The Roaming City
A Planescape Pbp Game, circa 2001 created and DM’ed by Simson Leigh
Dramatis Personae (in order of appearance):
Remus Baronsson - orroloth
Swinger - joyblood
Angel, Galuda and Fenix - toujin
Gadgiit Gearshell - Ashy
Marlina Treslock - sydney
OOC: I've managed to unearth some of the posts from the OLD Planewalker.com forums, and I just cannot see this stuff vanishing into the ether. So, in my own little way, I would like to give this stuff back to the PW Community. Yea, yea, I'll admit it - I really miss Planescape and the site and posting and...well - you get the picture. So, maybe this is my own, slow yet hoepfully significant way of giving back to all of you that have kept the fire burning all this time. So, without further ado, I present this first installment of Ashy's Archives. :twisted:
Oh, yea, I forgot - I've tried to maintain the true text that was originally typed by the authors - I have, however, run this baby through a spell checker to make it a bit easier on the eyes. Also, I removed all of the OOC chatter with the exception of the DM's, which is needed at points to see the transition between scenes. 
Enjoy, bloods!
Thunder.
The ground trembles and shakes as the sounds of rumbling thunder rolls across the land on this tranquil day in Dothion.
Thunder.
Startled by the sounds of thunder, a flock of brightly coloured birds takes flight up in to the clear blue sky.
Thunder.
A great cloud of billowing dust rapidly advances across the fields of Dothion. Accompanying the rolling cloud is the sound of thousands of hooves charging across the land. The vibrations can be felt for miles as the gigantic herd, known as 'The Roaming City' passes through the land.
Thunder.
Finally the moving city comes in to view as it moves ever forward. The large cattle, big enough to carry buildings on their backs, ford a river without pause and storm up the bank. Rope bridges connect the houses and buildings perched on the backs of the cattle and above the sound of the thundering hooves, voices can be heard calling out to each other.
"Greetings esteemed travelers." A brightly dressed male bariaur stands on a wide platform in the midst of the herd where merchants and visitors gather. His fur is shaven with the emblem of a large cow and his horns are adorned with gleaming metal spikes. Around his shoulders rests a cloak of pure white fur that has remained clean despite the dust that swirls up from the ground.
"The herd bids welcomed to our esteemed guests who have traveled far to reach our magnificent city." The bariaur paces around the platform in a calm and dignified manner, but he never stops moving from place to place. "And I, The Gypsy King, would like to extend personal thanks for all those who accepted my invitation."
The rider grins and exchanges pleasantries with the bariaur. His dusty leather coat and riding boots are wrinkled with travel-grime and days spent in the wilderness. A wide brimmed hat, protecting him from the pure but unforgiving environment typical of the neighbor layer of Shurrock, hides most of his face.
So...this is the roaming city. The sooth sayer said this would be a good place to begin. Or to end.
The man chuckles silently at his own thoughts. He takes a quick look at his overstuffed saddle-bags, just to make sure they're still there. A second glance assures him of his weapons; a golden-hilted rapier on his hip, a musket, the rare gunpowder weapon, across his back, and a smaller version of the musket, the pistol, on the other side of his hip. "Technology..." somebody whispers, in a voice that suggests that anyone bearing such equipment is up to no good. The inhabitants of the roaming city aren't completely unaware of the concept, however. At least they're not hostile to it. Yet.
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. A strange sound can be heard... not nearby, but coming from the sky.
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. It's loud, like a storm that's not yet sure it really wants to form.
Then, suddenly, a crackling lightning bolt appears in the sky, and smashes right into the thundering herd of the roaming city.
A moment after this shock, everyone realizes no harm has been done to anyone. With one exception, maybe... now, there is a dwarf, sparks of energy still jumping about on his chain mail, hanging on the edge of the platform.
"Dammiiiiiiiiiiiit!" The dwarf's deep voice sounds only slightly terrified - as if he's aware his very life is in danger, yet he has experienced worse things already. "Could someone... pleaaaase...” he screams up to the people on the platform, struggling not to lose his grip.
