Suspension [IC]

[RFLS]

"I, however, do...not suffer the same inhibitions. You could say I'm...used to it. Hs, hs." Telarin is apparently unaware of the acute awkwardness this statement induces.

[3SecondCultist]

Arcady, Sarkan, Telarin, Wolo: There is indeed a pause after Telarin's comment, but Kalibar does little but laugh it off as he polishes off a second portion. "Well, those of you who are interested, drop by later today. I'll be in my bunk." He smiles one last time as he thanks Jaeden once more and heads off back towards the bunks, whistling all the way. "I'm so sorry about him, that one has absolutely no manners on him." The ship's cook offers you a sincere expression, although it is a relatively quiet one. "We took him on the last time we were in Sharn, nearly six months ago. Jenks has made quite a profit for himself - and for the captain - but he can be a real pain to live with sometimes. Velgram seems to be eating just as much or more than the halfling was, but he smiles ruefully as well. Bits of food fall out of his mouth onto the plate, the table, and the floor indiscriminately. Mortified, the half-orc rushes to clean up his own mess. Manten only raises an eyebrow, finishing his breakfast silently as he walks around the reception hall, and through the doors of a darkened side room. You manage to catch a glimpse of various pipes, and a faint mist or steam lingers as the ship's engineer closes the portal swiftly behind him.

"Well, there is just no accounting for one's crewmates sometimes, isn't there? I believe the captain has given you all more or less free reign of the ship, other than the bridge, the laboratory on the upper deck, the elemental chamber down here, and the cargo bay is off limits without an escort. If you'd like, I can take you down there after cleaning up?" Jaeden does indeed seem unconditionally happy to have new faces to show around, although the cook seems to be having an equally busy day.

Astari: As you open the hatch up to the main deck, you are buffeted by gusts of wind, cold and sharp to the bone. The sky is mostly clear all around you, although there are a few wispy clouds wearing the shapes of terrestrial things. The quarterdeck is empty, but through the heavy glass windows of the bridge, you catch sight of several blurred figures moving about. Something else manages to grab your attention, though: a lone figure standing at the bow, staring out into the beyond. Draped in a fine grey cloak, Valborn stands as still as a figurehead. "In three day's time, we should be landing in Stormreach. You know, I've never been to Xen'drik before. I wonder what's out there?"

[TheLonelyScribe]

"I'd be fascinated to see the cargo. Tell me, what are you carrying? My last trip to Stormreach was mainly furniture and building materials, but I hear that the adventurous folk down there request all sorts of things."

[MandibleBones]

"An escort sounds lovely," Arcady says, sounding cheerful for the first time in a long while. "Oh, and apparently there's cargo to see, too."

[TheAntiplanar]

"The chance at fortune maybe? Fame?" Astari speaks in reserved tones - she still didn't know Valborn's endgame - but she does talk on subjects that the professor might likely be after. Admittedly, it is a bit desperate, and there is no need to tip her hand right away. Men like him were always after something greater, to rise from obscurity to tower above all the rest. The great monoliths of the forest would fall to be replaced by a new generation, and the cycle would begin afresh, afresh. Time and freedom came in those moments between, to decide what kind of tree you wanted to grow up to be. She decides the smile behind her eyes is enough.

"What do you know about Stormreach, professor?" Put him on the defensive, force him to answer the question if he knew the answer or acknowledge his ignorance if he did not. He had tried to do the same thing to her just moments ago, had he not?

[3SecondCultist]

Arcady, Sarkan, Telarin, Wolo: "Oh, they don't let me in on those kinds of things. House Lyrandar business, I suppose," Jaeden says quickly. Once breakfast has been cleaned up, the ship's cook hangs up her apron, snapping her fingers. You hear the clattering of claws on wood, as a somewhat small black dog scampers across the planking. It sits on its hind legs with a patient, almost mournful expression as it follows its master around. The black laborador is introduced as Zephyr, the unofficial mascot of the vessel. Velgram seems rather non-chalant about you being given a guided tour, and so Jaeden (followed by her dog) leads the four of you down the stairs and into the belly of the ship.

