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By the time Ruby is ensconced in her hotel room, the new day has dawned, and folks are back about their business. If one felt the need to check, the Tilsworths are no longer on the third floor, and the lobby register has met with a pitcher of water and the pertinent entries are smeared beyond recognition.
Merrisol has foregone his ride out to the homestead in favour of sticking close around the hotel for now, until Ruby recovers her faculties. "She'll want to make her way back to the fleet once she is well enough to travel through trump," he lets on to Maggie and whomever else of their group is taking a much-awaited meal in the dining room. "I learned something from Mr. Lockwood while I was back on the SF. He's an accomplished chemist, and has had some time on his hands while the sub's been parked. He's read the charts on the water samples taken from the shadow the fleet's in, has done some analysis of his own. His results are... worrisome." Parked at the side of his chair is a saddlebag of travel stuffs and the snazzy umbrella he'd caught from Disi during the Great Train Car Raid of Hours Ago. The latter, he now pulls into his lap to puzzle over.
Shiona sits at the table, unclear if it's her morning, or evening, or what time of day her body clock might think it is. Still, there is tea, and a meal and she's listening to Merrisol and Maggie and whoever else might be there, as she eats. "Worrisome? What sort of worrisome?" In Begma, that could mean so very many things.
Raphaela saunters in, handful of paperwork being skimmed as she eats an apple. She blinks at the gathering "Why hello, adventurers!"
Maggie is seated next to Merrisol, a plate of mostly untouched scrambled eggs and bacon sitting on the table before her. She teases some of the food with a corner of buttered toast as she listens, "Worrisome. Ruby will need to know the results. I wonder..." Shaking her head, she nods to Shiona as the scientist asks a very pertinent question. Looking up as she hears a familiar voice, she smiles and motions to a chair, "Join us?" Then she turns back to Merrisol, "Is it worrisome enough that you wish to return too? I can continue on the mission if that helps." Maggie. Talking to the missing crew woman. Might go well. Might be a disaster.
Raphaela's silver eyes take in situation, she peels of a glove, dropping the papers into seat near maggie if available, and proceeds to steal some bacon. Because why eat what is offered when you can have sweet booty off the friend's table. Mmm. Bacon a la apple. She wonders "What's up then?"
Merri frowns while he inspects the sturdy construction of the umbrella, replying, "Might be nothing. Might be something, though," he sighs. "The water samples.. taken from a shadow sea in which there is no life present, but which have 'germinated' once taken out," he adds for clarity. "Well, they've been taken in and out of that shadow in the course of the sub's travels, and so Mr. Lockwood's study has identified some stages of growth and breakdown in the bacteria and other life that cropped up, based on the daily records. It would appear to point to a gradual rate of deterioration of synthetic bonding whilst in the shadow.. that is, the sparks which bind the components of matter to create the basic protein chains which make up life, were being snuffed, or.. stolen. Sometimes these connections held stable or even exhibited regrowth, and those times corresponded with being out of that shadow, or else..." He trails off, as though going over it in his head once more, or simply distracted by the device in his hands as his fiddling reveals subtle seams and mechanisms.
Raphaela watches Merri fondle the umbrella, curious. But says "Could it not be a natural process by which some indigenous species eats? Or defends itself? Maybe now you took sample out of suppressing field it could generate a plague or something." OPTIMISTS! she nibbles on bacon.
RPG: Raphaela declares that she has the Cross-Shadow Mechanic (CSA-ME) gift.
RPG: Raphaela declares that she has the Observation (SKL-OB) gift.
RPG: Raphaela declares that she has the Cross-Shadow Science (CSA-SC) gift.
Shiona frowns as she listens. "I don't work with biology at all." She notes as she listens, reaching for her tea. "But, doesn't it make a certain sense that water from one place reacts differently in another place?"
