The Scarred Lands (IC)

[Torger]

8:30AM, Landsday of Enkilot, AV 150

The sky is overcast, with low, dark clouds. The day's heat being sucked away by chill rain and biting wind as people go about their business with all possible speed and protective clothing. The Month of Storms is certainly living up to its name.

Right from the Inn's door and down a short promenade lined with mercantile shops and offices, the ocean can be heard, MAnawae's ongoing sigh as her aves lap against the shore. The off-shore ind masks the smell of the harbour, and has the docked ships straining at their lashings. Pier Twelve is immediately at the end of the promenade, with a sign declaring it to be the property of "Golden Hammer Mercantile, Fangsfall." Several ships stand moored, with one being unloaded, and yet another pulling into the dock. A guess would be that the cargo in trade goods, beans, or some similar legume, as the sacks shake like maracas when jostled.

The dock numbers seem to ascend as one heads to the left, with piers beign the property of other mercantile firms, the state, the army, and even private boating concerns. Pier 17 is the last in the line, and seems to be the smallest, holding only two schooners -- a three-mast and a two -- and a smaller coastal boat. The signage seems to indicate that it belongs to "Daring Deliveries -- We bring anything to any place, guaranteed" and lists a place of incorporation as being Karria. There is a smaller, hand-painted sign which reads, "Dream-struck Pilgrims see Shipmaster Rogers."

The only other feature on the dock is a smallish shed with a single dirty window and an anchor leaning against the side. The Daring Deliveries logo is replicated above the door, and a badly tarnished brass plaque indicates that this is the office of Shipmaster Rogers. The flicker of firelight through the filthy glass seems to indicate that the office is occupied, and there is the sound of activity from the two-masted ship.

[daggaz]

Merrindel de Angouleme

(back in the inn)

The nerve of some people! Truly, the dwarves have better to offer as a race. It is exactly as I said, the sooner we leave, the better. It just pains me to think that half the inn will be following us on our journey. Perhaps we had better make haste to the docks, in case there aren't enough tickets? After you are done eating, of course.. He addresses her in high elven, smiling when the serving girl comes, and pays for the food.

When she is finished, they head to the docks to seek out the ship's captain. He is tense and slightly restless, as usual, and he pulls his cloak tight about him as the stiff ocean breeze slides across the bay to strike him in the face.

Making their way down the docks, he watches the larger vessels being loaded and unloaded, admiring the industrious nature of the humans as one might admire a colony of ants shuttling foodstuffs into an anthill.

His contemplative thoughts are interrupted when they reach Pier 17, however, by the sight of the rather rickshaw looking building and the equally dingy boats moored alongside.

Well, this must be it. I had rather hoped the vessel would be ..somewhat larger, but one cannot be too demanding I suppose.

A smile crosses his lips as he notices the name of the shipping company as well as the logo, "Dream-struck Pilgrims see Shipmaster Rogers." Loosening the cowl from about his face, he knocks on the door.

[Minchandre]

Dael

Our young journeyman took his time going to the docks, as he was in no great hurry and rain continued to be something of a novelty for those from the southern end of Ghelspad. With time, he worked his way to the shore, and thence to the piers.

When he reached the ocean, Dael paused. So much water...it's amazing. "Hey, Sapheral, did you know that there was so much water in the world?"

"It smells funny," replied the articulate avian in question, causing Dael to take a great breathe in through his nose. The bird was right, of course: the overwhelming smell was that of brine, as might be expected, but under that he smelled fish and sand, and, he noticed with distaste, more than a hint of rot. The novelty quickly faded as Dael consigned the entire ocean as one giant midden heap, and he walked away quickly towards pier 17.

The piers, in general, have an air of activity and motion that Dael finds comforting. He looks in wonder at the ships - So big! - and wends his way towards the wharf marked 17. There, he spares a moment to look at the boats, which seem small compared to the others, but look well-maintained, and finds the sign directing him towards Shipmaster Rogers. He quickly spots the office and goes to the door...only to find the half-elven lady and that damnably rude man.

