Long Oddskeeper
Log Info
- Title: Long Oddskeeper, part 1
- Emitter: Jinks
- Characters: Paenitia, Lysos, Seyardu, Rhyn
- Place: Airstrip Alexandria
- Time: Monday, July 19, 2021, 6:39 PM
- Summary: Alexandria is running short on patience with a pair of Khazad but they insist their family is the victim of some wicked curse! Aehrick is quite adamant that his crafted goods don't usually fall to pieces at the slightest touch and his grandfather, Jaemeigh, isn't the sort of airship captain who typically falls overboard and nearly loses his ticket to the skies and the freedoms it offers. Ill fortunes have followed the Oddskeepers since visiting the city and they'd like to contract a quartet of brave, and really, really patient, adventurers to help get to the bottom of things! Paenitia, Lysos, Seyardu and Rhyn answer the call, and after some investigation discover both a written curse, and tales of an old family curse, as well as some odd interactions with a certain goblin orphan.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Paenitia 3'0" 34 Lb Halfling Female A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery. Lysos 5'6" 105 Lb Human/Tsuran Female Dark eyed tsuran girl. Seyardu 5'6" 150 Lb Sith-Makar Female A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint. Rhyn 5'0" 103 Lb Wild Elf Female An elvish woman clad in leather and a gray cloak -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Noteable NPCs -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Jaemeigh Oddskeeper Khazad-Aul Male A grey-haired, older airship pilot, injured. Aehrick Oddskeeper Khazad-Aul Male An obsidian haired, younger, artifice crafter. Ikklebig Goblin Male An orphan, that Jaemeigh is overtly concerned for. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
The call comes through the Adventurer's Guild (as it often does) but the client has asked to be met aboard his very own airship, the Distant Horizon, where it's berthed at the airstation. The meeting time was set after the midday meal with enough time to do both and not have to rush in between; a small-but-welcome comfort given the day's heat. Massive white clouds crawl across the heavens but never seem to block the oppressive, glaring sunlight. It really is unpleasantly hot. And bright. And hot.
The weather does nothing to slow trade and travel, however, and the Plaza, mountain road, and airstation itself are all crammed with all manner of folk in all sorts of hurry suffering from tempers shortened by the unpleasant temperature. Oaths and curses in a staggering myriad of languages decorate the journey towards your patron's ship.
The berth is easy enough to find on the periphery of the facilities, the Horizon tethered in place and hovering under a trio of balloons. There's a carving of a massive, chipped coin on the hull (the Oddskeeper crest) to verify you've found the right place. A member of the Alexandrian watch sits on a stool under a canvas awning, her chain coif back off her matted hair and hanging about her shoulders. She holds a bec de corbin midhaft with both hands but leans onto it idly, failing almost entirely to look duty-ready.
Roughly a half-dozen individuals of various size and shape crawl across the 80' deck of the Distant Horizon. Four appear to be mechanics and laborers busy with repairs and maintenance while two dwarves supervise from the middle of the deck, their voices lost to the general din from this distance. A wide gang-plank offers ready access to the airship.
"Hola! Make the deck clear! I land." A small and cheerful voice comes from above.
From a Hippogryph! A giant, white peacock with a gypsy-andalusian horse-hind, brilliant white, with crimson eyespots and truly a magnificent sight in flight. He glides down from the mountain towards the airship.
Drawing close, it is clear he has a rider. A small one, a Lucht Siuil or gnome or goblin, it's hard to discern from her red armour. Red, rusted, she has a cloak of enormous white peacock feathers and a wide brimmed had. As well, a mask of a stylized Smiling Man's face.
Closer, her bare feet and dark curled fetlocks confirm, the Red Knight is a halfling. Her eager call appropriate.
They land on the Distant Horizon, the Peacock somehow gliding through rigging as if experienced at such. As his talons and hooves hit the planks, the rider introduces herself, "Sister Paenitia Snapdragon del Harana, Knight of the Pillar and Paladina of Tarien, at your service. I fear no curse and answer the call."
Lysos has stopped just shy of the gang-plank, dabbing at the sheen upon her forehead as she eyes first the crest, then the vessel itself. Then she raises her head just a little bit to peer over the edge of the platform before settling back again and sighing and stuffing her kerchief away and gripping her staff. Her hesitation slips away when she sees the halfling skyrider touch down on deck... must be that she simply didn't want to be the first one to board the unfamiliar airship with its unfamiliar crew. She crosses the gang-plank, then, doing her best to stay out of the way and join the diminutive adventurer.
