The Badger hums along the road, with Shiaran behind the wheel. Several times the armored car has gone off the road entirely to avoid massive craters. The craters themselves were old enough to have plant life springing up on the edges, and had collected deep pools of rain water. Darius presumed the group was getting close to the trenches of the eastern front of Fildegarne. Darius explained that at one point in time the PCA had pulled a bold maneuver, driving a wedge of troops between Langon and the Argonette. This had effectively cut off supply trading and most forms of communication for months. Along the way, the group notices large patches of grass that are blackened, as if burnt. "PCA resurrection sigils", he explains. "The land carries the taint of the foul magic still, even though the sites haven't been used in around 3 years now".

"If I'm recalling the road correctly, we should only be a few miles from Midway Garrison, where we can get information and stretch our legs for a bit. I don't know about everyone else, but I'm ready to get out of this steel can".

The party left their "camp site" just before dawn, and by Rebort's reckoning of his internal chronometer, it is nearing 15:00 (3PM). The trek has taken far longer than the four hours Kallium had estimated. Recent rains have made the roads slick and muddy, and in several areas the dirt has washed away enough that navigating around it took members of the party getting outside of the Badger and spotting for Shiaran.

Rebort also discovered that by a simple manipulation of the hinges that held the side entry hatches, they could be removed entirely and stored on the small flatbed areas on back of the vehicle. While this left the driver and front passenger exposed, it's done wonders to alleviate the heat that builds up inside the car's cabin. Fildegarne being on the cusp of Autumn, was still experiencing quite a bit of warmth in its day, despite chilled nights and evenings.

The next few miles go as smooth as one could hope, and soon the garrison looms on the horizon. Concrete walls, shorter than the Langdon Navy Yard by half the height, line the perimeter. A guard shack sits next to the gate with a black and yellow striped boom bar sticks out from the shack, drooping all the way to the ground.

As you get closer, you see the walls are heavily pock marked from ordinance and small arms fire. The walls have gun slits in them every 5 foot or so, and many have been blasted nearly open.

As you near the gate, it becomes apparent that the gate is unmanned. The smell of death fills the passenger compartment of the Badger as the car comes to a halt just shy of the guard shack. Carrion eating birds shuffle away from the gate post, and more are spiraling overhead.

"This isn't good. This isn't good at all".
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:53, Tue 11 July 2017.

The morning after leaving the city under siege, Shiaran wakes to find a rolled up parchment by her head rest. There is a small message written on the outside.


R.E.B.O.R.T. is already up and alert as the others begin to rise, and reports nothing of interest passing through the night. Later, as the Badger slows to a halt at the abandoned guard shack, he moves to one of the viewports to see what's going on.

Sypher rouses himself from a night of haunting dreams he can't quite remember now.  He rubs bleary eyes and uncurls himself from his sleeping position.  He says his morning prayer then does a quick equipment check.

Once the morning rituals are completed, the young warrior looks out the windows.  He cannot help but let loose a heavy sigh.  "Is there nothing left of the living on this island?"

Shiaran stretches noisily as she wakes.  Her hair is a study in chaos from the night, but she seems well rested.  She looks around at the others and then out the window and lets out a particularly nasty curse.  From her pack she pulls out a brush and takes the time to straighten her hair.  Once that is done, she pulls it back into a loose ponytail with two separate braids hanging below the low-hanging band.

"Is this even worth stopping for?  This looks like a potentially major delay now, not a place to stop.  We should see to fuel and move on."  Her usually bossy voice seems tempered this morning, almost differential.

"I am merely a passenger and guide on this venture. I will say though that this is unexpected. The garrison is normally well defended, and judging from the birds, it was only recently attacked. If you feel this is worth bypassing though, I won't protest. There may be additional fuel and supplies overlooked though. The choice belongs to the four of you".

"Since we didn't really have a proper chance to gather supplies on the way out, it may be the best opportunity to do so now." He looks around at the destruction. "Plus, we may find a survivor or two."

Shiaran nods and offers no objection.

Upon closer inspection, the guard shack is devoid of life. There are both bullet holes and blood stains marking the inside. Whoever was here was shot at point blank range, and eventually carried off. The pool of blood on the floor has a thick black crust over the top of it, most likely sealing in the worst of the smell so long as it remains undisturbed. A single chair facing out of a window overlooking the road, and a bed for sentries to take turns sleeping and watching the gate are the only objects in the room.

Through the open gate up ahead, the path is crushed rocks. To the immediate left are large artillery pieces. The path continues forward through rows of trees, or veers right towards a long building.

Current position: Approximately T-16 on map
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 02:50, Fri 19 May 2017.

"We are too exposed out here.  Aegis vlíma."  A shimmer of force surrounds the young woman as a small turtle shell disappears into an arcane mist.  She throws back the flaps of her trenchcoat and draws her pistols, looking around for shooters.  "Let's resupply and get out of here."

]
This message was last edited by the player at 11:51, Fri 19 May 2017.

Sypher draws his sword and ignites the flame.  "Where is the fuel, Master Grintome?"

R.E.B.O.R.T. steps forward, rifle at the ready. He takes a moment to observe his surroundings and see if they have any company of the undead variety.


Anything on the 'undead or magic' radar?

Darius hobbles behind the group. "There was usually an armored car, similar to ours parked around here somewhere. My guess is the fuel cans would be around it. Keep your guard up".

Neither Sypher's detect evil nor Rebort's detect undead are registering any presences

Beloc releases his shield and unsheathes his blade. He falls back behind Darius to protect the flank.

Sypher takes point, keeping close to buildings for cover.  He is silent in his movement  Having never been here before, he chooses a direction based on the nearness and nature of the cover.  The two closes buildings are his choice so he goes to the right.  The bushes provide better visual cover than the artillery pieces, though he has a nagging feeling that might be where the vehicle is parked.

He darts over to the building, his back to the wall, the bushes in front.

[Move - y13]
This message was last edited by the player at 00:44, Sat 20 May 2017.

"Master Grintome, you have to have been here before.  Do they not have an actual fueling station?"  She strides after Sypher less darty, confident in her spell.  Anything powerful enough to get through it one shot and they were dead coming here anyway.

Soon she is by Sypher, the barrels of her guns pointed up with the guns pulled in tight to her shoulders.  She keeps watch behind those still out in the open, looking for danger they cannot see.

"Several times, but it's been well over five years. We'd routinely patrol from Langdon to here, stay the night, and patrol back. Part of that patrol was bringing supplies to this garrison, and fuel being one of those supplies. If there is any fuel to be found, it will be around the car". He stretches one of his legs out behind him, balancing on his cane. "I don't detect any living or unliving beings in the immediate area. I'm going to remain her for now and stretch, if no one minds. I'll only slow down the search anyway. Don't worry though, I'm more than capable of defending myself".

He speaks a word of command and his long flowing cloak flutters out, lifting him off the ground. He rises 30 feet in the air, and peers around. He calls down "I don't see any movement, but it looks like there may be a spent summoning circle to the north east, tucked in between the buildings. Tread with caution, the PCA aren't above leaving behind traps".

His cloak carries him backwards a bit, until he settles in a sitting position atop the 10 foot outer wall of the garrison. "Whew. Using this thing really takes it out of you" he says, referring to his cloak. "I'll be here if anyone needs me".

Shiaran looks up at the top of the wall to the aging wizard.  Her voice is a shouted whisper across the twenty five feet.  "Do you know where they usually park the...car?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:35, Sat 20 May 2017.

"If I'm remembering correctly, it would be over behind the admin building. South western area of the garrison" he points. "The building your outside of now, should be the armory. Probably ransacked. The building just east of us is a mess hall. I saw the dead grass of what I think might have been a summoning portal between the armory and mess hall. A little north of the armory should be a gear issue and maintenance facility. West of there would be a blacksmith, and behind it the sleeping quarters. All that should be correct, provided they didn't decide to change anything".

Darius points towards the N-12 range of squares denoting the admin building

At the mention of a burned out summoning circle, R.E.B.O.R.T. moves down the garrison wall to the east. He stops about halfway down, just before the circle would be in the line of sight.

He looks over to Beloc and gives him the all clear sign.

Moves to D18

With the go-ahead signal given, Beloc moves past Sypher and Shiaran to the next blind spot, stopping at the corner of the building. He sheathes his blade and draws the trench gun before peering around the corner.

Moves to E12

Sypher follows Rebort intending to defend him in close while the golem addresses things farther away.

"But the gas is the other way..."  Shiaran rolls her eyes and follows Beloc.

He glances back at Shiaran. "Secure the area first. We can't afford to be caught off guard", he says in a hushed voice.

Tucked between the buildings is the same burnt out circle of grass that you all have noticed on the trip here. The air around it is thick, and carries the taint of foul magic. Nothing around the circle stirs save for three vultures looking in vain for food, and not even a breeze blows through in between the buildings.

Off in the direction of the main path, several song birds chirp and twitter in the trees.

The faint smell of death lingers in the air, but not nearly as strong as when the lacedons and ghouls were near back at the navy yard.

Detect Evil and Detect Undead still do not register any presences.

Shiaran nods and waits for the others to move to the next building while she covers them.

Beloc's head darts around the corner for a second the back. He looks over to R.E.B.O.R.T. "Clear."

The warforged moves over to the building opposite Beloc and does a quick scan. "No hostiles detected. The circle, however, is questionable." He waves the others over, moves in and gives it a quick examination while Beloc covers his flank.

"They were here recently. This circle was used only two days ago to summon a large number of units for their undead army. This was likely used to disrupt communication between Langdon and Argonette, as well as their staging point from the attack last night."

He looks over to the other three. "The removal of this circle is highly recommended."

Rebort to J13, then to I9. Beloc to E6

"Grintome will know how."

"I'll get him."  Shiaran leaves the circle and trots toward the wall.  Once below it, she calls up.  "Know a way to destroy a summoning circle?  Is it as easy as messing with the lines as in the stories?"

R.E.B.O.R.T. chimes in when the question is asked. "Given the amount of dark energy used to create it, we would likely need an appropriate amount of positive energy to counteract it."

"Yes and no. They have to be disturbed,  but they also need to overpowered by positive energy, as Rebort mentioned. Bringing the dead back to life destroys the natural order of things, so it has to be brought back in line. Only way to do that is to impose some serious positive energy on the area. Bring the law down on it so to speak".
This message was last edited by the player at 16:51, Sat 20 May 2017.

"The magic I can provide is neither positive or negative. It comes from nature, which is inherently neutral." Beloc shrugs. "I'll help if I can."

"A blessing or something that could hallow the ground might help. My abilities do not allow me to cast anything like that, but there is a possibility that I can simulate it through an object."

Sypher studies the circle, listening to the others talk.  He finds a junction of the lines in the center of the circle, a corrupt form of the chay charts he studied at the monastery.  Golden-white fire quietly flows from hilt to blade while he thinks, igniting the blade in holy flame.

"HIIIIIAAAAAAYAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!"  With a downward two-handed stab, Sypher buries his sword to the hilt in the dirt at the juncture.

R.E.B.O.R.T's head calmly swivels back towards the circle. "Or that..."

The lines on the ground quake and shudder. The portion of the circle where Sypher plunged deep his blade unravels, the design taking on a solid form, and pops like twine under too much tension.

The strike makes progress at ridding the earth of the foul mark, but two-thirds of the circle remain unharmed. Tendrils of purple and black creep forth from the portions undamaged, and grasp at the blade. The searing white light of the sword burns and singes the tendrils, and they retreat as quickly as they came.


Will save to maintain focus

In the midst of the spiritual assault, Sypher remains calm.  In his mind he focuses not on the empty words coming at him, but those already written in his heart:


The words bolster him against the attacks, but neither does he make any headway against the magic of the circle.

Though Sypher shows no sign of breaking, Beloc can see the stalemate between the tendrils lashing out and his sword pushing back.

He walks up and places a hand on Sypher's shoulder and a pulse of light passes from Beloc to Sypher, hoping the extra resistance will allow him to focus on overcoming the darkness.

Beloc casts Resistance on Sypher. +1 to all saves for 1 minute.

R.E.B.O.R.T. walks over to Beloc. "Hold out your blade", he asks.

A little unsure of what's happening, Beloc hesitates briefly, but acquiesces. Quickly, he begins tracing symbols along the blade. "The enhancement may prove useful against the circle. Go, help your friend."

Beloc moves over to a part of the circle still infested with darkness and plunges his weapon into the earth.

Using Rapid Infusion, R.E.B.O.R.T. infuses the falchion with the Blessed enhancement. The blade becomes good aligned.

As Beloc's blade sinks into the loamy earth, the tendrils let out an audible shriek. On Sypher's side, the ground is now bathed in a deep golden light that the darkness actively recoil from. Within a few moments of Beloc taking up his end of the fight, the light spreads from Sypher and is met in the middle by Beloc's own golden aura radiating from his blade. Despite the voices briefly assaulting Beloc's mind as well, they've gone completely silent for both man and elf.

The golden light forms a completely new circle that overlaps the summoning sigil, and with and crack like lightning, sinks into the ground completely replacing the foul taint. After about 10 seconds the golden sigil fades, and the summoning circle is no more. The brown and decaying grass already shows signs of a few sprouts of fresh, green blades sprouting up in response to the overwhelming presence of positive and natural energies.

