Alfred regarded the work he and the other workers had achieved once more before replying. He had worked up a considerable sweat from his mad dashing, repairing, and constructing...his throat felt more than a little dry. “I...I think I could do with a drink,” he admitted, “maybe just the one though. You see, my reason for travel is to find a way to control a flaw I was born with. Too much uncontrolled emotion and I will discharge electricity, which is why I have the gloves and boots. But just the one drink will be fine; we have all earnt it I think.” He flexed his gloved fingers in thought and spoke more. “The ship I have found myself with...it is on a quest to find the Tyrant’s Bloom. I guess if any of you know anything that might help with that, it’d be appreciated? Otherwise have any of you seen an Itzenko, pale green...wears a living fur-thing with fangs? One of my other crewmates was trying to find him, but just in case she hasn’t had any luck any leads are still leads. One of my other crewmates is also looking into this, but if anyone knows how to cure ghost hornet stings that make you sleep, that might also be useful? No pressure or anything, I’m sure my friends have it all in hand.” Alfred paused and watched Wattson busily repack his equipment back into his satchel. Cecily sat a little further away, calmly observing everyone. “I am interested in seeing what ship fittings you might have though. Perhaps we can talk business after that nice drink?” He gave a small and genuine smile. OOC: Going for a solitary drink (mostly out of politeness), checking any fragments of news on the Bloom and Ham and Helena's quests (since Alfred isn't aware how the two are getting on), and agreeing to take a look at the upgrades after said drink.

I don't mind you using some. You have my blessing.

"Aye, it is I. I do. Thank you. Thank you. It is nice to meet you." Ham greets the surgeon with gusto. The ardent seem to be the answer to their prayers. While the 'disappearance' of their invisible host still nags them from the back of their head, it seems they held up their end of the bargain. 'What is the postmaster anyway? Huh... Interesting. Is there more of them? What is special about the building? How did the liminal space come about? Wait. K comes first. Eyes on the prize.' Ham nods along, "I see. Yes, we shall." and makes a beeline for the Slipfang. "Cats..." Commiserating with the good doctor, aged but still fit, Ham mirrors his mischievous squint. The gau feared and expected a flavor of friendly condescension from the ardent, but he did not display any. Ham's mantra throughout the examination was to celebrate the glimmer of hope, and keep it alive. Cherish, don't count. They tried their earnest to be available, willing, and able hands to assist the doctor. But ultimately, he ended up leaving him his space to work his magic, hunkering down at a corner of the room, ever-ready. When the surgeon postured up, Ham braced for what is to come. 'Break it to us gently, the words we dread to hear. What is wrong with her?' Ham processes the bad news the way a picky eater child takes their meal, cherry picking what soothes him first, and taking the bitter pill last, if at all. 'Consciousness. It's a matter of consciousness? K's body is here with us, but her mind is caught in the undertow, just out of reach. Can she hear us? Is she dreaming?' 'Ghostspeaker. Isn't Kryk T'k one of them? Yeah? No. Where is he anyway? He can commune with spirits, apparitions? Unravel ghostly capers? Bind the slipwise? Can we leave K behind? Do we?' "I- We have to think this over. Does your place of business ever close its doors? It cackled the first time I came through. Is that normal?" Ham had to defer the choice. How could he not? But he recognizes they can only defer for so long.

"Oh rhyming spark of future storm, The shattered sky has not been born. Your origin you say you seek; Pray choose one, your soul too weak. That which birthed you, with lightning true; Or that which looms; the Tyrant's Bloom. Past or future, there is only one; Which answer would you see be done?" Atus' mind and body sang with the words of the storm clasping him to her heart. The words washed over him and through him. He could feel the concern, but the limiting reply gave him pause. To receive an answer about his past would be wonderful, but would it be selfish to pursue his own ends at the cost of information about the Bloom, which would help his crew? Then there was the worrying line about a soul too weak. Atus wondered, if the storm thought him too weak, how could he be ready to face the Bloom and guardian for the answers he sought? He raised his voice again in song to convey his answer. I am the link between past and future, I am the present. Temper me. With no past, no chart to navigate the future, Temper me. If too weak to receive both, then, Temper me. Help me fight for my dreams Temper me. Heat my steel with your fire, Temper me. If I pass, a boon I ask, answers true. He knew he risked a lot in his response, but if felt like the only way he might get answers about his past and maybe help with the search for the Bloom as well..

