The Unknown: A Game of Fear, Ignorance, and Adventure
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Probably not. I tend to avoid drawing other people's characters, because it's so hard to get everything right with them--the face I draw never ends up being the face you imagined. It takes a while to get everything down perfectly, and I feel I have to go back and forth with the person I'm drawing it for until I get it exactly right. I was thinking about trying to draw all the player characters over the course of the game, sending pictures for comment at each stage of the process, but for the moment I'm sticking with NPCs. Character sketches for NPCs are easy to draw.
For example, here's a quick sketch of the sniper who was shooting at you guys earlier and who is currenly imprisoned in the brig:
Actually, now that I think about it, I probably ought to try and draw the player characters...could be interesting.
We'll see how it turns out.
For example, here's a quick sketch of the sniper who was shooting at you guys earlier and who is currenly imprisoned in the brig:
Actually, now that I think about it, I probably ought to try and draw the player characters...could be interesting.
We'll see how it turns out.
Please to be including Ticky in next update pl0x.
Not much roleplaying to be done when he's running his stumpy legs after the faintest gist of a lead.
Not much roleplaying to be done when he's running his stumpy legs after the faintest gist of a lead.
Yeah, Ticky and Derlan are in the next update. As is pretty much everyone else, I think.
Sorry about taking so long--I have contacted the person that I need to get information from, and they're responding. Unfortunately, a bizarre series of circumstances has led to the update being delayed until tomorrow: not getting on the computer until very late in the evening, a few PMs needing replies, and an annoying head cold have conspired against me.
I didn't want to leave you entirely destitute, however, so please enjoy this quick tribute to the late Jacien Criver.
Sorry about taking so long--I have contacted the person that I need to get information from, and they're responding. Unfortunately, a bizarre series of circumstances has led to the update being delayed until tomorrow: not getting on the computer until very late in the evening, a few PMs needing replies, and an annoying head cold have conspired against me.
I didn't want to leave you entirely destitute, however, so please enjoy this quick tribute to the late Jacien Criver.
Not my best work, but it's suitable as a quick sketch.
The sphere was made of blue tinted crystal, hazy with magic and refraction, at just the right size to fit snugly into the palm of a hand. It was also disconcertingly silent. The tattooed man held it at his ear for a moment longer, then tapped it lightly against a nearby crate. Still nothing. Damn. He knew what that meant--the master was either abandoning the mission or had achieved his true objective and no longer needed his men alive.
Well then. The others, put in this situation, might have frozen up, listening to the silent communication orb until the enraged blades of their former victims found their backs. Some of the recruits they were getting these days, they couldn't function without the master's voice whispering constantly in their ears. Useful for cannon fodder but not much else. The tattooed man liked to think of himself as more intelligent than that. Certainly he was more clever, which might be more useful than intelligence in a situation like this.
The tattooed man dropped the orb back into his pocket--it might come in handy later--and scanned the hold. The undead abomination and its assailant were still hidden in a cloud of red mist, gore splattering everything around them: nearby was the dwarf with the crossbow, peering into the dimness. The tattooed man would have to be careful of that one. Dwarves tended to have better night vision than most, and what's more the crossbow this one was using looked to be a custom-job marksman's weapon. There was bone-breaking power behind those shots, the reload time looked to be cut down quite a bit by some mechanism that he didn't recognize, the drop was almost negligible and the bastard knew how to use the thing. Not good odds there.
The wizard he could ignore now, he thought. He'd be surprised if the man had enough power left to light a candle. The boy, Keil, he was still unconscious, and the one-armed swordsman looked to be slipping away as well. Don't need to worry about them.
No escape routes sprang to mind, though...
The tattooed man looked up at a soft whinny from nearby, and a slow smile spread across his face.
He was sitting at a dark corner table, by the back door of the tavern, when Ticky's air elemental found him. The sylph fluttered around the table, whirling about the seated figure, singing, It's him! He's here! The elemental's movements pulled at his cloak, and he had to snatch at the edge of the hood to keep it from slipping off his head.
Ticky and Derlan were a little behind the sylph, due to the elemental being able to slip through spaces where they didn't fit. They came through the door of the tavern warily: this was not a place either of them would normally frequent, at least not without heavy armament.
