Special Delivery

[size=16]Special Delivery
So having sampled the delights of skydock we were directed by the weird gnome twins to check in on our quarters. We were introduced to Bif, a Gif (or possibly Jif) the officer in charge of billeting. The barracks were essentially a narrow corridor with curtained alcoves along its length, some big enough to accommodate bulky cadets such as Pablo, others more modestly sized.

Being quite small myself I was allocated a particularly bijou berth, however it was unusual in that it featured a window, and from the vantage point several hundred feet up the tower the view showed the mass of the ocean below extending to the horizon. I touched the window, concerned at its strength; it clearly was not glass but something much stronger and I could discern the faint fluctuation of some sort of energy field outside, something similar to the air pockets generated by a vessel. A vent built in let in a draft of salty air and it seemed that I had been allocated one of the better slots just because of my small stature.

Another group of four red clad cadets approached and they were obviously having similar thoughts. The visitors were moon elves led by an unpleasant character whose name I later discovered to be Vena. She advised me in no certain terms to report to Bif requesting a change of accommodation, which she would naturally take off my hands in exchange for hers, which she pointed out.

This was close to the entrance and I noted immediately the advantageous position should you enjoy being kept awake all night by the somewhat rowdy premises next door, the station’s tavern, the Weeping Goddess. I politely declined her offer, but as she got in my face I decided that stern measures were required and I slept her even as her friends egged her on.

I called for help from my two comrades, handy that I can target individuals using my mental communication without alerting others. To the other elves I called out in alarm having tried to catch the bitch as she fell, saying that she seemed to have fallen ill or some such nonsense. They didn’t seem convinced. Pablo, gargantuan though he is used his nifty stealth to sneak up on the group and burst unexpectedly between them.

They continued to argue about my quarters and I tried unsuccessfully to charm the new leader of the group, sadly, without success. He then seemed annoyed that I had tried to charm him shouting for me to get out of his head. My suggestion that the window and or ventilation in the area caused Vena’s problem was met with contemptuous dismissal. Moon elves it seems however unpleasant they may be, are not idiots.

They woke Vena who shook herself back to awareness only to find herself gazing up (and up) at Pablo, who discusses the situation in a tone dripping with reasonableness that is somehow unsettling. With the others already disturbed by his arrival they decide to back off – for the moment- and Elethiel, hanging back, did not even need to intervene.

I spent a little while making my surroundings more homely whilst the others stashed some of their gear. Just a few choice secretions that add to the comfort of my situation, though I understand that some species find the associated odour and texture and stickiness and well, everything about it, quite unpleasant. Nothing like personalising your nest.

Bif the Gif reappears and makes no comment, perhaps he saw nothing, perhaps he regards inter cadet enmity as, well as Queen Ji’ Kai Nat-Ta Vee used to say, ‘All part of life’s rich pageant’. He sends us on our way for the next phase of our training and acclimatisation: The Gym.

We reach the Gymnasium level without incident to find it full of cadets undergoing tests under the watchful eye of officers armed with clipboards. A tall slender Astral Elf named Pec introduces himself and explains he will lead us through the four tests.

The first is the slippery pole. Pablo takes it first shinning up the 25 foot pole that is thickly coated with a frictionless substance. He appears to take it completely in his stride despite his massive bulk and rings the bell at the top of the pole before disdainfully descending and asking if there is anything tougher?

Elethiel goes next and effortlessly completes the exercise, slightly less surprisingly given her lithe appearance and graceful elvish aura. Then it was my turn. Now I’d just like to say that I am a spell jammer cadet, not a core cadet, ie my strength is in my wits not my brawn. Nevertheless I boldly took on the pole and was over half way up before the forces of gravity conspired with the greasy material to bring me sliding sheepishly to the floor.

I tried again. Possibly because I was now providing my own layer of Vaseline smeared all over my body I did shall we say, slightly less well than the first attempt. But I was determined to defeat my opponent and show that strength of will counts for something. My third attempt: I slid straight off, immediately, spectacularly, and with finality. Officer Pec studied his clipboard thoughtfully with the air of someone searching unsuccessfully for a tick box that could adequately express the level of his contempt for my performance.

[size=13][size=13]*To be fair he actually was quite nice about it[/size]

[size=18][size=16]Perhaps to encourage me, he invited me to choose the next discipline. I chose the 60 yard dash – what could go wrong with that? Watching some other cadets ahead of us we discovered that the dash was not the full story. During the run the participant was hit by one or two acoustic shockwaves strong enough to deafen and down an unprepared runner.

After carefully studying a few runs by others, Pablo went first and of course, he breezed it, the concussive blasts having no effect. Elethiel if anything was even better, acing it. My turn. I steeled myself and ran like the wind. Then there was this noise and the next thing I remember Pec was lifting me to my feet and saying something to me, not that I could hear anything at that point.

