Episode 1: Arrival at Greenest

The remaining distance to the town of Greenest remained much as it had for the last several days. That is to say it was open, flat, and full of tall grass. It made Zarros' trek largely unhindered while the tall grasses offered an element of concealment for a humanoid moving through the cover of dusk.

As he reached the eastern edge of town he would need to maintain a greater element of caution though. The sun had set by this point, but numerous fires left several areas around the town well lit, with many of the interconnecting streets dimly lit. Fortunately for the residents of the town - at least from what Zarros could see without yet entering town - the visible fires appeared scattered and small in nature, rather than a singular large inferno. The darkness of night had left it looking worse than it was from the distance. Barns and haystacks on the outskirts of the town had been hit the hardest, but the rising columns of smoke and the distant glow of light suggested there where several more fires within the town that lay beyond his current line of sight.

Aside from the unattended fires, the outskirts of town appeared unusually quiet given the circumstance though. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing was yet to be determined.

Meanwhile overhead there was only occasional sign of the dragon spotted earlier, and often only in the brief moments that its large form passed in front of the moon. Its passes appeared brief and infrequent as far as Zarros could tell. As if it was simply circling.

The rest of the group wouldn't be far behind Zarros in reaching the town.

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As the outskirts of town came into view Zarros was surprised at the lack of, well anything. He couldn’t see any signs of the townsfolk, or any living creature for that matter. Glancing skyward at the winged monstrosity Zarros pondered the situation. “What are you looking for? Why are you still here?” he thought to himself as he mused over the scene before him. He wondered why there was so little devastation and why the dragon was neither attacking nor leaving. Confused he mumbled under his breath trying to make sense of things. “Where are all the townsfolk? Why is no one screaming? This doesn’t make any sense.”

Zarros continued to ponder the situation as he slowly crept forward. He would have expected the outskirts of town to be the most chaotic as the townsfolk tried to flee yet he saw nothing. There were no bodies, no one attempting to douse the flames, no one running. It just didn’t add up. “What in the nine hells is going on here?” He whispered.

As much as he wanted to help the people of Greenest every instinct in his body told him that this wasn’t right. Zarros knew it would be foolhardy to rush ahead without a plan and more importantly without backup. He decided to try and get a better view of the situation before venturing into the town proper. With the desire to get a look at anything useful Zarros slowly made his way to the building nearest the edge of the town that wasn’t aflame and climbed his way up onto the roof for a better vantage point. He hoped from the elevated position he might be able to see something of significance, and if not at least it would give the others from the caravan time to find their courage and catch up to him.
 
From Zarros’ new vantage point he had a much clearer view of the happenings within Greenest. The lack of expected chaos and screams appeared due to the simple matter that the town was already largely overrun. He saw numerous armed persons of no matching garb, kobolds, and robed acolytes (though it was impossible to make-out any markings or symbols at such a distance that might determine what faith they may adhere to) wandering the streets.

The hodgepodge make-up of the forces moved like disorganized pillagers rather than trained or cohesive forces though. Some bore torches and appeared to be standing watch along the main road into town while others simply skulked about in a disorderly fashion, looting and pillaging houses.

In contrast to what he had found passing the outlying farm-houses, there were much clearer signs of battle within the town itself. Doors had been broken in, wagons lay overturned, goods and belongings littered the ground, and rider-less and tack-less horses ran amok in the streets. A few motionless forms could be seen upon the ground as well. Two were armored while the others appeared clad in nothing more than nightclothes. If it was a full on massacre Zarros was looking for though, there was little sign of one. Aside from the few motionless forms he could see, most of the damage at this part of town appeared to be as disorderly as the forces wandering the streets.

He would note as well that a burned out torch lay upon the roof he was crouched upon. The thatch roofing showed sure signs of scorching where it had landed, but the material proved far less flammable than it looked and the torch had simply burned out.
 
“This picture makes more sense.” Zarros muttered to himself. He still noted the lack of villagers, but this time he thought that it might actually be a good thing. If they were lucky they might have been rounded up and taken prisoner, which meant they might still be saved. It appeared that this attack had been underway for some time which explained the lack of screaming and battle sounds. If he had to guess, the disorganized manner in which the figures roamed the streets was because they were looking for anyone who might still be hiding in the city after the initial assault.

Zarros still had no idea what nefarious plans the attackers might have in store but as far as he was concerned they were evil and they needed to be stopped. He had no idea what to do about the dragon itself but the foot soldiers were another matter. If they could catch one of the robed figures alone they might just gain some much needed insight into what in the nine hells was going on here.

