(Very sorry for my inactivity, my play(did I actually expressly mention that I was in a play?) has finished but now I have a lot of things I need to catch up on, I'll update on thursday at the latest, though I'll try to do so before then.)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
The bunks are not pleasant, but they are better than nothing. In Ezra's mind, any bed which does not ask him how he would feel if the bed was sleeping on him is a good bed, and the bunks are blessedly silent. The only sounds are the quiet moans of a few prisoners, either from sickness, hunger, or the aching, choking sense of loneliness the prison evokes. False dawn eventually arrives, as the chittering of the phosphorescent scarabs which light the prison's lamps begins again and the place is flooded with a dim-light. Not so far away, though quite a ways down, Fallen London comes to life as well. For a second, Damien almost thinks that he can hear the sound of a ship's bell, as it steams into port at the Wolfstack Docks; the laughing of the bohemians in their honey-dens, as they dream of the world beyond this one; the crash of a glass against a patron's head as yet another brawl breaks out in the Medusa's Head. But it's all gone in an instant, and he blinks the sleep from his eyes as he rises.
Barely half a moment later, the Burly Officer is out again, banging against the bars. "Chow time, gennelmen! Git yerselves out there, we'll be assignin' ya jobs today, should ya like to make a bit of coin and make yerselves useful. Now git going!" One by one, your cell doors are unlocked, and you are shepherded towards the mess hall once again.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
He didn’t remember when he fell asleep, but as he woke he dreamt of the city. The dirty and rough parts he knew, their noises and voices, a song that he was surprised to miss. Sure thing, he had a life better than anything the prison could offer, but even then it was nothing exceptional. The voice of the Burly Office was the last call he needed to enter reality as a whole. Exiting his cell the warlock could not help but look for his companions. He only found Ezra and the clayman was fast to voice a question he himself harbored.
“That is a good new and when it come to work, I would expect something dirty and heavy. Reform of the prison, further cleaning of the wings, laundry, peeling vegetables or cutting meat for the cook.” The only thing he was certain was that if what the other prisoners had said the day before, they wouldn’t work anywhere near the dirigibles.“I've heard that in America they make the prisoners break rocks. Not sure why, though. Maybe they do the same here.”What should I choose? The question was particularly difficult when all of the options were equally bad. “Anyhow, I don’t see any of the others around. Where they moved during the night?”
"LIKE MASONRY WORK? I WOULD BE GOOD AT THAT, I CAN SHOW YOU THE BASICS IF THAT IS OUR TASK. THEY ARE STILL AROUND, THOUGH NONE OF THEM HAVE MET MY EYES THIS MORNING. I DO NOT REMEMBER CRYING OUT DURING MY REST PERIOD, BUT SOMETIMES THAT HAPPENS... I IMAGINE I AM BACK ON POLYTHREME AND HAVE TO SHOUT TO MAKE MYSELF HEARD."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Ezra’s question made Damien think, for the first time, that the clay man may not have heard histories of the surface world. It was hard for him to remember that the Neath was a separated world from that in which he was born, specially after getting used to its peculiarities. Gues I’m one of them now, he pondered reminding of his situation. Those who come back to life there usually could no longer return to the surface. In this sense he was as natural to the area as his compatriot.
“I am not sure, to be honest.” He admitted nodding to the observation of the others presence. They seemed too silent, but maybe because they were particularly alert to the possibility of contact from the Dapper Underworld Boss. “As far as I heard the prisoners where just sent with hammers to break the rocks. Maybe this have some thing to do with masonry, but I don’t really know about trading and in the less than respectable manner.” That was the reason he ended behind bars in the first place. Or at least part of it. “You don’t need to shout in most of the city. Definitely not here, but old habits die hard. You could try starting by training to speak through whispers.”
Breakfast comes and goes with little fuss. It can largely be assumed that whatever was in those bowls was porridge, though its consistency wasn't exactly consistent, and the taste had a weird hint of lemon to it. A couple prisoners complain, claiming that Rubbery Men shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen, unless they're the ones on the plate. Most are at least happy to have a meal. When the bowls are all empty and the food has stopped squirming in its consumer's stomachs, your wing is once again rounded up by the Burly Officer.
"Olright! Now, while I'm sure some of us are 'appy enough to sit 'round and wait out the days 'til they're out, others like bein' useful, contributin' a bit. If you wanna earn a few pence, and feel like doin' somefing with your life, we got jobs for yez. If you got any special talents you think might be helpful, step forward and say 'em, and you might be placed in a job that suits ya better. If you don't but you still wants a job, I'll assign you somefing. Sound good?"