The traveler's horse is one of the few that isn't panicked. Indeed, the look the horse gives the rest of the cattle seems to say: "You think that was scary? I've seen Mephits that were scarier than that!"
The rider, seeing as he's one of the few people in position to help the dwarf, and perhaps the only one who'd dare, leaps nimbly off his horse and runs across the nearest platform.
One jump later, he's standing on the platform which the dwarf is hanging on to. He extends his hand, grabbing one of the dwarf's and pulling him up, with difficulty. "That's quite an entrance you made there, basher." he says, catching his breath. "You all functional?"
What a strange way to ask if someone's hurt...
"Ummm...excuse me, but I have something important to tell you, sir" says a nervous, child-like voice. The voice comes from a young aasimar clad in silver and white robes. His pale white skin, silver eyes, and white feathered wings show his movanic deva heritage, his long black hair from his human mother. The aasimar approaches the bariaur and says "Your city is headed towards a massive chasm. If something isn't done, the entire city will plunge to its doom. Please heed my words! I can help you!"
Meanwhile, a male lillend walks up to the dwarf. His wings and tail are ringed with blue, green and white bands and he has shoulder-length brown hair. A silver sword pendant on a mithral chain hangs around his neck. "Sir, are you ok?" he asks the dwarf with concern. A much younger lillend stands close by, a bored expression on his face. He looks to the older one and says "Papa, can we go to Canyon Vines soon. I'm getting bored..."
The dwarf is pulled up by the rider. A final crackle of energy rushes through his whole body as his feet hit the ground. "Thanks, Sir. Yep, me is fully functional and okay. Sorry 'bout that lightnin' bolt... I come straight from the Plane of Lightning, you know, well, that is, not straight, with a one-second curve over the Prime. But that trick Alisha thought out seems to have worked... I AM in Arborea, ain't I?"
One word comes into mind when looking at this short man: robust. He's got broad shoulders - broader than even most dwarves -, and as his lungs fill with air, one could think he breathes so deep there be no oxygen left for anyone else. His muscles are... astonishing, to say the least. Yet, it's not so much his body, but the things he carries with him, that are unusual. Not because of the type - axes -, but because of the *numbers*. Four hand axes dangle at the left side of his belt; an ornamented, black one-handed axe is attached to the right. Two large battle axes rise up behind his shoulders, crossing somewhere on his back. A mid-sized axe is bound to his right leg with a simple rope, and another one to his left arm. Looking down, one can see that the dwarf seems to be REALLY fanatic about axes... one hand axe each is bound to each side of his boots, and even BELOW them. Oh, and he wears one earring on each side formed like a small axe.
"So, where exactly am I here? The name's Swinger, by the way."
"Welcome esteemed guests, welcome." The Gypsy King strolls in a calm fashion around the platform and acknowledges each new arrival with a nod and a smile. "It is with regret that I must inform all of you that this young aasimar is indeed correct. My advisors have informed me that the city is heading towards an enormous chasm and I, the Gypsy King, humbly ask your aid in saving our great city." The bariaur's pacing becomes less assured and more nervous. After a long glance at several robed men who are seated on one of the benches on the platform, the bariaur continues his speech.
"The sages predict that the current course which the herd is taking will carry us to the chasm in less than two weeks." For the first time that anyone can remember the Gypsy King actually stands still in one place and a hushed silence settles across those gathered at the platform. Carried above the thundering sound of the city's bearers the bariaur's plea rings out. "We must find a way to save our city. Are there any braves souls here who will aid us in this dark hour? I, the Gypsy King, will reward anyone who succeeds in helping us with one prime calf from the herd!"
"Wait...” the dwarf scratches over his dark grey beard.”This ain't that Bytopian town riding through the plane all the time ain't it? What, by Baator's flames, are ye doin' in Arborea?"
