Thanks be to Gorum, and to you all for rescuing me. I was pretty much considering my next incarnation for a while there. You didn't happen to grab either of my weapons did you? If not, maybe one of you could escort me back to go get them before we chase down the third of these bastards?
Perrik finds nothing on the lesser abomination, but the robed one has a few objects of note: a well-made dark violet cloak dusted with tiny stars and what appears to be a pair of mummified eyeballs dangling from a golden charm necklace.
Kricker casts a spell and concentrates hard on the Necklace and Cloak.
Kricker finds the cloak mysterious, but he believes that the little eyeballs would temporarily blind someone were they hit by one. The necklace isn't magical, but one of the dried eyes must have what was thrown at Drahlneep.
Once Kricker rearms himself, he readies his musket and volunteers to lead the way down one of the tunnels.
"Let us be away from this accursed place. Our mission is Scrapwall and this Hellion."
I am willing to leave, but I think we are leaving behind the possibility of some good loot from the forsaken chapel, or maybe even from the den of these bug Gremlins. We may even be able to figure out what happened to the People who were supposed to be here.
But one way or another, we are going to need to find some place to repair some equipment and sell some of the things we have found and try to buy a wand of healing.
Perrik casts an unfamiliar-sounding spell over the cloak.
"Weirdos," Drahlneep mutters while looking at the eyes. "You alright, Kricker? I am ashamed of my behavior when they took me, but I'm proud the dragon's blood is so strong in you to survive."
Undeterred by his recent brush with a fate likely worse than death, Kricker pushes to invade the tiny flooded tunnels where the meenlock appeared to retreat. Surely, the worship of the foreign god has bereft him of more koboldly sensibilities. Jeji argues that their mission lies elsewhere and this is a dangerous sidetrack.
Meanwhile, Perrik finds that the strange cloak wards against various calamitous assaults.
The oracle passes on the information about the cloak. "I think Kricker or Drahlneep should have it." After listening to Jeji and Kricker, Perrik steps over beside the alchemist. "Jeji is right. The meenlock can pass unseen, and wear us down. Let's block the entrance so it can't easily sneak up on us again, and set some traps for it if it does."
I am willing to leave if that is the group vote. Let's put some distance between here and us before the Sun rises again.
It is probably best that kobolds err on the side of caution. The warband buries the drain under the rubble and make their way out of the fortress and into the rainy night. At least the horrible rumbling and flashing have subsided.
Kricker feels more comfortable under the open sky stormy as it is; he starts to agree more that the fortress was a foul place best to be rid of.
Kricker shows more appreciation of the fearful open sky than most kobolds and manages to lead the others through the storm though little can be seen beyond the natural limits of the kobold's darkvision. It is with the nearing of dawn and a faint gray light at the eastern edge of the stormclouds that a great mound of trash is seen rising above the plains ahead- Scrapwall.
"Looks like goblin heaven. Do we have friends here? Or just enemies?" The way he says it, one cannot be sure which answer Drahlneep is hoping for.
Yes, Perrik, what can you tell of us this place. We know that PHA was from here, but I know little else of this place.
"I can tell you where we used to live, but not a lot more. We hid from the pinkskins, mostly."
Perrik is uncertain as to the current status of Scrapwall, but he does know, thanks to Whiskifiss, that there are ratfolk within as well as the followers of the Hellion. Historically, Scrapwall hosted several factions and outside traders were allowed entry. It is likely that the situation remains somewhat the same though it is unclear how much power Hellion holds over the community.
Lets approach carefully then, and act like we are here to trade our loot. Best not to show the PHA's weapon if you can avoid it Drahlneep. Don't want to make any enemies before we have to.
"Be ready to offer a bribe. Ratfolk will probably stay bought, though, if we find them. Can't trust the pinkskins."
Let us go inside now and try to find somewhere to stay the rest of the day.It will look less suspicious for us to arrive in the day.
"Agreed. If need be, we can try to sneak in under cover of dark, but for now, let's judge their reaction and intent towards us."
