Expressing jubilee at the effect his mini-works had, Drot nearly missed Charles words about the automaton.
"It's a being of logic Charles, and the dragon was stronger than everyone here individually. I had to help us kill it, it's simply our fortune that the assassin unwound toward the end there. I fear, if combat resumed quickly, he would have destroyed us. Especially if provoked by a preemptive attack."
His thoughtful gaze became a shrug as the scene played out in his head. Later, after collecting as many of the useful bits off the dragon as he could find, he turned to the now active time mage and narrowed his eyes.
It had been a long time since Drot had seen this band of heroic misfits unleash their collective fury with such conviction. It reminded him that everything that had happened in their lives up to this point had to be fought for, with tooth and nail.
See the other clockwork stutter and stop, Drot subconsciously switched books, looking for a piece of information he knew he had seen in his Encyclopedia Scientia. Before finding what he was looking for he came across an old spell he had put together for Charles, to help with their search for their companions, immediately realizing its potential application to this encounter.
Pulling scrap material from his bag, crafted five makeshift ocular apparatus and commanded them all to life!
Casting
Watchful Eyes:
Technomancy Utility 3
You create up to five tiny clockwork eyes that each fly toward a different point and remain there for the duration. Spotting one of these sensors requires a success on a Perception challenge roll with 1 bane. When you cast this spell, you can designate any number of creatures that don’t set off the warding eyes. When a creature you did not designate moves to within 1 yard of a sensor, the device emits a high-pitched shriek that can be heard from up to 1 mile away and then moves to slam into the creature’s body. The creature must get a success on an Agility challenge roll with 1 bane or be struck by the sensor and take 2d6 + 3 damage. In addition, each creature within 20 yards of the sensor must get a success on a Strength challenge roll or become deafened for 1 minute. Whether the creature struck by a sensor gets a success or failure, the sensor is destroyed when triggered in this way. The spell ends when the last sensor is destroyed.
As the tiny eyes whir into motion towards the dragon, Drot barks out a quick warning to his allies.
"Cover your ears!"
Five painfully similar, high pitched tones range out as the little sentinels lazily flew to their posts and spotted the unauthorized dragon. With unnatural speed they B-Lined a path straight to the beast's center mass, striking it with a surprising amount of force.
The glow of his magic burns brighter than ever as it travels down his arm, empowering his crossbow bolt. He spots the other clockwork in the distance and his stomach sinks. He still had his escape card, but hoped he wouldn't need it again.
A sinking feeling came over the orc as the group began their assault. While he loaded another bolt onto his crossbow he thought to himself, as he had done many times before, that he was getting too old to be fighting in these ridiculous battles. He deserved to live out his life in his library, with his books! He finished loading, but instead of letting loose at the dragon, he mumbled a spell in preparation for his next attack!
"Virtus; Augendae!"
Now Drot is casting Potent Magic.
After casting his preparation spells while approaching the entrance to the dragon's lair, Drot drew the crossbow that he was able to scavenge from the miners and forest men. He wasn't used to the finesse needed to wield anything like it, but he was sure he knew someone who was.
Casting Arcane Armor
He steps into out into the open, growls a spell and fires at the dragon!
Drot set up his ritual site a few yards from the mouth of the cave, were a layer of white hot coals were laid out in a thick square. As the incantation is spoken the fire within the coals begins to snap and crackle, forming small flames that represented the open flames burning throughout the surrounding area. Each flame sparked as Drot searched for his first quarry, the clockwork assassin.
"He is alive, running. He seems to be mending himself but I am uncertain as to where he is going. Away from the dragon, for now."
A network of cracks in the coals begins to glow and Drot seeks their other target.
"The drake is alone, tending to its wounds, which appear to be superficial. Unharmed for the most part..."
After looking around the fires in the surrounding area, Drot begins the the closing mantra of the spell. Suddenly the white coals turn to dust that rushes into the air and dissipates. The orc radiates an uncomfortable heat and his clothes are soaked with sweat.
"Is there no way to talk Charles out of this? What have we to gain for risking our lives?"
Ghost Recon: Fire Addition:
Kahtia's search for the orc proved rather short; he wasn't seen out and about but a brief look into his tent found him asleep at his portable desk, mid sentence with quill in hand. The mage's words stirred Drot, who dipped his quill out of habit but set it down as the world came into focus.
"Ehm... Yes, actually. The fatigue from yesterday's battle seems to have kept me from finishing my notes. No matter, they can be finished another time."
He listens with intensity as Kahtia voices her concerns, pleased at her bluntness. It was refreshing for him, after choking on the tension that fogged the air between Charles and Tesswyn for the better half of a day. He nodded his understanding as she finished.
"That is understood... Of course he can be talked down, he knows the risks, he's just willing to risk them. I wonder if, before making our decision either way, it would behoove us to run reconnaissance on the outcome of the fight that took place after our departure. If the dragon retained mortal wounds, we might finish the job quickly."
He pauses and thinks a moment before continuing with an arched brow.
"Time and Teleportation, a bad combination indeed. If the other clockwork lives, now would be the time to find it and destroy it. It seems he has someway or another to find the Mouse, and he now understands that we intend to protect it. Giving the assassin time to plan its next attack seems the more dangerous choice. Hmmm?"
It's difficult for Kahtia to not smile at the sight of the orc and his desk, his quill and his papers. She knows well the love of writing, of books, of lore made permanent. As he answers in his thoughtful way the redhead moves closer, her eyes on his, but flicking to his work despite herself -- she is curious about what he is writing. Her smell is pleasant in the close quarters of the tent, and the portions of her flesh that are visible -- her slender throat, her generous cleavage, her tattooed forearms and hands -- are inviting as ever to the eye, and the touch.