Both Beloc and Sypher are dripping with sweat, but the task is accomplished, and both feel a strong sense of relief now that the strain has lifted.

"Well, that was different."  Sypher bows his head for a moment and offers a silent prayer to Iehova.  Then he stands and wipes the sweat from his brow.  He checks Beloc to see if the elf is injured in any way.  Seeing that he is not, he sheathes his sword.  There is nothing else evil in the vicinity.  "A wonderful lesson we have learned here today, my friend.  The powers given to us to fight this darkness are even stronger together.  We should remember it in the days to come."  Sypher smiles warmly and holds out a hand to Beloc, the first true feelings of camaraderie blooming.

Shiaran's eyes grow wide at the spectacle then she purses her lips and moves them to the side while her brows furrow in thought.

Beloc locks forearms with Sypher and stands up. "Thank you, friend." He cleans his blade and sheaths it. "A solid victory, to be sure."

"Luckily, Rebort was able to align my weapon against the darkness. Otherwise, I don't think I would have been able to give you the edge you needed. As you said, we learned something valuable here." A thought dawns on him. "That reminds me. Kallium's book. He left it to me just before..."

He pauses for a moment as the events of last night catch up with him. "Just before we left. Perhaps it will give us a better idea of what we're dealing with."

"Perhaps we should consider it when we finish casing this place and getting the supplies we need.  Shall I take point?"  He indicates the building next to them, the one farthest to the East.

{Building @ JKLM on map}

"Agreed." Beloc looks over to the next building. "After you."

Sypher leaves his hands free, but moves toward the building.  He checks the door and scans in any nearby windows.

Shiaran follows, guns out.  Once they arrive at the door, she slides forward and checks the door for any traps.  "Aha, you little rascal."  She pulls out some tools and snips a wire up at the top of the door.  Inside, a grade is strapped to a table leg.  The string would have pulled the pin.  Shiaran detaches the string and the grenade and puts it in a pouch at her belt.

She looks around for other potential traps within what appears to be the mess hall.

Sypher will look around as well but will only go where Shiaran has examined for traps.  He will generally stay close to her until the whole building has been cased.

Within the mess hall there are no further traps be to seen. Food still sits on the table, starting to spoil. There are no signs of struggle, only a hasty exit from the meal. Several books, which turn out to be mundane in nature sit around the tables as well.

Back in the kitchens, a large grill has gone cold, leaving nothing but ashes and charred meat on top. A strange rod of blue metal sits on one of the counter tops, with a rime formed over it.

"Looks like everyone was in a hurry to leave. Some of them might have survived and escaped."

"We could hope, but this is a military base.  Look, the trap was set and everything is left undisturbed as they exited, but there is no damage to the building.  That was a pretty big summoning circle.  Something is not adding up here.  What kind of event took place here.  We need to look for the place where the conflict happened."  Shiaran glances over the rime crusted rod, but though it is strange, she doesn't have time or spells prepared to test it for magic or use.  Instead, she lets it lay there and moves on.

R.E.B.O.R.T. enters the room last, covering their flank. He takes notice of the rime covered rod as well, but something about it catches his eye. He slings the rifle over his shoulder as to not bump the counter as he leans in to take a closer look.

"This object radiates magic. Some sort of conjuration." He picks it up, and though his hands are primarily wood and metal, it still feels cool to the touch.

"This will be a nice mystery to unravel once we get back on the road."

After a brief moment in Rebort's hand, the rod let's out a slight puff of frost, and a fine sized chunk of ice, twice the size of a walnut falls from the rod and lands on the counter. It doesn't begin to melt, and instead begins to move of its own accord, taking the shape of a fine sized humanoid, though very blocky and squat in stature.

The little ice golem looks up as Rebort towers over him, and cowars in fear, shrieking in a barely audible tongue that Rebort does not recognize.

"Aw, Rebort, how cute."  Shiaran is intrigued by the rod, but moreso Rebort's ability to tell it was magic just be looking at it.  The golem was curiouser and curiouser.

The tiny golem continues to cower, and despite not speaking in a more common language, its body language suggests it's begging not be be squashed.

R.E.B.O.R.T. lowers himself to eye level with the tiny golem to reduce his threat level. "What manner of creature are you?"

He lays his hand on the counter, palm facing up, inviting the golem to climb on. "Odd that someone would leave you behind in this manner."

Seeing Rebort's gesture, the tiny ice golem reluctantly approaches his hand, and cautiously climbs aboard. It looks longingly at the rod he spurted forth from.

He stands back up with the tube in one hand, the ice golem in the other. "Worry not. The ice tube will come with us." He places the tube in a compartment on his hip and the golem upon his shoulder.

"There's nothing here.  Let's move on to the next building.  The more time we spend, the more likely we are to be discovered."  Sypher heads out the front door.

Shiaran smiles one more time at Rebort and then follows.

The tiny golem holds on for dear life. His pleaful gibberish has turned to more of a grumble now. Outside, Darius is still sitting up on the wall, and is flipping through a book. The birds still chirp, and the carrion eaters have started to disperse. The sun still sits high enough in the sky that it should be at least another two hours before it slips low enough behind the wall to cast shadows on the garrison.

"Right, let's go." Beloc follows on behind Sypher.

R.E.B.O.R.T., infatuated with his new friend, heads out last and not really paying attention to much else at the moment. He doesn't notice Shiaran's curiosity, as this might be one of the first beings he is able to identify with at an existential level in a long time.

He appears to spend more time making sure the tiny golem is safe and secure over scanning for threats.

Beloc whips his head around and blurts out "Hey, robot, we're still on duty here." He frowns. "Focus."

R.E.B.O.R.T's head swivels back and forth between Beloc and the golem and then readies his rifle again. "Yes, of course, my apologies."

Shiaran slides quietly over to Rebort and pats his arm.  Her voice is a stage whisper as she comforts the golem. "Don't mind Grumpy McElf.  It's important to make sure your friend is secure.  He might be a good source of intel later on.  I'll keep an eye out for you."

Then Shiaran calls up ahead in her normal voice.  "Hey, Grumpy, what's a 'robot'?"

"Robot? Hmm..." Beloc shrugs. "Thought I said Rebort..."

He looks back at the construct. "Let's go, robot."

He says in a quiet tone to Shiaran. "Thank you for the kind words. We should go before the elf continues to mispronounce my name."

He follows the rest as they make their way to the other buildings.

The next building has a heavy padlock on the iron door. There are no glass windows, but iron bars that sit high above eye level, likely for ventilation or regulating the temperature of the building.

Shiaran walks up and looks at the padlock and squats down to check for traps first.  After a quick, but thorough examination, she pulls out a couple of picks.  Three clicks later, the padlock drops into her palm.  "Piece of cake."  She looks around the edges of the door and at the latch as well.  After running her fingers gently around the same, she declares the door safe as well.

Once Shiaran's examination is done, Sypher draws his sword again and lights it up.  The white fire makes no sound as it ignites.  He eases open the door, looking for trouble, even though his unique senses tell him no evil remains in this place.

The smell of animal feces lingers in the air as the door opens. A low growl is heard coming from down and to the right. The room is divided up in to cells with a central walkway, but not big enough to house a person, at least not humanely.

Beloc hears what sounds like a caged animal. He walks over to Sypher and places his arm is his shoulder. "May I?"

Sypher nods and lowers his blade. With a thought, the plates protecting his head and face retract. He sheathes his blade and walks into the room toward the cell where the sound is coming from.

The low growling turns into a deep bark, followed by a rustling against the bars of the kennel. A massive Luskan Shepherd sits behind a caged door, whining and wagging his tail frantically. It paws at the cage door again, rattling it heavily.

"Oh..." he says with great sadness in his voice. "They left you here too?"

Everything in italics is said out loud but in druidic.

He places a knee on the ground and extends an open hand. The rest of the plate surrounding his body retracts back into his amulet as he leans toward the kennel. The dog leaps back at the sudden movement.

"Shhh... you're safe now." The dog lowers itself to the ground, not quite sure what to make of the elf yet. Beloc lowers his posture, in turn, inching closer to the kennel. "See, it's just me." He places a hand on the bars, inviting the dog to approach.

The dog sniffs at the air cautiously and slowly creeps along on its belly. One paw at a time. Beloc holds his hand steady, and when the dog finally makes it across to him, it bumps its nose against his hand. In response, Beloc slides his hand to the side, through the bars, and down the side of the dogs face. "That wasn't so bad. Was it? Alright, you ready to get out of there?"

The dog sticks his butt up in the air, tail wagging, and lets out a single high pitched bark. "Yeah, I thought so." Beloc reaches for the latch and pushes it aside. "Ok, come on. You're with me now."

The dog hops up and trots over to Beloc, nuzzles up to his chest and starts licking his face. He laughs heartily and embraces the dog around the neck and shoulders. "We're going to show all those nasty creatures whose boss, aren't we?" The dog lets out a deep throaty bark.

"Now, what shall we call you, huh?" He reaches over to check out his collar. "Apache, is it? Alright, Apache, let's meet the rest of the team"

Beloc turns and heads back out to the rest of the group, with Apache glued to his side. "Looks like we can add one more to the team. This here is Apache."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:40, Wed 24 May 2017.

Shiaran makes a face upon hearing the name, but she squats down, smiles, and holds out a hand for the dog to sniff.  "Hello, Patchy.  I'm Shiaran."

While Shiaran plays with the dog, Sypher moves over to Beloc.  "Is there anything else in here?  Druids are known for their animal friends.  Will we need to bring any food rations on for...Apache?"

Beloc nods. "Where was another room all the way in the back. The was closed, but had a small window." He pats Apache on the head as he gets familiar with the rest of the party. "Not sure what's in there, could be supplies for the animals they kept in these kennels. If not, I can take care of Apache's needs."

Apache brushes up against Sypher and gives Shiaran's hand a sniff and a lick. He walks up to R.E.B.O.R.T. and stares up at the towering figure. The construct smells so much different than anything else he's run into and isn't quite sure what to make of him. Apache sniffs around at his feet and around to the rear.

R.E.B.O.R.T. doesn't move much as the dog inspects him. Living on the base for a time, he had become familiar with this sort of creature. The ice golem, however, panics a little bit. It climbs from the shoulder it was perched on to R.E.B.O.R.T's head, and then hops back over to the other shoulder, trying to keep out of sight.

R.E.B.O.R.T. looks down at the dog. "Patchy. Apache." Then looks at Shiaran. "I get it..."

Towards the back of the kennel, the door to the next room is locked by the same style padlock as the outer door. This room has windows though, and enough sunlight is filtering through to reveal it's an office of some sort as well as a supply room, most likely for the kennel.

Shiaran pokes around the door for traps theN picks the lock with ease.  "Same key for both locks.  Look for a master around here."

Inside the small office is a cluttered desk with notes of acquisition for future working canines, as well as books and guides on training and maintaining the dogs in peak health and performance.

Along the wall are several bags of dry kibble, a few steel water bowls, and strange looking harnesses for the dogs. The harnesses themselves have straps that wrap around the torso of the dog, with a quick release mechanism. These harnesses are attached to an even larger harness. The rig looks like it's meant to be worn by a man to carry the dog, probably during a combat situation. There are also an assortment of leashes, muzzles, and a few balls and training dummies for throwing and fetching.

Beloc snoops around the office and grabs a few supplies, as well as the manuals detailing their training regimen. He picks up a few days worth of dry kibble, a water bowl, and a couple balls. He stops and looks at the strange looking harness, picks it up and tries to figure out its purpose.

He shrugs. "You never know...", and add it to the gear collected from the supply room.

Nothing else of importance is found in the room, save for a very compact machine fed gun. A stamp on the side reads "SMP-12" The armory awaits due south, the forge and barracks are west, and the admin offices are south west. Darius had mentioned the armored car normally being stowed behind the admin building.

Apache happily follows Beloc with every step he takes, and hasn't stopped wagging his tail since the door to his kennel opened.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:09, Fri 26 May 2017.

"Perhaps we should check the armory next? Whatever ammunition and supplies there should probably come with us, as long as the badger can hold it."

"Good idea."  She grabs the machine gun and any ammo, checks to see if it is loaded, then follows Beloc out.

Once at the armory, she again checks around for any surprises and inspects the lock with her tools.  Again she finds a string attached to the door and a grenade on the other end.  "That's a nasty one.  Everyone stay back for a moment."  She carefully unwraps a cloth filled with sharp shrapnel.  Inside the mess is a frag grenade with it's pin still inserted.  She clips the grenade onto her belt and shoves the cloth and junk out of the way so no one (especially the dog) steps on it.  "Clear at the door.  Give me a few to do a sweep.  Sypher, stay close."

Shiaran moves off to check the rest of the building.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:46, Fri 26 May 2017.

The armory is in poor shape. The first room is mostly empty. A large counter sits center from the door. From the looks of things, infantry men would have used this as a waiting room and received or turned in arms and gear at the counter. Through the counter and window, its easy to see shelves and crates have been ransacked completely, with only nuts and bolts and such strewn about. A gunsmith's kit sits on one of the counters still. Two more SMP-12s sit on a table, but are incomplete. It looks like most of the pieces are there, but they will require a steady hand and tools to reassemble. There is an ammo-packing press sitting on a table behind that one. The press weighs a solid 40 lbs, but has holes to mount it to a flat surface using bolts. Behind it is a chart showing proper powder loads for elemental and standard ammunition. A complete ammocrafting kit sits next to the press, and has the materials for manufacturing 50 handgun rounds, either flame or regular style, and the materials for making 20 rifle bullets in either frost or regular style.  On the far end of the table is a homemade throwing axe. It has the initials J.G. engraved on the side of it. Probably the product of a bored armory technician. There are a few runes inscribed on it.

