Clockwork, Steam & Sorcery: Part the second
,being a tale of intrigue and adventure in the streets of Arcosia.
The players:
~
The day dawned brightly, a good deal warmer than was normal for an autumn day. The unusual, oppressive, humid heat that seemed to come and go according to the whims of the gods had returned in full force, blanketing the city. In the uncomfortable smog, most citizens seemed content to wear their summer clothes, and went on with lazy caution.
Everything seemed slow and sluggish, and the seconds crawled by at a snail's pace.
While people were slow, talk was fast. Rumour had spread across campus - Longstock had yet another murder suspect, and this one a half-orc brute! Surely, the rumours said, the other suspect with the orc-blade and this one were in cahoots? The rumours also placed two of the student's colleagues at the scene as the ones who lead the guard to the suspect. Forge and Froud found themselves the subject of curious stares throughout the morning.
In the confines of a small cluttered class in the University's Northern tower, Professor Allasar Cronk paused during his lecture on the Subformulae of Teolian Abjurations to push open the stain glassed windows. This relieved some of the stifling temperature of the room, but it was not until the professor summoned an air elemental or three and bid them race around the class did the class experience some relief. Cronk was a jolly, slightly plump man whose fatherly ruddy-cheeked face always had a cheerful smile on it.
"Ah, now where was I?" He turned back to the chalkboard that dominated the wall before them, and then nodded. "Ah yes. Certain wizards, usually those who are dedicated abjurers, have such an uncanny faculty with the ether they can manipulate it in such a way as to protect themselves from any kind of harm for a few moments. Of course," he adds with a grin and a wink, "the rest of us must cheat by crafting a spell." He drew a piece of chalk from his desk and began to write out the arcane symbols that represented the basic warding spell. "Of course, you will have to attune the spell and internalize, but it's quite a basic thing. I will give you the rest of class to prepare and cast it, and come around to see how each of you are doing. Begin at your leisure, please."
With that cue the students, Forge and Miriah among them, started the task of transcribing the spell to their tomes.
~
In the Music Hall on the other side of campus, Maestro Purgis shook his head in disgust. "No, no, no! You're doing it all wrong! Murder! Murder! That's what you're doing to Mandal's 3rd Aria to Orma. Were the man alive right now he'd be livid! As livid as I!" Glowering, the stately halfling tucked his baton under an armpit and strutted towards his orchestra. "Findlay! Are you completely tone deaf? I've heard cats in heat make a better sound! Lartis, were you asleep again, you oaf? Your cue is on the twenty-eighth beat. Twenty eight, I'm sure you can count that high if you remove your boots. Lindithil, Leafsinger, do not mutter your lines, enunciate. Enunciate! How can you expect to lead the chorus if you can't even get the lines right?"
Red faced, the Maestro turned away, stalking for the door. "Forget it, we're ruined. I go to drown myself in drink, and possibly the Westering. Perhaps that will remove your incessant racket from my ears! Less than a week away! I'm ruined! Ruined!" And with that the instructor swept from the room, leaving the performers, including Aerandir and Lartis to their own devices.
~
Froud always felt at home in the bowels of the Mechanical Laboratory. Tucked under the school in a large burrowed cavern, every wall was covered with blueprints for various clockwork designs. Here, Professor Angstrom would give the occaisional disjointed lecture, but they were few and far between; most of the time, he seemed surprised when he found students in the lab upon his morning arrival. Of course, today he sat at his desk, completely absorbed in writings as cryptic as any arcane tome. As usual, Fozwith Brackett conducted the class.
"So as you can see," the little gnome said from behind thick spectacles, waving at the chalkboard behind him, "we will begin construction on something of true complexity. Clocks and gears and levers, you've mastered them in your previous years and have done well enough to be invited back again. There will be several projects, all longer term than you are used to. Indeed, you will be expected to do most of the design work yourself. Many of these projects will be mandated by the curriculum, but a few will be self directed. In all cases, creativity is encouraged." He paused and pinched the end of his curled mustache, surveying the class. He waved a hand at the chalk board again. "Here, we have a rather basic design for a steam powered boat. It won't be full size, of course, but may make it more difficult. Any questions?"
,being a tale of intrigue and adventure in the streets of Arcosia.
