Lattimer shrugs - near as he could tell, there wasn't much to be said in favor of one bunk over any other, but if it helped his mate play... "Alright, as you wish. For the bunks then..." Lattimer pays about as much attention to his cards as before, which isn't necessarily inattentive - he's played the game more times than he could count.
OOC: Sure, roll below. Also, was the "Garric" intro a typo, or intentional?
a wide grin breaks as Carric flips the last card, winning by just one point. "Gonna sleep good tonight" He says with a coy grin, he then gathers his cards back up, shuffling them in a different manner than before ((the perceptive would notice he's counting them as he does, and seems to be stacking the deck a bit)). "Hopefully this is the beginning of a hot streak, I believe I'm going to go back below decks and see if I can't win something a little more substantial. Thank you for the time, we'll have plenty of time to even the score it looks" He scans the horizon before standing up, offering the man another handshake. Then he gives a nod to the woman scanning the decks, and makes his below, in hopes of lightening the pocket weight of any crew man or passenger he can.
Lattimer thinks himself clever in the way he selects his cards, playing off his opponent's expectations. Yet he evidently mis-estimated how well-practiced his opponent was, and finds himself at the losing end of the round by the end. He breathes in sharply through his teeth, and shakes his head. "For some reason, that hurts more than by any right it should. Ah well, my bunk is yours!" He gives a short little laugh. "Funny thing, you're the second one of our group who seems rather preoccupied with the bunks!" He points his thumb over towards the gnome on deck. "Snigbovlin's been mighty concerned about securing the right one. I think it's a height thing..." He waves over to Snigbovlin. "Hey, pal, you wanna get in on the action? We're bunk-betting!" He gives another short laugh.
Carric stops in his tracks, and turns back to their makeshift table, scooting another barrel over for a third seat, "I guess I can wait to turn the crew against me, and the bunks going to be the most important thing on this trip" Garric says with another smile, waving the gnome over to the table. He then looks at the red haired girl from before, and hollers up to her "you're welcome to join too my ladyship" he turns back to Lattimer and whispers "the more choices I have the better"
((ooc oh yeah the Garric intro was an accident, one I'll probably make a couple more times lol))
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Snigbovlin has been observing the interactions on the deck, content to occasionally imagine what his future might hold, and to plan the things he might need. Too much to do, and only two weeks to do it. So little time. Eventually his eye is drawn to the child, and he notices that she is doing exactly what he is doing: watching, planning, and taking her time. He studies her more closely, forced to reappraise her, "Well, that's one to keep an eye on. Got her wits about her. Too young for this life, though." God's did I say that!? Oh dear. I should apologise.
He is about to approach her an introduce himself when he hears Lattimer mention his name. He pauses mid-stride and, smiling happily, he walks over to the group. "Bunks you say? Hmmph. I am happy with my bunk. So what benefit in a game of chance, hmm?"
He turns to Lattimer, and says in the best portentous voice he can manage, "'He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.'." Then he shrugs, "I think that's right. It's a long time since I read that sort of book." (( Performance: 15 ))
Turning to Lattimer's companion he says, "Snigbovlin, adviser, factotum and...no" his shoulders sag a little, then rise again, "Master of artifice, and seeker after Hidden Knowledge."
He holds out his hand. "Am I to assume that you are another of those seeking a new life?"
"That would be a safe assumption. A name freely given deserves one in return, My name is Carric Galanodel" He takes the gnome's hand and gives it a solid shake. "I too study the arcane, but more in the traditional sense. I have always wanted to see an artificer in action, I've heard many stories of the unique way your kind works the weave. As for the betting, I'm open to any stakes you can think, for knowing when not to fight is all well and good, but doesn't make the fight any less fun". The elf lets out a chuckle, and begins dealing the cards, putting aside an extra hand in case the young girl decides to join in
Snigbovlin ponders a moment. Information. Knowledge. The best coin! No harm in sharing the wealth. Yes...a fine solution.
"One thing matters among would-be companions: trust." he glances around to see how the others react. "And trust may only be gained through understanding and experience."
He puts his hands on the cards but does not pick them up, waiting for agreement from his companions. "I'd wager that whoever loses the hand must answer a single question from whoever won the hand most convincingly? What is asked and how you answer will tell each of us much."
Carric lets out a proper laugh, he likes the gnomes style. "Hmm... An interesting proposal. I'm game, but I'd like to add the condition that we all have the right to turn down a question, and instead offer something we believe to be of equal interest. No sense in poking each other somewhere... sensitive" He looks both of his companions briefly in the eyes, "agreed??"
