NSWRPF Archive High Devil Sands (A Western Steampunk RPG)

IC: Ace
Quenlaii Medicine

What the hell was wrong with this town. In a matter of seconds, a man walked in speaking as if he were about to die, and a dusty dwarf fell out of the closet, where it was screaming as if it were dieing. Ace barely noticed the small mouse scurry away, as he flicked his arm out and caught hte derringer in his hand.

He held the gun straight up, because from his angle it was only a matter of dropping his arm in one direction to shoot either the hitmen or the dwarf, which ever need be. Out of the corner fo his eye, Ace watched as Red covered the two men as they back out the door, a sign of fear, Good to know, and stammered out a warning to the dwarf. One the two had exited, Ace dropped his weapon to level with the dwarves head, and stared him down.

"Who in the bloody HELL are you!" He shouted, a bit angered at the happenings of late. All he really wanted was to be out of this place of death, and back at the Flask with a drink in hand...maybe some cards too. H'ed probly have to hit hte tailor first though...

Tag: Red, Dwarf, Vyriel

 

Red
Quenlaii's Medicine

As the illiterati left, Red let out a barely perceptible sigh. He holstered his gun, then remembered about the dwarf.

As he turned around, Red saw, to his relief, that Ace's gun was already trained on his head. This own was a real hell-hole - orc lackeys and thugs, all working for one man, it would appear. Paying 'taxes' for security stank of an organized ring.

Vyreil thanked him, and he turned to her, gazing at her long white hair as she confronted the dwarf. He muttered his thanks, internally chiding himself. Don't get connected...

Ace yelled at the dwarf, and Red turned to look at the red-bearded newcomer.

"What's your business here?"

Tag: Those in the Medicine shop

Quincy
Devil's Flask

"Shooting? Dear Lord..."

Quincy's brow furrowed. If Red was here, he'd almost certainly refuse to return. There was no speaking to that man...

And there was no speaking to Quincy when a woman was around.

Doc had invited over the mechanic, Maya.

"Good to meet you, Madam."

Tag: Doc, Maya

 

IC: Malechai

Malechai accepted her help and sat on the chair, he didn't hear anything that was said but he

was sweating profusely making the dust turn to mud leaving streaks on his skin.

"Rattle snake..... bit me." he gasped his voice was raspy from thirst.

He pointed to his cheek to show where he was bitten, he seemed to be going into shock.

Tag: Anyone in shop

 

Vyreil
Quenlaii Medicine

Vyreil looked at his cheek where the bite marks were. The bite was starting to turn an od color of purple and swelling up, but not too bad yet, the poison could still be stopped from spreading.

She immediately got up and dampened a wet cloth and searched the shelves in her store for any type of sharp object. The first thing she found was a shard of broken glass, not exactly what would be best to use but at the same time she didn't have much time to find anything better.

She knelt back down at his feet and began to wipe the dust off of his face, she cleaned the bite of any dirt that had possibly gotten in it. "Allright, I know this is really going to sting but you have to hold still!" She said trying her best to calm him. "We have to get the poison out of your system befor it spreads anywhere else, and this will also stop the swelling.

She held the peice of shard glass in her hand, while with the other she placed her hand on his forhead, keeping his head steady from his shaking. She pressed the point of glass against his cheek and ran it along the swollen bite marks. Blood and puss started pouring out from the cut she had just made.

She turned around to look at Red and Ace who were standing there just staring at the dwarf. She didn't exactly care to much about the dwarf having been hiding in her closet right at this moment. Someones life was at stake, thats all that mattered.

One of you, go back and look at the shelf that has bottles of potions on it. There should be a bottle filled with a pale green liquid. She glanced at the Dwarf. "Well that is, if our friend the Dwarf hasn't messed up anything back there." She looked back up at the two men. Hurry! It should be at the front of the shelf! This man doesn't have much time..

TAG: Everyone

 

OOC: As DVC's away for the weekend, he gave permission to me to control Ace for the time being.

Red & Ace
Quenlaii's

Ace's gun stayed on the dwarf.

"Go on, then. I'll watch this 'ere Peepin' Tom."

Red nodded, then went over to the shelf in question. He searched wildly for a moment, before the green vial caught his eye. He snatched it up, and in seconds was by Vyreil's side.

"This the one you mean?"

Ace stared at the man, and the blood running down his cheek. He wasn't one to argue with a healer, but what if the poison had spread? But perhaps that was what the vial was for.

"If the poison's spread, you'll have a hard time with it."

Tag: Vyreil, Malechai

 

IC: Malechai

"Allright, I know this is really going to sting but you have to hold still!" He just nodded as he was too frightened to talk, it seemed things always went from bad to awful for him.
"We have to get the poison out of your system before it spreads anywhere else, and this will also stop the swelling. He barley managed to mutter "O-okay" he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He winced as the glass ran along his wound, it burned like hellfire but it was better then death.