Suffice to say on the fourth attempt I made it to the end, having been blasted from left, right and even below by the horrific speaker blasts. At least no one was laughing at me.*

[size=13][size=13][size=13]*Well I didn’t hear anyone laughing anyway.[/size]

The next challenge was to jump from moving platform to platform over water thoughtfully imbued with electrical current by our generous hosts. We actually all made it with no problem, though as per our established pattern Pablo and Elethiel made it look easy whereas I was more, well let’s just say undistinguished.

The final challenge was swinging on a series of ropes through a mass of what were described as a rotisserie of maces. I couldn’t help noticing that a number of medics in the area seemed to be paying particular attention to us, well actually me, as we limbered up for the final challenge.

As usual Pablo went first. As usual he defied the evidence of our eyes as the rotund gif sailed across effortlessly and with such aplomb that spontaneous applause broke out after his final touchdown. The elf then crossed almost as easily. My turn. Pablo clapped me on the back to wish me luck and there was the faint tingle of magic as he tried to give me a slight magical leg up.

It worked! Well I think I did OK, but there was a definite and much appreciated slight boost to me, whether actual magic or psychosomatic I made it unscathed and the medics relaxed and put away their Thri’ Kreen anatomy textbooks. Gym orientation complete.

We now moved on the Spelljamming Nexus for my specialist training. Hopefully a chance for me to shine. Sareth Abzin, another Astral Elf greeted me and led me to an area where no fewer than 8 spell jammer chairs awaited. Two were free and looking up I could see 8 model ships above in a menagerie of stars and planets.

One chair was a handsome well-crafted seat, luxuriously appointed. I somehow felt no connection with this, what sort of pleasure yacht would this control? The other was a basic, stripped back station, barely a stool. After the day I was having, this was clearly the chair I deserved. As I made my choice Abzin pointed out the ship I had chosen, a giant behemoth of a squid. I took the controls and relaxed, at last this was my element.

I reached out my power, linking and becoming one with the craft, my craft. I could feel every aspect of her, how she could manoeuvre, her orientation, her power thresholds, how she would respond to my will. After a few moments to establish full symbiosis, I took out my frustrations in a release of power sending my avatar into a series of barrel rolls and a high speed dash ending with a beautifully controlled 180 degree turn that brought her to a precise complete stop.

At last I could look my comrades in the eye demonstrating that perhaps I was good for something after all, despite all the accumulated evidence to the contrary amassed in the day up to this point. Leaving behind a clipboard I could be proud of and with Anzin’s praise ringing in my ears*, we were sent to meet Mr Blip, custodian of the station quickie mart.

[size=13]*Still a bit dodgy from earlier
[/size]
We were warned by Pec who had re-joined us that Blip was slightly odd, a mechanical gnome with a serious weapons fetish. We entered his domain clutching our 50GP vouchers. Mr Blip certainly had an odd appearance, although obviously mechanical, he had a bushy moustache and affected a bowler hat. His desk was strewn with small machine parts.

Pablo and Elethiel were entitled to and drew weapons, Blip took a shine to Pablo or perhaps his silver tongue and constructed him an arquebus on the spot, complete with Blip Inc on the side as the maker’s monograph. The elf got a flintlock pistol and used her money for an armour upgrade. Pablo and I invested in healing potions.

Mr Blip then took us to a firing range for my two friends to test their skills. He showed the elf how to load her weapon, but did it so fast that the eye could barely follow. Pablo had a moment of inspiration and managed to convince Blip he had made an error loading, causing Blip to disassemble the weapon to check. This enabled the elf to follow the process.

Test firing then took place; there were 2 targets one at close and one at longer range. Blip directed Elethiel to target the closer target and she pulled off a fantastic shot: She scored a bullseye but not only that, the bullet went on to bullseye the second target. Not to be out done, Pablo then put his shot through the same hole.*

[size=13]*Or that’s what he said, I suppose if he had missed completely there would not have been a new hole either?

[/size]Time to move on. We left Blip to his tinkering and headed back to see the Bo’sun. As we left an alarm sounded and there was an announcement warning of an electro plasmic break on the Spelljammer Nexus level – exactly where we happened to be passing at the time. Apparently this can cause unusual occurrences and sure enough a school of odd looking glowing fish floated across the corridor at this point and passed through the far wall.
No one seemed in the least bit concerned and we continued on to our meeting.

The bosun welcomed us back and putting aside our reports produced three gold helmets. We were required to go down to the base of the tower to collect a crate that had been brought in for the headmaster, Mirt the Merciless, aka the old wolf. We would then take it to him on the bridge. The gold helmets were our pass to all areas.

We headed down to the sea dock passing a couple of cadets playing some sort of navigation game involving asteroids. We also overheard some sailors in the lift saying that 3 out of 8 (very precise) exploratory fleet missions end with total loss of all hands. We also passed two tri’kreen officers leading a mind flayer in manacles with headgear presumably (and hopefully) suppressing its powers and zoidberg attachments.