Alright...the two stakes we looted out of the remains of Alfred's home. 😛

I'll get a post up tonight. Work is kicking my ass.

Tharr bows to the gardeners, his face carefully neutral, then leaves. Out in the storm, out of view of the others, his shoulders sag. A hunter of flowers, they named me. If only that were not true. He trudges through the driving rain back to the Argos, then heads belowdecks to make tea. When it is done, he drinks it slowly, thinking of his home far above the sea.

So for the ship upgrades, no more free stakes, sorry. :P However, since setting out from Verdurance, you have earned three stakes (listed on the Slipfang sheet under "Notes") to spend. If you decide to turn in K's express post here, you'll get a fourth. As your travel, not every port will grant you the ability to spend stakes, but Alfred has unlocked an opportunity for you all to not only spend the stakes, but have access to a small list of... shall we say unusual fittings, that you can spend them on.

Alrighty, if Alfred is going to get some questionable upgrades for the ship, are you all okay with him spending some stakes? I guess a limit of the two free we got when Alfred joined?

Hearing the current offer, he realizes that the Argos crew just may have something better to offer - meat from the Chameleocuda. Though he would prefer time to speak with the rest of the crew, especially park, before offering it away, he feels that the time it would take to go back and forth would likely mean a lost chance. Absently, he picks away a small flower blooming on the back of his hand, discarding it to the side while glancing around the bar. "I may have something better," he begins, keeping an eye on the other potential purchaser in case he decides to try anything dangerous. "My crew and I have recently come into possession of meat from a Chameleocuda - downed it ourselves on the way into port. I could likely persuade them to part with a portion if you are willing to trade." OOC

Park Stadium | AspectsBloodline: Ardent - Tough as Nails (4-Track Trait) - You’re a natural survivor. Rolls made to treat or heal an injury you're suffering from treat conflicts as triumphs. - Ironclad Mind (4-Track Trait) - You are immune to hallucinations, mesmerics and mental compulsions. Origin: Ridgeback - Archaeodermis (2-Track Trait) - Your skin (or whatever you have as an outer covering) mimics the mountain you were raised on. You're immune to keen damage, as well as bites and stings from small creatures. - Shamanic Idol (4-Track Gear) - Holds a sliver of power from a not-quite-god. Deals LR salt damage. Post: Char - Taste Test (4-Track Trait) - You're immune to poisons, and can determine their presence and characteristics by taste alone. - Seasoned Cleaver (2-Track Gear) - As useful on the battlefield as it is in the galley. Deals CQ hewing damage. Increase impact when acquiring dangerous or disruptive specimens. Extra - The Manticore Recipe (3-Track Adventure) - Park can spend an action during a montage or journey and consume a manticore bloom specimen to learn more about it. He must pass one Cook test (done), one Harvest/Tides test, and one Tend/Tides test to fill the track. When he does, he will be able to come up with a cure. | EdgesGrace, Instinct & Tides | SkillsDelve: 0 Vault: 2 Wavewalk: 0 Hunt: 2 Study: 0 Sense: 3 Harvest: 3 Scavenge: 0 Tend: 2 Concoct: 0 Cook: 3 Rattle: 0 Flourish: 0 Outwit: 0 Sway: 0 Brace: 0 Break: 0 Hack: 0 | LanguagesLow Sour | ResourcesCook Utensils (Salvage) Bag of Spices (Specimen) Tonic of Health (Specimen) Liquid Fire (Specimen) Carrion Weed (Specimen) Manticore Bloom (Specimen) Never tasted a mof-bee hybrid. - He says timidly, the words barely leaving his mouth. Park seems at first elated by the sudden attention. He spoons the last piece of food of the bowl with his hand and gives it a last taste to try to improve it somewhere. He doesn't think he can, it is perfect as it is, so this is a real challenge. He leaves the bowl there and looks at the communal cauldron with awe and fear. Such things do exist in this world, he really is really impressed. From nearly famine to this abundance of food, this is something he thought only possible in a dream world. He tightens the bandana on his head, his face committed with the task at hand, and then he starts improvising. De spice and taste is already good. Maybe add more fat, to give more... - He makes the mimic of a large belly on his body. - Somefing with a light taste, to keep de taste almost de same. I would use white slug fat. Can I try? Maybe wif only a small portion? - He looks desperately hopeful his idea is accepted. Actions Try to improvise and engage later with a conversation where he can show to Captain Gourmet the Manticore's Bloom, tell him about his comrade affliction and ask for instructions.

