Watching the pirate caravel, The Black Keel, Vicky notices that while faster and able to point closer into the wind than the Azure Fortune, it seems to be riding higher in the water (likely due to an empty hull). Also, it's two masts have been over-rigged to compete with the three masts of the trade brig. It's sails are straining - if the brig could maneuver them into a beam reach, the Black Keel may likely slip in the water sideways, losing distance on the heavier but well rigged brig. This would be even better if the trade vessel can use the wild winds of the storm - it could even damage the pirate's rigging, giving the party a further lead.
Captain Gregor Vance stood at the helm, silent for a moment, then gave a small nod, grim and certain.
“Well spotted,” he muttered, then raised his voice like a thunderclap. “Hands to canvas! Brace the main! We’re taking the beam and riding it hard!”
Sails snapped and creaked as the crew moved with sudden urgency. The Azure Fortune pitched sharply as the helm turned, angling the ship to meet the wind at a clean beam reach. The gust hit—not head-on, but across her side like a giant's hand pushing a skipping stone.
The old brigantine surged forward with surprising grace, hull cutting clean through the rising waves. The lines groaned. Spray exploded across the deck. But the ship held true.
Behind them, The Black Keel hesitated—its crew adjusting sails frantically, overstrained lines snapping in the squall. The pirate vessel floundered for a crucial moment, unable to ride the gust with the same control.
As The Azure Fortune pulled ahead, her sails full and keening like the cry of a hawk, Captain Vance allowed himself the ghost of a grin.
“We’ve got wings now,” he muttered. “Let them chase shadows.”
Avoiding the worst of the squall, both ships still continue in stormy seas, but soon the pirate ship disappears into the distance behind the Azure Fortune.
Tahlia comes out of her hiding spot behind the railing, flexing her fingers as they had grown strained from the grip upon the banister while the ship pitched and surged. She looks back to where the pirate ship was chasing them and seeing them disappear in their wake, she smiles.
She watches the crew do their dance with the ropes and sails and boat like stuff, seeing Vicky jump in there like she is one of them. It is impressive and she wonders if her new friend has been around ships her whole life, sure seemed like it. She does her best to stay out of the way, but keeps her eyes open and in ear shot of the first mate in case something is needed.
It wasn't the first time at sea for the young white-haired waterdhavian noble. He had some journeys with ships from his family's merchant fleet, and being an attentive young man he had evidently learned enough on them to even advice the captain of the Azure Fortune. He is quite pleased to see black keel disappear on the horizon and spends the next moments finding his comanions and praising their intiatives and resourcefulness, it all boded well for their future. He would definitely celebrate by opening another bottle of wine, sharing it around. "Captain, should we expect them to follow us or do you believe we have seen the last of that black keel?" He asks Captain Vance as he joins him by the steering wheel.
That night, far behind on the horizon, the light on a ship could still be seen. The light continued behind them until it faded out of view with the sunrise.
They were being followed.
However, by the next night, not a sign of another ship could be seen.
On the sixth day of sailing, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the sea fog thickened.
The crew of The Azure Fortune moved with practiced caution as mist rolled over the deck. The air grew unnaturally still.
Then, a shadow moved.
It started as a long, serpentine silhouette, coiling through the fog, shifting against the dim moonlight. A massive head rose from the mist, sleek and curved like a dragon’s snout, gleaming with what looked like scales of burnished bronze.
Someone on deck gasped. Someone else muttered a prayer.
Then, the illusion shattered.
The serpent was no beast of the deep, but a ship—long and sleek, its hull adorned with curling golden patterns, its masts carved like the sinuous body of a dragon, its mainsails rippling off each side, fore and aft, like four great wings.
It was unlike any ship the adventurers had ever seen—not the squared lines of a Waterdhavian galleon, nor the stout curves of a Luskan longship. It bore the marks of Kara-Tur, yet even that did not fully explain its elegance, its uncommon presence.
A voice called from the deck of the Dragonship, deep and commanding.
"Come aboard, envoys of Volo. The voyage ahead is far longer than you know."