From somewhere above the spot where the Gypsy King stands, a feeble voice somehow eeks out a reply, "Eh?...Whatzat? Always noise about and around this soddin' kip, I tell ye! Noise, noise, noise! So much so that a sod can hardly get any work done..." The voice pauses for a moment and then, three breaths later, it is replaced by its owner, who stands on a platform that hangs suspended above and to the right of the Gypsy King.
He is small, even for one of his kind, and even if he was able to stand straight and tall, he would consider himself lucky to be over four feet. Age covers this newcomer like a heavy blanket, muting his features softly, weakening his voice, and bending his back under it's inevitable weight.
For those that have not seen those of his ilk before, they may well have to do a double-take to make certain that their eyes do not deceive them; for what now stands before them appears to be nothing short of an aged human-turtle hybrid of sorts. For those that know of them, they now know that a very old Yurtle now stands before them.
However, this Yurtle his quite unlike any that have gone before, and not just because of his venerable station in life. What little hair that remains on his smooth, scaled scalp sticks out in all angles, in an utterly tangled and disarrayed mess. Strange, spectacle-like devices sit perched upon his large bulbous and beak-like nose, resembling more a pair of modron monocles than something a human sage might wear.
A large, thick brown leather belt encircles his waist, both plastron and shell, and is literally bulging with pouches, clips, eyehooks, and various and sundry tools of all shapes and descriptions. A massive buckle secures the belt and upon it, flashing in the sunlight is a stylized single gear set in bas-relief. For those that know it, the symbol of Gond is plain to see. The symbol is repeated again on the back of two thick gauntlets, which are fashioned as to allow full movement of the fingers and palm, while protecting the outside of the hand and forearm completely. Again, the symbol appears on the being's right shoulder, emblazoned in the fashion of a tattoo, dark black on the Yurtle's olive-grey scales.
The Yurtle blinks a few times, his eyes appearing nothing short of comical behind his thick modron spectacles, and then continues his soft-voiced tirade. "Eh?…Whatzat? Is this barmy beast-driven burg headed for another cliff? Bah! I've tried to tell ye, Gypsy King, ye need to let me try that intelligence device on these blamed cattle, despite what that soddin' panel of hooded hooplas say! At least if these blasted bovines had a basher's brains, we would not get into these soddin' situations! Bah - I'll be down in one shake of an ethyk's tails!"
Then, without another word, the Yurtle leaps off of his platform to your surprise and horror. Instantly, large, mechanical clockwork-wings spring out from somewhere on his shelled back and he flaps harmlessly to the lower platform, upon which the dwarf and newcomer stand. He looks at them for a moment in surprise, blinking behind his thick lenses. "Eh?….Whatzis? Who be ye?" The Yurtle extends his hand as his "wings" seem to vanish from whence they came. "I am Gadgiit GearShell, High Priest of Gond of the Roaming City, and Chief Contraption Creator of most of what ye see here. Lady's Grace!"
The man in the leather coat removes his hat, revealing short-cropped hair and singed eyebrows. Chemical burns seem to be a big part of his 'look'. He takes a bow, nearly touching his toes with his forehead, again displaying his nimbleness.
"Most esteemed High Priest." He finishes his complicated bow with a flourish.
"I am Remus Baronsson, Engineer and planewalker. I have come a long way to find you. But that will have to wait, I suppose. Is the city in danger? Is there anything I can do?"
The dwarf grins friendly as the Yurtle greets him. In a very sloppy way, his right hand moves up to his forehead, two of his fingers touching his head as he nods to the Yurtle. This seems to be all of a greeting from the dwarf.
"Ye know, Sir, I come straight from the Plane of Lightnin', and what's up here ain't really worth being called noise. For I, it's more like'n place to relax, ye know."
