Fifty-Fifty

Log Info

• Title: Fifty-Fifty
• Emitter: Jay
• Characters: Jay, Schara, Zalara
• Place: A14: Artificer's Hall
• Time: Wednesday, September 28, 2022, 9:11 PM
• Summary: Jay is distraught after his discovery in the Kulthian airship, and the rescue attempt of the angel. He's come to the Artificer's Hall to try and get help, although his is too frantic to concisely explain his dilemma. He encounters Aheric Oddskeeper, Schara and Zalara, and eventually explains his discovery and need. Aehrick agrees to help, as long as he gets fifty percent of the take for discovering and salvaging a Kulthian designed airship, or perhaps, an actual artifact from that doomed civilization.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* A14: Artificer's Hall *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The Artificer's Hall rests slightly off the ground, supported on all sides by eight strong, if nonfunctional legs. The entire Hall is carved from an ancient automation of a giant arachnid. While at one time--many eons past--it may have been functional, today it is a hollowed-out shell of its former self, with rooms made for professors' offices and class rooms. The Hall itself may be accessed by a stairway that leads up, and up...and up through one of its many legs.

Once inside, its appearance is anything but a mechanical spider's guts. With ceilings of polished stone and artifice-metal, the Hall possesses the same, ominous acoustics as any grand cathedral. Twisting, jointed arches of metal reflect its true form--as a great, massive structure hosted within an arachnid's mechanical belly. Everything is dark and metallic, with seams barely visible where pieces have been welded together. The whole building pulses every so often with a hum of energy, powered by a kind of arcane force scarcely comprehended by the outside world. Yet, the energy seems almost gobber-chaotic.

The centre of the building is a great octagon, with eight, great halls leading away from its core. Decorating its core are stained glass windows. They add to the almost holy ambiance. Instead of leading to the outside world, each shadowbox displays life-sized figures enact scenes from Alexandria's past from the Artificer's perspective. They display feats of Building, Achievement, and Experimentation. Towards the north is one depicting the Forge of the World. It depicts what is thought to be a snapshot of the tower at the center of the World Engine, the god's planar home.

The whole of the complex includes dormitories and construction rooms, where artificers compare notes, ideas, and puzzle over the grand works of history. These buildings spawn from the Central Hall in an almost arachnid fashion, connected by walkways of dark steel and overseen by golem guardians.

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"Help! Help! Help!"

A loud cawing echoes inside the giant mecha-spider that is the Artificer's Hall. Spiders do occasionally eat birds, as a particular egalrin was recently reminded, though that doesn't appear to be his current distress. The Artifice has not moved in ages, perhaps aeons. A least a good decade.

"Can anyone help? Help!" He calls again, running around the inside, flapping his wings and approaching side corridors before retreating from them. White, black and blue, his colouration clearly marks him as a Blue-Jay variety of Eglarin, and a noisy one. Corvids. He wears a ruined suit, mithril armour, with a mithril rapier and a few balls attached to his belt. Oddly, he has a briefcase. He adds one more ominous statement to his appeal.

"I'm a lawyer!"

"... lose a hostile witness?" Drawls a young-ish-looking Khazadi man with coal black hair tucked into a plated leather coat and a beard of three thick braids. His nostrils flare and his eyes dart up and down Jay, astutely drinking in every little detail of the egalrin's appearance. He wears a harness of thick leather straps with some manner of clockwork pack supporting a third arm that idles crooked and ready over his left shoulder. There's a flat, steel crest of a cracked coin decorating the harness straps, too.

The dwarf carries a thick book in the crook of his right arm and a pair of scrolls in the same hand. He certainly has a look of an artificer with all the gadgets, gegaws, and tools busying his belt.

One eyebrow lifts in query at the birdman.

"No. No! Yes." Jay halts his feathered frenzy and swoops up to the Khazadi. He's breathing hard, his eyes are wide. "I can explain, but first I need you sign a 'No Talking About It' agreement."

As far as maneuvers go, the Egalrin is incredibly adept at whipping up his briefcase, converting it to a standing table and withdrawing a document so fast from it that the case seems like a bear trap. Paper and quill pen are slapped on top.

"I'm Integrity C. Truefeathre, esquire. The 'C' is for confidential." He scrawls his name on the sheet, "and you are?"

