A Monster for Every Season: Summer 2
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    As the Crystal Hold Monastery drifts through the ever-changing chaos of Limbo, the Guardians of the Valiant relax after a job well done. In this case that consists of meditation in the great sand garden under the watchful eye of the Abbot, Oreko Seele. The elder Gith'Zerai balances perfectly on the end of a long bo staff and his grey braided mustaches dangle down past his chin. His eyes are closed and he hums softly to himself as his arms perform a complex series of katas.

    It is through Oreko's mighty will that the swirling chaos of Limbo is kept at bay. Outside the walls, madness reigns but within the bounds of the Crystal Hold perfect tranquility is the order of the day. Gith'Zerai students move about the grounds in a stately manner attending to the various needs of the monastery, some draw water from the very essence of the plane, through impositions of their will upon it, others scour floors and walls with sand, and a small group practices their martial skills. These do not merely bash weapons together while roaring battle cries. In fact, their conflicts are disturbingly silent and their faces are masks of iron will.

    The calm of the scene is shattered when a set of double doors are blown open by two Gith'Zerai apprentices flying bodily through them. A deep voice, like the pounding of metal, follows them "SEVEN HELLS!" Shortly, a dwarf, older than many stones can claim to be, stumps to the open doors and stands above the two apprentices who are sprawled at the foot of a flight of seven steps. The dwarf's age has hobbled him and twisted his body in knots, but he is still strong and his hair and beard are still the fiery red of his forge and his namesake. "And if either one of you pair 'o ijits even so much as thinks of putting a single toe of those candy-assed little slippers in my forge again I won't just throw ya out! I'll make you into my next blade!"

    Turning around Kargarm limps his way back inside, leaving the doors to swing silently in the swirling breezes that play across the yard, breezes that were not there before the dwarf's angry outburst. As the two Gith apprentices regain their feet, not by picking themselves up but rather by floating into the air, Kargarm can be heard shouting something about a shipment of adamantine. Clapping their hands together the apprentices summon winds to dust themselves off and, never letting their masks of calm shift, they turn and walk towards the main temple.

    Spinning on his pole, without so much as a wobble, Oreko cracks one eye to glance disapprovingly at the doors to the forge and then at the adventurers scattered about his domain. A simple gesture is all it takes for the Abbot to quietly blow the doors shut. Then, just as smoothly he turns back around and continues his exercises.

    Spoiler: OoC
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    Welcome, everybody. My wifi has graciously allowed me to write this post but I'm still not sure that I'm out of the woods just yet. However feel free to begin interacting with your surroundings, just be aware it my take me a day or two longer than I would like to get back to you.

    The Crystal Hold Monastery is a large chunk of rock floating through the plane of Limbo. It is primarily maintained by the strength of Oreko Seele's mind (see details of how in the Manual of the Planes). Within his various students and acolytes train with him to prefect their minds as well. I like to think of the place as an eastern monastery as popularly depicted in anime and other media. There is a main temple along with various other buildings (namely a forge, outbuildings, meditation shrines, ect.). Feel free to add your own bits of flair and twists in your individual posts but keep the over all aesthetic in mind.

    The Gith'Zerai are friendly towards you and Oreko sees you as valuable allies. Regardless due to their training and the need of the plane all of the Gith are rather cold and aloof. When they manipulate the plane, imagine that they are bending (as in the Avatar: The Last Airbender TV show).
    Last edited by PallentisLunam; 2017-08-30 at 09:22 PM.

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    Titan stands off to the side, silent and still as a statue, watching the Gith sparring. Completely unfazed by the Dwarf's outburst, and lacking any directive.

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    It was the morning, and Beargrom awoke before most, well, before most of his team, the Monastery was another story, acolytes regularly were up and about at all times of day, especially in the dayless limbo, still Abbott Oreko did his best with a simulacrum of a sun, allowing some normalcy to be had for those who needed it.

    He bent down next to his cot, kneeled upon the rough hewn stone and opened his blessed book.