"True enough -- if the thing lives, it will come for Mouse again. My fear is that we will end up fighting two of the most fearsome opponents we have ever faced -- at the same time. It nearly cost us dearly yesterday, and we were lucky as few lives were lost as there were." Pausing for a moment, she nods, then adds, "Gaining some insight regarding the outcome of the battle would be smart. There may even be more lizard creatures than we saw, coming from deeper in the earth. Will you at least take my side in having logic guide us in this, not passion, vengeance, or greed?"
Kahtia was able to see a detailed sketch of the fearsome dragon with arrows, notes, and smaller parts of the beast drawn and detailed on their own. Drot's face remained solemn even while his eyes wondered briefly.
"Indubitably."
He states in a very matter-of-fact way.
"I have, what may be, the perfect tool for us to use. Here, in this book."
He hands Kahtia another tome, much like the one he had while casting the Time spell that saved them from utter defeat.
"The Fundamentals and Structural Conditions of the Many Traditions, the first edition in fact. Where I got the book is a story for another time, but look at page 1608."
Flipping through the pages of the book presents a kaleidoscope of colors to your eyes, each tradition represented by its signature hue. Finally, the page is flipped and the title glows with a deep orange and red flame See Through The Flame.
Kaht's eyes linger on the drawings. She has no skill in it herself, but loves carefully crafted illustrations -- truly an art to capture the world on vellum and parchment that way. "Your work is impressive," she says lightly, pretending she doesn't notice his briefly roving eyes. She takes the proffered book and pours over the page in question. The woman's green eyes reflect the glowing writing, and she smiles slightly as she flicks her gaze back to the orc, still holding the heavy book.
Drot looked to be in poor health, but with Charles' restorative magics behind him he was eager to figure out a way to end this mess of an exposition as quickly as possible.
"Here, here Charles. The good that will come of the resources within the ground here will do far greater good than we could on our own. One word of warning though... What the dragon thinks it knows about us is nearly as valuable as what we know about it. This is a very intelligent creature, and I believe what it has seen of us from the brief encounter we were involved in, might give it an impression of our abilities we can use against it."
He begins to make dense notes on fresh notebook pages, detailing the encounter they've just had with tedious descriptions of every action and reaction that he can recall.
Although, if given the choice, Drot would choose to save the smaller clockwork directly; there is too much at stake already. He grabs Charles by the waist and attempts to do the same with Tesswyn and Kahtia as he moves to catch up to them and makes his way out of the cave.
Slow
"If we do not go now, we will not be going at all. It seems there was more to this machine then you knew, or more than you let on. Charles and I are leaving now."
"...I'm sorry..."
As much movement as possible, up and out of the cave.
Drot sees Kahtia's quick solution to their problem and decides to finish what she started. He moves quickly towards the clockwork, but was cautious of its sudden shifts in and out of time. He plants his good foot in front of the thing, crouches and drives his shoulder into it, just below its midsection and forces it up and backwards, towards the lava.
Int Save If Needed:1d20 + 4 - 1d6 ⇒ (12) + 4 - (3) = 13
Drot knows the panicked miners cannot be helped, but this wouldn't be happening if this thing didn't appear out of no where. It needs to be gone, and fast!
"Niwed!"
Boons From Potent Magic:2d6 ⇒ (2, 4) = 6 Harm, Int vs Str:1d20 + 4 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 + 4 = 23
Drot shouts a single word in Dark Tongue and screeching sparks appear around the clockwork, as if barbed wire was being dragged across its exterior.
Invisible barbs tear at the target’s body. Make an Intellect attack roll against its Strength. On a success, the target takes a –5 penalty to Health for 1 minute. Attack Roll 20+ The penalty to Health is –10 instead.
Drot continues across the bridge and moves closer to the assassin.
Drot turns from the motionless dragon and, if allowed, begins to push Charles towards the bridge. He grasps one of Charles' shoulders to guide his direction, and places his other hand on the paladin's lower back to nudge him along.
"We have only moments, move quickly! This way Charles run!"
As they run, Drot's hindered movement only allows him to help Charles if needed, but he manages to make it to the bridge before he takes a moment to mutter an incantation.
"Potentissimam; Magicae!"
Casting Potent Magic: For the duration, when you attack with a spell, you make the attack roll with 2 boons, and creatures make challenge rolls to resist your spells with 2 banes.
Drot braces himself against the dragon's onslaught. He is able to withstand the fatal power of its claws and teeth but only just. After narrowly escaping the lava flung at him he shouts to his companions who have come to his aid, through a bloodied mouth.
"Get back, both of you! This should buy us more time! Neḫēsu; Adannu; Ikû!"
Expending his power level 3 casting to cast Halt Time from his Architecture tome
The orc reaches for the dragon's neck as a glimmering, metallic quicksilver envelopes his arms. In a split second, magic silently explodes from his hands creating a shimmering silver sphere. The contents of this sphere seem utterly motionless yet filled with life, like the energy stored within is waiting to violently surge into action!
"Leave the dragon now, you cannot harm it! Let's get these people out of here! Quickly!"
Drot hesitates for a moment, ready to intercept anyone or anything's attempt to cross the magic's threshold.