The next and final room has several more cabinets that have been emptied. Two more incendiary grenades sit on the counter, but are missing their primers. They are still very much flammable, but the lack of a pin wont set them off.

A large stand up locker with a padlock on it sits in the corner. It looks like someone or something tried beating on the lock and the locker with a hammer, but they didn't get far. This lock is far superior to the ones on the kennel, and the locker is thick plate steel.

If R.E.B.O.R.T's facial structure was capable of emotional expression, the gadgets and equipment in this room would have probably lit his face up like a kid on Festivus morning. He peels the ammunition chart of the wall, rolls it up, and stashes it away. He collects the gunsmithing and ammocrafting kits, as well as the ammo supplies, and stacks them at the armory exit to be loaded into the badger.

When finished with that, he stands in front of the ammo packing press. "This could be quite helpful on the road. We should load this as well."

Shiaran takes some time, but manages to make progress on the lock as the rest of the party has gotten the go ahead to follow her in. With a few final twists of her tools, the lock clicks open. The heavy iron door to the locker squeals in protest as it opens, the hinges bearing a fuzz of orange rust on them. Inside hangs a strange looking suit. The cloth and leather comprising it are thick. It consists of a long overcoat that goes down to the shins, and thick, heavy boots. Steel epaulets and a steel helm sit on top, with a very intricate gas mask hooked to an apparatus that sits just above the belt line for the coat. Beneath the suit sits a large and thick disk, with tubing coming out to a sort of long wand that looks like a gun barrel. There is a trigger, but nowhere to load a magazine, and it doesn't have any sights for aiming. The disk has shoulder straps, so it can be worn like a backpack. There is an emblem of a flame imprinted on a domed metal hatch on the back of the disk, and the words "Hexenflammen" beneath it. It stands for "Witch's Flames", a common moniker for the spell "Burning Hands", in Fildegarian.  Though it's anyone's guess as to whether or not the thing performs like a standard Burning Hands spell, or surpasses it.

The suit, disregard the backpack
http://img07.deviantart.net/0e..._sledoff-d5yufth.jpg
Hexenflammen Backside
http://www.imfdb.org/images/th...g/400px-Wex_flam.jpg
Hexenflammen Front side
http://media.iwm.org.uk/ciim5/376/608/large_000000.jpg

Beloc walks past all the munitions and into the back room that Shiaran opened. The suit in the corner catches his eye, more so because of how peculiar it is rather than for personal use. "What in the world is that contraption?" He sort of wrinkles his nose at it while inspecting it.

"Looks like some kind of fireproof suit and maybe a device for projecting fire without magic."  Shiaran shrugs, pockets the lock, and promptly ignores the locker.  "Nothing else here?  We should move on."

R.E.B.O.R.T. chimes in. "'Without magic' is not exactly accurate. That device radiates a moderate level of evocation magic. I believe your assessment of the suit is likely correct though. It appears to have some sort of protective magic built into it."

"Whatever it is, we should probably take it with us. I'd rather not have the enemy use something like this against us."

Shiaran looks at Rebort with an impressed look.  "Can you detect magic without casting the spell?"

"Just as Darius and Beloc know, things touch by magic usually leave behind a lingering presence. An aura that defines its nature. As clear as I can see you standing there, I see those auras."

R.E.B.O.R.T. looks over to Shiaran. "Can you not?" It doesn't sound as if that question was meant to be an insult, but out of genuine curiosity, as if he presumed his perception of the world was the norm.

The young woman shakes her head.  "I cannot.  But you said Darius can?  How do you know that?"

"I only meant to suggest that Darius and Beloc, given their displays of magic use, would understand the imprint left behind when something is graced with magic. However, in my ignorance, I just assumed everyone could see what I see. Other than Darius, you are the first organic life forms I have had long term interaction with."

"Oh.  Well, I dabble in the arcane as well.  I know what a Detect Magic effect looks like on magic objects.  I just don't have an active spell going right now.  My little mind can only memorize so many spells and there are other, more important ones to survival in the current circumstances that I need."  She shrugs.  "Let's get going."

Shiaran heads for the exit.  Sypher follows right behind.

R.E.B.O.R.T. tilts his head to the side. "I do not understand. What makes your mind little? You seem quite intelligent, for a human."

Before Shiaran leaves the room, R.E.B.O.R.T. adds another note. "If we plan to take anything magic in nature, someone should grab the axe." He points to the homemade throwing axe on the far end of the table.

Beloc ignores most of the banter between R.E.B.O.R.T. and Shiaran. "Well, I'll get this suit "thing" moved over to the Badger."

R.E.B.O.R.T. collects all the kits and ammunition equipment.

Continuing the conversation at the door while she waits, Shiaran nods to Sypher who goes back to grab the axe.  "Thank you, Rebort.  That's sweet.  Let me explain.  Darius, for instance, can call on a lot more and powerful spells than I can.  My mind cannot hold that much information in the patterns necessary to cast, even though we are both considered 'wizards' by the world's standards.  He has expanded his mind through training and experience that I have not had opportunity yet to have.  So, it's nothe about how smart you are or how wise you may be, not entirely anyway.  It has to do with how much experience you have with the magic. "

Sypher grabs the axe and tucks it into his belt.  Seeing that Beloc is intent on the fire-suit, he gives the elf a hand getting it out of the building and loaded.  "See anything else?"

R.E.B.O.R.T. shakes his head side to side at Sypher's question. "No, nothing else. In the future, I will be more diligent in pointing them out."

He listens intently to Shiaran's explanation, taking it in like a child learning a new game. "I see. So, experience expands the mind, allowing it to hold more? Magic manifests itself through me differently. I do not cast spells the way Darius, or you, do. My primary function is to create, not just things, but vessels to retain magic. I cannot conjure a ball of fire and hurl at my enemies." He pops out a single round of ammo from his forearm. "Instead, I tell the bullet how to explode on impact, as if it were one. That is also how Beloc's blade was infused with positive energy to help destroy the summoning circle."

Shiaran's mouth opens in a slight 'O' of amazement.  "That's...really cool.  It's magic, but technological magic.  Maybe you can teach me some of it, see if I can do that kind of magic.  I love learning about stuff like that."  Then she frowns, a cute, pout that does nothing to diminish her beauty.  Though the look is subconscious now, it was developed over a decade or more to disarm any number of boys.  It likely has no effect on the golem, however.  "I almost had my own ship once."

R.E.B.O.R.T. helps the others load up the Badger as he talks shop with Shiaran. "Yes. It is mutually beneficial sharing such knowledge. In fact, doing so is also what expands my capacity for enhancements. The more I see, the more I can emulate in my infusions. I have a project I plan to start working on. You are more than welcome to assist if you like."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Sat 03 June 2017.

Shiaran beams.  "I think I'd like that a lot!"

With the gear loaded, Sypher returns to Shiaran and Rebort, then leads them across the way to the smallest of the buildings (L-N; 3-5).  He waits for Shiaran to arrive and check the door for traps and the like.

Shiaran gives the door, frame, and walking areas around it a thorough examination.  A few minutes later she declares the all clear and steps aside to let Sypher enter.

Still sensing no evil, the young monk enters the smaller building scanning for trouble from floor to ceiling.

Beloc follows in closely behind and fans out to the other side of Sypher.

R.E.B.O.R.T. approaches the build and does an about-face and places his back against the wall to cover their rear flank as they enter the building.

Inside is a mundane forge and machine shop. The forge has cooled, and black soot clings to flat surfaces like dust. There are run of the mill smith's tools, moulds for casting metal gun parts, and a well worn smith's hammer sitting on a work bench next to a massive anvil. Several shelves hold assortment of small parts, manuals, and hand tools. A few cabinets underneath the bench look ransacked.

Sypher steps back out and takes a position similar to Rebort's.  "I think this is your stop, big fella.  I'll keep watch."

R.E.B.O.R.T. walks into the room. "Thank you, Sypher."

The gentle scraping sound of metal on metal echoes as he runs his hand over the anvil. "Rudimentary tools and equipment, but more than sufficient to support a garrison of this size." He walks over and flips through a couple of the manuals. "Same thing here. It looks like this was used for both maintenance and apprenticing when the troops were actually stationed here."

"The molds might prove useful, but the majority of this could stay here." He quickly collects the molds and exits the room.

Shiaran nods.  "Alright.  If we're done here, let's move on."  She makes her way to the building just south of the forge and gives it the usual.

The southern building, from all appearances peeking through tiny slits in window blinds, is an office of some sort, likely the garrison's admin building. As Shiaran goes for the door handle, there's ever so slightly a minute amount of tension as she applies pressure. It becomes immediately aware to her that a trap of some sort has been set, but opening the door at any degree will likely set it off. This door, like the other trapped doors, swings outwards.

Shiaran stands from her crouch.  "Sy, I think we're going to have to trigger this one.  You up for it?"

Sypher nods.  "Everyone needs to move back."  Once everyone is well away from the door, Sypher rubs his hands together, clears his mind, and prepares to open the door.  He grasps the handle and pulls, attempting to dodge whatever might happen.  Sypher is from a time when magic, not machines made up the traps he has faced.  Prepared for the speed of arrows and bolts, he is almost caught in a hail of shot from a trenchgun.  Yet his reflexes are preternatural and he rolls almost at the same time as the sound of the gun reaches his ears.  The shot passes close enough to graze the thread of his garments, but otherwise, the young man is unharmed.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:58, Thu 08 June 2017.

Beloc, standing off to the side, mutters "Impressive." It sounds a bit muffled from underneath the helm, but audible nonetheless.

Shiaran rushes over to Sypher.  "Sy!"

"I am unhurt.  I did not expect a gun.  I am grateful to the Lord for the opportunity to learn and for the protection He has afforded me so that I may learn without injury."

Shiaran punches Sypher.  When his eyes widen and he rubs his arm in question, she snaps at him.  "Let that be a reminder then.  God may have protected you from the gun this time, but you are an idiot for not predicting machine as well as magic."

Sypher takes a deep breath and nods.  He is about to speak his apologies, but Shiaran has already turned to enter and sweep the building for further traps.

R.E.B.O.R.T. walks over to Sypher to inspect his arm. "The damage appears superficial."

He looks over to Shiaran, who has already stormed off into the building, and then back to Sypher. "There is a strange dynamic between the two of you. She greets your triumph with a physical assault. That seems counter productive. Is that normal?"

Sypher chuckles.  "Yeah.  For her, that's very normal."  He grins at Rebort and follows after Shiaran.

His head turns back towards Shiaran. "I see."

Clearly confused, but learning as he goes, R.E.B.O.R.T. takes up his position watching the groups flank while the others file into the building.

Beloc, shaking his head, follows in behind Sypher.

On the floor, wedged in between multiple nails, sits the trench gun. The trap was hastily made, using string wound around more nails driven partially in to the floor, to create  pulley attached to the trenchgun's trigger. The gun itself appears to be unscathed, though the flooring and door frame in front of it not so much.

This room, much like the front room of the armory across the way, is a sort of waiting room. There is a desk with various paperwork and knickknacks on it, and it looks to have been rifled through. The chair is tipped over, and there are several bullet holes in the wall behind it, with spatters of several day's old blood flecked on the wall and floor. Whoever sat here never had a chance. Five more chairs line the East wall.

To the south side of the building is a short hallway with two more doors, both open. The first is a room with three twin sized beds. They aren't fancy in any way. The room has been relatively left as is, save for a sturdy lock box on the floor with several dents in it, likely from bullets or heavy swings of a hammer.

The last room looks to be the commanding officer's office. The desk here too is disheveled and looks to have been hastily gone through. There is an odd looking rifle on the floor next to it, with dried blood smeared on the side. The rifle itself has a sort of odd, over sized cylinder surrounding the barrel. The only opening on the cylinder is from two bullet holes. It still has a magazine loaded in the bottom, and upon further inspection it appears completely full.

Both rooms will take a few moments to properly inspect and dig through, should the party so choose.

Sypher helps grab any and all weaponry and carry it back to the vehicle.

With no one else around, Shiaran inspects the locked chest for traps and to see if she can get it open using her particular skill set.

Beloc helps with any heavy lifting Sypher might need help with, Apache does a fine job staying out from underfoot.

R.E.B.O.R.T. keeps a keen eye on what Shiaran is doing.

The only weapons found are the broken rifle and a pistol, which is tucked in the CO's desk. The pistol is engraved with the initials T.G. The pistol itself has very fine filigree etched on the grip and along the slide over the barrel. It is a very fine piece and looks to be excellently constructed.

The safe, which also has the same initials on it as the pistol, is extremely sturdy and well made. It isn't clear to Shiaran immediately if she'll be able to pick the lock. Poking at the inner mechanisms tells her the springs inside the lock are very strong and will provide quite a bit of resistance to lock picks.