The kobolds move forward over the dusty plains toward the towers of rusting iron and hills of rubble and ruin that form a wall around the place. Moving closer, they can make out immense lengths of chain, jagged wire, giant gears and room-sized metal boxes pocked with gashes, bullet holes and burn marks. There is one obvious gap in the scrap, guarded by a ramshackle pair of buildings with walls and roofs made of strips of leather and fur, timbers, metal plates, and other junk lashed and bolted together. Between the two buildings runs a metal gate, closed to block passage into the open area beyond.
Shall I hail the guards and see if they will let us in?
Perrik eyes the priest. "Let me do the talking. I have a little bit of experience here."
The oracle warily approaches one of the side buildings, looking for a guard to talk to. "Hail! We come in peace, and are here to trade."
Fortunately, the rain has stopped and the day remains dark and overcast. The kobolds wait for a response. Eventually, a human woman with white hair cropped short, numerous piercings and a predatory bird tattooed across the side of her face emerged from a tower on the opposite side of the gate. She speaks in the Common Human tongue: "Well little lizards, come to trade? You aren't with the Technic League are you?"
Ptui! I'd rather sell my mother into slavery than work with those scum! We are here only to trade, and to view the wonder that is the Scrapwall.
The human's gross worm-like lips twist distastefully. "There is little to wonder at now. Scrapwall was picked over long ago. What do you have to trade? And what's to stop us from just taking it? Hawks have always preyed on lizards. .."
Hmm, you don't look like a bird. And, we are not lizards, we are dragons. Dragons eat birds, and for that matter anything else they want as well. Perhaps you have been misinformed.
But we are not here for a battle, we seek only someplace to trade the few silver disks and other oddities we have found.
"We are the Steel Hawks. We guard the gates against Crusaders and those that come only to loot our home. The Steel Hawks will let you pass in peace, but can you defend yourselves? There are those here that are not so kind."
Drahlneep snorts derisively. "Just try us," he mutters under his breath.
Thank you for your concern, but we should be OK.
Would you happen to be able recommend a place for us to rest our weary feet?
The human laughs outloud. "Oh, you'll be tried alright. Listen, lizards. There won't be a safe place for you to rest until you earn some scrapworth. Every gang in here will test you until you prove yourself."
She crouches down close to the gate and whispers, "I'll give you some advice, take out Birdfood. He's across our territory in the perch. You'll earn some scrapworth and my allegiance, but tell anyone what I said and I'll kill you myself."
"We heard nothing. Is there anything else you didn't tell us about Birdfood?"
"Birdfood is our hawk trainer, but he sold our gang out to thr Lords of Rust. Hes even cut his face like their favorite gang, the Smilers. Kill him and you'll send a message to the other gangs."
"Do the Smilers cut away their face-flesh around their mouths, to show their teeth more? We killed some of those on our way to Scrapwall."
-Posted with Wayfinder
"That's them. Good. Keep your weapons stowed as you pass through the gates." The woman disappears back inside the tower. In a few moments, the barrier of wielded bars and metal plates creaks as it is raised to allow the kobolds through.
"Let's find this 'Birdbrain' fast. Make sure Scrapwall knows we are not easy prey." Drahlneep says to the others as they enter the town.
There is not so much a town to be seen as a territory. The tall outer walls of scrap encircle a roughly half-mile area of compacted red earth and low mounds of rubbish and rubble. Hawk symbols that resemble the mark on gate keepers' face are marked on large sheets of metal occasionally or constructed from polished metal parts. Some of the mounds appear to have been excavated in a way so as to accommodate a living way, but no one is seen as the kobolds wend their way across the expanse.
At the north end of the territory is a large field cleared of trash and offering a clear view of the wall. To the east, a gap in the wall looks to lead deeper into Scrapwall, but built into the wall near the opening is a ramshackle structure several stories high and hosting various broad stairways and balconies. A trio of orcs lurk at the foot of the stairs. This must be the Perch.
Hey you fellows, what brings you out under the burning daystar? Do you happen to know of a place we could sell some stuff from some lipless humans that we killed not long ago?
Do you happen to know of a place we could sell some stuff from some lipless humans that we killed not long ago?
The orcs smile and chuckle at the bold little humanoid. One nods. "Sure, just wait here. I'll be right back." He heads up the stairs as his companions keep an eye on the visitors, leering and leaning on their heavy swords.
Draconic: Be ready for a fight when they come back...