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Post by DM Nevets on Jun 19, 2014 12:39:41 GMT -5
Klangwhyrr raises his hand to knock on the Govenor's door and is interrupted by a simple command from inside. "Come." Opening the portal into the ship's statesroom, the automaton sees Govenor Reece seated at his small writing desk, a ledger of some sort open in front of him and several scrolls rolled out on the table behind him. The gruff administrator glances up and stares at the warforged over half-spectacles.
"Yes? Something you need?"
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From his perch in the crow's nest Baham sees very little worth harpooning for quite some time. (Spot roll: 3 ) However, the dragonborn is certain that something of some value will turn up eventually.
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Kale follows alongside Professor Malvo as he approaches the barbaric-looking 1/2 Orc. With his eyes scanning upwards, taking in both the Druid's companion and the Dragon-kin he asks, "Quite a site. Is he dangerous? He leaves it quite unclear to which of the two winged creatures he's referring.
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blair
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Post by blair on Jun 19, 2014 20:49:42 GMT -5
After hour of nothing.......A idea.........stripping his armor and attaching more rope......Baham using his wings as a kite sails 100 feet above the mast........higher up is a better view.......something will cross our path......WHAT THE *%*^%$&*^% IS THAT....................big grin
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Post by Professor Malvo on Jun 19, 2014 22:09:40 GMT -5
"Greeting young master" the Professor said. " As to entertain the perception of what is or is not "dangerous" is indeed a difficult endeavour." Giving Kale a reassuring smile" To adjudicate such an opinion with no prior knowledge of the situation gives one a predisposed mind, which young master, is in itself most dangerous."
Taking a puff of his pipe, the Professor notices that his tobacco has run out " Alas" Reaching into his satchel when he pauses, looking at a bewildered Kale, pulls out his tobacco pouch. " I shall extrapolate in such a manner that you may fully comprehend" He begins packing his pipe, never taking his eyes off the young man. " Never judge a book by it's cover" Professor Malvo takes a puff of the pipe as Baham flies from off the crows nest.
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Post by Klangwhyrr on Jun 20, 2014 17:29:49 GMT -5
The apparatus driving the automaton’s joints whispered a series of mechanical clicks, as Klangwhyrr stepped into the quarters of Jon and Kale Reece.
The eerie eyes that glowed from the shadowy depths of Klangwhyrr’s helmet shifted from their current hue of guarded amber to one of investigatory violet. The wispy points of lights flicked back and forth, observing every detail of his environment: the knots in the wood on the cabin wall, the orderly stack of boxes and chests in corner, the recently made bedding atop the bunk beds mounted to the opposite wall and each precisely written letter scribed unto the parchment sitting atop the governor’s desk.
---------- OOC: Spot check (5) Sense Motive (5) ----------
With a series of soft clangs and whirs, the automaton spoke. Each precisely articulated word sounded as if it traveled across a great void. “Please forgive my intrusion, governor,” Klangwhyrr said. “As you know, ever since I was recovered and restored to functionality, I have had no recollection of my time in the service of the Diaeyaen army.
“However, a memory has come back to me. The captain has permitted a dragon-kin by the name of Baham to roost in the crow’s nest. When he made an appearance upon the deck, I remembered: there was a conflict – a war – between two armies of dragon-kin… and everyone else.”
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Banwyck
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Post by Banwyck on Jun 24, 2014 13:40:42 GMT -5
On the opposite side of the deck from where Kale stood when Baham landed, there was a confusion of rigging and boxes. This tangle of boatstuff is unremarkable. As unremarkable as the thin young man casually leaning up against it.
"I think he means well, but once he catches whatever it is he catches...", he says loudly in the direction of the tea-totaller , the eagle-perchee, & Kale while walking casually across the deck towards them, "...I would wait to see how that one eats before deciding to stick a hand in for a share." Though his words sound serious, his face has a playful smile.
Now lounging against the rail next to the Governor's son, its easy to see there cannot be more than a few years separating these two. "I don't know about you, Kale, but Banwyck Evertook has never seen a dragon eat." Banwyck's eyes take on an adventurous gleam, "And, yeah, he's only sort of a dragon, but he's more than any of us. I think it'll be a sight! Don't you?"
