# Forum > Play-by-Post Games > Ongoing Games (In-Character) >  Cyre Blue (IC)

## Amnestic

*New Cyre Music*

When Prince Oargev's letter reached you, it also came with the promise of transportation to bring you from the small salvager station of Salvation on the edge of the Mournland back to New Cyre  though it's not quite as comfortable as you might have liked. There are no lightning rail stations or passages through the small 'town', and so you're reliant on more mundane transportation. 

The horse drawn carriage rattles down dusty, uneven streets after days of travel that brought you to your Prince's abode. For those who have visited before, the town is much the same as last time, albeit the tent city in the southeast seems to have grown since you last you came. For those here the first time, the permanent buildings display a mix of facades  some Brelish, and some echoing the architecture and fashions of Cyre, though with a gaudy fragility resembling that of faires  a temporary measure meant to look close to the original, without truly managing to embody it.

Prince Oargev's manor, once owned by the master of the village before it was handed over to the Cyrans, sits on the southern edge but as a three storey building it can be seen from almost anywhere in the cluster of buildings. Rolling through the town you see little in the way of new buildings being constructed, and the attitudes of those who you pass is muted and passive. Outside one building, a woman sits half curled on her porch, weeping into a blanket, and the stony face on her partner beside her says that this isn't the first, nor will it be the last time, that such a display of utter despair and hopelessness bursts forth.

The town centre holds a well from which a line of people are queuing to draw water, and some look up as you pass, though most keep their faces forward  they're alive, but it's hard to say if they're truly living. The edges of their eyes are drawn sharp by their drawn-taut skin, their gaunt expressions, but their actual gaze is clouded by thoughts that occupy their minds entirely Noticeboards surround the edge of the town centre, plastered with messages freshly written and others faded with age and elements; some are requests with offer of payment, some are offers of support or advertising skills, and some are pleas for help to find their lost loved ones. Monuments to the dead and countless trinkets or keepsakes surround you on small shrines, and even if each one represented only a single dead Cyran, it's still not a drop in the bucket for how many you have all truly lost.

A gnome stands outside the manor, apparently awaiting your arrival. When you step down from the carriage she consults her pocket watch and nods approvingly, her loose raven-black hair fluttering at the motion. Four minutes early. Very good, very good. No time had been specified in the letter  indeed Oargev had specified you could arrive in New Cyre at your own pace, rather than his own timetable  but that doesn't seem to have affected her expectations. Duvamil Sparklegem, or Duvi for short. Majordomo to his Highness, I handle much of the day to day running of New Cyre as well as handle matters in his absence. He'll want to see you now that you're here. Come along then, let's not waste your haste!

She waves you inside, beckoning you to follow as she keeps a crisp pace beyond what you might expect from her short legs, yet she seems to exert no effort in maintaining it. The interior of the manor is a similar mishmash to the town itself: Brelish decorations interspersed with signs of Cyran  items of art, history or other value, and at least one painting you're pretty sure you recovered on a previous expedition. Duvi blazes a trail along velvet carpets, leading you through halls. Without stopping, and without panting despite the pace she's maintaining, she asks His Highness is currently in a small meeting but it's connected to the job he has for you, so I'll announce you. Do you have any preference for names? Titles? Epithets? Or any other questions before we arrive?

*Spoiler: Prince Oargev's Letter*
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To the recipients of this missive,

Word has reached me of your exploits in the Mournland, and I happen to find myself in need of capable people who will serve the needs of the Cyran cause. If you could make your way to my manor in New Cyre at your earliest convenience, I hope that we can discuss the proposition in more detail. Please rest assured that this is not a charity job, and you will be compensated handsomely for a successful mission.

Enclosed with this document are sufficient funds to cover your travel expenses to New Cyre. Might I recommend Chila for your carriage driver? She has the best sense of humour.

Tomorrow in Cyre,
Prince Oargev ir'Wynarn.

[A green wax seal, bearing the heraldry of the Cyran royal family, is inset beneath Oargev's incredibly aesthetic signature.

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## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*


Hallina didnt mind the rocking, jouncing carriage ride south. Movement, even the slow sort, is better than standing still. And its much faster than marching. She _hated_ marching.

Still, her wineskin and flask have both been empty for days, and shes itching to get out and stretch. Hours upon hours with nothing but her own thoughts have soured her mood. Conversation has become an ill-used skill, and from what she sees of the town of New Cyre today, its a common affliction.

Shes worked with her traveling companions long enough to trust them  or not to mistrust them entirely  but the last people she was truly open with (while sober) are dead or distant. Shed like nothing more than to alleviate the oppressive silence with jibes and trail games, but each comes with a ghost, and her tongue stills before she can begin.

Skilled veterans all, the people of this group work well together, but theres a permeating air of resentment when lives arent threatened. She speaks with Drauger and Vrardurz, but not together. Xaels blade is a thing of wonder, but his zealotry off the battlefield is distracting. She has little use for warforged so long as they do their assigned tasks. Howell ... comes across a little strong. He reminds Hallina of eager new recruits from central Cyre, whose town had never been ravaged. Is he a fool? Is it folly to be so optimistic? She wants him to hold onto that,  but she also finds it deeply irritating.

When the carriage stops, she finally gets her long stretch, and her eyes wander the street for the nearest tavern, noting of its direction and name. The gnome was speaking, she realized, while seeing them into the central hall. When her footfalls were silenced Hallina looked down in wonder, surprised to see carpeting throughout the building. Such grandeur! And now spoiled by the dirt on her boots. She frowned.

The gone  shed missed her name  was addressing them directly. Sgt. Hallina Dell, _formerly_ of the Third Eston Regiment, First Company. She said it automatically, but there was no longer any pride in the recitation. She steeled herself for the meeting.

Whatever the task, she could not allow Prince Oargevs summons give her hope infighting for her country again. Hope, she knew, might well crush her.




OOC  Curious: Just how did this letter reach us, and where were we at the time?

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## (Un)Inspired

Rather than dampen his spirits, the jaunty bouncing if the wagon only increased Howell irFoucaults jollity. _A royal summons! A request from the Prince!_ the excitement of the ride and the offer ahead was too much to be contained in just a carriage, forcing Howell to slide out the door and hold onto the railing along the side of the vehicle. 

With the wind whipping his hair about, the fire genasi spotted New Cyre when it was little more than a canvas splotch on the horizon. At a distance it was quite reminiscent of Newthrone, similar size, a limited number of real buildings and a spill of tents in every direction. When the team bounced closer, however, it was obvious that there were some unsubtle cultural differences. _Theres such thick despair here you could  swim through it. None of that we can do this feeling of New Galifar. I guess thats why were here. To bring our people a answers and a reason to be hopeful again._ 

Arriving at the manor Howell extends his hand his greet to the diminutive majordomo. Ms. Sparklegem, its a pleasure to make your acquaint ah yes, yup, okay were already walking? Were walking. Okay. 

Catching himself with the partys sudden braking before the Princes chamber, Howell looks down at his familys gilded half-plate, coated with grime from the road, and with three downward brushing motions of his hand, Prestidigitates his ensemble clean. 

Howell irFoucault, son of Countess Illyana irFoucault and Bishop Graffryd Cassian of Seaside, lately of Newthrone, New Galifar.

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## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

The cloaked figure sat next to the driver, hunched over with his hood down.  Purple eyes peer from beneath the hood, gazing impassively as the world traveled by.  Voss had chosen to ride up top because he preferred the open air to the inside of the carriage - that and he knew his presence still gave others pause.  To the credit of the team he had been assigned to, they had not stared as long (or as openly) as could be expected - he had wings, for Six's sake!  But there was a feeling of awkwardness that was ever present ... glances anywhere but in the eyes, shifting weight back and forth, mutters about monsters ... of course, most of that was his own thoughts, but who knew what the others thought?  Likely worse.  

They hadn't been together long, but long enough for snap judgements and first impressions to be made.  The elf was a member of the Valaes Tairn ... she ... he ... they were part of the group back when he fought with them, back when he got the knotwood.  So many things had happened since that fateful night, including the eventual betrayal of oaths the elves made.  As he understood, this Xael had forsaken their ties because of the oath breaking.  If they were there for the Karrnathi campaign of 55, then he could trust them  ... at least he thought he could.  It was so long ago, and his memories weren't as clear as they used to be.  

The human soldier was cordial enough, but carried some anger behind those eyes ... nothing shared, just observed.  Hard to make much of an assessment, but she was more than competent, so for now, she was likely the second person he had some amount of faith in.

The young fop was too eager for his liking.  He could hear the wind whipping through the youth's hair even now, and could only imagine the silly grin on the boy's face as he sat like some pet leaning out the window.  He possessed no small amount of skill in diplomacy, but more often than not, Voss avoided the lad.  All Cyrans shared a connection through the Mourning, but this boy had been off on the coast ... what could he know of the true meaning - the true horror - of being a Cyran today?  

The warforged ... another damnable machine clanking about playing human.  Voss knew the truth ... had *seen* what had happened.  They claimed to be created to help ... to support Cyre in it's time of need, to be the answer to their prayers.  They were supposed to end the war.  They did ... just not in the way anyone expected.  But how do you convince the world that the Six walk amongst them if everyone thinks they are naught but a fairy tale?  No ... the rest of the world continued to accept them, treat them as equal sentients.  He had seen the Lord of Blades ... and he had seen the Mourning.  Everyone else could turn a blind eye, but Voss would require much more proof before he trusted his back to one of them.  He didn't spout hateful rhetoric ... but neither did he smile and laugh with the creature.  He maintained a cool, professional distance.  For now ...

Finally, there was the dog of a Dhakanni.  Traitorous member of the mercenaries that betrayed the Cyrans decades ago.  Elves, halflings, the Five Kingdoms ... all taught the Cyrans lessons regarding the value of trust and loyalty in the modern era.  But when they were beset on all sides and stood alone against several rivals, Cyre learned its most valuable - and costly - one when the hobgoblins betrayed them and cast aside their agreements.  Some would argue it was no different than the Valenar or Talentas.  Others would say it was nothing but beleaguered nations throwing off the yoke of oppression to carve out their own kingdoms.  

He simply would say, "You killed my son."

Pushing aside those dark thoughts, he shook his head as the carriage approached the dusty streets of New Cyre.  All the old mistrusts, prejudices and hatreds had to be put aside ... there was no place for them here.  They couldn't afford them anymore - a people without a country, without a nation, had to rely on any who would raise the old banners anew.  If this group was a part of that, Voss would set aside his anger and stand with them.  

As they progressed further into the town, Voss watched the people as they passed by.  Some looked up, then quickly looked away.  Others stared, unmoving.  A few even scurried away.  he had become something of a legend around the town.  No, not a legend ... a bedtime story, told to scare children into behaving.  "Don't misbehave or the Dragon Voss will get you."  "Do your chores, else the Dragon Voss pull you from your bed!"  "Halfling Sticks, Goblin stones, Elvish blades and Warforged bones, Kharrnathi dead, werewolf claws, Khyber Below and Giants Cause, Mournland mists and blighted curse, but every child knows Dragon Voss is worse!"  

No, how can there be room for the old hatreds when there were all new ones to take their place?  


Arriving at the manor where the Prince was staying, Voss glanced around, then slide off his seat to land lightly on the ground.  He opened the door to let the others out while using them to keep to the shadows.  He said little as 'Duvi' introduced herself and led them inside.  He once would have been amused with her energy _(he would have, right?  it was so hard to remember these days ...)_ but now he was just annoyed.  Fortunately, his cloak remained tight around his frame and his hood pulled low.  He even suppressed his many gifts as they walked through, having learned early on others did not share an equal fascination for his many signs of evolution.  He let the question linger in the air until someone looked to him for his answer.  

Quietly, his voice hoarse for lack of use, he responded, "Voss."  After a moment, he muttered even quieter, _"CAPTAIN Voss ..."_
_OOC -  Just joining the group.  Apologies for the intro, but don't take it personally - these are the observations of an old soul who has made several snap judgements based on his experiences and such ... not me judging your characters or your backstories.  The journey should shed light on others purpose and value, and hopefully teach an old mutant new tricks.

Effects: Fly 20'; darkvision 120', no other active morphs_
*Spoiler: Details*
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AC: HP: 49  Init +0  Move 30' land / 20' air
Saves: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
Skills: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
Tools: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Poison
Weapons: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B) Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
Morphs: Tiger eyes (darkvision 120'); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, reach 10'); Fox Tail (cast spells); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, fall 20' or less no damage); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can attack with both)

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## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.
*
RITAC felt a confusing mixture of honoured and uncomfortable. They'd had to march or run everywhere for most of the war and had learned to drive a cart at the factory, but never actually been *driven* somewhere before. That ride on lightning rail before their first deployment didn't count, the unit had been packed into a freight cart. They couldn't enjoy the ride though, even though there was vastly more personal space than on the freight car it felt claustrophobic. 

On every previous occasion RITAC had been this close to a soft-body he'd been getting repaired or they'd been trying to kill each other. There might not be enough space to transform into one of his beast forms, and the that made him feel quite exposed. _At least if Xael's ghost makes her do anything funny he'd have a good chance of pinning her, and everyone else, before any blood got spilled._ _Actually...the Ancestor Spirits revered by the Valaes Tairn..._RITAC studiously ignored the unprompted lecture from Perceptor and the docent eventually faded into silence. 

This unsettled mood was making their foliage droop onto the Vrardurz slightly, which just compounded their problems with personal space. They leaned into the corner as much as possible and tried to focus on the view out the window  (keeping half a sensor out to monitor the Elf of course). Small brambles occasionally sprouted from the window frame where their arm touched it, but they brushed them away hurriedly. Hopefully the others wouldn't notice. 

... 

Their optic took in the grim sights of New Cyre but did not dwell on them. This settlement was New Cyre in name only, but if they worked together it might be more than that. Then the populace's many wounds could begin to heal. 

... 

RITAC cocked his head at the very animated gnome and followed along at a restrained pace, lest the small claws on his feet rend the oddly soft and colourful flooring material. 

My full Designation is Experimental Warforged Project Predacon Model 08 - Red In Tooth And Claw, Equivalent Rank - Corporal...I prefer RITAC though. 

There was a clearly an edge of distaste from the warforged when reeling off his full "Product" Designation but undercut with nervousness and excitement at the prospect of an audience with the Prince himself. So far the good things Arbalest had said about him were ringing true. They really hoped that would last!

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## Postmodernist

Vrardurz

The hobgoblin sat mostly in silence during the journey to New Cyre, knowing his mere presence might agitate his current companions. He read as best he could during the bumpy ride, only speaking when addressed directly. He occasionally made notes in his journal, capturing his new companions, detailing his observations of their character as well as remarking on the dismal looking countryside.

The human woman was cordial enough, and she spoke with interest about his past and exploits. Moreover, her body was well-muscled, and she looked like a soldier, but had an air of dissatisfaction to which he could relate. But the one called Druager scowled at him for the entire ride. Vrardurz was used to it, of course. Most humans looked at him with a mix of fear and disgust. Moreover, the man smelled... off.

He would prove to him soon enough that his hate was misplaced, for Vrardurz was here to right wrongs and forge alliances. The Dar may have suffered at the hands of the Cyrans, but their nation was no more. The fledgling country of Darguun now needed allies, and knowledge, and guidance. The War was over, and the Dar had won their independence, but they did not know what to do with it. Some wanted glory, others expansion, but Vrardurz sought peace. It struck him as the height of hypocrisy and base revanchism to revisit the same pains upon former enemies, perpetuating the cycles of violence that had laid his people low. The unkindness visited upon the Dar by Cyre did not warrant further unkindness visited upon them, especially after their lands had been destroyed. If Darguun was truly to be a diverse land, with goblins and bugbears intermingled, then surely it must extend those same principles to other intelligent races. This diversity seemed to be a source of the strength of the Five Nations, why not emulate it?

The elf was unnerving, as all their people were, but they were honorable warriors, despite their alien culture. The few times he had seen its blade flash forth, it was a sight to behold. The Elves of Valenar were more bellicose than he'd like, but this one seemed restrained. Perhaps the war had changed them as well. That said, the ghost that dwelled within may not have the same restraint. Vrardurz couldn't decide if it was genuine possession, a delusion, or simply a cultural convention he lacked the vocabulary to articulate. He continued to observe

The young one called Howell was intriguing, all empty-headed charm and bluster. Still, the lad was magnetic, and perhaps could be used to galvanize the people of this land, to rally them. Such a figurehead would be in need of prudent counsel, of the sort Vrardurz could provide.

Last was the Warforged. Curious, as all their sort were, but especially since this one seemed inherently connected to nature in a way Vrardurz couldn't fully discern. He was jolly enough for his type, and possessed a curiosity for the world that was endearing. The creature was like his young nation in that way, seeking to find its place in the world.

To the business at hand. The town was depressing, the small attempts at grandeur in the hall only exacerbating the effect. Playing at nationhood, a people scrabbling an existence on the ashes of their former glory. Vrardurz did not pity them, though. He knew that from this resolve would grow strength.

The gnome was ****ing irksome, though.

The war mage saluted in the style of the Ghaal'dar, thumping his right hand to his breast and bowing his head. "I am Vrardurz. My name means something like 'dirge-fire' in the Common tongue. I am honored to be among you. I have but one question: why do you claim this Chila had a sense of humor? She made no jests on our journey, and I'd have been grateful for the entertainment." The hobgoblin's face betrays no indication of whether he has made a joke or has inquired in earnest.

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## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

The Tairnadal strides towards the doors of Prince Oargev's manor, her patterned crimson robes flowing around her. To an untrained eye, they would look like those worn by a priest, except for their make: there is no seam in the cloth, no sign of obvious make that would belong to any of the Five Nations. A hooded rust-colored cloak flows behind her, attached to a veil-like mask that falls over the lower half of her face: the zaelta, a spirit-mask. Only her almond-shaped blue eyes are visible to outsiders, and while they make no pretense of being anything other than watchful, there is also a flatness to them, something inexpressive or dulled. Those looking closely at the elf note the flash of silver from a sculpted breastplate, along with a matching set of greaves and pauldrons. She wears an unstrung bow and a quiver of arrows over her left shoulder, but there is no blade in sight.

However, her companions know better than to assume that means Xael nas-iel Jennaris cannot call on her ancestor's weapon at a moment's notice.

She has taken note of her companions; their quirks and behaviors, appearances, and mannerisms. It is safe to say that they are no substitute for a Spirit-trained Tairnadal warband. The flaming one talks entirely too much, and the dar appears to incite ire... though even he is not as wary as the metallic abomination that has shared a carriage with them on the journey. Xael has encountered their like before, of course, and this one in particular on a single past occasion. Even now, she sees him watching her, returning the stare more often than not. If she had her way, she would dismantle the soulless creature from tip to tail. Yet that is not her decision to make; the oath she swore to the prince of men until the time of his death precluded her from challenging any other under his banner. When that day comes, she ponders as she lets the warforged step ahead of her, she may need to revisit the issue.

Yet Xael has nothing in her heart but compassion for both of the fighting Cyrans. Hallina of Eston she does not know well, but Captain Voss... her eyes stray to the soarwood knot that the man wears so openly around his neck. She does not have the heart to ask him where he got it, for she already knows. In less merciful parts of the world, such an act would earn him a quick disemboweling at the end of a singing-blade. _Then again_, as she takes a last look at the squalor of New Cyre, _there is no mercy here either._

As they head inside, Xael falls in step with the rest of the group. Her eyes dart back and forth, considering likely angles of attack and potential assailants. After assessing Duvamil and dismissing them as not a likely threat, the Tairnadal listens to the gnome with a kind of careless attention. When asked about her pseudonym, she answers in a tone that is matter-of-fact, yet undercut by her typical melodious Aereni accent.

"Xael nas-iel Jennaris, former thalien of Kel Valior, sworn-blade of the Tairnadal."

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## Amnestic

Duvi frowns a little at Vrardurz's question. "She didn't? How very odd. She seemed quite animated with His Highness and they shared quite the banter, or so I was told. I will make a note." And so she does, producing a small notebook from nowhere and scribbling a quick note from an uninked quill that nevertheless pens adequately on the paper, before they both vanish back inside her clothes.

She finally stops at a pair of double doors and looks back at you, nodding, and then knocks twice on the door, before clicking her fingers. The doors swing open without being pushed and she strides forward into the room. The conference room is thoroughly practical in its appearance with minimal adornments. The walls are lined with stacked bookshelves, plastered wall maps of Khorvaire, the Five Nations, and more, hanging above writing desks, and small benches for onlookers or attendants. The centre of the room is dominated by a large, unusually shaped table, and after a moment you realise it's shaped into Cyre itself, albeit with its borders by the end of the Last War, rather than the start. Though flat, the table nevertheless has markings and carvings such that it serves as a decent map of a nation gone by.

Duvi coughs, and then announces in a loud voice: "Sgt. Hallina Dell, formerly of the Third Eston Regiment, First Company. Howell irFoucault, son of Countess Illyana irFoucault and Bishop Graffryd Cassian of Seaside, lately of Newthrone, New Galifar. Captain Voss. Corporal RITAC. Vrardurz, also called 'Dirge-Fire'. And Xael nas-iel Jennaris, former thalien of Kel Valior, sworn-blade of the Tairnadal." She'd stepped in front of each of you as she announced your names, and perfectly replicated the pronunciations on her first attempt, with perfect title recitation.

Around the table are an arrangement of chairs  most empty, but a few are filled. Opposite you, on the far side of the table at the northernmost edge of 'Cyre', is Prince Oargev himself, who rises from his chair and circles the table to you, holding out his hand for each of you to shake in turn as he goes down your line. He makes no hesitation at any of you, freely offering it regardless of your appearances and varied backgrounds with seemingly no compunction. He's dressed in a mix of regal finery  a glorious green cloak with white fur edging, clasped with an ornate gold chain bearing a bell  and practical military clothes that seem well worn, with more than a few patches here and there. You note he lacks a crown, instead letting his wavy brown hair breathe freely. The destruction of his homeland and sudden position of leadership doesn't seem to have aged him at all visibly, his skin still that of a freshly rested and capable early-20s royal, the glint in his eyes as keen as anyone's.

Oargev ir'Wynarn, but please don't make me recite _my_ titles. It's no fun for anybody, and the only important one is 'prince'. It's a pleasure to meet you all finally. I've heard stories! The keen eyes of the Prince dart over you, at once welcoming and peaceful, but at the same time examining and cautious. Once he's reached the end of the line, he beckons for you all to take seats around the map and join the meeting as he moves back to his own chair  a seat that isn't any more ornate or decorated than the others. The rest of my councillors are on other business at the moment, but perhaps that's for the best, too many voices spoil the discussion, as they say. I hope I get to speak to you all one-to-one later though, no doubt you've all got stories I'd love to here. Ah, but in the meantime..."

This, Oargev gestures to the man of the sea at this side, is my friend and occasional drinking companion Rygar ir'Wynarn, High Prince of Regalport  again, we can skip the rest of the titles. He winks at his companion with a smile, and Rygar gives a wry chuckle. "Cyran wine's a rare delicacy these days and it seems Oargev - There's a slight twitch from Duvi (who remained standing) when he doesn't use his title, but the Prince of Cyre seems utterly unbothered by it, "- controls the flow of it. Keeps me coming back for more." Rygar's dressed as if he just stepped off the ship, with salt-encrusted leathers, a shirt bearing much of his scarred chest, and a saber at his belt. It's the only weapon, save the ones you carry, that are visible in the room. 

And this is Vilina d'Orien, the head of the Orien enclave here in New Cyre. Oargev finishes by introducing the last person at the table - a human woman of perhaps thirty or forty years. From her cheeks and eyes you might suspect she's originally from Aundair, though her entirely shaved head - allowing her dragonmark to show visibly atop her scalp - isn't a typical Aundairian fashion among women. Her clothing is remarkably neutral in style and design, eminently practical for someone who spends most of their time writing letters, with the only ornamentation being the crest of House Orien emblazoned at the breast. Pleasure to meet you all. If what Prince Oargev has told me is true I expect I'll be seeing a lot of you, so I hope we can get along. Her voice is eloquent, and with a touch of superiority to it that tends to come from noble breeding or higher arcane education, but she seems sincere. We're hoping you might assist us in a joint venture between Cyre, Karrnath, and House Orien."

*Spoiler: OOC*
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Should hopefully by me last HUGE post for a while and we can have more naturalistic dialogue back and forth going forwards! Giving a bit of breathing room for reactions and prompts if any want to be made, but I know that not much new detail has been provided as yet. Don't worry, it will be.




*Spoiler: Passive Perception 14+, Oargev*
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When Oargev shakes your hands, you note the slight bulge at his wrists beneath his clothes; a sure sign of a wand bracer, typically worn by military-trained wandslingers. Though it's covered somewhat by his clothes, his hands and body language likewise suggest not just military training, but one who has seen combat.



*Spoiler: Int (History) DC8 on Oargev's Titles*
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Mayor of New Cyre
*Spoiler: DC9*
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Last Scion of Her Most Royal Majesty Queen Dannell ir'Wynarn's Royal Line
*Spoiler: DC10*
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Heir of Galifar
*Spoiler: DC11*
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Soldier of the Queen's Army
*Spoiler: DC12*
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Ambassador to Breland
*Spoiler: DC13*
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Royal Knight of Metrol
*Spoiler: DC14*
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Captain of the 17th Regiment 
*Spoiler: DC15*
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Chief Naturalist of the Mourning Thistles
*Spoiler: DC16*
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Sunstone of Cyre
*Spoiler: DC17*
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Duke of Seaside
*Spoiler: DC18*
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Nope, that's all. That's his full list.























*Spoiler: Int (History) DC12, Orien's Interest in New Cyre*
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When the Mourning happened, Orien lost their path across central Khorvaire, and with the continued lack of rebuilding of the White Arch Bridge at Thaliost, travel between east and west is almost entirely in the hands of House Lyrandar. It's been rumoured for some time that Karrnath and Orien are both seeking to re-establish a lightning rail route through the Mournland. Karrnath for trade (they are effectively severed from the Five Nations by land, at this point), Orien for profits and to undercut their primary competitor. 



*Spoiler: Passive Perception Rygar, 17+*
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Rygar's not here just for the wine, even if his swirled chalice might indicate otherwise. From the veiled glances he's throwing Prince Oargev, he likely wants something else, and the wine is just a pretense for the visit(s).

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## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

The former blade of the Valaes Tairn takes a long look at the table-map of Cyre, expression hidden behind his zaelta but eyes poring over each carved detail and border writ in wood. _Somebody made this with love,_ the elf concludes, _and took some time in the doing._ It is not in the league of his people's craftsmen, but then what is? The furniture is quite likely the only thing in this barren place that survived from somewhere else, a history worth bringing along for the journey. A slight tilt of his head is enough to indicate his open approval.

When it comes time for announcements, the Tairnadal steps forward and bows before Prince Oargev in the human manner, demonstrating supplication to all those present. Despite the wishes of his patron, Xael recites each title in the fluid tongue of his people: "Mayor of New Cyre, Last Scion of Her Most Royal Majesty Queen Dannell ir'Wynarn's Royal Line, Heir of Galifar, Soldier of the Queen's Army, Ambassador to Breland, Royal Knight of Metrol, Captain of the 17th Regiment, Chief Naturalist of the Mourning Thistles, Sunstone of Cyre, Duke of Seaside." They could be lyrics to a song, except for the fact that the speech is peppered with names and places and is thus recognizable as a litany, even to those who do not speak the elven language.

And if there is a slight twinkle to Xael's mien as he straightens his back and falls back into rank, well then that is surely the prince's imagination.

To the other distinguished guests the Tairnadal gives their proper dues, before listening to the Orien scion speak. The venture is not much of a surprise to him - he lived through many of the raids on the lightning rails well before the Mourning, both as aggressor and defender - though he is somewhat puzzled at the lack of a very particular representative. 

"If you wish for us to restore your line-of-lightning across the Mournland," Xael asks Vilina d'Orien directly, "you must be in contact with somebody on the other side, yes? Or is somebody else from your house handling the Karrnathi?" The humans of Khorvaire love to show their colours and standards whenever possible, so why has the final third of this enterprise not presented themselves? He looks to Druager again, waiting to see how the man will react to this.

