Taran calls upon Torag to guide Jorac's hands, and his own, and then gets to work poking at wire and panels.
When the reactor’s fail-safe is reengaged, the two columns of energy f lash with light, then pulse back upward to create a vortex of violet f lame that erupts into the sky above Black Hill. This column of flame will burn for nearly 24 hours before finally receding back down to the bonfire-sized blaze the town of Torch has grown accustomed to.
Torch’s town council gratefully rewards you for your actions, with thanks and the promised reward of 4,000 gp. Word of your triumph spreads through town quickly, and you soon find that paying for drinks or rooms is unnecessary—at least for a few weeks. It’ll still be some time before Torch is on its feet again, though.
You relax, enjoying fame and glory in the town of Torch after successfully relighting the forge atop Black Hill and rescuing Khonnir Baine. You go about your daily business, but it quickly becomes obvious that Khonnir and the rest of the council are growing concerned about some of the revelations you brought before them.
"Our suspicions are justified, I think," begins Khonnir as you sit on on another meeting at the Council's request, "that someone or something might still be interested in Torch."
Dolga Freddert nods in agreement. "I sense that you are leading up to something, Khonnir. Have you made some discovery or another?"
Khonnir nods and smiles. "You know me too well. Our friends here discovered a power relay in Garmen's warehouse and reported that the reactor had been rerouted to output the excess energy to the relay. That fact has troubled me for some time and so I searched through the transmitter's monitors and settings. I can confirm that the device was transmitting power to a specific part of Numeria 105 miles northeast of Torch, and the most significant location in that area is Scrapwall."
Dolga's eyes widen. "So you're saying Torch is still under threat from something brewing in Scrapwall? This Hellion or its followers?"
Khonnir nods. "Exactly. And perhaps others. It is disturbing enough to think that there is some powerful artificial intelligence in Scrapwall but even more disturbing, in my opinion, to know that Hellion was able to grant divine powers to his follower Meyanda."
The council remains quiet, reflecting on this for a moment. "I see nothing else for it," Dolga finally speaks up, "but to send someone to investigate Scrapwall and find out just what is going on there before they launch another attack on Torch."
Everyone in the room nods and slyly looks towards you as Dolga continues, "Friends, you've been the saviors of Torch once already and if that was enough adventure for you, we understand. But if you are willing to do this for us, I think the town would be safe in providing you with an 8000 gp reward if you can remove this threat."
|
Jorac listens to the whole conversation with great interest, not daring interrupt his master or the Torch high-ups.
Do not propose. Let them come to you and beg.
Shush. You're right, but not for the reasons you think.
A faint smile comes to Jorac's lips as the question is inevitably popped. "Why, of course we will, Master Khonnir. You know we hold the interests of Torch dear, and that we will endeavor to prserve our fair community at all costs. We will travel to Scrapwall, investigate, then remove the threat. May I ask if we know anything about this location? Any information would be useful to prepare the best we can for this expedition."
"It's a hive of ruffians, thieves, and all manner of filth," one of the senior councilmembers speaks up. "Be careful navigating that anarchic junkyard."
Khonnir cuts in, "Reliable news from Scrapwall is hard to come by but before you leave, Joram Kyte has asked you to stop by the temple; he knows some people who live a bit closer and may be able to help you."
"Aye, I'd rather be at my forge... but the money is good, and never there was a time when gold did not sing to the heart of a son of the good earth. Maybe I can beat some sense into these blasphemous junk-worshipers while I'm at it. Just a blight upon the natural way of things to go around worshiping these machines. A week under the open sky though... hmph." Taran seems markedly displeased by the though.
|
"I have never before wished to see Scrapwall, but perhaps it is our recent adventuring that elicits curiosity within me now. Yes, we will go. I have reason to believe that the things my companions and I have already encountered will aid us in this quest to remove the threat."
Libri prepares herself for the adventure ahead as she and her companions get ready to visit Joram at the temple before heading out.
The elderly high priest of Bright Joram Kyte greets you warmly. "As it so happens, I have an associate, a woman named Dinvaya, who took up residence in Scrapwall after she was forced to flee from the Technic League's persecution many years ago. I refuse to believe that she has passed away, but I haven't been able to contact her for some time."
He gives you a small token, a symbol a Brigh, and says, "Here, if you happen to see her this should earn her trust. She will know it was I who sent you. If you do find her, just let her know that the Technic League's interest in her has passed and there's a place for her in Torch if she wishes to rejoin us." Joram promises to give you his lesser rod of extend metamagic when you get back.
