Chapter 20: Coming Dawn

[Brian]

"What did Captain Brack say, two days until he reach our destination?" Melethos asks, looking at Kal. "I don't remember if we talked about a way back home, or at least to Stormreach. Once this Eye business is finished, how will we travel?"

[Ken]

"I'm planning to steal Krez's airship after we cut off his head," says Belarin. "But yes, we should think about a fallback option."

[Darren]

Kal turns his attention to Sem. "Did the professor have a plan for us? Or was this intended to be a one-way mission?"

[Jeff]

May 17, 2021 13:45:41 GMT -4 Brian said:

"What did Captain Brack say, two days until he reach our destination?""

"Aye, two days," Brack calls down, overhearing from the wheel. "But that's optimistic. Two at the soonest, unless the land has any surprises in store for us."

Sem lets out a low whistle. "The return trip, yes. It's been hard to plan for that, though it makes sense to. No, Larest didn't talk much about that. It was NOT meant to be one-way. He had a life back in Sharn. But it's as though he expected acquiring the Eye would somehow provide a better means home. Of course, it's not called the Eye of Expedient Transportation. But if it had the ability to find anything you need, then it could show you where to find the means home. Honestly, though, there's only so much we can guess about our circumstances on that fateful day."

Early in the evening, Kurra summons Adamant back to the hold. She leads him into her cabin-workshop, which he finds Calirataia sitting atop a shelf, half merged with the wall, and wearing a pair of Kurra's googles with a big grin on her face. As with the one possible time Adamant has come into this cabin before, it smells of faint chemicals, oils, and the sharp tang of molten metal. Still no sign of a bed or cot or hammock; still Adamant wonders where the dwarf sleeps. The outer wall does have some interesting things tacked onto it. Sketches, maps, even a small painting of a male dwarf that bears some familiar resemblance to Kurra herself. A pair of tankards hang from hooks, and the jaw bones of a rather large shark hang suspended near the ceiling of the room, and there are a few very dwarvish-looking weapons arrayed around as well.

Kurra, meanwhile, has Adamant's sketch prepared, the glowing lines still magically etched into the piece of wood, but this time Calirataia asks to help. She takes the tablet and sits cross-legged, taking up Kurra's magic pen, and works to touch up the vines and small flowers that form a kind of frame for the rising sun. Adamant finds that he's mostly standing with nothing to do, but the dryad shows him some of her work from time to time to see if he approves. She also whispers with the artificer, not consulting Adamant on some of those aspects, leaving him to wonder.

And then the moment comes to transfer the design. There is a long rectangular trapdoor on the ground, with a pull ring, but instead of it opening up into some hidden space below, it rises up like a pedestal that had been nested into the floor. Now it's a worktable. Or a slab. "Get on," she says to him. Please leave aside any weapons. There's nothing to fight here."

"Also, this is your last chance to abort. If you want to remove any of these carvings later, you're going to need another artificer's help. A skilled one." She winks.

Joe: is Streko indeed attuning to the armor? I've asked in your private thread about it. It takes an hour.

Attachments:

[Joe]

Yes...he is definitely attuning.

[Dave B.]

"Well...if it comes to it, I guess I could get us back to Stormreach." Shorak says when the discussion turns to a return trip. "Of course, it will have to be the long way around."

[Darren]

Kal sighs. "Unfortunately, we don't know when, or if, we'll be returning, or where exactly we'll be when we do. I think we'll just have to find the nearest town to wherever we end up and see if we can arrange transport from there. If we're lucky, we'll still be on good terms with the Twelve. But honestly, if we do succeed in our mission, I believe we may find ourselves on the run from....well....everyone."

[Dave W.]

Adamant lets out a deep laugh at the comical Calirataia on the shelf. “A new look for you,”

When the women work on the design, Adamant examines ...well everything. The male dwarf image, the sharks teeth, the contents of various jars... he is careful to keep his hands clasped behind his back to avoid the temptation to touch things. That is only broken once... he just has to touch a shark’s tooth...

Eventually the table appears. Adamant unhooks is new warhammer and set it on the floor near the door. He carefully sets himself on top of the table, concerned about his weight.

Given one last chance to turn away, he is steady, “No, thank you but I am set on this path. I place myself in your hands.”

[Brian]

Melethos listens to the reply about how they will get home--assuming they live, of course. And they are correct. Too many unknowns exists right now to figure that out with any certainty.

