In-Character

[Rabbit]

This is a thread for in-character action. It takes place in between adventure sessions. The thread may refresh after adventures or major events at table-top sessions. Nothing here is meant to affect your character in the long term, it’s just a place to let your characters breath a little bit (especially during long gaps between games.) Feel free to bring in your character or talk to NPC locals (played by your DM.)

[Rabbit]

Location: The Lyrandar merchant Galleon, Seeker, in route between Sharn and Rhukaan Draal.
Time: Early evening

The merchant galleon, Seeker, sails East with the setting sun at its back. To the north, the horizon of land can barely be seen. To the South, nothing but open sea. It is a common enough route for merchants and diplomats and the ship has several such passengers. Though another group of travelers do not fit that mold. A group that could be decribed as adventurers are also on board.

Now, most of the passengers are on the top deck trying to take in the last of the day’s light. A dwarf travelling salesman and gnomish diplomat are among them.

The half-elf crew goes about their business doing what sailors do. The captain stands at the helm talking with his first mate.

[icnivad]

A large man stands alone toward the back of the boat, sweat dripping off his brow. He moves slowly, but purposefully, from one form to another. His eyes are fixed intensely on one spot of empty air, as if some foe stands in front of him that anyone else watching just can't quite see. After a quick move, his eyes move determinedly to another point, his body quickly following. The fluidity of his movements might make him seem relaxed if he were wearing more clothes, but his bare chest and arms betray his intensity as every muscle is pulled taught.

His armor and shirt lay folded neatly a few feet away.

[michael]

The bulky warforged sat on the deck, grooming. Oiled rag in hand, he tended to the vast array of pipes and valves twisted throughout his torso; his instrument, his organ/s. Many were fond of this pun, particularly the gnomes he stayed with in Zilargo. The warforged understood the dual meaning,

Organ
1. a grouping of tissues into a distinct structure, as a heart or kidney in animals or a leaf or stamen in plants, that performs a specialized task.
2. a musical instrument consisting of one or more sets of pipes sounded by means of compressed air, played by means of one or more keyboards, and capable of producing a wide range of musical effects.

and that these double-relevant definitions were meant to be humorous. Sometimes, when one was parsed just right, he would even laugh at them. It was not often, though.

(Also, 3. an agency or medium of communication, esp a periodical issued by a specialist group or party, though this definition is less used, and as yet nobody has made a clever phrasing comparing his instrument to the dissemination of information.)

All of him was sturdy, his organ no exception. Trips to Sharn's sewers, Kobold gore, sword strikes, constant use, and still it needed very little maintenance. The warforged took care, though; he had never been out to sea. He did not think he would rust, not in such a short time. But as they say, a gram of preclusion is worth a kilogram of reparation.

The warforged finished, and tested himself. He played without problems.

[icnivad]

Toweling himself off, June's head jerks to the side as he hears a gurgley horn clear the last drops of oil from it's chambers. As the notes start to weave themselves into tunes, June relaxes a bit, realizing there was no incoming war party. War Horns were used by the tribes back home to signal an incoming attack, and their sound always puts him on the ready.

Grabbing his shirt, June chuckles to himself as he realizes what the warforged must have been doing. I guess we all have to take care of ourselves in one way or another. This is a strange group I've fallen in with. I hope they will be enough to help the house. As June walks over to the warforged, re-donning his armor, he ponders the new companions he has met. He has seen the stalwart machine in front of him-- No -- Not a machine. A person. June reminds himself, still making the adjustment to warforged having been declared sentient. They were given that right, I will honor it. Anyway, he has seen the stalwart warforged called Tubes take hits that would have dropped even the toughest of fighters, yet he seemed hardly the worse for wear. Perhaps combined with the powerful sword arm of the barbarian woman, and the healing magic of the quirky little one on top of that big lizard, the four of them will be able to save his family.

"Mind if I sit a while and listen?" June gestures to a chain near the warforged.

[Rabbit]

Location: The Good Thing Tavern, on the docks of Trolanport (capital of Zilargo)
Time: Evening

The journey West, back to more ‘civilized’ lands, is realitivly uneventful. Kind waters and swift winds have carry the galleon with ease. In fact, the ship is making such good time the captain decides to dock the last night of the voyage in Trolanport, the gnome capital of Zilargo. He assures his passangers that with the speed they are making the ship will easily reach Sharn on schedual.

Lady Elaydren takes this time to invite the adventurers to dine with her at one of the nicer taverns by the docks.

Inside the tavern is bustling with activity. Gnomish patrons and staff fill the large room. Lady Elaydren and the adventurers are able to claim a “large person’s booth” though the accomadations still feel a bit cramped. Despite the close quarters the live music, hearty food, and warm hospitality make the group feel at home.

[Feel free to talk amongst yourselves, to Lady Eladren, or make someone else up. There are a handful of non-gnome travellers spread throughout the room and ample gnomes of every social class. I’ll respond as the NPCs.]