Still, the best way to deal with the grumpy is often good cheer, and so Dael pulls down his scarf a little to free his mouth for talking, and begins in High Elven, "Hello again miss, sir. Fancy seeing you here, eh? How have the last minutes found you?"

[fendrin]

Heinrich

The serving-hafling returns to Heinrich's table with a bundle in a thin, worn sack.
I should give a tip, but can I afford it? Oh why not, I'm probably going to blow the rest of my money on a one way trip anyway. What use is money when you're stranded on an island?
Wordlessly, Heinrich stacks the appropriate coinage on the table. As he takes the sack from the halfling, he surreptitiously slides a small copper coin into the small man's hand, nodding slightly as he does so.
I wouldn't put it past a place like this to take a cut from the tips, if not all of them. I hope he does the smart thing and keeps quiet about it.

Spoiler

Show

OOC: That probably doesn't require a check, but if it does, Heinrich takes 10 for a Sleight Of Hand check of 20.

Rising, Heinrich quickly ties the sack to his belt and walks out the door.

Taking a deep breath of the sea-tinged air, he surveys his surroundings.
Ah, that smell. So strange, so strong, it pervades the atmosphere like nothing else I have experienced. It almost smells like blood, but cooler, moister. Less energetic, but just as vibrant. Will I ever get used to it? probably not. That sign... 'Dream-struck Pilgrims'. If that's not me I don't know what is. Still, it's an odd thing to put up unless he means something else. Or there are a lot more people like me who have had potentially prophetic dreams... what are the chances of that?

Heinrich walks to the office of Shipmaster Rogers.

[WakkaWakka]

Sean Farland

After deciding that the ship looks too small to hide into (and how is done a the inside of a ship anyway...), and that it will be a cheap ride anyway, Sean is back on the pier edge, flopping his feet and looking about as dream-struck as you can be without being asleep.
The elven maid said "a couple of hours" - but someone comes along quite a bit before.
He was with the elf maid - they seemed pretty close, too.
Maybe he could be Rogers... no, he's knocking on the door.
He'll be an other dreamstuck. Or not. He doesn't look the part.

As the man goes to knock, Sean leans back, to voice him that the shipmaster isn't here yet... and finds a veritable crowd has formed.

Oh, well - there's too many of them tallies. Better to simply wait, and see.
I will notice when the shipmaster comes in, I've been there all the time.
Hey! why are they going into the... office?
That Rogers - he sneaked in unnoticed - I'd better be more careful in future.
Taken by surprise, the small halfling sighs and walks toward the group.

[HellFencer]

Madrigal

Even to the eyes of townsfolk, it was not hard to pick out the knight wearing full plate, sharing a table near the fireplace with two mountain-men. His shield lay on the table, his sword sheathed behind. Beyond that, a simple brown cloak overlay any other belongings. The oddest of all, however, is the fact that his face mask is still down. The conversation is kept in somewhat low-tones so as to avoid attention.

[Azerian Kelimon]

Well, time to go, old pal. Seems as if we're going to have quite a lot of free time, so, would you like any books or ballads?

Yes, boss! Maybe the tale of the lost king, or the epic of the city of the heavens? But I don't want any songs, The Psicrystal exclaims, as Tiresias stands up and heads for the exit, his meal and accomodations having been paid beforehand.


Exiting the inn into a street, and walking past the shops with the intention of getting to the docks and finding any book stores if at all possible, Tiresias looks around, until he sees a store with an open book as a sign. Entering, he is greeted by the smell of dusty tomes and ancient scripts. Approaching an old man who is at a counter, he asks Do you have any epics or ballads for sale?

This is a bookstore, son. If it has been written on paper, we have it. Youth this days... the old man irritably mumbles, apparently about to enter a rant as Tiresias abruptly cuts him short.

Well, then...do you have the books and song lyrics of this list? he says, as he hands the old man a small list.

Let's see...we don't have the Black dog, nor do we have the City Woman, or the Ethereal touch, but we have the other ballads. as for the books...no, we don't have any of these, he says, as he shakes his head.

What about the Tale of the Shadowstrikers? D'you have it?

