Argos: Angler's Spire

[Morkskittar]

Deathblossom, Angler's Spire: Montage/Scenes

 

Atus—Base of the Spire

Park—Visiting the Chitinate

Tharr—Exploring the Garden of Memory and Sorrow

Tolliver—Bartering with a Tzelicrae and Ketra at the Aster's Scar

---

Chitinate Border—Park

After leaving the Argos under the watchful eye of a trio of spring-foxes, Park finally left the ship as the sky became increasingly overcast, thunder rumbling in the distance. He hurried through the winding docks, past the guards, over bridges, and under streets, heading ever northward, toward the Chitinate, to see what insights they might offer him. The sky was looking quite threatening by the time he arrived at a small wooden gate manned by two guards: one tall guard of indeterminate bloodline clad completely in armour crafted from a large stag beetle and the other a squat, broad-shouldered gau with a small garden of multicolored flowers and herbs growing from his back and head.

They did not seem to care for each other.

"Halt!" said the bug-clad guard. "No flower-picker shall pass through this gate."

The overgrown guard rolled their eyes. "Bug butchers, am I right?"

The bug guard continued. "Only those who have proven their worth by slaying fearsome chitinous foes shall enter the domain of the Chitinate."

Park considered both guards a moment, one hostile and one sympathetic, and then approached the bug guard, and whispered a single word: bogan.

The bug guard's attitude changed in an instant. "Ah, I see. Apologies, I had no idea. You may pass." With that, the bug guard opened the gate.

The overgrown guard stared at Park in shock. "You're one of them?" They narrowed their quartet of eyes. "Don't think I'll let you back in here, spy. Get out."

With that, Park found himself on the other side of the gate, and in the Chitinate. The wooden gate closed behind him, and Park felt the first tentative rain drops land. He should find shelter.

Without a good view of the layout of the northern slope of the Spire, Park saw only three options before him:

• Head into the massive honeycomb/beehive that took up about a quarter of the Chitinate district and see what was going on there.
• Duck into the nearby building made from solid stone from which delicious-smelling smoke emanated; some sort of cookery.
• Investigate the hollowed-out giant weevil carcass above him, near the top of the district.

As he pondered, a massive crack of thunder shook the skies and mountainside, and the questions sprinkles of rain became a mist.

 

---

Garden of Memory and Sorrow—Tharr

The preacher paused. "I do not treat with-" he began, and then Tharr murmured a whisper beneath his breath.

Almost as if Tharr had summoned it, there was a massive peal of thunder that, quite literally, knocked the preacher off his feet. The ketra, similarly started, dropped the mothryn. Rain began to fall; not a lot, but it was a promise of much more to come. Though it was still morning, dusk began to fall.

The preacher and ketra, as well as Tharr and the gardeners, all looked up. The clouds above them were darkening, and off to the west there was a roiling mass of nearly black thunderheads approaching at speed.

Without another word, the preacher and ketra stumbled off past the gardeners, leaving the mothryn behind, fleeing... something.

"Superstitious cowards," the ektus said, their voice musical. "They think you summoned Dajel's Folly. Maybe you did. This is her memorial." The ektus gestured at the fallen wooden monument with their shears, and Tharr made out the words:

Here is placed the memory of Dajel the Regicide, who slew four monarchs, from the Snapping Shipcatcher to Lord Pitcher, from Lady Razorbloom to Lord Lotus, and was finally felled by the Tyrant's Bloom near Sakura Port.

The tuber-infused mothryn twitched and groaned. Their eyes were glassy, and their flesh icy.

"They say Dajel's spirit became a storm," the ketra continued. "And the Spire has been plagued by a recurring mighty thunderstorm that strikes us like clockwork for fifty years, once a season. Seeing as she was a legend from here before she ran off and joined a ship of Bloomseekers, a lot of locals think she's coming back here for... something or other."

"Either way," the ektus said. "Thanks for driving them off, and you may want to seek shelter. She seems to be in a bad mood today. Maybe it was something you said." The cactus chuckled.

