Holding the pavilion flap open for Falko, Ry'klead walks beside the skeleton.
"Oh, Rolando might be your best bet for who among us that can reliably use that wand," the almost human says with a grin. "I have to..., well, basically lie to the divine to get those things to work. Not to brag, but I'm pretty decent at it. However, since it's your existence on the line, you probably want to go with the sure bet." Ry'klead says with a laugh.
"Oh, how foolish of me! I forgot to mention the lovely warrior maiden Gloria," Ry'klead lowers his voice a bit. "A talented warrior, but she seems to have strong misgivings over magic. And pretty much anything out of the natural realm of things for that matter. Needless to say, avoid any sudden moves around her. I'll handle the introductions. Oh, and try to keep myself in between you and Gloria's weapons." Ry'klead says with a smile that stretches just a hair too wide. "I'm reasonably certain she won't strike through me to get to you. Depends on the day."
Spotting the warrior maiden Ry'klead's smile is a familiar human one of filled with happiness at spying a friend.
"Dear Gloria, there you are. I would like you to meet my newest friend. Former Private Falko Taggert, I would like you to introduce Maiden Gloria," the handsome aberration introduces the two. 'This should be fun,' comes the thought from his half-brother complete with a mental giggle.
"I thought that's what made the Karrnath Undead forces so deadly. Letting go of mortality, but keeping oneself and one's skills. Might depend on the circumstances of how the ritual was preformed," Ry'klead muses out loud. "The Corporal and the Sergeant I spoke with seemed fully aware. Hmm, perhaps an effect of the Mournlands." The alabaster skinned humanoid blinks a few times and looks at Falko sheepishly.
"Sorry Falko, I was just musing out loud. Bad habit of mine," Ry'klead smiles warmly at the skeleton. "If you wouldn't mind telling us about your time here, that would be most excellent. I must admit, I am more curious then a cat to hear your tale."
He seems to hold himself more stiffly for a moment at the sight of the Mustard and then deliberately resumes his former posture. "Oh, all of us have minds of a sort, and they need to call us something. We couldn't be effective soldiers if we had to be ordered to do every single thing. But there isn't a lot there beyond soldiering. No curiosity, no creativity, no spark."
He pauses, looking for the word. "I guess I was like that when they brought me back. I remember that part, and it sort of feels... different. It was only after the mists came down that things started changing. Our officers died that day, so we simply held our ground waiting for further instructions. Eventually, I began to feel bored. Not much at first. As things went on, I found myself thinking about things. constantly, like a voice in my mind that couldn't be stilled. none of the others was like that, so I kept quiet about it. As the boredom grew, so did this ever-rushing stream of thoughts. So I simply used one to deal with the other. I started telling myself stories to pass the time. I'm sure they're probably boring to you guys, but it was what kept me going all of these years."
"Hm...?"
Gloria seemed momentarily stunned by the sight of the skeleton.
"I suppose we're making friends with undead now?" She said cracking her knuckles and walking toward the couple of them. "What good reason do you have for me not to handle this right now?"
She was starting to grow angrier by the moment. The sight of the undead this close unsettles her. It was unnatural and all she'd ever been told is that they're evil. She was willing to give to the judgement of the others, but this was most certainly toeing the line and anyone who was conscience would be able to tell that.
"Because your not a murderer. Falko has done nothing wrong, if anything, he is more of an "innocent soul" then just about all of us gathered here," Ry'klead stands firmly in between the warrior maiden and the skeleton. The copper flecks within his forest green eyes burn with an inner light. "Falko became aware of himself. Do you truly understand the ramifications of this event? Do any of you?" He doesn't spare the others a glance, having only eyes for Gloria.
"How do you think the Warforged became aware of their own existence? Through divine grace?" the human looking sorcerer says with a disgusted snort. "No, they became to be alive and intelligent from directed, guided magic. Falko has been saturated with the innate magic that permeates the Mournlands, completely with out anyone guiding the energies. The Mournlands gave birth to him in a sense. Here we come across a being who never existed before, something unique and beautiful. And what do the humans want to do? Kill it, because it's different and must be evil. How typical of your race." Gloria wasn't the only being around getting angry. Ry'klead's accent shifts, something dark lurks within his tone as his Cyre accent is all but swallowed up.
A creaking, cracking sound comes from the rusty colored gauntlet running up the length of the humanoid's left arm. Claws lengthen a several inches becoming sickle-like, dripping a clear ichor. A spur grows a few inches out of the elbow. The gauntlet seems to ripple as it's texture changes, toughening itself. Small horns grow from the knuckles. Slightly bulkier than before, Ry'klead's half-brother was ready for a fight, his exoskeleton a thick blood red as opposed to his normal rusty coloration. Steam vents with a hiss from the joints of his gauntlet, caused from the rapid physical change Xor'Xicistantcizok underwent.
