Slipfang: Sevenstones

[Ratty Gnawtail]

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. 😛

[Passione]

'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.'

[Morkskittar]

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. ;)

 

Edited May 1 by Morkskittar (see edit history)

[Passione]

"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.

 

[Ratty Gnawtail]

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.

Edited May 4 by Ratty Gnawtail (see edit history)

[Morkskittar]

Sevenstones Montage/Scenes: Dawn

Alfred, Helena – Rogue's Den, Drunken Cobble

Hisjam, Duo – Slipfang

Kryk T'k – Missing!

---

Ham—Slipfang

The postal surgeon packed up his tools. "Someone will always be at the Wordwhim," he said. "The post never stops, and neither do we. Seek us out before you leave should you wish to leave your wordbearer friend with us to look after. I will make sure that its doorwords recognize you and open for you; do not worry." The surgeon's mouth quirked slightly at Ham's comment about cackling. "It isn't the building itself that cackles, but rather the whispers that inhabit it. Much like you carried a bottled whisper to us and let it free, so too is the Wordwhim a bottle, albeit a much larger one, that houses words and keeps them from dissipating in the wind. Some of the whispers like to play pranks on the uninitiated. My apologies if they startled you."

After some well wishes and further words, the surgeon departs, leaving Ham alone with K and Duo.

OOC

Decision has been deferred until you leave port, but Ham's actions on behalf of K have earned him a minor milestone: Bargained with words for a sister's life. Ham has done his duty; was there anywhere else Ham wished to explore in port? Would you like him to hang about the ship, or have him find his way to where Helena and now Alfred have arrived?

 

---

 

Alfred—Blackturn Distillery to a Bar

The two workers looked somewhat confused at Alfred's short ramble, and latched onto what they understood. "Ah, you're one of them Bloomers, are you?" The ketra sighed. "Fool's mission, if y'ask me. Dunno why anyone'd want to go chasing a flower, no matter how big. No offense meant, sir."

"Bug-tanzer at bar; what fates. We show you, ka?" the ektus rumbled.

"A drink then, and then we'll show you the gearbox." The ketra flashed a grin at Alfred. "It's over on Brass."

The pair of them packed up and led Alfred across the city, weaving through backways and greeting nearly everyone. As they walked, the ketra asked Alfred more about his tentacles. "They really spark, sir? Can you show me? That would be handy for a rattler like yerself I'd imagine. Could do a lot of good; y'could jumpstart anything that's broken!"

They crossed wooden bridges built over the canopy and then set foot on the steep slope of Drunken Cobble, which was certainly less busy than Lesser Cobble. Alfred noticed quite a few people sleeping off the previous night's revels in the street. Neither of his guides seemed concerned.

Alfred envied Wattson's ability to float by the time he arrived at the top, slightly winded, at a small hole in the wall. The ektus reached for the door when it flung open, smacking his hand hard. The ektus made an undignified yelp and stepped back as two male ardents in very fancy hats and coats stepped outside, dragging a very unhappy-looking female ardent after them. Alfred thought that those two looked exactly like pirates. Their victim shook off their hands.

Alfred immediately recognized Helena.

"Joren, I thought y'weren't allowed back at Hilde's?" the ketra said, hand resting lightly on a wrench shoved into his belt.

One of the hatted maybe-pirates glanced over at the ketra. "Oh, shove off, Torvek. We're just showing this lass a good time."

Joren's friend eyed Alfred, the ektus, and Torvek the ketra. Then their eye fell on Cecily. "Joren, maybe we should let this one go..."

OOC

As you maybe suspected, Alfred has arrived outside the bar Helena was at while snooping for clues. Helena is just outside the door to the bar, with the two possible pirates standing between her and Alfred and his new friends. A few eyes are watching from the shadows.

[Abalon]

Helena's eyes twitched when she recognised the war-fur the two were handing out to her and she could feel a cold fury rising within her with every single word the man spoke. As much as she wanted to absolutely smash both of their empty skulls in, she worried they might have some friends among the tavern that might join them, so she decided to at least wait until they were out and she didn't need to sommersault over tables

 

The sight of Alfred was as unexpected as it was welcome. Not only did it even the odds, but the less confident companion's response meant that, should a fight occur, they might be at a disadvantage. It sure would be a shame if such a calamitous thing happened...