    Quote Originally Posted by The book of Penitence, Chapter 1
    1. It is I Ferrante who is writing in this book, in hopes that my lessons and road shall encourage, and enlighten others along the way. As it is written in the codex of Analects, '27th Analect, Embolden the way for others, so that they may shine their light upon the world, and add it to your own, so your own light will be brighter for it.'
    My father emplored me to leave, having been of noble stature and birth, we were of lowly wealth, but even yet, he saved and by a chance, I was admitted to the cathedral of the village, evenso, i was to be a servant amongst the holy men, and I did accept it with all my heart.

    2. Having lost my belongings, and saying goodbye to my family, even my dear sister, I empowered my soul to do what was needed, so that I could better myself, better my surroundings, and better the world. It was a noble gesture of good will from a poor boy, but evenstill, it was found to be heard across the multitude of planes by the ever loving and most Honorable of beings, by the Great Lord himself, the Great Epitome of Honor, the Invincible Heironeous.

    3. It was that night, in the still of the evening, when all had gone to bed, that I heard it, for the presence of thy Lord God's spirit was overwhelming, I feared I was hallucinating, but I knew the truth, and trembled as a mortal boy could in my bed, stumbling, I did prostate my self upon the hard floor, that my knees hurt, and my head scratch the floor.
    Bear looked up from his book, hearing the dwarf yelling again, probably berating some more of the Gith, he frowned, his personal center had vanished, the spirit of the text as well. He closed the book gently, marking with a colorful cloth near the spine of the book where he was for next time. He was ready to berate the dwarf himself, for he surely distracted the Abbott, but an Analect came to mind.

    13th Analect, For those who seek to own beauty, will be owned themselves.

    It was a favorite of his, and stood for a great many meanings, his old Archdiocese had told him it was about turning the other cheek, and being the better person, but every time after that, he managed to forage a new meaning out of it, and when asked why that was, he replied with "Thats why it's such a great one, it means something different each time you need it!"

    He smiled a fond smile as he stood up from his knees, dusting them off, and making sure his attire was appropriate, he did not wear his armor, as was usual, it was neatly resting on the wooden mannequin that held them when not in use. His glaive rested on its mount on the wall, the only thing on him was his throwing axe, and that was just in case. Moving to the door, he went outside to meet the dwarf, and prepared an appropriately admonishing analect, having already forgotten his own.

    He stood in the courtyard, nodded to the giant, and aptly named, Titan, who was sitting like a dog awaiting a command. He found it strange sometimes, he'd tried to get some conversation out of the construct, but it was hard, he put it up to lack of 'something up there', but he wasn't too sure, either way, he wasn't going to stop trying, but not now, another time perhaps. He looked for the dwarf, and did not find him, but heard him talking about an adamantine shipment. Probably not a good time to admonish a dwarf. But when was there?

    He smiled to himself as he looked onwards to the Abbott, appreciating the Gith not for the first, or last time. It was because of him, his ability, and sheer will power that they were here at all. The Pheasant and Greystone had both tried to explain it to him, but he just couldn't grasp it, he did understand will power, and that always seemed to be the crux of the conversation, this Gith, had it in droves. He was the Abbott.

    Speaking of which, where was everyone else. He thought, looking around.
    Last edited by BelGareth; 2017-08-31 at 07:59 AM.
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    The Pheasant rounds a corner -- walking, unlike so many of the githzerai -- just in time to see the apprentices' expulsion. He laughs cheerfully at the lack of expression on their faces. "Like a cat that failed a jump. Huh! That's what this monastery is missing -- a cat! Guess that's a consequence of not having any mice you don't conjure yourself."

    He spies Beargrom and walks in his direction. "Good morning, sir. You look well." The demonhunter is faring better himself, the marks from the beholders' vile eye rays healing quickly under the tender ministrations of the Temple healer. That ancient gith woman can't be convinced to explain her methods to sapients who were not of The People, but she is able to harness her patients' belief toward curing them of all manner of ills. "I may laugh, but I have to admit, I'd give a lot for the equanimity shown by even the lowliest apprentice here. It's so ... healthy. And it can't be easy to maintain in the face of a furious dwarf. What had Kargarm so upset this time?"
    Last edited by Dimers; 2017-09-03 at 02:26 AM.
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    The blow comes from his right, at around thirty five degrees of inclination toward his elbow. Easy to block. After this, Greystone hits the ectoplasmic creature with a sequence of blows, grapples it and turns it around, sending it to fly against the other one, while the third attacks him from below. Easy to block, but a loud rumor, like doors banging, distracts him for a brief moment, and the creature is able to uppercut the warforged; the blow makes a scratching noise, as the formless ectoplasmic substance covering Greystone is blown to pieces by the ectoplasmic fist, sending him flying toward the endless ceiling.

