Garutis heard something about brigands and a raid. Garutis liked raids. He awkwardly trundled towards the captain and inquired her on their task “Cap tun, me Hurd about raid, do we go raid burn and loot? Dis is a good I dea-uh” garutis is pleased with his skills in linguistics and diplomacy
Tarkaz smiles at the captain and walks passed smelling the food himself. Making his way to the cabin he stops at the supply closet and takes 5 or so feet of rope and carries it with him. There in the cabin he can hear his mimmoth trumpet as he walks in, "Yes. It is time to get you out of that cage soon, let me just make something..." taking the rope Tarkaz begins to make a sort of harness. Tucking and tying parts of the rope, there is clearly a harness of sorts, leg loops for the legs to fit theough that connects to a neck loop which secures over the shoulders. Bringing the mimmoth out Tarkaz puts its front legs through the loops and then the head, "Seems to fit?" Checking it over again he nods, "lets go see sandy" he smiles at his little friend. Walking out of the cabin Tarkaz and his little mimmoth begin walking through the cooridors with the ham, Tarkaz left the salmon on his bed. Making it to the main deck so they can make it down to the kitchen....crew members see the Minotaur walking the Mimmoth and murmur to themselves...what a strange sight...
Tarkaz... you're taking... a mimmoth... for... a walk... ... ......... ............. [insert annoying large amounts of hysterical laughter here, brought on by the mental image of someone walking a tiny tiny mammoth like it is a small dog] On the plus side, Sandy thinks the mimmoth is insanely cute and tries to feed it a handful of chopped nuts, which it loves. In the meantime, Drakk gets on the helm. It takes a moment or two for the ship to get going. As you haven't actually slept since your performance (collapsing from lack of blood doesn't count), you're a little under-powered magically at the moment. However, the ship does move, and pretty soon Silgis is once again a ball of light-and-dark colored grey rock vanishing into the distance. For a while you and everyone on board can still make out the myriad forms of ships flying to and from the moon, looking at first like birds, then like insects as you drift farther and farther from Silgis. One thing everyone notices is that the ship has a slightly different smell to it. A fresher, less... stale... odor. A quick comment to the captain prompts her to inform you that their stay on Silgis allowed them to replenish the air envelope, and that if you think it smelled bad before, you should smell it after a two- or three-month trip somewhere! Soon the course is laid in, and you're on your way to Vyapor...
From the Geonomicon: Travels in the Arcane Inner Flow Vyapor: When I first laid eyes on this planet, I thought it was an odd asteroid belt. Honestly, it seemed as strange and alien to me as the concept of space flight must seem to groundlings! Vyapor is, mostly, air. But within that absolutely enormous ball of air - for Vyapor is one of the largest planets I have come across - lie several hundred floating islands, all orbiting a central core of insanely hot steam. Most of the islands are inhabited, and some are formed into loose coalitions or minor kingdoms. Despite the size of Vyapor, the overall population isn't large. Even the biggest of the floating islands won't support more than a thousand people at best, and the majority cannot support more than a few hundred. Minor scuffles between the inhabitants of the islands is not uncommon, and attempts to create land-bridges between islands have been tried in the past. As I journeyed among the people of this strange pseudo-planet, I came across the ruins of many such attempts. Stone sentinels, perched at the edge of the island, usually with the crumbling remains of a bridge-head still attached. While people are friendly, they tend to be wary of travelers, especially on the lower islands, closer to the planet's steaming core. High up on the outermost islands is where you will find the Spelljamming ports, and the largest, most stable governments. The Kingdom of Zemekis has been around for several centuries, and while it is in a slow state of decline, it is still one of the most powerful nations on Vyapor. While they embrace Spelljamming as a method of leaving the planet, they prefer to invest in something called a dirge-ibble. A large basket of sorts is hung below an enormous silk bag, divided into sections, and filled with steam collected from the planet's core. Such dirge-ibbles serve as transportation between the islands as well as machines of war! Beyond