"Hmmm. Embarrassment, yes..." he pauses, frowning, then continues. "Hmph. I think refusal to answer is information enough, but for my part, I will try to answer. An obscure answer is still an answer -- perhaps explain why it is relevant, yes?"
I don't want to know about their childhood pets. "Make it relevant, but agreed."
Natton keeps "drawing" his picture as the group of his future co-workers forms up and begins chatting while playing cards. He do finishes up a few more details before gently rolling up his parchment and putting it away in his bag he carries around with him. He stands up and groans a bit when his body creaks in protest. Assuming an older body sure did have its detriments. He begins approaching the group and notices the young women standing off a bit. He approaches her instead of the card players. It was time for a hands-on approach.
He sets his arms against the railing and looks out across the ocean before saying before turning to Wyldfire with a smile and says, "The name's Natton, m'good lady. If you don't mind me asking, what do you bring to the team?" He realizes that sounded a little offensive as he basically asked her worth. He winces at his blunder and then angrily reels around mentally to his other personalities. That wasn't how Natton would have phrased that, so he forcefully suppresses his other personas. It is MY turn to be in charge, he savagely thinks to the other identifies. He feels them back off, and a small surge of satisfaction at his commands rush through him before he turns back to the conversation.
Snigbovlin cautiously picks up the cards after trying frantically to remember the rules of the game, "It's been a long time since I played this..." he says, glancing at his companions occasionally as they play the hand. At one point he seems to be lost in thought. Odd cards. He spends a little time examining a card closely before asking, "What are they made of? Special, they seem."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Lattimer int check: 18
Lattimer plays his hand with a mild degree of attention; he was not exactly a pro at the game - dice were more his usual game of choice - but knew that luck more often than skill would win the day. When his cards come up scoring higher than Snigbovlin, he's not particularly surprised, but also not particularly proud.
Wyldfyre glances over at the men playing cards and is about to respond as Natton introduces himself. "So much attention," she thinks to herself, "well, we will likely all be working together, so may as well get to know everyone." She smiles at Natton, "Pleased to meet you, Natton," as she jumps down from her perch on the crates, giving a formal curtsey, then walking over to him extending a hand, "my given name was lost years ago, people call me Wyldfyre. As to what I bring to the team, hmmm," cocking her head to the side, "the captain would be upset with me if I demonstrate, because fire and ships do not mix. But, in short, if it can burn, I can turn it to ash." She lets out a giggle, "come, my newfound friend," trying to take his arm, "let's go meet the others."
You're not the only one who has lost their name, he thinks forlornly. Natton shakes her hand. His handshake is firm and a bit tight. He is a bit surprised at her friendliness, but lets her take his arm. With a polite smile, he escorts her over to the other people. He sees that they are in the middle of a card game, so he doesn't disturb them until they finish up their round. He just does that awkward hurdle standing near them and watching the cards being played.
With that he dusts himself off, gathers his pack and bow, and heads off with Lattimer, walking briskly to keep up. When they reach the boat he introduces himself to the captain, and goes below decks to find a suitable bunk, leaving a sack with his bedroll, tinderbox, and torches tied to the bed. After settling in he goes in search of the captain and inquires if he has any maps of the new continent that he might examine during the journey. If so, he tries to commit them to memory or, if the captain permits (and will allow him access to tools), copy them.
The captain, busy at the helm, shakes his head. "All my maps I keep on the inside," he tells the little gnome. "I've been sailing this route many times the past few months. Though if your looking to take a gander at what Aikrela looks like, Topsy can help you out." He gestures to the dwarven first-mate beside him.
The dwarf lets out a grunt and a nod, then leads you off the ships aftcastle into the captains cabin. The cabin is well decorated with sheets of red silk, various navigation tools, weapons, and artifacts hanging on the wall. On the left side, above the wide bed with silken sheets, is a tapestry nearly five feet wide of a single-sail ship mountain a high wave during a rainstorm. The rear of the room has several windows to let in the daylight, one of them cracked open to allow the salty air to fill the room. Standing at a large cedar table near the center of the room, his nose barely peeking over the top, is a gnome dressed in heavy sailing leathers. Upon his left eye is a monacle that serves as a magnifying glass. As you enter the room, the first mate right behind you, you see the gnome measuring one of several maps upon the table with a compass and a caliper.