The day was one best spent indoors or at the river with a cold drink, though it did not stop most sith-makar from being out. And the task was a job that still needed to be done. Better to be managed before more disastrous problems occured for the airship and its crew. And so, while she had never been there before, Seyardu picked her way through the crowds, asking a few about the distant Horizon, until she found the mooring. Carefully she made her way across the gangplank, arriving to find the hippogryph on the deck and Paenitia on its back.
"Peace on your nest, Paenitia." She greets, relaxing some at the familiar face. I have come as well, to do what I can to assist."
She nods to Lysos as she boarded, before she waits patiently for those still to come.
Coming with none of the grandeur of the peacock with its burden, and far more stealth and subtlety is a rather short - though not as short as the red-clad individual - personage in a cloak of indistinguishable color. Gray perhaps, or brown, or green. It doesn't shift it's color, its simply made of each of those and thus easily blends into the background. Perhaps not here, but in the woods... it would have been difficult to make out. Some leather armor is visible beneath the cloak, but not much of the personage themselves is. A turn of cheek from beneath the hood upraised in spite of the heat. In fact how one could wear such a cloak given the heat... But the personage doesn't complain. Or speak. At all.
There's the lingering stink of ozone and a subtle buzz in the air as you climb aboard the Distant Horizon. A gobber and a gnome stand next to and on the poop, respectively, shouting up and down at each other about 'aetheric conduits,' 'mana capacitors,' and nocturnal habits of the other's mother. What must be the ship's engines can be seen through a door by the gnome and sticking up through the poop deck next to the gobber. Both are smeared with grease and oil and the gnome's cerulean hair stands on end like a neon dandelion.
A barrel-chested 'nar, naked to the waist, pushes a mop back and forth across the foredeck where the planking looks to have been recently replaced. His shoulder, back, and arms are covered in black, knotwork tattoos and a multitude of scars from both lashings and canings. There's also a rather nondescript Lucht going up and down from belowdecks dropping scrapped junkworks into waiting netting. It's not until you actually see both at the same time that you realize there's actually a pair of them; twins from the look of it, identical and androgynous.
But none of them matter!
Paenitia's airborne arrival draws a start from the younger Khazad-Aul, he ducks with a start at the sound of someone calling out from above and watches the flying critter's descent.
The older of the two dwarves turns at the sounds of folk arriving on the deck of his ship, looking to and fro before he waves... well, if you took a half-dozen steps to the side it would be at you. Jaemeigh is a grey-haired Khazad-Aul wearing a full suit of fur-lined leathers in spite of the heat, like someone dressed up in costume as an airship pilot. He has a long, shockingly crimson scarf that's pulling double-duty as a sling for his left arm, and his eyes are a milky ice-blue. His grey-black beard is wild and threatens to obscure his wide mouth entirely.
Standing back and attempting to regain his composure, Aehrick is noticeably younger. His hair and beard are an obsidian black and neatly braided and he wears a loose shirt unbuttoned down to where the rise of his stomach begins. He sports a belt busy with hanging tools and is smeared dirty to indicate he was likely helping the gnome and gobber at the back of the ship previously.
"Hello!" The old dwarf's voice is loud, high-pitched, and reedy in a way that is entirely unpleasant to endure. He's also talking to a pile of crates near the ship's railing. "Welcome aboard the Distant Horizon! Thank for meeting us here. There's been a horrible misunderstanding-- misunderstandings. A terrible series of horrible misunderstandings and now we can't go into the city." He shakes a fist at the empty air and after a moment you realize he's probably intending to aim it at the watchman entirely out of his sightline.
"Ramirez! I dismount." Paenitia calls, and her peacock-andalusian extends a wing which she slides down to land with a solid little thump on the decking. She moves and hops up on the crates, so it seems the older dwarf is looking at her. She suspects he is blind. No matter, she can barely see out of her mask as well.
She waves at the other adventurers, "Hola, Friend dragon, Lysos and person I do not know."
Setting hands to hips, she addresses the old and young dwarf, "You will share details of these misunderstandings?"