He takes a look around, then continues: "So, it's jus' bad luck about that chasm? No monsters to defeat, no fiends to slay? Well, well, if it's gotta be like this, me's gotta do like this. Not the first time I'm saving someone withou' killin' someone. But I gotta admit I'd like't different. Ye know, in my last adventure, I had to rescue a mephit princess from th'claws of some archomental or some such monster. 'twas just like I imagine adventure - tension and action, heroic moments, ye know, the things for which ye go planewalkin'. Me, at least. Before I forget, in which layer are we here? Ye know, I gotta meet Alisha in a few days, and we got several meetin' points, dependin' on which layer we come out."
Gadgiit blinks a few more times, seeming totally taken aback by Remus' words. "Eh?...Whatzat? Ye came looking for me? Why, I don't think that I have entertained guests in cycles! Well, I must say that-", the Yurtle pauses for a moment, as if only now the last words of Remus have registered. He sputters a bit, and then continues, "Ah-aye. That will have to wait for a bit, as you have said, duly and verily. Aye, apparently the City is again in danger of hurtling itself off a cliff. We could use all of the help that we can muster. The last time this happened, it took the combined forces of a score of eladrin, a whole herd of lummoxi, two sunflies, a massive winch and the largest tub of butter that you have ever laid eyes on to set us right again. I am afraid that will not work this time, though..."
The Yurtle seems to drift off a bit, his fingers waggling and jerking, while he mumbles numbers and equations to himself...
The Gypsy King once again begins his calm pacing around the platform and approaches each of the new-comers in turn.
"Welcome to our city Remus Baronsson and thank you for accepting the invitation that I, the Gypsy King, have sent on behalf of the High Priest of Gond of the Roaming City." The bariaur smiles amiably, but does not quite succeed in hiding his grimace when looking at the planewalker’s weapons.
Moving on to the dwarven traveler, who has entered the city in perhaps the most spectacular fashion ever seen, the bariaur extends his hands in a sign of greeting and respect. "Welcome, Swinger, to our city. It is with regret that I must inform you that you have not arrived in Arborea, but never the less we hope that you will remain our honoured guest for awhile." The bariaur moves closer to the dwarven warrior and his voice drops to the level of a whisper. "The sages have predicted that a mighty warrior would come to this city from the sky. I believe that this warrior is you. We have need of a hunter to track down the one who seeks to control the herd."
The bariaur continues in his circuit of the platform and he smiles in delight upon seeing his old friend Gadgiit makes his entrance. "As ever Gadgiit your advice is most welcome." Though the platform sways with the movement of the herd, the Gypsy King maintains his dignified posture like a captain on his ship. "Alas, I fear that the danger that the city faces is different from those that we have faced and overcome together. The advisors have told me that hard work will over the barriers that face us, but they have warned me that there is a more sinister agenda to be wary off." As the Gyspy King passes by the bench on which the robed advisors are seated, one of the figures rises to its feet and begins to accompany the bariaur. The Gypsy King continues to walk around without pause.
"After the last Period of Grazing I, the Gypsy King, sensed something different about the herd. I would say that they might even be fearful of something or someone. So, esteemed guests and beloved colleagues - we are faced with both danger from within and from without."
The advisor drifts back to the bench and sits down next to the other robed advisors. The long robes of differing colours that cover the hooded figures reach all the way to the ground and give the impression that the advisors drift, rather than walk, across the ground.
"Alas Gadgiit I will not permit you to try out your new invention on the herd. Though it has taken me to take some time to get used to this idea, I cannot grant your request until matters become more desperate." The Gypsy King smiles fondly at the Yurtle and then moves over to where the Lillendi are standing. "First I would like to try to try the suggestion of the advisors to attempt to communicate with the herd." The bariaur holds out his hands in greeting and respect to the Lillendi. "Welcome esteemed guests and my thanks for accepting the invitation to aid our fair city."