"Oi, Topsy, you got a map for this guest of ours? 'e be wantin' to see what Aikrela looks like," the dwarf barks out loudly, ensuring that the gnomish navigator can hear him.
Looking up from the map, his monocle falling to his neck, secured by a single chain attached to his brown leather skullcap, the gnome looks you over. "An adventurer, then, yes, must be one looking to get 'imself killed. Well maybe I can delay that just a bit, even if only for a bit." Setting down his tools he shuffles through a few of the maps in a stack on the table beside him. Here's one. Copy it, yes, copy it well, as I need the original back. Won't need it for a few days, though, until we get close. You want to stay safe, stay inside the lines of Laroand. You want to die quickly, go explore outside. You'll see there is much more of one than the other." He hands over a map of the continents topography. Only a few small markings are made upon it where settlements have been established.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As evening falls, some of the crew become interested in the game of cards. Throughout the night, more than a few of them have added their coin to the pile.
Franklyn: 7
Alessio: 2
Sauli: 2
All three of them give their coin to the card winners pouch, grumbling about wanting to win it back before the voyage is over.
Off in another corner, some of the members not currently stationed keep themselves busy with a game of dice. They are playing pairs, where three dice are rolled and the highest pair wins the pot. No pair adds to the pot double the ante. 1 silver a play, 2 silver for no doubles. If two people roll the same double, the higher of the third die wins the pot.
Bjoern: 4, 2, 5,
Elridge: 3, 4, 5,
Adolph: 4, 5, 2,
Laiael: 5, 2, 4,
Laiael, the half-elf, laughs as he takes the first pot, gaining himself 5 silver pieces.
As Wyldfyre and Natton approach the card playing trio, "And a formal hello, all," she announces, "not to interrupt, but this," gesturing to the man beside her, "is Natton, and you can call me Wyldfyre. I believe I heard you," indicating the scarred man at the table, "call yourself Lattimer, might I ask the rest of your names? Seems like we're gonna be together for at least the two weeks on the ship, if not longer...." Her voice trails off in a questioning manner.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Welcome to the Emporium of Mayhem! What sort of mischief do you seek today? Pyromaniac Wyldfyre searching for her place in the world.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
TDA check: 15
"Good evening, you may call me Carric." the Elf says with a low nod to them both. He shuffles the deck one last time and deals everyone their hands. Carric Slow plays the opening rounds, but now that truly interesting bets are up he seems quite a bit more... attentive. He seems to be reading peoples body language, watching their every move, and stirring conversation in a direction that might upset their concentration on the game at hand. After winning the first game with Lattimer and Snigbovlin, he turns to Snigbovlin and says "they're made of glued and compressed layers of a special velum that make them capable of storing the formulae required to cast spells". He looks at the gnome, and the deck he has began reshuffling. "it's an old technique, but I always figured it was nifty creations like these that led to the eventual popularization of your craft Snig. So my question for you is this, what made you want to become an artificer??"
Snigbovlin is starled by the question, and a stream of words rapidly follow "Personal. Insight. He wants to know about me, does he? Hmmm. The 'why' question. Well, why, indeed? I shall need to collect my thoughts."
He frowns and takes a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes. "Memory is a funny thing you know. What I say now is not what I would have said all those years ago. But what was the reason? Why did I think I made a choice decades ago, or why do I now think I made that choice? Which answer is right? Tricky question, tricky!" he says, his voice agitated.
Fidgeting with a small metal stylus that seems to have just appeared in his hands, he sighs and continues. "Well, once I might have answered that it was to continue the family tradition -- because it was expected of me. But now...well...now I think the honest answer was because it was my calling. Back then, I never considered a choice, but looking at the patterns of my life I see that to make things -- to bring them independent existence, however brief -- simply gives me joy. We gnomes are natural crafters, and I smile when children laugh while watching my silly trinkets flap about on the ground. But pride...I feel pride when something that I created serves a productive purpose."
He glances around the boat, and points at the ropes used for furling and unfurling the sails. "And I am not only talking about magical or mystical items. Think of a simple block and tackle: a good one will last 20 years and travel the world. It may save lives and fight in great battles. Even the humblest creation can have the most extraordinary existence."
He glances around again at his new companions, his head and shoulders high and a slight gleam in his eye. Yes, I believe that's the answer. He nods in satisfaction.
