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Warforged Artillerist CS (UA Warforged) |
Posted by: frenzied67 - 02-16-2021, 11:03 PM - Forum: Off-Topic
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Character's Name: Sawbone
Class and Level: Artificer (artillerist) 1
Background: Soldier
Player's Name: RLS
Race: Warforged, Envoy (original UA)
Alignment: Lawful Nuetral
Experience Points:
Strength: 10 modifier: 0
Dexterity: 14 modifier: +2. +1race
Constitution: 16 modifier: +3. +1race
Intelligence: 16 modifier: +3. +1race
Wisdom: 10 modifier: 0
Charisma: 8 modifier: -1
Saving Throws: Str- 0 |Dex- +2 |*Con- 2+3=+5 |*Int- 2+3=+5 |Wis- 0 |Cha- -1
Inspiration:
Armor Class: 13 AC Chain Shirt +2 Dex.Mod. +2 Shield +1 racial= 18 AC
Initiative: +2
Speed: 30
Hit Dice: 1d8+3
Hit Points: 11
Temporary Hit Points:
Death Saves- Successes __ __ __/failures __ __ __
Personality Traits: 1) War has stolen friends of both flesh and steel from me, why should I give you time when you might die tomorrow? 2) I can create a device to deal with any of life’s situations, just give me a few moments.
Ideals: You do you, I do me; no need to fight about it.
Bonds: Any being who fights at my side deserves my eventual respect, and maybe a gadget that’ll help me test them.
Flaws: Distracted easily, sometimes it lives in it's head when it is supposed to be keeping an eye out. It's quirk of muttering to itself and working mentally on projects is a sign that Sawbone needs to be returned to the here and now.
Acrobatics: (dex) +2
Animal Handling (wis) 0
Arcana (int) 2+3=+5
Athletics (str) 2+0=+2
Deception (cha) -1
History (int) +3
Insight (wis) 0
Intimidation (cha) 2-1=+1
Investigation (int) 2+3=+5
Medicine (wis) 0
Nature (int) +3
Perception (wis) 2+0=+2
Performance (cha) -1
Persuasion (cha) -1
Religion (int) +3
Sleight of Hand (dex) +2
Stealth (dex) +2
Survival (wis) 0
Passive Perception: 13
Proficiencies and Languages: +2 Proficiency Bonus. (race) read, write, and speak Common.
Specialized Design- gain 1 skill Proficiency (Investigation (int)), 1 tool set Proficiency (Woodcarver's tools), and 1 language (Sedaran). Integrated Tool= I have woodcarver’s tools integrated into my body, I double my proficiency bonus for any ability checks I use with these tools.
(class) Proficient with light armor, medium armor, and shield. Proficient with simple weapons. Proficient with thieves tools, tinker’s tools, and armorer’s tools. Saving Throw Proficiencies= Constitution and Intelligence. 2Skills= Arcana, Perception. (background) Skills- Athletics, and Intimidation. Tool Proficiency Healer’s kit ???(instead of game set proficiency) Proficiency with land vehicle (wagon).
Attacks and Spell casting:
Weapon- Attack bonus- Damage, damage type.
Spear- +2- 1d6, Piercing; versatile(1d8), Natatorial, Thrown (20/60)
Copper Pieces: 9
Silver Pieces: 3
Electrum Pieces:
Gold Pieces: 1
Platinum Pieces:
Gems and Jewels:
Equipment:
Item- Price- Weight- Properties- || Item- Price- Weight- Properties-
Arcanist Pack- 35gp- 8#- backpack 5#, 5candles 0#, tinderbox 1#, ^scroll case w/arcane diagrams 1#, ^wand 1#, ^and arcana lore book 5#.- |
Shield- 10gp- 6#- +2AC ||
Spear- 1gp- 3#- || Thieves’ Tools- 25gp- 1#- ||
Chain Shirt- 50gp- 20#- || ^Smith’s Tools- 20gp- 8#- ||
Smock/Apron- 1gp- 4#- || Chalk- 1cp- _ - ||
Candle Lantern- 2gp- 1#- || 50’ string- 1sp- 1#- ||
Mule- 8gp- self propelled cargo hauler (Items with ^ symbol are on mule- || ^Bit and Bridle- 2gp- 0.5#- ||
^Saddle Bags- 4gp- 8#- || Bottle of Ink- 10gp- - - ||
Parchment x5- 5sp- - - ||
Total cost_150gp__. Total Weight Carried_42#_. Carrying Capacity_150#_. Push/drag_300#_.
Features and Traits: (race) ASI +1constitution. Warforged Resilience- I have advantage on saving throws against being poisoned, and I have resistance to poison damage* I am immune to disease* I do not need to eat, drink, or breath* I don’t need to sleep and don’t suffer the effects of exhaustion due to lack of rest, and magic can’t put me to sleep.
Sentry’s Rest- When I take a long rest, I must spend at least six hours in an inactive motionless state, rather than sleeping. In this state, I appear inert, but I am not rendered unconscious, and I can see and hear as normal.
Integrated Protection- (House Rule) Integrated Armor follows Ebberon Rising From the Ashes rules for integrated armor instead of UA rules (all other racial features follow UA guidelines) +1 to AC. Armor takes an hour to integrate and I have to be proficient with that armor, doffing that armor also takes an hour.
Subrace= Envoy- ASI= two ability scores of my choice each increase by +1 (Int and Dex)
(Class) HD= 1d8 + con.mod. Magical Tinkering- (pg 12 TCE) make small items that can((1) snow globe) shed 5’+5’ light*((2) velvet ring box) emits a 6 second long recorded message that can be heard 10’ away* continuously emits a sound*((3) a small hand mirror that has Cora's face) a static visual effect; can indefinitely imbue a number of items equal to my intelligence modifier (3). Spell casting- Tools Required= Use woodcarver’s tools as spell focus. Cantrips= 2 cantrips from artificer spell list. Prep and casting of spells= can memorize a number of spells equal to Int. mod. (+3) plus ½ of my artificer level (minimum of 1, round down) (1) (3+1=4 spells.) Can renew or change spell list after a long rest. Spell Casting Ability= Intelligence is artificer spell ability. Spells save DC= 8+ Proficiency bonus (+2) +Int.mod. (+3) 8+2+3=13. Spell Attack Modifier= Proficiency bonus (+2) + Int.mod. (+3) 2+3=+5 to hit. Ritual Casting= If I have a spell with the ritual tag memorized, I can cast that as a ritual spell without expending a spell slot (additional 10 minute casting time).
Warforged Quirk= Always muttering to itself and taking notes, seems confused or unhinged while talking about “her”.
(background)- Soldier- specialty = Healer/support staff (Sawbone was designated a special combat medic when they were not sure how to heal Warforged troops.). Feature is Military rank- Master Sergeant!
Description: A shallow brow ridge makes it look especially artificial, the glowing blue eyes look large and alien. Sawbone has a slender build for a Warforged, but is not skinny. It’s mass is brick red in tone, but the joints and highlights, even the sigils and magic symbols it sports, are bronze in color; somehow Sawbone’s color coordination looks off, the red and bronze clash. Long creepy fingers seem to always be in motion, with spidery movements. It may clean itself before resting, but within a few minutes of rising, it is tinkering and getting greasy and dirty.
Age: 5.5 (this model was an early design constructed while the siege was ongoing)
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 280#
Eye Color: Electric Blue
Skin: Red with bronze highlights.
Hair color: No hair
Looks: Sawbone’s oval face lacks so much definition that it seems alien to most living creatures. It’s eyes dim or brighten to express emotions, but other than opening or closing it’s mouth, Sawbone cannot offer expressive cues as to it’s state of mind.
Infusions Known- 0
Infused items- 0
Spell Casting Class(es): Artificer (artillerist)
Spell Save DC: 8+2+3=13
Spell Attack Bonus: 2+3=+5
Spell Slots- 1st=2
Spell- pg.- Concentration or ritual || Spell- pg.-concentration or ritual ||
(0) Fire Bolt- pg222 PHB- - ||(0) shocking Grasp- pg253 PHB- - ||
(1) Tasha’s Caustic Brew- pg115 TCE- C- ||
(1)Expeditious Retreat- pg218PHB- C- || (1) Detect Magic- pg212PHB- C,R-
(1)Alarm- pg192 PHB- R- ||
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Warforged Challenge Accepted. |
Posted by: frenzied67 - 02-16-2021, 10:27 PM - Forum: Off-Topic
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2/12/2021
Irik was uncertain whether to include the Warforged race into Erath, he asked for a compelling backstory. I have not asked him if he is considering the new Artificer classes in Tasha's Cauldron of Everything, but this seemed to be a great place to meet his challenge for "compelling backstory".
Backstory of the Warforged Artificer (Artillerist)
Sawbone
The Siege of Wizard’s Peak
Two men in robes carted a third figure on a stretcher, two women in sigil embroidered robes fluttered one before and one behind the conveyance. All but the bloodied wizened man on the stretcher flinched when a boom echoed through all the halls of Wizard’s Peak; the injured man only moaned while he tried to hold his own innards in; a lot of blood stained his clothes and the stretcher. Another explosion from the fighting outside reverberated through the mountain.
“We must hurry!” the woman in the lead intoned, her voice calm despite her eyes darting for signs of danger. This wizardess even sprinted a few steps ahead to open the door for the stretcher bearers and their stricken charge. Limbs of metal, torsos of steel, and craniums that shone with metallic resolve dangled off of racks or were stacked in bins in this room.
Chains dangled from the ceiling of this chamber, hovering over a series of four tables that sat side by side in pairs. One table had a completed figure of red and bronze metal laying upon it, it’s lifeless blank face staring at the ceiling with quartz eyes. Sweating under their hoods, the two men shuffled up to the empty bed next to this lifeless robotic figure. With a graceful gesture and muttered words, the woman who had trailed behind the pack made the injured wizard float up out of the stretcher to be laid gently down on the empty bed. As tender as the motion had been, the man’s pain was such that he moaned again; suffering quavered in his once robust voice.
Both women came to the bedside, the woman who had followed grabbed the gutted wizard’s shoulder.
“You are dying, Tremain, your death would be a loss to Wizard’s Peak.” Just like her twin sister, this woman’s words were calm and reasonable; tears flowed from her eyes as though defying her serene tone. “We can not let you fade entirely. I doubt if you can hear me, but I am going to put your soul into this Warforged body. You will forget who you were, but at least you will still live... and still serve.” All four able wizards raised their arms, spells were sung as though by a mad chorus.