The players:
- Argent ~ Forge Ironsong
- Uriel_fire_of_heaven ~ Froud Galvinium
- Seonaid ~ Miriah Kalindos
- Bruin ~ Aerandir Lindithil
- Badger ~ Lartis "The Lame"
~
The day dawned brightly, a good deal warmer than was normal for an autumn day. The unusual, oppressive, humid heat that seemed to come and go according to the whims of the gods had returned in full force, blanketing the city. In the uncomfortable smog, most citizens seemed content to wear their summer clothes, and went on with lazy caution.
Everything seemed slow and sluggish, and the seconds crawled by at a snail's pace.
While people were slow, talk was fast. Rumour had spread across campus - Longstock had yet another murder suspect, and this one a half-orc brute! Surely, the rumours said, the other suspect with the orc-blade and this one were in cahoots? The rumours also placed two of the student's colleagues at the scene as the ones who lead the guard to the suspect. Forge and Froud found themselves the subject of curious stares throughout the morning.
In the confines of a small cluttered class in the University's Northern tower, Professor Allasar Cronk paused during his lecture on the Subformulae of Teolian Abjurations to push open the stain glassed windows. This relieved some of the stifling temperature of the room, but it was not until the professor summoned an air elemental or three and bid them race around the class did the class experience some relief. Cronk was a jolly, slightly plump man whose fatherly ruddy-cheeked face always had a cheerful smile on it.
"Ah, now where was I?" He turned back to the chalkboard that dominated the wall before them, and then nodded. "Ah yes. Certain wizards, usually those who are dedicated abjurers, have such an uncanny faculty with the ether they can manipulate it in such a way as to protect themselves from any kind of harm for a few moments. Of course," he adds with a grin and a wink, "the rest of us must cheat by crafting a spell." He drew a piece of chalk from his desk and began to write out the arcane symbols that represented the basic warding spell. "Of course, you will have to attune the spell and internalize, but it's quite a basic thing. I will give you the rest of class to prepare and cast it, and come around to see how each of you are doing. Begin at your leisure, please."
With that cue the students, Forge and Miriah among them, started the task of transcribing the spell to their tomes.
~
In the Music Hall on the other side of campus, Maestro Purgis shook his head in disgust. "No, no, no! You're doing it all wrong! Murder! Murder! That's what you're doing to Mandal's 3rd Aria to Orma. Were the man alive right now he'd be livid! As livid as I!" Glowering, the stately halfling tucked his baton under an armpit and strutted towards his orchestra. "Findlay! Are you completely tone deaf? I've heard cats in heat make a better sound! Lartis, were you asleep again, you oaf? Your cue is on the twenty-eighth beat. Twenty eight, I'm sure you can count that high if you remove your boots. Lindithil, Leafsinger, do not mutter your lines, enunciate. Enunciate! How can you expect to lead the chorus if you can't even get the lines right?"
Red faced, the Maestro turned away, stalking for the door. "Forget it, we're ruined. I go to drown myself in drink, and possibly the Westering. Perhaps that will remove your incessant racket from my ears! Less than a week away! I'm ruined! Ruined!" And with that the instructor swept from the room, leaving the performers, including Aerandir and Lartis to their own devices.
~
Froud always felt at home in the bowels of the Mechanical Laboratory. Tucked under the school in a large burrowed cavern, every wall was covered with blueprints for various clockwork designs. Here, Professor Angstrom would give the occaisional disjointed lecture, but they were few and far between; most of the time, he seemed surprised when he found students in the lab upon his morning arrival. Of course, today he sat at his desk, completely absorbed in writings as cryptic as any arcane tome. As usual, Fozwith Brackett conducted the class.
"So as you can see," the little gnome said from behind thick spectacles, waving at the chalkboard behind him, "we will begin construction on something of true complexity. Clocks and gears and levers, you've mastered them in your previous years and have done well enough to be invited back again. There will be several projects, all longer term than you are used to. Indeed, you will be expected to do most of the design work yourself. Many of these projects will be mandated by the curriculum, but a few will be self directed. In all cases, creativity is encouraged." He paused and pinched the end of his curled mustache, surveying the class. He waved a hand at the chalk board again. "Here, we have a rather basic design for a steam powered boat. It won't be full size, of course, but may make it more difficult. Any questions?"
