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"If I hadn't raised you from a laddy..." Smee remarks, still hurt from the ungracious tone of his master, but of greater emotional fortitude, and thus, willing to continue lending his skills. "Oh, I do not like the looks of that. Let's wait for the eye..."
Smee shrugs and hands the Red Mantis his provision potion. And says... nothing. But he does turn to Jinglemane, takes the hug, and nods.
"Sir, I don't think that is advis..." he is cut off midstream.
"Anti-chivalric, sir. I cannot let you be tempted, sir" Smee walks over and waves his arms in a blocking motion, then slaps his master across his handsome face.
Jinglemane reaches out his arms and hugs her. He whispers in her ear, "Welcome back, fellow Venture-Gossip." Smee eyeballs the enchange. Nearly raises an eyebrow! But fails to make the connection... "Somebody should do something" he mumbles.
"Sir" Smee clears his throat "Shouldn't we be, sir, assisting in the investigation under the premises, sir? I'm sure the others could use your expertise, sir"
"You seem to have missed a few, sir" Smee comes to clean up his master's mess, once again!
Gossiping that "I think they would make a fine pair, those two" and "What could that archivist possibly have done to draw the ire of fake assassins?" and "Shame about those children; someone should do something - golly!"Voron laughs nervously. I think "someone" might have to be us, Smee. ”No no, sir. You must mean You then” Smee corrects, in a markedly different tone than his usual compliant, courteous, and patient demeanor - he points to Don Jurri ”My contract with Master Donatellus Jurrious Orwellious explicitly forbids my personage to engage in ‘combat’ - and furthermore, should by any other means should I come to bodily harm or death, the Star Metal insurance policy which I am enrolled in with full coverage has my family due full-expense for the next 80 years” he reverts to his usual way of speaking and interacting ”But, I will always help where I can, Master Voron” curtsying politely.
Smee puts down his copy of the "Venture-Gossip -- M.E. Edition" without even so much as a second thought that it's presence on the ship ought reveal the identity of it's anonymous ghost writer. Nope. He becomes swept up in the drama instead. His master in some sort of mood, our halfling hero enjoys his "break" by walking around the ship, doing his best to propogate the grapevine. Gossiping that "I think they would make a fine pair, those two" and "What could that archivist possibly have done to draw the ire of fake assassins?" and "Shame about those children; someone should do something - golly!" After having hung his master's clothes out to dry for 1 hour, Smee fetches the still-damp clothes and helps Don Jurri re-dress into them - the latter's face bratty and displeasured at having to don clothes that are not fully dry... ...before they depart, he also cleans his master's shirt-pistol, pours in fresh gunpowder, and clears the chamber. "Fit as a fiddle!" trying to cheer him up, he tucks it into his breast pocket "You look ready, sir" he smiles.
Relaxing a little, being asked to perform something within his actual skillset, Smee applies himself to the challenge at hand.
"Very good sir"
>>walks cautiously up to mis master and the master assassin<< "Yessir, right away sir" somewhat nervously, he deposits the dusting feather into a pocket vat of ink, and transcribes: "1) Dhrami Blakros (contract vacated)
"Anything else, sir?"
>>startles<< "Oh, yes, sir, right away, sir" he looks around the boat, but, all of his master's belongings are already on his person! Scrambling with an impossible task, he instead rushes over to gently wipe dust from Don Jurri's ruffled pirate tunic with a feather.
>>swallows<< Casting a hesitant glance at the Red Mantis Assassin, Smee meekly supports "Ah, on fashion advice, sir, I find that you are infrequently wrong, sir" Sufficing with vagueness, he keeps his eyes wearily in the direction of the subject of conversation...
Smee finds a comfortable perch somewhere near the poop deck, and happening upon upon a magazine hand-written in tiny print, pulls out his spectacles, kicks up his feet, casts one more glance back for his master (just in case)... ...and buries himself in the literature "Hmm" and "Oho!" and "Well..."
Dutifully, Dotty Smee, "First Mate", stands ready to catch his master at a moment's notice!
Starting at the sound of his name called in a shrillish pitch, our halfling hero leaps up, and is at once at the side of his summoner. "No, sir, still a few days, sir, until we arrive, I'm afraid"
Mayheb puts her arm on Joli's shoulder "I think this is sealed off - a job for another day" and says also "Perhaps we could inspect those two statues?"
”I can help” Mayheb gets busy… Secret Engineering Lore:
"Cave-ins happen for myriad reasons, I bet I could help put my eyes on the rubble" Mayheb suggests pro-actively. Her companion Joli nods, hearing no diplomatic efforts are needed (his preference), and defers to her judgement.
She hands a scroll to Potipher Perkins and says "I understand the value of magic, milady, and you said to be prepared!"
Mayheb watches as Joli asks around.
Perhaps, despite his attempts at mellowing his imposing appearance, the legacy between his race and that of these dwarven lands is still too onerous to allow him to present himself with non-violence… She shakes her head. At him, partially. But also at that…
Kernel Klank’s firm handshake is reciprocated jubilantly. To her boss ”I dunno, Joli. Depends on how far we are traveling” to the dwarf ”The pleasure is mine, Mr Klank. We will do our best to keep up with you. My friend here always sees the best in people to a fault. Good to have another set of eyes on everything” she visually inspects his armor while she chats.
Smee pulls out a quill and pens some notes: Tanno Kembers, burned to death
He turns to the next PC to post "Do I got the right of it?"
The halfling comes over, glancing at the sister, and shrugging, already pulling out a towel. ”What is it sir?”
