Of Dryads and Weapons

W01: Wayfarer's Inn

It's Gilday, Eatonis 07 17:43:24 1020. The full moon isn't up. The tide is high and ebbing. A light rain falls from a grey sky. It's cool and there's a mild wind from the east.

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A thoroughly drenched Gnome slips into the Inn, her orange hair plastered to her head. Bits and pieces of forest are tangled with her hair, adding to the mayhem. She lets out a breath and looks a little happier as the heat is quite pleasant. She sniffs at the air, and her mood seems to improve further. FOOD! She begins squelching her way across the Inn's common room, towards the Innkeeper's counter.

Lockwood motions to Talia, "I think the dating thing is the reason the brothels exist. You get your fix and move along. No conversations." The bearded man begins to facepalm and shakes his head, "Have I really ended up in such a place? Explaining what brothels are?" Exhaling audibly and tilting on his stool to throw back some more ale. "Seeing as Talia and I are new around here. What do you folk do for fun? You do have liquor here, I hope?" Because a place without brothels and liquor would be a silly place.

And close behind the gnome, the wild elf Ga'Elian follows. Seeing a hearty crowd gathered he reaches into his shoulderbag, pulls out a small pouch, and plops it on the bar, telling the room, "My treat tonight, friends."

Craft considers Lockwood. "I craft." He realizes he never introduced himself, and offers a tridactyl hand to the nearest person. "I am Craft." He looks back to Lockwood. "It is a way to keep busy and productive, and helps pass the time. There is something pleasant about creating," he explains, his voice losing some of the metallic tone.

"That just means you need to order seconds." Talia offers with an impish grin, which she does, cause the beef stew was good. Looking towards the golem, she leans forward and shakes that tridactyl hand. "I have not seen anything like you before. You are absolutely wondrous!" Oh noes, be careful or she's going to ask if she can keep Craft.

Walery assures Lockwood, "Oh, public drunken foolishness is quite popular and proper. Just keep your pants on." He hrms at what Craft says, and agrees, "I feel sort of the same way."

Tawyse pauses just before the Innkeeper, her ears having picked up a part of a conversation. The look on her face say that she's not sure she wants to know. She blinks and then steps forward, getting herself a room. And FOOD! Stew with bread. Of course, she makes sure her food is included in Ga'Elian's tab. The soaked Gnome pads by Ga'Elian, leaving small wet footprints on the floor. "Thank you.", she says quietly to the elven man, and she offers a polite bow. Tawyse looks around at the other patrons, and finds a table slightly removed from them.

Morgan shakes her head "I dont like to drink to much. Last time I danced on the bar and asked too many people to mary me, and before that I was setting things on fire with my magic."

Ga'Elian smiles to Morgan, "My apologies for clumsy timing. Perhaps you would like to choose my punishment then? Shall I undertake some dare in this fine company?" He nods merrily at Talia's response.

"Your name is Craft. And you like to Craft." Lockwood says in mild disbelief, "I guess my name is drink." He rumbles and turns back his stein to drain the remainder of the contents. Pushing it forward on the bar so Ga'Elian can buy him a drink, "There's a good man. You have my thanks. One day we won't be terribly broke and we'll pay it forward, aye?" Offering a sharp grin to the others. Glancing to Walery, "No promises. Pants have a mind of their own."

Ga'Elian also bows his acknowledgement to Tawyse's gratitude.

Walery huhs to Lockwood, and he says, "Well, they can, certain magic pants, it's true. I've never trusted the way of embedding magic spirits into pants and staves and swords and such. It just seems like a bad plan."

Craft looks to Lockwood, his goggles glowing briefly. "Ah. A figure of speech," he observes, and turns to Talia, giving her a polite bow. "I was created to destroy. There is," he pauses. "Poetry in choosing to create." He looks to Lockwood. "Do you not choose your own identity?" he wonders. "That is the purpose of names, is it not? To signify identity? I craft. I like to craft. I choose to be a crafter. Therefore, I chose to be Craft."

Tawyse glances over at Lockwood, and after a moment smiles. "There are worse names.", she says quietly. The Gnome looks to Ga'Elian and nudges out a seat from her table with a foot. "Would you care to sit at my table?', she wonders. Her stew arrives then, and she begins to dig in eagerly, eating as if someone were about to take it away.