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Halline Dell*

Despite the lackluster surroundings, Hallina was glad the gnome chose to announce them. Meeting the prince  the man who should rightfully be her king  went from a disappointing fantasy to reality very quickly. Pulse pounding and belly turning, her mouth went dry.

Her usually short temper became skin-crawling agitation. _Who cares about the damned carriage-diver,_ she wanted to shout. Then the elf delivered Prince Oargevs entire array of titles as if the man had never heard them before. _Shut up!_

This sad hall was a shadow the palace in Metrol (she assumed, having never seen it) but she was starstruck nonetheless. Is this how one speaks to great nobles? Or nobles at all? She knew officers, but they were something else entirely. Comrades-in-arms, even if privileged and thick. She maintained her composure and waited to hear what the prince had to say, hoping the elf wasnt being embarrassing or rude. Oargev hadn't been responsible for the Moarning of the terrible decisions she'd seen on the battlefield. But was he true, she wondered? Could he - and thus the ideal of Cyre - still be trusted?

----------


## Amnestic

You forgot the most eligible bachelor this side of the Mournland, but like I said, the only important one is 'prince'. Oargev offers to Xael's recitation with a knowing and jovial wag of the finger. But yes, that's me, a man epitomised, and likely eulogised, not by his deeds but by the dozen titles hanging around his neck. You'll want to be careful you don't end up like me." He sighs with a weariness half deprecating in humour, and half revealing the truth behind the mask of nobility. 

Vilina speaks up, directing the conversation to a more productive place: "The plans, such as they are, are still in their early days. Stage 1, if you like, which is why you're here." She looks to Oargev and he taps the table with two fingers. The verdant greens of Cyre slowly darken into dusty browns, the markings shift and in a moment the table of Cyre is replaced by a table of the Mournland, or at least a map of what the Mournland probably _was_, at some point. As a place it has an unfortunate tendency to shift, which makes permanent maps not quite terribly effective. "Given Metrol's proximity to the eastern edge of the Mournland, the Karrnathi branch is going to be taking the lead on engineer matters for the rail itself. We - that is, New Cyre and House Orien - would like you to scout, map, and report the situation along the old lightning rail tracks from the western edge," she draws a finger along the map, "to Kalazart."

It's an eight day round trip, roughly, from the edge to Kalazart and back again, but it's the closest city on the road to Metrol with a lightning rail station. It's rare for salvage teams to head out that far unless they have a specific reason to, and those that _do_ go don't tend to map their path or create detailed reports - if they make it back at all, which is why I thought it best to bring in some experts with a specific goal. Namely, you."

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*

She expected the best of her lord; she certainly wasnt about to exaggerate their own value. She cleared her throat and said, Your Highness, lady, I think most of us are experienced with basic land-nav, but were not cartographers. Would you send a specialist with us? What are your expectations, exactly?

----------


## Amnestic

Vilina raises an eyebrow and looks legitimately surprised. "None of you have cartography skills?" She leans back in her chair, one hand tapping against the armrest. "Admittedly we wouldn't need detailed maps to be drawn. Words or sketches might serve just as well." She hides it behind her words, but Xael and RITAC can tell she's a little disappointed in this revelation. Her preference is clear. "If that's also a problem..." She ponders. Syra, perhaps?" Oargev offers, before clarifying to the group. Syra's the House Sivis heir sent to New Cyre, got quite the taste for adventure. Between us, I think she was sent here to keep her out of her superior's hair. Charming woman though." "I'd need to check with my superior if we could involve another House at this stage, but I don't think they'd be enthusiastic." 

She turns back to you "All that to say, if needs be we can arrange for someone to go with you, but it'll then turn into an escort mission instead of a scouting mission." She leaves the question open if you're confident enough in your skills to do so.

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

"No," Xael says, clearly aware of the Orien womans frustration and the question implied of the group. "I do not think we will be needing aid in this matter. Captain Voss and I both have experience scouting foreign terrain, and we can call on our familiarity of the Cyran lands to guide this group through the outer Mournland to Kalazart. Additionally, Your Grace has seen fit to equip us with the Red one, so we have a surplus of wilderness proficiency."

The Tairnadal crosses her arms, a human gesture but one that conveys resolve and will. It is clear where she stands on the matter of getting an escort. As her steady gaze lands on each member of their team, however, there is a clear invitation for anybody else to speak up. A warband with no clear lu-shan in the field must be ruled by consensus if it is to function, not simply her opinion.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.* 

The gangly warforged's foliage rippled with pride as the Prince shook their hand, distracting them from their vigil keeping watch on the veiled elf. This let him take in the room's occupants more fully." High Prince" Rygar was clearly had other motives than drinking for being here, but RITAC was confident in Prince's judgement...until their mission was revealed...

The glow from their optic took on a sullen red hue as it darted around the room.

_Perceptor, assess the room for Mabaran taint!_

_Galifarian Royal protocols prohibit the use of magic in close proximity to the reigning monarch, such a course of action may be seen as aggressive..._

With a quiet growl RITAC dismisses the docent. The keen eyed in the room would notice small nasal slots opening on the warforged's faceplate revealing fine tufts of olfactory roots. Once satisfied no undead beings are in attendance the warforged relaxes slightly. They bow their head before addressing the Prince.

I will undertake this mission to the best of my abilities your Highness, but I have concerns about Karrnath's involvement. I have seen entire battlefields of the dead within the mists. Karrathi bone-charmers and flesh-warpers could do terrible things with easy access to the Mournland.

RITAC listens patiently to the team's responses. They meet Xael's gaze and nod slowly.

Xael is not wrong in this. Perceptor's recall is excellent and will aid us i required.

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Your Majesty. Howell addresses Oargev, halting his bow to receive the Prince s offered handshake. Its a pleasure to meet you in person. Ah, and uh, your Majesty.  He turns from Orince Oargev and gives Prince Rygar a short, but respectful, bow. Its a pleasure to meet you as well, Madam dOrien. 

The young genasi listens to the plans dOrien lay out for the crew; paying careful attention to the concerns of his companions. _ Better to not take anyone else with us. The less people that need to face the dangers of the Mournland the better. Beside with Draugers knowledge of terrain, RIs ability to do aerial surveying, and my skill with navigators tools, we can probably cobble together working maps. But that doesnt seem like the biggest concern._ 

Your Majesties, Madam, Im happy to offer any help I can, but is it even possibly to get exact enough measurements of the Mournland for an engineer to actually lay down track? Wont the land surveying we do become worthless as the land itself shifts under the effects of the Mourning?

----------


## Postmodernist

Vrardurz takes the Prince's hand in a firm grip, impressed with his informal-yet-respectful demeanor. He seemed a man of honor, driven to reestablish his stolen nation. Working with him could go far in establishing peaceful relations with Darguun.

Little surprise that House Orien had a presence here, gaining first mover advantage would cement their relationship with the fledgling nation. And it'd make them scads of cash. The fact that she might be Aundairian was odd, but the Houses cared little for nationality and held greater loyalty to their guilds. Vrardurz liked her hair, though.

The pirate king's presence was intriguing, though. Rygar's reputation preceded him, a known "honorable scoundrel" throughout Khorvaire. What did he have to gain through association with Oargev? Access to cheap Mournland relics? Something was afoot here. The two seemed friends, but there was more to this arrangement than just wine.

_Did the elf just call me "the Red One?"_ the warmage thought to himself for a moment. She might have been speaking of the Warforged, who had mentioned something about red in his acronymized moniker. Besides, Vraardurz's skin was such a deep burnished crimson it was nearly black. The 'forged replied, leading him to conclude that the bladebearer was referring to it. Vrardurz exhaled as relief washed over him. Perhaps his assumptions of prejudice lurking behind that mask were ill-founded. Good.

"I concur with my colleagues. Perhaps a surveyor won't be necessary, but should you send one to accompany us, we shall ensure their safety." _Even if it's another bloody gnome,_ he mentally finished. With that, the hobgoblin fell silent, more content to observe and let his new companions question the king.

----------


## Amnestic

Rygar gives a nod and a tilt of his wine glass to Howell's greeting, and then empties the glass, before pouring himself another one. The bottle beside him is nearing empty, though it doesn't seem to be having any effect on the (supposedly) former-pirate prince. 

Excellent, I'm sure our confidence is well placed." Oargev nods to Duvi who produces a small paper which she places on the table for the party. A glance at it shows it to be a purchase order, emblazoned with the House Orien sigil. House Orien is covering the cost of the goodberry wine to sustain you there and back - for an eight day round trip, 8 bottles a piece, so 40 total." He nods to RITAC, ensuring that he's not being ignored, but rather acknowledges as not needing the sustenance. You can pick them up by handing the vendor this writ. Lose it, and you'll be covering the cost yourself." Oargev gives a mock shiver at the imagined cost of such a thing. There's no immediate urgency with the task, but we'd like the report back by month's end." It's the start of the month today, so the leeway granted is significant. 

I'm sure you will know better than us what preparations you require. Orien will handle your transportation needs to the Mournland, and bring you back to New Cyre to deliver your report when you're done." If you need to stay in town in the meantime, any rooms you take at the Gold Dragon Inn across the way are being covered by New Cyre." If that cost disturbs Oargev, he certainly doesn't show it this time.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

RITAC bows to the prince at his acknowledgement.

Your Highness, I need to find a spell component in case of dire emergencies, diamonds. Once I have that I can leave immediately.

They give another quick bow and step back to allow the rest of the team to speak.

*Spoiler: Shopping*
Show

They go shopping for 150g worth of diamonds
.

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*

The sergeant leans upon the great table thoughtfully, considering their route and essential needs, before recalling where she is and rights herself. She looks askance at the pirate, trying and failing not to appear suspicious, before addressing Oargev. Thank you, your highness. Its been a long week and we could use a night or two of R&R. Mlady, if you dont mind Id like to discuss the logistical details.

*Spoiler: As an NCO, Hallina has learned to consider certain operational details out of self-preservation. She wants just a few minutes with Valina alone to answer the following:*
Show


	The exact routes and timing of transportation.
	Who knows of these plans.
	What personnel or resources are available outside the Mournland  who or what support can we expect when we emerge. Allies? Communications? Medic? Nearest town  before making the lengthy return trip to New Cyre.
	The nature of known or suspected non-Mournland threats.
	Names or knowledge of others we should be look out for within the Mournland  previous/lost explorers, etc.
	Specific locations (shops, temples, armories, etc.) that may have survived or that we should definitely look for to confirm.


I dont need to know all this, I just want to be sure Hallina has all the relevant details and will share them with the others should it come up or is needed. Covering the bases.

Once satisfied, Hallina takes a direct walk for the tavern she spotted earlier. Her mind is buzzing with the ghost of horrors past and fears of everything that may go wrong. She orders a drink, and another, and sets about distracting herself. _At least Im working with professionals,_ she thinks, woozy, _but keep your distance, stupid._

When prompted by the others, she automatically recites the information exactly as delivered, and thinks nothing more about it for the night, busying herself with drink, games of dice, and companionship  better if she attracts someones attention, and preferably a man, but her willingness to spend money and find comfort with any warm body increases with her drunkenness.

----------


## Amnestic

*Spoiler: OOC: Vilina's answers*
Show


 You'll be going back the way you came in a similar manner - by carriage, back to Salvation. Others in Oargev's inner circle, some others in House Orien who are connected to the Mournland mission, and rumours abound, so chances are half of New Cyre at least has a story about what you're doing, even if not the whole truth. It's not quite an open-secret what's being planned, but it's not far off. Only what's been discussed already or your own connections, this is your first job for New Cyre/Orien, after all. None that are relevant. None that are relevant. Any rail stations, large or small, along the way, and to make a note of any Conductor Stones and their state. Other locations aren't relevant to the mission, but you can investigate at your own discretion.





Of the shops in town, there are two which will likely cater to your needs and desires - first is the local blacksmith simply called Cyran Metalworks, run by a friendly if somewhat eccentric warforged craftsmen named Tank, and their adopted sister Fari ir'Cosis, a displaced Cyran noble (or so they say) who spends her days either helping out the smith or scouring old battlefields nearby for discarded weapons and armour that they can repurpose. They have a full suite of non-magical arms and armour on hand as required, though you note that at least one piece used to have a Brelish colour scheme painted on which has been haphazardly removed. Still, the pieces seem to be fully functioning, despite them perhaps being second-hand.

The second is Dalsin's Wondrous Emporium, which serves as a general store, filled with three parts items for refugees, one parts mournland salvage and items of Cyre gone-by, and one part magic items. Its proprietor, Dalsin, gives off the distinct aura of a snake-oil salesman, but that seems to just be his natural aura since close scrutiny reveals all of his goods to be entirely as described and sufficient. He promises that his stock of items changes regularly, and to check back in if - _when_ - you return. 

Dalsin also scrounges up the diamonds that RITAC requires, though it seems to be the last of his stock, for now. 

*Spoiler: Dalsin's Stock*
Show


Dalsin has all the adventuring gear (PHB 150) on hand, along some artisans tools (if you want a specific one, roll a d4 - they have it on a 2-4), and two carts out back. He has no animals.

He also has the following magical items for sale (some from Eccentricities of Eberron):
Consumables:
Tanglefoot Bags (2 bags, 50 gp each)
Thunderstones (3 stones, 30 gp each)
Smokesticks (4 sticks, 40 gp each)
Goodberry Wine (1 bottle, 100gp)
Potions of Healing (4 bottles, 50gp each)

Scrolls:
Shield (75gp)
Wither and Bloom (200gp)
Bless (100gp)
Bane (75gp)
Hold Person, x2 (180gp)
Aid (250gp)
Call Lightning (450gp)
Elemental Weapon (350gp)

Weapons/Armour/Wondrous
Eyes of Minute Seeing (375gp)
+1 Sickle (450gp)
Archer's Standard (EoE, 250gp)
Luckstone (600gp)
Elemental Axe (EoE, 4500gp)

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Howell takes the claim check from Duvi, looks down to double check the information on it, and tucks in securely away. He sticks with Hallina as the brain trust answers he list of questions. As the teams bows their way out of the princes office, he gives a royalty a polite bow and dOrien and friendly wave. 

They want to get the lightning rail running through Cyre again. I think this is the first real attempt to reclaim The Mournland!

As the party splits to take care of their different needs, Howell heads off to Dalsins Wonderous Emporium to pick up supplies. More amused by Dalsins mien than anything else the young fire genasi picks up a new set of navigators tools and food and water for their trek. Its not until hes checking out that his eyes fall on the large sapphire Luckstone; its cut identical w to the sapphire that sat as the central stone of his own signet ring. Its never just a coincidence when it involves a Luckstone, right? 

Throwing the stone in with the rest of his order, he completes his purchase and heads out to the tavern to relax with the rest of his group. He asks Drauger and Xael for stories theyd be willing to share about being great warriors, Vrardurz and R.I.T.A.C about their approaches to magic and how they view themselves as magicians; he even shares drink with Hallina (although hes not a very accomplished drinker and she quickly outpaces him). He heads to bed nervous and excited for the next walkabout through the Mournland.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

RITAC is clearly out of his depth in the novel environmebt of the golden dragon Inn. He stands awkwardly next to ther table until it becomes clear why some of the team are heading to the bar. He fidgets in his seat, absentmindedly growing daisies in his palm. If the group begins to play any games he seems to relax significantly, clearly familiar with that kind of downtime behaviour.

The warforged's cracked faceplate and optic are inscrutable as he pauses to think about Howell's question.

I am not fully sure. Altering my form and growing things from myself has always been intuitive but improves with practice. External workings are maybe more empathic? I feel the material or creature involved and can call to it somehow.

I have taught some basic external workings to others but I can't tell you how it works. Something in my construction gives me an innate link to Eberron or the ability to draw from Lammania maybe? I don't think the team from House Cannith who created my unit did either. Our abilities were quite different in nature even when some of the effects were similar. I know that some agrificers from the Steel Gardens were involved in my development. Did you ever see them? I never got the chance...

RITAC trails off, realising he'd been talking for quite a while. He's clearly pondered this at length but not had the chance to talk about it before.

----------


## Postmodernist

Vrardurz joins his companions on their shopping outing, browsing the various goods. The metallurgy of the humans struck him as somewhat unsophisticated, though this town was likely doing its best with the limited resources it had available. He was already thoroughly equipped with armor and weaponry, but he dallied in Dalsin's Emporium a while. He dug through and perused the scrolls with a scholarly interest. Sadly, he was a bit short to afford either of the spells that intrigued him - _Wither and Bloom_ and _Hold Person_ - but he expressed his interest to the shopkeeper before retiring to the Golden Dragon.

When it comes his turn to reply to Howell's query, the warmage is surprisingly loquacious, given his previous taciturnity. *"Pursuit of the arcane is somewhat new to my people. Though there have been some historical practitioners, there was little in the way of organized study. We are an agnostic people, so we similarly have very little in the way of divine practice. Most of our mages have been dirge-singers or artificers, buoying our people's spirits or empowering our blades. We Dar tend to rely on strength of arms, but we are learning to employ the arcane for engineering. But I am a humble student, only just beginning my exploration of the arcane. I have sought to be something of a generalist, given my prior status as a battlefield magician. Something for defense, something for mobility, something to inconvenience the opposition, and something to bolster my allies. Flexibility is paramount when a fight breaks out, so I like to have something for every occasion. If I don't, I suppose I can rely upon more traditional weapons."* The hobgoblin takes a swig of his drink, the first smile he's had in days creeping across his face.

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

Xael keeps quiet for the rest of the royal audience; he knows well when not to speak, so the Tairnadal warrior settles in to listen to the questions and answers posed by his warband. He is pleased to hear that the Red forged and the Dar agree with him, though he does not show it. He also raises a single eyebrow at Hallina's suborning the Orien scion for more logistical questions, but does not press the issue there either. This is not the time or the place for such things, and getting answers one-on-one may temper the Cyran's mood somewhat. As Prince Oargev produces their writ and eventually rises, the elf bows his head once more before joining the others in departing the quarters.

The mercantile aspect of their preparation leaves a sour taste in the Tairnadal's mouth, but he does not let that bother him. The Mournland is a truly deadly place, and they will need all of the help they can get if they are to chart the course for the Orien rail. He follows several of his companions through the Cyran Metalworks - always staying several feet behind and to the left - though never deigns to buy anything. Why would he bother, when he has been granted all the weapons he would ever need? However, Dalsin's Emporium does boast a few treasures of note, and even he is tempted enough to scrounge for galifars to pay for a single protection scroll. The Tairnadal eyes one of the standards with obvious interest, and surreptitiously checks in with his companions to see if anyone would care to split the cost.

At the tavern, Xael does not buy any kind of alcohol, sticking to water along with his food. He eats little more than vegetables and some meat, tearing into the latter with some voracity. When Howell brings up the question of stories, the former Valaes Tairn shakes his head slightly.

"Although I am flattered by your praise, I have not yet earned the title of 'great'. It is true that my people are warriors, but I am no ancestor. I merely follow in the footsteps of Jennaris, who Felled the Sul'at at the Place of Storm's End many hundreds of your lifetimes ago. It is their face that I wear in battle, in hopes to bring glory to their name. To tell a story of mine own accomplishments now would not be of Jennaris, and so I must refrain from doing so." He speaks clearly and evenly, making it plain to all those sitting that - however polite - this is a refusal.

Later, as the rest of the crew engages in frivolities, the Tairnadal finds a quiet place under the stars to begin his nightly meditations...

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Xael will buy the Scroll of Shield for 75 gp, leaving him at 125 gp. If anyone else has any left over, he'd be happy to pool in for the Archer's Standard to help both him and anyone else with ranged weapon attacks in this crew (though I'm not sure anyone else has any other than Druager).

Other than that, ready to move on!

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

*Earlier*

To the astute or observant watching the introductions, some might note a slight flinch from Voss at his introduction as Captain.  But the moment was gone as the cloaked figure moved into the room, shaking hands with the Prince quickly before finding a seat - one away from any windows with visibility of entrances to the room.  

He sat quietly, listening to the Prince introduce his friends and the ensuing discussions regarding their mission.  He had noted the Prince was not as unarmed and open as perhaps he pretended to be - the wand bracers meant the man could be armed in a moments notice.  While House Oriens monetary interests were fairly clear, Voss wondered at the real purpose behind Rygars presence.  Perhaps something personal?  But then why was he here at this meeting?

When Villina mentioned cooperation with the Karrnathi, his fists clenched involuntarily, but he released them after a moment.  He was still coming to grips with the changing landscape of political alliances - but he had learned years ago that a soldier sees as far as his weapon can reach, a Captain as far as his scouts could advance, a general as far as the spies could infiltrate, but a ruler had to see to the very heart of all of his enemies and allies.   Soldiers carry grudges, Kings cultivate leverage. 

Voss let the others address the various concerns, some of which he shared.  To the question of a mapper, he nodded to Xaels assessment in their ability to adequately map the Mournland.  What was presented on the fabulous table was already old.  Several of the copses of trees now contained swampland.  Of course, the real challenge was captured in the genasis question - what good was mapping a territory that would change?  Interestingly enough, no one answered that one.

*Later*

Voss joined the others at the general store.  Of the items, only the sticks, stones and bags seemed useful  although a magic weapon could be handy.  Approaching the slick storekeeper, he joined with Howell and asked By order of the Prince we require enchanted ranged weapons.  Where are your magic bows? 

*Tonight*

With the group gathered that evening, Voss sat to the side drinking water and eating sparingly.  The others all chatted like old friends, but he had little use for such small talk.  When Howell addressed he and the elf directly, Voss paused to hear Xaels answer before responding himself.  

Stories?  No  no stories.  Im not a bard.  I have only memories of death, loss and survival at all costs. 

Looking up, he nodded at Xael.  Maybe she can tell you stories about how the elves abandoned their support of the Cyrans in the middle of the war.  He turned and nodded at R.I.T.A.C. Or perhaps he can recant the true purposes of these mechanical entities  and what REALLY happened on the Day. 

Pausing, he turned to the Vrardurz, staring intently for a moment before his arm whipped out from his cloak and slammed a dagger into the table, a weapon of hobgoblin make.  In the silence that followed, Voss hissed Or if you really want a real story, ask this one about his peoples betrayal. 

Standing up, Voss ripped the dagger free and returned it to his belt, shaking his head.  Sorry boy, no stories here.  Just hard truths and ugly deeds.  But who knows  maybe youll have one to tell after this mission.

Presuming any of us survive. 

He headed to the bar, throwing down enough gold to pay for the teams meals and drinks, and to cover the damage to the table.  Then he headed to his room, whispers trailing behind him like dark shadows, reaching for him but never quite touching.  
_OOC -  Looks like we may have some issues to contend with :). To be blunt, Voss needs therapy 

PS - after chatting with DM, Voss has cartographer skills.

And he will buy thunderstones, smoke sticks and tangle bags if available.  He is also asking about a magic bow or similar ranged weapon.

Effects: Fly 20'; darkvision 60', no active morphs currently_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Ensnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (4/4); Hex, Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person  (1/1 perlong rest)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (1/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

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## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

What is a person's "True Purpose"? Who gets to define it? Parents or makers, teachers or trainers, commanders, owners? Can a person define it themselves? I don't think you understand what purpose means to warforged, but we *will* talk on it further.

As to the Day of Mourning, maybe all Survivors should compare experiences? It may gives us clues to the cause or mechanism. I was inside a field workshop at the time though, so my experiences are limited but...painful all the same.

The leaves around RITAC's head slowly relax as they trail off into silence. The similarity in appearance to an angry cat could have been funny without the cracked cyclopean visage it framed.

----------


## Amnestic

With your shopping completed and your time wiled away in the Gold Dragon, you enjoy a rest in comfort and as much luxury as New Cyre has to offer.

The following day, Vilina tracks you down and leads you to the carriage that carries you back north to Starilaskur, then east on the lightning rail to Varithrond, and then again via carriage to the edge of the dreaded Mournland. In total, it's four days of travel between New Cyre and Salvation, and that's only thanks to House Orien footing the travel bill. Perhaps seeking to impress upon you the value that they are placing in your services, they even spring for first class tickets on the lighting rail leg of the journey, giving you a good eight hours of the most comfortable way to travel in Khorvaire. It ends all too soon.

No matter how many times you may have crossed into the Mournland, it's unlikely seeing its border ever gets any easier. A wall of ever shifting, ever silently screaming faces made up of darkened cloud, reaching high into the sky beyond that which even Lyrandar's airships feel comfortable flying. From Varithrond, the faces are too indistinct to see clearly and it appears a mass of grey, but as you get closer the shapes become clear. No matter how indistinct, there always seems to be a face at the edge of your vision that appears to take the shape of someone you knew.

Salvation is the largest outpost this side of the Mournland border, but that doesn't mean it's big  smaller even than New Cyre. With perhaps a dozen buildings at most, no major transport links aside from carriages like the one you ride in, and a population that fluctuates based upon which salvagers kicked the bucket lately, Salvation is a wild town sustained solely by luck and people driven so far to despair they're willing to risk it all on the hopes of finding a big score. In many ways, earning the attention of a patron is a golden ticket, one that some salvagers might just kill you for, if they thought it might earn them your position.

A swift trip to the tavern in town has you pick up the requisite 40 bottles of Goodberry Wine from the local vendor (one of the few things they always have ample stock of  most Goodberry Wine from the western side of Khorvaire travels to Salvation, one way or the other, and for some Ghallanda establishments it's a source of tidy, regular profit), and then you're back on foot for the final step.

A chill passes through you when you touch the wall of silent screams, one that urges the weakwilled to lay down and die, but you push through, and a moment later you're inside the fog.

Crossing into the Mournland Music

The first true hazard of the Mournland is not the mutated denizens, the Lord of Blades and his warforged cultists, or the wild magic and living spells that cover the blighted land, but rather passing through the silently screaming mists into the Mournland proper. A maddening place, the befaced clouds swarm around you and threaten to throw you off your desired path, to draw you from each other and to drive you mad. For some, this leads them in circles until they die of thirst, but you've crossed before  and though overconfidence can kill, it's unlikely you'll suffer such a fate, but the picked-clean bodies you pass by are a stark reminder that it can happen to anyone. 


*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Pick a navigator (whoever has the highest Survival modifier, I'm guessing) and give me a survival roll, with advantage (either because of helping each other or your own experience, fluff it how you like), *DC15*.

Only one person gets to roll - you're not following different people in different directions, after all.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

RITAC shudders slightly as faces of his unit appear in thr mist. Thinking about the mission and its importance for New Cyre allows him to refocus and press on into the mists once again.

Small rootlets extend from all over his form to aid him in sorting reality from the phantoms of the mists.

*Spoiler: Rolls*
Show

Survival including bardic inspiration
(1d20+14)[*32*] Or (1d20+14)[*29*]

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Howell soaked in the romanticism of the ride across eastern Breland. Gazing out at the bucolic hills, feeling the wind rush impossible fast through his hair from open windows, and letting the gentle feeling of being in motion while standing still wash over him. The first class cabins continually conjuring memories of riding the rail to Metrol, and even visiting distant relatives in Flamekeep, from his childhood. _Too bad first class is always reserved for the wealthy; I wish everyone got to enjoy luxuries like this. I hope it's at least helping the others relax before we cross over._ His thought continued to swing back to his companions, and their responses to his questions from the last night they spent in New Cyre. _I hope I didn't offend Xael or Drauger with my questions, and RI and Vrardurz were friendly, the others were at least polite..._ 

Pushing through the barrier, Howell creates a beacon of fire in his hand and raises it up above his head to give the group something to focus on in the dizzying morass of fog. He stays close to R.I.T.A.C. and, using his experience as a navigator, helps the Warforged plot a course through the barrier.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Howell creates a light for people to help see with Produce Flame
And Inspiration for RITAC, rolled in Discord for *+7*

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

*The night before *

Whether the warforged's comments were heard by Druager, or simply ignored was difficult to tell.  The cloaked figure simply turned away to head towards the bar, then made his way upstairs, presumably to his room.  Once there, Druager sat for a moment, still as death even if his mind was a-buzz.  This entire mission was already harder than it needed to be - almost all the enemies the Cyrans had faced during the war. 
 What was next, a Talentan guide with a savage reptile ready to rip out their throats?  A Brelish-Thranish cook, ready to poison their food?  