    "That must be the dwarf, or a Slaadi invasion. But Slaadi don't shout."

    Stopping himself, Greystone wills a door out of the formless void where he stands, and step out of his training rooms. At times, he's still not sure of how Oreko exactly was able to fixate this place out of Greystone mind: a place carved out from limbo, but still following its rules, where directions are non-existant, and where he can freely expend his psionic power without losing it, but he still remembers the Abbot's words, at least his version of them: "Remember, Greystone, if you want to bring your art at the greatest peaks, you must be able to see forms where form is negated. bringing order out of chaos is the trueless form of creation."

    Reflecting on his work until now, and to how he needs to be able to fend off every attack even when surprised, the mystical warforged seeks his companions, and join them, trying one of his many tentative approaches at humor. "I feared a Slaadi invasion, but realized they would be quieter than Kargram"
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    Barney was doing his usual training regiment. This time it was flying high in the air above the fortress while shadowing fighting. Now as shadows mimic your every deed it is hard indeed to block their blows. But with Barney's speed and skill even that was possible.

    Barney could hear shouting, he stopped, wiped sweat from his brow, and then glided gently down back at the fortress.

    "So, was this an invasion or just those gith causing trouble, " Barney said to no one in particular.
    Looking around, he eventually ran into Titan while looking for the others.

    "How's it going friend, doing good? "

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    Titan looks at Barney for second then returns it's gaze to the sparring Gith. Still operational. You?

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    Reclin was unhappy. He stumbled in from the resting quarters, his rest disturbed by the commotion in the monastery yard. His head ached from drinking too much Acheronian razorwine the evening before, and he'd nearly bubbed 'til the pitcher was empty. "Will you sodding berks keep it down? A body can hardly kip a moment's rest!" he shouted to the assemblage.

    Ugh. Limbo, he thought to himself. the only plane more boring than being becalmed on the Astral Sea. For perhaps the hundredth time since joining the Maggots, he wished he were back in command of the Deus Ex Machina, nicking riches and spending them in a Sigil brothel. Nine Hells, Reclin would have settled for a planar sextant, or even an obsidian steed, anything to get him back in the game and living the freewheeling lifestyle he'd lost.

    He glanced around the grounds, watching the Abbot and the githzerai dust themselves off. A tedious lot, all training and meditation, barely able to conjure up a worthwhile conversation or spin a tale over a dram of Elysian absinthe. Still, they'd treated the party well, and were honorable to a fault. They just weren't any fun.

    Speaking of no fun, he spotted Beargrom and Titan. Fearsome warriors, both, though one was stiffer than an iron golem and the other probably was an iron golem. He'd seen Titan trample a salamander, and Beargrom have cut a beholder asunder in midair, though. All things considered, he'd rather have them on his side. Plus, Beargrom had given him a chance when he was destitute and in need of work. Without the mineral warrior, he'd likely still be hiding from The Planar Trade Consortium. Limbo was dull, but it was safe.

    Greystone was nearly the opposite of his construct brother in terms of his capacity to speak on a wide array of subjects, though Reclin found him nearly as dour. The creature was fascinating, but strange, and a bit standoffish. He'd traveled the Astral Plane, perhaps for even longer than Reclin had, and Reclin felt as though he'd been doing that since before there were tieflings. More to the point, he could turn a berk into solid crystal with a sodding thought, which was one of the most impressive and terrifying things Reclin had ever borne witness to.

    Reclin spied The Pheasant and Barney congregating with the rest of the "Guardians of the Valiant." The two had apparently worked together on some sort of investigation, though Reclin only heard the barest of details about it. At least those two could carry on a conversation Barney was a bit unnerving at times, and Reclin had overheard something about his cultish origins. The planar corsair had never seen a Celestial type skulk about as much, especially one as righteously inclined, but at least he chat to pass the interminable time here in Limbo. The Pheasant was a strange bird himself, but so irrepressibly charming, Reclin couldn't stop himself from enjoying his company. The two had similar backgrounds, and were both self-made men, more or less. And the only true humans in the bunch. Reclin had chosen a less academic path, and undoubtedly a more self-serving one, but the blond witch hunter was fiercely opinionated, which made him a fine interlocutor.