OOC

Tharr has accelerated the coming of the storm, spooking the preacher and accomplice. Tharr now has the tubered mothryn in his custody. He can try to yank out the tuber (it would be a Harvest test; Park would be the best at removing it), or get him to safety, or anything else

 

---

 

The Spire Itself—Atus

Atus inspectedRattle + Instinct roll: 1, 3, 5, 6. Triumph! the room in the tower, with particular focus on the lever. A moment later, he noticed the trapdoor beneath the pile of hunting trophies, and surmised that pulling the lever would drop the pile down into the mountain's interior. It may also open the door above him, but if it did, there was no evidence of it. He thought it more likely that the door had to be opened from above.

There was a massive crack of thunder that shook the Spire. The slumbering mothryn jerked awake, and peered groggily at Atus. "Who're you? Come to take over, have you?" From a small window, Atus saw that the storm was now practically sprinting toward the Spire, and their mechanical heart spun faster in anticipation. This was definitely a living storm; no weather conditions he knew would permit a storm to move like this.

Dajel's Approach: [X]-[X]-[X]!

OOC

Atus has one more action before the storm hits in full, courtesy of the twist that helped Tharr out below. The mothryn seems to be a guard of sorts, and Atus thinks he can probably commune with the storm from the base of the spire.

[Moveslikejagger]

"Thank you." Atus said simply to the guard as they let him pass the gate. When he reached the platform he knew he was high enough, but higher was always better. To feel the shifting ions up close. There was nothing quite like it. When he went inside, the confusing room with its pile of corpses and sleeping guard held no interest. He could feel the storm approaching. He wanted past the trap door and was about to wake the sleeping guard when he felt the storm shift in a most peculiar way. A peal of loud thunder, strong enough that he could feel the vibration in the floor beneath his feet, made his heart spin faster, audible, and he realized that he was out of time. The platform would have to do. The crackling electricity around him reached a new level when the guard spoke to him. Atus shook his head at the question. "It is a bad idea to come outside. It could be deadly for you." he said and left by the way he entered.

He drank in the view of the fast approaching storm in admiration. Such darkness, evoking a sense of anger and his heart span faster again. Unknown to him, above him in the sky and largely invisible against the backdrop of an overcast sky, a massive rose coloured sprite winked into existance for a heartbeat.

He felt the irresistable need to commune with the storm and his heart spun faster again as he raised his hands and answered her thunder with lightning shooting into the sky, accompanied by a crack of thunder. "That should get her attention."

 

OOC ; I am going to burn a whisper to commune with Dajel.

 

[yxanthymir]

---

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)

---

 

Afraid that this day is finally the day the sky decided to fall on his head, Park is determined to find a shelter as fast as he can. He thinks he should look for the bug butchers, and search for answers to his questions.

His determination is unwavering, as stable as a mountain. He will save Tolliver, find a cure for him and be a hero he is destined to be. A real adventurer and a fearsome explorer. That thought is engraved on his mind. He will be like an arrow, flying a straight path to his target. And he starts moving ahead one foot each time. Except as soon as he gives the third step his nostrils smell some sort of delicious cookery.

And when he regains his consciousnesses, he already deviated from his path and he is following the odor. His nose a step ahead of him indicating the path.

Actions

Option:

• Duck into the nearby building made from solid stone from which delicious-smelling smoke emanated; some sort of cookery.

 

[Dr Jackal]

Tharr looks at the mothryn. "I understand. Can you tell me about this infection? Is it urgent? I ... erred trying to solve a similar problem recently, and my crewmate is a far better harvester than I. But if time is of the essence, I will do what I must. Perhaps with your assistance?" he asks the gardeners.

 

 

 

[Morkskittar]

Deathblossom, Angler's Spire: Montage/Scenes

 

Atus—Dancing the Tempest's Waltz

Park—Eating at the Charred Mantis

Tharr—Earning his medical botany degree at the Garden of Memory and Sorrow

Tolliver—Bartering with a Tzelicrae and Ketra at the Aster's Scar

---

Charred Mantis—Park

Immediately distracted from his resolve, Park beelined toward the cookery, even the ominous clouds above him forgotten as he lost himself in the smell. It eas fortunate for his clothes that he was so eager to step inside the stone building, for not a moment after he opened the wooden door and he stepped inside, the deluge began.