Halt Time:
HALT TIME TIME UTILITY 3 Area A 4-yard-radius sphere centered on a point you can reach. Duration 1 minute; see the effect. Time halts in the area for the duration. Each creature other than you in the area becomes insensate, unable to use actions or triggered actions, and unable to move. Creatures outside the area cannot enter it, and objects or effects originating from outside the area cannot reach into the area; they stop at its edge, remaining there until the spell ends. Creatures and objects in the area cannot be attacked, moved, or affected by any effect. Ongoing effects that apply to creatures and objects in the area are suspended until the spell ends. You, however, are unaffected by the spell and can freely move around in the area, leave it, and return to it. You can end the effect at any time without using an action to do so. Once the spell ends, time moves faster in the area it affected until it resumes the normal flow of time. Two rounds pass inside the sphere for every round that elapses outside it until time again flows the same in both places. If the spell lasted for three rounds, for instance, then the accelerated time lasts for three rounds. Each of the extra rounds that elapses inside the sphere occurs between each pair of rounds that elapse outside it. Any creature in the sphere during one of these extra rounds can take a turn. But if a creature leaves the sphere on its turn during one of these extra rounds, the creature enters normal time, and its turn immediately ends as it does so. Such a creature must get a success on a Will challenge roll or gain 1 Insanity. Attacks and other effects originating from inside the sphere that would affect targets or areas outside it are resolved at the end of the extra round. In addition, creatures inside the area make attack rolls against targets outside the sphere with 3 boons, while targets outside the sphere make challenge rolls to resist harmful effects with 3 banes.
Drot didn't anticipate the dragon rushing to the other side of the cave so quickly. He mutters his reliable spell of haste and rushes to Tesswyn's side, hammer and tome at the ready.
"Velox; Ventus!"
Once he can see the dragon's eyes, he stares at them, never looking away. He speaks to it, loud enough for it to hear him, with grunts and guttural noises you may recognize as the Dark Tongue Drot seldom utters.
"Mae'r rhain yn perthyn i ni! Yn ôl i lawr nawr neu fforffedu'r hyn sydd ar ôl o'ch bywyd!"
"These belong to us! Back down now or forfeit what is left of your life!"
"If I may, my book here details many aspects of architecture and the importance of a stable and well maintained foundation for any structure..."
Drot pulls out a well read tome, seemingly mundane, and flips through some of the pages. Perhaps the orc has finally lost his mind, and has decided that the time for show-n-tell was now, in the presence of a dragon...
"A spectacular idea that I've been able to apply to time dilation, allowing me to alter the passage of time in a small area."
He turns to a variegated page near the end of the tome that shimmers with pulsating, quicksilver light.
"I can trap the dragon once it's alerted of our presence and hold it for a short while, about a minute, frozen in time. That should hopefully give us the time we need to dispatch the lizard-folk and get those people to safety. We must be out of the cave before the minute is up or we may have to face the all of the actions the dragon would take in half the time it needs to do them..."
On the way down the steps, Drot feels the magic lay lines coursing through himself and the area. He takes advantage of this and inhales deeply, the magic concentrating and flowing into his lungs, making his eyes briefly glow with power.
Spell Recovery: Regaining my casting of Arc of Death and healing one HR.
Will:1d20 ⇒ 13
Drot sees the dragon, he watches it with a keen eye. Nervous for what is to come, but not afraid of the beast. He knew that they could out smart the thing, there was always a way...
"I'm afraid we may not be ready for this fight either. Though I was wrong last time as well... Might we take a moment to make a plan at the very least?"
As Charles' steps away from giving his "pep talk", Drot catches his attention and puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Uncharacteristic of you, but perhaps they needed that. We are approaching the most dangerous leg of our expedition, stress levels are very high. We'll pull through. We should rest for a while, unless Tesswyn thinks we may still save a few from the depths of the cave. I will let you know what's decided."
Drot pauses when Kahtia speaks. He turns to her with a puzzled look on his face.
"Sorry? Did I miss something?"
As expected, before she answers he goes back to what he was doing, assuring her that he is still listening, and not at all distracted by what he was doing.
Inside is mind, he could feel The Berserker fussing about and pull this way and that. This wasn't completely usual when there were strange things about, but the fussings were directed toward Kahtia, this was unusual. Shrugging it off to the time apart and the touch, though he didn't mind it, The Berserker may have.
He pressed his idea again.
"If we can clear them of this... adhesive... at least from the head to below the shoulders, and arms, we might be able to pull them out without doing any lasting damage. Any ideas?"
Drot begins to make a fire to heat whatever metal rods he can find, his hammer, or one of Mouse's appendages if it won't hurt him very much.
When the scream from Tesswyn is herd, he rushes to help!
The Berserker, now mindlessly putting pigs to the slaughter, is forcibly removed from his seat at the helm the moment his Will falters. It takes all the immediate energy Drot has to step to the edge of the pen and lean against it, instead of falling into the slop. He takes a moment to recover his strength, sees Tesswyn make her way out of the cave, and wearily follows behind her to join the others.
The scene in the hut is a harrowing one, but one that Drot's not unaccustomed to seeing. He feels pity for the people, seemingly, being used as food for whatever vile creature is birthed forth.
"Tragic... And Vile. How strong does this stuff feel? Think you and I could pull them out, between us, without hurting them too much, Charles?"
Drot adds the the effort of helping the poor souls and uses Sense Magic to see if there is anything to add to the predicament.
The Berserker begins running at the mouth of the cave, ready to hurl himself at whatever he finds within. Instead though, his legs were moving him away from the cave and towards the pig pen's filth and mud. Aggravated at the the distance being created between himself and his desired target, he can't help but unleash his fury upon the helpless animals. He puts two of them to a swift death with his hammer before Drot is able to regain control of the orc's body.
That's the rest of The Berserker's rounds if nothing interrupts him
In the orc's mind Drot heard the calls for his companions and wanted to retreat. Unfortunately, it was not Drot that was in control at the moment and The Berserker had no intention of falling back. In fact, the noises heard from within the cave spurred him on. The Berserker continued his onslaught, waiting to challenge the beast they had awoken.
