Operation Peacemaker IC

[Cogwheel]

Act 1: The Raid


There is, as promised, a pillar of blue stone, visible even from Eston. There is also, perhaps unlike what was expected, a significant wait. Sonia is the first to arrive there, and the other five arrive some time later, each from a different direction and alone - a strange, vaguely humanoid blob of frost, for one. Two humans approach, one carrying a gigantic bow, while the other carries strange and unfamiliar metal rods. The fourth newcomer is a pixie, deigning to remain visible, if not consistently so. Last of all is a dwarf, somewhat slower than the others.

Once the group is assembled, the greeting committee appears. That is to say, one human appears by the pillar - atleast, he seems human, if eccentric. He walks and speaks in an odd manner, as if not quite used to, to be quite frank, anything. How he appeared is anyone's guess - there was certainly nowhere near the pillar where he could hide, least of all from Sonia. A pair of silvery eyes look out from between a voluminous robe and a rather oversized hat, and nods slightly. There may have been an attempt at a friendly smile, but it really is quite hard to tell.

"Good, you are here. First, thank you for accepting the offer given to you." He stops for a moment, as if double-checking the last sentence, then nods to himself and continues. "Now, I realize it seems inconvenient, but I will need all of you people.... people? Is that how it goes? Yes, people. I will need all of you people to put blindfolds around your heads, and I will lead you to the headquarters. I'm afraid the secrecy is needed. We can't risk being exposed. That wouldn't do, no."

The guide, seemingly growing stranger by the moment, hands out a collection of blindfolds. He stares in confusion at Charade for a full minute, then gives up and half-heartedly blindfolds him too, as well as Sonia. A formality, if nothing else. Within seconds, the blindfold has frozen to the point that, while brittle, it could likely be used to saw through a log. With this done, he leads the six, mostly with his voice, along with the occasional push in the right direction, for approximately two hours. Moments from the end of the journey, there is a staircase, a distinct dankness from the underground air, and a blinding glare as the blindfolds are removed.

Each of you enter a brightly lit square metal room. Looking at it, one word immediately springs to your mind: disinfectant. A sort of grimy cleanliness permeates the entire hall, and gives it a feeling of having been recently scrubbed. The air in the rather crowded room radiates the unpleasant scent of humid steel. Standing in the room, besides yourselves, are about two dozen people, most of them human, all clad in scarlet robes. At the end of the room is a small wooden podium with a half-elven man, similarly clad in scarlet robes. On the wall above the podium, you see the only decoration in the room, if it can be called that - a large, steel dove painted onto the wall. An emblem, clearly All the others gathered file out of the room, save for the man on the podium, who bows quickly, very slightly, and begins to speak.

"Greetings, friends, and welcome to Operation Peacemaker. I am Skoraj Firdim, leader of this organization. I apologize for the manner in which you were brought here, but we have little choice - I do not wish for the location of our group to become common knowledge. I hope that your stay here is a safe and fruitful one."

his expression, however, speaks different and all too obvious words: what a bizarre, unsavory little crowd.. but they will get the job done.

"Now, as you are quite aware of our ideals, and likely have no interest in them, I will spare you any explanation and get down to business. As for your first mission: There is a Cannith warehouse several　hours from here on horseback - I will provide magebred horses for you.." he glances briefly at Charade before continuing, "Or some other form of transport, if horses are unlikely to survive the journey. It holds four items that we require for our operation. Firstly, cell 7 of the warehouse holds two planar orreries - the room contains little else of interest, but should you have any trouble finding them, they resemble our world, Eberron, with the planes in orbit around them."

"Secondly, cell 13 holds several dozen plane-bonders. They are unimpressive things - looking for all the world like nothing more than small metal spheres - but they hold the power to generate a manifest zone for some time. A far more powerful effect, in fact, than a manifest zone, though the effect is similar in principle... but I digress. As they are a relatively new Cannith invention, not yet disclosed to the outside world, security will most likely be heavier there than anywhere else. Each of these plane-bonders are in a labelled box - I wish for you to bring as many of the ones tied to Irian and Mabar as possible. Bear in mind that bringing more of one type than the other will be pointless - I require equal amounts of each."

"A few final warnings: first, the security will be rather strong, consisting mostly of constructs, traps, and whatever else the Cannith magewrights have at their disposal. Destroy any opposition if need be, but remember, I do not want this raid to end in a massacre. Above all, it is most important that you are not seen - if there are any witnesses, kill them, though as I said, I prefer to avoid death. If you fail in this, than at the very least, make sure they are left no way to track you back here."

"Now.. I'm sure some of you are quite tired from your journey here. Exit through the left into a corridor and go into the second room to the right. There, you will find several green steel cans on a shelf. Drink the contents of one, and it will have the effects of a night's rest. Before you ask.... what was your name? Ah yes, Charade. They will affect you as well. After this, leave the room and enter the room at the end of the corridor. The quartermaster will be there with supplies for your mission."

His explanation finished, Skoraj steps off the podium, bows a little and smiles. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must retire to my office now. I wish you luck in your first mission."

[EleventhHour]

Sonia

Sonia brushes strands of coppery hair from in front of her face, where it was mussed by the blindfold, and watches the speaker attentively with deep blue eyes while he talks, only occasionally glancing at the surrondings, the corner of her mouth quirked at his... unhappy tone, but she waited until he was finished speaking before stretching, and looking at her companions curiously. "So, who wants to be the first to try the mystery drink?" She asks in a light, melodic voice. "Oh, my name is Sonia, by the way..." She adds, before beginning to walk toward the first indicated corridor.


First rolls of the gaaame.
[roll0] (Listen Check) - For people/unusual noises/navigation across the room (Assisting Blindsight)
[roll1] (Sense Motive) - Mostly for fun

[technophile]

Sebastian eyes the other members of the little group. Something about him seems odd (for a human, anyway) at first, until you realize that he is unusually still. Most people fidget, cough, sigh, flip their hair or shift their weight periodically; Sebastian just stands there, obviously alert and just as obviously completely poised.

As Sonia turns towards the corridor, he takes one more long look at the steel dove painted on the wall. Frowning, he turns and follows her.

"Sebastian. If they've gone to all this effort just to poison us, I don't think much of their chances for peace."

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
Charade spends the entire trip appearing to look around, despite the blindfold. It wouldn't matter to it whether or not it can actually see, it simply moves through the world as others might move through a museum filled with magnificent wonders all around them. It manages to restrain its curiosity during the man's speech, though it continues to look all around it, whirling about to see everything, tapping the floor with its feet, testing it.

As soon as the man dismisses them, Charade immediately bobs over to the nearest person in a scarlet robe, and points at the dove symbol. Raising its arms, dozens of small symbols on chains hang from them - symbols of gods magnanimous and profane, the emblems of orders of peace and destruction, the crests of houses of healing and war and construction.

Then, a voice emanates from the creature - or, more accurately, voices. The creature's speech is a dissonant clash of several different voices speaking at once, generally following the same trend but not keeping the same time. Some even seem to be having side-conversations with each other, rather than speaking to the robed person. All of the voices are heavily distorted, very obviously not any mortal race's voice.

For all the confusion, somehow all who hear it understand it clearly, as a few of the more coordinated voices speak in unison, and all but drown out the others: "The symbol, this would like one," it says, indicating the other symbols on its arms and the larger one on the wall. "That," apparently referring to the man it is speaking to, "have smaller, on chain?"

As it says this, the creature continues to look around, now taking the opportunity to prod the wall as well as the floor. It even pokes the man it is speaking to, just a sort of experimental nudge on the arm. The touch is cool and wet, but not painfully cold.

(after getting a response one way or the other on this, and hearing the others talking about poison)

Charade hops over to the others, looking at each quizically, its 'head' cocked to the side as it inspects them. "No poison for this, this can drink first," apparently entirely missing the obvious fact that its success in drinking the potion would tell the others nothing about its safety. And then it notices the ring on Sonia's finger, and attempts to touch it.

[Cogwheel]

The man in the robe - somewhat ill at ease already around some of the recruits - recoils slightly at Charade's touch, apparently thinking his arm would freeze and drop off, or something similarly unpleasant. He eventually composes himself, though he is obviously - "obvious" being a word which here applies to those slightly less oblivious than Charade - still rather shaken and unnerved.

"Y... yes, ofcourse. I'm sure the quartermaster has a few to spare. But please, don't... don't wear them outside the complex. A symbol like that would be much too incriminating."

After stuttering out his reply, he walks out of the room - not running, though he might want to - looking carefully back at Charade a few times.

[EleventhHour]

Sonia

She continues toward the corridor, looking back at Sebastien over her should, "I wouldn't suppose that it was poisonous, that would be an unusually large amount of effort..." She jerks her hand back, seeming not to have noticed Charade, or his 'hand', at all before he touched the ring. "...Hello to you too?"

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
Charade blinks its one big eye - itself not more than white-colored image in the shape of an eye on its face - at Sonia, confused. "... Hello?" its confusion apparent from its response. "That has Cyre-ring. This has Cyre-on-chain," it says, indicating the same emblem dangling from the creatures out-stretched arm, between the symbols of the Devourer and the Path of Light. There is no apparent organization to the symbols. Then a small golden hand, not recognizably any holy symbol, druidic emblem, or dragonmarked house crest, glows, and the symbol of Cyre floats up, and with a tug, is pulled from the creature's arm - the chain sliding straight through the creature's arm. The symbol is held up for Sonia's inspection.

[Balketh]

Tale

Tale had been quiet for the entire trip - the sort of quiet awkwardness that only springs from poorly attempted social situations of vague importance. It was odd that, once blindfolded, he did not need to be directed or pushed, nor did he bump into anyone, and young man seemed to follow their 'guide' with disturbing accuracy.

