GHD&D #1 (Pt. 2)

Having introduced themselves to each other, our friends; Baz Pterd Bard, Csill A. Gaasz, Raloris Damis, and Gaemon (who has abandoned his last name when he was outcast); head to the train station. The rain has stopped, and a golden late-afternoon sun shines through breaks in the clouds. The town isn't very busy at this hour, but a few people are walking down the street, glancing rudely at Gaemon and slightly less rudely at Raloris.

The castle looms above the group. Raloris was young when the castle was first rebuilt--she'd remembered being told that there were ruins of a castle around these parts. The reach the railway station and stand in line at the ticket office. Fare for the trip to Kirk Ronan is 1 Gold per seat.

Gaemon approaches the ticket booth and offers to pay for the rest of the group.

"We don't serve your kind," the stationmaster says to Gaemon. Raloris slides the stationmaster a beautifully carved elven coin. The stationmaster considers it. "Hmmm... I think I can make arrangements." Gaemon glares angrily at the stationmaster, clenching his fist under his cloak.

The stationmaster gives each of them a ticket, and the group walk out to the station platform.

A puffing and clanking sound is heard--a sound quite familiar to Csill and Gaemon, slightly less so to the others. Csill recognizes the low-pitched whistle as Neil's.

A little green engine with four small wheels, no cab, a tall black funnel, and a box-shaped water tank puffs into the station with three short coaches trailing behind. The engine would have surprised Raloris anyway, having rarely ever come across such technological constructions, but what made it all the more surprising--to Gaemon, Baz, AND Raloris, was the engine's calm friendly face as it smiled.

"Csill! I haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?"

"Shit," said Csill.

Neil frowned. "Whatever is the matter?"

Most of the time, Raloris' expressions were subtle, it'd take a long time of knowing her to gauge her emotions for much of the time. Her face only very rarely betrays any emotion. Among other philosophies, Raloris is a practitioner of stoicism. This time, however, is different. Raloris' eyes widen as she steps back twice from the platform.

Confused muffled screaming could be heard from Gaemon, as he pulls out his rifle.

To Raloris, a railway is something upon which horses pull carriages--not something upon which talking and thinking mechanisms roam. She is visibly upset by the amalgamation of life and metal. She exchanges a mildly panicked glance at Gaasz, who the train recognizes, glancing back and forth between the locomotive and the astronomer.

"Csill, who are your friends?" Neil asks, kindly. Realizing the engine means no harm, Gaemon puts away the gun.

"They're uh, on a quest."

"What... is this?" Raloris asks. "This carriage is imbued with a spirit?"

"Haven't you seen an engine before?" Neil asks.

"I guess not," Csill replies. Raloris opens mouth to reply but stops, thankful that she doesn't have to.

"Well I hope you teach your friends the proper way to treat an engine!" Neil chuckles. The guard yells out, "All aboard!" and Neil says, "well it was nice talking to you, I hope you enjoy your erm... 'quest.'"

Baz merely stares drunkenly.

"...Fair beast of metal and steam, will you see us safely to Kirk Ronan?" Raloris says. A hand with four tickets protrudes from within the cloak.

"Oh erm, you'll have to hand them to the guard when he comes round the train, I can't do anything with those. You should take a seat, it's nearly time to go." The hand retreats. "And yes, I will 'see you' as safely as I can."

Csill, Raloris, and Baz find a seat near the back of the train.

"dude do you have any idea how many levels of not existing ur on right now?" Baz says to Gaemon. "Like at least two lmao."

Raloris sits next to Csill, eager to learn the physics of the celestials, though still visibly shaken. Baz sits across from Raloris and Csill, though the coach is full. Gaemon enters the carriage in front of that. No one else boards that carriage door, and people are still waiting outside, uncomfortably looking into the carriage. Gaemon looks down, ashamed, and Raloris notices the disturbance outside. The guard comes out of his little room in the back of the rear carriage to check on the disturbance, and eyes Gaemon. He opens the door. (I must again remind our North American friends that in this context, "Guard" is synonymous with "Conductor."

"Excuse me, do you have a ticket?" The guard asks.

Gaemon glares at the man and produces his ticket.

"This ticket is invalid, you can't ride. Get off."

"broooooooooooo" Baz says.

"No." Gaemon says.

The guard turns to look back at Baz, who had gotten out of his carriage, but instead sees Raloris standing tall behind him, and is startled.

"This strange one is with me," Raloris says, "Is there a problem?"

The guard stammers. "Uh n---well you see, this *drow* was causing confusion and delay, and we can not allow that."

Gaemon stands up and unfurls his wings. The guard is now more confused than intimidated. Gaemon's hand rests on his dagger and he says, "I am not a *drow*."

"Well, *technicall*," Csill adds under his breath.

The guard glances at Raloris, at Gaemon, and at the other passengers. "Alright, sit down. We don't want any trouble."

"Leave me be, as I seek to do no harm," Gaemon says, sitting down in the carriage as the rest of the group sits in the empty seats. The guard whispers to the other passengers. They reluctantly board the carriage, making no eye contact with Gaemon, who pulls his hood back up.

The guard blows his little whistle, Neil's deep whistle responds, and the puffing and chuffing sound begins as the train starts to move. The train pulls out of the station.

"Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Baz says.

Gaemon broods broodily. Raloris casts the spell magic stone and causes the ornate moon to drift by him.

"So uh, how did you say you got an accurate appearance of the far side again?" Csill says to Raloris.

"As we practice our druidry, the most devout among us are gifted an audience with Luna," Raloris says. "Through shared sight the whole circle witnesses her splendor.  It hasn't happened since the... "

"I have been trying to do the same with my magic for many years now, without any luck," Csill says.

Gaemon attempts to ask, in the Celestial tongue, "What do you know about the missing planet?" He gets only strange looks from his comrades--they do not know this and as far as they're concerned they've just heard alien gibberish. He repeats in common tongue.

"I know nothing of the calamity, but it was a great upset to my circle," Raloris says. Calamity is an overstatement to most, though to a group so integrated with the heavens, the disappearance several decades ago of the bright planet Mask was nearly traumatizing.

To Gaemon, Csill says, "Well, Mask was the next planet out from Earth. It's quite similar to our world actually. When looking at it with a telescope we can--err--could easily resolve the oceans and continents. He had no axial tilt to produce seasons, nor a companion to produce tides."

"How did you find yourself blamed for the disappearance of Mask?" Raloris asks.

"I was always distrusted, and it was my birthday when it disappeared. That was the final straw for them," Gaemon said.

Raloris musters a confused glance towards Gaemon, "That reasoning doesn't follow.  Your clan sounds even more unreasoning than mine."

"The avariel deeply believe in their superiority. I was seen as a disgrace to the entire Race," Gaemon says.

"Elves are much the same way, although perhaps with reason.        ...Imagine...  a craftsman with 500 years of practice under the harshest criticism" Raloris says, holding the Luna model in her hand, running fingers over the familiar craters and maria.

"I had to learn it," Csill says.

The low pitched whistle of Neil sounds again, and the train begins to slow down. A station appears through the window, and the guard opens the doors. It's twilight now.

Baz, dramatically: "We're here."

And that's all we have for now.