Let me take a look... the old man grumbles as he disappears behind a stack of books.

YES, WE HAVE IT! The old man vociferates as he returns with a heavy, pitch black tome.

Well, this mean boy, plus all those lyrics...let's see...it'll be 3 golds and 3 silvers, if you want them. Without a word, Tiresias takes the required amount out of his pouch and hands it to the old man, who snatches his sack, and fills it with the scrolls and book.

Good, now bug off, before you break something!, he says, as Tiresias leaves.


Etrius, I didn't find the books you wanted, but I got the story of the Shadowstrikers. Is that okay? He adds, as waves of disillusion emit from the crystal.

Thanks, boss. That's very kind of you.



As he reaches Pier 16, Tiresias can see the pair from the inn, the androgynous man, another elf, and a halfling who walks towards them.

Hmm...Etrius, I want you to be serious about this. The people we saw at the inn are here again. What do you think we should do? I'm leaning on waiting to see if anyone else is coming, in case something breaks out. Your thoughts?

You know I like fights, master, but in all seriousness, I think we should wait to see if anyone else is coming. In all fights, it's better to know where both friend and foe are, to avoid surprises, Etrius says, adopting a much more grown up tone of "voice", which surprises Tiresias. To tell the truth, he's always surprised to see the depth Etrius is capable of, but it also fill him with pride.

You speak the truth, Etrius. Let's try a hiding spot, he says, and proceds to hide in an open warehouse.

[Darius]

Graeme MacKelan

His head down against the rain, Graeme pays little attention to his surroundings - only looking up once and awhile to get his bearings as he continues to trudge along. The rain is the only bath he has taken in a long time, and Graeme smells like a wet dog. When he comes to Pier 17, he finally looks up.

He reads the signs and then notices the others. "By Goran's Axe!" Graeme curses loudly. He then joins the others of the party that have gathered around the shipmaster's shack. "Why, I'll be a bearded peck," he says in greeting to the others, "Fancy meetin' ye 'ere. Methinks th' world isn't big enough if'n I 'ave tae ante up wit' th' lot o' ye." He grumbles out, "Did any o' ye at least 'ave th' presence o' mind tae knock, or does Graeme MacKelan 'ave tae do all th' work as usual?"

[Torger]

Spoiler

Show

Fast Forward button. Everyone got a few introductory posts, and we're starting to get a fell for the dynamics, but I wanna get to the meat, dammit.

10:00AM, Landsday of Enkilot, AV 150

The rain slacks to a light drizzle as, in ones and twos, you all make your way toward Pier 17. The wind is consistent, blowing off-short with force, but the dockside buildings seem to shield you from the brunt of it. Around mid-morning, a stocky, middle-aged human arrives. He is wearing a tri-corner hat and a long wool greatcoat. He rather brusquely pushes his way through the crown around the door. [Make way. Move aside, now. Excuse me, Missy, but ye won't be gettin' tickets fer the passage if'n I can't get into me office... His voice sounds like gravel with a bad cough, and he has the red nose of a hard-drinking man.

Sliding a key into the door, he opens it and steps inside, hanging the greatcoat on a stand and moving to sit behind a desk, right next to the fire. He is, while not polite, far from rude in dealing with you, and you gather that he takes pilgrims more so that they'll stop stowing away on his ship, than out of any real need or interest in passengers. The fare, you learn, is one gold half-starter or equivalent per leg of the journey (OOC: Five silver), and includes bunk space and food, such as it is. You will be traveling in the two-masted ship outside, which he refers to as The Saucy Mare Greldik, her Captain ill be by later, but the crew is making ready to sail.

He takes your money, gives you your ticket, and tells you that departure is scheduled for an hour's time. It seems they're trying to get around some weather, and need to leave earlier than planned. You are welcomed to stow your gear aboard, thanked for traveling with Daring Deliveries, and commanded to close the door behind you to keep out the cold.

Embarkation is no issue. A Youngish human boy takes your tickets ans shows you to the passenger deck. There is bunkspace for 25+ people, but there seem to be only eleven passengers on this voyage. Blankets are, you note, not provided, and you are encouraged to stay below deck until after departure, due to the hazards of departing in such wind.

