Greenery peeks though the snow, and the air is crisp and clear in Aaron's Cairns today. The Reaver's Word sits on cleared pad of packed earth, fully a fifth of the landing pad for this mid-size town. A few yards beyond that is the first of three defensive walls, a cobblestone structure lined with pikes that sits like a crown on the hilltop. The fortifications look excessive for a town this size, but it fits the character of Aaron't Cairns perfectly; proud, militant, and intense. The Cairns is a border town, the last speck of civilization on the northeastern edge of Can Tinodeus before a sea of cold green grass that stretches out to the Iron Empire in the east. Built on the pillars of the military and the worship of Pelorious, Aaron's Cairns is in transition from a military staging ground to a defensive outpost against the plains' tribes. With the war over families have started to come back, and the place is looking less like a fortress. The Baroness Jakito No Banoto of House Lareyon is setting her estate back up now, and the reconstruction can be seen in the center of the crown of pikes. The conservative population, mostly human and dwarven, are likely to see some tension with Lareyon's slightly hedonistic Mawn influx. Lareyon has produced many warriors, but few soldiers.
The dry scent of coal and the warmth of the furnace mixes with lacquer in an aura around the ship, competing with the pinewood scent that cloaks the town. The Reaver's Word is ignored here, the law-abiding folk uneasy with the prospect of priveteering, but excess ships need to be sold and loose soldiers need employment.
I'm thinking for a first scene we'll have the characters meet to sign the ship's contract. Since this is an exposition scene, describe your character in your first post. Feel free to describe interaction with NPCs, or narrate minor events to help with your characters' introductions. Once everyone is aboard we will have them set sail, and I'll introduce the first set of choices for the group.
Laitraxa rustles from her slumber, atop an oversized and overstuffed mattress near the engine, positioned far enough away that no ember could reach it, but close enough for the heat. She liked it here. While these green lands were far more humid and, well, full of life, compared to her desert homeland, the coals that burned hot in the guts of the Reaver's Word gave her a nice, dry, and comfortable clime that she could sleep in. She didn't mind the dark, as long as it was warm and toasty. The ship had proved a much more hospitable lair then her last hovel, and she appreciated it.
The brass dragon stretched out her wings to their full length, spanning almost the entire span of the hold of the ship, as she yawned. She shook herself awake, the ember light flickering across her burnished scales. Were she to stand, she'd be nearly nine feet from foot to snout, but she stays quadrupedal to the deck. Her long neck looks backwards, and she uses the mental, magical claw (looking like a dragonborn's more dexterous hand, but wreathed in spectral flame) to dig a morning's refreshment out of her pack. A couple of minty plants she'd found... a delightful way to wake up. She chews on a leaf.
Laitraxa smells the air, trying to determine if Jenaer has begun cooking whatever breakfast might be in the stock. She snakes her way to the galley, poking her frilled head into the door.
"What is on the menu today, Jenaer?" she asks. Her voice has a deep, almost rumbly tone to it, but her words still have a feminine inflection.
Early that morning, in the middle of the night really, Eclipse Faraway was up and active, ensuring the envelope was full, coal loaded and stowed, rigging tight, sails patched, and the Reaver’s Word prepped and ready for sky-sail.
If he disturbed Laitraxa in her slumber while shoveling coals, with a sly smile he sung to her quietly something like this, in time with his shoveling (“Sunday Morning” / Maroon 5) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPZ5WFNYveM, giving her inspiration (and hopefully avoiding singing an encore from her belly).
With his shirt off while he works, the coat of short, soft fur covering most of his body shifts in the dim light of the furnace from its usual dark grey-blue down the spectrum to ash-black. His face, defined as it is by an artist’s stroke of snow-white fur covering his nose, mouth, and chin, then arcing up to his right brow and across to his ear in a quarter-moon shape, seems ghostly. But, no rattling of chains or shrieking emanate from this bright spirit, quite the opposite.
For his voice -- the sound, the texture, the volume, the emotion -- is as fine as the finest of wines. Newly-made acquaintances are put at ease by the uncanny resonance and fluidity of his speaking, a self-possessed tenor, ever on the verge of a piercing observation, or an unexpected turn of phrase, aimed to bring forth a quick chuckle from his listeners. It is obvious there is a fine intellect honed to a sharp edge by expensive tutors at work behind the nonchalant good humor. But when that voice turns to song, which it does unexpectedly from time to time, heads turn in astonishment, for the melodies ring true as true north.
Finishing his work well before sunrise, the mawn climbs nimbly up to the deck, and quietly takes leave of the sky-ship to wrap up a few odds and ends in town.
He is nowhere to be seen until well after the agreed-upon meeting time, at which point one can make him out, dashing to the ship from the direction of Aaron’s Cairns like a bat out of hell.
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Laitraxa finds Jenaer in the Galley, carefully wiping a surface very slowly and deliberately with a cloth. The humans hands are gloved and he wears a cloth mask over his mouth with a pair of goggles. His common clothes though well looked after, spotless and perfectly pressed, are a far cry from the finery he wore at dinner last night. He covers them with a white apron, which also seems to be spotless. Seeing Laitraxa he removes his goggles and mask, revealing his sharp cheekbones and green eyes. His hair is combed back, with not a strand out of place. He fixes his eyes on Laitraxa and smiles, although his eyes seem to stay cold as he does so.
“Ahhh, Laitraxa,” He licks his lips as he looks her up and down, before attempting some draconic “Good day” he stumbles over the phrase before switching back to common. “I must say, you are looking more majestic by the day, you will make a fearsome dragon when you are grown.” His words are delivered with a cold and calculated charm.
