Who Wants to be a Wayfinder? The New Class

Johan enters the cemetary cautiously and looks around for anything out of place (Johan Spot Check and Search Check (1d20+2=3, 1d20+2=10)). He is caught off guard by the appearance of the half-orc.

"The lady here is quite concerned you see, and insisted we come as quickly as we could. Please good sir, your help would be greatly appreciated, and we will leave as soon as we can, and disturb as little as possable." Johan says.

OOC: Diplomacy +4, so a +2 to assist Whisper.
 

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The half-orc blinked and scratched his chin, thinking hard to assist. "We don't get too many visitors to the cemetary, not too many people actually die "in" the town, afterall, and those that the jungle takes aren't usually buried. Plus there's some kind of superstitious nonsense about 'wrathful giant spirits'," the half-orc spit decisively, "I've been caretaker for some 15 years and I haven't seen hide nor hair of any giants."

The half-orc leaned on his shovel, thinking back, "Last time I saw anyone here was about two weeks ago. They was burying some warforged fella, ain't that the weirdest thing? Burying one of them...," the old half-orc shrugged and jerked his head over to a shaded corner near the inner wall of the cemetary. A simple headstone marked "RIP" sat there.

[sblock]Believe it or not Whisper actually rolled a 20 on her Diplomacy check. And then Johan passed his. Hehe.[/sblock]
 


The old half-orc blinked, "Er... I don't know anything about that. I just puts 'em in the ground when they tell me to. This fella', he didn't have many friends. It was the innkeep where he was found what brought him in. No coffin, said a 'forged didn't need one."

Boromar (POSSESSED BY THE SPIRIT OF THE DM!) moved over next to Johan. "When extremely damaged, my kind enters an inert state in which we can remain indefinitely. It is possible that this warforged was buried in error and remains inert if technically alive beneath this soil. However, warforged have no method of self-repair as humans do. If they are alive, then they should have remained dormant until such time as they were rescued. We cannot take chances, however."

"We must exhume the body," the warforged said.
 

"Good sir, might we exhume the body? It is quite possable this is the mental voice crying out that our friend over there heard. I can assure you that any reparations will be made if the 'forged is not alive, so says Johan d'Deneith."
 

The caretaker was quite taken aback by all of this. He cast a glance at the humanified Whisper and nodded his consent. "Alright, alright, here take this shovel I'll run back to the shed and grab some more!" With that the caretaker was off.

Johan began digging and by the time his muscles were sore from exhaustion, the half-orc had returned with shovels for Boromar and Midian as well. Time whittled away. Because of the stormy nature of the region, bodies had to be buried quite deeply to avoid their returning to the surface during a particularly heavy rain. Finally, as Midian cleared away another shovelful of earth as the others watched (the hole having become too deep to dig in any way other than individually), there was a shifting of earth as a metal hand broke the surface. The druid took the extended hand and pulled, revealing the battered, dirt-smeared countenace of a warforged.

"Th-th-th-thank you...," the warforged said, haltingly, as if its voice hadn't been used in eons. "Thank you so much!" Midian got the strangest feeling that the warforged was on the verge of tears, despite the lack of requisite glands and organs necessary for such an act.

Midian helped the others lift the warforged out of the six foot pit and then began to move to get himself out when something by his feet caught his eyes. Or no, maybe it wasn't something that caught his eye. Maybe it was a sound, or a taste. In any case, there was something there, just below the surface of the dirt, just below where the warforged had lain.
 

Watching from the stable ground near the edge of the hole, even Whisper's borrowed human face twists with sympathy and a flicker of anger. As the warforged is pulled free, she crouches down a bit and asks, "Who did this to you?"
 

The warforged shook its head as it sat on the ground by the hole, trembling slightly. "All I remember is the pain. Tearing, ripping, breaking...," the warforged runs his hand along his chest plate, a large jagged wound clearly visible, "Then... the darkness, the weight, the suffocating. I was don there for days... forever... couldn't move. Out."
 

Primus said:
"Th-th-th-thank you...," the warforged said, haltingly, as if its voice hadn't been used in eons. "Thank you so much!" Midian got the strangest feeling that the warforged was on the verge of tears, despite the lack of requisite glands and organs necessary for such an act.

Midian helped the others lift the warforged out of the six foot pit and then began to move to get himself out when something by his feet caught his eyes. Or no, maybe it wasn't something that caught his eye. Maybe it was a sound, or a taste. In any case, there was something there, just below the surface of the dirt, just below where the warforged had lain.

Midian paused a moment, studying the ground, flashing on the memory of the hideous paralysis Talbot had suffered. Midian hefted himself out quickly. Keeping his eyes on the maybe-not-empty grave, he asked, "Uh, Mr. Warforged, was there something else down there with you?"
 

The warforged looked over at Midian, its red eyes blinking like two lanterns flashing on and off in the darkness. "I... I don't know. I couldn't move, there was darkness and then, ther ewas...," its eyes fell on Modrinn. "Yes! It was there! I called to it! There was... the warmth and then I saw it and... now it came...."
 

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