[OOC: I love the characters that everyone has introduced in to the story. As you can see the herd is heading towards a large chasm that is in fact a planar rift leading to the Outlands. No one can predict how the herd will behave if they were to leave Bytopia and the people of the Roaming City are greatly concerned about their future well-fare. I'm away this weekend visiting relatives and friends, but watch out for developments on Monday!]
Near the back of the massive caravan, a semi-nude figure awakens from sleep in a makeshift bed of leaves. After making sure she is alone in the small covered platform room, she gathers her scattered clothing and rubs a tender bruise on her thigh. As she pulls out some dried apricots from her travel pack, she mutters a question to herself, "Damn Mercykillers, why are they always so rough?"
She begins eating the apricots as she sits and enjoys the morning breeze. However, the fruit quickly reminds her that she has yet to grow accustom to the never-ceasing movement of the Roaming City.
After finally finishing her quick breakfast, Marlina Treslock wonders to herself about the emerging new day:
...yet another errand for Lady Montgomery...this time Bytopia...I guess it could be worse...I'm supposed to be a dressmaker...hopefully I’ll be able to find additional "companionship"...this travel method certainly doesn’t help my back...but it does have its advantages...
A lightening strike up ahead in the middle of the Caravan City grabs her attention. Now dressed, she slowly begins "island hopping" through the city to reach the center.
Curiosity – the lifeblood of a Sensate.
Remus gives a shrill whistle and his horse, which is keeping pace with the herd, much to onlookers’ surprise, leaps onto a platform. It gives him a 'about bloody time' look, and starts chewing it's lunch. Again.
Remus takes another sweeping bow before the Gypsy king. "Indeed, I thank you for the invitation. I have sent letters all over Bytopia in search of the old priest, and your reply has ended a nearly year long search. Instead, I offer my services to your city in time of need. While there's a will, there's a way, as we say on my homeworld." He notices the look the bariaur gives his weapons, but says nothing.
Some day...people will look back to these times and marvel at how they feared progress.
Remus listens to Gadgiit's mention of the last incident. "Pardon me, sir, but exactly how long ago did that happen? In human years?"
As the Gypsy King passes him, Gadgiit nods absent-mindedly, still busy with his calculations. It is only the question of Remus that snaps the old Yurtle out of his contemplative state. "Eh?...Whatzat? How long ago, oh my, let's see. It seems that it was nearly eighty cycles ago. I am afraid that I cannot tell you how long ago that was in human years, as time is has direct relationship to both the individual that it is passing as well as a proportionally indirect relationship to where in the multiverse it is passing." Gadgiit shakes his head for a moment, as if trying to shake something loose, and then frowns a bit, "Or was that an indirect relationship to where and a proportionally direct relationship to the individual... Or, it could be a proportionally indirect relationship to the individual and a direct one to the place, but that would mean that the result would be a constant flux effect on the..."
The priest continues rambling, and even though you can understand the words, you cannot make heads or tails of what he is saying...
Not in Arborea?" Swinger looks quite shocked, barely listening to the following words of the Gypsy King. "Damn, Alisha, where's your li'l elven mind failed 'gain? Oh girl, jus' hope nothin' bad's happened t'you. Oh girl."
It takes quite some time until Swinger joins the conversation again. "Well, I sure gonna help ye. No ma'r what's'e problem, Swinger's gotta solve it. Even if me needs to make a hundred tons o' butter bare-handedly. Or whate'r." Despite his optimistic words, his voice actually sounds sad and sorrowful now.
The aasimar looks to the crowd and says "Sorry if I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Angel. I'm from Mt. Celestia. My father is a proxy of Trishina. I'm here because I've been exploring the Upper Planes" He then walks up to the Yurtle and looks at him curiously. Only now is it noticeable that Angel is twitching oddly...
The older lillend bows politely and says "I'm Galuda, proxy of Eilistraee, and this is my son
Fenix" He motions towards the younger lillend, who is now asking Remus some questions. "Did you ever use that gun on any bad guys?" asks the young lillend "Have you made any inventions to hurt bad guys? Have you ever met Gond himself?"
