Forging Fury

His staff fallen on the floor beside the defeated soldier, Agarndas nods to North, his eyes a deep, dark blue. The adept of death and life stands in reverent, thoughtful silence for a while, listening and nodding slightly at his companions' words. His reverie is broken by the sight of the missing soulmark on Tenor's head. His own metallic cranium swivels back and forth as he scans the cabin for the missing insignia. Rays of light from outside the cabin reflect off his frame, but the necromancer's body seems dimmer than before; splashes of the vital fluids of both man and machine mar his body.

"I acted without thought," Agarndas admits. "My knowledge of humanity is-imperfect." The wizard spoke a few syllables and twisted his finely crafted fingers in an steady pattern. No flashes of light or bursts of sound came forth, but his companions could not help but notice the stains of blood upon the floor slowly collecting themselves, flowing upwards in a whispy stream, and dissipating into the air. "I offer an apology for my conduct." Agarndas states, directing the cantrip's energies with a few motions of his hands. "Stubborn pride is not a domain held only by the living."

The Warforged crosses the narrow compartment and with great effort drags the dead soldier towards the window opened by Ripper.

As Ripper looks over the bodies, he cuts loose their coinpurses, however the only other items of use on them are their weapons and armor, totalling a pair of well-worked longswords, a set of quality scalemail marked with the sigil of Karrnath, and various other tools.

Quickly hauling the bodies up to the window, Ripper and Agarndas manage to heave the human corpses out of the window, which is just big enough. Agarndas, being magically inclined, realizes the capabilities of the Bag which Juarin gave them at the outset of their journey and manages to put the inanimate pieces of Tenor into the bag rather than throwing him out the window.

OOC:
Loot: 550gp (183/183/184 split,) MW Scale, MW Longsword x2, Shortbow x2, Arrows(20) x2, Splint Mail, Heavy Steel Shield. Tenor's Gear is in the Rogue's Gallery, though there can't be much that you'll want.

I'll allow Tenor in the bag, counting for zero weight, for a sake of convenience incase he wants to be brought back to life sometime.

Just FYI-the spell I'm using to clean up the blood and such in the carriage is Prestidigitation.

Agarndas propells the second dead body out the window, watching the bloody corpse grow smaller and smaller in the distance. He is struck by a most unusual urge to clean himself, but ignores the impulse and turns on his metal heels and examines the pile of treasures gathered by Ripper. He selects the longsword he was slashed by and grasps it in his steel hands, ineptly giving it a few experimental swings. Quickly deeming himself incapable of effectively weilding it, he contemplates the sharp blade for a few moments before sliding it into its accompanying scabbard and stowing it away in the extradimensional bag.

"Take what you wish of these materials," the necromancer suggests, his still-even voice somehow lacking the spark of confidence it once held. "I propose no waste, though I have little desire for coin. We should dispose of anything we do not claim, lest it be found and lead to questions regarding its owner."

Ripper had moved over to the side of the train by this point. His little head turned to North, having seen his capabilities in action, before. "I have no use for any of the foes' cast off equipment, but I do require repair. Is this permissible?" he asked.






Ripper then gets up and kicks the DM in the teeth. "Get us moving or I'll sneak attack Jarrik with a bus!"

"Do you know any reason why it would not be?" the wizard asks as he reaches into the depths of his mind, utters an uncommonly musical word, and touches the diminutive Warforged's wound. The magic of his repair spell knits his companion's injuries back in place, weaving plates of armor and bundles of fibers together once again. His last useful spell expended, the necromancer scoops what equipment he can into the magic bag and offers the remains to North and Ripper. "If you do not desire these objects, I will dispose of them," he pronounces, pointing to the window with his left hand.

OOC: Jarrik could take a bus.

Disposing of the unwanted objects out of the window of the moving car, Agarndas and his remaining two companions return to their seats. Once during the trip Therius travels back to the servant cart to find that it is short three passengers, and makes his own conclusions.

"You know, of course, that this means you're going to have to explain the disappearances at the next stop, when the steward comes by to check the passenger manifesto," the Human explains coolly.

He goes on to suggest, "Just say that they ran off together, mention something about a fence. There shouldn't be too many questions."

Following the Human's suggestion, the group manages to make it peacefully through Kornth without much questioning. The trip remains uneventful, no one bothering to talk to the warforged and no new passengers entering the car clean through until the end of the line at Fort Zombie.

"END OF THE LINE!!!" a stout man outside bellows through the door into the small confines of the car. Leaving their car, and taking their possessions, the warforged make their way outside to find Therius waiting patiently.

"Come with me," he states calmly, with a tone of command.

The warforged follow him obediently out of the rail yard and through the guard station. Therius makes up some story about business in the plains to the east and the group sets off on foot out towards the east. Several miles distance, when the fort is obscured beyond the horizon set up by the low hills, Therius stops and turns to the warforged.

"Ah. My job is completed I believe. If there is nothing more you would have of me, I shall take my pay and leave to the north. Your business is your own, and I leave you to it," the Human says in a rather passive tone. "If you have need of me, I shall be in Vedykar until other opportunities arise to take me from there. Hopefully, however, this business shall take you far away from me. I would hate to go missing like your friend."

Taking his pay in hand Therius matches his actions to words. Meanwhile the 'forged maintain a moment of mild shock from the losses they have suffered in the weeks since leaving Juarin's side, only two of the three having actually begun the journey. However, they too must continue on their quest, and the two larger 'forged begin the fast walk to the south while their smaller companion keeps up a soft run with his well-machined and maintained body.

Several days of maintained marching later, the warforged find the construction site they are looking for over the crest of a hill. Taking a few steps back down the hill to cover their presence from prying eyes they take a moment to plan.

The fortress-to-be stands a mile to the southwest, over terrain which slopes shallowly towards it. The southwestern tower is completely built, and the south and west walls appear to be mostly finished. The northern and eastern walls, closest to the party of warforged behind their hill, are slowly coming together, however the project is far from finished.

The warforged work crews appear to be working tirelessly on the building, and a roughtrod path leading due east out of the worksite is constantly occupied by atleast two enslaved warforged, each carrying a large stone block back towards the building from what is evidently a quarry.

There is a loose patrol system consisting of skeletal sentries walking in groups of three at a distance of a quarter mile from the walls of the fortress. Also, walking along the path to and from the quarry, which sits on the eastern side of a steep hill, are a pair of animals that appear to be canine, yet reflect the sunlight like metal.

There is a small, crude hut to the north of the fortress. There appear to be no quarters for the warforged. The 'forged are not chained, however any 'forged who steps out of line along the walk to the path gets a nip from the creatures, and none approach the skeletal sentries during the short view the group takes of the scene.