    "You drank too much last night. Again." hissed Szip, Reclin's imp familiar. "I remember you drank too much when the crew left you for dead near the City of Brass.
    The rakshasa bosun didn't even have to knock you out when..."


    "Szip, I liked you more when you were invisible. And silent. My head is aching. Do be a good familiar and sod off for bit. Better yet, bring me some water. I'll need it if I'm not going to dry out like a dust mephit." The imp faded from view, scurrying off to serve his master.

    Reclin strode up to the rest of the group, his thumb and forefinger rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Good to see Kargram is still in a fine mood. What do you lot reckon is hotter, his forge or his temper?"

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    Quote Originally Posted by CozJa View Post
    The mystical warforged seeks his companions, and join them, trying one of his many tentative approaches at humor. "I feared a Slaadi invasion, but realized they would be quieter than Kargarm."
    "Hah! Yes, though if it were an invasion, our hosts might join in the noisemaking. Spend some of the meager savings from their vocalization bank."

    Quote Originally Posted by Postmodernist View Post
    Reclin strode up to the rest of the group, his thumb and forefinger rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Good to see Kargram is still in a fine mood. What do you lot reckon is hotter, his forge or his temper?"
    "Temper, no question. That old boy doesn't need fire in his craft, he can just glare and snarl at the iron and it goes 'eek!' and shapes itself how he likes." The Pheasant seems to be in a playful mood, ready to skewer any target's nonsense. Though as usual, he seems more satisfied with silence and respect when he faces Beargrom. Judging from how they have acted in the recent crusade, the Pheasant seems to strive toward something immaterial that the stony warrior achieves.
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    As the Gith'Zerai go about their business, sparring, meditating, cleaning, and all the various other tasks associated with keeping the monastery running, and the Guardians of the Valiant assemble, the riotous explosion of chaos that is Limbo writhes overhead. It is by parts beautiful, terrifying, and utterly befuddling all in turn. Without a mind to guide it the matter of the plane forms into various arrangements both simple and complex.

    The kaleidoscope twirls endlessly overhead in a cosmic dance with no rhythm or steps. A body of water slams into a rolling ball of magma instantly vaporizing into a cloud of steam through which a blazing patch of sky shines to create a rainbow whose colors are out of order. A great boulder weathers away to dust in an instant and from the dust grows a strange blue orange plant thing which seems to devour the rainbow, only to be lit afire by the light which fed the rainbow. The plant burns with a flame that starts purple and fades to black until it is impossible to tell flame from smoke. Then the tendrils of smoke twist and pull together until it seems that dozens of diamonds twinkle softly overhead.

    And all of this is just one corner of the "sky" as it is over the Crystal Hold. Occasionally the chaos presses closer to the domain of the monastery and is forced back. Rocks and oceans and flames, all in turn, come streaking towards the island of calm only to be intercepted by other bits of Limbo or be repulsed at the last moment. Even with the calm that the Gith'Zerai exude, or perhaps because of it, it feels as though the monastery is balanced just on the rim of madness.

    Spoiler: OoC
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    My situation seems to have stabilized, so feel no need to wait on me if there's something you would like to do.

    Alternatively, I'm happy to let the party continue to interact among themselves and developing more about the relationships between characters

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    Bear looks as each member was seemingly aroused from their activities, and came into view one at a time, each seeing Titan, and greeting him. He smiled, they formed a ragtag team, but they could be effective, each in their own way.

    He nodded greeting to those who caught his eyes, standing relaxed in the court yard room, his gaze moved upwards to the chaos of Limbo itself, and once again, he marveled at the will power of the Abbott, who was able to maintain this little island of Law amongst the roiling chaos outside.

    Staring into the abyss of Limbo itself gave him indigestion, turned his stomach into knots. It just...felt wrong. It was counter to all he was, and all he believed. No wonder he liked this place, not so much the outside, and he avoided staring too much, beyond the veil of the monastery.