Smee takes the "Pickle!" with a rude and grasping hand and chomps it down. "Yeff we are t'e oneff we haff been waitingff ffor" he says with a mouthful of brine. Swallows. He avoids Jaxon for the rest of the scenario, having not sized him up until after he had de-pickled him, and realizing (but not wanting of course to admit) his mistake.
"Very well then, sir"
"Sir, only that you cannot cut my pay, sir, for that it does not exist yet, and that, when it does, it's legal disbursement is out and away from your cutting hand, sir, so to speak" He tries using the same metaphor that his master chose to employ in an effort to let him 'in' on the very joke he was making at his expense... yet it seems both layers of the conversation were simply lost upon the ultimately vacant expression of the man whose clothes he had been hard at work "brushing up" these past hours by way of his look of non-understanding. No bother. Allowing his conversation partner time to let the words sink in, they merely slide off, and so, he concludes the conversation with empty praise, something he knows will always work with the shallow vapid elite. "You do cut a fine figure in this at the very least. Should we endeavor to wash them now?"
"My payment, sir, is belated unto your death, sir, that your forebears bid me by way of a policy of modest life insurance, bound by the strictest package of anti-fraudulence provisions, sir..."
In a disheveled mansion upon an overgrown estate riddled with weeds and derelict shacks occupied by unbudging transients, a halfling is hard at work with needle and thread. ”Hold still, sir, lest your delicate skin suffer incidental perforation…” The sharp implement conveniently before the neck of his human employer!
Tavvar hands Haohji one of the books - some dusty old manual written in Nidalese "I've been working on a ritual to create partially real shadow illusion manifestations of the memories from people, places, and things!" she boasts "I think I've got what I need from these old books - you can keep them!" Turning to her attendants, with infinite incredulity, she asks "So, are you all ready to begin again?!" with utter seriousness - and in this moment, the room falls into awkward silence...
Black Shadow dissipates under Merellin's hand cannon, and he makes quick work altering the trace ink by emptying some black powder into it... ...and with that, the ritual sucks the remaining Shadow back into the portal, and seals with a "ZZzziiipppp"...
Tavvar looks at Merellin "I had it under control, but..." she pauses a moment here to reflect "...but, yeah, thank you for helping out with the roughest part" she heads over to Attendant One "Are you okay?"
"No no. I got this" Tavvar explains to Haohji even as he shields her from the damage - she watches as he unsuccessfully attacks the Shadow Creature and comments "You may need to brush up on your technique" She watches as a Hobgoblin enters the room "Who let him in here?"! She watches as a fat leshy restores life to one of her assistants "Thanks I guess - but we didn't need that" Veiled Lady:
The assistant whispers "I am so glad you are here - I fear losing consciousness and then the ritual spiraling more out of control!" She watches as Ramona races into the room with a puppet "Well now, that is just silly" Her eyes fall now on the gunslinger watching from the side "Are you going to get involved too?
"Oh - That... that was... unexpected..." Tavvar looks around her as the attendants she asked to assist in her thesis begin dying! Ritualist HP Totals: Tavvar @ ?? (pending Haohji's decision) One @ 9 damage (bloodied!) Two @ 11 damage (bloodied!) Three @ ?? (pending Haohji's decision)
Taavar looks at Kronolyn "My Thesis!" she beams "I have been studying ways to Control the Nodes between the Universe and the Netherworld!" her eyes manic "This particular Junction I will name after myself once we fully stabilize it:" with misplaced or perhaps simply pre-emptive pride "The Hamavsi Pool!"
"You are all just in time - watch this!" As the party enters the room, Tavvar enacts the final rite smearing the ink she had scribed all over her arms, causing the runes in the center of the room to glow with purplish dark energy!
Don Jurri examines the trip wire... "Careful, master! Don't want to lose a finger!"
"Talking to a door and he thinks his don't !" our hireling hero sows discord among the ranks. He turns to Torrent "Dja sleep well?" winking with a mischievous snarl.
"Hold on there, master" Xavier asserts himself as he sees Don Jurri on the verge of downing the whole potion himself "Let us share that - remember who's rowing you out of here if things go sideways..." then to himself "...as they often do..." Then, as if asking his master (but really directing him...) "To the Barricades then, old boy?"
◇) Halfling Luck!
"The other way, master! It can't (blub blub) see you from that direction!" from off-screen, dealing with an attacking crab, our mighty halfling hero keeps tabs on his charge. Will Xavier's timely comment spell the difference?
"Can ye swim, master?" Xavier turns to his charge "Get them fancy boots all muffed, no doubt. Maybe Mister Smee can stitch 'em if and when we get home if so?"
With a yawn, our hireling hero watches as Don Jurri makes a fool of himself - he smiles knowingly to the rest of the team - then says with feigned seriousness "Perhaps, fearless leader, we should provision ourselves amply first?" His master seems to capitalize on the idea, as if it were his own "Of course Xavier - were it not so obvious, it wouldn't have to be spoken!" and turning in his tracks, is gently redirected to a more appropriate course.
Elbowing his master right into an unguarded and sensitive spot in his ribcage, a shaggy, bushy-eyed halfling nearly coughs up a laugh "Alright you old dead beat - get yer ass up and at'em!" With practiced leverage, he hoists Don Jurri up from the ground, and braces his slouch while recounting that "Turns out you, uh, were the 'life of the party'! Heh heh..." knowingly stroking his master's ego too in a soft spot "Had yee not bought that rd round, dunno if you'd had to turn in early as you did..." the omission here glaring to the reader, perhaps, glosses right over our Modern Knight's head "Anywho, turns out looking at yer map, we were due at that 5 King's Volcano er whatever half an hour ago - we gotta git!" And with that, the seafaring hireling escorts his pathfinder master - who he'd seen raised from a babe - dutifully to the correct starting point... |