Tag: Anyone in the shop

 

Vyriel
Quenlaii medicine

She nodded to him as he handed her the flask. "Yes, yes. This is it. She said as she took the flask from his hand. "Well, this bite doesnt look quite that infected yet. I think he has a good chance that this will help him. She grabbed a towel and hold it against his cheek to stop the bleeding. With the same towel, which was now soaked in blood, she held over the top opening of the flask and turned it upside down letting the liquid soak into the cloth. Once it was soaked thoroughly, she pressed it against the bite marks and blood.

TAG: All inside the shoppe

 

OOC: Anyone here?

Red

Red stood back. At least it was the right medicine.

"Ace, you doing all right back there?"

The gambler still had his gun trained on the dwarf, and Red joined him, picking up his dropped ferguson. He held it over one shoulder.

"So, we still have the problem - who are you, and why are you here?"

Tag: Ace and Dargo

 

OOG: working on character sheet... still. Though I have been busy, I usually take a while to get something I like.

 

Approved by KissSpooky. Thank you for letting me join up.

Character Sheet
Basics
-Real Name: Pan Tannerty
-Alias:Topsy
-Age: 31
-Gender: Male
-Species: Goblin
-Occupation: Tinker, self-proclaimed prospector; metallurgist and alchemist.

Appearance
-Height: 3'10
-Weight: 83lbs
-Build: Measured against Humans, Pan's stature seems malnourished; gaunt, even sickly. Only, his goblin lineage makes all this quite natural; so he is actually very healthy- in regards to goblins and their ilk.
-Eye Colour: Beneath his slanted brows his peckish red eyes dash about tricksily.
-Hair Colour: Greyish hair, like bunched cords of wire, combed back beneath his beige derby.
-Hair Style: Slicked back by use of a beeswax base hair gum; Faddish Pickney's Chic Choice, being his favoured brand.
-Facial hair: None to speak of.
-Complexion: A worn, weathery green leathern pigment; with many dark blotches about him.
-Appearance: He looks like a goblin; which, well, is to say he is the target of much prejudice. As such, Topsy, as he favours to be called, has very long, very exaggerated ears (like two very slender feathers sticking out from beneath his hat - if he wears one - or angled upwards as they are naturally projected) and a 'stake of a nose'. His smallish form is no less peculiar in these times, or in these locations. That he adopts strictly human fashions might seem as odd or slightly pretentiuous; but it is all lost on the goblin.
-Jewellery: Several rings - gold, silver, brass, iron, et cetera - of little noticable worth.
-Piercings: His ears are pierced at various points (some near the lobe, others closer to the tips) with metallic rings; some precious, some not; though their order and place, esoteric in purpose, secretly signify to goblins his place in the Tinker's Guild.
-Tattoos: Only one of note; it being a design of two spanners, crossed, behind a simple cogwheel- located on his right wrist. Its significance relating directly to the Tinker's Guild.
-Scars: Just a notch out of his left ear.
-Clothing: His attire mirrors that of Human folk. Earlier this week, like any other day, he was observed wearing a suit; beige in hue and tailored to his, well, goblinesque features (such as a small incision where his wily tail can poke through). Trousers and matching jacket, with a lapelled collar. His waistcoat is maroon, above a plain white undershirt. Topsy also wore a maroon bowtie, and a simple white henkercheif was poking out of his breast pocket. No one noticed his shoes; as people don't tend to look at one another's shoes all that often- had someone noticed, however, they would have commented on how nicely took care of they were; but as he is a goblin, they might not have said anything at all, really. Today, he would be seen in strict desert fashion; had anyone been wandering about the heat tumbled winds of the High Devil Sands territory to see him. And as he partly took to the sky on his trip, he wears aviator's goggles and a red kerchief over his mouth. Over his desert wraps, he wears a poncho with pockets on the underside for various purposes. Currently he wears no shoes, prefering cut-off socks; better for his little claw feet to grasp about the pedals and yoke his airship uses for pitch and yaw control (his feet happen to be quite adroit and he often uses them instead of his hands or in unison; but as he is also quite lazy he tends to lay back and let his feet do, well, do the talking- or flying! Hur hur so funny... riiight. Moving on).
-Bio-Mechanicals: None to speak of.
-Other: He has taken to the desert in his modest airship; but really it is only a wide balloon with a decent sized platform (the decrepit hull of a marooned schooner) attached where Topsy has built a smallish dwelling for him to live whilst travelling. Tethered to the platform by ropes are three grogs (also laden with supplies and important bundles), a massive iron golem (one of his only defensive capabilities and which has been specially modified by Topsy with a variety of nasty

 

OOC: Ugh, sorry everyone. I've been kind of out of tough. Offhand, food allergies? I highly don't recommend them.