From one of the many halls shooting off from the main entrance came a somewhat imposing sight, a tall figure clad entirely in polished brass armor plating and leather joints came from one of the side halls, balancing a small crate on one shoulder. They turn to the source of commotion, seeming to look over the egalrin behind a pair of dark brown lenses set into the helmet.

"Alright alright, hold your horses, or, whatever the hells it is you egalrin folk use to ferry goods around." They seem to offer placatingly, their voice a deep reverb from some synthesized device near the mouth of the of the helmet, which glows slightly behind a grille of metal. "Hold your, wings? Now that doesn't feel right. Don't go making long hauls with just wings. Anyways well, what's the problem?"

"Cool arm by the way, how'd you put that together?" They ask in an aside to the dwarf.

"..." The dwarf looks at the paper dubiously, then at Integrity, and then back to the paper. He sighs and adjusts his hold so he can put both of his hands on or near his hips. His demeanor is immediately more gruff. "Had 'nough trouble with the law in this city fer'n elf's lifetime.

"'m Aehrick Oddskeeper, Mr. Truefeather, 'n I might be able to help you with somethin' here but I'm not signin' any papers." He disengages one hand from his hip and tosses a thumb over one shoulder. "Got plenty business in the stacks without bindin' myself to anythin'."

The Khazadi artificer gives the newly-arrived 'golem' a tight nod. "Salvaged clockwork arm made into a waldo. Nothin' fancy." "Rocs, we use Rocs, but they're snappy." The egalrin says, staring at the wargolem. Transfixed almost. His beak opens and closes slowly. "Um."

He pushes a piece of paper its way, "you'd better sign too."

He exhales, a fluffs, shaking his head. "It's not a contract. Well it is a contract, but not for work, only that you won't share what I tell you."

His voice lowers, "because I might get arrested..."

Louder and frantic once more, "It's a big, big problem! I can't tell my friend. I don't want to get him in trouble!"

Perfect strangers, that's fine.

"Rocks? Suppose that makes sense, use counterweights on a system of pulleys and other things to lift goods up to the mountain aeries." Schara nods, happy with the conclusion. "And come on, don't sell yourself short,you can't just effortlessly interface an arm from a clockwork device to work for a living being." The add to the dwarf, before the helmet peers down at the paper.

"Now what's this I'm supposed to be signing? Non disclosure agreement? Well, I can't sign anything like that, sorry. If I feel it's not information I can hold to myself in good conscience, then that just aint happening." They state, crossing their arms. "Still, willing to help if you need, suppose."

Aehrick remains unconvinced. He hefts the book and scrolls and takes a few steps to set them down on a nearby table (that isn't Jay's briefcase) before dusting his palms against his soot-stained chaps. Then, the dwarf returns to stand next to the egalrin and holds out an unsually long-fingered hand (for a Khazad). "Won't sign papers, Mr. Truefeather; don't know you. I'll shake on not turnin' you in 'less you done somethin' wicked. On my name as an Oddskeeper." He glances down at the hand and then up at Jay. The eyebrow jumps high again.

The armor-plated character gets a grunt and a simple "Thanks" in response.

"Okay. That works. Works! Verbal contracts are legally binding." The bluejay replies, grabbing Aehrick's hand with both of his and pumping it. His beak whips around, "should I shake your other hands."

"Rocs, not Rocks. The giant flying chocolate chicken rocs." He tells the wargolem. "You don't want to sign either?"

"How does anyone trust artificers if they're so untrusting?"

He flaps his wings, "So. I think we killed someone, except I'm not sure if it was alive, and we had a wargolem with us, and I think it died, except I'm not sure if it was alive."

"And it all involved a Kulthian airship." Wings spread wide, "I'm pretty sure it's broken now."

"Ah right, rocs, those giant bird things, how bout that, didn't know it was possible to work with them without getting gored to death." The artificer notes with a low 'huh.'

"Not about trust Integrity, it's about being aware of what you're doing. For all I know you're calling yourself Integrity and putting True as part of your surname to make yourself feel trustworthy, and next thing I know I sign that and I'm carted off in some box on a slave barge to Charn or something like that."

They listen to the explanation, giving a single nod accompanied by a low whir of some gears. "Shit, that sounds like a problem. So where does your friend come into this, and what do you need help with?"

"You mean an airship built from Kulthian design," corrects Aehrick while offering a mighty squint. "Kulthus been gone a long time. An age. More than a thousand years.

