StarDestroyer.Net BBS

"What? Oh. See how much more sense that makes, now that you put a verb in? Ball... of fire? As in, made out of fire? Not my line. If I had to set something on fire in a hurry, I'd... hm. Set a pattern in the air, spin it around till the sparks fly off the- atoms*- and start bouncing, wrap a bubble around it to twist it shut, and then give it a push." He's just described ball lightning, although you probably couldn't tell from listening. "Hard work to make it really roar, though, better to just drill a channel, sparking more gently, then push a jolt along it. Homemade lightning. That could start fires."

*He probably got this word out of a philosophy book, describing a concept that may or may not be widely accepted

Verone strokes his chin at the explanation, churning it over in his head and trying to make sense of it. Then Larric mentions lightning, and he shrugs slightly, "Lightning works too. Hmm. Here." He begins sketching runes on a blank sheet, detailing from the ground up the simplest possible lightning spell he can. It's not ball lightning, because frankly he has no idea that that's what Larric was talking about, but it's lightning of some sort.

"That's the equivalent, broadly. I should start a translation dictionary: Thaumaturgy to Crayomancy."

Now Larric scratches his head.

"I'm sure it works well enough, but why did you write it backwards?"

"Back--Wait, you can even read this? I thought you were all..." Verone makes a few vague gestures in the air, "Backspin, and wiggle, and suchlike."

IC:

"I recognize the runes, the 'from this to that' bit, aye. What I don't understand is why you'd want the electrical fluid to run from the other end towards you instead of the other way round. I can't think of any reason... are you trying some kind of test here? Because I really can't see why you want it running backwards. It works, I'm sure, but it seems so... silly."

(OOC: I just assumed it would be legible to him on the basis of Runes, since it is a simple lightning spell)

Alfred raises an eyebrow and then continues eating.

"...Backwards. Based on what?I mean...wait, mirror-flipped runes, or reverse-ordered sigils, or power-flow, or...?"

And Verone starts spouting arcanosorcerous jargon, looking down at the notebook, then up at Larric with a half-puzzled, half-confused, half-annoyed expression. He's fully aware that that's three halves, and he just doesn't much care.

"I mean you've got the source rune over here and the sink over here. This is supposed to be read left to right, isn't it? Because... this is taking a lot of electrical fluid, yanking it off the thing you're pointing the spell at, and pulling it back into your face. I don't know, is this normally how you'd do it? Not that it wouldn't work, but it seems such an..." Larric scratches his head again, and now he's starting to look puzzled and confused too. "Er, I can prove this bit, just let me hunt up some glass and a bit of silk. Or, amber and wool works, if anyone's got any amber."

if anyone's got any amber

Dirt will throw across his pouch of 'shiny rocks' he's collected over the years of his job clearing out rocks and other junk underground. You may get lucky (ECR's call) as dirt has no real concept of currency or money as such. He tends to work on a more primative barter system when required, even though this tends to produce a more distorted (or realistic) view of an items worth.

"Change thinking style. More art. Less knowledge."
Dirt mulls the question over in his head.

"Matter made of five element. Take away water. Take away earth. Only fire, air, spirit left. Spirit don't care. Fire and air friends. Ball fire now made."

Stroking fifi,

"Dirt like plant magic more. Plant talk back."

Larric shrugs "From me, 'less knowledge' would feel like an insult to nature. Less than my best. And... I don't think I could ever explain properly, but to me, push and twist and rains of sparks is more simple than five elements. I think it's something... deeper than elements. Besides, I made air out of water a while back, and I can think of half a dozen kinds of earths that don't seem to have anything in common at all off the top of my head, so I'm not sure I trust five elements."

OOC
"ego sum rex Romanus, et supra grammaticam" Spoiler IC
"Too much knowledge. Know can't do what trying to do. Go mad"

Dirt sits back, trying to formulate the words he can't quite say yet.
"Maker has hammer. Has Chisel. Has Rock. See statue in rock. Does not know hammer. Does not know chisel. Maker still make art. Rock still rock, but different.”

“You say earths different, but all still earths. You humans” gestures at the party, “all different, still human. Yes?”
“Did you make air out water, or maybe take air element from water. Or water element from water?”

“Important thing trust. Magic from gut work better than magic from head.”

The ogre has a way of... being very weighty in conversation. And Larric is no longer even half-convinced Dirt doesn't know what he's talking about, because while he forgets some of the details of the dream-meeting, he's fairly sure he remembers the ogre having a very clear grasp of the conversation.

Larric sighs. "I don't know if you could talk like a philosopher in Elvish, but I can't do it in plain Kuquanese. I think that to run on what you call 'gut magic...' I couldn't be true to my own gut by trying to do it, if I could at all. And... air element from water? If you like. Trust me on this one, if you saw it you wouldn't call it "watery." And the other half, what's left over after you do that- burns. I don't think about the old elements anymore; I've stopped believing in them. I can't pretend about things like that- they are what they are, and I wouldn't want it any other way." He shrugs.

"Maybe gut wrong word. Heart magic?"
A deep pause to gather what to say next.
"Important to trust your magic. No Trust, no magic. If work for you good."

Picking up his pack and getting to his feet (minding his head).
"More important now, what we get for travel?"

The alchemist nods at "If work for you good."

"With milord's permission-" said with a slightly ironic smile to Sir Alfred- "I'll start a list, and see what I can rummage up. Any advice on what we ought to bring? I'm no mountaineer."

