This thread continues the adventures of James Marsh, lately of Simian Circus: James joins the game. The transition from that world was made during live play, so I'll continue the summary here.
When James came to (after a dream-like experience which I won't attempt to recreate), he found himself lying on his back in a dank, rocky place, most likely a cave or cavern of some kind, in near-total darkness. Near-total, thanks to the great green slitted eyes, each the size of his face, which gleamed at him reflectively from the dimness. In their light he could just make out a scaly sort of snout - which might perhaps explain the alternating drafts he'd been feeling across his body, first warm, then chill.
As he sat up, there was slight motion from the direction of the head and eyes. A great voice rumbled out from the darkness, deep and contented and patient, each syllable enunciated with a connoisseur's relish:
"Ah, you're awake. How . . . wonderful."
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James, if you have anything to add or any questions to ask, now's a good time. Otherwise - your move, slick.
Do i have a vector on my gear at all?
I ask, "how long have i been laying here?"
You do, once your feel for it. There are two: one is level and to your left, and the other is straight ahead - that is, past the dragon - but tilted somewhat downward.
You can feel its slow words resonate in your chest as it speaks:
"Not long."
It gestures to your left with its nose, lazily.
"Only about as long as your things, there. They are your things, aren't they?"
It makes it sound as if the question is a secret joke, to which it already knows the answer.
"yes, they are."
we continued during live play again
The dragon soon lit up the cave somehow, and asked me what species i was and how i arrived. I told him i was a human, and he soon backed off from asking where i was from. soon, i gathered my stuff, and he told me that if i met the group of angry people down the mountainside i should tell them the witchs were the ones stealing their cattle.
i left, walked down the trail and saw some goblins and a dwarf going through my stuff. i hid behind a tree until they decided it might be the property of someone powerful and left it behind. i gathered it up and stored the duffle in my pack. then i continued down the mountainside and found a more used road.
to be continued.
Much thanks for beginning the summary on your own. I've just moved back in to university and my internet access is not yet dependable, but I should be back here and active again relatively soon.
continuing now
As i tried to decide which way to go, i heard some singing approaching from one direction and the sound of wheels from that direction. the song went like this: "you take straw, and i'll take hay, this cheese is for the king's birthday. you take that, and i'll take this, i'm sure the king will love my cheese." Deciding that the song implied that the capital city was in the other direction, i walked that way. while i walked, i was overtaken by a singing goblin wheeling a handcart with a huge wheel of cheese in it. we talked, and soon i agreed to walk with him to the capital.
on the road, we met a mouse. the conversation went as follows:
mouse: what do you have in that cart?
farmer: This is a great, fine, cheese.
mouse: may i eat the cheese?
farmer: NO! it's for the king.
mouse: may i eat some of the cheese?
farmer: NO!
mouse: may i... smell the cheese?
farmer: well, i don't suppose there's any harm in that.
i didn't either, since we could just pick up the mouse if it started to eat the cheese. it sniffed the cheese, and sqeeked. and a horde of mice ran out of the forest and ate some of the cheese before we drove them off.
The farmer was distraught, but soon decided there was nothing to be done, and the king would just have a little less cheese. later, we met a cat, and the same conversation was repeated, but then there was some arguing before i was persuaded to let him smell the cheese. and a horde of cats came out of the forest and ate some of the cheese.
The farmer was distraught, but continued on. later a dog came out of the forest and i managed to persude the farmer not to let him smell the cheese. some dogs came out of the forest, but i held them off and we walked away.
Then a bear came out of the forest. the mouse conversation was repeated, and i decided i didn't feel like fighting a horde of bears, so i let the bear smell the cheese. some bears came out of the forest, beat up the farmer, and ate the cheese.
well, the farmer decided he'd go to the party anyways, so on we went, and arrived at a highway, which we followed to the capital. the capital turned out to have a triagnular layout, and we joined a huge line of goblins going to deliver gifts to the king. when we got there, the farmer explained what had happened, and the king said, "that's alright, i'll have another birthday"
i gave the king my claw-hammer, and he asked me where i came from before saying we could talk about it later, and i went off to the party, where i learned that the goblins had a lot of beer and peanuts. That and the fact that the farmer didn't know much about international politics. later, a guard showed up to bring me to the king.
