Sansnom prods the inventor forward with one of her pistols. "You heard le Monsieur; Trouvez vos affaires."
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Sansnom spends a short moment reloading her pistols before noticing the extensive damage that Urram has taken. "Are you okay to continue, Monsieur?" she questions, looking over the construct with a critical eye.
"I was hoping for a little more in the way of assistance, Monsieur," Sansnom quips as she continues to reload and fire.
Potential Pistol Critical Damage:
"Urram! We could really use d'aide, s'il vous plaît!" Sansnom calls out before firing at the distracted enemy and reloading again.
"Merci beaucoup," Sansnom says, after Urram pulls her aside for healing. ~~~~~ "I see that it was naïve to assume that we would face no more of the hostiles," Sansnom declares as she levels her pistols at the nearest of the clockworks, firing, and then kicking a nearby bucket towards them.
Sansnom glances from the Gattlebee to the retreating dwarven woman and then back. With a shake of her head, she draws her pistols and moves through the open doorway.
"I see none," the woman declares after scanning the bridge and its surroundings for a moment. "We must follow the others. Quickly now!" Without waiting for a response, Sansnom turns and makes good on her statement, checking and reloading her pistols as she goes.
Sansnom spares a nod towards Urram as she attempts to adjust her wrappings to account for some of them having burned away.
With her target falling to Katherine's well-aimed sword strike, Sansnom turns her aim to the last remaining ambusher, ignoring the flames still licking up her garment.
Sansnom's shriek of anger is accompanied by two successive blasts from her pistols as she fires at the bombardier targeting her. The wrappings around her body flicker with flames, giving her a demonic appearance.
She dodges most of the acid as well, but a portion burns a gaping hole along her left arm exposing a length of bone. As the enlarged pet finally is reduced to its original travel size, she pulls a length of cloth from her bag and quickly wraps her exposed arm. "I would have had the creature in a moment or so," she says to Urram. "I didn't need your help." Taking the vial, she examines it critically before slipping it under her veil and downing the contents. Nodding in approval, she hands the empty vial back. "Merci," she says with a simple tip of her head.
Sansnom dodges most of the flames and moves forward to attempt to wrangle the panicked lizard.
"Does anyone else see the potion?" Sansnom asks as she presses herself up against the stained wall and scans the clutter.
"Now, s'il vous plaît," Sansnom replies. She glances around the lab. "Only take whatever's absolument nécessaire." She moves over to peek out through the cracks between the boards on the windows.
Sansnom hasn't put her pistols away, but they're not currently pointed in Gattlebee's direction. "Oui. You will come with us."
Sansnom grunts in pain from the trap's assault. "Tu fais chier avec tes conneries!" she mutters to herself before attempting to kick in the door as she draws her pistols.
"It seems this man is not a fan of guests," Sansnom comments as Urram disables the traps set for the unwary. Forewarned by the reception at the gate, she's even more wary about the porch and the door, looking over each carefully before stepping up and knocking on the door.
"Come now, Monsieur Gattlebee. We know you were contacted by our patroness. We are here to escort you to safety," she calls out again as she knocks.
"Gattlebee?" Sansnom calls out. "Foebe sent us. We're to escort you somewhere safe, oui?" Keeping her hands close to her pistols, she slowly opens the gate and moves into the yard, sticking to the stepping stones and watching for traps.
Sansnom nods in response. "We should gain as much intel as possible," she says to the others. ~~~~~
Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Sansnom nods at the clarification and looks around at the others. "Then as soon as you give us his address and description we will retrieve him," she says. "Unless there are any other questions?" She looks around at the others.
"You have clearly not done this very much," Sansnom says with a snort of laughter. "Il y a toujours le chaos."
Leaning against the wall, Sansnom speaks up. She's added a second dueling pistol and they're both slung in shoulder holsters under her arms. "So we bring him here. Is that regardless of his preferences?" she asks. At some of the questioning gazes she receives, she elaborates, "Sometimes the package changes their mind half-way through the trip when le chaos begins. If he changes his mind, is the mission still to bring him here?"