The man in the cloak stood suddenly when he saw them, shoving two crystal spheres in his pocket. They were only visible for a second: one was pale, misty blue, while the other was pitch black and dull as a dead eye. They couldn't see his eyes beneath the hood--most of his face was concealed, actually--but he still gave an impression of staring them down from across the room.
Such a thing tends to be noticed, in a tavern like this. The other patrons were surly, hard-drinking sailors, but they knew bad trouble when they saw it. Most of them cleared a path between the gnome and the elf and the cloaked man, except for a few who were too drunk to get the memo.
The bartender drew forth a club of lead-cored wood and set it down on the counter with all the casualness of a death threat, and started clearing the glasses off the counter.
"Come on, you stupid beast, let's be friends, eh?" The tone was soothing and calm, but the horse glared at the tattooed man all the same. It was a warhorse, well-kept and strong, sequestered in an old stall that looked like it had been recently swept out and cleaned. He had no idea who the horse belonged to, but he wasn't one to question opportunity when it came knocking. Or whinnying, in this case.
The horse tried to take a bite out of his face, teeth closing on air with a tombstone click, and the tattooed man decided to forget about the subtle route. The horse was trained to respond to its master's voice and to kill the hell out of everyone else: he wouldn't override that training with a few soothing words and an apple. He leapt, swinging around the neck and onto the horse's back before it knew what was happening. The beast tried to rear, found that it couldn't, and smashed the stall door open instead.
Heads turned at the sound, but whatever they expected to see, what appeared wasn't it. The tattooed man clung to the back of the warhorse, tight against its back, as it tried violently to shake him off. Alexis reflexively pulled the trigger of his crossbow, but he had been expecting to be shooting at a man on foot, and his bolt shot past the horse's neck with an angry whine.
The horse pounded through the hold, heading for the wide doorway where Marneus stood. It leapt over Keil's prone body, sped past the red cloud where the undead abomination was slowly being torn to pieces, and crashed straight through one of the flimsier crates. The tattooed man looked up and saw Marneus bearing down, the knight's glare making itself known even through his helmet. The tattooed man scrabbled for his knife for a moment, then gave up and rolled off the horse's back as Marneus' armored fist swept through the air where he had been moments before. The tattooed man hit the floor hard, and only luck brought him into a roll that took him behind Marneus and out the doorway. Unlike his comrade-in-tattoos in Keil's room he didn't waste time trying to kill the armored knight with only a dagger, opting instead to sprint down the corridor, moving towards the hatch with a staggering run.
He would have made it, too, if Reeko hadn't stepped out of the shadows and thrown a knife into his eye.
Boots pounded on the upper deck, sounding loud and urgent in the stillness. Captain Grummond glared at the ceiling, listening furiously at the sound of yet more intruders on his ship. The footsteps thudded to the hatch and came down fast: sounded like there were at least six people up there.
Grummond turned the corner, pistol at the ready. "Bastards trying to attack my ship--" he began, before a truncheon swept his gun hand up above his head and planted a neat blow to his solar plexus. He stumbled backwards with a gust of expelled air, and looked up into the point of a sword.
"This is the Provost's Guard," said the armored man with the blade at the captain's throat, "and until we figure out what's happening, I'd suggest not moving a single muscle."
Dockhouse Patrol
Well then. The others, put in this situation, might have frozen up, listening to the silent communication orb until the enraged blades of their former victims found their backs. Some of the recruits they were getting these days, they couldn't function without the master's voice whispering constantly in their ears. Useful for cannon fodder but not much else. The tattooed man liked to think of himself as more intelligent than that. Certainly he was more clever, which might be more useful than intelligence in a situation like this.
The tattooed man dropped the orb back into his pocket--it might come in handy later--and scanned the hold. The undead abomination and its assailant were still hidden in a cloud of red mist, gore splattering everything around them: nearby was the dwarf with the crossbow, peering into the dimness. The tattooed man would have to be careful of that one. Dwarves tended to have better night vision than most, and what's more the crossbow this one was using looked to be a custom-job marksman's weapon. There was bone-breaking power behind those shots, the reload time looked to be cut down quite a bit by some mechanism that he didn't recognize, the drop was almost negligible and the bastard knew how to use the thing. Not good odds there.