This may be a case of the pot calling the kettle black, but I'm sending PM's to some of our more wayward players to try and draw them back. Penguinator, FMH, DVC, Morbas, you guys have been doing great.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Brushfire" Woods & "Un-killable" Dorgarim
Hades' Secret Main Street

Woods was standing just outside the Elf's shoppe, glancing in the window as she and the tall stranger seemed to be working on the newest addition to the place, while the gimp was still on the table with gun (such as it was) drawn on the Dwarf.
Woods was annoyed. Nay, he was downright angry. The people in this town were supposed to know their place. He was supposed to be able to walk the streets as he pleased, do what he wanted, take what he liked. It was one thing to have those strangers try and push them around, but the townies acting up now? That wouldn't do...
Glancing at Dorgarim, he caught a slightly bemused look on the Orc's face, which only enraged him more. "Aw shaddup!" he yelled, oblivious of the fact Dorg obviously hadn't said a word, "Ah don't need no lip from you, Dorg. T'ain't like you did nuthin' in there, neither!" The Orc shrugged his shoulders in response, but whether that was a confused or dismissive gesture was known only to him.

The human stood fuming for a few moments before stepping off the sidewalk slowly, without a word. He eyed the Orc again for a brief moment before grabbing a large rock, and hurling it right through the main window of the healer's shoppe, though he missed hitting anyone inside by a mile.
Turning, he walked off down the street, forcibly keeping his pace steady instead of breaking into a run away from the scene of the vandalism like was his first instinct, with Dorgarim following in tow.

He had to talk to the Reverend.

TAG: Anyone in Quenlaii medicine or out on the street with a reaction

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Doc Riley
Demon's Flask Saloon

Standing politely, Doc said, "Thank you so much, my dear Maya. I'd be happy to give them a test run. For the time being, though, allow me to introduce Quincy Shackleford, of the famed Shackleford family. Quincy, this is Maya Yubari, mechanic and one of the most wonderful individuals you're ever likely to meet, in these parts or any other I might add." Pulling out a chair for the girl, Doc tipped his hat and concluded, "Would you care to join us for a drink Maya?"

"Why that'd be just shiny!" Maya said in her typical (for her) accent that Doc had always found appealing. She promptly sat and placed the bottle she'd been clutching on the table. Taking a quick glance, Doc noticed it seemed to be Elven Whisky...now he understood why Maya had clutched it so fiercely.

There was no speaking to Quincy when a woman was around. Standing as well, as was proper manners, Quincy smiled and tipped his hat before sitting back down. "Good to meet you, Madam."

Maya took a small metal cup from her belt and poured some of the Elven whisky into it. "Sorry gents, I would offer you some, but it's been such a long time since someone spent the night with me in my shop that I gotta spend it with the whisky instead! God! Sometimes I should just not talk." At this, Doc's eyes widened and en eyebrow and it was all he could do to keep from laughing.

Maya promptly went bright red and she quickly downed the whisky before pouring more right up to the brim. Finally letting a small snicker, Doc loudly announced, "Here here!" before downing his own glass of abmer and refilling it, topping up Quincy's as well for good measure. Raising his glass in a toast, he said, "Here's to good friends, both old and new, and pleasant company in the most unexpected of locales. Gems among the grime. And here's hoping there's plenty of money to be had with this years open house." Grinning, he nodded to his two companions and took a hefty swig from his glass, clenching his teeth slight

 

Quincy
Devil's Flask

Quincy drank to Doc's toast, and was startled by the sound of smashing glass. he glanced out the window, and saw that the healer's shop had one less window.

"Some people really should be shot." said Doc.

Quincy nodded his agreement.

"I've wandered the world for some time now, and I wholeheartedly agree with you. There are times when a well-placed coin works best, and times when a bullet to the heart works best."

Quincy took a sip of his drink, then continued.

"Though that'd never work with me. I'd just keep going."

Quincy thought back to that day, staring into his glass. He'd been younger then, and reckless. When the raiders attacked his home, he'd held his own, killing two of their riders. Then one caught him with a crossbow bolt - an elf, he was sure of that - and the house had been set on fire. A rafter fell onto his already wounded chest, crushing his young heart.

The next few days were a blur; what he knew he was told from his family. Doctors had been brought in from more civilized areas, but they couldn't save him. His grandfather loathed the thought of machinery in lieu of organic, but the rest of his surviving family refused to let him die.

The new heart was a work of art; naturally, he had no problems with it, nor did it require a great deal of adjustment. Powerful magnets, however, would wreak havoc with his heart, something he had learned the hard way.

On the plus side, he had amazing stamina and no worries of a heart attack.

Tag: Doc, Maya

 

OOC: I am going to be out of town, begining tomorrow until the sixteenth of this month, so there is a good chance I won't be getting another post up for Vyreil after this one. Just wanted to let all know so you wouldn't end up thinking I have jumped out of this RP.. Could never! And this also still better be alive and running once I get back!