Ga'Elian raises his eyebrow. Says, "Walery, about the only thing I'm wearing that doesn't have some magic upon it is my shirt and pants." He turns then to Tawyse and joins her. The difference in their statures makes for an interesting visual at the table, but that's life in a multiracial pub. He says, "I know some dryads that 'Drink' over there might like to meet." There is a sly sarcasm to his tone.

Walery sighs to Ga'Elian, and says, "But your undershorts don't get up and talk at you. That's what I'm saying. Magic swords are fine. Magic swords that talk are a problem."

Morgan ears perks up to what Walery said "Even worse when its magical clothing that talks."

"Naw. I was given my name by my old man. Who happened to be an asshole. We don't get to choose our names. Otherwise I'd be Supreme Overlord Edgar McExcellent." Winking in Craft's direction before turning back his beer to drain some of its contents. Lockwood tilts his gaze to Ga'Elian, "Dryads, you say?" Glancing to his partner Talia, "She gets jealous. Even though I haven't consented to any such relationship. Apparently where she comes from men are objectified. She saved my life - now my sense of honor and her sense of ownership have met in some unholy union." Raising his mug, "One of the many reasons I drink."

Tawyse looks to Walery a moment. "Undershorts? And how is a magic, talking blade a problem?" She looks away a moment to shovel a few more spoonfuls of stew into her face, chewing and swallowing before glancing back at Walery. "I mean, one might consider it a waste of magic to make a talking blade when there is much more useful things to create. But how are they a problem, exactly?" The Gnome grins to Ga'Elian. "So how have you been? I am looking forward to your stories."

Ga'Elian looks at Walery as if his words just flew right over the elf's head. Then shrugs and looks at Lockwood. He explains, "Well dryads are tree fairies, right? Have you ever seen a male dryad? How do you imagine they reproduce? Ever wonder why there are so many oak trees in elven forests? Think about it. Gives a different meaning to planting seeds." To Tawyse he says, "I've been just fine. Thanks. As for the stories, there's time for that, and some take quite a while to tell."

Walery says to Tawyse, "If your sword keeps talking at you when you're trying to sneak up on an enemy. Or trying to have a quiet dinner with a friend. I think that'd bother me, anyhow. If you're OK with that, then you're fine."

Morgan adds to Walery "or your sword makes friends with your spouce and tells them who you been flirting or what ever with."

"But, if your blade is intelligent enough to talk, then you should be able to come to some agreement and arrangement, yes?" Tawyse looks to Walery, and then Morgan. "If your blade is being vindictive, you probably would do better without it, one would think?" She stares at Ga'Elian then, the tips of her ears going a light pink. "You are surely making fun of us, Ga'Elian. The trees mate with the elves?" The Gnomish woman goes silent for a few moments. "Are there more stories like that?"

Craft gives a practiced shrug to Lockwood. He finds a more out of the way spot to stand, where he's not blocking anyone's path.

Morgan shakes her head to Tawyse when she talks about Dryads "My parents inroduced me to one when I was little. She was nice and very beautiful."

Ga'Elian laughs and says, "Not the trees, no! The fairies. But where dryads are, there must be trees."

Walery agrees with Morgan, "Yeah, talk about awkward. There's just all kinds of ways that can go bad. And that's not even counting evil spirits inhabiting things. I think magic can bind spirits into items and guarantee they're at least not evil. But I don't know if Artifice can do that." He looks to Craft, as if he might know that answer? To Tawyse, he says, "But then it's all that gold you wasted buying an intelligent sword. So you try to hang on, and make the best of a bad situation. Maybe it can do things?" He shrugs. "It's a bad path."

Lockwood drains the remainder of his stein and slides it forward onto the bar. He looks to the elf through narrowed, suspicious eyes, "If you're saying what I think you're saying that is amazing. And very much worth seeing." He rumbles. "Nature is a wonder, isn't it?" Getting up from the bar stool and gathering his things. "Well folks, it's been a long day of traveling and I am going to head upstairs and get some rest." Collecting his bag, bow and quiver and throwing them over his shoulders, "Nice meetin' the lot of you. Sounds like you all have a good idea for a dryad brothel. Sounds like a money making idea to me. Could even play oak tree dress up. Cha-ching." Giving a lazy salute befor heading upstairs.

