Chapter 5: Blood and Fire

[Ken]

Belarin first responds to Streko's suggestion, saying, "Yes, I'd be happy to do what I can, especially since discussions of arrest both bore and possibly threaten me. I wish..."

Jul 29, 2009 20:50:49 GMT -4 Jeff said:

As he stands listening, Belarin just then feels a...stirring, presence of some kind. An unseen malice. He turns, looking for the source, then realizes it's coming from the pact dagger at his belt. There is a whisper in his mind that he can't be certain his own imagination isn't supplying. 'Who dares?" it seems to say. Belarin can't help but feel like it is another mind, far away, and now it is aware of him.

Belarin pauses, his face clearly pale. "Farewell, sound sleep," he says softly. In a louder but still subdued voice, he continues, "I have become hunter and prey, Good Streko, just as the Wood Mistress said. My longtime love affair with my pillow is over. Oh well, I did accept her gift, curses and all.... Let's see what we can do to confuse our pursuers." Out of earshot of the two newcomers, he adds, "This may be an appropriate time to look at that book. Based on what just happened, if we wait until Malov's forces appear before acting, that won't go too well for us."

[Jeff's backup]

"Wirren was with me belowdecks when the floor collapsed," Condign says to Streko. "I believe he has a broken leg, along with some cuts and bruises. I am concerned that he remained unconscious." He pauses, fingering a braid of auburn hair attached to his wide leather belt. "He was very kind to me. He brought me food."

Condign turns, his long tail sweeping along the deck of the Thunderhead, and strides toward Lord Dassek: "I willingly surrendered myself to the Sentinel Marshall because his purpose and mine were the same. I gave no offense and remained true to my word. Now I find myself in doubt." The tiefling pauses, as if he were struggling with some inner conflict. "But I have given my word and will remain in your custody should you deem it appropriate. But be warned, my lord, I will no longer be so cordial."

He turns his back on the Aundairian and says to Kal: "The halfling is correct. We may not be completely out of danger. How may I help?"

[Jeff]

Kal:

That ship, we believe, belongs to Malov ir'Turien and his associates."

"Ir'Turian? That is difficult to believe. But if it's true, it will be confirmed."

Kal:

Now, if you please, what do you intend to do when we get to Fairhaven? Because if we are to throw you over the side, I'd like to do that now, before we get closer to our destination."

Lord Dassek looks venomous at Kal. "I've lost most of the men in my charge in a horrible fashion," he says, gesturing at the open sky below, "And you make light of it?" He shakes his head, sickened. "In one respect, nothing changes...Kalarian, is it? I have been ordered to bring you to Fairhaven, by the authority of the Queen. If Fairhaven was your intended destination, then we are agreed that is the next course of action. As for what I shall tell my comrades and my superiors? The truth."

Grafth:

"I am confident that you will understand what has brought us all to this position without threat of bodily harm...and hopefully when we arrive in Fairhaven you can do more to help our reputation and cause than to frustrate our endeavors further.

"I will do just that," Dassek continues after a pause. "You are accused of heinous crimes. I find it unlikely that the criminals described would sacrifice members of their own crew"—he looks pointedly at Mist—"in assisting the very authorities who pursue them. I will speak on your behalf. You will have every advantage I can give you, I swear it."

With Grafth's help, Streko assesses the unconscious survivors. The man and the woman have plenty of bruises and minor burns, but they're stabilized and with proper care and rest will make full recoveries. The boy, named Wirren according to Condign, also has bruises and second degree burns, but also a broken leg. Streko, exhibiting the skill of his house and his training as a priest, crafts a makeshift splint for the boy's leg.

The fourth survivor did not, however, survive the cold-burning flames. Al that remains of that magic is a burn in the deck rimed in frost.

Condign:

"But I have given my word and will remain in your custody should you deem it appropriate. But be warned, my lord, I will no longer be so cordial."

"As far as I'm concerned," Lord Dassek says at this, "I am merely an escort. Your confinement, I see now, was inappropriate. Your courage is admirable."

