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Story Hour
A Toe in the Water: anyone want a new Eberron story hour? (updated 2006-05-25) (POLL CLOSES AT 4:30am EDT, 26 May)
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<blockquote data-quote="Redwald" data-source="post: 2843877" data-attributes="member: 12271"><p><strong>All Aboard!</strong></p><p></p><p>Kamiel's eyes widen and various organs draw up into his body as the device hurtles downwards—to say “descends” would be an unwarranted understatement.</p><p></p><p>“I'd appreciate some truth in advertising,” he yells to his friends over the roar of the air rushing past. “They call it a ‘lift’. What they <em>should</em> call it is a ‘plummet’!”</p><p></p><p>His companions look variously bemused and stoic as the ground rushes towards them.</p><p></p><p>Just when Kamiel thinks the braking magic has gone awry, their rate of descent slackens. A little bit at first, then more so, until the lift comes to as gentle a stop as you'd please, a second <em>after</em> a burly laborer disengages the gate. The man steps down and off the lift just <em>before</em> it's flush with the wooden decking at the bottom, getting a brief but measurable head start on the other passengers—clearly someone who feels he has no time to lose. “Late for work?” Kamiel wonders.</p><p></p><p>The docks are crowded and noisy. As the party makes its way down the boardwalk and pass the numbered berths, they hear sailors cursing in any of a dozen different languages. Teamsters and longshoremen are moving cargo, flagging the crane operators, cracking whips at the draft animals, meandering about, or simply leaning against the support posts driven through the sandy ground underneath the boards. The group does not have to push its way through the bustle, but it's a hectic trot to berth thirty-seven nonetheless.</p><p></p><p>Cullen and Kamiel have never been to sea, but they've heard enough stories to know that the ship before them is not entirely conventional. The <em>Kingfisher's Victory</em> looks a little odd—it is a substantial vessel, but has only three relatively small sails. One is located in the rear third of the ship, and has fin-like protrusions. Mounted on the stern frame is a large blue-white ring, its plane transverse to the surface of the water. Most of the other ships are missing this feature, and instead have three or even four masts, each with complex rigging and numerous sails.</p><p></p><p>Cullen has heard of these. He turns and notes Kamiel's expression. “This is a wind galleon,” he states.</p><p></p><p>Teague smiles and nods. He seems eager to board, and has spotted his kinsman.</p><p></p><p>Captain Aran is visible on the sterncastle, consulting with his crew. Sailors are rushing about on the deck, where some passengers are evidently already aboard. There are two groups of gnomes, one of four, the other of three. A pair of human women are also present.</p><p></p><p>A hobgoblin stands alone on the forecastle, not quite sneering. He is clad in an impressive suit of leather armor, studded with small metal spikes. The goblinoid does not bear a weapon, but stands as if he's used to doing so.</p><p></p><p>Despite the creature's commanding posture, he does not appear to be part of the crew. The sailors are all in uniform. As one would expect of a House Lyrandar vessel's crew, half-elves comprise the majority, but it's a slim one—the remaining half the crew are humans along with a few gnomes, and one large half-orc. The last is currently in conversation with the captain.</p><p></p><p>The adventurers approach the gangway and spot a young-looking deckhand checking people in. Teague takes the lead and hands his identification papers to the crewman. He reasons that he'll be expected thanks to his uncle, and that the House Lyrandar seal will grease the wheels for himself and his armed and armored companions.</p><p></p><p>The young man looks over Teague's papers for a moment.</p><p></p><p>“These three are with me,” Teague says, indicating the others with a jerk of the thumb.</p><p></p><p>The deckhand nods, then invites the quartet aboard, advising them to check their weapons. He perfunctorily glances at Cardea's, Cullen's, and Kamiel's papers and hastily returns them, already with an eye on the docks for more passengers or late crew arrivals.</p><p></p><p>Dragan steps along the gangplanks with uneasy glances at the water below, and vaults the last few feet to land on the ship's deck with a determined hop.