Gesturing to the counter stiffly, Jenaer sighs. “I had hoped to start earlier, but the level of cleaning that needs to be done is higher than I had anticipated, I must petition the Mawn for a cleaner around here. In the meantime, would you mind breathing on the utensils, the entire kitchen must be completely sterile before I can start my work.”If Laitraxa looks at the kitchen, she would see that there is no discernible mess.
Once the Galley is to his liking, Jenaer begins, “For breakfast, your magnificence we have eggs, ham and bread covered in an emulsion of butter and egg yolk, I call it Eggs Laitraxtine. I will need an incredibly low flame for the sauce, do you think you can do it. As a gift for your help, I will fry up some bacon, as a treat for later. The meat is not as fatty as I would like though. I hope we can do some hunting once we take to the skies, so you can taste the true potential of my work.”
"Flattery will get you places, Jenaer! Your draconic is getting better, though you said "well sun" so it was close! It's a subtle difference!" She then repeats the phrase a few times in Draconic so he can pick up the intonation, looking at him with brilliant yellow eyes.
At his request, she focuses on her ember, the arcane spark that fills her heart and belly and lets her produce her flame. A quick spit of fire lights the coals under the pan, and with a bit of focus she controls the flame, keeping the temperature low and changing the color to a cool blue. "I look forward to trying your recipe! You humans certainly have a diverse palate... I'll admit my life in the desert involved hunting a lot of common animals, and spices and such were hard to find in the wilds. Mother used to tell me of banquets and galas she would slip into in human form... and many of her books told of such magnificent feasts! Perhaps one day we'll be invited to one."
"Eclipse was singing at me earlier this morning while he stoked the coals. You haven't seen him, have you? I'm interested in who we will meet today"
Jenaer practices the phrase a few times as he works. Though his mouth is not made for the language, he shows a great attention to detail as he attempts to emulate it and seems to get frustrated on his few slip ups.
As he carefully whisks the sauce, he smirks as Laitraxa talks of feasts. “The joy of a feast is certainly great, but not so much when shared with the stuffy company of those who hold them. The food is really the only thing of interest in the banquets I’ve attended, but even that was as boring as the people there. Now, someone as interesting as yourself, you are invited to feast every night aboard this ship. You are indeed fascinating, and I would be very interested to learn more of your mothers adventures over fine food and fine wine. Of course, Eclipse seems interesting too, so we seem in good company so far.”
“Yes, I believe I heard him head out before sunrise. I hope he is not as tardy as he was for dinner last night.” Jenaer scowls. ”The eggs are almost done, if you’d be so kind as to alert the others. I saw a grubby dwarf tinkering with the ship earlier, please make sure he cleans himself up before breakfast, and the muscle, now he’s a fascinating one, I caught a peek earlier, but he will need to dress appropriately. Horned helms shall not be tolerated at my table.”
"Hello! Hello captain!" a booming voice is heard saying from outside the cabin. "I have a writ of employment that I should report to a Captain Eclipse" the voice continues.
"We're in here" replies the Captain. "Come in for some breakfast and we're finish up the contracts." He continues as an aside, "got us a new mechanic for the ship."
In walks a dwarf. Not particular brawny, or stout. Just a fairly normal dwarf. Except for the fact that strapped on his back is the largest wrench you've ever seen. Easily a foot taller then the dwarf himself. His chain shirt slug over his other shoulder along with a handy backpack. He stands about 4 and half feet tall, with light brown skin with a reddish hue, a bushy fairly short, for a dwarf, reddish brown beard, and long hair bound up into complicated braids. His eyes quickly asses the people present in a practiced soldiery way.
"So which on of you is the captain? And where should i stow my tack?"
"I wouldn't mind some of those eggs and ham if you have some to spare." he says as he tosses his shirt and bag into the corner and find a place to sit. "You've got a nice ship here. I'd like to take a look around at it before be get going anywhere, if that's alright with you. I've just come up from the Southshires and there's been some new ideas on how to rig the sails to get a little better control. It'd take only a couple hours to get the rigged set. Oh yea, my names Tyrod Steelbender, and I'm your new mechanic." With that he sits down to eat some breakfast.
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Tyrod- Sky-Pirates of Q’rath Set: Crew of the Reaver's Word
“Captain Eclipse is currently out on errands. I doubt he’ll be back on time for the meeting, but miracles can happen.” Jenaer says dismissively, eyeing the untidiness the dwarf brought to the corner. ”As for storage, preferably not in communal areas. Laitraxa, perhaps you would like to show our new friend his quarters while I serve up. The two of us arrived late last night, and I’ve been struggling with this sad excuse of a kitchen. Once you are done with the ship, maybe you can make some improvements here? I’m the chef, Jenaer by the way.”
Laitraxa nods, and says a quick word in draconic. A spectral hand appears over the table, looking much like a dragonborn's but made of flickering wisps of flame, and picks up her bowl of eggs and sauce before floating in trail of the long body of the dragon. "<Come, new friend!>"she says chipperly in Dwarven. "<I haven't had a chance to practice my dwarven much! Very exciting! Tell me, what are the Southshires like?">
As they speak, she gives him a quick tour of the cargo deck, noting her "nest" foreward of the coal furnace, and then takes him to the two cabins in the aft section of the ship. "I think Jenaer picked the cabin on the left, and Eclipse on the right, though I'm not sure."
(OOC: with DM's approval, Eclipse would have made an appointment with a representative of the shipowner, or whoever is receiving paperwork for the chartering of this vessel, to meet him in front of the Reaver's Word at about this time. Still no sign of Eclipse...)