Then he adds, with a half-smile, "And your cordiality isn't required."

Lever nods at Grafth. Together they lift Mist—who Grafth finds to be heavy but not as heavy as he imagines most warforged are—to the lower deck of the ship. Discussion ceases for a short while as the rest of the survivors are brought below and made comfortable in one of the cabins.

Presently, once the gray skies and the Dissolutionhave faded into the northern horizon, Captain Ralsor sets the ship on a steady course, then quits the wheelhouse and joins everyone else on deck.

Condign sees that the captain is a half-elf—so, too, had been the pilot of the White Phoenix—dressed in fine, if someone worse for wear, clothing, a rapier at his hip and a blue coat around his frame. His sandy hair is shoulder length, his ears are pointed, and his jaw has a week's worth of beard growing. The captain pauses when he sees Condign, then shakes his head in wonderment. "It's been that kind of week," he says to no one in particular.

The captain introduces himself to Lord Dassek as Captain Ralsor d'Lyrandar. "So...are we still under arrest?" he says with a shrug. His eyes are bleary, his body still slick with sweat.


___________________________________

Josh, I'll turn Grafth's Heal check into an "assist," in which only a 10 is needed.

Streko's Heal check (1d20+12=26) +2 (Grafth's aid another) = 28

[Darren]

Kal grins at Ralsor. "It would appear so, d'Lyrander. But the colonel here has agreed to speak on our behalf," he says with a gesture towards Lord Dassek, "which is all we ask. I think our best bet, at this point, must be to go straight in to Fairhaven and take our chances with the authorities." Although Kal continues speaking to everyone, he looks at Dassek. "Although there is some truth to the claims against us, it is not the truth that everyone wants to believe. We were forced to fight those men in order to escape with our lives, and then pursue our enemies in an attempt to save the lives of everyone in Fairhaven, Passage, and who knows how many other towns throughout the land?" Now Kal turns his focus solely to Dassek. "If that ship does not belong to ir'Turien alone, it was certainly hired by him and his associates. We know he has involved the Emerald Claw. We have one of their men in the brig of this ship. You are a law-man, Dassek. Have you heard of the Dark Echelon?"

Even as he speaks, Kal silently removes the lead box with Malov's book from his pack and hands it wordlessly to Belarin and Streko.

[Josh]

Grafth rejoins his companions, listening to the conversation. He looks over the group, paying special attention the words and reactions of Lord Dassek. His stern look makes others think that he may not be so willing to fully cooperate with Fairhaven authorities.

Grafth attempts to gauge the sincerity of Dassek's words as the group converses.
Perception Check (1d20+11=24)

[Jeff]

Kal:

"I think our best bet, at this point, must be to go straight in to Fairhaven and take our chances with the authorities."

"Not only that," Lord Dassek says, "but trying to hide would only make you look guilty. If you speak the truth, submission to lawful authorities will benefit you." He gives Grafth a curious look, as if noticing the shifter for the first time. An unspoken question lingers in the man's face.

"We were headed southwest, straight for Fairhaven, as you could see," Ralsor adds. "The team of wizards in my employ haven't yet mastered a cloaking ritual to make my ship invisible. So we decided to give ourselves up. And we wanted to make it easy on you—"

At that moment, Ralsor notices the damage to his ship, consequences of the battle: The giant scorch in the deck, the broken railing on the starboard side, the stains of blood and alchemical fluid. "Bloody moons," he says to himself, but seems to know he shouldn't be complaining at the moment, given the fate of the Phoenix.

His eyes on Ralsor, Lord Dassek says, "I am thankful for choosing not to run from that attack, captain. I would be dead, too, if it weren't for your intervention. But I would ask that you leave the evidence as it is. Inquisitives will be asked to inspect the ship, and these damages will further corroborate what we telll them of the attack."

Kal:

We know he has involved the Emerald Claw. We have one of their men in the brig of this ship. You are a law-man, Dassek. Have you heard of the Dark Echelon?"

