Nalverren looks around, clearly impressed and with the air of a kid in a candy shoppe.
"... Your items have been completed." He waves towards some tables where a number of items are stacked up.
Atsu simply rests his hands on his broad belt. He has the air of easy familiarity, though he remains ever-watchful.
"We don't really talk about the capabilities of this facility," says Qadnis to Vaard, "Otherwise I'd have to kill you.
"Anyway," he says without a break, "We have a number of additional pieces which you might find useful. First off, we have this." He takes out a sphere of some bronze-coloured metal and hands it to Cole.
That evening is the height of luxury for the adventurers. After several days of sleeping rough and subsisting on dried dinosaur meat, they get their first decent meal and comfortable bed. The elves put them up in a tent with soft carpets and blankets on which to sleep, and feed them roasted meats, dates and soft bread. After the rigours of the trip so far, sleep comes swiftly.
The elves break camp at dawn, quickly disassembling their camp and packing it into the panniers borne by their mounts. "Come!" says Torlaes, "Today we hunt halflings!" The troop set off north-east, back along the path the adventurers had taken. There are a few lighthearted grumbles about the slowness of the skeletal tyrannosaur - the Valenar horses are extremely nimble and quick - but they make quick progress for a number of hours.
Vaard cocks his head not entirely sure if this is some sort of humor. Deciding it is not he does not respond, the lizardfolk after all are a blunt people and Vaard appreciates bluntness even if his transition to the Flame has given him the urge to be more "social".
Tal relaxes on the amenities provided by the valinar. It was a welcome change from constantly being on guard.
Rehil enjoys the meal, the tent, the bedding. It's all like a childhood story come true. In the morning he's up early and ready to go, an elven warrior in a raiding party.
Envy only slightly dims his mood as he watches the elves mount their horses while he clambers aboard the dinosaur.
On the trail he tries to keep watch responsibly from his relatively high perch, but it's difficult with the elves and horses drawing his eyes constantly.
"Do you want to show them how it works, Qadnis?" says Atsu in an amused tone.
Rehil sees them first - a scouting group mounted on their raptors. When he points them out the elves turn to give chase. The halflings wheel and head away at speed. "Ha!" yells Torlaes from his galloping horse, "Let the little hares run! They will show us where the rest are!"
The pounding hooves of the Valaes Tairn cover the miles, scattering the herds before them, dust pluming in their wake. They keep the halflings in sight, closing slowly but not enough to get within bowshot. Their forebearance is finally rewarded after a wild ride of an hour - a much larger group of halfling riders emerges from the heat haze.
Torlaes shouts, a gleeful grin on his face:
The elven riders roar as one.
The Valenar horses surge forwards, released to charge at their full capability. The halfling scouts are quickly overhauled and, with a few sweeps of their curved blades, the elves send their corpses tumbling in the dust. Torlaes raises his scimtar high above his head and then jabs it towards the halfling forces up ahead. This is seemingly a pre-arranged signal and as they plunge forwards the elves fall into a wedge-shaped formation pointed straight at the centre of the enemy group. Their mounts move at such speed that the adventurers begin to lag behind the main group. The halflings, meanwhile, are also forming up and beginning a counter-charge.
Qadnis sighs, taking the object back from Cole. "This is called a clockwork spy. It can be used for surveillance and can record, for a time, what it hears. You activiate it like so." Qadnis twists a key and eight spider-like legs suddenly shoot out from its side. He places it down on a table and it scuttles about, clibling under the table-top and hanging underneath. "They react to simple instructions. For example: come!" The device scuttles towards him. "Deactivate!" The legs withdraw and the creature becomes a ball of metal again. "Be careful, they are delicate."
"Something else we have." He hands Ashshar and Vaard two lumps of cloth which, on examination, turn out to be soft flat caps. "Well, put them on. Two lizardmen wandering about Regalport will almost certainly draw attention. These will help you blend in. Give them a go. Concentrate on a different person, think about their appearance, their clothes, their hair, eyes and skin. Now imagine you are wearing their appearance as if it were a garment." He looks expectantly at the two lizardfolk."