The smell hit Drot unexpectedly twisting his face with disgust, but he adapted quickly; he'd had plenty of experience with putrid stenches like this. He spots the goons come out of the cave and what he can only describe as a shaman following behind them.
"I'm going after the leader, once he's dead they'll likely fall in line."
The orc moves quickly towards the three prominent lizardmen. You can tell he is slower now, with his artificial leg, but he's gotten used to it and does not stumble.
"Velox!"
He shouts and begins moving at unnatural speeds, hammer poised to strike!
Trigger action cast of Celerity; Triggered: You instead move up to your Speed without triggering free attacks.
Drot rushes past the two larger reptilians and strikes at the feathered leader.
Drot eyes the electricity coming off of the robot, both impressed and concerned for the group's safety
Seeing none of the reptiles responding to his words, Drot makes a B-line for the prisoners. He watches the closest of beasts, being wary of their immediate intentions.
"Charles! I'm going for the prisoners while the clockwork is covering us, watch my back!"
Using both my action and move to cover as much distance to the prisoners as I can.
Drot nods and clears his throat. He steps toward the closet guard, puffs himself up and barks at the creature in Dark speech. He is loud enough for most to hear him and more ferocious than you've ever heard, besides when The Berserker is in control; even now the flames in his eyes flair with excitement.
"Chi yno, abwydod! Rydyn ni wedi dod am y bodau dynol cigog! Ildiwch nhw neu anfonwch nhw i Gwagle Arglwydd Demon!"
"You there, worms! We've come for the meaty humans! Surrender them or be sent to the Demon Lord's Void!"
"The may communicate with Dark Speech, or something specific to them. They seem easily frightened, that could be an effective short term solution. We may want to hurry, whatever we do, it seems we don't have much time..."
Drot readies himself for the coming fights as well; hammer and spells at the ready.
Drot nods at Kahtia's handy work, fascinated with the focus and efficiency she repeatedly demonstrates with her magic. He moves up to the opening from an angle and stops next to it, back to the wall.
"Truly impressive as always, Kahtia."
He clears away the ragged edges left from the blast and slowly moves himself so more and more of the opening is revealed to him. Ready to dodge out of the way if he happens to spot anything recognizably hostile.
Drot looks around and puts his hand into the air, spreading his fingers wide. Then he breaths in slowly and deeply, focusing on his senses.
"Hmmm... I did not consider that... Even with a sharper focal point in our traditions the spells still need adequate fuel... Thank you Kahtia, I will be more sensitive to that variable!"
Drot inspects the wall once again and makes a few notes in his book before giving the mage an awkward bow and shuffling away.
After the brief tête-à-tête with his fellow magician, Drot regrouped and agreed with moving forward. After a moment of walking he finally notices his sister's on-going state and shoots a worried look at Charles and Kahtia, then at Tess again.
"You seem Bersss...Enraged Tesswyn. Will you be alright?"
Drot continues to spot the group's flank for a time but makes his way towards Kahtia and her wall.
"Kahtia! This spell here, it's quite interesting to me that the empire was able to recreate the effects of the battle tradition with their own calls of passion. Perhaps the delivery is what caused the blades to dull and the spirits to falter."
Drot pulls out his notebook, with near identical markings to the one from before the catastrophe, it more organized and pleasant to the eye for the time being. He flips through pages with dense writing and detailed tradition of magic, but as he gets further along the writing becomes sparse until most pages had simple phrases scrawled on them.
"Although I haven't perfected the corresponding energy structure or the shape of the lay line draws, the phrasing my ancestors used to call on this spell comes naturally to me. See it here?"
Drot reveals his book to the mage, an impressive document prepared to take on dozens of entries of spells, flora, animal life, and cultural commentary. He directs her attention to an unfinished spell, the orc then clears his throat unceremoniously before barking the spell as if in the midst of combat.
"Ah-hem! Uruh! Like so, ERHEBE, KÖNNTE, GEFALLEN, BRÜDER!"
Suddenly the forest seems eerily quiet now that he was done. Drot stood with a face of concentration waiting for the mage's input.
Drot studies the lizards hiding around the brush skeptically. He scans the area all around his group looking for flanks or other dangers.
"I don't know if we have the resources to take on this many. They could overwhelm us at any moment if they weren't cowards, perhaps we should fall back and either bottleneck them or get back to camp and see if there was anything left behind that could help us in this fight..."
Drot readies himself to evade any incoming missiles from the hesitant forest dwellers.
Drot smiles at himself when Kahtia notices his near perfect execution of the Arcane tradition. He mumbles his next incantation and directs it toward the reptiles attacking Tesswyn.
Drot enjoyed the tune that played from Mouse's sound wave emitter, he made a note to discuss fixing him a proper voice box as well.
When they approached the fencing it was suddenly apparent to Drot that they were being watched, and further confirmed by his allies warnings. Drot yanks on the reins of his horse, and turns it toward a group of the reptilians that appeared behind the party. He calls out a spell that he picked up from the time he spent around Kahtia in the desert and directs it at the majority.
Drot inspects the clockwork assassin, locates his inconspicuous turnkey, and gives it several good cranks. Mouse whirs into motion which includes his electrifying disposition, giving Drot a exhilarating shock.
"Yowch!..."
He shakes the feeling back into his hand, and grunts his disapproval.
"We still have to fix that, luckily I have my tools and a reference to lightening redirection..."
Boons: Academic (Engineering):1d6 ⇒ 2 Book: Science:1d6 ⇒ 1 Book: Magic:1d6 ⇒ 6
Drot quickly reads through his texts as the others get ready to move out. He takes note of the horses that Kahtia summons and asks that they both remember to discuss the structure of the spell and how the horse shape is produced so accurately.