As Sypher and Beloc carry guns and scavenged gear back to the Badger, a peculiar noise draws their attention out to an open field south of the Garrison. A donkey brays as a short, armored rider sits atop it. He carries a massive pack on his back, with all sorts of shapes jutting out of its sides. The donkey and rider are heading for the gate of Midway Garrison as a slow pace. When the rider takes notice of the two, he raises a hand and waves.

Darius floats down from the top of the wall. "Who's this little fellow, I wonder".
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:53, Mon 12 June 2017.

While Shiaran examines the locking mechanism on the safe, R.E.B.O.R.T. takes a cursory glance around the rest of the room.

He finds nothing out of the ordinary and returns to Shiaran and the safe. "I recognize this model. Darius kept a similar one behind the counter for years. There is a slight flaw in the tumbler design. Applying pressure to the bottom of the opening with one pick while rotating the other counter clockwise first can sometimes cause more than one rod to synchronize at once."

"Fortunately, that design flaw prompted Darius to replace his security measures with ones more magical in nature."

08:28, Today: R.E.B.O.R.T. rolled 9 using 1d20+8 ((1)) Search check.
08:49, Today: R.E.B.O.R.T. rolled 10 using 1d20+8 ((2)) Aid another check.

R.E.B.O.R.T. uses aid another: open lock to give Shiaran a +2 bonus with her skill check.

This message was last edited by the player at 13:53, Mon 12 June 2017.

At the sight of the newcomer, Beloc glances over to Sypher and then to Apache. He quickly unloads the scavenged gear into the badger and casually walks around to the front of the vehicle. He raises a hand and returns the gesture with a slight wave.

Seeing no sign of alarm from Beloc, Apache plops down on his rear and watches the rider approach.

"Oh, I see.  Thanks, Rebort!"  Shiaran tries again with the new information.

With careful consideration to Rebort's suggestion, Shiaran manages to hear the tell tale click of the locks tumblers sliding in to place and releasing their hold. As the heavy door to the small safe swings open, Shiaran is greeted by the sight of a stack of paper bills, a locket, a hair comb, and a signet ring bearing the symbol of the Bleeding Palm.

As the rider of the donkey gets within ear shot and better view, Sypher and Beloc can make out the crimson color of his armor. From head to toe, his entire body is clad in iron. The pack on his back is also more apparent. Gun barrels, and lots of them, stick out in odd angles from the pack. Across his lap sits a trench gun, with a sling hung around his neck and shoulder. In his hand he holds a long pole with a carrot tied to the string, leading the donkey along. When he gets within 20 foot of the Badger, he raises the pole and slips it in to a holster on the side of his saddle, removing the carrot from view of his mount. The donkey abruptly halts its slow gait, causing the small rider to lurch forward a bit. He swings a leg over and hops to the ground and with a heavy thud and clatter. He unslings his lack and let's it fall to the ground behind him, and due to the shear weight, it stays sitting upright. He raises the visor on his heavy helmet, and Beloc and Sypher are greeted by the grinning face of a goblin.

"Afternoon gents. Oi've brought the latest shipment of me wares by. Don't believe oi've met you two. Krem Poot-toofs m' name, arms trades me game. Is leftenant Gunnerson still around these parts?".

R.E.B.O.R.T. glances over to Shiaran then back to the contents of the safe as he calculates the possible reasons for items like this to be left behind. "These implications don't look good. If the commanding officer was working with the enemy, what would cause him to leave in such haste that a safe full of magic gets left behind?"

Invigorated with a renewed sense of curiosity, he walks away from the safe and attempts a more thorough search of the room. "Perhaps there were more clues left behind."

Due to his colossal failure, again, he asks Shiaran for assistance.

08:42, Today: R.E.B.O.R.T. rolled 9 using 1d20+8 ((1)) Search check.

Beloc twitches for a moment when the traveling arms dealer raises his visor. His instinct was to immediately reach for his blade, but the goblin's disposition gives him pause. He relaxes and so does Apache.

"Gunnerson? I assume he was the C.O. around here. Haven't seen him, but given the recent trend, I'm sure he's up and about somewhere." He glances back over his shoulder. "This place is deserted. Best we can tell, the undead scourge overran it a couple days ago."

"Where are you coming in from?"

"Blimey. Overrun eh? Real shame that is. I loiked the Midway blokes. Never buggered me about on account a' being a greenskin". Krem looks genuinely saddened at the news. "Oi'm from all over, really. Up an' left me clan o'er on the mainland some years ago. Didn't much care for scrapin' by on lootin' and plunderin' folks who never bovered nobody. Greenskins is loik that though, and they didn't look kindly on me not takin' part. So I fled and came 'ere around... lessee... a decade ago? Stowed aboard wiff some mili'try cargo an' landed on the lovely shores a' Fildegarne, roight smack in the middle of a war. Not bein' one for direct conflict, I decided I could make me way scavengin' the battlefields and recovering gov'ment property, and a' course returning it to said entity... for a fair price on account ov me efforts. Had to bash in the skull of a few deaders here an' there to make me way. What about you lot? You mili'try as well?".

Shiaran pats Rebort on the shoulder and gives him a hand looking around for more clues as to what actually went on in this place.

Sypher stays back, attempts to be non-threatening, and lets Beloc and the wizard do the talking.

Beloc shakes his head thoughtfully. "Used to be. Now, I just do what I can to maintain a pulse and not join their ranks. Have you been to Coronet recently? The naval yard in Langdon."

"Oi was actually on me way there. Recently came up from Cartrelle and skirted along the northern tips of Reef Lake. Awful lot a' bloody business there roight now. Found some good scrap along me way though. Oi figured oi'd pay a visit to me favorite bunch a' lads here before heading down to Langdon. Oi don't go in to the city mind you, not very friendly for fellows like me. Quite easy to catch a platoon shipping out though and unload me wares that way. You all come from that way?"

Beloc nods. "You seem like a nice enough guy, so I'll give you a heads up. We were there just yesterday. A massive assault hit them from all sides and we were forced to head out early. Based on a few clues we found, it seems like part if that undead army came from here. If you're intent on heading that way, I'm not sure what you'll find, but be wary."

Krem's eyes grow wide. "Bloody bogs.. Those PCA are really pushin' in 'ard now days, ain't they". He stops to think for a moment. "So that part of me route is off the tables. Can't go back the way Oi came, too risky. Only way to go from 'ere is norf. Oi assume you lot are going that way too?".
This message was last edited by the player at 04:32, Sat 17 June 2017.

Not really wanting to show his hand, Beloc goes along with Krem. "I suppose that's the only way to go. Feels like this undead army is pushing from all sides except the north. Any other direction would be walking right into the dragon's maw. We came here to resupply and move on, but we stumbled on to this..." He motions behind him.

"You know of any other settlements further north?"

Krem shakes his head. "O'ver than th' Canopy Shape'ahs and Firewyrms, not really. Go too fah and you find yourself at Cold Tower. Nasty place, that is. Supposedly where the Bleedin' Palms got their start. It's empty now though. That's really it for norf a' here, unless you're countin' the dwarves as well. Managed to befriend a few o' them in me day, before they closed the doors a'course. But you're roight about one thing friend. It seems the PCA is divertin' their forces and tryin' to gain a big foothold in the region, an' it's gettin' dangerous all around. If you say they attacked Langdon, and they managed to wipe out the lads 'ere, that means they got the Reef Lake region surrounded. Oi was fortunate in me passin' norf of the area. Plenty a' dead - the kind that stay dead - lyin' about, waitin' for the birds. Most of em' looked like our boys, though there were a few turbans in the dirt too. Oi dunno what about that salty ol' lake drives em' to it, but the PCA want this area badly. Seem to be doing a roight bang up job at taking it too".
This message was last edited by the player at 04:33, Sat 17 June 2017.

Beloc takes in what the goblin has to say, and surprisingly two plus two finally add up. His eyes light up a moment, then tries to play it off like no big deal. "Well, I certainly couldn't fault them for it, the area is pretty nice", he says glances over to Sypher and Darius. "Pretty defensible too, with three sides water."

Attempting to not draw too much attention to his realization, he changes the subject a bit. "Say, looks like you're packing some serious gear there. I should take you over to the other, maybe they'll be interested in some of it." Beloc turns and waves him in further to the outpost.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:44, Sat 17 June 2017.

"Certainly. Oi'm always happy to meet new folk who don't want to kill me" he says, patting the trench gun attached to his sling, as he follows Beloc.

Given that the goblin is coming to talk to the rest now, Sypher steps forward and holds out a hand.  "Sypher.  Pleased to meet you, Krem.  I was practically raised at the Mirm Monastery.  There were two goblins there, our smith, Gloimaark, and one of the thera - a not quite master - Eeld.  Gloimaark was crotchety with most, but he and I got along well.  Eeld didn't talk much, and was often out on rounds on the Island, but he was well respected."

Sypher smiles wistfully, remembering things from yesterday that were more than ten years ago now.  He suddenly felt an ache to check out what happened at the monastery, especially if the PCA started at Cold Tower.  That tower was just up the road to the east from where he had been raised.  It had always been a strange, foreboding place that he was not allowed to even journey toward, much less enter.  Only the somdet phra racha khana and the Sangharaja ventured that way.

As the group walks north towards the admin building, Krem listens and nods, exchanging pleasantries with Sypher and Darius. "Can't say Oi've met either ah them blokes in me time here, but given me past experiences, Oi don't exactly seek out me own kind anymore eith'ah".

As the group enters the building, with even Darius in tow, they find Rebort looking mildly disoriented and Shiaran puzzling over several trinkets.

"Sy, who's this?"  Shiaran looks at the goblin with a neutral appraisal.  Beloc and Sypher's calm demeanor near him put her at ease as well.

"This is Krem Poot-Tooth, a traveler, scavenger, and trader.  He's on good terms with the Fildegarne military, but not under their authority."

Sypher's tone is even and without any hint of humor in it, but Shiaran grins, then covers her mouth and fake coughs as she tries poorly to suppress her laughter at the goblin's sir name.  She eventually gains control of herself, takes a deep breath, and walks over to the goblin.  She holds out a hand to shake.  "Shiaran.  Pleased to meet you, Master...uh, Kerm."  Saying the last name out loud would have sent her into a serious laughing fit, but she catches herself last second and sticks to the first.  She hopes the huge smile on her face is accepted as a genuine pleasure to meet him and not the verge of hysterical gales of laughter.

R.E.B.O.R.T. turns his attention from the searching of the office to the door as Sypher and the others come in. Puzzled, he looks over at Shiaran, to Krem, then back to Shiaran. He remains standing behind a desk of disheveled papers. "Well met, Mr. Poot-tooth. I am prototype number two-six..."

As his introduction starts drawing strange looks, he cuts his call sign designation short. "Most people call be Rebort."

Shiaran whirls away from the goblin when Rebort says his name.  Her shoulders bounce up and down in silent laughter as she returns to searching for useful bits of information or gear.

R.E.B.O.R.T. steps from behind the desk and stands beside Shiaran. "Shiaran?" He looks up to the others, who stand there doing nothing, and then back to Shiaran. "Are you alright? I am unfamiliar with these symptoms. Are you sick? Choking?"

He looks over to the newcomer. "Mr. Poot-Tooth, do you have a healing kit we may borrow?"

Beloc rolls his eyes at the construct. "She's not sick or dying, you..."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:46, Mon 19 June 2017.

Before Beloc can add anything else to his comment, a disembodied voice calls out. "No, no, no. There's nothing wrong with her. She's merely trying to stifle her uncontrollable laughter. Rightfully so, it would be considered rude to mock one's surname in such a manner." The voice sighs heavily. "I knew I should have spent more integrating social interactions into your behavior module. Such is life, I suppose, when you meet with an untimely end. So much work, so little time..." The voice trails off after the last sentence.

Though his mouth isn't moving, the voice appears to be coming from R.E.B.O.R.T.

The voice you hear doesn't match that of any other you've heard yet. To get an idea of what you're hearing, try to imagine the voice of John Cleese.

Shiaran almost fails to contain herself.  The only thing that saves her is the new voice, a subject of curiosity that overrides her tickled mind.  She looks at Rebort wide-eyed, then narrows them and frowns.  She takes a step away from Rebort, hand on her sai.  "Who is that?"

R.E.B.O.R.T. looks down at his chest. If there were any surprise in his expression, one couldn't really tell.

"Oh dear, where are my manners? My name is Warren Ewes." As the voice speaks, the gem socketed in his chest pulses synchronously in time with each syllable.

After a short, but awkward pause, the voice speaks again. "Is he bowing? He's not bowing, is he?" The voice lets out another sigh. "Dreadful, but I suppose the fault's mine. That'll teach me to go and pop my clogs before implementing his etiquette protocols. Where was I? Oh, yes, I was the chief behaviouralist and analytical engineer working on the bio-organic reconnaissance trooper project. While I was responsible for creating his mind, my colleague Charles Riddick, built most of the physical systems."

R.E.B.O.R.T. looks up from the docent, eyes focused on Shiaran.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:53, Tue 20 June 2017.

"You are Rebort's...dad?"

"Hmm, I never looked at it that way, but I suppose it's a fair comparison. I guess you could say he has two fathers. Charles and myself. After the incident, my consciousness was transferred to this docent, and Rebort was left in Darius' charge. Uncle Darius, if you will." The tiny voice chuckles at his own joke. "Now then, don't let me distract you all. I'm sure you have far more pressing work to attend to. Knees up everyone!"