Reaching the seadock we met our old gnomish friends who had the afore mentioned crate in readiness for us. Pablo fires a lot of questions about it to which we get evasive and unhelpful responses. There is obviously something alive in the box as it can be heard scuttling at times and the centre of gravity of the crate fluctuates as something inside moves about. It’s not all that heavy but easier for two to carry and we rig a carry cradle with some rope and I take one side and the elf the other.

We decide to use the elevators again for the ascent, but there is no direct line to the bridge so we will need to change a couple of times. Pablo showing a deviousness you can only respect conceals his gold helm and stands apart from us so it’s not obvious he is with us. Although a number of passengers come and go during the journey there are no incidents and we arrive at the bridge.

After a slight delay after Pablo is initially refused entry as he is helmetless, we enter and are guided across the bridge to the door that leads to the lair of the old wolf. We had been warned that Mirt was somewhat overcome with emotion, exhausted, overwrought, stressed and distracted, tired and delicate after an arduous evening entertaining diplomatic dignitaries the previous day.*

[size=13]*He was pissed
[/size]
We pushed open the large heavy doors leading into his quarters to be greeted by the sound of thunderous snoring. The quarters were enormous with a giant bearskin rug in the centre of the room, a large octopi filled aquarium to our left, a model landscape that appeared to be a representation of the sword coast, a walk in wardrobe and on the far side, a raised dais on which the headmaster snored on a huge orgy sized bed.

We were uncertain how to proceed, our loud knocking failing to rouse our employer. Elethiel played her party trick, sounding reveille on a trumpet. This caused the great man to stir and invite us to leave him alone to die in peace. After a quick conference we decided to put the crate on the rug and open it. Pablo closed the doors in case whatever was inside tried to flee to the bridge, I pulled my dagger and stood away to one side as the astral elf jemmied the lid open.

With a terrific cacophony of high pitched squeaking 8 furry balls of hate, poison and teeth exploded from the crate attacking their liberator straight away, unsuccessfully thank the great queen. Half of the terrors headed for Mirt and the others took us on, two attacking me. Mirt reacted decisively with precision and gravitas that only years of experience and training can create.

He fell out of bed, tangled in the heavy counterpane and blankets and began to scrabble frantically for his breeches and rapier that lay tantalisingly out of reach. Pablo drew first blood putting an arrow through one of the vaguely spider like bundles of fun. However when hand to hand combat began it quickly became apparent that the little tykes were a double threat as their fangs dripped with venom and both my comrades were affected by their wounds and they spent much of the fight trying to shake off the effects.

The elf now unleashed some dazzling swordplay killing one and crippling another with a single glorious swing. Mirt meanwhile cleverly distracted his attackers; having got out of his tangle and into his trousers be fell sprawling as his lack of a belt (to which his rapier was also attached) enabled him to discover a second way to get tangled up as they slid down his legs at an inopportune moment, however it also seemed to confuse his attackers who continued to miss him* The elf now shouted for help at my suggestion (I can’t communicate with creatures I cannot see of course).

[size=13]*Possibly they couldn’t believe what they were seeing
[/size]
Pablo now killed another of the Neogi (for such they were called we learned later) using a cantrip that inflicts wounds. Actually it was pretty powerful, the luckless creature was blown to fragments. I had wounded both my attackers with acid splash, and then killed one with a second cast leaving one wounded. Pablo shot that one dead increasing my obligation to him, for I had been sorely wounded though I seemed able to resist the poison. Elethiel killed the last Neogi menacing the head, (Pablo had shot the other) and I cast chill touch creating an undead giant fist that crushed the life from the final beast.

The doors burst open at last and guards rushed in to find us checking all the little critters were dead and there were no more surprises in the crate. They also found Mirt finally getting his trousers on and looking about for enemies with his rapier (at last) at the ready.

‘Who dares conspire against me?’

He demanded as Mr Blip glided into the room looking crestfallen. Alarms continued to sound on the bridge as Mr Blip managed to look embarrassed.

‘It seems this attack was a diversion, or only part of a wider strategy. The thieves have struck again’

What thieves? What has been stolen? There was much debate about the attack. Who had sent the crate? No one knew, Mirt was only expecting it when he was told of its arrival. Why were we sent for it? Did the bosun have a hidden motive? What about the gnome twins? Innocent pawns or evil plotters?*

[size=13]*Probably worth topping them just to be on the safe side if you ask me, not that anyone did.

[/size]After some heavy hints Mirt ordered one of his officers to heal us which was very welcome, we also welcomed the 50gp chunk of gold he tossed to each of us. We were sent back to our quarters to await further orders and celebrate our level ups.

13.5.23
[/size][/size][/size][/size][/size][/size]