Lord Dassek raises his eyebrows. "Dark Echelon? Yes, I think so. I was only peripherally involved when the Queen ordered Malov ir'Turien's capture, so I've heard the name. A sort of crime syndicate."

"What can you tell me about this Emerald Claw soldier?" he asks. "Where did you capture him? And where have you been since fleeing Windshire? You will, no doubt, need to explain this later anyway."

Grafth doesn't get any dishonest impressions from Lord Dassek. He seems a man of his word, who is more interested in law and obedience; moreso, perhaps, than doing "the right thing."

While they're speaking, Lever approaches Condign, standing a short distance away. "I would ask you a question," he says, and his tone is perfectly neutral. "During the battle, you referred to one of the warforged as 'abomination.' A curious choice of words. Do you speak this word only of your enemies, or of warforged in general?"

Lord Dassek turns to Ralsor. "May I see your manifest? This ship is owned by your house, or is it a private vessel?"

Ralsor struggles to keep back a laugh. "When we were being chased from Passage by some sort of demonic dragonhawk and a sick man who or may not have been Malov himself, I'm afraid my manifest fell overboard. Or it might have have fallen out when we were battling the Order of the Emerald Claw up by the Whisper Wood." He turns to Belarin. "Or was it when the faeries showed up?"

Lord Dassek doesn't seem amused. "Perhaps if you provide me with a list of everyone aboard this ship, and any cargo, it will save you from answering the same questions over and over when we reach Fairhaven."

"I would be happy to do just that, my lord," Fherina says. The gnome seems to conjure a pen from midair, and flips open a pad of paper. "I've been a witness to much of what they will tell you, and I would be happy to help in any way that I can."

[Darren]

Kal fixes Fherina with a scowl. It is clear he does not like the gnome. But then he turns back to Dassek with a smile on his face. "As I said, colonel, it has been our intention all along to cooperate with you. I also had every intention of turning over this Emerald Claw captain to the Fairhaven authorities. Do these seem like the actions of the guilty? The captain is below, and you are free to speak with him," Kal says, then adds, "provided one of our crew is with you at the time."

Kalarian seems to carefully consider his next words, but finally says, "Condign, do you recall the name of the Marshal that you surrendered to?"

[Jeff's backup]

"It was a Sentinel Marshall named Marin d'Deneith." Condign notices the warforged called Lever approaching, but continues to answer Kal's question. "I had arrived in a town called Owl's Perch, where I was met by an unruly mob. I thought I was going to have to fight my way out, but a woman, a priestess I believe, came to my aid. While we spoke, this Sentinel Marshall approached and said that I was to be taken into custody for being a tiefling. He was courteous and fair-spoken, but he was firm. I was to be taken to this Fairhaven to give an accounting of myself."

Condign turns his attention to Lever and his question. "I. . ." He looks at the warforged, then to the others, then back to Lever and blurts out: "You are not natural. You are made of wood and metal, a creation manufactured and then imbued with forces that make you look alive. You have no parents. You have no siblings." He pauses for a moment, then looks down and whispers, "I know not if you even have a soul." His demeanor makes you wonder to whom that last comment was directed.

The tiefling gathers himself, pulling his chainmail more snugly around his frame. "You fought well, though, with bravery and honor. I. . .apologize if I gave offense." He turns and moves to the stern of the airship, standing watch for any pursuers.

[Darren]

Kalarian's face falls as Condign speaks. "It would have to be Marin, wouldn't it?" He attempts to compose himself and takes a step closer to the tiefling. "Where is this Owl's Perch? Was Marin still with you when you left?" Kal's eyes widen. "Was he on that ship with you?" he asks, a slight hint of desperation in his voice.

[Joe]

Streko ensures that the boy's wounds are manageable and that he is stabilized. The leg, while broken, is neither shattered nor has the break slit through the skin. A small splint will be enough to keep it immobile and allow it to heal.

Streko has seen many bodies and deaths in his nearly a score of years as a Joraqsco healer and supplicant of Olladra, but the body that succumbed to the cold fire bothers him greatly.

