"No worries there Matilda. There is something about the creation magic that animates them with lifeforce. Once you snuff that spark fully, the parts degrade rapidly."
“Darkheart. I felt that we would face him again here,” states Lightbringer, using the found magical oils to continue repairing himself and Basher.
“I suggest that the rest of you retire quickly to the tent to heal. We can put this loot in there as well. Then we go and find the sick man.”
Gil goes over to the minotaur and pats him on the shoulder. "I'm so glad to see you back on your feet. I was worried when you fell. I see you are still wounded - in the tent, we should be able to heal your remaining wounds and mine so everyone will be ready to go when we find out what this Caretaker is." Looking around, she adds, "Right?"
Let's set up the tent in the barn, then skeedaddle.
LB 39 of 109;
Janosz 59 of 79;
Runzyl 55 of 110;
Gil at 42 of 57;
Bor at 33 of 59;
cure mod wounds
Janosz at 76
Runzyl at max
Gil at max
Bor at 55
spell clw twice; Janosz at max, Bor at max.
Need help with the 'forged?
"Did the warforged spellcaster have any trinkets I can use? I think my wand is probably nearing its end."
“You should have waited for us or given us some word of your intentions,” Rolund admonishes the changeling in a fury. “We already faced a wizard and who’s to say they didn’t have another back at their camp who could divine your location.”
Before the changeling can reply, Rolund stalks off to recover his bow and returns after everybody has been healed. “Let’s continue.”
Nothing I can use really.
"Yeah; we need to stick and move here. Don't want to wait around for them; they're onto us by now."
Gil's "city elf" face gives the bone knight an angelic smile as he stalks away. "It's times like this that I really know you love me."
To Rod, more seriously, "I got no indication that the force I saw leaving will be of any further concern. They appear to be operating as a military operation and we are not their mission. They intend to leave us for the Caretaker to defeat. They did make it clear, however, that they have been onto us all along. They were not waiting for just anyone to come along -- they were looking for us. They even knew the names of our warforged compatriots - referred to them as the traitors Lightbringer and Basher because they were traveling with fleshies, I suppose."
Yeah; let's go rescue this sick dude.
The adventurers head along the track towards the abandoned camp, leaving Pontrilas behind them. It is a ten minute walk. The track itself is well made - clearly it was intended to take some traffic, being cobbles and looking realtively recent, although the lack of maintenance over the last few years has taken its toll.
The road heads towards a low hill. The camp is a motley collection of a few tents outside some sort of building, jutting out of the hillside. The building is little more than a box made out of concrete, with a large heavy door like a steel shutter through which a cart could be driven. It has no windows, and looks more like an entrance to a fortress than anything else.
The camp is deserted, but in the tent that Gil indicates lies a man. He is human, wears leather armour and he is wounded, bandages crusted with blood and pus wrapped around his belly. Poking through, perhaps six inches high, is a strange growth. It initially looks organic, perhaps like a squat and gnarled tree branch composed of matted fibres. But a closer look reveals that the fibres seem to be fine metal wires, compressed and interwoven. The man's breathing is harsh and fast and he sweats profusely as he sprawls unconscious on a stained bedroll.
Heal:
to figure out wtf is amiss with this dude....
"Can we set up the tent? I'd like to try to help this man."
once that's accomplished,
cure mod wand once to test it out on this affliction;
I'd like to know with my heal check if a scroll of remove disease would aid this guy at all.
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Rodergo bends down to examine the man, careful not to touch the bizarre growth emerging from his torso.
As Rodergo crouches beside him, the man's eyes flutter open. "Who…?"
"Sir, I am Rodergo Xativa, a humble servant of the Silver Flame,.....what has happened to you, my good sir?....."
“I can remove disease with a touch,” Lightbringer says softly to Rodergo. “If this is a disease.”
"You could try, but....I think it will take more powerful salves, my friend. I've never seen anything like this. It's not your ordinary malady. It's.....arcane somehow."
Lightbringer looks to Ezreal. “Have you seen anything like this before?” he asks the wizard.
"The thing... In there..." gasps the man. "Hit me..."
The man looks round and spots Lightbringer. He cringes back. "'Forged..."
Gil steps in between the stricken man and Lightbringer. In a soothing voice, "Be at ease, he's not here to hurt you. None of us are. The more you can tell us, the more we can help you." She points toward the low building. "Is the 'forged that hit you in there? What did it look like?"
Diplomacy
The man relaxes at Gil's soothing words and tone. He continues between gasps for air.
"Yeah, in there... Like a 'forged, but big, like a giant... And like it was too big, or ill or something... Bits sticking out... We went in, but it came for us... We beat it down, first time... Though we killed it, but it came back, same as before, only smarter, tougher..."
He gulps and then continues. "Like you can't kill it. You can, but it comes back. And if it hits you..." He waves weakly at the thing protruding from his belly. "It grows inside you. The other forged, they won't go in there. This gets them too. The Caretaker, they call it... Ikar said..." He coughs spasmodically, bloody spittle spattering his lips.
“What can we do for you?” Lightbringer asks, kneeling down next to the man. “Did the other warforged that were here know anything about the malady that afflicts you? Did they mention any way to stop or reverse it?”