"Paenitia has the right of it." Seyardu continues once she finishes greeting the others who had come, whether she received a response or not. "We understand that there have been troubles on this ship of late, but there is little that can be done until we know more, and as much as possible that is relevant. So please share what you can, and we will listen. As a cleric of the one you would call Althea, I could also heal your arm, if it has been injured." She adds to the older dwarf.
Lysos waves, if not cheerily then at least pleasantly, to Paenitia and Seyardu both... then watches the cloaked figure as Paenitia calls her out, lifting a hand to her as well. AFter that she plants her staff and leans into it a bit, not unlike the watchmen back offdeck, and turns her attention to the greybeard. She shows her teeth in a grin, despite evidence that he likely can't pick it out. "I definitely sense a story here.. "
The comment 'person I do not know' draws a wry, "Rhyn." from within the cowl of the cloak. The voice at least sounds female, and not overly pleased with the situation. Or maybe something else is bothering 'Rhyn'. The be-cloaked individual turns their attention on the dwarf who is in charge of their mission, but doesn't prod him to speak. Others have already done so, and until there's an issue getting the information... Well 'Rhyn' will just stand there and wait.
"My arm is just a symptom! One hammerfall on a production line of this blasted curse!" He pats at the air in Seyardu's general direction. "My grandson here, Aehrick, is the greatest craftsman the Oddskeepers have wrought in generations! His good name was slandered and he was fined for peddling inferior and dangerous wares!" The older dwarf is eager to answer, the words spilling out of his mouth so fast he sputters even as he gesticulates madly with his one good arm. He's taken a step closer to the crates (and halfling) but doesn't lower his voice at all. "He's been imprisoned, fined, and warned of worse should he be caught selling 'shoddy' work again! The absurdity!"
There's a grumbling from Aehrick as he refolds his arms during the description of his recent trials. "Weren't my Armatures in that cart. Weren't any kind of artifice; just junk," he growls.
"He's a good boy! Talented and honest! He'll make a good husband for a lucky young lady some day!" You're starting to worry that Jaemeigh might pull out scrolls of accomplishment and certification and make you pass them around while he dotes further on his kin. But he doesn't do that. Not right now, anyway. "And then my ship!" He gestures around him, trying to use both arms and wincing when he moves the left in its sling. As if on cue there's an electrical zapping noise and a bright purple flash from the open doorway by the engines. A low mechanical cough heralds billowing black smoke and the stomping exit of the gnome as he throws down a brass wrench in disgust.
Oblivious to all that, Jaemeigh continues. "Ikklebig and I were taking the Horizon back to the Redridge to collect funds and an advocate for my boy. The poor girl started coming apart at the seams! We lost a bladder, the rigging caught fire, and the mana-engines haven't been the same since! But these mechanics are making great progress and I'm sure we'll be ship-shape by tomorrow!" The gnome comes back from the other side of the deck carrying a sloshing bucket of water and disappears into the smoking room.
"Then monsters on my ship! Then Ikkle STABBED ME!" The dwarf gingerly pants where the jacket covers his belly. "Then my arm! Broke! Argh!" He's getting worked up. He has to take a break and catch his breath. His nose has gone red to match his scarf.
Paenitia makes an exagerated bow towards Rhyn, without removing her hat or mask. Straightening up. She faces Aehrick, "The ship I cannot help with, unless you need the forge worked. Ha! Or the beer. The tarnished name, that is a worthy task for a Knight of the Pillar."
She looks around, "Monsters on the ship, I do not see. They come out at night, or crawl the underside?"
"Weren't those arms marketed as artifice? With your own name attached to them."* The sith-makar thought to herself as memories of the evening came back. But she pushed past it, for the time being.
"I understand, it sounds like you have been through much in recent times. The things are happening here, but it sounds like you are not ready to return yet. Monsters, and stabbing?" She continues, looking up to the dwarves. "Ikkle stabbed you as well? Could you please explain what happened in regards to that? Was it an accident, or something else?"
Lysos glances under her feet at the floorboards with the mention of monsters, her grin slipping a bit.. but she pulls her gaze back up with only a slight shuffling of her feet to look back at the old dwarf. Though some measure of empathy appears on her face at his relating of the story, she feels compelled to add, "I'm not seeing where adventurers come into this... unless you're sending us to Redridge to fetch this advocate of yours."
It's a lot of information, and Rhyn doesn't add much to the conversation. Like Lysos, she seems to be waiting for the bit that concerns them. Namely, the bit that they were hired to take care of. "What would you have us do? Track down the source of your curse?" She's not entirely sure that the dwarf /is/ cursed, but he certainly seems to think he is, and there are a lot of odd things that have occured.