The wizard he could ignore now, he thought. He'd be surprised if the man had enough power left to light a candle. The boy, Keil, he was still unconscious, and the one-armed swordsman looked to be slipping away as well. Don't need to worry about them.
No escape routes sprang to mind, though...
The tattooed man looked up at a soft whinny from nearby, and a slow smile spread across his face.
_____________________________________________
He was sitting at a dark corner table, by the back door of the tavern, when Ticky's air elemental found him. The sylph fluttered around the table, whirling about the seated figure, singing, It's him! He's here! The elemental's movements pulled at his cloak, and he had to snatch at the edge of the hood to keep it from slipping off his head.
Ticky and Derlan were a little behind the sylph, due to the elemental being able to slip through spaces where they didn't fit. They came through the door of the tavern warily: this was not a place either of them would normally frequent, at least not without heavy armament.
The man in the cloak stood suddenly when he saw them, shoving two crystal spheres in his pocket. They were only visible for a second: one was pale, misty blue, while the other was pitch black and dull as a dead eye. They couldn't see his eyes beneath the hood--most of his face was concealed, actually--but he still gave an impression of staring them down from across the room.
Such a thing tends to be noticed, in a tavern like this. The other patrons were surly, hard-drinking sailors, but they knew bad trouble when they saw it. Most of them cleared a path between the gnome and the elf and the cloaked man, except for a few who were too drunk to get the memo.
The bartender drew forth a club of lead-cored wood and set it down on the counter with all the casualness of a death threat, and started clearing the glasses off the counter.
_____________________________________________
"Come on, you stupid beast, let's be friends, eh?" The tone was soothing and calm, but the horse glared at the tattooed man all the same. It was a warhorse, well-kept and strong, sequestered in an old stall that looked like it had been recently swept out and cleaned. He had no idea who the horse belonged to, but he wasn't one to question opportunity when it came knocking. Or whinnying, in this case.
The horse tried to take a bite out of his face, teeth closing on air with a tombstone click, and the tattooed man decided to forget about the subtle route. The horse was trained to respond to its master's voice and to kill the hell out of everyone else: he wouldn't override that training with a few soothing words and an apple. He leapt, swinging around the neck and onto the horse's back before it knew what was happening. The beast tried to rear, found that it couldn't, and smashed the stall door open instead.
Heads turned at the sound, but whatever they expected to see, what appeared wasn't it. The tattooed man clung to the back of the warhorse, tight against its back, as it tried violently to shake him off. Alexis reflexively pulled the trigger of his crossbow, but he had been expecting to be shooting at a man on foot, and his bolt shot past the horse's neck with an angry whine.
The horse pounded through the hold, heading for the wide doorway where Marneus stood. It leapt over Keil's prone body, sped past the red cloud where the undead abomination was slowly being torn to pieces, and crashed straight through one of the flimsier crates. The tattooed man looked up and saw Marneus bearing down, the knight's glare making itself known even through his helmet. The tattooed man scrabbled for his knife for a moment, then gave up and rolled off the horse's back as Marneus' armored fist swept through the air where he had been moments before. The tattooed man hit the floor hard, and only luck brought him into a roll that took him behind Marneus and out the doorway. Unlike his comrade-in-tattoos in Keil's room he didn't waste time trying to kill the armored knight with only a dagger, opting instead to sprint down the corridor, moving towards the hatch with a staggering run.
He would have made it, too, if Reeko hadn't stepped out of the shadows and thrown a knife into his eye.
_____________________________________________
Boots pounded on the upper deck, sounding loud and urgent in the stillness. Captain Grummond glared at the ceiling, listening furiously at the sound of yet more intruders on his ship. The footsteps thudded to the hatch and came down fast: sounded like there were at least six people up there.
Grummond turned the corner, pistol at the ready. "Bastards trying to attack my ship--" he began, before a truncheon swept his gun hand up above his head and planted a neat blow to his solar plexus. He stumbled backwards with a gust of expelled air, and looked up into the point of a sword.
"This is the Provost's Guard," said the armored man with the blade at the captain's throat, "and until we figure out what's happening, I'd suggest not moving a single muscle."
Dockhouse Patrol
Ticky smiled. The moment had come. He thanked the sylph graciously, sweeping a deep bow (for a gnome), and turned his attention to the target. Ticky had caught two flashes as they entered; one black as pitch and the other a hardly tangible blue. The gnome made a mental note to thoroughly examine both.