3 months later, the siege continues
“Welcome! Welcome, students, gather around!” the medic instructor called out. Five freshly minted Warforged individuals milled uncertainly for a moment, then they shuffled over to form a line like the drill instructor's liked. Unlike the Warforged troopers marching by their little tableau, these constructed life forms were slender; even their anodized red bodies were different from the regular soldiers, less armored and bulky, they all had a flying red raven painted on each shoulder with numerical designations stenciled on beneath. The fighters had red swords on their shoulders, and more often they had their chosen names inscribed where the numbers used to be. Between the students and their cheerful Elven instructor was a table sporting leather aprons from which smith’s tools were suspended. Slender Elven hands indicated the forging equipment, urging the Warforged students to assume possession of the tools.
One student who had been constructed with a vestigial nose hesitated in picking up it’s laden apron.
“I thought we were supposed to be trained as field medics, the application of basic first aid, then the extraction of the patients from the fighting?” The Elven male’s smile deepened at the question, he hid his hands inside the voluminous sleeves of his robes. The Warforged who had the designation Envoy 1228 painted under the outspread wings of the red raven held the tools uncertainly, the blue glow of it’s eyes darkened a little; that was how a Warforged squinted in suspicion.
“We are training you to apply aid to your own kind,” the Elf stated proudly, as if that idea had sprung from his superior head.
Gesturing at the aprons again, their instructor urged them to don the smith’s equipment; his hand disappeared back up the sleeves again as though that pose were natural. “You are a new life form who is constructed by hand before the spark of life is administered. The powers that be here in Wizard’s Peak believe you should be in charge of learning how to care for the wounds your kind will receive. After all no one knows how you heal yet, if you Warforged can be healed.” Envoy 722, a Warforged who had flared flanges where a meat creature usually had ears, raised it’s hand.
“Do they think we are like golems then, who need to be hauled into a body shop when repairs are required?”
That question stole away with the instructor’s smile. As the Elf struggled with uncertainty, possibly for the first time this century, Envoy 1228 tried to fit a three pound hammer between it’s armor plating. It showed the instructor the witchroot musculature under it’s armor then it demonstrated that many of the tools would not fit.
“I could not weld this witchroot under structure or hammer it out if it were cut, and placing a series of rivets to keep myself from bleeding to death would actually kill off portions of my organic body… any of our bodies,” it stated gesturing to it’s fellow Warforged.
For almost a minute, the elf glanced at each Warforged while licking his lips, then all of a sudden the smile resurfaced; the confidence coming back brighter than before.
“I bet you’re going to have an interesting name when you get around to choosing one. See, we’re already learning something. Can any of you tell me what equipment you think you’ll need out there?” Feeling as if it had struck a blow for Warforged everywhere, Envoy 1228 waited for it’s companions to start issuing suggestions and ideas. Instead they milled around looking at each other, as lost as the Elf had been moments before.
Shaking it’s head in disbelief at both it’s fellow’s lack of imagination and the Elf’s superior patience, Envoy 1228 glanced outside of their little training area. Soldiers of both the flesh and metal sort hustled from here to there, Wizards of all abilities slowly made their way as individuals or pairs. Trotting along with some units of fleshly soldiers were some priests or priestess’s of Melwen, more rarely representatives of Andrin were attached to units. Holding up it’s hand as it saw a squad with a Melwenite trotting their way, Envoy 1228 plucked the shears out of it's apron and broke from the training group. Walking after Envoy 1228 with curiosity manifested in the lights of their eyes and their supposed instructor trailing, the mass of Warforged followed.
The young priestess’s eyes grew enormous when she realized that Envoy 1228 was waving it’s arms for her attention. Like a pedestrian fearing a jay walking charge, the girl stopped and shuffled nervously keeping a safe distance back.
“Pardon me, we are conducting experiments over here. I was wondering if you could spare a minor healing spell to help us out,” it asked the acolyte. It was as if it had given the young woman magic words, her timidity was smoothed away at once.
“Is someone hurt?” the Melwenite’s eyes automatically darted to the Elven instructor, a fact that Envoy 1228 did not appreciate.
“Not yet,” it answered.
Even it’s fellow Warforged gasped when Envoy 1228 stabbed itself in the upper thigh with the sheers it had. It had deliberately missed the metal plating guarding the rest of it’s leg and it had not stabbed too deep. The girl cringed back placing both hands over her mouth as a horrified look crossed her mien. “There seems to be a question as to how we Warforged heal. My companion of flesh thinks we should be treated as a golem would for our medical care. I would like your help in testing my counter theory out. Could I impose upon you a very minor healing spell for my leg? If I am right then we should see my witchwood tissue knit from your divine ministrations.” Hesitatingly the girl reached out her hands.
Studying Envoy 1228’s features did not inspire the priestess’s confidence, it could not feed her the expressions another flesh being could. The invocation for the goddess’s aid produced a light in the girl’s hand, and even Envoy 1228 could feel the heat, like bottled sunlight, soak into it’s leg. Even the instructor gasped as they all watched the light draw the root like material of Envoy 1228’s thigh together and sealed the hole closed. Only a smear of fluid remained behind, smelling faintly of ammonia and amniotic fluid. The Elven instructor nodded at Envoy 1228 when their orbs met in a glance, it had impressed the male with it’s display. “Thank you young lady, now we have a better idea of how to treat our Warforged injured.” She gave the lot of them a quizzical look before she hasted off to find her squad of soldiers.
Drawing itself up Envoy 1228 turned upon it’s peers and the Elf. It deliberately began untying the smith’s apron and tool set from around it’s waist. “I remember the diagrams I was shown right after I became aware of myself. Our Warforged circulatory system is just as complex as the one you were born with. Our healing procedures should be pretty close to yours, even if our metal exoskeletons are harmed they would heal given time. We Warforged change our protective surface almost every night, which means we should be able to seal up rents and gashes in our metallic exterior in time.” Grinning widely at Envoy 1228, the Elf raised an eye.
“Unlike a regular sawbones, you figured that out real quick. Put that apron back on, Envoy 1228 you will still be required to take twenty seven hours of smith crafting, as I am required to teach you those twenty seven hour over the next five days….”
After medic training, six months since soul transfer
As he did every twelve point eight seconds, the half Orc medic it was training under brushed his mane of ropy hair back; up ahead the twin wizardess’s opened the salley port door, soldiers began to hustle through the cracked aperture. Envoy 1228 could imagine the troops spreading out over the mountain’s slope as they sought their positions.
“I don’t know who you are, tin man, but Cora and Cory asked for you personal like,” the half Orc grunted. How he could grunt while whispering was beyond how a normal flesh creature operated, or so Envoy 1228 thought. It shrugged when the creature looked back at it, as the tusked male swept his unruly black hair back again. How could he give an answer to something that mystified him as much as it did his training officer, he did not know the mage girls.
From the rattle that started up, Envoy 1228 realized that the juggernaut Warforged were next in marching out onto the mountain; so far all they were hearing was the whispered conversations of those waiting and the rattle of their own equipment on this spoiling raid. The Scarred Hand had an annoying habit of ambushing sorties as they happened, maybe this time Wizard’s Peak might be able to strike a blow that would help unravel their enemy’s grip. “Come on, Tin Man, start moving forward,” it's half Orc superior commanded shuffling three steps up before he had to stop due to traffic; it swept its hair back yet again.
“The name is not ‘Tin Man’,” it stated matter of fact, slightly annoyed by the poor manners of it’s companion. More medics moved up to fill the void they had left behind, they moved ahead five more steps. “There is very little tin used in my composition, Corporal.”
Grinning over his shoulder, the half Orc grunted at Envoy 1228.
“I know you junk heaps like to give yourselves ironical names based off of the shit you go through. I was just thinking that ‘Tin Man’ was one hell of an ironic name.” As though his bangs were one massive lock, the half Orc’s hair flopped over his eyes on cue. Annoyed, Envoy 1228 let the light of it’s eyes dim to dangerous levels, what it would give to be able to sneer at it’s tormentor.
“One point of a Warforged’s naming exercise is ignoring idiots who want to bestow what they consider irony on it. That’s your irony, not mine.” One thing about being Warforged, Envoy 1228 was discovering how much inflection it could put into it’s voice. The bored exasperation it had inset into it’s words were enough of an insult that the half Orc started to chuckle appreciatively.
Cool flowing air began to blow across Envoy 1228’s exposed witchwood parts, unlike it’s armor, the root like structure had sensation. There were less stoppages in their advance the closer they got to the door, the regular troopers were dispersing at an increasing pace. That is when Envoy 1228 realized what it was doing. It was just about to step out into a brewing battle without weapons. It was going to have others expect it to rush into each little fray to pull out those who were too damaged to fight. Again, it thought of the fact that it was doing this without being armed, and it was greatly disquieted.
Turning back one last time, the half Orc corporal grinned at it. There was a fever in the creatures eyes that looked like glee, this half Orc male actually seemed eager for the chaos that was about to ensue.
“Get ready, Private junk heap, we’re next!” With that Envoy 1228’s boss swept his hair back and surged up and out of the fake stump salley port the two wizard women were holding open. Both women’s eyes locked onto Envoy 1228 as it clambered out after the other medic, one of them even started to reach out for it as it started to move to the west.
“No, Cora, he is gone. This is not really Tremain anymore,” the one wizardess who had not reached for it claimed mysteriously.
Both women watched him go as if they were sending a child of theirs off to the army. The first flash and boom started before the half Orc and it moved up to the tree line a mixed company was currently infiltrating. More spells started to detonate from the left and right, even from down hill of their position. Once again the Scarred Hand had anticipated the great spell caster’s of Wizard’s Peak. The sisters separated, magic flowing off their staves as they moved to support their troops. Someone was already crying for a medic as they reached the tree line, from a position slightly downhill of where the half Orc and Envoy 1228 were.
The half Orc with his slightly superior rank gestured Envoy 1228 on.
“That’s our cue, rattletrap!” After that insulting name it let it’s eyes flash and dim in agitation.
“Right, pig face” A black arrow zipped between the two of them, and the half Orc began to laugh almost merrily, whether it was the insult or the battle erupting all around them that caused this jovial eruption was not known to Envoy 1228. A Warforged behemoth and a tall Human man protected a fallen half Elven comrade with interlocked shields, both of them gestured the two medics too them even as a flurry of crossbow bolts punched and lodged into the metal faced shields.
