(Casual D&D IV) A Knight for a Pawn

[Guest 11456]

Cylantro : Female Human

"Hey Cylantro, where was that symbol on this thing you were talking about? Four hundred and something years old?" Nurthk asks, studying the mess of metal as it tries to rearrange itself into a functional form.

Cylantro points out the insignia low down on the knob Hiritus first noted. It is the shape of a "t", split with a line down the center and flanked by two diamond-shaped pock marks on each of the lower quadrants. "There!"

 

[Festy_Dog]

"Cheers," Nurthk thanks his learned colleague and proceeds to yank and twist at the knob, trying to pry it loose.

 

[Guilt Puppy]

The knob doesn't seem willing to move... There is just the slightest bit of give when you turn it counter-clockwise, but beyond that, it seems firmly attached to the thing.

 

[Festy_Dog]

Nurthk begins focusing his efforts on trying to turn the knob counter-clockwise.

"So Raven, I heard them discussing the little symbol on this knob here and I came up with an idea," he begins explaining.

 

[DrZombie]

Raven sits next to Nurthk with a big hammer in his hand.

DOIINGGG

"Sure you do"


DOIINGG


"This better work"


DOIINGG

"'cause I don't fancy"

DOIINGG

"Sitting out here all night"

DOIINGG


"Smashing this awfull goddamn piece of"

DOIINGG

"metal crap to bits"

DOIINGG

"And watch it build itself up again."

DOIINGG

"Tatlock" He yells.

DOIINGG

"Remember how I told you about excercising."

DOIINGG

"to get some muscle on your frame?"

DOIINGG

"Well tonight is your lucky night."

DOIINGG

"Here you go, keep hitting it untill it stops reassembling."

 

[Guilt Puppy]

No amount of force Nurthk can muster seems to get the knob to turn substantially. Raven's repeated hammerings, however, do achieve the intended effect of keeping the thing out of operation.

 

[dpdx]

Fendric, wishing he had a Silence handy for Raven's hammering, studies the metal man for the first time.

"Perhaps a cr- PERHAPS A CROWBAR WOULD DISLODGE THAT METAL NUBBIN. IF ONE COULD PRY IT AWA- RAVEN! WERE YOU PLANNING ON SLEEPING ANYTIME SOON? SHALL WE LET THE OTHERS HANDLE DISASSEMBLY?

The cleric looks hopeful.

Meanwhile, Hiritus follows any scarves who've moved to investigate the tunnel on foot, in hopes that he might convince them to seal it for now, until the morning.

 

[Sparky]

Oliver mulls over the name that Cylantro dredged up out of her thrice-cursed wizard's brain and eventually resigns himself to sleep on it, hoping for insight in dreams or reflection come the morning. He staggers as his blood cools and the aches of a tired old man settle in to his joints. He winces with every blow of Raven's axe.

He shouts 'Stop!' or something like it in every language he knows, which is most languages spoken by any group of folk large enough to have anything resembling civilization.

Not really expecting that to work he starts on another tack, "Let me see what I can do by way of preoccupying our dynamo friend here."

He'd never seen the like of such a mechanism - creature? For it seemed to have the will of a living thing - before. He sets to work, rubbing his eyes and identifies several parts with roughly the same mass. He taps several stout Yellow Scarves and Tatlock for the dubious honor of holding these parts. He instructs them to stand equadistant from one another in a circle around the main wreck of the mechanical creature. "Hold tight, lads. Raven! RAVEN! Hold off." He observes the behavior of the parts, which one tugs the most or first and also the behavior of the central trunk of the thing as well.

 

[Festy_Dog]

Nurthk eventually gives up after he thinks he has pulled a muscle in his arm.

"Well, so much for a trophy," he says with a shrug and wanders off to find a place to sleep, leaving Oliver to mess with the machine.

 

[Guilt Puppy]

Oliver's plan seems to work, after a few natural advancements in technique; for one, the twisting metal seems destined to pinch and potentially rend off fingers, but pressing a few sticks down onto it in the right places has the same effect. The scarves work in shifts, and seem relatively adept at the task: Only twice are you woken in the night by the loud hammering of their work to beat it back out of shape after having lost control of it.

Come morning, the thing has shown no sign of slowing down in its efforts. Tatlock seems exhausted by his part in the process, but makes no complaint about it. As the sun rises, you have the opportunity to note with certainty that your travel has become more northward than westward as you make your way around the sea.

(OOC: Game is four years old today. Happy birthday game!)