With a sigh, Druager exhaled slowly, focusing for a moment.  The Prince had chosen *all* of them for this mission.  Gone were the days of Cyrans standing alone against the world ... by the Six, gone was Cyre.  He was a soldier, and his leader had tasked them to work together and complete a mission that would benefit New Cyre.  It didn't matter whether he could see the value of it, or whether he agreed with it.  His was to comply ... or die trying.  

Sitting in quiet, he stood up after only a few moments before to start preparations for the morrow.  If he sat for too long, the shadows of the past began to wander the corridors of his mind, and the emotions would threaten to overwhelm him.   Instead, he focused on unpacking, inspecting, and repacking his kit  oiling and cleaning his armor, sharpening his weapons, and finally drifting off to sleep and hoping the dreams would be kind.

*The Ride *

Voss joined the others at the carriage, packed up and ready to go.  He was silent once again, choosing to ride atop the carriage with the driver than within with the others.  Not only did the fresh air feel good, but he had little need for the small talk a trip of this magnitude would inevitably incur.  However, aboard the tail, he did stop by Howells seat for a moment, pausing to simply say, Not all tales are worth the price of retelling.    Perhaps that as his way of explaining his reaction from the night before.  Or possibly it was the closest thing to an apology the soldier could muster.  Or maybe it was a warning about similar questions in the future.  Regardless, there was a since of putting the issue to rest, on overture to enable them to move on and work together.

*The Wall *

Voss peered at the wall, silently regarding the faces that morphed and merged in the billowing smoke and clouds.  Where others found themselves turning away, Voss always looked intently - eagerly - as if searching for something.  Or rather, someone.  Lost in his hunt, he blinked as the group moved to step in, with the warforged  R.I.T.A.C  leading the way as the group had agreed before.  

He raised his hand for a moment, murmuring, Hold a moment.  He shuddered for a moment, his body almost undulating under the cloak, before he turned back towards the others, eyes shining brightly, like a bird.  He stood more hunched, his knees bent silightly, and something pushed at his backside.  He whispered, his voice now slightly sibilant.   I will help  

As the druid moved forward, Voss took a position following silently a few steps behind.  While the warforged looked for a path or trail, Voss kept his attention on the surrounding area,  sweeping a watchful gaze across the area looking for dangers.  
_OOC -  activating / unsurpressing his morphs before stepping into the Mournland.  Helping RITAC with survival, while maintaining a look out.  

Effects: Fly 20'; darkvision 60', no active morphs currently_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Ensnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (4/4); Hex, Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person  (1/1 perlong rest)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (1/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Amnestic

With experience and some expert assistance, RITAC has no trouble navigating you a direct route through the faces of the mist. In fact if you weren't mistaken you may have crossed it in half the time that you would normally expect to cross. Is it a trick of the Mournland? Or did the mists shift you forwards in response to your capable navigation and fling you out, aware that they would be unable to keep you trapped? Such events were unheard of, but in the Mournland, anything is possible.

You emerge from the silent screams into what was once a beautiful meadow, a wide open plain where grasses and wildflowers once bloomed, studded with large boulders. A herd of deer and elk graze upon the now dead grass and a distinctly disturbing yellow mold that grows on the boulders. Each deer has notable mutations and disfigurements that confirm even at a glance they're not normal - one has human hands instead of hooves, another has seven legs, two of which are atop its back and flail pointlessly in the air, another has the massive compound eyes of a dragonfly jutting from its face. The leader of the herd, if its size is any indication, is a massive stag with the face of an elf, who nevertheless bends down to nibble at the grass as if it were a deer of any other, its 'elven' eyes set on the grass as if it were an animal prey hunted.

*Spoiler: Int (Arcana DC11)*
Show


Mutations like these often lead animals to develop rudimentary spellcasting abilities.



Some of them glance to you as 'newcomers' but even if you pass close, they seem unbothered as long as you don't physically interfere with their grazing. After a few minutes, while the herd is still nearby a loud humming - which turns into buzzing - sound filles the air and a swarm of 9 giant bees appear overhead. Immediately once they enter your line of sight five of them swoop down, not to the party but instead the deer, and each grabs one of the mutant cervids to carry away. The grabbed dear bleat and thrash, with some coming loose and dropping back to the ground with a sickening _crunch_ of shattered bone, but those who haven't been grabbed seem to ignore the distress of their herd entirely, continuing to graze unabated. One of the descended bees, having successfully taken hold of its prey, begins to leave due north, which is not on your planned route.

Four of the bees, those who look a little large and more vicious than the ones who descended, hover above.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


The bees have not yet engaged you, nor are they giving any indication they intend to, with the 'workers' focusing solely on the deer, instead of you. The party could choose to engage, in which case I'll roll initiative, or leave them to their fate and keep going unbothered.

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*

The trip had been tense but comfortable, much more comfortable that what shes accustomed to. Which sat well for Hallina. The last evening in New Cyre had been a happy blur, half-remembered japes and games with her companions and a long roll with an attractive distraction. There was a lot of bitterness at the Golden Dragon too, and unpleasant looks and feelings, but those she pointedly blotted out. _Were dispirited enough. Soldiers shouldnt go afield with the weight of the world on their minds, just the mission._

Guessing the source of tragedies, the histories of nations, and philosophical discussions were mostly beyond her. She had little formal education; everything she knew was learned in fire. Battles, participants, logistics, these she understood, and they made for terrible conversation. Except maybe with Xael, who was hyper-focused on effectiveness over human connection. But then did elves have human connection? Was his connection to his ancestor more important to him than the lives of those around him? _Nope. Dont think that way. Keep up morale._ She drank her wine.

Hallina employed old soldiers travel games to keep some levity. Not everyone participated. Voss in particular refused to even ride with the rest, which seemed unhealthy. Camaraderie holds soldiers together and gives them strength when plans fail.

She refilled her skin and flask again in Salvation.

Through the mist, Hallina unconsciously paid extra mind to Howell, feeling of them all he needed experienced guidance. When he moves forward with the warforged, she watches his back. It was her nature to protect recruits. But he wasnt a recruit and they werent in the army, and she would have been angry with herself had she realized she was doing it.

Hallina is deeply unnerved by the warped deer and her flesh crawls at the appearance of the giant bugs. Im not fighting those things, boys, she says under her breath in the still air. *IF* they leave in peace, she says, We should note if a whole hive of them is nearby. Itll threaten the project.

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Voss glanced at the deer and the bees, eyes betraying no surprise or disgust.  After any length of time in the Mournland, one learned to adapt to a new reality and press in, or one went didnt  and likely went insane.  The deer and bees were simply part of an evolving ecosystem, where the roles of predator and prey wire different masks, but performed the same old dance.  

At Hallinad comment, he gazed at her impassively with shining eyes, his hood pushed back to reveal a very young man with strange scales around his neck disappearing under his cloak.  After a moment, he responded softly.  _Unless someone has need of violence, I agree we carry on.  Mark the location as a potential for a threats, but by the time the rail is constructed, this whole area could be completely different  a swamp, desert, a lake._ 
_OOC -  Not sure Voss has any reason to engage 

Effects: Fly 20'; darkvision 60', no active morphs currently_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Ensnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (4/4); Hex, Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person  (1/1 perlong rest)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (1/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

As they cleared the mists and weren't faced with an immediate assault RITAC regarded his compatriots. His team had given him solid and welcome assistance during the passage. He leaned over and gave Howell a warm pat on the shoulder. Druager received only a stiff nod of thanks.

The deer and bees were not especially unusual or horrifying sights for the Mournland but were certainly owed a degree of caution. Hallina had good tactical sense and had included him in games and distractions throughout the journey. He valued her input and already appreciated her company. Druager...wasn't wrong in his assessment either. RITAC angled his head towards the sergeant whilst keeping the larger bees in sight.

I can propagate a scout to follow them if they leave the area. If they don't consider it to be prey it should be able to communicate the location of a hive to us.

He jerks his head in the direction of the "captain".

It should be able to find us even if we press on.

----------


## Postmodernist

*The night before...*

Vrardurz bit his tongue, and sullenly let the human have his fit. Lhesh Haruuc had made his revolution some thirty years ago, this was hardly a novel development. Moreover, he'd hardly consider resisting the merciless exploitation of his people as mercenaries a "betrayal." Sellswords went the highest bidder, and if they chose self-representation, then that was their choice. No one made the Cyrans continue warring against the Dar, that was their own choice. Indeed, had they sued for peace like the Brelish, they might have kept their kingdom alive longer. Humans had a strange conception of _muut,_ honoring sacrifice among their own nations, and not honoring the same efforts when others undertake them.

No matter, the man was clearly having a tantrum, as his rage was directed to all the non-humans present. The warmage knew that actions spoke louder than words, and he'd earn this old soldier's respect through his dedication to mending fences between their two young nations.

*The ride...*
Vrardurz spent most of the journey quietly writing in his spellbooks and journals, noting the terrain and documenting his experiences thus far. First class was indeed a privilege, and he gave silent thanks for their superior accommodations. He replies politely to those who engage him in conversation, though he largely keeps to himself.

*The Mournland...*
The Gray Mist never fails to elicit a shudder from the hobgoblin, though he had seen it many times in the years since the Last War's end. Observing the strange fauna, he pauses to recall if these beast had any memorable attributes. Vrardurz aligned with the rest of the party on avoiding conflict, keeping a firm hand on his Rapier of Warning should any unpleasant surprises materialize.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

*Arcana* - (1d20+7)[*12*]

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

The warrior looks upon the face of the Mournland, the storm outside echoing that which she feels deep within. There is guilt written on those faces, a thousand of the adal lost over as many years. She had seen it before, of course, and not just with this team, yet even someone half-blind could see the sorrow in the gaze that peeks out from behind Xael's shroud. It takes her a few moments and a breath before she puts the feelings away, returning to the raptor-focus on her surroundings as the others press forward. When the Red One volunteers to scout, the Tairnadal does not dissent. Far from it, in fact; better that the construct take the lead. It would do her well to study its capabilities in full.

"I will watch our rear," Xael says as they settle into their marching order. "Do not be frightened; I may not be in your sight-line, but you will be in mine. Should any marauders or hidden creatures attempt to take you by surprise, they will taste my steel first." She has seen warbands taken out from surprise ambushes to the rear, and there is enough focus given on lighting the way forward that she is concerned they may be approached. Being the only light in the darkness tends to attract predators. Nothing more is said.

When the group stops, true to her word, the Tairnadal is nowhere to be seen.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Xael will be settling into 'stealth mode', trying to stay hidden as much as possible while the group moves forward. She has her hood up on her Cloak of Elvenkind to gain advantage on Stealth checks if necessary, and Mask of the Wild should proc for her as they go forward. Rolled a *24* in Discord for her first attempt.

She will not interrupt the scene with the deer and the bees, marking them as curiosities but not mission-essential. She is down to move on.

----------


## Amnestic

Choosing to leave the deer and the bees to their fate and not interfere with the natural course of the food chain, if it could even be called that, you proceed past and are left mercifully unbothered, though the sounds of the mutated deer's panicked bleating as they're carried away follows you for longer than you perhaps thought it might. It doesn't take long to for you to locate the remnants of what was once the conductor stone tracks, though the stones have all since been removed. As close you are to Salvation, this place is one of the first picked clean by opportunistic salvagers. Still, the wooden tracks used to hold the stones in place against the elements remain, and give you a clear path for you to follow as you begin your scouting and note taking.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


If a designated 'note taker' for the in-character party wants to give me an Intelligence check, plus an appropriate proficiency bonus if you have a relevant tool for the first leg of the journey. 

It's not a pass/fail sorta thing.



Following the tracks for hours and making notes on the terrain and area isn't exactly riveting stuff. Before long the open dead-grass plains give way to a forest bordering both sides of the track. The trees are awash with greenery, but the shade is wrong, lacking the vibrant green of life and instead giving off the off-tint colour that twinges the hairs on the back of your necks (if you have hair, at least - RITAC is excluded from such a sensation). They're laden down with fat spherical fruits the size of a human head, lining the branches and trunk, oozing a dark red liquid that combines the smell of burning flesh and bile, though thankfully the smell doesn't travel - it's far from pervasive.

There's a sudden break in one side of the forest, a great gouge torn through the trees and ground, and peering through the gap shows what looks like a derailed lightning rail train flung from the tracks, its cargo cars scattered to the side as the engine car uprooted trees and churned the mud beneath it before finally coming to an abrupt stop. At least from your current position, you can't see any indication of any others around the railcars, but the gash in the greenery leads for at least 200 feet from the tracks, and some of the cars settled to the side where it's harder to see into them through the trees that haven't been uprooted.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Again, choice to investigate or not - and if so, will need to know your approach for scouting purposes.



*Spoiler: Passive Investigation 13+*
Show


Some of the trees that have been uprooted bear the spherical red fruit that appears 'fresh' (at least as fresh as it can do with its disgusting stench), with a logical deduction being that this was a relatively recent derailing, yet the lightning rail hasn't run through Cyre since the Mourning - or at least, it shouldn't have done.

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Voss paused at their first sighting of the old tracks. His bird-like gaze swept across the area, looking for signs of recent activity.  Finding none, he strode forward ahead of the others, drawing his cloak close as he sit pressed all the Cha hes.  After a momentary respite, Voss pulled forth some paper and pens and began to sketch out a decent facsimile of the route traveled thus far.  He drew quickly, eyes flickering from the page to the world around, acting as both chronicler and scout.

When they reached the open clearing, Voss stopped again, rapidly drawing the area complete with train car and marks in the turf.  Then he stowed his tools and shuddered again, releasing the controls on his body.  He turned back to the others, his eyes finding Xael, before nodding almost imperceptibly to the left.  Holding a long  something (claw?) to his lips, he indicated silence before he slipped to the right.
_OOC -  Voss rolled a 14 for mapping.  Then he will scout with the person he thinks is best suited to helping.

Stealth - (1d20+4)[18], Stealth - (1d20+4)[20]
Perception - (1d20+9)[20] or Perception - (1d20+9)[19]

Effects: Fly 20'; darkvision 60', no active morphs currently_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Ensnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (4/4); Hex, Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person  (1/1 perlong rest)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (1/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

The scion of Jennaris appears behind the group when they stop at last. Under other circumstances, the sweeping plains and woodlands of old Cyre would have reminded the former champion of a simpler time, of home. Alas, this is no longer the home of any being worthy of life. Everything about it is wrong, and none of it is in an immediate way. A foul scent on the breeze, the sight of rotting leaves and twisted vegetation, the mutated animals... what have these humans wrought? 

Xael appears directly next to Druager as the ranger is in the midst of his recording. He looks over the man's shoulder at his drawing, taking in both the scene from afar and his impressions of it. The elven warrior stalks beside the group, keeping to the left side of the tracks. When it comes time to scout, he follows Druager's instruction and peels off, taking the opposite tack to get to the scene from another angle.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Xael will go left! Rolled a *21* for Stealth and a *13* for Perception.

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*


Though she's sneaked when necessary, Hallina is no scout, so far as the skills of specialists go. She instead remains near the tracks, with a lengthy sightline but hopefully able to respond to either of the scouts should they need backup. She finds an untrampled tuft of the dead grasses and takes a knee so she doesn't stand out starkly in the clearing. She sets the head of her great hammer down gently and readies her crossbow, then nods to Howell, RITAC, and Vrardurz, hoping they'll not make targets of themselves. The warforged would be better than herself sneaking toward the train, but she wouldn't argue against having his magic at her side either.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

*Oh Deer!*

As the group prepares to move on the warforged stands still, sinking its clawed toes slightly into the earth. Their stone chest plates swing apart, revealing a seed pod within a yangle of vines. The pod cracks open as a wickerwork owl with leaves for feathers hops onto RITAC's outstretched arm.

Follow them at a distance little one, see if they have a hive nearby.

The little owl flutters at a safe distance from the bees as the group disappears deeper into the Mournland.

Nearly two hours later RITAC recalls his bird sprout, it seems to grow anew from the gnarled fingers of his free right hand. They hold it up to their ear briefly before the being's feathers turn from green to red, then fall to the ground and the wicker owl is reabsorbed by its maker.

*Going off the rails
*
RITAC stays silent as the two scouts spread out. Clutching the standard in one hand, the warforged scans the wreckage for emerging threats. Their other hand is kept clear, waiting to give support to whichever of ally needs it first.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Using Wild Companion ability summon an owl familiar to tail the bees back to their hive. It gets dismissed to its extra-dimensional space at nearly two hours and brought back next to RITAC for him to ask it what it saw.
1/2 wild shapes remaining.

RITAC is holding the Archer's Standard I'm case that helps Hallina etc. cover the scouts.
Perception (1d20+7)[*12*]
Will hold off on casting summon beast until a threat reveals itself.

----------


## Amnestic

RITAC's scout returning offers little in the way of direct, concrete information - it lacks the facility to communicate such. Still, it conveys a sense that it followed the bees and saw _something_, but the specifics remain a mystery.

On soft-padded feet, Druager and Xael split to their respective sides of the churned earth and proceed forwards. Still a ways off, Xael catches a glimpse through one of the cargo windows of a warforged. It's there one moment and gone the second. Druagar's eyeline is less ideal for seeing through windows - the nearest car on the right has overturned - but their ears pick up the distinct sound of scraping metal and wood against wood from the car in front of them. You can judge from this that at least two of the cars are occupied, and that at least some of the occupants are warforged. 

The surroundings outside of the cars seem quiet and you detect little in the way of movement elsewhere. There's the occasional flutter of a mutated bird or the rustle of unpleasant leaves on the wind, but of 'notable threats', they seem perhaps limited to just the crash - for now.

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

Upon seeing the movement, the cloaked elf goes utterly still. He waits, eyes fixed on the window, for any other signs of life within. But there can be no mistaking what he has already seen, and the rest of the group needs to know that they are not alone. 

Without ever taking his gaze fully away from the rail car, Xael raises his right hand so that the others can see, pointing his index finger directly at the car where he saw the warforged and then moving his finger to single out RITAC. The message, when put together by any kind of experienced mind, should clearly indicate that there are warforged within.

Once he is reasonably certain that the others are paying attention, Xael's hand drops down to his side. He takes a deep breath in... and out... and within moments, what was empty air is now filled with weight and promise. The crimson leather handle of Jennaris' song-blade is made to fit his palm, grooves finding fingers of their own accord. Twin crescents of gleaming steel - enchanted, ever sharp - rise as the Tairnadal brings his double scimitar into a ready position. All along the inner edge of each head are letters, ancient elven script engraved into its surface; a story not spoken, but read in blood.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Xael is spending a bonus action to summon his ancestral _+1 Double Scimitar_ (pact weapon). He'll wait on the others to advance once he's certain they know there's a potential threat, not charging into action yet.

----------


## Postmodernist

Vrardurz makes regular notes as they pass through the unearthly terrain, taking pains to jot down both descriptions of the terrain as well as the strange flora and fauna they encounter in this place. With so few proper accounts of the Mournland, perhaps this could serve as part of a larger work one day.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 Int check: (1d20+4)[*21*] for note taking.


As the party approaches the carcass of the lightning rail, the _kech'vus_ moves cautiously, awaiting signals from the scouts ahead, one hand on the hilt of his blade, the other ready to rain fire down on possible adversaries.

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Do you guys think those things were elves turning into deer, or deer turning into elves? Maybe some third thing turning into a combination of both? 

Despite his inexperience, Howell had sharp eyes and as the group travels deeper into the Mournland he keep them scanning for signs of trouble or ambush. Upon coming to the thicket of fruiting trees, he suppresses the urge to whip his hand up over his mouth and nose. _It's worse than the century eggs the lizardfolk love back home. Worse than Adderport durian, unholy Mournland durian._ He gives up his olfactorial lamentations, however, at the sight of the derailed car.

Watching as Xael and Drauger head off to scout, draws his shortbow, and gets into position with Vrardurz and Hallina. If anything dangerous comes from behind that car, well be ready for it. Seargent, Warmage, we got this!

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Howell gives Bardic Inspiration to Hallina and Vrardurz with his little pep talk and casts True Strike on Hallina and Vrardurz.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

RITAC touces an adjacent tree with their free hand, clawed fingertips melding into the wood. At this a branch twists off a tree close to the broken carriages and folds itself into the form of vulture. It perches amongst the remaining branches, watching the space below it.

RITAC's hand reforms and they signal back to Xael whilst walking slowly forwards.

_Me. Go there. Talk?_

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show

Cast Summon beast for a beast of air within 90ft of RITAC, near the occupied carriages but not within direct line of sight from them if possible.

Move 30ft forwards stealthily to keep the ranged team just within banner range. Total of 10 from stepping on lots of dice roller rakes on the way!

RITAC is trying to ask if they should make contact with the  warforged inside when close enough.

Beast of Air AC 13, HP 20, Fly 60ft.

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*

The former sergeant saw the hand signs and her heart raced. With Howell's words a clarity settled over her, and she knew she would respond to action as well as ever. She stared down to the crossbow bot's tip, both eyes open, ready to aim it left or right as needed.

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Voss froze at the sounds of scraping in the cars ahead.  He glanced across at Xael and saw her signal back to the others, what looked like calling the warforged forward.  Frowning, he glanced back to where the rest of the team hunkered down and watch the warforged creep forward, signaling back the intent to approach the cars.  For a moment, he wondered if this were a part of some larger ruse, where RITAC joined his comrades before turning on them.  

_Stop it ... if it wanted to kill you, plenty of other opportunities, right?  You can talk elvish to an elf, but it takes an elf to understand an elf.  Just let him go ..._ 

Druagar moved a little closer, edging to flank around to his side as RITAC moved forward.  
_OOC -  Keep sneaking ... and looking

Stealth - (1d20+4)[19] or Stealth - (1d20+4)[10]
Perception - (1d20+9)[16] or Perception - (1d20+9)[13]

Passive Perception = 24 vs sight, 19 vs everything else

Effects: Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active_ 
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Ensnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (4/4); Hex, Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person  (1/1 perlong rest)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (1/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Amnestic

As RITAC approaches, the rest of you maintain your nearby positions, careful to conceal yourself from onlookers as best you can among the disgusting smelling trees. For better or worse, RITAC's approach is not quite as silent as it could be, and clearly someone overhears it. A loud slam as the rear door on the car nearest Xael opens, and standing in the gap is a warforged - tall, wide, and powerful. Much of their form is concealed beneath a large hooded cloak, dirt stained and ragged but from the faded green and blue patterns it may have originally been a carpet or a curtain, repurposed into something to protect them from the elements, or to conceal their own weapons, though you can see a blade peeking out from beneath the cloak's hem, not quite fully obscured. They look RITAC up and down, scrutinising, before speaking.

*"Identify yourself."* The voice comes, imperious. *"If you are a salvager move on, there is nothing for you here."* You can guess from their head movement that they hasn't noticed the rest of you, or if they have then they're not paying you any attention yet. Instead they seem solely focused on the warforged in front of them.


*Spoiler: Int (History or Religion) The Blades*
Show


*Spoiler: DC8*
Show


A relatively new philosophy, faction, or (according to some) cult of Warforged, they seem primarily based inside the Mournland. They are a disciplined - if brutal - military force, and are viewed as such by many.



*Spoiler: DC13*
Show


Blades are not a typical religion or philosophy in that they place no special value around a spiritual existence and care little for the notion of a soul. With no evidence of the distant gods, they instead put their faith and worship in that which they can see: The Lord of Blades. This faith seems to provide tangible benefits, creating a positive feedback loop between the two.

Though still relatively new to Khorvaire their philosophy has made an impact across the Five Nations owing to their (perceived or actual) Warforged-supremacist, stating that they were meant to rule over Eberron. Encounters between Blades and non-warforged typically ends in violence, and is rarely productive.



*Spoiler: DC19*
Show


Though many believe that The Blades are nothing but an aggressive military force this isn't quite true: the Lord of Blades often sends servants into any city or settlement with a notable warforged population to help convert those to his cause. Disciplined and controlled, a Blade can interact peaceably with "temporaries" (as the non-warforged are sometimes called by Blades) if ordered to maintain their cover or not engage.





*Spoiler: Int (History or Religion) Godforged*
Show


*Spoiler: DC8*
Show


The Godforged are a sect of warforged who believe that their souls were bestowed upon them by a construct god - the Becoming God - and seek to build their god a body, that they might inhabit this world also.




*Spoiler: DC13*
Show


The majority of the Godforged are located inside the Mournland, scouring the ruins of Cyre for pieces to both enhance themselves (which is viewed as a method of worship for their god) and to build the Becoming God's body. While they do have adherents who reside outside of the Mournland, these tend to be a rarity. Typically, the reason given for their focus on the Mournland is that this is where the Genesis Forge was built by House Cannith, and many Godforged believe that the Genesis Forge is a key component of their god's construction.

Warforged who worship the Becoming God are typically non-hostile so long as they are not interfered with, but equally take any attempt to interfere with their journey as a personal affront, and may react poorly. 



*Spoiler: DC19*
Show


Some Godforged have taken to crafting a 'dragonmark' - the Mark of the Becoming - to their bodies. They are aware of dragonmarks, and that they have a connection to the draconic prophecy, and so their own destiny must likewise be something they can forge for themselves, just as they can forge their god a body. Marks of the Becoming vary in shape, though all bear the central feature of an opening construct eye. 





*Spoiler: Int (History or Religion) Reforged*
Show


*Spoiler: DC8*
Show

At their core, Reforged seek an identity beyond that of war machines. Of warforged, they are perhaps unusual in that they seek and seem to feel emotions at a much higher potency than most of their kind.


*Spoiler: DC13*
Show


Reforged are the least likely of the three major warforged philosophies to be found in the Mournland. Their drive to explore their place in the world makes them seek out places teeming with civilisation and life. Some Reforged believe that the apotheosis of their kind is to be become flesh and blood - true 'organics'. They typically espouse coexistence with other races. 



*Spoiler: DC19*
Show


There is no official Reforged organisation or hierarchy, but instead a loose, appropriately organic network of individuals who share the same belief and aid each other in spreading and exploring their philosophy which is generally centred around four maxims:
I choose, therefore I live. 
The purpose of life is living.
All living beings have the right to choose.
Some choices demand punishment.

The exact interpretations and how these maxims are implemented differs depending on the individual, as is the case for any philosophy.

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

"We are not vultures, to peck at a corpse." The Tairnadal reveals herself thus, only several feet away with her weapon already drawn. Her form is surrounded by the frost that precedes dawn's touch, glacial touches gathering at the edges of the blood-red fabric. The time for stealth has passed; this meeting will end in either in words or blades, and she would rather be ready if it is to be the latter.

"Our business is our own, forged of war," she continues. "Know that I would pass along if I could, but some of my company might respectfully inquire as to what you are doing here. Which master do you serve?"

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Xael is spending a bonus action to cast Armor of Agathys on herself (burning one of her spell slots at 3rd) for 15 temp hp. She will approach the warforged, weapon drawn.

Rolled a *22* for Persuasion in Discord.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

Despite tha lack of wind, RITAC's foliage rustles with a sound almost like a sigh at the aggressive posturing of the warforged and Xael. They make a placating gesture with their free hand.

Hello cousin. I am called R.I.T.A.C. and this is my companion Xael. Who are you?

We want to know what happened here? I can be of small assistance if any of your company is damaged.

RITAC continues to affect a non-aggressive stance, hoping to keep the warforged's attention limited to them and Xael.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Attempting to assist Xael in persuasion if possible.

----------


## Amnestic

The cloaked figure dips their stance ever so slightly when Xael appears, changing from a more neutral position to one ready for a fight. Though muffled, you hear vague shuffling behind them. *"The accident conceals their own purpose while demanding ours. Typical."* There's a sneer to their tone as they address Xael. *"'Our business is our own',** mistake of the flesh, but you should know that we serve the Lord of Blades."* Their voice temporarily modulates into a perfect copy - or recitation - of Xael's as they echo the words back at them, and they pause to let the declaration set in. The sneer turns into a swelling of pride and reverence.