Approaching the man with his hands outstretched, Ticky gave the man a wide smile. "Sir, if we may speak to you outside for a moment? We mean no harm; we only seek your cooperation in a small endeavour." The man watched him warily, his eyes flitting between the bartender's club, the door, and the odd pair that stood before him.
Ticky kept his face serene despite his tumbling doubts. He did not desire a fight, not in this situation. Nor did he much appreciate the idea of letting his prey get away. A flash of thought and a few muttered words (inaudible against the quiet rumble of the semi-intoxicated patrons) later, and Ticky laughed aloud.
He pressed his hand into his coatpocket, causing the prey to tense visibly, and removed a small bag that tinkled as it moved. "Of course, we will compensate you appropriately, based on your decision." Ticky purred; the threat was inherently obvious in his voice.
He quickly surveyed the room. Not much maneuverability, many obstacles, and, almost certainly, a number of hidden foes.
Approaching the man with his hands outstretched, Ticky gave the man a wide smile. "Sir, if we may speak to you outside for a moment? We mean no harm; we only seek your cooperation in a small endeavour." The man watched him warily, his eyes flitting between the bartender's club, the door, and the odd pair that stood before him.
Ticky kept his face serene despite his tumbling doubts. He did not desire a fight, not in this situation. Nor did he much appreciate the idea of letting his prey get away. A flash of thought and a few muttered words (inaudible against the quiet rumble of the semi-intoxicated patrons) later, and Ticky laughed aloud.
He pressed his hand into his coatpocket, causing the prey to tense visibly, and removed a small bag that tinkled as it moved. "Of course, we will compensate you appropriately, based on your decision." Ticky purred; the threat was inherently obvious in his voice.
He quickly surveyed the room. Not much maneuverability, many obstacles, and, almost certainly, a number of hidden foes.
Raven's challenge went unanswered. He let out a sigh of relief to himself, he knew the enemy was out there but thankfully in the eyes of the predator, Raven did not appear to be a worthwhile fight. He sheathed his sword and concentrated on his wounds, enough of time had passed for him to become desensitized to the pain. Perhaps the wounds were not as fully healed as he would have liked but enough to move with only occasional stabbing discomfort.
Raven grabbed Keil gingerly and together they both slipped silently into the shadows. A stack of crates nearby provided a break from the line of sight of potential hostiles; as far as cover would go it was less than ideal but still it was the only spot available to rest and recuperate. The wizard laid down besides his burdens and peered at his surroundings. The dwarf was somewhere, he could feel the piercing gaze of a sharpshooter nearby. As for the others, he could not hear nor see them. He knew that both Nexaddo and the physician were nearby in the darkness along with Jonas but Raven did not wish to risk calling out to them.
He needed rest and rest he would get.
Raven grabbed Keil gingerly and together they both slipped silently into the shadows. A stack of crates nearby provided a break from the line of sight of potential hostiles; as far as cover would go it was less than ideal but still it was the only spot available to rest and recuperate. The wizard laid down besides his burdens and peered at his surroundings. The dwarf was somewhere, he could feel the piercing gaze of a sharpshooter nearby. As for the others, he could not hear nor see them. He knew that both Nexaddo and the physician were nearby in the darkness along with Jonas but Raven did not wish to risk calling out to them.
He needed rest and rest he would get.
Marneus looked from where the man lay, to Reeko, who had made quite the entrance. Feeling Reeko had earned something at least, he offered a small nod before turning to his horse.
He quickly checked for any wounds, and was satisfied as he found none. The horse was still a little jumpy, so he spoke a few calm words to it to assure that it's owner had returned.
"There we go. Now, follow."
Veneratio was a well trained horse, and he began following Marneus as soon as he heard the simple command. Together, the pair moved off deeper into the hold in the general direction of the hole.
He quickly checked for any wounds, and was satisfied as he found none. The horse was still a little jumpy, so he spoke a few calm words to it to assure that it's owner had returned.
"There we go. Now, follow."
Veneratio was a well trained horse, and he began following Marneus as soon as he heard the simple command. Together, the pair moved off deeper into the hold in the general direction of the hole.
