Blinking and shaking his head, Hezekh shakes off the spell.
Hezekh moves around the robot into a flanking position then, clenching his fist, which seems to crackle even more fiercely than before, Hezekh swings at the robot.
+
Saraon takes another swing at the brain in the jar!
"Let make'm hurt back!" Katheryn declared as she took aim.
With a flick of his wrist, Sprig finishes his summoning circle.
A chime of absolute clarity of rings out, heralding the arrival of a small metallic creature. It flies before Davin, blasting twin beams of light at the hulking machine.
The instant the kobold was done with his first circle, Sprig started a second one.
Hezekh just can't quite manage to connect with Davin's mechanical frame despite the attraction of lightning to metal. Both of the archon's light beams miss, the cybernetic life-support robot that makes up Davin's body is disturbingly quick for what it is.
Saraon and Kat, though, are able to do a good bit of damage to the mad scientist, and the robotic frame is starting to look somewhat worse for wear.
The robot's synthetic mind can't be affected by the aura of menace, and Davin's convictions are so ironclad that he feels no fear at the creature's appearance.
The rust-risen shambles forward, and Hezekh sees it's truly horrific appearance up close. It's arms are outfitted with barbed hooks and a mass of blades and saws protrude from it's chest. It tries to grab the magus and force him into them, but Hezekh manages to keep out of it's reach.
Davin -60
Blue -8
Robot: fine and dandy
The screaming will continue until morale improves, which will almost certainly be for at least a few more seconds--maybe as long as a minute. Hopefully not for the rest of his life, because the pain it intense. It felt like thousands of spikes being inserted directly into nerve clusters all over his body while muscles were stretched past their point of comfort.
Yet Ronan knows that he has to get back into the fight. He catches his breath and directs his voice into something more controlled than screaming. He begins chanting to maintain the hex on Davin and continues into a summoning spell.
Two transparent beings that have some superficial similarities to Ronan appear flanking the robot on either side, hopefully blocking the path to the real Ronan. Are these his past incarnations? Rust Saints? It's unclear, but they heft their blades all the same and swing them at the robot.
Get back here A~$+&#*!"
Bas growled as the thing attacked Hezekh and he followed after it once more striking at it hard.
Ronan's ancestral guardians either fail to connect or can't quite penetrate the robot's ironclad defenses. Bas, too, struggles against Davin's defenses, with the shockingly nimble robotic frame easily dodging his bardiche.
The smaller guard bot advances forward towards Bas, swinging at the burned warrior but missing.
Davin unleashes a flurry of attacks with mechanical tendrils, missing Bas but hitting Hezekh for 6 damage!
Saraon continues attacking Davin.
"Blasted bucket of bolts, hold still!" Hezekh growls as he continues to try and pummel the machine.
+
"Go down" Katheryn hissed as she lined up another shot.
Sprig finishes his second summoning circle, calling forth a second Lantern Archon, hovering just beyond Davin's reach.
Both Archons move to pick off the lesser, hopefully less nimble, targets.
"Tch, He's a lot more nimble than Ah would 'ave thought." Sprig muttered as he began yet another summoning circle.
Saraon can't quite hit Davin, but Hezekh finally manages to line up a punch, and punch he does. The electricity courses through the robotic frame as the hologram contorts in agony while the force of the blow sends cracks spiderwebbing across the glass of the brain jar. It stays standing, just barely...until Kat lines up a well-placed shot. It's not much, but it's enough, as the glass shatters, strange viscous fluid pouring out.
The hologram shrieks in pain and gives out a final shrill cry, "No! There was so much work for the Remnant left to do...you fools have ruined our chances of bringing back Gaia!"
With that, the mechanical assembly crashes to the ground, the brain not standing a chance.
The robot falls still, and the rust-risen is short work to polish off.
The facility is silent, quiet save for the sound of dripping water.
The room holds a few things of interest. First is a large crate labeled "Cybernetics, Misc". Second is an ancient computing device, screen still glowing. Third are the doors to the room in the north, now open.