A few people begin to speak up. A Portly Gourmand was an expert in all things edible, before he poisoned a chef for serving him an overripe darkdew cherry liquer. A Bucktoothed Deckhand was quite the expert in swabbing the deck, before she and her crewmates were caught smuggling red honey. An Unfinished Delinquent worked on the docks, before he broke his bonds and tossed his former master to the drownies. Others step back, seemingly content without jobs. Some others linger about, seemingly having no notable skills, but also still eager to make some money.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"I AM PRACTISED IN SHAPING METAL AND STONE, HAVING WORKED AS A SMITH AND MASON. IT IS SO MUCH MORE PLEASANT WHEN THE METAL DOES NOT SHRIEK AND THREATEN, AND THE STONE DOES NOT WAIL AND CAJOLE."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
“You can count on me to give you an honest opinion about your progress.”He said just before the Burly Officer started to speak. The most surprising thing was that money had its use in the prison.
Part of him was starting to get used to Ezra’s description of the things at Polythrerme. Their conscience, their wails, their noise. But for the most part the warlock still felt surprised when the clay man spoke of his experiences in the place. A mixture of curiosity and horror filled his mind every time Damien imagined the place. It should be enough to bring anyone to madness. A testament to the big guy’s strength of mind, he supposed.
“I am good with cooking.” He said lying with the same naturality that he breathed. Considering the meals served in the prison it wouldn’t make much difference if one was incapable of boiling an egg or the head chef of Buckingham Palace and the work should be easy and simple. Besides it was in a place visible and of easy access, should the Undertaker send word from the Dapper Underworld Boss. Who knew? With a bit of luck, he may even head something useful on the kitchen or from there. Either way, it should be better than cleaning the cells.
The Burly Officer nods as Ezra speaks about his skill with inanimate and animate materials alike. "I suppose you could put that skill to work in repairs. Not every day you meet a clay man what knows his way around th' more finer artisanry. You folk're typically more aligned with the haulin' and carryin' sorts of things. You'll be workin' on keepin' the prison working well. As for you." He points to Damien. "You'll be off in the kitchens. Work hard enough, maybe you'll end up serving the guards, or the Warden 'imself. Food's been a little gritty lately, since that Gant-Eyed Poissonnier feller got out."
A few moments pass as some others speak up about their various talents, and then the Burly Officer gives you all instructions for where to go. Ezra is to report to Lift B (that being the one in the cafeteria) and Damien is obviously to head to the kitchen in the cafeteria. A few people leave immediately, but a couply others linger, either unsure of where to go or just dragging their heels. For a short moment you're largely unsupervised, as the Burly Officer takes those unwilling or unable to work back to their cells, so maybe they're up to something else entirely...
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
“He did.” Damien answers Ezra in the brief instant they can speak. He notices the clayman is already trying to lower his voice. “Someone done their sentence.”
Probably. At least Damien didn’t think the Burly Officer would mention someone who managed to escape. Such individual could not only be an inspiration to the inmates, proving that if one puts in the effort and do the right things it is possible to escape the prison, but was also likely to be counted by the warden as a mistake on his part. Small tyrants didn’t like to take responsibility, after all. The warlock also thought unlikely the officer would say the prisoner ‘got out’ if the man had just died. And death was a harder thing to come about in the Neath, he should know that well enough.
“That or someone paid enough to be released.” Somehow this made more sense than having the guards simply release a prisoner who done their time. “And I see you are already starting to work on the voice thing. Still some way to go, but hey, first steps are important.” He looks around, no one else from their group seems to have stayed behind. “I will try to hear news from the kitchen and hopefully I get contacted. Think you can study the lift while riding it? I can imagine knowing how to rob control of it coming in hand later.”
If the two part ways, they both find their destinations easily enough. When Damien reaches the kitchen's back door, a doughy hand quickly reaches out and pulls him in. Connected to it is a Corpulent Chef, his hat sagging alongside his pasty skin, his poor excuse for a mustache caked with crumbs and other thankfully unidentified substances. He spits when he talks, and his face's unfortunate proximity to Damien's means he's leaving this conversation far soggier than he was when he entered.