FMH

Vyreil
Quenlaii Medicine

Vyreil finished patching a bandage over the mans bite on his cheek. She, still kneeling by his side, began to wipe the sweat and dust off of his brow with the cool water that was left on the towel.

A sudden crashing came from the front of the store! She looked up and saw that her front window was broken open and in the midst of all the cracked shards of glass was a huge rock. She got to her feet and ran across the store to the door. She saw the same man who had been in there only seconds befor walking away in a brisk pace. She shouted out to him in an angry tone. "Why walk away after doing such vandalism? You ask for my taxes, yet you are the one who will be paying for that broken window! I am not giving you a cent! Her adrenaline was rushing and she was starting to become very angry and anxious. "If you are so brave, come back here and face me like the of a man you are!"

TAG: Everyone inside the store or outside on the street

 

Pan Tannerty
High Devil Sands...

Drifting, floating, lumbering along as near lethargic as one could without actually being classified as standing still; that was considered progress to Pan Tannerty and his airship, a cobbled together makeshift craft of practicallity. With an abondoned schooner's hull and a fat, bulbous balloon to keep her afloat, it lacked all aesthetic or obvious sense, but it worked; it functioned to the exact specifications and needs of the little three and ten inch goblin tinker who built her.

The ship hovered a good thirteen feet above the coarse earth of the Devil Sands. Hanging this height were five sturdy ropes. Three tied and tethered to worn and creased leather harnesses attached to a pack of supply-laden grogs; another held tight in the fist of an iron golem, who's heavy feet thundered even against the loose sands of the desert; and the last was far behind the rest, dragging along in a haphazard gait the gauntest camel ever to be. Beneath its massive load of multi-coloured bundles and wraps, one might miss its wrinkled face; they even might mistake it for one of the bundles itself, as it barely resembled the face of a camel and seemed more like a beige bunch of folds. But one would eventually catch on to its face, and see its squinty eyes, hidden beneath rolls of old skin; they might even see sad eyes, unappreciated eyes; defeated eyes. Though this would be more what they brought with them, than what the beast of burden felt itself; for truthfully, very little went on within its rimpled skin and fat skull.

Onboard the ship, laid back in sunbleached pillows, tied to a wooden chair by many strings, sat the goblin tinker himself. His smallish green head hidden behind a book three times its size. Tiny, clawed fingers turned old, stained pages, while two clawed feet kept idle watch over pedals and a swaying yoke. Topsy, as he liked to be called, was none too concerned about watching where he was going. It was a desert after all, and if there was anything ideal about them, it was the stark fact that there was nothing in them worth watching out for. Well - and at that the goblin tinker peeked up over the tip of the aged binding, scanned the horizon, nodded to himself, and went back to reading - not right now, anyway.

Oh, but the breif interruption to his reading ruined it all. His mood had soured, it was taking longer than he was told, back in Silver Spur, to get to Hades Secret, the next town on his travels westward. He shut the heavy book and tossed it onto the pile of books and schematics behind him. Underneath his poncho he fished for something, upon finding it he gave a toothy goblin smile, and produced from beneath his clothing a simple piece of metal attached to a small thong of leather. At the base of the airship's yoke, he fingered for the place - found it, and slipped it through. There it would remain, keeping the yoke steady - give or take a few shifting degrees - on the heading that should lead him to his destination. "Stay on target, shippy!" He cried in his piping goblin voice and with that disappeared into his workship.

Tag: Desert folk and passersby

 

GM OOC: Have a good trip, FMH, we'll see you when you get back. No worries, I'll make sure we're still around when you return. Does anyone want to take control of Vyreil in her absence? If not, I'll run her...

So, this is take two. Tried posting this yesterday, but my computer went crazy on me, so let's see if I can manage it this time...lol

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Doc Riley
Demon's Flask Saloon

Quincy nodded his agreement. "I've wandered the world for some time now, and I wholeheartedly agree with you. There are times when a well-placed coin works best, and times when a bullet to the heart works best." Quincy took a sip of his drink, then continued. "Though that'd never work with me. I'd just keep going."
Doc raised an eyebrow to this, intrigued. "Really now? I certainly can't make that claim. Were to get shot through the heart, I have no doubts I would die promptly. Not that I've ever allowed anyone to succeed in their attempts, of course. You're a man full of surprises, aren't you Quincy. what's your secret? Bio-Mechanicals? Magic? You look like a displaced heart man, am I right?"
"You know, there's this whole debate of magic versus technology, the old versus the new, and personally speaking, I can't understand why it seems so difficult for the two to co-exist."
As Doc spoke, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that he was starting to gain the attention of some of the people at nearby tables, most notably what seemed to be a well built man with sandy blonde hair who had an unimpressed look on his face. Smirking, Doc continued in a conversational tone like he was oblivious to the stares. "Take myself for an example. When I was young, I was quite the sickly child. Colds, flus, a weak heart. You name it, I likely experienced it. Now I have no doubts that had my mother not taken me to be cured through magical means from an Elven healer, I would have likely died almost 2 decades ago, and would have been deprived of many pleasurable experiences, the most recent of which is certainly sharing a table and a drink with an interesting new friend and a beautiful young woman."

