It is a mild afternoon when the Red Spring sets off from a small trading port just outside of the Gnomish Empire.  Originally a colony, it was ceded to the Goblins at the end of the first war, taken back during the second, and shelled into near oblivion by both sides in the third in an act that can only be described as “tactical spite”.

     As the mission at hand, and even the presence of the Red Spring at this port was a secret of the upmost importance, everyone in the Fey Court was aware and most made an appearance.

     Serious Gnomish troopers in deep crimson of the Royal Guard lined the docks as the crew spent the day loading cargo.  When that was done, the passengers were ferried by rowboat to the exposed upper decks of the submarine.

     Fey, along with their entourages of Changeling and fairy-folk, made small talk and shared wine while both pretending not to care about the proceedings and also making every effort to learn more about them.  In particular, some are very interested in a large flat object wrapped in cloth and carried most gingerly by the Gnomish sailors.

     The captain, Olek Longthrow, an old grim but somehow spirited individual, stood atop the submarine’s tower and gazed into the overcast skies.  It was unclear if he was preparing for a speech or merely daring the clouds to rain upon his long beard, but as soon as everything was aboard, he clambered down into the sub without a word.

     “We will dive as soon as we’re off,” Olek growls to you when safely belowdecks.  “So don’t be left topside or you’ll drown.  The eels ‘round here are normally spawning this time O year, so if you’re lucky one might make a thrill of you before you die.”

     The submarine is a marvel of clattering pistons, wrought metal, grinding gears, blinking lights and endless rows of pipe, cable, rope, chain, pulley, towel and tube.  The air is stale, smokey and thick.

     Alveris and James, being “not of regulation size” as a passing crewman puts it, are forced to duck, dodge, bend and sometimes crawl to navigate the passageways and hatches.  Conrad is able to walk with only minimal dodging to avoid this sailor or that as they rush about shouting orders, pulling levers, checking dials, and doing god knows what else.

     With a wave of his glove, Olek indicates an isolated room (in section J on the map).

     “This here is where our Fair Folk Friends will bed down.”  The room is small but clean enough.  The bunks are too small for Fey but are otherwise comfortable.  The room also has toilet, washbasin and lockers.

     “I hope you lot will join us for dinner.  We have much to discuss.  Conrad, you’re to stick with me.  I’ve had them sling a hammock for you outside the door O my quarters.”

     Dinner is not for several hours, so you have your run of the ship until then (let me know what you want to do).

     Sections I and K are locked and none of you can enter them.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:17, Wed 25 Sept 2013.

In reply to GM (msg # 1):

James wanders off.

In reply to GM (msg # 2):

A fucking submarine.

For the Tantric Troubadour of the Tanglebush (T^3 for the ladies), the notion of being trapped in so many layers of metal under so many volumes of water without anyone to fuck or anywhere to go is altogether disconcerting and undesirable. For starters, he just got told he can only bring on board three of the four casks of ice wine he brought. Spoiler alert- Gnomish submarines on missions of interstate diplomacy do not take pride in their luxury accommodations.

(slipping out of voiceover, panning to a Green Silk robed Alveris Alderis, entering the sub with the rest of the Fey Court)

(Internally) Great. I'm trapped in a floating can of my own celibacy on a mysterious mission of mysterious importance. Alveris pauses to think- (Audibly) "Perhaps I should have brought a pleasure slave in place of, or SOAKING IN, one of the casks of wine. But you know, with room for her to breathe. Literally nothing spoils an ice wine like decomposhing flesh.

(Alveris draws raised eyebrows from the Fey Court and Gnomish crew helping to bring on his supplies) What, no takers?

(Voiceover)

As Alveris lamented his lack of foresight, he felt a hard bump on his shoulder as he was rammed face first into the side of the sub. As he furiously listened to Lord Oberon and Lady Titania's laughter as his face was smushed into varying shades of pissed off purple, Alveris needed no introduction to know who his assailant was. Fuck Puck.

Nice digs you got her Alvie (God, he hates that name). How many chores do you have to botch for them before you get your own little cute Gnome uniform as well? Maybe on this mission of diplomacy, you'll be able to catch more than a new 3 lettered STD and bring something of use  back to the court for once instead of your usual groin based itching and burning. Puck let's Alveris up from the wall; Alveris turns to defiantly face Puck and the rest of the Fey Royals.

ONE TIME! One time, you go to some place called Rio for something called Carnivale, and the next thing you know, ya, it's like peeing kerosene for a month. Fine. It happened. Stop living your life all about me Puck.