He turns to Belarin. "There are three things I must do and all of them should be done at this very moment. Alas, as I am but one, I shall have to prioritize."

He looks around at the assembled group. "Is anyone in need of healing? Speak now, for I shall soon be quite busy."

He turns back to Belarin. "Secondly, I shall try to gain some understanding of Malov's infernal book. I wish you and Kalarian to be with me. Perhaps some of the things I glean will have meaning to you where it will have none for me. It is possible that, if the rutal succeeds and I can convince you to read from the text, I will understand the words and the meaning of them. It is a longshot, and I don't particularly want to conjure up more of those death-smelling creatures we faced in the old wizard's lab, but it might be worth a try. "

Streko then glances down at the body of the dead man...or was it a woman? "The Traveller's foul breath curse Malov and his allies..."

He returns his attention to Belarin. "Finally, I wish to be alone with the body of this poor soldier. The body should be protected, so that it might be delivered to his or her family intact and...preserved. The family might wish, if they are wealthy enough or so inclined, to attempt to resurrect him. Or her."

A thought occurs to him. "Lord Dassek. I would like to know more of this person who died and if they have resources for a proper burial or...pardon me for saying so, a more spiritual approach to their future."

[Jeff]

Kal fixes Fherina with a scowl.

Fherina flashes Kal a quick grin, then chooses Grafth. She strolls over to the shifter, tapping her pen. "He's telling the truth, you know," she says, indicating Lord Dassek. "I've seen it before. If we give them information up front—like this list—it'll save you a world of headaches. So...Grafth. Is that G-R-A-F-T-H? Do you have a surname? Actually, you have identification papers, right?"

After Condign speaks, Charis appears, standing beside Lever. "And you are natural?" she challenges him, speaking to him for the first time. Although she wears well-weathered leather armor, she carries herself with obvious confidence, a measure of self-assuredness that—real or not—Condign has come to associate with human nobility.

But the woman's expression right now is obviously conflicted, her tone aggressive but ambivalent. Still, it's obvious she wishes to defend Lever. "And when you met this 'unruly mob,' did no one call you an abomination?"

"Where is this Owl's Perch? Was Marin still with you when you left?" Kal's eyes widen. "Was he on that ship with you?" he asks, a slight hint of desperation in his voice.

Lord Dassek sees Condign occupied at the moment and answers for him. "Owl's Perch is a small town near the border of the western Reaches...that is, the Eldeen Reaches. On the Eldeen side. And no, Marshal Marin was not on the Phoenix. He transferred custody of...Condign to me. Bringing the tiefling to Fairhaven had been his charge, but something more immediate required his attention."

Streko then glances down at the body of the dead man...or was it a woman?

Of the Phoenix survivors, four had been transferred over to the Thunderhead. Two men, one woman, and one boy. One of the two men had been killed by the alchemical flames.

"Lord Dassek. I would like to know more of this person who died and if they have resources for a proper burial or...pardon me for saying so, a more spiritual approach to their future."

The Aundairian colonel sighs as he looks at the body. "I was given command of the ship only for a short while; I wasn't its captain, and I didn't know the crew very well. In Fairhaven we will be able to find out whatever you need."

______________________________

Joe, just a note: resurrection is actually very rare, a powerful magic that is seldom talked about; while not entirely unheard of, it's generally reserved for notable, extremely wealthy people. In history, it's more likely associated with great war heroes or accomplished spellcasters. Most people don't even consider resurrection an option. Trying to draw a soul back from Dolurrh also has a taboo, and a lot of fear, with it.

[Darren]

Kal smiles slightly, seemingly miles away. "So, Marin has already taken his oaths and become a Marshal, then?" he says, almost to himself. Then his attention is back on Dassek. "If I may ask, what business was Marin on? Did he say where he was going? Were there other Marshals with him? It's been some time since I've seen him." It's hard to tell from Kalarian's tone whether or not he's happy about that.

[Jeff]

"It was, no doubt, the business of House Deneith," Lord Dassek answers. "I didn't ask. But I doubt he'd have been authorized to tell me, if I had. I take it Marin is a friend of yours?"