"Very well," he says. "It's best to focus on one thing at a time. For now, it'll be getting off the ship and over the mountains."

Once the discussion is finished, Melethos will continue his sparing training with Histra's skeleton, amazed at how it can learn from its experiences. This is certainly a new form of undead than the ones he's encountered before.

[Ken]

May 18, 2021 8:45:39 GMT -4 Brian said:

"Very well," he says. "It's best to focus on one thing at a time. For now, it'll be getting off the ship and over the mountains."

"Well," says Belarin, "I'm terrible at focusing on one thing at a time. I'll think about ways to cripple Krez's airship. All joking aside, it's something that we'll need to deal with. Give me a day to come up with a plan."

[Jeff]

Meanwhile, below deck....

Kurra begins the procedure. Adamant is surprised to find it isn't very long, but it is very intense. The dwarf places her goggles on, blocks up the portholes so it gets very dark, and then produces several unknown implements. One is that same light-tipped pen, but another is a powerfully heated rod, and Calirataia stands to one side with a handful of what appear to be more normal-looking painter's brushes.

Kurra then sets about transferring the design into his composite plating, centering it on his chest beneath the Octogram of his faith, so that the central vertical line hangs over and thus overlaps the rising sun. Adamant can feel the etching—it is more than surface deep—and though it's not painful, it is uncomfortable. If this is what receiving tattoos are like upon fleshy begins, then he can understand not wanting to experience it often. But then Kurra steps back and Calirataia leans in with her brushes. He's having a hard time imagining what this looks like. He feels like a humanoid canvas.

Although as a warforged he has on eyelids, he has a way of internally "closing" his eyes, shutting off light preceptors in the gemstones. He finds himself doing this to shut out the sight. It's as close to sleep as he can experience. The smells of the artificer's tools and materials, alchemical paints and heated devices, summons long-forgotten memories in the warforged. He remembers, in a way he hasn't all these years, some of those fleeting first moments of his life. In his mind he can recall the muted yet shivering roar of the great creation forge, alien smells, the light and heat, even the gloom that followed. Voice of humans he knew nothing about, murmuring impassionate words to one another. Scrutinizing faces, loveless, professional.

But then he "opens" his eyes again, and it is no longer similar at all. In the darkened workshop, he sees the silhouette of Kurra's head; thick curling hair wreathing a goggled-face; and there is the shape of the dryad's head, haloed by some coldfire light of the artificer's. These people working upon him have chosen him specifically; they are not producing that which was programmed into a machine. And their work is not about mass production or war, but artistry. And there is affection here; he can feel it from both of them. Yes, Kurra's work is a professional one, but he's felt her respect and teasing before. She cares what happens to him. And Calirataia . . . he knows there's something inexplicable there. This moment feels like a strange rebirth, almost (but not quite) as poignant in his mind as the moment he chose to believe in, and then follow, Dol Arrah herself. It feels like another fork in the road of his life, deviating from whatever his makers had in mind for him.

He loses any good sense of time.

"Adamant," Calirataia suddenly says in her lovely voice, "Sit up now. We're finished."

"Aye, you could stand in a museum now," the dwarf says, pushing up her goggles. "Or a street corner, collecting coins for looking pretty. But don't do that. Go and fight the forces of darkness instead, aye?"

Calirataia is once again in her more "true" form, appearing as a wood-textured elf with long dark hair that, in the right light, almost resemble slender tree vines.

---

Dave: I pondered placing this in the private threat, but figured you probably wouldn't mind if it was here.

Attachments:

[Dave W.]

Adamant slowly, with precision, sits up on the table. "Kindly done, Kurra. I hardly felt a thing."

"I... I owe you both an unpayable debt. Thank you."

He looks at Calirataia, "Is it well? I mean, my sketch was very raw... Is it pleasing? Do you like it?"

---

here is fine, Jeff...

[Jeff]

Kurra pushes the curtains aside from some of the portholes, letting more light back in. She holds up a large mirror. "You tell us."

Adamant sees that his drawing has been perfected, made symmetrical where it needed to be, asymmetrical where it didn't, and that the curling vine-and-flower design perfectly frames the rising sun of Dol Arrah. More fascinating, the image is not just a series of lines, but a true etching into the breastplate, like an embosses work of art. Yet it does not dominate, merely adds elegance to the whole like fine filigree on a sword hilt. There is even a hint of color to it: slight green along the vines, white around the flowers, and various shades of yellow and orange around sun. There is a hint of incandescence to each hue as well.

