Raiders of Aundair : The Dead Men Walk Again (prologue)

[Eryndur]

"Holy Mother of the Hearth!" Konnel exclaims after seeing Gillian.
"Gillian, you're not going to start preaching to me that 'dragons are just misunderstood', are you? Because I for one beg -- nay, plead -- to differ."

 

[Autumn]

Retief chuckles at the exchange, "By the gods, get me a few drinks and I'm as good as any tavern bard you'd like to encounter, just much handsomer. I could retell all the stories, just with less prettier words, I'm sure."

He moves toward the lieutenant and traces the wicked scar with his finger across his face. "That's quite a badge, one with more distinction and honour than that nice tabard you got on."

"Well, we both know exactly how much this tabard has always meant, right?" Ghaunder replies with a grin.

"I'll never forget that first morning with you fellas when I found it blowing from the top of that bloody tree. Guess I'll never find out which bastard did it either, or how they managed to skirt the wasp's nest while they were fixing it up there..."

He gives a genuine laugh, no bitterness in his tone. It's a story from a different lifetime, about a different person entirely.

"Hah, and here I thought you 'boys' might've grown to men in the time we were apart, but I see you're as childish as ever... Thank the great Dragon for that, I was so worried! How're my boys?" The voice comes from behind the bar, and a short draconic woman with a familiar presence comes around the corner grinning, dressed in gleaming chain with mace at hip and a wooden shield across her back.

"What, You telling me you don't recognize little Gillian? I admit I've changed a wee bit since we parted. Been busy hunting drakes, but I couldn't give up on a chance to reunite with the old gang."

The platinum scaled woman grinned as she flapped her wings and landed on a stool... She seems to be as upbeat as ever.

Ghaunder's eyes widen at Gillian's appearance, but only for a moment. Everybody changes, after all - her changes are just more apparent than most. When the shock has passed, he breaks into a welcoming smile. "You're a sight for sore eyes, gal. Don't know what woulda become of us old sods without a woman's sense to keep us in line."

 

[Voda Vosa]

The inn door opened wide, as the massive cloaked figure entered the room, and close it back. A chilling wind sneak into the warm inn.
Despiste it's clothes, the blunt newcomer is easily recognized as a warforged, he wears a simple outfit and a dark grey cloak, with the hood up.
He gave two steps into the main room, squeaking and screeching, and stood still, screening the area, searching for something. His coppery eyes shined, reflecting the orange flame of the fireplace, as Forge, as they comrades called him, back in the times of war, move his head side to side. Like other warforgeds, Forge didn't have a name of his own, but the nickname he received from his partners. He didn't really understand the importance of names.
The waitress finally realized that Forge was there for the meeting, and approach the creature with an unsavory expression on her face. She gently took Forge by his forearm and with a polite "Follow me sir", she led him to a separate part of the inn.
He stood silently, looking at the others that were already there. He slowly rises one heavy coppery hand, that squeak lightly, and says with a deep, loud voice.
"Hail to you" he said emotionless

 

[Drerek]

He stood silently, looking at the others that were already there. He slowly rises one heavy coppery hand, that squeak lightly, and says with a deep, loud voice.
"Hail to you" he said emotionless

Aaranth notices the warforged and gives it a nod, "Greetings to you too, Forge."

The warforged, what strange creatures, so outside the natural order. No few of his friends and companions had been killed by the warforged during the War, but no more than killed by humans. Those who said they knew best said the warforged had souls and were just like other races. If that were so, why not let them 'reproduce'?

Aaranth didn't really care. Forge and Aaranth had saved each others' lives too many times for the elf not to see the warforged as anything but a companion. Forge was not a warforged any more than Aaranth was an elf. They were Dead Men, and that is all that mattered.

 

[Blackrat]

"Well, we both know exactly how much this tabard has always meant, right?" Ghaunder replies with a grin.

"I'll never forget that first morning with you fellas when I found it blowing from the top of that bloody tree. Guess I'll never find out which bastard did it either, or how they managed to skirt the wasp's nest while they were fixing it up there..."

He gives a genuine laugh, no bitterness in his tone. It's a story from a different lifetime, about a different person entirely.

Jael smiles at the memory of this occasion. "I remember that. Right after I got promoted to captain when Orlen got himself killed. Now that you mention it, I don't remember ever been called by rank back then either. Except by you during your first week. Everyone just called me shorty. Even Gillian." He gives a look at Gillian, reaching almost to his chin, and laughs.

The doors open again as the construct walks in and greets them.

"That you Forge? You polished yourself just for this occasion?" Jael greets the huge construct. "Been truly a long time"

 

[Voda Vosa]

"Indeed" Forge says with a screech. "I can state you have change" He looks at all the present with his coppery eyes, one by one, with a little squeak each time he moved his head. "All of you. I haven't change at least in my physical form, as you can see".
Pointing the halfling woman with a finger the artificer asks "I do not recognize you halfling, what is your name? " Forge keeps pointing with his finger, standing in the middle of the room.

 

[ethandrew]

Retief claps Forge on the shoulder, but slows up at the last second as to not hurt his own hand, "Don't you even recognize our own Gillian? Have you been away that long, Forge?"

 

[Eryndur]

Konnel shakes the warforged's hand warmly. "She took a cue from you, Forge: natural armor, the only way to go."

The paladin whispers a prayer of thanks to the Host. Forge was the definition of stolidity. And with his uncanny knack for magecraft, he was absolutely essential in every task laid before the Dead Men.

 

[Voda Vosa]

The warforged would have raised his eyebrows, if his head wasn't made of copper."I understand" Forge stated a few moments later, and a little white cloud emanated from his head right side.
"Hello to you then, changed Gillian. I hope your draconic heritage wont be to strong as to make you a real danger" Was that a joke? Warforged made jokes? You'll never know.

 

[DrZombie]

The more perceptive of you see a door open at the far side of the room. Two people enter. One is known to you, a tall athletic figure in simple but expensive clothing with the typical movement of one whi is customed to wearing heavy armor. His smile is genuine when he sees the group gathered, recalling shared memories and remembering lost friends. The other one is a short male human who clearly hasn't seen much hunger during the war. Golden rings on his hands show off his wealth for the world to see. He, too smiles, but more the smile of a shark, no warmth whatsoever reaching his cold eyes.

"Hail, friends."Lord Ir'Wynarn says.

"If naught happens tonight but a gathering of friends who served their country like few others did in the last fifty years ,it will still be a night well spent. Allow me to introduce Goodmaster Willems, a friend of mine and of the crown. Now, let us enjoy the food, drink and company, and let no buisiness come between us and our appetites."

"Please, be seated."

Mere moments later the doors to the kitchen open and a veritable feast is brought to the table, every dish garnitured and presented in a beautiful, Aundairian fashion. The best wines of the country appear on the table, and for the heathens who prefer beer the thick brew of the Karrns is readily available.