The cloaked man stared at Ticky for a moment, then snorted. "Yeah, sure," he said. "That's likely to happen. If you want to talk to me, you'll do it right here. And if you try anything..." He paused, and something pistol-shaped jutted beneath his cloak, its full shape hidden by black cloth. "We'll see how well you can speak with a bullet in you, eh?"
"The hell is that?"
"I have no idea," said Deslock, staring at the cloud of red mist where the undead abomination was being torn apart, reforming, and being torn apart again. "I'm pretty sure I didn't authorize anything like that being loaded on the ship."
"This is no time for jokes, Mr. Deslock," said Inspector Felkin of the Provost's Guard.
"I wasn't joking," said Deslock. The Inspector ignored him and waved his men forward. They had thundered down the ladder to the hold with proper police speed and violence, but had stopped in the doorway, surprised by what they saw. They had picked up Deslock on the deck above, striding through the ship with a pistol and a bruise on his forehead that he refused to explain. They had given him the same treatment they had Grummond--disarmed and held at swordpoint--but after a sufficient shouting and cursing has passed, they determined that he probably was who he said he was and carried on.
Now they advanced into the hold, weapons at the ready. Inspector Felkin paced evenly behind them, grey-green coat sending up eddies of debris and ashes.
"Throw down your weapons!" he shouted into the dimness. "This is the Provost's Guard! Anyone who is still holding a weapon in three seconds will be shot, arrested and fined! Dalson, get some lights up, will you?" That last was to one of his men, who nodded and opened a bulls-eye lantern, sending a stream of light into the darkness, for the first time illuminating everything in the hold.
________________________________________
"The hell is that?"
"I have no idea," said Deslock, staring at the cloud of red mist where the undead abomination was being torn apart, reforming, and being torn apart again. "I'm pretty sure I didn't authorize anything like that being loaded on the ship."
"This is no time for jokes, Mr. Deslock," said Inspector Felkin of the Provost's Guard.
"I wasn't joking," said Deslock. The Inspector ignored him and waved his men forward. They had thundered down the ladder to the hold with proper police speed and violence, but had stopped in the doorway, surprised by what they saw. They had picked up Deslock on the deck above, striding through the ship with a pistol and a bruise on his forehead that he refused to explain. They had given him the same treatment they had Grummond--disarmed and held at swordpoint--but after a sufficient shouting and cursing has passed, they determined that he probably was who he said he was and carried on.
Now they advanced into the hold, weapons at the ready. Inspector Felkin paced evenly behind them, grey-green coat sending up eddies of debris and ashes.
"Throw down your weapons!" he shouted into the dimness. "This is the Provost's Guard! Anyone who is still holding a weapon in three seconds will be shot, arrested and fined! Dalson, get some lights up, will you?" That last was to one of his men, who nodded and opened a bulls-eye lantern, sending a stream of light into the darkness, for the first time illuminating everything in the hold.
His target had disappeared from view. Alexis spat in disgust at the thought of waiting in his position till something happened. "The best defense was offense" his grandfather Silgurd Moonspear had said. But anxious as he was Alexis was in no mood to pick a fight with the remnants of the enemy he barely understood. For now his crossbow and some distance would be the best bet for survival, after all if these men could overpower most of the expedition, kidnap one member, severely cripple the other while besting Marneus the knight, Jonas the fighter and Raven a full fledged Mage that only a few days ago defeated the pirates with a tidal wave, a dwarf from an airship might not be as lucky against such mystical advisaries.
Alexis paused to peer into the darkness. He had spotted the mage scurrying for cover with another expedition member when a new voice rang from the main deck.
"Throw down your weapons!"
"This is the Provost's Guard! Anyone who is still holding a weapon in three seconds will be shot, arrested and fined!
"Looks like the cavalry is here" the dwarf muttered to himself. "I wonder if they know what they are getting into?"
"Psst!" Alexis hissed at the mage. "Tis me, Alexis. Are you ok?. What say we head topside. I see no signs of pursuit and I am frankly getting tired of this hold."
Alexis paused to peer into the darkness. He had spotted the mage scurrying for cover with another expedition member when a new voice rang from the main deck.
"Throw down your weapons!"
"This is the Provost's Guard! Anyone who is still holding a weapon in three seconds will be shot, arrested and fined!
"Looks like the cavalry is here" the dwarf muttered to himself. "I wonder if they know what they are getting into?"