"I think open sun will prove your best lighting," Kurra adds. "But when you use your spells, and your symbol, the design might pick up some of your own light."

The Delver's Light is still affixed in one corner above all of these, untouched.

"I hope you do not mind," Calirataia says, reaching out to touch the vines at the bottom right corner, were they curl and wrap around a small bell. Then she points to the other corner, where they weave in and around a crown. Very simple icons, and subtle against the rest, but Adamant instantly gets their meaning, for the royal crest of Cyre had been a crown and bell on a green field above a hammer and bellows. "'What our dreams imagine, our hands create,'" she says almost shyly, citing the motto of Cyre. "Or so I have read. I am sorry that I never set eyes upon your homeland."

[Dave W.]

"It is magnificient! And you added color, fantastic!"

When Calirataia points out the bell and crown he is very moved. "No, it's perfect." He takes her hand. "It was a place of great beauty."

"Thank you both so much!"

---

Nice touch Jeff!

[Jeff]

"Now get out of here and go smite your foes or something," Kurra says, grumbling. "I'll clean up. I'm the only one who knows how to in here."

Calirataia looks up at him (he is a good two heads taller than she) and then takes Adamant's hand. She then leaps into the wall, pulling him with her before he can even retrieve his hammer. He expects to bump into it, but recalls only seconds later that she controls who passes through the wood of her trees, and when.

Adamant now stands under the lamplight on the main deck, where most everyone else is. The dryad gives a girlish laugh, then vanishes, leaving him standing there before everyone else.

There is no sun, for it is early evening now, but even in this light anyone looking at the warforged notices the obvious work on him. At first it looks like a new breastplate has been grated on top of the old; then they see the Octogram and the Delver's Light and recognize that it's now the same armor with intricate designs not burnished but etched into it it: the circle of a rising sun coming over a horizon, framed by creeping vines and small flowers.

When Melethos pauses in his sparring to look, the skeleton stops, too. But it looks at the tiefling, caring nothing for Adamant.

Sem walks right up to Adamant. "Are you trying to avoid looking scary, Adamant? We have to terrify our enemies." He winks, and then says, quieter, "That looks good, sir."

We'll move on to the next day shortly.

Joe, see private thread.

[Dave W.]

Adamant doesn't resist... much... being pulled through the wood of the ship. "Wow." his eye-gems shine brightly and the thrill of a new way of travel.

Then Calirataia disappears and he realizes he's standing alone. "umm... hi."

Sem complents him and he nods, eye-gems bright again, "Thank you Sem. Kurra and Calirataia did the work... please let them know how well they did."

[Dave B.]

Shorak walks over to Adamant to take a closer look at the design on the warforged's chest. "Hmm. It is simple, elegant and filled with meaning. Impressive!" He says with an appreciative smile.

"Well, I'm starting to feel hungry. Anyone else care to have a meal?" Shorak says as he heads for the galley. "I'll go cook up some of that fish we caught earlier, if anyone is interested. Streko! Where are you? I could use some of your spices."

[Joe]

Streko, who has been getting close to his new armor, pacing back and forth, feeling it conform to his body and to his mind, approaches Adamant. Rhashaak's scales seems to almost drink in the night's gloom.

"The Dark and the Light, my brother. We are, you and I, two sides of the same coin, it would appear. Not good nor evil, no, something different. You are the beacon of hope we all aspire to. I am the rage of purpose that will get us through it all. Not that I'm gloating or anything, no. It is just that Rhashaak knows that I exist in his armor now. He does not know where, but his presence is like a cloud of putrid gas in my mind. I sense him, gazing out. And before anyone asks, he is not within me or possessing the armor. This is just a basic understanding that something created from its body knows it is once again in use. However, it does add a new variable to our quest. Can Rhashaak communicate with its followers? Will we have those who follow Rhashaak to contend with on our search as well, and what does that bode for us?"

He looks over at Adamant, shakes his head as if to rid it of sour thoughts, and smiles warmly. "You look magnificent, Adamant. Dol Arrah must be proud to have you speak for Him. I, on the other hand, look somewhat frightening. I had rarely, if ever, considered Olladra in this light, so to speak. Do you think my appearance in this armor makes us more of a target and less trustworthy among our allies, or moreso?"