Ropes were thrown, a gangplank lowered.
The party is rowed over and board the Dragonship via a carved gangplank inlaid with polished brass dragons. Waiting for them is the sailor who hailed them—a tall man in green lacquered scale armor, wearing a sash patterned like ocean waves. He bows, unsmiling, and introduces himself only as Matsu.
Three more sailors flank him—each wearing different styles of Kara-Turan garb, their faces calm but unreadable.
"You will be received below. Your cargo will be brought aboard shortly."
The Dragonship’s interior hull is enormous, far larger than it appeared from the outside. The corridor they enter is a long, wide passage of black-stained wood and brass struts, with arched bulkheads that echo faintly with every footfall.
It is... eerily empty.
No crew bustle about, no noise of cargo being moved. Only Matsu and his three silent mates escort the party, saying nothing as they guide them deeper below.
As they walk, the adventurers pass a series of closed doors, each unmarked but each distinct. The air shifts subtly as they move—this part of the ship seems mismatched, almost as though it had been assembled from different ships, or planes.
One section smells of salt and damp, and water seeps through the cracks near the floor.
Another has the fragrance of a meadow in summer, soft and sweet—but there are no windows, no openings at all.
One door is faintly warm to the touch and behind it comes the chug-chug-chunk of pistons, the hiss of steam, and the click of gears, accompanied by curls of mist that leak from beneath the threshold.
Another door appears sealed with a crude plank nailed across, as though someone was trying to keep something in—or out. A faint scraping sound can be heard inside... then silence.
One door has a divine sigil burned into it—a symbol none of the party recognizes. It is cold to the touch, and utterly silent.
Matsu says nothing unless pressed, at which point he simply replies:
“Not for you. Please.”
At last, they reach a double-doored chamber, banded in brass and carved with the curling form of a dragon in flight. Matsu opens the doors and gestures for them to enter.
Inside is a lavishly appointed stateroom with:
A central round table ringed by chairs of lacquered cherrywood
A sideboard with crystal decanters and fine glassware
A hanging tapestry depicting a starry sky… but with unknown constellations
No windows. No sound of the sea. The air feels... still, but heavy.
"Please rest. The captain will join you shortly—once we are... squarely underway."
Matsu gives a final bow, steps out, and the doors close with a solid, final-sounding thunk. A click of a bolt is heard outside.
The adventurers are now alone in the stateroom of a vessel that is clearly more than just a ship.
Vicky takes it all in with a face of wonder and awe. It is far beyond anything she has seen. Still, she says little, just thanks Matsu, only wondering a little at the sound of being locked in.
Djoserstands near the closed doors, his lanky frame motionless, save for the slow, deliberate flexing of his fingers. His dark eyes flicker toward the bolt that was just drawn outside. Locked in. Expected, perhaps, but unwelcome.
For a long moment, he says nothing, simply scanning the room—the table, the glassware, the tapestry with its unfamiliar constellations. Not the stars of Faerun. His jaw tightens slightly. He had long since learned that the sky above was not always the sky one knew.
When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured. “This ship is no mere vessel. It has walked other paths.” A pause. And then the pause turns to silence as he moves away from the others.
He turns toward the doors again, running a hand along the carved dragon. He does not try to open them—yet. “The way they move, the way they watch—this is not a crew of traders. They are… different.” His voice carries no judgement.
He steps back, crossing his arms. Then, with a deep breath, he murmurs, almost to himself, "A wise merchant tests the weight of a coin before taking it to market." His eyes settle on the others. For some of them, it might be the first time this priest has actually looked their way in a week at sea. “We do the same. Listen well. Speak carefully. Volo is known to hyperbole. I am beginning to suspect that - this time - he may have understated this endeavor of his.”
His fingers find the familiar weight of the coin purse at his belt, tracing its hem. A prayer to Waukeen forms in his mind—not one of desperation, but of transaction. Every deal carries risk. Grant me the wisdom to know the worth of what is offered.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
As he and the rest of the team embarks on the mysterious dragonship, the young white-haired waterdhavian noble curiously takes note of everything he sees, pondering what kind of vessel this could be. He had heard about and also seen some quite remarkable vessels in the harbour of Waterdeep but this one was truly different.