"Think it can be salvaged?" There's a hunger creeping into the Khazadi artificer's voice, his voice rumbling lower as he turns his head to look for eavesdroppers. "Broken how?" He's forgotten about the casualties, apparently. "Opa has an airship. I'm his engineer." One sliding step brings him within the egalrin's personal bubble. "You need help fixin' it. 'swhy you're here. 50/50."

The dwarf's hand comes up again, this time slapping Jay in the sternum at the proposition.

The bluejay stands tall, tailfeathers slicing straight out behind him. "The Truefeathers are very famous in our aerie which is far, far from here and my parents had high hopes for me and all my siblings."

"Maybe not Lucky, but that's another story."

He staggers from Aehrick's slap, birds have hollow bones, he has bloody feathers and a several semi-healed wounds unde his ruined suit. He gasps, barely able to speak, "fifty fifty sounds good."

The l-eagle egalrin takes a moment to breath again, inhaling. "It might be... wait, let me start at the beginning."

"So, well Heady is a friend of a... someone I'm friendly towards. Git doesn't like me very much. Every time I help something bad happens I don't know if he thinks I'm a friend, not after his familiar got killed..."

"After a Vardama wargolem turned him into the watch." Integrity brushes his crest. "So Heady wandered off, after they had an encounter in a barn, and when we found him he was on a hill and his head had fallen off."

"Except the hill was a buried airship. Deeply buried, it was overgrown. It had been there a while. Maybe not a thousand years. Oh I hope not a thousand years. No, things would have rotted. It was still functional."

"We found a door, went inside, looking for his head. We didn't find it. We found a spider-thing that didn't attack us, until we touched things. Then it attacked us. It had Poison." Jay touches his rapier hilt, "So we defended ourselves."

"After that, we touched more things. There were lights. There was an angel."

The bluejay breaks off suddenly, and runs around the inside of the artifice hall again, flapping wildly. He stops in front of Aehric and Schara, decides against it and flails about some more. "In the machine. IN the machine. Part of the machine. Part of an Angel."

His voice shakes, "part of the controls. It was keeping him alive. I think it was a him. We couldn't tell. There was that much missing."

"So, it might be a Kulthian airship, huh? Aint that the find of a century, isn't it?" The artificer nots, the mouthpiece on their helmet blinking a bit more wildly as their speech picks up a bit of pace. "Well, friendship is complicated, or so I've been told, you just gotta communicate properly, don't you?" They ask matter of factly. "As for the airship well, alway need to be careful touching old technology, specially if kulthos was behind it. They, yeah, they did some real shite things, and I wouldn't put it past them to do something like enslave part of an angel to make their machines work. Pretty damn arrogant if you ask me."

Zalara is in a bit of a huff as she comes out of one of the sunken workship. She's got smudges of grease on her cheek and clothes evident that she's been working on something. She has a waterskin in one hand and she's grumbling to herself in between drinks. She spots the others in the hall and catches something about an angel in a machine. She takes out a handkerchief out of her pocket and pours some water on it before cleaning the dirt and grim from her face before she heads over.

"Hello there, did I hear something about a angel in a machine? I'm Zalara Copperbottom. It's nice to meet you." She hears about the airship, "That would be quite a find on top of the angel in the machine."

The Khazadi artificer with the extra arm frowns as more and more people grow interested in the conversation. "Fifty-fift--" he begins reminds the egalrin only to stop when Jay breaks off to sprint around like a madman. His unseen chin tucks down behind his braided beard and the supremely dubious look returns.

"... you eat some funny mushrooms before all this?" He drawls. "What... kind of poison?" Aehrick lifts up a hand and waves it in front of Jay's face while watching the egalrin's eyes.

"Maybe sit," he suggests.

Jay makes an odd noise, a chirp or cheap more appropriate for an egrette than a full sized Egarlin. His chest is heaving in and out and his wings are spread. He's looking around, everywhere inside the hall, often glance at the exit outside where he can see the smallest bit of a square of sky. He can fly, there's space to fly in here, he can fly out. He's not trapped; he keeps telling himself.

"Spider Poison. Shriezyx poison. Gave me a headache."

He sits

"It wasn't... it wasn't... he had tubes going down his throat, and it had windows, to look into his throat at the tubes, and his wing was bolted to a control mechanism. There were runes, runes everywhere. He had no arms, or legs, I could see into ball socket of his shoulder. It wasn't just cut off it was popped out, and then there were wires. Wires everywhere. Into him, into his head, into the ship. He looked at us. He screamed."