May 18, 2021 20:55:02 GMT -4 Dave B. said:

Streko! Where are you? I could use some of your spices."

"No need to yell. Let's go down to the hold and I will give you whatever spices you need to make our fish more than just palatable, but refreshing!"

[Ken]

"Adamant, you look amazing," says Belarin. "Not many can pull off a look that is both enchanting and intimidating! As for you, Good Streko, that armor is yours. Let the previous owner whine all he wants. If he truly cared about it so much, then he wouldn't have arranged for it to be stashed in a far-off container. At least that's what I always told myself whenever I 'acquired' something."

[Brian]

Staring at Adamant, Melethos mutters, "Stop," to the skeleton and approaches the warforged. He stares at the new etchings on his breastplate, recognizing the symbols of Cyre from Adamant's earlier musings about his homeland.

The warforged had always seemed somewhat effacing, if not outright ascetic, about being noticed. But now...

"Adamant, you look magnificent," he says, his voice as somber as a prayer. "You would make any of your kinsmen proud. You make me proud to be called your friend."

Looking at the Sem, he says, "I think our friend is slowly becoming human." He shrugs. "In a figurative way, of course."

[Jeff]

"Human?" Sem echoes with mock surprise. "I am offended, sir. Don't you know, this is dwarf and dryad work, too!"

Starg approaches Kal. "It is remarkable work, Adamant."

Shorak and Streko, if he is willing, are able to make a good meal with the fish, and spices that Streko was given by the Ghallanda halfling aboard the Asperii.

That night, during Shorak's and Kal's watch, everyone on the main deck (including Adamant and Calirataia) notice the distant lights of a passing ship. Given its size and the lamplights aboard, it seems obvious that it is the Peryton, the sister ship to the Asperii. Moving slower during the night, it does not move to engage the Dragonfly at all but drifts east, possibly on its return trip. Which means it has already dropped off its land expedition somewhere. Kal can't help but wonder who the House Deneith personnel were on board, and if any of them disembarked. Members of the Twelve, they would be, but still affiliated with the house. He doesn't think Lord Greigur would have much to do with the Twelve, but then he doesn't really know the political entanglements of any of them.

Everyone: keep an eye on your private threads.

[Dave W.]

"We both have new looks." Adamant says to Streko, "but we both know who we are inside and that's the greater thing."

"I would say you look fearsome instead of frightening… or more serious by appearance? Perhaps your new look will dissuade some scavenger from testing us? Who can say?"

Adamant lays a hand on the halfling's armored shoulder. "I am grateful you are more protected. We depend on you, my friend."

"And the horns are a nice touch."

When Streko responds to Shorak, Adamant adds, "The stiff demands of Duty call."

[Joe]

"Indeed they do. Come, Shorak. Let's make a meal fit for kings and queens!"

Streko follows Shorak down below, making sure to bring those interesting spices he obtained earlier with him.

"What do you think?" he asks Shorak. "Am a more fearsome than frightening? A little of both perhaps?"

[Dave B.]

May 19, 2021 15:35:56 GMT -4 Joe said:

"Indeed they do. Come, Shorak. Let's make a meal fit for kings and queens!"

Streko follows Shorak down below, making sure to bring those interesting spices he obtained earlier with him.

"What do you think?" he asks Shorak. "Am a more fearsome than frightening? A little of both perhaps?"

Shorak chuckles at Streko's question. "I would think it would depend on who is looking upon you in that armor. I believe some will find you frightening, some fearsome. But, I am sure that all will see you as formidable." Shorak says and gives him a friendly clap on the arm, avoiding the horns.

[Jeff]

If you haven't already, please check your private threads (everyone). It's just about something transpiring before what follows now...

Zor, the 5th of Zaranytr 999 YK

Make any spell preparation changes you need to.

The next morning is a calm one. The fish stores are holding up well, so breakfast is fried fish, which Kurra has underway this time. "Save your gruel-magic for land," she says to Adamant.