Both It and the half Orc knee slid in the dirt as they came up on their patient. With happy gestures, the corporal gestured at Envoy 1228 to get to it.
“Let’s see what ya got, spitfire.” At least this time it could not find an insult in the half Orc’s nick name. “Where’s your healer’s kit?” Rib bones showed themselves between the welling blood of a deep gash in the half Elf’s torso. Envoy 1228 continued to visually evaluate the stricken male as a compartment opened up in it’s thigh, many of the gauze pads and coagulant unguents of a healer’s kit were revealed. Other tools of this trade were secreted in other hidden places within it’s body. Just as it started to splash healing powders that stopped bleeding into the wound, another soldier fell twenty feet away, skewered by an overlong arrow.
Seeing that Envoy 1228 was applying the bandages correctly, it’s superior grunted. “Looks like you got this, get this soldier prepped for a stretcher, I’m going to see what’s up with dumb fuck over there.” Even though the half Orc was supposed to remain with Envoy 1228 and evaluate it’s work, the corporal ran over and began to see too the skewered man.
“I didn’t know we had golem doctors in this army,” the human commented to it’s Warforged companion. The big juggernaut with the name ‘Blunder’ chiseled into it’s shoulder glanced at Envoy 1228, the light in it’s eyes expressing embarrassment.
Showing calm lights in it’s eyes, Envoy 1228 displayed to it’s fellow that it was not scandalized; Blunder let it speak for itself.
“Not all of us Warforged are juggernaut specified creatures. Some of us, like you fleshies, are designed to do other things.”
“Oh shit!” the human exclaimed with astonished orbs wide, almost breaking the overlap in their personal wall of shields from his startlement. “Sorry doc, I never expected a Warforged sawbones to be working for us.” For an apology, that was not half bad, the human man actually looked contrite.
Another flurry of bolts embedded their heads into the two soldier’s shields or wizzed over them. Blunder brushed itself off as though that attack had dirtied it.
“What I want to know is what Wizard’s Peak is doing for us Warforged, I notice they have you patching up the fleshies, but who is going to fix us?” Blunder asked. Pulling the folding stretcher of it’s back, Envoy 1228 looked at its bigger batch mate.
“We figured out that we heal pretty much like our flesh friends, Blunder. Other than hammering twisted armor back into place, we Warforged can be sewn up, bandaged up, and medicated just like everyone else. Healing magic works for Warforged just as effectively as it does other creatures, and if we can’t find a priest, time will also allow us to recover.”
Glancing at each other, the human male dipped his head at Envoy 1228 in appreciation for the information.
“Sorry I thought our bosses weren’t looking out for us, sawbones. If I live through this shit mission, then I’m going to tell the others. I wasn’t feeling too good about this war until you told me that, and I know this news is going to put some heart into some very dejected metal lads.” Blunder also inclined it’s head at Envoy 1228, the light of it’s red eyes blazing forth with a beauteous joy. The half Orc corporal skidded under a curtain of missiles to stop at the foot of the stretcher.
His eyes probed the injured half Elf’s bandages before he turned his attention to Envoy 1228.
“Dude was croaked before I got to him. You did a good job, but you’re taking the tail end of the stretcher. You’re shielding my ass as we get this guy out of here.” The light of anger in Envoy 1228’s eyes just was not a sufficient enough expression to impinge upon the tusked faced meat monkey’s minor brain. “On three. One. Two. Three.” In unison they heaved the injured Elf breed onto the stretcher, then the half Orc conducted another three count.
As the two of them churned back through the trees to the false stump salley port, an arrow bounced off the Warforged medic.
“They should design a back plate for us medics, or allow us to sling a shield across out tail side” Envoy 1228 complained, feeling a point in it’s armor digging into the witchwood under its shoulder plating. It had a ding for sure. Someone had taken the time to design this raid well. Envoy 1228 and it's training officer were met by stretcher bearers who relieved them of their injured half Elf at the false stump. After they communicated the soldier’s injuries, they were given another folded stretcher and sent back to aid more soldiers. The two of them managed to treat over a dozen injured fighters before the twins sounded the retreat, that was four more than any other medic team on the mountain that day.
That night, Envoy 1228 was pulled from the book it was writing by a small host of soldiers and medics. As the beings of flesh danced and celebrated around bonfires for the little victory they had won that day, Envoy 1228’s Warforged brethren hauled it aside for a special celebration of their own. They gave it the “Rite of Turpentine”. Burly juggernaut Warforged soldiers used rags soaked in the paint stripper to rub the paint off Envoy 1228’s armored shoulders as a host of metallic voices chanted “Take a name, take a name, take a name…”. It cried out a word/name that suddenly felt more than significant than at any other time in it’s short life. One by one, Warforged Juggernauts, Envoys, and Skirmishers stepped up to rest their heads brow to brow with it’s in a moment of solidarity, even as a dented Skirmisher named Ink chiseled the name “Sawbone” into it’s shoulder.
The next day
Drunken revelers began to twitch and make those restless motions and noises waking beings tended to make as they struggled to remain asleep. From their positions of resting watchfulness, the eyes of Warforged began to blaze alight. Those illuminated orbs ran through a rainbow of electric colors depending on the individual Warforged. It was the Juggernaut models and Skirmishers who shed their motionless states first, they waded into the sleeping men and women flesh creatures waking them as gently as they could one by one; the medics had different demands placed on them, flesh and metallic medics had dispensations from having to hurry up and wait in the morning.
Even though it’s witchwood under frame did not require stretching, Sawbone still rolled it’s shoulders this way and that. Over the course of the last six hours in stasis it’s living armor had popped out the arrow ding it had suffered the day before. That slight dent was a minor injury, but Sawbone saw watching itself and it’s fellow Warforged injuries as part of it’s job. Their species had not existed a year ago, someone had to begin cataloging their injuries and the remedies that were required. Maybe it should allocate one of the many mini pockets built into itself to hold tools as a place to store a notepad and writing instrument, books would have to be written. That made Sawbone wonder for a moment if Wizard’s Peak would ever let it’s people have the secrets of their creation. Why should the flesh beings be in charge of generating the next Warforged generations? Would they even craft further generations after this war?
That thought process vanished like clouds over a desert sky when it saw one of the Wizard twins walking towards it from across the parade ground. Why did Sawbone feel a sudden surge of pride for the woman well up from deep inside upon seeing her? Ascertaining that the spell caster was indeed intent on it alone, Sawbone took a few steps forward then assumed an ‘at ease’ military stance, head held high. Shorter than it was, the woman swept up to Sawbone and peered up into it’s glowing blue sensory organs. Here was one of the noteworthy leaders of Wizard’s Peak and she was interested in it. Now which one was she, Cora or Cory? For several moments she studied Sawbone’s features before a look of uncertainty flitted just under her careful mask of control.
She was a stranger too him but that show of confidence lost, ephemeral though it seemed, made a pit open in it’s guts.
“It is our inexpressive features I believe,” Sawbone opened up. The woman blinked and frowned.
“Excuse me?” she asked with knitted brows.
“You people of flesh made our form similar to yours, but our faces cannot express emotion. That omission is a great percentage of why you flesh beings dislike being around us.” It gestured to some of the drunkards still laying out in this underground courtyard. “These fine soldiers are exceptions to that rule. Facing death together allows them to form those bonds that all living beings crave, no matter what form their comrade takes.”
Instead of illuminating the woman so she could prepare for the difference it's lack of facial facility created, the woman seemed even more confounded.
“Tremain? Is that you?” Her question threw it off for a moment, a moment of familiarity came and passed like a flitting revenant repeating its last moments of life.
“No, I am sorry but I do not know any crafted being by that name.” Shaking herself like a wet dog the woman stepped back, then she glided up uncomfortably close again, rising up on her tip toes to peer into it’s eyes.
Sawbone could feel her breath creating condensation on it’s neck plates.
“I heard you took a name last night. You call that the Rite of Turpentine, right?” The woman reached up and began to trace it's mouth ridges with her forefinger, as though it were a show model in some showroom. Resenting her over familiarity, Sawbone stepped back before it answered her.
“I did, my batch mates considered my deeds in the skirmish worthy of recognition. I took the name Sawbone.”
Nonplussed by it’s sudden retreat, the wizardess dropped back to the soles of her feet and studied Sawbone from that distance. She was definitely searching for something from it, but Sawbone had no clue what she was after.
“Amazing, you sound like him, and you share many of the same mannerisms….” The woman sounded like she was talking to herself, an observation that was confirmed by the way she just trailed off. “You sound very educated for a Warforged, not many of your people have realized that our communication problems stem from our need for expression cues. You talk just like someone I know- uh knew.” Her eyes narrowed as she again drank in it's features. This woman was definitely seeking something.
As suspicions began to trigger Sawbone’s imagination, seeing the worst in this stranger, it wanted to break off this conversation. She was it's superior in rank in every respect of that word though.
“Ma’am, which one are you? Are you Cory or-” She did not let it finish. Again the looks she gave it after she said her name made Sawbone realize she was seeking some reaction.
“Cora.” After a moment of not getting what she secretly wanted from it, she continued on. “Dammit, that was stated just like him, but you really aren’t him anymore.”
Now it was Sawbone’s turn to feel it’s head reel in confusion.
“Excuse me?” Instead of answering right off, Cora glanced around to make sure no one was close. She stepped up close again to make sure it could understand her whisper.
“Do you know how you Warforged are made?” Everyone had their theories, the most obvious one was what most people of metal or flesh tended to gravitate toward.
“They say it is a secret, but most of us think that there is a hidden room here in the mountain where we are assembled. After we are put together magic is infused into us so that we become sentient beings.” It shrugged to show that even this answer felt incomplete to it.
Cora was shaking her head even before it's shoulders settled from that shrug. She glanced around again and again found no one kibitzing on their talk.
“We put your bodies together, true, but magic can not create life. Magic only creates a semblance of life. Do you want to know how we do it?” Despite itself, Sawbone found itself nodding after wondering if this were a trap. Even as it made the gesture it noticed this woman’s twin sweep out onto the parade ground from the same distant side tunnel. Just as Cora had done, Cory made a bee line straight toward it. It’s glance over Cora’s shoulder alerted the spell caster that something was happening. She glanced back and cursed as though she were less than pleased by her sister’s approach.