"Are you just a typical human Gloria? Or are you something better then those fleshy sacks that mew in fear at the unknown?" the aberration throws down the metaphorical gauntlet challenging the ideals of the fierce battle maiden. Ry'klead and his half-brother speaking in almost sync, it's metallic voice weaving in and out of Ry'klead's. The copper flecks within the green in Ry'klead's eyes are all but on fire, burning with his own convictions and feelings. There is a horrible beauty in the alien nature of the Half-Blood. He would not let Falko be destroyed because some humans where afraid of skeletons, magic, or enemy soldiers. A smile that is just a little too wide slithers onto his face. His eyes burn with an almost contained madness.
Falko backs up from Gloria, not drawing his sword, but readying his shield. There's enough combat experience in the group to know he's holding it to be able to attack with it if needed, but for now it's defensive.
He doesn't seem particularly affected by Ry'klead's transformation. Between having lived in the mournland and that the aberration is the one defending him, this seems understandable.
Keeping his eyes on Gloria, he answers, "I don't remember living, just afterwards. I was a soldier, fighting when ordered. At the time, I didn't think much about it. Right or wrong wasn't an issue. After that, it crossed my mind, but I was still under orders. Most everything was trying to kill us, so I don't feel bad about that. I've only been truly in charge of my own decisions for a few minutes now, but I don't feel any need to start any fights I don't have to. If I'm not wanted, I'll go."
Gloria scoffs at Ry'klead's last question.
"Typical human is hardly a question here. A typical human would run from this monstrosity. People like me are around to destroy these things."
Gloria stopped walking toward the skeleton about twenty feet before making it to him and looked back toward Bertholdt before turning her gaze to Ryk'lead now.
"This... being, whatever caused it, is the result of evil. Listen to what it's saying. Anything I feel for it besides hate is just pity. What do you... whatever are, suggest we do? Become friends with it?
Gloria throws her hands down and stomps the ground, cracking it somewhat beneath her.
Feeling faint from the expenditure of energy, she continues.
"I might not be the leader of this expedition, but what exactly is it that you expect from me here?"
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"Senors, Senorita! This is not good. If we cannot trust each other, this expedition is doomed. Senorita, whatever caused Falco to become undead may have been Evil, and for a time he may have been Evil too, but now he has been given a chance for redemption. Such a thing has never been heard of before. I do not ask that you embrace him, only that you do not destroy him out of what might once have been; if we are all held accountable for what we once did, there is none of us who could stand.
IF I may, and IF Falco is agreeable, I suggest a compromise: tomorrow I shall beseech the Sovereign Host, and in particular my patroness, the Lady Olladra, for a judgement. They will know if his nature is still Evil and will be able to tell me of it. If he is, then we must part ways, but if he is not, we have no grounds for accusing him of Evil he is innocent of."
Glancing at each as they speak, Ry'klead seems to relax slightly. While his body language before suggested he was fully ready to defend or attack, it is now much looser and relaxed.
"I apologize for losing my temper a few moments ago. I'm very.., passionate about evidence of magical awakenings. Be it living spells, construct that self awaken, or magical energies forming sentience. It ripples across the magical nature, bring new changes and discoveries," Ry'klead explains much more calmly, still speaking in almost sync with his half-brother. Oddly, the volume of the aberrations voice never increased when he was angry. There was just something in the dark tone that slithered into one's ears. Those listening might notice his accent is returning to normal.
Aside from the bizarre metallic sounds that mirrored Ry'klead's words that where emanating from his "arm".
Ry'klead looks at the small crater that Gloria had left in the ground for several long seconds, madness slinking back from his eyes.
"I snapped at you, and I apologize for the that, the Half-Blood nods, his smile was a normal, friendly human looking one. I just don't want you to destroy Falko. Besides, I would think the benefits of having a traveling companion that never has to sleep or eat, would be oblivious. Not to mention is untouched by the passing of time, well aside from boredom, but that's what books are for."
Ry'klead looks around at the nature born, running a sickle clawed hand through his hair he suddenly grins.
"I feel rather exposed at the moment," he says with a golden laugh.
Ry'klead turns his head to look at the self aware skeleton soldier. He grins at Falko.
"It really beats hanging around by yourself. I tried that when staked to a wall for three years. It's really not that interesting," the aberration says with a laugh.
He pauses to take his breath, figuratively speaking. "I would prefer to have people to talk to, and to watch each other's backs. I also expect that going into a city might be a problem. Folks in Metrol might be upset at more than my uniform. As I said, I'll make it on my own if I have to, but I'd rather not. I don't expect pay, just company. And if you can figure anything about me, I'm game. I don't feel particularly evil, but that'd be nice to know, I guess."