that, Zemekis is your typical human kingdom, such as one would find on most planets. They eschew blackpowder weaponry, or did at the time of my visit, but train excellent archers. Much of their food supply is based on the various flying waterfowl that frequent the islands of this odd planet. Across the planet, far on the other side, lies the Republic of Cal're'dor. An odd country, centered around the city of Re'dor on the island of the same name. They are a peaceful lot, given to trade with any who would engage them in such a manner, their main population split between several kinds of unusual bird-kin! Look not for meat on the menus in this country, but cheese and dairy is common, as is all manner of grains and breads! Their music must be heard to be believed, and the bird-kin have taken the concept of stringed music instruments to an unusual end! I cannot describe the sounds they can produce, it must be heard. The Republic, as I mentioned, welcomes traders of all kinds, and as a guest they treated me kindly. While I am but a traveling bard, they welcome new stories and tales of events elsewhere in the sphere and enjoy all kinds of faires and events. Finally, there is a small enclave of kobold merchants from the moon Silgis on Vyapor. They have taken over a small, mountainous island roughly halfway around the lee side of the planet between the Republic and the Kingdom of Zemekis. Calling themselves the Silgi'srii, they mine the mountainside for ores and gemstones, raise sheep, and trade with their neighbors. Alas, my exploration of Vyapor was forcibly cut short one day when I made the mistake of dallying with the daughter of the King of Zemekis, Lucas IV (the Fat). He took some umbrage at my boldness, and I had to leave the planet rather quickly, taking a post on the first Spelljamming ship leaving for other parts of the sphere...
“V v vvaayy ppooor?” It’s a new word to garutis but he has a good idea what it is. However garutis is bored and rummages through his bag, and finds a dried up colossal toad, the several feet in diameter. How it has lasted this long is a mystery, but that’s not important right now. He picks up the toad, gives it a lick for luck, and takes aim at the nearest person with a turned head.. Which happens to be the captain
Before the captain can answer his question, a large dried toad smacks her in the back of the head. Most of the blow is cushioned by the turban she is currently wearing, but she definitely felt that, and a frown comes over her. Turning around, she glares about those on the deck. "Who hit me with what?" she demands in an angry tone.
Garutis plays innocent, and pulls out some stretched hide and various bits of clay. It turns out that in his spare time garutis is a landscape painter, and a pretty decent one considering his materials a work of garutis-
Tarkaz is pleased that Sandy likes the mimmoth and the mimmoth her, at least for the nuts. "I was hoping other then being a loyal companion that perhaps she will also keep the mice and such away from the kitchen, apparently Mimmoths CHASE mice..." he laughs, "even the captain doesnt believe me!" Tarkaz then gently throws the large mutton-ham onto a mostly unused table, "I however got this for you", he smiles, "figured you could use it for a dish for the crew, and of course keep some for yourself" he winks at her
Reaching out with a hand Ohmen gently receives several bundles of Incense sticks in exchange for a small mound of golden coin. Whilst the ground beneath the ship fades into cloud the changeling neatly places the sticks into his cloak’s pockets, their scent clinging to the air. “A pleasure doing business with you. If you need any magical favors or help I am here. Much respect Kia.” Ohmen gently bows, his cloak’s aggressive nature mellows, its twisting fabric softening as he does so. Likewise, there is a glint of gratitude in the Raven’s cold eyes as it ruffles its feathers and begins to make its way toward the cabin. The weight of gold in his hand no longer, replaced with bundles of incense, some of which were ensorceled with capabilities beyond his own Ohmen does the same. A sense of relief hanging in each of his cold breaths, he is clearly grateful to be leaving the moon’s surface behind, though those actions and events that occurred upon it would not too be left. A reminder of them would remain in chilled bones, a reminder of one's foolishness, yet potential. With a want to know more of this planet to which the ship is headed the changeling considers talking to either the Captain or another crew member… but not now… Definitely not now…. Leaving the captain’s angered voice behind Ohmen makes