Chapter 2: Rites of Passage

[Darren]

Kalarian claps Grafth's shoulder in a friendly way. "Lead on, good shifter," he says jovially.

[Jeff]

The half-elf guards at the bottom of the steps look expectantly at Grafth, Kal, and Amal as they approach.

[Joe]

Streko is torn between going back over to Goran and standing in place.

"Should we follow them or stay put? Oh, Six-be-damned!! What to do? Olladra, show me guidance," he whispers quietly, glancing around to make sure he is not being observed himself.

Streko decides to hold his place and follow Goran's lead. If his half-elf friend thinks it's wise to follow, Streko will move, otherwise he will remain alert for any suspicious persons or activities.

[Josh]

Grafth nods to Kal and heads toward the guard. When they arrive, he states, "We are waiting for Ralsor, and were told to meet him at the west dock."

If the guard let's them pass, he'll head up to the docks, and take a look around.

[Jeff]

"Ralsor?" one of the guards echoes. "Really."

"Go on up," says the other tiredly, waving Grafth, Kal (and Tangat), and Amal through. "But stay out of trouble. If we hear of any scuffles—any, I mean it—we're calling in the viceroy to clean this one up. And he wouldn't be happy with any of us. So just do us this favor, eh?"

The shifters, two humans, and dog ascend the wide spiral stair. The number of windows along the way make the whole shaft feel exposed to the night, but it is well lit and allows a gentle breeze to glide through. About sixty feet up the stair opens out on to the first docking level. The stairwell continues to spiral up to the topmost, second docking level.

Several people mill about, and there's a scattering of benches and chairs. As below, they look well-to-do. Four wide thresholds—each facing one of the cardinal directions—open to the docking platforms themselves, which jut out from the tower. Large wooden doors are chained open, sturdy barriers evidently used only during adverse temperature or weather. There's a single booth used to sell food or chronicles, but it's currently locked up. Business looks slow here for the time being. Probably daytime sees a good deal more activity.

There are two wide alcoves that the passenger gondolas appear to slide up into, though currently the gondolas themselves are on the ground level.

A susurrus of muted fire draws Grafth's attention to the eastern platform: a single airship currently hovers in place alongside. It looks as though the people on this level are waiting to board.

Among the people waiting here, a few are a little more memorable:

- A warforged—the only one up here—leaning against the wall near the north platform, reading a chronicle. It—she?—is slender of frame and seems designed to resemble a woman in basic anatomy. A scimitar is strapped to her back and a metal case hangs from a belt.

- A half-elf man wearing a harness filled with dozens of tools. He wears a Lyrandar insignia on his shirt, and the bracers he wears at his sleeve glow ever so slightly. He looks like an artificer.

- An elf woman with dark hair, dressed in extravagant silken robes of white and blue, attended by a human bodyguard in chainmail armor. She stands apart, as if unwilling to sit upon one of the available benches or chairs.

The air here smells of wood, metal, and the tang of alchemy. Possibly preservative solutions to keep this tower shielded from the elements. It does look to be in excellent repair.

____________________________________

To be clear: Goran, Streko, and Pel are still on the ground level.

[Joe]

Streko is beginning to get nervous and, as he usually does when he is nervous, he begins to pace and talk to himself, suddenly oblivious to his surroundings.

"We should be up there with them...whereever it is they went. How can we assist if we don't even know where they are?"

He tries sitting down on a bench...a discarded paper sits unceremoniously next to him, crinkled in places, as if the previous reader had no love of the contents. Streko stares at the paper.

"I'm supposed to be guarding Goran's back...but from what, a malevolant breeze?"

He picks up the paper. A local politician is demanding that the town magewrights keep better care of the glowlamps throughout town, blaming the poor lighting and shadows on increased violent crimes.

"Perhaps the politician should blame the criminals as opposed to the lamps!"

He tosses the paper aside, adding a new crinkle, and stands up.

"Enough of this. The older I get, the less patient I am. Olladra, forgive me, o blessed one, but standing around and waiting for something to happen that I can't even see is not something I am built for."

