Junk in the Trunk

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Log Info

  • Title: Junk in the Trunk
  • Emitter: Robert
  • Characters: Skielstregar, Thurid, Paenitia, Lysos
  • Place: Goblintown
  • Time: May 1st, 2022
  • Summary: A strange posting in Kulthian delivered to the adventurer's guild has four mercenaries arriving at Obble-Gropp's Heap'n Scrap in Goblintown with the notion that they're guarding a dig. The surprised owner of the establishment raises some questions until a seemingly-ancient seemingly-construct arrives shedding and Invisibility spell. The construct speaks cryptically as questions are asked. Finally, a forgotten shell left buried after the Merkabah Siege detonates and releases a crazed monster that's been trapped for two decades. Obble-gropp dies in the fray and Lysos' life is almost lost as well. In the wake of tempered victory, the construct is revealed to be something ominous and potentially-terrible. It departs.


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=    The Players    =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Lysos              5'6"     105 Lb     Human/Tsuran      Female    Dark eyed tsuran girl.                                                     
Paenitia           3'0"     34 Lb      Halfling          Female    A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery.                                
Skielstregar       7'2"     330 Lb     Sith-Makar        Male      A brilliantly silver scale with fangs and empty eyes.                      
Thurid             7'1"     249 Lb     Giantborn         Female    Bright-eyed, muscular, blond Giantborn woman.                             
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  As the GM  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Robert             6'3"     235 Lb     Human             Male      A middle-aged Cerenzan with a friendly, fatherly vibe.                                                           
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

Obble-gropp's Heap'n Scrap stands in open defiance to the better-established and semi-famous Old Clunk's Junkyard. Like the less tetanus-y rivalry of the great theatres to the south, the two yards loom opposite one another in the long alleyway that's come to be known as Goblintown. A relative newcomer to the scene, the Heap'n Scrap has the social advantage of being owned and run by gobbers in a gobber-dominated neighborhood-- and everyone knows you can't trust wargolems.

The uninterrupted gloom of the week holds strong and the whole block is dull and grey today. The patchwork fence of salvaged scrap, driftwood, and old pallets strapped, bolted, chained, and tied together looks in especially poor shape in the oppressive and shadowless half-light.

While the summons wasn't especially specific with the time, you're still surprised to find the wide gate closed with a heavy chain and bulky lock securing it so. A battered old wooden shield dangles from the top of the gate with a crudely painted phrase over an older serpent-and-trident motiff.

"GONE OFF 2 WORSHIP"

Skielstregar arrives with his usual guard duty getup. Which is... everything. All the weapons. Sometimes the best way to guard is to just look intimidating enough that nothing funny happens.

Which, doesn't help when a look of sheer perplexion is written across his visage with the sign up in place. "... uh... thisss one's... Trade isssn't the best...." he murmurs, looking down at the notice the Guild gave them on where to go. "Iss thiss the right place?"

Thurid has been a rare sight of late, off doing who knows what who knows where. But seeing a request for guard duty in the adventurers guild seemed like as good as any a contract to pick up to get back into the swing of things. And so the Giantborn woman makes her way down the street, her gleaming golden chainmail in stark contrast to the inky green-black head of the truly enormous maul she carries slung over her back. Here in Goblintown, especially, she stands out.

While she's used to being a head and shoulders taller than the average person in the city, in this quarter it's more like thighs, hips, sternum, chest, head and shoulders taller. She has to stoop to avoid hitting her head on low hanging awnings and be careful of her gait to avoid stepping on or in anyone or anything, all the while double checking the directions she had scribbled down from the posting.

Seeing a Sith-Makar looking perplexed outside of the place in question, she surmises she's found it but something is amiss. She approaches, offering her free hand in a wave of greeting. "Hail, friend. On contract for the guild as well?" she wonders, peering at the sign, herself, now she's closer. "Well, it did say after midday meal. Some people take their meal later than others, I suppose."

"Ha! That question is almost as popular as the one, 'what is for dinner?'" A cheerful and bright voice says from daunting heights. It is a Lucht Siuil, in heavy armour and a grinning mask, head and shoulders above Thurid.

Of course, it helps that Paenitia is riding upon Ramirez, her peacock-andalusian hippogryph, who is knees and thighs above most goblins and a little wide for the narrow streets. Somehow the gloriously feathered beast threads himself and his tail-train through the streets like a feret gone a-legging.

"Hola Thurid! And the stinky silver-scale friend dragon! You are smell the much better. The both of you, haha." She pokes at the gate with her lance-tip, in case that rattles it enough to open, "The address, she is right. Maybe we go in to wait? Or do the waiting where we block the street?"

Judging that this must be the place, if only by the collection of unusual individuals congregating around the gates of the directed location, Lysos is the last of the quartet to arrive.. perhaps a late signee to the contract. Even so, she squints at the chain, then to the small notice in her hands... offers a shrug, and pockets the slip away. "Fair weather day to all of you.. Sir Paen, Skiels. And.. oh my. You're almost as big as he is," she blurts out at Thurid.

Thankfully, you don't have long to wait before some manner of answer arrives...

There's an off-tempo scrape, squeak, and stomp gate as a small, pale figure in stained rags and leathers shuffled hurriedly down the alley towards the closed gate and junkyard beyond. The albino gobber has bright-red eyes and his large ears dangle, long and limp to either side of his wide face. His underbite is rather pronounced and the blunted, yellow teeth only serve to make him look more annoyed as he approaches.