The old Yurtle is snapped out of his ponderings by the lillend's words, and he looks to him, blinking rapidly. "Er...Whatzat ag'in? Oh, ah-hm, aye, I see... Lady's Grace, Galuda, and to ye as well, Fenix", Gadgiit nods to the younger serpent-lad as well. "T'is a pleasure to meet the lot of ye."
Then, with a furrowed brow and with fingers all a'twidle, he begins to head off, but then turns and smiles sheepishly, "Pardon me, but I think I need to get a better look at things, if ye understand..." He then moves off to a vantage point where he can better see from whence the herd came, as well as where they are going.
The dwarf follows the old Yurtle silently, his eyes narrowing as he looks into the distance. He begins to hop a bit to watch over some obstacles in his line of sight, then turns around to the others again.
"So, guess we shoul' gather ideas now. Me thinks the best thing would be to have the leadin' cows drift off lef' or righ' so much that they'll miss the chasm." He seems to think deeply for some moments, then adds, "Reminds me of how I once had to help change the direction of a comet headin' straight into the palace of some backwat'r Prime kingdom. Noone's here got no spelljammin' vessels roun', no?"
He smiles, but it's not really clear whether he meant the last sentence as a joke or not. Finally, he turns to Remus, asking: "An' what's that strange clubs on yer, man? Ne'r seen such before, and mine eyes have seen more than most others."
Angel looks at the yurtle and says "Father has only told me your kind. I never thought I'd actually get to really see one. I haven't seen much of the planes because my father is so protective of me. Only now am I able to go beyond Lunia on my own because I have a way to defend myself" He then opens his backpack of holding and takes out several items that are obviously from Snail Outfitters until he finds two particular things. One of them is a bottle of ni'iath repellent and the other is beautifully crafted rod After putting all the other things away, Angel rubs some of the ni'iath repellent on himself, then picks up the rod and says "This is the Stardust Rod. It was made for me by a friend of my father's". He then shows the rod to the people he was talking to. The Stardust Rod's celestial origins are quite obvious. It is made of silver-streaked crystal and topped with a prismatic silver star that is flanked by a pair of pearly white wings. Angel then puts the rod away while saying "Father told me that the rod would protect me when I needed it. I know this is
true because it already has a few times" Finally, he closes the backpack and looks around before
asking "Are there any inns here? I think I might be staying for awhile..."
Marlina moves ahead along the narrow swinging bridges between the massive cattle. Her training serves her well and she moves quickly across the unique city. As quickly crosses two more bridges as she nears the center area.
As Gadgiit finally seems to take in the scenery, he catches a glimpse of the approaching figure through his thick modron lenses. He stops for a moment, blinking, and speaks to Swinger without taking his eyes from the form before him.
"Er....Swinger, do ye see what I see? Is that a lovely lass approaching us, or do I need to clean my specs?" The Yurtle chuckles a bit, and then responds to the dwarf's earlier remarks.
"Oh, and by the by - changin' the direction of the herd is not as soddin' simple as it sounds, basher. These mighty steeds beneath our feet cannot be controlled by any means - the Roaming City moves at the whim and the mercy of their instinct and drive alone. Even the prophets are often wrong as to the direction that the City will go, as the herd oft fools them. Is it my thought that we must find what is driving them to the chasm - whether from within or without - and stop it. There is an ancient saying amongst the Yurtle - 'he who controls the soup dipping ladle controls he who is hungry'..."
Gadgiit pauses for a moment and then shakes his head again, as if that did not come out quite as he had intended, but adds, "Well, I thought that applied but perhaps it did not, or mayhaps it did..." He then awaits the dwarf's response, blinking silently.
“Not as lovely as me Alisha, mind yer.. but otherwi' yer right." He nods to the approaching woman, although it's improbable she can already see that greeting.