Streko marches over to Goran. "We must follow them up to the next tier or whereever it is they went. Standing here like a stone golem is doing nothing to assist us in our mission and it is making me feel helpless as a newborn pup. Unless you give me a better reason, I find that I must act...I must...DO SOMETHING!"

Streko looks up at his half-elf friend, hoping he'll agree at their quandry and with Streo's solution.

[Darren]

Kalarian begins to stroll leisurely around the platform as if waiting for an airship to arrive. He smiles at all of the pretty girls, the tension he is feeling not evident in his manner. Finally, he turns back to Grafth. "Let's check out the second level."

[Jeremy]

Goran ascends to where he was ascending to some time ago.

"Come with me or not, Streko, it is your decision, but calm yourself."

---

Is anything actually happening? That's part of the reason why I've been quiet. If not, that's fine, just gradually developing or whatever, but it seems like everyone's waiting on Goran to climb up somewhere? I'm confused.

[Jeff]

The Lyrandar half-elf guards at the base of the stairwell stand before Goran and Streko, barring them. "Do you have tickets, sirs?" one of them asks.

______________________

Nothing's actually happening unless the PCs are interacting with the world.

[Joe]

Streko walks right up to the guard that he noticed earlier giving Kal and Grafth the okay to head up.

"We are friends of the two individuals who just were allowed access to the upper level. Our job is to ensure they weren't being followed...and now, it is to ensure their well-being above. We respectfully request your assistance...and Olladra bless you with good fortune should you be so kind."

He provides an award winning smile and gently strokes his holy symbol, praying that his goddess smile upon HIM!

[Jeff]

One of the guards rolls his eyes. The other just gestures with one hand. "More of Ralsor's 'associates,' eh? Listen, you'll get the same warning we gave your friends. No antics from any of you or you'll be answering to the viceroy himself. Meaning no disrespect to Olladra, of course."

The first guard eyes Goran appraisingly, seeming aware that the other half-elf is a warrior type, armed with bow and sword. "Keep your blade sheathed, all right?"

Pel joins Goran and Streko nonchalantly as they ready to head up.

[Josh]

"You go on ahead, but come back before too long. I'm going to ask around a bit, find out some more about Ralsor if possible."

Grafth heads for the half-elf with the tools, maintaining a proper-yet-affected posture. "Excuse me," he says, "I don't mean to be a bother, but I'm looking for Ralsor. I was told he might be around here."

[Jeff]

The half-elf artificer in question is examining the archway leading out to the eastern dock, where the current airship hovers smoothly in place. He turns at Grafth's question, and Grafth can see that one of his man's eyes milky white, with a good deal of scar tissue surrounding it. In contrast, his other eye—vivid blue—appears quite sharp. He is a good deal older than most of the half-elves you've seen around the place so far, with iron gray hair and a lined face. His skin looks slightly reddened by wind.

"What's that, now?" he asks, but then realizes what Grafth asked. "Ralsor? Hasn't been around here in a day or so. But I'm told he s'posed to be in tonight." He swivels his head this way and that as if he's used to looking with great detail in a smaller field of vision. "Should be on the west dock. If he's on time. Why? Is there..."

He looks around conspiratorially. "...a problem?"

Goran, Streko, and Pel reach the same level. Pel immediately drifts away from the two and merges into the small crowd as though she, too, will be a passenger aboard the airship. Kal is free to go to the top level.

[Josh]

"A problem? I should say not... aside from the fact that I've no idea how long I'll have to wait here." Grafth looks around the space, toward the West Dock. "And I wasn't told whether he'd be bringing anyone with him."

[Darren]

With a disinterested yawn, Kalarian wanders up the stairs to the next level. He ambles slowly, as if simply bored and looking around while waiting.

[Jeff]

The artificer shrugs and returns to his work. "Well, no one ever knows what sorts of company that boy keeps. We just hope it isn't more trouble." He gestures idly with one of his tools. "When he does come, he'll be using the west dock. All the others are in top shape."

Kal, with Tangat at his heels, winds up the stairwell to the top level. The winds are stronger up there, and soon he finds himself in another, smaller enclosed waiting area with four more docking platforms. There's fewer people about, but each of them looks Kal's way when he comes up. (Kal is continuing to conceal his dragonmark, correct?) Through the open arches, he can see the lights of the city below. This floor is about one hundred feet above street level.