Int:1d20 + 4 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 4 + 6 = 22
"This will have to do for now Mr. Mouse, a walking stick of sorts. As you can see, I've wrapped it in a copper and steel spiral ending with a spike. When you feel the energy ready to spark, do make sure it's planted firmly in the ground. It should send the energy down the coil to dissipate in the dirt."
Drot beams with accomplishment as he holds the staff out to Mouse, offering it to him with a sense to urgency.
With Drot's mind in work-mode, he takes notice of Mouse's gun, as well as the untouched explosives that he had been worried about the crew getting into, when they came rushing back to camp.
Int; Engineering:1d20 + 4 + 1d6 ⇒ (10) + 4 + (5) = 19
In a stroke of intuitive genius, he breaks down various supplies into the basic components of ball barrings and black powder; handing it all to mouse as they rode.
"More ammo for your gun. If we don't get the crew back, we won't have use for any of that anyway."
Happy as can be, Drot continues on with the group.
Drot looks up from the clockwork's well crafted body with a glare towards Charles.
"Ah... Yes, thank you Charles, I'll begin looking at that now."
He says flatly, but with a toothy smirk.
Mouse was apprehensive as the towering orc walked towards him, taking a step back followed by several as he continued his advance. His arm flashed to his weapon, but does not grasp it, simply holding it over the firearm.
The orc frowns at Mouse, stops, and straightens up. Hands behind his back, clasped together, he realizes his mistake.
"My apologies, I've forgotten to introduce myself. I am Drot'ook, self proclaimed engineer and scholar. I'd like to gave a look at you, the sparks..."
BZZZT!
"...Like that one, could very well set the dried underbrush of this forest on fire. We can't have that if you are to come with us, deeper into the woods."
A bored sounding official chimes up from somewhere in Mouse's body. "This is Assassination Android Model Three-... Mouse"
The last part is spoken with Kahtia's voice, though the audio is tinny and low quality. As it plays, Mouse slowly pulls his hands away from his weapon and raises them in a pleading manner. It takes another step back and then stops sparking. And stops moving altogether.
Drot looks at Mouse, then back to the others, and once again at Mouse. He points to the clockwork and cocks an eyebrow.
"Is... He going to be okay? Are you familiar with his key? It looks like he may need a wind up."
When Kahtia addresses Drot, it is easy to see the shame almost instantly return to his face and his demeanor becomes reserved and apologetic.
"I am more than happy to hear that you are both well."
He says, with a genuine smile. When the mage hollers at someone behind her, Drot was reminded of the clockwork and his sparks!
"Uh... Sir! You're... Sparking?" He turns back to Kahtia. "He needs to move into the clearing here, this entire forest could be an inferno in a matter of moments if he catches anything on fire."
Unfortunately there wouldn't be time for him to address the machine's malfunctions, they had to find out what happened to the camp. Drot address his man on the ground, his condition looked critical.
"Phil?... Do you know what happened here? Where have the others gone?"
Drot rushes up alongside Charles, baffled about what could have gone wrong.
"I explicitly told them not to touch the explosives! I don't care ho-"
Drot stopped short when he saw his dear sister and the skilled magician emerging from the forest. He was so baffled by what he was seeing that he almost missed the third "person" with them. That had to be a clockwork; he had recently read and extensive breakdown of their design and development.
"T- Tesswyn!"
When we was finally able to move he couldn't keep himself from rushing over to them, as fast as his artificial shin and foot would allow. The large, ever strong orc hoisted the two of them into a hug and lifted them off the ground.
"You're back! How!? The incantation? Are you hurt? I-... Whe-... We-... Ahem... Please start from the beginning?"
Whatever damage that befell the campsite, and the potential looming danger, seemed to slip Drot's mind as he focused solely on his companions' return.
Charles let Drot'ook have the day Gärwin died to himself. He immediately busied himself with helping the survivors of Oasis pick up the pieces of their lives as best he could.
But the following morning Charles appeared at Drot's doorway, a dark look on his face.
"We need to talk about what happened yesterday, Drot'ook."
Drot put down his book and quill and let out a sigh, filled with anxious sadness.
"I suppose this isn't something I can disagree with and we both go on with our day... Where would you like to start, brother?"
"I saw you just before you broke the Was staff. Tesswyn and Kahtia left to come get you. Why did Tesswyn hand you the staff? Why did you do break it?"
"She handed me the scepter because Kahtia asked her to. The fear in her eyes... Charles, you have to remember that you and Tesswyn are the most important people in my life..."
Drot took a ragged breath, still not making eye contact with Charles.
"The look in her eyes... The fear... I couldn't imagine what the Sheik would have done with both the mask and scepter. The things I wanted to do..."
He finally looked up at the man, his eyes were glassy and hued red.
"The beast inside of me, The Berserker, he reminded me of what was important and we made the decision... I had no idea..."
Charles gave Drot'ook a searching gaze. "... No idea what would happen." he said, nodding.
"I remember Drot'ook. We've been living, surviving, and traveling together for a long time now. Tesswyn and you are both very important to me. The thing is lately I've feel like I've been kept in the dark about some things. Tesswyn isn't talking to me... and I can't figure out why."
Charles gave a long sigh and shook his head at Drot'ook.
"We were supposed to see what trouble had befallen Lemuel and if possible bring him and the relics back to the Sheikh. We'd made it, we'd had everything taken care of. I was tired too, so tired of the Wastes, and all I wanted was to rest. Tesswyn pressed to get them to the Sheikh as soon as possible and I heard no objection from you before we got to the city. Kahtia agreed, but when we realized you were gone, they went to fetch you."