With desperation flaring in her human eyes, Cora turned back to Sawbone. “We infuse the souls of the willing into your Warforged bodies. You forget who you are- were, but…. Shit. Please don’t speak of this with anyone, we will have to talk later.” scrapping her feet back so that they were no longer as close, Cora assumed her boss mask. What she said next was produced in a stage voice, her eyes begged Sawbone to play along. “Congratulations on making yourself noteworthy too your peers, Sawbone. I hear the Rite of Turpentine is a noteworthy occasion for you Warforged.” For a moment Sawbone wondered what it should do with this supposedly taboo information Cora obviously wanted to hide.
Cory who was just now taking up a stance next to her sister would probably be forced to turn Cora in if it blurted the wizardess’s secret out. But that might create problems for Sawbone. Who knew how deeply this secret knowledge ran? Would the leaders of Wizard’s Peak seek to silence Sawbone permanently if they knew it knew this secret? Reading it’s right Shoulder, Cory made an impressed face.
“Social rituals denoting some right of passage is one sign that beings are sentient. Your name choosing is a moment of pride for you and your people right?”
Cora was still making an appeal to Sawbone with her eyes, she had missed the decrease in it's eye’s brightness that was supposed to show her it had chosen to remain quiet.
“Any excuse to party, ma’am.” Cory was surprised into delighted laughter, like a woman taking delight in the tricks of a dog, while Cora continued to seek expression cues from it’s static face.
“Yes, any excuse to party is a good excuse to make,” the twin said, just before storm clouds settled on her features. Cory turned on Cora, displeasure marring once friendly features. “I hope you have satisfied your curiosity, sister. This Warforged called Sawbone is not the reincarnation of your dead lover.” A weight like certain doom settled over the whole of the courtyard. Waking party goers were hastening out of the underground parade ground as fast as their hang over’s would let them.
Collaboration and love affairs of the mind
After a few weeks of trying, Cora still could not spark ‘past life’ memories from Sawbone. Cory worked in tandem on her sister’s memory project and with Sawbon in compiling data on Warforged health care. Although it never remembered life as Tremain, a human wizard of noteworthy power, the Warforged medic did discover that it found comfort in the company of both women. The medic confessed to noticing several episodes where a mysterious pride was felt when seeing Cora from afar. A friendship with both women began, and although Cora did not find her former lover, she admitted that she too felt an emotional calm in Sawbone’s company. All three of them had great intellects, and their curiosity and interests often aligned so that collaborating on each other’s projects became an every day occurrence.
11 months 3 days since creation
Wellborne Huxley accepted Sawbone’s drawing and gave it a glance, which prompted a double take as the wizard’s attention returned to the page one more time after that first cursory glance. Instead of dismissing the medic’s idea right off, as the man had many times before, he gave the rendition a closer perusal. Unfortunately for the Warforged, Wellborne drew away from the pictorial production with furrowed brows and a puzzled look.
“Is this really your idea of what future medic’s should look like?” the wizard asked. Drawing itself up to answer the man, the spell caster suddenly continued showing that the former question had not been rhetorical, Sawbone had to wait out the diatribe. “What is with all this armor… and are those wands firing various evocation spells?”
Just like a dejected flesh creature, a Warforged could feel a sinking sensation where it’s stomach would have been.
“Sir, I’ve been doing this for three quarters of a year. Each and every battle we get in, I feel vulnerable because we go out unarmed. People all around us medics are striving to kill each other, and we get picked off because we have no means of fighting back, and no one covers us so that-” The dapper wizard flicked the drawing with his offhand fingertips, making the paper crack out loud.
“Fight back? Medics are not supposed to fight back, Sawbone! How many times do I have to tell you, leave the fighting to those trained to do so! Why in the nine hells should we expend resources to turn you into spell blasters? You would spend all your time getting into brawls rather than taking care of our injured!”
Jabbing the piece of paper back at the medic, Wellborne seemed eager to dismiss the entire subject. Sawbone was not ready to concede this fight though.
“Sir, we can’t treat the wounded when we ourselves are dead. Perhaps we could dedicate certain units to grant us medics covering fire as we sprint out into the battles? Were you aware, sir, that medic casualties are approaching fifty percent of each unit dedicated to a fight?” Pain flashed through the wizard’s eyes, but the stern cast of his face did not crack.
“Casualties are up with each and every type of unit we field, Sawbone. Our combat units are suffering higher death rates than you medics are lamenting. We are cut off from all of Erath right now, we have no allies and we have no new resources coming to us, except those that trickle to us through the Well.”
Although the wizard’s words had been practically hissed at Sawbone, it knew there was no real animosity in the human male towards it, but there was a heap of frustration in both of them. Holding it’s drawing with all the carefully written notes, Sawbone grasped at the only idea it had.
“Sir, every since I was made a corporal I’ve been tasked with trying to think up ways to improve the medic corps. We have to believe that we have friends out there, we have to have faith that Wizard’s Peak will be relieved. We may not be able to work on my ideas at this time, but peace will have to return some day.” Wellborne Huxley’s eyes softened at those words, and Sawbone knew that the wizard wanted to believe, with all his heart he wanted to believe.
The Moment That Defines
Looking back at the Slight Dragonborn female it was training, Sawbone felt the same old trepidation come over it. As they trotted down the tunnel, hugging the right hand wall so that fighters of all races could pass them by down the center of the tunnel, and the wounded could trickle out along the left wall, fear began to mount. Too many times Sawbone had entered battle without the arms to defend itself; deep down it knew it could better serve Wizard’s Peak if it had some means to knock the enemy on their heels. The medics could retrieve the stricken better if the warlocks of the Scarred Hand had to keep their heads down.
Today, as it had for too long, they were fighting in their own tunnels, the enemy was now demanding that Wizard’s Peak surrender the Well of Worlds to them on a daily basis. Up ahead where this tunnel bent, lights like a malevolent aurora borealis played on the walls and reflected off the battered armor of the soldiers. Her white scaled face was showing her fangs with a draconic grimace, the young medic could not hold back the fear filling her.
“Take hold of that fear, Xathsiss, remember your training and let the fear fuel your moves,” it told the Dragonborn girl, Sawbone was wishing it could believe it’s own words as it once had.
“Seesseesaiya, I will ssir,” she vowed, her saurian eyes wild.
Rounding the right hand turn, the two of them had to shield their eyes as a brilliant white light made silhouettes of those fighting fifty feet ahead of them. As there was a lull in troops streaming too the fight, Xathsiss moved up next to Sawbone with an arm up to shield her visual organs; she halted when he did. When it could see again, Sawbone noticed the trail of bodies between itself and the raging fight where the light still flared. That indicated that Wizard’s Peak forces were pushing their enemy back. When had that happened last? It felt that lifetimes had passed since their last victory. Eagerly, Xathsiss pushed ahead, Sawbone saw her reasoning. Instinctively she believed that getting to their first patient would mean they could clear out quicker. Sane people didn't linger in battlefields.
The girl only made five steps before the right hand wall exploded outward, showering her with dirt and shadowy shapes swinging swords. After hacking the hapless Dragonborn girl down, several of the Scarred Hand mercenaries turned Sawbone’s way; the rest poured out of the new hole and streamed down the corridor where overworked Wizard’s Peak soldiers strove oh so valiantly. This was it, this was the moment Sawbone knew had been coming, and it had never had a chance to convince it’s superiors to arm it or it’s medics. Knowing it for a futile gesture, Sawbone pulled a chisel out of it’s left arm tool compartment; then it posed hoping to take at least one of it’s killers down before those blades ended it’s life. What an ineffectual tool.
“Sawbone! Get down!” a familiar woman’s voice called from behind.
Even as Cora called out, Sawbone heard Cory run through a scale of words that sizzled with menace. It dropped, rolling back while holding the little wood carver’s tool up like a diminutive holy symbol brandished to halt hungry vampires. Seven blue darts buzzed like enraged hornets over Sawbone’s head, slamming into the enemy soldiery. Half a second later five bursts of fire wooshed over it, turning the three mercenaries into human candles who danced and screamed. Then they all floated or fell down as ashen chunks and coal bits. Then the twins were quartering around the Warforged medic sergeant, working their magic in tandem to slay their enemies then seal the new made tunnel closed. Knowing that if it did not say something, good soldiers would die, Sawbone looked Cora in the eye.
It’s almost spindly arm pointed where the white light was subsiding.
“Most of the enemy are going to flank our fighters!” it shouted, hoping it’s voice would carry over the tumult. Cora glanced at her sister as though seeking permission. Cory nodded, taking over melding the stone plug they had crafted to block the counter tunnel. Sawbone's best friend sprinted off to save Wizard's Peak fighters. As it watched Cora sprint down the hall, arcane energy playing up and down her staff, Sawbone gathered Xathsiss into it’s arms. The Dragonborn girl showed no signs of life, she was merely rags of meat with a head attached. Here was another of his failures, another life lost because it could not push it’s idea’s upon it’s superiors.
Cora was wading into the surging heaving skirmish going on down the hall, Cory was half way to the scrimmage readying herself to hurl magic. A bright blue jagged light blew formations apart, followed by a burst of fire that engulfed the living and dead alike. Voices in mid cry ceased as one, a synchronicity that shot alarm through Sawbone’s body. When it’s eyes cleared of the flash dazzle, Sawbone could not see a single standing figure; friend nor foe. Cora’s face swam up, and it started to see scenes of them together that did not come from memory… not it’s memory. Cora, Cory! Sawbone’s friends!
Something was keening into a tin can. It stumbled forward already feeling the holes in it’s spirit, as if heat were blasting glass too thin to hold consistency. The reverberations of the person crying were bothering Sawbone, it wailed over and over the same wordless denial. What bothered the Warforged medic more were visions of Cora and himself straining together in a physical embrace they had never shared…. Had they? it/he saw a phantom face in a memory mirror, and reality completed its double recurve inverse. It was a face of flesh. It’s. Not his. What?
Gentle hands grabbed Sawbone while it stood over the blackened remains of Cory. The soldiers had to pry his hand open so they could recover Sathsiss’s body. Horrified for having dragged the Dragonborn girls corpse around like a toddler trekking around with a favored blankie, Sawbone started wiping the blood off his hands spasmodically. Horror started to inflect in the voice of whoever was crying out, then it realized that the mourner was itself.
Aftermath, the heartbreak of steel
Healers and medics alike fell into each others arms with tears in their eyes, cheering just was not enough of a display to release over a year’s worth of fear and anxiety. This injury ward was still too full of injured and maimed defenders, a fact that kind of offset Wellborne Huxley’s good news. Sedaria was rising up against the Scarred Hand, and the siege of Wizard’s Peak had been broken. Seeing the injured drove home the fact that the fighting hadn’t really stopped; it just was not on their front door anymore. Yet for a majority of the people Wellborne had informed of this shift in fortunes, they acted as if the strife were over.
