industrygothica
Adventurer
InVinoVeritas said:
"Really? Lucky for you then, no?" Darian hardly waits for a response before bursting into the shop to look around.
Paridon: The Dark Metropolis (Ravenloft)
- Thread starter InVinoVeritas
- Start date
"Really? Lucky for you then, no?" Darian hardly waits for a response before bursting into the shop to look around.
Le Noir Faineant
Explorer
Calahan has watched the scene with the guard with amusement...
"That's actually funny, Darian... I've become so used to corrupt cops that I wouldn't have thought his words over twice...
Now, I'll personally make sure that the bastard doesn't get outas easy as last time.
- We're the police, remember? We can do whatever the hell we want!"
"That's actually funny, Darian... I've become so used to corrupt cops that I wouldn't have thought his words over twice...
Now, I'll personally make sure that the bastard doesn't get outas easy as last time.
- We're the police, remember? We can do whatever the hell we want!"
InVinoVeritas
Adventurer
The enforcer merely gulps and stands aside to let everyone into the shop.
The rhythmic ticking in the shop is the first thing noticed. Clocks cover the walls, and all manner of geared machinery fills the shop.
All manner of geared machinery line the walls.
The room is much as it was the last time the investigators were there. A stairwell leading up and down, sized small for gnomes, is at the back of the shop. The display cases are filled with watches of all different kinds, and a few other clockwork items are presented. A line of wind-up soldiers stand in the corner, bayonets raised high. Pigglemorth's work-desk stands behind the counter.
The work-desk is covered in blueprints of many kinds. They include various watches, diagrams of dolls, and plans for the clocktower. Underneath them all, lies one more sheet, stained by oil--and more clearly, blood. Quickly, it gets placed on the counter. The blueprint describes a complex, four-armed contraption, with a boiler in its center. The arms are multi-jointed, capable of extending backwards and forwards, and each is armed with an arsenal of knives and needles dedicated to delivering blood to the central boiler chamber. The drawing of the chamber indicates that it requires a heart to function, and that the heart of a spellcaster, given an adequate supply of blood to maintain life, can continue to cast the spells its original owner knew.
The clocks strike. The entire shop erupts in activity, as cuckoos chirp, soldiers perform their dances across clock faces, and what appears to be a fat man bellows out in laughter in tune to the clock in its belly.
A rustling comes from downstairs, and a faint, sickly, tinny voice wafts up the stairwell.
"Daddy?"
[sblock=credits]
Photo by fallsroad.
[/sblock]
The rhythmic ticking in the shop is the first thing noticed. Clocks cover the walls, and all manner of geared machinery fills the shop.
All manner of geared machinery line the walls.
The room is much as it was the last time the investigators were there. A stairwell leading up and down, sized small for gnomes, is at the back of the shop. The display cases are filled with watches of all different kinds, and a few other clockwork items are presented. A line of wind-up soldiers stand in the corner, bayonets raised high. Pigglemorth's work-desk stands behind the counter.
The work-desk is covered in blueprints of many kinds. They include various watches, diagrams of dolls, and plans for the clocktower. Underneath them all, lies one more sheet, stained by oil--and more clearly, blood. Quickly, it gets placed on the counter. The blueprint describes a complex, four-armed contraption, with a boiler in its center. The arms are multi-jointed, capable of extending backwards and forwards, and each is armed with an arsenal of knives and needles dedicated to delivering blood to the central boiler chamber. The drawing of the chamber indicates that it requires a heart to function, and that the heart of a spellcaster, given an adequate supply of blood to maintain life, can continue to cast the spells its original owner knew.
Bong! Clack! Whirr! Haha!
The clocks strike. The entire shop erupts in activity, as cuckoos chirp, soldiers perform their dances across clock faces, and what appears to be a fat man bellows out in laughter in tune to the clock in its belly.
A rustling comes from downstairs, and a faint, sickly, tinny voice wafts up the stairwell.
"Daddy?"
[sblock=credits]
Photo by fallsroad.
[/sblock]
Le Noir Faineant
Explorer
With a thoroughly evil grin, Calahan will set aside his gun and draw his long hunting knife,
heading towards where the voice came from...
heading towards where the voice came from...
industrygothica
Adventurer
"No, he couldn't have," Darian whispers as he draws his own dagger and proceeds with Calahan.
Ru Brike, barbaric human monk
"No? He didn't seem to mind building the first one. Did we recover the heads from the scene, or just assume they were lost in the fire?"
Ru feels his own blood boiling at the thought of what Pigglemorth has done, and what he fears he's repeated, and joins the others in moving down toward the voice.
industrygothica said:
"No? He didn't seem to mind building the first one. Did we recover the heads from the scene, or just assume they were lost in the fire?"
Ru feels his own blood boiling at the thought of what Pigglemorth has done, and what he fears he's repeated, and joins the others in moving down toward the voice.
InVinoVeritas
Adventurer
It is cramped and dark downstairs. Those gnome-sized hallways again... everything is tight, small.
Downstairs, a small hallway leads to a door to the left, a door to the right, and a small room straight ahead, lit by a candle. Inside, a series of toys are jumbled, and gears lie scattered across a workbench.
Toys lie jumbled in the cramped downstairs.
The sound of a single clock ticking can be heard ahead in the room with the candle.
[sblock=credits]
Photo by Pete Woodhead.
[/sblock]
Downstairs, a small hallway leads to a door to the left, a door to the right, and a small room straight ahead, lit by a candle. Inside, a series of toys are jumbled, and gears lie scattered across a workbench.
Toys lie jumbled in the cramped downstairs.
The sound of a single clock ticking can be heard ahead in the room with the candle.
[sblock=credits]
Photo by Pete Woodhead.
[/sblock]
industrygothica
Adventurer
"Wait," Darian whispers. "This isn't right. If he's made her into one of those.... things, we'll most certainly meet our end in these cramped quarters."
