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Seeing some activity down on the ground, I prep my shortbow. I will not, however, make any effort to get off the ship until I'm sure the action is focused squarely on someone else.
I look out at the flames and the smoke with a look of mild concern, wondering what might have happened here. My first thoughts, naturally, are for the safety of myself. Unable to do anything anyway, I simply wait patiently for the ship to dock.
Spending most of the journey trying to practice my more questionable arts, I hardly notice when some of the others seem to disappear from the scene, not having known them long enough to really care in the first place. When the newcomer introduces herself, I eye her up and down as usual. To my disappointment, I decide once again that she's not my "type," and so I barely pay her much mind, giving her a rather halfassed welcome before returning to my own devices.
Not a problem for me, either. I'm enjoying the campaign so far, so I'm happy to wait for it.
Not a problem! The more the merrier, after all!
Seeing as they are, in my opinion, just a pile of smelly furs, I do not protest at all when it is suggested we return them to the authorities. Arriving on the ship, I'll spend most of my time searching the passengers and crew, hoping to find any fair maidens to flirt with, and most likely being unsuccessful. Other than that I will attempt to wrangle a trick or two out of the gnome, and practice my skulking about as I observe my new "friends" hoping to learn more about them.
My eyes light up as I plunge into the room and... find several large piles of dusty junk. "...what the?" I mumble. "Where's the gold?! The treasure! The jewels!!"
"There's nothing here but mouldy crap! This is an injustice!!"
"Oh. ...Right then!" I say as if I'd known that was the answer all along.
My face curls in a look of disappointment, as nothing seems to actually happen. "Hrm. Well, I guess that didn't work?" I ask, mostly of myself. I turn to the others, hoping to find some other clue. "Any other ideas?"
"Cast a spell, eh?" I ponder what Dahak has said for a moment, weighing the pros and cons in my head. When I get to the part about fabulous wealth and untold riches, I decide that the risk will hopefully be worthwhile. With an "eh, what the hell," shrug, I mutter the words to one of the remaining incantations I have on hand.
I crouch down and examine the runes that have been scratched in the dirt. I recognize the harsh, sharp lines as draconic speech almost immediately, but for some reason the words themselves make little sense. "I don't get it," I say yet again to nobody in particular. "It's like... some sort of dragon's morality play. And since I have no idea what passes for morals in a dragon, it hardly makes any sense..." As soon as I say it, a thought strikes me, and I read the entire passage aloud, firmly and clearly so that everyone else can hear. I then look at Dahak expectantly. "What about you, Headthumper? You've obviously spent a lot of time with a dragon-- did Zeranthex teach you any important lessons about life that this passage might apply to? You know, 'never share your gold; always eat your peas; breath weapon first, ask questions later,' that sort of thing?"
"Well now," I say to nobody in particular. "With a spell like that guarding the door, there's gotta be something damn impressive on the other side!" I'm fairly certain that anyone who happens to be looking at me can see that I'm practically drooling with the possibilities. I don't pay it any mind though, as my weakness for loot has overriden my composure. I stop for a moment, thinking. After a time, I examine the furs that Dahak has casually strewn about the cave floor to see if there is anything unusual about them.
"Hrm, no obvious physical components. No knobs, switches or gears that I can find." I say to no one in particular. "Enchanted perhaps? Opened via keyword? Though I don't wager to know how tall dark and scaley would use it in that case."
Clueless as to the true nature of the arcane symbols on the backpack, I step up to the plate and begin my own thorough search of the area, hoping to find some clue, or trigger, or perhaps something more sinister.
I take one last nervous glance at the creature, half expecting it to get back up, and then follow the others into the cave.
Seeing as the creature has collapsed and is seemingly dead, I decide to politely suggest to the others that we cut the heads off as Myrkar suggested, and then douse the beast with flame to be on the safe side. Reaching into my pack, I produce several vials of alchemist's fire , hoping they'll be enough to get the job done.
I think you're out of my line of sight at the moment, I'll have to move towards you first on my next turn.
"I've got something that may do the trick for that!" I hollar back. "But I haven't yet figured out how to decipher the proper incantations to make the thing work. Maybe you'll have better luck, sorceress!"
Seeing as my combat options are somewhat limited, I'll reach into my pack and ready a vial of alchemist's fire for throwing, in case a head gets chopped off.
I glance about, looking for a suitable spot of cover. A large rock, a thick tree, something that will put a solid object between myself and this overgrown lizard. I dash towards it, ducking myself down to where I am partially concealed, yet still able to see and fire at the creature. I then draw my shortbow and load it.
"Heh heh... tingly," I chuckle to myself as the enchantment washes over me, perhaps a little more amused at myself than I should be.
I move cautiously forward, until I am very close to the cave entrance. Creeping forward a half-step at a time, I scan the cave mouth for any signs of manufactured defenses.