"He was the only Marshal, but he had a few men with him. Members of the Defenders Guild, I think." Dassek shrugs, then seems to consider something mentioned earlier. "We aren't very far from Fairhaven. No sense in questioning your captive twice; I'll leave him to my superiors."

[Darren]

"Friend?" Kal mutters. "As close a friend as blood will allow, I suppose." Kal's face brightens slightly. "Anyway, I am glad to hear he was not on that ship." Kalarian leaves unsaid that he might be just as equally glad to hear that Marin is not in Fairhaven.

"It is well, then, Colonel, that you are here with us. You can see we mean no harm to you and that we are on the same side of the law. d'Lyrander, I apologize for the damage to your railing," he says with a grin, the light banter back in his voice. "I guess I don't know my own strength. But I had to damage your ship in order to save your frail half-elven body, you see?" Kal laughs. "Anyway, perhaps we should allow the law-man to have a room to rest in? This encounter must have been taxing on him."

[Jeff's backup]

Condign stops and spins around slowly, his unsettling gaze locking onto Charis. He stands a little straighter and bows slightly at the waist. "My lady," he says in a calm, neutral tone. "I am indeed natural. I was borne into this world, not manufactured in a workshop. I have. . .I had parents. I eat and breathe, and when I am cut I bleed blood." Condign gestures to the chest wound just above the edge of his chainmail shirt. "I have experienced love, and grief. . .and despair. Can your friend say the same?"

Not waiting for an answer from Charis, he continues: "Yes, they called me an abomination. It is not the first time I have heard that word." Now his tail starts to twitch slightly. "Because of these" he points to the horn sweeping back from his forehead "people think I am some kind of demon, and I am called an abomination. Few take the time to get to know me before they pass judgment."

Now his stance softens some. "My lady, I can see that the warforged is dear to you. You may have come to accept him as one of you, a living being, but do not expect me to do the same."

This is obviously his last word on the subject for now, as he proceeds to the stern of the ship to take up watch.

[Ken]

Jul 31, 2009 0:44:33 GMT -4 Joe said:

"Secondly, I shall try to gain some understanding of Malov's infernal book. I wish you and Kalarian to be with me. Perhaps some of the things I glean will have meaning to you where it will have none for me. It is possible that, if the rutal succeeds and I can convince you to read from the text, I will understand the words and the meaning of them. It is a longshot, and I don't particularly want to conjure up more of those death-smelling creatures we faced in the old wizard's lab, but it might be worth a try. "

Belarin nods after Streko speaks. He looks around, as though noticing only now the signs of carnage and damage around him. "Certainly," he says. "Attend to the injured, and then we'll study the book. However," he continues, glancing back at Kal's conversation with Dassek, "our good Lord Kalarian may not be available to assist. I think that he's truly enjoying himself right now, on some strange level. You know, he'd do quite well as a member of the fey court..."

He then walks back to the stern, joining Condign at watch.

[Josh]

"Because of these" he points to the horn sweeping back from his forehead "people think I am some kind of demon, and I am called an abomination. Few take the time to get to know me before they pass judgment."

The shifter's attention is drawn to the tiefling's words, though he attempts to remain aloof. "We are all of us horrors in the eyes of those who choose to see us as such."

[Jeff]

"Anyway, perhaps we should allow the law-man to have a room to rest in? This encounter must have been taxing on him."

Lord Dassek dismisses the thought with a wave of one gloved hand. "Fairhaven is not far. If you hold this course and this speed, d'Lyrandar, we may be there tonight." He regards the ship. "She's no dragonhawk, but it's fast in its own right. The enemy ship can't match her."

"I always like to arrive at night," Ralsor says quietly, his tone suggesting there might be a joke in that...or maybe not.

Ralsor points at Grafth suddenly. "You. The shard you gave me—you know, that he gave you—is to blame for this speed, though it might shake her apart, too. That's another point for old 'A,' right?" He glances quickly at Charis, who nods thoughtfully. Back to Grafth, he adds, "When we get to Fairhaven, it's yours again. Until it can save our hides again, eh?"