</p><p></p><p>Once aboard, the party's attention returns to the captain, who remains in his position as an ever-changing array of sailors seeks audience with him. At present, he's consulting with two crewmen.</p><p></p><p>“That one guy, the human, that's the navigator,” Teague says. “The other, the big half-orc with the board checking things off of it, that's the cargo master. You can tell by the vest he's wearing. Let's go find the first mate.”</p><p></p><p>Teague hustles off with the rest of the group trailing, and in short order the half-elf they seek is found and inquiries are made. “The quartermaster's probably below decks in the fore,” he replies. “Check your weapons and have him show you to your cabins. The ladder's that way.” He points towards the forecastle.</p><p></p><p>The adventurers make their way forward through the meandering passengers and hustling sailors, and reach a descending flight of somewhat steep wooden stairs. Teague bounds down them with agility.</p><p></p><p>“I thought the first mate said <em>ladder</em>,” Cullen says as he climbs off of Dragan's back.</p><p></p><p>Teague is waiting on the deck at the bottom. “‘Ladder’'s what you call it on a ship.”</p><p></p><p>The others join him on the lower deck, where they find a commons area and several cabin doors. A uniformed gnome is present, wearing a quartermaster's badge.</p><p></p><p>“Yes, can I help you?” he prompts the party as they enter the commons and blink, adjusting their vision to relative dimness below.</p><p></p><p>“Weapons to check,” Teague replies.</p><p></p><p>The gnome leads the group down a short hall to a closet, and opens it. There is a greatsword leaning in the back, next to an ugly axe.</p><p></p><p>“Hobgoblin's and half-orc's, I'll bet,” Teague whispers to his companions.</p><p></p><p>Kamiel is visibly apprehensive about divesting himself of all his weapons.</p><p></p><p>“There's no way they'll let us remain aboard with all of our weapons,” Teague explains quietly. “If you've got a knife or small dagger, they'll let you keep that, as it's customary for cutting ropes and such.”</p><p></p><p>Kamiel sighs quietly. He has no knife or dagger.</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, the quartermaster has checked Cullen's cudgel, sling, and darts, and handed him a claim check for each.</p><p></p><p>Cardea is next, with her halberd, longsword, long bow, light mace, and spiked gauntlet.</p><p></p><p>Kamiel follows, checking his rapier, light mace, and sickle.</p><p></p><p>“Let's go box up the item for safekeeping,” Kamiel says to Cardea in a low voice. The two locate a hall on the deck that is unoccupied for the moment. The paladin pulls the statue arm out of her pack as Kamiel removes the ironwood box from his.</p><p></p><p>“One day I'll have a spell that can properly secure boxes like this,” Kamiel declares as Cardea gingerly sets the statue arm in the box. She closes the lid, re-shoulders her pack, and picks up the box.</p><p></p><p>“I'm not sanguine about the security of that closet,” he continues.</p><p></p><p>“Can you suggest any alternatives?” she replies, clearly expecting an answer in the negative.</p><p></p><p>Kamiel can think of none, so he simply sighs with a worried expression on his face, and walks with Cardea back to the rest of the party, still with the gnome.</p><p></p><p>Teague has checked his light crossbow, but not his whip. If the quartermaster has noticed the omission, he says nothing about it. “Perhaps House Lyrandar is afforded a bit of privilege in this area,” Kamiel silently speculates.</p><p></p><p>The gnome shows the adventurers to their quarters, a set of three cabins in the stern area. Each is a double, with a benchlike bed or seat affixed to opposite walls. A shuttered mage light lamp is installed in each cabin for illumination. The cabin doors latch to keep them from swinging with the seas, but have no locks.</p><p></p><p>The quartermaster offers Cardea the outermost cabin, which has a porthole with a starboard view. The other two cabins are amidships. Alas, there are no halfling-sized quarters, a fact for which the gnome's apology to Cullen seems sincere. Teague and Kamiel elect to bunk together, ostensibly to compensate the halfling for his inconvenience.</p><p></p><p>“If the room's the wrong size, at least you can have a lot of it,” Kamiel reflects.</p><p></p><p>In truth, they're looking forward to an night's reprieve from the smell of dog.