Sevenstones Montage/Scenes: Dawn Helena – Rogue's Den, Drunken Cobble Hisjam, Duo – Slipfang Alfred – Blackturn Distillery, Lesser Cobble Kryk T'k – Missing! Ham—Wordwhim, Greater Cobble, to the Slipfang Ham stepped back from the table, leaving the whispers behind, and the cloak's arm reached out. The bottle's cork popped out, seemingly of its own volition, and a thunderous roar of hushed voices briefly whirled through the air. Ham could make no sense of any of them as they melded together. He staggered briefly, dazed, as the invisible words danced around him and flew away into the secret corners of the building, where they continued to murmur and susurrate. One whisper coiled about his head and draped itself over his shoulders before flowing into his mind and settling there. "A prison of skin and bark." The thought unsettled Ham, and he wondered what secrets, exactly, the old ektus from Verdurance had been keeping in that crate. Ham looked over to the counter, but the dusty cloak was now draped over a chair, no longer animated. Hesitant, Ham crept closer, but his conversational partner was gone. Footsteps sounded behind him, and up the stairs from below walked an ardent with a bag slung over his shoulder. "Hisjam? The postmaster said you had an injured wordbearer that needs looking at. I'm the local surgeon they keep on staff. Lead the way." It took a Ham a moment to get moving, and in the dim light, Ham made out a wry smile on the surgeon's face. "Sorry, the postmaster has a flair for the dramatic. They're a strange one; a being of woven whispers, kept from dispersing by this building. He builds and unbuilds himself with every letter and word that passes through here. Best to just think of them as a bit of a ham. Shall we?" With that, Ham led the surgeon back to the Slipfang. Duo was still on the ship, having been carefully inspecting the mindcatcher plant, and finding it to be especially discomfiting; they felt that the plant considered them prey. Upon sight of Ham and the surgeon, they politely greeted their comrade, and followed them down to K's room. A spectral slink rubbed up on the doctor's leg, and he leaned down to scratch it, only to get a ghost of a scratch on his well-meaning hand. "Cats; always the same." He chuckled and knelt down to inspect K. He inspected her for over an hour. Ham kept vigil the entire time, but Duo ducked out to bring Ham tea (the surgeon refused the offer). At long last, the surgeon stood. "The news is not good, I am afraid. But... not all bad, either. She is in no danger of death, but also seems to be... unable to resurface. She has been injected with a type of somnovenom; I can only imagine how it may have happened. Her physical injuries are easily treatable, and i have done the best I can with them, but for the rest of her... you will need a Ghostspeaker." They all left the room and sat around a table. "There are two options before you, friends; you can leave your compatriot with me, here, in Sevenstones, and we will employ the services of the next sufficiently skilled Ghostspeaker who comes through. We owe her that, at least, and the postmaster liked your honesty, Hisjam. "Your other option is to keep her with you, checking on her physical injuries routinely as you have been, and go here." He handed Ham a leaf, onto which an address had been burned: a bough, limb, and twig. "An old friend of mine, and the wordbearers, who dwells in Port Sakura. Mention my name, and she will probably be able to heal her spiritual wounds. Or maybe you could find someone else on the way. You need not choose now, though of course you can, but let us know before you leave port." OOC Ham has gained a whisper and a chart and the crew has gained a stake. Ham also has an option regarding K's care; he can make the decision, or discuss with the crew. Alfred—Blackturn Distillery, Lesser Cobble A plan in mind, Alfred began his work. The others helped him at first, but Alfred quickly began working with such speed that they could not follow, and instead simply stood back and watched, awed, as Alfred (with some help from Cecily) not only completely reworked the distiller's energy system, but rigged up a series of redundant power systems and even managed to (this time with some help from the others) reattach the windmill and get it working again. The workers had assumed they would be out of commission for days more at least, it not weeks. Alfred had done it all in the span of a few hours. Covered in sweat, Alfred stood back and admired his work. "Sir, you've done and fixed it all right up. You have all our gratood. How can we ever repay you?" The ketra spoke, while the ektus was at a complete loss for words. One of the other works gave Alfred a small jar of pure, clean, distilled water, newly produced using Alfred's work. "You want some drinks? We know a place down on Drunken Cobble that'll treat you right. Or maybe you want news? Or work on yer ship? Though I can't see how a rattlehand skilled as yerself would need help with that. But we know a few people with... fittings that y'can't find anywhere else." OOC Alfred has done wonders with the distillery, earning himself the "Friends in Distilled Places" milestone, as well as the regard of all of Lesser Cobble; word spreads fast. Alfred can ask for most any news he wants and get something, and/or join his new friends for a drink, and/or gain access to a small set of unique less-than-legal ship upgrades to spend some stakes on. ;)