"You're the new hires, I assume! Great, great. We've got several floors to feed, so we need every hand we can get. Breakfast may have passed, but that means lunch is approaching fast! We've got mushrooms to fry, mushrooms to bake, mushrooms to dice, mushrooms to jelly, mushrooms to sautée, and several other things to do to mushrooms. The main kitchen's just through that door there, you'll find everything you need to get cooking." He shoos Damien, the Portly Gourmand, and a Reedy Crook who has joined you out into the main kitchen.
The place is damned massive for a kitchen. There are dozens of people all over, mercilessly butchering mushrooms. Mostly with knives and skillets, but you catch one person using a set of darts to pin them against the wall and another playing snooker with a plate of portobellos. They're probably doing their jobs right. People run about with plates, sharp objects, and armfuls of ingredients, seemingly haphazardly. There is a pulley system in the center of the room, on which plates are sometimes set and ferried up or down. Damien recalls what the Corpulent Chef said about several floors, and concludes that these must lead up and down to other floors to be served there. For the time being, he doesn't really have much in the way of direction, just an order to get cooking and a scent that would almost certainly cause a blemmigan to break down in spores.
Meanwhile, Ezra meets up by the lift door. Several others are there, including one other clay men. A Stained Mechanic looks to be the leader of the group, as she approaches Ezra when he arrives, clapping a large, gloved hand on his shoulder.
"You're the new one, right?" She regards Ezra with suspicion. "Don't look like much, but we'll see, we'll see. Right, crew. We've got a bit of a job here on our hands. As I'm sure you know, our L.B. 'friends' haven't been the friendliest lately, and we're having to fix a lot of stuff we wouldn't ordinarily have to. And that includes the elevators." She gestures to the door. "We just found out that the cable here's been fraying for a while, and we'd rather not have it breaking on us. It's gonna be a bit of a patch job, since it's best we leave the fine work up to the L.B.s once we sort things out with them, but it's still important to do." She takes a key from her belt and sticks it into the door, opening it into an empty shaft, save for a cable running through it.
"And since we've got a new recruit, I'm thinking we oughta have him prove his chops. Whaddya say, bud?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"MY NAME IS NOT BUD, IT IS EZRA. WHAT ARE THESE CHOPS I MUST PROVE?"
Ezra tries to take note of the key, its complexity, shape, etc. as well as where the Stained Mechanic keeps it. Shafts running the length of the prison could be useful to be able to gain access to. He reminds himself to tell the others about the shafts when he sees them again.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
He was about to fire and Eldritch Blast when the chief cook pulled him. The man was a burly beast. Burlier than the Burly Officer and damper too. All the time his new overlooker spoke, Damian stood with eyes closed. At least it’s not sewer water, he said to himself as the giant spoke about mushrooms. The first thing on his head was how anyone managed to transform mushrooms on the things served to the prisoners. A special kind of talent had to be necessary in order to perform such a feat. The second thought was if the blemmingans inmates took offense in such a menu. Did they consider eating other fungi cannibalism?
There was no other way to describe the kitchen besides huge and chaotic. He takes notice first of the pulley, then allows his attention to wander towards the most eccentric - the man with the darts and the duo playing… Snooker with a plate of portobellos? The creativity of the unfortunate should be studied, he thought deciding to approach the thrower.
“Up for a game?”He asked doubting anyone in there would mind if they were or not doing their work properly. Besides the darts would make for a good ice breaker. He was even willing to take a bet, if the man so wished. Since his death betting had gone well for Damian and it could give him more information. If nothing else it would make getting attention might easy.
"Right, Ezra. Haven't heard that name on a clay man before, I don't half dislike it. Well, since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you exactly what I mean by 'proving your chops.' You're gonna head down into that shaft there, weld some metal to the fraying bit of cord, and come back out, hopefully without shattering yourself on the ground." The Stained Mechanic pulls a blowtorch and a small piece of metal meant to be used in slapdash repairs like this one, just welded to whatever problem. She offers them to Ezra, and nods to the waiting shaft.
The thrower looks up at Damien, and raises an eyebrow. "A game," he mutters, "he asks for a game? Ha! I don't have time for games. It's mushroom day! Today, of all days, there's no time for games." Turning away again, he tosses a mushroom into the air and narrowly misses spearing it to the wall. He mumbles something, shakes his head, and tosses the mushroom into a basket.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"It certainly won't work as a final fix, but it'll prevent the thing from outright snapping, at least for a while. Until we can get the rats back on it. Since the metal brace won't bend like the wire, it won't be able to access the highest floors for a while, but it's better to have it working poorly than not working at all. You'd be surprised at just how much of this place is held together by shitty welding jobs and improvisation."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
(Very sorry for my inactivity, my play(did I actually expressly mention that I was in a play?) has finished but now I have a lot of things I need to catch up on, I'll update on thursday at the latest, though I'll try to do so before then.)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Ezra joins the line behind Damien so he can speak to his friend.