For a moment, it looks as if Sansnom is going to reply with a biting comment, but she pauses, considering Urram's words. After a thought or two, she gives a curt nod. "Merci," is her only replay before walking away.
"It is not a matter of what I 'wish', Monsieur, but a matter of ..." she replies before trailing off. Again after checking around to make sure no one is watching, she looks back at Urram and, with a quick movement, pulls off one of her gloves, revealing bare bones where the flesh and blood of her left hand should be. "I would be surprised if your healing services could treat something as extrême as this." The small bones in her hand shift and move as if being pulled this way and that by unseen tendons. The coloring on some is new while on others it's very old. Not all the sizes match either, as if they've been replaced with the bones of a different creature. "Cela n'a pas d'importance," she says, pulling her glove back on. "My burdens are mine and mine alone to carry. If you could keep this to yourself, s'il vous plaît?"
The woman takes a half-step back and her hand falls from her weapon at Urram's observations. She looks around to see if anyone else is listening. Satisfied that no one is overhearing their conversation, she looks back up at the automaton. "Please do not attempt elvish - your accent is très horrible," she says with a shake of her head. "So what conclusion have you arrived at, Monsieur? And do you plan to share it with anyone else? Or are you planning on keeping it a secret ... pour un prix?"
"Considering how I am already being hunted for the crime of murder, your poorly veiled attempt at a threat carries little weight, n'est-ce pas?" Sansnom questions, her head tipping slightly to the side. "But if this job is related at all to Shieldmarshal Loveless and pays in coin, then I am willing to consider it as soon as I can re-equip." As an afterthought, she adds, "You and the Grand Duchess should also be aware that the shieldmarshal intends to arrest someone named Gattlebee within the week." ~~~~ As the group exits the saloon and moves towards their individual tasks, the veiled woman steps into Urram's path, blocking his steps. "Why do you keep looking at me?" she questions. "You think I do not see you watching me, but I do. I am not stupid. If you think you can turn me in for the récompense, know that I will not be an easy mark." Her hand moves to the butt of her pistol. "Je veux une explication!"
Sansnom, on the other hand, makes no attempt to be anything less than lethal in her attacks on the large gnoll.
Sansnom takes a few steps back and targeting the closest of the deformed gnolls, she fires.
Then with a flashy display of agility, she reloads the dueling pistol while still holding both.
"No small feat, but one done entirely by luck," Sansnom replies. "There is nothing wrong with good luck, though," she continues. "If presented with a choice, I'd prefer being lucky over being skilled." She shrugs her shoulders. "I appreciate your assistance, but there is no need. I am fully recovered." She takes a half-step back as fearful that Urram will touch her.
"I don't remember seeing that happen," Sansnom says with a shrug. "But I did not watch the entire procedure." She moves cautiously through the revealed passageway.
Sansnom watches the leshy fitz and futz with the motivational portion of the dirigible for a bit before joining her.
"I have watched someone operate a similar engine before," she says, looking over the controls. "It wasn't a flying machine, but I would imagine that the mechanics are not très différent." She looks it over a bit more before pulling a lever and adjusting a couple of valves. When nothing changes she gives a swift kick with a booted foot. She shrugs. "That is what they did at least."
"I have never heard of this Phera Wyndslow. They could not have been very famous," Sansnom says with a shake of her head. Her illusory eyes scan over the wreck seeking a way through, over, or around. "And by the looks of this ship they were clearly not very skilled, n'est-ce pas?"
"Merci," Sansnom replies with a tip of her head. Once the others have gathered what they need from the gnome she gestures toward the old ship.
Sansnom reloads her pistol before nodding at the goblin. "Do you know anything about the ... gnolls? ... that are said to be a threat in the area?" she asks.
Sansnom spins and raises her dueling pistol towards the nearest of the clockworks.
She then kicks some debris towards the hound-like creature.