History to know stuff about the vessel: 9
Once in the lavishly appointed stateroom Archael calmly walks over to the sideboard with the crystal decanters to help himself to a drink while listening to the Waukeenar, offering drinks to the others. "Agreed."He says with a nod. "While I don't believe we are in danger, yet, we should tread carefully and gather information when we can." He adds, studying the star map to see if it tells him anything.
Archael recalls seeing pictures of Kara-tur fishing ships that had vaguely similar sail shape and rigging from picture books in his youth. However, those were much smaller vessels and he has never seen anything quite like it in Waterdeep.
Examining the tapestry of constellations he is struck by the odd perspective. It’s not just that he doesn’t recognize them—it’s that the logic of the sky is different. It could just be artistic license or perhaps these stars weren’t mapped by Torilian eyes.
Tahlia moves her head around like it is on a swivel as she tries to take it all in. From when the illusion of the dragon first arrived all the way to the stateroom they currently find themselves in. The doors on the way are very intriguing and she finds it hard not to press about it when Matsu states they are Not for you.
But nothing dampens her spirit, not even the sound of the lock finding it's place after the man closes them in. "Man, if only father could see me now." She nods as Djoser and Archael talk about keeping vigilant and aware of their surroundings, murmuring, "Understated is an understatement in itself..."
She accepts a glass from the wizard and takes a seat at the table, setting her lute case on the table with a louder sound than she had planned. "How long do you think we'll have to wait? I wouldn't think it would take this ship long to be 'squarely underway'"she mimics Matsu's voice on those last words.
Archael chuckles at the blonde elf's play with words.
"And I believe you are right about this vessel taking other paths Djoser..." the young white-haired waterdhavian noble says as he studies the tapestry of constellations. "...I have the sense that this vessel might well have travelled other worlds."
"Impatient are you? I would have thought that elves weren't as bothered with the passing of time as others?" Archael asks the blonde elf with a good-natured chuckle. "I'm sure the captain will join us shortly." He adds doing his best to also mimic Matsu's voice at the end.
Tahlia turns to look at Archael and raises an eyebrow, "And how many elves do you know? Excitement, impatience.. sometimes these two things go hand in hand." she takes a sip of the libation and smiles,"Not bad."
Seeming a bit flustered about the blonde elf's retort, the young noble nervously scratches his neck as he continues. "You are quite right Tahlia. I do not count any elves among my friends, I can only hope to learn from you about how immortality changes perspective on the world and it's people." He admits with a weak smile, then taking another sip and nods in agreement with the elf's assessment.
The merchant adventurers sit in the state room, talking and taking in the eerie silence and rolling motion of the ship under sail.
Then, a mechanical clunk echoes from one corner.
There’s a large, ornate chest—one they may have dismissed as cargo or decor. It's polished cherrywood with golden filigree in the shape of a knight on horseback, charging into stars. On the front is a crest: a stylized "V" carved in ivory.
A gentle hiss of steam. A click. Then... the lid rises on its own.
Inside, folded like an impossibly precise marionette, is a mechanical man in fine, baroque attire: a coat of dusty blue velvet, ruffled sleeves, a worn but elegant tri-cornered hat, and a half-cape slung dramatically over one shoulder. His brass-and-silver limbs are filigreed like a dueling blade, and a slim fencing rapier rests magnetically along his thigh.
He begins to unfold himself smoothly—arms rotating, torso clicking upright, legs extending, hat tilting into place with a satisfying snap.
With a final chime, a glowing sending stone in the center of his chest pulses softly and emits:
"Ah! My noble crew! My gallant pioneers! What a joy to emerge from stasis. Please, forgive the unceremonious storage—packing me like a wine rack was not my idea."
The stone crackles again.
(In Volo’s voice, slightly echoing) "Yes, yes, yes—get on with it, Diomedé. Introduce yourself. They haven’t got all day."
The Nimblewright snaps upright and bows with a flourish worthy of a royal court.