Sprig slowly stood up from his half-finished magic circle. "Phew, Ah don't know what kinda vision he had, but Ah think it was none too good for anyone other than himself. Let's take a look around and see what we can salvage."
Speaking his home tongue, the kobold asks the summoned Archons to cast Aid on everyone. In common though, he says; "It's not as good as proper healin' but if there are any more surprises around, it'll hopefully hold yah."
As Davin falls and the robot goes inactive, Ronan's spectral ancestors fall on the final undead and participate in the clean-up of battle while Ronan holds fast. Sweat dripping from his chin and brow, he stumbles forward as his nerves persist with the sharp and then dull aches of magical pain.
"I'm mighty glad," he says, panting to have to take a breath after each half-utterance, "That you made it," *wheeze* "In time, Hezekh."
He has half a mind to fixate on that unfamiliar term--Gaia.
But it's vague. Uncertain. The last dying sparks of a digital memory ravaged by the eons of electromagnetic interference and no maintenance.
The lantern archon's assistance is soothing. Possibly familiar. There was some manner of kinship between at least one of his past incarnations and these odd little floating avatars of the light of the heavens.
<"Blessed be for your assistance,"> he utters after Sprig's request, nodding his head low in deference.
With his muscles still twitching, Ronan urges his aching bones forward towards the glowing screen. "Well let's see what he was seein' afore he passed on to his final reward."
Ronan sits behind the computer and gets to work.
Though it contains a vast amount of data, most of it is either corrupted or redacted behind passwalls with access codes that were lost with Davin Traznaff.
There are several details of immediate and pertinent interest.
First is the name Gaia. Though exactly what it is can't be accessed, it seems that the chip the party found and has been carrying with them is the key to it's activation, and that there are six fragments of the passcode to enter the bunker where it's held. References to some sort of reset or recreation are common when mentioning Gaia, as well as mentions of some incredible potential it has.
Second is the Remnant. It seems that six beings of substantial intellect have survived since the calamity that destroyed the world and they've banded together to form a group they call the Remnant, seeking to rebuild the world in their image. They split the code to the bunker that whatever Gaia may be is stored in. Davin was a member of this group, and if a series of ranting journal entries on the computer are to be believed, perhaps the least significant one.
Though all six aren't described or listed, one of them has several recent messages as well as a decent map to the location of. The name listed is Production Sophont 12. It's located deep in the mountains, accessible by a series of treacherous paths and winding tunnels. Fortunately, Saraon recognized one of the potential entry points as being just near the Glade, the headquarters of the Halcyon Circle.
The first passcode fragment is easily accessible, ejecting from the computer in the form of a small metallic data chip.
Searching around, the party finds about 12,000GP worth of tech salvage. Little of it is currently in working order, but it could be sold to interested parties for a hefty sum.
The cybernetics box is mostly full of broken parts, but a few things stand out. First are two robotic arms neatly folded together, which are most likely cybernetic arms. The second is a small box containing a collection of faintly glowing crystals suspended in a cybernetic lattice, faintly in the outline of feet. Though obviously technological, this item also radiates reasonably potent magic.
This was more information about the topics that Ronan had sought answers about for his whole life than he had ever gotten in a single sitting. It was fascinating, exhilarating, and galling. He clearly wasn't the only one who remembered. But he had a bad feeling about this Remnant. If Davin was any indication, the image in which they wanted to remake the world couldn't possibly be a good one.
But that goal--reset, recreation--it was what he was curious about, too. Who were these other five? And had Ronan or one of his predecessors encountered them before, even known them before the Calamity?
This was more than he had expected, more than he bargained for. But the spirits most certainly hadn't been mistaken. Coming here had been the right call. The spirits of the past were crying out, screaming to be heard.
I'm keen on traveling with y'all to the Glade," Ronan says as he summarizes what he's found, translating down to the level where even a "rock-smashing barbarian" would understand the crux of it all. That the Remnant weren't necessarily enemies, but that they might be and clearly needed to be dealt with carefully if there was any hope of healing the planet. Oh, and that they were not very rich.
Though much still stings, Ronan reaches for the crystal lattice and begins studying its features.
