Warklegnaw cracks his knuckles to back up Roni's threat, the sound of which echoes through the trees around you. Koth starts to say something, stops, visibly thinks better of it, and offers a grudging nod-shrug; his pride compels him to not give in, but he's obviously not going to say anything that could get him in deeper trouble with a very angry giant. "It's not mindless devotion," he growls, addressing the first part of Roni's threat instead. "It's...never mind. I'm sure you'll question me about that later, anyways."

After Roni calls out to his old and very close friend, the sound of clanking metal echoes out from behind the door, and the warforged eyes looking through the peephole move around a bit. "Th' kid? Th' kid...don' know no kid...wait...oh, th' Kid! The Kid what gave them Flamites what-for! How y'all doin', Kid?" The voice warms up immediately after the initial threatening anger and momentary incomprehension, and the warforged eyes move out of the way t'be replaced with...well, more warforged eyes, but these are different ones. "Good t'see y'all again, y'know it's been a right long--wait, prisoners?" The voice suddenly goes frantic, and the peephole slams shut. "No! NonononononoNOnono! Have y'all lost yer flippin' marbles, Kid!? Have y'all dropped 'em off the top o' Sharn? Lost 'em in a game o' Karrn Hold 'Em?"

You all hear the rapid-fire sound of the six locks being unlocked with the speed one could only reach through many years of practice, and the door slams open to reveal a...well, "man" isn't a good descriptor any more, really; he obviously started off as a human at some point, but he's more machine, now, than man. One of his legs, visible under grungy grayish leather overalls that stop at his knees, is a huge, hulking patchwork iron and copper leg that looks like he must have taken it off a busted warforged titan, crunched it down to fit him, and repaired it with whatever scraps of tin and brass that he had lying around; the other leg looks like a normal human leg (albeit one covered with liver spots and oddly spaced tufts of hair) with a deconstructed warforged leg fitted around it and secured in place by screwing it right through the skin into the bone. His left arm is still human, though with a second thumb attached to it by a strange contraption around his forearm constructed of at least three different kinds of wood with copper and brass gears sticking out, and his right arm looks like three homonculus limbs reconfigured into a single arm and held together by wiring and fervent prayers.

The warforged eyes you saw on him before now appear to be merely goggles, as he pushes them off his face onto his mostly-bald and slightly green-tinged head to reveal one cataract-clouded eye and one glowing orange lens. The other set of warforged eyes turns out to belong to a disembodied warforged head on a wooden stick that he was holding up to the peephole instead of his own, for reasons only the Host knows. "Y'all can't bring no prisoners here, Kid!" he continues ranting. "They'll find y'all! They can always find y'all! They blasted Cyre t' bits--t' bits, y'hear?--an' they can do th' same t'y'all! Par-tick-yoo-lar-ly after that stunt y'all pulled wit' that lightnin' rail derailment, don' think Ah ain't heard o' that one jus' cuz Ah'm all the way out here, I got ears everywhere! One lil' Kid an' his lil' sister an' his big brother an' some human an' a hob an' a giant can't...they can't....erm...." Huxley seems to register the rest of you for the first time, and promptly scoots back inside, re-locks all six locks with the speed of a true paranoiac, and pushes some large piece of furniture in front of the door. "Like I were sayin'," he resumes, his voice now slightly more muffled than before, "y'all can't hide from 'em! They made Karrnath blast Cyre t' bits, like Ah said, an' ain't nobody on th' Host's green Eberron what can hide from th' likes o' them."

There is a pause, then the peephole inches open with the warforged-on-a-stick once again "looking" through it at you. "Y'know..." he drawls with the air of one who's just had a brilliant idea, "y'all could always mah ol' shed. Ain't nobody can find y'all there--it's lined with lead t'block all the divinationary magic they use, then a nice thick wall of oak boards I cut down mah-own-self t'make sure nobody did nothin' tricky wit' 'em, then lead-lined again t'block them divinations what can see right through lead. They'll tell y'all that ain't no divinations what can see through lead, y'know, but that's just what they want y'all t'think! Anyroad, if y'all swear t'be quieter'na warforged whose commandin' officer told 'im t'walk real quiet-like, y'all can use th' shed fer a piece. But if th' Dark Lanterns come askin' after y'all, Ah'm gonna turn y'all right over to 'em t'save mah own parts, y'unnerstand?"