The Game of Kings

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

[Galley]

"I guess I can see the compairison. That seems odd to be, but I guess it must be common place. Are sayings like that a shifter cultural thing? I would think saying that someone talks to much would simply be a faster way to speak" Carver says.

"A little bit of a shifter thing, and a little bit of a Reacher thing, I think. We tend to use a lot of comparisons to natural things, now that I think of it. Clever as a fox, strong as a bear, swift as the wind, things like that," Morika says, her brow furrowed. Huh, I'm standing on a wind elemental-powered ship talking to a mechanical man about wordage. The world is truly a strange place before breakfast... she muses.

 

[James Heard]

[Galley]

Dragen enters the ship's galley, his face drawn and even more serious than his norm with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. Deliberately he strides past his companions and begins to search the area.

Death and blood, he thought. These are the moments that are born from not being properly medicated.

Surely there's a bottle in here somewhere?

"Absolution...where would you hide?" he whispered quietly to no one in particular.

Finally, after either finding resolution to his dilemma or resigned to failure, he slumped down onto one of the bolted down benches of the ship boneless and defeated.

 

[MadMaxim]

Partash finally wakes up as the memories of his quori spirit gives way for the soft morning light. He sits up and tries to forget about his visions. It's the same thing every time I close my eyes... Your memories will end up driving me mad, Tash...

He gets up and dresses in his traveling outfit, consisting a leather vest, a white shirt, brown pants and black boots. He wraps his gray cloak around himself and exits the room to catch some fresh air. He is about to walk up the stairs to the deck when he hears the sound of someone crying. He turns about and walks toward the room where the sound is coming from. He puts his ear to the door. I wonder who it is? It's clearly a woman crying, but Morika doesn't seem to be the type to start crying. It must be that girl... What was her name again? Glasia!

He knocks on the door softly.

"Excuse me, may I come in? It is me, Parlinor."

 

[Ringmereth]

[sblock=Doral]The beguiler pads softly downstairs towards the guest quarters, and quickly notes his kobold companion sitting outside the dwarves' rooms. Ignoring the reptilian diplomat for a few moments, Doral stops at each door and listens carefully.

At the first cabin, he presses his ear against the oak door and quickly percieves a muted rhythm of snoring. Moving on to the next room, the half-elf hears a muffled conversation. After a few moments' concentration, he identifies three voices. One, with a deeper voice than the others, appears to be relating some story, gossip, or lecture to his fellows, but the portal is too thick to make out its contents. Continuing to the last doorway, Doral barely detects a faint bustle within; perhaps a dwarf going about his morning routine.[/sblock]

 

[Deuce Traveler]

Doral very quietly tests to see if the door that the snoring is coming from is locked.

 

[Ringmereth]

Doral's steady hand twists at the doorknob, but it stops with a faint, flat click after turning only a few degrees--the door is locked. Unsurprisingly, the Kundarak dwarves, blessed with the Mark of Warding, keep security in mind.

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

[Galley]

[Galley]

Dragen enters the ship's galley, his face drawn and even more serious than his norm with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. Deliberately he strides past his companions and begins to search the area.

Death and blood, he thought. These are the moments that are born from not being properly medicated.

Surely there's a bottle in here somewhere?

"Absolution...where would you hide?" he whispered quietly to no one in particular.

Finally, after either finding resolution to his dilemma or resigned to failure, he slumped down onto one of the bolted down benches of the ship boneless and defeated.

"Scorned by a woman?" Morika asks the deflated archer. "Or just angry there's no food?" The shifter's stomach growls in emphasis.

 

[Ringmereth]

OOC: I haven't forgotten about those after some breakfast, but I'd rather not accelerate time by an hour or two for half the group while the others are in the middle of a potentially delicate situation.

Also, I'd like to come up with a uniform rule for when to use sblocks and when not to, but it's not an urgent priority--discuss in the OOC thread, if you're so inclined.

 

[stonegod]

Doral's steady hand twists at the doorknob, but it stops with a faint, flat click after turning only a few degrees--the door is locked. Unsurprisingly, the Kundarak dwarves, blessed with the Mark of Warding, keep security in mind.

OOC: Let me know if Vhir hears anything untoward. I am assuming Doral is trying to be stealthy (Move Silently and all), but the kobold has a finite chance of hearing things.

 

[Deuce Traveler]

DM

[sblock]
Doral takes out his picks and attempts to quietly open the door. Once inside, he'll see if anyone is conscious. If not, he'll look for a journal or scroll to quickly read in order to get more information about the dwarven mission.
[/sblock]