DragonFly
Tenebrae - Monday, April 14, 2014, 6:26 PM
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A02: Lower Trades District *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The Lower Trades District is the home of the working man of Alexandria. The Lower Trades is divided, unofficially, into two parts: that controlled by the gobbers, and that controlled by the khazad. The two areas stand in contrast, one with a strong, almost formal architecture and a predilection for blacksmiths, the other a mixture of propped-up rubble and gunpowder. The latter's started to grow however, and take form with the aid of the more structured Arvek Nar. Still, the two stand as uneasy neighbors, though the oruch more easily work both sides, often in the spirit of a friendly, if competitive, warriors' competition that's unique to Alexandria, itself.
Here, the "khazad section" boasts a number of blacksmiths, glass smiths, artifice shops, and basic taverns, as well as any number of trades shops and eateries. The sweet tinge of oil, iron, and spiced BBQ is everywhere. Shrines to Reos, or marks of the same, are found over most doorways, in homage to the khazad Mountain Father and World Smith.
Tyrianna strolls along humming to herself. Her shield is on her back. She looks around with wide eyes like she isn't used to being here.
occasional puff of black smoke emerges from the crowd, not unlike a traveling, angry, miniature storm. The source of either is neither angry nor storm though, but a waddling goblin, its gaze focused on an object in front of it. The object in question is a...
...oh.
"Huhm, hum. Yes, that's odd. No, that's..." It's a tiny, miniature dragonfly. That's farting black smoke. Occasionally, but. You know. Still.
Mikilos humms absently to himself as he strolls down the street, a small cart trundeling behind him. Some might notice there's no handel or tie to force the cart to follow the wizard. Many wouldn't notice, this is Alexandria; magiced carts are from from the weirdest thing to see around here. Pauseing at the side of a recently cleared shop wall, the elf takes a flyer from the stack, smears it liberally with glue, and posts it up on the wall. A second layer to make sure it sticks, and Mikilos is off to find another bit of wall to advertize upon.
Rayne move along the lower trade district looking this way and that, she pauses looking over a section of nicer dresses, "if I was not out adventuring, I might like these..." she says to herself
Tyrianna doesn't look like she is used to the city or such. She looks at different stalls as she passes and at people as well.
"It's--" the silence after fades into determination, if silence could be said to do such a thing. The gobber squints, her large ears bobbing up and down as she works on the dragonfly, her great crop of red, red, RED hair accenting each movement, each frantic twist of the wrist or quirk of thin gobber-shoulders...and then the dragonfly gives out a sudden, loud KOFF! and a second blast of smoke erupts... ...and the tiny thing takes off.
It flutters, shining like a small jewel, and farting smoke all the while. "Brilliant!" says the gobber, just as the dragonfly...begins to stagger in the air, over towards Tyrianna, farting tiny clouds of soot from its jewel-form as it goes. Toot. Toot toot toot.
Altar is just wandering the city again, looking at people, trying to figure out what makes them tick. He stops at one of Mikilos' signs to read it, curious to see what the very tall elf is advertizing. When he stops suddenly, foot traffic has to take a moment to adjust, to flow around him, the person who had been directly behind Altar almost runs into him, but Altar doesn't notice.
Mikilos advertizes Mithralla Merchandise, a fine collection of magical arms, armors, potions, scrolls, rings, and other fine quality magical artifacts, all made from local materials. A fairly commonly flyer, s the elf has been doing this sort of thing for years now.
Rayne also turns to see Mikilos board, she tilts her head and she moves slowly over to him. "Are you the owner of this advertisement?"
Tyrianna cocks her head to the side, "A crude copy of a beautiful natural creature." she says softly and then cocks her head to the side as she watches the dragonfly and shakes her head a bit.
Flight...excellent, for such a prototype. The balance is too variable." Out comes the notebook, and the gobber begins making scribbles, frantic notes that scrawl across the page. The dragonfly continues its swoops, glittering all the while. It swoops downwards as the half-oruch speaks up. Swoops and...toots!
"Oh, it used to be a bomb," says the gobber, matter-of-factly. *scribble*
Tyrianna nods and shakes her head, "i think I know why I was sent here." she shakes her head again, "Well just keep it in the city and out of the woods." she murmers and shakes her head a bit.
Mikilos mms, and nods. "Mikilos Mithralla, owner of ad and shoppe. How may I be of assistance?" He blinks, somewhat distracted by a goblin saying the word 'bomb'. That sort of thing seldom ends well.