Lord Dassek watches the exchange, but says nothing.

The levity fades from the half-elf's eyes. "As for Mist....I don't know. We'll sort something out. Perhaps we can send word to House Cannith to take a look at her."

Amal moves to join Kal, glancing uneasily at Condign for a moment before addressing the Deneith heir. "My lord, I'll stand by your side as long as I am able, but I will need to check in at the Deneith enclave. I assume you would, as well?"

Condign can plainly see that this other human, Amal, a dark-skinned soldier in chainmail and colors not associated with Lord Dassek's authority, is at Kalarian's command.

Looking irritated at Grafth, Fherina shakes her head and walks away from Grafth and approaches Belarin. "Belarin Malizia, right? You're from Breland, or was it the Eldeen?"

[Darren]

Kalarian nods at Amal. "Provided our good Colonel will permit it, then yes, I do intend to speak with Lady Korvine d'Deneith as soon as we arrive." Kal still seems distracted by his exchange with Lord Dassek. He doesn't even take notice of Fherina's prying. He claps Amal on the shoulder and gives him a smile. Then he moves to where Condign is standing and gets as close as he can without touching the tiefling. He pitches his voice low so that only the other can hear.

"Condign, how did Marin seem when you saw him? I wouldn't want...." Kal looks down, at a loss for words. "It's been some time since I've seen my brother."

_____________
I'm going to leave my conversation with Condign here, for anyone's interest, but I'm putting it in green because Kal is having a private conversation (unless some comes to overhear).

[Joe]

Streko waits a few moments as various indivudals continue speaking, then turns back to Belarin. "It would seem that no one needs a healer at this time. Therefore, let us go someplace...a little less populated...and work at understanding this dread book.

Fherina shakes her head and walks away from Grafth and approaches Belarin. "Belarin Malizia, right? You're from Breland, or was it the Eldeen?"

Streko steps between Fherina and Belarin. "Not now, fair gnome. The two of us have important work that needs to be done immediately. Perhaps Charis would appreciate a polite conversation now?"

He takes Belarin's arm. "Belowdecks should be suitable for what needs to be done." He looks over at Kal. "Kalarian, a few moments of your time, if you please!"

However," he continues, glancing back at Kal's conversation with Dassek, "our good Lord Kalarian may not be available to assist. I think that he's truly enjoying himself right now, on some strange level. You know, he'd do quite well as a member of the fey court..."

Streko looks back up at Belarin. "If he joins us, all the better. If not, perhaps you can send word to the fey that one of their brethren has escaped the Wood and taken up residence in Fairhaven."

For the first time in what seems like ages, Streko feels a smile form on his lips and, briefly, allows it free reign.

[Josh]

Back to Grafth, he adds, "When we get to Fairhaven, it's yours again. Until it can save our hides again, eh?"

"I believe I'll never consider it 'mine'... but I will certainly keep it in my charge until I meet its giver face to face. If it were to have a name, Hidesaver would do nicely." The shifter cracks an uncharacteristic smile which quickly disappears.

"I would not actually assign a name to a dragonshard."

[Ken]

Jul 31, 2009 20:22:41 GMT -4 Joe said:

Streko steps between Fherina and Belarin. "Not now, fair gnome. The two of us have important work that needs to be done immediately. Perhaps Charis would appreciate a polite conversation now?"

He takes Belarin's arm. "Belowdecks should be suitable for what needs to be done."

Belarin says with a smile as they go below, "You just saved me from myself back there, thank you. If there's one topic that can keep me talking, it's me. Of course, half of what I would've told her would have been ridiculous lies, but still..."

He laughs at Streko's joke. "Well done! You know, aside from our brief, somnambulant bath before our audience with the fey, that may have been the first time I've seen a honest smile on you, Good Streko. It suits you. Yes, let's head to my cabin. Now that, well, poor Goran is no longer with us, there's room...." He voice trails off. "Truly a tragedy. I hope Goran can reclaim his spirit."