Deathblossom, Angler's Spire: Montage/Scenes Atus—Philosophizing with a storm Park—Engaging in sophisticated culinary discussion at the Charred Mantis Tharr—Earning respect in a gardener's shed Tolliver—Tempting a tzelicrae Charred Mantis—Park The view from the loft was commanding, and Park spent a moment admiring the bright red color of the stew below him; was it a spice that gave it that vibrant color, or maybe some quality of the large mantis that was said to be boiling at its bottom? He could ask, he supposed. He turned his attention back to the small group of butchers before him, admiring the way they cleanly removed chitin from flesh, making as few cracks as possible in the insectoid armor. The young ardent char, who he presumed was in charge, noticed him immediately, of course, but made no move to remove him. Park continued sidling closer, and determined that she and the gau were discussing what the flesh of the Tyrant's HeraldFrom the Almanac: "The sixth and last is the Tyrant's Herald; it's like a big moth-bee that judges the worth of those who approach. It tries to sink most. It comes back from the dead when it's killed, so fighting it is only a delaying tactic. It's unmistakable; can't miss it.", the Sixth Sign of the Bloom, would taste like. The ardent had a gleam in her eye as she hypothesized that it would have the floral timbre of a bee combined with the gaminess of giant moth-meat, while the gau seemed to think that it would taste only of "dreams and bitter regret," whatever that meant. The woman eventually whirled around to face Park. "And who are you? What do you want?" The gau chuckled. "Look at his poise; he is a fellow char. Perhaps he would weigh in on how a moth-bee hybrid would taste?" The gau sheathed his cleaver and made a half-mocking bay. "Greetings, wanderer, I am Shahan Farr, the Wandering Char, captain of the Grand Gourmet. I came to offer this young lady some sage advice about the proper balance of spices in that stew there, but she has since derailed the conversation. Tell me, don't you think the stew could use some more gingerweed? Or maybe you think blue chilipepper would do the trick?" "It's fine, interloper," the ardent replied, glaring daggers at the gau. "It's a communal stew; anyone can add anything to it, provided it passes the approval of the stirrer on duty." She glanced at Park. "If you add something worthwhile to it, you'll get extra helpings." OOC Park has options again; he can ask questions of either the head char or Shahan Farr, and/or he can go over and try to add a specimen to the stew (you can use a Cook [+Tides or Instinct] test to determine what ingredients might work best, or just wing it). Gardener's Shed—Tharr The two gardeners barely had time to react as Tharr shifted his frame of reference and grabbed the machete from them. With his powerful eyes and twitching antennae, he noted how the mothryn's hemolyph flowed in visible patterns beneath