Within the base, the rank smell of disinfectant did nothing to his senses, as if he could not smell it. Tale removed the blindfold, only to raise an eyebrow at the gathering - and his companions. He watched, and listened, in what could only be described as stunned silence, yet this was not new to him. Operation Peacemaker were two words burned into the back of his very mind - figuratively, of course. It had only been a few weeks, and there were few clues to follow, and yet, here he was, in the heart of Operation Peacemaker.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tale sorely hoped answers would be here. They had to be.

Within moments, the briefing ends, and a frustrating moment comes to pass. A social situation, talking to each other. Tale gulped. Now that everyone has a chance to properly gaze around, and at each other, they have time to fully assess the young man.

Tale stands an almost overbearing six foot two, of medium-to-large build, broader-than-average shoulders, yet not the walking brick wall people his height usually are. Young, handsome, clean shaven, with silky, dark, yet short, spiky hair swept back in a vain attempt to contain its unruly nature atop his head.

He wears an Explorer's Outfit in varying shades of brown, the vest and pants dotted with many pockets and such, as well as other predictable adventurer's garb, a few pouches here and there, a belt, fingerless gloves, and leather sheathes tied to the outer thigh of each leg. At his back, a well-worn backpack that looks empty.

The holsters contain what may be one of the more discerning features of the otherwise rather plain, if rather handsome, Tale. Two large, brick-like metal wands; long, rectangular, both appear to be made of brass, though their weight would suggest otherwise. A blade runs along the bottom of each rectangle, which sprouts a handle at one end, opposite to a hole at the other end. A spinning mechanism that clicks as it turns is visible.

Their function and purpose, however, is unknown at the time to any other but Tale himself, and those it has been used on; as such, only Tale knows their function - there have been no survivors.

Tale watches his apparent companions with great interest, if it could be called that. Some alarming facts would be brought to light soon about Tale, though they may pale in comparison to his icy friend; then again, they may not.

Gazing around, Tale quietly follows the others, his footfalls alarmingly heavy on the cold, metal floor, almost with a strange ring to them. Never the less, Tale moves relatively quietly, with his companions, toward the quartermaster, and their first real task as a group - a strange, revitalizing drink. Not the last strange thing on their journey, no doubt.

"I... I am..." Tale pauses, his sky-blue eyes drifting downward, as he almost seems to struggle to think.

"Call me Tale." He concludes his thinking. "It will become a more accurate name, given time. I hope." He smiles a smile so painfully innocent, going so far as to even close his eyes and tilt his head to one side slightly. A worrying level of innocence in someone otherwise thought to be an adventurer.

For a while after, he remains silent still, glancing frequently at the one-eyed... Creature... If it can be called that, in the group, out of intense curiousity. Of course, whenever he suspects someone is even considering to look at him, Tale averts his eyes to the floor.

When the group slowly shuffles into what looks like a storage closet, and the green cans on the shelf are brought into sight, Tale gulps, eying the can cautiously. Taking it in one hand, he looks around, at the others. Something in his eyes shows fear, but not of the contents of the can.

The crackling rip of steel being ripped apart sounds, but by the time anyone can turn to look, Tale is merely standing there, can in hand, blinking at the others in vague surprise. The top of the can has been gouged and ripped from the rest of the can.

Tale stares for a brief moment at the others; the lid of the can, most likely mangled and shredded, is no where to be seen. Then, in one, swift motion, without a second thought or care to any repercussions of what may or may not be in the contents of the can, Tale tilts his head back, mouth wide open, and downs the entire liquid without even swallowing. It just... Slides down his throat. It takes a few seconds to down the can, but it doesn't seem to even need a breath afterward.

Licking his lips, Tale looks at the can, then at the others.

"It... It seems okay..." He nods briefly, smiling somewhat nervously at the others. When he is assured his companions no longer have him in their sights, Tale disposes of the can by placing it behind a box, out of sight, out of mind.

The lid, however, is gone; no where in the room to be found.

[EleventhHour]

Sonia

She smiles nervously and nod, "Yes... that's almost the same one, isn't it?" She straightens out the leather skirts of her outfit as the group enters the room. "Ah, hello to you as well, Tale. I was afraid I wasn't going to know the name of our heavy-stepping friend." She gives a quick, wry smile, before reaching for her own canister, fiddling at it with a thin knife when the violent ripping sound makes her jump, and drop the tin, which goes skittering across the floor.

She stares at the torn off top, for a moment, blankly, "Well.", she begins just as Tale downs the contents without pause. "Well," She begins again, "How is it?" A little stir with her knife, and she decides to try it herself, downing most of it, but losing a touch onto her shirt, unused to drinking from such wide brims. "Not bad..." She murmurs in anwser to her own question, storing the can away in her pack.

[NoldorForce]

"Go to Estahn. 'Reorg', mahy arse. Baht pay's pay, Ahy soppose."

Mueghak was in a foul mood that morning - in other words, his usual. Blindfolding didn't help one bit. Oh, Ahy cahn see frough darkness. Boht not whahy'ule mahy ahyes are closed!

The walk was uneventful. Mueghak naturally chose to fly rather than walk, and hence only made a sound when his fedora blew off. Ahy'll %^&*@# you befohre you steal vat, base weend! The hat hadn't gone far - he'd caught it on instinct, for this wasn't the first time - but it was the principle that mattered. Jamming it over the blindfold, Mueghak muttered another Dwarven curse and continued on.

Hearing of the mission's details cheered the dwarf up. A smash-and-grab, as it were. Minimize deaths? Silence witnesses? Those sounded deliciously contradictory. But Irian AND Mabar? What was this employer after, some sort of explosion?* No matter, they'd see soon enough.

And what of his team? Three humans. The woman looked like the party muscle, considering the size of her sword. The men, in contrast, seemed to work at range - one had a bow, the other had...something different. Holds vose like waypahns. Daydeecat'd wohnes. Odd. A pixie. Mueghak rolled his eyes. Take what you cahn get. And...a frosty blob. Definitely unnatural, considering its grammar and lack of social mores. Beezarre? Ahnsavory? Bahy Aureon, yes.

Mahyt ays well introduce mahyself. Mueghak Mronan. Noht 'Mugak', Mueghak. He opens his can without much ceremony, if only because the others went first. Mostly flavorless, but filling. Bettoe (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Open-mid_front_rounded_vowel)r wif wahyne, baht tol'rahble. After draining the can's contents, he looks quizzically at Tale. An odd one, that.

Ah wayll. Nao fohr...b'siness. Mueghak holds his can at perhaps a foot from his face, and breathes flame on it. The can slowly disintegrates into a misshapen husk, which Mueghak prods into a thin square sheet. After more fire and some manipulation, what was once a can comes out to a folded steel dragon.** He ***** an eyebrow. Ahy don't know abaot vah rayst ahf you, boht Ahy believe vat sohme prep'rashoen ees gued, no? Ahnd vis ees vat Ahy do - tohrch ahnd tayngl enaymies.

*Taking 10 on a Knowledge check - result 12 - for simple recall of those planes. So Mueghak at least knows that Irian and Mabar are diametrically opposed. Also taking 10 on Sense Motive - result 20 - to guess some purpose behind things.

**Essentially a metal version of the paper crane. Mueghak is unharmed as a result of fire resistance (yay, Fireblood Dwarf!) and Endure Exposure.

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
Charade grabs a can, and manifesting its mind blade, slices off the top cleanly. It then tilts back and pours the stuff into its 'eye', as if the image of a pupil constituted an actual orifice for the liquid to enter into. In any case, the liquid can be seen mixing into his flowing arcana, billowing and diffusing until too faint to see.

Charade lets out a frightened squeak at Mueghak's use of fire, and jumps behind Tale, who happens to be standing closest, interposing the strange man between him and the heat. The voices are in disarray, dozens of them repeating hundreds of variantions on the same theme: "This no like fire!"

[Defiant]

Helen

The pixie stays on the ground and visible for the entire time since the very first meeting. Every now and then her wings would flap as if she is not accustomed to walking. Wearing a fairly skimpy traveler's outfit, a buckler is strapped on her left forearm and frequently ignored by her attention.

All who gaze upon Helen are taken in by her beauty. Race, gender, and even size category do not seem to matter to make a person be enthralled by her magnificence. Her demeanor seems to suggest a strong personality, as she remains silent for the entire time with a serious and dedicated look on her face.

When it comes time for the briefing, she gives her undivided attention to Skoraj. Anyone glancing towards her at the right time would notice a significant look of distaste and annoyance on her face for some unknown reason.

I could do this alone. The fact that we're employing an entire team for this means that minimizing casualties is a preference rather than any sort of objective to accomplish.

When shown to the cans of liquid, she promptly grabs one and sticks it in her haversack.

I do not require rest at this time.

When the time comes for introductions, she notices Tale's timidity and promptly winces before correcting herself back to neutral. As others introduce themselves and the gaze of the rest of the party seems to fall upon her, she quickly lets out a word, or rather, a name: "Helen." Her voice seems to be as wonderful and enchanting as her looks and stride.

She seems to say nothing more, her facial expression showing signs of extreme disinterest. She glances around with a slight look of annoyance on her face and body movements, as if waiting to proceed. As she looks at each person (or thing) and evaluates them in her mind, she is non-committal in her demeanor.

[technophile]

Sebastian looks carefully from one extraordinarily weird companion to another. And then to another. Briefly, so briefly it might have been imagined, his eyes narrow consideringly as they rest on Tale's odd weapons. The pixie, by comparison, seems entirely normal. As if I haven't seen enough insanity during this war. Flame grant these people are weird enough to end it.

He nods in greeting to Charade, Tale, Mueghak, and Helen. Mueghak's burst of flame doesn't cause him to jump, but his hands do flex briefly -- although whatever reaction it did elicit soon vanishes as Sebastian watches the dwarf deftly shape the can's skin into an intricately folded statuette. There is a strange look on his face, as though the skin and muscles were being manipulated in some unaccustomed fashion.