He also adds, "Before you head off to Scrapwall, I might suggest you first head for a small fort called Aldronard's Grave. It's on the west bank of the Sellen River right across from Scrapwall. It's often unoccupied but if there are any crusaders or worshipers of Sarenrae there, they might have some information about the current situation in Scrapwall to share with you."
|
|
Still aspiring to better understand human emotions, Libri does her best to return the high priest's greeting in a warm manner, but probably fails miserably.
"Your advice is well-received. We will look for your associate and reveal this token to her, should we cross paths. And yes, stopping at Aldronard's Grave sounds as though it will be quite beneficial to us. Many thanks to you," Libri says, as she gives a nod to Joram.
Abruptly, she turns and exits the temple, choosing to wait outside for her companions while reading a book on the psychology of human emotions she nabbed from the library.
The Sellen River is well traveled by merchants, mercenaries, and crusaders heading north to Mendev. Over the years, the various faiths associated with the crusades have established small fortresses along the Sellen as places for weary travelers to rest or resupply before continuing their journey north. Each fortress maintains a small skeleton crew of knights and priests on site for defense and to provide for the comfort of visitors. Such was the original purpose of the fort known today as Aldronard’s Grave.
Aldronard’s Grave has seen better days, and this is obvious as you approach. The damage to the central keep is old, but the thick smoke rising from the chapel and the stables is more than enough to warn you that all is not well.
The front gate to the fort is closed by an iron portcullis. The walls themselves are stone and stand 15 feet high;
|
|
The journey is a painful one for Jorac, not accustomed to leaving his workshop behind. His feet ache, he sweats a lot, but his mind somehow keeps himself together, enduring this necessary ordeal.
Seeing the plume of smoke rising from the keep, Jorac immediately conjures a force armor around his chest, in case things go wrong.
Don't they ever?
"I... I must tell you that some help may be required for me to bypass that obstacle. Does anyone have a rope and grappling hook?"
Taran grunts and starts rigging a harness. "We could try knocking, eh? ". He ignores any sort of response to his poor jest, and instead finishes the harness and pulls some pitons. He rigs ropes for both ascent and descent. After a bit of instruction to the others, Taran grapples and climbs lead, driving safety points as he goes.
Taran finds that it is a difficult climb but he is able to make it by taking his time.
On the inside, the wall sports a 5-foot-wide walkway that leads to one of the guardtowers. Taran cautiously lets himself inside and finds the stairs down. From the ground he is able to work the winch to open the gate and let everyone in.
The courtyard bears fragments of tents and broken wagons.
"Well, come on then. There may still be troublemakers about... or survivors." He heads further into the camp, listening for cries of help or signs of the living.
Taran doesn't see or hear any signs of movement in the fort, at least not immediately.
Taran heads to the west first to explore the smaller of the structures.
Taran approaches the western structure but as he does so he notes two figures moving atop it. "Hold it!" they call down. "This fort's been struck by the plague, you should keep heading upriver to avoid exposure!" They wear full helms and their voices rattle about in the metal before echoing down to you but despite that you still detect a strange accent or lisp in their speech.
"Well darn fine thing I'm a both dwarf, and immune to most of the stuff you human get, and have more then a smattering of training in matters regarding healing. I offer my services as a doctor, bring me to the sick."
Taran strides forward, attempting to read the reaction of the strange men as he does.
Mefindio has stayed uncommonly quiet throughout the respite and subsequent journey. He pats Trigger's muzzle as the party scales the wall.
Following Toran, he freezes as the men speak up. Plague would explain the smoke....burning bodies and such....or a good cover story....
He hear a rusty screeching, followed by a clang! as the gate slams down from across the courtyard.
"I don't think that will be necessary." the person calls down from above and, finally turning to look at the now-closed gate, you notice that two more of the strange helmed people are blocking your exit. Two of the foes on the top of the building draw pistols from their hips.
Libri puts an arrow in one of the men. The three at the top respond with some quick pistol fire!
The one in the back moves in and fires his pistol at Jorac!
The guy steps up and says, "I think you'll be leaving soon enough. You've trespassed on Smiler territory and that never ends well for the likes of you."
He holds a small cylindrical device in his hand. He gives it a quick twist on the dial at the end and tosses it at Libri!
gr: 10 dmg
Jorac takes two of them out of the fight while Libri fells the injured one! The remaining two look shocked by this turn of events....