Altar reviews the advertizement and moves on, perhaps he's seen that one before. The smoke spewing, flying device appears to be next, though he has to wade through the crowd for a little while to get there. "You had a tiny flying dragonfly bomb?" his question is addressed to the red haired goblin.
"A bomb. An explosive, a sacrifice to the Lady of Explosive Boom-Booms, but often used inappropriately in the destruction of large landmasses and small farm animals." Fwump, as the red-headed gobber cheerfully closes the notebook. She beams up at the golem. Smile on. Click. "I specialize in the Redemption and Conversion of Explosives into Useful Devices. It's a new religion. Hasn't caught on yet. Pleased to meet you, I'm Coppervolt Wiretrapper." To the other goblinoid, "You look new in town. Tell me, what do you think of the City?" The whole series of sentences comes out in a single stream, a series of thoughts and thinks jammed into one breath. Then a blink at Mikilos. "A sildanyari. Is it true your people measure personal worth by the length of earlobes?" ...and out comes the notebook again. Overhead, the dragonfly overhead sputters, flop-winging its way around Tyrianna's head.
Rayne looks over as the goblin begins talking about a bomb, and she laughs a little "you should meet Vuk and Jibbem" she pauses before she looks then over to Miklos once more "I doubt i have the gold now, but i have so wanted to enchant my bow flameing." she says to the man.
Mikilos blinks at the goblin, taking a moment to sort out the stream of words into something meaningful. "Uh, not as a general rule, no. Shape and quality are more important, though that's a matter of actractiveness, not personal worth, and is quite subjective. Personal worth tends to vary more upon accomplishments, lineiage, and moral conviction." Turning focus back to Rayne, he nods. "Not something I've tried, but fairly sure it wouldn't be too difficult."
Tyrianna moves to get away from the thing, "I am new, I am a follower of Dana, devoted to keeping those of the City from defiling the wilds." She shakes her head a bit.
The long, wobble-ears flick. DISTAIN-fully. "I have heard of Jibbom. He is a disciple of Explosions At All Costs. We would not get along," says the red-headed gobber as she makes a few more notes. "I believe in safety, you see. Harnessing the--"
...it's at that moment the bejeweled dragonfly gives its last toot! and begins to spiral to the earth. This means it gets away from the half-oruch...but also that it crashes, becoming a pile of bejeweled rubble on the cobblestones. ...a single leg twitches. Sadly. Twitch, little leg, twitch!
"Well, that's dissapointing." *Scribble.* "I carinflated the bumzossle trigriftide..." Blah blah blah blah... And just-like-that, the gobber's off in her own little world again...
Altar continues to watch the sputtering dragonfly as it circles Tyrianna's head. "Explosive reclamations. Interesting. Do you use the parts around the explosives, or have you found ways to use the actual explosives for things that do not explode?"
Rayne nods her head a little as she looks to the enchanter, "how much would you charge?" there is no reason she can not ask more then one enchanter right?
Mikilos not only listens, but seems to actually follow along with the gobers mad talk. "I can't sat I approve of the project, sounds wholely dangerous. But, as you seem comitted, may I suggest a sonial-sodial parallel series of vortex sheddings? It should improve the oxidation ratio." Turning to Rayne once more, he shrugs lightly. "Depends on what sort of enchantments are already present. Assumeing you've a base layer enchantment to build upon, would run roughly..." the elf mutters for a moment, doing calculations. "3,600 gold pieces. Or whatever equivelant currency works for you."
"I find it most efficient to repurpose what is there. But, sometimes its energies are too far aligned towards Explosive Destruction to initiate reform." The gobber looks up, eyes shining as Altar speaks up. She even gives a bounce on her toes before continuing...not that anyone would notice, save the bob of the giant pouf-hair. "If the energies are too far aligned--it sets into the metal. I believe the common word is 'stubborn.' Its alignment takes on the qualities of iron and smargleburg fwooh zimnamm zig flimm flooblebar siz..." And blan blah etc. The notebook is out, and she begins taking down scribbles. On what Mikilos says, as well.
Tyrianna shakes her head and does step a bit further away from the goblin and sighs just a little bit. She chuckles to herself.
Rayne nods slowly then and backs up as the trio begin talking about gadgets, she listens for now quietly.