It was at this point that Zarros heard the sound of people moving through the grass behind him. He glanced down at the road and saw a large figure making its way towards the town. He looked farther back and could see two more following some distance behind “Ah the backup has arrived.” he exclaimed. Zarros then climbed down off of the building, slipped into the darkness and began an intercept course with the lead figure. As the figure grew closer He could now see that it was the large golem person. Zarros stepped out from a heavily shaded patch of tall grass just as they passed by it. “I’m glad you came. Is anyone else coming or is it just the three of you?” He asked as he looked past them at the other two quickly approaching.
 
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Reaver looked around. "Oh, did the teasing human follow the shiny one?" It turned to look behind him and thought it saw the figures not too far away. "I'd only bet on us three."

The construct crept forward and poked its head around the corner, seeing little activity other than the obvious fires. The dragon crossed the moon overhead and that drew the barbarian's attention for a moment, before its blue eyes came back to lock with Zarros' red. "What are we looking at here? Any civilians? Any hostiles?"

It stretched its arm, mock winding up a javelin. "Got a plan yet?"
 
Halfdan kept a measured pace on the way towards the outskirts of the town. The tall grass constantly smacking him around the chin while he ran half crouched was an irritant, but he quickly got within a dozen feet of the warforged's trail. The way was much smoother then. Even the springy lively grass needed a few moments to bounce back after that level of flattening.

As he neared, he began to ponder the situation. The lack of corpses ran down the street meant that no one had tried to flee in this direction. There were probably a few unlucky souls in some of the buildings of the homestead, but overall the activity must be centered deeper into the town commons. Whatever that was. The level of desolation was nowhere near what one would expect from a Dragon out on a rampage. Either it was teasing the townsfolk or something else was going on.

Halfdan was a few feet away from the tall construct before it suddenly stopped. Halfdan saw it move as if to ready a javelin, and noticed the shadow of a figure before it. From where Halfdan stood, the identity of the figure was partially obscured by the width of the warforged. Halfdan swiftly switched his direction to come in at a diagonal at the figure, brandishing his halberd to assist the tall warforged.

He was a few moments away from employing his longer attack reach, and was already preparing to swing at the figure's head when he registered it was the not-fiend.

"Oh. It's you," he said. He smoothly turned his would-be-swing into an exaggerated sweep down towards his side, grounding his halberd into the packed dirt.
 
"You could take someone's eye out with that thing, y'know, swinging it around like that." Only a few moments after Halfdan had arrived, Theo trotted up behind him. While his words remained jovial, his eyes were furtive, scanning every corner and shadow for signs of movement. He lingered a few paces back from his taller companions, squinting past them at the roving figures in the town that had yet to spot their group in the low light.

"Where there's smoke there's fire, and where there's one creepy cultist there's probably a dozen more. Might I be the first to suggest we don't run headlong into trouble, just in case that was anyone's current plan?" he ventured. "We're just a teenie bit outnumbered... so maybe if we're going to insist on saving the day, we pick our battles where they count, and keep our heads down otherwise."
 
Answering Reavers' last question, Zarros offered a simple reply. “Unfortunately, no.” As Halfdan made his appearance Zarros simply gave him a nod seemingly unaware of how close his head came to being separated from his body. He looked over at Theo as he joined the three of them. Zarros waited a moment for them all to gather together before filling them in on the situation.

“I wholeheartedly agree with you.” He said in response to Theos statement. “Now that you are all here I can fill you in on what I have seen” Zarros said as his gaze shifted across their faces sizing each of them up before continuing. “I got a decent look at the outskirts of town from one of the rooftops. There is a lack of many bodies, there are a few but not enough to be everyone. There are also some hostiles moving around on the streets. They didn’t seem to have any specific destination. If I had to guess I would say they are searching. The lack of corpses in the streets leads me to think they have rounded up and captured the townsfolk. Whether the individuals roaming the city are looking for survivors or something else entirely I don’t know.”

Zarros paused and glanced over his shoulder to make sure they hadn’t been spotted. He noticed that some of the figures had moved further out and into view. He lowered his voice and hunched further down into the tall grass before continuing “Obviously we don’t want to rush in headlong and set off any kind of alarm but if the townsfolk are indeed still alive we have no way of knowing how long they will stay that way. For all we know they are planning on feeding them to that infernal beast." He said gesturing skyward. "I agree that we need to come up with some sort of plan but we should do it quickly.” Zarros glanced over his shoulder again and reflexively shifted even deeper into the tall grass. He looked at the others expectantly. “So what do you think we should do?”
 
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Reaver's eyes dimmed, but did not extinguish. An empathic person might read the expression as "closing ones eyes."