Is there some reason in particular why you haven't been responding? i've tried to get in touch with you by email, but your old yahoo accout no longer exists.
Scott has posted sparingly to a few threads lately; his return to school reportedly sucked up a lot of his time. I'm sure he'll post here as soon as he gets the chance.
I'm looking forward to it.
--M. J. Young
Well, yes, MJ's right, but this is still embarrassing. I ought to have been able to post on at least one or two of the past weekends; the fact is that when I have free time, I forget, and when I remember, I don't. I'll post tonight (I'd say 'now', but I'm cooking dinner), and after that look for responses at a rate of at least once a week (subject to change once final projects kick into gear).
Also, I've left my book and dice at home. But there are dice online, and Fox News will lean left before I let an absent rulebook stop me from gaming. If you want to email me, my Yahoo address is still my username at Yahoo.com.
Incidentally, I'm looking forward to it also.
Edit: "Tonight" obviously meaning "tomorrow."
--Scott: if you need update on the stopwatch technique (which I somehow doubt you would) start a thread and I'll post how I do it. You can also cut your own chits, which is really old-school gaming.
And of course if you need support for the rules, you know where to ask. If you need to do it privately, referee@mjyoung.net will reach me three days a week.
--M. J. Young
The guard turns his back and leads you away from the festivities. Other than stepping aside for your escort or sparing you a glance of momentary curiosity, the attendees take no notice of your departure, and you've very quickly left the party behind. When you turn a corner off the straw-strewn side street on to a bare dirt alley, the heady noise of the celebration dies away, leaving only a distant murmur in its place.
The rest of the town is dark and empty. Low-lying buildings are held apart by crooked streets, themselves half-shielded from the sky by deep overhangs. The whisper of the goblin guard's leather armor and the quiet flap of his feet are louder than the gathering you've left behind as he makes his way through the dim.
Stepping up onto the porch of what might be a narrow little shop, he raps on the door with his spear before pushing it open. He pauses briefly and looks at you over his shoulder – as if checking to see you're still there – and then enters.
I will hopefully make more detailed posts when my reactions are not based off immediate responses exclusively
I will follow him in and look around.
In the dim light of a single candle, it seems your suspicions were correct and that this is some type of shop. Horseshoes, hand tongs, and other small, metallic objects hang from nails driven into all four walls of the narrow storefront room, gleaming in the candlelight; a low counter a few yards away divides the far half of the room from this one, not quite long enough to block of the path to a back door (which, given the small size of this room, must lead deeper into the interior rather than out the back of the building). There is a goblin seated on this counter, holding the candle.
"You're late."
He hops down off the counter, his wide feet slapping loudly against the wooden floor. "And where's His Majesty?"
The guard answers. "Said He had a few more things to attend to, but I should go ahead and bring this one along to you, and - and He'd come by when He could get away." He scrunches up his face like he's trying to remember. He adds, "And that you'd want to see him first, anyhow, so I'd best get along with it."
The other goblin snorts. "'Want' is the wrong word."
He closes the distance between you until his candle is about two feet away from your face, and you gain a new appreciation for exactly how ugly this particular individual is. He squints up at you like you're some variety of insect he's never seen before, crawling across his kitchen wall.
"So. What's the story of you, hmmm? Who are you, and why didn't I know about you until tonight?"
"I've only recently arrived."
"Is that so? Well, you can't have come in by the roads. If you'd come in by the roads, you'd have been seen, and that means someone would have told me. So if I'm to believe you, you crossed into this country on foot, sneaking just as fast as you can through the wilderness, unseen by loyal goblin folk 'til a handful of miles out from the capital, where-at you arrive - and finally show your face - just in time for the King's birthday. Fancy that.
"I suppose you'll tell me you wanted it to be a surprise? Or do you need to change your story? I've got time, if you need to think for a spell."