Maggie inhales as she listens, releasing the breath as she exhales, "Well..." But, before she answers, she frowns over what she should say. Finally, with a shrug, she tries, "It depends, Shiona. If the person moving from one Shadow to the other consciously maintains the water as it is when it is collected, then it would remain the same. But, if the person does not? It would probably change to match what is expected within the new Shadow. However, there are circumstances where that would not be the case. Water, or other samples, held in stasis or intended for scientific research, for instance, would probably not make the transition since the conscious and subconscious intent is the test. Scientists don't muck with their experiments. But, it would be worth looking at with a setup that eliminates the Shadow shifting influences as much as possible." She looks up at Merrisol, troubled by Mr. Lockwood's findings more than she is letting on to the group.
Raphaela says, with her cross shadow science background "It does. Everything does, alchemical mixtures too. Battery acid as well. Don't even let me start going on fuels. Physics changes. And some other far more subtle natural rules." to Shiona. "There are ways to protect samples...but it is difficult and needs a very specific group of skills and talents. Otherwise I would have had mecha army in Amber ages ago, categorized as scientific samples. As long as you remain in fairly similar area, it is easier." she watches Maggie. Steals another piece of bacon, sloooowlyy.
Shiona hunhs softly. "I also assumed that things would change, to fit what they were now in. My shadow shifting has been predicated upon that hypothosis." She nods to Raphaela. "Exactly. I do not bring my more technologically based devices to Amber, or near Amber, as it is a waste. It is, truthfully, part of why I moved more towards smithing. There are fewer variables to focus on." She sets her tea down, returning to her breakfast.
Merrisol looks up, thinking back over the discussion a moment, then looking bemusedly at Maggie. "That is a generous offer, Hotstuff, but it should be me arriving at Ms. Cristholm's stoop. Miss.. er, Mrs. Laurenna is another matter, however. Things could go over better if you showed up this time." Glancing around at the others, he thinks a moment, sliding the umbrella back to brace against the floor but keeping hold of it by the handle. "If the water only begins its biosynthesis when outside the shadow, how would it provide any sustenance within? Signs do point to life being 'suppressed' in some manner. Due precaution has been taken by keeping the samples in airtight glass tubes," he nods, and looks over at Shiona and Maggie. "Which /should/ also keep the conditions as controlled as possible from shadow to shadow, unless there /is/ a magical property that doesn't care for such environmental measures. Such as.. the Pattern. Or the presence of a Patternwalker." Raphaela-Rhys's in-depth knowledge on this conundrum has him turning to her with interest. The movement puts some unintentional pressure on the umbrella handle, and with a tiny click of a handle button, a housing pops open to reveal a firearm trigger.
Raphaela arches a brow "Is that a gun or are you just that happy to science?" Her brows go so far up that her monocle pops off.
Maggie listens to each, her eyes tracking to them as they speak. She is briefly distracted by theiving fingers angling for more of her bacon, but... it is Raph-Rhys reaching, so... She quietly slides the plate closer. Bacon is for sharing, it seems. But, the overall appearance of snitching is maintained! Thinking over what is offered,she nods, "Good points, really." Lifting a bite, she turns to Merrisol to nod. As she is chewing, she does not verbally accept the request to speak to Mrs. Laurenna. It is there, though. Or, it is until she hears the click of the mechanism and Raph's query. Trying to juggle astonishment and amusement is not entirely successful. When she can speak without squeeking, laughing or showing off her mastication skills, she sobers. "I... Well, now. Isn't that Lord Bayle's umbrella?" Although there could have been suspicion in her tone, perhaps should have been, there is only a quiet thoughtfulness. Then she darts a glance around, suddenly aware of just how many Begman natives carry umbrellas all the time... A faint blush tinges her cheeks as she realizes with a sinking feeling that they all were potentially at gun point ever since setting foot into this Shadow.
Nonsense. Rhys has a walking stick. In any case, she was not suprised. It is the twisted minds, I tell you. They PRESUME worst. Or fun. Whichever.