"NO SNUFFERS THAT I SAW, IT WAS A QUIET NIGHT. WHAT KIND OF JOBS DO YOU THINK THEY HAVE FOR US?"
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
He didn’t remember when he fell asleep, but as he woke he dreamt of the city. The dirty and rough parts he knew, their noises and voices, a song that he was surprised to miss. Sure thing, he had a life better than anything the prison could offer, but even then it was nothing exceptional. The voice of the Burly Office was the last call he needed to enter reality as a whole. Exiting his cell the warlock could not help but look for his companions. He only found Ezra and the clayman was fast to voice a question he himself harbored.
“That is a good new and when it come to work, I would expect something dirty and heavy. Reform of the prison, further cleaning of the wings, laundry, peeling vegetables or cutting meat for the cook.” The only thing he was certain was that if what the other prisoners had said the day before, they wouldn’t work anywhere near the dirigibles. “I've heard that in America they make the prisoners break rocks. Not sure why, though. Maybe they do the same here.” What should I choose? The question was particularly difficult when all of the options were equally bad. “Anyhow, I don’t see any of the others around. Where they moved during the night?”
"LIKE MASONRY WORK? I WOULD BE GOOD AT THAT, I CAN SHOW YOU THE BASICS IF THAT IS OUR TASK. THEY ARE STILL AROUND, THOUGH NONE OF THEM HAVE MET MY EYES THIS MORNING. I DO NOT REMEMBER CRYING OUT DURING MY REST PERIOD, BUT SOMETIMES THAT HAPPENS... I IMAGINE I AM BACK ON POLYTHREME AND HAVE TO SHOUT TO MAKE MYSELF HEARD."
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
Ezra’s question made Damien think, for the first time, that the clay man may not have heard histories of the surface world. It was hard for him to remember that the Neath was a separated world from that in which he was born, specially after getting used to its peculiarities. Gues I’m one of them now, he pondered reminding of his situation. Those who come back to life there usually could no longer return to the surface. In this sense he was as natural to the area as his compatriot.
“I am not sure, to be honest.” He admitted nodding to the observation of the others presence. They seemed too silent, but maybe because they were particularly alert to the possibility of contact from the Dapper Underworld Boss. “As far as I heard the prisoners where just sent with hammers to break the rocks. Maybe this have some thing to do with masonry, but I don’t really know about trading and in the less than respectable manner.” That was the reason he ended behind bars in the first place. Or at least part of it. “You don’t need to shout in most of the city. Definitely not here, but old habits die hard. You could try starting by training to speak through whispers.”
Breakfast comes and goes with little fuss. It can largely be assumed that whatever was in those bowls was porridge, though its consistency wasn't exactly consistent, and the taste had a weird hint of lemon to it. A couple prisoners complain, claiming that Rubbery Men shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen, unless they're the ones on the plate. Most are at least happy to have a meal. When the bowls are all empty and the food has stopped squirming in its consumer's stomachs, your wing is once again rounded up by the Burly Officer.
"Olright! Now, while I'm sure some of us are 'appy enough to sit 'round and wait out the days 'til they're out, others like bein' useful, contributin' a bit. If you wanna earn a few pence, and feel like doin' somefing with your life, we got jobs for yez. If you got any special talents you think might be helpful, step forward and say 'em, and you might be placed in a job that suits ya better. If you don't but you still wants a job, I'll assign you somefing. Sound good?"
A few people begin to speak up. A Portly Gourmand was an expert in all things edible, before he poisoned a chef for serving him an overripe darkdew cherry liquer. A Bucktoothed Deckhand was quite the expert in swabbing the deck, before she and her crewmates were caught smuggling red honey. An Unfinished Delinquent worked on the docks, before he broke his bonds and tossed his former master to the drownies. Others step back, seemingly content without jobs. Some others linger about, seemingly having no notable skills, but also still eager to make some money.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"SPEAKING THROUGH WHISPERS. I WILL WORK ON THAT."