[Josh]

"Trouble? In a place like this? I can't imagine that would be good for business." Grafth looks around, noticing that some more of his companions are now on the dock level. He attempts to make eye contact if any are looking his way.

"Well, I suppose I should wait near the west dock, then... wouldn't want him to slip past me."

[Darren]

Kal nods to the others on the platform as he makes his way towards the center of the room. He looks up and around, as if admiring the architecture. He is, in fact, spying out good hiding places for Goran, Streko, himself and Grafth.

_____________
Yes, Kal's dragonmark is still concealed for now.

[Jeff]

"You can't miss him, sir. Don't you worry about that," the artificer says and returns fully to his examination of the archway. "Worst pilot in Lyrandar history," he mutters under his breath.

Up on the top floor, Kal finds the waiting area disappointingly open. The only thing that might serve as a hiding place is a shadowed alcove near the shaft that the gondolas elevate to. There is enough space for two people within.

[Joe]

Streko wanders toward the west dock, trying to look as non-chalant as possible. He sees Grafth talking to a half-elf and nods his head, as if simply stretching his sore neck muscles.

He looks for a place that he and Goran can conceal themselves unobtrusively. He notices stairs leading up to another level and chuckles softly to himself.

"No doubt Kalarian has gone up to the next level to find trouble," he whispers to Goran (whom he assumes came up with him and stands nearby). "Speaking of which, we should find ourselves a place to observe our friends, should things get out of hand...as they usually seem to."

[Jeremy]

"No doubt, let's get moving...but slow and discrete, if possible. We want something that offers either near-complete coverage, or something so wide open no one will think it strange that we're there."

"Also, we want something that I can shoot from."

Goran will lead Streko, calling on his advice too, to find such a place, if there is one.

If not, if Goran judges that no such strategic location exists, then he will simply look about and choose the next best location for sight lines and immediate defensibility for himself, and the book.

[Jeff]

Just outside of each archway, where the jutting platforms face north, east, south, and west, enormous capstans reside. Goran can't help but note that those might make good places to hide behind.

A short while later...

Grafth and Goran are the first to note what appears to be a dim blue circle of light steadily approaching from the southwestern sky.

______________________________

Spot checks = Goran (21), Grafth (22), Kal (6), Pel (11), Streko (9), Tangat (8).

[Darren]

Kalarian wanders lazily out towards the platforms, checking surreptitiously to see if there are any balconies or observation areas overlooking them where Goran might be able to get a good shot from. Once he's satisfied with his reconnaisance, he strolls back to the lower level to re-join with Grafth.

[Jeff]

An additional, smaller spiral stairwell on the top deck evidently leads to a sort of "crow's nest" for the docking tower, but the stairwell is locked within cage-like walls. It seems to be the only place that one might overlook the individual platforms. Kal then descends to the lower level again.

As Grafth and Goran look upon the blue circle of light approaching from the southwestern night sky, the twenty-first bell chimes from a prominent clock affixed to the wall. Seconds later, members of the airship crew on the eastern platform exit the vessel and the gathered passengers begin to shuffle about. They've begun to board. The elf woman in robes of blue and white makes her way to the front of the crowd. Her chainmailed guard glowers and makes the crowd part for her.

A few people catch notice of the ship approaching the western dock. The half-elf artificer that Grafth spoke to meets the shifter's eye and gestures vaguely in that direction with an oddly-shaped metal instrument. Possibly, it's Ralsor's ship.

The "female" warforged drops the chronicle she was carrying and approaches the western archway to watch the coming ship with interest.

[Darren]

Without stopping, Kalarian picks up the copy of the chronicle just discarded and moves towards the western platform. Stopping beside Grafth, Kalarian quickly scans the headlines to see what the latest news is. Looking up briefly, he asks, "Is this our man?"

[Josh]

Grafth has moved closer to the West dock and is observing the light that's moving closer. He looks over his shoulder as Kalarian approaches.