*"We do not require assistance or repairs. The situation is within expected operational parameters. I will not say more to outsiders. Should you wish to join us in our glorious purpose,"* In this, they address RITAC directly, *"to free yourself from the bonds of allegiance to those who view you as nothing but one forged of war, we would welcome you."* The warforged holds out one hand - notably the one _not_ connected to the blade barely concealed by their cloak - in a gesture of welcoming to RITAC.

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Not exactly the friendliest group we could have encountered out here. Should we just wait in position and let RI and Xael do the talking? Howell whispers to Vrardurz and Hallina. 

The young genasi strains his ears attempting to pick out the sounds of any more warforged that the group cant see. 

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Perception check: (1d20+5)[*8*]
And keeps True Strike up on his allies.

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

The elf does not reply to the obvious jabs with words, at least not at first. There is no anger in what little of his face is visible behind his zaelta. He takes one step forward. As he does, Xael appears to _split_. He is no longer one warrior, but many; an army, images of long-dead Tairnadal from other times and places, all walking in unison. Their faces are impassive behind their masks, and although they are garbed in a myriad of fashions, their weapons are identical copies, for they is the very same blades that Xael now carries.

"We are all accidents of someone's making," Xael says as he closes the distance. "I simply know better than to spurn those that gave me life. It is a shame you have no such thing to be thankful for."

Then, with the weight of history behind him at long last, the warrior moves to strike!

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

A third and final bonus action to cast Spirit Shroud, choosing radiant damage. Then (if there is time) Xael is going to jump right in with a pair of Double Scimitar attacks against this warforged.

I rolled in Discord already for both attacks (taking a -1 to attack for +2 to damage). *23* to hit, followed by *21* to hit. The first swing does 14 slashing and 2 radiant damage, the second does 11 slashing and 1 radiant, for a total of *28* damage.

Edit: Saving those attacks for Xael's first turn.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

RITAC optic slowly tracks down to the offered hand and back up to the faceplate of the "blades before them.

My colleague still has a few lessons to learn about what we might consider polite, but she was ready to help me in a dangerous situation.

In our team I am treated as a person and an equal. I am free to expand beyond my intended function. You talk of freeing me from bonds but the Lord of Blades still only sees you as the weapons we were made to be. You are still enslaved, if you could only see it. Please, throw off your chains.

*Spoiler*
Show

Persuasion (1d20-1)[*9*]

----------


## Amnestic

*"You have made your choices."* The cloaked warforged utters, their voice dismissive, any hint of effort of recruitment abandoned. They clang their metal blade against the wall of the car, evidently a signal as the sound of movement increases immediately in the railcars nearby, and it becomes abundantly clear that the time for words has passed.

*Spoiler: Map/OOC*
Show




Despite rolling four separate groups of initiative for the enemies (most of which you cannot see), they almost all grouped up into one central section. 

Because Howell, Hallina and Vradurz hung back at the tracks, I put them 150ft below the map's edge, which puts them 200 feet from the one Blades enemy you can currently see. You should assume the terrain to get onto the map is navigable without costing any extra movement and that there are no major impediments to line of sight/effect. 

Hallina was the only character without art so I picked a piece that seemed to vaguely fit her description but if you have a preference (not that you can see it terribly well on this big map) to the contrary let me know.

The stench of the trees here is pervasive - all creatures have disadvantage on saving throws against the Poisoned condition.

*Vradurz, Druager, and RITAC* are up first. 

*Initiative Order:*
Vradurz:[20] 
Druager: [19]
RITAC: [18]

EG2: [17]

Xael: [14]

EG3: [14]
EG1: [13]
EC: [11]

Howell: [3]
Hallina: [2]

----------


## Postmodernist

*"Aisi itaa! Skiir, shaash, itaa!"* the warmage yells as he sees his comrades join battle against the warforged interlopers. Susurrating whispers escape Vrardurz's mouth as the scent of licorice fills the air between him and Hallina. *"This should speed you to our comrades and aid them in battle. Hurry!"* With that, he draws his rapier and dashes towards the fray.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Tragically, 200 ft is too far for Vrardurz to tag any enemies, even with Fire Bolt. So he'll cast Haste on Hallina and move his own 30 feet towards the fight.

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Even as the old scout tried to convince himself to let go of his prejudices, he sees the situation quickly turn sour and the other warforged, apparently a disciple of the Lord of Blades, reached out a hand of friendship to RITAC.  The immediate fury and outrage that started to bubble up slowed as the druid politely refused.  With the lines drawn, combat was inevitable, as it usually seemed to be with these mechanical tools of war.  However, the followers of the Lord of Blades were even worse - fanatical devotees to the orchestrator of the Day, hiding their true agenda behind overtures of independence. 

Hear others prepare for combat, Voss slipped forward, his form low and feet completely silent as he advanced along the overturned train.  He knew others were coming, but if they could deal with this warforged now, they might have an easier time against the replacements.  Once he was close enough, he whispered arcane words and a length of vine appeared near the end of his limb.  He flicked it out and the vine extended and grew, reaching towards the warforged.
_Round 1 -  Sneak forward 20' ('northward' along the 'southern' side of the train car).  Staying low to try and avoid detection.  Will stop if there is an opening along the way.  
Once w/in 30' of the one visible warforged, thorn whip and pull him towards me if possible.

Stealth - (1d20+4)[9] or Stealth - (1d20+4)[15]
Spell Attack - (1d20+5)[21], Piercing damage - (2d6)[2]

Effects: Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Ensnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (4/4); Hex, Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person  (1/1 perlong rest)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (1/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C. 
*
With a reluctant snarl RITAC's form begins to shift, metal endoframe, stone plates, and muscle ribres rearranging into a new and more beastial form. They yell to their vine-vulture. 

Take the leader, hit and run. 

CHU-CHA-CHEEK 

A warforged Dire Wolf stands before the wrecked lightning rail carts and faceplate distinctly lupine but still ceacked with a single baleful optic. The being throws back its head and howls, the sound undercut by the grinding of metal on stone. As it does so, the vine-vulture swoops down on the "blade" standing before them, tearing wood and metal with its beak before taking to the air again. 

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Forged Dire Wolf
AC 16 HP 37 Speed 60ft Passive Perception 17 (Adv hearing and smell) Flyby 

Beast of Air flies down to the one visible warforged, attacks, then uses its remaining movement to fly up and over the cart they stepped out of.
Attack 23 Damage 13
Beast of Air AC 13, HP 20, Fly 60ft

----------


## Amnestic

The warforged leader(?) stands tall, despite appearing alone. When RITAC's beast swoops down from above, he raises his blade to block but the swoop is too fast, and the claws tear at the curtaincloak, adding yet more frays, darns, and general tear to it. The beast is too fast for the Blade to retaliate against, and any hopes of doing so mean nothing when Druager grabs him with a thorned vine and drags him from his position atop the train car. The warrior remains standing as he's pulled down, and shakes off the magic just as quickly as it had come.

Above and beside Druager there's a screech of metal on metal as the side door is pulled open and three more warforged pull themselves up, before dropping down beside their leader and taking in the situation. One moves to defend their leader from the enormous metal-wood-wolf that now looms over them. A pair of morningstars leap to the warforged's hands, the smithing on them bearing similarities to Cyran style yet with its own twist, but he's not yet fast enough to strike.

The second warforged who emerged, wearing a partial hooded robe that's so torn it's closer to a hooded poncho, directs a finger at Druager and after a short incantation yells *"KNEEL."* The voice echoes throughout the area, and Druager feels themselves compelled to obey, despite their better judgment. His comrade in arms draws a shortsword from their belt and slashes twice at the Mournland-tainted man. Druager evades the first, but when the magic takes a hold he's restricted from avoiding the second which makes a light cut into his shoulder. The blow delivered the warforged in melee spins and looses a bolt from their armbow at RITAC, but the bolt skitters against the forgebeast's metal plating and falls to the ground.

Off in the distance, the far grouping of the party begins to make their advance, and perhaps a silent prayer should be uttered that you are not in either a wild or dead magic zone, as Vradurz's _haste_ spell takes full effect. 

*Spoiler: Map/OOC*
Show




Recap:
Vradurz casts Haste and moves 30ft closer. 
RITAC wild shapes, moves. The beast hits for 13.
Druager hits with thorn whip for 2. RIP damage numbers.

One of them - the one that opened the door, takes up position beside the cloaked one (who I'm just going to call the Commander going forwards). Opening the door and drawing his weapons took his actions this turn though, so no attacks.
The spellcaster NNW of Druager casts Command - Grovel on Druager, who unfortunately fails his save. Druager must spend their next turn dropping prone and then ending their turn.
The one closest to Druager attacks twice with his shortsword - misses once, hits once for *5* piercing damage, and then uses his armbow to fire at RITAC, but misses.

*Xael* is now up.

*Initiative Order:*
Vradurz:[20] 
Druager: [19]
RITAC: [18]

EG2: [17]

*Xael: [14]*

EG3: [14]
EG1: [13]
EC: [11]

Howell: [3]
Hallina: [2]

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

The revenant blade closes the distance. Her enemies are arrayed at last, flushed out in the open by the iron hound. Druager has approached as well, giving sport to their accompaniment. _These soulless things,_ she thinks, _they will learn what it means to cross blades with a true warrior._

Her steps accelerate, elongating into a dance in time suspended, set to music only she can hear. Her target is directly ahead: the largest of them, the very same leader that insulted her lineage. Her forebears are with her, every elf of Valenar, of Aerenal, of Xen'drik that ever bore Jennaris' blade for a righteous cause, and she knows she cannot fail. As the remaining space evaporates, she lashes out once, twice against the construct, her double-scimitar leaving cuts of light and metal in its composite plating. 

Though she misses on the backswing, she settles into a comfortable fighting stance; feet squared, shoulders and knees loose. They will come for her, and when they do she will be ready.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 Xael is going to jump right in with a pair of Double Scimitar attacks against the warforged leader! She is moving right into the fray, moving the full 35 feet to close with it.

I rolled in Discord already for both attacks (taking a -1 to attack for +2 to damage). *23* to hit, followed by *21* to hit. The first swing does 14 slashing and 2 radiant damage, the second does 11 slashing and 1 radiant, for a total of *28* damage. Rolled the BA attack but sadly missed.

----------


## Amnestic

Xael's furious strikes tear into the warforged leader. Though he raises his armblade to lessen the blows, the elf warriors twisting scimitar navigates around it to deliver strong hits to the cultist's chestplate. Instead of retaliating directly though, he raises his blade to the heavens. *"One vision! One purpose!"* He calls out, and there's a clanking salute as the fellow warforged snap to attention, their movements joining in syncronisation with one another.

 From the western cart, two more warforged emerge, another wielding twin morningstars, and a second caster who raises a palm and incants two spells in quick succession. A spinning blade of ephemeral energy appears, tearing at the wolf-mech's hind legs, while at the same time a javelin of silvery light pierces through, striking both Xael and RITAC, but also clipping the side of one of the warforged on the far side. The damage dealt is minor, perhaps a result of the hasty spellcasts, but it lingers nevertheless. 

*Spoiler: Map/OOC*
Show




Recap:
Xael hits for 28 on the Commander. 

The Commander invokes Leadership, though as it turns out it didn't matter this turn. He's trying though. It gives friendly creatures other than itself that can see the Commander +1d4 on attack rolls and saves. 

Another group of two warforged appears from the left car - one fighter type also dual wielding morningstars (no attacks/actions, spent his turn opening the door), and one caster type who uses Spiritual Weapon on RITAC for *4* force damage, and casts Radiant Lance for *1* radiant damage to RITAC, Xael, and also one of the warforged warriors, just because of how the line lined up. 

I haven't rolled Concentration for any damage done.

The full party _except_ Xael is now up, with Howell and Hallina "first" before the new round starts, though realistically you can post in any order and I'll work it out :P 

*Initiative Order:*
*Vradurz:[20] 
Druager: [19]
RITAC: [18]
*
EG2: [17]

Xael: [14]

EG3: [14]
EG1: [13]
EC: [11]

*Howell: [3]
Hallina: [2]*

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Howell rapidly shifts his gaze from the growth by melee to Vrardurz spellcasting. Hallina, you can get there fastest! Weve got to stop them from hurting our friends!

He lets his shirt bow slide into the crook of his arm as he pulls a carved cherrywood ocarina out of his pack. Bringing the beautiful instrument to his lips, he plus a short, spirited allegro, and in an instant wind whips up under Hallina, raising her nearly a full inch off the ground. 

Fly like the wind! he calls out to the Sgt. as he himself tears off down the field toward the fracas. 

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Howell casts Fly from his magical instrument and runs 30 towards the action.

----------


## Postmodernist

Vrardurz continues to barrel down the pathway towards his friends. As soon as he is in range, he extends his palm, conjuring a jet of flame which erupts from his outstretched hand and hurtles itself towards the nearest Blade.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Move 30' towards the battle. Cast Fire Bolt at what _should_ just barely be in range of the southernmost warforged near Draugar.
*Fire Bolt* - (1d20+7)[*22*] for (2d10)[*10*] fire damage.

Not sure if bardic inspiration or that advantage from Howell is still relevant. Rolling here, otherwise disregard.
(1d20+7)[*21*] Advantage roll
(1d8)[*8*] Bardic Inspiration.

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*

Astonished at her sudden weightlessness, Hallina drops her crossbow, but Howell says its not necessary. She reaches down and grasps the upright handle of her heavy hammer tries running. Finding no purchase, she recalls than many a wizard and such has said magic does as the user wills, and she finds herself gliding down the slope with only a thought.

She whoops unintentionally. Its remarkable and liberating, and not since she was a girl did she have time for such frivolous thoughts as what's it like to be a bird? Its a passing moment, however, because the reality is, as always, far more sinister, and her teammates have quickly come to clash with the warforged.

She sails into the combat zone and sees who the priorities are  the officer and spellcaster. She pulls up at the last moment, letting momentum carry her forward as she reels the maul back over her head and brings it down with a Hyaaaahhhh!!!

She follows her strikes with a wide swing, leaning back and sending the hammers head in a long wide arc ...


*Spoiler: Actions*
Show

This is pretty awesome. Ive never started a game/fight with so much to do at once. The chance to go Hawkgirl on this is brilliant. Also, Im just feeling it so Im going Alpha Strike.

I believe I'm at +2 AC

Flies as a Dash and a regular move directly to the Commander and makes two attacks, the first with advantage:
First (1d20+8)[*18*] or  (1d20+8)[*24*] for (2d6+5)[*12*]
Second (1d20+8)[*11*] for (2d6+5)[*12*]
Action surge  Lunging Strike vs spellcaster 10ft from me
(1d20+8)[*12*] for (2d6+5)[*12*] + (1d8)[*3*] (superiority)

Bardic Inspiration - (1d8)[*5*] to supplement a low attack roll.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C*.

The towering wolforged grunts as the impacts glance off uts armored form. It glances around at the growing number of enemies. Clumping up made it easier for those casters to target them. They'd see about that.

_Perceptor, command the vulture to keep attacking.
_
_Affirmative._ Continue hit and run attacks.

The docent calls out to the vine-vulture in a good imitation of RITAC's voice.

Orders relayed, RITAC lunges forward, jaws clamping around the blade commander's leg and trying to wrench them from their feet. As the warrior falls RITAC bounds towards the caster that had lanced him and Vrardurz, looming over them and hopefully making it more difficult to hit them both.

*Spoiler: OOC* 
Show

RITAC attacks the leader - 22 to hit. 8 damage.
Leader rolls 2 on their strength save vs trip DC 13/14 as mentioned on discord.
RITAC then moves over to the caster who hit him before (no AoO due to mobility).
Vine-vulture swoops down again to attack the probably prone leader - Crit for 14 damage.

Wolforged
AC 16 HP 32/37 Speed 60ft

Vine-vulture
AC 13, HP 20, Fly 60ft

----------


## Amnestic

When Hallina swoops down, weapon swinging, the wide hammer strikes are too fast to be easily countered, and the thick metal head crunches down against the living wood of the warforged. The spellcaster, clearly injured by the heavy blows, retaliates. They swath their fist in necrotic energy and stab it forwards, the bolt jolting from their hand into Hallina and ravaging them. Even if it left no physical markings on the exterior, the pain is clearly felt.

Vradurz's loosed firebolt soars across the battlefield and slams into the chest of the blade-and-bow wielder stood above Druager, and though it clearly leaves a burn mark, it does not distract the warrior from striking at their proned foe. Even on the ground, the metamorph is able to evade the first strike, but the second stab and the follow up crossbow bolt both find their marks. Combining their strikes allows RITAC and their summoned beast to lay the commander low, literally, as they pull him to the ground. When RITAC pulls away though, the morningstar wielder swings at the hind leg and catches it. It's not enough to end the wild shape, but it does leave a mark. With the mechanical wolf now out of range, they turn their attention to Xael. Three precise swings crash down at Xael, who evades one but the other two catch on the frigid armour that the elven warrior has cloaked themself in. The spiked maces do enough to dispel the cold, but the warforged pays dearly for the effort in doing so, with the cold armour shattering into frozen spikes that ravage their upper body leaving a thousand thousand pockmarks in the metal and wood.


*Spoiler: Map/OOC*
Show




Recap:
Howell casts Fly and moves.
Vradurz hits the warforged near Druager for 10, doesn't need to spend BI.
Hallina hits the commander for 12, misses once, then hits the spellcaster twice for 27 total. They're still up, but barely.
RITAC and bird hit the commander for 22 total together and trip him. He's now prone, and bloodied.

RITAC saves himself an OA from the commander due to mobility, but not from the warforged to the commander's south, who swings and hits for *8*.
Said warforged then hits Xael twice for 7 and 11 total, taking 30 (15x2) Armour of Agathys damage  in return. Said warforged is now bloodied. They miss with their last attack.

The spellcaster retaliates against Hallina with a 2nd level Inflict Wounds that hits for *30* necrotic damage.

Finally, the warforged beside Druager stabs him once for *8* and then shoots him pointblank for another *6*. Advantage didn't actually do anything for these rolls, surprisingly. 

*Xael* is now up.

*Initiative Order:*
Vradurz:[20] 
Druager: [19]
RITAC: [18]

EG2: [17]
*
Xael: [14]*

EG3: [14]
EG1: [13]
EC: [11]

Howell: [3]
Hallina: [2]

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

As Hallina soars into the midst of the clash, the Tairnadal spares her a glance. _She is quite formidable,_ he finds himself thinking, but there is no time to admire the fighting forms of his allies. Xael spins on his feet, evading the first of the closest strikes from the forged and letting the other two land. The air around the Tairnadal is sapped of its warmth, a deathly chill ripping through the body of his attacker and slowing it down. Yet this warforged is not his primary target: that would be the enemy leader, who thanks to RITAC now lies prostrate at his feet. 

Xael's dance never slows as his double-scimitar descends in a storm of cuts, each one now being driven with all of the elf's might. If their commander can be taken out of the fight, it will go a long way towards breaking enemy morale. Even these construct-soldiers have camaraderie, he reasons, and a decapitation strike is always tactically sound.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Xael is full-out power attacking the prone commander in front of him, all with advantage and Elven Accuracy. I rolled all of them in Discord already. The first two attacks are both 24 to hit, dealing a total of *38* damage. The third attack is only a 16 to hit, dealing another *15* damage.

----------


## Amnestic

Xael's blade dance against the fallen commander prove more than sufficient. The commander raises their arm-blade to parry, only to have the arm removed entirely, followed by a swift beheading.  The dance doesn't stop, but a fallen foe is much easier to strike than one standing, and when Xael turns their blade upon the morningstar wielder at their side they parry it away.

A shudder washes through the warforged detachment as the head of their leader flies from the body, striking with a loud _thud_ against one of the cargo cars before skidding to a stop on the dirt. The spellcaster being menaced by RITAC, unhurt thus far, is the first to react. When they speak next, their voice is enhanced with magic, its volume near deafening over the sound of battle. *"Commander Blitz has fallen. Begin purging sequence! Let nothing remain!"* From the engine car, you hear a shuffling of movement, and then the unmistakable crackling of lightning which starts as sound, and then becomes visible from the front of the car. It seems to be growing.

Undeterred by whatever the 'purge sequence' is, the two warforged continue their assault on RITAC, though the hardy hide deflects most blows, the one exception being a particularly vicious morningstar strike that finds the less-protected underbelly.

*Spoiler: Map/OOC*
Show




Recap:
Xael offs the commander with two solid strokes. I retargeted the last strike to the guy next to Xael, but it misses. Leadership ceases to be in effect.

The two warforged cornered by RITAC attack, but despite a spiritual weapon strike and three morningstar swings, only one hits, for *11* piercing damage.

Note that I haven't rolled Concentration on spells for any of the attacks that have happened on the last two enemy turns, you'll need to do those yourself.

Everyone but Xael is up, and Druager can stand tall once more to fight!


*Initiative Order:*
*Vradurz:[20] 
Druager: [19]
RITAC: [18]*

EG2: [17]

Xael: [14]

EG3: [14]
EG1: [13]
EC: [11] DEAD

*Howell: [3]
Hallina: [2]
*

----------


## Postmodernist

*"They're routing! Press the advantage!"* the spellsword bellows, as he continues his advance. He again summons forth another gout of flame to assail his foes and provide Drauger with covering fire. *"Vusrii, chaat'oor,"* he spits as blaze leaps from his palm.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Continue to move towards the fight another 30', casting Fire Bolt again at the same target as before.
(1d20+7)[*17*] for (2d10)[*13*] fire damage.
Shot in the dark here, if Vrardurz can see the "lightning purge" going on, he'll try and discern its effects. *Arcana* - (1d20+7)[*24*]

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C*.

The morning star blow rattles the wolforged. Then the sudden high-pitched whine from the engine cart makes them grunt in surprise, white spots of static intruding at the edge of their vision momentarily. That moment is enough long enough though, and the RITAC loses their grasp on mystic xylem connecting them to the vine-vulture. The creature wilts away with a muffled squawk.

RITAC turns, lashing out at the first movement they see...but the spinning Spiritual weapon has proven further distraction. Too late to readjust their aim, stone teeth scrape across the warforged cleric's side in a glancing blow. 

*Spoiler: OOC* 
Show

RITAC attacks the caster - 14 to hit. 12 damage if they're miraculously naked.

Wolforged
AC 16 HP 13/37 Speed 60ft

Vine-vulture
Gone!

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Concentrating on his Fly spell to keep Hallinas mobility up, Howell sprints off down the trench craved through the copse by the derailed engine. 

Reaching out with his mind, he accompanies his expeditious strides with telekinesis, flinging himself forward with both body and mind. 

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Howell dashes to double move 60 forward. 
Bonus action using his telekinetic push on himself (the text says he can willingly fail the save) to push himself an additional 5 forward for a total move of 65.

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Druager blinked for a moment, his free will finally returning after the spellcaster robbed him of it.  His eyes flashed for a moment as the scout rolled to his feet, letting out a sibilant hiss.  He paused, considering eviscerating the magic user without thought.  But there was still another opponent closer to him, and he had a team to worry about.

After a moments thought, Druager grunted inwardly, remembering the value of thinning the herd. He  elected to deal with the spellcaster first, least he heal or revive someone, or summon a powerful ally.  Shrugging off his cloak, the scout revealed two writhing ropes of scaled flesh where his arms would normally be.  The left arm lashed out, stretching past the adjacent warforged to strike the further one, the sharp claws on the end stabbing in from one side.  A matching tentacle from the right followed suit, stabbing from the opposite side in a pincer movement.  

As Druager pulled the tentacles back, they stopped short by wrapping around the closer warforged.  Once they latched on, two giant, leathery wings unfurled from his back and lifted the scout straight upwards, with his foe in tow.

Sometimes, supporting the team didnt mean you couldnt do what you wanted 
_Round 3 -  Strike the spellcaster with both claws (action, using lion cla s and octopus arms)
Attack 1 - (1d20+8)[10], Damage - (1d6+5)[6]
Attack 2 - (1d20+8)[13], Damage - (1d6+5)[6]

Extra attack: Initiate grapple with adjacent warforged (octopus arms, w/advantage)
Athletics - (1d20+11)[13] or Athletics - (1d20+11)[31]

Fly upwards 20 (wings, 10 high distance?)
Effects: Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Ensnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (4/4); Hex, Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person  (1/1 perlong rest)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (1/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

Hallina attacks, moving with blurred speed, laying into the nearest opponents ...

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show

Okay, so I'm not where I wanted to be and I can't take advantage of my flight without incurring a bunch of AoOs, but everything is about to move on me anyway...

Reckon I'll lay into the spellcaster and move attacks to the dude next to me. If those aren't up and I still have an attack, I'll use my move to get to whatever opponent is next closest. Still _hasted_ with +2 AC. Using my bonus action for Second Wind (1d10+2)[*3*]

Attack 1 (1d20+8)[*18*] for (2d6+5)[*12*]
Attack 2 (1d20+8)[*17*] for (2d6+5)[*8*]
Attack 1 (1d20+8)[*13*] for (2d6+5)[*12*]
Attack 4 (1d20+8)[*27*] for (2d6+5)[*13*]

----------


## Amnestic

Druager's lengthy limbs lashes out and cut down the spellcaster before they can utter another word, scraping across its neck and causing sufficient structural damage that the warforged collapses. When he wraps his tentacled arms around the armbow-and-blade wielder beside him, it hinders the warrior's movements enough that he can't avoid the hurled flame from Vradurz, and nor can he adequately mount an offensive strike. Even at pointblank range, the armbow's bolt finds itself evaded by the chimera of a man.

The remaining spellcaster to the northwest is too slow to avoid RITAC's massive metallic jaws which scrape a chunk of metal and wood from their shoulder, but despite the great size of the mechanical wolf that seeks to lay them low, they somehow manage to remain standing, perhaps driven more by zeal and fanatical worship than bodily strength. 

The melee in the centre continues with Hallina slamming her maul into her opponent. He manages to turn away her two follow up strikes with his weapons though, the massive hammer churning the earth with a _thump_ as the warrior spins and strikes Hallina once in the arm, then follows up by hitting Xael with the carried momentum. The elven blade dancer evades the final strike from the spiked mace, letting it sail past their face with minimal wasted movement. 

*Spoiler: Vradurz Arcana*
Show


They appear to be overfeeding or releasing (or both) the bound air elemental in the railcar. This is likely to result in an explosive result for the cars and surrounding area in short order.



*Spoiler: Map/OOC*
Show




Forgot to delete the bird token. Oh well. Will be fixed on the next map.

Recap:
Vradurz hits the warforged for 13 fire. Barely. Exact AC. Now 60ft from the battlemap.
RITAC hits the spellcaster for 12. They make their strength save vs. Prone though so they stay standing.
Druager misses once, then hits the spellcaster for 6, dealing exact damage to kill it. He also grapples the warforged next to him.
Howell dashes, he's now 55ft from the battlemap.
Hallina hits the warforged to her left once, for 12 damage. The other two attacks miss (though the second one only barely).

Warforged in the middle hits Hallina for *11* and Xael for *6*. Misses with his last strike. He's on pretty low HP, an attack or two will likely finish him off.
Warforged beside Druager misses all three attacks, including a Nat 1. Just a very poor showing from Mr Grappled :P 

Xael's up!

*Initiative Order:*
Vradurz:[20] 
Druager: [19]
RITAC: [18]

EG2: [17]

*Xael: [14]
*
EG3: [14]
EG1: [13]
EC: [11] DEAD

Howell: [3]
Hallina: [2]

----------


## Amnestic

Xael's blade whips across the warforged's form once, twice, three times. The first knocks aside their defense, the second rakes their eyes, and the sweeps from neck to navel, driving deep enough to split open the construct body, sending a shower of lubricant over the churned earth.

The last remaining spellcaster again attempts to tear at RITAC with his summoned blade and 'holy' fire, but the nimble wolf evades the spiritual weapon and ducks away from the flames. The morningstar wielder, acting in tandem with his comrade makes use of RITAC's dodge though, and slams his weapons into the wolf's side in a potent double-strike, threatening to knock the wolf off balance.

The resounding paddle of footsteps inside the engine car tell you that at least one or two more people, presumably those who initiated the purge, are soon to emerge. The size of the elemental unleashed appears to be growing, and now jolts of lighting fire off in random directions, with some being drawn towards the other railcars. When they connect, a surge of electricity runs through their outer shells, tiny bolts of it harmlessly (for now) leaping to those figures alongside the car.


