Post by TheUdjat on May 26, 2009 10:26:02 GMT -5
SEA GREEN
(Ella’s new mount)
[Works for me. Just try to choose something before we get into combat and I’ve got to figure out the stats on her new Albino Pygmy Rhino 
]
Aside from landing some distance from the small settlement at the center of the island, not much is offered in the way of a strategic approach. Henrick clears his throat and shouts to the others over the wind. “Wasn’t the plan not to be spotted?” he says. “Isn’t that why we’re all the way up here? We land anywhere on that island, we’re bound to attract attention…”
Still, the former captain hasn’t anything to offer in the way of an alternative plan. There are only so many ways to get onto the island. Airborn, they can at least make a swift landing and hope to get lost in the jungles—and hope, further, that the island hasn’t some means of warding off aerial attacks.
Ella brings Antyca down towards the north side of the island, as far from the moored boat as possible, to reduce the likelihood of being spotted by them—perhaps the roc will be passed off as a bird from this distance. Any lookouts at the settlement will certainly see the roc as she descends, unfortunately, but there’s naught to be done about that now. The roc swoops down with a rush, giant wings rustling leaves and causing limber trees to bend and sway in the wind. Antyca drifts lower, but can only alight on the ancient arbors of the jungle, snapping limbs in her talons. Trees threaten to buckle under her weight, but Antyca steadies herself with her great wings, screeching in complaint, unwilling to drop any heavier onto the jungle—she won’t be able to make a stable landing.
Henrick is already sorting through a plan, taking out a length of rope and fastening it to Antyca’s newly-repaired [*coughcough*] saddle. “We’ve got to get down somehow,” he grumbles, and takes hold of the rope, gallantly going down the swaying rope first, presumably to catch any who might slip.
No sooner do the heroes reach the trees than a dark shadow flickers over the canopy, still partially open from Antyca’s wings. There in the sky the group looks, half-expecting the Harbinger’s reappearance—but this is some other sort of dragon. Larger than the sleek and nimble Harbinger, and slower; far clumsier. It roars, and the sound is somehow twisted, dry and coarse and mournful. But sure enough, the dragon descends—and it is far faster when plummeting towards the heroes.
With her riders gone, Antyca doesn’t wait—the roc pushes up into the air, careful not to snap trees as she goes, and hurriedly dodges a swooping attack from the dragon. Then she is off, wheeling through the air, too fast for the clumsy lizard to pursue.
The group has landed, but departing Scaland may prove trickier yet.
When they have a moment to breathe, the companions take in their surroundings. From inside the treetops, the canopy gives way to little obscuring foliage between the branches and the jungle floor. The sounds of life are everywhere in the jungle—insects, strange animal cries, croaking of small lizards, and more. But for all the sounds, it’s difficult to actually spot anything. The entire jungle is in shades of green and some brown, even the animals, apparently.
Henrick is soon wiping sweat off of his forehead from the heat and humidity inside Scaland’s forest, certainly uncomfortable in his armor, to say the least. As if to comment on this, he speaks. “And the Master’s men came here? All we’ll need to do is follow the trail of discarded plate mail.” He laughs harshly.
It’s easy enough to descend from the trees to the ground, but getting there, it becomes difficult to orient oneself without the sky overhead. Gro-bug’s innate familiarity with the wilderness soon makes him certain which direction is south, towards the settlement spied overhead. It is probably wise to get moving sooner rather than later, given the strange dragon overhead and the noise that no doubt accompanied the group’s arrival.
[Pause for reactions and maybe that aforementioned brilliant plan
Japic—you can assume whatever Ella’s new mount is can be hauled down with her.]
(Character Status)
Ella – 77/77 HP
Sean – 47/47 HP
Gro-bug – 100/100 HP
Henrick – 70/70 HP
Natsumi – 52/52 HP
Antyca – No damage
DARK RED
Instantly moving to stand by his comrade—even if they argue all the time—Gildas falls in beside Wanderer, even though he is as yet still unarmed. Norven soon joins his new allies, though the big barbarian that is Wanderer peers at the stranger curiously. His mind is still on the gnome, though, and he merely grunts in acknowledgement.
Lenny keeps back from inciting a fight, trying to calm the gnome—as does Gildas. Surely with backup for Wanderer and the suggestion of a bargain the gnome’s hot blood can be calmed.
“A piece of—oh! You cretin!, you’re just as bad as-”
[Diplomacy check] “Steal?!” the gnome screeches. “You’re calling me a thief? You. Calling me. Oh, too rich!” The gnome laughs, but it is a cackling, angry, sarcastic kind of laughter. “If you think I believe for an instant that any rightful king of the Dwarves would just hand a bunch of outsiders a precious artifact from centuries ago—especially ruffians like you—why, you’re out of your gourd!” More laughter. “I think we all know who the true thieves are here. Arrest them, arrest them!” the curator commands.