R.E.B.O.R.T. looks over to Darius. "Uncle Darius?"

Darius gives a knowing grin. "Eh. I suppose I can settle for Uncle. Though since Uncle Warren created you, I think of us more as cousins".
This message was last edited by the player at 10:50, Tue 20 June 2017.

Krem has remained respectfully silent for the time. Looking at Shiaran, he remarks "Aye, me surnames Poot-Toof. Been me family name for three generations now. Me grandfathah was cursed by a shaman, gave 'is family line a wicked case a' the halitosis. Incurable. Dreadful business. Funny fing about goblins, we don't get t' pick our surnames; that's the elder. Who just so happened to be that rotten shaman. Oi just deal wiff it at this point in me life. On to a more importin' question though. Where can Oi get me a set a' armor like the fella wiff the talkin' chest? Roight puts me plate to shame, it does".
This message was last edited by the player at 02:28, Tue 20 June 2017.

"That, my dear green skinned acquaintance, is a thing, not a fellow. No offense to your being of course, Rebort. He is a mechanical man. An automaton. The product of mithril and arcane magics ensorcelled together to create that which has never graced the green grasses of this world. He is my life's work, of which I'm proud of".
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 02:27, Tue 20 June 2017.

"Blimey. Mechanical men, the dead runnin' amuck. What's next, the elf gonna turn in to a treant?".

Beloc grins. "It's been known to happen."

"A'course it has then" he says dryly.

Eying the trinkets pulled from the safe, Darius asks "Mind if I take a look at these? Also, have all the buildings been searched yet? I take it we have no survivors".

Shiaran walks over to Kerm and kneels down before him, taking his hand.  "I'm sorry, Master Kerm.  Forgive my juvenile behavior.  These are serious times and I really don't mean to make fun of you or your family.  That is a nasty tale.  Perhaps, if you don't like the name that is, you will one day be able to change the family name to something you find more suitable?"

"Oi am who Oi am, love. No shame in bein' meself"

Happy that her moment of immaturity didn't ruin her potential relationship with the goblin, Shiran stands and gives him a winning smile.  "Lot's of information to process right now, but part of that is all this gear you're carrying.  Anything interesting, maybe something that will help me get past tumblers and gears better on doors and chests that bad guys don't want me to open?"

While Shiaran mends her relationship with Krem, R.E.B.O.R.T. waves Darius over to the safe. "Yes. There are a few interesting pieces in here. As you can see, all except the paper radiate magic. The ring, however, might be the most notable. Not for its magic, but the symbol it represents."

Darius take the ring and examines it. "Hmm. Yes, I think you're correct Rebort. This is a ring given to mid ranking PCA officers. It allows them greater control of the troops. Are you familiar with the imperium immortuos spell? In the common tongue it means "command undead". I'll have to properly identify this ring, but from the looks of it, that's what its for. The fact it was found tucked away in possession of the ranking officer of the garrison though, that's a bit more puzzling. It could be anything from a war trophy, to him colluding with the enemy. Though my first impression is that if he was indeed colluding, he would have been wearing this once the attack started. Too many variables for now. What else did you find?".

"Sorry deary, but me wares mostly consist a' things that go boom. Got quite a bit of bolt action rifles and trench guns though, if you're in the market for one. Few bayonets too. An' if ya got any guns what need servicin', I'm a roight bloody good tinkerer with boom sticks and firearms".

R.E.B.O.R.T. nods. "My thoughts were running in parallel to yours, which is why I tried searching the rest of the office. My fascination with the other two items, however, distracted me from a thorough search, but Shiaran might have found something useful that I missed."

He looks up towards Shiaran, but sees her still engaged in conversation. So, as to not interrupt, he continues on with his findings. "The aura of necromancy lines up with your assessment of "commanding the dead". The locket appears to be enchanted with some sort of protective magic. The comb, I find intriguing, as it has an air of illusion about it."

With the others occupied with either the newcomer or the objects in the safe, Beloc slides into the room and starts looking around. Rifling through the stacks of papers on and within the desk, he finds a sturdy looking key and some important looking documents. He plops the key on the desk. "I guess you won't be needing this."

He quickly thumbs through the documents to realize they are orders for deployment. "According to these, it looks like a small contingent of men was to be deployed somewhere between here and the Agronette forest. The orders were signed four days ago, so whatever hit here would have been well after their departure. Since we're headed that way, we might be able to catch up with them."

08:00, Today: Beloc S'Viscus rolled 20 using 1d20+10.  Search check.

This message was last edited by the player at 13:27, Wed 21 June 2017.

"So it does. No telling what an illusory comb does though. Perhaps the commanding officer had great hair" he says with a wry smile. "What else, that last thing. Is that a locket?".

R.E.B.O.R.T. nods. "Yes, it appears to have a protective aura surrounding it. Abjuration."

Shiaran is most certainly listening in to the conversation, but has nothing to offer at the moment.  Instead, she remains silent and listens.  However, a hypothesis...or more correctly, a series of hypotheses are forming in her mind about this place and what is going on in Fildegarne.  She is practically bouncing on her feet waiting to finish up here and move forward to test those hypotheses.

Sypher lets the mages talk and begins scouting around to the last building in the compound, what looks like it might be a barracks from the outside.  He touches nothing, but is instead looking for any surprises, his preternatural senses seeking what his eyes, ears, and nose cannot sense.

"Hmm. Curious. Probably some sort of protection aura on it. That's a common thing among neckwear". He turns his attention to Sypher and Shiaran. "Are there any building left unsearched?".

Sypher answers as he walks back up to the group.  "Just the barracks.  Saw the truck, too.  Didn't get a close enough look to see if there was fuel.  We should give the barracks a once-over just to be thorough, then we should get moving.  Shiaran is right about that."

Darius nods at Sypher. Krem walks around the admin building, looking at what presumably he's seen before under much better circumstances. His long pointed ears droop a bit.

Beloc approaches and takes note of Krem's demeanor. "Find something?"

"Nah, mate. Just chafes me a bit, seein' the place empty an' all".

Shiaran moves to the last building checks the locks.  While she works, Sypher makes a quick trip around the outside looking for anything unusual, even on the roof.

The windows to the small barracks are obscured by heavy curtains. The front door is locked shut.

Shiaran and Sypher, perception checks

Beloc swings around front and keeps an eye on the door. While the others check out the build, R.E.B.O.R.T. heads over to the dilapidated looking transport and tries to assess its viability.

Shiaran starts in on the door, but almost immediately freezes.  When Sypher comes back into view, she silently motions him over.  In low tones they speak to one another.

Sypher nods and remains at the door while Shiaran trots off to find the others.  She finds Beloc first.  "We found something, maybe used to be someone, but they're still shuffling around inside.  Could be still alive, but I doubt it at this point.  Meet Sypher at the front while I collect everyone."

She leaves Beloc and quietly makes her way to the others to relay the same information.  Then she returns to the front door.

Beloc nods and quietly moves over beside Sypher. He watches Shiaran disappear around the corner as she looks for R.E.B.O.R.T. Within moments, she reappears, R.E.B.O.R.T. right behind her.

R.E.B.O.R.T. stops his inspection of the vehicle as soon Shiaran fills him in on the discovery. He follows a few steps behind her as they make their way back to the building.

He slowly approaches the door and stands there motionless as he concentrates on the surroundings. Looking back over to Shiaran, he says "You were right to be concerned. The entity inside is quite undead and a big one as well."

He readies his rifle and takes a few steps back. "Ready yourselves, this could be a difficult fight."

"I'll take point.  Shiaran, if you please?"  He motions towards the door and draws his sword.

Shiaran hisses in frustration.  She knew she had given the lock a better than average attempt, but the stubborn thing wouldn't budge.  "This one is beyond me, guys.  Rebort, you strong enough to kick in the door?"

Beloc positions himself on the opposite side of the door as Sypher.

R.E.B.O.R.T. nods. "I believe I can provide enough force to bypass the lock." He raises his rifle, draws a bead, and shatters the lock with a single round.

Bits of metal and wood fly past Beloc as he spins to face the door and kicks it the rest of the way in. He stands ready for whatever monstrosity awaits him.

An inhuman howl immenates from inside the small building. The voice is very deep. Sunlight tries to filter in through the doorway but the inside is still quite dark. Heavy feet begin shuffling towards the entry, and short ragged breaths follow the unearthly racket made by whatever is inside.

"Draw it outside into the light!  We will have the advantage of numbers."  Shiaran draws her pistols and darts off to a safe range and perhaps some cover.

Sypher pulls gently on Beloc's shoulder once, then backs away from the door several steps and to the side of Shiaran's line of fire.  The distance opens up time for him to better analyze what they are up against and give the ranged fighters clear shots.

Beloc nods and falls back with Sypher.

The shuffling turns in to awkward stomps as the behemoth of what was once a man.. or several men rather, crashes in to the wooden frame of the door. It borders on being too large for the door frame, but as it reaches the entrance its mass shifts to be compact enough to come screaming out sideways. Its body is covered in stitching. A massive club of flesh with bony spikes sticking out forms one hand, while the other consists of a menagerie of gun parts that may very well be from the looted armory. As it lands on the ground just outside the barracks, the thing's body pulsates and contorts, resuming it's original size and shape. It stands three heads taller than Sypher, and bellows a deep and mournful sound, of which three distinct vocal ranges can be heard in unison.

Roll for initiative at advantage

"I think we found the garrison."  Shiaran quips.

Sypher waits from his position (p7) for the monstrosity to see him and come to him.  He ignites his sword to draw the creature's attention, holding the blade low and across his body.  "C'mon, big fella.  I'm right here."  His voice is commanding, taunting, and full of confidence.

Shiaran sees how big the thing is and decides on a different tactic.  She holsters her pistol, interlocks her thumbs and plays her fingers like a spider testing its legs, from the smallest to largest finger on both hands in succession.  "Pódia tis aráchnis, epitrépste mou na anarrichitheí, siopilós, thanatifóros, énas kynigós ypsilós."

While Sypher waits for the monster to approach, Shiaran climbs straight up the wall of the building (o10) out of it's sight.

R.E.B.O.R.T. takes a knee (t7) and chambers a round. He waits for a clear shot before pulling the trigger.

Beloc slips around the corner (o5), draws his blade and waits for the abomination to pass by before striking.

The hulking abomination of flesh and stitching roars again, looking directly at Sypher. It plants it's feet firmly on the ground and stares with dead eyes, fixating on the young paladin. It isn't immediately clear what the monster intends to do, but it looks ready to act.

[End of turn. End of Round. Perception check at DC of 27 to determine monster's readied move]



Turn Order
Sypher
Shiaran
Beloc
Rebort
Flesh Hulk
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:20, Sat 01 July 2017.

R.E.B.O.R.T. eyes the hulking flesh monster's attempt at intimidation. It appears to be a rather poor attempt until he realizes its actual intent. Two rifles and a trenchgun are all cocked and ready to fire.

"Warning! The cluster of weapons in its right arm are primed and ready to fire. Evasive actions are advised."


Note from the GM: Due to advance warning, targets will receive a +2 dodge bonus to AC.

Sypher hears Rebort's warning and does what any good Paladin would do, he dives under the monster's line of fire, rolls to his knees, and attempts to slice the things arm off.  The mass and momentum just aren't right and he does little more than clang his sword weakly off the flesh.


22:20, Today: Sypher Whiteraven rolled 16 using 1d20+8.  Attack vs hulk.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:25, Sun 02 July 2017.

Shiaran peers over the side of the roof down at the hulk.  She sees Sypher go for the arm and does the same.  Her right pistol hits its mark, dead center and bits go flying as she hits well.  The other shot, however, misses.

22:26, Today: Shiaran Whiteraven rolled 29,18 using 1d20+9,1d20+9.  Attack vs hulk.
22:28, Today: Shiaran Whiteraven rolled 13 using 1d20.  crit threat.
22:27, Today: Shiaran Whiteraven rolled 3 x 2 = 6 using 2d4.  damage vs hulk.

The flesh hulk takes its readied attack at Sypher, unleashing a hail of instantaneous gunfire from its gun arm as Sypher passes. The shots are ineffective as Sypher was prepared for the attack. Shiaran's attack bites deep into metal and flesh. One of the trench gun barrels protruding from the fleshy stump snaps to a 45 degree angle, the bullet from Shiaran's own gun hitting the barrel beneath the now stretched skin and contorting the metal. It isn't clear if the barrel is still operable at this point.

Impatience gets the better of Beloc and rather than waiting for the hulk to pass by his corner, he steps from his hiding spot. He sees Sypher on his knees attacking low, so he decides to strike high. He starts off in a sprint headed right for them. A few paces before the creature, Beloc leaves his feet, launching himself shoulder first into the hulk's torso.

Big mistake. The sheer size of the creature stops Beloc right in his tracks as he plucks him right out of the air. The hulk swings its heavy left arm around and tosses him into the building beside them (7l).

R.E.B.O.R.T. takes special care in his aim with all the movement and chaos in front of him, but finally, he pulls the trigger. Following suit with the others, his shot lands right in the middle of his weapons mass.

23:19, Today: R.E.B.O.R.T. rolled 12 using 2d12+1.  Rifle damage vs. hulk.

This message was deleted by the player at 03:09, Mon 03 July 2017.