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Fhean
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Post by Fhean on Jun 26, 2014 17:17:20 GMT -5
With the Galley cleaned up from the last meal, I decided to go on deck. I have been happier as of late, I like to stay busy with no down time. Most Dwarves are happier when there is purpose in their daily work. The crew has been trying their best to get me grumpy but, to no avail. As I open the door, I see the remains of the tackle to the one side of the deck. On the other, a gathering of sorts. Working in the Galley you see and serve most aboard however, you really don't get to know anyone. "Master Kale, how are you?", as I bow my head towards the Governors son.
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Post by Professor Malvo on Jun 26, 2014 23:12:36 GMT -5
" Logically, given a dragon's ( or our friend for that manner) rows of sharp, pointy teeth you must come to the conclusion that when one such a creature eats there would be rending of flesh and gnashing of teeth followed by, one would assume, much gutteral noises. Which to many of us would be observed as rather impolite." The Professor speaks in his thick accent "but scolding a dragon upon its eating etiquette would indeed be the acme of foolishness" he says with a grin. " Tiberius Ishmael Malvo, Professor of Artefacts and Antiquities. Mister Evertook I presume?"
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Banwyck
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Post by Banwyck on Jun 27, 2014 10:44:13 GMT -5
Banwyck executes a short bow, in the local style of respect to one's elder. "You presume correctly, Professor Malvo! Banwyck Evertook, Trader of Pies and Charmer of Claws... but please call me 'Ban', Professor." Pointing up at the crow's nest Ban continues, "I apologize for my tone.; no conspiring of scolding was meant! I'm told I have lived and experienced one part of one speck of what this world has to offer and I am truly curious to see not only how he eats, but that is what I'm most curious about right now." The enthusiastic, yet plain-clothed youth then pulls a knee-height box from a few feet over and sits, eyes locked on the Professor. "But since that's not happening right now, next in line is my curiosity about Artefacts and Antiquities you think we may encounter once we reach Diaeya!"
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Post by phadean on Jun 30, 2014 23:04:01 GMT -5
The ships medic/ cleric, Phadean moves about the deck with careful ease, speaking to the crew members with an easy word, making sure all are healthy, fed and in order. His holy symbol hanging from a thong around his wrist, he keeps his face to the wind as he moves across the deck. He approaches all who are out under the sky when they are at their ease with the same words.
"Good day, and fine sailing. My name is Phadean. Among other things, I'm here to heal and help. I hope you are finding your legs well enough. If not, please do let me know and I will do what I can to make you comfortable and ease you into the journey."
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Post by drax40k on Jul 1, 2014 8:53:09 GMT -5
Niccolo was woken from his slumber with the sound of shuffling upon the deck. He stood up and stretched before putting on his clothes. As the Governor's advisor he had rated his own stateroom, and that suited him just fine. After putting on some comfortable if somewhat austere clothing for a sea journey Niccolo walked over to the small bird cage that hung from small wooden peg along the bulkhead and opened the door that allowed his faithful crow Moonglum to take his favorite perch upon his shoulder.
Niccolo reached into his pocket and pulled out a dried breadcrumb from among a supply he kept for that purpose and fed the bird that cawed happily, "morning my friend, it appears we have passed through the storms at last and our companions have taken to the deck, shall we greet them?"
Moonglum cawed in response and Niccolo proceeded to leave the meagre stateroom and take a short ladder to the weather deck where a portion of the motley crew the Governor had picked for this expedition had assembled.
The wiry Niccolo was in his mid twenties with closely cropped hair that revealed a receding hairline. He had a thin mustache and unremarkable features that tended to make him blend into a crowd, a quality Niccolo favored throughout his life. He saw Kale's gaurdian, the remarkable automaton, Klangwhyrr assembled with another young man as well as that Professor, Malvo he thought was the name? They appeared to be looking up at the main mast and Niccolo threw a glance up as he observed the Dragonkin that appeared to be flying around the mast. A most interesting group indeed. Niccolo walked up and adopted his easy smile as he greeted his fellow travellers, "Good morning my friends!"
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Post by Professor Malvo on Jul 1, 2014 14:39:51 GMT -5
"Well Mr. Evertook" the Professor said. "The classification of Artefacts and Antiquities is almost impossible to determine." He takes a few quick puffs of his pipe " it is all based on what has gone on these past one hundred years. Have they progressed at our pace? Have they regressed into a more primitive state or even, I dare say, far exceeded us?" The professor notices the approach of more of his companions. "As I overheard in a conversation before we departed, I shall quote it back, "Fortune tellers make a killing now-a-days"
With a polite bow the Professor addresses the newcomers "Good day Master Dwarf, Mister Niccolo, Mister Phadean, jolly good to see you all!"