Well, I guess that's that, then. I think to myself, trying to keep up with halfling, who has already set off down the street. I just hope this fiasco doesn't get me shot. Or eaten. "Invocation you say? Well, anything is worth a try at this point, I guess. It uh... it doesn't hurt, does it?" I shiver slightly, thinking of the animated dead back in the tavern.
I wince visibly and smack my forehead as I watch Dahak hand away 3 of his platinum coins almost carelessly, but I say nothing about it to him. I shrug it off, and focus on more important matters. "He does have a point," I chime in. "His Lordship of the Overpolished Armor over there did say not to leave town. I'm not saying we shouldn't do it anyway, just that we gotta figure out how to do it without being caught." I almost idly notice a small pool of fluids dripping down Dahak's body to the ground. It looks almost like the golem equivalent of blood. "Say there, Tall, Dark & Rusty, it looks like you've got a bit of a problem. Let me see if I can take care of that." With a flick of my hands an a quickly muttered incantation to the Machine Spirit, I offer him back some of what he's lost.
My eyes dart across the form of the newcomer, just as my hand goes to the hilt of my rapier. Cute face I suppose but...not my type. Ah well. Still, there seems something odd about her, and I'm pretty sure those walking dead things were the least of her abilities. Better not let my guard down around this one.
Then again, she did help out in the tavern, maybe she's not all bad. She hasn't really shown any overt reason to be mistrusted... she could be useful. But I'd best be cautious anyway. I let out a nervous chuckle. "Now hangon. Who said anything about defeating dragons? Mebbe there's a dragon up there, mebbe there's not. Even if there was, maybe 'es friendly. My dear departed mudder used to tell me tales about good, kind dragons who lived beyond the sea, and frolicked in the autumn winds, or somesuch. And if it isn't a friendly dragon, he might be the kind of dragon you leave to its own devices-- if'n ya reckon my meaning. We should get a little more info before forming the lynch mob."
Bloody hell!! I think to myself, mentally kicking myself for being overconfident. By the abyss, Who would have thought this thing could actually count?! "...Huh?" Is, to my frustration, the best I can come up with. I open the bag and pour the remaining coins out into my hand. I then make a very slow, painfully deliberate process of counting each one. "...18....19.....20. Well I'll be! I guess I did miscount at that. An excellent catch, my fine metallic friend! Your keen senses have not failed you, and I am most impressed!" Grinning like an idiot, I hand him five more coins. "That should do it, I do believe! I do hope you will not think less of my for my addled brain."
Dragon you say? Can you tell us more?
I notice Metal Man's discovery, and see that he seems almost as confused by the contents of the bag as he does by the concept of dreams. This plan is already working out great. I think to myself, with a slight grin. "AHA! You found them, I was wondering where I had lost those." Slowly, casually, nonthreateningly I take the bag from his hand. "I suppose you don't know much about these big fella, so let me explain!" I pour about two or three coins from the pouch, and then hold one up for Dahak to see. "These here are called 'coins.' People use 'em to buy stuff that they want, like food, fancy clothes, or a bit o' pleasant company." I stop and consider this a moment. "You probably don't know anything about that either. Don't worry, we'll hook you up with a nice Loading Crane or something... Anyway. Seeing as you found these for me, obviously I was right about our being meant to help each other. So I'm gonna give you half of these, alright?" Quickly, I silently count out 10 coins, and place them in his hand. "Now, keep those safe. There are some questionable folk around here who might try and take those from you simply because they want to buy things for themselves. First lesson about the world, my friend! Not everybody you meet will be trustworthy like m'self!"
If I had eyebrows, one would be cocked as I ask "What is a dream?" My jaw droops slightly as I see that this... thingamabob is perhaps a bit more naive than I had originally anticipated. I pause, struggling to put the words into proper perspective without sounding completely off his rocker. "Uh.. A dream is... Well, for you to ask that, I presume you don't have any. It will be difficult for me to fully explain in that case. For now, think of it as being able to see things in different places. When I dreamt, I saw this city. I'd never been here before in my life, but somehow I could see it as clearly as you or I see it now."
Happy to see that my ill-founded plan might stand a chance of working, I take a deep breath, dropping the difficult-to-maintain Draconic tongue. Doing my best to put on a slightly disappointed look, I speak again. "My name is Revan," I speak as I approach a bit closer, cautiously staying just out of what I estimate his weapon reach is, and offer the metal man a respectful bow. Judging from his reaction, I'd say this plan just might work... "Alas, I must beg your pardon, as I know little of Zeranthex. Honestly, I was hoping you would be able to provide answers to questions yet unasked. Zeranthex... I first heard the name a few nights ago, in a vision that came to me as I slept, and a voice from that dream bid me come to this place. I did not know why until now. Surely your presence here could not have been a coincidence." I pause slightly for dramatic effect, then intentionally brighten my facial features as though I had just experienced the elation of a grand destiny come to pass.