    "No invasion my friends, the great smith Kargam is in a foul mood it would seem, perhaps we can cheer his spirits this day?" He spoke to no one in particular as he moved towards the door the dwarf has slammed, seeking him out. Perhaps a request for some work might calm his mind? he thought to himself as he followed the cursing and bellowing of the dwarf.

    "MASTER KARGAM" he bellows out as he moves inside, getting the dwarves attention, or trying to, it was hard to outshout an angry dwarf, and this old coot was no exception, sometimes, bear thought the dwarfs magic with crafting was half shouting.
    "I have a high art; I hurt with cruelty those who would damage me." -Archilochus
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    Titan looks at Barney for second then returns it's gaze to the sparring Gith. Still operational. You?
    "Well, there is a creek in his left shoulder, but that will go away. Be seeing you later."

    Reclin strode up to the rest of the group, his thumb and forefinger rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Good to see Kargram is still in a fine mood. What do you lot reckon is hotter, his forge or his temper?"

    "Oh, his forge wishes it was burning as hot. Kargram makes the finest gear, but he needs to learn patience. Or train his Gith friends better. Still can't believe he wasn't mauled them with his anger."

    Barney said contemplating the situation.

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    Looking around as all the group is assembling, Greystone remembers something he heard from a sculptor he met years ago in a far away village, some Psim, or Primm, he can't remember names very well, not as much as words, at least. He told him that every act of art was a mirror in the very nature of reality, capable of bringing out some rarely observed angle of what we see and live.
    Looking at his companions, a so different group of people put together in the most unexpected way, but still capable of working together and overcoming obstacles as a single, voctorious, entity, reminds him of Limbo, and the very monastery they are living in now: a splendid metaphor of order brought out from chaos, from the most improbably divisive and wild chaos!
    "I'll tell them of how I see us, but probably another time." he thinks, following Beargrom head as he shouts to the dwarf armorer.

    "A good idea, I'm still thinking he may be able to improve my plating, but I'm not sure I want to spend time in a room alone with Kargam and his hammer."
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    The heat inside the forge is sweltering. The building's think stone walls allow none of it to escape except high above through the thin, overhung apertures in the roof designed to keep the place free of choking smoke. The Gith'Zerai apprentices working here under Kargarm's watchful eyes and skillful guidance are stripped to the waist and their yellow-orange skin glistens with sweat. Even the light robes that the ascetics normally wear would be stifling in the heat.

    The space itself at first glance would appear to be a cluttered mess with tools and half wrought bits of craftsmanship scattered about on every surface. But a closer inspection reveals that every tool is carefully laid and each project is precisely governed. Despite appearances there is not a single item that is not exactly as Kargarm wishes it to be. And at the moment the master himself is living up to Bear's suspicions.

    The aged dwarf is bent over a thin strut of metal, with his fiery beard slung over his shoulder, and he is carefully and laboriously drawing out and then twisting the cherry red strut. Of course while he is doing this he is also bellowing at an apprentice two tables over, calling for more heat to be summoned in the forge, cursing at the strut itself, and, explaining to a monk at his elbow what it is he is doing.

    When Bear calls his name Kargarm looks up the heat of the metal reflected in his clear blueish-grey eyes. Handing the tongs to his assistant Kargarm tells him to keep on. "Don let it get too hot. T'll lose shape and be worthless," he growls glaring at his pupil. The old artificer then turns and hobbles towards Beargrom. His gait is pained and uneven, a souvenir of his time under the salamanders. "'Choo want, sha?" he asks Bear his demeanor taking on an aspect of grandfatherlyness as he adresses the paladin, cantankerous and no nonsense grandfatherlyness, but kind and familial nonetheless.

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    Bear smiled as he surveyed the scene before him, it was chaos, true, but organized chaos, which is something he could relate. He heard Greystone follow him, and nodded silently to the construct as he did so, turning his head slightly to indicate his acknowledgement.

    He thought of an analect, one that was about disturbing an angry dwarf, something about not to do so. But he thought about more out of amusement than anything, yes, this particular dwarf was angry, but he was also kin to Bear, having saved the man from the dereliction's of the Evil Salamanders, there was a bond that broached the racial boundaries they had, and he used it now, as his mantle against the smithies wrath for prying to deep.

