I don't know. I'm still here.
Search Posts
Reginald smiles. Right you are, lad. Good thought.
Reginald punches a few buttons to flush the engine. I've never heard of it. Probably another secret.
Reginald slowly climbs into the craft and whistles in awe. Take a look around, Tarnhammers. This is but a glimpse of the wonders that our race was once able to produce.
In theory. I'll have to inspect the inside. Reginald says quietly. His attention is locked on his work, not his voice.
Reginald gasps and stares for a moment before he can form words. When they do form, it is a veritable food of information.
Reginald starts examining various section of the mechanical wonder, focusing on the hatch. He sends Nurin under water several times to report on this or that.
Sorry to hear that, man. But I totally understand. Good luck with your other games. :)
Reginald pieces together what he knows bit by bit. Suddenly Ivy has something more! This place was truly a challenge to the memory! He walks over and peers into the water.
Let me think a moment, my boy... Reginald responds.
Reginald stays and starts sketching up plans for a suitable raft in the dirt, just in case.
Reginald does not interrupt his recitation. When he finishes Reginald nods. Satisfactory, Though I suggest you read a few dwarven texts. Your lack of the dwarven perspective is understandable having grown up on the surface. I think I brought a few with me. Go ahead and look in my bags in the wagon.
Reginald shrugs. I honestly don't know, my boy. So much could have happened down here, and yet nothing could also have happened. I am trying not to get my hopes up. It is likely that scavengers have had their way with the place many times over. But the twinkle in his eye says that he is mostly falling in that regard.
Shameless promotion: If you aren't using This guy's Browser extension, you should probably go get it. It's fantastic.
I agree. A simple exploration of the lake's dimensions may prove useful in their own right. I know walking is hardly exciting fare, but this is how exploration happens. One step at a time.
Agreed. Let's move. And don't harm the herd. A stampede or threat response by this many means almost certain death.
Not cows... Aurochs. Nearly the same thing, but not quite. Wow.
Indeed. Reginald grumbles. This was highly irregular.
Ah, indeed. I was just about to say that. Thank you, Ivy.
Building a raft is certainly possible. It may be more efficient to actually build a few smaller rafts instead of a larger boat. We may get a little wet as we lack appropriate waterproofing materials, but I can lead you in the building of something that will at least float. However, this may take the better part of a day or even two. Are you all sure you wish to do this?
It would be wise to remember this place, indeed. Come, let's see if we can't get these beauties to cooperate.
They only work in one direction. However, you should always assume any fire knows you're coming until shooting proves otherwise. To assume the opposite is to invite ambush.
Reginald is experiencing a kind of internal change. A... Settling. A release of stress he didn't know he was experiencing. Walking beneath the world again was doing wonders for his soul. He felt younger, lighter. A hundred years were slowly falling from him as he walked these lands. He appreciates Grimdhal's lesson. A quiet smile settles onto his face. If there was one passion that remained for him in this world, it was learning.
When Grimdahl is less forthcoming about the cone mushroom, he takes over the lesson. This exotic mushroom is called agaricus boletus audiere or the 'funnel'. Subsisting on the vibrations of sound as much as nutrients from the soil they grow from, they can range in size from a child's finger to the giant we stand beneath. The thundering noise itself is actually many miles away. The cap of the mushroom catches sound and amplifies it, sending it down the stalk. Some clever races have been known to grow these mushrooms as a instrument of defense, as they can pick up the sound of marching feet from many miles in the distance. Finally, the flesh of a funnel's cap can be used to augment spells that use the power of sound to destructive effect.
Get it. Use it. Love it.
Reginald tells what he knows about the myceloid. Better get used to seeing stuff like this. Myceloids are not the only odd race of the deep. He then shoulders his pack and starts off toward the northern high ground.
My second, another daughter, was born at 5:41 pm US Eastern time. I have no idea what this week do to my posting. We'll see. I hope it doesn't disrupt it too much, but, again, we'll see.
Reginald grunts in approval. Well done, young warriors. Your tactics were sound and were executed well. Now, who feels like climbing? I'd rather not have cave scorpions at our back as we explore.
Just so everyone is aware, I am weeks away from the birth of my second spawn. My posting may become sproatic or drop off a bit as the wife needs me more and more with the approach of The Time. I don't foresee huge gaps, but I wanted to give youall a heads up, just in case.