Formulating a plan in my head to (hopefully) exploit the large warrior, I follow the metal man called Dahak, hoping to speak to him somewhat privately. When he seems to be out of earshot of anyone who might, for whatever reason, be wishing to eavesdrop, I call out to him. Draconic: "Mulast Jeho grengoth vir Zeranthex?" Spoiler: Did you say you are seeking Zeranthex?
Considering charitable service is far preferable to death, I agree to this plan without hesitation. Without seeing the need to voice my consent or wait for an invitation I simply sit down at the table with the others.
My jaw drops as my carefully-crafted Darkness vanishes as though it were nothing. Suddenly I realize that the situation might just be a little more than I bargained for... When my turn comes to speak, I drop to one knee before the man in silver and bow my head. Time to let my silver tongue go to work yet again.
"Good sir," I speak, my brain scrambling for a halfway believable excuse. "Upon my honor, I swear to you that I had no intentions of becoming involved in the horror that has happened here tonight. I am but a simple traveler, caught in the middle of some crime gone awry, I'm sure. I do not fully understand what's going on-- all I know is that I saw what seemed to be a humble tavernkeep mercilessly cut down in his very own establishment, and I simply could not stand idle and let such a vile crime go unanswered for! I lay myself upon the mercy of your judgment, faith and honor."
Similarly, I will try to use this opportunity, and the cover of Darkness to head for the door and be out of this place.
Once I'm outside, I'll proceed to observe from a very safe distance, and see if I can figure out what's going on.
Seeing the men bringing their muskets to bear, I quickly throw myself into a rolling crouch behind the large table, letting the others around me take the brunt of the gunfire. From the man's attire and his commands, surely he must be a part of some local militia-- or even worse, a holy zealot of some sort.
As I roll forward, a plan formulates in my mind. Might as well do something about this half-crazed machine-man in the process, right? After all, he may be completely unstable, but he also seems pretty naive. That makes him useful... I ready a spell and let fly, centering it as best I can to disrupt the silver armored man and his goons.
Revan suddenly chokes himself with barely-contained laughter
Similarly, I'll try to fade into the shadows as best I can. If nobody notices me, I'll slip my bow over my shoulder to keep my hands free. If someone does notice me, I'll simply comply with the order to drop my weapon. If I think I can get away with it, I'll let a free hand drift down to a potion flask, in case I need it in an emergency.
Shrugging off the biting pain in my shoulder, I growl at the arrogant man and notch another arrow in my bow. Never been one for grace under fire, I snap off a shot as quickly as I can, not taking the time to aim carefully. Not caring if it hits or not, I then bolt away from the approaching gunman, to try and take some meager cover behind one of the bar's tables.
OW!!
I eye the woman up and down, sizing her up and fitting her into my own personal chart of physical attractiveness. Sadly, she doesn't fall into the category of "my type" and so I let her pass by unhindered.
I sigh and head for the door, deciding that discretion is definitely the better part of valor in this case. I almost reach the exit when I hear the large man roar something in a language I've heard few use. Understanding his words fully, I'm forced to turn my head and take account of the stranger, whom I now realize is anything but human. I watch briefly as he thunders into the melee. A draconic-spouting machine-man? I think to myself. Things just got a lot more interesting... Uncertain as to why, I suddenly find myself compelled to stay, and see how things play out. I notch an arrow into my bow and aim at one of the strangely dressed men. The machine-man certainly looks capable enough, but I might as well tip the scales a bit. He might be useful later... Taking careful aim, I let a black-feathered arrow soar, striking the man as he struggles with the mechanical being.
I raise a brow with curiosity as I watch the violence unfold. It does not seem to concern me, however, so I'm not particularly motivated to get involved. Still, when people start dying, I'd prefer to not be added to the body count. Although I don't move just yet, my hand will drop down to the shaft of my bow, and the other rests reassuringly on the hilt of my rapier, so that I can be ready it if need come to defend myself. I sit forward in my chair, and set my legs in place in case I have to leap out of it quickly. Otherwise, I simply watch and let things happen.
I'm really glad I didn't pay for this, I think to myself, staring into a mug of what is possibly the worst-tasting swill that has ever had the misfortune of being called 'ale.' Must be why the last patron abandoned the glass halfway through. I pause for a moment to reflect on the "good ol' days" of raiding father's winecellar, suddenly missing his vast collection some of the sweetest wines ever made available on the human market. I sigh and recline back in my uncomfortable wooden chair, pushing it up onto two of its four legs with my feet, and examine the pathetic looking bunch around me with an expression of extreme boredom. Yawning, I try to stab a guess as to the time. Honestly, I have no idea what time it is, but I've been sitting here for so long, surely my contact must be late. I'll have to note that fact when it comes to paying his fees... Sure, he promised to bring me info on what could possibly be one of the most lucrative scores in my burgling career, but that's no excuse for tardiness. Especially when said contact arranges meetings in the most unexciting dive I've seen since the last unexciting dive. Sighing, I force down another swallow of ale and continue to wait.
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