Charles voice dropped to a sharp tone. "Now what I don't understand... what I can't believe, is that Tesswyn would have gotten the staff and that Kahtia would have asked her to give it to you, not in that state of mind. You forced them, didn't you?"
Drot stood up after hearing Charles' accusations, not in aggression but not with aggression. He turned around on his one foot, not able to look at his brother.
"Of course I did! I had to still Kahtia, I don't know the woman! But I didn't use the scepter on dear Tesswyn! She wouldn't hear the words I had to say but she heard Kahtia well enough!"
Now turning to Charles, tears forming in his eye. At the same time, they seem to be turning red and flickering.
"Likely that neither of you have truly noticed, but it's something I've grow accustom to dealing with, as my word has only ever been considered when there is no one left to speak! What else was I to do Charles!? Tell me in your heart of hearts that you were ready to hand the mask over to the Sheik! That you knew only good could come of that decision! A king! already having control over the land, wasn't going to fall to the whisperings of that mask or the scepter!? Did you truly believe nothing evil was going to come of that choice!?"
Charles felt guilt build immediately as Drot'ook spoke to him. "You felt... no, you feel alone. I am sorry I let you feel that way, Drot'ook." he crossed over to his brother. "You did the smart thing, Drot'ook. You chose to protect yourself from a person we've only just met by commanding her with the rod. By not trusting her, you felt secure enough to make your claim that you were doing the right thing. But here's the thing, I realized from the tomb, when we saw that mural come alive, there's a pattern to all things, Brother."
"We have no idea how that man maintains who he is, if the information we gathered was correct. He was a Sin Eater, he deals with darkness on a regular basis, and somehow he remained sane. Maybe he has some other relic that could have protected him. Perhaps he had some way to purify the artifacts. We didn't speak with Lemuel about it and we knew very little about him. We jumped to conclusions... and we paid the price." He reached up to where is ear was, and glanced down at Drot'ook
Drot chuckled lightly, despite himself.
"Perhaps he is already insane. They are the best at hiding it you know... Gar was that way I think. Insane... Troubled... At least more than we are, but the bastard was good at hiding it... "
Drot puts a hand on Charles' shoulder, then cups his hand that was over his missing ear.
"I know what I did was the wrong thing, using the staff, there was so much evil in it...."
He sits down again and turns to his notebook.
".........I have read so many books, made so many observations. Nothing has ever come close to this last entry......"
His voice becomes soothing as he begins to read his own journal.
"Upon breaking the ancient scepter, a billion particles, brighter than the midday sun, burst forth. They immediately scorched my leg; exploding outward at a rate that killed most, leveled all, and then reacted with the debris of an artifact of equal power's particles. These went on to form a rift in the void that was quickly mended when the "Hero of the Oasis" sacrificed his life. His leap into the rift and subsequent and, still to this day, continuous destruction of the Demon Lord's forces, is all that stands between the city of dancing waters, and obliteration."
A tear had welled and fallen into the notebook at some point, during Drot's reading. When he finished, he stared at the page, silently shaking his head.
"... and some of us paid a steeper price than others." Charles finished. "A small but fitting story for Gärwin's bravery."
He sighed.
"Maybe the Sheikh is mad, but we'll likely never know now, Drot'ook. We'll never know how a lot of things could have turned out. "
"Making Kahtia use her enchantment spells on Tesswyn is easily the worst thing you have done. I don't know that I can forgive you for that." He crossed the room back to the door and stopped. "But I'm sure you've thought about that a lot, maybe you've even spoken with them already... we have to make it up to these people... and especially to Kahtia and Tesswyn."
"But!..."
The orc began, but he sputters and stops knowing there was no point. Arguing would only make things worse. Unfortunately that what not everyone's opinion, and the prominence of The Berserker's opinions was quickly growing. The orc began snarling to himself, speaking with two voices, albeit quietly.
"IT SAME! FIGHTING HEADS AN FIGHTING HANDS! NEW GODLY! OLD GODLY! DEMON GODLY! CHARLLLS NOT SORRY! GARIN NOT SORRY! TESS NOT SORRY! PRETTY LADY NOT SORRY!... DROT......... WE NOT SORRY!"
A coughing fit overtakes the orc as he lifts himself onto his bed. He grabs his tattered sheet and covers his face with it, but the redness in his eyes spreads to his hands.
Charles had been trying to work past things but he just couldn't let it go.
"Drot?! What the... what's happening?" Charles crosses the room.
It dawned on him, finally he recognized what was happening but he'd never seen it happen so slowly before.
"Drot? No, wait, you're the Berserker.... Give Drot'ook his mind back!"
Drot sits on the bed with his entire body tensed, as his red and vascular skin fights back and forth with the fuller green skin. In this moment, a voice comes out of Drot that you've only heard once before, a sunny morning by a lake in the desolate.
"Well, Charles, that's not quite right. We share."
"WEL, CHARLL, YOU NOT RIGHT, SHARE-ING!"
Charles looked at the changing skin of the Orc, hearing the mixed voices, it was disconcerting for him. "So you're one in the same? How's your mind holding up?"
Drot finds reprieve in Charles' change in tone, and he visibly relaxes, looking more normal.
"F- fine Charles, we've just come to a disagreement and, well, you know how he gets sometimes."
A smile creeps across Drot's face, the first time he'd smiled in a while. No longer fighting inside, Drot looks at Charles for a moment, searching his face.
"I guess I'm getting a better picture now." he sighed.
"We made so many decisions Drot'ook, and many of them were the wrong ones. It's not even that we just wasted our time out here... we broke apart."
Drot stands and hops over to Charles, a quizzical look on his face.
"We let our egos, and fear lead us, at least I know that I did. There may be other factors as well, but if we make it out of here with our minds intact, it won't happen again... I'm ashamed I got so close to losing my family..."