    Smiling he nodded as he spoke "I was going to ask you the same thing Master Dwarf." in a knowing way, bound to make anyone who was angry, angrier, because they knew what he meant.

    "Perhaps you can join me for some brew, I'm sure the Pheasant and Reclin haven't drank it all" he continues, with a warm smile of understanding. "Then, and I am aware this is un-dwarf like, you can tell me what is wrong." it was more like a command and less a suggestion, like that of a grandson to his ailed grandfather, even still, the invitation to drink should loosen the invitation somewhat.
    "I have a high art; I hurt with cruelty those who would damage me." -Archilochus
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    “Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark, what discord follows!” -Shakespeare

    “Gnyðja mundu nú grísir, ef þeir vissi, hvat inn gamli þyldi”
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    Kargarm waves a dismissive hand at Bear. "Pshaw! Go have a drink while these ijits have the run of my forge? Get on!" The dwarf begins to turn away but then he notices the look in Beargrom's eye and gives an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, if ya won let this be I'll come share a drink with ya. Get on and gather the rest. I'm sure you'll get 'em mixed up in this too." Kargarm gestures to the door and turns back to bark and growl a last few orders and threats at both the Gith and his projects.

    Not long later Kargarm appears in the dinning hall where Bear, and anyone one else who wanted to hear the old smith out, are waiting. Firebrow removes the leather strap that serves to keep his hair out of his eyes and to catch his sweat and lays it on the table beside his place as he sits down. He accepts a tankard from Bear and polishes it off in one go, taking another before he begins his story. "I've been swindled, sha," he says with a growl. "Paid good craft for a shipment of mountain's seed from an efreeti in Rigus, and its more than two weeks late. Least ways I think it is... Damn this place and its infernal lack o' proper stone. Back home I could tell day 'n night jes by layin hands on the wall of a cave. Seasons too! I swear, there's nothing to this place, jus the Abbott's damned will." The air grows warmer as Kargarm speaks, his frustration literally rolling off of him in waves of heat. Mountain's seed is a reference to a very old dwarvish legend that tells of how the gods grew mountains out of seeds of adamantine, just like oaks are grown out of acorns. "Bah, some days I wish ya hadn't saved me, sha. A'least back then these things were other folks headaches," Kargarm says with a wry smile and takes another swig of brew.
    Last edited by PallentisLunam; 2017-09-05 at 10:28 PM.

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    Quote Originally Posted by BelGareth View Post
    "Perhaps you can join me for some brew, I'm sure the Pheasant and Reclin haven't drank it all"
    "Heh, no, and not for lack of opportunity," pipes up the Pheasant from the entryway. He strides in looking eager. "Gotta save my trade value for the master's goods. Are the--"

    Quote Originally Posted by PallentisLunam View Post
    "Fine, if ya won let this be I'll come share a drink with ya. Get on and gather the rest. I'm sure you'll get 'em mixed up in this too."
    "They're just outside, Mastermaker. Your explosion broke up a three-day streak of sheer boredom. We all came hoping for some trouble." Pheasant's impish smile shows that he's taking the situation lightly, and he falls in place behind the more serious pair on the way to the dining hall.

    The human does enjoy a strong drink now and again, but supping from his Horn of Plenty erodes the attraction that alcohol holds. The Horn's own drink is refreshing and heartening but doesn't sicken the guts, and anyway, it's impossible to get drunk for quite a few hours before the magic wears off. A blessing or a curse, depending on where you stand.

    Listening to Kargarm's troubles, the Pheasant holds back his query about the recently commissioned rings. Soon enough, soon enough.
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    Titan follows silently, other than the occasional cracking of the ground below foot and knuckles, to the dinning hall, a place Titan has only been to twice before, and listens intently to the dwarf's problem. Collect misplaced material? Titan says with a cocked head.

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    Entering Kargarm forge always brings up strange sensations to Greystone: it's like peering into a stream of reminiscenses all tied together so tightly that none of them is clearly aviable, but all of them are present nonetheless; with them, a feeling comes, like revisiting the places of his infancy, if such a thing exist for warforged: the heat of the fire, the clanging of the hammer onto the anvil, the scent of burned carbon and metal, the heavy air that makes everything look diluted... all those sensations act together to distract the psion, as he tries to grasp one thing missing from his memory, a glimpse of something he hasn't got a single clue: the source of his mental powers.
    As Beargrom and the dwarf discuss, Greystone follows them as much as possible, somewhat lost in his thoughts, and is relieved (but somewhat saddened) to leave the place when the group decides to look for another drink.