Tawyse runs a hand through her wet hair and shrugs to Walery. "You take it back and ask for your money back from the smith or crafter. Or at least some percentage of it. And it is silly to hang onto something that is obviously not going to work well with you. Sometimes you have to walk away." The little woman looks to Morgan, and then Ga'Elian. "Well I have not met one, so I suppose you two are lucky." Her eyes narrow and then widen. "Have you planted any oak trees then, Ga'Elian?" When Lockwood bids everyone good night, she offers a wave.

"Artifice created me. Though Kulth too many of their secrets with them. It's possible in theory," Craft muses. "Artifice can do many things," he suggests. "In different ways than 'traditional' magic."

Ga'Elian stands up and says coyly, "Now that would be telling, wouldn't it." He grabs up three empty glasses and starts to juggle them as he walks around between the tables.

Walery says to Tawyse, "Well, not every crafter will just give you your money back for an item. You asked for it, you got it. But ... if now that you've got it, you don't want it anymore, well, that's on you." He hrms at Craft, and nods at Artifice doing things differently than normal magic. "That's a fact. We had to learn about normal wizard magic, it was a required course. But there are strange twists and permutations."

Morgan shrugs "Magic is not that hard, just be careful to pronounce the words right and extend your pinky and you will not change the sex of everyone around you."

"I accept returns for poor craftsmanship," Craft explains, his tone making it a hypothetical. "Magic is just another form of energy," he muses, and sets a small device on the counter, it about the size of a piece of hard tack. It springs to life, sprouting legs, skittering like a little brass spider, a few of its limbs given over to strange looking devices.

Tawyse looks to Ga'Elian and shakes her head. "It would. I suppose you don't bark and tell... er, kiss and tell." She grins and looks to Walery. "Well I am pretty sure people do not go to have a sword enchanted, and ask for it to be vindictive and untrustworthy. I am sure it is a good case for a return, should that happen." Her eyes widen and she looks to Morgan. "Uh. Do you... have problems with that while casting spells? Changing the sex of people around you?" The Gnome edges away slightly in her seat. Tawyse looks to Craft then. "Do you craft intelligent blades regularly?"

Walery says to Morgan, "See, Artifice doesn't do -that-. But being careful is still important. I have a number of health-enhancing devices, but I have to inscribe them with runes to Reos so that they don't steal health instead." He nods at what Craft says, "Oh, if it's bad craftsmanship, then the crafter ought to take it back. But if it's just what the customer ordered, but now he doesn't want it, that's not the crafter's problem." To Tawyse, he says, "Well, when you ask for s spirit to be bound into a thing, I'm not sure how much control you get over what spirit that gets bound in."

Morgan shakes her head "I have no witness to me ever did that, even Daveeeeee Davinea will back that up." is she joking who knows

Craft tilts his head to one side. "Cannot say I have ever had the occasion to." He considers, and turns to the counter top, tracing designs with the tip of his finger on the wooden surface, as if puzzling it out.

Ga'Elian puts the three glasses down on Morgan's table, then from the 20" quiver slung over his shoulder, he produces a bow, fully as long as he is tall. Says, "Tar'niessa here isn't a thinking, speaking object, but whether its enchantments come from a bound spirit or some other means is beyond my knowledge. I just know it is holy and has some very useful abilities." He shows the bow particularly to Tawyse, then to Morgan, then to the room generally. "With it, I have shot an unseelie spirit, an immaterial shadow demon, and several other foul monsters, yet it is still refined enough for ordinary hunting without pulverizing the animal."

Morgan gives a nods and a thank you in Elven before slowly drinking what is offered to her.

Tawyse looks to Walery and shrugs. "I wouldn't know. I am not so experienced to have enchanted a weapon. I just don't believe that it is... all that random." She squints at Morgan, and edges a bit further away. To Craft, she nods, "Do you do any enchanting of blades, at all?" Ga'Elian's bow is inspected curiously, and she runs a fingertip along the bow's limbs. "Moonshaft?", she wonders, tilting her head to get a better look at the bowstring.

Craft glances up, turning to Tawyse. "Oh, yes, arms and armor are a specialty of mine. I made all of my own. I do light repairs for the various townsfolk to help pay rent, however."

Walery shrugs at Ga'Elian, and says, "Showoff." He ooohs at Craft, and wonders, "Have you ever thought of running an armor smithy? I'm thinking I could grab some young apprentices and start doing that. I can make plate armor fairly quickly, and if people are willing to wait, I could make it cheaper than most crafters will sell it for."

Morgan hmms and says "And if any one wants a good book binder and maker come to me."