the skin, and how the tuber's bulging growth sucked it in and then shunted it away, replacing the mothryn's lifeblood with its own. Like any beast, its heart is its weakpoint. The machete flashed once, twice, thrice as Tharr first sliced off the part of the tuber sticking out above the skin, then gouged a hole in the flesh to rip out a pulsing core, and then finally ripped the shelled remnant out of the mothryn's flesh. Hemolyph flowed freely from the gaping hole left behind, and the ketra scrambled to press bandages over it, while the ektus crushed some leaves into a disinfecting paste. Tharr laid the machete down carefully and stared at the fleshy core in his hand. It did not look like any sort of plant he had seen before; it actually pulsed, like a heart, and seemed to bleed. He carefully laid it down in a thick piece of nearby cloth and wrapped it up before washing it off his hands. The mothryn's breathing eased, and the ektus looked at Tharr, impressed. "A maneuver worthy of a Deathblossom hunter." The ketra nodded in agreement. "Should you wish to pass up to Spire, or to mark yourself as one of us, simply speak the password: 'the bee flies far, but always returns home.' You shall receive aid from those who know those words, and in return, we ask you give aid to them, fierce hunter of flowers." That description seemed somewhat absurd, but it was meant in all sincerity here. It seemed to Tharr a small thing, but his impromptu surgery had clearly left a mark. The two gardeners promised to take care of the mothryn, and Tharr decided they were in good hands. OOC Tharr has acquired a specimen: Tuberous Heart. He has also obtained the passcode for the Deathblossom; he can pass up to the Spire unhindered and identify himself as a hunter of flowers. This, of course, means that Park and Tharr have endeared themselves to different hunting clans. Heart of the Storm—Atus Atus' body stiffened and thrummed in response, the lightning speaking through him again. "Oh rhyming spark of future storm, The shattered sky has not been born. Your origin you say you seek; Pray choose one, your soul too weak. That which birthed you, with lightning true; Or that which looms; the Tyrant's Bloom. Past or future, there is only one; Which answer would you see be done?" A choice; the storm knew something about Atus' past, or at least claimed to. How, he did not know. But she also knew something about the Bloom, which did not surprise him. But the storm would not answer questions about both, unless he was very clever in his asking. Aster's Scar—Tolliver Tolliver's rival growled. "You aren't seriously considering another offer?" The tzelicrae shrugged. "What can I sssay? I am an oportunissst. My friend here has offered me a great quantity of greater squirrel-meat. The quantity impressssessss, but not the ssstyle. My crew and I are more partial to unique tasssstesss. What do you have that we have never tassssted before?"