*Spoiler: Map/OOC*
Show




You can judge, without requiring an ability check, that remaining adjacent to any of the metal railcars is likely to be _bad_ if the elemental's growth continues, which it probably will.

Recap:
Xael kills the warforged next to them. I botted them to move to the grappled remainder.

The spellcaster manages to roll poorly on their attack roll, and amazingly on RITAC's saving throw, so deals no damage.
Dual wielder hits RITAC for 7 and 4, for *11* total.

Everyone but Xael is up.

*Initiative Order:*
*Vradurz:[20] 
Druager: [19]
RITAC: [18]*

EG2: [17]

Xael: [14]

EG3: [14]
EG1: [13]
EC: [11] DEAD

*Howell: [3]
Hallina: [2]
*

----------


## Postmodernist

Worry furrows Vrardurz's brow as the coruscating arcane energy grows in both strength and volume. *"They're overloading the elemental engine. Take cover before it blows!"* he shouts to his comrades, still hurrying towards them. Realizing the need to provide them with a means of escaping, but unable to close the distance by conventional means, he dashes as quickly as he can, before briefly disapparating momentarily and reappearing in a puff of silvery mist. He mutters a one-liner joke in the Dar tongue, and dances preposterously, seeking to ungird the warforged's mind long enough to let Drauger escape, or at least to assist the others in escaping.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Vrardurz will move 30', cast Misty Step as a bonus action to move another 30', and get into range to cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter on the one warforged in range. DC 15 wis save or he's prone and incapacitated.

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*

Whatever her companions had done to her, Hallina loved it. The magic from the warforged had been terribly painful, and her joints feel swollen and achy, yet shed never felt so swift and light. Her toes barely brushed the grass as if dancing on air  and shed never learned any proper dances!

Taking the shouted warning and rather obvious growing threat of explosion seriously, she swings at the warforged nearby, maneuvering around into the open to fly back up the hill.

Soundslikewecantstayherewhoscomingwithme,elf?Dr  auger? Hallina extends a hand to assist someone even as she floats away...


*Spoiler: Actions*
Show

Attack 1 (1d20+8)[*24*] for (2d6+5)[*10*]
Attack 2 (1d20+8)[*21*] for (2d6+5)[*16*]


I _haste_ Disengage and flee the way we came, taking someones hand to carry them to safety if anybody accepts. If theres more than one, she _will_ drop her hammer. I suspect she wont move at full speed dragging others, but itll likely still be faster than remaining afoot.

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Druager glanced at the grappled warforged, his arms holding the warforged in place ... although remaining here seemed like an increasingly bad idea given the sounds of crackling and smell of ozone within the train car. 
 His hands reached across to slash at his restrained foe, once, twice, thrice in rapid succession.  Looking at his arcane companions, he nodded his head towards the car and called out in *elvish*, "Can you stop this?"

Even as he asked, he began to move away from the train car towards the trees, dragging the warforged with him
_Round 4 - Strike with both claws, and with the claws for the extra attack
Attack 1 - (1d20+8)[9], Damage - (1d6+5)[8]
Attack 2 - (1d20+8)[16], Damage - (1d6+5)[11]
Attack 3 - (1d20+8)[25], Damage - (1d6+5)[10]

Drop to the ground (probably only 5' high) and drag the warforged away from the car towards the trees (15')

Effects: Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Ensnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (4/4); Hex, Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person  (1/1 perlong rest)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (1/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

The battered wolf form leaps over the two warforged it has been battling. It exposes its belly to the foes trading the risk of reprisal for safety from the brewing electrical storm.

Now free to move, RITAC shifts away from the lightning rail cars. They try to place themselves between the sparking currents and their allies, hoping to give them a measure of protection.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Slightly weird one here, sorry!

RITAC moves away from their foes, drawing two opportunity attacks. If they take 2 damage they'll drop out of wild shape, using their action to refresh their wolforged form. They move to shepherd/shield the soft bodies from the sparks of lightning.

If the opportunity attacks somehow both miss they try to dart into range of the Cleric whilst staying away from the mace wielder.
Attack (1d20+6)[*20*]  Damage  (2d6+4)[*13*]  DC 13 str save vs trip
Wolf AC 16 HP 2/37 Speed 60ft
RITAC AC 15 HP 42 Speed 40ft

----------


## (Un)Inspired

It's gonna explode? Get out of there! Stop trying to fight, all of you! Howell yells out to both his companions and the constructs, across the battlefield. STop fighting and we can figure this all out when *ALL* of us are a safe distance from what's about to happen!

Rushing forward, almost headless to his own words, Howell reaches out with his mind, and through a force born of sheer will, uses telekinesis to pry combatants from each other. While using his mind to bifurcate the melee, he draws back an arrow on his shortbow and lets it fly into any enemy tries to reengage his party, knocking it back with a mobile flourish.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

How moves his full speed forward (he's taking the attack action so it's 40') and uses his telekinetic feat to force move any of his allies left adjacent to an enemy away so they can break free from the combat without having to disengage. If there's STILL a warforged in melee with an ally (other than the one grappled by Drauger) then he makes a shortbow attack on it using an inspiration die to make a mobile flourish knocking it back 5'+whatever he rolls on his inspiration die.

Shortbow attack: (1d20+5)[*11*]
Damage: (1d6+2)[*5*] + Inspiration (1d8)[*1*]
Extra damage if crit: (1d6)[*2*] + (1d8)[*3*]

----------


## Amnestic

Claws from one side tearing at metal, a maul from behind smashing wood, and the warforged warrior in Druager's grip swiftly falls beneath the combined assault of the party surrounding them, before you beat a hasty retreat from the field. Vrardurz's fiery bolt streams across the scene, swiftly followed by Howell's arrow, but the warforged targeted knocks them aside with his weapons. The distraction proves ample that RITAC can move away without suffering retaliation however, and also frees up the wolf to grab at the spellcaster's leg in its jaws and wrench it from its feet, flinging it to the ground with a loud _thump._

*Spoiler: Map/OOC*
Show




Recap:
Hallina and Druager finish off the grappled warforged.
Vrardurz's turn changed to holding position and throwing a firebolt. Sadly it misses.
Howell's shortbow shot doesn't find its mark, sadly. 
Somehow, both warforged missed their opportunity attacks so wolfmode remains. RITAC hits and trips the spellcaster, who is decidedly close to death.

Enemy squad EG2 is dead, so no more turns from them going forwards.

Xael is up. They could optionally have taken Hallina's hand as they flew south to get away from the battlefield (not represented on the map if so), or stick around to help out RITAC.

*Initiative Order:*
Vradurz:[20] 
Druager: [19]
RITAC: [18]

EG2: [17]

*Xael: [14]*

EG3: [14]
EG1: [13]
EC: [11] DEAD

Howell: [3]
Hallina: [2]

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

Xael gets his bearings quickly at the end of the last swing of the song-blade. All of his nearby enemies have fallen, his allies have disengaged, and by the sound of the nearby device, it is high time he leave as well. Seeing RITAC depart is the final consideration. The Tairnadal springs away, his long legs dashing away from the derailed cabins as quickly as he can. There is no honour to be had dying pointlessly, as it would achieve nothing here in the face of their mission.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Xael is full running away at this point. There are no party members to protect, so he is spending his Action to Dash and his full movement to follow everyone else up to 70 ft away.

----------


## Amnestic

As you move to tactically retreat from the ever expanding elemental energy, two more warforged emerge from the engine car, though they bear clear scars of the jolting bolts - one is missing an arm while another's face is on fire, and you intuitively understand that this is not a new strategy, but rather the result of a lightning strike igniting their living wood. Seeing you break from the field, the remaining Blades likewise begin to beat a retreat, but they're slower to do so than you are, and the field expands to cover them. A web of lightning expands, the scent of crackling ozone filling the air, before a massive bolt from the grey sky above slams down into the train, causing a percussive explosion. For a moment the day is as a dawn, blinding light filling your vision. Searing heat washes in a wave past you, tickling at the hairs (if you have any) on your head and threatening to ignite them with a spark, though none come. Choking dust is thrown into the air as trees are and the foul smelling fruit is splattered hither and thither, splattering some of you with its repulsive juice and pulp.

When the dust finally settles and your ears stop ringing, what was before a derailed lightning rail gouged through the woods is now replaced with a crater littered with debris. Trees have been flash-fried into blackened husks. The railcar metal has been twisted with massive holes punctured into the sides seemingly at random as the energy sought freedom. They cars are not totally destroyed, but damage has clearly been done. Some of the warforged bodies have been split and torn into pieces, but Xael, Druager and Vrardurz note that you're one body short of the full warforged contingent you fought and saw.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


That's combat concluded! Party should decide what they're doing post-combat recovery, friendly conversation, and investigation wise.

----------


## Postmodernist

*"Be wary. There was a survivor, no doubt running off to tell his masters what happened here. Everyone alright?"* Vrardurz nods to Drauger, hoping that's sufficient acknowledgment of the covering fire he and the others gave to him. Vrardurz checks on Hallina, knowing that the effects of _haste_ can often be disorienting. *"Let's search them and what's left of the lightning rail. Be on your guard."*

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


*Investigation* - (1d20+7)[*26*]

----------


## Waistcoatwill

R.I.T.A.C.

The battered and now bedraggled wolforged twists to one side as if to shake off the filth and debris that cover it. Fortunately for the party, the orb on their chest flashes several times and a look of lupine chagrin passes over its muzzle.

At Vrardurz's warning the great form nods and lowers its snout to the ground. It does a circuit of the wreckage, smelling for traces of burnt warforged exiting the area.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Survival (1d20+7)[*16*] and advantage if smell is relevant (1d20+7)[*23*]

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Druager stood with his companions, watching the explosion from a safe distance.  The released elemental wrecked havoc across the area, scorching trees, twisting metal and burning the warforged down to scrap materials.  As the glare subsided and everyone's vision returned, the scout shook his head, muttering, _"Welcome home ..."_ before moving back in to search the area.  Upon his initial search, he came to the same conclusion as the hobgoblin - there was a missing body.  He returned Vradurz's nod with naught but an empty stare before turning away.  

When the warforged began to snuffle along the ground, Druagar leapt up and flew straight up, eyes scanning the surround areas to see signs of movement away from the site.  Whatever the results, he would return to the others, searching the perimeter for signs of a warforged departing the area.  It wasn't that he didn't trust the warforged wolf ... but he didn't really trust the warforged wolf.  Should all mundane efforts fail, Druager still had one more trick up his sleeve ...
_OOC - Fly up and look for signs of movement ... then drop down and look for signs of tracks.
Perception - (1d20+9)[16] or Perception - (1d20+9)[29] for catching sight of the runner

Survival - (1d20+6)[26] (Perception - (1d20+9)[23] for any visual clues to inform the survival checks.  Perception - (1d20+9)[17] if sight based)

Baring all that, cast wild cunning to detect tracks w/in 120' : "If there are any tracks on the ground within range, you know where they are, and you make Wisdom (Survival) checks to follow these tracks with advantage for 1 hour or until you cast this spell again."
Survival - (1d20+6)[22] or Survival - (1d20+6)[19]

Effects: Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Ensnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (4/4); Hex, Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person  (1/1 per long rest)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (1/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

The elf, having evaded the worst of the explosion along with her companions, turns to survey the scene. She takes in the smoke and the ruined cars, the pungent reek of the rotten fruit, and the bodies of those that remained. Behind the zaelta, her eyes are full of wanton distaste before they settle into their usual intractability.

Seeing Druager take off after Vrazdurz's mention of a survivor, Xael debates following him but thinks better of it. The scout clearly has an edge up in the skies, and there are other things to be searching for in any case. "I will escort you into the rail car," the Tairnadal says to the dar as she follows him to the blown-open metal carapace of the fallen beast-of-the-line. Although she bears a few cuts and scrapes from the fight, the time for vigilance is not yet passed; her blade has not yet disappeared. "You will need assistance if any dangers did somehow survive that."

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Xael will be one of the first through the doors. Only rolled a *13* total on Perception, but she will absolutely rely on Passive of 15 as she's checking about and let the smarter people handle Investigation.

----------


## Amnestic

The pervasive stench of foul mournland fruit, burned ozone, scorched metal and sundered tree prevents RITAC's nose from finding anything that they did not already scent, and likewise the destruction makes it near impossible for normal evidence of passing - snapped twigs, pressed grass, broken branches - to be found. Druager's aerial observations prove nearly as fruitless. When he takes to the skies more than a few trees shudder with passage of creatures fleeing the detonation and for a moment it seems like you might lose the warforged for the trees, but careful judgment of distance, direction, and the size of the movement lets you narrow it down: there is a survivor, and they are currently fleeing north. It's not _entirely_ out of your way if you wished to chase them down, but it isn't exactly on your path either, as your current route was taking you north-east.

Thankfully the danger seems to have passed, leaving Xael to observe without having to jump into action once more. Vrardurz might not be any particular expert in lightning rail engine interiors but they do note that the internals appear to have been refitted. While the exterior was as expected the interior fittings are of a different style. The contrast between the metalwork on the exterior and interior is clear. On top of that any House Orien heraldry is absent, but there is evidence instead of the symbol of the Blades - a clawed warforged gauntlet - being used in its place.

Though its difficult to tell due to the damage from the explosion and the crash, it also looks like the stones affixed to the bottom of the railcars were new, as they seem somewhat less worn than the rest of the lower area of the car.

The crates inside the two cargo cars have been almost entirely demolished by the lightning, and from what few scraps remain they appear to have been transporting tools, but also - strangely - animal crates (the former occupiers either having fled or been evaporated by the elemental's freedom), food, and water, the latter two of which warforged have no need for.. From the remnants of the animals, they do not appear to be native Mournland creatures, though that's more of a guess than a solid conclusion. The keen-eyed hobgoblin manages to scrap up enough bits and pieces of scattered foodstuffs to satisfy two days worth of rations, though the rest is ruined. Food in the mournland tends to be inedible at best and hazardous at worst but looking it over, this seems to have been food procured from outside of the blighted lands.

Much of the warforged regalia and materiel were destroyed in the blast, but the commander's armblade appears to have survived, and touching it sends a tingle of magic through you, though it would require more time to verify what exact properties it holds. Likewise, you manage to recover two scrolls from the spellcaster's remains. A glance tells you they're two different spells, but more time would be required to work out what they are.


*Spoiler: Items*
Show


Unidentified Armblade.
Two unidentified scrolls. 
Two days worth of food for a single person (no water).

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Somersaulting with the thunderous shockwave, Howell escapes harm from the blast of the lightning elemental. He enjoys the momentary earth on his scarlet skin before his metaphorical he bubble is burst, and he absolutely plasters with sickening fruit pulp.

The young genasi stands up, makes an idle brushing motion towards his sleeve, and all the filth Prestidigitates itself free from his armor and gear. He wanders over to join Xael and Vrardurz, his face locked firmly in a look of anguish. The first people we meet, only a day into our trip and all this death already. So many people dead in an instant. It just feels so avoidable? Are you guys okay? Hallina, Xael both of you took a few hits howre you feeling. Oh and Vrardurz, that was a great spell. It was good casting with you.

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*

Resting on hands and knees in the dead grass, Hallina feels absolutely terrible. The magic that allowed her to soar in battle drains away, leaving her feeling hollow atop the inexplicable wound she suffered from that warforged magic-user. She says to Howell, "I don't know what that metal bastard did to me. And the strength I had is gone. I feel like I came off a weeklong bender. I need some time to catch my breath."

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

I got hit for 30 points from that one spell and badly need rest or healing, but don't want to use up resources this early. I'll entertain suggestions before committing to using hit dice and goodberry wine.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

The damaged wolf form shifts back into the more familiar (if still somewhat battered) humanoid configuration as it returns to the group.

A look tht may be concern crosses the warforged's faceplate as it regards its injured comrades. They plant theye toes in the earth and give a brief shudder as twenty large berries begin to sprout from their head foliage. They pick one and hand it to Hallina.

Take these if you are damaged, they will rejuvenate you a little. I've never needed to consume them, at least not since... they tail off for a moment. I hope they taste okay. They say with half an apologetic shrug.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show

Cast goodberry twice for 20hp of healing.

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

"An instant on a battlefield is an eternity elsewhere," Xael replies to Howell's navel-gazing, "and a warrior must always be ready for bloodshed. This is of Jennaris, and so it is true."

The Tairnadal looks about at the others. RITAC doesn't seem to have been wounded at all, while Hallina kneels in the dirt. And his own injuries, while not particularly life-threatening, could slow him down later if he is not careful. He considers the situation quietly, their standing and progress, what they have lost and gained already. He walks over to the Cyran veteran and takes a seat beside her, crimson robes billowing out like the world's strangest balloon. He will need to clean them later, but at the moment he does not care.

"You fought well," he speaks to the soldier. "I am sure it would have made your people proud to see it." 

When the warforged offers a magical berry Xael plucks one, eyeing it with some unease. It is not foreign magic - such rituals are common enough among the Aereni - but coming from a machine it remains dubious. Long, thin fingers rub the skin thoughtfully before reaching behind the zaelta.

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*


The sergeant looks askance at the warforged for a moment but knows better than to waste a little comfort after a bout. She nods thanks and does as RITAK says, feeling the terrible ache fade in moments, though it doesn't subside entirely.

She breathed deeply against the pain and acknowledges the elf. "Thanks. I learned from many skilled soldiers. They're all dead, of course, so I' don't know what it's worth. You fight like a demon yourself. Or like a spirit? No offense - I don't understand your people. All I had to fight for was ... eh. Doesn't matter. Thanks again.


"Though that does make me think. The warforged of this place have conviction. We shouldn't underestimate that. What they'll do, how far they'll go. I'll assume from here out that they'll happily end themselves to take us with them. Like fighting the bloody Thranes."

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Above the group, a shadow flickered, as they heard a slow, whooshing noise from the relentless flapping of leathery wings.  Landing lightly, Druager arrived, wings unfurled and tentacles writhing about as cat-like feet made contact silently with the ground.  He was like a Mist-born nightmare, strange purple eyes peering about intently as he folded his wings tightly across his back and replaced his cloak once more.  He pulled his hood down once more, and in his gravelly voice, heavy with the weight of more years than his body would indicate, he shared the results of his scouting.  "Our foe flees north; we were headed north east.  It represents a continued threat, and one that will be alerted to our presence.  If we hurry, we can catch it; if we are slow, we can track it back to its point of origin.

Ready yourselves." 

It seemed in his mind there was little question they would hunt the fleeing warforged down.  But after a moment of gazing around at those eating magical fruit, Druagar paused, his eyes blinking (_sideways?!_).  He intoned in a voice so deep it didn't register with most of them, one of his tentacles waving outwardly, the other gently stroking the darkened knotwood at his neck.  Reaching down into a pouch, he pulled free a handful of small items, offering them up to the others.  The were red, but the skin was almost translucent.  Underneath the thin outer skin, it looked as if something moved, or pulsated within.  

"If you are wounded, eat these." 

Once the group was healed, he stood ready to take off.
_OOC - Pausing to let others response :D  The spell is simply goodberry, with a mournland twist.

Effects: Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (3/4); Hex, Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person  (1/1 per long rest)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (1/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## (Un)Inspired

a warrior must always be ready for bloodshed? Howell repeats the Tairnadals words back to himself. _Always ready for bloodshed? Always? Isnt a warrior ready for bloodshed so that they can one day be at peace? Maybe a warrior, even a knight, is like a compass, just always pointing north, always expecting the next fight_

The young adventurer listens to Draugers scouting report, attempting to push Xaels unintentional riddle from his mind at least for the moment. Hallina, youre still under the effects of my Fly spell, if we want to track down the warforged, youve got the speed and maneuverability to do it.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

RITAC stands somewhat awkwardly whilst their allies pluck any needed fruit from their branches.

Their optic swivels slightly at Xael's dramatic and slightly bloodthirsty comment. They can't smile but nod to Hiwell encouragingly.

I fight in the hope that peace may be won. Sadly it isn't just elven ghosts that believe in fighting for its own sake though.

They look towards Hallina. Some Blades may be soft-body hating fanatics, but they are not simple-minded. Their "Lord" is devious in recruiting the vulnerable or angry and this new scheme is worrying....at least they're not Karrnathi, they won't come back a second time after they die.

With a slight shudder RITAC hands out the remaining berries and readies themself as Druager suggests.

Yes, let us track the survivor. Our mission is the current priority so we should be quick and stop them returning to their base if we can.

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

Xael's eyes crinkle in the semblance of an open smile. "I merely spoke the truth; there is no need for thanks." A pause, and then: "We do not worship demons, or ghosts. All we do is strive to live up to the deeds of those worth remembering. Sometimes, in moments of ancestral clarity, their memory moves through us. I am of Jennaris not because of my blood, but what I do in their name. The same is true of all Tairnadal."

RITAC's comment hits the elf like a bucket of cold water. Xael is back on her feet in an instant, closing the gap between them. While she does not reach for the bow on her back, there is a weight on the air that suggests the double-scimitar is nearby. "There is a *difference* between being ready for battle and seeking it out," she declares. "While it is true that some of my people have failed to grasp that contradiction, bloodlust is not of me or my ancestors. Do not let your ignorance about things of which you know little draw you down dangerous paths."

After a moment, Tairnadal sighs and relents. "But you are right; let us keep moving, to track the errant forged."

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Not sure if we're taking a short rest here or not, but Xael would really like to in order to get her spells back. The Goodberries are appreciated.

----------


## Postmodernist

Vrardurz claps the young genasi on the shoulder with enthusiasm in response to his comments. *"Mazo, ta muut!"* he says, his face broadening into a wide grin, his words addressing the entire party. The boy had charm and tactical wit to boot; he'd make a fine leader once forged in the crucible of experience. The others had acquitted themselves admirably as well, fine warriors all. 

*"If we're to chase down this runaway, let's not tarry. I know some of you are injured, but we can't afford to let it get a head start. We are strangers in the Mournland, whereas this is its home. I propose we move, and quickly."*

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Halline Dell*

Retrieving her crossbow, Hallina shrugs at RITAC's words. She didn't have time to consider thier enemies' motivations, only their likely actions and capabilities. She says, "I don't want to hunt this one down only to find ourselves a hundred yards away from an encampment. If you say the spell still works, I'll go, but pray I'm not just a lonely target in the air. I'll play hound to the fox."

She sails away in the direction indicated by the trackers...


*Spoiler: Actions*
Show

Perception [roll]+3[/roll]

Hallina will rise to a good 100 feet initially and then come down to 20 feet or so. If she find it she'll shoot it, usnig speed to remain at a distance of about 100 feet and keep on shooting, hoping to stay outside range of conventiant return fire, and slowing its progress while the others catch up.

(1d20+4)[*9*] for (1d8+2)[*8*]

----------


## Amnestic

Hallina's shot was wild to begin with, but combined with the tree cover giving the warforged protection from an aerial assault, there's little hope that it hit - not that Hallina could even see. The party's pursuit is delayed after  your investigations of the train cars and your goodberry feast, and it gives the fleeing fighter a sizable lead. They're not working on concealing their passage however, and once you get some distance from the explosion, you can perceive the trail to follow. To start with it seems like you're gaining on the steady footed forgeborn, but as you continue the footsteps seem to pick up the pace, as if they're aware of your pursuit. The depths of the footprints deepen and the strides lengthen. What little care they gave to obscuring their presence is lost. Given RITAC's size and the aerial assault from earlier, it's a reasonable guess on their part. You leap over fallen trees, duck an overhanging basket of foul fruit, narrowly avoid faceplanting into a sickening bog, as you make your hastened pursuit, with the overhead chase hindered momentarily when _Haste_ comes to an end. What few arrows are fired struggle to penetrate the cover overhead, but they serve to keep the warforged pressured.

Before you catch up, you hear a Word. "*ⱄⰹⰿⱊⱁⰳⰵⰰⱃ*". Utterly alien and in no language you recognise, yet reverberating with power. The treeline breaks and you're faced with the wreckage of an airship, split in half and absent its elemental binding entirely (in case you feared a repeat performance). It is a stark contrast to the relatively new lightning rail, this crashed airship has all the hallmarks of having fallen in the Mourning - or prior - and never being touched since. Its wood is worn by time and the elements, warped by heat and frost. The shattered planks have had their edges rounded by wind and rain. Plantlife have begun to grow around and atop the structure, but the scattered remnants of its cargo don't look like they've been pilfered as yet. 

You arrive towards a fight already playing out. On one side, the injured warforged who made his escape from you only to run headfirst into a new problem. On the other side, four ghastly undead creatures, appearing as humanoids with their grey-black skin pulled taut against their bones. More notable than their appearance though is the noise they make, a gibbering coo in some long forgotten tongue. Each syllable collides with your ears as a reminder of pain and loss. "*ⰼⱆⱄⱅ. ⱆⱆⰰⱀⱅⰵⰴ. ⱅⱁ ⱅⰵⰾⰾ. ⰹⱁⱆ. ⱅⱒⰵ ⱅⱃⱆⱅⱒ*" To face it directly would tear at your very being, and indeed you see the warforged is suffering as such. When one of the creatures *Speaks*, a chunk of the Blades warrior's hip turns to dust. He's outnumbered, injured, and facing certain death should he be left alone.

*Spoiler: Int (Arcana or Religion) on the Undead*
Show


*Spoiler: DC1*
Show


It's spooky. And I don't like it.



*Spoiler: DC6*
Show


These are "Painspeakers", though you know little more than that. All cases you know of says they are universally hostile to all life and unable to be reasoned with.



*Spoiler: DC12*
Show


Painspeakers are thought to have originated from the Mournland as none are recorded as existing prior to the Mourning and the vast majority of them have been found in the land that was once Cyre. Some have been seen outside of the Mournland's borders, indicating they're not contained there, merely that they originated from the Mournland's magic. They use words of power to tear their opponents apart, and rarely use their claws except as a last resort.



*Spoiler: DC18*
Show


Painspeakers are formed from individuals who died in the Mourning who still had things left unspoken - messengers who had not completed their charge, hopeful loves who had yet to share their heart's desires, or those who bore a terrible secret they wished to be known. These words tortured the souls stolen by the Mourning, and gave rise to the Painspeakers who wield their twisted words as Truespeech. Silencing them is the standard tactic to counter a Painspeaker. They are unable to perform their Utterances consecutively, and instead must take time to recover, usually going into a fully defensive process when they do so.









*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


You're not involved in this fight (yet), so no initiative (yet). You could intervene, either to take down both sides while they're fighting, or to try to save the warforged (for interrogation or just gloating, I guess) or let it play out and rest and either wait to deal with the undead after you take a breather if you want to scour the airship wreckage, or ignore them and move on.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

The floral hackles of the wolforged rise at the sight of the spectral enemies. As it bares its fangs it emits an unpleasant mix of snarls and yelps. The orb in its chest flashes once more and oddly unaccented Galifarian common emits from it.

R.I.T.A.C. has instructed me to scan for hidden incorporeal threats should we close with the Painspeakers. I would counsel a ranged response in the first instance.

----------


## (Un)Inspired

A toothy smile dawns across Howells face as he scratches the back of his head modestly at the words of encouragement from the more experienced magician. He attempts to cobble together something clever to say in response, in his meager smattering of Goblin, but inspiration fails to strike before the party beats down the path behind Sergeant Dell.  

Stumbling into the break in the trees, Howells jaw hangs slack at the sight of the warforged being spoken into oblivion. Instinctively, he shuts his eyes and flinches away from the sight of the undead. Painspeakers. 

He forces himself to turn his head back, and gazes directly at the victims of the mourning. Those who still had things left unspoken - messengers who had not completed their charge, hopeful lovers who had yet to share their heart's desires, or those who bore a terrible secret they wished to be known; all of their corpses defiled by the mourning. Thats Truespeach theyre speaking; theyre trying to unburden themselves of their words unspoken. Its their souls are being tortured. 

He squeezes his eyes closed and memories of his father performing gentle repose on the bodies of soldiers returned home from war flood his mind. 

There is no night without a dawning
No winter without a spring
And beyond the dark horizon
Our hearts will once more sing
For those who leave us for a while
Have only gone away
Out of a restless, care worn world
Into a brighter day.