Looking around as you settle in, you note that, it seems, the entire common room of the Flabby Tabby has followed you -- The two dwarves -- Charduni and Mountain, the two elves -- Dark and High, the androgynous human in the funny hat, the sword-happy fellow with the strange badge on his chest, the man in full-plate and his Goliath comrades, the slight, red-haired girl ho jingled hen she walked, and it even seems like one of the halfling servants made it on board. This should be an interesting five days at sea...

[Toliudar]

Gislana

Wandering the docks.

The solemn dwarf woman is not far into her conversations with ship owners when she notices a certain congregation of her fellow breakfasters over by pier 17. Not bothering with being inobtrusive, she simply walks over to listen and observe. She sees the sign for "dream-struck pilgrims", and it's hard to keep a gasp from emerging. Was there something about this island that sent out dreams, perhaps to lure the protetar- er, general populace - to their doom? She was all the more determined to investigate now.

Gislana watched the insufferable dwarf trying to bully the others, and decides to hang back for the time being. Seeing the dark elf standing with the others, Gislana takes her chances, and approaches. She speaks in the common tongue.

Please be excusink me. This is the line for going to the island, yes?

Simu-Ninja-Edit - consider this to have happened before Torger's post.

[WakkaWakka]

edit: either ignore the post, or consider it happened before Torger's - that's what I get for being slow...
Sean Farland

That dwarf again... - hey, but wasn't that girl knockin'? She got me... I thought she had open'd it!

As the mage isn't getting any response from the shack, he addresses the loud dwarf, trying to smile - an habit all halflings get, with time - "Looks like Master Rogers 's not here yet - it's still a bit too early for him!"
Master Rogers... said this way the name clicks differently - wasn't him in the inn? The roaring drunk, who got dunked in the sea yesterday night? Or was it Rangers?
"But let's wait a bit - he fixed appointements, did he not?"

[Azerian Kelimon]

((Consider Tiresias enters approaches the group following the captain. Heh. Good thing I hid in the warehouse, the rain didn't get me much. Also, Madrigal still hasn't got here. Give 'im a mini adventure through the depths of the ocean, I say. He doesn't need to breath, after all.

Oh, wait. He got in. Didnae notice.))


Looking around the deck, Tiresias recognizes most of the people, but a man who wear full plate draws his attention. That fellow wasn't around when I was at the inn or waiting at the shack. Too bad I can't get some information on him, but it doesn't matter anyway.


Resuming his gazing around the room, he sees a halfling. He doesn't look like he's a crewmate, why would he be around the passengers deck if he was one? Another mystery man. Guess I'll get to know more of him while we're around the ship.


The rest of the passengers are known to him. They do seem a bit calmer now, however. It doesn't seem likely the same tense atmosphere will erupt once again.

Having satisfied his curiosity to the best of his ability, Tiresias starts searching his sack for the book he bought, finds it, and starts reading it, while chuckling softly. Between the book and the group, he certainly won't have a boring trip!

[Toliudar]

Gislana

Gislana is VERY grateful that the relatively uncrowded conditions in the passenger quarters means that she is able to secure a lower bunk. She supposed that humour was a worthy enough diversion for the People, but not when it was at her expense.

Squeezing her packsack and spear under her bunk, Gislana considers trying to find a hiding place for her valuables, until she realizes that she doesn't really have any at this point. Considering the lightness of her purse, she was doubly glad at the bargain-basement prices of the voyage, and simply nods gratefully to Master Rogers when she counted out the silver for her ticket.

Waiting now for the Saucy Mare to leave port, she spent time walking the confines of their shared accommodation. As a true Charduni, of course, she had spent years under the earth, and was used to sharing air and ground, water and bread. But some of these folk made her nervous. The way their eyes roved...

Well, nothing for it, but to try. Contact - any contact - was preferable to simply staring at each other.

Gislana made no attempt to be subtle, but simply walked up to the Hollow Knight. Examining the joint work on the lower half of the armour, she grunted in approval.