</p><p></p><p>Seeing that the arrangements appear satisfactory, the quartermaster prepares to excuse himself. “If you care to observe the departure, you can come the main deck. If you do, please watch and stay out of the way.”</p><p></p><p>“I think my friends will want to see this, but we'll want to get out of our armor first,” Teague responds.</p><p></p><p>“Very well, then,” the gnome says, and leaves them to their business.</p><p></p><p>The party gathers in Cardea's cabin as she sets the ironwood box down on the floor. Daylight from the porthole is the only source of light at present; the magical sources are shuttered.</p><p></p><p>Teague resumes educating his companions. “This type of vessel has three decks,” he explains. “The main deck, above, this deck—the cabin deck, and then a cargo deck below. There are maybe twenty to twenty-five crew. Probably divided into three watches, so the ship will run all day. I'm not sure about much more than that. I'm an air sailor. My uncle calls me a ‘cloud-lover’.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, let's drop off our gear and head aloft,” Kamiel says, attempting a bit of nautical jargon, despite his lack of experience in anything larger than an inland fishing boat. He's vaguely heard of wind galleons, but knows little about them. “Judging by the paucity of sails, this is no ordinary sailing ship. There also aren't enough crew for an oar-driven ship. I'm interested in seeing this ship's means of propulsion in action.”</p><p></p><p>Teague grins. “That you will. You,” he turns to Cardea, “had better get out of that armor. If you go overboard, you'll sink like a stone in that.”</p><p></p><p>Cardea was already well aware of the fact, but is in no mood to waste time reminding Teague of it. “I understand,” she says, and with her arm half-extended toward the door, palm upward, she invites her companions to leave so she can do as instructed.</p><p></p><p>Kamiel snorts a quick laugh, forgetting for the moment his frustration with the Rite of Enactment scroll, and his nervousness about the weapon divestiture process.</p><p></p><p>After a few minutes, the party is in their civilian clothes, excepting Cullen, who was not in armor in the first place. Dragan seems content where he is, curled up on one of the bunks in Cullen's cabin.</p><p></p><p>“Shall we?” Teague leads the way above decks, returning forward to retrace the way they came.</p><p></p><p>As the group emerges, the signs of impending departure are obvious. The gangway has been removed, and the captain—still atop the sterncastle—no longer has a line of petitioners seeking an interview. Instead, he is calling orders.</p><p></p><p>A pair of smaller ships has come alongside, and positioned themselves to either side of the bow. Lines are thrown out to them.</p><p></p><p>Teague chooses a vantage point portside amidships, and leans casually against the rail, steadying himself with one hand. Cardea grips the beam near him firmly with both hands. Cullen and Kamiel flank the two, but leave their hands at their sides.</p><p></p><p>The half-orc cargo master is now on the forecastle, looking impatient in an imperious kind of way[sup]1[/sup].</p><p></p><p>The two groups of gnomes are above decks as well, and they do a double-take at Cardea, who is conspicuous, to say nothing of attractive, in her native Aerenal dress. Kamiel smirks at the stares the elf is getting, but Cardea herself doesn't seem to be aware of it, and in fact seems quite distracted by her own anticipation. It's not an entirely <em>positive</em> anticipation, he notes.</p><p></p><p>Teague has picked up on her tension as well, and smiles in spite of himself. “If you keep holding on that tightly, your hands will start to hurt,” he chides.</p><p></p><p>The ropes cast to the smaller vessels become taut; the <em>Kingfisher's Victory</em> is being towed out into the sound.</p><p></p><p>After a minute the first mate, who is positioned at the forecastle, calls some orders, and the crew pulls the lines back aboard. He turns to address Aran d'Lyrandar, and makes his report. “We are clear, Captain!”</p><p></p><p>Captain Aran steps up, grasps the wheel in both hands, and braces himself slightly. The feeling of expectation among the sailors is palpable, at least to Teague. The rest of the party can discern only that the seas are calm.</p><p></p><p>The first mate gives more orders; the main sail and the two side sails are fully unfurled. All three canvases are painted with kingfishers holding spears in their talons.