Ga'Elian smiles at Morgan, "That's right." He replaces the bow, making it vanish into the much smaller quiver. Smirks at Walery, and says, "Is it not customary in public houses to brag and to challenge one's companions to various challenges and dares, especially when trying to win the attentions of maidens?"

Morgan winks to Ga'Elian and says "Some bravado can be nice."

"I have run a smithy for years," Craft says, the metallic edge off his voice. "I do not sleep. Plenty of time to work."

Tawyse nods to Craft then. "So, what can you do for a sickle as far as enchanting goes?" She leans forward curiously, but then glances to Walery and Ga'Elian and shakes her head. "Boys.", she says with a tut. "You don't sleep?", she wonders of the warmachine.

Ga'Elian turns to Tawyse, "Ah, sleep. I can't imagine spending a third of my life unconsious. You're so... vulnerable. Besides, it makes it entirely likely you'd fall off a tree branch and break yourself!"

Walery hrms at Craft. "That's interesting. I think I'd have to sleep, myself. I get loopy after much more than a day." He shrugs to Ga'Elian. Clearly winning the attentions of maidens is beyond his capability. Or outside his interest. "Why would I want to do that?" he asks. "Most women don't know what a thrust conversion motor does anyhow."

Ga'Elian again, stare blankly at Walery. "A... what?"

Craft looks to Tawyse. "Many things. Did you have something in mind?"

Tawyse looks thoughtful for a moment and shrugs. "I don't have anything in particular in mind, I am curious as to what you can do to improve such a weapon. Maybe have it catch things on fire? Or perhaps feel lighter or some such?", she says to Craft. She glances at Ga'Elian then. "Oh, right, elves don't need sleep. Well, I generally have Chaucy around when I sleep, or I am in a very safe place. So I don't worry all that much about sleeping." Walery get a curious glance and then she grins. "It converts energy into thrust?"

Walery explains to Ga'Elian, "Oh, it's actually quite interesting. It takes relative thrust, and converts it into energy. I think it will lead me to quite useful discoveries." He shakes his head to Tawyse, "Just the opposite. That's what's novel about it."

Ga'Elian shrugs at Walery's explanation, "Oh. Well. Good, I think. May it bring you good success."

"Fire... ice... though if you wish something holy, you might be best off contacting a cleric," Craft admits.

Tawyse raises her eyebrows and nods to Craft. "Fire would be of interest to me. What would it cost me?" She glances to Walery and snaps her fingers. "So close. I had a brother who was into engineering and artifice. He would talk about things like that constantly." The Gnomish woman looks to Ga'Elian then. "Do you tend to live up in the trees then, where falling asleep could be a concern? Or is it when you go hunting or chasing rogue monsters or something?"

Ga'Elian returns to Tawyse's table and takes a seat. "When I'm watching a section of forest or when I do my nightly trance, I often set up on a branch."

Morgan litens to the people talk about the weapons, and magic weapons never mattered to her at all.

Craft considers. "I would need to get back to you. Check back with me in the morning? Craft's Crafts."

"Trance? I guess that is what you do instead of sleep? Is it true that sleep spells do not work on elves? I have heard it said, but, well, you're the first elf I've actually had lengthy conversations with.", the orange-haired Gnome says to Ga'Elian. To Craft, she nods. "I can do that. In the city of Alexandria? Erm. What street? I'll never find it without that."

Ga'Elian grins because Tawyse isn't the first non-elf he's explained this to, by a long shot. He says, "Where humans seem to fall unconscious for around 8 hours in order to be fully rested, the Sildanyar meditate for approximately 4 hours. We're still aware of our environment, buy our focus becomes introspective. Magic cannot render us 'asleep', but sickness, poison, and injury can render us comatose, although such cases are dire."

Morgan nods to Ga'Elian and says "you forgot about the eye beams we all get."

Tawyse glances at Morgan a moment, blinking, before she looks to Ga'Elian. "Ah. That's interesting, it's a big advantage to be able to both rest and recover and still be aware of everything going on around you. I bet no one can sneak into your forest unnoticed."

"I have been unconscious. I do not care for it," Craft says, his metallic edge coming back.

Ga'Elian laughs, "Well, normal creatures would be hard pressed to do so, for sure. And I agree with Craft. Once I was pummelled so near to death by a flesh golem that I lost consciousness, and on another occasion was nearly crushed to death by a gargantuan flying owlbear. I'd be glad to never repeat those experiences."