"I don't know. They never said... After we fought it, we came out, they were waiting.... Ikar talked to them. A big one, red eyes... Made some deal, I don't know... Ikar left me with them, hostage... They just stood here, waiting. They didn't talk, ignored me... They seemed to know about it but the didn't help..."
Lightbringe nods curtly. “The warforged with red eyes would have had no regard for you. When we meet I plan to cleanse the face of Eberron of his evil presence. Who is Ikar? Who and where are your other companions?”
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"Ikar... We're part of Ikar's crew. He said... He said it would be a big score here. But it's a disaster... We lost two getting here. Ikar kept driving us on... He was a always a mean bastard, but never crazy. He's been acting weird... Anyone stood up to him, like he did things to their head, suddenly they agreed with him again... And when he was talking to the warforged, he said others were coming... He said he knew because of their dreams, but warforged don't dream so they didn't need to fear him...
"And it was like he was reading our minds. He'd just stare at you. I think... I think he knew I had my doubts, put me in harm's way, left me hostage. Took the others inside..."
The man begins to cough again, which then turns into a choking fit. He thrashes on the bedroll for a moment and then his back arches and his eyes bulge horribly. Then he slumps back, head lolling, blood dribbling from his nose, dead.
“I am sorry,” says Lightbringer softly. “I will pray that your soul, if without stain, is able to join with the Silver Flame in eternity.”
He stands and faces the others. “I remember now; I have heard the name Ikar before …”
Ezreal keeps his distance carefully keeping his expression neutral as he studies the abnormal growth. When the man describes Ikar's strange behavior he grunts "So the quori is ahead of us riding a hobgoblin who has managed the reputation of 'unpleasant' among those who spend their lives raiding the Mournland. Wonderful." When the man dies he steps away. "So is anyone else in favor of getting the hell out of the vicinity of a giant unkillable plague spreading warforged?" He glares at Runzyl, "Don't even think about it long ears."
“I think you are right about Ikar, Ezreal,” agrees Lightbringer (not intending to insult the man’s vast intellect by validating his conclusion). “The hobgoblin is a willing or unwilling agent of the Dreaming Dark. He is our first concern, if this ‘Caretaker’ has not destroyed him and his minions. The Caretaker is our second; there I do not agree Ezreal; we may need to face it, or at least find a way to get past it if we are to complete our quest – we cannot assume that Ikar will not find a way to get past it himself. If we simply remain out here and wait to see if Ikar re-emerges, not only might it be too late to prevent the Dreaming Dark’s plans at this place, but we risk running into our third concern – Darkheart. I do not fear him, but a confrontation with him now, even assuming we can defeat whatever force he brings against us, would tax our resources enough that we may not be able to stop Ikar.”
Lightbringer pulls out the map of the facility given to them by the kalashtar back in Sharn and studies it. “The kalashtar suggested we find Director Kaase’s office – Norn has marked it on this map. It may be best to try to reach it without confronting the Caretaker.” Lightbringer looks at the map (and shows it to the others), trying to see if there is a way to get to the office whilst avoiding any spaces large enough to house something the size of a warforged titan.
“If we must fight it, we will, but we should remain tactically minded; it appears that if we are injured by it, the consequences will be dire. It sounds as if not even I will be resistant to this affliction. We must try to find a way to bind or restrict it, or attack it from range. If one or more of us must engage it in melee, do we have any magical means of avoiding the possibility of being damaged?”
“If we must fight it, we will, but we should remain tactically minded; it appears that if we are injured by it, the consequences will be dire. It sounds as if not even I will be resistant to this affliction. We must try to find a way to bind or restrict it, or attack it from range. If one or more of us must engage it in melee, do we have any magical means of avoiding the possibility of being damaged?”
"If it is anything like the other titan, even Falla Caesenri will have difficulty in harming it. They are most resilient constructs. However, if such a thing must be engaged in melee combat, I can at least distract it long enough for the rest of you to destroy it by bow or by spell. I am far more mobile than the rest of you and may be able to outmaneuver the machine in open space."
The elf looks hard at Ezreal in the wake of his 'long ears' comment. "I will not fight something that cannot die. But if a means to destroy it is discovered, I will certainly be the first to try."
"That it came back after they thought it defeated bothers me. Perhaps destroying it should not be our goal, but immobilizing it. Or removing it to some other location."
She pauses, "We need information, plain and simple."
"That's about what I thought you'd say." The mage sighs. "Give me fifteen minutes." He pulls a heavy tome out of his bag and flips it open while finding a place to sit down.
Gil stares off toward the building, thinking back.
Spellcraft
Knowledge Arcana
Unable to come up with anything that might explain what they'd seen, Gil returns to the matter at hand. "Master Farlowe, I should be able to view a limited space within yon doors - or listen within. I wonder, though, how far inside I should place the sensor. What say you?"
"Hmm. Looks like a large facility by the doors. Forty feet in should give you a view of the entry and beyond without going too far."
"Hmm. Looks like a large facility by the doors. Forty feet in should give you a view of the entry and beyond without going too far."
"OK, 40' past the doors it is."
Gil will cast the clairvoyance with that intended target.