Plucking at his sleeve, Mother Superior Aspenspire inclined her head toward her office door. Letting the Melwenite Priestess lead the way, the wizard was surprised that she shot her question over her shoulder before they reached the seclusion of her study. She was usually much more circumspect around those she was in charge of.
“Do we have any idea why the Scarred Hand seems to have lost their power or drive?” Like Wellborne, the priestess seemed to realize that the war was far from concluded.
When the woman looked back, he inclined his head toward her office to show that his news was not for public consumption. Only after she had shut the door and was rounding her desk did he choose to answer.
“We don’t have any definitive information on what was behind all this, but it seems our good fortune stems from some adventurers in Mhor.” Mother Aspenspire froze in the act of taking her plush leather seat at the mention of the dead city. “We believe something from an alternate temporal past rose to challenge the Divine Concordance. It seems that this power from history was trying to do unto Erath what had happened to the Dead City centuries ago, create a land of death that faintly mirrors life. This entity did change reality so that conditions were favorable for it, yet some people who should not have existed at all plummeted out of the fractured timeline to save the world. These heroes have now ascended it seems.”
Completing the act of sitting, the Melwenite Priestess started to nod her head in a thoughtfully slow manner.
“The gods were affected by this, then? Does that mean the rumors going around about people turning into devils and demons are true?” she asked. Wellborne noticed the subtle narrowing of the Mother Superior’s eyes. Of course this would be of grave interest to many priesthoods.
“Almost all our Scarred Hand prisoners have transformed, but they are not fully demonic, nor are any of them truly angelic… yes these changes are revealing the touch of outer world beings of all sort.”
Wellborne Huxley sat in silence for a moment, hiding his curiosity about what conclusions this ally might come too. He did not have to wait that long.
“Are you saying that bloodlines that carry the flavor of the gods and devils are being revealed?” He smiled at the woman who had been heading Wizard’s Peak’s medical services since the siege had begun. A few days ago, when it was evident that the Scarred Hand’s forces were dispersing, he had feared that the Melwenites would leave in a mass exodus back to their monasteries. A lot of character was being displayed, these men and women had not even paused for a moment in aiding the Peak.
Seeing questions without end piling up in Mother Aspenspire’s eyes at his nod, the wizard immediately began to think of an evasive mechanism that would prevent a prolonged question and answer session. As she had many times before, the priestess surprised Wellborne. Even though she wanted to pursue her curiosity she innately realized that not many answers were yet available.
“Master Huxley, you did not come down hear to just give us your news. What other reason brings you into this makeshift hall of healing?” He had to acknowledge both her restraint and perceptiveness, so he inclined his head to show her his respect.
After that he hesitated due to the nature of the request he was about to make. There were aspects of continuing pain that would flavor this subject.
“You have in your care a former medic who is Warforged. It was driven insane in the middle of a battle last week, I was tasked with finding out what I can about this being’s care?” His query caused the Mother’s head to tilt to the side, again her curiosity was peaked. This time she felt she had to indulge that inquisitiveness.
“You are speaking of Sergeant Sawbone? Why would a person of your position be curious about this creature?”
Knowing she would see past his caginess, he still had to go with the official cover story; Wellborne could not reveal that the Warforged were fueled by souls that had once been housed in flesh bodies. Clergy men and women tended to become testy and possessive when speaking of thinking creature’s life forces.
“This Warforged had taken it upon itself to study Warforged physiology and health care, plus we had ordered it to brainstorm ideas on how we could improve our medic training and first aid practices in the field. Sawbone had some ideas on how to improve our medic’s battlefield survivability that my superiors are interested in implementing." Plus they wanted this Warforged to front their publicity policies for revealing these crafted beings to the world, but he could not admit to that yet.
Studying him with a frown, the Mother Superior almost seemed inclined to send Wellborne off. She could see that he was not being up front with her, but she was also almost used to the secrecy pervading every aspect of Wizard’s Peak dealings and activities. Frowning at herself for giving in to his request, the priestess reached down and unlocked a desk drawer.
“Sawbone is not really insane, you know,” she stated pulling up two tomes and a notebook. None of the writings had a title on their covers. Wellborne raised an eyebrow at that information, inquiring after more data.
Sliding the books over, she indicated them with her eyes. “This Warforged creature has suffered a terrible shock to it’s psyche that has left it scarred on the inside. Yet it requested that I pass these books and notes on to you and the healers of Wizard’s Peak. It is cognizant enough to know that it’s previous work has to be… matriculated among the learned, which is an act of a mind capable of caring for others; a mind that is bent but not broken.” Wonder filled the wizards heart, this was great news. Wizard’s Peak would better be able to introduce the artificially created Warforged to the world without generating the expected bad visceral response from Erath’s many people; showing that these beings could be harmed and healed as all other creatures would negate a lot of negative impressions.
Gating in the Dragonborn had caused a stir, but that stink had been from the same minority groups who already hated magical practitioners. Revealing the Warforged would stir many more hornet’s nests.
“This is good news, Mother Superior Aspenspire, Sawbone’s work has been invaluable! Tell me, when will it be able to resume it’s work?” Wellborne requested leaning back. Looking troubled, the Melwenite priestess set the notebook aside, then opened the top volume of Sawbone’s treatise. Upside down drawings, supported by neat handwritten paragraphs revealed the healing techniques that Sawbone had compiled, but the Melwenite stopped half way through the book and turned it so that he could read.
Instead of carefully drawn representations of limbs and organs, a shakily drawn cartoonish golem was shown with shoulder mounted ballista. Where once the writing had been scrupulously neat, in a flowing hand, the jagged words almost resembled ink spills. ‘All the shes needed me, I couldn’t help! They wouldn’t let me save the shes too many!’, at a tilt to the spine the next section read, ‘Empty, so empty’, then written upside down ‘Cora loved even the not me, me!’. Chills on spider legs stalked Wellborne Huxley’s spine, he knew who Sawbone had been before the transferal, and the relationships that man had while as a man. He also knew that Warforged never remembered their past lives. This was a clear statement that something was askew.
“I do not think that is what it wishes to do with it’s life,” she stated with concerned eyes.
Swallowing hard, he glanced at the priestess wondering if she suspected Wizard’s Peak’s secrets. Wellborne did not surprise any look that might have indicated she suspected the truth, but he did not like the way her eyes probed him; that look seemed to ask him to spill that which shadowed his soul. “Maybe you should talk to Sawbone, itself. It will be better able to tell you what it is thinking than I can. The visit might even do it well.” Intrigued, and feeling slightly guilty for the data he was hiding, Wellborne found himself nodding at the Mother Superior’s suggestion.
Sawbone’s cell door was open, further down the hall where the doors were closed, someone howled in a manner that was not human, nor was the sound animal. A neatly made bed had been pushed into the corner next to the door, a night stand was on the mattress to get it out of the way of all the chalk drawings on the wall. From the smudged floor to as high as Sawbone could reach, diagrams, magical formula (some seeming legitimate), and notes had been made in many colors of chalk. Doodle covered pages of paper would have seemed randomly scattered, but the Warforged patient was currently fidgeting over the placement of a single page among the diagrams on it’s floor.
Finding the right angle to place the paper sheet, Sawbone stood up as it’s eyes grew dim; it began to use its finger to scribe something in the air.
“The seeming is more than the sum of its parts, but pewter has nothing to do with any of it,” it said as it worked it’s mystery problem out. The Halfling girl who had led Wellborne into the dungeon that now housed Wizard’s Peaks mentally challenged, knocked on the Warforged’s door. It’s finger began to scribe feverishly in the air, as though Sawbone was trying to complete it’s work in the next two moments.
“Sawbone… Sawbone, you have a visitor.”
Hanging it’s head as a man would have if his thoughts had been derailed, the Warforged creature’s hand stopped tracing in space.
“Is it living? I’m tired of seeing the dead,” Sawbone inquired. Smiling proudly, the girl nodded.
“Yes, it is a living man here to see you, Sawbone.” At that, the Warforged’s eyes brightened.
“Thank you, saint fleshling, you are always so kind,” it said turning it’s head. Then, “oh.” as it spotted Wellborne. It’s voice fell an octave as it’s eyes dimmed a little.
Leaving the aperture free for Wellborne, his guide turned about and walked back the way they had come. He started for the door, but Sawbone waved him away from entering the room. Evidently it thought it’s doodles were more worthy than manners. As it tip toed through the notes and caricatures, Wellborne Huxley decided to feel out the Warforged.
“Hello, Sawbone, how are you?” In response the artificial creature barked a short bitter laugh. It chose to let that sound stand for It’s explanation.
“Are the rumors true, Mister Wellborne, is the siege lifted?” it asked. Feeling the tentative smile come over his face, the wizard nodded; he also noted the lack of it referring to him as 'sir'. It had greeted him as a civilian would have.
It hopped to the clear floor space around it’s door, then as though they were equals in rank, Sawbone offered its digits for a handshake. Inadvertently, Wellborne looked down at that hand. Although the Warforged was slender for it’s kind, that hand looked more like a tool for crushing than a living hand ever could. The hesitation was noticed, but not commented on. Aside, the wizard was again astounded at the warmth in the metal fingers that Warforged somehow generated when he did shake Sawbone’s hand.
“It’s true, Sawbone. The mountain was declared cleared of enemy forces earlier today,” he informed the former medic. Still trying to feel the constructed life form out, he added, “Many places in Sedaria are still under the warlock’s control though, so the fighting hasn’t stopped.”
Blue lights flickered in Sawbone’s eye, which somehow made the creature seem uncertain.
“Are you trying to tell me that my work as a medic isn’t done?” Surprised that Sawbone had been so direct, Wellborne nodded.
“We won’t send you back out into the field, Sawbone, we still need you to work on your medical treatise. The day is coming where we will have to reveal you and your people to Erath, and we think your work will go a long way in helping your folk be accepted.”
Blue eye lights flared, dimmed, then flickered, and a hollow moan escaped Sawbone. After making mourning noises for a moment, it plaintively said one word.
“No.” Wellborne immediately wondered if he was causing the Warforged more anguish. “No. I can’t serve you as you want me to serve. Too many end up dead that way.” It’s words firmed up as it spoke, though it did tilt it’s head as though expecting a military style rebuke. Sawbone evidently still half acknowledged Wellborne’s rank in Wizard’s Peak defensive forces. Even though he now realized that Sawbone was not insane, he still pitied the Warforged’s fragile state; and he felt his responsibility for that collapse.
