The Forgotten Forge - Death in the Upper City (IC)

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Board Rider
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The Forgotten Forge - Death in the Upper City (IC)

Another day is coming to an end. The day started off promising enough. Devora received a solid tip about the possibility of providing protection services to a high ranking scion visiting Sharn. The cleric heard about the promise of work early enough that she was able to catch Vicks sober. The duo grabbed their warforged allies and Margana then made way towards the Wayfinder Foundation.

The heroes didn't move fast enough, however, and the job had already been contracted upon their arrival. The rest of the day was spent waiting around on a job that, surprisingly, never came. With clouds rolling in the party decided to pack it up. Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day.

As the sun goes down, the rain clouds open up. A perfect end to a miserable day, the rain is torrential. While the rain has little physical effect on Wrench and No. 1; Dookie, Vicks, and Margana are soaked within minutes. Thankfully, it is a warm evening.

As the group makes it's way through the labyrinth of wooden and stone walkways, curtains of rain pour off of higher walkways and spiral towers that surround the party. The downpour is so spectacular that the party can barely see even a few feet ahead of them despite the everbright lanterns placed about the area.

Exiting the walkway, the party finds themselves in the University District, yards from the Stargazer Theater located at the Kelsa Spire. Usually packed with both students and citizens, the area is devoid of both. Apparently, citizens lack the intrepid spirit of walking in the rain.

SPOT checks gents!

Talanall
Talanall's picture

Dookie is in the middle of explaining the premise behind knock-knock jokes to No. 1. She's making no effort to be quiet, since she has to make herself heard over the downpour as well as the not-very-quiet sound of the footsteps of the warforged in the group. And for that matter, she also rattles when she walks because of her scale mail, "So . . . right, knock-knock jokes usually are just a set up for some kind of pun. And they're really silly, and I personally don't find them very amusing, but usually children like them. And middle-aged fathers, for some reason. Anyway, they're very socially acceptable as long as you steer away from ones that have to do with anything related to bodily fluids or a creature's genitals."

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

Darker

Swarbrick, having produced a flask from under his jacket takes a long pull, ignoring the rain dripping from his hat. "I don't know, I've always had a fondness for the jokes about a creature's genitals. But I could see how the warforged might find them less than 'socially acceptable.'" Swarbrick grins up at the warforged, "See what I did there?"

The combination of his slightly inebriated state and taking his eyes off the path results in him tripping and almost falling. He manages to catch himself on No. 1's sturdy arm. "Damn uneven street! Someone should fix that. I could have broken my neck!"

Talanall
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"Well, YOUR genitals are amusing, Swar," Dookie concedes cheerfully, "Although I have to admit, dicks are hilarious. But more seriously, Wunnie, you have to be careful with references to meat-people's genitals. Some of us are touchy about that." She snickers at herself, and adds, "Once you feel like you have a good rapport with a meaty person, though, I think you could try a few judicious dick jokes. It would be funnier because you don't have one yourself."

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

Darker

"Is that why yours are so funny then?" Swarbrick asked, now that he'd gotten back on his own two feet again.

Talanall
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"Who says I don't have a dick?" Dookie replies.

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

drumandfight
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No. 1 listens carefully, picking up Swarbrick with reflexes that showed he had expected the man to fall sooner or later. He kept his attention on Dookie, however, trying in vain to understand the subtle nuances of the jokes.

"No," is all he says to Swarbrick when asked if he understood the joke about being socially acceptable. He sighed, his eyes turning from a light to a slightly darker shade of blue. "Meat bag jokes still sit beyond my comprehension. I do think it is funny when a particularly nasty creature explodes when I hit it. Never a goog creature, of course," he added giving Dookie an empathetic nod.

"No, no. Nothing like a kitten or a puppy. But when something truly deserving explodes, I have been known to giggle. Alas, I shall try to incorporate this new lesson in humor into my daily vernacular. Swarbrick!"

No. 1 turned on the much smaller being, his face all business. "Knock. Knock."

Talanall
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Dookie listens raptly. It's clear that she's looking forward to seeing what Wunnie does with this.

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

Darker

Stumbling again, Swarbrick takes another draw from his flask before looking back at the warforged, "Uhhhh... who's there?"

drumandfight
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"Rain."