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Heavy footsteps could be heard on the deckboards of the ship as Bazlachi came aboard. The eight foot one inch tall, four hundred pound, specimen carved from living marble had his weapon and shield stowed and shield off which allowed his long blonde main to be blown behind him, caught in the early morning breeze. His teal tinted feathered wings hugged the back of his shirtless torso. A double headed lion choker, a deep red in color, shifted side to side as he made his way towards the aft of the ship.
"Good Morning, I've returned!" he announced in his unnaturally deep voice. "If there is food? If so, would someone bring me a plate?"
He had been below deck, but it was cramped and he didn't enjoy small spaces. During his last trip below deck however he had grabbed a fairly simple chair and brought it on deck for himself and it was in that chair, near the door going below deck, that he placed himself carefully. He'd learned early after his arrival that his large frame and the wooden furniture made my many did not mix well, and it was always a source of humor for those around him.
His morning walk had left him feeling inspired, his wings grew stronger by the day. They could bear his weight in descent, but not yet climb him to new altitudes. One day though, he knew so long as he kept practicing he'd get there. Drawing from that inspiration he reached into a belt pouch and pulled out three shiny metal tubes and connected them end to end to form his flute. There was a song, it was the only song he knew by heart, and he wasn't sure from where. It was quick and darty near the beginning, growing to a crescendo, but then slowed down into a bit of melancholy before brightening at the end and easing the tension. So once more he began playing those quick and darty notes, reliving some memory he could not recall.
As Bazlachi’s final flute notes fade away, which perhaps the ship company’s man has quietly enjoyed on the ground, Eclipse, running at high speed, slips and slides on the icy road out of Aaron’s Cairns, loses his footing then somehow regains it without slowing, dashing like a zephyr. He makes it to the ship, unarmed and armorless, wearing street clothes, if that. His shirt tails are hanging out, and his scarf is off his neck, held in one hand, a leather valise in the other. His eyes are a bit wild, and as soon as he’s in earshot, he yells up, “Loose the anchor, please, let’s make haste! As it’s been said, ‘the credo is not in the point of arrival, but rather, the point of departure!’”
He runs past the shipowner’s man and, to his gape-mouthed protestations, holding up a finger, “Just one minute friend, and you’ll have everything you need.” Out of breath, but somehow with perfect clarity, he yells up to all to "gather above decks, with haste, with haste!" Bouncing onto the gangplank and aboard, “Have you all your contracts? Let us be sure we’re all clear, please follow along!”And, pulling a copy of the contract from the valise and reading from it aloud, he continues without pause, “‘WHEREAS, the undersigned, uncharmed, andspeaking wholly forthemself, blahblahblahblah, doesundertake toperform theduties statedbelow, blahblah, tothe bestoftheir abilities, blahblahblah, and ET CETERA, actingindependently as an equal crewmember, allreceiving an equalvoice in decisions andlikewise an equal share in plunder taken (that should read, “profits won” let us all note!), DOES AGREE by signing below to the terms stated, blahblahblah! AND if you could all SIGN, witnessed by Mr. Shipowner’s Man below -- quickly, please!” glancing over his shoulder to the road to Aaron’s Cairns, “and that should be everythingunless anyone hasany questions--no? Wonderful!”
And with that he quickly takes each contract from the crewmembers in turn, placing each one in the valise, along with a separate leasing statement outlining payment and a promissory note from a local bank, and handing the valise to the Shipowner’s Man and pushing him not unkindly but firmly to the gangplank, “Very well! Bon voyage to us! It is said ‘There is a time for departure, even when there is no certain place to go,’ and that has never been more true than the present!”
And in a great rush, Eclipse works to get the ship off its moorings and airborne, asking/directing the crew briskly, firmly, but with an endearing smile for assistance where needed.
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Her contract signed with her name in its Common translation by her mage hand and underlined with a swipe of a real claw, Laitraxa looks excitedly to the top of the ship's balloon, where she will enjoy the fresh air as the craft flies.
The dragon gives the mawn a serpentine smirk as the ship is made ready to depart, her long fangs and narrow teeth showing in a smile that is somewhere between endearing and terrifying. Her voice is still good natured, though. "Weren't you less... disheveled, when you left this morning? Or did you go to a place requiring you to undress in your own clothes and dress quickly in others?"
Many have noted that there those individuals who, being particularly tall, and not wishing to be too imposing a presence, learn to be particularly soft-spoken. The Shipowner's Man, a dwarf who no one could say they caught the name of, might well be said to be an example of this effect. Though, in his case, being a particularly illustrative example, in that he demonstrated the effect was equally true of short people who happen to be particularly wide. Adding to this the appearance of his skin and complexion, and you had a man who was, both physically and socially, quite comparable to a brick. It was with likewise grace that he spun round, this way and that, as the blue-grey mawn whipped by him. His one hand held the papers, signed in motion, as his other held up a ruddy digit, suggesting that there were, in point of fact, questions. By rare though timely instinct, as he was being ushered off the ship, he thought to retract the hand and it's associated limb, as he shortly found himself pitching forward down the gangplank. As has just been mentioned, he was a rotund gentlemen, and so managed to roll, head over heels, back into a standing position, by the time he came to rest on the trodden snow. Turning to face the rising ship, the crew could only wonder as to his expression, obscured as it was by the vermilion beard that had folded up over his face.
An updraft, sign of the changing weather, hoisted the ship up unusually fast. That mixed with the snow beginning to fall, gave anyone looking outside the ship the brief illusion of rising entirely too fast, as if the Reaver's Word itself were anxious to be gone.
Now aloft, the question becomes, "Where to?"
Nearby Locations:
Due North, to hunt caribou, whale or owlbear.
North by Northeast, toward the goblin-infested coast.
Northeast into the plains to find a nomadic orc tribe to raid.
East by Northeast, toward the Iron Empire, with outlying hobgoblin settlements.