</p><p></p><p>The captain adjusts the position of the wheel in his hands slightly, and concentrates for a moment. The feeling among the crew builds. Even Teague's companions and the other passengers are aware of it now.</p><p></p><p>“Taking on speed!” the Captain announces.</p><p></p><p>The ring at the stern of the ship starts to churn and flicker, and then...it is <em>gone</em>.</p><p></p><p>----</p><p></p><p>[sup]1[/sup] “In a Yul Brynner kind of way,” is how our DM put it.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Redwald, post: 2843877, member: 12271"] [b]All Aboard![/b] Kamiel's eyes widen and various organs draw up into his body as the device hurtles downwards—to say “descends” would be an unwarranted understatement. “I'd appreciate some truth in advertising,” he yells to his friends over the roar of the air rushing past. “They call it a ‘lift’. What they [i]should[/i] call it is a ‘plummet’!” His companions look variously bemused and stoic as the ground rushes towards them. Just when Kamiel thinks the braking magic has gone awry, their rate of descent slackens. A little bit at first, then more so, until the lift comes to as gentle a stop as you'd please, a second [i]after[/i] a burly laborer disengages the gate. The man steps down and off the lift just [i]before[/i] it's flush with the wooden decking at the bottom, getting a brief but measurable head start on the other passengers—clearly someone who feels he has no time to lose. “Late for work?” Kamiel wonders. The docks are crowded and noisy. As the party makes its way down the boardwalk and pass the numbered berths, they hear sailors cursing in any of a dozen different languages. Teamsters and longshoremen are moving cargo, flagging the crane operators, cracking whips at the draft animals, meandering about, or simply leaning against the support posts driven through the sandy ground underneath the boards. The group does not have to push its way through the bustle, but it's a hectic trot to berth thirty-seven nonetheless. Cullen and Kamiel have never been to sea, but they've heard enough stories to know that the ship before them is not entirely conventional. The [i]Kingfisher's Victory[/i] looks a little odd—it is a substantial vessel, but has only three relatively small sails. One is located in the rear third of the ship, and has fin-like protrusions. Mounted on the stern frame is a large blue-white ring, its plane transverse to the surface of the water. Most of the other ships are missing this feature, and instead have three or even four masts, each with complex rigging and numerous sails. Cullen has heard of these. He turns and notes Kamiel's expression. “This is a wind galleon,” he states. Teague smiles and nods. He seems eager to board, and has spotted his kinsman. Captain Aran is visible on the sterncastle, consulting with his crew. Sailors are rushing about on the deck, where some passengers are evidently already aboard. There are two groups of gnomes, one of four, the other of three. A pair of human women are also present. A hobgoblin stands alone on the forecastle, not quite sneering. He is clad in an impressive suit of leather armor, studded with small metal spikes. The goblinoid does not bear a weapon, but stands as if he's used to doing so. Despite the creature's commanding posture, he does not appear to be part of the crew. The sailors are all in uniform. As one would expect of a House Lyrandar vessel's crew, half-elves comprise the majority, but it's a slim one—the remaining half the crew are humans along with a few gnomes, and one large half-orc. The last is currently in conversation with the captain. The adventurers approach the gangway and spot a young-looking deckhand checking people in. Teague takes the lead and hands his identification papers to the crewman. He reasons that he'll be expected thanks to his uncle, and that the House Lyrandar seal will grease the wheels for himself and his armed and armored companions. The young man looks over Teague's papers for a moment. “These three are with me,” Teague says, indicating the others with a jerk of the thumb. The deckhand nods, then invites the quartet aboard, advising them to check their weapons. He perfunctorily glances at Cardea's, Cullen's, and Kamiel's papers and hastily returns them, already with an eye on the docks for more passengers or late crew arrivals. Dragan steps along the gangplanks with uneasy glances at the water below, and vaults the last few feet