Nice work on the armour. Smooth lines, nothing getting in the way of movement. Who made your -

What was the protocol with a creature who wasn't exactly wearing the armour, but wasn't really the armour itself either. She decided to change tacks.

The craftsmanship looks pre-War. Is there a story behind this metal?

[fendrin]

Heinrich

After Heinrich enters the cramped conditions of the passenger compartment.
Ah, just like home. Except it moves a lot more. And the occupants smell more. He looks over at the other elven passenger and the red haired woman. Well, some of them.
His eyes land on the mountain dwarf. And some more than the others. Well, I'd best set a positive tone for our interactions, or this trip will be unpleaseant at best.

Approaching Graeme, Heinrich salutes, placing his right fist over his heart palm inward, and then extending his arm straight in front of him, palm down*. "Herr Dwarf, our peoples wage war. But I am not my people, and you are not your people. I trust we can be civil to one another?"

*This is not the Roman salute a.k.a. the Nazi salute. I chose it for it's similarity, but the source is something else. Just wanted to be clear so as to avoid offending anyone. Geek kudos if anyone recognizes it.

[Minchandre]

(OOC: Is it...Klingon? Also, Torger, I think your "w" key is broken - read over one of your posts, and see the lack of w's. Or maybe "Newfies" just don't like the letter - in that case, substitute two v's [which is actually the origin of the letter]. P.S.: You know you're a dork when you use different types of brackets for nesting like in math!)

Dael
Dael was surprised but gratified by the quickness with which he was able to acquire passage on the boat, though neither surprised nor gratified by the greeting he received from the allegedly civilized dwarf. If I didn't know dwarves better, I might be inclined to think it a cultural issue - but the Firetusks are all courteous as anyone. Must just be an *******.

He boarded the boat quickly, eager to leave the rain, and briefly entertained the foolish idea of casting a cantrip to get warm; cantrip though it might be, wasting magic was just that - wasting magic, no matter the simplicity of the magic involved. The hold was cozy enough, if a little smelly; Dael was still learning that the hold world did not hold to the Underfaust's level of sanitation and ventilation. Still, the beds are fine, and Dael claimed the bunk above the Charduni's. Many continued to distrust the Slaver's Children, but Dael had always found them honest to a fault, even if their concept of humanity and ethical conduct didn't always line up with his own. Still, he knew that any of his belongings would be safe from theft or tampering while he slept, and it was unlikely he would be stabbed in the back while he dreamed.

A little put off by the poor reception he'd received so far, Dael elected to remain in bed, attempting to read his anatomy text by the poor light of the hold.

[Darius]

Graeme MacKelan

Graeme already looks green under the gills just looking at the boat, and his normal bravado is lost as he approaches the ship with shakey legs. "It be Goran's will..." he wimpers as he approaches the gang plank. Practically crawling up the ramp, Graeme manages to get aboard.

He quickly goes beneath deck and sighs at first, for the floor, ceiling, and four walls appear to comfort him. However, the boat lists to and fro. Graeme turns several shades of color and sits in the corner with his head in his hands.

Heinrich

Approaching Graeme, Heinrich salutes, placing his right fist over his heart palm inward, and then extending his arm straight in front of him, palm down*. "Herr Dwarf, our peoples wage war. But I am not my people, and you are not your people. I trust we can be civil to one another?"

With only one eye open, Graeme manages to look up. He manages to mumble, "Frankly I dinnae care if'n ye be Baron von Bigbritches if'n ye kin makes this floatin' coffin tae stop its rollin'." Graeme simply lays down on his side and tries his best to keep his breakfast down.

[WakkaWakka]

[OOC: that salute reminds me of the Oath of the Horatii, but it would be roman, then...]

Sean Farland

Quietly the halfling gets in the boat, drops his backpack by one of the bunks farther back - and falls down.
Wha... the floor is moving! Is it an earthquake - a seaquake?
But no one is making a big deal of that - shall those be the hazards the guy was talkin'about?
Giving a wide look at the quarters, there are many differnently affected by the seaquake - the loud dwarf seems at his wrost!
And there's no water in there - if he's not feeling right, he'll need some. Any halfling aunt will tell you the same.
Oh, right - there's no water in there, because there's so much around the ship!
And so Sean scuttles out of the passenger deck, looking for a bucket to fill.