Ronan's able to identify this as some variety of force magic. The spirits seem to indicated that the cybernetic lattice connects the crystals to the wearer's mind, allowing them to use the magic to walk on air as if it were solid ground.
Ronan smiles faintly as he intuits the function of the lattice. The wonders that had existed before the Calamity!
"It's no flight," he indicates, "But it's better in some ways. Less need for skills other than walking."
While Ronan has been busy working with the computer, he hopes that some of his companions have been looking around in the open room to the north. He wonders if any of them had found anything.
Sprig had clambered onto one of the only intact chairs, resting for a moment. He listened intently to Ronan's Summary, piping up once he heard the whole story.
"We were plannin' to head to the Glade anyway, so that ain't any problem at all Ronan! Though Ah'd like to make sure things are alright there first." He stretched a little, slouching back into the chair that was a bit too big for him.
"Seems like as long as we have this chip there ain't any risk to taking our time with it."
12,000 Gp tech salvage
Two Cybernetic Arms
Air Jordans
Laser Pistol
4506 gold in assorted coin
Shining disc
Shining crystal
Bag of gemstones
Icon of Arigia, fallen god of farmers and ranching
Symbol of Ilannara, fallen god of Fertility
20 bullets
Magical Face Paint
16 Charged batteries
6 Uncharged batteries
Detonator
Filter mask x2
Strong cord
Trauma Pack x2
Inferno pistol x4 (uses bullets)
3 flame swords (longsword that deals 1d4 extra fire damage)
Laser Pistol
2 Unidentified Scrolls
arc grenade
soft grenade
flash grenade x2
36 goo tubes
Ivory scroll case
Fancy goblet
2 small gold bars
cylex x2
gravity clip
chemalyzer
ion tape
zipstick
universal serum x3
tech gun parts, which will need a whole day of downtime to assemble
The kobold snorts at the sight of the robotic arms. "Ah Ain't too keen to chop one of my arms off for that 'reward' though."
"I wonder," Ronan says, glancing at the robot arms, "If'n ye might hook 'em up without losing what you already got. Maybe put 'em on the back or link 'em up at the shoulders. We don' all hafta lose an arm like Hezekh. Dependin' on how these'ns work, Kat could have free hands t'reload, or even carry two guns at the same time! Or, hey, Bas, you wanna swing two o'those polearms at once? Show these Remnant folk what a real rock-smashin' barbarian can do?"
Hezekh waks up behind Sprig and taps him on the head with his metal arm. "Hey now, my friend. Don't knock it 'til you've tried it. This thing is awfully handy."
With what Ronan can parse from the spirits about cybernetics (as well as Hezekh’s personal experience), they cannot create new limbs, only replace existing ones.
Some wasteland horror stories tell of a man driven mad by attempts to enhance himself with additional cybernetic limbs, now wandering the Barrens as a roving cannibal.
Sprig readjusts his hat after Hezekh bops him. With a bit of a grin he says; "Ah didn't mean no offense Hezekh! Ah'm jes' pretty attached to what Ah got. 'sides Ah think I'd look mighty funny with one o' these."
He holds his small lizardy arm over the much larger cybernetic one for comparison.
Ronan shivers as he remembers stories of the roving multi-limbed cannibal of the Barrens and brings his mind back to the present.
"Maybe not extra," he says. "But y'never know when they might come in handy." He pauses and arches an eyebrow. "Because of the hands." A grin stretches across his face and he bursts into laughter. Laughter felt good after the intense pain of earlier.
With everything found on the computer, Ronan sets himself to the work of checking out the northern room as well.
Katheryn cleared her mucket and placed it over her shoulder. "I be liken my arms." Katheryn said with a shrug, "Ronan, you feelin' aright?" She asked as she moved over to the shaman. "Had me worried for a bit."
Ronan smiles lightly. There was definitely still some lingering pain, but he knows at this point that its mostly mental rather than physical. "Right, I forget sometimes some of y'all don't know spellcraft. That was a nasty customer of a necromantic spell called howling agony. Y'know, not all necromancy is about raisin' the dead n'all that. Some necromancers jus' like causin' pain. I reckon ol' Davin enjoyed both. In life, he was probably a wizard like Sprig. But there's any number of magical folk what could spew that mess."