He pauses, "Oh, and the name, they told me that when I woke up. Said it was my name from before. Everybody had one."
Gloria's eyes shot around to the rest of the group before finally coming back to rest on the skeleton. She then rolled her eyes in an unnecessarily dramatic way.
"Fine. Looks like I'm out-voted here. But look here, 'Falko'" Gloria's emphasis on the skeleton's name was far from being hospitable to say the least "If I or any of my companions so much as smell an evil thought coming from your general direction, I'll grind you into dust myself."
Taking another moment to look around at everyone, Gloria turns and starts walking back to the path they were originally following.
Falko definitely seems a bit concerned about Gloria as she stalks off, but says nothing. Form the spider, you hear the slight hiss of the speaking tubes opening. [b]"Welcome to the team. I'm Alvar Ir'Cliess and this is Quay. I'm sure we'll talk later, but we should probably stay together."
Speaking of this, people realize they haven't seen Eloith in a while.
Bowing to his traveling companions, a pleasant smile slips back onto Ry'klead's all too handsome face. Curiously enough, his "gauntlet" has still not returned to it's "normal" appearance. The aberration looks at his sickle claws curiously, as if not noticing them before.
"Thank you for not attacking out of reflex," the handsome aberration says with a smile. Whether he was referring to himself or the skeleton was sort of anyone's guess. "I truly do believe Falko will be an excellent compliment to our abilities, not to mention on our travels through the Mournlands."
The Half-Blood Daelkyr turns to look at Falko, handing him the Chronicle that he had tucked into his belt earlier.
"Something to read a little later, to give you a taste of the lands outside of the Mists," Ry'klead says with a grin. He thinks for a few moments before speaking up once more. "Having a name to start with is nice, however, your free to discover a new one. Names don't always end up fitting. I change them like clothes myself, but the one I'm currently using is one of favorites." the aberrations says as they start walking to met up with the Quay Spider.
"And I'm really going to have to figure out a way to smooth things over with Gloria," Ry'klead muses out loud, tapping his chin with a sickle claw as he walks. He pauses in mid-stride looking around.
"Aren't we missing someone?" Ry'klead asks.
... there is no response to your call.
"I certainly hope he wasn't foolish enough to wander off into the Mist by himself," Ry'klead says to Rolando as he scans the surroundings. Seeing Rolando looking at the ground for signs of the elf, he turns to the others.
"Gloria? When was the last time you remember seeing Eloith?" the aberration asks of the warrior maiden. "I remember seeing him when I was playing at Peacemaker, after that, not so much."
"Hmm, well he has a whistle, and if he's conscious, he more than likely would have heard Bertholdt," the handsome aberration's forest green eyes narrow as he looks around. "I don't like this"
Ry'klead moves a few steps closer to the Magnificent Spider.
"Alvar? Quay? Is it possible that a competatior learned of your invention and seeks to appropriate for themselves? Just how secretive where you in your Spider's construction? I'm wondering if Eloith might be working for someone else..." Ry'klead trails off as he looks around.
Gloria stopped storming off after her tantrum when she was asked the question by Ry'klead.
"He, uhh..." it isn't difficult to hear that she was trying to shake the anger from her voice "The last I saw him, he was taking up the rear when we were approaching the... those things"
Gloria turned and pointed accusingly at the new skeletal member of their traveling group.
"If I remember correctly, he was on my side about dealing with them. I haven't seen him since."
Gloria takes a deep breath and continues "If we can't track him in the mists and he isn't responding to our shouts, we're best to move on. Either the mists have taken him or he's a traitor and either way there isn't much we can do. You never know, he might just be a step ahead of us too."
"Let's not start shouting, there's been enough noise around here. We don't need to start ringing the Mournland dinner bell," Ry'klead says with a wry grin. "We should spread out about twenty feet or so apart to search the area. We need to make sure that we keep each other in sight at all times. It probably goes without saying, but keep a look out for blood. There is a chance he was just knocked out and dragged off during the..., festivities."
The aberration looks around in the silently churning Mists, getting the sense it was looking back at him.
"If he ran off, Rolando or myself should be able to find some sort of tracks. Same with if he was dragged out of here. So, unless he actual did vanish, we should be able to find some sort of signs."
Quay will snort at the question. "You can't hide anything this size completely. I doubt anybody knows all the details, but they know I was working on something."
The group quickly converges on Eloith's tracks. Shortly off from where he was last seen, his tracks seem to get chaotic. It looks like he was fighting or struggling with something, but there are no other tracks around. They lurch away from the others, growing less distinct until they disappear entirely.
"No need to apologize, this is a touch unsettling. A firm reminder that we are in a very dangerous location," Ry'klead says, nodding at the spot where all signs of Eloith stopped. The aberration looks around at the Mists for a few moments.
