the arcane potency in his blood forward to surge after the nearest monster, paying no heed to the woman's call for peace. A static jolt of electricity arced from his fingertips, much to his own surprise!
Quigly seemed genuinely smitten at being able to help. His pleasure, however, soon turned to pain as the dwarf crunched his digits under foot. "YOWWW! Oh-aaahhh! Mister Uhm..uh..Orik, was it? I regrettably inform you that you have contriturated my phalanges," he confessed timidly before turning to the Varisian man. "Oh, yes! I believe we should compile our conjectures should the ladies fail to solve it with what we have."
Quigly blushed and was clearly enamored by the help provided with retrieving his valuables. Brushing himself off, he gladly accepted the drink, sipping at it occasionally. The little gnome winced at the strength of the spirit but bore it accordingly, hoping to regain a bit of his damaged pride and show himself capable in the eyes of the other Pathfinders. Upon the goblin's entry, the confounded tinker nearly added to his previous blunder, narrowly avoiding dropping his drink. Swiftly correcting the action, a few drops lighted on his vest along with the splotches of grease and oils stains that were there. Much too absorbed by the presence of such an odd, and (oft reported) dangerous creature. He took point besides Orik just in case, knowing that their two cultures shared an enmity for the goblins once upon a time. When, at last, the Venture Captain produced herself, Quigly's excitement sky-rocketed. It nearly reached its bursting limits when the puzzlebox was presented and spoken of. Ancient Thassilonian puzzles! I knew I came here for a good reason. Oh, what wondrous things might be contained inside - but this is a prize in itself! I wonder if Captain Heidmarch would allow me to study its workings afterwards? My, wouldn't that be keen! The possibilities left the gnome giddy, to say the least. He desperately awaited his turn to solve the box, leaning forward onto his toes and back again. Once it finally came into his possession, his eyes widened and Quigly took a moment to admire its construction before actually attempting to open it.
If his attempts come up fruitless, the gnome quietly advises, "Perhaps we could try opening it together? I mean, she did say use our heads...the plural implies more than one?" He smiled somewhat lamely at the rest of the group, hoping that his advice didn't clash with them.
Quigly was quite overwhelmed when approached by the dwarf out on the road, his attention all but absorbed by his fanciful day dreams. The gnome stammered to respond before asking if the brusque fellow were destined for Heidmarch Manor as well. If such a response were to sound somewhat conclusive (not that the gnome understood anything he might have said) he would accompany the dwarf. Upon arriving at the Pathfinder's headquarters and being welcomed inside, Quigly introduced himself, bowing as low as possible (for a gnome). During this interaction, the contents of his pouches and pockets spilled out, clattering to the floor in a heap. The poor, embarrassed little fellow smiled sheepishly as he stooped to pick up the assortment of cogs, gears, and clockwork pieces of varying description. Righting himself, he cleared his throat, "My, my! You have my apologies! Say, you wouldn't happen to have any Taldan Fire-Brandy, would you?" he inquired, picking up on the man's speech. Quigly also hoped he would be able to display some air of civility despite his recent blunder.
After spending a few days attempting to get acquainted with the city, Quigly couldn't help but feel the rush of excitement at Magnimar's difference compared to Absalom. He marveled at each of its nine districts and eventually came to settle in the Capital District, rather curious with the nearby Golemworks. Staying at the Hammer and Stone, the gnome took regular strolls toward the Irespan, hoping to catch glimpses of the work being done within the warehouses. During the evening, he listened intently to any word the golem crafters spoke of their work day, down to the most minor detail. By the end of the week, Quigly had compiled a stack of notes that ranged on information from a new construct's behavior to what a senior member's favorite lunch was. During a morning of perusing these notes, attempting to discern anything of worth, the aspiring tinker was surprised by the messenger. Scattering his parchment to the nines, Quigly regained a manner of composure before grinning up at the youth who simply confirmed his name before setting the scroll down and returning to the streets outside. Unfurling the contents, Quigly's eyes lit up after assessing message. With a cheer, he waved it above him in glee as the sparse inhabitants of the tavern eyed him warily. Ah, my break at last! Not a moment too soon, may I also say. My dear projects have gone without sufficient parts for days! Hrm, I was worrying whether or not I could start a new one, he thought to himself, his indecisiveness always winning over any loyalty to a long-standing attempted craft. Shrugging his shoulders, the absent-minded inventor left his scattered pages on the taproom's table and stepped out into the city's streets to discern where his destination might be. He asked around the markets, got distracted while passing by a monument, took a nap in the shade, then eventually found his answer from a patrolling guard. Full of vigor, Quigly ran most of the way to the Alabaster district, stopping only to gawk at the considerably posh residencies scattered around him. After some time spent admiring, he made his way to the Manor proper, all sorts of hopes and dreams (many no doubt absurd) playing in his head.
"Who?" the tinkering gnome chuckles, continuing the conversation despite his clear distraction. The tray propped in front of him is held in place by a strap about his neck, and is host to all manner of scattered metallic parts. While much of the assortment is somewhat hard to identify, the more commonplace items include tiny gears and the innards one might find in a gentleman's pocket watch. "I really couldn't tell you, honestly. The fellow seemed like a looney to me, raving about saving the human race after dashing out of a...a...uh," he blinks, attempting to come up with a proper description before settling on one that was more mundane than he would have preferred. "An upright packing crate, all painted blue with windows in it. Curious, hrm? Anyway, he said he was a doctor or some such thing." Continuing his little project, Quigly picks up a screwdriver and winces as he peers through a pair of magnifying spectacles. He continues in a strained voice, "I don't know about all that, the poor fellow looked like he needed a doctor. You know, like the kind that bind you in tight fitting coats with long sleeves?" Grinning, he holds up his partially finished project. It vaguely appears to be the shining brass skeleton of some sort of small animal. "Before I turned around, he was gone. His box too! All I know is you'd have to be a lunatic or a Varisian to be wearing a scarf in this weather," he comments, wiping sweat and a spot of grease from his brow. |