He puts a hand on Charles' shoulder and leans on him for support. Drot bends down and peers into the man's face for a few moments.
"Charles, it looks like you've aged years since we've been in the desert... H-. how... Hmmm..."
He touches a wrinkle on his face, briefly, and straightens back up. The gears in this mind working through the possibilities.
Charles frowns at Drot'ook's words. "The desert certainly wasn't kind to us in any way."
Drot reaches for his notebook, the leather bound cover was blackened and nearly destroyed, but the orc hadn't had time to worry about that.
"Indeed... But I'm not trying to make light of the situation. Your face and skin, from what it was a few days ago, now looks like it belongs to a man decades older than yourself. This is far more than mere stress and fatigue... "
Charles looked at Drot'ook with some disbelief. "What? That's not possible Drot'ook."
Drot gave Charles a deadpan gaze, and raised an eyebrow.
"You were flying through a desert storm a few days ago, and we just survived an explosion that ripped a hole in the void, but accelerated aging is impossible?"
He grinned at the priest, knowing full well that he was being obtuse.
"Although I don't know much about it or its intricacies, time magic could be at play here, perhaps an adverse effect of the mask... Did you... sleep with it on?"
"What? No, I took it off when I slept. It was too hot to keep it on then."
Charles sighed. "I just... I don't want to believe what you're saying."
Drot thinks for a few more moments before continuing.
"When we get home, I will look more into it. You seem in good health, as well as it can be anyway... So don't worry about it too much."
Drot leans on the broken table.
"I didn't mean to change the subject... Is there anything else you wanted to talk about? I've forgotten where we were in the conversation..."
Charles seemed distracted by Drot's words but he shook his head. "No Drot, I said my piece. Gärwin's death has me on edge and I've been busy with helping here... ..." His shoulder's slumped. "I think the truth is I'm just delaying in leaving here because I don't know what to do next. We came here for a reason and now it's gone. I meant to make us whole again. Gärwin too. Hell, maybe even help Kahtia. I had this vague idea about raising an army to battle whatever came through the void if we couldn't stop it. But then Gärwin did. If the New God heard me and then acted maybe he's fine, but if not, now his soul is in Hell."
Charles gave a soft, derisive chuckle.
"It's strange, we had this momentum going when we were all together and for a while it felt like we could just keep moving along. I don't know if Kahtia will help with that or not. But without Gärwin, we're going to need to take some time and recuperate."
Drot nodded.
"I agree..."
Drot raised a finger in protest, and shook it at his brother to punctuate his next few words.
"Yet not as strange when you look at it from a distance, Charles. Just think, what's the strongest driving force for corruption?..."
Charles looked thoughtful. "I suppose some perspective helps. Uh... Temptation?"
Drot cocks an eyebrow and gives a curt nod.
"Perhaps for some, a matter of circumstance. I would consider it to be power. "
The orc closes his eyes, concentrating, as particles of magical energy form around him. He breathes deep and inhales them; his tired wounds from the day mending slightly.
"Even we got caught up in its grasp I think, it's one of the most drastically changing variables in our lives."
"I can't really deny that, Drot. So what do you suggest now?"
"Once we've done all we can here... I have a school to get back to. There are still people relying on us back in the village, Pell and Billy, all the others. That's what I need to do Charles. I've tired; tired of moving around, tired of risking my life for things I don't believe in... I came on this journey, not because I have sin to be eaten but because I believe in you, and I know that you believe in that. I am more than willing to continue to help you get what you seek, a cleansed soul as it were, and anything else. You're my brother Charles, and that will never change."
Those words that his friend often said perked up the orc's ears. He quickly looked around to see where the knight was but it was too late. He had flung himself into the void and Drot's heart sunk. He knew there was nothing more honorable the dwarf could have done, but that did not keep him from silently weeping for one of his only true friends...
Drot confirms Tesswyn's assessment of the situation.
"The portal in Asylum required a sacrifice of blood to close, it was just as easy to put the cultist who opened it through, so Regulus and I did just that..."
Kahtia and Tesswyn's mention of a genie reminded Drot of his original instinct when he woke. Getting to the healing waters felt like the right thing to do, so he followed as quickly as he could.
Finding a piece of wood, only charred and still sturdy, Drot was able to stand and look around. His wounds, though severe, were not causing him as much trouble as they normally would. The charring left him with little pain and minimal blood loss.
He was able to spot Tesswyn; sobbing over the body of, presumably, Kahtia and he expected the worst. He slowly began to make his way over to them, over the ruins of the building and around the burning debris.
He had never been so uncertain of what was to come.
Even more so when he was able to see Charles and Gärwin rushing toward them, and the rift in the sky that he was barely able to notice behind them.
Drot had only every seen something so spectacular once before. On the day this whole "Journey" began he had found a chest in the attic of the old shop he worked at. Much like the brash decision he made just moments ago, he had opened the chest and in it found sights that he could not explain to this day. Maybe it for told of this moment, maybe it was a coincidence. Nonetheless he woke up much the same, to screams, to destruction and death; this time caused primarily by him. He sputters and coughs blood into the sand beside him, reaching for anyone anything. The explosion was so fantastically bright in his eyes that he was still blind in the night. His body was so overloaded with sensation that he felt little to no pain, but it slowly was creeping back to him.
One, two, yup those are missing fingers. That ring is gone...
He barely gets himself to a sitting position as the fires around him blaze. He ended up in the middle of what was left of the inn. He dragged himself toward where he knew the waters and genie were, beginning to stand but losing his balance as the lower part of his leg was completely charred to the bone. Useless now, no doubt.