"It doesn't look like we have much to go on here. I don't suggest that we start hunting through the mists to attempt to find him. That would lead to us getting lost as well. If anything, we should keep moving and keep an ear out for the sound of the whistle. He could be searching for us," Ry'klead says after a few more moments. "Plus, it's not like he wouldn't be able to follow the spider's tracks."
Ry'klead didn't really know the elf, but was more concerned something crept up and snagged the magic user. All with out any of them noticing.
"It seems we should return to the Grounding Stones and continue on our way. There is nothing we can really do here," the aberration says looking around once more in to the Mists. "If Eloith survives whatever encounter that snatched him away, I'm sure he'll figure out a way to follow us. Or return to the Station and leave. One of the two."
Turning, Ry'klead head back to the spider so that they may continue on their journey. Plus, there was always Falko to chit-chat with, that would be a nice change from the normal. As if anything could be considered normal in the Mournlands. 'Perhaps that's why I find it so intriguing,' he thinks with a faint grin.
Mulling over what Quay had said had said about not fully concealing her project due to its immense size, he looks at the spider. Briefly, he wonders if he is just over thinking the whole thing. His half-brother suggests that he is, but wonders about the living healing spell.
"Madam Quay a question for you," Ry'klead says as he approaches the spider. "What do you think of the possibility of the non animated becoming animated from constant exposed to positive energies?" The aberration taps the side of the metal spider with a clawed knuckled.
"Oh, I suppose that animation could be possible. " she calls down through the speaking tube. "I doubt that these energies would be focused enough for sapience though."
The group will travel on. The conductor stones make a good guide path, though the group steers clear enough to avoid the one that still carry a charge of lightning. They see odd things, like the mist turning into rainbow colors that stain people as they pass through. Grass that shatters like glass at their steps. A perfectly cylindrical hole that pokes halfway out from under one of the conductor stones.
Gloria quietly continued on with the group. She could be heard taking deep breaths trying to calm herself, but after a short time her walk continues as before.
... Though she did seem to be keeping a keen eye on their new skeletal friend.
More travel, more oddities. The sounds of a massive pipe organ playing somber music in the distance. A dead hand and arm coming out from otherwise untouched soil. A small metal sphere levitating over a conductor stone, bouncing on the lighting.
Pondering what Quay had said, Ry'klead is mostly in his own thoughts, though he'll cheerfully turn his attention if someone wants it.
Grinning at the color staining mist, he looks at the random colors that he managed to pick up, laughing quietly at the results. A simple spell would wipe it away, but he leaves for a time. At the first few footsteps into the grass that shatters, he bends over to pick up a few pieces to examine. The aberration does stop at the sight of perfect hole visible from under a Conductor stone. He squats down look into the hole curious to think what would burrow into a lightning stone so perfectly.
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Bertholdt peers in saddened fascination at the strange world they uncover. He recognizes his beloved Cyre underneath the mist, making its destruction all the more painful.
"What an impossible waste..." he mutters to Rolando.
"Si, senor. Yet it holds it's own mysteries, such as master Falco. Such a thing has never been known before, and I cannot help but wonder what it is about the Mournlands that enables such a thing - and what else might it do? Cyre is dead for now, yet we might learn s much."
If nothing turns up that exciting from the perfect hole, Ry'klead will move along.
"Everyone hear the music? Nice enough melody. Should we take a peek? It could be something interesting? Of course, it could just be a lure, but that seems a little unlikely, given where we are," he gestures with a sickle claw. "Plus, I'd kinda like to know how a pipe organ survived the weather over the last few years. I really don't think a constant damp mist is that great for wooden organ." A too wide smile slides across his face for a few moments as he looks off into the distance.
"No offense intended to those who lost their homelands, I'd like to make that point clear, but I love the Mournlands. So much not bound by normalcy and routine. Chaos leaking free, shaping and influencing as it goes, loosing the shackles of rigid form and thought," the aberration pauses, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. "Even in the air, you can taste it. I wish you could all see it from my eyes. It's breathtaking, just a soul stirring beauty."
The hole doesn't go through the stone. It's as if the stone were laid down partially covering the hole. House Orien would not have risked the stability of the stone. They would have filled it in. As you approach, the tingling of your skin lets you know that the conductor stone is active and you risk a shock getting closer. But you can see into the hole enough to see half of a stone in the side of the wall. It's obviously created by magic.
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Where the dead hand sticks up, there seems to be older tracks of several people. How old is hard to tell. Alvar will support Rolando in investigating the corpse and burying it properly. The person seems to have been trying to claw his way up from the ground, but he wasn't able to make it. Cause of death was likely asphyxiation. He's wearing gear of different nations and ages. On his body you'll find:
Masterwork armored coat
Shortsword +1
Ring of jumping
Masterwork hand crossbow
Wand of magic missile, cl 5, 8 charges