He pauses and then backs up. "Course Sprig here is more of a conjurer, what with all that summ'nin'. I don't rightly know your opinion of <death divination*>." Ronan slips into Draconic there at the end, giving another name for the school of necromancy.
"I ain't give a spit 'bout him, I just wanna make sure you're alright" Katheryn said as she placed her free hand on her hip. "Don't need none dyin' on us"
Ronan spins in the chair and looks at Kat directly. "I'm feelin' right as rain now. He din't even make me bleed my own blood."
While it's true that Ronan didn't suffer any lingering injury, nor even anything requiring healing, he's definitely trying to hide his personal concern. But he appreciates Kat's concern.
A samsaran's relationship to death is a curious one. According to the fractious lore gathered by or about his people, when he died, he'd be reincarnated. And just as Ronan had vague recollections about his past incarnations, the samsaran who followed him would discover hazy memories. Whatever that descendant would choose to do with them would be up to them, of course. But death wasn't the end.
Sprig shrugged his tiny shoulders. "It ain't somethin' Ah've ever put much thought to, bone wrangling seemed like somethin' that was more trouble than it was worth. Though if yer talkin' fortune tellin', Ah never could quite figure it out."
With things settled, Sprig makes his way to the north room, peeking his head inside. "Let's see what he was hiding away, shall we?"
Saraon looks over Ronan's shoulder at the information they've recovered, and gets a grave look in his eyes when he recognizes the location near Production Sophont 12.
"To have a remnant of the Old World so close to the Glade...and I was never told...either the Halcyon Circle was lax in their watch of the lands they tend to, to have not known about this...or they did know and did not tell me. Neither prospect is good. Especially in the context of the rest of what we've learned here: that Davin wasn't acting alone, and that this 'Remnant' has designs on the Land. If they're anything like Davin was, those designs cannot be in harmony with nature. I'm...glad to have joined you on this journey...this is a serious danger that the Circle MUST be warned about. And how convenient that our path seems to be leading us back there."
He thinks for a moment.
"I wonder...what role does our mysterious benefactor, Fortuna, plays in this? Given her...taciturn nature when we spoke to her and she tasked us with this, did she know what we would find here? I don't know if we'll find her again, but should the winds favor us, and we meet on the road, I will have questions for her. Questions she may be more inclined to answer if she feels we understand the severity of what she sent us after."
Ronan smiles lightly. There was definitely still some lingering pain, but he knows at this point that its mostly mental rather than physical. "Right, I forget sometimes some of y'all don't know spellcraft. That was a nasty customer of a necromantic spell called howling agony. Y'know, not all necromancy is about raisin' the dead n'all that. Some necromancers jus' like causin' pain. I reckon ol' Davin enjoyed both. In life, he was probably a wizard like Sprig. But there's any number of magical folk what could spew that mess."
He pauses and then backs up. "Course Sprig here is more of a conjurer, what with all that summ'nin'. I don't rightly know your opinion of <death divination*>." Ronan slips into Draconic there at the end, giving another name for the school of necromancy.
Saraon nods.
"It's one thing to speak to the spirits, whether of the Land or of the Dead, to grant them offerings in exchange for their wisdom. It's entirely another to rip them from the cycle of life and souls and use them as the strings of corpse puppets. It is true evil, compared to nature, which may be harsh and unforgiving, but never evil or good. It just is."
Ronan spins in the chair and looks at Kat directly. "I'm feelin' right as rain now. He din't even make me bleed my own blood."
A samsaran's relationship to death is a curious one. According to the fractious lore gathered by or about his people, when he died, he'd be reincarnated. And just as Ronan had vague recollections about his past incarnations, the samsaran who followed him would discover hazy memories. Whatever that descendant would choose to do with them would be up to them, of course. But death wasn't the end.
"But...you are one of the returning," Saraon says. "You don't HAVE blood, only water pure and clean."