"Well, about the direction thingy.. ye know, I think comparin' this herd to a comet ain't so wrong. It even got about the same size. And probably 'bout the same bull-headed narrow-mindedness. Mind ye. But 'at ain't nothin' compared to the bull-headed narrow-mindedness of a dwarf who knows what he wants, so 'at shouldn't be THAT hard to accomplish." Swinger grins friendly as he says the last sentence.
Remus, listening to everything the Gondish priest says with rapt attention, although he clearly doesn't understand half of it, takes the musket from his back, raising his voice to be heard over the din of the marching cattle.
"This, my good dwarf, is not a club. It's a flintlock musket, a mechanical instrument that fires small balls of lead at tremendous speeds. Half a thumb barrel, hardwood handle, made by the greatest engineers of my world." He turns to Fenix. "And yes: I have indeed shot some 'bad guys' with it, although only in self-defense, I assure you."
"Luckily, the knowledge used to build my weapon can be used for more noble purposes than weaponsmithing, which is why I'm here."
He looks into the distance as he follows Gadgiit and Swinger. "Couldn't we build a fence? Cattle always go around fences where I come from, if it's easier. It could easily be done in a few days, if we use the parts for the steam engine I have in my saddlebags, and I get a little expert help on the assembly." He trails off as he spots the beautiful young woman the two are talking about.
Gadgiit nods at the dwarf's words about the young lady, pursing his lips slightly. He then cocks a brow, and still not taking his eyes from the approaching woman, asks, "So, Swinger - how did ye change the path of that celestial courser?"
The old Yurtle pauses, still waiting for the lady to arrive, and listens to Remus' words. Once he is done, he again purses his lips, "My good Remus, I daresay that a fence, while it is a wonderful idea, would simply not work. Ye see, these animals are not normal ones by any means, and they would simply trample the fence into splinters. However, I would like to get a look at those parts, and that weapon as well, if time allows." Gadgiit waits for a moment and then continues, "By the by, Remus, from where do ye hail?"
"Flind.. what? Gottado anythi' with those ugly humanoids? An' why do ye shoot... small balls of lead... with it? A' mean, I'm all for new thin's, it's somethin' I learned from me lovely Alisha, bu' why in the Abyss should I shoot little balls o' lead if I can throw large axes of steel or adamantite?"
Before Remus can answer, the dwarf turns to the Yurtle, answering his question: "To make a long story short, we captured a dozen spelljammin' vessels from an illithid colony..." He seems to get angry for a moment, saying more to himself than anyone else: "Still hate me for lettin' that damn Elder Brain escape.." He scratches his beard for a moment, then continues, "Anyway, Alisha constructed a magical construct-somethin' - don't not ask me 'bout the details, I ain't no engineer or mage -, and had the vessels all fly together to the comet. They caught the big rock with a complicated device tha' Alisha made up, an' with the force of those vessels, the comet's direction was changed - right into the sun. Gotta say that was the hardest piece o' navigation and piloting I've e'r done. I'm better with livin' things than with vessels. Anyway, 't worked quite well, an' we had no use for those spelljammin' thingies, anyway.”
Remus grins at the dwarfs' comments. "'Cause these balls of lead punch right trough armour, bone and carapace at twelve hundred feet. I couldn't stuff an axe into the barrel, and lead is a lot cheaper and more effective ammunition than adamantine, since adamantine is so hard that it tends to bounce. Lead doesn't bounce. The wounds it causes can be really...horrific." Remus' enthusiasm seems to die away.
Thankful to be able to talk about something else, Remus turns to Gadgiit.
"I'm from the nation Estalia, in the world known as Herros. You've probably never heard of it."
"All right, so we can't build a fence. How 'bout a bridge, then?" He takes a notebook and a strange writing instrument made out of wood with some lead on the end, and starts scribbling.
"How much do you think these critters weigh?"
The old Yurtle listens to the dwarf's story and once he is done, Gadgiit rubs his chin, nodding a bit. "I see," he says, but leaves the rest of his thoughts unspoken, at least for now.