"Too early to tell, but I believe so. I gather from what we've seen and heard about Ralsor that he might be a bit of a wild card. We should keep this in mind."

Grafth moves to a position where he can see the dock entrance but is not immediately in the way. As anyone from what he assumes to be Ralsor's ship debarks, he will scrutinize them before deciding to move to meet them.

[Jeff]

Pel seems to have merged with the crowd, perhaps in a different guise. You don't see her at the moment.

The broadsheet in Kal's hands is today's issue of the Korranberg Chronicle*. The headlines reads FIRES RAGE IN FAIRHAVEN!. Nothing else within catches his immediate interest.

While waiting, the slim warforged glances back at Kal, who picked up the chronicle she'd casually dropped to the ground. Her crystalline gaze lingers for a moment, then she scans the crowd. Streko is a bit unnerved to find that her eyes stop when they fix upon him. Like most warforged, her faceplate is expressionless. Yet she maintains her look upon him.

The crowd creeps its way toward the airship on the eastern platform, while the few who linger watch as the other airship approaches. A dwarf dressed in business attire to actually sits down on a bench, crosses his thick fingers behind his head, and says aloud, "This ought'a be good."

Everyone is aware now of the coming ship. It is a medium-sized vessel, the wood painted dark although it's obviously in need of a good lacquering. Contained within the wooden struts that arc up from the stern and aft of the ship is a circle of white-blue light. Ordinarily, this is where a large fire elemental is bound and made to circle and propel the craft, but this one is different. There is no fire, only glowing white-blue light and a soft crooning like a muffled whistle. An air elemental?

The airship approaches the dock in a slightly skewed angle. The everbright lanterns that hand above the jutting platform cast their light out into the darkness and illuminate a few faces on deck. All of them look anxious, and eager to get to solid ground. The air elemental ring seems to swivel in place, and the ship itself moves in close, at last scraping alongside the platform itself, sheering away splinters of wood from both ship and dock.

The half-elf artificer groans. The dwarf claps his head and roars with laughter. The warforged finally turns her stony gaze from Streko and over to the ship; her body is perfectly still.

Lyrandar stevedores—half-elves all—appear and step out onto the western dock. None of them seem fazed by the poor docking. They simply go to work, tying down the ropes that the sparse crew of the ship toss down to them. When they're all in place, the blue-white glow vanishes and the air elemental seems to fade—suppressed back into the ship. A wooden ramp is lowered and the handful of passengers—really, not many at all—hasten off the ship.

A human merchant launches into a tirade to his servants. "Never...again. NEVER. AGAIN!"

You can see the airship's name—Thunderhead—painted along the hull. It looks like it needs repainting. The ship itself is beautiful in design, but it's obviously seen better days. There is still a small cluster of people still aboard the ship.

____________________________

The Korranberg Chronicle comes out more often than any other chronicle, three days each week: Mol, Wir, and Far (which is like Mon, Wed, Fri).

[Darren]

Noticing the warforged's interest in Streko, Kalarian moves closer to the construct, the folding chronicle in front of him. Handing it back to the warforged, he says, "Thanks for letting me borrow this." Gesturing towards the just docked airship, he says, "Quite a landing, huh?"

[Jeff]

The warforged swivels her head to regard Kal. When he holds out the chronicle, she makes no move to take it from him. "What do you mean by 'quite'?" Her voice is extremely neutral in tone. "The damage looks superficial, but it is damage regardless."

Kal—like the rest—has only rare glimpsed warforged given female "personalities." Though warforged are by nature sexless, an uncommon few are designed with feminine personality and inklings. Frankly, he has no idea what would make them so. This one's body is shaped much like any warforged, save that it is leaner and does not have the heavy adamantine plating common among the standard soldier models. Intrigued by most things even presumed to be female, Kal can't help but examine her more.

Engraved on her forehead is a sigil; it is a ghulra, the unique mark all warforged form at creation. At the center of her chest is a small cavity in the metal plating. Kal's seen that before, too. On the metal that makes up her shoulders he can see what was once some sort of national insignia, but it looks like it's been filed down.

[Josh]

Grafth is still standing back a bit, waiting for someone he can guess is the pilot, Ralsor.