I'll be updating the Slipfang tomorrow, so and , if you want an update for your montage scenes by then feel free to get a post up!

Park Stadium | AspectsBloodline: Ardent - Tough as Nails (4-Track Trait) - You’re a natural survivor. Rolls made to treat or heal an injury you're suffering from treat conflicts as triumphs. - Ironclad Mind (4-Track Trait) - You are immune to hallucinations, mesmerics and mental compulsions. Origin: Ridgeback - Archaeodermis (2-Track Trait) - Your skin (or whatever you have as an outer covering) mimics the mountain you were raised on. You're immune to keen damage, as well as bites and stings from small creatures. - Shamanic Idol (4-Track Gear) - Holds a sliver of power from a not-quite-god. Deals LR salt damage. Post: Char - Taste Test (4-Track Trait) - You're immune to poisons, and can determine their presence and characteristics by taste alone. - Seasoned Cleaver (2-Track Gear) - As useful on the battlefield as it is in the galley. Deals CQ hewing damage. Increase impact when acquiring dangerous or disruptive specimens. Extra - The Manticore Recipe (3-Track Adventure) - Park can spend an action during a montage or journey and consume a manticore bloom specimen to learn more about it. He must pass one Cook test (done), one Harvest/Tides test, and one Tend/Tides test to fill the track. When he does, he will be able to come up with a cure. | EdgesGrace, Instinct & Tides | SkillsDelve: 0 Vault: 2 Wavewalk: 0 Hunt: 2 Study: 0 Sense: 3 Harvest: 3 Scavenge: 0 Tend: 2 Concoct: 0 Cook: 3 Rattle: 0 Flourish: 0 Outwit: 0 Sway: 0 Brace: 0 Break: 0 Hack: 0 | LanguagesLow Sour | ResourcesCook Utensils (Salvage) Bag of Spices (Specimen) Tonic of Health (Specimen) Liquid Fire (Specimen) Carrion Weed (Specimen) Manticore Bloom (Specimen) The nearby conversation catches his interest, the tyrant's bloom, but he would never trust a person that leaves such delicious food untouched. He doesn't think he would find what he wants there. And he even doesn't know what he wants, as his main objective changed rapidly since he set foot on this establishment. So while still eating from his bowl, he climbs the stairs and spends some time studying the technique employed by the butchers in their cuts and the hearty conversation. He doesn't want to interfere with the entertaining situation. So he approaches with small silent steps, slowly, and when he notices he is directly behind the young ardent looking over her shoulder, trying to be invisible, but failing bluntly. Actions Option: In the loft above him, where there were literal bug butchers, Park saw a short gau with a massive, spade-like head who looked like he didn't quite fit in waving an oversized cleaver about, talking about the "pinewood shark," while a strapping young ardent woman rolled her eyes and assured him that the "Tyrant's Herald, butchered, would taste much better than a mythical... what did you call it? 'Shark'?"

Sorry, meant to update this weekend then got wrapped up in the finale of an eight-year long Roll20 campaign; should get to it tomorrow. :) So if you haven't posted yet, get them in soon!

'Cruel? How? What did the ektus do? What have I done?' Ham ponders the orb, mulling over what the old one from Verdurance had said, yet gleaming nothing to assuage the growing sinking feeling in his belly. The bottle itself seem to grow fuller in response to the growing cacophony outside. 'Their words for mine. Pretty straightforward. I must be overthinking this. I mean it's just one... isn't it? We had a whole crate. Didn't we? Is this a trick? I thought it was lamps?!' Ham looks at the glass more intently. A beat. Ham must have spent a good few minutes scrutinizing the quaint thing in his hands, but at the end of the day, they need their help. Ham snaps back to reality, shook by the rushing ardent. Ham tried to wave back, but they were already out the door. "Here." The gau takes a few more steps to rest the bottle on the desk. "I must admit. I am afraid to uncork this myself." 'Seemed like a simple and easy job at first. I don't want to cause more weirdness, but I am willing to cosign it.'

I wonder if it may have been that I had half of it drafted, then had to wander off for a few hours (so my computer went to sleep with the half-written post up), and then finished it when I got back; maybe it posted the half-done version when the computer napped? Glad it all seems to be working now!