"I am Diomedé, your majordomo, navigator liaison, valet, linguist, armsmaster, and wardrobe consultant—among other things. I was commissioned by Master Volothamp himself and retrofitted from only the finest clockwork salvage in Lantan, Sigil, and one regrettable tavern in Halruaa."
He lifts a long-gloved hand and gestures to the table.
"You are the bold vanguard of Master Volo’s glorious new trading empire. A stunning appointment, if I may say. I am here to ensure you do not embarrass him."
The sending stone flickers again.
"Or get yourselves killed. Or break the ship. Or sell the cargo for beer money."
Diomedé sighs dramatically and tilts his hat forward.
"Master Volo... is as ever the soul of refinement. Now! Shall I give you the ship’s layout? Review the rules of vacuum exposure? Or, perhaps, would you like tea?"
But before the adventurer's can respond, there comes a ringing of bells throughout the ship. For the first time the team also hears the thunderous sound of many stomping boots on the decks above, indicating the presence of the crew they have here-to-fore not seen.
"Oh, here we go. You might want to hang onto something."
The boat rolls and lurches as if the sails suddenly were pulling the ship forward into stormy seas. There is a sickening roll to port as a few items tumble and roll in the cabin. Any of the members who have not braced themselves stumble. Then the entire floor swings hard to port leveling itself, but also shifting everyone again. Then the rolling seems to stop - entirely. There is a sudden silence and lack of motion of the deck. Having been at sea for days, this is almost as disconcerting as stepping from shore onto a moving boat had been to the voyagers on the first day.
Vicky's wonderment continues as she watches all of this, she does her best to brace herself, being familiar with sudden moves aboard ships- allthough not like this. **"Diomedé, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Vicky... you can call me Vic. What manner of ship is this? I would love to see the layout and a tour. I am afraid i don't know this word, vaccumn..".*.
(forgot advantage- rolling again if higher)
15
Archael nods and smiles to the blonde elf. "There is something to be said for an eye in the sky."
The young white-haired waterdhavian noble then studies the Shrieking Gale with equal parts awe and curiosity.
Arcana/Nature: 18
Watching the pirate caravel, The Black Keel, Vicky notices that while faster and able to point closer into the wind than the Azure Fortune, it seems to be riding higher in the water (likely due to an empty hull). Also, it's two masts have been over-rigged to compete with the three masts of the trade brig. It's sails are straining - if the brig could maneuver them into a beam reach, the Black Keel may likely slip in the water sideways, losing distance on the heavier but well rigged brig. This would be even better if the trade vessel can use the wild winds of the storm - it could even damage the pirate's rigging, giving the party a further lead.
Eryndor - Red Dead Annihilation | GM - Volo's Trade Franchise - PF2e Adventures set in the Forgotten Realms
Archael notices the clouds above the waterline darkening and flattening—a clear sign that a rolling wind front is coming.
“There! Low clouds rushing east—if we cut across the wind now, we’ll ride that surge like a slingstone.”
Captain Vance takes the observations in stride and begins giving instructions to take advantage of them:
20
Eryndor - Red Dead Annihilation | GM - Volo's Trade Franchise - PF2e Adventures set in the Forgotten Realms
Captain Gregor Vance stood at the helm, silent for a moment, then gave a small nod, grim and certain.
“Well spotted,” he muttered, then raised his voice like a thunderclap. “Hands to canvas! Brace the main! We’re taking the beam and riding it hard!”
Sails snapped and creaked as the crew moved with sudden urgency. The Azure Fortune pitched sharply as the helm turned, angling the ship to meet the wind at a clean beam reach. The gust hit—not head-on, but across her side like a giant's hand pushing a skipping stone.
The old brigantine surged forward with surprising grace, hull cutting clean through the rising waves. The lines groaned. Spray exploded across the deck. But the ship held true.
Behind them, The Black Keel hesitated—its crew adjusting sails frantically, overstrained lines snapping in the squall. The pirate vessel floundered for a crucial moment, unable to ride the gust with the same control.