Jay clacks his beak, rubs at his face again, "I think he screamed. Maybe it was me. Nemori tried healing him, and the machine just... cut, all the runes back in. Any part that regenerated, it cut off."

"We had to break _everything_ all the scalpules, all the little pins and levers, pull out all the wires. He was bleeding and leaking and Nemori was praying and healing him the whole time."

He seems like a much smaller bird as he stares and talks to the floor. "We pulled him out and didn't even have half a person. He was no arms and no legs and one wing and opened up, pieces removed. I could see glands... intestines... they had wires. Bones. I could see bones. He spoke, sighed, then he vanished."

"Nemori said they go home when they die. She couldn't heal him enough, not heal that. So I think we killed him, but we couldn't leave him in the machine."

"And then the lights went out."

Zalara is taken back as she hears Jay's story and she offers him her water skin, "Here take a drink and some deep breaths. You are okay here. I'm sorry you had to go though that. Whoever did that is really messed up." She nods, "Yah if they were summoned here they go back to their plane after a predetermined time or when they have taken enough damage. That sounds just awful."

"Don't discount it immediately, but give it skepticism, Oddskeeper. Nothing is out of bounds when dealing with Kulthos after all, and that's probably why they were wiped off the map." The artificer warns as they continue to listen and nod occasionally along. They stop at one moment when the egalrin sits, and they pull off their cloak, draping it on the panicking bird. "Easy there, you're not where that happened, it's safe here. You need me to make you some tea, or hot cocoa?" The artificer asks in that low, staticky voice.

"Like I said, nothing out of bounds." They add, sounded a bit angered. "For fucks sake, artifice is supposed to help people, not send others into agony for years. Least, you may have killed em, yeah, but it sounds like you did them a favor. They'll be back on their home plane most likely, if they disappeared like that."

Aehrick's hungry interest in the recovery of lost artifice is tempered by Integrity's obvious distress. The dwarf hovers awkwardly considering his hands. Cues are taken from the unfamiliar pair and, eventually, he decides to rest one lightly on the egalrin's shoulder after the cloak settles into place. Pat. Pat.

"Erm. You have family, Mr. Truefeather? Friends?" His head cocks and he tugs a beard in thought. "... maybe go see the clerics before dealin' with this?" He pauses and makes an obvious effort to add: "Salvage can wait."

Jay takes the water skin, holds it to his beak and drinks rapidly, pouring a lot of it in, his dark tongue licking at it. His breathing after is still loud, but more regular. "The water is okay. Thanks"

The cloak helps, he shelters under it.

"Family, not here. Couldn't find my friends. Didn't want to tell my friends."

Spare them the horror.

"There were more controls, but ..." His head shakes, "I know how to make traps, little snares and spring-loaded things, this was much more complex. I was afraid if I touched something, it would suck me in."

"I have wings. It needed wings to fly. That makes sense." He shudders, "I don't know if it sucked Heady in."

He looks up at Schara, "I don't know how wargolems work, what sort of souls you have, if you have one, if Heady had one. If the machine ate his soul and used that to power itself, or if it was eating the Angel's soul and powering itself that way."

"Kerry-Anne thought we killed Heady, because we broke that, after it ate his head, and now there's no way to put it back on." His hands ball up, "I need help. Help. Someone who understands artifice. Who understands Kulthian designs. Who understands Wargolems. So we can fix Heady if he's trapped in that machine."

"We brough Heady's armour back, Nemori has it. Nemori's a cleric, although not a nice one." Jay drinks the rest of the water.

Zalara gives a reassuring smile, "You are welcome." She listens, "Maybe you should talk to one of the clerics of Reos. They are often very understanding about wargolems and if they can be brought back to life. I think it would be easier to bring your friend back if he was entact, but perhaps with a strong enough cleric they wouldn't need that. I am sorry for the loss of your friend I know that can be tough. You've come to the right place though, almost everyone here would be more than willing to help out especially when it comes to artifice. I hope we can find a way to get your friend out of the machine."

"You did the best you could with the information you had, nothing to be ashamed of." The artificer shrugs. "And, Adventuring work is dangerous, you have to no the risks. I don't know, how a machine like that would work. But War-golems are complicated. Can bring them back with normal magic in most cases, but if they can be repaired, then that's the best thing to do."