[Jeff's backup]

"Condign, how did Marin seem when you saw him? I wouldn't want...." Kal looks down, at a loss for words. "It's been some time since I've seen my brother."

"Your brother, my lord? Yes, well, he was in good health, and I took him to be a man of honor. When we talked, it was as if we were equals in some fashion. I seldom experience such treatment from humans. He convinced me that going to Fairhaven would be in my best interest." He pauses and looks at Kal with a slight smile. "Not that I had much choice in the matter."

Condign efficiently scans the horizon for any signs of an airship and looks back at Kal, no longer speaking in whispers. "If I may be permitted to ask a question? Who is this Malov ir'Turian?"

[Joe]

Once in Belarin's cabin, streko begins preparations for a ritual that will, if all goes well, allow them to gain a better idea and understanding of Malov's intent....or at least what this book can do.

"The sorcerer who attempted to understand it earlier merely scribbled a few notes and conjured some demonic creatures from the Plane fo Fire. To that end, I suggest you read a few words here and there, but nothing that might actually complete a conjuration. Does that make sense? During this time, I will be requesting Olladra's aid in understanding the...words...you are speaking and repeating them back to you in, what I hope is, the common tongue. If this is something we can us against Malov,o much the better. I am hoping there is something in here that might suggest his possession spell...or....Kyber's Gate...anything that yourself or Kalarian might be able to employ."

Streko prepares for his ritual the enitre time he talks...and continues, almost as if his conversation is an afterthought.

About halfway through the preparations, he looks up and seems abit confused. "Shards! We will have to do this without d'Deneith. I would REALLY like to get Kal down here for this. He is a battle-mage and his expertise here is essential. Would you ming finding him while I finish up the final steps of beginning my ritual? And avoid the gnome, at all costs. We simply don't have the time any longer. We will be to Fairhaven soon nd I want this done before we get there! My thanks, good Belarin!"

With that, Streko gets back to work.

[Darren]

Kalarian raises a hand to place it on Condign's shoulder, but stops short of actually touching the tiefling. Placing his hand back at his side, he says, "Thank you," in a low voice.

Clearing his throat, he turns to face the rest of the ship. "As to your question, Condign, that could take some time, and I believe Streko wanted my help. I would suggest talking with Grafth. His memory seems to be unparalleled in these matters."

Kal quickly heads belowdecks, and walks into the room with Streko just as the halfling finishes speaking. "No need to send the warlock after me, good Streko. I am here. My power is yours, if it can help."

[Jeff]

Lever and Charis have remained standing in place after Condign's brief outburst. The Thrane woman glares at him for a while before looking off into the sky. Lever simply continues facing the tiefling for a time. It unnerves Condign that the warforged's eyes are merely faceted, polished crystals with slight, often flickering light within them. They have no pupils, retnas, or anything to indicate which way they're really looking.

"Perhaps you'd be comforted to know that many people share your opinion," Charis says at last, turning to look at Condign again. "But I don't think you'd find their company particularly welcoming." She turns and walks away, looking as if she had more to say.

Lever gestures with one gangly arm, as if waving away the topic. "In most respects, Condign, you are correct. I am entirely artificial, and by that very definition, quite unnatural. But I assure you, I am very much alive. All of the constructs created before the famous artificer Aaren d'Cannith 'perfected' the warforged body were not. They were as mindless constructions, as golems. Animate material. But we are something more. And we do feel emotions. We suffer, we fear, we can even feel affection. But it is difficult to express these things, as we lack the proper facilities to do so."

Fherina steps over, taking the spot Kal vacated a couple of minutes before. She's watched and listened to the conversation eagerly. At three and a half feet, she's the shortest of the Thunderhead's occupants. As new as warforged are to Condign's experiences, he hasn't seen too many gnomes, either. They seem to mingle, in small numbers, wherever humans live.

"'Condign,'" she says, looking up at him, unfazed by his appearance or his judgments. "Is that your given name? Does it mean you deserve where your life has led you, or what you are?"