"I'm..." it began, "I'm not the best at sneaking. I mean, I can be quiet. But sometimes I just get angry and need to do something about it." Its eyes shined once more, this time with its face toward the town, where it could just make out a marauder in the distance.

Reaver thought back on its travels since arriving in this world. At first, it was just a regular soldier drone like any other warforged. But eventually, the bitterness of being in this world, torn form its own, and hated by the locals for no reason, had opened up a side of the warforged that it didn't even know was there. Boiling rage. Hate. Bloodlust.

Lost in its silent reverie for only a moment, Reaver's eyes had started to intensify and tinge with red. But it shook its head (almost certainly just mimicry of human behavior more than anything real) and re-centered, getting a hold of itself. The crystal eyes softened their glow, returning to their blue default.

"I don't always have control over it. But for right now I do. I cannot promise not to take action, particularly if I see something heinous. But I do promise to try." Then, after a moment, he added. "I know that's a liability. If I do something stupid, stay hidden. I'll draw their attention. That's something I'm quite good at."
 
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Halfdan rolled his eyes at Theo's mockery. Of course he'd be one to follow them. It was just his luck. Still, he did not expect the jocular man to join them. Whether he was after loot or Halfdan had misjudged him remained to be seen, but still he was there. Halfdan briefly glanced back the way they came. He certainly didn't see any of the other caravan guards joining them.

He settled for a half-hearted rude gesture towards the cavalier youth, and turned back to listen to the other assess.

"We need information," Halfdan interjected in a rough whisper. "Like the block of steel here, I'm not particularly good at sneaking about." Halfdan said as he gestured towards Reaver. "But what I do have is training in the arts of battle. Some of that in tactics," Halfdan paused to rub his chin.

"From what you describe these aren't disciplined forces, probably either mercenaries or some other sort of allies of opportunity. I wager we could separate some of the ones hanging about, get some information out of them..." he said, taking a moment to look at Zarros and Theo.

"Me and the big guy aren't gonna be sneaking on anyone," Halfdan said, narrowing his eyes at Theo. "But I get the feeling you and Master cheeks here probably could. I suggest you let me and the warforged draw the attention of a couple of them, get them to come out to us. Then you two can ambush them and assist us in knocking them out. Then we can see what we can learn from them. What do you fellas think?"
 
Theo just winked in response to Halfdan's gesture, but saved any more glib words for another time. He listened to what each of them had to say with his eyes trained on the road toward town all the while. When Halfdan was done suggesting his plan, Theo inclined his head to him. "Not a bad thought. See if we can't find out where all our missing townsfolk have run to, so we know how best to do our saving where it counts."

He clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "Failing that, if they won't talk, long as one of them's got a set of those spooky looking robes... I'll just ask, eh?" Theo grinned and shrugged. "Glib tongue's gotta be good for something, right? I always was a fan of playing dress-up."

You'd met one opportunistic cultist, you'd met them all, in his view. They didn't tend to be the sharpest tools in the shed. Took a certain kind of simple to be promised something by an evil bastard and expect them not to screw you over, and that kind of gullibility would work in his favour.
 
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While the group conversed, the shadowy figures that Theo had spotted moving in the dark earlier were beginning to draw closer. From their current position they could see three figures moving. The two figures in front wore leather armor and carried scimitars. The one trailing them held a torch to light their way and appeared unarmed and clad in robes.

Zarros' urgency in urging a plan to fruition would be well founded for they had only a few moments more to decide whether to act upon the trio walking down the street before they would be past and deeper into town once more.
 
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Reaver looked thoughtfully at Halfdan while it considered what he said.

"I like the shiny human's plan way better than the horned one." The barbarian paused for a moment, considering how different its speech sounded from the others'. It thought about how (Master Cheeks, was it? Strange name, but not important right now) would say it. Finally, it finished its thought in the manner it fancied Cheeks would have. "It is more... " not having a tongue, Reaver made a sound mimicking the small human's click and finished, "my style."

The phrase seemed to choke as it passed Reaver's (not) lips, and the cadence was unnatural. Still, it tried. Its inability to blush notwithstanding, Reaver was slightly embarrassed and proceeded the rest of its conversational contribution in its own fashion.

"It seems we do not have much more time to debate this, however," the warforged continued. It noticed the shadows moving as the torchlight illuminated the group of zealots nearing them. "We need to prepare for action, and now. Sneaky humans, now would be a good time to find cover if you do not prefer the direct approach."

The warforged gave a nod to the paladin which, based on its experience on the battlefield, should have translated to, "Let's do this." The barbarian stood to its full height and addressed the shifty mage, "I'll try to keep one alive for you, Cheeks." With a javelin in each hand, the glow in its eyes began to shift toward red again as they focused on the figures dancing before the torchlight.
 