The flesh hulk makes as odd gurgling noise as he whips his massive club shaped arm in an overhead strike as Beloc. Beloc doesn't have time to react and the overhead blow lands squarely on his shoulder with a sickening crunch [CRIT!] for [18 DMG].
The creature points his gun arm at the elf's crumpled form for a point blank shot. The arm explodes in a hail of shrapnel and gore as the damaged trench gun doesn't fire properly and instead explodes. Beloc takes an additional [6 DMG] from the concussive blast and shrapnel. The shreds of metal are embedded in the torso and faceplate of Beloc's armor. It's hard to say how deep any of them went, but the enchanted wooden plate is sturdy, so there's hope yet.

The flesh hulk recoils back, it's arm now a bloody stump dripping dark, coagulated blood.

End of Round. Next up, Sypher

Sypher whirls to his feet coming up behind the creature.  He swings low toward the legs, but his enchanted sword is unable to make it through the thing's thick skin.

23:04, Today: Sypher Whiteraven rolled 21 using 1d20+8.  Attack vs hulk.

Shiaran takes advantage of her perch and unloads two shots into the reeling creature.  Her second shot is aimed specifically at the head, though she's heard from more seasoned adventurers that it wont' do anything to undead.  Both hit dead on.

23:07, Today: Shiaran Whiteraven rolled 24,26 using 1d20+9,1d20+9.  Attack vs hulk.
23:07, Today: Shiaran Whiteraven rolled 5,3 = 8 using 2d4,2d4.  damage vs hulk.

The blow's impact sends him crashing back into the wall of the building again and the force nearly knocks the blade from his hands. His right arm hangs limp as he tries to ready his weapon with his other.

Apache comes sprinting around the far corner (3k) of the building they were previously hiding behind. With its back turned towards Beloc, Apache has a clear shot at its flank. He nips and tears at its heels [5 dmg].

The hulk looks back over its shoulder at Apache as Beloc pushes himself off the building in a lunging attack. He strikes hard against the hulks torso despite the heavy damage to his right arm [10 dmg].


08:36, Today: Apache rolled 5 using 1d6+1.  Damage vs. hulk.
08:34, Today: Apache rolled 24 using 1d20+5 (+2 for flanking).  Attack on flesh hulk.

Beloc takes a 15 for a total of 23 -> 25 with the flanking bonus.
08:46, Today: Beloc S'Viscus rolled 10 using 2d4+5.  Damage vs. hulk.

R.E.B.O.R.T. takes a few more steps back to put some distance between himself and the hulk, then fires another shot. The bullet leaves a massive hole as it passes through its chest [19 dmg].


08:57, Today: R.E.B.O.R.T. rolled 19 using 2d12+1.

The flesh hulk slumps down to a knee, and groans. The three distinct sets of vocal cords don't seem in pain, more like that of a relief sigh. A quiet chorus of "thank.. you.." can be heard as the monstrosity starts to shamble forward, the dark magic binding it together fighting against the large amount of damage to the body. Stitches unravel and large chunks of flesh slough off, until the entire body is reduces to a stinking pile of gore. A black haze fizzles over the mess for a brief moment before snuffing out and vanishing. The remaining body parts, despite their terrible condition, show signs of surgical precision cutting between the stitch marks.

Krem peeks around the corner of the admin building to take a look. "Bloody 'ell.." is all he manages to say before turning away, wiping his face with a rag.

Darius comes around the corner as well and surveys the scene. "I believe we've unfortunately found the commanding officer... and then some".

Beloc's blade clatters to the ground as he staggers back to brace himself against the wall. He slides down to one knee and takes a bit of a respite. His helm quickly rescinds back, "That thing could really pack a punch" he gasps.

The heavy bruises from the massive blunt trauma gradually begin to fade as time ticks by.

Apache walks up and licks his hand.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:20, Mon 03 July 2017.

Sypher rushes over to Beloc and makes as if to lay his hands on him for healing.  However, he pauses when he notes the wounds healing of their own accord. "Wha...?"

Beloc hoists himself up once he starts feeling better. "That's a handy little trinket, Darius. Already proven to be a life saver." He holds up his hand to show Sypher a plain gold band around his finger.

"I spotted this in Darius's shop. It reminded me of one my mother used to wear, so I offered to buy it. Turns out, it has some latent healing properties to it."

R.E.B.O.R.T. walks over from where he was firing to give Beloc a once over. "That was quite a daring attack", he says as he wallops him in the arm. "Well done."

Beloc recoils from R.E.B.O.R.T. "Argh, are you kidding me?" he spits out with a glare.

REBORT looks over to Sypher, then back at Beloc. "What?"

Darius smirks. "I believe Rebort is making an attempt at "male bonding"". Darius pauses for a moment to survey the carnage once more. "Mr. Poot-tooth. If you aren't completely put off by the notion, would you mind giving Rebort and me a hand. I want to see to it the remains are properly cared for and burried. Sypher, you and the others, if you would, go check out the barracks and ensure we don't have any more nasty surprises awaiting us. When you wrap up, I'd like some assistance if you don't mind. I believe you're the best qualified man to say a few words on behalf of the departed as we lay them to rest".
This message was last edited by the player at 15:29, Tue 04 July 2017.

Seemingly unaffected by the gore laying on the ground, R.E.B.O.R.T. starts clearing the area.

Beloc glares at the construct then rolls his eyes. He nods over to Sypher, "Alright then, let's clear the rest of this place. The sooner we move on, the better."

Sypher nods and heads on into the barracks.  Shiaran follows.

The interior of the barracks is dark from the heavy curtains. The inside absolutely reeks of death. The building is comprised of a single large room with bunk beds. Most of the beds are wrecked or knocked over. More body parts litter the floor: heads, arms, legs, halves of torsos. Each of then showing signs of being chewed on, presumably by the recently slain monstrosity. Something metal catches a slight ray of light and blunts in the corner. Wall lockers and trunks of personal belongings have all been ransacked. The majority of the contents looks to be clothing and grooming items.

Sypher being the first to enter accidentally kicks a severed hand. The hand is the only body part in the room that doesn't appear to have chew marks on it, curiously enough.

Shiaran doubles over and vomits.  She heaves several times before leaving the building altogether.  Outside, she continues to dry heave.  Nothing remains within to expunge.

Sypher grimaces at the stench and carnage, but he is otherwise unaffected by it.  He kneels down and examines the hand more closely.

There is a plain silver band on the ring finger.  It looks like a wedding band. The rest of the hand is absolutely pristine, relatively speaking. The wound to the wrist almost looks cauterized, and there is a complete absence of rot.

Sypher takes the hand and looks for some loose cloth to wrap it in.  He'll let Shiaran and the others examine it out of this dreadful environment.  He does his best to scour the rest of the  barracks for anything else of note.

A veteran to the horrors of combat, Beloc walks into the building after Shiaran hastily exits. The foul smell of the room assaults his nose and he decides to raise his helm to help block the stench.

He walks through the room, navigating the gore and tosses furniture, to try and find anything of note.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:45, Wed 05 July 2017.

Underneath several overturned bunks, a glint of metal catches Beloc's eye. "Sypher, when you're done with that, can you give me a hand here? I think I see something under here. Looks like a footlocker that's still intact."

With Sypher's help, after wrapping up the hand, the pair move in to dislodge the tangled mess of bunks. What looked to be a foot locker turns out to be a much larger trunk. Once everything is clear of the trunk, a very light scraping sound can be heard from within, and only for a brief moment before falling silent again.

"Shiaran!  Need your help!"  Sypher's voice booms for one so usually quiet.

Shiaran appears a moment later breathing through a cloth.  She keeps her eyes directed at Sypher and avoids the carnage around her.

"There's something in the trunk.  Might be a survivor."  He steps back, but keeps his sword handy.

Beloc takes a step back as well. He sheathes his blade and draws his trenchgun. Just in case.

Shiaran kneels before the chest and starts to fiddle with the lock.  When the scraping comes again, even fainter this time, she jumps and squeaks.  Loudly.  She also lets out an inappropriate word or three.

Sypher frowns in admonishment, but Shiaran pointedly does not look his way.  Instead, she redoubles her efforts.

[Not taking 10 since there is the added 'rush' of someone trapped inside and possibly dying.

And of course I roll a 10 anyway. *facepalm*

10:12, Today: Shiaran Whiteraven rolled 20 using 1d20+10.  Pick lock.]

Outside the building, R.E.B.O.R.T. hears Sypher's call to Shiaran. He looks over to Darius. "Excuse me a moment."

He swings around the side of the building and peers in through a window.

The lock pops open with no effort. Once Shiaran manages to get her tools inside the key hole, the thing falls right off, as if it wasn't locked in the first place. As the lid opens, the smell of urine and feces wafts out at Shiaran and briefly overpowers the stench of death in the room.

Inside is a weak and frail man, bound in rags from head to toe, as if he were mummified alive. The rags each have some sort of dark looking rune on them. When feint glints of sunlight filtering through the room land on a rune, the dark writing bursts into black flames. The flames themselves do little more than flare up for a half second or so, leaving only a slight trace on the cloth.

"H...help....m...me" says the bound man, barely audible. His body is unnaturally contorted within the confines of the trunk. He needs to be removed if there's any chance of saving him, but with the way he's twisted around inside, it's likely he already has broken bones. He isn't even able to move his head to face his saviors, though the cloth wrapped around his head would be obscuring his vision either way.

Shiaran ignores the stench and looks at the way the man is situated to see if there are any traps remaining that might kill him if moved.


"It's clear, Sy."

Sypher nods and does his best to lift the man out and lay him on the cleanest bunk available.  While his hands are on him, he pumps the entirety of his healing into him, right from the moment of first contact.  He also makes sure to move the rags through as much light as he can to remove them.

As Sypher moves the bound man to the bunk, Beloc stashes his weapon and takes a look into the trunk to see if there is anything left behind in there.

R.E.B.O.R.T. pulls away from the window and returns to helping Darius clean up the fleshy hulk mess.

The floor of the trunk is a mixture of bodily fluids and more runes. Runes line the side walls and "roof" of the trunk as well. Nothing else of importance is located within the small space.

Shiaran notices a rifle leaned up against the wall in a far corner.

The man, now in Sypher's care, cries weakly as the bandages are peeled from his body. The feel of the runes on bare skin is extremely unpleasant, and produces an itching sensation that practically burns. Much of the dark runes have already burned away from sunlight. Underneath his fabric covering the man is completely naked. His stomach is sunk in slightly, his skin is pale and clammy, and his eyes are deeply recessed in their sockets, which look very dark and purple. He does his best to speak between sobs that rack his entire body. "Wanted... to turn.. me..to... turn me".

Outside the viscera has been gathered in a neat pile, and Krem has managed to find two shovels in the blacksmith's shop. Darius suggest the North side of the smithy as roomy enough and out of sight well enough for a mass grave [l,m,n - 1 and 2, respectively].

"You are safe, now.  We will protect you.  They will not turn you, my friend."

Sypher gently takes the man's hand in his own and kneels next to him.  He bows his head and closes his eyes.  "Father, the world is dark and evil marches across the land.  Innocent blood is being spilled.  We ask that you grant us courage to face it, will to reject it's call, and the power to defeat it if such is your will.  Right now, though, we ask a simple blessing upon this man, tortured by evil but triumphant against it.  Please heal him in body and mind and spirit.  Heal him beyond my feeble capacity and help him endure to stand once more against this foul plague that washes over the land of Fildegarne.  By the authority of your Son, Joshua, I beseech you.  Amen."

The man's ragged breathing slows, and he lets out a small sigh, that of relief.

"Can you-" Shiaran starts, but closes her mouth abruptly when Sypher holds up a hand and shakes his head.  She nods and steps back, refusing to lean against anything or sit anywhere.

Sypher pulls out his waterskin and offers it to the man, helping him to sit up.  "Gently now.  You are still weak and no doubt hungry.  Water first."

The man greedily starts to drink, and begins choking almost immediately given his gusto for wetting his parched throat.

After a few moments he slows his pace, sipping rather than gulping. When the water skin is drained, he takes "inventory" of his body, looking at fingers, toes, and other parts. "They ch-chopped the others to bits. Made.. made me watch. Said I needed to be afraid. They said I" he begins another fit of coughing. He hacks up a wad of phlegm that just manages to dribble on his chin and hang there before he wipes it away with a bare hand. "They said, I needed to be in a dark place in my mind, before they put me in a dark place for real. Those bands of cloth, they burned so badly. I could feel my mind slipping. Thoughts of murder. Of eating the dead. All of it flooding my mind constantly while I was trapped" he pauses to catch his breath. Talking as much as he has already is leaving him completely winded.

"If they were preparing you for some sort of transformation, whether it be similar to that abomination outside or something different, why would they just leave you here? Aside from us, you're the only living survivor of whatever happened here."

The man continues to catch his breath before trying to speak. "Spell needs total darkness. No light. That's what they said. The flesh golem was to guard the process. They said the spell would place me under "The Will". Said it would make me a living weapon. Does.. Does anyone have any more water?".

Shiaran brings her own skin over and hands it to the man with a reassuring smile.  "Here you go.  Drink up.  We'll refill it later."

Beloc waits for the man to finish his pull and set the skin down. "What's your name soldier?"