The young man that giuded them to their quarters intercepts him almost at once... and understands the need for a bucket like it was a long-standing tradition!
"'tis for th'dwav, ain't it? 't's seasick. Givv'm th'bucket - t'will tak'care of'm" he said... sounded reasonable.
If only Sean could understand the strange look, the small laugh he got when he took a bit of water from overboard, and drank a long drink...
"Ack! It's - it's salty! How can we get real water around here? The dwarf will need it! Will this water work for... for seasick?"

[Azerian Kelimon]

((Despite what Ty says, I'm sure this'll snowball.))

Here it goes again. Better cut 'em short before it all snowballs.


Don't try to talk to him, they don't call him Mean Old Cranky Pants for nothing. It's just not worth it, he won't care 'bout what you do unless you show him you're worthy of it, Tiresias says, interrupting the conversation.

And by the way, Mr. Dwarf, you might want to start swaying to the opposite sides the ship sways, it should help stop your sickness. Or you could try to build something to stabilize the area around your bed, but I'm sure that's too much work for what it'll do.

[daggaz]

((Damn. Merrindel was going to cast invisibility or grease on the plank when that damned dwarf likely shoved past him to enter the ship, as he shoved past him in the cue for a ticket. I think that would have been rather funny, and well deserved..))

Stepping adroitly onboard, Irina in one hand, his cloak bundled up tightly under his chin in the other, Merrindel looks about the deck of their new home. Used to shorter sea voyages off his island home, the gentle rocking of the ship does not bother him in the slightest, his body swaying easily in tact with the motion, his feet always finding purchase.

A small vessel. It will rock more in the high seas. Worse yet, the close quarters. We are forced to share a near proximity to our shipmates.. Glancing at the dwarf from under his cowl, his smile is hidden from sight as he takes in the new, natural tone of Graeme's skin. Ha! That outta shut him up for a while. Still, there will be nowhere to hide...

Merrindel lets out a small sigh, giving Irina a comforting squeeze with his hand as he leads her across the deck.

How are you doing? Used to sea travel? We had better get under decks and find some lodging, before we are forced to sleep up here in the weather.

They head below decks together, finding a cramped, if not suitable cabin.

[fendrin]

Heinrich

Glaring a the interrupting human briefly, Heinrich continues talking with Graeme.
"My name is Heinrich of Sophia Golemmaker. I would offer some of my breakfast as a peace gesture, but I fear that would not be a good idea. I wish you well"

Turning away from the dwarf, he briefly glares at Tiresias again. Then he nimbly climbs into the nearest unoccupied upper bunk and sits there Ganjus-style. He unwraps his food and begins to eat. The scent of roasted meat and pungent cheese mix into the already odoriferous atmosphere.

How rude of that human to try to interpose himself in matters that have nothing to do with him.

He takes a swig from his bottle of watered wine. Hmm, much more water than wine. I paid too much for it. Still, it may be of some use.
"You, human." He calls to Tiresias. "Give this to our dwarven companion. It may help."

OOC: I've given up on a German accent. Every time I try to write that way it doesn't sound right. Well, that's what imagination is for, right?

Oh and as for the salute, the Klingon salute is very similar, and from the right universe... sort of. I actually drew it from the Terran Empire in the original Star Trek episode Mirror, Mirror which I saw a few weeks back, then saw a reference to when trying to look up a modern german salute (which I still haven't found...). It's very similar to the Roman salute, except that the Roman salute has the arm raised ~30 degrees, so the hand is higher above the shoulder.

[Azerian Kelimon]

Without looking away from the book, Tiresias smirks. Time to show his true colors, and also give this bossy man a lesson.

(In Draconic) Etrius, please go get that bottle. And could you use speech for a while?