    When they are all sitting down, looking at each other and their glasses, Greystone consumes a couple of different drinks, one coming from a far away place called Mt. Celestia, the "Blissful Dominion", while the other is an ale distilled by the Azer dwarves. Warforged cannot be intoxicated, but they still have the ability to "taste", for some strange reason, and Greystone is always happy to take advantage of this, trying every substance he can get his hands on, to discover what he really likes.

    "So, are we supposed to act as a multiverse delivery service?" He asks to the Dwarf, then answering to his last remark "I'm sure we can bring you back to the Salamanders, if you really want so." He tries to smile, but facial expressions are not part of the warforged typical package, at least not recognizable facial expressions.
    Does this poster have a sign?

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    Bear was smiling.

    On the inside.

    Never smile when sitting with an angry dwarf you are attempting to console. It wasn't an analect, but it should be, definitely a life lesson.

    Words to live by.

    He listened as the dwarf told them of his woes, and to his surprise, his companions chimed in. He was about to respond in kind when Greystone made jest of the dwarfs plight, as if it were a joking matter. He turned and his mouth opened ajar, hung like a door swinging in the breeze.

    Shaking himself awake, he turned back to the dwarf, "Perhaps we can." he admitted, "We're all feeling cooped up here anyway, and a shipment the likes you are talking about is not cheap, whoever stole it must be either stupid, or stupidly powerful."
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    Kargarm fixes Greystone with a flinty glare. A spark of razor sharp wit dances in his eyes as he speaks, "Ya know, there are days that I feel self conscious about my desires to figure out how you and Titan tick. And then there are days when I would love to open you up and see. Can you guess what kind of day it is?" While the words are harsh they are said with the same tenor of a parent threatening to damage an unruly but well loved child.

    "It's true some of ya've said more than once that you're bored to tears here. Either way, it's my money says I'll never see that shipment or my craft that paid for it, but if you've got nothing better to do you can go ask questions. Even powerful genies are forced to treat adventurers with respect." Kargarm looks around at the collected faces, mortal and machine alike, and sighs. "For the days when I could settle such things for myself," He says aloud stroking his beard. "The bastard's name is Varachus. He is a merchant, of sorts, who makes his home in the Outlands. Why he chose to cheat me I have no idea."

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    Titan nods, then scans across everyone present. "Objective parameters?"

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    The Pheasant listens intently to the mastersmith's words, smiling briefly at the mention of boredom.

    Quote Originally Posted by Eric Scott View Post
    Titan nods, then scans across everyone present. "Objective parameters?"
    "Yes ... among other things, where in the Outlands? Not that 'where' has such a reliable meaning there. Do you know the route the shipment was taking?"

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    My character probably knows much more than I do about this topic. Knowledge (the planes): (d20+16)[26]
    Last edited by Dimers; 2017-09-12 at 11:36 PM.
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    "How long have you known this, Varachus?", Barney wondered.
    "Did you have past dealings with him that may have ended on wrong foot?"

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    Bear listens as before, as he usually does. Everyone knows, when bear speaks, its because he's weighed all his options, and is speaking only because it is needed.

    He nods sagely, as if taking everything in, and indeed, that was what he was doing. The group had been happy to have some down time, especially after rescuing Kargam, but they were getting cooped up, and this Limbo...was not a place that Bear liked much, or at all. He preferred solid ground below him, not a sea of chaos.

    He smiled with his towards the dwarf, a reassuring smile between friends, and associates a like, he hoped the dwarf wouldn't take it the wrong way, for they were eerily similar in disposition, except, when the dwarf lost his temper.

    He nodded at Barney and Pheasant's questions. Good questions.

    "Indeed, knowing exactly where will be important, but I'm sure the fine minds of my companions will be up to the task."
    he turns to them "I am no learn'ed scholar, what can you tell me of Efreeti and their kin? I know evil when I hear it, but I have no more information than a layman knows about his Lord and Savior."