Sansnom's illusory elvish features display a frown. "Wouldn't she be ... cold?" she questions before dismissing the mental image that comes to mind. She moves through the workshop with an eye towards concealed enemies and nothing else, exiting towards the north.
"Or avoid it entirely, oui?" Sansnom suggests. "We are tasked with challenging the gnolls only."
With Staccato's support, Sin's grudging acceptance and no other dissenters among the group, Sasnom nods. "Oui, we agree with your arrangement," she says.
Sansnom looks from the strangely clad goblin to her companions and then back. "I am ... confused. We made no promise to combattons these gnolls," she says. "We are not saying 'No', but what is this 'best junk' that you are offering?"
Still in her elvish guise, Sansnom spreads her hands wide. "Step back, s'il vous plaît," she says in her attempt at a male's voice. "We are just moving through and have no wish to engage gnolls. Yes, we have had encounters with the shieldmarshals in the past and they curse our names. Who is this Lord Glass you speak of?"
"The joke is on her," Sansnom mutters to herself as she follows after the goblin.
The disguised elf eyes the leaning pile of debris skeptically before her gaze falls upon a critical timber supporting a large portion of the mass. She takes aim with her pistol and lets off a shot that shatters the critical beam. The pile shifts with a groan.
She reloads.
Sansnom continues to keep a pistol leveled at the acquiescent dwarf and gestures at Staccato for the woman's flintlock. Once the chest has been manhandled into the magical bag she takes another look around the vault for anything else of easily portable value. "We leave now, yes?" she questions.
Even with no opponents now standing, Sansnom quickly reloads her pistol and sights around the bank as if seeking a target. "The other key was to be in the office, no?" she questions without lowering her weapon. "Let us retrieve it and open the vault. Rapidement, s'il te plaît."
Taking careful aim, Sansnom fires at the remaining clockwork.
She reloads and fires again.
Sansnom flings a bottle of ink across the room towards the incoming clockworks before firing at Dawn's new opponent.
As soon as their attention is drawn, Sansnom steps forward, drawing her pistol in the process. She's made some changes to her elvish guise, darkening the skin a bit and changing the eyes.
She takes aim at the more distant of the clockworks and fires upon it.
"We're taking this bank, everyone on the ground!" she shouts as she reloads.
She then fires again.
"Well, you did a lot better than Urram and I did," Sansnom says with a scowl. "We discovered rien du tout. I don't know if they just didn't want to talk to us or if someone has been discouraging them from spreading rumors." She shakes her head in annoyance. She glances at the taciturn automaton. "So even with the keys, how should we proceed? Je n'ai aucune expérience dans ce domaine."
After failing entirely to locate anyone related to the bank, Sansnom redirects her efforts to finding out what she can about the Wailing Scrapyard. Taking Katherine's advice to heart, she's adjusted her appearance from the first elf, combining traits from other elves she's observed in her search. "You can come with me if you'd like," she says to Urram. "It might be more convincing if there are two of us."
Sansnom examines the magical hat in her hand with trepidation. Where the others begin to experiment with various guises, she is entirely unsure as to where to start. Seeking inspiration, she steps to the doorway that looks out into the common room and she looks over the gathered crowd. Deciding to stick with what she knows, her eyes seek out any elves in the room. There. An elf sitting at a table playing a gambling game with the others there. She can't tell how tall he is, but that isn't really important. She focuses on his face, his hands, and his clothing. After a moment she steps back into the room and, closing her eyes, places the hat up under her hood and onto her head. She pictures the other elf. and triggers the magic. Opening her eyes, she looks down at herself. At hands covered with pale, unblemished flesh. At her chest covered with a cheap satin shirt instead of the ragged and patched tunic she'd managed to steal. "I think this will work, no?" she says, lowering her voice slightly. Elven men's voices weren't that much lower than the women's so it wasn't an uncomfortable stretch. Nodding in satisfaction to herself, she lets the guise drop. No sense in getting called out by her twin as she was leaving the saloon. "I'll see about finding someone that works at the bank," she says, patting her blade. "I should be able to convince them to assist us."
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