As he recites the prayer aloud, he unclenches his fists and opens his eyes, warmth radiating feverishly off his body, the air around him rippling in the heat; and for an instant, staring at the young genasi is like looking directly into a lit candles flame in a dark room. 

They have to be freed. Their tortured bodies have to be destroyed. For their souls, for light triumphing over darkness; for all of our people lost in the war, for the very dignity of life. You might not think of yourself as the heroes of this land, but today, were all the heroes that these people need!

*Spoiler: Spells, buffs, justice, etc.*
Show

Howell hits everyone in the party with Motivational Speach (except himself, it can only effect up to 5)
That means:
- Advantage on Wis saves for everyone
- +5 Temp HP for Everyone
- If you get hit, your next attack roll is at advantage 

Additionally: Hallina, Xael, and Drauger get Inspiration from Howell, so make sure to add an extra 1d8 to a d20 roll you make in the next 10 minutes. 

Finally, Howell casts Truestrike, targeting Hallina and Xael. Youve both got advantage on your next attack roll. 

Lets kick some ass guys!

----------


## Postmodernist

*"Golin, gath'dar,"* Vrardurz softly intones as he touches Xael's back. The air fills with the scent of anise, and eldritch speed courses through the bladebearer's body. He draws his rapier and readies himself with the others.

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*

Having never seen anything like these creatures and shocked at the abruptness of their appearance, Hallina crouches next to her companions for a moment ... and then Howell begins a righteous soliloquy and she scowls, cursing under her breath with a string of invective from seemingly every culture she could think of, recovering from her surprise while blocking out the terrible words and cursing Howell...

----------


## Amnestic

With your preparations and enchantments in place, the party breaks from the treeline as one force, rushing towards the battlefield to lay claim to the airship's plunder, and save or slay the fleeing warforged - or both.

Vradurz's mental acuity and magical items grant them the first strike.

*Spoiler: Map*
Show




You can generally assume until you get in close they won't be making you a target, so I wouldn't worry that they'll start blasting you before you get a good whack in. 

Red/Blue painspeakers aren't different in any way, they're just marked for initiative splitting stuff so they don't do 20d6 damage to one target before you can react. Is that an exaggeration? Who knows.

*Initiative Order:*
Vradurz: [16]

Painspeaker Red:[16]

Xael: [15]

Painspeaker Blue: [15]

Druager: [12]

Warforged: [10]

RITAC: [7]
Howell: [6]
Hallina: [5]

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

The elf seemed hesitant to follow the warforged, but the other apparently saw the logic in it ... event he hobgoblin and warforged.  Of course, it was possible RITAC was imply ensuring their prey died before it could speak any secrets ... secrets that would surely give solid proof to what Druager knew has happened on the day of the Mourning ... what he had _seen_.  

Pushing aside those thoughts, he silently followed the group, speeding through the trees as Sgt Dell flew overhead.  The trail was ridiculously easy to follow - the boy could have lead the way - but it was Dell's constant pressure above that ensure their target could spend no time hiding its trail.  After several minutes of pursuit, they could feel the shifting pendulum as they neared their target, the net about to descend.  

Then the world erupted into a cacophony of jarring sound that shook his very core.  Stunned, Druager pulled up short, eyes scanning the clearing they had approached with urgency.  There, across the way, four figures stood arrayed in front of the beleaguered warforged, who's end was certainly inevitable.  The ranger almost smiled as he watched, certain there was poetic justice in the scene playing out in front of them.  He recognized the creatures, having seen them in the mists before, but he only knew them as Painspeakers.  They were not native to Cyre, and their arrival after the day clearly spoke to a connection between them and the aftermath of armageddon.  There were likely more theories than organized religions, but the prevailing one Druager had heard was they were an avenging angel of sorts, seeing to mete out justice for the Mourning.  Or perhaps they were avenging devils, come to punish any who dared walk the blasted lands.  Regardless of their true origins, Druager found it fitting this warforged would meet his fate at the hands of the very horror his kind had helped create.   

Hearing whispers, and smell the familiar ozone of spell casting, the scout turned back to here Howell whispering old ditties and charging the group with destroying these tortured souls for the good of Cyre.  Frowning, he glanced at the others, all of whom seem resigned to attacking.  He considered the course for a moment, nodding shortly to himself as he agreed to the value of the fight.  Resources by way of the air ship, information by way of interrogating the surviving warforged (if RITIC would allow it), and lastly security by clearing the area of potential threats.  While the last was a fanciful dream, he still understood the need to try.  

Stretching his shoulders, Druager waited for the group to ready themselves, then turned and locked his eyes in on the closest painspeaker.  Then, like a snake, he darted out to close with the nearest creature and attack, his tentacles swarming towards it.  But rather than simply restraining the creature, they lashed back and forth, the sharpened claws at the end stabbing at them as the tentacles swirled about.  
_OOC - Waiting for initiative to get into it

Effects: Motivational Speech (+5 temp HPs, Adv on Will saves, Adv on next attack if struck; 10 rounds); Inspiration (add 1d8 to a d20 w/in 10 min); 10x goodberries (24 hours); Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (3/4); Hex, Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person  (1/1 per long rest)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (1/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

_A moment before_

The Elf's words rang in their mind as they followed the path after their foe highlighted by the flying human.

_Maybe the Valenar aren't all maniacs possessed by ghosts, just following the examples of crazy ancestors. Xael has certainly shown some level of restraint, which none of those fighting the Predacons did. The fact that she nearly came to blows over a slight undermined that slightly, even if nothing had come of it. It might be best to lie low for a while, we need what control she can manage if we are to get through this mission alive._

The scent of undeathon the wind  broke through their reverie. They instinctively reach out for strength and reassurance from the world around them to combat that familiar stab of panic. Maybe they reached to hard...the plants around them all seemed to wilt somewhat, but a verdant green glows in their optic and root bundles for a moment before fading away.

_Now who's in danger of losing control?_

As they enter the clearing they shift into their Wolf form once more, but this time is subtly different. The cords of their wooden muscles bulge more than before, and thick plates of bark and fibrous leaves augment their already formidable stone plating. Wound like a spring by conflicting waves of old rage and fear, RITAC barely notices Howell's words, but they leap nto action as soon as any of their comrades makes a move forwards.

The orb in their chest emits a faint blue glow that seems to sweep around them.

*Spoiler: Buffing*
Show

Cast Naturalised magic at level 3 for +15hp, +2 AC, and +2 damage on the next wild shape transformation.

AC 18 HP 53 (THP 5) Move 60ft. Passive Perception 17

Perceptor casts Detect Evil and Good

----------


## Postmodernist

Vrardurz moves along the eastern side of the rock, taking cover from the Painspeakers scattered amidst the wreckage of the crashed airship. Cursing himself for preparing mostly spells that would require his focus to maintain, he realized he could not support Xael's enchantment while bedeviling his enemies. He kindles conjured flame in his palm, and hurls it at the nearest horror.

*Spoiler*
Show

Move NE 1 square and N one (two if necessary for LOS) to maintain cover while casting Flame Bolt. Maintain concentration on Haste.

(1d20+7)[*10*] for (2d10)[*12*] fire damage.

----------


## Amnestic

The bolt of flame appears to be flying true, but the undead creature's neck snaps around in a thoroughly inhumane manner before it makes contact. It twists its body, contorting it around the fireblast as if it were a circus performer, a cruel mockery of both life itself and the spellcraft. Its eyes lock onto the hobgoblin, and then its jaw unhinges and it *Speaks* again. Vradurz feels their nerve ends deaden as they are, at least partially, unmade. There is no pain or even numbness, it merely shaves a portion of your being away, stripping a half-letter from your place in the histories and prophecies of the world.

Thankfully the other one seems more than occupied with the warforged, as the undead and the construct continue their dance of weapons and words.

*Spoiler: Map*
Show




The firebolt sadly misses.

Painspeaker R (left) deals *10* damage to the Warforged. Painspeaker R (right) successfully perceives Vradurz's truename and makes their check, dealing *8* force damage (that bypasses res/immune, if it mattered, but I don't think it does).

Xael's up.

*Initiative Order:*
Vradurz: [16]

Painspeaker Red:[16]

Xael: [15]

Painspeaker Blue: [15]

Druager: [12]

Warforged: [10]

RITAC: [7]
Howell: [6]
Hallina: [5]

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

The journey here has been a frantic, endless chase through sickening underbrush and vile tangles. It is nothing like the Cyre he remembers, and is enough to snuff out whatever lingering satisfaction the elf has felt so far. He keeps his eyes out for traces of the warforged, but is not too proud to admit that both Druager and RITAC are better trackers over long distances and so follows their lead. He does not give his words to the warforged any more thought - best focus on the chase for now.

By the time they come to the airship and sight the spirits, the Tairnadal is already wielding his blade once more. Howell is speaking - some words about freedom and justice - but all of that fades away at the vision of the undead horrors and the threat they pose. Xael closes his eyes, remembering the words of his ancestor. 

_Nothing is ever really gone. We will always be here, to guide you when you need it the most._

Vrazdurz's magic bolsters him, and he is moving at supernal speed. He hears the word of a comrade, of an ally, in his ears, and he knows his song-blade will strike true. The Blade might be one of his enemies, but even a constructed zealot is better than literal abominations against the natural order.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Going in swinging with Haste, Bardic Inspiration, and advantage on the first swing. Xael will move due north, encircling the blue Painspeaker by itself and positioning himself on the north side of it. He landed 3 of the 4 attacks this turn, dealing a total of *38* damage to said Painspeaker.

----------


## Amnestic

Xael's crushing blows take chunks of flesh and bone from the Painspeaker's body, littering it with cuts large and small. Unnatural magic seeps out of the wounds, oozing as if blood, but it manages to stay standing, albeit its gait is clearly hindered from what it was before. It grasps at its lower teeth with one hand and there's an audible crack of bone as it snaps the bone to unhinge its face into an even more grotesque form, before *Speaking* at Xael. A memory flashes through their mind, and then goes. It might have been important, or it might have been trivial, but whatever the memory was has _gone_ and you can neither recall it, nor what it was. It has been unmade just as the words unmake flesh and metal. There is pain in that. A pain in loss, and of the heart, even if not the actual body.

To the left, the warforged continues to engage the other two, with the one at range tearing another chunk of his being away with its *Words*.

*Spoiler: Map*
Show




Xael brings the Painspeaker to low health, perhaps even one (moderately effective) attack from death.

Painspeaker Blue (left) fails to perceive the warforged's truename but _does_ still hit with their utterance, dealing another 10 damage. Painspeaker Blue right does perceive Xael's truename, and successfully utters at them for *13* force damage.

Druager's up, and then we soon reach the 'chunk' time.

*Initiative Order:*
Vradurz: [16]

Painspeaker Red:[16]

Xael: [15]

Painspeaker Blue: [15]

Druager: [12]

Warforged: [10]

RITAC: [7]
Howell: [6]
Hallina: [5]

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

The elf seemed hesitant to follow the warforged, but the other apparently saw the logic in it ... event he hobgoblin and warforged.  Of course, it was possible RITAC was imply ensuring their prey died before it could speak any secrets ... secrets that would surely give solid proof to what Druager knew has happened on the day of the Mourning ... what he had _seen_.  

Pushing aside those thoughts, he silently followed the group, speeding through the trees as Sgt Dell flew overhead.  The trail was ridiculously easy to follow - the boy could have lead the way - but it was Dell's constant pressure above that ensure their target could spend no time hiding its trail.  After several minutes of pursuit, they could feel the shifting pendulum as they neared their target, the net about to descend.  

Druager watched as the group leapt into action - Vrardurz hurled a ball of fire while Xael raced across the distance with magically enhanced speed.  The abominations began to react slowly, but the success of Xael's attack spoke well of their chances to hurt these creature.  He hissed to the group, _"End the elf's target first, control the battlefield ... I will engage the closest one."_

Touching the knotwood on his chest, Druager stared balefully at the painspeaker, his eyes flashing before a responding light washed over the the creature's body.  His spell finished, the scout rushed forward, silently covering the distance as his long, sinewy ropes of flesh trailed behind him, fluttering strangely.  Once he reached the painspeaker, Druager's arms lashed out with his sharpened claws, slashing at the creature three times in rapid succession.   
_Round 1 - Bonus action - cast Hex on the closest painspeaker (disadvantage on Will checks)
Move - advance 30' to engage w/the painspeaker from the 'southeast' square
Action - Attack action (3, with extra attack and lion claws morph)
Attack 1 - (1d20+8)[10] +2 from inspiration, Damage - (1d6+5)[10]+Necrotic - (1d6)[4]
Attack 2 - (1d20+8)[12], Damage - (1d6+5)[9]+Necrotic - (1d6)[2]
Attack 3 - (1d20+8)[17], Damage - (1d6+5)[10]+Necrotic - (1d6)[3]

Will use inspiration if one of my attack results is at least 10 but less than 15.  I'll roll it in OOC if required

Effects: Motivational Speech (+5 temp HPs, Adv on Will saves, Adv on next attack if struck; 10 rounds); Inspiration (add 1d8 to a d20 w/in 10 min); 10x goodberries (24 hours); Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (3/4); Hex, Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person  (1/1 per long rest)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (1/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Amnestic

Already aware of the newcomers, the closest painspeaker slips around Druager's strikes, its body contorting in unnatural ways. Only the final claw strike tears at the taut skin of the creature. It seems less effective than perhaps hoped for - the claws don't sink as deep as expected, and the hex upon their luck doesn't seem to aid in tearing at their spirit at all.

Whether believing you are more likely to let them live than the painspeakers, or simply focused on the closest enemy, the injured warforged lashes out with his morningstars, slamming them into the creature's side, but likewise the undead twists around them, and though the spiked maces clearly left a mark it's somehow far shallower than expected.


*Spoiler: Map*
Show




Druager hits with their final attack only, and the necrotic damage doesn't seem to do anything to them (read: they are immune to necrotic). Sadly 12 was just a bit short.

Warforged hits twice on the red Painspeaker he's with but lowrolls on damage. The non-magical weapons of the warforged also don't seem terribly effective (read: they are also resistant to non-magical BPS).

RITAC, Howell, Hallina, and Vradurz are now up. Big party time!

*Initiative Order:*
Vradurz: [16]

Painspeaker Red:[16]

Xael: [15]

Painspeaker Blue: [15]

Druager: [12]

Warforged: [10]

RITAC: [7]
Howell: [6]
Hallina: [5]

----------


## Postmodernist

The sensation of being painspoken unsettles the warmage, but only momentarily. Vrardurz dashes into the fray, seeking to flank the Painspeaker and split its attention, hopefully buying an opening for Drauger's claws. A nimbus of energy surrounds his rapier. He vaults at the Truespeaking aberration, rolling over its back as the creature ducks to evade him. As he lands, he lunges forward, seeking to skewer the creature.

*Spoiler*
Show


Vrardurz moves to the corner NW of the red painspeaker. Should be able to do it without provoking an AOO. If there's difficult terrain impeding his path, he'll just get into melee range.
Maintain concentration on the haste.
Cast booming blade with advantage from Howell.
(1d20+6)[*23*] (1d20+6)[*24*] for (1d8+2)[*6*] piercing and (1d8)[*3*] thunder damage. If it moves, it takes another (2d8)[*9*] thunder damage.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

The sight of unliving abominations locked in mortal combat with a warforged brings back so many memories of missions during the war that RITAC is almost overwhelmed. Visions of the last hunt of the predacons overlay themselves on the skirmish around the crash sight and they can't help but leap forwards.

Jaws thrown open wide, RITAC lunges at the painspeaker locked in combat with the surviving blade.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show

60ft move towards the red painspeaker, on the opposite side to the blade if they can make it that far.

Depending on whether or not pack tactics triggers from the other warforged, the painspeaker gets a to hit roll of 18 for 12 damage and needs to make a DC13 strength save or be knocked prone.

AC 18 HP 53 (THP 5)

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*


The soldier moves up, wishing the group had stayed in tighter formation rather than spreading out to engage peicemeal, but there was something terrible about the undead creatures she clearly didn't understand and moved her companions to destroy them. Each time one of the things uttered its weird noises her skin crawled and her mind felt an instinctive reeling revulsion, but she had no idea what it meant. Hallina was no scholar. Officers had told her where to go and who to kill and didn't share the details. She resented it to Dolurrh and back, which was why she'd asked so many questions back in New Cyre. But there was no time for it now. She had to help them destroy the things and get answers after.


*Spoiler: Actions*
Show

Apologies, but I've lost track in the intervening days - is my _flight_ still active? If so, Hallina will move straight ahead and then right to flank the creature engaged with Drauger. If not, she will simply move up and attack it.

DM's choice where I end up and have advantage from flanking. Her hammer is magic. Using _distracting strike_ - the next friendly who attacks the target before my next turn has advantage.

Attack 1 (1d20+8)[*18*] or (1d20+8)[*25*] for (2d6+5)[*12*] + (1d8)[*6*]

Attack 2 (1d20+8)[*17*] or (1d20+8)[*9*] for (2d6+5)[*14*]

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Howell watches his friends rush into combat on the heels of his speech, no doubt moved by the righteous necessity of action (_whether they show it or not_). He tears off after them, closing as much of the distance between himself and the nearest Painspeaker as possible. Closing in on the team's quarry, he whips his hand out in a swapping motion as if to clear the enemy from the battlefield with a gesture alone.

Back to Dolurrh! Back to eternal rest!

A psychic wind blows through the debris-littered field; invisible, but palpable to anything with a mind. 

Driven by compassion, he gestures out towards the Warforged with his left hand, tugging at the living construct with a telekinetic impulse to pull it out of melee with the Painspeaker. You're already injured and your weapon isn't working on it, get behind us and we'll finish them off!

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Howell Moves 30' north towards the undead surrounded by Hallina, Drauger, Vrardurz, and RITAC and casts Dissonant Whispers on it. DC 16 Wis save (1d20)[*9*] or (3d6)[*8*] psychic damage and must immediately use its reaction, if available, to move as far as its speed allows away from you. The creature doesnt move into obviously dangerous ground, such as a fire or a pit. On a successful save, the target takes half as much damage and doesnt have to move away.

He uses his bonus action to telekinetically pull the Warfored 5' diagonally to the right and down out of melee (DC 16 str if it wants to resist but it can fail willingly (1d20)[*19*] ).

----------


## Amnestic

RITAC curves to the left and attempts to bring down the undead engaged in melee with the Blade, but when the jaws reach for the creature's leg it twists its head down and screeches in RITAC's ear, forcing the mechanical wolf to pull back from its assault before the razor teeth could land. Having delivered its screech, you note the creature's skin appear to darken slightly, with indecipherable script running across the length of their body which seems to reject physical assault. 

Together, Hallina and Vradurz assist in surrounding the closest undead and land severe blows with their attacks against it. It finds itself unable to resist Howell's ensorcelling spell though, and when it turns to run there's a flurry of slashes and blows driven into the creature's open back, sending it crashing down into the ground. It twitches for a moment and lets out one final feeble *Word*. A thick black cloud oozes out of every pore of its ruined, cracked skin, engulfing those still in melee. It's choking, and smells like the absence of life - which intuitively you understand is different to smelling of death.

*Spoiler: Map*
Show




RITAC sadly misses due to no pack tactics. Alas, there is no comradery found between these warforged. Don't worry about the description, that's just a fluffy way to miss.

Hallina and Vradurz lay into their target, and when it moves due to dissonant whispers and gets blown up by the OAs. It is thoroughly dead. The cloud is as on the map - it's opaque and while in it you can't speak (or cast verbal component spells), but the effect ends once you exit its area, and your movement isn't hindered in any way.
Painspeaker Red (Left) uses a Recitation that, from what you can tell, ups their AC and *Dodges*. 

Xael's now up.

*Initiative Order:*
Vradurz: [16]

Painspeaker Red:[16]

Xael: [15]

Painspeaker Blue: [15]

Druager: [12]

Warforged: [10]

RITAC: [7]
Howell: [6]
Hallina: [5]

----------


## Amnestic

Xael twists their scimitar to cleave across their opponent's chest, bisecting them from shoulder to hip. Immediately the body releases another burst of the same choking smoke, but it has little time to cling to Xael's form before they burst from the cloud to move on. Curving around the Blade and the painspeaker still locked in combat, the elven warrio unleashes another flurry of strikes against the furthest undead, stripping away the meager flesh. The creature accept these blows willingly, moving in closer to Xael to *Speak* as close as possible, tearing at the elf's skin with a numbing *Voice*.


*Spoiler: Map*
Show




Botting the post per 3sec's request. Xael finishes off their target and moves to the far Blue, hitting it for a total of 30. The red likewise emits a cloud of unpleasant, unspeakable smoke.

It retaliates, perceiving his truename and then successfully using its Utterance for *13* force damage on Xael.

Druager's now up.

*Initiative Order:*
Vradurz: [16]

Painspeaker Red:[16]

Xael: [15]

Painspeaker Blue: [15]

Druager: [12]

Warforged: [10]

RITAC: [7]
Howell: [6]
Hallina: [5]

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

In a flurry of violence two of the abominations fell before the combined night of the group.  However, as the creatures departed the mortal plane, they left a reminder of their presence by way of a disturbing stain.  The noxious cloud stole the sound from the air, even that of the groups labored breathing and beating hearts.

Peering through the black fog, Druager saw Xael engaged with the far painspeaker, but the warrior look hurt.  For a moment the scout though about leaving them as the elves left his people to fate.  But he had joined this team to help his people, and had entered a bond that he would not abandon so easily.  

With a leap, he took to the air, his wings churning the mist as he flew towards the painspeakers.  As he approached, Druager let out a primal scream of challenge and hatred, seeking the focus of his foes.  But as he advanced, his form turned translucent as he disappeared into dark smoke that mingled with the clouds left behind by the undead.  A moment later, two tentacles emerged from a growing cloud between the two painspeakers, the arms heralding the sudden reappearance of the winged Mutant of the Mists.  Both lashed out at the painspeakers, claws seeking to rip the undead apart. 
_Round 2 - Move: Fly 20 forward while telling as a distraction.  
Bonus action - letting hex end, cast misty step to jump right between the two remaining enemies.  
Attack action - lion claws, engaging at range.  Focusing on the one engaged with Xael fist, then remaining attacks vs the other
Attack 1 - (1d20+8)[26], Damage - (1d6+5)[10]
Attack 2 - (1d20+8)[12], Damage - (1d6+5)[7]
Extra attack - (1d20+8)[22], Damage - (1d6+5)[9]

Effects: Motivational Speech (+5 temp HPs, Adv on Will saves, Adv on next attack if struck; 9 rounds); 10x goodberries (24 hours); Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (3/4); Hex (0/1), Tasha's Hideous Laughter (1/1), Charm Person  (1/1)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (0/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Amnestic

Druager's extended claws rip and tear at the undead creature, tearing an arm from the creature's form. It stumbles, its weight balance thrown off by the brutality of the strikes, but somehow manages to stay standing even as the empty shoulder now oozes with the blackened energy. With the party now beginning to surround him, even as they assist, the warforged makes another two strikes against his foe before retreating straight north towards the vast open valley below. The Painspeaker swings an arm at his back, but it skitters across metal and fails to do anything but the most superficial of damage.

*Spoiler: Map*
Show




Druager hits twice, for a total of 5+2 after resistance. The last blue is still standing, albeit barely.

The warforged hits the painspeaker twice, and then retreats north towards the cliff edge. Painspeaker tries to hit on an OA but misses.

RITAC, Howell, Hallina, and Vradurz are now up.

As a reminder, Painspeaker Red has buffed their AC and is *Dodging* so attacks against it have disadvantage.

*Initiative Order:*
Vradurz: [16]

Painspeaker Red:[16]

Xael: [15]

Painspeaker Blue: [15]

Druager: [12]

Warforged: [10]

RITAC: [7]
Howell: [6]
Hallina: [5]

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*

Gagging a bit, Hallina rushes to her left until she's out of the smoke, whereupon she takes a deep, cleansing breath. Seeing RITAC engaged directly in front of her, she jogs ahead and positions the enemy between them.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show

Left and ahead until Painspeaker Red is flanked, negating disadvantage.

Attack 1 - (1d20+8)[*22*] for (2d6+5)[*8*]

Attack 2 - (1d20+8)[*25*] for (2d6+5)[*13*]

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

The departure of the blade allows the wolforged to better focus on fighting the ghouls of the now rather than the ghosts of the past. They focus for a moment, waiting for a pattern to appear in the abomination's movements. With a sudden lunge they grab an arm, attempting to rip it from its socket and bring the creature to grown with it.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show

Attack roll 23 for 13 magical damage. The painspeaker rolled 11 for its Strength save vs DC 13 against being knocked prone. If the creature dies RITAC will then relocate to back up Xael.

----------


## (Un)Inspired

A kaleidoscope of emotions cycles across Howells scarlet face. Bemusement at the warforgeds refusal of aid, fractalizing into consternation at the anti-life cloud the undead keep bursting into, refocusing into grim satisfaction as his friends press their, now heavy, numerical advantage against the remaining duo of Painspeakers. 

If we just talk, we can figure away through this without further need for death, and uhh, maybe dont get so close to that cliff? The Genasi attempts to implore the living construct, even as he ultimately realizes that option reduction may be the best method for harm prevention. 

Reaching into his pack, Howell brings forth his carved cherrywood ocarina, pausing for only a moment to arrange a melody in his head, he sets his lips to the instrument, and plays a soft and rolling tune, airy and sumptuous. The kind of song that could simply carry someone off their feet. 

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Howell moves 30 north and casts Levitation DC 16 Con, on the warforged (no cliff diving today) (1d20)[*9*]

If the warforged fails he lifts it 5 into the air so it cant run away. 

Either way he also uses telekinesis DC 16 Str, to reel the contract in 5 closer. (1d20)[*9*]

----------


## Postmodernist

Vrardurz finds himself coughing fitfully in the wake of the horrid clouds left by the Painspeakers, and, like Hallina, dashes westward until he's cleared the smoky cataract. Emerging, he spies his companions engaged with the remaining monstrosities. Seeing Halling and R.I.T.A.C. handily knock the creature prone, he moves to aid Xael. A gout of flame unfurls from his outstretched palm, and launches itself toward the Painspeaker. *"Howell, let me know if you need help slowing the runner down."*

*Spoiler*
Show


Move out of the cloud four squares west, take a shot at Blue, maintain concentration on _haste._
(1d20+7)[*24*] for (2d10)[*14*] fire damage.

----------


## Amnestic

Vradurz' firebolt streams past the closest painspeaker to strike at Xael and Druager's target. It impacts the gap opened up by Druager's strikes, flooding the undead's insides with flames that burst from its mouth and now emptied eyesockets. The body falls limp as another cloud swiftly begins to appear from the body. Though Hallina's attacks are evaded by the elusive painspeaker, but the distraction does serve to allow RITAC to sneak an attack from behind, dragging the creature to the ground.

The warforged is lifted bodily from the ground, legs flailing for a moment before it clearly realises that there's nothing that can be done. It turns and though its face doesn't exactly twist, you get the unmistakeable feeling that it is glaring at Howell. Its morningstars are still clutched in hand, but up in the air there's few targets, save it throwing them - which it just might do.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Vradurz snipes the last blue, and on Red's turn they failed to utter correctly (rolled a 1, RIP). They're on half health, the warforged is levitated, and it's going to be at least two turns before the last red can attack again which means the fight's essentially over.

Therefore I'm gonna skip making people roll and hold up the game. Whoever gets the next post can narrate a cool execution if they want it, or pass on the opportunity to give it to the person after.

Levitate lasts for 10 minutes so you've basically got all the time in the world to interrogate them, and with the telekinetic shoving you can just push them over the cliff and drop them when you're done.

If you wanted to, that is.

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

Her body torn and bleeding - skin blasted and torn by the worst of the undead magics - the Tairnadal takes advantage of the opportunity provided by the fire blast to swing once at the nearest painspeaker, splitting what is left of its body. Then, still charged by the best of Vrazdurz' magics, the elf tears across the battlefield to end the last of the abominations. Each fall of the Valenar double-scimitar is a dance, a violent crescendo to music only Xael can hear. 