Shiona comes with a broadsword, not an umbrella. Much safer. "I find it very challenging to do experiments that rely on the lack of presence of a patternwalker." She comments to Merrisol, not even breaking a smile. The firearm-umbrella prompts a glance, but apparently that too is par for the course at the breakfast table. Possibly she is just quite pleased it didn't explode. "I trust your crewman is going to conduct more testing?" She hasn't any bacon on her plate anymore, but she gestures a little. "Could someone pass the marmalade please?"
Give it a chance. Is it ticking? It could be ticking.
Merrisol looks rather distracted by the thoughts of cross-shadow containment measures while he gazes at Raph. "Beg pardon..?" he blinks, watching the monocle's travel path into the marmalade jar. Which Shiona then requests. "Oh, er, certainly..." he starts, but first, he looks down and to the side at the whirr and clunk sound of the umbrella's capped tip struggling against the carpeted flooring beside his chair, unable to open under the mighty weight of his arm. Uh. Raphaela's query comes echoing back to haunt him just as the various processes engage, the stock pistoning out to elongate the shaft, shoving the handle out of his grip and running it into the armrest of his chair. There's a ch-CHK sound of a chamber loading as a hiss of pressurized gases sends a telltale puff above table-level.
Raphaela plops monocle out, licks it off, while sliding marmalade over to Shiona. "Why, I knew I liked Mr. Bayle for a reason." it is all about size. "Fuffy, please don't shoot your foot away."
In the next moment, a *bwomp* of failed discharge sounds out and the ribs of the umbrella fly open as an unseemly amount of goop sprays from the busted seams of the shaft. Coating the floor. And the chairs. And the people in the chairs.
-------------------------------------------------------------------FWW----
Author: Disillusion Held By: Disillusion
Date: Mon Sep 10 20:01:10 2018 Focus: 0
Title: Goop Rounds!
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Created via Begman Tinker (BEG-TN): token-0
Summary: Create minor gadgets
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Secondary gift used: Cross-Shadow Science (CSA-SC): token-0
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Token Description
Lethal force is not always the correct course of action! For such times as that and when one wants a bit more than the traditional beanbag round; there is the Glop Round! Grandmaster Artificer and Cross-Shadow Scientist Extraordinaire Disillusion Valentino has applied his knowledge to creating a pre-packaged payload for his B.O.O.M. Stick that launches a heavy, goopy substance at the target. This substance is heavy enough to knock someone over while also being both sticky and stretchy enough to effectively "goopify" them.
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And there's the explosion. Shiona watches the travels of the monocle, and the marmalade and she accepts the pot and looks down into it. "Mmm." She declares a moment, just ignoring the fact that her skirt and shins are covered in glop. "Perhaps I'll have the honey." She decides, after just a moment, and setting down the pot of marmalade. "I dare say that Master Merrisol's foot is quite firmly attached at the moment. To most everything."
"...our foot..." Raph eyes Merrisol "Now then. It this isn't a lovely metaphor of eternal friendship and attachment..." she spoons up jam. Aims.
The traveling of the monocle is missed. Maggie's attention has moved unerringly to the umbrella beside her husband's chair and beneath the strength of his arm. There is something off about the thing, though that could just be that it hides a gun. Or, perhaps she is listening for the ticking. Or, as it must appear from afar, perhaps she is mesmerized by her husband's waistline. Then comes the whump. She jumps, her eyes widening at the destruction of the umbrella's barrel and the glop sprewed all over. "Oh, no." Stuck? Well, maybe if they sit there for much longer, "Darling, we should go change." Or is that 'escape'? Before jam is flung and a full-fledged food fight commences.
What a beautiful morning! The sun returns to herald another round of new possibilities! With an umbrella over one arm, Disillusion Valentino opts to take the stairs today in order to get his daily exercise in. The Begman playboy is just coming into view when the Goop Round is unleashed in the dining area! The gentleman recognizes the sound immediately and springs into action! He leaps over the newel post, rushes around a corner, and is tossing back the side of his jacket to reveal his C.O.L.T. pistol as he enters the room to survey the scene. Horror and tragedy are all that he finds there and it shows on his expression.