Lattimer shrugs - near as he could tell, there wasn't much to be said in favor of one bunk over any other, but if it helped his mate play... "Alright, as you wish. For the bunks then..." Lattimer pays about as much attention to his cards as before, which isn't necessarily inattentive - he's played the game more times than he could count.
OOC: Sure, roll below. Also, was the "Garric" intro a typo, or intentional?
Card shark ability: 17
card shark: 18
a wide grin breaks as Carric flips the last card, winning by just one point. "Gonna sleep good tonight" He says with a coy grin, he then gathers his cards back up, shuffling them in a different manner than before ((the perceptive would notice he's counting them as he does, and seems to be stacking the deck a bit)). "Hopefully this is the beginning of a hot streak, I believe I'm going to go back below decks and see if I can't win something a little more substantial. Thank you for the time, we'll have plenty of time to even the score it looks" He scans the horizon before standing up, offering the man another handshake. Then he gives a nod to the woman scanning the decks, and makes his below, in hopes of lightening the pocket weight of any crew man or passenger he can.
Torrin Delmirev - Into the Abyss
Krusk - Rime of the Frost Maiden
Lattimer thinks himself clever in the way he selects his cards, playing off his opponent's expectations. Yet he evidently mis-estimated how well-practiced his opponent was, and finds himself at the losing end of the round by the end. He breathes in sharply through his teeth, and shakes his head. "For some reason, that hurts more than by any right it should. Ah well, my bunk is yours!" He gives a short little laugh. "Funny thing, you're the second one of our group who seems rather preoccupied with the bunks!" He points his thumb over towards the gnome on deck. "Snigbovlin's been mighty concerned about securing the right one. I think it's a height thing..." He waves over to Snigbovlin. "Hey, pal, you wanna get in on the action? We're bunk-betting!" He gives another short laugh.
Carric stops in his tracks, and turns back to their makeshift table, scooting another barrel over for a third seat, "I guess I can wait to turn the crew against me, and the bunks going to be the most important thing on this trip" Garric says with another smile, waving the gnome over to the table. He then looks at the red haired girl from before, and hollers up to her "you're welcome to join too my ladyship" he turns back to Lattimer and whispers "the more choices I have the better"
((ooc oh yeah the Garric intro was an accident, one I'll probably make a couple more times lol))
Torrin Delmirev - Into the Abyss
Krusk - Rime of the Frost Maiden
Snigbovlin has been observing the interactions on the deck, content to occasionally imagine what his future might hold, and to plan the things he might need. Too much to do, and only two weeks to do it. So little time. Eventually his eye is drawn to the child, and he notices that she is doing exactly what he is doing: watching, planning, and taking her time. He studies her more closely, forced to reappraise her, "Well, that's one to keep an eye on. Got her wits about her. Too young for this life, though." God's did I say that!? Oh dear. I should apologise.
He is about to approach her an introduce himself when he hears Lattimer mention his name. He pauses mid-stride and, smiling happily, he walks over to the group. "Bunks you say? Hmmph. I am happy with my bunk. So what benefit in a game of chance, hmm?"
He turns to Lattimer, and says in the best portentous voice he can manage, "'He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.'." Then he shrugs, "I think that's right. It's a long time since I read that sort of book." (( Performance: 15 ))
Turning to Lattimer's companion he says, "Snigbovlin, adviser, factotum and...no" his shoulders sag a little, then rise again, "Master of artifice, and seeker after Hidden Knowledge."
He holds out his hand. "Am I to assume that you are another of those seeking a new life?"
"That would be a safe assumption. A name freely given deserves one in return, My name is Carric Galanodel" He takes the gnome's hand and gives it a solid shake. "I too study the arcane, but more in the traditional sense. I have always wanted to see an artificer in action, I've heard many stories of the unique way your kind works the weave. As for the betting, I'm open to any stakes you can think, for knowing when not to fight is all well and good, but doesn't make the fight any less fun". The elf lets out a chuckle, and begins dealing the cards, putting aside an extra hand in case the young girl decides to join in
Torrin Delmirev - Into the Abyss
Krusk - Rime of the Frost Maiden
Snigbovlin ponders a moment. Information. Knowledge. The best coin! No harm in sharing the wealth. Yes...a fine solution.
"One thing matters among would-be companions: trust." he glances around to see how the others react. "And trust may only be gained through understanding and experience."
He puts his hands on the cards but does not pick them up, waiting for agreement from his companions. "I'd wager that whoever loses the hand must answer a single question from whoever won the hand most convincingly? What is asked and how you answer will tell each of us much."