As The Azure Fortune pulled ahead, her sails full and keening like the cry of a hawk, Captain Vance allowed himself the ghost of a grin.
“We’ve got wings now,” he muttered. “Let them chase shadows.”
Avoiding the worst of the squall, both ships still continue in stormy seas, but soon the pirate ship disappears into the distance behind the Azure Fortune.
Eryndor - Red Dead Annihilation | GM - Volo's Trade Franchise - PF2e Adventures set in the Forgotten Realms
Tahlia comes out of her hiding spot behind the railing, flexing her fingers as they had grown strained from the grip upon the banister while the ship pitched and surged. She looks back to where the pirate ship was chasing them and seeing them disappear in their wake, she smiles.
She watches the crew do their dance with the ropes and sails and boat like stuff, seeing Vicky jump in there like she is one of them. It is impressive and she wonders if her new friend has been around ships her whole life, sure seemed like it. She does her best to stay out of the way, but keeps her eyes open and in ear shot of the first mate in case something is needed.
Perception 18
It wasn't the first time at sea for the young white-haired waterdhavian noble. He had some journeys with ships from his family's merchant fleet, and being an attentive young man he had evidently learned enough on them to even advice the captain of the Azure Fortune. He is quite pleased to see black keel disappear on the horizon and spends the next moments finding his comanions and praising their intiatives and resourcefulness, it all boded well for their future. He would definitely celebrate by opening another bottle of wine, sharing it around. "Captain, should we expect them to follow us or do you believe we have seen the last of that black keel?" He asks Captain Vance as he joins him by the steering wheel.
That night, far behind on the horizon, the light on a ship could still be seen. The light continued behind them until it faded out of view with the sunrise.
They were being followed.
However, by the next night, not a sign of another ship could be seen.
On the sixth day of sailing, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the sea fog thickened.
The crew of The Azure Fortune moved with practiced caution as mist rolled over the deck. The air grew unnaturally still.
Then, a shadow moved.
It started as a long, serpentine silhouette, coiling through the fog, shifting against the dim moonlight. A massive head rose from the mist, sleek and curved like a dragon’s snout, gleaming with what looked like scales of burnished bronze.
Someone on deck gasped.
Someone else muttered a prayer.
Then, the illusion shattered.
The serpent was no beast of the deep, but a ship—long and sleek, its hull adorned with curling golden patterns, its masts carved like the sinuous body of a dragon, its mainsails rippling off each side, fore and aft, like four great wings.
It was unlike any ship the adventurers had ever seen—not the squared lines of a Waterdhavian galleon, nor the stout curves of a Luskan longship. It bore the marks of Kara-Tur, yet even that did not fully explain its elegance, its uncommon presence.
A voice called from the deck of the Dragonship, deep and commanding.
Ropes were thrown, a gangplank lowered.
The party is rowed over and board the Dragonship via a carved gangplank inlaid with polished brass dragons. Waiting for them is the sailor who hailed them—a tall man in green lacquered scale armor, wearing a sash patterned like ocean waves. He bows, unsmiling, and introduces himself only as Matsu.
Three more sailors flank him—each wearing different styles of Kara-Turan garb, their faces calm but unreadable.
The Dragonship’s interior hull is enormous, far larger than it appeared from the outside. The corridor they enter is a long, wide passage of black-stained wood and brass struts, with arched bulkheads that echo faintly with every footfall.
It is... eerily empty.
No crew bustle about, no noise of cargo being moved. Only Matsu and his three silent mates escort the party, saying nothing as they guide them deeper below.
As they walk, the adventurers pass a series of closed doors, each unmarked but each distinct. The air shifts subtly as they move—this part of the ship seems mismatched, almost as though it had been assembled from different ships, or planes.
One section smells of salt and damp, and water seeps through the cracks near the floor.
Another has the fragrance of a meadow in summer, soft and sweet—but there are no windows, no openings at all.
One door is faintly warm to the touch and behind it comes the chug-chug-chunk of pistons, the hiss of steam, and the click of gears, accompanied by curls of mist that leak from beneath the threshold.
