"I suggest we go and wake him then otherwise I might have to round this lot up and shackle them to a tree to stop getting a headache" he said with a slight smile on his face

"Agreed. Let's wake this Master and get him to do his bloody job and shut these little buggers up. My head feels like there's a tribe of half-Orcs having a party, and I didn't get invited." Mannath rubbed the side of his head, indicating that it was still throbbing.

Tarrian goes to where the Master is sleeping and tryed to shake him awake.

"Now, now, Tarrian. You must be more gentle with these educated and bookish people. They really do not appreciate being roughly man-handled, you know." Vithrain says to Tarrian, with a small smile on his face.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 20:44, Fri 13 Dec 2013.

The rather grand entrance way is flanked on either side by statues of Hydana, God of the Sea. The building houses one enormous classroom, filled with decaying desks and musty books and charts. It is in uproar. Rival groups of pupils seem to be conducting mass warfare against one another, and soon you are embroiled in a battlefield of water-bombs, ink-pellets, peas and other more unsavoury missiles. Slumped on a desk at the front of the class is the portly shape of the teacher. He is snoring softly, caked in dust, and is clutching a half-eaten and rapidly browning apple. Tied to its stem is a note: 'To Sir, from your beluvved pueples.'

Shaking does no good and even close proximity to Tarrian's breath has no obvious effect on the dozing schoolmaster.

Half to himself and half out loud Vithrain says, "Hmm, I smell magic at work here." and having said that he picks up the apple and tries to detect if it has magical properties. (innate)

Elstarir stood over his brother's shoulder "well you are the wizard here old one" he said tapping his brother on the back "I think its time you showed what you can do"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:41, Wed 18 Dec 2013.

The (uneaten) portion of apple is red. Probably.  It is hard to determine because it is caked in chalk dust and plaster dust, just like the schoolmaster himself. Unlike the schoolmaster it is shrivelled, presumably from age.

Vithrain frowns. Half stepping forward VIthrain imperceptibly steps on the wizards foot and firmly presses down, but he does all that without drawing any attention to the action at all. at the same time he knocks the apple out of the man's hands and half watches as it rolls away. He also watches for any sign of movement from the Master.

Elstarir stood just inside the door ready to grab anyone who tired to enter

The superstitous female barbarian takes a few step back.  Trying not to show her inbreed dislike and distrust of arcane magic of the type that the Elf Wizard uses.  She nervously waits to see what kind of 'presto chango alla kazam' spell, Vithrain will attempt to cast!

Mannath held back, gesturing to the Elven brothers than he was happy for them do deal with the magicky stuff.

The apple bounced on the dirty floorboards and lazily rolled away though the debris before hitting a wall it a mushy thump.  It did not do anything suspicous.

The children meanwhile do not seem to notice, or more accurately to care being engaged in a thrilling looking battle of hurling inkblots at each other.  The master for his part continued to snore.

Vithrain dismisses the apple from his conscious. It was circumstantial and nothing more.

"Thought as much. Hmmmmm."

Vithrain pulls out a quill from his pack and uses the feather end to tickle the Master's nose, then his ear, under his chin and back to his nose. Expecting nothing to work he then uses the nib end to move the Master's other hand, the one which had not held the apple, to check if he is holding anything in that one. He will then use the quill to move his arms, lapels, clothes and anything else he can to look for items that would not normally be on a person like this.

The Master mumbles something indecipherable but irritable as Vithrain pokes and prods him.  What he does not do is rouse from his slumber, strongly suggesting to you that he has been drugged.  An examination of his clothing reveals a few pieces of chalk, an unappetising looking pie that is presumably his lunch and nothing else of any signifigance.

Just at that moment your investigations are interrupted by a crash, a thump, a yell and and a rain of plaster.  One of the boys messing about on the illrepaired roof has just crashed through.  Mercifully he seems dazed but unharmmed, possibly becacause he has landed on the Master (who mumbles something and continues dozing).  In his hands the stunned looking boy is still holding the schools bronze weathervane - a ship.

Hearing the noise coming from above her. Tarrian is able to jump back close to the wall.  Just before the celling came crashing down.  An reaching into the dust she grabbed the one who caused it, painfully by his ear, causing him to drop his prize on top the rubble on the floor. Saying.
"I got you, you little troublemaker!  Where I come from, you'd get your hide tanned but good, for doing something like this!!!"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:36, Thu 23 Jan 2014.

Spluttering from the dust Vithrain reacts without even thinking about it and picks up the dropped weathervane.

Does his magic sense go off when he does this?
This message was last edited by the player at 08:54, Sat 01 Feb 2014.

Mannath did his best to hide the smirk broadening across his face. In his youth this was just the kind of stunt he would have been involved with. He had had his fair share of nighttime rooftop adventures as a young boy, from stealing the lead off a temple roof to stealing a glance in the window of the girls dormitory at bedtime, hoping for a glimpse of soft pink flesh.

He looked over at Tarrian. "Easy there, sister," he said in a mock stern tone. "Don't tell me you never got into trouble as a kid!"

Glancing over at Mannath, the Plain's Woman said.
"Something tells me that any punishment this one gets, will be long over due!"

Elstarir looked over from where he was standing by the door " could that be the thing we are after?" He asked "perhaps we can now get out of here no telling what we might catch from these little....ah.... Humans" he said with a slight smile on his face
This message was last edited by the player at 08:33, Sat 01 Feb 2014.

The dropped weathervane has clearly seen better days and the bronze is tarnished but it is still recognisably a galleon. It is sturdy and heavy but not so much it could not be carried in a backpack.

The luckless boy manages to squirm out of Tarrian's grasp and run for the exit as fast as his little legs can carry him, much to the jeers and boos of his fellows (Tarrian could probably deliver a kick to his rear as he escapes, otherwise he flees the building.)

Looking at the others, Vithrain says, "Well, it certainly isn't magical, but it is mastercrafted so could probably be used as a part of some bigger device I guess."

Vithrain dusts himself off, looks up at the hole in the ceiling then walks back outside and splashes water from a fountain over his dust covered head to rinse out the filth.

Having caught the lad.  She figured that his fellows would child him and even perhaps beat him up for loosing the bronze weather vane.  Which for lad would be punishment enough.
So she let it appeared that he had slipped her grip and like some hero of old.  Had escaped the 'Dragon' so to speak with his live.  Thus she made a show of attepting to recapture him, but just failing by a hair.

As the kid skidded out the room and passed Elstarir he gave him a half hearted boot up the rear as he went by not worrying too much if he actually hit.

" OK can we please leave I find human schools like this extremely depressing, smelly and dirty... I for one will need to have another wash" referring to the bath he needed after clambering through the sewers some days earlier.

After returning to the inn to collect your keg (and bathe) you move on to Brion's Bluff. The weather has been growing steadily worse as afternoon wears away and by the time you return to the streets fat droplets of rain are exploding on the flagstones around you - an unsual occurence in sunny Kallamehr!

A mighty storm assails Brion's Bluff as you approach the cliff's edge.  Waves crash against the rocks far below. It is an ominous evening. As you hurl the ship, the cask and ring out to sea, the storm seems to become yet more frenzied.  The clouds brew overhead.  You can do nothing but stand and wait...

End of Act 1