And then spoonfool of jam meets the mentioned expression. Bluebutt blinks. "Sorry, I never aimed with spoon before."
The goo may have come from any number of capsules backed up in the shaft and handle, certainly more than could be fit back into the now-shattered remains of the umbrella. It remains standing, however, like a wooden spoon in particularly thick ragout, a victim of its own ammo. Likewise, every chair in the vicinity is now plastered to the floor, and some gasping patrons might need to be scissored out of their nice trousers or skirts to escape. Only Merrisol and Raphaela have been thoroughly shellacked up and down one half of their persons, and the rest of the tablemates were mostly hit under table level. Merri looks..... stunned? Hard to say for sure when half of his face is obscured like that. "Erryun aiiigh?" he grunts from the corner of his mouth, then attempts to get out of his coat before he turns into a permanent fixture. His one eye flares and glares at Raphaela and spoon, even if the glob of jam did go wildly astray. "Doh you star."
Raphaela sticks her tongue out, managing to move that one hand again and recharging her weapon weirdly as she works with spats of ungooped self to move. She shielded her bacon provider somewhat at least. well that is something.
An Original Valentino has fallen and the grief at seeing it has both gripped and stopped Disillusion's heart! When was the last breath he had taken? The cogs spinning away in his head had ground to a halt and all information processing had stopped as he tries to grapple with this loss. They are all his children and now there is one less in the world! And so, he never even sees the black currant jam coming in to be able to dodge it. The jam splatters across his face with no visible change to his expression of horror. Eventually, he blinks and his tongue escapes to sample what had just hit him. There is some smacking of lips and then, "No one gives me the black currant!" This exclamation is further emphasized by a pounding of the tip of his umbrella into the floor. "Playing with firearms at the breakfast table. Have you no manners?"
Maggie is sitting in a chair, her skirts and shoes stuck to the floor in a slowly solidifying wash of glop. Her stunned expression slowly thaws, "All right." A quick assessing glance moves around the room slowly. Profits, margins, the need for gold. Can she get up? Moving with some care, she rises. Successfully. One hand moves back to try and shift the chair. It tries not to budge but her arm tenses and she uses her Oberspawn strength. But before she moves her arm, risking ruining the chair, she notices Disillusion with the smear of marmalade running slowly down his face. She crooks a finger his way, beckoning him forward. Slowly, she lowers her gaze to Merrisol. "I can trump us out of this, but it might leave handy mask or sculpture molds behind. I am not comfortable leaving those for anyone to get half a likeness. What will melt it without damaging either of you?" More softly, "I will have to trump out briefly regardless."
Merrisol schlorps halfway free of his coat, which is glued to the chair, and tugs out of the boots now standing on their ownsome in the muck. He's still held by the loving grip of one of his sleeves, though, and anyway there's nowhere to really go without getting stuck to the floor. Getting slopped by Raph's jelly-bombs is the least of his concerns, really. Notified of Disillusion's arrival by his indignant declaration and Maggie's come-hither, he hollers back without an ounce of apology, "Vayennio, you benna haah a /sol-vent/," enunciating extra hard on that word, "for nis!" His eye slips over to regard Maggie while she speaks, but doesn't try to answer back, since what he had in mind is going to come out ridiculously. Oh, well: "Shoo you woh yus brinnit all wih you?" Or maybe leave whatever has become part of the scenery, here.
Raphaela seems utterly distressed that no one enjoys this! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE! IT IS SCIENCE. *rapid jam fire ensues at very well calculated angles* ENJOY YOURELVES RIGHT NOOOW! *plop plop plop*
There is a deep frown about Disillusion as he reaches for his handkerchief, which is then applied to cleaning the jam off of his face. Stepping toward the table, he is careful not to step on any goop while reaching forward to dip his kerchief into a glass of water for a second round of cleaning. "If you'll give me a moment, I can help you with that. I see you've all met the ingenious and *usually* non-lethal Goop ordnance. It is one half of the sale and for an additional fee..." A finger snaps and then he produces the tiniest of perfume atomizers! With a tassel at the end, of course. His handkerchief, now also a casualty of Science Gone Wrong, is discarded on the table and his current umbrella of the day is opened and faced toward Bluebutt for protection from his salvos. "That is quite enough of *that*, good sir!"