Due East, to the Obsidian Mountains, to raid the Chasm Dwarves of High Shale, living just beyond the boarders of Can Tinodeus. The dwarves are known to traffic in some far-flung items, often acting as a fence for stolen property.
East by Southeast, over the temperate forests North of Gallows Glen, where there are reports of strange things in the woods.
With a History Check modifier of 1 or better, your character knows the following about option 2:
The local towns pay for goblin scalps.
With a History Check modifier of 2 or better, or if you are from the Gallows Glades, your character knows this about option 3:
It's rumored they have a new warchief, who's particularly keen on taking slaves, and may be amassing for a war with the Gallow Glades to the South.
With a History Check modifier of 2 or better, or the Soldier background, your character knows this about option 4:
Their defenses are probably undergoing post-war de-armament.
With the Pirate, Criminal or Spy background, or if you are looking for information on artifacts, your character knows this about option 5:
The dwarves are known to traffic in some far-flung items, often acting as a fence for stolen property.
Bazlachi had signed his named in the common language, though he did not like being rushed as had happened, and what of breakfast as now the ship was hurriedly made ready to launch. He shrugged, he would find something to eat later, the excitement of seeing new places and finding new ways to test his mettle masked the rumble in his stomach. Wherever he was needed on the deck he would help, particularly if the action required strength.
Tyrod quickly stows his stuff in the right cabin and rushes up on deck to check on all the commotion. He signs and hands his contract over to the captain. Then he notices the rather large person that just came on board. "Hello flying giant! I'm Tyrod Steelbender, what might I call you?"
With the call for launch he quickly goes down to the engine room to shovel some more coal and put it into flight mode. Rushing back up on desk he starts helping setup the sails and rig the balloon in flight mode as well. He notices that the two winged people don't seem to know what to do to help. Chuckling to himself of the irony in that, he walks over and asks the newly arrived giant if he can show him he can help rig the sails.
Upon reaching a decent cruising altitude he sits with the rest of the crew to discuss where they are going. "I'm currently of two minds as to what we should do next. I think we need something to solidify us as a crew, and I hear that the towns below will pay for goblin scalps. So heading Nor' by Northwest might be an easy way to pick up some coin while sharpening our teeth together. But on the other hand, while traveling up here I heard about a gathering Orc tribe that means to attack to south. So I'd be happy to try and chase that rumor as well."
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Tyrod- Sky-Pirates of Q’rath Set: Crew of the Reaver's Word
The 'flying giant' leaned down a bit to address Tyrod, "Well met Tyrod Steelbender, I am Bazlachi, or if that is difficult, simply Baz." he extended a gauntlet-ed hand as was appropriate for greetings. He did have to reserve his handshake with most people, not wanting to injure them with his immense strength.
As the ship took off Bazlachi was definitely a fish out of water, so when Tyrod offered to show him how to be helpful a large smile formed across his face, "Yes Tyrod Steelbender, I would enjoy that very much!"
"I have read of the dragon’s ability to see through it’s closed eyes while sleeping or feigning sleep, but had never witnessed it firsthand until now, my dear Laitraxa" (OOC: Critical information check / Biology?)"Your powers of perception are without equal. Except for me," he says with a wink. "My clothes? As it happened, I had fallen just a few gold short of payment for the charter of this vessel and had to take it up with a friend, who insisted that it was too cold outside for me to depart and that I must spend the remainder of the night in her bed. Alas, her husband was none too pleased at the circumstances — neither the financial nor the discovery of yours truly with said friend in flagrante, and I, realizing I had overslept in any case, bid them both adieu and of course came as soon as I could. It is my good fortune that I always keep a spare pair of boots under my cot, as mine seem to have...oh, there they are." And below the ship as it begins to rise, galloping on horseback, speeding from Aaron’s Cairn, a woman in a nightgown, holding a pair of mawn boots, and yelling something unintelligible. Passing the Shipowner's Man, the thick-set dwarf, who must leap aside to make way for her as he trudges back to town, the rider arrives just as the Reaver's Word lifts off, and throws the boots at the sky-ship in a frothing passion of anger. They fall short and thump lightly back to earth. “You must put on a coat, it’s freezing out!” yells Eclipse sweetly down to the woman, throwing her a kiss. Then, turning to Laitraxa, and the others, shrugs and says “are those eggs I smell cooking in the galley?”
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
After a quick stop in the cabin to fetch boots, Eclipse, back on deck and steering the vessel's ascent, yells, "Ah, someone has set the sails to Southshire rigging? Who?!"
"Very good, Tyrod! Excellent for discouraging freeloaders! Ah--I can see it in your faces, you’re not sure what I mean. Rats. Rats, other vermin, crows, seabirds, pigeons. It has to do with the tension patterns set up by rigging in this fashion -- the wind blows, the Southshire rigging vibrates in the wind, and it makes a sound only audible to the smallest ears which drives them mad! They abandon ship through the nearest porthole, and your cargo hold is always clean as a whistle!”(OOC: Critical Information check / Biology)
At least, so I have read in “Captain Fandish’ Guide to Ropes and Rigging,” 2nd edition, page 214, 3rd paragraph. In case you were wondering.”
Well met, Bazlachi, and may you ever lead us into battle. Jenaer, I have not until today known the glory of a well-cooked egg. And, never have I met a Goblin I've liked near so much as its detached scalp. North by Northwest is my vote."