Doc paused for a moment, noticing the blonde haired man had actually turned around to face him. From what he could make out with his peripheral vision, he struck Doc as slightly familiar, but couldn't be sure, so he continued to make out that he was oblivious to the mans pressence. "To say nothing of the fact that you all would be deprived of the company of one of the most good looking men in the realm...not to be immodest, of course," he added with a wink.

"Now, despite my appreciation of magic, I am by no means preferential to one or the other, magic or technology. And I can't understand why some, especially those like the church of the Clockwork, or Society of Enchantments, feel it has to be one of the other." He finished, calmly taking a drink. He noted that the blonde man was looking seriously put out now. "Wonderful." he thought to himself, trying to gauge if this one would come to words or violence.

TAG: Quincy, Maya, Anyone entering the saloon

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Brushfire" Woods & "Un-Killable" Dorgarim
Hades' Secret Main Street

Woods walked down the street at a brisk pace, making towards the house at the end of the street. Over his shoulder he heard the elf yelling, sounding none too pleased about his relocating his window. She shouted out to him in an angry tone. "Why walk away after doing such vandalism? You ask for my taxes, yet you are the one who will be paying for that broken window! I am not giving you a cent!" She was sounding very angry and anxious. "If you are so brave, come back here and face me like the of a man you are!"
At this, Dorgarim started to turn around but Woods said harshly in a low voice so only the Orc could hear, "Naw, keep walkin'! T'ain't the time to deal with her, yet."
Finally, she yelled at the top of her lungs, "COWARD!!" and could be heard returning to her shop.
Woods didn't like

 

Quincy
Devil's Flask

Quincy smiled, but there was little mirth or happiness in it. The disscussion of this would have been taboo around family and business associates, but Doc was something else.

"When I was sixteen years old, just freshly returned from my education, the Estate was attacked. My parent's home took the brunt of the attack. I was with them at the time, and was shot in the chest with a crossbow bolt."

He sat up, and pointed just beneath where his heart was located.

"Right there. It didn't puncture my heart, nor did it come near it. Well, not that near. But I kept on going. My parents were killed, and Henry's father and some hired hands came to the resuce. The house was on fire by then; how, I don't know. The last thing I remembered was a rafter swinging down and smashing into my chest."

Quincy sipped at his drink before continuing.

"I woke up an hour later, in agony. There was blood and steel, that I remember for certain. The next I awoke, it was two weeks later. I was surrounded by techinicians and doctors. I had a new heart, a steel heart."

Quincy stared into his glass.

"My grandfather didn't like that one bit. He thought death was better than bastardizing your body."

He sat for a moment, his eyes meeting Doc's. Now that he knew what to look for, he noticed the man's pale complexion. Doc certainly seemed to have had a tough life.

"But I agree, there's not a thing wrong with either, as far as my simple mind can tell. And speaking of the Church, I've heard tell that this town is run by it."

Tag: Doc, Maya

 

OOC: I hope we can also use an 'appendix' feature, KissSpooky? If not I will remove it. Don't want to be subverting your story.

Pan Tannerty
High Devil Sands... wee bit further than before

"Lesee here..." the three foot, ten inch goblin muttered to himself as he busied his little green hands and clawed fingers over a bit of angular metal. He squinted his beady red eyes, focusing on the piece's minutest angles and surfaces. Furrowed his slanted brows and deciphered its metallurgic properties and... bolted upright and tossed the piece off behind him. "Nopies, don't need that." From the top of his stool he rummaged about one of his dishelved desks. His workshop was a wreck of clutter and junk, but no matter what was where, Topsy would, well, eventually, find a use for it.

Taking another oddly angled bit of metal, he held it before one of the numerous glow lamps he had hanging from the ceiling. This piece was smaller than the former, and had several threaded brass nozzles whereas the other had none. Topsy's eyes lit up and he smiled. It would do nicely.

Shuffling over to another work bench, he scanned with his finger over the tattered edges of a rough drawing depicting what appeared to be a system comprising many pairs of straight edged, curly and sinuous lines surrounding, passing beneath, passing over and connected to a large black circle which had all been shaded in except for a small circle in the center which contained the number one. "Now where is that junction..." The little goblin perused the piece of paper till he found a little blank spot between two pairs of conjoining lines. Noting its location, he produced a fountain pen and drew a little black circle and numbered it sixty-three. With a content nod he smiled.