"Psst!" Alexis hissed at the mage. "Tis me, Alexis. Are you ok?. What say we head topside. I see no signs of pursuit and I am frankly getting tired of this hold."
Dragon, edits needed? It's not dark anymore, and the Provost's guard just shouted for everyone to drop their weapons. I think Alexis would have heard that. I'll post once you edit.
Ticky's face twisted in an expression of mock hurt. "Sir, you insult my honor? Alas... I suppose there's no two ways about it." He bowed deeply, took a deep breath, and began.
"Sir, I do not know your name, nor do I care. I am Tickyvanillius Leviticus the Third; a member of Explorer Deslock's Expedition upon the good ship Cepolada. You, Sir, have threatened a man upon our ship, as well as the crew itself." Ticky stared the man down. "This is unacceptable."
The man's fingers twitched on his concealed weapon and Ticky held up a hand for pause. "Sir, allow me to finish. As I illustrated previously, we mean you no harm. We only ask that you agree to help us find your so-called master, so we might discover the root of this issue. Of course, you will be properly compensated," he held forth the tinkling bag once more "if you help us. And... if you don't..." Ticky let his voice trail off with a laugh.
"I'll just remind you that there are two of us, one of you, and I happen to be in a rather bad mood."
"Sir, I do not know your name, nor do I care. I am Tickyvanillius Leviticus the Third; a member of Explorer Deslock's Expedition upon the good ship Cepolada. You, Sir, have threatened a man upon our ship, as well as the crew itself." Ticky stared the man down. "This is unacceptable."
The man's fingers twitched on his concealed weapon and Ticky held up a hand for pause. "Sir, allow me to finish. As I illustrated previously, we mean you no harm. We only ask that you agree to help us find your so-called master, so we might discover the root of this issue. Of course, you will be properly compensated," he held forth the tinkling bag once more "if you help us. And... if you don't..." Ticky let his voice trail off with a laugh.
"I'll just remind you that there are two of us, one of you, and I happen to be in a rather bad mood."
Lololol the last dialogue line rhymes.
"Psst!" Raven heard the sound interrupt his deep meditation. He instinctively reached for his sword ready to defend himself against this new intrusion.
"Tis me, Alexis. Are you ok?. What say we head topside. I see no signs of pursuit and I am frankly getting tired of this hold."
"So you were the sharpshooter then!" Raven muttered with a sigh of relief. "Yes, yes perhaps we should leave but not before we find the others!. I know that Jonas is around here somewhere, if he is beyond our position then at least we should seek out Marneus. He'll be easier to find with that tin suit of his, I can even hear it now clanking near the stables of the ship, he must be checking up on his mount!" Raven paused as he caught sight of the dwarf crouched with crossbow in hand.
"The Provost's Guard seems to have graced us with their presence" he continued after hearing their call from above. "I am not sure what they are going to do with that red-corpse-ogre thing but it's not our problem for now. We have to get to the main deck and find the Captain and Deslock and get Keil recovered. I've had enough of this hide-and-seek game. It's time to punch the schoolyard bully in a sensitive area!"
Raven stretched his limbs, the pain was slowly dying down. Be it luck or natural affinity with magic but his wounds seemed to be healing. The only alternative explanation was that he had lost enough blood to become delusional.
"You ready to re-unite the expedition?" he asked Alexis
"Tis me, Alexis. Are you ok?. What say we head topside. I see no signs of pursuit and I am frankly getting tired of this hold."
"So you were the sharpshooter then!" Raven muttered with a sigh of relief. "Yes, yes perhaps we should leave but not before we find the others!. I know that Jonas is around here somewhere, if he is beyond our position then at least we should seek out Marneus. He'll be easier to find with that tin suit of his, I can even hear it now clanking near the stables of the ship, he must be checking up on his mount!" Raven paused as he caught sight of the dwarf crouched with crossbow in hand.
"The Provost's Guard seems to have graced us with their presence" he continued after hearing their call from above. "I am not sure what they are going to do with that red-corpse-ogre thing but it's not our problem for now. We have to get to the main deck and find the Captain and Deslock and get Keil recovered. I've had enough of this hide-and-seek game. It's time to punch the schoolyard bully in a sensitive area!"