to land on the ship's deck with a determined hop. Once aboard, the party's attention returns to the captain, who remains in his position as an ever-changing array of sailors seeks audience with him. At present, he's consulting with two crewmen. “That one guy, the human, that's the navigator,” Teague says. “The other, the big half-orc with the board checking things off of it, that's the cargo master. You can tell by the vest he's wearing. Let's go find the first mate.” Teague hustles off with the rest of the group trailing, and in short order the half-elf they seek is found and inquiries are made. “The quartermaster's probably below decks in the fore,” he replies. “Check your weapons and have him show you to your cabins. The ladder's that way.” He points towards the forecastle. The adventurers make their way forward through the meandering passengers and hustling sailors, and reach a descending flight of somewhat steep wooden stairs. Teague bounds down them with agility. “I thought the first mate said [i]ladder[/i],” Cullen says as he climbs off of Dragan's back. Teague is waiting on the deck at the bottom. “‘Ladder’'s what you call it on a ship.” The others join him on the lower deck, where they find a commons area and several cabin doors. A uniformed gnome is present, wearing a quartermaster's badge. “Yes, can I help you?” he prompts the party as they enter the commons and blink, adjusting their vision to relative dimness below. “Weapons to check,” Teague replies. The gnome leads the group down a short hall to a closet, and opens it. There is a greatsword leaning in the back, next to an ugly axe. “Hobgoblin's and half-orc's, I'll bet,” Teague whispers to his companions. Kamiel is visibly apprehensive about divesting himself of all his weapons. “There's no way they'll let us remain aboard with all of our weapons,” Teague explains quietly. “If you've got a knife or small dagger, they'll let you keep that, as it's customary for cutting ropes and such.” Kamiel sighs quietly. He has no knife or dagger. Meanwhile, the quartermaster has checked Cullen's cudgel, sling, and darts, and handed him a claim check for each. Cardea is next, with her halberd, longsword, long bow, light mace, and spiked gauntlet. Kamiel follows, checking his rapier, light mace, and sickle. “Let's go box up the item for safekeeping,” Kamiel says to Cardea in a low voice. The two locate a hall on the deck that is unoccupied for the moment. The paladin pulls the statue arm out of her pack as Kamiel removes the ironwood box from his. “One day I'll have a spell that can properly secure boxes like this,” Kamiel declares as Cardea gingerly sets the statue arm in the box. She closes the lid, re-shoulders her pack, and picks up the box. “I'm not sanguine about the security of that closet,” he continues. “Can you suggest any alternatives?” she replies, clearly expecting an answer in the negative. Kamiel can think of none, so he simply sighs with a worried expression on his face, and walks with Cardea back to the rest of the party, still with the gnome. Teague has checked his light crossbow, but not his whip. If the quartermaster has noticed the omission, he says nothing about it. “Perhaps House Lyrandar is afforded a bit of privilege in this area,” Kamiel silently speculates. The gnome shows the adventurers to their quarters, a set of three cabins in the stern area. Each is a double, with a benchlike bed or seat affixed to opposite walls. A shuttered mage light lamp is installed in each cabin for illumination. The cabin doors latch to keep them from swinging with the seas, but have no locks. The quartermaster offers Cardea the outermost cabin, which has a porthole with a starboard view. The other two cabins are amidships. Alas, there are no halfling-sized quarters, a fact for which the gnome's apology to Cullen seems sincere. Teague and Kamiel elect to bunk together, ostensibly to compensate the halfling for his inconvenience. “If the room's the wrong size, at least you can have a lot of it,” Kamiel reflects. In truth, they're looking forward to an night's reprieve from the smell of dog. Seeing that the arrangements appear satisfactory, the quartermaster prepares to excuse himself. “If you care to observe the departure, you can come the main deck. If you do, please watch and stay out of the way.” “I think my friends will want to see this, but we'll want to get out of our armor first,” Teague responds. “Very well, then,” the gnome says, and leaves them to