"I got rather lost during a storm, and i didn't find a road again for a while. arriving just in time for your birthday was a conicidence, and pleasent except for the incidents with the mice, cats, dogs, and bears."
Apologies for the protracted nature of our interaction, due to which some summary is probably in order: the goblin to whom you currently speak is not the King (who is apparently late), though his identity and/or function are not yet clear; you are in the front room of a narrow artisan's shop, the sole light (a candle) is in the hand of the goblin in front of you, and the spear-armed guard has taken up station at the front door.
"I got rather lost during a storm, and i didn't find a road again for a while. arriving just in time for your birthday was a coincidence, and pleasant except for the incidents with the mice, cats, dogs, and bears."
"Yes, your farmer friend mentioned those already. I have ears among the furry folk; I expect they'll verify your story within the day. As well as supply what detail you may have left out, hey?
"Now, this storm. It must have been fierce for you to lose your way so completely - not so common in this season, the kind of thing people remember. If we can trace the storm, we might divine which border you stumbled through, and from which direction, mm? How long ago - "
At this juncture the front door behind you opens, and the goblin with the candle turns his attention to the new arrival: the King.
"M'liege."
"Good evening, Grimalt." The King crosses over to you, carrying his herbaceous crown under his left arm. "And James. Well met again."
_
Will post again.
Before you can respond to the king's greeting with more than a simple gesture, the ugly goblin with the candle (Grimalt) cuts in.
"My liege, I was just ascertaining certain information about 'James' here, namely --"
"Time for that later, Grimalt. Why don't we show James the reason I asked him here?"
"But Sire! I haven't - there's still more to - As Spymaster, I must caution you --"
"It's been a long night, Grimalt. I value your opinions highly, and I look forward to hearing everything you have to tell me in the morning. You do your best work with a night to think things over, anyway.
"Now. I think James deserves to see why he's been called away from my party. Don't you agree, James? It's right this way." Taking the candle from the Spymaster, the King leads the way through the back door of the shop's front room.
I'm going to follow the king and continue to do so unless i am asked a direct question, or somthing major changes in the enviroment.
You're led through a short hall into a workroom, which is dominated by a goblin-high wooden table in the middle. Dominating the table is a large device or apparatus of some kind, which they expect you to inspect in spite of the dim light.
The thing is a bit mangled, and it looks as though some parts of it haven't been put together in quite the way they should - metal plates riveted in the wrong way around, straps fastened in the wrong ways, that sort of thing. The entire contraption smells of alcohol. One half looks like it's meant to be worn on the back, and it's connected to the other half by several hoses. The other half is bulky, with at least two handles; a thick, fat gun barrel protrudes from the end, and a chain belt like you would find on a bicycle or a chainsaw dangles from one part of it, unhooked from its channel. The thing's designer apparently had a fondness for gratuitous metal plates - the backpack portion looks like it's wearing barding - but judging from the dents, scratches, and general battering you can observe, he may have had the right idea.
The king wants to know what you think of it. There is an expectant atmosphere.
The above description is cursory, the things you couldn't help but notice. Feel free to ask specific questions.
Does the back look like a tank for liquids? Are there any plates that look like they were partially melted? Anything that looks like a gauge or other mechanical information display?
The back's lower portion does appear to be a tank intended for liquid. The upper portion looks like an external frame backpack with armor plates. The hoses run from the tank into the front. Upon closer inspection, you notice that the unhooked chain dangling from the front is barbed in a way most bicycle chains aren't.
None of the plates appear melted, although there are a few black marks in places that could be burns or could be something else.
What sort of gauge(s) might you expect to find, and what information might you glean from the fact of their presence or absence?
I'm expecting to find a pressure gauge of some sort. Presence would pretty much confirm my suspicions, while absence would not but wouldn't prove them wrong. Tempature gauge would be much the same.
There is what appears to be a mechanical gauge (currently displaying either minimum or maximum, depending on the convention in use). You know something about pressure systems, but of course you can't know exactly what sort of gauge this is without opening up the device.
In the course of your examination you also come across a pull string, two triggers (or trigger-like apparatus), and one small toggle lever.