"I AM PRACTISED IN SHAPING METAL AND STONE, HAVING WORKED AS A SMITH AND MASON. IT IS SO MUCH MORE PLEASANT WHEN THE METAL DOES NOT SHRIEK AND THREATEN, AND THE STONE DOES NOT WAIL AND CAJOLE."
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
“You can count on me to give you an honest opinion about your progress.” He said just before the Burly Officer started to speak. The most surprising thing was that money had its use in the prison.
Part of him was starting to get used to Ezra’s description of the things at Polythrerme. Their conscience, their wails, their noise. But for the most part the warlock still felt surprised when the clay man spoke of his experiences in the place. A mixture of curiosity and horror filled his mind every time Damien imagined the place. It should be enough to bring anyone to madness. A testament to the big guy’s strength of mind, he supposed.
“I am good with cooking.” He said lying with the same naturality that he breathed. Considering the meals served in the prison it wouldn’t make much difference if one was incapable of boiling an egg or the head chef of Buckingham Palace and the work should be easy and simple. Besides it was in a place visible and of easy access, should the Undertaker send word from the Dapper Underworld Boss. Who knew? With a bit of luck, he may even head something useful on the kitchen or from there. Either way, it should be better than cleaning the cells.
The Burly Officer nods as Ezra speaks about his skill with inanimate and animate materials alike. "I suppose you could put that skill to work in repairs. Not every day you meet a clay man what knows his way around th' more finer artisanry. You folk're typically more aligned with the haulin' and carryin' sorts of things. You'll be workin' on keepin' the prison working well. As for you." He points to Damien. "You'll be off in the kitchens. Work hard enough, maybe you'll end up serving the guards, or the Warden 'imself. Food's been a little gritty lately, since that Gant-Eyed Poissonnier feller got out."
A few moments pass as some others speak up about their various talents, and then the Burly Officer gives you all instructions for where to go. Ezra is to report to Lift B (that being the one in the cafeteria) and Damien is obviously to head to the kitchen in the cafeteria. A few people leave immediately, but a couply others linger, either unsure of where to go or just dragging their heels. For a short moment you're largely unsupervised, as the Burly Officer takes those unwilling or unable to work back to their cells, so maybe they're up to something else entirely...
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
In the closest that Damien has heard to a whisper from Ezra...
"DID HE SAY SOMEONE GOT OUT?"
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
“He did.” Damien answers Ezra in the brief instant they can speak. He notices the clayman is already trying to lower his voice. “Someone done their sentence.”
Probably. At least Damien didn’t think the Burly Officer would mention someone who managed to escape. Such individual could not only be an inspiration to the inmates, proving that if one puts in the effort and do the right things it is possible to escape the prison, but was also likely to be counted by the warden as a mistake on his part. Small tyrants didn’t like to take responsibility, after all. The warlock also thought unlikely the officer would say the prisoner ‘got out’ if the man had just died. And death was a harder thing to come about in the Neath, he should know that well enough.
“That or someone paid enough to be released.” Somehow this made more sense than having the guards simply release a prisoner who done their time. “And I see you are already starting to work on the voice thing. Still some way to go, but hey, first steps are important.” He looks around, no one else from their group seems to have stayed behind. “I will try to hear news from the kitchen and hopefully I get contacted. Think you can study the lift while riding it? I can imagine knowing how to rob control of it coming in hand later.”
(Sorry, been busy lately, will get a post off tomorrow midday at latest)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
If the two part ways, they both find their destinations easily enough. When Damien reaches the kitchen's back door, a doughy hand quickly reaches out and pulls him in. Connected to it is a Corpulent Chef, his hat sagging alongside his pasty skin, his poor excuse for a mustache caked with crumbs and other thankfully unidentified substances. He spits when he talks, and his face's unfortunate proximity to Damien's means he's leaving this conversation far soggier than he was when he entered.
"You're the new hires, I assume! Great, great. We've got several floors to feed, so we need every hand we can get. Breakfast may have passed, but that means lunch is approaching fast! We've got mushrooms to fry, mushrooms to bake, mushrooms to dice, mushrooms to jelly, mushrooms to sautée, and several other things to do to mushrooms. The main kitchen's just through that door there, you'll find everything you need to get cooking." He shoos Damien, the Portly Gourmand, and a Reedy Crook who has joined you out into the main kitchen.