"What?! Ain't'cha read?" He half-hops and half-limps as he squints across the assembled group. "Bloody gigantic loiterers." His right leg is in a sort of hinged brace and the foot below skews in. A gaudy chain polished up to look like gold sways from his neck sporting a pendant of a serpent encirling a trident on the face of a coin. The gobber keeps on his way as he digs a single key out of a pocket, passing between the assembled mercenaries.

"So hungry for good junk as you are I might have to charge you double." He's looking away but you can hear the hungry grin in his voice. "What a lovely day, holy day."

Skielstregar can't help but pout (somehow) at being called stinky. He rubs his arm. "Ah, hello Warrior Patientia," he mumbles before nodding towards Thurid. "Yesss, thisss one is here for the job to guard."

He blinks at Lysos. "Ah, Shaman Lysossss, long time no ssee-" A glance to Thurid. "... erm. Yesss?"

The towering makari looks down at the gobber harking at them. "... erm. Peassse upon your nessst. Erm... what holy day you do you mean...? It isss..."

He thinks.

It's a long pause. Painfully so.

"Eliday." 

GAME: Thurid rolls Knowledge/Religion: (20)+8: 28

"Ha ha! No, I have enough of the junk in the trunk." Paenitia chortles, patting the pack behind her on the saddle. "I am here, we are all here, for the watching you dig a hole and keeping you safe."

'Ruaaah!' Ramirez agrees. He would like to be inside, out of the rain.

"There are the special instructions for this task?"

"I visited the baths this morning." Thurid replies to Paenitia with a gap-toothed grin. She glances about as more folks arrive, offering each a wave of her hand. Lysos' comment causes her grin to crack wider still, and she lets out a mirthful laugh. "An advantage of my birth." she replies. "Pleased to meet you two, I'm Thurid, Warrior of Angoron." she introduces herself.

And then their apparent Patron arrives, and she turns towards him as he heads over to unlock the gate. "Ah, Apologies. Didn't mean to interrupt your prayers. Merchant favor your dealings." She offers with a dip of her head, before continuing, "We're here about the posting, at the guild. A contract out for some guard duty?" she offers, to jog memory.

"Just Lysos, me," the tsuran woman responds, returning the introduction, just as the pale goblin arrives. She quickly pulls the paper back out of the pocket on her dress, waving it at the keyholder. "Yeah. Guard job. Nice and simple, right?" Though she looks at the gates. "Though I'm not sure why you'd need a guard. Who would be interested in this kind of junk?"

The gobber has the lock undone and makes no effort to keep the chain from rattling raucously when he pulls it loose and dons it like a heavy, segmented, and steel boa. He hops a step to pivot and narrows bulbous eyes suspiciously at the quartet. "Hrn... yer lost, dummies. I ain't posted nothin.'" He shakes his head and mutters something about 'barmy folk' and 'air's too thin up there' as he leans a shoulder into the gate to push it open.

"You are the contractors?" A hollow voice spills out from bellows-powered funnel, caught in the middle distance of the gloomy grey. A quick hum and a pop and a... thing steps from the unseen to loom almost as tall as the mounted Lucht and her two larger companions. It's a sort of war golem-like, lopsided construct of patina-afflicted copper.

It wears a cowl and cloak of threadbare duck cloth, holey and tattered. The form beneath is almost skeletal. Clockwork and artifice show through where the plates of a torso are missing to reveal ribcage-like framing and the inner workings beyond. Its left arm is a hanging, brutish thing fit for a golem twice its size while its right shoulder sprouts a skeletal arm coiled with wires and a more-complete, humanoid-looking appendage.

The antediluvian construct's face is a mismatched array of lenses thick with dirt; one sports a spiderweb fracture, another is missing more than half of the semi-transparent material, and the other three are seemingly intact. It also has a 'mouth' that's simply a concave, curved cone with furtive darkness at its center.

Both right arms hold onto the same staff constructed of obvious artifice. Green energy swirls in overlapping rings at the top. A softer, subtler blue pulses from behind the ribcage like a heartbeat. <kulthian>

"... huh," the gobber grunts, nonplussed.

Skielstregar furrows his brows. "Junk in... the... trunk?" He twists to look behind himself, mirroring Paenitia's inspection of their weapons. "Ah, yesss. Thisss one hasss plenty of junk in their trunk. Yesss."

He innocently smiles.

He carefully follows in after the gate is opened, dead silver eyes taking in what is around. Which then land on the figure. "Umm... isss that... with you?" he asks, pointing to the energy pulsing golem.

Thurid's free hand goes instinctively to the haft of her maul as something suddenly appears before them- rather too accustomed to the sudden appearance of devils to react otherwise- but upon hearing the words it speaks she relaxes her stance. "We are." she responds. "I can understand your words but I don't speak them. Can you understand me?" she asks him then, taking a step towards him to act as the de-facto interpereter for the group, since she isn't certain what language it's speaking but it's not one she's heard locally.

She glances back towards the others, "I think this might be our client." she offers by way of explanation for now.

"Ah, then I am not needed, so will go. Ramirez! Turn around" Paenitia orders.

'Ruaaawwk?' There is no where to turn around.

As the dark lucht struggles with directing her mount, the strange golem appears, saying... something. She doesn't undersand, but it's enough to make her ask, "Unless, you are the one that post the hire notice?"