A massive chamber takes up the entirety of the lower deck, nearly half of which is filled with several stacks of wooden crates bearing the stamp of the Brelish crown. The corner of the bay is occupied by a cell of three thick metal walls, barred by a locked door of solid steel. A faint aura of abjuration emanates from the smooth surfaces, even to those without magical capabilities for sensing it. "That would be the vault of the vessel. It was originally designed as a brig for prisoners of war you see, but now we just use it to store valuables." The cook-turned-tour guide hasn't lost her enthusiasm since you left the reception hall, and if anything her excitement increases as you progress further into the bay.

The rest of the lower deck is dominated by what appear to be smaller aircraft, docked in sets of five along the port and starboard walls of the vaguely rectangular chamber. Each craft is lined up with a large hatch in the curved hull, the miniature soarwood designs clearly meant to emulate that of the Dragon itself. "Welcome to the skiff bay! Each of these beauties can hold up to four passengers, and can be rented for 150 gp per day with the captain's permission. They can go just about anywhere within 50 miles of their dock - standard short range, I'm told - and their top speed matches that of the Dragon. What do you think?" Jaeden seems eager to show off the craft, and you also notice a pair of ladders extending up into the ceiling and towards the upper decks.

Astari: Valborn pauses, clearly thinking through his response. When he does look at you, it is clear that he knows exactly what type of game you've chosen to play. "Stormreach on its own means very little to me, I'm afraid. Although some of the denizens of Xen'Drik are interesting from an anthropological standpoint, there is little more to that town than the means to an end: finding what it is we're looking for. On the other hand," he concedes, "I will be spending some time there while you complete the task assigned to you, so I had best learn to enjoy the customs." The older man speaks in equal tones of confidence and distaste, although judging by the conspiratorial nature of his response, he doesn't seem to extend those feelings towards either you or your comrades.

[RFLS]

Telarin walks forward to admire the skiffs, trailing his long fingers over their hulls.

"These are...beautiful! How do...they work? Is it elemental binding like the...hs, hs, the Dragon, or is it something else? Perhaps...something new?"

[MandibleBones]

Arcady looks lovingly at the skiffs. "Can anyone pilot them, or does it need to be a Lyrander?" he asks. Don't worry, baby, daddy's here now, he thinks, barely resisting the temptation to run his hands over the nearest skiff.

Spoiler

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(1d20+14)[15] Knowledge Arcana, to see if I can figure out how to drive one of these things.

[Lateral]

Sarkan remains against the deck wall, but he looks appreciatively at the skiffs. "They're beautiful. How do they work?"

[3SecondCultist]

* * * * * * * * * * *
72 Hours Later
* * * * * * * * * * *

The clouds over the Thunder Sea paint a dark portrait of the southern skies around the Dragon, doing their best to live up to their namesake. You can already feel the first gusts of the tropical storm as it stirs across the deck, parting hair and caressing skin. It will not stay gentle for long. Up on the quarterdeck, you can see Alastair at the helm, both elemental rings roaring under the nimble fingers of the Lyrandar captain. He shouts down at Mazzia to secure lifelines for anyone wishing to stay above-decks, the lieutenant moving quickly to the base of the first elemental ring where the rope is kept. She does her absolute best to keep the coming storm out of her features - it doesn't work. "Looks like we're in for some trouble, you'll need to belt yourselves down so you don't get swept overboard! It's a long fall down to Shargon's Teeth."

The approaching squall seems to spell the end of what would otherwise have been a quiet and uneventful voyage. The crew have been more than amiable for the most part, Jaeden and Captain Alastair especially doing their utmost to make you feel welcome aboard the Golden Dragon. Jenks' various games in his House of Chance have ended more or less in confusion, although it has become fairly clear that he can hardly qualify as a master of games - those of you who have bothered to play with him have earned at least 200 gold pieces over the course of the past few days. While Dramgrin, Linntorm and Mazzia have more or less left you to your own devices, another surprisingly accommodating crew member has been Zan. Near the back of the ship is situated the Cloud's Passage, a studio the elf has set up for relaxation, meditation and exercise. It is a space open to all, although the doors have now been closed. They all stand on the deck with you now, staring at the moving banks of storm-clouds - the lieutenant, the towering ship's bosun, the taciturn engineer, the ship's cook with her dog, the shifty halfling, and the still distant elf. There is one last person up on deck with you as well. Valborn's eyes track the darkness with a stony expression.

[Lateral]

Sarkan looks up at the stormy sky, watching intently for anything unusual.