Huh, well done that crazy jellyfish/electric slugman! 🤣

Alfred’s eye markings softened at the ketra’s sorrow at the loss of the Middle Cobble and he felt a series of jolts crackle across his neck and back. These people had lost much and the feeling of doom was almost palpable. If one of the stones had fallen, Shudder or not, how long before another could fall? He gazed over to the fallen windmill blades and reflected how funny it was that the people of the Wildsea when faced with the ravages of nature always find a way to adapt and use the very winds, tree waves, beasts, and more to continue surviving and prospering. In a way it gave him hope. He felt another jolt of internal electricity and a thought occurred. Electricity. Reliable power. Yes! He snapped gloved fingers (which naturally had a muffled and less dramatic sound to it) and became very animated, opening up his satchel bag and withdrawing his ceramic battery. “I guess I may have found a use for you...Getrude? Yes, we’ll go with Gertrude.” Before the ektus or ketra could say anything, Alfred was already moving. Already manically studying and measuring the blades, making mental mathematics of the speed the windmill blades could feasibly and safely go to, and dashing back and forth to check how the wind power generated would connect to the still. From what he could tell and from what he gathered from the ketra, the still was primarily powered by wind generation but there was a separate hand crank that the workers could use on less windy days. Alfred rubbed his chin in thought for a moment and stood suddenly very still in contrast to his previous darting about. Whilst he could fit Gertrude to the distiller and run it just on the charged energy, this would not be anywhere enough for a long term solution. The battery would require additional charge. But...how much energy was produced by the windmill blades during a windy day? More than enough for working the distillation process, enough spare to perhaps recharge the battery. That way when it was not windy the battery would do the work, when it was windy the windmill would do the work and recharge the battery on the side, and if there was no wind and no battery charge there was still the option for hand cranking. Alfred was moving again, giving punch code orders to Wattson and Cecily. Wattson was to help with repairs and setting up the layout of the connection for the windmill blade system to Gertrude and then Gertrude to the still. Cecily meanwhile was tasked to help with collecting parts and do more lifting work. Alfred himself busied himself with both directing his companions, getting his own gloves dirty, as well as outlining the plans for how (when the blades were eventually re-attached and the tower repaired) the battery would work and how it would be fed and recharged by the wind generated to the other workers. OOC: Aye, fraid I will be going with that idea and do a Sharps + Rattle and spend the ceramic battery to set up an electrical power source that can run the Still on non-windy days and be charged when the blades are repaired and are able to turn on windier days. I guess if Alfred succeeds enough, maybe he can at least start on repairing the windmill parts as well, but that’s maybe a push. 😛

Oh I thought you fixed it. When I first looked at your last post it was cut off just after the Park section. When I looked at it six hours later it was all there.

There might very well be, but I don't see it. :S I had a bit of a site hiccup when I tried to post it. Or I may have mixed up a name. What'd I do? :P I also too love the whisper mechanic. You are also, of course, always free to simply use any (relevant) inventory item you have to try and improve your chances, but not in as twisty a manner as whispers.

The distillery was originally powered by wind, yes, but Alfred can use the ceramic battery and attempt to... rewrite the place so it is not reliant on windpower. Though then they'd have to find a way to recharge the battery (maybe with wind!), but it would serve as a stopgap and make power smoother.

I'm assuming the power part of the distillery is windmill related and so non-electrical (so no ceramic battery or ancient wires?) :P I also guess Alfred is losing his extra impact from Wattson in lieu of cheekily getting away with Surefire Smith? Which honestly is a fair enough trade.

As the storm lifted him high into the air, Atus felt a surging elation, bubbling inside him like effevescent fizz. He could not help but express his joy, laughing, as the storm drew him upwards into its heart. With the push and pull of electromagnetics, not an unfamiliar experience when playing with storms, he noticed the more deliberate nature of this storm and listened intently, his whole body like a tuning fork. When the words of the storm became clear to him he laughed again with pure joy, his mind racing with the best way to respond. He raised his voice, his thoughts, the entirety of himself tuned to the electromagnetic tuning fork of his metal body and sent out a powerful message in the form of a song. Stormchild born of lightning, unique and alone, why does the heart of a storm feel like home? Bloom Seeker, Monster Grim Reaper, looking for answers and sign, want to know, how to follow, a trail lost in time? Answes elude me, dreaming of family, one I've never known, lost and alone. Little raincloud you call me, endearing and sweet, to your heart you hold me, cradled next to your beat. Are you part of the answer I seek? Atus waited, feeling extremely vulnerable and hoping for some kind of answer but willing to receive anything in return.