Vaard places one of the aps on his brow and concentrates on being less scaly and more fleshy. As unnerving as that may be he continues to focus on what his memory of a human is, about his height, dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin complexion.
"How do I look?" He begins to move around and look at his own hands, "Is there a limit to this magic?"
"Well," says Atsu to Vaard, considering for a moment, "you have hair. So I'd say that's a success."
When they spot the halflings in the distance Tal links his life force with his companions.
Ashshar
'...remember your enemies. There are more lessons than how to fight them that can be learned.'
Ashshar takes the cap and examines it curiously before putting it on, their eyes narrowing as they are replaced by a simple Warforged that looks like it was made with draconic lines to its design, no ornate touches to the body composition, just function and semblance. There is no inscription on its forehead, seeming as perhaps a prototype, down to the segmented and scaled tail.
Vaard did not sound like Vaard, and it was strange. "Yes?", came the question, distorted in a manner that seemed like it echoed through a machine. Very strange.
Cole KLOMPS in, eyeing the strange artificing workshop. “I wouldn’t want to have to be killed,” he mutters as he listens along.
Cole reacts about the same when the strange device is given to him, then taken back. He grunts out a laugh as it sprouts legs, though. “That could be useful,” he monotones, then cokcs his head, “I’ll try not to crush it.”
He’s about to pick it up when he thinks otherwise, gesturing to Nalverren, “Maybe you should hold onto it.”
He begins taking the items made for him, dropping them into specific pouches in his pack. The hat-induced transformation on Vaard and Ashshar cause him to stop, and he looks over at Qadnis. “Do those hats also work on my kind?”
“Do those hats also work on my kind?”
"Not as well as you might hope. Due to a quirk of the embedded spell, you can make yourself look like another, different warforged. But you cannot resemble a humanoid or other creature. Humanoids can look like other humanoids, but not like warforged or other types of creature - which is presumably why your attempt as a warforged" - he looks at Ashshar - "is so unconvincing. Also, the effect is purely visual, so it will not withstand close scrutiny using other senses, nor illusion-piercing magics. You can look taller or smaller by about a foot or so, which gives you a degree of latitude in choosing a disguise."
"These are general issue - you can all have one if you want."
Vaard nods. "Understood. Quite useful and much appreciated ".
As Wultram turns the dinosaur toward the halflings, Rehil rises as tall as he dares. When the elves shout, Rehil interprets while raising his bow, "They are crying to the ancestors!"
Seeing his cousins stream across the plain toward the halfling line in the bright sun, feeling the wind of the charge, Rehil throws his head back and laughs. This was different from any fight he'd ever been in. No mean struggle for survival; this was glorious!
Atsu also accepts one of the hats. "Outsiders don't always know what to make of us," he says. "If we need to blend in somewhere, best if we can all blend in."
The elven cavalry plunge like a dagger into the centre of the halflings. There are screams as curved blades flash in the hot sun, and limbs and heads lie scattered in their wake. The halfling rabble is carved into two halves as the Valaes Tairn thunder on relentlessly, through their ranks and beyond to the open plain behind. Torlaes raises his blade once more and signals. With incredible precision the whole Valenar column, a moment earlier hurtling away in one direction, abruptly turns about-face and begins a return charge in the same tight formation.
The halflings lack the precision of the elven horsemen and find it hard to stem the momentum of their own rush. At the back and some distance from the elven warriors, the adventurers encounter confused and disarrayed masked riders milling in a mob. As they spot the giant skeleton and its living cargo they howl a warcry and urge on their dinosaur mounts.
Rehil sits down and locks his legs around some vertebrae and ribs to steady himself. He carefully fits an arrow to his bowstring and waits for the halflings to come closer before pressing the bow and loosing in quick succession at the closest halfling on the left.
…
…
The tyrannosaur skeleton ploughs on, claws throwing us puffs of sand as it thunders forwards. It slews left and leans forwards, jaws agape, and then jerks back up with the remains of half a halfling and the head and neck of his mount staining its sword-like teeth crimson.