She faces the artifice contraption, stylized grinning mask to artificial face, and speaks to Thurid, "Oh, so it is the one? We are to free the workers from the taskmaster?"

The gobber gets a question to, "you have the explain for this?"

Lysos trails behind.. even further as the freakish construct reveals itself. The noises it emits don't seem to set her much at east, and anyone looking will definitely notice the 'why me' expression on her face. "You know... I once got paid to pick flowers for someone. That was a nice job," she muses. "Well, except for the goats that didn't like us picking the flowers."

"Prob'ly one of ol' Clunks to come stir up trouble," the albino gobber answers Skielstregar, still at the entrance as he switches over to the other half of the gate. He stops before he pushes it open and slides the chain off his shoulders, starting to swing it in a manner that might be menacing to some. "This one's my heap, junkbot! If you try to sic your scavs on me the whole alley's gonna come down on your boss!"

The construct, meanwhile, stands still while words are exchanged. After considering Thurid and Paenitia in turn, it reaches down towards a steel hoop hanging from a faded leather belt. The blue crystals on the hoop flare to life and humanoid arm disappears within, failing to pass through and into view on the other side. It withdraws holding a platinum mandible and affixes the forged jawbone to its faceplate. The result is fairly macabre.

It begins to speak again, the gust of the bellows echoing out but after brief static the mercenary's tradespeak is answered with tradespeak. "It forgets that language will change with time. You do not speak in its language." The volume trails away on the last word.

Something ratchets before the bellow begins to exhale once more. "You are the contractors. It is here for the reveal."

"... the fuck does that mean?" grunts the gobber.

Thurid glances back and forth between the Goblin and the Construct, arching a brow at their mostly one sided exchange, before she shrugs and looks back up towards the Construct once more when it speaks. "From what you're sayiung, you must be very old." she says then. "If they spoke that other language here in the past, it's longer ago than I know about." she offers.

She seems relatively unfased by the whole situation- she's seen weirder than this. "So, I'm curious what we'll be guarding and where. I'm not fussy who I work for, provided they aren't up to anything nefarious." she says to him. "So I'd here some more details, myself." she echoes the Goblin's sentiment, if more tactfully.

Skielstregar blankly stares at the display, the simple man rubbing at his face and sighing. Quietly, he shifts on his feet. "Erm... Thurid isss right. What needsss be done?"

"I have hear the strange tale like that, but it involve sheep. Pasithea have the good stories." The red knight remarks, still watching the construct. Her armour, her mask, hide her true reactions, leaving only her voice for interpretation.

She still sounds amused.

As the translation comes with monstrous devices, she laughs, "Aha! It mean we are here to help the thing." She makes a sort of bow while remaining seated on her hippogryph, most a lean forward with an arm sweep as she introduces herself, "I am Sister Paenitia Snapdragon del Harana, Knight of the Pillar and Paladina of Tarien. I serve the honourable causes and protect the common folk from the abusers in Authority."

Her ever-grinning mask turns towards the gobbo, her head tilted just slightly, "You are not the nefarious one here, yes?"

Lysos just... looks. So. Everyone's just taking this in stride. Again, from her position in the back, her gestures are not likely to be seen.. a little bit of pointing, a little bit of 'what the heck' palm-up shrugs. It's not that she's unfamiliar with War Golems. It's just that she's unfamliar with ancient, walking piles of scrap that seem to be able to modify themselves on a whim. "Okay." She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. "If everyone else is okay with this, then.. what could possibly go wrong, right?" she says to herself, under her breath. "So.. uh.. what's the reveal?" she asks, louder.

"It is not from here. It is from civilization," the construct answers Thurid. It quiets for a time, perhaps considering its relationship with nefariousness. The green energy at the top of the staff throbs.

The gobber takes this opportunity to look at the gate, then the mercenaries and timelost construct, then back at the gate. He's clearly debating just locking up again and leaving you all in the alley. "I'm always 'fair-ious," he answers Paenitia just this side of offended. "You always get what it says on the tin with Obble-gropp."

Either reaching a decision or remembering what it's forgotten, the construct answers: "Some years ago the last city was raised and brought to menace this place... mmm-Alexandria. A piece of civilization was left here. The shell has been restless since and will soon be revealed."

Thurid laughs at the topic of sheep, "I got the first of my trophies during that little adventure." she calls back to Paenitia, and taps one of the grisly little fetishes hanging from the haft of her Earthbreaker- this one is a chunk of horn roughly bound in iron wire. "Couple of scars as well." she adds next. Lysos gets a glance, "All sorts of things, but that's part of this life." she assures the Tsuran.

Finally the Construct captures her attention once more, and she listens quietly for a while. She offers the Goblin an apologetic shrug as she catches his conflicted actions, but doesn't speak up to interrupt. "So we're to find this piece, 'fore it causes any trouble?" she interperets. "Well, that sounds like something I can do. I take it you've an inkling as to where it can be found?"

Skielstregar rubs the spot between his eyes with the palm of his hand. "It's like that blasted dream journal..." he grumble rumbles in his native tongue, blowing out a gout of frozen air. <Draconic>

Shaking his head, he rights himself. "Well, erm, let usss hope thisss shell doesssn't cause much problemsss," he mentions, gesturing to Thurid, as the Giantborn seemed to have a better grasp of what was going on here, and seemed reputable enough.