At Helen's action, Sebastian gives a grim half smile and raises a can to her in mock toast before slipping it into his own pack. A kindred spirit, then, at least in some fashion, he thinks to himself.

Finally, he seems to work through Mueghak's accent and nods seriously. "Aye, preparation. I'd like to see maps of the target, whatever kind of defenses they have, any other intelligence we can use to our advantage. Going in blind is a bad idea."

[Defiant]

Helen

Helen gives off a wide-eyed incredulous look.

There's additional intelligence on this situation and it hasn't been readily given??

She then looks around in anticipation whether her fears will be confirmed.

[EleventhHour]

Sonia
She smiles for a moment at the pixie, before fliching at the burst of fire. More technically, she didn't flich with the fire, but immediately after Charade jerked behind Tale. "Greetings, Master Dwarf. And of course, we need a plan. In fact... we need a good plan. Something to work on while we travel?"

That brought her to the next thought, and she turned wordlessly, and left to find the quatermaster. "Charade will need something to travel in. In fact, we're not just taking the horses..." She thought aloud, walking to the other room and opening it's door.

[Balketh]

Several things happen. Something hot occured in front of him. Something cold moved behind him. Someone watches his weapons with great interest, and someone watches him with great disinterest.

The fire-belching dwarf doesn't even gain the attention of Tale for a brief moment. The sudden flash of light, of course, slowly warrants the turning of his head, and a slow blink, before he smiles and laugh.

"HA! Nicely done!" Tale pats the dwarf on the shoulder. Something about the pat is entirely unusual, and possibly unexpected. The brief, 'gentle' slap on the shoulder, an otherwise congenial display of approval, was not strong, much worse in fact, it was heavy, as if the hand itself weighed fifty pounds.

Raising his arms, Tale feels something cold at his back. Looking under his left arm, his eyebrows raised in some sympathy, and he smirked, turning.

"Hey hey, it's alright... It's over now. Don't worry, I'll protect you from fire." He smiles at his frosty companion.

Turning back, Tale's eyes wander, and he catches the Pixie in his sights. With a broad, even wicked grin, Tale steps toward the young woman, and extends his right hand. His free hand folds behind his back, his posture straightens even though he leans slightly so that his hand may reach Helen, overall he seems... More well mannered.

"Miss Helen, indeed a pleasure to be working with one so enchanting and beautiful as yourself. While your name does not yet ring a bell, I am sure, in time, we will pass by the Taverns and Inns of the world, only to hear bardsong of your adventures." Even his accent has changed somewhat; slightly high British, if nothing else. He pauses, awaiting a shake of his gloved hand. If he receives one, despite his immovably heavy hand, his grip is delicate, light, elegant.

"So! Pleasantries complete." Turning to look at the door, Tale walks out into the hall again, just out of sight, and just before Sonia.

Less than a moment later, a horrifically loud crack sounds from the direction Tale went, and a bright blue spark flies past the door, ricocheting off the wall, and disappearing.

Tale pops his head out of the door leading to the Quartermaster's, looks around quickly, and disappears inside again.

[Defiant]

Helen

Completely non-phased by Tale's complimentary attitude, Helen accepts the handshake, nodding. She adds "I certainly hope there are no bard songs about me..." more to herself than to Tale or anyone else, before her gaze resumes being aimed towards nothing in particular.

[Cogwheel]

The door to the quartermaster's office - apparently doubling as atleast part of the armory - opens into what, hopefully, is the most cluttered room in the entire complex. Crates, bags and vials are strewn haphazardly all across the floor and stacked up against walls, to the point where the floor is, in fact, invisible for the most part. The clutter has been carefully arranged, however, in a manner which makes it perfectly clear that its cause is not simple laziness, but the fact that the room's owner is simply too busy to tidy it up. Ofcourse, with all this work, it's hardly surprising. Now, Skoraj sending a helper or two would fix that, but ofcourse he'll never bother to actually do anything...

If it is possible for a room's very appearance to complain and mutter incessantly, this one does.

At the centre of it all is a large mahogany desk, covered with paperwork - likely most of what has been taking up the quartermaster's time. The quartermaster himself is a somewhat short, balding man, likely in his mid-50s. He is rather heavily dressed -the better to keep the cold away, as some of the materials in the room mean heating is out of the question - and wears a grey gatsby cap. Predictably, he does not seem to be pleased by the situation.

"So the circus is finally here. About time. Now, a couple rules before you take another step. First, don't touch anything. Second, no fire. Third, watch your step. If you break half the things in here, odds are it'll take the lot of us down with it. Fourth, I don't care who you are, what your life story is, or why you've decided to come along here. I know it goes both ways, so don't you bother asking my name, and I won't either."

In spite of his supposed lack of interest, he glances at each of the newcomers to the room, and sighs heavily. "Now, I knew what I was stuck with, but of all the choices in Khorvaire, why do I have to deal with the glorified blob of ice? Isn't it cold enough in here already? Ah, forget it. You'll be pleased to know that I've taken the time to look through your personnel files - wasting a good deal more time on learning about you lot than I'd like - and I've got something for each of you."

He reaches into a shelf of the desk, producing a rather weighty amulet. A steel circle on a copper chain, with space for twelve small tiles within it. Currently, however, only two hold actual tiles, each with a small image upon it, glowing faintly. On one is a pitcher, with water pouring forth from it endlessly. On another is a large scorpion.

"Long story short, each of these does something when you activate them. One poisons your shots and keeps you safe, the other freezes all sorts of things and puts out fires, that sort of nonsense. I have more of these tiles, but they're rare. I'm not wasting them on someone who might just get themselves killed. If you do well this time around, you'll see more of these tiles from me."

To Sonia, he hands a small, utterly nondescript ring. At a guess, it's probably brass. It does not, to be frank, seem even remotely magical.

"This will keep your ears safe from any sort of trouble. It'll close up the distance pretty quick in a fight, too, which should be useful, seeing as you seem to hit things over the head for a living."

Next, he snatches one of Tale's weapons rather suddenly - so much so that he is given no time to react. With this done, he examines the odd contraption for a few moments, and hands it back., together with a small, compartmentalized box and a pair of tubes.

"Right, these should be compatible with the ones you've got. You've got bullets here with fire and electrical charges in them, a few to make smoke, noise or a flash as the situation calls for it, and a few with what basically comes up to built-in grappling hooks. Single use, mind. Each tube goes over the barrel - I've put an enchantment on it to cut out any sort of sound from firing."

The quartermaster almost reaches for the next trinket, but stops for a moment, with something that seems suspiciously close to a smile, if a somewhat mocking one.

"Ah, ofcourse. You thought you were the only one, didn't you? Thought you were special? Ah well, the world's a bigger place than you think. Sorry to burst your bubble, youll get over it soon."

The next is a small, translucent orange-red crystal, tossed over his shoulder to Mueghak as the quartermaster continues to search through a choice selection of indistinguishable crates.

"You'll have to forgive me if I don't have much to offer to fire-breathing freaks of nature. This should help, eventually."

He finally seems to find what he was looking for, handing a large, smooth tablet of stone to Charade. Two ends are raised slightly, and a tube filled with some sort of glowing energy connects the raised portions.

"You steal magic and so on, correct? This thing condenses magic out of the air. You'll be able to take a couple spells and just general energy from it, I'll wager. Should be useful enough, as long as the glowing doesn't distract you too much."

Finally, he fishes out what may be one of the most ornate weapons in the room, and carefully presents it to Helen, in an almost reverential manner - towards the weapon, ofcourse. He, naturally, could not care less about the rabble it was being given to. It seems similar to the crossbow she is carrying, but somewhat larger, with the addition of a handle to turn, and an enormous clip on the front.

"And this... well, this is a work of art, no two ways about it. It's a crossbow, more or less, but holds 20 bolts at once, and lets you shoot faster than you'd normally get away with. Might land some harder hits, too. A little larger than you might like, but the weight - it's made from mithril and soarwood - should make up for that. Last of all, there's an enchantment on it. The short run of it is that anyone can use this without training. If you get it damaged somehow, bring it to me - I wouldn't trust anyone else with its repairs."

With this done, the quartermaster leaves to a small, adjoining room for a while. When he returns - roughly five minutes later - the door is left open, revealing what appears to be a rusty, aging mining cart, with a small stone face sticking out of one side.

"And here's a little something to replace the horses. Elemental binding. Long story short, you feed it stones and it moves faster than any horse. Durable, too. Ofcourse, there's a catch..."

A small, somewhat vicious smile flits across his face, vanishing almost as quickly as it came. "It's somewhere around two hundred pounds. Carry it outside, and you can use it as much as you like. Now, is there anything else you need?"

[EleventhHour]

Sonia

She fiddles with her little trinket for a moment, twirling it over and under each finger, before sliding it calmly above her signet ring. She watches with interest as everyone else recieves thier gifts, and smiles at the quartermaster for a moment, "Really, now. Thank you." She pauses a moment, before giving his hand a quick squeeze, after handing out the last of his armful.

Staring at the cart a moment, she looks thoughtfully for another second before kneeling down and brushing her fingers along the side, "Can it drag a carriage? Do you have a carriage in the grounds, somewhere?" Not waiting for an anwser, she get up ontop one foot, and hefts it onto her forearms, leaning back against the wieght. "Which way to outside?" Is the last question she asks of the man, before bumping into the doorframe, then akwardly turning to the side with the massive cart teetering on her hands. "And would anyone care to give me a hand?" She emphasises the question with a sweet little smile, and her skinny arms quiver under the weight, making it look rather silly that she had managed to lift it at all.

[Cogwheel]

The quartermaster is, understandably, somewhat surprised when Sonia lifts the entire cart over her head, though he tries to mask his shock, though it is equally possible that he is simply surprised to see someone being polite for once. "A... a carriage? No, I don't think so... but the cart should be large enough for all of you. Head out the door, take a left turn at the room where you got your briefing, and you'll be outside. I'll see what I can do about that carriage."

[Balketh]

Tale watches the others receive their equipment with growing suspicion and nervousness. What files did they have on him? What did they know?

Suddenly, one of his weapons was gone, and Tale's eyes bulged. Before he could even draw his other weapon, the metal wand was already being offered back to him. He blinked, and took it with both hands like a child, lost in confusion. Holstering the strange device, Tale takes the box and tubes gingerly, and steps away from the quartermaster. As he turns to move further, so the rest of the group can get closer to receive their equipment, Tale stops, and makes a brief, disturbing, choking sound.

With wide, cold eyes, he glances over his shoulder, sideways, at the Quartermaster. In silence, he inspects the tiny cylinders inside the box, a look of alarm and bewilderment on his face, though the cylinders are not the subject of this.

The box is placed into his backpack, as well as the tubes for the time being, he understood the gist of them. Instead, in the silence, Tale waits in disturbingly strong silence. When the Quartermaster returns from dragging in the cart, the young man is waiting by the door.

He looks at the Quartermaster with a grim deathstare, his hand resting gently on one of his weapons.

Before he can step forward, however, Tale sees Sonia lift the cart, and hears her ask for help. Instincts to help kick in almost instantly.

"When we return, Quartermaster, you and I are going to have a nice, long chat..." Tale almost growls, a deep, metallic grumble in his voice, which most likely is attributed to the room they are in.

Turning finally, Tale slips out the doorway, and plants one gloved hand on the cart's bottom. Sonia is relieved of a little more than half the weight of the strange cart. Tale, however, doesn't seem to mind.

"Just follow me" He says over the cart, wandering down the hall and gently tugging the cart along until Sonia gets the rhythm to follow. "Down the hall and to the left... Second star to the right... "

Raising his foot, with a heavy thud, Tale kicks the door open only so hard as not to rip it from its hinges, and he raises a hand to shield his eyes from the now harsh light.

"And straight on 'til Morning."

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
Charade tinkers with his new toy, looking it all over, lifting it up and turning it about, prodding, poking, pulling, and twisting on it.

Use Magic Device check to make it do something shiny, pretty, or exciting:
[roll0]

[Cogwheel]

The contraption shudders briefly in Charade's hands, humming and whining incessantly. Eventually, it fires off an entertaining assortment of sparks, shifting from violet to blue, then scarlet, orange and finally, for no apparent reason, a blinding lime green. Then it stops, emitting smoke for a few moments instead. Apparently, Charade has handled its trinket rather poorly.

After a time, the smoke fades, and Charade feels a rush of arcane power flow from the glowing cylinder, and up into its arm.

You don't, in fact, need to use UMD on this. But since you did, I made a spell leak out randomly. You've now expended one of the three spell levels, draining Critical Strike (Spell Compendium) from it. Let me know if you have no idea what it does. Should be useful enough, so I didn't just mess with you >_>

[technophile]

Sebastian examines the amulet carefully, feeling an odd sense of ... familiarity with the symbols on its face. He puts it on, carefully tucking it behind his leather armor, then steps out of the way as best he can while Sonia and Tale hoist the mining car out of the building.

Then he nods respectfully to the quartermaster -- no smart soldier ever disrespects a quartermaster, lest he receive the worst gear possible, late, and usually flea-infested to boot.

"Are there any maps of the target? Anyone who's seen it, been inside, has any idea of what we're walking into?" he asks the man calmly.

[Cogwheel]

"Not much. All we've got is a couple spotty divinations here and there. That, and most of the building is cells. The contents change all the time. The short run of it is that you've got one door in and out, probably with some guards outside. Past that, a corridor with doors on each side, seven in all, each leading to a cell.

Then a staircase down, into a large room. Past that, another corridor with three doors to cells, and a staircase further down. At the end of this, you've got three last cell doors, plus a door to the office of whoever runs that place. Access is restricted by keycards. There are three types, C, B and A level access, from worst to best. No, I can't get them for you myself, you'll have to find them yourself. Last I checked, we hired you for something."

[Defiant]

Helen

Helen gives a very polite and cordial bow as she receives the item. A faint smile appears on her lips, but disappears soon after. Her expression and body movement all suggest she is communicating her thanks to the quartermaster without words.

She removes the magazine and examines it before putting it back into place: fully loaded with 20 bolts already in it! She then takes her old crossbow and holds it in her other hand, while looking at both as if to balance them out, to figure out their weight.

It is bigger, but both are about the same weight. Good. Any heavier and I wouldn't be able to fly.

She then puts the old crossbow into her haversack. She plays around some more with the new crossbow, examining it, touching it, and most of all, aiming around with it. Finally, she carefully places it on her back in the place of the old one.

Helen subsequently resumes her neutral posture, observing her teammates and what the next move is.

[NoldorForce]

Mueghak fumbles with the crystal before truly catching it. Don't luuk geeft hohrse een maof, don't luuk geeft hohrse een maof... Being called a "fire-breathing freak of nature" was not amusing, and he'd find a way to get back at this condescending quartermaster some day. Fank you. escapes his mouth with just a hint of venom.

He'd been amused by Charade's shock at the open flame - always kept people on their toes, that one did. The "pat" - more a hammer, really - on the shoulder was less amusing, however; he'd have that dull pain gliding about at least until they set out. Just another person he'd have to work with. *Sigh* In any case, his own preparations were in order. Chahrade? Cohme here 'f you wuuld pref'r to ahvuuyd mahy flames 'n ve futuure. Ve same goes fohr ve rayst ahf you, too - bohrning's only fohr aynaymies!

Oh, ahnd bahck to mahy ohreeg'nahl cohncuurn - whaht are aor cap'beeleeties? Eef we are ah team - wheech we shuuld be - we need to ohnd'rstahnd eets ahbeeleeties.

OoC: Mueghak casts Endure Exposure on the party - such not only mimics Endure Elements, but also makes them immune to his breath weapon's damage.

[Cogwheel]

The group is met, for the first time in entirely too long, by sunshine. Sunshine and, for some, admittedly, a bone-crushing weight held up high, but this only lasts until the cart is set down. The cart does not seem particularly spacious at first, but as more people climb in, it quickly expands, becoming large enough to hold all six present, as well as their equipment, with some room to spare.

All about is a bright green grassland, stretching on for some distance in the form of rolling hills. The grass is not smooth, however - stones of all shapes and sizes can be found scattered all about the area, as far as the eye can see. The cart begins to hum expectantly, as if waiting to be fueled. Even after a small pebble demonstrates its speed, however, it becomes clear that the warehouse will not be reached for about an hour - plenty of time for discussion, if need be.

[Defiant]

Helen

As soon as the she hits sunshine, Helen flies up in the air and turns invisible. She swerves around various landmarks with amazing speed and dexterity, even doing a roll mid-air. She performs various maneuvres such as zig-zagging, drop-falling, erratic evasion, and many more, such that she's not done until 2 minutes later. Not that anyone can see this, of course, but when the rest of the party is finally ready, she comes back down on the ground and turns visible again.

She boards her horse, thinking there's no need to expend her energy needlessly by flying all the way there. She controls it poorly, but manages to weave her way to a few metres in front of the group. All of a sudden she stops and shouts in a very commanding tone "Listen up!"

Looking annoyed at her horse as if her movements are constrained, she starts flying a couple of metres above, still facing the group.

"The most important part of combat is quickness. You can't do anything if you're not quick enough. Your dexterity must be maintained by occasional training and exercise. To achieve the greatest speed you must be one with your body. Let all your movements flow through as if second nature."

"What is also important are some stretches. Your body must not enter combat unprepared."

She then begins demonstrating mid-air with some arm and leg stretches. Her magnificence seems to etch these instructions into anyone's mind, and they somehow allow the rest of her group to become more agile and dexterous.

Helen extends her Minor Aura: Motivate Dexterity around the rest of the group.

Everyone who stays within 60 feet of Helen now has a +8 circumstance bonus to all Dexterity checks and Dexterity-based skill checks (such as Hide, Move Silently, etc.). This includes Initiative checks but does not include Reflex saves.

[EleventhHour]

Sonia

She waits a moment, as the cart rattles over a number of peat lumps, crushing through the soft dirt, before speaking, "Aye, Master Dwarf... We should get to talking about the team. In fact, I'd like to discuss how we're going to take this factory." With a quick glance and grin up at Helen, "Preferably without fighting, but before we get to that, we should probably learn how we will fight together, as you said." She finishs with a nod to the dwarf.

[Balketh]

Tale

The sunlight is harsh, having been in the dark in one way or another for so long. It's almost like stepping out of a vault of some kind for the very first time, having your vision adjust, only to see for the first time the world around you... Familiar, but Tale can't quite put his finger on it.

Stepping forward a ways, he placed his end of the cart down on the ground, and steps forward to crack his back with a groan.

"Aaah!" He sighs, rubbing his gloved hands together as he stands straight again.

"So! Rocks. Pebbles, stones, earth." He racks off a few synonyms. Not having to move very far, Tale picks up a fist-sized rock, and smiles.

"This aughta get us going." With that in the crook of his arm, he began to scoop up several more like-sized rocks, placing them into his haversack as he goes. As he searches, he listens to the others with a very blank expression, as if he is really trying to find some nice rocks.

Marching back to the currently rather small cart, satisfied with his haul of rocks, he tilts his head to one side. With hands on the edge, he swings a leg over, and is nearly knocked over as the cart expands beneath him.

Suddenly, the metal cart is almost twice its original size. Swinging himself over with a disturbingly heavy thud, Tale seats himself in one corner. The walls of the cart twitch and shift, as if it knows more will be seated soon. Tale finds this sight slightly unnerving.

"Well, get in, and lets get moving. We can talk about it on the way. It's going to be a long road, but we shouldn't be more than an hour's out, with the way this baby moves." Tale pats the edge of the contraption with a smile. There, he sits and waits, fiddling with the rock in hand. As he waits, Helen gets on her figurative high horse about combat, and Tale soon feels odd, which is alarming to him, because he never feels odd. Without even looking up, he smirks wryly, directed entirely at the Pixie.

"Don't need to worry about me, Miss Helen. I'm more at one with my body than the rest of you could ever want to be, trust me on that; and nature hasn't got a say with me and my body. Never unprepared, never off guard. No rest of the wicked!" He quips, but his smirk fades, and so does his confident tone, if only to something a little quieter. After that, his mouth remains closed, purposely avoiding the question of who has what capabilities.

[technophile]

Sebastian swings deftly up into the cart, settling in as if he always travels in a repurposed, elementally driven mining cart. With a face.

After a moment, he grimaces, hefts the massive greatbow he carries, and slides it into his quiver. Despite the quiver's utterly normal size and complete lack of adornment, the greatbow keeps sliding into the quiver until it is completely engulfed.

"Damn huge thing is always getting in the way," he mutters.

Shrugging and leaning casually back against the side of the ever-larger cart, he looks seriously at Mueghak.

"Not to be flippant, but I believe some of us are almost self-explanatory. You, sir, set things on fire. The lady Sonia over there hits things with a very large sword. The pixie annoys her enemies to death, although they are so struck by her beauty and poise they don't realize it for a minimum of fifteen minutes, and I shoot things with very pointy sticks, ideally at range or from hiding because who likes taking return fire? Oh, and Tale makes odd references, but I'm guessing those metal bits he's carrying around put holes in people fairly efficiently as well. Charade is a bit of a guessing game, but I bet he's handy when we order a pitcher of beer, at the very least."

He makes a sort of elaborate half-bow from his seated position, but the set of his mouth and a far-off look in his eyes give the fairly obvious lie to his apparent good sense of humor.

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
Charade chitters happily when the thing lights up and it feels the spell. It is enormously pleased with this result, and cradles the device as it follows the others outside. It reluctantly puts it down to help gather stones.

Charade hears Helen's speech, understands little of it, and cares less. It continues to hop about, enjoying the new game of picking out likely rocks for the cart.

As they begin to discuss plans and fighting abilities, Charade pulls itself together. This bit was important; House Deneith had managed to drill that into its... err... skull... over the course of many a debriefing to which Charade had paid less than satisfactory attention.

"This is cold," Charade agrees with Sebastian's assessment. "This is, it is told, spell made life. A spell called Helchimrad," and those who speak Draconic recognize it as "Path of Ice". "Those say 'Arcana made flesh,' but this not flesh. This pure arcane magic, can use own arcana like psion uses self. This can take arcana, and psion, and other things, besides. This demonstrate?" Charade looks hesitantly at the Dwarf and the Pixie in turn; it recognized the abilities of each as things it could steal, but it is also a bit intimidated by both.

[Cogwheel]

With time, the cart picks up the pace, and after merely an hour - considerably faster than any horse, to be sure - it arrives behind a small hill overlooking the complex. Safely out of sight. The building itself, while certainly large, was clearly not built with appearances in mind. Its vast, smooth steel exterior, completely windowless, makes it quite clear that this building has no time for such frivolities.

It is doubtful that anything could stand out quite so much given the current landscape, but stealth is hardly a concern for a warehouse. Instead, security is provided by means of a single door, guarded by a pair of humanoid figures. It is not easy to tell, from this distance, but they appear to be warforged. Somewhat more importantly, they appear to be oblivious warforged, for the moment. There appears to be no other way into the warehouse.

High above, the sun continues its journey down towards the horizon. Resting in the sky and, perhaps, watching.

[Defiant]

Helen

Helen seems slightly annoyed at the others' lack of attention, but not surprised. Her marshal training in the manifestation of auras has shown her how to etch the necessary instructions into anyone's mind using her charm. Although a person might shrug it off, the necessary knowledge and motivation would remain in their head regardless: a poor marshal, bits and pieces; a charismatic marshal, nearly all of it.

She joins the others in the cart as the discussion shifts to everyone's roles. She briefly turns invisible for a few seconds, and turns back to visible. She promptly and decisively asserts "I will scout."

She then continues to observe the group with a neutral expression.

[EleventhHour]

Sonia

"Alright, well. I'm going to try and distract the guards, and get us through, if it doesn't work out, then we'll do it your way and just take them out." She roots through her backpack, after pushing everyone else out of the cart, except Charade, and changes into her noblewoman's outfit, heavy layers of silk and a ruffled, fur-lined, surcoat. She smiles, "Alright, Helen. You get a head start, and I'll get this setup."

She turns to the rest of the party, "Sebastien, you sit in the front of the cart and do the steering, Charade, come sit on the bench with me. Master Dwarf, if you would, sit on the bench across from us, and keep your back to the Warforged unless they address you directly. Tale, would you mind walking in front of the cart? Sebastien won't run you over, I just need you to announce that "Lady Ellireth Casmere-Cannith, of Metrol" has arrived."

With that, she pulled a velvet cowl up over her now-greying hair, and ildy brushed the wrinkled corners of her eyes with powdered rouge. "As you would, Sebastien."

[Defiant]

Helen

The last thing the rest of the party sees of Helen is her taking on an expression that's somehow even more serious and ready than before. They hear a loud flapping of wings as she undoubtedly is rising in the air quickly, and then nothing but silence.

Helen turns invisible and quickly rises to 30 feet above the cart. She begins flying more silently, paying careful attention not to attract any attention. As the cart begins moving along with the plan, she follows 30 feet ahead of it, ever so perceptive and careful to scout out the surroundings.

[roll0] (7 DEX, 4 ranks, 8 Minor Aura)
[roll1] (1 WIS, 5 ranks, 2 racial) - looking for anything that might stand out or be of strategic importance

[Balketh]

Tale

Tale blinks, and steps out of the cart.

"Instead of... Alerting them to our presence.... I can just..." Mid-sentence, Tale pulls something from his haversack, and opens it. Fishing through the small, compartmentalized box, he pulls out a few small cylinders.

"These are noisemakers. Whatever they land in, they make noise for a good long while. One of these could be a nice distraction for them, and if it's far enough away, we could just walk in." Tale smiles, even if its a small smile.

"If Helen finds out the door is unlocked, it'd be best we just do that. If not... I'm still against letting them know we even exist..." Tale nods again quickly, holding onto one of the metal cylinders, and placing the box back into his pack. With his hand still in the pack, the young man grabs one of the large cylinders, and inspects it. Drawing one of his strange weapons in the other hand, he inspects the 'business' end of that, too. At least, it would appear as the business end, by the way he holds it.

Gripping the weapon, he places the metal tube in front of the business end of his weapon, a smaller tube. The larger tube snaps to the smaller one, spins a little, and stays in place. Tale flicks and pulls on it, yet it refuses to budge. He smirks silently, grabbing the second tube, and repeating the process with his other weapon.

"And now," He states, placing his weapon in its sheath again, "They won't know where it came from. An issue remains, however: Once we get in, how do we get out?"

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
Charade hops up with Sonia and chitters happily. "This help!" Being chosen for something like this is entirely foreign to it, and it greatly enjoys the opportunity for something new.

[EleventhHour]

Sonia

She looks patiently at Tale, with her now grandmotherly face and light brown eyes, "Yes, dear." She begins, her voice sounding like old, soft, leather, "But they are guards. They expect distractions, one of them would stay by the door, and the other would check. But what wouldn't they expect? For someone to be audacious enough to trot up and announce themselves as important so-and-so's." She lifts her hand, to show the Lesser Dragonmark of Making that's beginning to grow down her wrist. "Besides, we can always use a combination..."

[technophile]

Sebastian eyes the curiously intricate mark slowly engulfing Sonia's arm.

"Interesting trick, my lady." He places only the very smallest of ironic stresses on the honorific, as he makes his way to the front of the cart. Glancing at Tale, he adds, "She's right, you know; any competent guard is going to make sure his post is covered no matter what, and we'd better plan on these guards being competent, at the very least."

Although he looks like a perfectly capable wagon driver, and nothing about his appearance seems out of place at a glance, his preternatural focus and stillness is still apparent to a deeper gaze. Before starting the wagon forward, he takes one last moment to slip his quiver -- greatbow still hidden inside -- down below the side of the wagon, where it will not be visible to the guards.

"I'll do my best, Sonia, but I'll have you know I'm not an accomplished actor; my usual tactic is to hide over yonder hill and shoot these fellows until they come running into the ambush I've set for them."

[Balketh]

Tale leans back slightly, almost out of some unknown fear for whatever Sonia is doing to herself. With the cart paused, he takes the moment to step out. His left arm reaches into the haversack, while his right draws one of his weapons. Out of his pack is one of those tiny little cylinders. It almost looks worse for wear, filled with small holes and twisted pieces of metal. However, even the least observant person would see the pattern to the holes and twists.

A soft crack occurs as Tale breaks his weapon in half with a flick of his wrist. It seems to hang onto itself by a bridge of metal. A long, can-like mechanism can be seen, and it seems to spin freely. Tale pushes the tiny cylinder into a hole in the can-like mechanism, and with a flick of his wrist, the weapon resorts itself, back in one piece.

With that, he aims his weapon. However, he aims it a good way off the guards. Tale takes a slow, deep breath, holding it as his arm flexes.

There is a bright flash of light from the end of the cylinder he attached to the end of the metal wand. It kicks upward in his hand, though his reaction to this is nonexistent, as if happens every time. Something leaves the end of the weapon, though the silence from its attack is confusing at best.

Some way off, far ahead of the guards, there is a small puff of dirt, and silence.

Then, the noise.

A long, low, strange noise. Like a whirr, or a buzz, or a drone. It is difficult to comprehend exactly what the sound is, but one thing is for sure; as far off as the projectile is, it can be heard as clear as day.