Instead of pointing out it’s obligations to Wizard’s Peak, duties that had not been discharged, Wellborne inclined his head. He still remembered who this had been, and that had been a man he had respected.
“How would you serve then?” Almost instantly the lights in Sawbone’s eyes seemed to brighten with fervent intensity. Half pivoting out of the way so it could show Wellborne it’s work, Sawbone gestured inside as if presenting the crafts of a genius.
“I’ve argued for this before, but I think our soldiers, especially our medics, rush into battle with a deficit in firepower- or- or some form of protection. If they had something or somebody laying down evocation spells to keep the enemies head down, they could get into position without suffering so many casualties. And the same could work for our aid units-” As if it knew how feverish the pace of it’s words were getting, Sawbone cut itself off with a slight dimming of it’s eyes. “I know you’ve heard this before.”
Noting that resigned tone, Wellborne studied the Warforged for a second.
“Don’t you want to help your batch mates gain acceptance in civil society? Don’t you think that is a worthy goal?” he asked it. Its head was bowed, but it again indicated it’s room, this time for a different reason.
“I would like that very much, but isn’t it obvious I’m not the Warforged-for-the-job anymore?” It held up it’s hands in a pleading gesture. “Can’t you find someone else to do that job? There are a lot of heroic Warforged with great personalities who could present us in a good light, could you ask them?” It knew it was not the same person it had been before, Sawbone was declining because it knew it’s new obsessive personality would turn people of all races off.
Nodding his head, Wellborne conceded that point to Sawbone. He would indeed begin to search among the Peak’s Warforged population for a new spokes person, it had been a fantasy to consider that his former human friend could shine out from this Warforged beings personality for the duty he had been asking of it. Still, he wanted to do something for the being this Warforged used to be, for what it had done for Wizard's peak before it's collapse.
“What are your plans for providing this protection or fire power? Do you think any of your ideas are viable?” he asked it. Sawbone, brightened again, figuratively in mannerisms and physically with it’s eyes.
“I don’t have anything concrete yet, but I’ve progressed from those ideas I proposed before. You know I thought about arming people with wands with spells imbued in them.
“Then I thought of golems that fielded artillery. Both idea are expensive and would require us to establish industries requiring wizards to work in assembly lines. Not effective ideas, I know, because the population of wizards has suffered. So I thought about turning myself into someone who could buff up a unit and make short lived contraptions that could hurl magic-” it saw the doubt in his eyes, but then Sawbone stated something that made this madness seem suddenly feasible. “No, wait. You’ve heard of that artificer fad that has sprung out of the alchemist guilds? Those guys are tinkering around with devices that allow them to brew potions on the road. They may not produce the fantastically powerful droughts as the standard alchemist does, but they are making their mark nonetheless. As a force out in the field rather than days behind the front line.”
Pausing to ponder it’s next words, Wellborne tried to visualize what Sawbone was trying to propose; none of the drawings on the wall had anything to do with alchemy. “A woman from Errod has emerged with a suit of armor that she produces each day, she claims that she uses the art of the artificer to defeat proven warriors while wearing her charm infused carapace. I would like to learn this artificer art, which seems to fuse an artisan’s know how with magical practices. Boy, did Wizard’s Peak set me up with artisan skills.” Wellborne found himself astounded. Sawbone was proposing to learn a new form of fad magic to support Wizard’s Peak with. How in the nine hells was he supposed to respond?
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Poelarms |
Posted by: frenzied67 - 02-10-2021, 02:07 PM - Forum: The Judge's Podium
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In other iterations of D&D polearm weapons had reach as well as an inability to attack foes within 5'. In 5E I see that the lance is the only reach weapon that has a disadvantage on adjacent (5') creatures. No other polearm states that in their information blocks, so does that mean they can be used at both 10' and 5' attack ranges? Thank you in advance for your time.
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Migrating to Fantasy Grounds Unity |
Posted by: Ravenblade - 01-06-2021, 12:50 AM - Forum: Software and VTTs
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Starting 1/10/2021, we will be using Fantasy Grounds Unity (FGU) for our VTT. I was going to create a tutorial for installing FG Unity, but discovered that it would be reinventing the wheel...
Please download from the official site: https://www.fantasygrounds.com/home/home.php
There's an official tutorial video at https://www.fantasygrounds.com/home/QuickStartGuide.php, and install instructions at https://fantasygroundsunity.atlassian.ne...unds+Unity
Disregard the license key section of the instructions (since I will be hosting using available guest licenses), and skip to the Windows PC, Mac, or Linux Users instructions (depending on your OS).
When installing Unity, you'll want to install to a separate folder than your previous Fantasy Grounds directory.
For example, instead of the default folder C:\Program Files\SmiteWorks\Fantasy Grounds\, you'd want C:\Program Files\SmiteWorks\Fantasy Grounds Unity\
You'll want to do the same with the path for the data directory because changes caused by FGU may break the files for Fantasy Grounds Classic (FGC)
For example:
\[your user account]\AppData\Roaming\SmiteWorks\Fantasy Grounds Unity\
System Requirements - OS: Windows 8+ (64-bit only), macOS 10.13+ (64-bit only), Ubuntu 16.04+ (64-bit only)
- Memory: 4GB min, 8GB recommended
- Disk: 2GB-20GB (depending on DLC purchases) - won't take much storage because I will be hosting the content.
- Graphics: DX10 support, Video memory (2GB min, 4GB recommended)
Please let me know if you have any issues with the installation.
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Lapis Lazuli According to Enkili |
Posted by: frenzied67 - 12-10-2020, 06:25 PM - Forum: Erath Miscellany
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Among the treasure our party found were two lumps of lapis lazuli, Both Leiya Tevorova and Enkili Harbhamit Pesar Al Madii claim to have the origin story of these semi precious stones. Here is the Mandagan version of the tale, with the Onastian version forthcoming from our young priestess.
This dark blue, gold flecked stone known as lapis lazuli is called the Tears of Ahme in Mandagar. The tale as I learned it is thus: Hamaam, who was made pure, in his long span had seven sons in the spring of his life, another seven sons in the summer, and finally seven sons when age began to slow the pure one, though he had no sons at all in his winter century. Great nations did his children make, and Hamaam rejoiced as Makhim's promise came to be.
Of Hamaam's first seven sons there was one born who did not give onto Makhim and Ahme the devotion they were due. This one was greedy and spiteful, robbing his brothers and sneering at the gods. Makhim made for himself a human form and he came to the deserts to challenge this unrighteous son of Hamaam. Having wrath towards all, this evil son smote Makhim with a weapon rather than listen to words of redemption. Makhim feigned to fall before the earthly blow, but laid a curse upon the child of his creation to humble and teach him.
Not knowing her husbands plan, Ahme felt the sun falter where she resided in the mountains. Word reached her that her great husband had been slain by the mortal son of Hamaam, and her anguish was great. She, who is the best of wives wept, and her tears froze into the stone lapis lazuli and filled her chambers. She took up her husbands sword, she took up her husbands shield, and she set upon the gates of the underworld to free Makhim from death. Ahme refused to let her dead husband reside on the other side of the dark gates that lurk beneath the earth.
Makhim, who was watching the painful lessons of his curse upon the dark seventh son of Hamaam, learned of his dearest wife's intent, for all knowledge can be found by he whose bright eye and dim eye both watch all upon Erath. Rather than let his beloved divine wife face that which lies under Erath, Makhim had to reveal his ruse in order to prevent Ahme her plan from being enacted.
Afterword, Mahkim was forced to directly smite the trespassing seventh son, and the devastation was such that many widows wailed to the heavens. Ahme, who had just went through her own lamentation felt for these women and children, and she forbade her loving husband from laying them low. The other sons of Hamaam the pure adopted these women into their own tribes, for their devotion to Makhim's wise laws were strong in the way they lived. Seeing that the seed of the one they had made were righteous in heart and deed, Ahme bestowed her tears upon the face of the world. By her word, lapis lazuli should be a mineral that can be used for all things beautiful. So it is that all the peoples of Erath use lapis lazuli in their statues, in their inlays, in their jewelry, in paint and ink, and in the cosmetics that add allure to a woman's features.
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Enkili's level 3 |
Posted by: frenzied67 - 12-06-2020, 07:05 PM - Forum: Level-Up Information
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Class Archetype: Enkili/ Battle Master
3rd Level- Hit Dice/ Hit Die Type- / 3 / 1d10+2
Hit Points gained= Hit Point Total ?
Proficiency Bonus= +2
Features: Martial Archetype (Battle Master), Student of War- choose an artisan tool set to become proficient in. (Caligrapher's Tools), Combat Superiority: (pg.68) Maneuvers 1) Precision attack, when I make a weapon attack roll against a creature, I can expend one superiority die to add it to the roll. I can use this maneuver before or after making the attack roll, but before any effects of the attack are applied 2) Feinting attack, I can expend one superiority die and use a bonus action on my turn to feint, choosing one creature within 5 feet of me as my target. I have advantage on my next attack roll against that creature. If that attack hits, add the superiority die to the attacks damage roll. 3) Maneuvering Attack, When I hit a creature with a weapon attack, I can expend one superiority die to maneuver one of my comrades into a more advantageous position. I add the superiority die roll to the weapon attack’s damage, and I choose one friendly creature who can see or hear me. The creature can use it’s reaction to move up to half its speed without provoking attacks of opportunity from the target of my attack.
Superiority Dice: 4d8's plus 1d6 superiority die due to fighting style retcon. Maneuver save DC = 8+2(proficiency bonus)+3(strength bonus)=13
Superior Technique gave Enkili the Distracting Attack Maneuver (retcon) as his 1st level fighting style. Here is the text: Distracting Attack, When I hit a creature with a weapon attack, I can expend one superiority die to distract the creature, giving my allies an opening. I add the superiority die to the attack’s damage roll. The next attack roll against the target by an attacker other than me has advantage if the attack is made before the start of my next turn.
Downtime activity:1)Purchase a calligrapher's tool kit, if it is reasonably priced. (Grrr. Enkili Harbhamit Pesar Al Madii misses the days when money didn't seem to be an issue). Price 10gp. Weight 5#. Purchase a chest to ride in the wagon, 5gp. 25#. Purchase a lock for the chest, 10gp. 2#. Training consumes 20 gold.