"What it say on the tin this come out of?" Paenitia asks the goblin, and without waiting for an answer rambles on in conversation. She bobs her head towards Thurid, "I will near hear your version then. Pasithea tell quite the tale at the last gathering of the travelling folk."

Finally, Skielstregar and Lysos get a nod as she adjusts herself in the saddle and addresses the construct, "The civilization you speak of, it is the flying city of Merkabah, yes? The many terrible things come out, it the bane of adventurers going in. This the place you want go for the missing piece?"

"I am happy enough to guard," the red knight glances towards the gobbo again, "you want any junk we find there?" 

GAME: Skielstregar rolls fortitude: (19)+10: 29
GAME: Thurid rolls fortitude: (2)+10: 12
GAME: Lysos rolls fortitude: (12)+4: 16
GAME: Paenitia rolls fortitude: (1)+10: 11 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Paenitia rolls knowledge/local: (9)+11: 20

Lysos takes another breath.. she seems to take alot of those when she's trying to steady her nerves. Then she puts on the largest smile, turning to look at the scrap yard's owner. "Hey. DOn't worry. We're professionals. Everything's going to be alright. We wouldn't want to keep you from your work, right? Gotta hit the books, or do inventory or some other task for the day? We have this covered." 

GAME: Lysos rolls bluff: (17)+22: 39
GAME: Lysos rolls diplomacy: (10)+14: 24

The construct's head swivels beneath the ratty cowl and the wheezing inhale of the bellow precedes the announcement. "It does not know this 'hope...'" The blue pulsing of its chest interior dims and the hulking arm spasms, the meaty hand coming up to cover the framing.

"The reveal," it spouts, half-turning to look towards the junkyard.

"Whu--?" the gobber wonders, only to have his question interrupting by a brilliant flash and the thunderous clap of a nearby explosion. Fuchsia, black, and bright blue tear through the back corner of the yard as something beneath the ground explodes. The building behind the yard's fence disappears beneath the violent force and earth and shards of junk fly in every direction.

As the grit and grime rain down from above the lights settle to reveal a flashing vortex of energies spiraling above the ground. Energy arcs from the roughly spheroid mass to touch against the scattered refuse, disturbed earth, and ruined fence and buildings. 

GAME: Robert rolls 1d2: (2): 2
GAME: Robert rolls 1d2: (1): 1
<OOC> Robert says, "Thurid is deafened for 2 rounds. Paenitia for 1. Go ahead and +init for me, plx!"

<OOC> Paenitia says, "pull lance and shield and shout"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "oh wait I have to attack for that to work, so just fight defensively"

"AH! YOU HAVE THE BIG EARS! WHY THERE ALWAYS IS EXPLOSIONS IN GOBLINTOWN?" Paenitia shouts, either in anger or deafness, as she draws up her shield and pulls her lance from it's scabbard. She points at the swirling maelstrom of magic.

'RUAAAH?!" Ramirez roares, unhappy, also threatened.

"WHAT THAT IS?" She shouts, taking a defensive posture, "MAGIC PEOPLE, WHAT THE FIGHT TACTIC IS?" 

<OOC> Robert says, "Alright, fort save for Obble"
GAME: Robert rolls 1d20+3: (2)+3: 5
<OOC> Robert says, "Throwing Obble at Lysos"
GAME: Robert rolls 1d20+21: (6)+21: 27
GAME: Robert rolls 8d6+7: (34)+7: 41

The vortex seems to be little more than a collection of violent energies thriving through the air. There's nothing of distance between the whorls of air, flashes of light, and arcing energies. It seems content to thrash in place where it floats above the angled crater conjured by its arrival.

It doesn't move any closer but it does attack; the albino gobber howls in alarm as its pull up into the air. He kicks. He screams. He claws for a hold on the gate. Then, covered in a flash of that fucshia glow he rockets towards the Tsura sorceress and breaks against her form.

It's hard to tell which cracks come from where but both are bloodied and bruised. Obble-gropp then falls like a puppet with its strings cut. 

GAME: Lysos rolls knowledge/the planes: (12)+4: 16
GAME: Lysos casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 10 DC: 19
GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+8: (13)+8: 21
GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+8: (7)+8: 15
GAME: Lysos rolls 4d6: (16): 16
GAME: Lysos rolls 4d6: (10): 10

Lysos has a brief moment to get that 'why me' expression again just before Obble-grop collides with her. Somehow she manages to keep her feet.. probably thanks to the wall behind her. Of course, probably also thanks to that wall, she's probably sporting a few broken ribs now. A concussion? "Flambo!" she retaliates, somehow finding the breath to cast, releasing twin lines of briliant white.. neither one touches whatever the thing is. Then she half runs, half scrambles out of its line of sight, depserately seeking cover. 

<OOC> Skielstregar will pull his halberd out and ask the machine how do deal with this thing

Skielstregar suddenly ducks and clamps the sides of his head at the explosion, his head ringing as he rights himself. He just catches the gobbo get crunched against Lysos. "Get behind usss!" he says out of habit, pulling free his creepy halberd that leaves a trail of ink in the air.

And then Lysos' spell does nothing.

He looks back to the golem. "How do we deal with thisss thing?!" he shouts to them. If fire didn't work, how the hell would a sharp piece of metal fare against it? That's just ammo for it to fling! 

<OOC> Thurid does not. "I'll attempt to cast Cure Moderate Wounds on Lysos. 20% fail chance because of Deafness."
GAME: Thurid rolls 1d100: (2): 2
<OOC> Thurid says, "I'll use that reroll now."
GAME: Thurid rolls 1d100: (76): 76
GAME: Thurid rolls 2d8+10: (4)+10: 14
<OOC> Thurid says, "I'll also activate the Shocking enchant on my hammer, and that's turn."
GAME: Thurid casts Hold Person. Caster Level: 10 DC: 16

Thurid ducks at the explosion, but the shockwave rocks her regardless and she glances about, dazed and ears ringing. "Wha-" she begins, before realizing she can't hear herself. "WHAT WAS THAT?" she bellows the question at no one in particular.

Before she can hope for any kind of answer, the Albino goblin is hurtled against Lysos, killing the former and almost the latter, too, before her very eyes. She heads over to Lysos, laying a steadying hand on her back. "Angoron, make this one whole again that they may fight on." she speaks the words, engraved into her memory, even if she can't hear them herself.

Then she stands tall, eyes fixed on the vortex, face set into a scowl. She grips the hammer tighter with both hands, and a bolt of lightning strikes its dark head, sparks lingering and crackling through the metal. 

<OOC> Paenitia says, "well Ramirez can fly, can we charge the thing? if not, more up and attack"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "swift to challenge"
<OOC> Robert says, "Alright. He will get an AoO for reach. On Ramirez."
GAME: Robert rolls 1d20+16: (14)+16: 30
<OOC> Paenitia says, "so, Mounted Combat ride roll to avoid that"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "+5 to offset ACP"
GAME: Paenitia rolls ride+5: (15)+11+5: 31 (attack deflected)
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon3+4: (11)+13+4: 28
GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d100: (19): 19
<OOC> Paenitia says, "re-roll"
GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d100: (70): 70
GAME: Paenitia rolls damage3+10: aliased to 1d6+2+10: (4)+2+10: 16
GAME: Paenitia rolls damage3+10: aliased to 1d6+2+10: (3)+2+10: 15
GAME: Paenitia rolls damage3+10: aliased to 1d6+2+10: (2)+2+10: 14

Ramirez's defensive fighting is to get some mobility, which means getting off the ground. He and his little mistress hover above the walls of the junkyard, and she can see what they're facing. Although she's still deaf; any helpful instructions are lost.

Instead, she defaults to attacking, ensuring that she challenges her opponent first. "I AM SISTER PAENITIA SNAPDRAGON DEL HARANNA. KNIGHT OF THE PILLAR; PALADINA OF TARIEN! I HAVE TRAVEL TIME, SAVE THE FRAGMENTS OF THE DEAD GOD'S SOUL, AND YOU ARE THE WORTHY OPPONENT TO ADD TO THOSE I HAVE SLAIN."

For such little lungs, she can bellow. It carries. With a loud squawk Ramirez dives at the swirling mass. A sling of debries flies towards him, but he's moved out of the way by his mistress's expert guidance.

She points her lance at the centre of the storm and they dive in. She hits, solidly, and barks like a mad dog, "IGNORE ME AT YOUR PERIL!" <gnoll> 

<OOC> Robert says, "2x slams against the pokey little halfling!"
GAME: Robert rolls 1d20+16: (17)+16: 33
GAME: Robert rolls 1d20+16: (10)+16: 26
GAME: Robert rolls 2d8+5: (4)+5: 9
GAME: Robert rolls 2d8+5: (14)+5: 19
<OOC> Robert says, "Super. So first hits and second misses (which is good looking at those rolls!) What's your DR from your armor?"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "DR3, and after that, the next 2 points are Non lethal"

The roiling mass of energy has a very physical presence that Paenitia can feel now that she's closer. The light, energy, and air swirling around it is a biproduct of the creature's nature; not the creature itself. Invisible limbs slap out towards the mounted Lucht and one of the blows lands. Thankfully, the fantastic armor blunts the blow and leaves her to laugh another day!

There's another clap of thunder and the creature roars. The paladina can feel the anger of the creature in the trembling of her belly.

The construct moves forward, lacking any features to provide expression that would reveal his opinions on the goings-on. The two arms still hold the staff while the brutish third covers its chest. A soft hum escapes the connical 'mouth' on its faceplate.

<OOC> Lysos says, "Using telekinetic charge to get Skeil into the fray." <OOC> Lysos says, "Skiel will get to use an immediate action to attack with a +2 bonus." GAME: Lysos casts Telekinetic Charge. Caster Level: 10 DC: 21 GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon21+2: (10)+13+2: 25 GAME: Robert rolls 1d20+21: (7)+21: 28 GAME: Skielstregar rolls 1d100: (94): 94 GAME: Robert rolls 2d8+5: (13)+5: 18 GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage21+6: aliased to 1d10+8+6: (3)+8+6: 17

"Healer please.." Lysos manages to croak out, trying not to feel too dismayed as her 'cover' flys off to do battle. Cavaliers gotta cavalier, right? Relief floods through her.. temporary though it may be.. and she offers Thurid a pained smile of thanks before turning to Skielstregar. "Ready, Skiels?" She just gives a moment, waiting for the affirmation, before she says, "Ellioope!" and touches the big Sith's arm. And then Skiel is flying.

GAME: Skielstregar RAGES!, gaining +2 to melee attack/damage/Will saves and 14 temporary HP GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon21: (4)+15: 19 GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon21-5-2: (17)+15+-5+-2: 25 GAME: Skielstregar rolls 1d100: (6): 6

Skielstregar looks over to the golem, waiting for some insight.