Spoiler

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Spot check: (1d20+10)[28]

[RFLS]

Telarin, too, keeps his eyes peeled, albeit rather less successfully than his sharp-eyed companions.

Spoiler

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Spot: (1d20-2)[11]

[TheLonelyScribe]

Wolo summons magic to his fingertips as they approach the storm.

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Wolo readies an action to use Wind's Favour as soon as the storm becomes threatening.

[3SecondCultist]

After making sure each of you is tied to the ship, Mazzia moves towards the quarterdeck to stand near the captain. Several of the crew members - Jaeden, Dramgrin, Zan, and Jenks - have all gone belowdecks, leaving you with only the two half-elves and the half-orc bosun. Valborn also remains, his fine robes buffeted by the gusts that precede the oncoming storm. It all begins with the noise: small at first, a low wailing and the crack of thunder, but it grows in strength until you are hit by a nearly solid wall of wind which is almost immediately followed by the first raindrops. Both elemental rings of the Dragon remain alight, the flames expanding to the very edge of their engineered confines as they feast on the moving air. You can feel the airship turn slightly as Alastair touches the wheel, adjusting course to minimize wind resistance and increase speed through elevated oxygen levels. His own lifeline attaching him to the helm, the captain shouts down to everyone left on the main deck. "Hold on to something! It's going to get a bit rough for the next little while. Nobody ever said storms were gentle mistresses."

[RFLS]

Telarin faces into the storm, a faint smile playing over his thin lips. This looked like it could be exciting....

When the crew is completely occupied, Telarin undoes his rope, and wanders towards the bow of the boat.

[TheLonelyScribe]

Wolo tries to gauge the risk of the storm, feeling the power of his Dragonmark coursing through him.

Spoiler

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Profession (sailor) check to determine if the storm poses any significant risk: (1d20+8)[24]
If the storm seems dangerous, Wolo uses Wind's Favour to calm the winds to 'strong wind' and guides the the ship through the storm (this effect lasts for an hour).

[MandibleBones]

Seeing the storm approaching, even Arcady's caustic wit is silenced: the only sound he makes are the arcane words to shield him from the elements. It's cold enough in the sky; within a storm doesn't bear thinking about, especially if Arcady ends up flying - or falling, with or without style.

His eyes flicker from the less-flight-capable members of the group, to the life rings along the side, and he braces himself against a gunwale, holding on for... well, not dear life, for that would imply fear, but certainly a healthy level of "Oh My Sweet Sovereigns, There's a Storm And We're Going To Fly Through It."

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Note: If possible, I would like to have scribed two scrolls of fly over the past 72 hours.

Spells Prepared:

0: Resistance (Ab), Detect Magic, Repair Minor Damage, Prestidigitation x2 (1)

1: Endure Elements (Ab) (1), Benign Transposition, Cause Fear, Feather Fall x2, Ray of Enfeeblement

2: Protection from Arrows (Ab), Web, Alter Self, Dimension Leap

3: Dispel Magic (Ab), Fly x2, Greater Mage Armor

[Lateral]

Sarkan curls up his wings and waits the storm out.

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...I've got nothing. So, we're just missing the Antiplanar. Doesn't somebody know him in real life?

[RFLS]

Telarin:

Telarin peers into the storm, a worried expression playing about his otherwise stoic face. He looks, and looks again. Slowly, never taking his eyes off the oncoming storm, he walks over to the captain. A buzz and a hiss have entered his voice as he becomes, for the first time, worried.

"Captain...I am...unsure azz to what izz...normal for ssuch a storm, but...should there be elementalzz at the front of the sstorm? They sseem to be...playing."

Alastair peers forward, straining his eyes. There's a brief look of consternation, and then they widen in horror.

"All hands on deck! Elemental swarm, dead ahead!"

[MandibleBones]

"Oh, blast me," Arcady groans. A simple storm would be bad enough. Rogue elementals... he recalls the Incident With The Fire Elemental In The Workshop, and the scars on his forearms itch underneath his bracers.

As the storm approaches, he looks for a clearer spot toward the front. No fall I make will be fatal, he thinks. Then Aracady peers down at the water far below and grimaces. Though the swim might be...

After a moment to gauge the speed of the oncoming elementsals, he clenches rare and expensive dragonscales in one hand.

"Defendere totalis!" he mutters, and shimmering force surrounds him.

Spoiler

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Greater Mage Armor, CL 6.