Scrivener will move forward 50ft and attempt to trap the raging beast in an extradimensional room of his own sudden creation.
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Scriviner will take shots at those who flee, he can shoot up to ONE MILE.
Scrivener moves then takes a shot at the giant priest, seeking to rip away his active spells.
Scrivener takes a shot at the giant priest, seeking to rip away his active spells.
1d4+1
The previously stock-still construct begins to whirrrrr as palpable energy crackles in the air nearby, before letting loose a single devastating shot from the siege railgun on its body.
::I concur. Collateral damage should be minimized due to adverse effect on our relations here.::
Scrivener, still standing stock-still as is his usual, mentally communicates solely with willing party members , ::They will, in fact, attempt to give us trouble. Even now, they plan to attack at some future juncture. I propose we get their quickly, which I can effect via teleportation, and then lie in ambush.::
Scrivener will focus his attention to the man that stormed off and try to overhear what he says to his team.
Scrivener stands as still as a statue, waiting for discussions to be over.
::Ah. Very well. Pardon my having not been fully appraised, I didn't scry as I figured it would not give the full picture.::
The air in the tavern becomes stale for a split second, long enough for only the most perceptive to catch. Then, standing without making a sound, is what appears to be a construct. Those of you present when Salvis explained the mission recognize the being as Scrivener. Mentally, you hear, ::Our employer has pulled me from the reinforcements. He says there was attrition of some description. What is the status?:: The being stands perfectly still as this all occurs.
Scrivener turns to the old man, pointing to the table in front of him as a u-shaped pillow of foam and silk appears.
"I am also in."
"I am a telepath, but I dont read minds for responses usually. And anyone here near my capabilities would probably resist such if I did."
"I can get in and out of places, create things from nothing, and hit a target from miles away at times if needed.
Scrivener raises his hand for all options.
"The designation, while unconfirmed, is potentially correct. Studies show correlation between driven intellectuals and mania."
"A charismatic sort putting our case forward, defined roles for members such as "infiltration specialist" or "trap specialist" "magic countermeasures" et cetera."
"Ah, so they could fund our group and we leave with the goods and the money."
"The latter is always most likely, sadly."
"I am familiar with clockwork engineering and likely far more intelligent than this inventor. What else is known?"
Deadpan, the machine replies, "precisely "
"Temporal problems are always solved merely temporarily"
Scrivener follows, saying nothing. Getting to the room, he scans the titles of the books as he makes his way circuitously to a seat.
Scrivener turns to regard the newcomer.
"Our particular services are needed. I wonder to what services they refer."
"Invitation and subsequent curiosity. I take it you were also invited?"
"One wild cider, I suppose." After all, it would be rude to resist and his brain mass could suffer one drink. A serving of fruit wouldnt hurt.
The large construct turns to the group assembled before addressing them all telepathically. "I have forgotten to introduce myself. I am called Scrivener."
"I was given no reason. Perhaps curiosity is enough."
"Drinking dulls the senses with no expanded benefits. In safe situations I'd use psychotropic drugs, but not on a job."
With the sound of well-oiled servos in action, Scrivener tilts slightly up to look at the rafters , then looks back to Hercules before addressing everyone mentally (including the mysterious observer above), "I can be heard by everyone if I so choose."
"of course I am not offering. I'm just here because of the letters."
"I do, in fact, communicate in this fashion. What brings you here? A large drink?"
While in his workshop, filling out a report on his latest travels, Scrivener sees an envelope just appear from nothing on his desk. "Delightfully suspicious," he thinks. Upon reading its contents, he would have sighed if he could have. His species had evolved past such inefficiencies eons ago. Closing out his report succinctly, he sealed it in a manila envelope and carried it with him as he floated up into his suit. He walked out of the grey building by way of the usual portal that took him back to the Steamstriders compound. Dropping off his report in the deposit box for processing, he walked out the regular door and down the street. Towering over *most* other residents here, it was easy to make his way to the Crossing House. Fortunately, Hyratean was such a cosmopolitan place that the doors were sized for all types. This allowed him to fit even his huge mechanical frame through the door and into the meeting area.
soooooo there was gonna be some RP? |