Carric lets out a proper laugh, he likes the gnomes style. "Hmm... An interesting proposal. I'm game, but I'd like to add the condition that we all have the right to turn down a question, and instead offer something we believe to be of equal interest. No sense in poking each other somewhere... sensitive" He looks both of his companions briefly in the eyes, "agreed??"
Torrin Delmirev - Into the Abyss
Krusk - Rime of the Frost Maiden
"Hmmm. Embarrassment, yes..." he pauses, frowning, then continues. "Hmph. I think refusal to answer is information enough, but for my part, I will try to answer. An obscure answer is still an answer -- perhaps explain why it is relevant, yes?"
I don't want to know about their childhood pets. "Make it relevant, but agreed."
(( How are we playing? ))
Natton keeps "drawing" his picture as the group of his future co-workers forms up and begins chatting while playing cards. He do finishes up a few more details before gently rolling up his parchment and putting it away in his bag he carries around with him. He stands up and groans a bit when his body creaks in protest. Assuming an older body sure did have its detriments. He begins approaching the group and notices the young women standing off a bit. He approaches her instead of the card players. It was time for a hands-on approach.
He sets his arms against the railing and looks out across the ocean before saying before turning to Wyldfire with a smile and says, "The name's Natton, m'good lady. If you don't mind me asking, what do you bring to the team?" He realizes that sounded a little offensive as he basically asked her worth. He winces at his blunder and then angrily reels around mentally to his other personalities. That wasn't how Natton would have phrased that, so he forcefully suppresses his other personas. It is MY turn to be in charge, he savagely thinks to the other identifies. He feels them back off, and a small surge of satisfaction at his commands rush through him before he turns back to the conversation.
"I got nothin' to hide that I ain't already shared with other brothers. But sure, why not? Mebbe better'n trading bunks back and forth."
OOC: Int check, add proficiency if you're proficient in three dragon ante set? Highest roll asks qn of lowest roll?
Snigbovlin Int check: 13
Snigbovlin cautiously picks up the cards after trying frantically to remember the rules of the game, "It's been a long time since I played this..." he says, glancing at his companions occasionally as they play the hand. At one point he seems to be lost in thought. Odd cards. He spends a little time examining a card closely before asking, "What are they made of? Special, they seem."
Lattimer int check: 18
Lattimer plays his hand with a mild degree of attention; he was not exactly a pro at the game - dice were more his usual game of choice - but knew that luck more often than skill would win the day. When his cards come up scoring higher than Snigbovlin, he's not particularly surprised, but also not particularly proud.
Wyldfyre glances over at the men playing cards and is about to respond as Natton introduces himself. "So much attention," she thinks to herself, "well, we will likely all be working together, so may as well get to know everyone." She smiles at Natton, "Pleased to meet you, Natton," as she jumps down from her perch on the crates, giving a formal curtsey, then walking over to him extending a hand, "my given name was lost years ago, people call me Wyldfyre. As to what I bring to the team, hmmm," cocking her head to the side, "the captain would be upset with me if I demonstrate, because fire and ships do not mix. But, in short, if it can burn, I can turn it to ash." She lets out a giggle, "come, my newfound friend," trying to take his arm, "let's go meet the others."
Welcome to the Emporium of Mayhem! What sort of mischief do you seek today?
Pyromaniac Wyldfyre searching for her place in the world.
You're not the only one who has lost their name, he thinks forlornly. Natton shakes her hand. His handshake is firm and a bit tight. He is a bit surprised at her friendliness, but lets her take his arm. With a polite smile, he escorts her over to the other people. He sees that they are in the middle of a card game, so he doesn't disturb them until they finish up their round. He just does that awkward hurdle standing near them and watching the cards being played.
The captain, busy at the helm, shakes his head. "All my maps I keep on the inside," he tells the little gnome. "I've been sailing this route many times the past few months. Though if your looking to take a gander at what Aikrela looks like, Topsy can help you out." He gestures to the dwarven first-mate beside him.
The dwarf lets out a grunt and a nod, then leads you off the ships aftcastle into the captains cabin. The cabin is well decorated with sheets of red silk, various navigation tools, weapons, and artifacts hanging on the wall. On the left side, above the wide bed with silken sheets, is a tapestry nearly five feet wide of a single-sail ship mountain a high wave during a rainstorm. The rear of the room has several windows to let in the daylight, one of them cracked open to allow the salty air to fill the room. Standing at a large cedar table near the center of the room, his nose barely peeking over the top, is a gnome dressed in heavy sailing leathers. Upon his left eye is a monacle that serves as a magnifying glass. As you enter the room, the first mate right behind you, you see the gnome measuring one of several maps upon the table with a compass and a caliper.