    Turning back to Kargam, he nods "We'll take care of this for you, and recover your debt as well, the planes have laws just as well as everywhere else." he says with grim determination, then downs his tankard, slamming it on the table, as if the decision had been made.
    Last edited by BelGareth; 2017-09-14 at 03:37 PM.
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    “Gnyðja mundu nú grísir, ef þeir vissi, hvat inn gamli þyldi”
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    Quote Originally Posted by Dimers View Post
    "Yes ... among other things, where in the Outlands? Not that 'where' has such a reliable meaning there. Do you know the route the shipment was taking?"
    "I figured it would go from Rigus to Xaos and then find its way here. But my payment made the details Varachus' problem so I didn't pay them much mind."

    Quote Originally Posted by Starbuck_II View Post
    "How long have you known this, Varachus?", Barney wondered.
    "Did you have past dealings with him that may have ended on wrong foot?"
    "He helped supply the salamanders that you lot rescued me from. Made several offers to buy my freedom in exchange for a few decades of service. I always turned him down. Never liked him, but he seemed honorable enough. I never thought he would cheat me. Bad for business."



    Turning to Bear Kargarm reaches out and knocks his tankard on its side. It is one of the odder dwarvish customs, performed only by close friends, kind of like a clap on the arm and a handshake rolled into one. A sign of gratitude and the sealing of a deal. "It's good ta have family again," the old dwarf says glancing around at everyone.
    Last edited by PallentisLunam; 2017-09-14 at 11:09 PM.

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    Quote Originally Posted by PallentisLunam View Post
    "It's good ta have family again," the old dwarf says glancing around at everyone.
    The Pheasant blushes slightly as he turns down his head and smiles. Any words from him would sully the moment, but his body language says his heart is warmed with something much stronger than whiskey.
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    Quote Originally Posted by PallentisLunam View Post
    Turning to Bear Kargarm reaches out and knocks his tankard on its side. It is one of the odder dwarvish customs, performed only by close friends, kind of like a clap on the arm and a handshake rolled into one. A sign of gratitude and the sealing of a deal. "It's good ta have family again," the old dwarf says glancing around at everyone.
    Barney said aloud, "To family!"

    Waiting for a brief moment, "On another note, should we visit Varachus now?"

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    Reclin was sullen and silent during much of the conversation, slaking his thirst with several tankards of Blissful Dominion. He tried not to roll his eyes at Kargarm. Efreeti aren't genies. That forge has cooked his brains. he thought to himself. Wait, yes they are. I thought he said "djinn." Swob me bob, this is good stuff. His brain finally kickstarted, he began putting the pieces in place.

    He wiped his chin with his sleeve, before finally speaking up. "'ats definitely odd. Efreeti are right bastards, but they tend to be honorable ones, near to a fault. City o' Brass wouldn't be the charming place it is without that lot at least honoring contracts. I don't know this Varachus, and I'm disinclined to defend one of those brimstone billowing blowhards, but do you reckon there are any other possibilities about what happened to your shipment?
    Aye, he may have cheated you, but he might be dead or robbed himself. Given my,"
    Reclin cast a quick glance Beargrom, "former profession, I know the planes are riddled with berks looking to make a quick copper, even if it means incurring the ire of the angriest dwarf ever to swing a hammer, save perhaps Gendwar Argrim." Reclin cast a mirthful grin and a wink at Kargarm, elbowing Titan in the "ribs" as he did so. He grimaced slightly as his effort failed to have the intended effect, rubbed his elbow with his free hand, and took another swig of ale.

    "As for this little 'family' paying him a visit, I've been been nearly mad with boredom the past few... however long we've been here. I'd be up to go nearly anywhere to gawk at something other than floating nonsense and sallow-skinned Githzaerai." He looked around at each of his companions for a moment, before continuing. "Lads, if'n we are a family, given the variety seated at this table, I'd wager our mum is likely the randiest jinkskirt who's ever peeled a gully!"

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    Kargarm rolls his eyes at Reclin's humor but smiles in spite of himself quickly covering it with a glower. "Don't worry, sha, you're adopted, he says trying to be stern by his mask cracks on the last word and his mouth turns ever so slightly up at the corners. "But, I suppose you're right. I don't really know that Varachus has cheated me. I just know that he has my craft and I have no adamantine."

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