It might appear like a rather childish picture of lines and squiggles, but to the trained eye, they would appear very much organized. And that trained eye would also see the lines for what they were: pipes, coils and hoses. Yes, this was no drawing at all. In fact, it was a schematical blueprint for the power source to his next generation tinkerings and machines: the catalytical converser, mark two. In comparsion it was far smaller than the original; the original less bulky than the prototype of which he himself had melted down to scrap, though he did have a piece of it secreted away in one of his many cubbies. Sometimes he enjoyed feeling its warm surface. It was never cool, oddly, for he had not expected such an after-affect to the unit when he devised it.

Pacing about his workshop, Topsy was deep in thought. After having added that last bit to the schematics, he was back to the first obstacle he had faced when designing the mark two: what metallic alloy to use to house the converser itself? His attempts so far had all met with various forms of failure: melting failure, the metal was not heat-resistant enough; exploding failure, the metal was not strong or durable enough; reactor failure, the metal would dampen the conduction between the power unit and test machine; and then good old plain failure, the worst of all, to the goblin, for it gave no insight as to what exactly had failed and so there was no progress in learning.

"Kekeke," the goblin tinker cakcled, "I'll not frustrate meself over this." He gave a curt shake of the head and then hoped out of his workshop and back onto the deck of his airship. He was about to put on his aviator's goggles when he noticed something in the distance. "My destination?" He puzzled aloud. Scampering to the ship's makeshift bridge, he snatched up his myriascopic looking glass and peered through with one large, hopeful goblin eyeball. A drab looking bunch of wood buildings rocked up and down as the goblin attempted to balance the weight of the scope in his small hands. When he finally did he peered about at random things going on. Behind several mundane buildings he saw a building with stonework done about its roof. From his current distance that was all he could make out, and

 

GM OOC: Yes, I should have mentioned, anyone is welcome to use the "Appendix" feature. This is a new world, so if you want to introduce new concepts (animals, technology, etc.) Obviously anything earth-shatteringly huge (new organizations trying to take over the world, etc.) should be cleared, but smaller stuff needs no clearance from me.

In other news, as people may or may not know from my mentionings and ramblings, I do most of my updating from work. At my job, when we're not dealing with customers we're free to do what have you (within reason), so it's usually easier to write here than when at home having to deal with life stuff.
Unfortunately, last week my work computer ended up infected with a nasty virus. As such, they took the machine away to get it totally scoured. On the upside, this means it got a total upgrade, on the downside, I lost all my notes and work-in-progress writings. As such, things are going to be a little "made up as I go" for a bit until I rewrite some stuff.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Vyreil
Quenlaii Medicine

"Coward!!" Vyrei yelled at the top of her lungs at the retreating pair of thugs before turning on her heels and marching back to her shoppe. She was so furious about this vandalism she could barely contain it. How did these people think they should be able to get away with this nonsense?!
As she entered her storefront, she eyed her patients. She focused for a moment on the one called Red, whom so far had been the most helpful, and she was sure he could understand the rage in her eyes, but she didn't say a word about the incident. She had to check on the patients and the treatments before she could focus on her anger.

Moving over to kneel next to the man with the snake bite, she looked to see if anything seemed to be seeping through the bandage. "That's looking pretty good. How are you feeling Mr...I'm sorry, but what is your name? In all the excitement, I don't think I got it."

TAG: Red, Ace, Malechai, etc

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Doc Riley
Demon's Flask Saloon

Quincy smiled as Doc spoke, but there was little mirth or happiness in it. Something was definately on his mind, so he tried to focus on what his new friend said, while still keeping part of his attention on the blonde man eyeing his angrily.
"When I was sixteen years old, just freshly returned from my education, the Estate was attacked. My parent's home took the burnt of the attack. I was with them at the time, and was shot in the chest with a crossbow bolt."

He sat up, and pointed just beneath where his heart was located. Doc's eyes widened at the visual.
"Right there. It didn't puncture my heart, nor did it come near it. Well, not that near. But I kept on going. My parents were killed, and Henry's father and some hired hands came to the resuce. The house was on fire by then; how, I don't know. The last thing I remembered was a rafter swinging down and smashing into my chest."

Quincy sipped at his drink before continuing. "I woke up an hour later, in agony. There was blood and steel, that I remember for certain. The next I awoke, it was two weeks later. I was surrounded by techinicians and doctors. I had a new heart, a steel heart." Quincy stared into his glass. "My grandfather didn't like that one bit. He thought death was better than bastardizing your body."

He sat for a moment, his eyes meeting Doc's. Doc couldn't believe the pain he must have gone through. Almost unconciously, he topped up his friends glass and gave him a small nod in reverence.

"But I agree, there's not a thing wrong with either, as far as my simple mind can tell. And speaking of the Church, I've heard tell that this town is run by it."

Doc was almost grateful for the change in subject. Not even noticing it had gone, his trademark smile returned. He took a drink from his glass then said, "I've heard that as well. I'm not rightly sure how much it actually runs the place, though. I know the Mayor, Sullivan, is a priest of

 

Quincy
Devil's Flask

Quincy spoke before Maya could reply.