Park did not notice, however, as he found himself inside a single large room full of heat. An actual, honest-to-goodness fire was roaring in the center of the room fed a constant supply of wood, leaves and aromatic herbs and spicy roots. The fire was built on a massive pit, with a gargantuan iron cauldron (it could easily have fit Park in there ten times over) suspected above it. An impenetrable cloud of steam poured from the stew inside, whisked away by a series of complex vents in the ceiling. Scaffolding had been built around the cauldron, alongside a more permanent stone platform, allowing people access to its top. Several individuals stood there, of mixed bloodlines, while others were lined up in two lines below it. Park's eye fell on the large (but not overly large) spigots at the cauldrons' bottom, their handles covered with a bright red rubbery substance. Attendants stood there, turning the handles to let stew into the bowls held by those waiting in line.

Unsurprisingly, the divine smell was coming from the stew. Park watched in fascination as chars carrying massive dishes loaded with seasoned and chopped insect parts, alongside a wide range of herbs, climbed the scaffolding and dumped their delectable cargo into the stew.

A semi-inebriated man with a bowl of steaming stew nearly stumbled into Park.

"Ah, sorry, friend! Here to get your pot of immmmmmmortal mantis stew? Been cooking for twenty seasons, they say, never stopped. Same... same mantis drake at the bottom. So god. Neverending. And free! It's all free!" He giggled. "Just gotta wait in line." Park looked at the two lines; they were so long that they curved in on themselves, and one of them even extended out the door into what Park finally registered as a torrential downpour. That did not seem to bother those waiting, though.

As the drunken man stumbled on, Park's eye fell then on a familiar site; a staircase led up to a loft overlooking the rest of the room, where a half dozen people were processing and rendering massive insectoid carcasses. It took him back to Verdurance, which, he realized, really hadn't been that long ago.

Around the edge of the room were tables for two or three, where people sat eating their stew, some in silence, some in gossip. Distracted as he was by the heavenly scent of stew, Park did catch some snippets of conversation wafted about the aromatic breeze.

• At a nearby table, a mothryn, their chin dripping with stew, was discussing the Tyrant's Bloom legend animatedly with a more dour-looking squat gau, whose stew was untouched and cooling.
• 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'?"
• At the end of the shorter line for stew (Park didn't know why one line was shorter than the other), a gaggle of ketras were talking about "replenishing the stew's stock with the mantid drake prowling about up north."

Of course, the chars standing atop the scaffolding stirring and seasoning the stew also intrigued Park. There were many possibilities before him.

---

Gardener's Shed—Tharr

The gardeners frowned. "We prefer our plants to grow in... well, either through the bark of trees or in proper soil, like here," said the ektus.

The ketra knelt by the mothryn and inspected the chest wound. "Sorry, friend, but this is more the domain of a doctor, I think. I... I'm not sure I can yank this thing out without killing them." They leaned in close. "Looks like a dahlia tuber though."

"That would be fitting," rumbled the ektus. "Those were cultists of the Tyrant's Bloom, which is said to be a dahlia, or a distant relative at least."

The sprinkles from above became a proper, light rain. Another peal of thunder rolled across the sky.

The ektus joined their ketra friend, then shook his head. "Just yank it out, I say."

The light rain became a downpour. All four of them were immediately drenched. The ketra began cursing, and the ektus scooped up the fallen mothryn. "Follow!"

Tharr did, and soon found himself out of the rain, a cup of fragrant tea in his hands, in a wooden building filled with ceramic pots and gardening tools. Firefly lanterns made the shadows of shears and rakes seem wicked and long, and the rain drummed hard on the roof of the shed. There was a small leak in one corner of the room. The fallen mothryn was lying, twitching, on the table, eyes still unfocused but now very damp. Their breathing was shallow, and their skin squirmed around the tuber.

The ketra looked to Tharr. "You saved her; your call. Your responsibility. It looks like this tuberous parasite is growing rapidly; we can try to just rip it out here and quickly staunch any bleeding... or we can go for a more... surgical approach." They nodded to a rusted machete the ektus was holding thoughtfully. "Or we can leave it in them and see what happens. Or drag them off to a proper doctor."

"I'm not sure if a doctor or gardener would be more helpful here," the ektus said morosely. "We can remove it, certainly... but I am not sure at what cost. I doubt this will kill them... physically at least. But it sems to be acting quickly. Shall we try to remove it?"