Darker

Swarbrick sighs, "Rain who?"

drumandfight
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No. 1 looked around. The word "rain" had come to him due to the obvious downpour of water from the heavens. But now he was drawing a blank. He watched the spattering of fat goblets of rain near him for a moment longer. Just a second.

Then his eyes narrowed.

"Fall!" He grabbed Swarbuck by the back of the shirt and gave him a nudge out into the torrential downpour. Well, it would have been a nudge for another Warforged. The effect was a little more forceful on his smaller companion.

He turned to Dookie, innocent smile on his face, and proudly pronounced with emphasized pointing, "I too have no dick!"

Darker

Swarbrick stumbled forward, miraculously catching his balance. He turns and scowls, "Eh, Dookie, I'm not sure if he's benefiting from your tutelage."

Talanall
Talanall's picture

Dookie erupts into throaty laughter, and claps No. 1 on the shoulder. "Don't listen to him. That's the best knock-knock joke I have ever heard. Bar none."

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

deadDMwalking
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"The medium certainly was due for a revolution. The jokes are staid and very old fashioned. However, I do have an exemplar that I'm not completely unfond of. To whit, "Knock, knock."

Talanall
Talanall's picture

"Who's there?"

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

drumandfight
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While No-One is preparing for the punchline with a fixed grin on his wooden lower features, movement in the distance catches his eye. A flash of lightning reveal to him a scene most foul and his eyes immediately change from light blue to dark purple.

"On me," he says, all business, interrupting the joke and moving out into the rain. He moves as quickly as he can off in the direction of whatever he saw.

Darker

Swarbrick spins in a full circle as the warforged charges off, "Wait? What? Where are you going?"

Talanall
Talanall's picture

Dookie follows No. 1, pulling her mace from its holster as she goes.

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

Darker

Swarbrick sighs as Dookie runs off as well and dashes after the two, doing a decent job of moving in a straight line.

deadDMwalking
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Margana blinked and realized that there must be danger, somewhere, and her friends were probably heading toward it. "I'm coming, too!" Even if it meant trouble, better to have a pair of solid warforged, Swarbrick and Dookie to share it with.

MinusInnocence
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Disliking jokes of all kinds, Wrench follows the interplay between #1 and the humans with interest nonetheless. He was always pleased to see another warforged's progress toward social acclimation; even if it only meant he or she was learning to get better at an activity that is essentially an act of obfuscation and misdirection.

When the juggernaut detected danger, however, it was all business. Wrench pulled up the rear as the posse broke to close the distance with whatever threat had presented itself.

"Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag and begin slitting throats." - H.L. Mencken

drumandfight
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"Body on the walkway. Hooded figure moving away from it at speed." No-One was in soldier-mode within the blink of an eye, so to speak. He didn't waste anymore words and concentrated and keeping up with the cloaked figure.

Board Rider
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"Body on the walkway", as it quickly turns out, is an appropriate expression. As each of you catch up to No.1 on the skybridge each of you gets a view of a crumpled humanoid form.

Each of you have experienced war and the horrors that come with it. If the Last War has shown you anything, it is what a humanoid can look like when it faces a superior foe. The dead body lying before you, in a viscous puddle of rain, blood, and gore has clearly ran into a much more superior...something.

Besides the obvious gash in the midsection what appears to be human, the rest of the body has different areas that have literally been dented in. Someone..or something..not only went to town on this poor soul but stayed awhile and had a good time at its expense.

But sometimes the soul hold outs out. In what can only be called a death grip, the body has managed to hold on to a medium leather satchel.

Let me get a LISTEN check.

Darker

Swarbrick stops short when he sees the body, "Why that poor fellow seems to have met a rather untimely death. Though I suppose most death are untimely to the one doing the dying, eh Dookie?"

He peers closer at the body, "What's he got there? No-One, be a gent and grab that satchel there. It could have loo... I mean clues! Clues to who could have perpetrated such a heinous crime."

Board Rider
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Before No.1 can even consider reaching for the satchel he can hear the faint whirring of...something... through the incessant down pour of the rain. The sound gets louder and is accompanied by *clomp..clomp* sound. Unable to intially place the origin of the noise, the warforged gears are literaly spinning at trying to place and distinguish what he hears.

The realization is immediate. No.1 knows what is coming for his party, apparently the cloaked figure left something behind and is crawling under the bridge to get in better position. "Clever". 

This entire process occurs before a rain drop hits brick. No.1 begins to warn his allies as the cloaked figure hops over the railing, hefting a wicked looking battle axe. 

Everyone roll intiative. Only No.1 and the enemy will get to act in the surprise round. 

Board Rider
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Surprise Round

The figure, as it turns out, is another warforged. Where No.1 was built for power, Wrench presumably built for comfort, this warforged was clearly built for speed. At full height, the enemy warforged barely stands as high as No. 1's chest plate. There is no denying though that this warforged is a female personality with smooth features and a body laced with glistening mithral.

But none of that matters now. With a quick glance at the satchel, the warforged spins her battleaxe deftly and with a short stroke tries to strike at the body of No. 1. The result is a spectacular miss and the warforged does all she can to maintain her grip on her axe. 

Female Personality Warforged - 18

No.1 - 14

Board Rider
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Surprise Round - Continued

No. 1 decides not to attack the newcomer directly. Preferring to show off his psionic power, the psychic warrior steps away from the smaller enemy. The massive warforged raises his leg and slams it down on to the skyway. The result is nothing short of spectacular. While muffled due to the collected rainwater, there is none the less an impressive audible boom. Everyone can feel the ground shake beneath their feet, even the dead body ripples. The focused psionic energy is displayed by the water as it creates a large wake ending as it slams into the footing of the mithral clad warforged. The power works as desired and the female warforged falls on what a human would refer to an ass. 

Female Warforged - 18 - Prone

No.1 - 14

Board Rider
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Round 1 

Vicks, despite the liquor still in his system, has the presence of mind that getting too close to an axe wielding warforged may not be in his best interest. Instead, the changeling chooses discretion and eyes the prone warforged. Should she decide to finish her business with the dead body then that discretion will become valor and he will strike.

But none of that seems to matter for the murderous warforged. Seemingly no worse for wear, the enemy kips up, with battleaxe in hand. A fierce red glow emanates from the eyes of the warforged and her voice drips with what sounds like malice, "Flesh loving traitor. How dare you side with the flesh bags!" With that she adopts a defensive stance to see which of the party members come at her. 

No. 1 takes measure of the female and begins to move towards her tactically, freeing his menacing flail while doing so. The former soldier replies, "Well now, that isn't very nice." Eyeing both the enemy and his party the psychic warrior is beginning to suspect that the next few seconds are about to go south. Changing tactics the No.1 demeanor softens slightly as he stops just short of the enemy and offers, "Knock, knock."

Despite the rain cascading around her Margana hears the verbal interplay and continues No. 1’s attempt to begin a joke by offering some humor of her own style, “That sounds like a good one. But she doesn't have time for jokes in weather like this. She could rust. Best thing for that is a little machine grease." With that, Margana begins working her hands in an intricate pattern, seemingly pulling out what appears to be a pork rind from thin air. A quick incantation flows from her lips and as the rind disappears a small puddle of grease instantly mixes with water at the feet of the defending warforged. Despite the planted stance shown by the female enemy, the spell works as planned, and she falls again. 

Wrench cocks his head to his side, adopting what a human observer might interpret as a look of consideration. Mind made up, the blue collar warforged gets to work. Equipping his shield almost unconsciously, Wrench steps forward. In one fluid movement the artificer brings his shield downward towards the head of the prone warforged. At the last second, the female warforged brings up her battleaxe to deflect the bash.

Dookie rushes in to pile it on the female warforged. Okay with the idea of kicking a man, or woman in this case, while she's down the pint sized priestess brings her mace down to strike at the mithral clad ribcage of the enemy. Battleaxe otherwise engaged, there is no way to defend against the well placed attack and Dookie's arm tingles at the solid hit. 

Vicks (Yellow) - 21

Female Warforged - 18 - Prone - 4 NL damage - 7 damage

No. 1 - 14

Margana - 10

Wrench - 10

Dookie - 10

 

 

Board Rider
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Round 2

Figuring that the rest of the party has things well in hand, Vicks decides that maybe it's time to give the dead body a once over. Mindful of the thrashing enemy nearby the rogue gingerly grabs the satchel.

It's at this point things begin to get loud. Over the rain the entire party can begin to hear calls from the various towers surrounding them. "Hey, leave the man alone!", "Murder! Someone call the watch!" "Hey, stop that!” What difference a few seconds makes, apparently the streets weren't as empty as they originally appeared to be.

If that wasn't bad enough, the prone enemy begins make all sorts of noise. Whipping into frenzy, the female warforged makes what sounds like guttural noises. The display is even complete with a light show as her eyes seem to shimmer in various shade of red. Maneuvering to her knees, the warforged looks like she is preparing to pounce at Wrench.

That's as far as she gets though as a trio of party members all connect with solid blows stalling her comeback. Falling back down into the water and grease, the enemy shakes for a brief second. The red light fades from her eyes, turn to a dull grey and then blink out completely as they stare into the night sky.

The fight is over. But the battle may not be as the party hears the shrill whistle of the Watch pierce through the sound of the rain.

Darker

"Perhaps it's time to make our timely exit, eh? I believe we've found ourselves with two bodies too many and I for one don't want to experience the hospitality of the watch's gaol anytime soon." Swarbrick tucks the satchel away for later examination and begins to take his own advice.

Talanall
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"Oh, nut up, Swar," Dookie replies, unconcernedly. "If we run, they'll think we did something wrong and chase us. Watchmen are like terriers, that way. We were just defending ourselves, so we'll give a statement to that effect, really politely, and the officer in charge will let us go."

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

drumandfight
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"Dookie is right. We did nothing wrong here. She did." He points his heavy flail to the downed warforged. "The evidence should be clear - none of our bodies have human blood on them, do they? I doubt the same could be said for her."

MinusInnocence
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"We will defer to the constabulary and tell them our tale. If they try to apprehend us, it is a simple thing for them to stumble and fall. We are very high up, and the bridge is slick with rain." Wrench bends down to inspect the patch of grease from the wizard’s spell. "Indeed, it very nearly happened to us."

"Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag and begin slitting throats." - H.L. Mencken

Darker

Swarbrick shrugs, "I suppose it will be an epic 'I told you so' if you're wrong. That alone could be worth it."

drumandfight
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No-One holsters his large flail so he doesn't look more threatening than his natural appearance makes him. In the interim period of waiting for the constabulary to arrive, he inspects the body of the female warforged, hoping to gain some insight into who she was and the items immediately on her person.

Talanall
Talanall's picture

Dookie also puts up her mace. After a brief inspection to verify that the dead victim really is dead, she settles down to wait for the Watch to arrive. Idly, she asks, "Do you want to do the talking, Swar, or should I?"

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

Darker

"I'd feel most chagrined if I held my verbose talents back while someone else got us taken away by the guard." After a quick search for clues among the body, he turns to address the guards.

deadDMwalking
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Margana also agrees that waiting for the guard is the right call, but she's flustered by standing in the rain. "Wrench, hold up your shield - like so - and let me stand under it. Thank you."

Board Rider
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Rather than hightailing it into the night, the party begins their investigation in the rain.

The dead body is indeed human. Luckily enough there is a card in the departed's shirt pocket. You are looking at the remains of Bonal Geldem, provost at Morgrave University, School of Pre-Galifar Studies. Dookie instantly recognizes the name and, to a much lesser extent, so does Swarbrick. Neither knows the man personally. There is also a small pouch holding gold, mixed with silver, tied securely to the belt of the deceased administrator.

It's readily apparent he met his end relatively slowly. Bonal's left arm is broken and there are various areas on his body that are bruised and lumpy. A clean cut, presumably from the warforged's axe, is between his shoulder blades. That probably served as the killing blow.

The satchel is very well made and stylish. Very cosmopolitan, Bonal may have studied history but he was keenly aware of the present. In the satchel there is a wrapped apple, various quills and inks, six sheets of Karranthi paper, and a journal. Every party member that sees the journal knows that the journal is no simple diary or day planner. About the size of No.1's hand the cover of the journal is made of sturdy leather inlaid with mithral. The cover lacks any writing although the mithral inlay does form the shape of an icon.

The inert warforged bears much less fruit. Save the axe, a sling with fifteen bullets and a tattered cloak, there isn't anything of value on the warforged. There is the mark of Karrnath on her brow but that's about all you get to when you hear the stomping of heavy boots.

Investigating in the rain is a bit slower and, before you know it, the party looks up to see three Sharn watchmen slow their run and make their way slowly towards the party. Two are human, male and female, and they flank a powerfully built dwarf. The humans carry halberds. The dwarf carries a crossbow, which is currently aimed at the party.

"Olladra's bloody nose! By order of the watch step away from the body and explain yerselves!"

As if on cue a tiny piece of the fallen warforged separates itself from the main body and flies off into the night. A crowd begins to form. The day, it would seem, is not over.

Darker

Swarbrick presents himself to the guards with a thankful look, "Oh, thank the Sovereign Host you've come. This man," He gestures toward the body, "was brutally attacked by a warfordged! We tried to come to his aid, but I'm afraid we were too late. After finishing him off, she turned on us and we were forced to defend ourselves." Swarbrick looks at both bodies and laments, "Oh, the waste of it all! If only we had been able to provide aid sooner!"

Talanall
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Dookie steps away from the body as ordered, keeping her hands in plain sight and taking care to move slowly. She agrees with Swarbeck, "I checked the man to see if he was still alive. I'm a priestess of the Sovereigns, and I hoped to cure his injuries. But it was too late."

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

deadDMwalking
deadDMwalking's picture

"Of course we would have preferred to call you ourselves and let you handle it far more capably than we could, but it all happened so fast. As rainy as it is, I'm sure some of those nearby saw it all and will corroborate our story. We will cooperate fully in whatever manner you feel appropriate. In fact, we'd be willing to help transport the victim and his attacker somewhere more appropriate if you would like." Margana offers her most trusting, guiless smile.

Board Rider
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The dwarf chuffs and after unsuccessfully wiping away water from his face, begins waving off each of your comments. Lowering his crossbow the watchman walks towards your group and orders over his shoulder, "Moke, Tiffer, hold back the crowd."

Once within a few feet of the dead body the dwarf squats down, stands, and then moves to stand over the inert warforged.

"I am sergeant Dolom. One ovtha' ward watch commanders. Ye mind tellin' how you came across this?" Just out for a stroll...that it?"

While Dolom has his crossbow out it certainly isn't at the ready. The dwarf seems interested in hearing your side of the story before moving forward.

Talanall
Talanall's picture

Dookie doesn't say anything, but nods her agreement.

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

drumandfight
drumandfight's picture

"Dookie was teaching me how to make jokes," says No-One. His eyes had changed back from dark purple to light blue. "I believe I had just come to an understanding when the movement of the attack caught my eye. I came to investigate and that one," he pointed to the downed warforged, "Called me a 'flesh loving traitor' before attacking me."

He frowned as much as a warforged could.

"It was not a very polite thing to say."

Darker

Swarbrick adds for clarity, "Less of a stroll and more of a purposeful relocation to our favorite spot for some evening repast. We were just coming from the Wayfinder Foundation. We do a bit of work that way, you see. As we were passing through, we heard a disturbance and rushed to see if we could help. Alas, it seems we were too late to help and instead were almost victims ourselves. Terrible business that."

MinusInnocence
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Wrench continues standing with his shield raised over Margana's head, his gaze fixed on the dwarf. He had decided before the sergeant spoke neutralizing the crossbowman would be his priority; now that he had revealed himself to be in a position of authority, the warforged was resolved to put him down first if things went south.

"Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag and begin slitting throats." - H.L. Mencken

Talanall
Talanall's picture

"We were going to supper," Dookie translates, "and I was teaching Wunnie about knock-knock jokes."

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

deadDMwalking
deadDMwalking's picture

"In short, this was an exceedingly typical day," Margana intones drolly, "for us, anyway, until this happened." Margana makes a gesture to encompass both bodies.

Board Rider
Board Rider's picture

"Huh," grunts the sergeant. It's barely audible over the rain. The stout watchmen pauses for a moment when he fully realizes the size of No. 1 and how close in proximity he is to the massive warrior.

Facing Dookie, Dolom asks, "Did you happen to see this warforged here actually do tha' killin? Did you attack her first? De she say anythin' ta ya? Besides the verbal blade (he looks up at No. 1 when finishing question? Seems ta ol' Dolom that one enemy don't go pickin' a fight against five capable adventurers like yerselves."

The watchman shrugs and surveys the growing crowd Moke and Tiffer are struggling to contain.

Turning back to the party Dolom asks, "The poor soul have anything on em?"

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