"Padraig" he says. "Corporal Padraig Vims". Padraig is covered in grime, which mats down his sandy blonde hair. His blue eyes stand out against the sunken purple coloring around them. It's hard to say what his muscle tone would have been. Despite only having been a presumed 3 days since the attack on Midway, Corporal Vims looks like he hasn't eaten in a month or more.

Outside, Darius instructs Rebort and Krem to begin a mass grave at the appointed area. Given his limp, working a shovel isn't the best of ideas in his case. He hobbles over to the door of the barracks, and lets out a retching cough at the sight and smell, as if the flesh golem chunks hadn't been bad enough.

"We have a survivor after all. Where are his clothes?".

Beloc looks over to Darius. "Sounds like the Corporal here was being prepped for some sort of ceremony or ritual to transform him into some kind of living weapon. Whoever did this just left him here, but it would appear that the ritual involved wrapping him in these highly volatile rags that ignite in direct sunlight."

Darius' eyes widen. "Did you touch him?". There's a hint of urgency in his voice.

"I did.  I reasoned that I would be the safest one to do so considering the nature of all that has happened here.  Any dark spells would have less of an effect on me.  Shiaran handed him her waterskin, but she did not make direct contact."  Sypher seems unconcerned with Darius' urgency, a symbol of his faith rather than arrogance.  "Neither did Beloc that I recall.  Only me."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:24, Tue 11 July 2017.

Darius places his hand over his face and wipes. "Less effect on you, yes, but an effect none the less. That kind of magic is of a similar strain as the summoning circle you all dispelled earlier. Unless you feel like plunging your sword in to your own gut and praying, I highly suggest you get back to the kitchens and scrub your hands with salt, as well as anything, and I mean anything else he may have touched. That kind of magic behaves like a disease, and can pass on various ill effects simply by touching second hand. I'm not trying to be rude, but this man is to be treated like the most extreme of lepers until we can get him the proper care. We'll have to get you looked at as well, just for good measure. The foul taint of Bleeding Palm necromancy transcends that of what you'd find in textbooks. This is no exception, and I'll preemptively implore you to trust my judgement on this one. The rest of you, gather what you can and let's get out of here. Krem and Rebort should have a burial site ready within the hour or so, and would much appreciate help with getting all the bits and pieces underground before we find ourselves without light".

Outside the distant roll of thunder can be heard. The seasons are slipping from late Summer to Autumn, and already crisp and cool air currents descend in the evening and linger until morning. The sun is on its last few hours of light.

Beloc's eyes widen as Darius explains the grave nature of the magic. "If the magic is that infectious, is there any reason to leave this building standing?" A flicker of flame pops up at his fingertips.

"No, there isn't. In fact, leave everything here, bodies included. I'll have Rebort and Krem stop digging and get the viscera piled in to this building. Rebort is immune to the effects of the magic, but Krem and myself may be contaminated already, so we'll handle the transfer. I suggest you and Shiaran follow suit with Sypher. I'll tend to our survivor. Once everything is piled in, burn it. All of it. I'll leave an arcane message instructing the military to salt the ashes. We don't have the time now that anyone of us could be tainted".

Darius steps outside and calls for Rebort and Krem, and then explains the situation in limited detail for urgency's sake. Krem's eyes grow wide and for possibly the first time ever, a goblin grew pale enough to notice.

Darius summons forth a floating disk for Krem and Rebort to load, and then steps back inside covering his mouth and nose with his cloak, being careful not to touch anything.

Beloc exits the building, paying great attention to not touch anything on the way out.

R.E.B.O.R.T. walks in and scans over the room, taking in all the carnage and destruction. "Such an unnecessary loss of life."

Like a giant campfire, he lays out several bunks to make the base then lines up several footlockers, dressers, and other flammable objects to make a perimeter. After that, he piles up all the dead into the center.

When done, he stands back and waits for the word to light the pyre.

Shiaran makes her way out of the barracks taking care not to touch anything either.  She gives Sypher a backward glance of concern, then is outside in the relatively fresh air.  Color starts to return almost immediately to her pale cheeks.

Either immune or already compromised, Sypher does his best to help Darius with the mending Corporal.  "If this thing is such a powerful contagion, he needs to be cleansed before we take him from the building, else he will taint the very ground he walks on.  What must we do to get him safely out of here before we light this place up?"

"From the looks of it, everyone will need to be cleansed. From the ground up. I'd advise against using the rifle over there. It's covered in the taint."

Darius produces a small blue canister from his cloak. "Before I escaped with you from Langdon, I may have "acquired" some of the substance that held you in stasis, which will be about the only thing that keeps him alive until we can get help. Even if we could stymie his contagion, in several days time he'll still turn... and since the necromantic metamorphosis was interrupted, there's no telling what he'll become. In stasis we can leave him frozen as long as it takes to get him help, but I suppose you'd know that fact better than most".

"The substance is one thing, but what will we contain him in? Won't we need a pod or capsule to keep him secure?"

"I believe with the proper application of arcane force around him, I can create a sort of cocoon, invisible to the naked eye, but solid enough to contain the liquid once it crystallizes. I'll need Rebort's help of course, as we'll be the only one who can actually see it. If my understanding of the stasis liquid's composition is correct, it should only need the very air we breath as a catalyst".

Sypher looks at the corporal. "They are trying to save your life.  Are you okay with what they are doing?  We will find you help as fast as possible."

Padraig looks at Sypher with pleading eyes. "If it helps me, it helps me. At this point, what choice do I have? I don't wanna die sir. I don't wanna turn in to one of them".

Sypher nods and almost pats the man on the shoulder in reassurance, but stops short.  It's one thing to have faith in God's protection.  It's another to be stupid.  Instead he turns and motions for Darius to proceed.  He looks back at Padraig.  "We will do all we can to take care of you, to keep you from the dark.  I trust in Iehovah and will pray for you daily.  When all this is through and you have survived to tell this tale to your grandchildren, then perhaps I can share Iehovah's grace with you?"

"Mister, you have a deal if I make it through this. If I don't though... please, don't let me get away. I can't stand the thought of helping them".

R.E.B.O.R.T. finishes up his previous tasks and returns to Darius. "Everything is in order. I can assist when you are ready."

Darius nods and instructs Padraig to step outside in the fullness of the sunlight. As he does, small tendrils of what look like jet black smoke slowly stream from all over his body. He doesn't make any noise, and doesn't appear to be in any pain beyond his obvious state.

Darius follows and tells Rebort "I'll have him suspended in air, and then I'll create the shielding around his body. Once complete, I'll give you the word. You merely have to open the canister over the opening I leave, and then let gravity do the rest".

Darius begins his work immediately, weaving several complex patterns in the air with his hands. They leave a glow that hangs behind wherever his palms travel. His spoken words turn to runes that line the inside of the circular patterns. The patterns then converge on one another, layering to create and even larger magic sigil. With a final word, the sigil floats to Padraig and creates and orange shell around him, similar in shape to a large egg. Padraig is lifted from his feet at the same time, and hovers over the ground by a foot. The spell leans him back, in to a laying position, and finishes forming the shell, with a small opening at the top left unformed. The magic glistens and pulsates orange light around the hole. "Now Rebort, pour it".
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:21, Sun 23 July 2017.

Shiaran watches, mesmerized, as Darius works.  There is a hunger in her eyes, not one of greed, but a thirst for knowledge.  When Rebort begins to pour, she finally speaks.  "It's useful to know that air and fire are unaffected by the taint.  Does this extend to much of the dark arts or just to this particular spell?"

Without breaking his concentration on delaying the spell's completion, Darius replies "It varies from spell to spell, and even who casts it. As a generalization though, most cannot spread through anything but direct contact. I've heard tales of otherwise, but never witnessed such".

R.E.B.O.R.T. ignores most of the chatter as he concentrates on pouring the substance into the egg shaped force bubble, making sure not to spill any. As each drop makes contact with the interior of the field, they rapidly begin to crystallize and expands one hundred fold. The stasis creeps up his back, over his chest, and quickly pushes towards the small opening. As it reaches the top, he looks over to Darius and nods.

"Seal it off."

Darius nods as he furrows his brow slightly. The orange glow of the egg shape flashes bright for a split second once the spell is complete, and then fades in to a clear shell that looks like orange stained glass. Inside, Padraig is barely visible, and only his general shape can be made out from the way the crystal formations refract light that passes through.

He has Rebort assist him in walking the still floating shell to the Badger, where it's loaded in the back of the flat bed portion. There's just enough room and rope to securely strap Padraig down so that his new form wont slide off.

Meanwhile, Shiaran, Sypher, and Beloc, along with Krem, are back from the oddball salt scrub that Darius urged them to take. It becomes apparent rather quickly as the salt turns as black as volcanic sand that Darius was on to something. The group gathers back at the barracks, careful to not step on or touch anything that could be tainted, as Darius and Rebort return.

"If we're all done here, I'll start the pyre and we can be on our way".

Both Sypher and Shiaran nod.

Beloc nods. "Let's cleanse this area and keep moving."

Darius nods, and once everyone is clear of the building, he takes and points his cane at the entrance to the barracks. A ball of fire the size of a pea spurts from the tip, and with every foot it travels it doubles in size until at last it zips through the door frame. The entire building is immediately engulfed in flames. The windows shatter at once and fire jets through the openings. Long black tendrils of vile magic snake around in the flames, as if in death throws.

"Come along everyone, let's be done with this place then".

On the walk back to the Badger, Krem pipes up. "You folks moind if I ask where it is ya headin' to now? Oi uh.. Oi wouldn't be opposed to taggin' along if you'll 'av me. I got me own food, Oi don't take up much space, and loik Oi told Miss Shiaran 'afore, Oi'm roight handy with weaponry. Oi mean, Oi could even roide back on the flatbed, to stay out of soight and outta moind if you please".

Shiaran walks over to Krem and stares at him with a scowl.  Even with her shorter stature, she is able to look down on the diminutive fellow.  "You may come with us on one condition as far as I'm concerned..."

"An what's that, miss?".

Beloc looks over at the group as he thinks. His gaze falls upon R.E.B.O.R.T. last before he speaks. "I'm fine with it. We'll be stronger together than traveling alone."

R.E.B.O.R.T. looks at Beloc and then back to Krem. "Strength in numbers. I agree."

Shiaran smiles real big and places a hand on Krem's shoulder.  "That you ride up front with us!"

Krem smiles. "Oi reckon Oi could do that, if you're askin'".

To the rest of the group, though possibly not Rebort (given his less than average understanding of humanoid emotion for the time being), Krem's reaction is exceptionally grateful. It's fairly apparent that despite leaving the life of a true goblin behind on the mainland, the stigmas and prejudices against goblin-kind have followed him to Fildegarne.

With that, the group boards the Badger, taking a look back at the rising plume of smoke from the barracks.

The sun sits low on the Western horizon, as its last rays of the day bath the knee deep grass covered plains that span some 11 miles between Midway and Reef Lake. Far, far off in the distance towards the lake, the dull thud of artillery fire can be heard, signalling that the battle for Reef Lake still rages on, and more importantly, isn't lost for the time being.

Darius suggests the group make for the Argonette Forest's outskirts, and break camp for the night. He cautions against blindly heading in to the forest in the dark, as the missing platoon could be somewhere between Midway and there, or in the worst of scenarios, the vile force that sacked Midway and committed the atrocities the group has undone.

Ultimately, he leaves the decision up to Shiaran though, as she tends to be the primary "shot caller" for the group at the time.

Darius settles in to the front passenger seat of the Badger, taking the time to rest. He hasn't had to be as active as he was this afternoon in a long while, and his being out of shape both physically and magicially are apparent. Shiaran sits behind the wheel of the Badger, the group's next move weighing on her shoulders.

Shiaran flips through scenarios in her mind like a flip book of drawings that produce a sort of moving story, a trick she saw a monk scribe do once.  She takes into account the potential dangers, their cargo, their goals and what's at stake, and most importantly the makeup of the team.

"I think the safe choice is to stop for the night at the forest's edge.  The better choice, though, is to press on for a few more hours.  Sypher, try to get some sleep.  We'll wake you at the forest edge.  We have too many counting on us to play it safe.  It's up to us to get to those ley lines and cut off the undead and their masters from it."  She looks at each of the group in the vehicle's mirror, one at a time so she can keep her focus on the road.  "We have some time between here and the forest if anyone has a good objection to that plan."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:04, Mon 31 July 2017.

Beloc catches her eye in the mirror. "Works for me. I can rest up pretty quickly, but the others might need a little more sleep before moving on."

He retracts his armor and makes himself as comfortable as possible before trying to get some rest.

R.E.B.O.R.T. looks over to Beloc. "I do not need to sleep. I can help watch over things back here while we travel."

He looks forward as Shiaran's ready checks falls to him. "I have some work scheduled that I planned to accomplish while in transit. If that is acceptable, I will set up a small station out of the way to work. Should you need me for anything, let me know."

"Of course, so long as the others can rest while you do it.  Especially the old man."  She grins, taking the sting out of her jab at Darius.

Darius doesn't reply. A gentle snore is all that is heard from the front passenger seat.