Raven stretched his limbs, the pain was slowly dying down. Be it luck or natural affinity with magic but his wounds seemed to be healing. The only alternative explanation was that he had lost enough blood to become delusional.
"You ready to re-unite the expedition?" he asked Alexis
Sorry for the multiple posts. Escapist 404 error generated two additional posts upon refreshing when it said page does not exist.
"Throw down your weapons!"
Marneus paused in his search.
"This is the Provost's Guard! Anyone who is still holding a weapon in three seconds will be shot, arrested and fined!"
Marneus glanced at his empty hands, before covering his eyes with them as a bright light pierced the darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the source of the light. A lantern, in the hand of one of the guardsmen. More importantly, was that he saw a glint of fine metal, tainted with blood as it sat atop a crate imbedded in its victim.
Mentally marking the location, he raised his hands and turned to the guardsmen.
Marneus paused in his search.
"This is the Provost's Guard! Anyone who is still holding a weapon in three seconds will be shot, arrested and fined!"
Marneus glanced at his empty hands, before covering his eyes with them as a bright light pierced the darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the source of the light. A lantern, in the hand of one of the guardsmen. More importantly, was that he saw a glint of fine metal, tainted with blood as it sat atop a crate imbedded in its victim.
Mentally marking the location, he raised his hands and turned to the guardsmen.
The Provost's Guard advanced through the hold, Deslock pacing behind them and examining the damage to his supplies and his crew. "Expedition, expedition, expedition..." he muttered into Inspector Felkin's ear. "Everyone alive down here is one of mine. I don't think you need to relieve them of their weapons, Inspector."
"Sure we don't," said the Inspector agreeably. "However, if they don't drop their weapons now, I'm legally in the clear to order them cut down. Which is the point, really."
"I see," said Deslock. The line of guardsmen swept past Marneus, and Deslock nodded at the knight. "Nice policy you got there, Inspector."
"It's prove useful in the past," said Felkin.
The Guard secured the area with minimal fuss, making sure that everyone in the hold except for the Expedition was dead. Once that was ascertained--and a few people sent upstairs to go over Keil's room--Inspector Felkin leapt to the top of a large crate and clapped his hands.
"Well then," he said. "Who wants to lie to me about what happened here first?"
In a tavern by the docks, a cloaked man gave a coarse laugh.
"Fuck you and your pathetic threats," he said. "I'm nowhere near outnumbered. One of you is a gnome, and the other a prepubescent elf on his period."
He paused for a moment to deliver a practiced sneer from the shadows of his hood. "I don't give a shit about your money. If you want to talk you'll have to do it now."
"Sure we don't," said the Inspector agreeably. "However, if they don't drop their weapons now, I'm legally in the clear to order them cut down. Which is the point, really."
"I see," said Deslock. The line of guardsmen swept past Marneus, and Deslock nodded at the knight. "Nice policy you got there, Inspector."
"It's prove useful in the past," said Felkin.
The Guard secured the area with minimal fuss, making sure that everyone in the hold except for the Expedition was dead. Once that was ascertained--and a few people sent upstairs to go over Keil's room--Inspector Felkin leapt to the top of a large crate and clapped his hands.
"Well then," he said. "Who wants to lie to me about what happened here first?"
___________________________________________________
In a tavern by the docks, a cloaked man gave a coarse laugh.
"Fuck you and your pathetic threats," he said. "I'm nowhere near outnumbered. One of you is a gnome, and the other a prepubescent elf on his period."
He paused for a moment to deliver a practiced sneer from the shadows of his hood. "I don't give a shit about your money. If you want to talk you'll have to do it now."
Marneus looked around, and decided he should tell the tale first, as he had been heavily involved in it.
"I believe we should start with the murder of sailor Feron. Our first night aboard the ship, someone broke into my cabin, and a sailor was murdered. Throat cleanly slit, head cut open, and brain removed. An expedition member, Keil, was frightened and attached a bell to his cabin door to wake him should someone sneak in."
Marneus paused for breath.
"Later that day, we were attacked by pirates. During the attack, an expedition member by the name of Mark had his cabin vandalized. A rather pointed message was left, and his possesions were stolen. The pirates were defeated, and we continued to Tyb. Our first night in this city, I was woken from my sleep by a bell."
He paused again, for dramatic effect.