He finally looks away from the approaching woman as Remus speaks, and his brow cocks at the mention of a bridge. "Er...Hurm...a bridge, ye say? That is an example of one of those simple possibilities that oft evades me - it just might work! It would depend on the width of the chasm, of course, as well as the availability of building materials. Hurm..." Gadgiit looks down thoughtfully, scratching his whisker-less chin, he seems to not hear the engineer's final question...
The dwarf doesn't look very impressed as Remus explains his weapon. "Hm.. so, mayb' this weapon's better for you, but I prefer my back-bouncing adamantite axes. The wounds my axes cause are usually.. deadly."
It doesn't seem as if the dwarf's trying to impress anyone; rather, he seems a bit sad, as if he's unhappy about each time he had to kill someone.
"Anyways. Bridge, ye say? Reminds me... oh damn, if jus' Alisha was here. She's cleverer than diz ol' ugly dwarf. Guess she would've a solution by now. Well, without her a'my side, I can offer you my craftsman and smithy experiences, an' if it's needed to ride one o' these cows, I'm yer man."
Angel, upon hearing the conversation about making a bridge, says "Maybe some eternal ice will work. Or maybe a rope bridge out of Godhair. Both are really strong materials..."
Fenix, meanwhile, has lost interest in the visitors and is looking at the vast plains of Dothion from a nearby roof. "It must be boring to live here and look at the same fields day in and day out" he says "I don't know how anyone can live here and enjoy it..." Upon realizing what he just said, Fenix puts his hands over his mouth, knowing he could have offended someone.
Back on the main platform the Gypsy King continues to hold court with his advisors and residents of the city. The small crowd consists of visitors and locals who are discussing amongst themselves the news that the Roaming City is heading towards a large chasm.
"Friends and fellow residents, there is no need to cause a stampede. Our fair city has faced obstacles before and together, through hard work, we have over-come each in turn." The bariaur's melodious voice carries over the chatter of the crowd and the rumbling of the herd's hooves. "There are visitors here who have offered their aid and the advisors assure me that we will succeed. I, the Gypsy King, call on all those who have ideas to come forward so that each can be considered." The crowd's anxiety dissipates under the calming influence of the bariaur's voice. Several townspeople come forward and begin discussing ideas with the Gypsy King and his advisors. The remaining townsfolk return to their homes or continue in conducting business with visiting merchants.
Life in the city has returned to normal and the minds of its people are focused towards working on saving their city. However, the calm does not last for long before a cry goes up from one of the city's watchtowers mounted on a cow at the edge of the herd.
"Raiders are coming! Raiders are coming!"
Just as suddenly as the cry echoes across the city, the townsfolk leap in to action and race to defend the city. A low buzzing sound can be heard from the west of the city and a strangely shaped dark could be seen racing to intercept the herd. Residents of the city can be seen racing off to gather weapons and within a few moments the city's key locations are guarded by squads of militias armed with bows and various hand weapons.
On the platform the crowd has also dispersed as the merchants hurry to reach shelter. A squad of archers takes up position on the platform and one of the archers rushes over to the Gypsy King and hands him a great ash bow. The advisors have risen from their bench and gather within the protective ring of steel at the centre of the platform.
Though the city appears in chaos, the residents are each following specific tasks. The walkways become crowded with people hurrying back and forth between buildings. A low and penetrating cry that is hauntingly beautiful rises up from beneath the city and people stop in amazement to hear the herd cry out. With a shuddering jolt the entire city's speed begins to increase as the herd's momentum increases.
[OOC: The city is under attack by raiders. You will find out who or what they are in the next post. I still intend for the city to head towards the chasm - only now the city will reach the chasm even faster! Please can you state in your next post exactly WHERE your character is in the city? So far the two locations that we have described are the main platform where the Gypsy King and his advisors are - as well as some walkways leading away from the platform along which Gadgiit and some other were heading. Thanks]