(Also in Draconic. (Ironic, isn't it? Draconic is supposed to be a hard to learn language, yet even two of the familiars speak it.) Will use a D at the beginning to denote speaking in Draconic from now on.) Sure, boss! Just gimme a little time! The tiny psicrystal says in a high pitched voice, as he detaches from the armor and scurries across the floor, under the lower bed, up the wall, and grabs the bottle with a pair of legs.

(D) And by the way, I'd prefer it if you could be slightly more civil while talking to me. Trust me, that warning was for your good. Hmm... he muses as Etrius returns with the bottle and he picks it up and take a look. (D)Hmm...watered down cheap wine. This probably wouldn't be a good peace offering, even considering how our dwarven friend would probably like drinking even when nauseated. But let's let him decide, since he's going to drink it. (C for common) Would you like some wine? He says, as he slowly shakes the bottle. In any case, I'll buy you both a pair of drinks once we land, if that'll settle this. Would that be enough of an apology?

[Toliudar]

Gislana

Seeing the motion on the floor out of the corner of the eye, Gislana immediately thinks "rat", and is halfway to pulling out her sickle. When she sees the spider-like gem carrying a bottle over to the smirking man, she relaxes, but only a little. People have the strangest pets.

The man goes on in his hissing tongue, as men are wont to do, and she returns to her examination of the Knight's armour.

[fendrin]

Heinrich

As the psicrystal crawls onto his bunk, Heinrich picks it up and examines it for a few seconds.
This is an odd creature. It spoke, and seems intelligent. Similar to a mage's familiar, I suspect.

Putting the crystal creature back down on the mattress, he hands it the bottle.
"Strange noises. Was that supposed to be speech?"

As the human offers the bottle to the dwarf, he says "It's mostly water. It might help you."

He continues to eat his breakfast.

[Darius]

Graeme MacKelan

Graeme continues to moan slightly as he lays on the floor. It is difficult to tell if he is aware of what is going on around him. When Heinrich's wine is swished under his nose, Graeme shies away from it like it is foul. "Oi - what ye tryin' tae do? Kill me? Nay a dwarf'd be caught dead drinkin' this elf pi$$." Graeme adds under his breath, "Most likely poison giv'n th' source." He then continues, "But tha' give me an idea."

The dwarf takes off his pack and a sloshing sound is heard. The pack is nearly as big as he is, and he bats away a tiny animal from within that looks like a long rat with strange facial markings that look like a black mask and splotches of similar color on his coat as well as its feet. "Not now, Haggis," Graeme scolds the creature, and it scampers up his arm and rests on his shoulder.

Graeme proceeds to unbuckle all manner of flaps and slides the rucksack's canvas and leather down a rune-marked keg! "Brings a tear tae yer eye, don't it," Graeme says wistfully as he sits and stares at the keg with what must be love in his eye. "Tha' thar be Dwarven Dark - th' finest brew tae touch yer tongue. A mug or three'll stop yon room from rockin'"

Producing a metal stein complete with etchings and lid, Graeme proceeds to remove the bung hole and pours himself a mug full. He downs it in several swallows, wiping the froth from his beard. He pours another and drinks that down the same way. He pours yet another, and slows down - taking a swig now and again as he speaks with a voice much stronger, "Ahh, now...what say we share a drink o' dark an' tell why we all be 'eadin' tae th' Isle - other than th' obvious reason being tha' ye cannae be wit'out ol' Graeme MacKelan fer too long 'fore yer 'eart starts tae ache'n?"

Graeme laughs heartily at his humor. "Since it be me own idear, I shall begin. Me brother is missin', an' Goran 'imself came tae me in a dream tae steer me tae yon islan'. Now, I kin tell by yer looks, ye may thinks 'tis th' drink tha' gave me th' vision, but a devout follower o' th' gods I be - so, I puts faith b'hind wha' th' Forger said." He holds out the stein for the next person to take and says, "So...who'll be next?"

[fendrin]

Heinrich

Hopping down from his bunk, Heinrich accepts a mug of ale from the Dwarf.
"I believe you had that dream."