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
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Greenery peeks though the snow, and the air is crisp and clear in Aaron's Cairns today. The Reaver's Word sits on cleared pad of packed earth, fully a fifth of the landing pad for this mid-size town. A few yards beyond that is the first of three defensive walls, a cobblestone structure lined with pikes that sits like a crown on the hilltop. The fortifications look excessive for a town this size, but it fits the character of Aaron't Cairns perfectly; proud, militant, and intense. The Cairns is a border town, the last speck of civilization on the northeastern edge of Can Tinodeus before a sea of cold green grass that stretches out to the Iron Empire in the east. Built on the pillars of the military and the worship of Pelorious, Aaron's Cairns is in transition from a military staging ground to a defensive outpost against the plains' tribes. With the war over families have started to come back, and the place is looking less like a fortress. The Baroness Jakito No Banoto of House Lareyon is setting her estate back up now, and the reconstruction can be seen in the center of the crown of pikes. The conservative population, mostly human and dwarven, are likely to see some tension with Lareyon's slightly hedonistic Mawn influx. Lareyon has produced many warriors, but few soldiers.
The dry scent of coal and the warmth of the furnace mixes with lacquer in an aura around the ship, competing with the pinewood scent that cloaks the town. The Reaver's Word is ignored here, the law-abiding folk uneasy with the prospect of priveteering, but excess ships need to be sold and loose soldiers need employment.
I'm thinking for a first scene we'll have the characters meet to sign the ship's contract. Since this is an exposition scene, describe your character in your first post. Feel free to describe interaction with NPCs, or narrate minor events to help with your characters' introductions. Once everyone is aboard we will have them set sail, and I'll introduce the first set of choices for the group.
Laitraxa rustles from her slumber, atop an oversized and overstuffed mattress near the engine, positioned far enough away that no ember could reach it, but close enough for the heat. She liked it here. While these green lands were far more humid and, well, full of life, compared to her desert homeland, the coals that burned hot in the guts of the Reaver's Word gave her a nice, dry, and comfortable clime that she could sleep in. She didn't mind the dark, as long as it was warm and toasty. The ship had proved a much more hospitable lair then her last hovel, and she appreciated it.
The brass dragon stretched out her wings to their full length, spanning almost the entire span of the hold of the ship, as she yawned. She shook herself awake, the ember light flickering across her burnished scales. Were she to stand, she'd be nearly nine feet from foot to snout, but she stays quadrupedal to the deck. Her long neck looks backwards, and she uses the mental, magical claw (looking like a dragonborn's more dexterous hand, but wreathed in spectral flame) to dig a morning's refreshment out of her pack. A couple of minty plants she'd found... a delightful way to wake up. She chews on a leaf.
Laitraxa smells the air, trying to determine if Jenaer has begun cooking whatever breakfast might be in the stock. She snakes her way to the galley, poking her frilled head into the door.
"What is on the menu today, Jenaer?" she asks. Her voice has a deep, almost rumbly tone to it, but her words still have a feminine inflection.
Aldrik Reinholdt in Dragon Heist
Daventry in The Candlekeep Mysteries, and her bag
Early that morning, in the middle of the night really, Eclipse Faraway was up and active, ensuring the envelope was full, coal loaded and stowed, rigging tight, sails patched, and the Reaver’s Word prepped and ready for sky-sail.
If he disturbed Laitraxa in her slumber while shoveling coals, with a sly smile he sung to her quietly something like this, in time with his shoveling (“Sunday Morning” / Maroon 5) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPZ5WFNYveM, giving her inspiration (and hopefully avoiding singing an encore from her belly).
With his shirt off while he works, the coat of short, soft fur covering most of his body shifts in the dim light of the furnace from its usual dark grey-blue down the spectrum to ash-black. His face, defined as it is by an artist’s stroke of snow-white fur covering his nose, mouth, and chin, then arcing up to his right brow and across to his ear in a quarter-moon shape, seems ghostly. But, no rattling of chains or shrieking emanate from this bright spirit, quite the opposite.
For his voice -- the sound, the texture, the volume, the emotion -- is as fine as the finest of wines. Newly-made acquaintances are put at ease by the uncanny resonance and fluidity of his speaking, a self-possessed tenor, ever on the verge of a piercing observation, or an unexpected turn of phrase, aimed to bring forth a quick chuckle from his listeners. It is obvious there is a fine intellect honed to a sharp edge by expensive tutors at work behind the nonchalant good humor. But when that voice turns to song, which it does unexpectedly from time to time, heads turn in astonishment, for the melodies ring true as true north.
Finishing his work well before sunrise, the mawn climbs nimbly up to the deck, and quietly takes leave of the sky-ship to wrap up a few odds and ends in town.
He is nowhere to be seen until well after the agreed-upon meeting time, at which point one can make him out, dashing to the ship from the direction of Aaron’s Cairns like a bat out of hell.
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Laitraxa finds Jenaer in the Galley, carefully wiping a surface very slowly and deliberately with a cloth. The humans hands are gloved and he wears a cloth mask over his mouth with a pair of goggles. His common clothes though well looked after, spotless and perfectly pressed, are a far cry from the finery he wore at dinner last night. He covers them with a white apron, which also seems to be spotless. Seeing Laitraxa he removes his goggles and mask, revealing his sharp cheekbones and green eyes. His hair is combed back, with not a strand out of place. He fixes his eyes on Laitraxa and smiles, although his eyes seem to stay cold as he does so.
“Ahhh, Laitraxa,” He licks his lips as he looks her up and down, before attempting some draconic “Good day” he stumbles over the phrase before switching back to common. “I must say, you are looking more majestic by the day, you will make a fearsome dragon when you are grown.” His words are delivered with a cold and calculated charm.
Gesturing to the counter stiffly, Jenaer sighs. “I had hoped to start earlier, but the level of cleaning that needs to be done is higher than I had anticipated, I must petition the Mawn for a cleaner around here. In the meantime, would you mind breathing on the utensils, the entire kitchen must be completely sterile before I can start my work.” If Laitraxa looks at the kitchen, she would see that there is no discernible mess.