On the ground is a crashed jewel. Powder, bits of glass are all that's left of the arcane dragonfly there on the cobblestones. An insect-like leg twitches occasionally, and nearby, a gobber chats away inanely, spewing nonsense and long, technical words as a gobber might as she talks with a war golem. Nearby, a half-oruch backs away as she eyes the lot of them, and a half-sil speaks with a sildanyari of a weapons enchantment, who had just been putting up advertisements and posters for his local business. (sceneset for Fishbelly)
Altar stopped watching the dragonfly when it exploded, turning his attention instead toward the book the goblin is scribbling in, not that he expects it to make any sense. "Do you produce these devices using only components from explosives, or do you supplement the repurposed components with new ones?"
Thud! A tavern door's flung open, and Fishbelly half-stumbles out and into the open, a clay jug of some sort of liquor in one hand and his other wiping its back over his mouth and beard to try and dry it off. A self-satisfied belch follows, and then he pauses there just outside the run-down bar, peering with squinted eyes out over the gathering of adventurers and others.
"I repurpose them. I suppose it's sort of like adopting, but with a spell or machine." Blink blink. The gobber makes a few more notes, and seems to be studying Altar as they talk. There might be a sketch of the war golem appearing in the notebook as they speak, with little arrows and diagrams pointing to various theories and ideas, such as: do war golems sneeze? What do they eat?
When another goblinoid appears, and bleches, the red-pouf'd gobber frowns that way, and makes a few more notes. "I have also experimented with converting booze into energy, but all it appears to create are green, globuluous karvorian gas-types." Blink. "Hello, Sacred Fishbelly! I have finally figured out which god you follow! It is the God of Bribes!" Blink. "It took time to find the appropriate name, but I think I understand, now."
Mikilos mms absently. "Try refined spirits. They can be explosive, but burn with a soild heat if treated properly. Also, have you met the golem named Munch? He seems to use a lot of booze in his operations."
Tyrianna shakes her head a bit, "I do not know this god of Bribes, which one would that be?" she asks and seems quite a bit serious as she looks towards that one who mentions it. She does glance over towards the enchanter.
Rayne chuckles a bit at Mikilos "sounds interesting." She shakes her head "I think I am happy enough having others enchant my things then learning it myself.." she admits then she laughs softly "I need to look into better Armor." she looks down to her leather and lightly pokes it, "something more bard colorful I think".. she grins then and she turns to move away
"Eh? Well, I s'pose that th'Enveloper would be, amongst other things..." A broad, be-tusked grin from Fishbelly as he straightens, stepping out into the open further and sweeping a hand off to one side with the jug sloshing in it, "An' she means th'Great Fisherman! Rada th'Serpent, who holds th'world together!"
No, I mean bribes. Bribes mean dependable results, don't they? I would like to bribe your god. Though I suppose that means bribing you," says the red-headed gobber, the words picking up speed with enthusiasm. "It's all very logical, you know. Just inefficient. Do you like gold or just booze?" Coppervolt scribbles another note in the notebook, and looks back to Mikilos. She blinks a few times and begins scribbling furiously, writing down notes based on whatever it is he's saying. She gives a distracted wave to Rayne as the other moves away.
Altar watches as the diagram of himself appears in the notebook, and reaches down to point at the note about what golems eat. "War Golems do not require any form of fuel or sustenance. We operate tirelessly without external influence."
Mikilos waves fare well to Rayne, and greeting to Fishbelly, while listening to the goblin's words. "Bribes aren't wholely reliable. They can vary wildly with such factors as perceived wealth, personal greed, and perceived risk. Standardized payments are far more stable."
Tyrianna shakes her head a bit, and decides that she probably shouldn't continue and just lets it go, She does wander over towards Mikilos's booth though.
"Gold. Gold is what makes th'world go around... th'great river of golden commerce that my God swims within, connecting all folk to one another," Fishbelly waxes poetic, after a fashion, rattling the jug about before bringing it up to his lips to take a hearty swig of its contents. Wiping his mouth with his arm again, "What'd y'wish to bribe Him for-- ah! Mikilos! I need new boots!"
"I am talking about a business transaction," replies the gobber. She makes a few more notes, then looks up at the pale oruch. She starts to say something else, and then the drawing is poked at. "It--oh! Yes. I need to ask you about that," she says, and carefully makes a note. ...also, removes the notebook from Altar's view. Notebooks. They contain SECRETS. Hers even has little hearts along the spine. Sniff. Blink. "Wait. Anything? You don't eat /anything/?" Clearly, some things even in a city host to dragons, are unbelievable.