The guards look at each other and shrug. Bazarkrak affairs aren’t their problem, and they certainly don’t take orders from an uppity gnome.
When it’s clear that the muscle isn’t moving to help him, the curator gives another outraged cry, his tiny fist shaking. “Imbeciles!”
The curator freezes, fist in mid-air, instantly alert. He struggles against the guards, but there’s not a chance in the abyss that they’re letting go of him yet, so shooting the man holding him a scowl, he leans in to speak to Gildas. “You want to bargain, you do?” He grins. “Now, see, there’s a smart one. Isn’t that what I said from the start?” he says this last to Wanderer.
The big Yexuhl grunts. “The first thing you called me was a ‘defiler of relics’.”
“After that!” the gnome shouts, instantly enraged again. “I told you we could make a deal, didn’t I? Didn’t I?!” He tsks and shakes his head about twenty times, smoothing his shirt, trying to calm down again. “No matter, no matter. I see your friends are more sensible.” He smiles at Gildas, picking him out as the apparent leader of this band, no doubt because he suggested a deal. “We can negotiate. Certainly. My office, inside the grounds? No weapons on the grounds, of course, so we’ll all be safe. No weapons but the Skullsplitter, that is, mustn’t leave that unattended.”
“Um,” a guard begins to interrupt. “Sorry, professor, but it’s still a weapon-” The gnome turns on him and gives him such a glare that the watchman flinches. “Nevermind.”
“Hmph!” the gnome returns his attention to Gildas, grinning. “So what do you say, my boy, mm? What do you say? I can certainly offer you something worth how you value the Skullsplitter—a mere weapon, you say. Pah! We’ll set this right, nice and diplomatically, yes?”
(Character Status)
Gildas – 69/69 HP
Lenny – 61/61 HP
Wystfalrun – 62/62 HP
Norven – 71/71 HP
Lockheart – No damage
Wanderer – 90/90 HP
(Ella’s new mount)
{I'll have to give a little thought to a new mount then. I don’t want to spend a ton of cash, but something that will survive would be good. I'll crunch the numbers and put a few suggestions out; you can provide a cost from there Udjat.}
] [Ella] relays what she sees to her companions and prepares for the next part of their carefully crafted plan, which they'd surely discussed before arriving.
Aside from landing some distance from the small settlement at the center of the island, not much is offered in the way of a strategic approach. Henrick clears his throat and shouts to the others over the wind. “Wasn’t the plan not to be spotted?” he says. “Isn’t that why we’re all the way up here? We land anywhere on that island, we’re bound to attract attention…”
Still, the former captain hasn’t anything to offer in the way of an alternative plan. There are only so many ways to get onto the island. Airborn, they can at least make a swift landing and hope to get lost in the jungles—and hope, further, that the island hasn’t some means of warding off aerial attacks.
Ella brings Antyca down towards the north side of the island, as far from the moored boat as possible, to reduce the likelihood of being spotted by them—perhaps the roc will be passed off as a bird from this distance. Any lookouts at the settlement will certainly see the roc as she descends, unfortunately, but there’s naught to be done about that now. The roc swoops down with a rush, giant wings rustling leaves and causing limber trees to bend and sway in the wind. Antyca drifts lower, but can only alight on the ancient arbors of the jungle, snapping limbs in her talons. Trees threaten to buckle under her weight, but Antyca steadies herself with her great wings, screeching in complaint, unwilling to drop any heavier onto the jungle—she won’t be able to make a stable landing.
Henrick is already sorting through a plan, taking out a length of rope and fastening it to Antyca’s newly-repaired [*coughcough*] saddle. “We’ve got to get down somehow,” he grumbles, and takes hold of the rope, gallantly going down the swaying rope first, presumably to catch any who might slip.
No sooner do the heroes reach the trees than a dark shadow flickers over the canopy, still partially open from Antyca’s wings. There in the sky the group looks, half-expecting the Harbinger’s reappearance—but this is some other sort of dragon. Larger than the sleek and nimble Harbinger, and slower; far clumsier. It roars, and the sound is somehow twisted, dry and coarse and mournful. But sure enough, the dragon descends—and it is far faster when plummeting towards the heroes.
With her riders gone, Antyca doesn’t wait—the roc pushes up into the air, careful not to snap trees as she goes, and hurriedly dodges a swooping attack from the dragon. Then she is off, wheeling through the air, too fast for the clumsy lizard to pursue.
The group has landed, but departing Scaland may prove trickier yet.