"Oi, Topsy, you got a map for this guest of ours? 'e be wantin' to see what Aikrela looks like," the dwarf barks out loudly, ensuring that the gnomish navigator can hear him.
Looking up from the map, his monocle falling to his neck, secured by a single chain attached to his brown leather skullcap, the gnome looks you over. "An adventurer, then, yes, must be one looking to get 'imself killed. Well maybe I can delay that just a bit, even if only for a bit." Setting down his tools he shuffles through a few of the maps in a stack on the table beside him. Here's one. Copy it, yes, copy it well, as I need the original back. Won't need it for a few days, though, until we get close. You want to stay safe, stay inside the lines of Laroand. You want to die quickly, go explore outside. You'll see there is much more of one than the other." He hands over a map of the continents topography. Only a few small markings are made upon it where settlements have been established.
As evening falls, some of the crew become interested in the game of cards. Throughout the night, more than a few of them have added their coin to the pile.
All three of them give their coin to the card winners pouch, grumbling about wanting to win it back before the voyage is over.
Off in another corner, some of the members not currently stationed keep themselves busy with a game of dice. They are playing pairs, where three dice are rolled and the highest pair wins the pot. No pair adds to the pot double the ante. 1 silver a play, 2 silver for no doubles. If two people roll the same double, the higher of the third die wins the pot.
Laiael, the half-elf, laughs as he takes the first pot, gaining himself 5 silver pieces.
As Wyldfyre and Natton approach the card playing trio, "And a formal hello, all," she announces, "not to interrupt, but this," gesturing to the man beside her, "is Natton, and you can call me Wyldfyre. I believe I heard you," indicating the scarred man at the table, "call yourself Lattimer, might I ask the rest of your names? Seems like we're gonna be together for at least the two weeks on the ship, if not longer...." Her voice trails off in a questioning manner.
Welcome to the Emporium of Mayhem! What sort of mischief do you seek today?
Pyromaniac Wyldfyre searching for her place in the world.
TDA check: 15
"Good evening, you may call me Carric." the Elf says with a low nod to them both. He shuffles the deck one last time and deals everyone their hands. Carric Slow plays the opening rounds, but now that truly interesting bets are up he seems quite a bit more... attentive. He seems to be reading peoples body language, watching their every move, and stirring conversation in a direction that might upset their concentration on the game at hand. After winning the first game with Lattimer and Snigbovlin, he turns to Snigbovlin and says "they're made of glued and compressed layers of a special velum that make them capable of storing the formulae required to cast spells". He looks at the gnome, and the deck he has began reshuffling. "it's an old technique, but I always figured it was nifty creations like these that led to the eventual popularization of your craft Snig. So my question for you is this, what made you want to become an artificer??"
Torrin Delmirev - Into the Abyss
Krusk - Rime of the Frost Maiden
Snigbovlin is starled by the question, and a stream of words rapidly follow "Personal. Insight. He wants to know about me, does he? Hmmm. The 'why' question. Well, why, indeed? I shall need to collect my thoughts."
He frowns and takes a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes. "Memory is a funny thing you know. What I say now is not what I would have said all those years ago. But what was the reason? Why did I think I made a choice decades ago, or why do I now think I made that choice? Which answer is right? Tricky question, tricky!" he says, his voice agitated.
Fidgeting with a small metal stylus that seems to have just appeared in his hands, he sighs and continues. "Well, once I might have answered that it was to continue the family tradition -- because it was expected of me. But now...well...now I think the honest answer was because it was my calling. Back then, I never considered a choice, but looking at the patterns of my life I see that to make things -- to bring them independent existence, however brief -- simply gives me joy. We gnomes are natural crafters, and I smile when children laugh while watching my silly trinkets flap about on the ground. But pride...I feel pride when something that I created serves a productive purpose."
He glances around the boat, and points at the ropes used for furling and unfurling the sails. "And I am not only talking about magical or mystical items. Think of a simple block and tackle: a good one will last 20 years and travel the world. It may save lives and fight in great battles. Even the humblest creation can have the most extraordinary existence."
He glances around again at his new companions, his head and shoulders high and a slight gleam in his eye. Yes, I believe that's the answer. He nods in satisfaction.