Ronan peers into the room to the north. While mostly overgrown or dilapidated, one thing does stand out. A large bed-like contraption sits prominently displayed, still in decent condition despite the years. A wide array of cutting implements and other medical instruments tip a cluster of mechanical tendrils that rise from the head of the bed.
This, it seems, might be capable of installing cybernetics.
Hezekh comes over to see what Ronan's looking at. "Well. Seen something like that once. A bit less sophisticated, mind you, but I know what it's for." he says, brandishing his metal arm.
Sprig looked over the machinery with bemusement. "Even if we're not lookin' to use it, this stuff could be somewhat valuable. Probably better used elsewhere than here anyway."
Hezekh's comments caught his attention though. "Yah think we could tune up that arm of yours? Maybe if we find an expert, we could fix you up even better'n before!"
"Iffin' you say so." Katheryn said with a shrug as she let the topic rest.
"A'ight, I gotta know. Did ya lose it first or choose a metal one first?" Katheryn asked as she pointed to the metal arm he was brandishing.
Sprig nodded with Katheryn's question. "Ah wasn't going to ask, but Ah admit it has made me mighty curious."
Ronan listens curiously to Saraon's explanations and pontifications. He didn't know much of the Halcyon Circle, nor the half-elf's associations with it, but that idea of harmony with nature was clearly something that they both cared about. In different ways, of course. That was especially the case with the ideas of necromancy they begin discussing.
We agree about more than may be obvious at first glance.
Ronan also grins at Saraon's epithet for him: the Returning. "Well thas true n'its way, I suppose." The samsaran did make an effort not to bleed for just such reasons. It tended to unnerve people to see what had just been the case for him all is life.
So the medical bed for installing cybernetics, with the promise of fairly extensive bleeding, is not quite so appealing for him. Dismantling it and selling it for scrap does sound promising though--or even reassembling it, if they had the space in the wagon for all of the parts!
Hezekh smiles at Katheryn and Sprig and holds up his arm. "What, this? Oh, I definitely lost the original first. Nasty run in with a Wyvern, out in the wastes. Tore my hand clean off, I was lucky to be able to finish it off and tourniquet the stump before I passed out from blood loss. Came to, staggered into the nearest town, luckily there was...well, doctor's a mite generous, bit of a mad scientist he was, but anyway he had this laying around from a failed golemcrafting experiment, fixed me right up. Better than before, truly." Hezekh says with a shrug. "Anyway, you should see the other guy. I mean, I suppose you can, actually." he says, straightening the well-tanned leather of his jacket with a wink.
The device is of a complexity that while it could be broken down for scrap, it would be nearly impossible to put back together. Given it's nature, it could probably install cybernetics relatively quickly and painlessly.
Ronan raises an eyebrow at Hezekh's story, especially once it's revealed that he's wearing a wyvern-leather jacket. "I'd say you got the better of the deal in the end, eh?"
Looking over the device, Ronan shakes his head. "The spirits tell me much 'bout how this old world tech works, n' I've studied enough beyond that myself, but this is beyond my ken. Might be worth leaving here in case we need to use it in the future."
The kobold looks shocked at Hezekh's story. "Most folk, lose more'n an arm facing one of those! Ah'm glad t' see you in one piece after a scrap like that! Hate t' have never seen you again."
Sprig sighs at Ronan's Assessment. "Ah hoped we'd be able t' move this junk in working order, but it's probably best to leave it be. Exchange ain't too far, they could put it to use... Maybe it's time we get these poor folk buried and head out ourselves."
It's an easy process to construct a pyre for the dead.
After a somber moment to set the souls to rest, the party heads outside and sees Gog standing tall, grinning widely. "Head hurts less. Feels better. Killed Brain Man, didn't you?"
Katheryn chuckled and slapped Hezekh on the back, "I'm buyin' your next drink." She declared.
"Ay! Yeah, somethin' like that." She called to Gog with a smirk. "I guess it exactly like that..." Katheryn shrugged. She looked to Ronan and Sprig, debating over what to do with the oddity of a device and smiled to herself. Looking around to the rest of the group in turn she couldn't help but think, 'Ya did good...'