Mikilos nods to CopperVolt. "Some golems eat, but they are an exception, not the rule. Internal power souce which lasts the duration of the golem's lifespan." Turning attention to the Toad, Mikilos nods. "Something beyond what the typical cobbler could provide, I take it?"
Tyrianna just stands for a moment and listens as if she is trying to gather information from each of them.
Altar stands up again, having had the notebook removed from reach. "We are capable of intake, but there is no need for it. I have consumed magical potions, for example, which convey their enchantments properly, and leave no residue. I am not otherwise equipped to process food or drink like fleshies do, anything that goes in comes out in the same manner."
Fishbelly's head bobs in an easy nod, one hand swept off to one side as he nears Mikilos, "I need some boots that'll help me emulate th'mighty Toad better. Jumping! As it turns out..." His free hand slaps against his somewhat rounded belly, "...m'body isn't exactly suited for leaping over high obstacles."
Coppervolt stares blankly at the war golem a while...and then begins to write, recording the words furiously and with a small pen. She takes a second step away so he can't see over her shoulder, of course. SECRETS! Totally secrets. "And what if you were a diplomat? You know, I can see that being awkward. If you visited someone, would it be appropriate for them to serve you a cup of oil? Or, what is that? Thunderbelch-D40?" Poor Tyrianna. The near-dead dragonfly waves its leg...feebly. Feebly. Twitches. It is horrible.
Mikilos nods, ponderings a moment. "I'm familiar with a couple different designs that might work. Flight and levitation being the more mobile options. But also one to enhance ground speed and the resulting temporary departures."
Altar flexes his hand, opening and closing it a couple times. It doesn't squeak but there is the sound of metal moving against metal as the outermost plates shift against each other. "I have an extra layer of armor attached on the outside, which must be treated just like any other armor. Mine is enchanted, and thus much more resistant to wear and weathering, but it can still benefit from oil. This process, however, is much more like bathing than it is like eating. I imagine a diplomat would no more offer to bath me than they would you. As I understand it, that is an experience that fleshies only share with their most intimate relations. In the rare event that some of my fluids leak out due to damage from combat, for example, healing magic repairs and replenishes me in the same way it would your blood and flesh, which is also quite different from sharing a meal."
"Ah, toads don't fly," Fishbelly admits as he pauses nearby, peering into the jug he's sloshing about, "A bit've speed'n leapin' boost sounds like jus' what th'drunk ordered, though." The crack-glazed jug is let fall loosely to his side, and his lips curve in a betusked grin to Mikilos, "Your work's served wonderfully so far. Excellent craftsmanship."
"FASCINATING," replies the gobber, and her eyes shine like miniature stars. Fascinating, indeed. She scribbles furiously for a while after Altar finishes his words and demonstration. Then, she closes the notebook with a thump! and, "That was most educational, thank you. I would enjoy talking with you again sometime. And..." she pauses. "I seem to remember it is rude to interrupt. When he finishes," she says, pointing a finger at the pale oruch, no matter that it's rude to point, "Could you please tell him I wish to meet and work out a Contract of Conversion? I would require everything written out, of course. I am sure he has done this sort of thing before." Blink, and then the gobber thrusts out her hand to the war golem. "It was nice to meet you!" she blurts.
Yes. Manners come from books, too. They can be studied.
Altar shakes the tiny offered hand and assumes she dashes off leaving him standing there stooped over for a moment before he recovers.
Mikilos peers after the goblin and chuckles, before shifitng his focus back to the holy drunk. "Shouldn't be a problem. I can get started quite soon if you like. Fitting thankfully isn't needed, the arcane alterations to fit any foot are easy to do. The rest of the enchantments are a little more forceful. Labor and materials... run about 3,300 gold pieces."
Long distance to Fishbelly: Mikilos double checks, are talking Boots of Springing and Strideing, correct?"
Tyrianna is listening to the talk about enchantments with a bit of a smile.
"Quite reasonable," Fishbelly proclaims, reaching out to offer his hand to the other man along with a tusk'd grin, "I'll have th'money delivered t'your shop, then, as usual. An' take your time, of course, no particular hurry."
Altar eventually recovers from the Goblin's sudden departure. He's not what one might call quickly adaptable, more like slow and steady. It is in this manner that he continues in the direction he had been going, looking around but not necessarily looking into everything.
Mikilos nods to Fishbelly. "i've nothing else in the mix just now, so no trouble. Should take about a week to get everything sorted. I don't anticipate any troubles, but will let you know if something comes up."