 

"Now lads, come on, no need to get angry. I was just being given a tour! Now where were we going again... Oh right!"

Her chipper tone drops as she stares directly into Joren's eyes

"Where you're keeping Kryk T'k"

Before winding back and throwing a right hook that nails both of their heads in its wake. By the Waves did that feel good!

OOC

I got busy but I 100% intended to smack them from the start and by the Dice Gods I better do it this time

Edited May 8 by Abalon (see edit history)

[Ratty Gnawtail]

“See Wattson, this is why I always bring you and/or Cecily along,” Alfred said aside to the floating skull who replied with a querying beep.

 

“Well Cecily has her cannon and you...well in a pinch I could always use you as a blunt force weapon...”

 

Wattson tilted slightly mid-air and gave what most certainly sounded like an angry beep in response.

 

Alfred made to respond when Helena spoke and Alfred’s eyes followed the accusation to the quivering and very familiar living fur held in the ardent, Joren’s hand. Kryk T'k’s fur.

 

Even as Helena began to lay the two seemingly piratical thugs out, Alfred began to spark. He glanced at his two new friends, “I would take a couple steps away from me, if I were you.” He then reached up and untied the knot around his head tendrils.

 

Immediately like the long forgotten sea anemone of the lost watery seas, his tendrils rose and swayed, crackles of electricity dancing between them as Alfred’s eye markings darted and flared. He teased off the glove of his left hand, revealing digits covered in fresh and old burn scars. Despite the scarring, those around could see fragments of metal bonded and screwed into his hand bones. He raised his fist, electrical energy hissing across his fingers as Helena’s own fist rose and connected with another chin.

 

“I was having a nice day with my new friends only to find this,” he spoke, a dangerous edge entering into his voice even as Cecily’s optic shone angrily and her targeting array gave a soft ping awaiting Alfred’s command. “Return the fur and the Itzenko you took it from and we can forget about all of this. You do not want to see me truly angry... You really do not...”

 

OOC: I guess Alfred will try some threatening negotiation for what it's worth (as Helena knocks the stuffing out of these gits) and will engage in fisticuffs (and maybe Cecily depending on collateral) if they are unwilling to listen to good sense.

[Passione]

Ham sets the table and leaves a note about looking for the dance fighter. 

'Hmm... Where to start first? Definitely leave Greater for last. We need better coordination and more bodies to cover that ground.'

The scholar ambles around town, looking at the other crews' hauls, some appetizing, some intriguing. He asks around about their missing friend, and some enterprising people points him towards the Drunken Cobble. Odd. That was near where they dropped anchor. It shouldn't take long to come back, or at least touch base before pursuing something further. Ham tries to recall anything that might bring to light what Kryk T'k might have gotten into yesterday. And tried as he might, he came up with nothing.

Out of the blue, he hears a wet crack. It sends shivers down his body. 'In these streets? Somebody might have partaken too much in libation. Hopefully it's some other crew.'

Ham thought about going the other way, mind his business, and steer clear of the mess, but something spurred him on to check anyway. Just in case the prickly itzenko might have started something.

He hears Alfred's exhortations, and he fears for the worse. 'Junkers? Wait? A shakedown?' His unwillingness to escalate things bit his behind back in the festive ruin. Ham is definitely not the most nimble, but he doesn't have five legs for nothing. He zips forward and tries to wrest the soul-charged garment.

OOC

Maybe this is swinging Instinct? Ham can't Vault well. Maybe he can take advantage of Helena's swing? Maybe he can take the last swig of the Breaker's Brew?

The goal is to move a few paces away from the scruffy pair, wrap his legs around to steady the fur, using both hands to slip the hewing steel beneath the string without harming the nervous thing.

 

 

 

[Morkskittar]

Sevenstones Scene: Pirate's Brawl

---

Helena's right hook connected with Joren's head with an immensely satisfying and meaty thud, sending his head careening into that of his companion. Both of their feathered hats fell onto the stone ground as Joren staggered, dropping the bundled fur. To Helena and Alfred's shared surprise, a stocky gau slipped between them and scoopedThere isn't really any skill Ham has that can be stretched to cover this situation, so this means you roll a 1d6 with no Triumph normally possible.