OOC:

I think Larric may be the only person in the party with ranks in Bargain and Scrounge. No, Rohal has slightly lower-order Scrounge, but no Bargain. Alfred, Dirt, Eliska, and Verone have neither, and come to think of it none of them are people I'd want to send shopping for provisions anyway- score one for PC stats matching PC roleplaying.

Last time Dirt went shopping the response was 'take what you want, just please don't eat me..'

A list of mountaineering goods:
"Dirt need nothing. You need lots."

Though our local elvin translator dirt will run a quick list off what he thinks the humans in the party will most likely need to stay alive up in the mountains:

"Assuming we’re not scaling to the summit and are taking the easier paths, bouldering if you like as opposed to climbing my observations would be that you take the following supplies:
Rope, as strong and light as possible. Spider silk if you can acquire it.
Spikes (Mithral if possible, best steel otherwise) with small hand Hammer.
Oil canvasses with stitching thread and rope. Enough to fabricate waterproofs and tents.
Wool Blankets if possible, and several pairs of socks.
Hard tack provisions and fluids to drink.
Straw hats, if you intend to go high up.
A good pack to carry it all in.
And finally, a small size hanging basket lined with moss.”

Back in Kuquanese
"Dirt help carry?"

Larric nods slowly at the translation, mumbling approvingly and taking notes.

One of the things among his personal effects- not stored down at the boathouse, is a 'slate' book. Really, it's thin slabs of a complicated concoction of ground stone, various varnishes that he brewed half of himself, and wood fiber. Lighter than actual slate would be. The slabs, roughly the size of a big-handed man's hands, are bundled together into something more reusable than a personal organizer but serving much the same purpose. He's putting the list down on that with a stick of fine white clay. His writing is heavily abbreviated, to the point of being almost useless to someone else unless they already know pretty much what's on the list.

"I thank you kindly, but I don't think you'll need to come along; not sure you'd fit into the shops. And I don't think any of this will be that heavy." Besides which, he's got a pack mule. Rohal might be helpful, though.

He looks around, rattling off the list again. "Anything else?"

Most of this, you can get or know who to go to to get it from.

By the time the discussion on magical theory is finished, and everyone has been fed, it's, well, time of year, hm, about eight in the morning (or the equivalent thereof.)

An event has taken place; there is screaming and panicking. Some wailing and gnashing of teeth, too. Armed men rushing everywhere, feet pounding along the corridor. The town doesn't seem to be reacting- there's some kind of distant shouted announcement, they listen, go 'meh' for the most part, and go about their business.

In the castle, someone's screaming that there's been a murder. Reactions?

"wasn't me" before the blame the ogre brigade arrive.

Larric looks at Alfred and Verone.

"Maybe we ought to go see who it is this time?"

Just to refresh your memories- and mine- with the Baron gone, effective power is in the hands of the officers of the court, each of them jockeying for the top job, trying to get enough support- bribes and promises- to get the others to follow him.

Top of the heap (debatably) in terms of raw military force is the Constable, the supposed military defender of the castle- he is neither popular nor well liked, nor standing highly in anyone's eyes, including probably his own. He ran for the badlands when the Striking Phoenix arrived, and the bandits Detrick was fighting may have included some of his men.
He has no chance, but he would be a useful ally- he's basically angling to side with whoever can help him patch his shredded reputation.

The acting Treasurer is an eighty year old who is using the position, and spending freely including (supposedly) money he doesn't have, to buy support for his sons. This is working well exactly where he doesn't want it to, the people he can't stand- the town mob, basically- are drifting towards him and most of the nobles away.

The Bailiff is a sour soul, but a well connected one, knowing entirely too well where the bodies are buried; a serious contender but not a gentleman, and may be able to stomach the company of the Constable.

The Sheriff is the chief victim so far, several of his people being acused of various unlikely and unnatural things- including Ridebert, Alfred's cousin, and Andrea, one of the undersherriffs- supposed ot enforce the law, he's being put on the spot to prove that he's not above the law, and he's wriggling.

The Baron's family have no clear heir, and are working the religious angle, stability, etc, triyng to hold on to what little real power he allowed them.

Detrick Lautern, the Verderer, is the dark horse candidate, because the constable has the actual force, but he has the active one- his men are better- and is potentially very strong, if he was prepared to appeal downwards the chances are the yeomanry would support him- but he shows no signs of being willing to ride that tiger.


What seems to have happened is that the treasurer's grandson, his eldest's firstborn, has been found in many small ragged pieces. Everybody sees to be blaming everyone else, so far.

"Aye. Let's go. It seems we can't swing a dead cat around without smacking into some more tasks for us. We may as well add another thing to our list."

(OOC This written as I'm scratching my cat behind the ears.)

"Politics and law. All the complexity of higher thaumaturgy, none of the actual understanding of the wider universe that makes it all worth it. Still, I suppose I should at least look into things, I'm technically still on retainer."

With a sigh of regret, Verone closed and packed away his notebook and donned The Hat, spending a few moments to double-check the artfully-concealed structural brace before standing and gesturing to the door, "Gentlemen? Very quiet lady?"

OOC: I will be gone until Sunday for field training. Just giving a heads up. Rohal will try to give constant updates about our surroundings and be on the lookout for any thing at our backs.

(OOC: Oh, the joys of Spring FTX.)

So- the plan is basically to deal with this emergent thing, rather than leaving now while the going is good?