Eberron: Into the Mournland (Inactive)

Game Master Philo Pharynx

Bertholdt bites his lips in anger, looking at Ry'klead with nothing but scorn: "I think I'll just walk away from this one... What do you say Rolando? Gloria? Leave the devil where he is?"

I can't, senor Berthold. There is too much risk that the next person may free the creature, or use it for Evil purposes. It is best if we either destroy it or neutralize it."

Ry'klead shrugs his shoulders, not bothered one way or another. The thought of a devil was a neat one, but nothing critical.

"Well, might as well get this over with. If we leave it here, I'd imagine I would come back on my own and free it. Mostly for my own amusements, so we should probably send it home. We still have the fluid drainers to deal with. Shall we?" The aberration points to the stone building.

"I'm joking, I really don't have the attention span to return on my own," Ry'klead says with a chuckle. "So, did we ever narrow down what we think the fluid draining aberrations are? There are a lot of different sorts of creatures running around." The Half-Blood says with a pleasant smile that stretches just a little too far.

At that point, Variel's pleasant voice returns. "Well, I've never seen anything quite like them, and I've been around for millennia. I suspect that they are changed by whatever calamity happened here. They are small insectile wall-crawlers. Ambush predators, so keep looking up. Their bite seems to have some sort of paralytic effect. I'm not sure if it's poisonous or magical."

Ry'klead rubs his hands together eagerly, a pleasant smile upon his face.

"Perhaps I'll be lucky and find a fresh symbiont. I think Xor'Xic could use some company." A few clicking sounds come from the armored gauntlet. "Oh, don't get so uptight. That last symbiont was clearly insane," the aberration says to his arm.

Looking up at his traveling companions, Ry'klead smiles innocently.

"Falko, when we get closer, do you mind peeking in the building first. Since you have no fluids, the aberrations should completely ignore you. If they do attack, don't worry, we've got your back." Ry'klead grins over at the skeleton.

"A calamity? I'd hardly think the interjection of a little change on a planetary scale is...., Oh wait. You where referring to the event that created the Mournlands. Yes, I would admit that many would consider that particular a calamity." Ry'klead pauses, glancing at his companions.

"Alright, before I start rambling on and on, let's get these insects out of the picture." The aberration looks back at the others. "Shall we?"

"Si, let's go."

Bertholdt shrugs: "Can't say I didn't warn you..." and he grabs his longspear then nods at Falko: "Ready."