Once the Galley is to his liking, Jenaer begins, “For breakfast, your magnificence we have eggs, ham and bread covered in an emulsion of butter and egg yolk, I call it Eggs Laitraxtine. I will need an incredibly low flame for the sauce, do you think you can do it. As a gift for your help, I will fry up some bacon, as a treat for later. The meat is not as fatty as I would like though. I hope we can do some hunting once we take to the skies, so you can taste the true potential of my work.”
Gilgin Hardhammer - Mountain Dwarf Cleric (Forge Domain) - Icewind Dale
Petal - Forest Gnome Druid (Circle of the Land - Forest) - Unsung Heroes of Embera
"Flattery will get you places, Jenaer! Your draconic is getting better, though you said "well sun" so it was close! It's a subtle difference!" She then repeats the phrase a few times in Draconic so he can pick up the intonation, looking at him with brilliant yellow eyes.
At his request, she focuses on her ember, the arcane spark that fills her heart and belly and lets her produce her flame. A quick spit of fire lights the coals under the pan, and with a bit of focus she controls the flame, keeping the temperature low and changing the color to a cool blue. "I look forward to trying your recipe! You humans certainly have a diverse palate... I'll admit my life in the desert involved hunting a lot of common animals, and spices and such were hard to find in the wilds. Mother used to tell me of banquets and galas she would slip into in human form... and many of her books told of such magnificent feasts! Perhaps one day we'll be invited to one."
"Eclipse was singing at me earlier this morning while he stoked the coals. You haven't seen him, have you? I'm interested in who we will meet today"
Aldrik Reinholdt in Dragon Heist
Daventry in The Candlekeep Mysteries, and her bag
Jenaer practices the phrase a few times as he works. Though his mouth is not made for the language, he shows a great attention to detail as he attempts to emulate it and seems to get frustrated on his few slip ups.
As he carefully whisks the sauce, he smirks as Laitraxa talks of feasts. “The joy of a feast is certainly great, but not so much when shared with the stuffy company of those who hold them. The food is really the only thing of interest in the banquets I’ve attended, but even that was as boring as the people there. Now, someone as interesting as yourself, you are invited to feast every night aboard this ship. You are indeed fascinating, and I would be very interested to learn more of your mothers adventures over fine food and fine wine. Of course, Eclipse seems interesting too, so we seem in good company so far.”
“Yes, I believe I heard him head out before sunrise. I hope he is not as tardy as he was for dinner last night.” Jenaer scowls. ”The eggs are almost done, if you’d be so kind as to alert the others. I saw a grubby dwarf tinkering with the ship earlier, please make sure he cleans himself up before breakfast, and the muscle, now he’s a fascinating one, I caught a peek earlier, but he will need to dress appropriately. Horned helms shall not be tolerated at my table.”
Gilgin Hardhammer - Mountain Dwarf Cleric (Forge Domain) - Icewind Dale
Petal - Forest Gnome Druid (Circle of the Land - Forest) - Unsung Heroes of Embera
"Hello! Hello captain!" a booming voice is heard saying from outside the cabin. "I have a writ of employment that I should report to a Captain Eclipse" the voice continues.
"We're in here" replies the Captain. "Come in for some breakfast and we're finish up the contracts." He continues as an aside, "got us a new mechanic for the ship."
In walks a dwarf. Not particular brawny, or stout. Just a fairly normal dwarf. Except for the fact that strapped on his back is the largest wrench you've ever seen. Easily a foot taller then the dwarf himself. His chain shirt slug over his other shoulder along with a handy backpack. He stands about 4 and half feet tall, with light brown skin with a reddish hue, a bushy fairly short, for a dwarf, reddish brown beard, and long hair bound up into complicated braids. His eyes quickly asses the people present in a practiced soldiery way.
"So which on of you is the captain? And where should i stow my tack?"
"I wouldn't mind some of those eggs and ham if you have some to spare." he says as he tosses his shirt and bag into the corner and find a place to sit. "You've got a nice ship here. I'd like to take a look around at it before be get going anywhere, if that's alright with you. I've just come up from the Southshires and there's been some new ideas on how to rig the sails to get a little better control. It'd take only a couple hours to get the rigged set. Oh yea, my names Tyrod Steelbender, and I'm your new mechanic." With that he sits down to eat some breakfast.
Tyrod - Sky-Pirates of Q’rath Set: Crew of the Reaver's Word
“Captain Eclipse is currently out on errands. I doubt he’ll be back on time for the meeting, but miracles can happen.” Jenaer says dismissively, eyeing the untidiness the dwarf brought to the corner. ”As for storage, preferably not in communal areas. Laitraxa, perhaps you would like to show our new friend his quarters while I serve up. The two of us arrived late last night, and I’ve been struggling with this sad excuse of a kitchen. Once you are done with the ship, maybe you can make some improvements here? I’m the chef, Jenaer by the way.”
Gilgin Hardhammer - Mountain Dwarf Cleric (Forge Domain) - Icewind Dale
Petal - Forest Gnome Druid (Circle of the Land - Forest) - Unsung Heroes of Embera
Laitraxa nods, and says a quick word in draconic. A spectral hand appears over the table, looking much like a dragonborn's but made of flickering wisps of flame, and picks up her bowl of eggs and sauce before floating in trail of the long body of the dragon. "<Come, new friend!>" she says chipperly in Dwarven. "<I haven't had a chance to practice my dwarven much! Very exciting! Tell me, what are the Southshires like?">
As they speak, she gives him a quick tour of the cargo deck, noting her "nest" foreward of the coal furnace, and then takes him to the two cabins in the aft section of the ship. "I think Jenaer picked the cabin on the left, and Eclipse on the right, though I'm not sure."
