"My thanks Ezreal," Lightbringer says. “And to you Matilda.”
Ezreal frowns gauging the size and weight of the head. "I may be able to move it without touching it, but there is a chance it is too heavy. If I can manage it it will require my concentration, but I can move it as long as I maintain that concentration."
"It seems to me that we have two alternatives. As we can't move the parts without running the risk of infection, we can either just leave it here and trudge on, or we can go back to the front room and get tools to move the carcass. But where should we move it to?"
"I would like, just for my sanity, to chop off that sword arm, pull it and the head back to the front room and box them up there. But that's just me."
"Now, I.... HEY! What the hell is that? Quickly, someone block that opening!!!" Janosz points excitedly at a trail of silvery dust flowing uphill from the Caretaker's body towards the drain. "That's why the other guys couldn't keep it down!"
"No. I think that is going to be beyond my ability. Wrap it with a cloak and drag it, tug it with a grappling hook... I don't know, but I do agree we need to separate it from the body."
Ezreal hesitates briefly at Janosz outburst then realizing what is happening (sort of) takes a look to see if it would be possible for him to seal the drain with a force wall. If they are in a series on both sides of the tunnel it would be a useless effort after all.
There are drain openings all up the tunnel. The silver dust is flowing into several.
Janosz points to one of the drains. "Can someone rip the grate out? Basher? Maybe I can follow the dust and smash up the Caretaker before it is reborn."
"If that doesn't work, can we light the dust on fire?"
I would like to touch the stream with my flaming burst morning star; see if the fire does anything to it;
fire is 1d6, so
and.....
to hit if that's necessary.
Janosz paces about madly. "Does anyone have a bag?"
I have a waterskin, and some oil flasks;....
"I have nothing to stop dust. I'm also running out of options of the things I can do. But the chances of finding a place to rest safely is not likely in here, is it?"
Ezreal runs alongside the trail of silvery dust blasting it with electricity from his wand.
"Aw, f&@& it. We need to find the place where it reassembles and break it apart at the source. Can any of you magic men summon something that can squeeze through those grates and follow the dust?"
“Failing that, we need to move quickly. Perhaps we can find where this dust is going ourselves, and disperse it before it animates another caretaker, if that is its purpose,” Lightbringer suggests, beginning to move down the tunnel. “Look for a larger way down.”
"I'll take the lead. Something that big must have made some marks."
Anybody need healing?....
Rolund ignores the concerns of his companions about the dust as his aberrant mark flares to life.
"What the...?!"
“Is all well Rolund?” Lightbringer asks. “You were damaged by the Caretaker were you not? Do you see any signs of infection?”
After an ineffectual blast or two at the silvery dust Ezreal comes to a halt and turns back frustrated and scowling. "We have no idea how many bodies it has ready to animate or even if that is how the process works. We could end up fighting an entire factory of warmachine's ready for activation. Maybe it is time to find this Quori-ridden hobgoblin now and finish this before the new Caretaker finds us again."
"I agree," nods Lightbringer.
“Is all well Rolund?” Lightbringer asks. “You were damaged by the Caretaker were you not? Do you see any signs of infection?”
"Stay back, Purified." Rolund responds a little too harshly. "Something is wrong here."
"Have you been infected?"
The Bone Knight sets his shield down and proceeds to remove with care the pauldron, rerebrace, couter, vambrace, and gauntlet on the left side of his armor shielding his aberrant mark from view. In the glow of his chill touch is the sparkle of tiny silver particles embedded in his skin. There seems to be a great concentration of them on the knight’s shoulder and collarbone but they seem to spreading, tracing the lines of the aberrant mark.
“Bastard,” Rolund mutters before closing his eyes to concentrate for a moment. In a flash, the blue glow of the chill touch spreads throughout the aberrant mark while the knight grunts in pain.
"Aww, man,...."
Gil watches, fascinated. "You know, the man we found did not bear a mark, as far as we know. Perhaps the magic infusing the caretaker is tied to dragonmarks." She looks at the bone knight's face, gruff as ever, "We don't know if it will make you ill or bolster your 'mark, is what I'm saying. Do you feel ill?"
“Whether the effect on Rolund will be the same or different to the man outside we cannot know at this stage,” states Lightbringer. “Our best hope is to continue; if this affliction is something that House Cannith developed in this facility – perhaps as a type of weapon – it is possible there is a way to cure or contain it located somewhere within. I suggest we make haste, before it begins to harm Rolund.”
"Yeah. Let's roll."
“The pain is not uncomfortable,” Rolund responds to the interrogation. He then proceeds to carefully don his armor. When he finishes, he turns to the Purified.
“Yes, let us hurry.” And just as abruptly Rolund’s shining blade winks out.
"In that case, follow me." Janosz leads off down the corridor, bow in hand.
"By the way," he mutters to Rolund, "lemme know if the infection gets out of control. I'll make it quick and painless, unlike that guy we found outside. Least I can do, really."
With a few more minutes walking, the tunnel comes to an end. It opens out into large, open area, with a brick-lined vaulted roof. The monorail terminates here too, with a booth and controls much like at the other end. The monorail carts are at this end too, partially blocking the tunnel and having to be clambered round. They are simple low flatbed trucks, designed for quick and easy loading, and covered with a thin layer of dust.
A few corpses in Cannith livery lie slumped where they fell, uncorrupted like the others so far seen. None appear to be armed with anything much more than clipboards, presumably supervising the loading of the monorail when they died. Of what they were loading there seems to be little sign, other than a few stray metal fragments on the tiled floor or in the carts.
Also here are two more dead or more recent provenance. One, a human male, is dressed in heavy armour and appears to have been hacked to death by some massive weapon. He lies crumpled by the wall, as if thrown there like a ragdoll. The blood that spurted from his arteries in his final moments paints the wall and ceiling a rusty-brown and he sprawls in a pool of dried gore. The other, a more lightly-armoured human woman, also appears to have died violently, her head twisted through 180 degrees to gaze glassily back over her shoulders.
She lies next to a set of metal sliding double doors on the east side of the room. These look battered, as if some mighty force on the other side bowed them outwards and nearly blasted them into the room. In the narrow gap between them, a harsh white light flickers to a noise like sizzling electrical sparks. A dimly lit corridor heads off to the south, and another to the west is completely dark.
Janosz kneels down next to the dead man, scraping at the bloody spatter with his knife. "Hmmmm.... Looks like the Caretaker burst through the door there and, well, offed them. Want to look at where it came from?" Janosz nods at the battered door. "Oh, and stay away from the corpses - they might have contagious machine plague."
Heal check
How old are the bodies? I critted. ;)
Lightbringer nods at Janosz’ appraisal of the situation. “According to the map we have, that,” he points to the battered doors, “should be an elevator that will take us down to the creation forge. If there are spare Caretaker frames, they will most likely be located there, or stored nearby.”
How old are the bodies? I critted. ;)
"Somebody check those doors; let's get this damn Caretaker's bodies offline, man."
"Hmmmmm.... Tracks lead off down south, as well as into the room over there. That should be the barracks, right?." Janosz points west . "Any activity is probably limited to the forge downstairs, but I'd like to take a quick look at that room too, just to make sure we won't be ambushed from behind. After that we can proceed to the main stairs down."
While the bodies are being examined and Janosz is checking out tracks, Gil morphs into the form of a slight young half-elven woman, longish hair pulled back in a ponytail - her guise as Cassandra - but she keeps the garb of her pseudo-Janosz -- appropriately altered, of course.