[center] [img]https://i.imgur.com/C7nwoGY.png[/img] [b][color=ea590c]wordcount:[/color][/b] 1,439 (+3 exp) [b][color=ea590c]Edward Portsmith: Level 6 (16 cells) [/color][/b][color=ea590c]///////////////////////////////////[/color]/////////////////////////// (35/60) [b]Location[/b] Snowdin [/center] Edward stood with his back straight and with a quill and notebook open as the others filed in and made their reports, making various notes about what they had discovered or recovered in their investigations. He jotted down Geralt’s findings about their quarry before replying [color=ea590c]”Them and a striker, yes”[/color] evenly to the Witcher’s comment about his golems doing all the work in retrieving the carriage. While from some mouths that turn of phrase might have been intended as an insult, insinuating he was weak for relying on such tools instead of his own might, he was fairly sure that was not the case here. The possibility that int might have been seen as such however did find him adding that [color=ea590c]”It is what they are for, after all”[/color] afterwards. Sectonia’s findings went in his notes as well, even if they were rather scattershot and hearsay like in their nature. It did seem to confirm his guess that the Snotel wasn’t going to get its boost in customer base any time soon at least, if the idea that it was going to be perpetual night from here onward was true. Naturally the man didn’t believe the sun was actually gone, that would not make sense given, well, the fact that it was still about outside this region. But some mass glamor or enchantment being wrapped around or set above the region in-order to block it out wasn’t out of the question, though that was certainly some high level magic if so. He also graciously accepted the return of his frost resistance ring. The parkas were doing the job of keeping his body warm just fine, but the ring would help his wings be less of a liability while in use. Folded up behind (or better, wrapped around) his body they were fine, feather covered as they were. In flight, however, he suspected he’d lose a lot more heat than he’d like without the ring on his finger. Kit and Ace’s multitude of acquisitions meanwhile received a verbal stamp of [color=ea590c]”Excellent work”[/color] from Edward, the pair having solved more or less all the needs they still had to fill in terms of resources, including, remarkably, the Pal Spheres. The devices even seemed surprisingly simple, the magical material they were made of doing most of the work, which had im in the same mind when it came to the feasibility of the seekers making their own if they could find the resources. Blazermate, meanwhile, had found a friend. In other circumstances, having another mouth to feed and keep warm would have been an issue, but given that the figure was a machine much like the woman who had found him, that presumably was not going to be concern. Probably. He wasn’t exactly sure what magic-less golems ran on. At any rate, he would introduce himself, with or without handshake depending on the machine person’s temperament, with [color=ea590c]”Edward Portsmith, at your service”[/color] should the opportunity arise. With them all together again, and all their ducks in a row, it was time to head out into the world in search of mistletoe and a spot to pick their battle. Sandalphon’s selection of destination was, in that regard, as good as any they had at the moment in terms of scouting those things out, and so Edward had no objections. As such, he saddled up atop his Inferno Steed, and then, once all who wished to be aboard the carriage were so, gave the mental command to his Bronze Golems to begin their trudging stride forwards. This set the four of them into motion in perfectly rhythmic strides, their metallic feet and helbard butts clanking into the ground as they walked. Edward himself rode up ahead of them, leading the way and keeping an eye on the road itself for potholes, while his drones squad zoomed out ahead of them, looking for trouble. They almost immediately found some in the form of a Ty-foo hovering around the road some way up ahead. The giant cloud didn’t seem very, if at all, mobile or inclined to chase the drone, but when he had it cautiously approach it sucked in a breath, and then unleashed a tumult of wind that launched the light drones far far back the way they’d come. [color=ea590c]”Inconvenient”[/color] Edward muttered to himself, before thinking and changing his mind about the situation [color=ea590c]”or an opportunity”[/color] He then called out to the carriage riders that [color=ea590c]”there’s an obstruction ahead, I shall clear it”[/color] before (mentally) spurring his burning ride and urging it to gallop off towards the problem. He did not charge into the fray or anything of the sort however. Instead he stopped a fair distance away from the Ty-foo, dismounted, and retrieved the mag launcher from one of his Inferno Steed’s saddle bags. Into this grenade launcher he loaded his custom made clip, crouched down and sighted the Ty-foo. Rather than fire immediately, however, he had his drone ping it with marks from a safe distance, before sending his steed ahead alone to charge the behemoth blowhard. Just as it had done in response to the approaching drone, the Ty-foo inhaled deeply, which was exactly when Edward cast his grande spell into the hopper he’d slotted into the magazine well. The magically formed grenade fell into the hooper’s slot, was shunted into the launcher’s chamber, and then with a pull of the trigger was sent flying through the air towards the Ty-foo. Even with all the stacking debuffs that made his target easier to hit however, Edward’s first shot with the launcher fell short, and almost blew up his own hound (which was promptly blown away by the ty-foo when it finished inhaling). Edward quietly cursed, and then had to manually recharge the one mana cell he wasn’t using to give buffs or animate minions before he could fire again. By that point the carriage was in sight, and so the pressure was on to perform. The man wasn’t a stranger to ballistic trajectories or arching weapons however. He had just needed to get a feel for how much drop this one had, which meant that his second run at his plan started with a grenade arching up over his steed’s head as it baited the Ty-foo into inhaling. The conjured explosive unerringly dropped right into the steam of air being sucked in thanks to the marked debuffs, and promptly flowed right into the oversized cloud’s gullet, inside of which it exploded. The creature’s insides were shredded and scorched by the blast, halting its attempted attack and severely damaging it. It might have been able to recover regardless, had the inferno Steed not fallen on it, first unleashing a cone of firebreath that washed over it, before getting stuck in with burning tooth and claw. Burning and armor sundered, its life ended when Edward closed in, drew his magelock pistol in the hand not carrying the grenade launcher, and placed a round right between its eyes, finishing it off. After collecting its spirit, Edward returned to the stagecoach, feeling mighty satisfied with his craftsmanship, and set about summoning and sing the symbol of avarice to crush the spirit while sending his scout on ahead again. There were no more ty-foos directly on the road, though there were a few wandering around. Instead what was on the road was a load of snow surrounded by forest, on the other end of which three more roads could be found (south, west, north). The complete lack of any signage, or context clues from how the road split (as in, did it branch into 3 roade, did the two roads join onto one side, was this a crossroads, etc.) made it hard to tell which was the main one, the midnight walk they where following, and which where side roads going off to someplace else. As his drones moved forwards their keen eyes spotted just a hint of movement on the north most path, located around a bridge of some sort. Sneaking it into the woods and moving to get a closer look, they then found a host of armed rat-folk lurking around and under said bridge. An ambush, if ever he saw one. While the seekers could no doubt take them, there was little point in risking damage to their ride before they’d even gotten use out of it, and he suggested as such to their leader when he rode to the back of the stagecoach and climbed inside to report the upcoming issue. [color=ea590c]”the southern road seems to be going in the exact wrong way as well, so west would be a better bet than it, assuming we wish to avoid the nuisances lurking around the bridge”[/color] he also added, before awaiting her decision on the matter. Once he got it, he’d ride his Inferno steed ahead to find the smoothest path through the snow that led to whichever path she chose, before sending the golems stomping that same way. It’d be even slower going through all that snow, assuming no one with an excess of brawn stepped up to help push, pull, or shovel.