When they have a moment to breathe, the companions take in their surroundings. From inside the treetops, the canopy gives way to little obscuring foliage between the branches and the jungle floor. The sounds of life are everywhere in the jungle—insects, strange animal cries, croaking of small lizards, and more. But for all the sounds, it’s difficult to actually spot anything. The entire jungle is in shades of green and some brown, even the animals, apparently.
Henrick is soon wiping sweat off of his forehead from the heat and humidity inside Scaland’s forest, certainly uncomfortable in his armor, to say the least. As if to comment on this, he speaks. “And the Master’s men came here? All we’ll need to do is follow the trail of discarded plate mail.” He laughs harshly.
It’s easy enough to descend from the trees to the ground, but getting there, it becomes difficult to orient oneself without the sky overhead. Gro-bug’s innate familiarity with the wilderness soon makes him certain which direction is south, towards the settlement spied overhead. It is probably wise to get moving sooner rather than later, given the strange dragon overhead and the noise that no doubt accompanied the group’s arrival.
[Pause for reactions and maybe that aforementioned brilliant plan
Japic—you can assume whatever Ella’s new mount is can be hauled down with her.]
(Character Status)
Ella – 77/77 HP
Sean – 47/47 HP
Gro-bug – 100/100 HP
Henrick – 70/70 HP
Natsumi – 52/52 HP
Antyca – No damage
DARK RED
Instantly moving to stand by his comrade—even if they argue all the time—Gildas falls in beside Wanderer, even though he is as yet still unarmed. Norven soon joins his new allies, though the big barbarian that is Wanderer peers at the stranger curiously. His mind is still on the gnome, though, and he merely grunts in acknowledgement.
Lenny keeps back from inciting a fight, trying to calm the gnome—as does Gildas. Surely with backup for Wanderer and the suggestion of a bargain the gnome’s hot blood can be calmed.
"Back off, gnome. It's a weapon, not a piece of art, though I imagine someone your size cannot fathom that such a large maul has a purpose: to be wielded."
“A piece of—oh! You cretin!, you’re just as bad as-”
"Is it customary for your museum to steal that which does not belong to you? Should you deem yourself the rightful heir to the weapon, then you will undoubtedly bring about the wrath of the current King of Bazarkrak, as it is with his faith and leave that this weapon is in our hands. Now, shall you entertain us the courtesy of an audience with you so that we can continue this conversation with less weapons and more talk in private?"
[Diplomacy check] “Steal?!” the gnome screeches. “You’re calling me a thief? You. Calling me. Oh, too rich!” The gnome laughs, but it is a cackling, angry, sarcastic kind of laughter. “If you think I believe for an instant that any rightful king of the Dwarves would just hand a bunch of outsiders a precious artifact from centuries ago—especially ruffians like you—why, you’re out of your gourd!” More laughter. “I think we all know who the true thieves are here. Arrest them, arrest them!” the curator commands.
The guards look at each other and shrug. Bazarkrak affairs aren’t their problem, and they certainly don’t take orders from an uppity gnome.
When it’s clear that the muscle isn’t moving to help him, the curator gives another outraged cry, his tiny fist shaking. “Imbeciles!”
"But calm down. Maybe you can have your maul, but it will come at a price. Let's talk private, if you think you can restrain yourself."
The curator freezes, fist in mid-air, instantly alert. He struggles against the guards, but there’s not a chance in the abyss that they’re letting go of him yet, so shooting the man holding him a scowl, he leans in to speak to Gildas. “You want to bargain, you do?” He grins. “Now, see, there’s a smart one. Isn’t that what I said from the start?” he says this last to Wanderer.
The big Yexuhl grunts. “The first thing you called me was a ‘defiler of relics’.”
“After that!” the gnome shouts, instantly enraged again. “I told you we could make a deal, didn’t I? Didn’t I?!” He tsks and shakes his head about twenty times, smoothing his shirt, trying to calm down again. “No matter, no matter. I see your friends are more sensible.” He smiles at Gildas, picking him out as the apparent leader of this band, no doubt because he suggested a deal. “We can negotiate. Certainly. My office, inside the grounds? No weapons on the grounds, of course, so we’ll all be safe. No weapons but the Skullsplitter, that is, mustn’t leave that unattended.”
“Um,” a guard begins to interrupt. “Sorry, professor, but it’s still a weapon-” The gnome turns on him and gives him such a glare that the watchman flinches. “Nevermind.”
“Hmph!” the gnome returns his attention to Gildas, grinning. “So what do you say, my boy, mm? What do you say? I can certainly offer you something worth how you value the Skullsplitter—a mere weapon, you say. Pah! We’ll set this right, nice and diplomatically, yes?”
(Character Status)
Gildas – 69/69 HP
Lenny – 61/61 HP
Wystfalrun – 62/62 HP
Norven – 71/71 HP
Lockheart – No damage
Wanderer – 90/90 HP