---

 

Heart of the Storm—Atus

Atus left the dazed and semi-sputtering guard behind him, shutting the door to the spire firmly out of courtesy. As the door slammed closed, the storm - Dajel - answered in kind with a roar of thunder. The rain followed, sharp, cold, and piercing, questing, obscuring his vision like a thick grey curtain. Atus' world shrank to include just him and the storm.

He initiated the conversation, or dance, with words enunciated clearly, punctuated with lightning and its sonic counterpart. The storm's response was immediate; the world turned blindingly white and so loud that it became silent. After a moment he realized that his feet were no longer on the ground; he was soaring through the air, his metallic body tingling as the storm's lightning dragged him through the air, higher and higher. He briefly glimpsed the bright light at the top of the spire as he flew up and over it, and then even it fell from sight, and all there was around him was lightning, rain, and power.

Atus had the vague sensation that he was being tossed back and forth between hands of lightning, electromagnetic forces striving to rip apart his metallic body. He kept himself together by sheer force of his will. After some time, he realized that there were patterns to the electromagnetic tugs and the rumbling of thunder. The storm was speaking to him. He loosened his mind (just a bit), and allowed the storm to speak directly to him, strumming his spirit, using his metallic body as a conduit.

"Little raincloud, why do you call to me?"

Atus could not form a reply with words; instead, he could only speak via lightning, approximating speech through releasing the energy passing through his hands, combined with focusing his thoughts; he felt the storm worm its way to the back of his mind, eavesdropping on his reflections and ruminations. Thoughts, emphasized with lightning and energy; that was how to speak to Dajel.

If it was Dajel.

---

 

Aster's Scar—Tolliver

The tzelicrae tilted their head in Tolliver's direction, and prompted him again. "Have you an offer for my chart, friend?" As if to underscore his words, thunder boomed, and the relentless drumming of rain on the roof began.

Edited April 25 by Morkskittar (see edit history)

[CraterShip]

 

The Gau tilts his head in response to the Tzelicrae's, mimicing his gesture but turning it into a thoughtful expression. An offer for a map, his mind races through what possibilities there could be, but he is unsure of what the Argos may offer that others could not. Their recent luck against the beast left them with some goods, but he doesn't want to lead with an offer just yet.

"I understand an offer has been made already?" he gestures to the now irate bidder, "It would be rude of me to make an ill-informed low offer and insult all here - perhaps I could hear the current bid? Or if there is something specific you seek?"

OOC

Looking to find out what the current offer is to see if it is something he could beat. I'm betting a particular service (i.e. go help do something for the Tzelicrae in exchange for the map) could be a better option.

Also, apologies for the late reply - just starting a new job, and in-processing has been taking up a large chunk of my time.

 

[Dr Jackal]

Tharr stares at the mothryn, paralyzed with indecision. What are the signs, the portents? Certainly they cannot find a doctor or Park, and he was a terrible harvester -- but what awaits the mothryn is certainly worse than death. "I ... I ... " Tharr stammers. Then he stops. Understanding strikes him like a thunderbolt and leaves him stunned.

The tuber is more than a plant. It's alive in ways that a plant is not.

Stop thinking of it as a potato. Think of it as a creature. You are a hunter of creatures.

"Every beast has a weak point," he whispers. Then he turns to the gardeners, all doubt having vanished. "Hand me the machete."

Without hesitation, he slices the tip off an arrow, and the green wildwood begins oozing toxic sap. He examines the bead of viscous fluid critically, then nods.

"Now, we hunt."

 

OOC: Burning a Whisper to turn this roll from Harvest to Hunt.

 

 

[Moveslikejagger]

 

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.

 

[yxanthymir]

---

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'?"

 

[Morkskittar]

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?"

Edited Wednesday at 03:04 AM by Morkskittar (see edit history)

[yxanthymir]

---

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.

 

Edited Thursday at 07:01 PM by yxanthymir (see edit history)

[CraterShip]

 

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

 

 

[Dr Jackal]

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.

 

 

 

Edited yesterday at 01:36 AM by Dr Jackal (see edit history)

[Moveslikejagger]

 

"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..