Taran scoops up the cylindrical object from Libri's feet and attempts to lob it at the two on the roof!
"Hot potato!"
Taran grabs the cylinder and tosses it up on the roof before it can detonate!
The two men up top are about to reload and fire their pistols when a large puff of gas shoots out from the loaded grenade! They begin to cough and then vomit, waving their hands uselessly and sticking their heads as far over the edge as they can, trying to escape the cloud of noxious vapors. "Ok! Ok! Yield!"
Mefindio looks at the unfired pistol in his hand, back at the fallen, them to his party. "Well done!"
"Come on down then. I promise we won't harm you, unless knocking some sense into your head counts as harm. And you can start by telling us what happened here."
|
|
Meanwhile, Jorac disarms the two ruffians who were blinded by his spell, and starts binding them.
-Posted with Wayfinder
When the men come down to the ground floor and exit, they have taken off their helms, which are now covered in sick. You can now see that they are indeed a hideous sight. Their grisly grins are surrounded by tangles of raw scar tissue from where they've cut away their lips and cheeks to expose their teeth. Their gear is ragged and worm, and their battered pistols are cobbled together from equal parts high-tech weaponry and bits of junk.
Now at closer range, you can see that the man who tossed the canister is actually missing an arm, although it has been healed and fitted with a handaxe.
"Fine!" the one-armed leader calls as he comes to and feels the bonds holding him in place. "Who are you and what do you want? We are the Smilers and they call me Hatchet-Hand Vress. As of a few hours ago, we have claimed this site as our own territory. We were supposed to head back to Scrapwall tomorrow."
"Did someone send you at here? Are you some sort of dog at the beck and call of the some masters in Scrapwall? And what about the people who were living here previously? What did you do to them?"
|
|
Libri puts away her bow but stands with a hand on the hilt of her sword as the men climb down to ground level. She gives a small shudder as she looks at the grisly and disfigured faces of the Smilers but ventures forward anyhow. "I have never heard of the Smilers before--who are you and what is your purpose?"
"They're all in there," the one-armed prisoner nods to the watchtower to the east. "The ones that survived, that is."
"We weren't sent here by any force but our own. Our leader Marrow thought it might impress the Lords of Rust."
The one-armed man smiles, the effect accentuated by the mutilations of his cheeks. "The Lords of Rust? Soon you will see them across all of Numeria, trust me on that. You are on the losing side. The Lords of Rust wield divine power granted to them by the almighty Hellion. And his power has grown too great for Scrapwall; the Lords of Rust seek new settlements."
|
|
"Alright, you two," Libri says, motioning to the men who climbed down from the tower. "Come on over here next to your friends. Jorac, will you do the honors? As my companion Taran said, we won't harm you. But we can't have you sneaking around while we investigate the damage you've caused to this place.
Libri looks around at her companions. "Shall we head to that eastern watchtower?"
Of the eight crusaders who were stationed here when the Smilers attacked, only four still live, and they are in bad shape. All four are bound tightly with rope and have been stashed in the watchtower.
You find some of the ruined gear of the dead crusaders but little of their actual remains. The still-conscious survivors mumble something about cannibals.
Taran will tend to their wounds as best he can, using what little magic he possesses to give them energy and hope.
"I think we might need to have an impromptu court and try these gangster for their villany. Attacking folks is wrong, but eating them is just downright unnatural. It would take some sort of deranged giant or orc to do such a thing."
Investigating the rest of the keep, you find that most of it is in ruins. You are able to find the gear of the men who have been tied up and return it to them. You note that one of the rooms features a small fire above which roast strips of meat which are undoubtedly human in origin.
"So these lords of rust are... making an army out of your particular kind of freak? Fight for them for a bit and find immortality through machine magic?" Taran is is obviously disturbed by the Grinners, Smiler, whatever they call themselves, dropping his usual (limited) attempts at social grace.
"In a way. . . they are the masters of Scrapwall. There were six leaders but the sixth has gone missing. Her loss has enraged Hellion, who has begun to push us beyond the junkyard's walls in retribution."
"That maddroid was one of the leaders of a city? Torag save the fire! Well, are the rest of 'em droids too? Who are they, and how long have been running the place."
"Yes she was. But it is no matter, Hellion will choose another to take her place in the Lords of Rust. Still there are five remaining: the troll Helskarg, the half-orc Nalakai, the four-armed monster known as Zagmaander, chain-wielding two-headed Draigs, and the orc named Kulgara."