2) Research on "Darsta". What was Darsta, where was Darsta, is our map real? There are techniques from the calligrapher's tool proficiency that should give my investigations a boost.
If we exchanged all the coin we recovered from the Skulker's lair to gold, the sum would equal 283 gp. This comes to 47 gp (with one coin left over) each divided among the six of us (fair and equitable), which would cover these purchases. That is just the coin, we have yet to determine what items to sell or distribute as of yet. Please chime in, my stout hearted fellows, if I have put the cart before the camel.
P.S. Enkili would also like his quiver of twenty silvered arrows back from Blaylocke, before that worthy goes.
P.P.S. upon doing research I have learned that the d6 superiority die from Superior Technique fighting style will remain a d6 until Enkili reaches 10th level. The Improved Combat Superiority feature of the Battlemaster is the only way to scale that die up. Until then, Enkili has 4d8 combat superiority die plus a 1d6 superiority die. I have corrected my earlier assumption above.
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Sunday, December 13th 2020 |
Posted by: Ravenblade - 11-24-2020, 10:06 PM - Forum: Velisia Game Calendar/Sessions
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I want to thank everyone for their patience with the hiatus we’ve taken from playing. The family and I are settling into our home well.
I’ll be using the final weekend of November to wrap up the moving and cleaning, and time permitting will working on some of our campaign projects.
As you know, Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything has come out and I purchased it in Fantasy Grounds and hardcopy form. After we wrap up our scenario in the Skulker’s Hideout, I would like to discuss some of the options available in the new supplement to see if there are any we collectively want to adopt.
Although the next scheduled game will be Sunday, December 13th at noon, I would like to offer an extra session on Saturday, December 5th for those interested.
Please post a reply or text whether you will be able to participate in either or both sessions.
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Sunday, December 6th 2020 |
Posted by: Ravenblade - 11-24-2020, 09:31 PM - Forum: Erath Game Calendar/Sessions
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I want to thank everyone for their patience with the hiatus we’ve taken from playing. The family and I are settling into our home well.
I’ll be using the final weekend of November to wrap up the moving and cleaning, and time permitting will working on some of our campaign projects.
As you know, Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything has come out and I purchased it in Fantasy Grounds and hardcopy form. After we wrap up our scenario in the Skulker’s Hideout, I would like to discuss some of the options available in the new supplement to see if there are any we collectively want to adopt.
The next scheduled game will be Sunday, December 6th at noon. Please post a reply or text whether you will be able to participate or not.
Please feel free to give suggestions or comments in the thread titled "The Care and Feeding of Your Game Session," located in the House Rules forum. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated.
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Game Session Recaps |
Posted by: frenzied67 - 11-07-2020, 11:56 AM - Forum: Erath 5e Background
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Since abandoning the unsuccessful Journals, I have decided that I would use my gaming notes to provide a highlight reel of our group's adventures. This may help my fellows remember our place in the game now that we have transitioned to an every other week schedule. Too my fellow players, please feel free to point out important details that I will, no doubt, leave out. You guys will have a frame of reference and different focus than I have, and I would love knowing the game through your eyes... and so would the people who check out our forum sight.
Highlights of Episode One
Erath, - Melwid 4-5th, CY1031
Through various means of travel six strangers came to Solare, the capitol of Sedaria. A human priestess from Onastia, a human guardsman from Errod, a human sorcerer from Endel, plus a Dwarven bard from the same land, and from the south there was a Human soldier from Mandagar, and a subtle Elven male (with nefarious skills) from mysterious Shandeer. Wolf of Errod knew both Blaylocke the bard, and Jolrael the Endelian sailor before hand, through brief encounters. Blaylocke had the luck to know Jolly well as he often traveled by ship. Enkili and Riardon met in Talmain and journeyed together by ship and land to the northern nations. Only Leiya of Onastia had no constant company in her travels, though she did meet Enkili in Solare’s magnificent library days after she introduced herself to the nunnery of Melwen.
Although they had all come for their own reasons, they all noticed that a public play, “The Lion Of The Ancients” was going to be performed on the 4th day of the month Melwid. Those actors held a great amount of local renown, so much so that the locals just had to share their excitement with foreigners. So, again each of them had their own reasons, the six strangers made their way to the show. Blaylocke, Jolrael, and Leiya came on their own, scoping out their individual places behind the screen of nobles and idle rich. Wolf was acting as a diplomatic bodyguard, protecting his client as they watched the show. Rodor the rogue and Enkili circulated through the crowd scoping out marks to be pick pocketed, but the play sucked them in.
As advertised the actors were excellent and had the crowed hooked all the way up to the rising action of the story, where the plots wove together to show the direction the conflict would take. At that moment, from the stage, a fireball burst out, immolating the actors and the front ranks of the well to do audience. Wolf was caught in the fire and almost died from the inferno. Jolrael was burned but shielded by a fat patron of the arts, his first instinct was to rise and bring aid to those who were hurt. Blaylocke was just outside of the blast zone so avoided harm, he too scrambled to aid the injured. Leiya was the first to her feet, her healing spells and medicinal skills saved scores of lives.
Riardon, whose child name is Rodor, dove away from the spell attack and saw a red devil creature scuttle away from the play across the roof of a nearby building. His finger drew Enkili’s gaze. The Mandagan man was no healer, but chasing down assassins felt like the right thing to do, Riardon was forced to follow when his human friend set off in pursuit. The Elf tumbled over objects in the alley as Enkili vaulted or plowed through the flotsam to gain ground on a Tiefling male running just ahead of them.
Enkili caught up with the Tiefling and tried to grab and detain the red skinned, tailed miscreant. The soldier missed his grab, but the man with fiendish ancestry turned and tried to gut the Mandagan with a short sword. Riardon placed two well aimed arrows in the villain, which gave Enkili a chance to draw Dandân Va Panjay, the giant sword he had inherited from his father, and cut the Tiefling down. City watch fell upon the two southerners preventing them from looting the dead being. They were questioned and then sent home… which was the shabby dockside inn, The Rusty Bedpan.
Unbeknownst to each other, Jolrael, Blaylocke and a healed Wolf also were staying at The Rusty Bedpan. In the morning the six “heroes” found official looking summonses addressed to them. The address was to a mansion like house of learning. Inside they were met by a man named Wellborn Huxley, a wizard at the upper end of the hierarchy at Wizard’s Peak. After exposing that he knew too much about the heroes, Wellborn offered the six the opportunity to do odd jobs for Wizard’s Peak.
They were offered gold, magic, and/or knowledge as the various forms of payment they could receive. Their first job would pay them 75 gold and a minor potion of healing to discover why the dead in Valgren’s graveyard were so restless; a local catacomb dedicated to the god Gurthen. They were given the night to think the offer over. Only Leiya and Enkili did not seem enamored of the monetary reward, she due to the frugality of her faith, he because of his high station in life. They all returned the next day, though Leiya still expressed doubts as to her suitability for such adventurous endeavors.
Highlights of Episode Two
Erath, - Melwid 6-7th, CY1031
Before Wellborn could congratulate them, much less greet them, Enkili asked if he or Wizard’s Peak had ever heard of a man tall Mandagan great sword that had the symbol of seven winged bulls on it, each bull had a full moon cradled between its horns and each moon a pentagram. The mage claimed ignorance then introduced them to Groundskeeper Cassyt, an acolyte of Gurthen. She would be their guide through Valgren’s catacombs. They made it clear to the heroes that Cassyt would not help them with anything except leading them through the benighted depth of the graveyard.
Through a recently reconstructed mausoleum, they found their way down into the catacombs, the first room they came across held a winch and pulley system that was little more than a dumbwaiter to lower the dead into the lower depths of the catacomb system. The next room had a bone pit with a narrow ledge that led to another room, Wolf, Enkili, and Riardon used their athletic/acrobatic training to cross the pit, while Blaylocke, Jolly, Leiya and Cassyt remained behind. The fighting men and rogue found three recently dug up corpses laying in a gnawed upon heap. When they moved to investigate these corpses three ghouls burst out of the dark and assailed them.
Jolrael, Leiya, and Blaylocke made the treacherous route around the pit and came running. They added sling stones, spells, and bard song to the arrow fire of Riardon. Wolf and Enkili plied their swords and managed to not be paralyzed by the undead’s touch.
Highlights of Episode Three
Erath, - Melwid 7th, CY1031
After seeking loot and secret doors (unsuccessfully), the party skirted the pit of bones and rejoined Cassyt, whom some in the party maligned for not defending their gods turf. Our heroes next came across a flight of rickety stairs leading down to a landing, then descended around a corner with more worm eaten stairs. Anchoring each other with rope, they made it down both flights without mishap. They were greeted by a medium sized statue of a four armed goddess that had insectoid features, an object that did not belong in the catacombs.
Beyond the statue was the catacombs “sun room”, a place that Gurthen’s followers used to kill vampires centuries ago. There were dead thieves there along with their rope. Six zombies fast walked into the room and beset the party before they could loot the fallen of their ropes and other gear. After a desperate fight where Enkili loaned Blaylocke his short bow and arrows, they learned that it took massive amounts of damage to render zombies inert. They had to rest an hour after this fight in order to tend their wounds and catch their breaths. The dead robbers had four hemp ropes, one grappling hook, a bag of ball bearings, and two thieves tool kits. It was determined that the would be robbers were victims of the undead rather than the motive for their rising.
Highlights of Episode four
Erath, - Melwid 7th, CY1031
in a room just South of the “sun room” was an obelisk inscribed with celestial writing, which they could identify but not read. This room had not been ransacked of corpses as many other places had been. Down another flight of rickety steps Riardon thought he had detected some form of trap, but drawing upon the Dwarven bard’s native knowledge of stonework, it was determined that two different craftsmen had worked upon the stairs.
After negotiating that set of treacherous steps they found a room where the dead were plastered into the walls as friezes in some form of macabre scenes. Half way across this chilling room animated skeletons dropped upon them from the ceiling. Again they were set upon by an even half dozen undead, and prevailed only by taking injury. Leiya used her healer’s kit upon almost everyone but Cassyt.
Down another flight of steps was a room where bones were stacked along the wall, but upon shelves above those remains were skulls neatly lined up. In an old script written on the walls the party determined that they could each ask the dead a question. One by one they made a query and were answered by myriad voices that mostly admitted they did not know. Enkili found the skull of Al’marihm of the Sacred Oasis who begged him to be returned home.