The place is damned massive for a kitchen. There are dozens of people all over, mercilessly butchering mushrooms. Mostly with knives and skillets, but you catch one person using a set of darts to pin them against the wall and another playing snooker with a plate of portobellos. They're probably doing their jobs right. People run about with plates, sharp objects, and armfuls of ingredients, seemingly haphazardly. There is a pulley system in the center of the room, on which plates are sometimes set and ferried up or down. Damien recalls what the Corpulent Chef said about several floors, and concludes that these must lead up and down to other floors to be served there. For the time being, he doesn't really have much in the way of direction, just an order to get cooking and a scent that would almost certainly cause a blemmigan to break down in spores.
Meanwhile, Ezra meets up by the lift door. Several others are there, including one other clay men. A Stained Mechanic looks to be the leader of the group, as she approaches Ezra when he arrives, clapping a large, gloved hand on his shoulder.
"You're the new one, right?" She regards Ezra with suspicion. "Don't look like much, but we'll see, we'll see. Right, crew. We've got a bit of a job here on our hands. As I'm sure you know, our L.B. 'friends' haven't been the friendliest lately, and we're having to fix a lot of stuff we wouldn't ordinarily have to. And that includes the elevators." She gestures to the door. "We just found out that the cable here's been fraying for a while, and we'd rather not have it breaking on us. It's gonna be a bit of a patch job, since it's best we leave the fine work up to the L.B.s once we sort things out with them, but it's still important to do." She takes a key from her belt and sticks it into the door, opening it into an empty shaft, save for a cable running through it.
"And since we've got a new recruit, I'm thinking we oughta have him prove his chops. Whaddya say, bud?"
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"MY NAME IS NOT BUD, IT IS EZRA. WHAT ARE THESE CHOPS I MUST PROVE?"
Ezra tries to take note of the key, its complexity, shape, etc. as well as where the Stained Mechanic keeps it. Shafts running the length of the prison could be useful to be able to gain access to. He reminds himself to tell the others about the shafts when he sees them again.
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
He was about to fire and Eldritch Blast when the chief cook pulled him. The man was a burly beast. Burlier than the Burly Officer and damper too. All the time his new overlooker spoke, Damian stood with eyes closed. At least it’s not sewer water, he said to himself as the giant spoke about mushrooms. The first thing on his head was how anyone managed to transform mushrooms on the things served to the prisoners. A special kind of talent had to be necessary in order to perform such a feat. The second thought was if the blemmingans inmates took offense in such a menu. Did they consider eating other fungi cannibalism?
There was no other way to describe the kitchen besides huge and chaotic. He takes notice first of the pulley, then allows his attention to wander towards the most eccentric - the man with the darts and the duo playing… Snooker with a plate of portobellos? The creativity of the unfortunate should be studied, he thought deciding to approach the thrower.
“Up for a game?” He asked doubting anyone in there would mind if they were or not doing their work properly. Besides the darts would make for a good ice breaker. He was even willing to take a bet, if the man so wished. Since his death betting had gone well for Damian and it could give him more information. If nothing else it would make getting attention might easy.
"Right, Ezra. Haven't heard that name on a clay man before, I don't half dislike it. Well, since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you exactly what I mean by 'proving your chops.' You're gonna head down into that shaft there, weld some metal to the fraying bit of cord, and come back out, hopefully without shattering yourself on the ground." The Stained Mechanic pulls a blowtorch and a small piece of metal meant to be used in slapdash repairs like this one, just welded to whatever problem. She offers them to Ezra, and nods to the waiting shaft.
The thrower looks up at Damien, and raises an eyebrow. "A game," he mutters, "he asks for a game? Ha! I don't have time for games. It's mushroom day! Today, of all days, there's no time for games." Turning away again, he tosses a mushroom into the air and narrowly misses spearing it to the wall. He mumbles something, shakes his head, and tosses the mushroom into a basket.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"ARE YOU MAKING A JOKE? THAT IS NOT ENOUGH TO REPAIR IT."
((Me the player is certain it wouldn't actually work, but if it can work in fiction, Ezra can try!))
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
"It certainly won't work as a final fix, but it'll prevent the thing from outright snapping, at least for a while. Until we can get the rats back on it. Since the metal brace won't bend like the wire, it won't be able to access the highest floors for a while, but it's better to have it working poorly than not working at all. You'd be surprised at just how much of this place is held together by shitty welding jobs and improvisation."
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Insight: 15
Ezra shrugs and takes the materials from her and peers down into the shaft, moving to position himself to begin the slapdash repairs.
((What rolls would you like to fix it? Smith's tools? Ability?))
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock