The Statue Shatters (Eberron Round-Robin IC Chapter 1)

[Asmodeus]

The warforged examines the mind blade while Jo relates his story.

He gently take sthe semi-solid blade, examining it carefully. "Amazing. I've never seen anything like this." More impressive to him than the actual physical construction of the blade is the underlying web of existence. He has examined shortswords many times. He has created them under more mundane circumstances. He knew exactly where to look to apply an infusion that would temporarily ignite the blade in flame. Going into a blizzard, that seemed to be the most appropriate. For the mindblade, the same points existed but they were almost alien in appearance.

The artificer weaved the infusion into the web. A snip on this line. A new line connecting these points. And it was done.

When he finished, the mindblade was wreathed in purple flames. "A unique coloration. It must have something to do with the unique properties of the blade."

[fireinthedust]

Jo smiles, igniting and releasing his blade over and over. It forms in his hand, the purple energy aura surrounding it laced now with white flames. The hint of a smile is pushed away, and he gives a fast nod to the artificer. This is... thank you. Thank you very much.


ooc: Jo is ready to move forward, and so am I. :)

[Mantid]

Celvic watches the artificer work on the blade, thinking over Jo's admission. "These... nightmares," he says at last, "can try to stop us with all their might, but they will not spoil our quest. The Sovereigns are with us. We will not falter in this sacred duty."

He looks around at the assembled group and then adds, "I suppose in the spirit of honestly, I should make my own admission. If we are to fight side-by-side, you would learn of it quickly anyhow." He begins to work on the straps holding the left arm of his armor in place as he continues to speak. "There are those out there who see me as something to be loathed and hated out of superstition and myth. If your visions were similar to mine, you may already know I possess eldritch powers, to which many ascribe to some fiendish ancestry. Some are distrustful of me for that, but the true source of my powers hold much more sway over the minds of Sovereign's children."

Celvic finishes with the last buckle on the armor of his arm and holds it in place. "Understand that this is a blessing from the Sovereigns, a gift that they have given me to set me free of the foolish, erroneous, or even political beliefs that the more indoctrinated Vassals may teach and believe. It is something I use only in the Host's honor." He pulls slips the armor of his armor off enough to reveal a distinctive mark on his shoulder.

The twisting lines of the mark are unmistakably those of a dragonmark, but its sharp emerald color is a sharp contrast to the vivid blue of more familiar dragonmarks. Looking at the dragonmark, you can soon see that the color is not truly green, but is made of a complicated weave of blue and yellow lines that almost seem to crawl across the skin. Around the dragonmark and in the gaps in its pattern, the skin is read, flaky, and covered with fine bumps, an angry appearing rash.

"My aberrant dragonmark, the source of some of the powers you will undoubtedly see. Keep its existence to yourselves, but be warned. The mistaken suspicions and superstitions that these marks are evil run highest in the dragonmarked houses. If Merrix d'Cannith is aware of this mark, our apparent patron may be our closest enemy. Even if he overlooks its presence, it is doubtful everyone associated with his house will be as accepting."

[Son_of_Meepo]

Mirror listened as the others revealed things about themselves. He felt like he should say something as well, but what secrets did he have to offer? He didn't feel like he had very much to contribute to this mission.

"I can't say I have anything interesting to share with you. I was not created to be a warrior. My purpose is to mimic the appearance, voice, and mannerisms of others and to infiltrate, like a changeling wrapped in a metal shell. I'm not sure what good I'd be in a fight if it came to that."

He thinks for a moment before continuing.

"I suppose I could provide some entertainment, I have been trained to recite some of the classics."

Mirror's face slips into a more solemn visage as he lauches into a brooding soliloquy from the third act of "The Captain of the Camarade", a well known tragedy, where the main character, an airship captain, learns the story of his birth told to him by his foster parents was a lie. He laments that after all these years that he never really knew himself.

[Xian]

(Assuming Mirror has moved to the main cabin to perform and isn't soliloquizing in the bedroom... )
Unda watches Mirror's performance with an unwavering gaze, transfixed by his performance. When he finishes, she applauds enthusiastically at his rendition. "That was wonderful! I rarely have the time to see stage performances of any kind! Do you know anything from 'The Catamite and the Carpenter'? Some people think it's vulgar and tasteless, but they just have no sense of humor."

And so the Lightning Rail thunders on, streaking through the pastoral landscape towards its destination while its passengers bond, congregate and entertain each other, enjoying the camaraderie and planning for the encounters ahead. Potes navigates expertly through additional stations, circumventing stops and other Rail cars as necessary so that no time is lost. Incredibly, he remains at the helm both day and night. Unda reveals that he had personally undertaken special training wherein he learned how to enter a sort of meditative state between sleep and wakefulness, and through this is able to maintain constant control of the Rail car for days on end, save for very short breaks to eat, converse and catch a brief cat nap. He cannot do it indefinitely, but he has reached the level where he can go almost a week before his body demands that he return to a normal routine to recover.

Two days later, the Rail car speeds past Vathirond to the gray mists. Potes begins to slow the car and it comes to a full stop just before the swirling border. Coming fully out of his meditative state, he stands up, stretches, and opens the door. "Now is when things will start to get interesting," he says with a grin. Stepping outside, he approaches a large control box of some sorts standing to the side of the railway. He opens a panel on the side and his torso vanishes from sight as he leans in to tinker around. Unda joins him and watches him work, keeping an eye on the mist for anything out of place. A few minutes, sparks, smoke and swear words later, he closes the panel and the two return to the Rail car. Resuming his seat, he addresses all passengers. "We're on a time crunch now. I've overloaded the Rail to give us passage, but it'll only hold for 24 hours. We've got to be back at this point by this time tomorrow if we want to make it out. Fortunately, we just got a whole lot faster. Everyone grab a seat!"

10:27 am
24 hours remain

With that, the Rail car explodes from its resting point, off into the mist like a shot, going easily twice as fast as it had been the entire trip. The depression of the mists hardly has time to sink in as the car blasts through them in mere minutes. On the other side is a bleak, desolate landscape. Though far from being barren, the endless sands of a desert would be more welcoming. Everything has a brown, blasted look, with grasses and plants aplenty that appear to exist in a state of dried perpetual decay. Browns, grays and blacks are the color palette for this place. Even the sky has abandoned its soothing blue for the harsh brown earth tones of the landscape. Depressing as the scenery is, the car continues uninterrupted.

12:15 pm
22 hours remain

A few hours later, a vast lake appears out the right-side windows, reflecting the dirty bronze color of the sky. There are no waves, and indeed appear to be no motion within the waters at all, the surface as smooth as glass. The reason for this would appear to be that the "water" of the lake has a high viscosity; a humanoid corpse lies on the beach, his upper body submerged beneath the liquid. The way it coalesces around its waist suggests a syrupy ooze. Further out into the lake, a bird-like creature flutters down to float on the surface. Mere moments after it lands, the "water" comes to life and tendrils flash up and entangle the bird, dragging it beneath the surface in an instant. Whether this was a creature living in the lake or a part of the lake itself that developed an ooze-like hunger for flesh is uncertain, and ultimately irrelevant. The lake itself is death.

2:33 pm
20 hours remain

The Rail car approaches Metrol, and the blacks, grays and browns have been swapped for blacks, grays, whites and purples. Snow falls over the entire city and heavy storm clouds hover overhead, swirling and boiling, but never moving beyond the city. Towers, buildings and shacks all stand in ruin, absent of any life even of the meanest sort. As Potes pulls into the Rail station on the south side of town, he maneuvers the car around so that it faces the way they came, ready to leave at a moment's notice. He pulls up to the platform and shuts down the car. Standing up with a stretch and a yawn, he speaks to the party. "Ok, we're here. Given all of our travel time, I'd say you have no more than about 16 hours to try and find what you came here for. Unda will stay here with me to guard me while I rest. We'll wait for you as long as we can, but if you take too long we'll have to leave without you, and I certainly hope it doesn't come to that. I doubt anyone could survive more than a few days, and I wouldn't wish this horrid place on anyone. Feel free to take what supplies you need from the Rail car, though that's mostly food, and I'll see you when you return. Because I know you will all make it back just fine," he concludes with one of his grins. Yawning again, he heads back to the sleeping quarters and within moments soft snoring can be heard. Unda remains in the front, reclining in one of the chairs.

[fireinthedust]

The sight of Metrol on the horizon sees Jo's face fall slightly, and he takes a deep breath in. After long moments watching the city get closer, he frowns, like one hollowed by loss. I used to live here. It's... changed. he says to no one in particular, before closing his eyes. He seems to regain his focus when he opens them again, and all emotion is cooled. He pulls on the winter gear, fastening it to maximum effect while retaining as much motion and silence as he can. Then he returns to looking at the ruined city, though his gaze seems to be more clinical for the adventure ahead.

ooc: any sign of the path of the statue through the ruins yet?

Jo bows his head in thanks as Potes makes his way into the rail car to sleep. and may flights of angels... he muses quietly to himself, with the edge of an inside joke. what a strange saying about sleep. if they only knew the truth...

Friend, Mirror, Havon, Celvic. We'll need to find the trail of that statue fast. I recommend getting to the top of a spire with a view and seeing if anything's landed nearby. Friend, can you pinpoint the shard with some kind of ... detecting aura? It would cut down on search time and give us a direction to move in.
Otherwise, I can move to scout our path; I don't like the idea of running into anything messy alone, so I recommend us moving together, you guys following close behind me.
Sound like a plan?

[Goblin Music]

When in sight of the city, Rarrin buckles on some winter gear. Next, when they stop at the border, Rarinn watches Potes mess with the control box. and when the get to the station Rarinn will wait till everyone has left until he exits.

[Mantid]

Celvic, having changed into his winter clothes earlier, out of sight of Potes and Unda, wastes no time leaving the train, scanning the devastated city. "By the Six," he curses.

He looks to Jo'Natar, nodding in agreement. "A spire is a excellent idea," he replies, looking at the crumbling skyline of the city. "The center of the city is the most likely place to start. There is out best chance to find a tower, if one still stands. Perhaps on way the Artificer will recognize something that will lead us to the fragment." He grips the scabbard of the sword strapped to his hip and starts to walk to the north. "May Aureon and Olladra guide our steps."

[Asmodeus]

During the two-day journey to reach the mournland, the artificer spends some time weaving scrolls.

On the first day, he attempts a scroll which may help them escape from a foe or catch a train they are late for.
UMD Expedious Retreat - (1d20+10)[13] DC 21
UMD Last Ditch - (1d20+10)[26]

On the second day, he attemps the same scroll again if he fails, but otherwise, will create one that should prove useful in combat during winter conditions.
UMD Burning Hands - (1d20+10)[22] DC 21
UMD Last Ditch - (1d20+10)[19]

He left the driver of the car alone while he was in that trance-like state, but now that he was awake, the Artificer pestered him with questions about how he manages to get the Rail working through the mists and everything else about the car.

When they finally reach the end of the line, the warforged says "Jonatar, since you are from this city, you would make the best scout.

I may be able to attempt to locate the object magically, but I would need to be within about 400 feet to attempt it. By that point, we would probably be able to see the crater, so I doubt it will help."

[Son_of_Meepo]

"I can think of no other alternative to your plan," Mirror responds to Jo'Natar.

Mirror scans to skyline for the nearest spire.

[fireinthedust]

Jo nods. The nearest tower will do. The longer we travel through the city the more exposed to danger we'll be. That and time wasted from our deadline. Let's move out, then?

with that, Jo begins to scout his way from where the Lightning Rail Car is parked. He moves stealthily, from point of cover to next, keeping a wary eye out for danger then signalling the others to come forward or wait, as they will.
He begins to head for the nearest (albeit safest) tower or height he ca get to.

ooc Question: Are you using the map from the Five Nations book, or do you have your own map of Metrol? The FN map isn't too detailed, though they've got a spot for the rail station and several (I'm guessing) elevated walkways throughout the city. If you've got your own map, though, that's great; if there are any landmarks Jo would remember, like towers or statue or whatever with a view, he'll head there. (it's also a handy way to throw in a location you made up ;) )

[Xian]

((I'm afraid not; the FN book I have is a scan, and the quality is absolutely horrendous leaving it almost unusable; the map of Metrol doesn't show up. However, it does make mention that the city is reported to "move around", so that leaves me some room to work with.))

The skyline of the dead metropolis is jagged, with buildings of different heights and sizes arranged next to each other. There is a trend of the shorter buildings being on the outskirts of town with the tallest ones towering in the center. The distance from the Lightning Rail station to the center of the city is roughly 3 miles and could be reached in about an hour at a brisk walk, with towers of a more moderate height at roughly half that distance. Snow covers everything, but is light enough on the streets at the moment to not seriously impede movement.

((Spot checks from those examining the towers))

[Mantid]

Spot - (1d20+2)[6]

((heh... the only way I'm going to find this crater is to accidentally walk into it! ))

[manaleak34]

"Sounds like the best idea to me." Havon says to Jo's plan. "Best that you check from the tower Jo, you know this area best. I'll provide cover for you."

Havon carefully follows Jo when he motions the group making sure to be unseen as he watches the area for any dangers while having his short bow in his hand and ready.

Hide Check (1d20+2): (1d20+2)[9]
Spot Check (1d20+1): (1d20+1)[21]

[Son_of_Meepo]

Mirror looked around, but he wasn't really sure what he was looking for, Jo'Natar knew this place better than he.

Spot: (1d20-2)[9].

[Goblin Music]

Spot - (1d20+4)[11]
Rarinn stands close to the back of the party while they walk

[Asmodeus]

Notice - (1d20+1)[10] (notice instead of spot, since we did that wierd skill thing, right?)

[fireinthedust]

notice check 22!

Jo scans the spires rising amid the wreckage of the city, hoping against hope to spot danger as it comes.

ooc: I can't seem to make the dice roller work, so I'm invisible castling it.

[Xian]

Havon & Jo'Natar

Spoiler

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It is difficult to see at first, but you notice there are some holes in the sides of some of the towers. Closer scrutiny shows that they line up in a descending angle, and if a line were drawn through them, it would reach the ground some distance to the east of town.

Rarrin & warforged

Spoiler

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The towering buildings are crubmly and dilapidated; it's a wonder they still stand, but stand they do as a haunting reminder of the tragedy of this land. As your eyes cast downward back to the street level, something stands out. A block or two ahead, you see a lump in the snow on the right side in the street. Given how level the streets have been, this small heap is a bit conspicuous.

Celvic & Mirror

Spoiler

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The towering skyline must have once been impressive. One might even be so bold as to claim that it could rival the towers of Sharn, but no more. Instead they stand as haunting, skeletal remains of what once was and what will no longer be.

[fireinthedust]

There! Look, a series of holes through the... he stops for a moment, swallowing with a look as if his mouth was filled with ash. With a cough he regains composure. Through those towers. We should head east. This way, but keep a look out for danger.
"Friend", could you infuse my blade before we go any further? Or should we wait until danger is about to strike?

With that, he sets off again, moving carefully through the snow with regard for any suspicious spots (good locations for an ambush, etc.).

ooc: can we assume Jo has his psionic focus on? I can have him take an action to regain it.

[Asmodeus]

The warforged says "I can infuse your blade now, but the magic I grant it will not last very long. About 30 minutes.

But it is best to not attempt it in the middle of a battle, since it takes a minute to complete the infusion."

If Jonatar still wants me to infuse the blade, the artificer will do so now.

Afterwards, or if Jo doesn't want it done, he will point out a lump in the snow ahead. It is about a block away and to the right of the street. "Jonatar, do you recognize what that is?"

[fireinthedust]

ooc: I have a feat that grants me +2d6 damage if I expend my psionic focus on a hit. I have to take an action or so to recharge, but that's okay. Save the infusion for when we're going to fight something big, I guess.

IC:

Jo shakes his head. "Let's save your infusion for when we're hard-pressed. As for that snowbank... let's see."

ooc: anything I can note from this distance? I don't want to close with it if it's avoidable, as anything delaying us is theoretically bad.

[Xian]

From this distance, the lump appears roughly human-sized, but depending on how much snow is covering the lump in relation to everything else, it could be larger (thin dusting) or smaller (heavy snow drift). It's difficult to make out in the gloom and could just be an optical trick, but there seems to be a pinkish blot at the base of the lump.

[fireinthedust]

ooc: would this humanoid snowpile be lying down or standing up? And is the pinkish blot where the eyes would be? (ie: is this a warforged sentry, or a corpse with glowing red eyes, or something along those lines)

[Asmodeus]

Sensing from the lack of a reply that Jonatar doesn't recognize the landmark, the warforged advances towards it. He'll brush off the snow and see whats underneath, assuming nothing happens to stop him. If it turns out to be dangerous, the warforged is the best prepared to take the hit in this nation where the fleshlings can't heal themselves.

[Xian]

Dusting off the mound, the warforged uncovers a gruesome discovery; underneath the snow is the ravaged body of a dwarf. Eerily enough, the chest rises and falls ever so slightly, ever so slowly. There is no life in this body, though, not even unlife; the "breathing" must be a result of the effects the Mournland has on living beings when they die.

He is well dressed, clearly having deliberately come to Metrol; he even has warm clothing to ward off the freezing weather. He did not succumb to the environment. He was attacked by something, something with sharp claws if the lacerations on his corpse are any indication. It would also seem that whatever attacked him was hungry; there is a massive chunk of flesh chewed out of his neck and shoulder.

Rarrin

Spoiler

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You see something out of the corner of your eye. When you turn to look, nothing is there. Instead, it still hovers at the very edge of your vision, nagging you, remaining both seen and unseen.

[Goblin Music]

Um, something is wrong here. Rarinn whispers to the others. Can Rarinn use his peripheral vision and try to the the "Thing"?

[Mantid]

"There are many things that are wrong here," Celvic replies, looking at the uncovered dwarf. "He is wearing winter clothes. How long has this living spell sat on this city?"

[fireinthedust]

Jo looks at the neck wounds, the body and the clothes.
((as a tracker with a history of strange things in his life, what do these wounds tell me? Could it be a vampire? Or am I thinking savaged, like a ghoul or werewolf, or some other predator?

also: what's the general rate of snowfall right now vs. how covered this guy was, for a time line?))


I don't think the spell has been here too long. My guess is whatever did this did it recently. If it weren't for the timeline, I'd guess Merrix sent another team here before contacting us. Maybe our competition took an airship instead of Cannith Lightning Rail. Il-Yannah! We don't have time to play it safe and slow, we need to get to that shard fast before someone else who wants it does!

[Xian]

Rarrin - straining to use your peripheral vision does not aid much. It's as if it's straddling between being real and being a sensation, like some sort of optical illusion.

Jo'Natar - more like savaged. A ghoul would be a very fair predator comparison as the bites are shaped more like the mouth of a humanoid than a beast. As for snow, the current rate is very light. Assuming there hadn't been any recent storms, he could have been here for a few weeks.