How much hands-on experience do you have with modernish weapons systems?
none at all
Just checking. That means you're relying on your General Science background knowledge and your 1@5 SAL Circus Repair Package, which includes T2@X Wheels Package, T3@X Use Standard Hand Tools, T4@X Gears Package, T4@3 Non-Round Gears, T6@1 Defuse Explosives, and a T7@1 Pressure System Repair Package (Steam Blasting/Pressure Cleaning, Pressure Cooking, Vacuum Pumping, Repair Piston Engine, Repair Hydraulics, Repair Pneumatics). That's fine for what you've done so far; no checks required as yet.
__
"So? What do you make of it? Do you think it can be repaired?"
"Possibly, unless there is a hole in the hoses or tank i can't see. All the apparent damage looks superficial, but if either of those is breached, it will be rather hard to repair. If the hoses are damaged, they'll likely have to be entirely replaced."
I'm going to look for any breaks in either
Grimalt says, "Superficial? Then what has been interfering with its operation? We haven't been able to make it work at all."
It takes a little time and some close inspection with the candle, but there don't seem to be any breaks in the hosing or the tank. You know more rigorous tests, but you can't apply them right here and now.
"possibly internal damage or a blockage, or maybe it needs a certain amount of liquid in the backpack to work."
"Do you know its function, then? Have you seen one of these before?" The King seems very interested, while Grimalt looks on with an air of reserving judgment.
"I've only seen pictures, and those were of a different design with less armor, but i tihnk it's a flamethrower. That's a device for launching a stream of burning liquid a short distance."
The King claps you on the shoulder, saying, "You have experience with dwarfish work? It's better than I'd hoped. I'm convinced."
Grimalt cuts in, "But Sire, that's not what this device was reported to do! If he can't even identify its function - "
"Gibbering gophers, Grimalt, don't ask him to work miracles in the dark! He obviously knows a thing or two, which is a thing or two more than we know without him. And besides, 'fine tools mark a fine craftsman' -- and I know a fine tool from a shoddy one.
"We can talk business in the morning. Grimalt will find you lodging for the night, and my guard will see to anything else you need, within reason. And I would appreciate it if you didn't mention this device to anyone outside of this room. With that, I'll bid you good night. Grimalt, I'll see you in the morning?"
"Yes, Sire."
"Good night, then."
Unless you've anything to say or do before the King leaves (or after), Grimalt will take you to an unoccupied one-room goblin house on the edge of town and leave you there with the guard, who will accommodate any reasonable requests. (If you have any unreasonable requests, he'll probably try.) If there's anything else you'd like to do or any specific plan you have for the morning, I'm listening.
No specific plans currently.
Apologies for the badly-timed lapse. An essay ambushed me, followed by host duty.
When you awaken, something seems different. After a moment, you realize that you are in your bed at home. The light is on, and you're dressed in your usual nightwear.
I'm going to take a confused look around, searching for anything wildly out of place, especially if it would not look out of place in a hospital.
This is most definitely your bedroom. It's not precisely how you left it before the trip to Charlotte - it's been cleaned up a bit, apparently, looking more like how it usually does - but nothing is here that shouldn't be, nor as far as you can tell is anything missing.
Except that there is a girl of about sixteen standing just in front of your closed door. She is wearing a white bed sheet, loosely wrapped and knotted, and is looking about your room with at least as much interest as you are. She is quite pretty, and her hair is the most vivid shade of purple you have ever seen on a real person.
__
Simple intuition check (2d20): 32, failure; only reporting what I can't get away with neglecting, given your actions and the circumstances. (You do get credit for looking, for example, and you can rest easy that nothing obviously hospital-esque has been missed.)
Stock description to run away from really fast, though V-me never read the stories that make doing so seem particularly urgent. At least there aren't two random armed people standing around in the backround and grumbling about misuse of puncuation.
"Who are you?"
"You are a strange one, aren't you?" She sounds as though she's half talking to herself. "What is this place? So many books . . . !"
She's taken a few steps further into your room and is running her finger along your dresser. You can't quite place her accent, nor can you help noticing she hasn't answered you.