After receiving mostly disappointing answers to their questions the party moved on. Riardon had to pick the lock to a side room wherein they found the bones of a dead noble who had a floating crown and other vestiges of great magic to her. It all turned out to be stage magic and showmanship for a dead woman. Cassyt locked this shrine of vanity up after we left. They came across another room where the dead were posed in parodies of living scenes.
Beyond, the group found an intersection to the west while their hallway continued on southward. Curiosity drew them west. They found a room with zombies, though one kobold was sighted. Instead of spilling into the room where the undead could attack them all in great number, they drew the undead into the bent and curved hall where they could outnumber the zombies in attacks. The zombies resiliency was easier to overcome when the entire party could strike at them with missiles or melee weapons as a pack. Still the fighters took great damage holding their line, and they begged for a rest when the fight seemed to end.
Highlights of Episode Five
Erath, - Melwid 7th, CY1031
Jolrael, who had noticed that no kobolds had been part of the attack scouted ahead. He found trouble immediately, even as his friends were trying to figure out the best place to take a break. The rest of the party learned of his deed when he detonated a spell that caused the wall and ceiling to collapse upon him. The racket drew the party back down the bottle necked hall into the room where they had met the zombies.
Three Kobolds were ranged around the downed sorcerer, and it was due to the rapid approach of Jolrael’s friends that he not only lived, but was healed enough to rejoined the fight. Gathering together in a northern entry into that room, the kobolds taunted the heroes and plied their slings. As the group closed upon the half dog half dragon humanoids a human in fell religious robes burst through the kobolds with a scimitar, when that priest was cut down a fighting man in plate armor entered the room and began to drop the party one by one, his prowess was that great.
Through luck, and some skilled shots from Riardon and Enkili, two kobolds and that doughty fighter were slain. The remaining kobold and a few other people escaped through a tunnel the kobolds had dug, though they dropped some papers and maps in their haste to escape. The party gained a map to “Darsta”, which had been the reason they had infiltrated the catacombs. They also left behind a fancy writing kit, 8 platinum pieces, 20 gold, 10 electrum pieces, and 50 coins of silver in a locked box. On top of that the kobolds and priest yielded 10 gold crowns more, a healing salve, a tinderbox, a fancy hairbrush, bashed up plate armor, a scimitar and a great sword as loot. As a bonus from Wellborn, he granted each party member the aforementioned droughts of healing.
Highlights of Episode Six
Erath, - Melwid 16th, CY1031
After training the group came together to share the spoils from solving the undead problem in Valgren’s graveyard. Then they voted on whether they should remain banded together or not. The most reluctant member of their crew, Leiya remained only because her Melwenite sisterhood had tasked her with finding out why the symbol of a chain bound winged heart was showing up where many children had gone missing.
Also, the proprietor of the Rusty Bedpan had been marked for death by a band of fifteen ruffians known as The Skulkers. Borman (the Bedpan’s owner), had asked Blaylocke for their help in keeping him alive. As they were deciding how best to deal with these situations a note was delivered to Enkili and Riardon. Evidently the father of the slain Tiefling was upset at them, claiming they had killed an innocent man, and stating that revenge would be had.
Researchers from Wizard’s Peak, from Wellborn Huxley, had discovered that there was a scrying device in the ruins of “Darsta”. Enkili was told that he would be able to find clues to the whereabouts of his family’s lost heirloom.
Highlights of Episode Seven
Erath, - Melwid 16th, CY1031
Unable to choose a course of action, due to lacking knowledge on any of their immediate choices, they decided that they each need to go on fact finding missions through out Solare. Leiya poked around regions where her chained heart symbol had shown up, trying to find a lead on the missing children. A homeless woman filled her in on an old group of slavers who use the chained heart symbol to intimidate whole societies.
Riardon and Blaylocke attempted to contact the underground powers of the city to learn about the chained heart symbol and The Skulkers. Their efforts turned up little so they approached Wellborn in his scholarly abode. The representative of Wizard’s Peak, also, could not provide any information on either avenue of research.
Wolf and Enkili sought out the city watch to make their inquiries. Upset over the Tiefling’s note the Mandagan asked after the investigation into the attack on the play, and found out that the gendarmes had concluded it a shut and done case, Baredal Mourgan (the Tiefling) was the guilty party; as was every Tiefling just for existing. Playing at being an envoy from Al Madii, Enkili shamed them into putting forth further effort. He explained that the cities elite had been attacked at the play, and those who lost loved ones would bear powerful grudges if answers were not found. Wolf found out that The Skulkers could be found in Suther’s Alley; behind the Rusty Bedpan.
Making the assumption that the chained heart symbol and the tales of missing children was the act of slavers, Jolrael decides to investigate the docks. After many conversations he stumbles across The Torrent, a ship and crew that were the actual slavers Leiya was after. Or so it seemed. They watched the Sorcerer as he ambled on his way back to The Rusty Bedpan.
Before the party could assemble and disclose their knowledge, Blaylocke had to perform his brand of music to earn his stay at the Rusty Bedpan. He and Jolly thrilled the super time crowd. Before that Enkili had an encounter in Suther’s Alley with a pair of glowing red eyes that vanished before he could close. When the musical set was done they all tried to speak at once, but as they imparted their news they were disturbed by a scream from the kitchen. Borman’s daughter, who worked at The Rust Bedpan, had been taken by men sporting tattoos with the chained heart with wings, bound by chains!
Highlights of Episode Eight
Erath, - Melwid 16-17th, CY1031
Learning that the girl had been hustled off down Suther’s Alley they party set off at a charge in the hopes of cutting off the slavers before they made their escape. At a ‘T’ intersection they were set upon by four Skulker’s and their wererat lieutenant. They attacked with crossbows from the rooftops, completely surprising the heroes. After taking a good amount of damage, they all figured out their individual routes up to the roof tops, and took the battle to the Skulkers. Killing three of the regular Skulkers, and charming another, their boss, Boscar shifted to full rat shape and escaped.
They barely had time to loot the dead before Jolly summoned the watch (who were at The Rusty Bedpan at the time). They had to answer a series of questions before they were allowed to go after the abducted girl. Noting signs that the nearby sewer grate was often used (but not that night) they headed for the docks where The Torrent was moored. In a dark alley overlooking the river, the crew took a short break while arguing how best to get on board that slaver ship.
Highlights of Episode Nine
Erath, - Melwid 17th, CY1031
No consensus could be made concerning their choice of approaching The Torrent, seven crossbow armed sailors stalked her deck and all their choices had big holes. Finally, Blaylocke started to change into a disguise right in the middle of the trail. He instructed Enkili and Wolf to act as his guards who were to have custody of Riardon and Jolrael, who were to act as recently purchased slaves. Leiya was supposed to act as the bards assistant writing the “noble’s” thoughts down as they walked.
Disguised as a disgruntled noble customer who wished to exchange two defective slaves for better owned help, they demanded an immediate exchange from the crew. The crew let the adventurer’s aboard just to toy with them, but found out that they had bitten off more than they could chew. The Slaver crew proved a tough nut to crack and it was through Jolly’s magic that they intimidated the survivors to flee their own ship.
Jolrael and Enkili volunteered to remain on deck to raise anchor, remove the gangplank, then threaten the mooring lines. That left the rest of the party to go below to search for slaves. The ship proved to have four decks. Just as the chained and penned children were found, the Torrent's crew returned from the city with reinforcements. Riardon and Blaylocke raced to free each individual as Wolf searched for keys and information. Leiya found an oil barrel to use as a weapon even as Enkili and Jolly sawed at the mooring lines of the ship. The slavers manned little fishing boats moored to the dock to come after The Torrent.
Ushering the children to the top deck took time, and despite heroic efforts from Jolrael and Enkili, the slavers began to swarm up grappling ropes to gain the deck of their own ship. Using her oil to craft flaming crossbow bolts, Leiya charged up to the deck to shoot one of the boats that held kegs labeled as oil; she missed. Rodor joined her along the railing as Enkili and Jolrael were being cut to ribbons; the rogues burning arrow flew true. The keg of oil proved to be something else, that alchemical something exploded taking half the dock and part of the ship with it. Jolrael was nearly killed in the blast.
With the ship sinking the crew abandoned their attempt to retake The Torrent. They dove back into the water just as the children made it onto the deck. Replacing the gangplank the adventurers attempted to herd the kids to safety, but with the sinking vessel going down so rapidly, most of those kids panicked and jumped overboard. Most of the party crossed over and tossed found ropes to haul the kids out of the water, and Enkili roped the dock so he could swim to the dock carrying children. Even though most of the kids could not swim every one was nonetheless saved.
Highlights of Episode ten
Erath, - Melwid 17th, CY1031
Guiding the children along, the party noticed several slavers working with the local city watch as they slipped up the trail away from the docks; confirming their suspicions that the guards were in the pay of the slavers. Being stealthy they remanded most of the kids to the clergy of Melwen, then rested for eight hours.
When the heroes rose mid morning, Riardon found a visitor waiting for him. This messenger from the criminal underground claimed that they had stomped out the last of the slavers, but the party had to kill the last witnesses to the slavers endeavors; the Skulkers who had been in the Chained Heart’s employ. Though most of the group disliked the “leave no survivor’s” mandate, they still agreed to enter the sewers to search out the ruffians. Before they set off on that task they tried to warn the city watch and Wellborn of the corrupt guards along the docks. The papers recovered from the Torrent were not sufficient to be proof of the guards and a certain magistrates wrong doing. They were gifted with silvered weapons though, Wizard’s Peak did not like the idea of lycanthropes owning Solare’s drainage system.
After entering the sewers they found a blood trail from the sniper Blaylocke had charmed the night before, that lead them to a stair. At the bottom of the stair was a west side door, with another west side door up top, the tunnel continued but turned west after both rooms. Storming the first room resulted in a sprung ambush. Three Skulkers and a new wererat tried to cut the heroes down with crossbow fire. The party’s fighters raged through the rank and file with abandon. Reinforcements came from the back of the room, from a series of tunnels that would prove to connect with the door at the top of the stairs. One party member recieved a bite from the highly infectious rodent lycanthropes.
The groups violence cowed the new Skulker’s and their lieutenant, they all ran to get help pursued by all but Jolrael and Riardon. Those two suspected that the Skulkers would use the upstairs door and tunnel to sneak out or flank the heroes, they went to stymie those plans. After leading the bulk of the party to two other wererat lieutenants, the Skulker’s turned back to engage the party. Boscar and the last pure human Skulker chose to flee rather than face Riardon and Jolly….
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