The river has widened into what resemble a miniature bay, and it seems likely that in this place it is being fed from smaller tributaries coming out of the jungle that you can't actually see. In fact, this far down the Hydra, the jungle itself seems to swallow up the shorlines; more and more, boughs hang out over the water, and when they don't, rocks make landing impossible. By late morning, after Shorak rises, eats, and takes the crow's nest, he finally sees something new. To the far west, straight ahead, the horizon yields a view of the great waterfall and the connects the tributary on Sem's and Brack's maps to the rest of the Hydra, as well as the bend in the river continuing southwest, further toward the mountains. He also sees that the waterfall is going to be high; it pours down from a considerable height. The cliffs beside it must be the location of the great stair that shifter and gnome have also spoken of.

When he turns around to look behind, Shorak also sees another ship on the river far behind the Dragonfly. Too far to make out any details, even through the spyglass; there is a sail, and he doesn't think this new ship is quite as large as the Cogship.

The morning started bright, but by noon, a drizzling rain starts up, which gradually intensifies, driving most of you back into the galley or main hold. The crow's nest is fast becoming useless in the rain. Brack stays at the helm, of course, determined to keep the ship moving as steadily as it can, if slower due to reduced visibility. The changing wind begins to rattle the sail. Calirataia perches alone at the bow, keeping to herself. Adamant, the skeleton, and the undead tauth are all undeterred by the rain, though anyone else is welcome to stand in it and get thoroughly drenched. Kurra comes up to manage the rigging.

Adamant senses a sadness upon Calirataia as he watches her sit, like some crestfallen mermaid, near the bowsprit, and it is no doubt due to the terminus of this voyage. She, at least, is not driven away by the coming storm.

Attachments:

[Dave W.]

Adamant is also willing to stand in the rain. He sees Calirataia and after a moment, goes and sits with her. He traces some of the new etching on his chest. "This really is remarkable." He starts softly. "I don't know what I could give of me to you as a reminder. Ask and I will try to do what I can."

[Dave B.]

Shorak climbs down from the crow's nest when the rain becomes a problem. He spends the rest of the day just roaming about. At times he stops to stare at someone for a bit. He tries not to be too obvious, but he leaves noboey out in his scrutiny.

[Brian]

The weather keeps Melethos confined to the cargo hold. He sits at the mess table, fists propping up his head. He seems to be deep in thought.

[Jeff]

May 20, 2021 13:19:32 GMT -4 Dave W. said:

and after a moment, goes and sits with her. He traces some of the new etching on his chest. "This really is remarkable. . . . I don't know what I could give of me to you as a reminder. Ask and I will try to do what I can."

The dryad turns and gives him a sad smile. The water running down her face looks like tears, but it's hard to tell. Her face is lovely to behold, as always, no matter what emotion is present there. "You have spent many days with me in my home." She pats the wood beneath her. "And you have filled it with songs. I would ask nothing more."

In the galley, Starg sits across from Melethos, offering his presence but not bothering him. The minotaur has no spellbooks, but does often spend time holding the focus for his magic: the palm-sized orb, which in anyone else's hand would be the full size of Adamant's closed fist.

Sem can't sit still. He goes from stool and table to floor to cot to stool again. Constantly flipping through his spellbook, memorizing, reading and rereading. Consulting his maps.

Histra goes up in the rain to check on her skeleton. She is quickly soaked through her black robes, but doesn't let herself become bothered by it. Calirataia slips off the bowsprit and walks over to her. Adamant can see the two women conversing for a while, in a way that seems unusual. Neither looks distressed, but the warforged can see that Histra is puzzled. Then, after a few minutes, Histra retreats the cargo hold to get dry again.

As the day goes on, the storm intensifies. Kurra and Brack bring the sail down; now it's just about staying safely afloat, for the ship is getting tossed. All of you have become accustomed to the constant rocking of the ship, but this is heavier. Brack remains wide-eyed and stern at the helm.

Adamant, standing where he is, becomes steadily alarmed as he watches the water. Not only has it become choppy, it feels as though the Dragonfly is trying to drift upward, as though the entire river now flows down a steeper slope. It puts a sliver of dread inside him, making the ship seem so small and fragile against the fearsome power of nature. Brack calls the warforged over; even when he walks, he feels like he can could pitch over at any moment. "Keep your sight on the land wherever possible. It is a trick of the Hydra, nothing more. We are fine."

Down in the hold, there is no such "sloping" phenomenon.

---

Ken: private thread.

[Ken]

Belarin sits in the galley, making small talk with various members of the group. After a while, though, he sits down next to Melethos and says, "Pressure from your new horns?" he asks mischievously. More seriously, he says, "Are you all right?"