He downs the mug quickly, but not as fast the dwarf did.
I think I'll stick to the wine, even if it is mostly water. I don't like to drink much as it is. Still, anything to ease the tensions. Especially because it seems we may be traveling together for awhile.

"Tell me more about this dream."

[Azerian Kelimon]

Normally, I wouldn't take such a strong drink, but in this case, I'll make an exception.

Tiresias walks to Heinrich, Etrius by his side. Taking the stein and returning to his bed, he produces an used waterskin, fills it with the Dwarven Dark, and gulps it down.

Tiresias Veklaim, at your service, Mr. Graeme, and herr...could I know your name, my friend? Like every one of us, I was visited by someone in my dreams, or in other words dream struck, in my case by my Weapon master, who passed away. It's been a while since I've last hit the roads, and never with such an odd quest...but I digress. This, he says as he points toward Etrius, is Etrius Pictus, my...familiar, of sorts.

(D)Hi, everyone! Do you know of any monsters to slay? Me and the boss can take them all, just bring them to us! He chimes in the speech.

We'll be spending the next five days together, unless someone decides to walk across the ocean. And speaking of which, what dream did you have, that brought you here? What about you, Herr Dark elf? he says, as he gives it back to him, Listening intently to learn more about his fellow guests.

[Minchandre]

Dael listens impassively to the folks around him, content to study the innermost workings of the human body in lieu of conversation. Still, he cannot help but to hear Tiresias' conversation - in Draconic no less! - and to look over at what it was he spoke with. He put down his book and turned to watch.

What it was, was a small, oddly crystalline construct, like nothing Dael had ever seen before. I wonder what one of the masters would make of it? The Animator's Society certainly creates golems, but never have I heard of a golem of crystal - or one so small, for that matter. Perhaps it is easier on a smaller scale? But he was doubtful as to the last; the theoretical underpinnings of animation were quite clear, and imbuing action in something that had never known it was almost as difficult for the small as the large: thus, why golems tended to be large.

This was something new entirely. That buffoon certainly bears watching.

When the ale came out, Dael continued looking, the joys of musculature giving way to the joys of people-watching.

The other man's comment about the construct being his, "Familiar, of sorts," simply earned him a stronger eye.

[HellFencer]

Madrigal

Having boarded the ship at his earlist convenience, Lucas found himself a room to set his shield and sword down at, given the lack of his other equipment. He also, in his lack of need for sleep, found himself standing in the mainroom below deck, out of the way. However, he stares, or as close to it as a helm mask can, at the Charduni before him. To her questions he responds, "I would rather not speak of it. Praytell, ask me more of something else."

Spoiler

Show

Oh yeah... what do Charduni look like? Also, hello Toliudar!

[daggaz]

Merrindel sits in a bunk in the corner doing his best to read, and in attempting to ignore the other's conversations, unwillingly ends up following every detail. Soon he is rather captivated.

Some people have the most bizarre pets. And what in the world could that thing be?! That is truly an amazing construct, if it is indeed a construct...

When the dwarf begins his speech, he is pleasantly surprised, and immediately begins to wonder if he had perhaps underestimated the man. When he mentions the dream, Merrindel is shocked. The others say a few words passing the ale, some of them also mentioning this dream, when suddenly he says rather loudly for his quiet, feeble voice,

I dreamt of the Island as well..

[Darius]

Graeme MacKelan

Noticing that the dark elf didn't respond, Graeme figures to himself, Prob'ly some spy or assassin. Best be on yer guard. Haggis, his weasel familiar gets the empathic feeling about Heinrich as well and bares its teeth a bit.

However, Graeme answers, "I dinnae 'member much 'bout me dream - seein' th' Forger'll do tha' tae ye. Mayhap th' last thing this ol' dwarf recalls be tha' below th' floatin' isle be a scale with four arms, its eight pans greatly out of balance. I dinnae know what tha' means, but me maker says tae me.. 'Follew ye yer dreams, Lad, and in them will ye find all that ye deserve an' desire.' Unfortunately, a bit later I met Grislana thar, an' I dinnae tink tha' nary a soul deserve nor desire tha'," Graeme says with a wink.