He blinks. Then squints. He chuffs angrily, then nods towards Lysos as he hunkers down and preps his halberd.

And then he's flung, approaching at breakneck speeds. A smash against his side makes him twirl around, the halberd wooshing a dirge through the air as it hits something within the swirling mass on the return swing.

"Aha! It can be struck!" he shouts out loud. "Together, Warrior Paenitia!"

Taking a breath, he taps into that unsavory side as a plume of black ichor puffs from him, and he's in his Forgotten, snarling self. Massive swipes go through the swirlies of the energetic being, but none land true. "STAND. STILL. WRETCHED..." he snaps.

<OOC> Thurid says, "I'll charge on foot then, I think I still have a clear path?" GAME: Thurid rolls weapon17+2: (10)+13+2: 25 GAME: Thurid rolls 1d100: (100): 100 GAME: Thurid rolls damage17+1d6: aliased to 2d6+7+1d6: (8)+7+(1): 16

"I'LL JOIN THE FRAY!" Thurid bellows towards Lysos, taking a couple of steps towards the swirling vortex before breaking into a run. As she does, she lowers her hammer so that it drags along the ground, trailing sparks where it scrapes along the cobbles behind her, chipping off fragments of stone in its wake. At the last moment she begins it swinging upwards towards the invisible creature, whatever it may be- her hammer striking with a satisfying sensation.

"I CAN'T CALL UPON ANGORON FOR HELP WITH THIS BLASTED RINGING!" she yells to the others, above the fading- but still present- din ringing in her mind.

GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon3+3: (14)+13+3: 30 GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon3+3-5: (7)+13+3+-5: 18 <OOC> Paenitia says, "low is miss" GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d100: (35): 35 GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (20)+9: 29 GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (12)+9: 21 GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (1)+9: 10 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (14)+9: 23 GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d100: (100): 100 GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d6+4: (1)+4: 5 <OOC> Robert says, "DR swallows it, unfortunately."

"WHAT YOU SAY?" Paenitia shouts back, "I LEAVE MYSELF OPEN FOR THE ATTACK. IF IT TAKES, BE READY TO STRIKE!."

She strikes, and misses.

Her peacock andalusian also rawks and ravages, lashing out with his beak and talons. There's a grinding as he snaps something solid in the air, but to minimal effect.

The little knight grabs her reins in a sudden flurry, and guides Ramirez to flap hard to the side. "IT TRY THROW ME! HA! THE HALFLINGS ARE NOT FOR THROWING." She was aimed at Thurid; they resisted. 

GAME: Paenitia rolls fortitude: (9)+10: 19

<OOC> Lysos says, "After it hits it it will loop around to spend itself out without hitting anything else."
GAME: Lysos casts Fire Snake. Caster Level: 10 DC: 22
GAME: Lysos rolls 10d6: (30): 30
<OOC> Lysos says, "Reflex for half. SR if it has it. Fire, if it's resistant, immune."
GAME: Robert rolls 1d20+18: (3)+18: 21

Lysos is, frankly, terrified. Objectively, she knows why everyone's charged in. But she feels incredibly exposed now. Keeping her back to the wall, she inches just enough to get the strange.. creature? Object? into view. She tries to collect herself. Tries to get angry to dampen the fear.. then coughs and winces, clutching her abdomen. "Stars..." she says. Then she pushes away from the wall, steadies herself.. then takes aim again. "Flam--what?" Instead of the twince lances of fire she expected, a single, thick ribbon of fire snakes forward, straight for the concealed mass. "Aaaah!" she yells, waving her arms, which seems to affect the direction of the ribbon of fire. As it lances through the creature, the end seems to spiral up and out into the sky.

<OOC> Skielstregar applies Power Attack, Furious Focus, and Arcane Strike GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon21: (15)+15: 30 GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon21-2-5: (20)+15+-2+-5: 28 (THREAT) <OOC> Skielstregar says, "confirming" GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon21-2-5: (10)+15+-2+-5: 18 GAME: Skielstregar rolls 1d100: (32): 32 GAME: Skielstregar rolls 1d100: (80): 80 GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage21+6+2: aliased to 1d10+10+6+2: (9)+10+6+2: 27

The Forgotten Makari slathers and drips black miasma from his maw and twixt his scales as his halberd pulls back once more, the malefic weapon mirroring the wanton destruction his undead energy brings to the table. "IF IT CAN BE STRUCK," he snarls, wooshing one swing past it as fire engulf it from Lyos. "IT CAN BE SLAIN!"

>>CLANG<< 

<OOC> Thurid says, "I'll defensively cast Fire Strike."
<OOC> Robert says, "DC should be 25 for the casting defensively."
GAME: Thurid rolls 1d20+10+4+4: (2)+10+4+4: 20 (Fail)
GAME: Thurid casts Flame Strike. Caster Level: 10 DC: 19

Thurid winces as the ringing dies down to cacophenous noise, she glances over her shoulder. "We'll keep it occupied!" she assures Lysos. Turning her attention back towards the creature, she holds out a hand. "Angoron, cast down your judgement upon this foe!" she calls out. The clouds above begin to roil and churn, even as she ducks and dodges the creature's invisible attacks. However, she looses her concentration at the last moment, the energies of the miracle she tried to call forth disappating in a burst of harmless color and sound from her outstretched palm. The clouds calm. 

GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon3+3: (16)+13+3: 32
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon3+3-5: (8)+13+3+-5: 19
GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d100: (67): 67
GAME: Paenitia rolls damage3+10: aliased to 1d6+2+10: (4)+2+10: 16
GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (6)+9: 15
GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (11)+9: 20
GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (3)+9: 12

"YES. KEEP STAB! HIT HARD!" The Red Knight advises, as she thrusts her lance again, and again. She's feeling contact, and resistance, but has doubts to the effectiveness.

Ramirez flails at the invisible foe, his snap, his slashes meeting no resistance. 

GAME: Lysos rolls fortitude: (13)+4: 17
<OOC> Robert says, "That's a fail. Have you spent your reroll?"
<OOC> Lysos says, "I have not."
GAME: Lysos rolls fortitude: (5)+4: 9
<OOC> Robert says, "Lysos ----> Thurid"
GAME: Robert rolls 1d20+21: (2)+21: 23
GAME: Robert rolls 8d6+7: (25)+7: 32

The violent vortex viciously vies to end the creatures assaulting it as it rages in thunderous peals and flashes of light. There's something in the middle of all that energy and it's incredibly unhappy and more than a little unhinged.

For its part, the strange construct hangs back and observes, tracking the flung Tsura and then looking back to the melee when she doesn't rise from the throw. 

GAME: Lysos rolls constitution: (14)+1: 15 (4 total after -11 hp: fail)

Lysos is still too stunned at what she conjured up to manage much more than scream as an invisible force picks her up and hurtles her. If she had even a shred more presence of thought, she might wonder how much this is like those times she's used similiar magic to toss other people around. But she doesn't. And there's no time.. she hurtles right past Thurid and slams into the ground, bouncing once and crunching into a pile of scrap, her body a broken heap. 

GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon21: (19)+15: 34
GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon21-2-5: (9)+15+-2+-5: 17
GAME: Skielstregar rolls 1d100: (65): 65
GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage21+6+2: aliased to 1d10+10+6+2: (9)+10+6+2: 27

Skielstregar's head whips around as he hears screaming. The primal side of him relishing in the fear, though the reigns keeping him sane pull hard to keep him focused. "SHAMAN!" he bellows, swiping twice with foundation shattering swings before one collides with the swirling mass.

He disingages, looming, half-undead body covering Lysos' crumpled form, forming a meatshield with Thurid. "Thisss one will evacuate with her...!" he snarls. 

GAME: Thurid rolls weapon17: (5)+13: 18
GAME: Thurid rolls weapon17-5: (19)+13+-5: 27
GAME: Thurid rolls 1d100: (82): 82
GAME: Thurid rolls damage17+1d6: aliased to 2d6+7+1d6: (10)+7+(5): 22

Thurid spares a glance back as the heap of Lysos lands next to her, and she grits her teeth. "Let's end this, quickly." she says to the others through gritted teeth, she interposes herself between the creature and their fallen comrade. She swings her hammer once- the mighty haft hitting nothing but junk and cobble. She wrenches it back up, muscles flexing. "I can fly. I will spirit her to the temple!" she replies to Skiel, before bringing the hammer back up for an almighty uppercut- the trailing electricity seems to leap back into the head as it strikes, sending ripples through the creatures invisible form.

"All yours." She grunts to Paenitia, dropping the hammer without hesitation and turning towards Lysos. Wings of golden light sprout from her shoulders as she moves over towards her, kneeling down to scoop the girl up. Without another word, she kicks off the ground and into the air carried aloft by the wings, and soars as fast as they will take her away from the junkyard. 

GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon3+3: (15)+13+3: 31
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon3+3-5: (17)+13+3+-5: 28
GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d100: (99): 99
GAME: Paenitia rolls damage3+10: aliased to 1d6+2+10: (6)+2+10: 18
GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (7)+9: 16
GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (11)+9: 20
GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (12)+9: 21

"I said..." Paenitia stands in her saddle, pulling her arm and her lance back, then throwing herself forward into the lean as Ramirez jolts forward. "IGNORE ME AT YOUR PERIL!"

Her first thrust... misses.

"AGAIN!" She calls. Ramirez squawks and flails, slashing with claws and beak, finding only emptiness. Yet it is enough. She knows where the creature isn't.

The Dark Lucht's second stab finds solid purchase and pushes through it. The energy dissipates. Paenitia laughs, "Okay! I take the point, and it is done now."

Obble-gropp is a broken heap of ex-goblin laying in an alley that was abandonded when the explosion rang out. A brackish puddle slowly expands where his pulped insides leak out from the cooling corpse.

Lysos is in a shape nearly as bad but being taken at speeds to the temples for seeing-to but the Angorite.

Failing to take the loss of life into account, the rusting construct finally chooses to cross through the gate and into the crater that used to be the junkyard. "These energies... they are fantastic," it bellows from the dark recess of its faceplate. The staff grinds into the dirt and it hunches forward to lower its gaze. "The contractors prove to be adept... there was an acceptable level of attrition and the danger was thwarted."

Skielstregar steps up as Thurid takes point to get Lysos out of there, him covering the retreat. And then Warrior Paenitia delivers the killing blow, the deadly energy dissipating throughout the rubble. He glances to the Red Knight, and huffs in a nod. "... well struck..." he quietly snarls before letting the anger and energy go. The miasma ceases, and normal Skielstregar is back in a black inky >poof<. He slumps tiredly, casting a glance over to the poor gobbo. "... Dragonfather guard them..." he mumbles in a prayer, holding onto his necklace.

A glance to the construct. A massive frown pulls his maw. And he just spits a glob of ink to the ground as he goes over to retrieve the cooling corpse.

Paenitia remains on guard for a moment, just to be sure, before she lets it down. She looks skyward as Thurid leaves with Lysos, then glances at the heap of Obble-gropp in the rubble. That doesn't look good. She hangs her shield and sheaths her lance. "thank you, friend dragon, we all contribute to the take down."

"Ramirez, I dismount!" She orders, he spreads a wing and she takes her healing kit and slides down it. She approaches the slain goblin; checking on him is a formality. He seems done for.

Her ever-grinning mask turns to face the artifice golem, the smile in no way matching her tone. "The yard owner deserve the warning if you know this going to happen."

"It is not a fortune teller," the construct answers without looking back at Paenitia. "It did not seek the little creature's death but it will not be sad when flesh is rendered inert. Flesh is ephemeral by nature."

The construct stands straight and the brute-arm takes hold of the tattered cloak, tearing through it as one would a ricepaper wall. The scraps are discarded. The majority of its back is lined with thick copper tubes, a small portion is missing a plate to reveal the skeletal framing. The soft blue pulse has resumed.

"It has sought the answer to a riddle for aeons..." the construct offers cryptically while aiming the staff at the location of the creature's vanquishing. The swirling green energies stutter and reversed, rearranging and collapses to form their own conical vortex. The fucshia. The blue. The black. It returns to be pulled from the air and down into the staff.

The construct's form begins to mend.

"Ah." Paenitia says, her examination complete. There is nothing that can be done. "The loss of life darken the victory, leaving a sting that the coin will not erase. I see why the Kulthian constructs are despised."

She moves closer to Ramirez, and watches the swirling of energies returning to the staff. A glance is made in Skielstregar's direction, but the little knight doesn't wait for the dragon's response. Instead she asks, "So what the riddle is? Tarien have many jokes that strangely apply to the situations like these."

The transformation is rapid and dramatic, the patina-green, rust, and powdery white of salt deposits shed and left to the designs of the lazy wind. The plates regrow to hide their skeletal framework and smother the pulse blue beat of the construct's heart. Both of the smaller arms are complete and plated perfectly to resemble the musculature of man; even the brute-arm looks more detailed and graceful.

"The only riddle; true immortality," the construct answers. Its voice is a voice, no longer a wind projected from bellows to pass through and by shiped by the assorted pipes and sacks of its frame. It turns to reveal a face, shaped in greater detail with five eyes of multicolored glass arranged around the noseless upper half of a humanoid skull.

"When it surrendered life as a man compromises had to be made," its head tilts. It shrugs. "It seeks to abandon compromise and harness the true font.

"The contractor's reward is the remains of the shell; starmetal and artifice of great value. A bounty well-earned." It raises and slams the staff down twice, the distant echo of metal rings beneath the disturbed earth.

"It may have need of your service again."

Skielstregar just stares at the construct, fatigue sagging his frame. "Flesssh isss ephemeral. It isss why it is presssiouss to keep," he growls out as he watches the construct do its magics. He shakes his head, kneeling down to gentle scoop up the gobbo after Paentia confirms their demise in one arm.

With the eerie halberd being placed in its frog, he picks up Thurid's hammer that was left behind, and holds it near the top of the haft.

He stares at the display. The true voice. Its intentions.

"Consssider what ssservicess you need may or may not be denied by the ephemeral."

He looks to Paenitia. "I wisssh to leave," he says in a monotone manner. First person.

"Okay. I need the shell." Paenitia says without much mirth. Her head turns as she examines the wreckage of the shop, and she spends some time after gazing at Skielstregar, watching him collect the gobbo and the abandonned weapons, before facing the construct once again.

"The true immortality come at the price of that which make fleeting life enjoyable." She opines, "The desire to go grow strong with me too."

She exhales, "Ramirez, I mount!" Her hippogryph sweeps her up in the saddle.

Seated, she stares through her mask at the artifice construct, two eyes to five, but equally unexpressive, "You call then, so we know the holes in your concern, and the other common folk perhaps not die." A second more passes.

"Okay, we go." She and Ramirez turn and exit, with a wave for Skielstregar to accompany them. "I have the report to make. It will not be the one that get much laughter."

"It will not subvert your will," the construct allows with a nod to Skielstregar. It rolls its shoulders and sprouts a set of mechanical wings, bending its knees slightly before leaping into the air with a furious beating. "It would suggest deliberation; the bounty you refuse is beyond your ken."

It pauses for just a moment, looking into the sky to glance between sun and moon, then back to the ground. "Your gods are false." And then it aways.

Combatty

Map: https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=m8dxgpear05 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 |     Name      |  CHP (T) |  HP  |
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 | Lysos.........|   21     |  48  |
 | Paenitia......|   93     |  97  |
 | (C) Ramirez...|   67     |  67  |
 | Skielstregar..|   58 +14 |  75  |
 | Thurid........|   84     |  84  |
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 ---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
  >> 20   Paenitia         1  Flat-footed (3 rnds active)                   <<
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     18   Aetheror         1  
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
     17   Lysos            1  
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
     12   Skielstregar     1  Raging (2 rnds active)                       
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
     8    Thurid           1  
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 ==============================================================================



-End Scene-
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