"'Ikklebig' is the name of a gobber orphan that opa found to help with the ship while I was imprisoned," Aehrick has stepped forward to take over for his exasperated elder, his voice a low, calm rumble but his expression is dubious. He places a steadying hand on the older dwarf's shoulder before continuing. "When the other mercenaries helped recover the ship they abandoned opa with Ikkle to return to Alexandria on their own. At some point the gobber stabbed him in the belly and ran away."
"The monsters had damaged the ship and the parts in stowage and soiled the belowdecks." Aehrick nods at the pile the halflings are in the process of making. "The report said there was some kind of dog-boy and balls of hair with three blue eyes and monstrous maw."
"Ikklebig was a good boy. Just got scared is all. Hope he's OK." Jaemeigh adds color commentary between pants, his winded voice like that of air escaping from a pierced balloon.
"We took out building space in the city's warehouse district. Opa was using it for storage and had room to let me use it as a workshop. He said that Ikklebig character would sleep there, too, while I was jailed." Aehrick pats his grandfather's shoulder but shakes his head at the defense of the brigand gobber child. "I can't help but think it all started at the workshop; something happened to my crafts there. Or someone switched them. Maybe you could find some evidence of what's causing this here or there. Whatever ties it all together." He doesn't sound particularly hopeful, honestly.
The hob is helping the gnome now, both hustling back towards the engine room with buckets of water. The gobber leans over the poop deck railing, sniggering as he watches the pair double-time.
"So, Opa and Ikklebig and the dog boy monster with the balls of hair. In the warehouse." Paenitia attempts to summarize. The little Lucht is distracted watching the other Luchts, and now the hob, throw things overboard.
"I look around!" She states emphatically. Mostly, she wants some time to process all the information. "Ramirez, do not chew the rigging!"
GAME: Paenitia rolls perception: (6)+4: 10 GAME: Rhyn rolls survival: (8)+6: 14
"Paenitia, I would speak with you when you are finished, perhaps we can figure out where to go from here." Seyardu suggests. "What happened to the creatures after the fact? If they are still on the ship, then that is concerning. And this one would speak with the goblin, compare accounts, though I would appreciate some help understanding. I am not the best at reading people."
GAME: Rhyn rolls Knowledge/Nature: (2)+6: 8 GAME: Rhyn rolls knowledge/nature: (4)+6: 10 GAME: Paenitia rolls sense motive: (7)+10: 17 GAME: Paenitia rolls perception: (11)+4: 15
With her sole virtue in this case being curiosity, without many of the skills to back it up, Lysos attaches herself to Paenitia's shadow... having much learned her lesson at getting separated in potentially scary situations.
"Okay, we speak soon!" Paenitia says to Seyardu, as she pads over and heads downstairs. She's right sized for going below-decks, although she's not that effective at noticing anything. Her devotion to her face-mask is likely the culprit. Around, under, she avoids crates and makes an effort to keep out of the bilge. Not that airships have the ballast requirements of regular ships, it's still best to avoid the lowest point.
She finds something odd, and points them out to Lysos, "These words, the four lines written like a poem. They have meaning to you?" She points out a couple instances which area always on or near the bottom.
The two Lucht make room as the adventurers journey belowdecks to have a look around. They've been going room-to-room clearing out debris and then cleaning. There are tight piles made near the base of the stairs before they're carried above and a two sets of mop, bucket, and brush waiting for the desoiling that comes later.
Progress has been made but the whole space is tight and still smells of animal scat and urine.
Rhyn spends several long moments on the ship. Going over everything and glad of the cloak to obscure the scowl. It's clear from the set of the cloaked individual's shoulders that they are less and less pleased by the moment and finally the group rejoins and the cloak tips back just enough to show a lovely elvish face with piercing blue-gray eyes. They look a touch like lightning is coursing through them. Just the flicker of copper coloring and her supreme ire which she settles on the captain of this ship. "Your ship is in dire need of /cleaning/." She utters coldly, and with no small irritation in her voice.
"It took me forever to figure out what is causing the trouble on your ship. I fear you have gremlins." Her face lowers enough to hide her features and looks at the rest of the group. "Small fae creatures known for causing trouble. They like to sow mischief where they can and leave destruction in their wake."