"Pardon me Maya, but One-Eye Sullivan? There's a reason behind that name, I'm sure, aside from the obvious."

Quincy had heard tell of the name Sullivan before; his mentor in the ways of the blade, Nero Kindeus, had spoken in hushed tones about the man. And this was up north, out of the Sands, past forest and plains, up high in the mountains.

Kindeus said he met the man once, in one the blademaster's few trips away from the seclusion of the Pelin Monsatery. In that one meeting, Kindeus barely made it out of Hades alive.

Tag: Maya, Doc

Appendix

Nero Kindeus (Knee-row Kin-day-us)
Renowned Swordmaster from the far north, known chiefly for the book 'Art of the Sword'. Takes few pupils, and fewer still survive to put their skills to use. Known also for his tutelage of Quincy Robert Shackleford, The Duellist. Lives among the Pelin Monks.

Pelin Monastery (Peh-lin)
Monastery of healer Monks, founded long before the advent of Bio-mechanicals. Little is known, except for their 'untouchable' status as religious healers. Provide a home and training grounds to Nero Kindeus, who they have a strict agreement with.

 

ic: Maya Yubari
Demon's Flask

"Ah Sullivans a nasty piece a' work. That guy takes 60% of my earnings. Takes 50% of most people but 'cause asian he put the rent up... expects me to service him for free an' all." Maya snarled taking a drink before realising what she said. "Oh goodness, I didn't mean that. You know, his mechanical parts, oh I aint makin' this any better! My mother would say I got filth on my mind, not that I do mind Doc... I just needa' think before I go jabberin' on!"

tag: Kiss, Penguinator

 

Doc Riley
Demon's Flask Saloon

As Doc looked at the attractive mechanic, Quincy spoke before Maya could reply.
"Pardon me Maya, but One-Eye Sullivan? There's a reason behind that name, I'm sure, aside from the obvious."

"Ah Sullivans a nasty piece a' work. That guy takes 60% of my earnings. Takes 50% of most people but 'cause asian he put the rent up... expects me to service him for free an' all." Maya snarled taking a drink before realising what she said. "Oh goodness, I didn't mean that. You know, his mechanical parts, oh I aint makin' this any better! My mother would say I got filth on my mind, not that I do mind Doc...I just needa' think before I go jabberin' on!"

Doc couldn't help but laugh at all this. Clearing his throat quickly, he realized he should explain, "Forgive me, Maya, I wasn't trying to laugh at your expense, I just can't help but be amused at how much you can manage to work yourself into a fit over a simple mis-communication, one that I'm sure both Quincy and I understood. We know you're a lady, and wouldn't sully yourself with the likes of Sullivan," Doc paused to take a drink and look around the saloon and at its inhabitants (noting blondy was still looking angry, but hadn't made a move yet...but then the world was starting to seem a touch blurry), before turning back and continuing with a shake of the head, "And likely not with any of the other residents of this town, either. Rather slim pickings." At this he gave his companions a grin. "As for Sullivan, I don't know what to think. Maybe he puts on an act when strangers are around...or maybe Ol' one eye is just plain crazy!" Doc laughed at this, taking another drink, noting his glass empty again. Hmm...this particular bottle was empty already. "S'cuse me, but I think we need another bottle. We've barely begun to imbibe!"

Standing up, Doc took some pride in the fact that he didn't stagger too much as he moved over to the bar.

TAG: Maya, Quincy


OOC: Working on a larger update. I'm thinking of moving the time line ahead a few hours in a couple posts, after FMH returns. Anyone heard from DVC lately?

 

OOC: Hi guys, sorry for the slack lapse in response. Been out of the city for a while. I'll keep my post brief in light of KissSpooky's suggestion to shift the timezone shortly.

Bayden Lane, Township.

Lane hadn't found much else of interest since dealing to Lightfingered Lenny and had opted to head back to the hotel to plot his next move and perhaps meditate on the subject. Since his possession, sleeps didn't come easily to him anymore and it took a while to get into a relaxed enough state to shut off his conscious mind and rest the human part of his soul. The demon required no sleep, and if the need arose, Lane could go for over peroids of seven to ten days without resting, which often happened.

He felt a tingle in the back of his neck, and realised that he was being approached again, though there was no impending threat. A man his own age or close, before his corruption, dressed in a slightly more gritty version of Roydon's style of attire. He was armed with a decent looking rifle and despite his causual demeanour, Lane could sense there was a sense of quiet decency about him, hidden under a secluded shrowd of defensiveness.

Lane furrowed his brow. This fellow had not always been this way; circusmstance had thrust him into a position not of his choosing. But like Lane, he had adapted, to the best of his ability. That was admirable.

The stranger approached, and enquired if the hotel was full.

Lane stepped out of the shadows, but still remained elusive, coat slipping across the sands. He stood a full foot higher than his contemporary, which may of been daunting, but the young man didn't seem to show that much fear. Lane deduced he's seen his own demons before.