Aldrik Reinholdt in Dragon Heist
Daventry in The Candlekeep Mysteries, and her bag
(OOC: with DM's approval, Eclipse would have made an appointment with a representative of the shipowner, or whoever is receiving paperwork for the chartering of this vessel, to meet him in front of the Reaver's Word at about this time. Still no sign of Eclipse...)
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Heavy footsteps could be heard on the deckboards of the ship as Bazlachi came aboard. The eight foot one inch tall, four hundred pound, specimen carved from living marble had his weapon and shield stowed and shield off which allowed his long blonde main to be blown behind him, caught in the early morning breeze. His teal tinted feathered wings hugged the back of his shirtless torso. A double headed lion choker, a deep red in color, shifted side to side as he made his way towards the aft of the ship.
"Good Morning, I've returned!" he announced in his unnaturally deep voice. "If there is food? If so, would someone bring me a plate?"
He had been below deck, but it was cramped and he didn't enjoy small spaces. During his last trip below deck however he had grabbed a fairly simple chair and brought it on deck for himself and it was in that chair, near the door going below deck, that he placed himself carefully. He'd learned early after his arrival that his large frame and the wooden furniture made my many did not mix well, and it was always a source of humor for those around him.
His morning walk had left him feeling inspired, his wings grew stronger by the day. They could bear his weight in descent, but not yet climb him to new altitudes. One day though, he knew so long as he kept practicing he'd get there. Drawing from that inspiration he reached into a belt pouch and pulled out three shiny metal tubes and connected them end to end to form his flute. There was a song, it was the only song he knew by heart, and he wasn't sure from where. It was quick and darty near the beginning, growing to a crescendo, but then slowed down into a bit of melancholy before brightening at the end and easing the tension. So once more he began playing those quick and darty notes, reliving some memory he could not recall.
As Bazlachi’s final flute notes fade away, which perhaps the ship company’s man has quietly enjoyed on the ground, Eclipse, running at high speed, slips and slides on the icy road out of Aaron’s Cairns, loses his footing then somehow regains it without slowing, dashing like a zephyr. He makes it to the ship, unarmed and armorless, wearing street clothes, if that. His shirt tails are hanging out, and his scarf is off his neck, held in one hand, a leather valise in the other. His eyes are a bit wild, and as soon as he’s in earshot, he yells up, “Loose the anchor, please, let’s make haste! As it’s been said, ‘the credo is not in the point of arrival, but rather, the point of departure!’”
He runs past the shipowner’s man and, to his gape-mouthed protestations, holding up a finger, “Just one minute friend, and you’ll have everything you need.” Out of breath, but somehow with perfect clarity, he yells up to all to "gather above decks, with haste, with haste!" Bouncing onto the gangplank and aboard, “Have you all your contracts? Let us be sure we’re all clear, please follow along!” And, pulling a copy of the contract from the valise and reading from it aloud, he continues without pause, “‘WHEREAS, the undersigned, uncharmed, andspeaking wholly forthemself, blahblahblahblah, doesundertake toperform theduties statedbelow, blahblah, tothe bestoftheir abilities, blahblahblah, and ET CETERA, actingindependently as an equal crewmember, allreceiving an equalvoice in decisions andlikewise an equal share in plunder taken (that should read, “profits won” let us all note!), DOES AGREE by signing below to the terms stated, blahblahblah! AND if you could all SIGN, witnessed by Mr. Shipowner’s Man below -- quickly, please!” glancing over his shoulder to the road to Aaron’s Cairns, “and that should be everythingunless anyone hasany questions--no? Wonderful!”
And with that he quickly takes each contract from the crewmembers in turn, placing each one in the valise, along with a separate leasing statement outlining payment and a promissory note from a local bank, and handing the valise to the Shipowner’s Man and pushing him not unkindly but firmly to the gangplank, “Very well! Bon voyage to us! It is said ‘There is a time for departure, even when there is no certain place to go,’ and that has never been more true than the present!”
And in a great rush, Eclipse works to get the ship off its moorings and airborne, asking/directing the crew briskly, firmly, but with an endearing smile for assistance where needed.
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Her contract signed with her name in its Common translation by her mage hand and underlined with a swipe of a real claw, Laitraxa looks excitedly to the top of the ship's balloon, where she will enjoy the fresh air as the craft flies.
The dragon gives the mawn a serpentine smirk as the ship is made ready to depart, her long fangs and narrow teeth showing in a smile that is somewhere between endearing and terrifying. Her voice is still good natured, though. "Weren't you less... disheveled, when you left this morning? Or did you go to a place requiring you to undress in your own clothes and dress quickly in others?"
Aldrik Reinholdt in Dragon Heist
Daventry in The Candlekeep Mysteries, and her bag
Many have noted that there those individuals who, being particularly tall, and not wishing to be too imposing a presence, learn to be particularly soft-spoken. The Shipowner's Man, a dwarf who no one could say they caught the name of, might well be said to be an example of this effect. Though, in his case, being a particularly illustrative example, in that he demonstrated the effect was equally true of short people who happen to be particularly wide. Adding to this the appearance of his skin and complexion, and you had a man who was, both physically and socially, quite comparable to a brick. It was with likewise grace that he spun round, this way and that, as the blue-grey mawn whipped by him. His one hand held the papers, signed in motion, as his other held up a ruddy digit, suggesting that there were, in point of fact, questions. By rare though timely instinct, as he was being ushered off the ship, he thought to retract the hand and it's associated limb, as he shortly found himself pitching forward down the gangplank. As has just been mentioned, he was a rotund gentlemen, and so managed to roll, head over heels, back into a standing position, by the time he came to rest on the trodden snow. Turning to face the rising ship, the crew could only wonder as to his expression, obscured as it was by the vermilion beard that had folded up over his face.