RPG: Maggie's try: Maggie chooses Force. Maggie earns 2 successes.
RPG: Shiona's try: Shiona chooses Resolve. Shiona earns 2 successes.
RPG: Raphaela's try: Raphaela chooses Wits and the gift STY-PR. Raphaela earns 4 successes.
Shiona is equally sitting in a chair, and like Maggie, is slowly becoming part of an art installation. "I'm really terribly fond of this skirt." She comments quietly, mostly to the goo, as if appealing to its sympathetic nature might render it less sticky upon wool tweed. It has been said that Shiona has no sense of humour that she's aware of, and clearly getting quick-creted to the breakfast table, especially with jam-bombs, falls firmly into the lack of Shiona sense of humour. She looks over to Maggie, and reaches over to help stablize goop such that she can move away from it, holding the chair. "Try that. This is quite ingenious stuff."
A splat of black currant jam lands squarely against Maggie's jaw, the glop falling slowly down to land with a splash right where her scooped neckline meets her skin. Another catches her pouch, spreading delisciousness between the pouch's felt and her skirt's wool. The bag sways and bumps against her hip. Turning to Bluebutt, she narrows her eyes in time for a third to smack through a series of feeble ringlets. Suddenly, the scent of currant salsa rises as faint hissing heat boils it away. That look. Well, Maggie is not... happy at the moment. Softening it a bit, she nods to what Merrisol was saying, "Better elsewhere than here, my heart. Maybe we can trump it into..." She looks over to Disillusion as he comes in closer. "Some kind of solvent." Cold fury edges her gaze as the gentleman, "Wait. Usually? Ah, I see. Fired in the face, one could suffocate. How nice." Sarcasm is not her best tone. Turning, she nods thanks to Sidonie. The chair is shoved, but the Oberspawn is still trying not to damage anything. But give her a moment. Anger might... help?
Raphaela rolls her eyes at Maggie's reaction, and then just slumps back in the goo prison. If she can help, she will not share. Seriously. These people. Were they attacked by fun vampires? Hmph. She can't actually do it, but her hmph is totally crossing the virtual arms across her chest.
"The goal is to remove someone from an unfortunate or difficult situation without being forced into such unpleasantness as killing them. Alas, full guarantees are just not always possible in such times. One can drown in as little as an inch of water, you know. I should say that I am glad it wasn't the incendiary rounds in the umbrella last night..." Disillusion does his level best to keep working his umbrella to block shots of jam while dodging others. Of course, there are bits hitting the ceiling, which drop straight down and one of those does still manage to hit him while he sets to applying a few spritzes of solvent to the goop. "Ladies first, of course!" Maggie and Shiona get a quick perfumed cloud of solvent around them before he moves on to Merrisol. Mister Bluebutt, on the other hand, is left just as he is for now! "Are you quite finished?"
Raphaela adds "Oh shut up, Council meetings are more fun than this. Such a great malfunction! It was spectacular, and no one is excited at all. What is wrong with you people. When pseudo science blows up you know you are in Begma, you know!" it is part of theme park!
Maggie's anger begins to melt away as the goop holding her securely in place begins to dissolve. It turns into a greenish liquid, bits of glop still floating in it. Her skirts absorb some, streaks of muck discoloring the fabric from the hem upward. It soaks into her stockings and shoes, making every step a disgusting adventure that begins with a squish and ends in a schlorp. Still, she is freed and one hand lowers to her pouch. Who knows what evils lie quiescent in that bag just waiting for her to draw them forth? Well. Merrisol, probably, but he is still being freed. Turning, she offers her other hand to Shiona in case the lady needs assistance. Merri and Bluebutt? Well, they will take a bit longer to... thaw... than the others.