"I believe there are lodgings still available, my companion and I have made bookings for oursevles recently."


To his rear, Lane felt a familiar presence. Roydon apporached, hurriedly and with heavy breath. Oblivious to the newcomer, he started on his own rant.

"Lane! This town is full of bloody vagrants and lunatics! I was checking out he local curio store and these maniacs who'd shot the daylights out of each other turned up, followed by a couple of other goons. Luckily I slipped out the door before any of them saw me!"

Lane half-smirked. Roydon had a way of making an exit when required, which was more often than not. The halfling adjusted his jacket when he saw the stranger in front of them.

"I say.... that's a lovely hat you have there!"

Lane rolled his eyes. For such an intelligent man, Roydon was often so concerned with the more minute of details. He shook his head and placed his cane on the sands in front of him, leaing both hands on it.

"Excuse my cohort, sir. This is Rodyon Crawford. I am Lane, and we represent the Sons of Midnight. I will warn you, that there is darkness afoot in this town. If your business here is not urgent, I would suggest you press on."

With that, Lane turned and walked towards the hotel, Roydon in tow. He was curious as to what the future held in this town.....

Tag: Blake, anyone else around.

 

OOC: No matter what my plans may or may not be, KissSpooky, you are more than welcome to interact with Topsy however you want. I finally got him to town, too. So I am looking forward to what 'trouble' my little goblin friend will cause.

Pan Tannerty
Hade's Secret Outskirts

After repairing his myriascope, he had fixed his sights upon a modest watering hole not too far from the town he was headed towards. Deciding it best to rest up before entering the frontier city, he let his grogs to water (and the camel too) and stretched his little goblin feet on the hot sands and rocky bank of the pond. Across the still waters, he spied the remains of a sand-weathered grog. Bits of its stubborn hide still clung to a massive rib cage. Aside from that there was not much else to look at, and resolved to his first assumption of nothing interesting to see in the desert, Topsy composed his time by skipping stones.

As that soon grew boring as well, he opted to examine the wear and tear of the journey west on his iron golem. He cleaned sand particles from its joints and brushed dirt and dust off that had collected inside its sturdy shell. Checked its various weaponry and modifications, oiled some last bits of its inner-mechanics and at feeling content to his work, crawled back out and stood on its armoured shoulder. Scanning the distant town, he gave a little goblin grumble and hopped back down.

Convinced his pack animals had watered enough - and knowing they would get plenty of rest in the town - he hurriedly roped them all back and started off towards Hade's Secret. Knowing an airship might draw unwanted attentions if he took the main boulevard, Topsy lumbered his craft towards the outskirts. He decided he would tether his craft to the roof of one of the outlying buildings. What he had not decided on yet, was where to set up his base of operations. He would need plenty of room. Topsy would inquire as to available space and if such was to be had, he would then inquire as to price. Certainly he was none too poor, and indeed, he could even be considered of some prominence as his tinkerings never caught anything less than a great sum.

His airship pulled up next to a tall, neglected storehouse. Gathering bits of chain and rope, he secured the craft and slid down his gangplank to the shingled slant of its roof. The bundles on his grogs (and the camel too) he doubted anyone would steal, especially with his mean looking iron golem on guard. Checking to see if he had his wallet with him, Topsy was about to disembark, when he caught the familiar shape of his modified donderbus. It was arguable whether or not to bring the weapon. On the one hand he did not want to appear weak, easy to hustle; then again he did not want to draw the attention of rough sorts seeking a fight. He could deliberate all day on the subject, so took to action instead. He snatched the weapon into hand and swung the long coat that rested atop it onto his smallish goblin shoulders. The gun he slung across his right shoulder, and grabbing his derby, walked onto the roof and - after much examining - found the safest way down.

Topsy gave a triumphant smile, with his many goblin teeth gleaming. He was officially in Hade's Secret. "Now then," he piped, "off to inquiry-" which he then gave thought to "-and to drink. I'm parched!" In a lively step he navigated the back alleys and with a big goblin leap entered into the main street a block down from the Demon's Flask saloon. As he stood admiring the town and the fact he had made it there, he nearly got run down by a steamcoach.

"Out of the way, peck!" The man riding shotgun hollered.

"Yeeeeeeeoooooooooo- watch it, you juggernaut!" Topsy screeched while he shook one consternating fist. He had no time for his disapproval, as bustling towns people - and creatures double his size - began marching by. He weaved between their legs, between their groups. People cried out in surprise at the small person running amidst them. One battleaxe of a grandmother even

 

OOC: I'm waiting for something to react to, as is I'm just holding a pistol on the dwarf.

 

OOC: I am back, and also had a marvellous time. Seems as though no ones tagged me in there posts (Unless I missed one) so I suppose I'll just wait awhile. Thank you for taking over Vyreil while I was gone