What... What have I done... WE DID BAD... NEED FOOT AND HAND...
"Tess.. Charles..."
He tried to muster some volume, but his throat was burnt and dry. He slowly crawled his way toward the waters. Still searching for anyone, he knew, anyone that could make sense of what happened.
Tesswyn gets an equal glazed look in hers eyes as Kahtia had, and she slowly hands the scepter to Drot. Drot just stares at her, at his sister. All of the grand adventures they've been through flashed through his mind, at the same time the shouts from the mob in the distance echo around the tents and wall of the inn.
The orc, still looming over the two women, takes the scepter. As he grasps it, it begins to speak to him once again. Egging him on, telling him that he is one that should rule and that he is all powerful. But the look in his friends' eyes, he hated, he couldn't live with that.
Suddenly, the one who knew how weak Drot'ook was made his opinion known.
YOU NOT POWERFUL! LIES! LIES! THE BERSERKER KNOW YOU WEAK, SCARED LITTLE WEAK ORC! TESSWYN IS YOU STRENGTH, CHARLES IS YOU SHIELD, YOU ARE NOTHING AND YOU KNOW IT! NO MAGIC STAFF MAKE YOU BETTER THAN THEM! NO STAFF!!! NO STAFF!!!
"NO STAFF! NO STAFF! RAAAAAAHHH!!!!
Taking a step back; with a blood curdling yell, Drot and The Berserker grip the scepter, raise it high into the air and with all of their might bring it down upon their knee, snapping it in two with an echoing crack that rings out over the sound of the mob, the dancing waters, and the silence of the desert.
As his sister flies through the air Drot's heart sinks. This isn't what he wanted but it's what needs to be done. He easily covers the distance and now looms over her.
Disarm:1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
He grabs at the scepter and begins his plea, speaking softly.
"You heard it speak to you, didn't you? Don't you see the temptation within these artifacts? They are strong, and they call for terrible actions. If... If you don't trust me, then I will go with you. Follow you to the palace and surrender the scepter to the Shiek... I'm sorry... but I knew you wouldn't hear me. It's rare that anyone does..."
Drot speaks in an overly calm voice, an unnatural tone from the orc. He doesn't move but to stand up straight to his full height.
"Just giving myself a chance to be heard! You saw the things Charles can do with that mask. How can you think that they're so pure as to lock them away. These things were already locked away, it took us nearly dying to get them! How can you be so blind as to not see how this ends for the people of the Oasis?"
Drot waited until the they women got close before turning to them, a puzzled look on his face.
"The right hands? You can't think that a king isn't going to use these tools for good can you? He already has power over this land, there's no telling what he'll do with power over the dead. Wouldn't we be better suited to watch over these dangerous artifacts?"
Int vs. KWill:1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
The eyes on the scepter, suddenly in his hand, glow with a piercing yellow that pulls your eyes to it.
Drot followed Charles toward the building, but he was out of breath by the time they looked around inside. He was tired from the desert heat and from being near death not long ago. Heading back to the camp, Drot rested while the others did what they willed.
He thought on that for a long while, what they willed. He found himself staring into the eyes of the WAS scepter before long, but didn't remember anything between sitting and now holding the thing. He went cold for a moment, the feeling was so familiar but he couldn't place it.
When Charles returned and the group was ready to depart, Drot was mindlessly followed them. He didn't have the energy to do much more than that, and when they finally reached the oasis, and the wizard spoke of lodging, he realized he wanted nothing more than a soft bed. He had already been traveling at the back of the party silently for so long, as they rode on toward the palace, he simply pulled away from the group and made a beeline toward the inn they had stayed at previously.
The orc slept restlessly, his body felt like it did during the years he slaved under the row ship. Gärwin's vocalized sadness woke him and he reached for the dwarf like he used to reach for Lemagrag to protect him from the slavers. Once he gathered his barings the guilt of almost getting himself and his friend killed hit him like the troll had.
Drot helped Sir Gärwin with his silently, never knowing what to say. He places a small steal ball bearing into Gärwin's hands afterwards and speaks softly to him as it begins to float and spin of its own volition.
"Think of pleasant things... Uhh, home, drinking... Gold, the ever vibrant Dumpy... For me it tends to be of our family, the things we've been through and the bond we've built. You are, truly, the most formidable warrior I have ever fought alongside."
Drot plops down beside his brother and reaches into one of his pouches to reveal a cigar. It was fatter then Sir Gar's typical brand, one Drot picked up of his own volition.
"Thought you might like something different, can't think of a better time to light it then now, to celebrate Dumpy's life. He was a loyal stead."
Drot lights the cigar and hands it to Gärwin. He sits beside him and just stares at the metal ball for a while. Eventually he breaks everything down and builds the packs for the remaining horses, higher now that the load is split one way less, and waits for news from Tesswyn.
The Berserker rages back into the fray but the pressure from the eroding winds is too much for the half bitten orc and he falls to the ground, clawing his way toward his foe until he succumbs to the storm.
Drot quickly gets to work with setting up the camp with the others. He uses the stone vegetation as anchors and bases for the structure, creating another masterpiece of a shelter like he did with the barricade in the dead tyrant's tomb.
"This is coming along nicely, though I'm still uncertain of how it will actually hold against the high winds and erosion... Kahtia, is there any type of enchantment or alteration spell we can alter, to strengthen the tarp walls?... Though that could take far too long if it was anything other than the most basic spell, hmmmmm... Perhaps we can use the horses to further support the walls. Sir Gärwin, please, help me with this rope. We'll need to tie the horses to the stone, and then to the tarps with break knots in case they get spooked and run..."
Drot busies himself with his work, if the others don't have other ideas about how their shelter will remain upright during the deadly storm.