Another door appears sealed with a crude plank nailed across, as though someone was trying to keep something in—or out. A faint scraping sound can be heard inside... then silence.
Matsu says nothing unless pressed, at which point he simply replies:
At last, they reach a double-doored chamber, banded in brass and carved with the curling form of a dragon in flight. Matsu opens the doors and gestures for them to enter.
Inside is a lavishly appointed stateroom with:
A central round table ringed by chairs of lacquered cherrywood
A sideboard with crystal decanters and fine glassware
A hanging tapestry depicting a starry sky… but with unknown constellations
No windows. No sound of the sea. The air feels... still, but heavy.
Matsu gives a final bow, steps out, and the doors close with a solid, final-sounding thunk. A click of a bolt is heard outside.
The adventurers are now alone in the stateroom of a vessel that is clearly more than just a ship.
Eryndor - Red Dead Annihilation | GM - Volo's Trade Franchise - PF2e Adventures set in the Forgotten Realms
Vicky takes it all in with a face of wonder and awe. It is far beyond anything she has seen. Still, she says little, just thanks Matsu, only wondering a little at the sound of being locked in.
Djoser stands near the closed doors, his lanky frame motionless, save for the slow, deliberate flexing of his fingers. His dark eyes flicker toward the bolt that was just drawn outside. Locked in. Expected, perhaps, but unwelcome.
For a long moment, he says nothing, simply scanning the room—the table, the glassware, the tapestry with its unfamiliar constellations. Not the stars of Faerun. His jaw tightens slightly. He had long since learned that the sky above was not always the sky one knew.
When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured. “This ship is no mere vessel. It has walked other paths.” A pause. And then the pause turns to silence as he moves away from the others.
He turns toward the doors again, running a hand along the carved dragon. He does not try to open them—yet. “The way they move, the way they watch—this is not a crew of traders. They are… different.” His voice carries no judgement.
He steps back, crossing his arms. Then, with a deep breath, he murmurs, almost to himself, "A wise merchant tests the weight of a coin before taking it to market." His eyes settle on the others. For some of them, it might be the first time this priest has actually looked their way in a week at sea. “We do the same. Listen well. Speak carefully. Volo is known to hyperbole. I am beginning to suspect that - this time - he may have understated this endeavor of his.”
His fingers find the familiar weight of the coin purse at his belt, tracing its hem. A prayer to Waukeen forms in his mind—not one of desperation, but of transaction. Every deal carries risk. Grant me the wisdom to know the worth of what is offered.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
As he and the rest of the team embarks on the mysterious dragonship, the young white-haired waterdhavian noble curiously takes note of everything he sees, pondering what kind of vessel this could be. He had heard about and also seen some quite remarkable vessels in the harbour of Waterdeep but this one was truly different.
History to know stuff about the vessel: 9
Once in the lavishly appointed stateroom Archael calmly walks over to the sideboard with the crystal decanters to help himself to a drink while listening to the Waukeenar, offering drinks to the others. "Agreed." He says with a nod. "While I don't believe we are in danger, yet, we should tread carefully and gather information when we can." He adds, studying the star map to see if it tells him anything.
History to know stuff about the star map: 21
Archael recalls seeing pictures of Kara-tur fishing ships that had vaguely similar sail shape and rigging from picture books in his youth. However, those were much smaller vessels and he has never seen anything quite like it in Waterdeep.
Examining the tapestry of constellations he is struck by the odd perspective. It’s not just that he doesn’t recognize them—it’s that the logic of the sky is different. It could just be artistic license or perhaps these stars weren’t mapped by Torilian eyes.
Eryndor - Red Dead Annihilation | GM - Volo's Trade Franchise - PF2e Adventures set in the Forgotten Realms
Tahlia moves her head around like it is on a swivel as she tries to take it all in. From when the illusion of the dragon first arrived all the way to the stateroom they currently find themselves in. The doors on the way are very intriguing and she finds it hard not to press about it when Matsu states they are Not for you.