Ronan had thought about performing the ritual to meld the ghost of Enniawin Tellenthar to her gun and let her decide what to do, but he focuses on bringing her bones outside and burying them while burning some incense and conducting the ceremony. It strikes him that he and Saraon are likely the most overtly religious--if not the only--in the group. So he consults with Saraon to try to make the ritual more ecumenical, to give the restless spirits the best chance to be represented and heard by whomsoever they had followed in life. It is somber indeed.
But seeing Gog in a much better, clear-headed mood is anything but somber!
"Brain Man tried to kill us, so we had to defend ourselves. Looks like you're feelin' right good, though, eh Gog?"
Hezekh smiles at Katheryn and Sprig and holds up his arm. "What, this? Oh, I definitely lost the original first. Nasty run in with a Wyvern, out in the wastes. Tore my hand clean off, I was lucky to be able to finish it off and tourniquet the stump before I passed out from blood loss. Came to, staggered into the nearest town, luckily there was...well, doctor's a mite generous, bit of a mad scientist he was, but anyway he had this laying around from a failed golemcrafting experiment, fixed me right up. Better than before, truly." Hezekh says with a shrug. "Anyway, you should see the other guy. I mean, I suppose you can, actually." he says, straightening the well-tanned leather of his jacket with a wink.
The kobold looks shocked at Hezekh's story. "Most folk, lose more'n an arm facing one of those! Ah'm glad t' see you in one piece after a scrap like that! Hate t' have never seen you again."
Sprig sighs at Ronan's Assessment. "Ah hoped we'd be able t' move this junk in working order, but it's probably best to leave it be. Exchange ain't too far, they could put it to use... Maybe it's time we get these poor folk buried and head out ourselves."
Saraon nods.
"Much as I have respect for dragons and their kin, wyverns are definitely known for their short tempers and reckless hunger. There was no shame in defending yourself, and in a way you honor its spirit by wearing its skin. After all, I do something similar," he says, indicating his mask. "Though mine is more an homage, as it's a carved replica rather than a trophy taken."
It's an easy process to construct a pyre for the dead.
After a somber moment to set the souls to rest, the party heads outside and sees Gog standing tall, grinning widely. "Head hurts less. Feels better. Killed Brain Man, didn't you?"
Saraon nods.
"Yes, Gog, we did." It's clear he's smiling behind his mask.
Sprig breathed a sigh of relief as they buried the remains. Hopefully that ghost would rest easy as they returned her body to the earth. He certainly didn't want to see it again. A shiver ran down his tail at the thought.
Gog seemed much relieved as well, that was a good feeling. "Ah guess that means yer free to do what you want now Gog!" Sprig said with his reptilian approximation of a grin.
But, He was tired, He had spent more magical energies than ever before. It was time to make camp and relax before planning the next step. Once they had set everything up and the campfire was roaring, Sprig pipes up. "Alright, Ah think we're all in agreement t' make our way t the Glade, though we're about one day's travel back t' Exchange. If y'all want t' stock up and sell things, Ah think this'll be the best time t' do so. Though Ah personally feel like pushing on, what're y'alls thoughts?"
As he talked, the kobold drew some goods wrapped in nice silken sheets. A bottle of Oldlaw Whiskey and fine tobacco were passed around to any who wanted. "It's somethin' Ah hold onto jes' in case we wanted to make an' impression... but Ah think we have some cause t' celebrate. We've made some good changes t' the world the last few days and that's worth somethin' to me."
Ronan gladly partakes in the offer of whiskey and tobacco, though he's clearly a novice when it comes to the latter, hacking nearly half a lung up after his first drag. Strained, he chokes out a remark: "Must be the water'n the blood respondin' unkindly."
He considers the travel back to the Exchange versus heading straight to the Glade. "We've a mighty fine stash o'things now what might encumber us unnecessarily or make us a prime target for enterprisin' thieves. Mayhaps a jaunt back to unload n' resupply s'a good idea."