Three beats of the heart, and it is over. The warrior stands over her foes, bleeding but triumphant. She surveys the battlefield, seeing Howell concentrating on his spell to hold the fleeing forged aloft. _It was a wise move,_ Xael concedes internally, _for a true zealot of the Lord of Blades would have happily ended their life rather than give up information._ She contemplates telling him as much, but ultimately decides against it.

So she approaches the rest, blade at her side but still at the ready. After a time, Xael says: "Well fought. Shall we bind our quarry more permanently?"

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

The battle ended, with the undead lifeless once more, naught of their existence remaining but the lifeless taste in the air.  Glancing around, Drauger scanned the area for any remaining threats or additional enemies.  He relaxed marginally only after the sounds of the Mist returned; alien to most, but comforting and chilling to those who had spent any amount of time here.   Turning to face the warforged, he agreed to tying the creature up.  He almost offered to remove its legs as a way to prevent future attempts at fleeing, but elected to keep that option for later after a surreptitious glance at R.I.T.A.C.  Instead, he moved to stand nearby, letting one of the more verbose of the party question the prisoner, lending his strange, unblinking gaze and odd appearance to the effort.  

_OOC - Druager can roll for intimidate at +2, but it's probably better someone else do it and he aids their attempt.  Also, if Suggestion or Hex would help, he has those two spells available.  

Do temp hps disappear afterwards?
Effects: 10x goodberries (24 hours); Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (3/4); Hex (0/1), Tasha's Hideous Laughter (1/1), Charm Person  (1/1)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (0/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Howell gazes over his shoulder at Xael, watching as the elf spinning like a dervish through the remaining undead. _That precision! So thats how a Valenar can really move in a fight_

He turns back towards his floating fugitive, relaxing his posture and tension evaporates off his body in waves as the realization that combat is over sets in. 

Responding to his companions and the addressing the warforged together Howell tries to be reasonable. Hasnt their been enough dismemberment and killing for one day? My friends want to tie you up, I dont really think that necessary, right? Last time things went horribly wrong, theres no reason that needs to happen again. My name is Howell, may I ask yours? 

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Persuasion: (1d20+11)[*17*]

----------


## Amnestic

The floating warforged looks between Howell and the rest of the party. Though they're difficult to read, it seems they are calculating the situation in their mind, before they finally speak. "Wedge. You will kill me once you have your answers. Why should I speak?" His voice is terse and to the point, with the bitter edge of defeat.

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

"We only chased you to prevent your return to the side of your brethren," the warrior replies evenly to their levitating captive. "If you leave the Mournland today and swear to us that you will not report back to the other Blades, we will let you continue to exist. And we have means of following your tracks, to make sure you are good to your word."

Only his companions can see Xaels eyes when he turns back to supposedly make sure they are on the same page; in the elfs steady stare is the lie, as plain as if he had spoken it aloud. His intent towards the forged scout once they have what they need is perfectly clear.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Going for a bluff to the warforged that they will let it leave the Mournland in exchange for its life. Xael will want to kill it, of course, and he wants to make that clear to the party whilst earning the enemys trust.

Rolled a *20* for Deception in Discord.

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Druager stood silently, menacingly, as the others spoke,  When Xael made a promise in response to the warforged's question, he growled.  "I make no such promises.  Not to one responsible for all of this.  But there ARE worse things than death here in the Mists."  Extending his wings for a moment, as his tentacles quivered slightly, Druager maintained a steady gaze on the warforged.  

I am one of them."

_OOC - Guess we'll do this ... casting Hex (Wis) on the warforged and Intimidate - (1d20+2)[8]  Maybe I'll get advantage, too?  

Effects: Hex (concentration, up to an hour); 10x goodberries (24 hours); Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (2/4); Hex (0/1), Tasha's Hideous Laughter (1/1), Charm Person  (1/1)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (0/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Amnestic

"'Abandon your cause, your home, and your people for your life'." The floating Wedge jitters slightly, the creaking chuckle reverberating through the living wood. "Would you take that deal? Even if I believed you, I wouldn't. Life without a cause is no life at all." 

When Drauger casts his spell on the warforged, Wedge scoffs. "Words fail you to this extent and you need magic? Pathetic. You don't know who's responsible for this, or the world would still be at war. Ask your fool questions if you like - I might even answer them - but if you're going to execute me get it over with so I don't need to suffer this farce."

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Howell opens his mouth to speak, but pauses in befuddlement and horror as he hears Xaels words and Draugers outright threats. Maintaining the magical cushion of air that suspends Wedge, an atypical firmness sets itself with authority across the young genasis brow. 

Two days ago Xael, you told me that you fought to bring glory to your Jennaris name. Are you going to do that by threatening to run a captured, injured enemy combatant out of their homeland?

And you, Drauger, that same night you told me that your only memories were of death and loss. Are you really so eager add more to that collection, or are you willing to even _try_ for a better future?

He looks from Xael, to Drauger, to Hallina, to Vrardurz, to RITAC. If any of us were just looking for work then theres a lot that needs to get done back home in New Galifar, for better pay than this too. But were here. Here because were trying to make up for what happened in the past, not just repeat it. He spreads his hands low, in an open gesture, as if to try and coax them into understanding why this was so important. Howell turns back to Wedge eager for a second swing at diplomacy. 

Wedge, I dont want to force you out of the Mournland, nor do I want to use magic to control you. Youve lost enough today, I dont want to add your life on top of that. Tell me what was going on at the train? Why did your people blow it up? Whats happening in this area of the country? Tell me whats going on and I can let you go. Surely this land is large enough for both our groups.

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## Amnestic

"We didn't want to blow it up." Wedge snaps, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, even if it isn't. "Our orders were to let no one else acquire it. When you attacked, orders were followed. That is all, and I will say no more of it. We were sworn to secrecy, and so it shall be kept."

"You appear as vultures to pick at the bones of Cyre, and you ask me for details of the area? To choose where best to steal?"

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*


With the nightmare creatures destroyed, the sergeant caught her breath and let the others deal with morality and consequences. A lot of talk. Shed never really had time or inclination for it before. There was simply another mission to accomplish. Her companions were questioning everything and it made her impatient. The quickest way to deal with the enemy was to kill it. The warforged constituted a security threat to their mission, so eliminating it made sense.

For all that it was fighting for its home and people, and she appreciated that it stuck to its word and went with its gut, or whatever it had. Until its last statement, and she lost her temper. Cyre is my home, she snapped. If anyones picking over a corpse its you! People gotta do what they gotta, so I wasnt going to take it personally, but you dont have more right to this land than us survivors.

She says to the others, I say be practical and put the mission first, but Howells got a point  we dont have to murder everyone we meet. This isnt a military operation. Were here to make a map, not clear out the Mournland. She addresses Wedge again. I dont care about you anymore. Go tell whoever you want that a group of deadly mapmakers are about. Come and kill us. We wont go alone and youre stupid if you think well be the last. People will keep coming, and they wont all debate whether to let you live.

She says, His folk will attack us or they wont. Debates over. Let him go. We have a job to do. She storms off and stands glaring at the broken horizen, waiting for the others. If they aren't by her sinde in a minute or two, she leaves on her own, following their original course as best she can.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

R.I.T.A.C.

Now the human was being even more bloodthirsty than  the elf. At least Howell and Hallina were good balancing forces for the group.

The wolforged nods its stone muzzle at the suggestions to let the blade go but doesn't immediately follow the sergeant, instead casting looks around at the wreckage. The orb in their chest flashes and emits its strange monotone once more.

Host R.I.T.A.C. wishes to at least identify the name of this vessel before we continue the cartography. Knowledge of its fate may bring some closure to survivors in New Cyre and beyond.

----------


## Amnestic

Much of the ship is wrecked, but there's enough of the prow still intact to make out the name of the ship as the _Skygrasper_. Beneath the inscription faded by weather is a stylised drawing of a naked woman in profile, reaching upwards and forwards. 

The stern of the ship, while half buried, appears to at least have one room partially intact and above ground, though access to it would require squeezing through a window (too small for RITAC in their current form), excavation, or breaking apart some of the wood to widen the hole.

----------


## Postmodernist

Vrardurz winces when Hallina reveals the nature of their mission to the warforged. Now that he knows why they're here, the creature's masters will connect the dots. *"Reluctant as I am to shed more blood, I think we need a promise from this thing, a meaningful guarantee, or we put it down. It knows we're making a map, which means it knows we and others will be back. It'll report this back to the rest of the Blades, and they'll make preparations. But if it doesn't return, they'll assume the dangers of the Mournland caught up to them."* He gestures to the fading clouds of smoke where the Painspeakers had been. *"Unless this creature provides some useful information, or a reason for us not to kill it, I think we've already done to much. Howell and Hallina are both right, but this will become a military operation the moment Wedge returns home. Besides, we chased the damn thing, saved it from these horrors, and we haven't gotten so much as the slightest thanks. I'm sorry, but I see don't see any tactical advantage in letting Wedge live, unless you'd like to bring it back as a captive. That plan poses its own complications."*

The hobgoblin warmage looks to his companions, eager to gauge their reactions.

----------


## (Un)Inspired

A (short) lifetime of practicing keeping the fire of his more volatile emotion in check, Howell keeps himself steady even as both his friends and his captive barter antagonism back and forth. _At least Vrardurz is approaching this from a reasonable place, and I'd never have guessed that I'd hear the most compassionate argument come from Hallina. There's got to be a solution that doesn't involve murder though._

He rubs his face and cleanly shaved lower jaw in contemplation, more a habit born of imitating his teachers, rather than muscle memory of stroking a beard he was far too young to even properly grow. Wedge, I don't want you to have to decide between breaking an oath and your life; that's... it's just a disgusting position to put someone in. Give my friends something about the region that doesn't violate your vow and then I'll set you down on the other side of the cliff and we can part ways. I can't imagine why our groups must be enemies, and if you disagree then at least it's a big country. We can just stay out of each other's way!

----------


## Amnestic

"Hmph." Wedge utters, in a remarkably mortal way. Perhaps a learned behaviour. "Would you even believe me if I told you? I could well be sending you into a trap for my own amusement, since I expect to be dead. Should I tell you of the ghost in the arena to the east? He guards the colosseum's treasures and poses riddles to those who would claim it. Perhaps the glass fields to the west, where geysers of razor shards burst to the sky and rain death upon those folly enough to cross? No, such things must seem mundane for such _capable_ travelers." With nothing left to lose, perhaps. "There's a river of Khyber along the tracks, it split the earth asunder. Crossing it is a risk. We lost two in our own crossing to demons." He shakes with a chuckle, before adding with clear sarcasm in his throat. "May you find better luck."

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

The sharp responses from the warforged bit deep, and Druager had to hold himself still, least he lash out.  But even as he seethed, Howell's comments added to the disrespect from the warforged. 
 Who was this boy to tell him how HE felt?  Was he there the day of the Mourning?  Did he see the behemoth rising from the mists, the whirling - that damnable, constant whirling - as the closest soldiers died in a burst of flame, and the one's behind fell before a scythe-like shock wave the cut them down like so much wheat?  Did he hear the screams, pleases for help, for healing, for death ... anything to end the pain they were in?  Had he felt hot blood pour from his closest companions as he held them close, forced to watch the life fade from their eyes?  

Sgt Dell's outburst mirrored some of his own anger, but where he was struggling to not crush the creature with his tentacles, she simply dismissed the animated creature.  When the hobgoblin spoke, Druager almost smirked - the mage spoke true, and highlighted a number of reason's why Howell's naïve perspective was flawed.  However, the man wanted to bargain for the warforged's life against information - every the mercenary.  Instead of focusing on the important parts of Vrardurz's comments, the youth leapt to a pathetic attempt to avoid killing the warforged.  

Perhaps that was the problem ... Howell had not been forged in the crucible of combat, and subsequently had no stomach for the hard decisions.  Where a true veteran would have stomped this thing flat, Howell was concerned for its well being, almost to the exclusion of his comrades.  What would the pretty boy think of this warforged had the situation been reversed and the entire party shot and skinned?  How would the lad respond when a legion of warforged descended upon the lightning rail and slaughtered the next train coming through?   

Druager peered out over the cliff, heart still full of turmoil.  Leaving an enemy behind, one that clearly cared little for its own life, was not something he wanted to do.  The fact it was so sneering and dismissal of the events of the Day was infuriating.  But all of his companions seemed intent on avoiding bloodshed, on the heels of slaying several of the warforged's companions.  Contradictions all around.  For now, the ranger waited silently, eyes fixed on the warforged as the others made their decision.  

He had time to make his own.  
_OOC - Wanted to at least get something out ... we'll see how this plays out once Howell frees him :)

Effects: Hex (concentration, up to an hour); 10x goodberries (24 hours); Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (2/4); Hex (0/1), Tasha's Hideous Laughter (1/1), Charm Person  (1/1)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (0/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## 3SecondCultist

*Xael*

The Tairnadal warrior listens quietly to the entire exchange. She does not react openly to Howell's rebuke, to Hallina's departure, to Vrazdurz's rebuttal or Druager's visible emoting. Instead, the gaze behind the zaelta considers, weighs each argument on their own. One hand has departed the hilt of her blade, and so it has disappeared. Despite her earlier falsehood, something in her has stayed coiled, quieted - perhaps the half-elf has struck a chord.

Then the warforged speaks of perils and their directions, and Xael pays attention to it once more. A weapon, but with intelligence; is that not their kin on a wide scale? She notes the nature of each threat one by one, free hand reaching behind her back.

"Thank you. Our friends are right; they do not deserve to carry your passing on their conscience. However, my ancestor taught me that sometimes, to protect innocents, one has to make difficult sacrifices. You have aided our mission, so I will make your death quick and painless."

Pulling forth her bow, Xael then wastes no time putting two arrows into Wedge's floating body. The first enters at the center of mass, and the second takes it right at the base of its neck. Once the deed is done, the Tairnadal looks meaningfully at the others.

"None of you were wrong to object to the killing, but the dar's case was the strongest. The Cyrans cannot afford an active threat that knows of our operation. I ended its existence so that none of you had to. Now come, the sergeant is surely tired of waiting for us."

----------


## Amnestic

The arrows puncture through Wedge's form, and the warforged slumps forward, fully dead. Any final words he has end half-formed. The levitatation ends and with a loud _thwump_ the body falls to the ground, leaving you with just the bodies of the dead, and the yet-to-be-investigated wreck of the Skygrasper.

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

As the body hit the ground with an odd thump, Druager looked at Xael for a moment, then back to the body.  It seemed he was not the only person who didn't think the warforged deserved the mercy everyone was so keen on handing out.  Of course, it proved once again that with the elves, trust was an ever changing concept, and only as binding as they found convenient.  Cyrans had learned the value of the elven word when they turned on them.  Like so many former allies ...

Turning away, Druager spoke quietly before wandering towards the ship, intent on finding anything of value for their expedition.  _"It's all moot ... the Blades will send another band out towards the site to find their missing team.  We'll be fighting them again soon enough ..."_
_OOC - Well that turned quickly :)

Effects: Hex (concentration, up to an hour); 10x goodberries (24 hours); Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (2/4); Hex (0/1), Tasha's Hideous Laughter (1/1), Charm Person  (1/1)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (0/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*

The sergeant wanders away a bit, half angry, fully frustrated. In the war she'd hated relying on orders from those who didn't understand what soldiers were living through, but the argument with the warforged exposed a fact she'd long discarded; she'd been largely inured to the morality of her actions because the decisions were never her own. Or at least that's how she'd always justified it. She knew deep down that wasn't truly the case, and the mistakes and deaths that may have otherwise been avoided filled her with guilt. She took a drink.

Hallina heard the warforged's death and figured it was just as well, and that he had probably thought it was an honorable way to go, felled by an enemy while defending what he believed in. But it felt hollow. Xael was probably right, and next time she would have to put the mission first even if it meant another senseless killing. What was the point? Was there a point?

The anger welled up again. She set down the hammer, sat beside it, closed her eyes, and tried not to scream. She took drink.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

The wolforged wheels around at the sound of the first arrow. They bound up to the edge of the cliff but are in time only to watch the limp body fall. They watch it silently for a long moment before turning their baleful optic on that psychopathic elf. The earlier show of restraint clearly as much a lie as their words to the misguided blade.

They lunge for the Elf, but something in the frantic blinking of the docent seems to divert the beast and it merely kicks dirt at her as it bounds past.

Seeing the tortured form of the sergeant, they give what might have been intended as a reassuring nuzzle from a being not shaped like a nightmare of stone and topiary. Seemingly slightly calmer, the wolforged stalks  to the wreckage and rips at the window with its jaws to make excavation slightly easier.

*Spoiler: Actions* 
Show

Athletics to bust the window open a little wider.
(1d20+6)[*18*]

----------


## Amnestic

The wooden panels tear away with relative ease, though the structure shudders a bit and plumes of dust fall from the ceiling, casting clouds that take a moment to settle. The captain's cabin - if the maps and actual bed are any indication - is relatively utilitarian. For better or worse it's empty of any corpses or hints that anyone died in here, though the wardrobe has spilled open and a pile of now-ruined clothing is strewn across the floor. A pair of boots stands out to a quick oversight as being remarkably intact, which is usually a sign of enchantment. Atop the mostly still-intact desk in the centre of the room is a small chest which lies open. Inside you spot a cluster of 3 feather tokens - small silvered disks engraved with the symbol of a feather - and a book that appears to have survived mostly intact.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


They're common enough you would recognise them on sight:

Feather Tokens (RftLW):
Wondrous item, common
This small metal disk is inscribed with the image of a feather. When you fall at least 20 feet while the token is on your person, you descend 60 feet per round and take no damage from falling. The token's magic is expended after you land, whereupon the disk becomes nonmagical.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

The large form of the wolf backs carefully out of the hole they had ripped in the carcass of the airship, trying to keep further damage to a minimum. Transforming back into their true form might be more practical, but even in this form they feel less animalistic than some members of their team. Speaking through Perceptor was also oddly calming.

They almost consider pointing like a blood hound, instead nodding their head towards the hole.

Host R.I.T.A.C. has uncovered some items of arcane construction. They request that someone who currently has hands retrieves them and searches the desk.

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

When the warforged lunged towards Xael, Druager's tentacles lashed out reactively, reaching towards the creature.  However, as the automaton turned away at the last minute, leaving the elf untouched, he quickly pulled them back to his torso.  He glanced at the others, no shame apparent, but a small frown playing across his shadowed features.  He turned away to investigate the wreckage, pondering the turn of events.  When push came to shove, he still considered the elf a companion worth protecting.  Why?  Was it because he was mortal flesh, like the rest of them?  Perhaps.  Was he finally coming to terms with the choices a nation had to make in the fires of war?  Like as not ... he did not think he would have reacted the same for the hobgoblin.  Maybe it was because the elf had executed the warforged, something he had considered himself.  

That was probably it.

Moving to the wreckage, he flew over, searching for anything unusual from an aerial advantage.  He heard the warforged call for assistance but ignored it.  It was probably an attempt to send someone into danger on it's behalf.  Finding a spot to land, Druager, paused for a bit as the thoughts swirled, before growling and slamming the ground with his tentacles.  He was here to serve the interests of Cyre, but he was constantly waring with his distrust of his companions.  The elf, the hobgoblin, the warforged ... even this young fop was getting on his nerves.  The Sgt was the only person he didn't have a grudge against, and she was intent on keeping the others at bay with one had, while she reached for a bottle with the other.  How was he supposed to be effective and successful if he couldn't trust these people?  

The answer was, he couldn't.  How can he trust the untrustworthy?  His instincts, his memories, his experiences, all told him these 'people' had their own agendas.  Even if he could accept they had made oaths, at least two of them were kin of known oath-breakers and one might have had its choices given to it via programming.  Again, he was left with the drunkard as the only one he could  potentially trust ... and inebriation rarely instilled confidence.  

Taking a deep breath, Druager took to the air again and swept across the site once more before returning to the others, his face an impartial mask as he reported back any findings.  
_OOC - Woof ... this guy has issues!
Perception - (2d20b1)[11] plus 9 for 20 (24 is his passive)

Effects: Hex (concentration, up to an hour); 10x goodberries (24 hours); Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (2/4); Hex (0/1), Tasha's Hideous Laughter (1/1), Charm Person  (1/1)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (0/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Amnestic

Druager sees little of note from either above in the air or their perch. The exterior of the airship is as you've seen before, with nothing particularly notable beyond what has already been elaborated on. The forests that stretch to the east and west carry on for miles beyond your horizon, though to the southeast - perhaps along the tracks you were following before - there appears to be an eerie green light pulsing unevenly. At this distance it's difficult to tell if it's anything at all, perhaps a trick of the sight, but it may well be the 'river of Khyber' that Wedge mentioned before his death.

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Howells eyes drop and and his mouth goes slack as the veiled warrior kills Wedge. He looks at Xael with a look as uncharacteristically gloomy as it was pregnant with apprehension. A melange of disappointment, chagrin, empathy, and pity. Wedge deserved better than that, but you deserved much better than that as well, Xael. 

While the others are exploring the ship, Howell pulls the arrows out of Wedge and tries to straighten his corpse without cussing it further damage. _Just in case it can be repaired if found by its friends. Warforged dont die, they just go into stasis right?_

When the group reconvenes he addresses them all: Hopefully the undead as resting permanently, but in the chance theyre not, we should move on. Looking back at our route, are they any detours we should take to avoid hazards weve not been warned of? this last comment he aims at the partys resident cartographer, Drauger.

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Druager landed to join the others, glancing around as the palpable tension practically throbbed from them all.  Perhaps his own aura was contributing to it.  At Howell's question, he didn't answer for a moment, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, before he blinked and looked up. "Detours?  No, best we return to the train along the same path we came.  Salvage what we can, continue our scouting.  If the warforged wasn't lying, I may have seen signs of the River Khyber, but we won't know for sure until we get closer.  Our mission will intersect it soon enough."

He turned and started walking, clearly intent on departing now.  After a moment, he paused and glanced back at the others before he spoke again.  "There is much angst here. 
I would normally not ask soldiers such a question, but do we need to stop now and talk about feelings?  Or can that wait until we rest this evening?"
_OOC - Subtle ...

Effects: Hex (concentration, up to an hour); 10x goodberries (24 hours); Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (2/4); Hex (0/1), Tasha's Hideous Laughter (1/1), Charm Person  (1/1)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (0/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Amnestic

When one of your retrieves the interior of the captain's quarters, it's immediately clear that the boots are magical - there's a gentle thrum that passes up your arm when you pick it up. The journal of the Skygrasper's captain reveals itself to be quite lengthy, and a quick skimread indicates many of the older entries are not terribly interesting - mundane route information or details of loads hauled and pricing, but more recent entries see a tone switch to a more emotive and in-depth perspective.

----------


## Amnestic

*Spoiler: Journal*
Show



The journal of Captain Milly Ramos is still mostly intact, having been secured in a sealed drawer and wrapped in oiled paper. While it's a bit more fragile than perhaps expected, it's nevertheless in remarkably good condition. From a quick readover it starts in 987 YK. Much of the notations are simple records of travels or brief inventories  what was carried where and when, however as you approach the final entry on the Day of the Mourning, there is a shift in the tone.

_OOC: Where there are gaps marked with square brackets ([...]), it is as if there was never any word there at all  a blank space, rather than something obscured by damage or scratched away._

13 Vult, 993 YK
It is with some trepidation that I accepted the job to [], not that I had much choice. When the House tells you to do something like this, it's either you say yes, or you're out, and after so long I can't leave the Skygrasper even if I wanted to. It's a long contract  three or four months all told of ferrying things back and forth. Lyrandar wants it quiet though, and most of what we're carrying is just camouflage for the true packages. When I asked they wouldn't tell me who the job was for  but I don't think it's a nation.

I got a letter from Sally before we left. Another birthday missed. 

17 Vult, 993 YK
The package to [] woke up while we were carrying it. We lost three people putting it back to sleep. Valdak. Urisatra. Nitoth. We had to set down early so I could get details back from the House. Still waiting. Valdak had a kid two years younger than Sally. Urisatra had three sisters she was providing for. Nitoth...Nitoth just blew all his money on booze and anything with two legs that looked his way. The House won't remember them, so I suppose I'll have to.

Halfway down my third bottle. Might not wake up tomorrow.

18 Vult, 993 YK
Woke up. 
[The rest of the page is empty of words, but simply crossed out. The penmanship is aggressive and messy]

21 Vult, 993 YK
Finally got word back from the House. Continue with the mission. Threw up out of anger, washed myself up and told the crew, but the look on their faces told me they knew anyway. This better be worth it.

23 Vult, 993 YK
Finally dropped off the package. [] was beautiful. Maybe after this war's over I'll just take short jobs in the borders, stop being away for weeks or months at a time. Actually spend some time with Sally and Mole.

Stupid dreams. You're stuck here for life.

27 Vult, 993 YK
Khybersef today. Family will be tucking into roasted meats and potatoes and I'm flying past [] in north [] to pick up another package. It's freezing and the Skygrasper has been pissy all morning about it. We're taking an entire load of warforged parts from [] to [], just to conceal a book. Still, it's safer than the last thing we carried for this contract. I'm going to push to get it done faster, see if we can make it back home for New Year.

1 Zarantyr, 994 YK
No chance of that. After dropping the parts and the book they immediately sent us east to Talenta to pick up a crate of animals that Vadalis toyed with, then we're right back to [] for another dropoff. If we don't get a break soon I worry the crew's going to mutiny, and if they do, I'll be right there with them. I'll take excoriate and losing the ship over getting thrown overboard. 

14 Zarantyr, 994 YK
Back home for the first time in months. Sally's grown an inch and a half and twice that much on her hair. Mole won't even look at me. It'll be worth it. The letter from the House came with writs for enough coin to buy half a ship of my own. For your discretion and exemplary service. I keep this up and I can send them both to the best academies or take them to tour the world or whatever we want.

They won't forgive me. I can't forgive me. But I can give them this much.

17 Zarantyr, 994 YK
Home for three days and then back on the Skygrasper. Home. I barely stayed long enough to sleep.

Thirteen crates of Dragonshards on a rush order from Sharn, each to a different spot around []. I've given up trying to guess what the point of all these orders are. The crew seemed remarkably relieved by this job  I guess they got big paydays same as me, and dropping off dragonshards is a safe job. At least it lets us tour []. Even in the middle of winter, at this point in the war, it's still got so much beauty. 

I'll treat the crew to a meal next time we land. We deserve it.

25 Zarantyr, 994 YK
House said this was the last job before our contract's up. Told them I'm quitting once I'm done. A clean break. They want us to fly all the way to Stormreach to pick up some passengers and then bring them back to a dropoff in []. It'll be near a month of flying there and back, and half of that's going to be over endless ocean, but at least we'll be done.

The figure the House gave for this last job is insane  nevermind one ship, I could set up in the Principalities as a (minor) Prince if I cared to. We could live anywhere, as far away from the war and the House politics as we could get, with enough money to never care about the world again.

9 Olarune, 994 YK
[This entry has been torn out.]

13 Olarune, 994 YK
[This entry has been torn out.]

14 Olarune, 994 YK
[This entry has been torn out.]

15 Olarune, 994 YK
[This entry has been torn out.]

16 Olarune, 994 YK
[This entry has been torn out.]

20 Olarune, 994 YK
We made the delivery to [] today, and not soon enough. We burned hard to get it done as fast as possible. The crew wanted them gone. I wanted them gone, and it bumped up our wages another 20% for getting it done ahead of schedule.

I asked the crew what I should get for the kids now that I'm quitting, one of them suggested a pony, but I might just buy a stable of them instead. 

I can't wait for home to be home again.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

The wolforged ***** its head to peer at the bloodthirsty elf for a moment before emitting a sigh like wind passing through willow branches and turning back to Druager. They shrug their massive shoulders and shake their head.

At some semblance of peace for the moment, they press towards the trail the group cut during their earlier pursuit. Muzzle swishing from side to side, they search for signs of threats that they might have avoided previously.