But nothing dampens her spirit, not even the sound of the lock finding it's place after the man closes them in. "Man, if only father could see me now." She nods as Djoser and Archael talk about keeping vigilant and aware of their surroundings, murmuring, "Understated is an understatement in itself..."
She accepts a glass from the wizard and takes a seat at the table, setting her lute case on the table with a louder sound than she had planned. "How long do you think we'll have to wait? I wouldn't think it would take this ship long to be 'squarely underway'" she mimics Matsu's voice on those last words.
Archael chuckles at the blonde elf's play with words.
"And I believe you are right about this vessel taking other paths Djoser..." the young white-haired waterdhavian noble says as he studies the tapestry of constellations. "...I have the sense that this vessel might well have travelled other worlds."
"Impatient are you? I would have thought that elves weren't as bothered with the passing of time as others?" Archael asks the blonde elf with a good-natured chuckle. "I'm sure the captain will join us shortly." He adds doing his best to also mimic Matsu's voice at the end.
Tahlia turns to look at Archael and raises an eyebrow, "And how many elves do you know? Excitement, impatience.. sometimes these two things go hand in hand." she takes a sip of the libation and smiles, "Not bad."
Seeming a bit flustered about the blonde elf's retort, the young noble nervously scratches his neck as he continues. "You are quite right Tahlia. I do not count any elves among my friends, I can only hope to learn from you about how immortality changes perspective on the world and it's people." He admits with a weak smile, then taking another sip and nods in agreement with the elf's assessment.
The merchant adventurers sit in the state room, talking and taking in the eerie silence and rolling motion of the ship under sail.
Then, a mechanical clunk echoes from one corner.
There’s a large, ornate chest—one they may have dismissed as cargo or decor. It's polished cherrywood with golden filigree in the shape of a knight on horseback, charging into stars. On the front is a crest: a stylized "V" carved in ivory.
A gentle hiss of steam.
A click.
Then... the lid rises on its own.
Inside, folded like an impossibly precise marionette, is a mechanical man in fine, baroque attire: a coat of dusty blue velvet, ruffled sleeves, a worn but elegant tri-cornered hat, and a half-cape slung dramatically over one shoulder. His brass-and-silver limbs are filigreed like a dueling blade, and a slim fencing rapier rests magnetically along his thigh.
He begins to unfold himself smoothly—arms rotating, torso clicking upright, legs extending, hat tilting into place with a satisfying snap.
With a final chime, a glowing sending stone in the center of his chest pulses softly and emits:
The stone crackles again.
The Nimblewright snaps upright and bows with a flourish worthy of a royal court.
He lifts a long-gloved hand and gestures to the table.
The sending stone flickers again.
Diomedé sighs dramatically and tilts his hat forward.
But before the adventurer's can respond, there comes a ringing of bells throughout the ship. For the first time the team also hears the thunderous sound of many stomping boots on the decks above, indicating the presence of the crew they have here-to-fore not seen.
The boat rolls and lurches as if the sails suddenly were pulling the ship forward into stormy seas. There is a sickening roll to port as a few items tumble and roll in the cabin. Any of the members who have not braced themselves stumble. Then the entire floor swings hard to port leveling itself, but also shifting everyone again. Then the rolling seems to stop - entirely. There is a sudden silence and lack of motion of the deck. Having been at sea for days, this is almost as disconcerting as stepping from shore onto a moving boat had been to the voyagers on the first day.
Eryndor - Red Dead Annihilation | GM - Volo's Trade Franchise - PF2e Adventures set in the Forgotten Realms
Vicky's wonderment continues as she watches all of this, she does her best to brace herself, being familiar with sudden moves aboard ships- allthough not like this. **"Diomedé, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Vicky... you can call me Vic. What manner of ship is this? I would love to see the layout and a tour. I am afraid i don't know this word, vaccumn..".*.
24 acrobatics to hold on
((Hope you can read that - should be the last of the long chunks for a while - needed to get introductions done))
((Oops - guess not - I will repost in chunks))
Eryndor - Red Dead Annihilation | GM - Volo's Trade Franchise - PF2e Adventures set in the Forgotten Realms