their business. The party gathers in Cardea's cabin as she sets the ironwood box down on the floor. Daylight from the porthole is the only source of light at present; the magical sources are shuttered. Teague resumes educating his companions. “This type of vessel has three decks,” he explains. “The main deck, above, this deck—the cabin deck, and then a cargo deck below. There are maybe twenty to twenty-five crew. Probably divided into three watches, so the ship will run all day. I'm not sure about much more than that. I'm an air sailor. My uncle calls me a ‘cloud-lover’.” “Well, let's drop off our gear and head aloft,” Kamiel says, attempting a bit of nautical jargon, despite his lack of experience in anything larger than an inland fishing boat. He's vaguely heard of wind galleons, but knows little about them. “Judging by the paucity of sails, this is no ordinary sailing ship. There also aren't enough crew for an oar-driven ship. I'm interested in seeing this ship's means of propulsion in action.” Teague grins. “That you will. You,” he turns to Cardea, “had better get out of that armor. If you go overboard, you'll sink like a stone in that.” Cardea was already well aware of the fact, but is in no mood to waste time reminding Teague of it. “I understand,” she says, and with her arm half-extended toward the door, palm upward, she invites her companions to leave so she can do as instructed. Kamiel snorts a quick laugh, forgetting for the moment his frustration with the Rite of Enactment scroll, and his nervousness about the weapon divestiture process. After a few minutes, the party is in their civilian clothes, excepting Cullen, who was not in armor in the first place. Dragan seems content where he is, curled up on one of the bunks in Cullen's cabin. “Shall we?” Teague leads the way above decks, returning forward to retrace the way they came. As the group emerges, the signs of impending departure are obvious. The gangway has been removed, and the captain—still atop the sterncastle—no longer has a line of petitioners seeking an interview. Instead, he is calling orders. A pair of smaller ships has come alongside, and positioned themselves to either side of the bow. Lines are thrown out to them. Teague chooses a vantage point portside amidships, and leans casually against the rail, steadying himself with one hand. Cardea grips the beam near him firmly with both hands. Cullen and Kamiel flank the two, but leave their hands at their sides. The half-orc cargo master is now on the forecastle, looking impatient in an imperious kind of way[sup]1[/sup]. The two groups of gnomes are above decks as well, and they do a double-take at Cardea, who is conspicuous, to say nothing of attractive, in her native Aerenal dress. Kamiel smirks at the stares the elf is getting, but Cardea herself doesn't seem to be aware of it, and in fact seems quite distracted by her own anticipation. It's not an entirely [i]positive[/i] anticipation, he notes. Teague has picked up on her tension as well, and smiles in spite of himself. “If you keep holding on that tightly, your hands will start to hurt,” he chides. The ropes cast to the smaller vessels become taut; the [i]Kingfisher's Victory[/i] is being towed out into the sound. After a minute the first mate, who is positioned at the forecastle, calls some orders, and the crew pulls the lines back aboard. He turns to address Aran d'Lyrandar, and makes his report. “We are clear, Captain!” Captain Aran steps up, grasps the wheel in both hands, and braces himself slightly. The feeling of expectation among the sailors is palpable, at least to Teague. The rest of the party can discern only that the seas are calm. The first mate gives more orders; the main sail and the two side sails are fully unfurled. All three canvases are painted with kingfishers holding spears in their talons. The captain adjusts the position of the wheel in his hands slightly, and concentrates for a moment. The feeling among the crew builds. Even Teague's companions and the other passengers are aware of it now. “Taking on speed!” the Captain announces. The ring at the stern of the ship starts to churn and flicker, and then...it is [i]gone[/i]. ---- [sup]1[/sup] “In a Yul Brynner kind of way,” is how our DM put it. [/QUOTE]
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A Toe in the Water: anyone want a new Eberron story hour? (updated 2006-05-25) (POLL CLOSES AT 4:30am EDT, 26 May)
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