haste downwards to an empty cabin. His pace slowing down Ohmen places both the incense and a crude box which held a handful of herbal tea’s onto the desk before taking a seat and tossing Wisdom a handful of berries blue. Who to no one’s surprise quickly snatches them out of the air. Whilst the Raven’s beak plunges into the berries soft flesh, ripping out smaller seeds or pieces of skin as if it they were picking away at the body of an animal Ohmen begins to quickly stash away the organised items. Placing trinket, jar and ingredient either beside his belongings in the previously mentioned bag or arranging them into his cloak's pockets. Though as the changeling reaches out to put away a bundle of neatly designed parchment scrolls Wisdom looks up from the berries with an instinctive soft croak, before she opens a juice covered beak to calmly speak. “Tireless is the scroll and scribe. Each one, even here has the potential to hold an unfathomable amount of knowledge, whether by ink or spell all the same. Spare yourself from trivial matters, Seek to prepare for future’s untold…" Taking in a heavy breath Ohmen grabs a singular scroll, its empty parchment whispering to him. “I guess it would be wise put magic to use… The cost of preparedness, Measured now in Gold and time, Later in blood and steel…” The changeling places the scroll flat on the desk before picking out a singular incense stick, this one of Sage, from his cloak. Holding it in his hand for a moment Ohmen slowly lifts one finger upwards before placing it upon the stick’s end. “Mohzaa.” The singular twisted word hisses in the air with a certain weight, its syllables sharp yet fleeting. It is of some far-flung language, whichever one, wickedness lies within its echo. Almost immediately the stick’s end begins to blacken and char, a small number of embers concentrated on its tip. With long, exaggerated breath’s Ohmen soaks in the stinging, yet soothing scent of sage as it fills the room before blowing the lighter flames out, placing the stick within his incense holder. A holder which happened to be none other than what looked to be some sort of Bird skull, one where the stick would slide into its beak and be held by bone… His head angled up, Ohmen embraces the scent letting it wash over him as it stings in his nostrils and fills his lungs time and time again. Eventually, the changeling grabs a feather quill, it's navy black colour suspiciously similar to those feathers of Wisdom and begins to write. Each cursive character hissing with a dim, arcane glow. The intention: To create a bound ‘Detect Magic’ Scroll (Cost 50gp) "Hidden magic's all unseen, the folly of fools, One such I am." Though moments into the process the Raven catches on, fluttering down to move Ohmen aside before proceeding to dip both beak and talon into the ink. helping to scribe with a strange proficiency, doing each stroke as it had been trained an eternity of times before...
As Drakk starts guiding the ship towards Vyapor, he notices Garutis hurl a toad at the captain. Drakk couldn't help but to chuckle at this. However, Drakk had a long shift ahead of him and he hadn't gotten to rest yet after "the incident". After his shift was done, he planned to get a nice rest, and take Tarkaz up on that offer to help him discipline Garutis. Since brute force probably wouldn't work, confusion and dead might, and Drakk had some spells that might do the trick....
As people on the aft-castle wither under the glare of Captain Naresh, Izema is up in the crow's nest with Seek, letting his gaze wander. For a while he sees nothing of interest, but something odd catches his eye. There is a dot that appears to be following the ship. Curious, he watches it for a while.
Izema taps Seeks shoulder pointing off to the object before leaning over the side of the crows nest and bellowing "CAPTAIN UNKNOWN OBJECT AFT OF THE SHIP SHE SEEMS TO BE FOLLOWING US! ORDERS?"
Seek glances in the direction you point and frowns. From somewhere in his clothes he pulls out a small metal tube, which suddenly doubles in length with a twist of his hands! Bringing it to his eye, he closes the other and stares at the thing. A moment later, a horrifying change comes over the Vanara. He goes pale, his hands begin to shake, and when he opens his closed eye, the look of fear is unmistakeable. "Captain," he calls down, an odd quaver in his voice, "we are being followed (certainity)! Pretty sure it is the Dreadclaw (fear/horror/panic?!?)!"
Izema starts getting the ropes he prepped earlier out his hands to buizy to make sighns "seek ship or monster? how many or how big?and" he smiles teeth glitter "how violent can i be?"