"Well, combination it is." Tale says, sheathing his briefly smoldering weapon. Taking his place in front of the cart, the young, tall man looks back with a slightly worried face.

"I... Am not an actor of any kind. I will... Be quiet. Except for what you have asked me to say, of course. That sound will remain for some time. We can only hope Helen reaches us soon with any useful information."

Assume this occurs right before Helen reappears with any information, if at all.

[Cogwheel]

The bullet serves its purpose well - once the noise, as begins, the two guards turn to each other and speak briefly, though the actual words are impossible to make out at this distance. After this momentary discussion, one walks off to examine the source of the noise, a good 200 feet away and none too easy to spot, as far as the source is concerned. The noise also appears to have disturbed some local wildlife, though the only part of this that is visible from a distance consists of a few birds taking flight.

The second guard continues to keep watch by the door, completely oblivious to the situation and alone. Ignorance truly is bliss, at times.

[technophile]

Without any extraneous movement or speech, Sebastian urges the wagon forward at a speed commensurate with an elderly noblewoman -- who presumably does not love being shaken about on her old bones -- coming for a surprise inspection of the facility.

The wagon rolls to a precise stop in front of the remaining guard. Sebastian sits, facing forward, ignoring the guard as clearly beneath his notice.

Those sitting behind him in the wagon, however, can see the preparatory tensing of his shoulders, and his foot nudging his quiver into a more easily accessible position, should things turn complicated.

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
Charade can barely remain in its seat, trying to get a look at everything.

[Balketh]

There is a slight pause, as Tale repeats the name of the woman, over and over under his breath, until he believes he has it covered.

With a stiff back and a heavy step, Tale moves in front of the cart, and marches toward the lone guard. He positions himself directly in front of the guard, and bows, one arm folded behind his back, the other crossing his stomach. He bows at a right angle, and straightens.

"Announcing!" He states loudly at the guard.

"Lady Ellireth Casmere-Cannith, of Metrol has arrived!" Stepping to one side with another bow, Tale motions to the cart, where the now weathered and aged Sonia now sits. From there, the young 'guard' stands tall, eyeing the guard carefully, hands at his side.

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
Charade can hardly stay in its seat. It keeps half rising, trying to get a better view, trying to steal peeks at the guard. It 'blinks' furiously.

[EleventhHour]

Sonia

She smiles wanely, waving at Sebastien to roll the cart forward a tad so that the guard wouldn't have to take a more than nessecary number of steps. "Why, I do say. A fine warforged guard if I have ever seen one. Well, I have seen a few, to be honest, in the city, they are more for decoration though, wouldn't you say?" She continues on without waiting for an anwser, "Yes, yes. You are one of the field specimens, after all." She reaches out toward the warforged's face, and assuming it doesn't draw away her fingertips slide across it's surface, her sleeve sliding back from covering the now fully-formed and coloured Lesser Mark of Making, that stretches on up into her thickly sleeved coat. "Fine, though your construction may be, I must insist that I pass through, that dreadful noise could have been anything, and I am not staying out here for another moment, if you ask me." With a doddering glare behind the thick-rimmed glasses, she tries to make it blearily clear that it was a rhetorical chance to ask.

[Cogwheel]

The Warforged is clearly startled at the sudden arrival, and of a Cannith noble, no less, but attempts not to show its dismay. It fishes out a small notepad from one pocket, and quickly looks through the papers within.

"Lady.. Ellireth.. Casmere-Cannith..." the guard mumbles to itself, checking the papers over and over. "I'm afraid your name seems to be missing from the list. Some sort of oversight, I expect. I do apologize for the inconvenience, but we simply can't let anyone through into here. Secrets of the house, I'm sure you understand. But that shouldn't be any sort of problem to you, of course - I assume you brought an invitation. Might I ask to see it? Simple security procedures, you understand. I don't mean to be rude, but it is an unfortunate necessity."

[EleventhHour]

Sonia

Giving her tiredest grandmotherly sigh, she looks at the warforged a moment in comparitive silence. "Planar Bonding." She states, her voice taking on a bearing stride, "That's what you're working on here, yes? Well." She pauses, giving her glasses a consperatorial tilt, "I happen to be one of Cannith's leading planar workers. Yes, I can hear the finely enmeshed cogs and magic of your mind working, and considering how I have yet to produce the written invitation. The truth be told, rather embarressing, you can understand why I would rather keep it to myself, but as long as I'm only sharing it with you..." Her lean old finger draws a quick circle down along the metal plates of the chest, "It ate it. Along with a few of my older schema." She murmured indicating Charade with a slight glance. "The latter were not quite as important as this creation itself in my work, so I excused it, not know this would be some backwater requiring not only the mark but invitation as well." She stopped a moment, her brow sinking slowly while she gave the artificial man time to consider, "Of course, it only took us a week out to get here, and a week to go back. By that time the entire operation might be out of the guidelines." She smiled, as if realizing something spectacular for the first time, brightening her face and deepening the crow's feet around her eyes. "But you, could let myself in, hm? And just to be certian, that the sound over yonder wasn't more than wildlife, you can wait here until your partner returns, while we wait just inside, and then you can escort us to the captain, where I can explain the situation fully, hm?"

[Cogwheel]

The warforged nods slowly and stares at Charade for a time, backing off slightly, then gives a small, metallic sigh.

"Among other things, yes. Influencing the planes is a major part of the research that takes place within these walls. The creature accompanying you, however.. that is a living spell. I have seen one before, and heard several accounts of them. They do not eat, much less consume papers. I am forced to assume, therefore, that you are lying. Your identity may be genuine, but you were never invited here."

It then realizes something, and stops in its tracks, quite aware of the fact that it was outnumbered by more than a few well-armed potential foes.

"I do realize, of course, that the great house is not without its rivalries. No doubt you have come here from a more hostile part of the family. Be that as it may, the fact of the matter is that you have brought more than enough force with you. I see no reason to be killed where I stand in the house's name. Might I convince you to leave me be if I hand over my keycard?"

[Balketh]

Tale watches as the situation, like a lofting piece of paper, takes flight, then sinks quickly.

"You misunderstand." The broad, tall young man at the front of the cart states. Stepping forward, he stands between Sonia and the Warforged, and stares it eye to eye. His breathing grows so quiet, it's almost as if he stops, even though his chest still rises and falls in time.

"You are confused, and, more accurately, sorely incorrect. Firstly..." Tale reaches into his haversack, and pulls out the wrapper of one of his rations. He slightly turns so that he can reach the cart. With wrapper in hand, he places it on a portion of Charade, and nods while giving the creature a glare.

"Go on, show the guard. You can, and certainly do eat." Turning back straight after, without even viewing the results, Tale straightens his vest, and places his hands on his sheaths, but not on his weapons. He can hear that the Warforged does not want to try a fight, and he intends to capitalise on this.

"Secondly, you would do well not to doubt Mi'Lady again, or there will be consequences. She said it ate the papers? It ate the papers." Tale inclines his head slightly, and raises an eyebrow. "Thirdly, the 'old schema' is the Living Spell. I will be punished for revealing that, but your ignorance in the presence of Mi'Lady cannot be abided." Tale thumbs over his shoulder quickly.

"Lastly. We have an important delivery to make regarding this facility." What did he just say? This is certainly an undisclosed part of the plan! Tale appears to be improvising, but something about the tone of his words suggests he's... Thought about this already.

"That delivery is crucial and timely to the operation of the project contained in the facility. And..." Tale's right hand squeezes the hilt of his strange weapon.

"That 'delivery' can get quite... Destructive... When not 'contained'..." He glares at the Warforged, eye to eye, and something exceptionally cold comes across his eyes.

"So, 'friend'..." Tale reaches up and places his hand on the Warforged's shoulder. "Unless you want to be responsible for not only the shutdown, and inevitable destruction of this facility because the new delivery was not installed in time, as well as your own probable death because of this, I would, if I were you, allow us entry as you should have in the first place, and hand over your keycard. Your silence on our visit is necessary as well. If the higher ranking officials of this facility knew I was late, they would have your tin hide for a wall-mount."

Tale's hand slips from the Warforged's shoulder with a slight grinding sound, and sits palm up in front of the guard. Never once did he break eye contact.

[technophile]

Sebastian tenses further as the warforged flatly denies Sonia entry. His hand begins to creep below the edge of the cart, towards his quiver, then pauses as Tale spins an increasingly... detailed story.

That warforged knows an awful lot more about this than we were told. I'll have to keep an eye on him, I'm not dying for any mole's entertainment.

At the end of Tale's story, however, he pipes in, trying to help.

"Aye, silence for silence. I can't help but think your superiors would be sore disappointed in your lack of operational security. Giving unauthenticated visitors details of a secret facility's purpose and contents? That's some shoddy security work, there." He turns his head and favors the guard with a gimlet stare.


Aid another roll for Tale's Intimidate: [roll0]

[Cogwheel]

The guard attempts to remain unshaken by threats. In this, it fails quite spectacularly. Warforged do not shake, such reactions being unique to living beings, but the fear in its voice is quite evident. The stammering helps, admittedly.

"Y... yes, of course. My apologies. Please, take this."

The warforged produces a small, steel card, wafer-thin and rectangular in shape, featureless except for a blue band on one side. On it are the words "A-level access".

"This will... this will allow you into the first parts of the facility. I'm afraid I don't have anything that would provide a higher level of access."

It then mutters something incoherent along the lines of informing the other guard, and walks off at a rather hurried pace. The warehouse lies ahead.

[Defiant]

Helen

Helen descends downwards to check up on whether the door is locked or not. Taking her time being careful and quiet, she ends up being too late, as the warforged turns around and slowly heads for the door. She quickly rises back up to her previous altitude of 30 feet, and hearing the conversation, pulls out her crossbow.

If it knows we're interlopers and lets us is in as such, it will die. No questions asked. I'll produce the lethal blow myself.

She loads the special crossbow given to her and takes aim. Just as she's about to line up her shot excellently, Tale intervenes in the conversation down below. She doesn't put the crossbow away or even take her aim off the warforged's head until it seems compliant.

She drops down 10 feet to get a closer look at it, and tries to evaluate its honesty.

Rolling Sense Motive with a +10 modifier (only +6 if the other character did not roll a Bluff check).

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
(a bit delayed, but)
Charade blinks at Tale, and chitters happily, "Yes, eat, good, yum!" The wrapper quickly freezes, shatters, and the shards swiftly dissolve into the swirling blue and white of the creature's body.

[Cogwheel]

The keycard slides neatly into a small slot by the entrance. On cue, the steel door slides up into the wall above it with a loud crash, and the keycard is promptly spat back out. Beyond the door is a smooth steel corridor, cleaned and polished, with another, smaller door and slot at the end - the corridor seems to serve as containment area of some sort. The decor of polished and slightly damp steel is, all in all, somewhat reminiscent of the Operation Peacemaker headquarters. Once again, light shines from the walls and ceiling, reflected from the steel surfaces and focused into an almost blinding glare, but no light source is visible.

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
Charade bounces excitedly, clearly only barely restraining itself from bounding into the room. Pointing, it says, "We go now there?"

[Defiant]

Helen

The party hears the voice of a female pixie that they cannot identify as anything but Helen, despite her invisibility.

"Let us proceed. I'll take point and scout ahead."

She then proceeds ahead of the party deep inside, looking around for anything of significance.

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[Cogwheel]

As the group enters, the entrance rapidly closes behind them, locking itself. The keycard slot for the door ahead has, likewise, sealed itself, trapping the corridor's occupants. A handful of luminous green words appear on each wall, bearing a brief, to-the-point message.

Initiating decontamination. Please remain still.

Vents open all about the room, releasing an opaque, surprisingly breathable blue gas. After a few moments, the same vents release blasts of wind simultaneously, blowing all dust and detritus from the journey away, and leaving the six feeling healthier, somehow, in its wake. The entrance - or the exit, as it has become - opens once again, as does the keycard slot, which now bears a glowing "A". The words on the walls shift, remain for a brief moment, then vanish.

Decontamination complete. Please proceed.

Any dust on you is now gone. The gas cast Remove Disease and Neutralize Poison on all of you. It's basically an airlock, nothing to worry about. You may proceed :smalltongue:

[EleventhHour]

Sonia

She pauses a moment, staring ahead, then looks back at everyone else, "Well? Come on." She takes a hold of the next door handle, and gives it a pull.

[Cogwheel]

After the keycard is inserted, the door swings open quite easily, revealing a corridor, about 100 feet in length, and 15 in width. On the far side is a door, with a keycard slot next to it, though the exact type required cannot be read from here. The sides of the corridor have similar doors lining them - seven in all - though these do not appear to be locked in any way.

The heavy, thudding footsteps echoing through the corridor, however, may prove somewhat more urgent. The source of the noise is what appears to be a small clay construct - "small" by the standards of golems, at any rate, as the creature is about the size of a human - wearing a chain shirt over a white robe. It seems to be mindless, only walking back and forth across the corridor slowly. Discovery, however, may end poorly - in one hand, it carries an enormous bronze bell, no doubt capable of making a great deal of noise. Currently, it is about halfway down the corridor, and its back is, fortunately, turned.

In 3 rounds from now, it will turn around. If you make enough noise, that might work too.

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
Charade looks at the golem, and then at its companions. Blinking rapidly, it points to the golem and its mystical blade, formed from its own arcanic 'flesh', slides forth. Charade points the blade at the golem and nods, clearly asking if it should go over and attack the golem.

[technophile]

Sebastian looks at Charade, then back at the golem.

"I don't know if that's the best idea, friend; unless we can drop it in one shot, that great bell will cause an awful lot of noise. We could try slipping into one of these side rooms before it turns. I doubt bluffing will work on a golem, they're not as easily fooled as our friend outside."

[Balketh]

Tale
Stepping out of the chamber feeling... Disturbingly clean, Tale gazes around. The hall is long and narrow, and doors line it. Seven, Tale determines after a quick count. Then he spies it, the creature patrolling the hall.

Looking up, strangely, Tale ponders the situation. Slowly, his head tilts down, and he gazes at something in his hand.

Without even a word to the other, Tale pushes gently past Sebastian, edges past Charade without touching it, and takes exceptionally long strides at a quick pace down the hall, heading straight toward the golem.

Tale's hand brushes his sheath once, and is suddenly in front of him, out of sight of the others. Within seconds, he stands behind the Golem, on an angle.

With his empty hand, he taps the Golem's shoulder roughly. His right hand whips up suddenly, level with the head of the golem. His head obscures whatever is in his hand, but the clicking sound coming from his general location is not a good sign.

"Hey, buddy." He intones grimly...

[Cogwheel]

The golem stands to attention, whipping around to face Tale. The words do not seem to register - only his presence. A thin cone of green light emanates from the visor-like slit in its head, bathing the object in tale's hand - the keycard, as it turns out - in an emerald glow. After a few moments, it answers "Authorization detected. Welcome to warehouse 81. You may proceed."

With this done, the automaton turns around and resumes its march. The others seem to have been accepted together with Tale, as it does not react to their presence. They are heavily armed, but the golem apparently takes no notice of this. Even this advanced model, after all, is a rather simple creature. Examining the adjoining cells is, likewise, quite unlikely to provoke it.

[technophile]

Sebastian shrugs. "Well, that was handy." His face registers no apparent emotion, but he carefully files away that Tale knew exactly what he was doing.

"Our stuff is in cells 7 and 13. I'm guessing 13 is on the other side of that door down there..."

He moves quickly down the hall, giving the golem plenty of room as he passes it on the way to the last (seventh) door. Taking a deep, calming breath to slow his heartbeat, he opens it.

[Cogwheel]

As it turns out, Sebastian's caution is nothing if not unwarranted. Two shelves line a rather small room, each housing a few tools - spanners and the like, as well as a select few items useless to those without the Mark of Making - and one sphere, two in total. The spheres resemble, as far as one can tell from knowledge of previously seen maps, Eberron itself. Admittedly, a rather fanciful depiction, as a red dragon is wrapped about the middle, while a golden one hovers over the ring of Siberys, and a coiled black-and-purple wyrm sleeps where Khyber would ordinarily be.

About it, rotating slowly but seemingly without anything connecting them to the rest of the device, are twelve moons. The planes. A thirteenth one, the realm of dreams, is represented by a violet sphere, remaining still, and far from the others. The room, meanwhile, appears to be entirely unguarded: Its contents may be taken freely.

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
Charade follows Tale around and chitters with excitement at all of the new things. It takes special time investigating the orrery, walking around it, bending down and stretching up to look at it from all angles, blinking rapidly the entire time. It is extremely, perhaps uncharacteristically, quiet during the investigation, but when finished bounds off to check out the other things in the room - including the spanner and various gear that mean nothing to one without the Mark of Making. This does nothing to diminish its excitement.

[Balketh]

With a grin plastered over his face after the obscure interaction with the golem, Tale turns triumphantly toward the others, almost stepping on part of Charade in the process.

Stepping back, he watches as Sebastian enters room 7, and with his happy grin turning slowly to a wicked one, Tale points over Sebastian's shoulder.

"That's it. Grab it, grab anything useful, and let's get moving." Stepping out of the small store room again, the young man stares down the hall, at the far door. He grimaces.

"People, we need to check the other rooms. That door is B-level Access. This card is only A-level... Which means we're looking for another keycard." With that, thudding footsteps bring Tale to Door 1, closest to the exit. With a breath, he looks back at the others, before opening it, and stepping in.

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
Charade makes sure to check each room for anything interesting.

Taking 10 on whatever Search checks are necessary; I have a +2 modifier.

[Cogwheel]

A quick search in room 1 reveals that it is filled with partially built constructs - golems, iron defenders, unfinished warforged.. the works. Gradually, you become aware of a ticking sound from somewhere in the room. A brief look around the room reveals that it originates from the floor - though there is no clock anywhere in the room, you see the shadow of a clock on the steel floor, slowly ticking away.

[Balketh]

Tale steps into the room tentatively, gazing around slowly. The ticking instantly begins to grate on his nerves, if only because he cannot immediately locate anything that looks like it would be the source.

A slightly longer, more thorough glance around the room sees that Tale's eyebrow raises hard. In silence, he kneels, brushing a hand on the floor. It makes a soft, scraping noise, to which Tale quickly retracts his hand. Gazing at the shadow without a body, the young man rises, and gingerly reaches a hand out to where the shadow's body would be, unsure if he will find something there or not.

"Cannith warehouses..." He shakes his head and mumbles softly, trying to find the owner of this poor, lost shadow.

[Cogwheel]

Tick.

The clock catches for a moment, the hands whirring backwards when Tale touches the wall. The entire shadow seems to dissolve into a pool, and leap at Tale's back, seeping into him. Within moments, it is gone, save for a vague grey glow about him, and an odd, barely perceptible chill.




Tale
Tick. Tock. The sound of the clock continues for a few moments within Tale's head, echoing slightly, then comes to a stop. It is instead replaced by a faint hissing. A hissing, as Tale realizes after a moment, identical to the sound of sand passing through an hourglass. This is replaced, once again, by a faint chattering. A hundred voices, perhaps more, talking in unison, each in a whisper.

Yes. This one. This one is hardly ideal, but we make do. We will. You have been accepted...

Tale feels his mind being searched through for a moment, and a sliver of knowledge taken from it, examined briefly, then put back. With this done, the voices complete their sentence.

...Tale. Meet us where there is light, and there is no light. Where there is time, and there is no time. Meet us at the lamp post. With this message delivered, the voice fades, and in its place is a somewhat more familiar sound.

Tick. Tock.

[Balketh]

For the briefest moments, Tale had actually expected things to go normally. He had expected there to be just a plain ol' invisible clock there, ticking away merrily. He would have knocked it over, it would have clattered and made a racket, but above that, the day would have progressed smoothly.

Things never go normally any more. What's worse, is Tale doesn't know if they ever did. He just can't remember, his memory isn't there any more.

Instead, that cold, cold chill ran down his spine. This is alarming for many reasons, the chief one being that he is always cold to the touch. The thought of something making him feel colder scares him, and this is just the start of his troubles.

The shadow crawls up his arm, wrapping around the limb, slithering up his shirt and seeping into his skin. All the while, its as if Tale is frozen in Time, eternally reaching out to see if that clock is really there, his face just beginning to register shock as he realises its not; everything about him is at a standstill.

The shadow disappears, and he glows softly, briefly, as if he had been in a freezer for a few hours. Even a cold chill rolls off him.

Then, for those few, silent seconds, all is still with Tale. He breathes not, moves not, blinks not. No one is present in the room bar himself, and none can see into it. Later, that is a fact Tale will realise he is thankful for. Something in him falters, and grinds to an outright halt, and for a split second, the young man feels utterly naked. This passes in the same second, however, and no one is any the wiser to it, not even him.

Finally, he manages to breathe, taking a deep, quick breath, before sitting up on his knees, his hands falling limp in his lap. The same, horrified expression remains on his face as he registers what just happened in his head. He shakes it slowly, as if expecting something to happen, but... It doesn't.

The sound. The sound in his head... Long after the main 'event' had ended, another sound fills his head. Incessant, unnecessary, repetitive. It doesn't stop. It persists. It is a sound he has come to fear, a fear of the unknown. Slowly, both hands raise, and press to his ears, to try and block it out. Doing this only serves to make it louder.

"Stop... Stop it... Stopit stopit stopit..." He chants, his tone growing in anger quickly.

"Stopit-stopit-stopit-stopit-STOP IT! AAAGH!" A piercing roar emanates from the once-quiet storage room marked 'One'. Perfectly timed after that is, at first, one quaking THOOM, and the sound of clattering metal as things fall from their shelves where Tale is; not unlike the sound of a bomb going off in a metal room. Shortly after the first, is a second, matching THOOM, the horrid sound of metal on metal filling the halls. Perhaps most disturbing of all, is the rapid succession of hits that come right after; THOOM THOOM THOOM THOOM!

"STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!" This is all that can be heard, roaring from Tale, in sync with each shaking THOOM.

If any are in the hall, they are certainly treated to a sight. With both hands on his head, Tale charges out the room marked 'One', and slams into the door of the room marked 'Two'. The door buckles inward like paper, ripping all but a thread from the hinges, clinging to the wall for dear life on its one remaining screw. Tale collapses to his knees, with his head pressed to the ground, hands clenched over his ears.

"Stopstopstopstopstop..." He whimpers almost silently now.

With a now clear view into the storage room marked 'One', the others can see, and they can understand, what caused the 'Thoom' sounds.

There is are three deep dents in the metal of the back wall of the storage room. Two are vague indentations of fists, and the middle one, while much deeper, and yet featureless, its origin is still obvious.

The last, and most starkly obvious thing about the three dents is the blood. In a slight radial splatter, there is a thin layer of blood in each dent, most predominantly in the centre one.

"Stop it... P-please..."

[Cogwheel]

The racket from room 1 does not go unnoticed. The alarm golem, apparently not completely deaf, turns around and looks at Tale for a few moments, before resuming its rounds. Room 2, fortunately, is a considerably safer room to collapse in. There are tools here and there, and a broom in the corner. The room, overall, is largely empty, and beyond this - and, as of a minute ago, Tale - there is nothing. There is a loud click, audible even to those outside the room, followed by a short, quieter whirring sound, akin to gears turning.

Tale
Even after Tale's first request for silence, the ticking sound grows quieter. There is no response from its source, from any of the voices that spoke within his mind, but by the time he enters room 2, there is nothing. For the moment, all is silent.

[EleventhHour]

[Sonia]

She begins down the hallway when the noise starts, a terrible noise to hear, and it takes her much more personally than it may have others, her hands clapping to her ears as she wanders forward, trying to escape the sound, and the shouts of what sounded to be Tale. Lost, wandering down the hall, almost tripping over the golem, before grabbing onto a random doorknob (Room 6), and trying to open it. In the meantime, her skin melts back down to it's ordinary smoothness, and the Dragonmark fades into nothingness, before she slides into the room, and shuts the door behind her with her hands to her ears. Hopefully Tale is alright... He'll be alright... Charade was there. I don't think anything effects... whatever Charade is.

[Cogwheel]

Room six contains three things. The first is a suit of armour, hanging from a peg on one wall. A suit of chainmail, with the symbol of a lightning bolt on the shirt, and a series of copper wires coiled about it. Another is, on top of a few crumpled, empty bags, a small device. It appears to be made from a metal of some sort, and hums constantly, vibrating in place.

The third is a box. A wooden crate, at a glance, but with plates of steel along the edges. As Sonia enters the room, it floats a few feet into the air, sprouting limbs of hazy blue energy, almost mist-like in appearance. The crate's lid flaps open for a moment and, against all conventions of how such an object might ordinarily act, it speaks, albeit in a bored, rather weary voice.

"Yes? What now?"

The little device is small enough to fit in your hand, for the record, while the box is 5 feet in every direction.

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
Charade follows Tale into the other room, blinking at him in silence. It is very confused, but assumes this is some hitherto unknown behavior of living things, just one of many things it does not understand.

[Balketh]

Finally. Finally. It stops. It goes, and all is quiet. With a sickening slurp, as if someone had tried to pick up Charade from the floor, Tale pulls his head from the floor. A patch of blood sits neatly where his forehead once sat. The skin spanning his forehead is bleeding, though any cuts are difficult to see amongst the smeared blood. His knuckles are similar.

Rising slowly, taking shaky breaths, Tale turns, and stares down at Charade, still with wide eyes.

"Y-you... Always s-so bouncy... And c-curious..." He stammers, his glare almost filling with anger, but it doesn't for a reason Tale keeps to himself.

"T-try not to do wh-what I did just now... D-don't... Go p-poking things you d-don't understand... C-curiousity killed the Charade. N-never forget that..." With a slow step, the young man, still bleeding rather freely, edges past the glowing, blue thing before him, his stare going off into space.

It's almost as if Tale is on auto-pilot. His stare is mostly blank, his mind far away for now, yet he still moves with some purpose. With a shaky hand, he grips the handle for the storage room marked Three, and opens it slowly. Stepping in, he closes the door slowly behind himself, and gazes around, standing stock still, afraid of a repeat episode to the first room.

"R-right..." He stammers softly, clearly still shaken by something.

[Cogwheel]

Room 3 is, once again, mostly clear, as if chance is doing its best to provide him some respite after the clock. In the corner of the room are four boxes, each filled with small stone spheres. Featureless, smooth and all coloured a dull grey, rather reminiscent of ioun stones. The words "message stones" are written on each crate. There are no instructions, but Tale's footfalls seem to sound faintly from every one of the stones, creating a quiet echo.

[technophile]

Sebastian carefully picks up the ornate spheres, wrapping them in some rough cloth before sliding them into his pack.

"Halfway there, " he mutters to himself. And then Tale's roar and the booming sounds interrupt whatever he was saying.

He springs back into the hallway, his huge bow appearing instantly in one hand as he pulls an arrow from his quiver with the other. As he moves swiftly down the corridor, he watches the alarm golem for any hostile motion.

As Tale launches himself violently from Room 1 to Room 2, Sebastian takes a quick glance into Room 1, noting the bloody dents in the walls. Then he turns and looks into Room 2, noting the sticky pool of blood on the floor.

And here I thought this was going smoothly, he grumbles silently.

"I'd say that's good advice," he says in response to Tale's words, still watching the alarm golem and the far door for any signs that things are about to get interesting. "Touching anything you don't understand is a good way to end up a smear on the floor or worse, in a Cannith warehouse." Although his eyes don't leave the hall, his tone is ... pointed.

[Balketh]

I'm going to move on, assuming that, as it should be, Sonia does not hear the sound, as said sound is only in Tale's head.

Slightly disoriented from the powerful headache he now has, Tale winces as the stones in the crates before him echo any sound made. Shifting over as quietly as he can, the young man picks up a stone from each crate, and inspects them closely.

He taps one, then the other. Placing one against his ear, he gently taps the stone on the wall. The sudden, but brief, recoil indicates he could hear that tap very well.

Slowly, so as not to fall over, Tale pokes his head out into the hall.

"People, I've found some Message Stones. They're... Well, they're quite useful. I'm not sure how many we should take, I'll figure it out in a moment..."

With that, Tale slips back into the room, and begins quietly inspecting the stones, trying to learn their inner workings through very soft sounds and a process of elimination.

[Cogwheel]

Thankfully, the process is made considerably easier for Tale. The stones are clearly labeled - that is to say, each one has a number written on it, from 1 to 8. Ringing one end of the stone are seven buttons, small sections that slide back into the stone itself, each numbered. A few moments of experimentation and unfortunately large amounts of noise reveal their workings - each stone in a set, by default (clearly, some have been tampered with) send no sound to other stones in the set. Instead, they only transmit sound to those in the set that have a number corresponding to the buttons currently pushed into the stone. It is a rather old idea, certainly, but the Cannith magewrights seem to have improved on it.


So basically, you have a set, from 1 to 8. You can control which stones it messages. For instance, you could make stone 1 send messages to all of the others, or just 2 and 7, and so forth.

[DragoonWraith]

Charade
Charade grabs two of them, sets them to each to respond to the other, and then chitters excitedly into both at the same time.

Assuming they work like microphones/speakers, crazy feedback should be happening about now.