Roll: 4. Due to Joren being quite distracted, I'll play this as a successful grab, but the fur is quite distressed by the knife. it up, using their machete to cut the bonds and free it. It took them both a moment to recognize Ham, though neither were sure how he had gotten there or where he had come from.

The fur squirmed in Ham's grasp, shying away from Ham's blade. As it unfurled itself, Ham noticed that the beautiful thing was mattered, torn, and in several places, cut. It was almost as if someone had been torturing it. It easily slipped out of Ham's grasp and began undulating and leaping away from the conflict, heading upward toward the very highest point of the tilted spit.

Joren's friend landed on the ground with a loud groan, though Joren remained on his feet, face covered in blood and his eye swollen, sword now drawn. He cursed Helena. "You'll pay for that, you-" he swung as he spoke, but Helena easily sidesteppedVault + Grace: 1, 5, 6. his blade.

A crackling sound stopped Joren in his tracks. Alfred, tendrils unbound, was quite literally sparking, voice shaking in rageBreak + Iron to intimidate: 1, 5, 5. You succeeded in intimidating them along with Helena's punch, but too well; they're fleeing entirely! as he addressed the pirates.

Joren's eyes darted between Helena, who was looking ready to strike another blow, and Alfred, and he broke, beginning to run in the direction opposite Kryk T'k's fur, down the tilted cobble. His companion rolled to his feet and followed. Both of them left their hats on the ground. Joren's bleeding face did leave a fairly clear trail of blood on the dusty stone ground, at least.

Alfred's two friends looked at them all with shock and awe.

OOC

Helena's punch and Alfred's sparking were enough to fold these pirates, who have taken off down towards the bottom of the cobble. The injured fur, eluding Ham's grip, is now 'running' towards the top of the cobble. You can pursue either or neither. Wavewalk or Vault (plus an appropriate edge) tests will help you use speed to keep up with either, while a Hunt + Edge test can be used to follow the injured Joren's trail, either now or later. It was a solid right hook, and is bleeding quite a bit. :P

Edited Thursday at 01:15 AM by Morkskittar (see edit history)

[Ratty Gnawtail]

Shakingly, Alfred drew his glove back over his hand.

 

"Gah...the waves that rustle do rustle on so that the waves that rustle do rustle on so that the waves..." Alfred gasped out in mantra until he felt his emotion stablise and he retied his now sagging tendrils.

 

"I erm...guess I did show you how I spark, Torvek. I think you two might be best getting in the first drink and i'll join you both soon. By the spines of the Ossified Bone Maw-Fish...I really need that drink now...and I just got here too..."

 

He straightened and turned to his two crewmates (or at least the dotted outline where they had been if they don't waste any time like a certain Ketra) "Alright, where do you need me?"

[Morkskittar]

Torvek shook his head. "No, sir, if it's all right with you, we'll help you out, like y'helped us. I'm guessin' these are yer crew. Look like you need some aid." The ketra dipped his head to Ham and Helena. "What can we do?" The ektus simply nodded firmly.

[Passione]

'What was that? Haven't I seen him ungloved? Neat..' Ham opines, double taking on Helena's footwork, Alfred's display, and Kryk T'k's fur. Ham might have heard of the ketra's zapping whilst they were working on Peter, but he hasn't thought that the lightning could have come from Alfred himself.

He sheathes the shiv to not scare the fur any further, and repays this Torvek's politeness in kind.

"It is a pleasure to meet you. Uhm... Ah... Appreciate the help. Up top. I've never heard a peep out of Kryk T'k's fur before, and I doubt we'll hear it any time soon. Best not let it out of our sights." Ham points towards where he had last seen the scampering injured pelt.

With a body built for comfort, and not speed, Ham huffs and puffs as he gives chase, wishing the slinks' athleticism has rubbed off on him.

All the while, he worries how someone could get the best out of their friend with knives for hands. On the other hand, Alfred is great at making friends. The rattlehand has quite a handle on diplomacy.