Sunken into his chair Ohmen gently breaths in and out, the thick scent of sage circulating throughout his system filtering through his lungs and nostrils. His hands lie still and at rest, having worked with much effort to finish the scroll before him, Meanwhile wisdom… Wisdom suddenly erupts. A storm of feathers upon him. The bird suddenly assaults the changeling with a barrage of aggressive hisses and words. “Shriek, SCream, ShOut and Call. WAKE OHMEN.” Violently lurching upwards Ohmen rapidly looks around with wide eyes and ringing ears, the sage fumes around him violently contorting and fleeing. Almost immediately he manages to grasp onto the situation, It was clear something was wrong, very wrong… But what!? Standing up the changeling grabs his cloak, stuffing as many of the unorganised items in its pockets as he can before preparing to exit. Hand on the doorframe he suddenly looks back, returning to grab his staff before making haste upwards to a deck which shook with the tremors of multiple rushed footsteps.
Pulling the spyglass away from his eye, the vanara casts you a deadly serious expression. "Dreadclaw is a ship (fear), with a full crew of sker-row (GREAT fear), and if they board us you must be as violent as you can be (deadly serious)!" Down on the deck, Captain Naresh's eyes go wide. "Seek, verify!" she calls up to the next. A moment later, he calls back down to her. "Pretty damned sure it is the Dreadclaw, Captain!" For a moment, the Captain does nothing. She seems to think for a moment, then walks over to the speaking-tube next to the wheel. "Mister Rasmus," she calls down, "it appears the Dreadclaw is following us. Suggestions for picking up speed?" Drakk, Rasmus is suddenly very nervous. He hems and haws for a moment, then hesitantly calls back up the speaking tube. "Captain, we could swap me out for Drakk, but I do not know if it would be a good idea. Regardless of what else happens, Drakk will not be casting any spells today, and if we put me on the helm, I will not be able to either. While the ship will go faster with me on the helm, we would lose a great deal of our lead during the change-over, and they might actually catch up to us in that time!" Scowling, Captain Naresh looks at all of you, and then shouts "BATTLE STATIONS!"
Izema Laughs "worry not friend seek(excitement)(joy) (caution)this is what the good captain pays me for(mirth)"he jumps up onto the side of the crows nest and leaps grabbing a rope and sliding down to the deck, he takes of running grabbing garutis and letting the other party members know whats up he ends his dash at the stern of the ship. he takes out his pendant and takes a knee praying for favor in the hour to come. that done he stands ties the rope meant for the stern of the boat to his belt and begins the first steps to his war dance.
Hearing the Captains orders, Drakk tries to speed up the ship, but to no avail. He views behind the ship to see the shape growing larger every minute, this is gonna be nasty.
As minutes pass, the blob in the distance slowly resolves itself into a shape. It looks like an odd, roundish thing, with a pair of protruding ovals to either side, and a strange upwards point that doesn't seem to be a mast...
Rushing out into the open Ohmen’s wide eyes dart around whilst Wisdom erratically swoops above the ship’s deck with rapid raucous squarks. Heavy breaths, Eyes flickering and sweat on the brow Ohmen hears the captain and speak of some ‘Dreadclaw’... It mattered not what it was, only that it warranted this sort of sudden action and panic. With the situation rapidly escalating the changeling uncurls the cloak before his form begins to quickly, and horrifyingly shift and warp. His skin squirming and giving way in an altogether disturbing flash of seconds. Large, black pits for eyes. A loose, gaping jaw. Sharp boney protrusions spike their way out from his skull in violent fashion, piercing through loose grey skin. The thing that once was Ohmen returns taller, larger and all together more horrifying than before… And most concerning of it all, the cloaked mage must have once encountered such a race before making it all too real. With a new distressing appearance painted on the canvas that was his soul’s cage one of Ohmen slender arms holds to his staff so fiercely that its wood burns and carves into his palm. Whilst his other reaches around into the cloak’s folds, returning with a cold crossbow soon to be loaded.