Reginald mutters a few arcane words and a the rock under the scorpion above Ingrid becomes dangerously slick.
Reginald also follows. A fall at his age could be debilitating, so he is thankful for the slower pace set by the young'uns.
Thanks for pointing that out. I'll get on it as soon as I can.
Reginald finally snaps out of it and descends near the middle off the group. This was the one party of adventuring that his old frame truly didn't suit. It takes his old bones a little longer than the others to descend the rope.
Reginald stands dumbfounded for a moment at the wonders before him. It had been centuries since he had seen such a sight. As Grimdhal moves to secure a rope, Reginald just keeps staring.
Nurin: Reginald ignores the youth's initial outburst in favor of the actual topic at hand. He considers the plea and the points Nurin choose. He didn't lean on the tradition of his forebears, nor did he flounder beneath my gaze... but never have I taught any line other than my leige-house. To do so now... is almost unthinkable. His eyes stare down Nirin as his thoughts swirl. Who else will take up the Right Hand? The newcomers will demand a traditional protector for the newly established dynasty out else fall into centuries of futile bickering. There is no other option. You were right to come to me. Because of his shame your father clearly never taught you the traditions of court. If he had, you would have sauntered in here and demanded the right to take up your grandfather's position by the Right of Blood. And I would have swiftly put you in your place. However, you did not. And this is your saving grace. Very well, Nurin Jarnthane, your road to redemption begins with me. I will accept you as my student. However, I do not do this lightly. Never in all my years have I taught one not of the Tarnhammer line. You are the first because of necessity. I expect you to perform on a level worthy of that lineage. Am I clearly understood?
Nurin: Reginald carefully lays the thick tome he was examining on the table and folds his hands over it. His old eyes bore into Nurin with the skill that only centuries of practice on young pages can provide, flaying him to the core. He looks the young, barely more than a babe!, dwarf up and down. Then his eyes look past him and away from the present into the hazy mists of the distant past. He then turns to Nurin's spellbook and flips through the pages with casual familiarity. There was potential here, granted, but raw potential was not enough. In order to bring back his house, which Reginald dearly desired, the young Nurin would need much more than a few fancy spells. Or houses were brothers once. Jamthane and T'jenner served as the right and left hand of the Tarnhammers. I even meet your father once. Before his filthy cowardice. Tell me, young one, why should we forgive you? Have you ever thought of what your father's treachery meant? To all of us? Our have you only ever thought of how to lift the curse that follows you in your shadow? Here was his one chance. His golden opportunity to win over Reginald.
Reginald nods his agreement. Indeed, Lothar, information will be one of our greatest weapons in the coming days, and we are currently destitute of it.
Me too. Herp a derp.
Great jumping off point checks:
Reginald can scribe 28 level 0 or 1st level scrolls in a week. Are there any scrolls or spellbooks (perhaps among the drow) he can copy from to expand his spellbook? If not, he will craft 28 scrolls from the list below, or as many as he can before running out of money. current book: 0th: Resistance, Acid Splash, Drench, Detect Magic, Detect Poison, Read Magic, Daze, Ghost Sound, Haunted Fey Aspect, Jolt, Mage Hand, Mending, Message, Open/Close, Root, Arcane Mark, Prestidigitation 1st(3base+5int): Crafter's Fortune, Polypurpose Panacea, Grease, Infernal Healing, Mage Armor, Summon Monster I, Mudball, Endure Elements, Unseen Servant, Silent Image
Reginald steps forward to receive that gift. A truly thoughtful gift, my lady. I could not have designed better.
Reginald inclined his head, a proud smile creeping onto his lips. As you say, my lord.
This was officially out of Reginald's depth. In spite of how he sometimes acted, he was a servant to the Tarnhammer family, as was his forebears. He cannot make this decision, though he hopes good sense and wisdom he tried to teach shines here.
Reginald's countenance is grim.
Reginald thinks for a moment, then cracks a grin of his own. Point taken, lad. Point taken.
A risky ruse, but it is an effective option.
Reginald nods, Please, and anyone else you think capable, quickly. We must have a, plan before word spreads.
Reginald curses under his breath, a true rarity. We need your recommendation then. Who here has enough of a reputation in the city to take over as leader. Maybe not as king, but leader, however temporary.
|