An updraft, sign of the changing weather, hoisted the ship up unusually fast. That mixed with the snow beginning to fall, gave anyone looking outside the ship the brief illusion of rising entirely too fast, as if the Reaver's Word itself were anxious to be gone.
Now aloft, the question becomes, "Where to?"
Nearby Locations:
With a History Check modifier of 1 or better, your character knows the following about option 2:
The local towns pay for goblin scalps.
With a History Check modifier of 2 or better, or if you are from the Gallows Glades, your character knows this about option 3:
It's rumored they have a new warchief, who's particularly keen on taking slaves, and may be amassing for a war with the Gallow Glades to the South.
With a History Check modifier of 2 or better, or the Soldier background, your character knows this about option 4:
Their defenses are probably undergoing post-war de-armament.
With the Pirate, Criminal or Spy background, or if you are looking for information on artifacts, your character knows this about option 5:
The dwarves are known to traffic in some far-flung items, often acting as a fence for stolen property.
Bazlachi had signed his named in the common language, though he did not like being rushed as had happened, and what of breakfast as now the ship was hurriedly made ready to launch. He shrugged, he would find something to eat later, the excitement of seeing new places and finding new ways to test his mettle masked the rumble in his stomach. Wherever he was needed on the deck he would help, particularly if the action required strength.
Tyrod quickly stows his stuff in the right cabin and rushes up on deck to check on all the commotion. He signs and hands his contract over to the captain. Then he notices the rather large person that just came on board. "Hello flying giant! I'm Tyrod Steelbender, what might I call you?"
With the call for launch he quickly goes down to the engine room to shovel some more coal and put it into flight mode. Rushing back up on desk he starts helping setup the sails and rig the balloon in flight mode as well. He notices that the two winged people don't seem to know what to do to help. Chuckling to himself of the irony in that, he walks over and asks the newly arrived giant if he can show him he can help rig the sails.
Upon reaching a decent cruising altitude he sits with the rest of the crew to discuss where they are going. "I'm currently of two minds as to what we should do next. I think we need something to solidify us as a crew, and I hear that the towns below will pay for goblin scalps. So heading Nor' by Northwest might be an easy way to pick up some coin while sharpening our teeth together. But on the other hand, while traveling up here I heard about a gathering Orc tribe that means to attack to south. So I'd be happy to try and chase that rumor as well."
Tyrod - Sky-Pirates of Q’rath Set: Crew of the Reaver's Word
The 'flying giant' leaned down a bit to address Tyrod, "Well met Tyrod Steelbender, I am Bazlachi, or if that is difficult, simply Baz." he extended a gauntlet-ed hand as was appropriate for greetings. He did have to reserve his handshake with most people, not wanting to injure them with his immense strength.
As the ship took off Bazlachi was definitely a fish out of water, so when Tyrod offered to show him how to be helpful a large smile formed across his face, "Yes Tyrod Steelbender, I would enjoy that very much!"
Eclipse Faraway
"I have read of the dragon’s ability to see through it’s closed eyes while sleeping or feigning sleep, but had never witnessed it firsthand until now, my dear Laitraxa" (OOC: Critical information check / Biology?) "Your powers of perception are without equal. Except for me," he says with a wink.
"My clothes? As it happened, I had fallen just a few gold short of payment for the charter of this vessel and had to take it up with a friend, who insisted that it was too cold outside for me to depart and that I must spend the remainder of the night in her bed. Alas, her husband was none too pleased at the circumstances — neither the financial nor the discovery of yours truly with said friend in flagrante, and I, realizing I had overslept in any case, bid them both adieu and of course came as soon as I could. It is my good fortune that I always keep a spare pair of boots under my cot, as mine seem to have...oh, there they are."
And below the ship as it begins to rise, galloping on horseback, speeding from Aaron’s Cairn, a woman in a nightgown, holding a pair of mawn boots, and yelling something unintelligible. Passing the Shipowner's Man, the thick-set dwarf, who must leap aside to make way for her as he trudges back to town, the rider arrives just as the Reaver's Word lifts off, and throws the boots at the sky-ship in a frothing passion of anger. They fall short and thump lightly back to earth.
“You must put on a coat, it’s freezing out!” yells Eclipse sweetly down to the woman, throwing her a kiss. Then, turning to Laitraxa, and the others, shrugs and says “are those eggs I smell cooking in the galley?”
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Eclipse Faraway
After a quick stop in the cabin to fetch boots, Eclipse, back on deck and steering the vessel's ascent, yells, "Ah, someone has set the sails to Southshire rigging? Who?!"
"Very good, Tyrod! Excellent for discouraging freeloaders! Ah--I can see it in your faces, you’re not sure what I mean. Rats. Rats, other vermin, crows, seabirds, pigeons. It has to do with the tension patterns set up by rigging in this fashion -- the wind blows, the Southshire rigging vibrates in the wind, and it makes a sound only audible to the smallest ears which drives them mad! They abandon ship through the nearest porthole, and your cargo hold is always clean as a whistle!” (OOC: Critical Information check / Biology)
At least, so I have read in “Captain Fandish’ Guide to Ropes and Rigging,” 2nd edition, page 214, 3rd paragraph. In case you were wondering.”
Well met, Bazlachi, and may you ever lead us into battle. Jenaer, I have not until today known the glory of a well-cooked egg. And, never have I met a Goblin I've liked near so much as its detached scalp. North by Northwest is my vote."
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story