"Settled, you can hold me to not bringing this up to anyone you don't want it brought up to." The artificer nods with another low whirr of gears from who knows where. "I'm curious know, there's things to be learned, people to be helped. I'm not sure _what_ I can do yet, but, might as well put some learning to use if I can."

Aehrick is pulling at his beard braids again now that Jay has calmed down a bit. Academic interest spiced with no small amount of greed worming its way back to the forefront of his mind. "Wargolems were made in Creation Forges back durin' the Crown Wars. Don't do it anymore. Question of souls... and makin' life.

"Not Kulthian, strictly speakin'. Derivative. Hrmn..." The dwarf glances at Jay and stops, frowning as he seems to notice the state of his dress and assorted wounds for the first time.

"Aren't goin' anywhere--" he gestures around the hall-- "maybe you get fixed up, washed, and some rest. Need time for diggin'." "Okay, okay. Reos. Reos." The bluejay repeats, "thanks for the water. I was thirsty."

He pauses for a moment, listening, gathering his thoughts. "It's complicated. There were a bunch of things still in there."

Integrity stares at Aerhick, standing up. "Yes. I need to rest, get some new clothes. But you'll help, with Heady. Okay. Thanks. That's what I need. Yes. yes."

He pulls the cloak tight, shivering a little. "I want to lie down."

Zalara nods her head in agreement with Aehrick, "Very true, but we wouldn't be making life just restoring it. I bet we could help with getting the body back into usable condition, but we'd probably need a cleric to help with the soul business. They are good at that." She hmms, "If you want to lie down I think there are a couple rooms for that, some artificers practically live here. I know I do when I'm ear deep into a project."

"Well, some still do it, they're just a lot more subtle about it, least that's what I think. War-golems aren't a known quantity." Schara notes. "But they're right, they can be brought back, just need the right work and enough motivation to see it through.

"Can't trust a cleric, anyways, least not absolutely. Never there when you need them, 'cept to take their tithes and whatnot." They add with another tinge of annoyance. "Yeah, there are a few workshops, not all of them in use, and plenty of them have sleeping arrangements for more sensitive projects. Failing that, there's always a couch or two in one of the lounges. Just make sure I get that cloak back, alright? I paid a lot for it. You can keep it for now though, looks like you need it more."

"Get yourself changed and fed." Aehrick nods at Jay, leaving his beard alone long enough to grab the book and scrolls and tuck the former up under one arm. "Can't have you snap before we unlock the secrets of Forsaken Kulthus," grins the dwarf. The expression falters and his head bobs to either side. "... and fix your friend of a maybe-a-friend-or-not... friend." There's a moment where he almost backhands Jay in the sternum again-- but he catches himself and gestures towards the exit.

"Can get back to this when you aren't smearin' blood all over the volumes." The Khazadi man turns back to Schara and Zalara, taking a moment to commit their faces to memory. "Aehrick Oddskeeper," reminds the blackbearded artificer as he taps the crest on his harness. Then he looks up at Jay and reiterates "fifty-fifty" on the way towards the door.

Dramatis Personae and Stuff

Schara
Looking at Schara, it is easy to mistake them for a member of the war-golems. Just shy of six feet, they are covered from head to do in shining bronze plates and leather around various joints, in an all encompassing suit of armor. The left gauntlet is significantly larger than the right, and instead of ending in a hand, are a seried of retractable hooks and clamps of various sizes, with a rectangular box of metal jutting out slightly underneath the length of the forearm.

Their head is covered by a full metal helmet that attaches to the armor with more leather padding, their expression inscrutable beneath the armor, even their eyes hidden by dark brown glass lenses. Their are numerous pouches lining their waits and on the front of their armor, and a black cloak lined with grey wolf fur around the hood rests on their shoulders."

Inspirational Images
https://www.amazon.com/Anatomical-Models-Anatomy-Teaching-Skeleton/dp/B07T41JX37

Alzhiemer's Drug
<OOC> Jinks says, "Drug in human trials is showing strong results in slowing the onset of Alzheimer's and lessening its effects."
<OOC> Jinks says, "Linked you an article on Discord."
<OOC> Jay says, "oh thanks! cool"
<OOC> Jay says, "maybe that will be ready in time for me."