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blair
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Post by blair on Jul 1, 2014 19:03:31 GMT -5
After a few hours without seeing anything......something .....what is that.......like a shadow below the surface.......It might be a cloud.....not being sure .....he readied he harpoon.......checking the knot attached .........(letting out a mighty roar) Baham dives downward into the water where his.......shadow was........
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Post by DM Nevets on Jul 1, 2014 19:53:53 GMT -5
Klangwhyrr takes in the Govenor's desktop before the politician has time to move things out of site (Spot Check: Roll: 18 + 5 = 23) seeing an aging parchment with a map of the continent. While not all of it is revealed, the northern penninsula is cleary visible, showing Diaeya (which the automatron notes is the name of the kingdom and NOT the port city), Grymport (which would appear to be the name of the port the ship is actually traveling toward), as well as a larger city nearby called Barakoth. There is a rather large plain beyond which ends in a moutain range that seems to cut the entire area off from....well, whatever lies beyond...most of which IS covered.
(OOC: Note, eventually a Map will be forthcoming, but I'm still working on learning the mapmaking tools and my priority is to have combat rather than continent maps available first.)
Govenor Reece arches an eyebrow at Klangwhyrr, though possibly more in gruffy irritation than surprise. "Really, now? Two dragon armies? And THIS is the first I am to hear of it? I understand you may have your ...issues, Master Klangwhyrr, but really now."
The administrator stands and looks directly at the Warforged, "In 100 years there has been no other mention that I know of concerning armies of dragons rampaging the countryside of the Old Worlde. Are you sure this memory is...real?"
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Post by DM Nevets on Jul 1, 2014 20:50:34 GMT -5
Banwyck, Phadean, Fhean, Kale, and Professor Malvo all glance up in surprise in the midst of their greetings and conversations (Spot checks all made...not a difficult one), and while Niccolo seems at first oblivious (Spot roll: 1), he easily notices everyone else including the crew looking quickly upward, and then just as quickly downward and then over the side of the ship as Baham dives downward in a wing-aided drop into the frigid water, harpoon in hand.
"Man!.....er.....THING Overboard!" Comes the cry from one of the sailors who bolt to the rail to see what transpires.
Baham hits the water with a huge splash, (CON Check: Roll 16) but seems unaffected. Grinning to himself, the Dragonborn glances about, searching for his "prey" (Spot Check: Roll 2 )...but can't seem to find it straight off.
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Post by Klangwhyrr on Jul 1, 2014 21:33:42 GMT -5
Confused by Jon Reece’s words, Klangwhyrr cocked his head – a motion that evoked a faint, mechanical whirring. “My memories are quite real and quite accurate, governor, I assure you.” Klangwhyrr's tone was matter-of-fact. “As you know, I have only been restored to functionality for a short time. At first I believed my missing memories were solely attributable to the extensive damage I sustained in aiding Governor Caran Saal escape from Grymport some hundred years ago. However, I now believe the true cause of my memory loss was mystical in origin.”
Klangwhyrr glanced back to the deck, taking note of the assembled adventurers. The movement was accompanied by a series of barely audible clicks and clacks. He observed that Malvo, Niccolo, Phadean, Banwyk and Kale were within earshot. “There were two armies,” he told Governor Jon Reece, “and both consisted of the dragons-kin and their minions. One force flew a blue banner adorned with a golden scale. The other army flew one with a black design that resembled the points of clock on a field of red.”
“Both forces were zealous in their cause and neither showed any concern for the well-being of the other civilizations.” Klangwhyrr lowered his head and his broad shoulders sagged. In that moment, the automaton looked worn and ancient. “Many cities and strongholds were destroyed in their war. Inhabitants of all races were slaughtered. The dead were too numerous to count. Those few who survived fled their homes and became refugees.”
“The homeless souls found their way to Grymport and Barakoth, where the nobles and wealthy merchants rallied them into a third army. The final battle took place at Barakoth. We defended the city for a long time – although I cannot remember how long,” the automaton admitted with regret. “That memory is closed to me, still.”
“But I do remember the end,” Kalngwhyrr continued – there was a touch of sadness to the automaton’s eerie voice. The twin points of light that served as his eyes flickered with something akin to sorrow. “When the two dragon-kin armies finally converged on Grymport, the Governor ordered that all inhabitants flee.” His helmeted head swung back and forth. “There was no hope of holding the city.”
“Governor Caran Saal set sail for Havenstal. He sought to warn the mainland governor and agents of the emperor – but something happened….something important...”
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