GAME: Lysos rolls knowledge/arcana: (17)+7: 24
Lysos eyes the script pointed out by the knight, then shakes her head. "Nope. Never seen anything like that," she admits before letting her eyes wander again, shifting around in the manner of one who has been surprised before but hasn't yet really learned the best way to protect herself against it. Then she stops, frowns, looks back over her shoulder.. then backtracks a few steps to inspect a messy pile of, well, junk for lack of a better word. She kneels beside it, leaning on her staff.. then reaches out to pulls a few pieces from the pile. Ignoring the way the pile unsettles, small pieces of broken machinery tumbling to the side, she turns the piece around in her hand a few times... then brings it down hard on the the deck planking. It doesn't exactly shatter, but certainly seems to come apart easily. "Yeah... looks like there's some sort of sabotage going on here. Half this stuff looks like it was made with unstable magic."
Aehrick offers Rhyn a furrowed brow of confusion as her explanation begins only to have his expression turn to one of vindication and relief. "Roa's oath?" He asks for confirmation as a visible weight lifts from his shoulders. It's not GREAT news but he'd almost begun to wonder... to doubt himself.
Jaemeigh blinks slowly and frowns, moving over to take a seat against the deck's railing. "Gods below... gremlins?" He squeaks.
"Aehrick, I know it is an unpleasant memory most likely, but could you tell us more about what happened when you were gone? If there is sabotage here, truly, then it is possible that your wares you were selling were as well, or were replaced." The sith-makar asks, looking as the group left the hold. "Is it normal for the inside of an airship to be messy? That may indicate that whatever these underlying issues are, they have been there for a long time. Perhaps it was only now they reached a point where the ship failed. Have you noticed any issues on previous flights? Nothing as bad, but things that you could not explain, perhaps?"
"I..." Aehrick frowns and thinks, looking down and then away, sheepish. Under the braided hair and beard he really is young for a Khazad-Aul; barely an adult, perhaps. "Alexandria is my first time Out from Under. I thought I heard noises in the warehouse but always thought it was normal for a city like this. The district is always busy. But... whispers and laughing? And bad luck; bumps and bruises... tripping over my own sign."
"The ship is kept clean, opa always dreamed of owning an airship. He worked his whole life to retire and see the world from the skies." Aehrick adds, shaking his head. "He doesn't even allow the family goats aboard."
Jaemeigh seems suddenly frail and sapped of his obnoxious vigor. He's lost in thought and facing away. "Gremlins. Impossible. It couldn't be."
While Seyardu questions Aehrick, the Red Knight and the unlucky sorceress return above decks. She drifts over towards Rhyn, "Jaemeigh, the father, he have this strong devotion to the random goblin orphan he let work on his ship for some reason."
"This sound like the Fey enchantments I read about."
Louder, responding to the pair, "The goats may not be aboard but they mess seem to be."
Lysos follows Paenitia, bringing with her another piece of the facsimile machinery, more than willing to surrender it to anyone who wants to examine it. "Well! The mystery appears solved, right?" she declares, more than happy to jump to the first reasonable conclusion of the investigation. "Now you just need to explain it to the authorities and clear it all up."
Rhyn meanwhile looks suspiciously at Jaemigh, his words catching in her elvish ears like something not quite right. "What do you mean 'could not be'? I have seen the evidence of them with my own eyes. I'm not wrong." She crosses her arms over her chest and steps toward the man her eyes narrow beneath the hood - unseen. "Did you do something to tick the fae off? Something that would bring them to your ship? Anger them enough to leave shit in your holds and break your engines?"
"Opa was thrown off the ship when it malfunctioned-- was sabotaged on the way to the Redridge. He was just with Ikklebig. The ship was left adrift and unmanned for almost a day before it was found and retaken. Maybe they crawled aboard then?" Aehrick glances between the four adventurers. "Maybe Ikklebig let them on before?" He scowls at Rhyn and takes a step to position himself between the old dwarf and the hooded elf. "Please, be kind. This is a shock for him."
Jaemeigh finally turns, looking past his grandson's back and towards the group with moisture in his eyes. He blinks and opens his mouth mutely before closing it again and shaking his head.
"Ah, the day adrift, that is a likely time." The Red Knight says, the peers up at Rhyn, "Are you the smart one, can read strange languages? There is writing below."