"I crept out into the hall, and heard the sounds of combat coming from Keil's cabin. Upon investigating, I found a masked man poised to plunge his dagger into Keil's back. I stopped him, but he managed to escape. The rest of the expedition was waking up, and split between helping Keil and assisting me in chasing the would-be assassin."
Yet another pause.
"We chased him up onto the deck, but were stalled by a sniper, allowing him to escape. The sniper was not so lucky, and was taken to the brig. I then took a guard position by the ladder up to above-deck. The ship was then attacked by a group of cloaked individuals. I, and an Orc, battled five unholy abominations, they moved unnaturally and felt no pain. We only won by hacking them apart."
This was taking forever.
"During the fight, an amplified voice stated that they would leave us in peace if we handed over Keil, that they had kidnapped Mark, and that they had explosives planted on the bottom of the boat. I suggest you look into the last two. After beating the five, I went to check on Keil. I arrived too late, an expedition member was dead, and a hole had been made in the floor. After dispatching a cloaked, tatooed human, my sword became stuck in the body, which fell down the hole into this hold."
Almost done.
"I came down to retrieve it, and you arrived shortly after I did."
"I believe we should start with the murder of sailor Feron. Our first night aboard the ship, someone broke into my cabin, and a sailor was murdered. Throat cleanly slit, head cut open, and brain removed. An expedition member, Keil, was frightened and attached a bell to his cabin door to wake him should someone sneak in."
Marneus paused for breath.
"Later that day, we were attacked by pirates. During the attack, an expedition member by the name of Mark had his cabin vandalized. A rather pointed message was left, and his possesions were stolen. The pirates were defeated, and we continued to Tyb. Our first night in this city, I was woken from my sleep by a bell."
He paused again, for dramatic effect.
"I crept out into the hall, and heard the sounds of combat coming from Keil's cabin. Upon investigating, I found a masked man poised to plunge his dagger into Keil's back. I stopped him, but he managed to escape. The rest of the expedition was waking up, and split between helping Keil and assisting me in chasing the would-be assassin."
Yet another pause.
"We chased him up onto the deck, but were stalled by a sniper, allowing him to escape. The sniper was not so lucky, and was taken to the brig. I then took a guard position by the ladder up to above-deck. The ship was then attacked by a group of cloaked individuals. I, and an Orc, battled five unholy abominations, they moved unnaturally and felt no pain. We only won by hacking them apart."
This was taking forever.
"During the fight, an amplified voice stated that they would leave us in peace if we handed over Keil, that they had kidnapped Mark, and that they had explosives planted on the bottom of the boat. I suggest you look into the last two. After beating the five, I went to check on Keil. I arrived too late, an expedition member was dead, and a hole had been made in the floor. After dispatching a cloaked, tatooed human, my sword became stuck in the body, which fell down the hole into this hold."
Almost done.
"I came down to retrieve it, and you arrived shortly after I did."
Ticky sighed and let his arms drop to his sides. He could handle many things. A week-long voyage with no other gnomes to have an intelligent conversation with, a witless Painted Elf who had proved marginally useful, and let's not forget nearly going batshit insane looking for a solution to this problem.
He could not handle a gnome-hater.
Ticky tapped his finger to his throat, causing his voice to become loud, deep, and booming. "Listen, you black-clad knave! I've not time for your shenanigans! You will lead us to your superior, you will go without a problem, or Gods help me, I'll boil you into a stew my goddamn self!"
Ticky looked to Derlan, his voice returning to normal. "Derlan. Relieve this gentleman of his weapons. If he does anything suspicious," Ticky gave the man a meaningful glance. "run him through." He turned back to the black-clad man. "Now. This is your last chance. Or would you prefer to be cooked and salted like a goat?"
He could not handle a gnome-hater.
Ticky tapped his finger to his throat, causing his voice to become loud, deep, and booming. "Listen, you black-clad knave! I've not time for your shenanigans! You will lead us to your superior, you will go without a problem, or Gods help me, I'll boil you into a stew my goddamn self!"
Ticky looked to Derlan, his voice returning to normal. "Derlan. Relieve this gentleman of his weapons. If he does anything suspicious," Ticky gave the man a meaningful glance. "run him through." He turned back to the black-clad man. "Now. This is your last chance. Or would you prefer to be cooked and salted like a goat?"