A few more puffs are applied to Merrisol to help the dissolving process along and ensure he has a lovely floral scent about his person. When this Bluebutt fellow blurts out those terrible words, Disillusion spins and glares at the fellow. "I have endured quite enough accusations from this group and now had one of my bespoke creations destroyed by untrained tampering. I have tried to help even in the face of..." He looks left and right before leaning in to whisper, "Tourists." His posture returns as he tugs crisply on his jacket to fix the lines and return his umbrella to his arm. "But you go too far, sir. You have insulted my Scientific achievements! Now, my coach arrives tomorrow at noon. I would suggest you leave town before then, sir, or I will have to seek satisfaction on the field of honor." Disi nods his head curtly with a soft snort through his nose before turning to depart for the day's errands, leaving Bluebutt there all gooped up! Unless someone wants to share their solvent with him by rubbing up against him? Any volunteers? Merri?
Raphaela grins "I will be, right here, dear sir. I am kind of tied up."
Now that her own anger has abated, Maggie can hear it in others. She winces, hearing legitimate criticism in there. "Lord Bayle." With the calming of her ire, the marmalade still gracing her form stops steaming as the stuff slowly cools. Stepping a bit away from the pool of liquified goop, she clasps her hands in front of her. "While this... unfortunate accident... has sparked ire, especially in myself, it was not your fault. Or, not proximally. I am sorry that you were caught in the crossfire of that. As for Mr. Bluebutt's opinion on your invention? Well... his approach to science is different than yours. Both are, no doubt legitimate. You two should consider talking under other circumstances. You might learn something from each other." She does not take a step forward, but does sidle a glance toward Merrisol as he is slowly freed from the liquefying glop. It is a little mesmerizing as it appears as though his features on that one side are melting. Melting. Melting. Oh, what a ... She blinks and looks back, "Also." Before he can escape, "You have been a good, effective and stalwart companion. Your assistance with finding Miss Ruby has been of considerable value. Please accept my very sincere apologies for any accusations that may have been flung your way due to presumptions made and out of ignorance. It is, in a way, a lesson to me at least. Jumping to conclusions without data is not a good thing to do. I am sorry."
Merrisol shoves back into his boots once the wetness still coating them seems to be composed of evaporating residue rather than tacky glue. Still seated, he shrugs back into his drippy coat, quietly, while speeches are slung nearby. Whether Raphaela is still catapulting breakfast spreads or has run out of ammo, he is already fairly mucky with it all and therefore nothing can really bother him for the next little while, including and especially shame and humiliation! He regards the still immobilized Raph for a moment, studying the practical effects of the intact goop, up and down, then presently turns to look between Maggie and the imminently-departing Disillusion. He smiles a little as her eyes rest on her husband's messy splendour, and he nods to her attempt to free her conscience over last night's events. Himself, he has more to atone for... unless it really is all Disi's fault for carelessly leaving secret ordnance in Merri's possession without providing a manual! If so, they're square. Reaching down, he grasps the mangled and oozing umbrella gingerly by the handle and prises it from the swampy floor to give it a quick assessment. He's preeetty certain it's a write-off. Rebma's Warden muses, "Mmmn. I'll hold on to this a bit longer, I think." Did someone say... Environmental Impact Study?
Disillusion's pace would best be described as brisk as he is leaving the room. He pauses in the doorway at hearing Maggie and turns enough to look over his shoulder. Another soft snort escapes him at the clarification with the word "proximally" though that is the worst of it. When she finishes, he pauses a moment to consider it all, still grappling with giving it proper attention through the fog of his temper. "Yes. Well. I accept your apology, Lady Morfilod, and appreciate your kind words. I suppose we've all had our misunderstandings and disappointments these past days." Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned! Clearly her reaction the other night was his own fault! Blue eyes go to Bluebutt, then Merrisol, then back to Bluebutt as he snorts again. "Good day." The ladies are all forgiven, but not the gents! Turning, he continues on outside. And over toward Smogger's Crossing to get proper drunk while bending the ear of the barkeep.