To the old man, Paenitia makes an effort to comfort him, "Do not worry, the orphan, your son, the reputation, they will be saved."
"Crawled aboard then, or were already aboard. Don't put too much on Ikklebig without any proof however. We will speak to them, make sense of it. And we will make sense of what happened, make sure that it does not happen again." Seyardu adds, giving a forced, yet genuine smile. "It sounds like we may be on the right track already, and all that is left is to continue on that path."
The cloaked woman bristles at the implication that she's not going 'kindly' enough on the old man. She huffs at Aehrick and turns toward the red-clad woman who distracted her long enough to forstall a possibly unpleasant conversation. "I'm no mage, but if the fae wrote in their own language on the ship I can read it." She casts a glare at Aehrick and quickly disappears into the hold to have a look at the writing.
Jaemeigh sucks in a slow, steadying breath and suggests that Aehrick 'go help' as Rhyn heads belowdecks. He'll wait until the pair are gone and gives a long, defeated sigh.
To the three still nearby he offers in a shaky voice, "There's an old family story about a deal with the Seller of Souls. A rumor. Kind of a black joke. Before there were Oddskeepers. Our craftsmen were said to've slighted the Maker and lost their gift. So they made a deal; wealth and prosperity in a new trade but to never craft again. The Oddskeepers have always been in the gambling business. Hall owners and gamesrunners. Gamblers. Aehrick is the first in a long, long time to embrace the Work. I always made sure..." He sniffs. "The boy has proper Talent. Family traditions be-damned, I thought. This can't be why..."
Paenitia, who as a Lucht Siuil has first hand experience of curses that manifest in strange ways, nods slowly, "The old tales are oft wrong, but not always. Maybe the thing is in that."
"You are the good father, to encourage the talents." She says, "the crafts, they are what civilization is build on. Gambling is the fun amusement, but it easy to take advantage."
Rhyn arrives quickly from the bottom of the ship, almost but not quite running. "The message on the ship says that if the oath is broken that the ship will explode!" She isn't breathing heavy from her short stint running, but she's clearly rushing the words out. "Something about 'blood for coin - both with flow. Break the oath - kaboom ship go'." In her haste to get to the surface her cloak has fallen off her head showing a flow of red hair and a lovely elvish woman hidden underneath.
"Ramirez! Go wait on the shore!" Paenitia immediately orders.
'Ruuaaaah!' Ramirez disagrees. She should come with him.
The Dark Lucht shades her head, "No. I be along in the small time."
With a long, disgruntled whicker the peacock-andalusian bounds to the railing then over the side, to wait on the docks.
Turning towards the red-haired elf, Paenitia says, "Kaboom now, or we have a few moments?"
"Bollocks!" The shout comes from the poopdeck, likely the gobber tinkering on the top of the mana engines. The gnome's head pops out from the doorway beneath holding a cloth over their nose and mouth, black smoke still lazily sliding out of the room. They've stopped running water buckets back and forth, though, so the fire... should be under control.
Aehrick struggles up and out from the lower deck after Rhyn, "Nothing is blowing up. It's a bad joke." He stomps towards the doorway on the other end of the deck to join the gnome, his hands at his toolbelt.
Jaemeigh is aghast and at a loss for how to respond to the situation.
"That sounds concerning." The silver sith-makar says rather matter of factly. "Do we go now, or is this a threat? Was there anything that looked like it would make true of the writings?" They ask, already looking at the gangplank. “If it's a threat, it's a poor one, but it seems something is intent on ruining this airship."
Rhyn glares at Aehrick. "I said if there was some kind of agreement with the fae that there would be an issue. And it appears there is. Think it a joke if you like, and to them it is one. The kind that will blow up in our faces - literally." She grunts and flips her braid behind her with her hand. "I won't know when the danger will strike until I know what the agreement is."
The Red Knight approaches Jaemeigh, head back and staring up at him. He is facing her Smiling Man mask, a stylized masculine face with a wide grin and mustache, "She is right, there verse or curse or joke is painted on the ship belove."
She looks over at Seyardu, "Friend Dragon, does the All Mother grant you the powers to break curses yet?"
"Removing curse? I know not if it is within my capabilities, it would depend on the severity of it. I have not tried before, but perhaps it is possible?" Seyardu answers. After a moment, she nods. "But It would not be today. I would have to take some time, work such magics into my prayers for the day. But, I think it is possible, I believe."
-TBC