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Druager looked around for a moment, then back to the warforged, giving him a reluctant nod.  Of all the people here, at least RITAC was polite ... even if Druager still had questions about any warforged's loyalties.  Shrugging his shoulders, Druager took to the air again, scouting ahead a bit as the group prepared to depart.  He flew slower than they could walk, but from the air he could see more of the land.  Of course, he had to be careful that something in the mists didn't decide he was a threat and attack.  The moment it seemed too dangerous to fly, he could return to his companions and continue on foot.  
_OOC - Ready to return.

Effects: Hex (concentration, up to an hour); 10x goodberries (24 hours); Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (2/4); Hex (0/1), Tasha's Hideous Laughter (1/1), Charm Person  (1/1)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (0/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Amnestic

With journal now safely secreted away for further review and dissection, and your goal chosen, you turn towards the southeast, following Druager's guidance towards the light that - supposedly originates from Khyber. Rather than trudge through the forest, tripping over (natural or manmade) snares still active, you cut south back to the tracks, finding them a much easier route to follow.

The lightning rail tracks fall away, dispersed either by active hand or nature, leaving you with just a path once trod to follow eastwards, until the source of the light becomes clear. Wedge spoke true: a river of khyber, formed by a vast chasm rent into the earth, stretching far to the north and south. It may have once been a natural waterway, as a stone bridge appears to have been in place to 'cross' the river, though it too has been torn to ruin. Instead of water, the bridge now passes over a twisting maelstrom of sickening green light, and at the backs of your minds, or perhaps inside your very souls, you 'hear' whispers, though their words and origins are as unknown to you as any far realm. 

On the far side of the bridge are a number of corpses - some warforged, some squat bloated creatures - demonic dretches, perhaps. On the near side, two women, tall and skin of scales, sit on the edge of the bridge. Their manner of dress is simple, but neat and clean, showing no signs of particular damage. Instead of hair, their scalps are made up of large masses of snakes, writhing and twisting too and fro. One appears to be playing a harp, and both are singing; the music seems to have occupied their - and their snake's - attentions fully, as they gently sway back and forth to the enchanting melody. You could likely get closer, or launch an attack if you so wished, without being immediately detected, though even the most musically obsessed has limits with their occlusion to the wider world, and when they have literal eyes in the back of their head, all the moreso. 

*Spoiler: Medusa - Int (History or Arcana*
Show


*Spoiler: DC1*
Show


Snakes are [creepy/cute - delete as appropriate], so therefore these ladies are [creepy/cute].



*Spoiler: DC5*
Show


Creatures originating from Khyber. They have a gaze that can petrify if you meet their eyes.



*Spoiler: DC10*
Show


Not that long ago a group of medusa emerged and established themselves in droaam as allies and citizens, seeking a place on the surface world that would accept their kind. To date, their position seems well earned and accepted by the other 'monstrous' races.



*Spoiler: DC15*
Show


Those who are new to the surface may be unaware of their gaze's powers, having only lived among their own kind. This has caused incidents in the past - both accidental petrifications and deliberate ones played as accidental from 'ignorance'.

Those of Droaam have taken to binding their eyes when in public settings, using their snake-hair to navigate, and have even concocted an entire language (generally referred to as 'Serpentine') which utilises snake hisses and motions, making it something that non-medusas are unable to replicate. The two medusas before you do _not_ seem to have bound their eyes. 



*Spoiler: DC20*
Show


Many medusas revere The Shadow. Outside of their petrifying gaze and snakehair, some also have arcane powers.

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*

The sergeant frowns, scratching her arm. "Why are they just sitting there on a bridge? Weird, yeah? They have a petrifying gaze, I think, but I don't know how to fight them safely. Should we go around somehow or call out while we're safely at a distance?" She looks at Xael. "I suppose a first strike while they're distracted is the best bet."

----------


## (Un)Inspired

A first strike doesnt need to be with violence. Howell responds to the sergeants comment while slowly picking out the rhythm of the serpentine womens song. He makes three brushing motions at his armor and instantly the schmutz from the road Prestidigitates away. Reaching back into his pack he pulls out his wooden ocarina and, while taping the earth with his foot, synchronizes the magic flowing through his body with the tempo of the song. 

With a surge of magic drawing his forward toward their song, Howell walks slowly towards the two Medusae. Keeping his eye modestly low, he sets his lips and brings his ocarina up and joins in with their tune. Pianissimo to begin, the fire genasi coming in with support for the rhythm section of their song. Reinforcing the vibrations of the harp, his notes glide under and around the two voices, harmonizing with and emphasizing them. He plays to celebrate their song, rather than overtake it. 

As the song ends Howell gives short polite bow, just a smidge over the line from a nod (Al the while keeping his eyes respectfully averted). Pardon me for joining your song uninvited, there are scares opportunities to find people to play with out here and your melody was too pleasant to interrupt without at least attempting to contribute. 

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Howell casts Enhance Ability on himself and playing his magic ocarina

Performance Check: (1d20+9)[*21*]
Advantage: (1d20+9)[*20*]

----------


## Amnestic

There's a surprised momentary break, a discordant pluck, when Howell joins the melody, but they continue, melding and harmonising together with the new member of their impromptu tritet. It's a joy to the ears of all who hear it, though it sounds like no musical style of the Five Nations. When the song ends, both medusas clap happily and enthusiastically, unabashed excitement crossing their faces as they look to Howell. Even with his gaze averted, Howell can feel their eyes directly upon him - they're making no effort to safeguard from their eyes. "Oh that was amazing!" says one. "We've never heard an instrument like that before," adds the other. "Are you a traveling music group? We heard about them being on the surface." "Oh or are you performers? Are you with a circus? Do you have acrobats?" The questions come rapid fire, full of excitement and interest.

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Relief washes over Howell and the womens seemingly acceptance of his presence despite his somewhat rude approach. With the youthful energy of a crackling fire inside him, the genasi cant help but get caught up in the two medusaes excitement (though he doesnt lose himself to the degree that he lets his eyes travel upward).

You've never seen an instrument like this? Ive never heard someone sing like that before! That was incredible! This is an ocarina, its a wind instrument but you know a bet a version could be built with multiple mouthpieces and piping for a musician with multiple mouths. Imagine the tonality an artist with either of your particular talents could achieve with something like that!

As he speaks he holds his left hand out and splays his fingers bidding an illusory blueprint into existence into the air. The image is of an instrument that appears to be the child of an ocarina and the church organ; with snaking pipes affixed to the instruments body, each fitted with smaller (hair serpent sized) mouthpieces. 

Were not really performers. Im just a lover of music, benefit of a classical education, you know? Were really more of explorers than anything else, making maps and that sort of thing. Are you ladies visiting the surface? Oh flame! Im being really rude, excuse me. My name is Howell irFoucault of New Galifar, Khorvaire, uh Eberron, I guess. How may I address you?

----------


## Amnestic

The two ladies burst into a fit of somewhat girlish giggles, the likes of which Howell has likely heard from mischievously conspiratorial noble girls. Even the snake hair seems to be laughing - their hearts are worn on their...scalp. "I'm Leyla." "Leyli." "We're running away from home." "But not really." "Just long enough to bring some stories back." "Could we have your ocarina?" "Oh, we could trade!" "Surfacers love to banter." "Barter." "Right, that's what I said." "No you didn't." "Shut up, Leyla." A playful shove only momentarily holds the two chatterbox snake-women from their bantering about bartering. "We were going to use this shield as a big plate but we'll trade it for your ocarina." "And we found some other stuff too, if you have anything else we can bring home." The pair pull out a glimmering shield emblazoned with a large eye - though notably not a medusa's eye, but rather bearing the horizontally stretched iris of a goat. Alongside the shield are a handful of tiny needles, a wound up scroll, a shiny pearl, a rock that's almost - if you squint and turn your head to look at it from a specific angle - in the shape of the Sovereign Host's symbol, a golden compass with a dragonshard in for a needle, and a vial of an unidentified caustic green liquid. 

Both of the medusas seem immensely proud of their collection of what may or may not be generously referred to as 'tat', and their snakehair swells with satisfaction as they lay them out.

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*

Thopugh impressed with Howell's smooth introduction, she can't let her guard down. Hallina says under her breath for only her companions to hear, "I got nothin' to trade, and I don't much want to get any closer."

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

With a ripple of rearranging stone and plant matter, RITAC shrinks back to their humanoid form. Briefly casting about the surrounding trees and underbrush, they returned with a selection of seeds, fronds, and flowers. They spend several moments focusing on the odd collection, a glittering curtain of pollen falling from the boughs in their head.

The limp collection of plant matter grows and blooms into a beautiful bouquet of wild flowers. Some look familiar, others...less so, and maybe less natural, but verdant all the same. Extending one digit, RITAC grows a long green stem from the tip, nipping if off with their fangs, they wrap and secure their bounty.

They turn slowly towards the medusae, pausing to lock optics pointedly with Xael and Druager and speak quietly to Hallina.

There's nothing wrong with caution, and I've little to trade myself. I'm going to try and have faith in Howell and see if we can make some friendship blossom here.

They walk up to stand abreast of Howell, optic carefully lowered with an attempt at a friendly smile on their fangs.

My desi..., my name is RITAC, it is very pleasant to meet you both. I have little to give you but thought you might like some blooms from the surface. Kept in water they will stay fresh for a short while, but if dried will last much longer, although they lose some vibrancy.

They pause briefly for Perceptor to assess the items before carefully handing over the flowers without looking up.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show

Some rolls if required.
Survival to find seeds and flowers etc.
(1d20+7)[*16*]
Spell attack for druid-crafting.
(1d20+7)[*17*]
History in case any of the items are notable, on which case they'll say "that X is nice", when handing flowers over.
(1d20+7)[*15*]

----------


## Amnestic

The bouquet procured is _unusual_ to say the least, with multicoloured pods, wide spotted trumpets, glimmering cups, and even a few odd-looking tube-types. It is, truly, a mournland gathering - though it thankfully doesn't smell bad. The offer of flowers causes a sudden hushed whisper session between Leyla and Leyli, with their snake-hairs giving out soft hisses as they bob and weave to block lip reading. After some words, which get momentarily heated judging by their body language. Though Leyli takes the flowers, they both bow forwards. Even with their lowered eyes, the snake-hair keeps a watch on the party. "They're...uhm...very nice," says Leyla, "But we can't marry you!" Their voice are notably higher pitched out of a sudden rush of embarassment. "I'm sure you're very kind and could...could pay a handsome bride price but we're not ready." "We're sorry!" They say together, rejecting the entirely misunderstood offer of flowers.


*Spoiler: History*
Show


Two items tickle the back of your mind as potentially seeming familiar:
The shield's design is reminiscent of _Sentinel Shields_, sometimes carried by Deneith sentinels - while goat eye designs aren't the most common, they're not unusual, and more commonly seen when the shield is created by a rural magewright.

The most common kind of compass with a dragonshard needle is a Siberys compass, though they only function in Xen'drik, and are little more than attractive paperweights in Khorvaire.

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Howells gaze drifts off, adrift in the middle distance. Memories of his childhood drift back and forth through his mind like tumbling snowflakes on a winter morning. 

Grinding away in what felt like endless music theory lessons under Cantor Sigismundis and his droning lecture voice. _How could such a renowned Cantor have so little affectation?_ Sneaking off with his friends down to the beaches of Seaside to start a band. _Brass Knuckle, Deirdre was unstoppable on the horn. Did any of them make it out of the mourning?_ His solo at the Catedral de Lux, the way his mother smiled at him in her sly wizard way, more with her eyes than her mouth. His father giddy and proud and resigned all at once. Explaining to Howell that if he was going to be an explorer and a diplomat, rather than joining the clergy, then he should be properly equipped to carry on the good of the Flame into the world. Presenting the young genasi with with the carved cherrywood ocarina, painted and lacquered to evoke the beauty of the natural world, so enchanted with magic that even bringing your fingers to its holes you could feel the almost static electric charge radiating from it. 




Ahh no I can trade my ocarina. It was a gift from someone Im not going to get the chance to see again. We cant let you go back to Khyber without some cool surface souvenirs though. Im sure we can figure out something cool to trade you. Maybe my friends have something fun. 

Guys come on over! Youre being weird. 

This is Layla and Leyli.

When the girls begging off of RITACs accidental proposal unfolds, Howell is unable to master the corners of his mouth from twitching upward as if tugged by mischievous marionette strings. Well you know his people are extraordinarily long lived. Perhaps you could each exchange something personal, to facilitate divinations between you both, for when youre ready for matrimony.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

R.I.T.A.C.

At this unexpected response RITAC goes completely still whilst his foliage turns a dark shade of green. It takes several moments, and seemingly quite animated input from Perceptor, before they respond.

I am SO sorry, I did not realise flowers could be used to make romantic declarations. "Fraternisation" was not permitted amongst the engineers and mechanics attached to my unit. They gave flowers as gifts all of the time though. They gave them to each other to say thank you, or congratulations, and apparently "sorry I vomited on your shoes in the mess last night".

The outstretched hand offering the flowers withdraws slightly, but hovers between RITAC and the medusae in awkward embarrassment.

I just thought you might not have many flowers at home if you live underground. I really didn't mean to proposition you. Feel free to take them if you like, no obligations!

The last is almost a shout as they carefully place the flowers on the floor and back away. They very definitely don't look behind them nd risk seeing Xael or Druager's reactions!

RITAC'S head swivels round in alarm at Howell's suggestion, optical irises narrowing. A frond of something like ivy snakes down and makes frantic throat cutting gestures to him in a way that hopefully the medusae can't see!

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*

"This is so strange." Hallina wanders forward slowly, hammer gripped hard and eyes studiously everywhere but directly at the monster-women. She doesn't get very close, staying a bit behind the conversation.


Perception (1d20+3)[*6*]


Guh.

----------


## Amnestic

"Oh." "Oh!" "Oh..." The pair go through a rapid fire series of emotions, their snakes twirling this way and that in response - surprise, shame, and perhaps even disappointment. Even if they had to turn it down, it's still nice to be wanted, after all. "Ahahaha." They laugh, unconvincingly. "We uhh, we got you! You totally fell for it. Hah. Hah. Haaah..." An awkward silence stretches out, which Leyla interrutps with a cough. "You know it's getting late," It's not.  "We should probably get back..." "Right, yeah. Late. You can have the shield for the flowers if you want. Any...anything else you want to trade for?"

----------


## (Un)Inspired

Hmmmm I have these fine clothes. Theyre woven from special filament made by moths only found here on the surface. Ill trade them to you for the Pearl.

----------


## Amnestic

Evidently happy for the swift offer (although moreso the change of subject) the pair "Umm" and "ahh" over the clothes, before a quiet discussion, and then nod in agreement. The trade is accepted.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Any other trades desired for their variety of potentially useful and potentially useless knick-knacks? I'll give it a day or two and then move along, absent any objections.

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

Ahaha...ha, you did, you got me alright... many of RITAC's leaves appear to be curling in on themselves in embarrassment. You're both so funny...


After an extended pause they lurch forwards, scooping up the flowers one more and exchanging them for the shield. Oh yes...can't forget the bartering...you're...so fun to trade with...

Their voice trails off as they shrink back away from the pair, very grateful to Howell for stepping in. They frantically try not to think about the earth opening up and swallowing them, in case the river gets any ideas.

----------


## Amnestic

A pleasant and encouraging greeting ends in a decidedly awkward goodbye as the pair of medusas take their scavenged goods and what will no doubt be a redacted story back home - they climb down the ruined centre of the bridge with a somewhat shy wave of fareweel, slipping beneath the "river's" surface as easily as one might through water, though chances are you would find it much less accommodating than those native to the below. Indeed, once Leyla and Leyli vanish beneath the surface, the river seems to roil and rage, throwing up great plumes of the sickly green colour. As it is now, it would be difficult to cross immediately without risking getting close to the river's surges. Waiting is, of course, an option, as if finding an alternate solution.

The plumes rise up perhaps forty feet into the air before crashing back down again, and the entry of the medusas seems to have caused it to act up along the length that you can see to your left and right - if there is a 'calmer' section, it's out of your line of sight. The gap over the ruined bridge itself is perhaps 20 to 25ft wide, making it a difficult - though not impossible - distance to leap, if one is particularly adept at leaping anyway.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Your next challenge! An angry khyber river. Waiting's obviously a solution - it's not unreasonable for your characters to deduce it will calm down in some time. Otherwise, apply your noggins (and skills) if you want a faster movement :P

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Halline Dell*


Seeing the roiling sickness and the vast gap, the sergeant kicks a rock over the edge. "That's great. I can't wait to find your new friends and thank them with my hammer. I don't have a lot of experience of doing this without bridging equipment. I suppose we can go find a tree and drag it back. Weigh the back end and swivel it across. And hope whatever that green mist is doesn't make us insane or melt our flesh."

----------


## Waistcoatwill

R.I.T.A.C

The warforged eyes the roiling surface of the river carefully. They jump straight into practicalities, tryjng to breeze past how they areivwd at this situation.

That may work but I wouldn't trust any material to survive very long in that. By the time we've found a suitable tree it may have calmed back down though. Alternatively, it should be relatively easy to fly a rope or two across the gap if it does become calm again.

Taking a pause might be best anyway. I never got round to looking over that warforged component, and Perceptor believes this shield may have some useful properties...

They awkwardly sit safely on the shore and focus on looking over the two items, keeping their gaze firmly away from the Elf and "man".

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Druager watched the warforged and noble fawn over the two snake women, finding only a measure of respect for the sergeant, the elf, and the hobgoblin.  Between offers of bantering, bartering, and bondage, Druager could only stare dispassionately at the events as they unfolded.  Eventually, the woman settled on a trade and departed, leaving the once calm river a roiling mess of waves and plumes.  Approaching the group, he waited for a moment, staring at the water as the others discussed possible options.   At RITAC's recommendation, he looked to the warforged and asked, "Are we waiting for your betrothed?  Or is this part of the honeymoon?  Either way, we should work on a path.  The Mournland has a way of finding tasks for idle hands."

Reaching down to grab some greenery from a nearby bush, Druager took off with a slow, thrashing beat of his wings and rose up to fifty feet.  Peering up and down the river, the scout looked for signs of an easier crossing, then dropped some of the greens into the mist, watching to see what happened to them as they fell.   
_OOC - Sorry for the delay - ready to press on.  Hope I didn't kill the momentum!  Looking for a path and watching to see if the mist dissolves the shrubbery 

Passive Perception: 24 or Perception - (2d20)[12][12](24)+9

Effects: Hex (concentration, up to an hour); 10x goodberries (24 hours); Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (2/4); Hex (0/1), Tasha's Hideous Laughter (1/1), Charm Person  (1/1)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (0/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

RITAC peered up at Druager, narrowing their main iris in imitation.

It could have gone better, but we avoided having to fight and may have gotten some useful items out of it. Snide remarks don't help at all! Either way, I don't expect they'll be back, but I'm sure this will subside eventually.


They grumpily begin to walk away before stopping at the edge of the bridge. After an odd movement that might have been the taking of a deep breath in a creature with lungs, they force themselves to turn back to Druager. 

Good luck with your experiments, I can provide a more sensitive test subject when I'm done with these.

----------


## Amnestic

The bridge seems to be the sole major crossing point within sightrange, and, at least from what Druager can see, there isn't any immediate alternates where it's not frothing up. Much of it is obscured by overhanging trees however, so viewing it from above is difficult, and viewing it from below proves just as contentious since there are twists, turns, and obstructions generally getting in the way.

When the plantlife touches the river's fumes it slowly and then swiftly begins to shrivel up and decay, as if being eaten at by noxious magic. The small size of the test subject does seem to have contributed to how quickly it decayed, and you can judge it will likely affect people slower - though still affect you all the same.

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Druager glanced at RITAC before he flew off, frowning ... or scowling.  "Snide remarks?  Sorry, I thought we were blossoming friendships."

When the guide returned from his scouting, he landed near the others and nodded in the direction he flew.  I can't see the river from the air very well, but it seems just as wild as far as I could see.  Two things - I can fly over it, and while it will kill anyone who gets caught in the waters, it doesn't spout past the trees in most places.

Do I ferry you all across, scout further ahead, or wait for the waters to calm?" 
_OOC - Just passing stuff along ...

Effects: 10x goodberries (24 hours); Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (2/4); Hex (0/1), Tasha's Hideous Laughter (1/1), Charm Person  (1/1)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (0/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*


Sniffing the acrid burning of the mist from a distance, Hallina frowned and looked about in hope of some surprise means of a more terrestrial passage. The idea of hanging onto another person in the air, carried like a hawk's fresh field mouse, was frightening and nauseating. It would at least be speedy. She was prepared, or as prepared mentally as she could be, but military habits die hard, and she couldn't bring herself to volunteer to go first. "Glad we're getting along. A scout should be the first across, someone with keep senses who can search the terrain."

----------


## Amnestic

The time you spend waiting for the 'river' to settle is difficult to track, but it seems likely it's no less than 30 and no more than 60 minutes in total. Enough for a breather, and enough time to identify some of the magic items you've received - or lack thereof.

The pearl, so traded for, reveals itself to be entirely mundane without a lick of magical essence to it. It's pretty, and with the correct talk-up may even sell for a pretty gold piece or many, but ultimately it's a bauble and little more. The shield, and the boots you took from the airship, prove more beneficial.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Short rest again, if needs be.

Boots:



> *Boots of the Hare*
> _Wondrous Item (Boots), Common_
> 
> While wearing these supple leather boots, you gain the ability to double jump. You can jump a second time at any point during a jump that you make - even in mid air - potentially changing direction. Your second jump always counts as having a running start for the purpose of distance.


Shield:



> *Sentinel Shield*
> _Armor (shield), uncommon_
> 
> While holding this shield, you have advantage on initiative rolls and Wisdom (Perception) checks. The shield is emblazoned with the symbol of an eye.


Armblade:



> *Advanced Armblade*
> _Warforged Component (Hand), Uncommon_
> 
> The serrated blade that this component is primarily made of completely covers the hand and forearm. It serves as a +1 longsword while attached, and it cannot be disarmed.


*Spoiler: Warforged Components*
Show


Warforged components are special magical items that are only useable by Warforged, integrating them into their body in the same way they would armour. A component may or may not require attunement, but each one takes an hour to integrate into or remove from the body - this can be done as part of a short or long rest.

An integratedd component occupies the same 'slot' as a magic item would. For example, a warforged with an integrated Behemoth Belt could not also wear a Belt of Giant Strength. If a component occupies the hand, it typically prevents the hand from being used for anything other than the component. For instance the Elemental Axe hand can only be used to make attacks - it cannot be used to manipulate fine objects, grab things, or perform somatic components.

Similar to dragonmarked focus items, warforged components may be slightly higher on the power scale for their rarity due to their racial specificity.







Eventually the river's energies seem to settle, and the noxious fumes give way to settle as it was before the pair of medusae entered it. Though the gap in the bridge is significant, it's not insurmountable and Druager is able to ferry everyone across one by one, allowing you to continue on your way. 

The ripe and lively trees steadily give way to a more dessicated, dried, and dead forest of bare trees and barer earth. As if to herald your arrival in a new place in the Mournland you hear a cacophonous roar in the sky above, and looking to the sky you see a massive dragon soaring above, out of reach and out of range and yet still somehow a little too close for comfort. Thankfully the green-scaled beast seems to take little notice of your party far below it, and merely continues on its way.
*Spoiler: Passive Perception 17+*
Show

The scales are not green due to natural colouring - they appear to be sickly and rotten, with gaps in the scales revealing bone and putrescent organs beneath.


In a small clearing up ahead you spot an odd existence - a corpse holding a longsword that appears to be floating in midair. The corpse hovers forward and around, following a circular path in the clearing as if still following a patrol route it had in life. Slung across its shoulder is a longbow along with a full quiver, though any colours or heraldry seems to have been lost to time.

*Spoiler: Perception DC20*
Show


The corpse is not floating, it is contained within a remarkably and unnaturally transparent gelatinous cube that seems to retain its visual cloak even while moving.

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Druager sighed when the decision was made to wait, moving to take a position that he could monitor the river, just in case anything else decided to emerge.  After the waters settled, he moved to help anyone across that needed it, silent the whole time as he worked.  Once the others were safely across, Druager moved forward to help scout a bit, eyes scanning the dried area across the river.  The sudden roar erupted his efforts, and he raised one fist then swiftly brought it down as he opened his hand, fingers splayed wide.  He dropped down behind cover, presuming the others would do the same.  He looked up as the dragon flew overhead, a mighty beast of green scales.  However, the closer he peered, the more he realized.  Under his breath, he murmured to the others, _"Something's wrong with it ... best stay out of sight."_

He waited several heartbeats before he stood and continued to move.  After an uneventful spell, he raised a hand for caution as they approached a small clearing.  Peering into it, the group noticed a dead body floating, moving about in a circle as if performing its last patrol, over and over again.  But after a few moments of observation, Druager realized the creature was too wooden, things weren't moving appropriately.  Squinting, he caught he shimmer of something around the body and realized what it was.  

"The body is stuck in a translucent square.  Be careful touching it." 
_OOC - Glad to be back in it!

Effects: 10x goodberries (24 hours); Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (2/4); Hex (0/1), Tasha's Hideous Laughter (1/1), Charm Person  (1/1)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (0/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

----------


## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

RITAC ducks for cover at the sight of the horrifying dragon. Only when it is safely well away from the group does he whisper.

Corrupted by Mabar or disease, that creature is not right.

Shaking their head they follow on until the group reaches the clearing.. 

Should we take a long way around then or hope to kill it at a distance? I can the group stay quiet and hidden, if we need to.

----------


## Gorgon_Heap

*Hallina Dell*

Lying behind a withered shrub, the sergeant frowns. "I'm all for not fighting a dragon. But can either of you be more specific? So it's insane, as is everything else in the Mournland. Is there any way to learn more before we take a risk?"

----------


## Starbin

*Druager Voss*, human ranger

Druager shook his head at the discussion.  _"Insane, sick or both, hunting dragons can wait.  So can this thing, but it's probably easier to take out now.  Anyone know anything about moving jelly?"_
_OOC - Druagar isn't hyped for hunting a big drago right now, while the corpse seems like an easier deal.  Besides, Operation Dragon Hunt can be a future task

Effects: 10x goodberries (24 hours); Fly 20'; darkvision 60', all morphs are active; Passive Perception: 19 (24 vs sight)_
*Spoiler: Details*
Show

AC: HP: 30/49  Init +3  Move 30' land / 20' air  Prof +3  Passive Per 19 (24 vs sight)  Spell DC 14  Spell attack +6 
*Saves*: Str +8 Dex +4 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1
*Skills*: Athletics +11, Stealth +4, Nature +4, Medicine +6, Survival +6, Perception +9, Intimidation +3
*Tools*: Gaming (Dice), Land Nav (Carts), Cartography 
*Spoiler: Spells*
Show

Poison Spray, Thornwhip, Control Fire, Create Bonfire, Dancing LightsEnsnaring Strike, Goodberry, Wild Cunning, Speak with Animals, Hex (2/4); Hex (0/1), Tasha's Hideous Laughter (1/1), Charm Person  (1/1)Pass w/o trace, Misty Step (2/2); Misty Step (0/1 per long rest)Suggestion (1/1 per long rest)Confusion (1/1 per long rest)

*Magic Items:* Belt of Giant Strength (Hill - 21); goggles of night (60' darkvision)
*Weapons*: Longbow (+4 / 1d8+1 P), Handaxe (+8 / 1d6+5 S), Mace (+8 / 1d6+5 B), Lion Claws (+8 / 1d6+5 S)
*Morphs*: Eagle eyes (Face: adv on Perception checks based on sight, gain Wis mod to initiative); Tentacles (grapple w/adv, hand weapon/grapple and hand morphs have 10' reach); Fox Tail (cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter, Charm Person, Suggestion, and Confusion spells 1/long rest; can cast Control Fire, Create Bonfire and Dancing Lights cantrips); Cat's feet (stealth w/adv, footsteps make no noise, no damage from falls 20' or less); Lion's claws (1d6S, 1/turn, can strike with each hand with the attack action)

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## Waistcoatwill

*R.I.T.A.C.*

I am afraid I do not. This banner may be helpful if we wish to engage at range.

The warforged prepares to unfurl his banner whilst inwardly consulting Perceptor for any knowledge it may possess on encounters with similar creatures.

*Spoiler: Roll*
Show

History (1d20+7)[*14*]

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