As it tosses aside its gory trophy the ululating halflings close to attack, sweeping past on either side and swinging at the mighty bones of the tyrannosaur's legs with their polearms. Meanwhile, more halflings charge in.
Rehil looses as the riders pass by to the left and right. One of his arrows lodges in a halfling's shoulder, wounding him.
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"We have a few more items, fairly standard kit." He takes out small wooden box the size and shape of a book. He flips it open and inside are liquid-filled tablets of various colours. "We call these ampoules. They contain the distilled essence of different potions and extracts but are smaller and easier to conceal. You can pop one in your mouth and then bite down on it later, so it can take affect as and when you need it."
"We also have this - it might come in handy for communications." Qadnis hands Nalverren a wand.
Tal calls upon Dol Arrah to strengthen his muscles and guide his aim.
"This is quite the assortment of potions. They will no doubt come in handy".
Wultram's spell washes over the halflings as they stream by and leaves them clearly distressed. But his skeleton minion's attacks on one of the mounts is frustrated by the clever riding of its master.
"Any questions?" asks Qadnis.
Vaard shakes his head as he places the box in his backpack.
The tyrannosaur skeleton chomps a dinosaur mount, sending its rider tumbling. But a static style of fighting simply plays to the halflings' strength of mobility in combat as they flit in, attack and scamper away.
Another wave of the halflings approaches from the north. Among them are three much heavier mounts, the fabled 'carvers', heavy raptor dinosaurs carrying two halflings each.
He’s about to pick it up when he thinks otherwise, gesturing to Nalverren, “Maybe you should hold onto it.”
Nalverren accepts the hat of disguise, wand of sending, and the box of ampoules. "Thank you."
Turning to Cole, he says, "The hat would still be useful to you, so as to appear like a drastically different warforged. Otherwise, no matter our individual disguises, our enemies could trace our group back to anyone that hangs out with you."
Tal draws a gladius in one hand and swings at the halfling closest to him.
Rehil tracks his wounded target as the halfling wheels and returns. As the halfling flashes by, the elf looses again and watches his arrow fly wide. He stows his bow and reaches for his curve blade.
"They are too fast."
…
Ashshar
This was taking too long. The hat was disguise, but they had to look like someone, since looking like something did not work. This was something that they worked on while the others were talking.
Not-Cole did not work. That meant something else was not going to work. A human? No. The pale colors of skin stood out easy, even the darker colors. Green skin was better. Not-orc. Yes. Not-orcs did not have a tail. Demonkin did. Not-orc demon kin. Better. No hair. Claws, yes. Tail. Face somewhere in-between all of those. Yes. Sufficient.
What resulted from Ashshar's work while the others talked was something that could pass for human, though it was something that could never be considered "purely" human. A grayish green tiefling, hairless with a mixture of skin and scales that would barely be allowed into civilized areas on looks alone stood in their place, seeming of half-orc stock before the taint of a demon took over, leaving clawed hands and feet, glaring at its reflection in the mirror with eyes that were not human, but were not lizard either.
Slightly fatigued, they stumped back to where the others were, wearing the disguise.
Vaard regards Ashshar without blinking, "A unique look, perhaps too much so, maybe something more ordinary?"
The tyrannosaur's jaws crunch on a rider, giving rise to a scream cut short and a body tossed aside. But the carvers have two passengers. As they dash past, halfling braves leap from the saddle to try and scramble up and attack the skeleton's passengers. Riders buzz about like flies and boomerangs hum through the air.
Tal, suprised by the halflings tactics, draws the rest of his close range weapons giving a swipe as they jump on. He unleashes crossing swings intending to keep the halflings away from Wultram. "Focus on the ones on the ground. We'll handle the ones up here!"
Rehil finds himself without a weapon in hand as the halflings leap aboard. The elf doesn't let that stop him. He stoops grabs a spur of vertebra and a rib and sweeps a kick at the head of a halfling below him.
...