Ralsor, meanwhile, smiles at Grafth's words. But when his smile he fades, he adds in a quieter voice. "My only concern is that once the authorities come aboard this ship, and surround us, will they leave us our possessions? I'm not too sure."

Belowdecks, Kal, Streko, and Belarin have moved into one of the larger cabins. Streko reaches into his haversack and withdraws a couple of sticks of incense, which is needed for the ritual. Is the book being removed from its lead casing?

__________________________________

Here's the updated map of the Thunderhead.

Joe, when Streko begins this ritual, he has to designate the language he will choose to "comprehend." 'Magic' isn't a language exactly...so what's it going to be?

Streko's Arcana check (1d20+7=14) (His best guess is that some of the notes are written in the Infernal tongue, a devilish dialect of the complex, cosmic, and hieroglyphic language of Supernal. Or possibly Abyssal, a language of chaos and conflict. But he can't choose both.)

Also, just a correction:

"The sorcerer who attempted to understand it earlier merely scribbled a few notes and conjured some demonic creatures from the Plane fo Fire.

It was never the plane of fire, which is called Fernia. The book's notes were always associated with Shavarath, the Battleground, the plane of war.

[Jeff's backup]

Condign watches Charis walk away and, shifting his gaze to Lever, thinks about what the warforged has just said; however, his thoughts are interrupted by the little gnome.

Placing his fists on his hips, he addresses Fherina: "Condign is what you may call me. How you interpret it is entirely your right. Expect no answer from me. Now--" The tiefling stops suddenly as he spots movement on horizon. He relaxes and grumbles: "Stupid bird."

[Joe]

Streko looks back and forth at the pages of the book.

"My best guess is that this book has been written in either the Infernal tongue, a devilish dialect of the complex, cosmic, and hieroglyphic language of Supernal, or possibly Abyssal, a language of chaos and conflict. Seeing as I once believed we were being attacked from the Plane of Fire, that is, Fernia, because of the flame-spewing foulness we had faced numerous time, I might have decided to attempt the Infernal Tongue. However..."

He glances up, his eyes tearing, streams of salty liquid cascading down his face. However, there seems to be no emotional componant to the display other than the occassional grimace, as if he is feeling pain of some sort from time to time while looking at the book. He takes a deep breath, seemingly unaware of what is happening to him.

"However, I seem to recall someone or something mentioning Shavarath, the Plane of Conflict and War."

He goes to studying the book, turning the pages almost violently. "The Battleground..." he snarls, the anger rage, hatred in his voice obvious to all but him. "This is Abyssal writing. Khyber-be-damned, this filth will destroy us all in a firestorm of blood and dismemberment. I shall not allow that to happen! I will destroy this thing myself!!"

He stands and seems about to fling the book across the room. Once his eyes no longer look upon the book's pages, Streko feels the warmth of his holy symbol pulse against his dragonmark. A gentle sense of calm washes over him.

He sits down and wipes his eyes with the sleeves of his tunic.

"Olladra preserve us, my friends. I don't even have to know what this says to understand how dangerous it is. Should I continue? I will do so immediately, but I warn you to prepare to defend yourselves. Even reading random words from this demonic tome might cause me to forget you are my dear friends."

Streko awaits their response before continuing his efforts to comprehend the Abyssal Tongue.

[Darren]

Kal stands near the door with his arms folded, looking down at the halfling with a half-amused smile on his face, but he says nothing until Streko finishes speaking. "Do as you will, my friend. I will assist you, or watch over you, as you require. I know little of the inner-workings of magic. That was what we had Matheu for. If you need something destroyed," Kal says, holding up his hand with electricity dancing between his fingers for emphasis, "then I am your man."

[Ken]

Belarin says, "Worry not, Streko. I've been insulted by the wickedest tongues in creation, and Abyssal words will bounce off my already-addled mind. Continue, and we'll assist in any way that we can."

OOC: Jeff, if it's feasbile for Belarin to make an Aid Another check to somehow give Streko a boost to his Will defense as he's reading this -- whether it's by uttering words of encouragement or nonsense -- then he'll do so.