You know, the truly curious case is how you got RED if you weren't at Carnivale? My understanding is that it only transmits through physical contact with someone who is currently experiencing the symptoms. It's probably for the best I made sure you weren't at risk by personally inspecting your entire wine stock by sticking my..

ENOUGH

Lord Oberon chimed in, with the booming voice of a man who'd been alive 1000 years and was unaccustomed to being ignored or bored.

Gentlemen, and I use that term loosely, I could sit here all day and listen to you accuse one another of infection with STDs, but this is a mission of critical importance to the future and safety of our people. We are among the other races. Behave yourselves and give the others no cause to see we can be as childish as they. Much more so, in the case of some. Alveris, you know why you're here. Do what must be done, tell no one of your purposes, and, since I know you'll do it even if I tell you not to, try to have some fun with the crew along the way?

Puck simply shrugged and bounded out of the sub, off to sacrifice puppies to demons or whatever else it was that asshole did in his free time. Satisfied he'd gotten the best of Puck and knowing Oberon would indulge no more of his whimsy, Alveris sets off to find his quarters and bless them with an opening wine binge. Afterall, Alveris had dinner with the Captain tonight, and if he was going to learn anything at all, he'd assuredly have to be at least a little intoxicated.

Alveris goes in search of Deck J and whatever GM mandated fun comes his way.

In reply to Alveris Alderis (msg # 3):

As Alveris and James wander the submarine, Conrad takes up his place outside the hatch to the Captain's Cabin.

The Red Spring shudders and rumbles as the engines come to life.  There is a brief period of turbulence until the ship descends beneath the waves, then all is still but for the hum of machinery.

Gnomes move about adjusting this knob or that, taking readings from one dial or another and kicking this or that bit of machinery to get it to work.

The quarters provided to the Fey guests are small and spartan but clean and comfortable enough.  There is one shared room for both to sleep in and another room which the Gnomes were forced to give over entirely to Alveris' collection of vintage wines.

The dining room is as-yet empty, but the large table is already set.

The Code Room, unsurprisingly, is locked.  Conrad gives evil eyes to anyone who looks too long at the hatch to the Captain's Cabin.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:48, Fri 31 May 2013.

In reply to GM (msg # 4):

These newcomers are funny, Conrad thought, arms folded across his chest as he dutifully stood watch before the Captain's quarters.

His mind wandered only slightly during his silent vigil, keeping tabs on anything the non-crewmembers might have with them that could constitute a weapon.  He also noted which of the nearby bulkheads would make for the most convenient place to smash an intruder.  He marked the perfect spot with a mental "X" before pausing to consider what vital machinery might lay beneath it -- and ultimately decided that such information was trivial compared to stopping a would-be mutineer.

His stomach rumbled.

Will the mess serve something new to celebrate our guests?, he wondered absently, before smiling and licking his lips.  Maybe someone brought Brandywine aboard.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:39, Fri 31 May 2013.

In reply to Conrad son of Leif (msg # 5):

The Red Spring creaks and groans.

"That's just the pressure," one crewman comments.  "At this depth, it could smoosh your skull into your bowels in seconds!"

The vast windows on the front and sides of the submarine show nothing but blackness and intermittently a shadowy shape flicks by.

After some time has passed, a whistle sounds across the submarine and a tinny voice comes over crusty speakers.

"Dinner is being served in the Officer's Mess.  All guests are required to attend."

In reply to GM (msg # 6):

Conrad's eyes widen slightly at the unusual creaking sound.  The bucket of bolts had her fair share of "normal noises," but one of this magnitude was rare -- and probably meant they were diving deep.

He glance at the windows, bulkheads, and the steel spiderweb of pipes snaking through the ceiling to check for anything that might be amiss.

 [Boating Check: 6 (d4 raised!)]

Unsure as to whether he should report to the Officer's Mess as usual or remain vigilant
outside the Captain's quarters, Conrad decides to wait until Olek emerges.

Perhaps he will beckon me to follow, or order me to remain at my post, he thinks confidently.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:39, Mon 03 June 2013.

In reply to Conrad son of Leif (msg # 7):

[The boat appears to be in working order, or at least nothing is going visibly wrong.  Such creaking is not uncommon.]

In reply to GM (msg # 8):

Olek clambers out of his quarters and locks the hatch behind him.  Olek claps Conrad on the back.

"Come lad, it's time to eat.  I'm curious if our guests will be fashionably late or if they've managed to get their curious noses trapped in the torpedo tubes."

Olek walks down the hall into the Officer's Dining Room.

In reply to Olek Longthrow (msg # 9):

Conrad follows at a respectful distance, though still close enough to thwart a would-be attacker.  He spares a final glance over his shoulder at the locked hatch behind him before turning the corner toward the mess hall.