Four hours later, the 25 mile drive to the forest's edge is anything but simple and straightforward. In many areas the road is completely blasted out and alternate routes through barbed wire, mud, and machinery wreckage have to be navigated. Some of the craters though are fresher looking than others, and one in particular about 2 miles out from the forest still has embers around the edges. Sypher, Darius, and Krem are all three catching some shut eye, while Shiaran drives. Beloc looks out from a turret while Rebort continues his magical tinkering.

Shiaran, Rebort, Beloc: Perception check [DC 18] at [disadvantage] (due to the loud noise of the Badger's engine)

From the gunners port, something catches Beloc's attention. He calls over to the others that are still awake. Quite enough to not disturb the sleeping, but loud enough for Shiaran and R.E.B.O.R.T. to hear.

"Hear that?" He points ahead. Groggy, Apache wakes up. He stands, ears perked up and alert.

"Sounds like gun fire. Maybe a mile up the road."


08:37, Today: Beloc S'Viscus rolled 28,29 using d20+10,d20+10. Perception check
This message was last edited by the player at 13:46, Fri 04 Aug 2017.

Overly distracted with his work, R.E.B.O.R.T. looks up. "Sorry. I do not hear anything. The noise from the engine appears to be overloading my auditory sensors."

He moves over to one of the windows and peers out.

08:38, Today: R.E.B.O.R.T. rolled 18,11 using d20+8,d20+8.  perception check.

Shiaran slows the vehicle and comes to a gentle stop.  She turns off any lights and lets the motor idle out of gear.  She closes her eyes and listens as well.

As the distracting sounds of the Badger come to a halt, the distinct pops and rumbles of a battle can indeed be heard ahead. Beloc's assessment of "about a mile" feels accurate enough for the rest of the group. Though the exactly who is fighting ahead remains to be seen.

"Rebort, stay here.  Wake the others.  Beloc, let's go find a vantage point and get a closer look."  Shiaran unbuckles herself from the Badger's restraints and slips out of the driver seat.  She is silent as she moves through the vehicle and exits.

R.E.B.O.R.T. nods in acknowledgment. "I will wake the others and make sure they are prepared."

Beloc grabs his gear and joins Shiaran outside the Badger. Once out side he motions forward. "The commotion was coming from that direction."

Shiaran nods and follows the direction Beloc pointed out.  She keeps as silent as possible in the undergrowth.

[Stealth = 23]

One by one, R.E.B.OR.T. rouses each of the sleeping passengers of the Badger. "Beloc has detected a disturbance up ahead. Shairan and the elf have gone to investigate. I am to make sure we are prepared upon their return."

Beloc takes the cue from Shiaran and tries to be stealthy and retracts his armor. He is not nearly as quiet as her, but impressive enough for someone not trained in the art.

07:53, Today: Beloc S'Viscus rolled 20 using 1d20+5.  stealth check.

Beloc and Shiaran edge towards the wood. There's still a fair amount of ground to cover before being under the canopy, but the underbrush, shrubs, and saplings form a thick blanket over the land as the forest year by year expands its reach by a few feet.

The air is silent now; no birds or woodland creatures stir. As the two creep forward deeper and deeper, they almost have to reconvene to make sure they actually heard gun fire and are traveling the right direction.

As the last rays of the autumn sun are dying to the west, another shot finally cracks out. The air goes quiet again, as it feels like the entire forest sucks in a breath.

Without further warning, a cacophony of shots, both near sounding and distant fire off in random intervals. Shiaran and Beloc may have potentially caught the battle during a stand still, but one thing isn't certain... who the closest shots immediately ahead belong to.

The brush spans far and wide, and Beloc's knowledge of the forest reveals that the closer to the actually woods one gets, the more hilly the ground becomes. Hills large enough to conceal a medium sized humanoid. Taking an educated guess at the closest shots, the pair are somewhere around 1000 feet away from the action. The original shots heard are further out than that, suggesting the further company away was doing the shooting that alerted the party".
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:29, Sun 20 Aug 2017.

Beloc looks over to Shiaran and whispers. "There's no way of knowing which side is which. I have an idea, but it might give our location away. If it were just me here it'd be no question, but I won't put you at risk if you have a plan."

Shiaran stays lows and out of sight.  "What's your plan?"

"Back home we had numerous outfits patrolling the forest at any given time. We would often use bird calls to identify each other so we could tell friend from foe without having to engage. Now, I get that we're dealing with Fildegarnian soldiers, but there isn't a whisper of wildlife within a couple miles of here with all this shooting. If they hear my call, I hope at least one of them will have the sense to respond with something."

Beloc shrugs. "If no one responds, we may just have to assume that the force closest to us lacks the intelligence to respond if you know what I mean."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:19, Mon 21 Aug 2017.

Shiaran's eyes narrow and her lips purse.

"Do it."

Beloc raises a hand to his mouth and begins a series of chirps. The first one is short and high pitched, followed by a longer one an octave lower. The next three return to the initial pitch and are in rapid succession that almost sounds like a single call.

Off to the pair's right hand side, flanking the unseen fighting ahead, the sound of a whippoorwill is heard. Beloc recognizes it as a potential response call.

Beloc's eyes dart over to Shiaran. "That's them." He turns toward that direction and begins to quietly move forward.

A short distance away, the two nearly stumble on top of a trio of wood elves. They wear light scouting uniforms, composed of earthy shades of green and brown in splotches. Each wears a heavy cloak of the same material and color, save for what looks to be broad leafed weeds and tiny pine saplings growing from the material.

Beloc can easily identify them was members of the Canopy Shaper's "Line Watchers" division. A group dedicated to patrolling the outskirts of the wood and tracking the movements of intruders.

The lead elf speaks up, in a low an raspy whisper.
"Identify yourself. You look familiar, but we can't be too sure".

Underneath the cloaks of the back two elves, the tips of bolts notched in crossbows stick out.

A gracious look of relief washes over Beloc's face. "Line Watchers?" he exclaims as quietly as he can. "And just when I thought the taint rolling across the land had drained the last of our luck."

He composes himself as he eyes the crossbows pointed at them. "Beloc S'Viscus, Warden... " he frowns for a moment as he corrects himself. "former Warden of the Glen. Who might you be, soldier?"

Shiaran remains quiet and makes no moves that could be interpreted as aggressive.  These are Beloc's people and she knew when to keep her mouth shut.

Mostly.

The lead elf scoffs. "Beloc S'Viscus is dead. He died a heroes death over a decade ago. What are you playing at. Are you PCA??".

The two elves in the back row nervously hug their crossbows tight into their shoulders, giving an audible crinkling sound of leather and wood being pressed. Neither blinks as they stare intensely at the two of you.

Beloc shakes his head somewhat sorrowfully. "Yeah, I've heard that before. Perhaps you can tell me if Sheeva ever made it back to her pack?"

He looks back to Shiaran for a moment. "Look, I have no love for the PCA, you can trust me on that. After all, they're the reason I'm dead, but we've got more important things to worry about. Shiaran and I just came from the Midway garrison. It's been completed decimated, but we learned that a patrol had been dispatched just prior to the attack. We had hoped to catch up to them and warn them, but then when we heard the gun fire. We thought it might be them, pinned down or in trouble."

The look of doubt in the soldier's eyes doesn't appear to waver. "You don't have to believe that I am who I say, but you should at least know that I am a brother in your cause. I would never betray my people, or the land I vowed to protect." He extends his hand. "Will you help us?"

One of the back row elves visibly stiffens at the name "Sheeva". Once Beloc finishes, he lowers his weapon and steps forward, clasping hands with Beloc. "S'Viscous the Bold, and in the flesh. My father, Kallium told me of how Shaper Meliam brought her back from your journey. Few would know her name this day, but all know yours, Master Beloc. And look, he bears the Glen Warden medallion around his neck".

The lead elf pauses for a moment considering things. "If that's the true medallion, then you won't mind activating it. Show us, so we can be sure and press on to the more important matter" he says, nodding in the direction of the sporadic gunfire.

He smiles at the young soldier and replies "I'm glad to hear she made it safely back home."

Beloc sighs ever so slightly in disagreement to the theatrical display of parlor tricks but acquiesces nonetheless. "I suppose I'll be needing it anyway."

Without much ado, the amulet springs to life and rapidly begins extending itself across Beloc's body. As the helm finishes the transformation, Beloc looks over to Shiaran. "We should fetch the others."

"On it."  Shiaran darts away, heading unerringly toward the car to inform the others.

The lead elf's eyes light up. "By Obad-Hai's beard... It would seem a different kind of dead walks this day. Warden S'Viscous, forgive me for being so.. thorough. We don't put any sort of trickery past our common foe"

"No apologies necessary. You're wise to be on your guard." He glances back towards the direction Shiaran left. "What can you tell me about the situation here?"

The lead elf sighs. "It's not a pleasant situation, Warden. We've been prodding the outskirts for the past day now. A regiment of PCA is sieging Fildegarne as we speak, and have managed to block communications in or out. The fighting you hear closest to us, is a company that's been split off from the main regiment. The Fildegarian regulars are furthest away, dug in to the edge of the wood and are being reinforced by a few of our Wardens and Watchers. The three of us, along with a team that should be over on the left flank now, have been picking off scouts and runners trying to relay messages back to the regiment, as well as what we assume to be ones scouting for a path to flank. By our reckoning, the company is around hundred strong still. We've killed a dozen in the past day, but we haven't ventured close enough to get an accurate count beyond our rough math. Our own lines of communication back in the wood have been strained. The PCA are mostly up on a hill that gives them a good vantage point clear to the forest's edge, and they brought some of their best snipers with them it seems. We three started off as four".

Meanwhile...

Shiaran arrives back at the Badger to find everyone awake and alert. The sounds of the battle kicking back up seems to have served as an excellent alarm clock.

"Sounds rather dire. There's a few more of us down the road, all capable in a fight. How can we help?"

"We haven't been in contact with our left flank team for the better part of the day. They could just be laying low, or they could be in trouble. In the mean time, the three of us were pressing to the rear to try and sneak close and assess our situation. Help with either of those matters would be greatly appreciate, Warden. Your choice".

Shiaran approaches with obvious noise so she doesn't get shot on the way back.  Her movements are slow as she exits the trees.  Once she is seen, she explains to the rest the encounter with the elfin scouts.  "Beloc stayed behind to get their report.  We should secure the vehicle and see if this is something we can address in a short time.  However, we cannot get bogged down.  Our primary mission is of the highest priority."

"It is possible to lock the vehicle down, especially with our cargo?"  Sypher glances back at the bed of the truck.  "As much as I hate to do so, at this point we've taken on a lot of responsibility.  My vote is to move on and address our primary mission."  When Shiaran scowls at him, Sypher holds up his hands in defense.  "Shiaran, I know the cost in lives.  It's a bigger picture that we have to look at.  These people are professionals.  They are holding out as best they can, waiting for a change in the power balance.  We are that change.  If we stay and save a few lives in these woods, we could lose a lot more in the days to come because we paused."

R.E.B.O.R.T. interjects while the siblings talk. "I believe Sypher's logic to be the most sound. However, one could argue that if the force the soldiers are fighting are intent on the same destination as we are, helping them could, in fact, help our mission too. This is purely speculative though."

"Understood. In either case, the intel should prove useful. Personally, I would like to know more about the force attacking you, but the others won't be long. We can figure out a plan from there."

"Sypher, you make sense and I agree generally speaking.  However, if there is something we can do short term, we can have a major impact that will likely help us complete our overall mission as Rebort suggests."  She takes a deep breath, then exhales.  Her mind is made up.  "Darius, will you be safe here at the truck?  Can you defend it for a short time if need be?  Maybe send for us magically if it gets...interesting?"

R.E.B.O.R.T. turns his head towards Shiaran. "More input is required to make an informed decision. Perhaps Beloc can provide a report from the soldiers."

Darius hasn't left his seat and is letting his passenger's side door hang open. He yawns lazily and cracks his knuckles. "Nothing to worry about here. It would take quite a bit to bring this thing down, much less with me in it. Furthermore.." he adds, with a dangerous look in his eye, "If enough trouble comes this way, I'll see to it that I'm a smoking crater. Self preservation is great of course, but the PCA aren't known for killing magi and letting us stay dead. You'll be happy to know though - Rebort mainly - that with this signet ring, I can communicate directly through my uncle's essence residing in his docent. Tricky thing though, it took me a few days to really get it figured out". He waves a hand in dismissal. "Go on then, war isn't going to win itself" he says with a grin.

With that, the remainder of the party, including Apache and Krem, catches up to Beloc. The lead elf of the trio fills them in on the scenario, leaving it up to the party to choose their direction and course of action.

Once everyone is caught up, Beloc offers his advice. "If it were my decision, I'd say let these men report back to their unit and we scout out the enemy. Whatever we gain from the recon will only aid our efforts, and we can relay that to them on our way forward."

"Beloc, this is your environment.  You should command.  We will follow."  The words aren't hard to say, just logical.  Like that, Shiaran shifts from a command frame of mind to support.

Sypher nods his agreement.

Beloc's eyes widen quite a bit, then slowly roll over towards Sypher. The nod from the holy monk confirms what his ears just heard.

"Ok, we'll go with that then." He looks over to the lead elf. "You and the others report back to your squad on the left flank and let them know we're here and what's going on."

He looks back to the rest of the group. "The rest of us, we'll recon the situation and report back with our findings." Before the scouting party turns to leave, Beloc addresses the lead elf one last time. "Who are we to address this report to, soldier?"