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"Cheeks, huh?" Theo huffed a laugh and grinned. "S'pose there are worse things to be called. But are we saying I'm cheeky or just that I have a nice..? Eh, I guess that's a question for another time."

The figures nearing them were drawing close, and chat could wait - even if it was fun. Drawing his cloak about himself, he darted off to their left, seeking cover behind a cluster of rocks. Taking the crossbow from his back, he slotted a bolt into place with a quiet hum. He had the feeling it was going to be a long night, and he'd want to save his spellpower for more dicey situations than this. For now, mundane methods would do just fine.
 
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Zarros didn’t like the idea of letting the others go in loud but realizing how little time there was to come up with a plan he knew there was no time to debate. He was about to say something to Theo but just as he was Theo took off to get to cover. Zarros sighed as he crouched down into the tall grass pulling his hood back up over his head, He looked to the other two and whispered “I will follow your lead.” The tone of his voice made it clear that he wasn’t happy about taking this course of action but he wasn’t going to waste the little time they had arguing the point.

Zarros promptly headed northwest, slinking through the shadows. He moved swiftly but silently. As he approached the edge of town he took cover behind a pile of rocks opposite Theo’s position.

Zarros drew two of his daggers as he looked over the rocks judging the distance between himself and the group moving down the street. When he realized he miscalculated and that they were out of range he mumbled a single word in Infernal “Fuck”.

Zarros knew there was no time for him to reposition. He crouched back down behind the rock and looked back to the large metal man and the man in metal all the while cursing himself for being so careless with his movements. He just thanked the gods that he hadn’t been spotted.
 
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The banter was revitalizing after two years of being nearly a husk inside. Halfdan had a brief recollection of his former life with his bunkmates as he listened before Theo and Zarros made their moves. But it was a brief moment. In an instant, the cold-fire reasserted itself, and over that came the cloak of concentration instilled by his years of disciplined training. He returned the Warforged's nod as the construct shifted it's gaze towards the figures. Halfdan briefly did the same and estimated their walking speed in relation to where he glimpsed Theo and Zarros hiding.

It wouldn't be perfectly ideal but if he and Reaver were able to hold their attention just this side of the earthen mound ahead where the road turned, they'd be able to ensure things developed in the direction where the other two where hiding.

Halfdan hefted his halberd and motioned with his head at Reaver as he dashed off, hoping it would understand and position itself alongside Halfdan. They'd look pretty damned conspicuous right in the middle of the road. Impossible to miss when the figures drew closer. Impossible to ignore, and with luck, out of place enough to garner them a couple of seconds of befuddlement.
 
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The construct barely registered as the less-direct combatants broke off and hid. It did pick up Halfdan's encouraging nod before he ran off, though. The barbarian's eyes were a deep crimson, its mind almost singularly focused on the impending combat.

Hold it in... Reaver's feet began to move, following in the paladin's footsteps. Its footsteps were heavy, but steady.

The warforged's bloodlust was beginning to surface, and it was becoming difficult to focus on thought.

Hold... Reaver began to chuckle lightly as its rational mind started to slip away. The laughter slowly crescendoed to a mad cackle.

The warforged took position on Halfdan's left side using the last shreds of its restraint.

KILL! Reaver's normally-calm demeanor fell away. Using the javelins it had been carrying the whole time, the warforged drummed on its steel chestplate and let out a surprisingly loud roar as the rage within it burst free. The dim evening light accentuated its brightly glowing red eyes.

There was no way to know how the patrol would react to this development. But on the bright side, if Halfdan's plan was to gain their attention, it was certainly going to come to fruition.
 
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As the two cultists and acolyte approached the intersection in the road, they seemed more involved in conversing among themselves than paying attention to their surroundings. It would seem they were fairly confident in their surroundings at the moment and the shadowy figures of Halfdan and Reaver either went unnoticed in the dark, or were simply assumed to be mercenaries up ahead due to the lack of initial hostile action.

Upon reaching the intersection though, it became clearer that something wasn't quite right. The moonlight outlined Halfdan and Reaver distinctly and the stance of Halfdan didn't speak of someone calmly at ease, and the shape and size of Reaver was unlike any of the mercenaries they had seen.

'What in the nine hells is that thing?" one of the cultists at the front demanded.

The abrupt roar that spilled out of Reaver was enough to leave the pair reaching for their scimitars while the acolyte stumbled back a step.

"Shit," the acolyte muttered.

On the outskirts and away from the security of larger numbers was clearly not where he wanted to be at the moment.

Meanwhile, Theo and Zarros remained unnoticed for the time being.
 
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FINALLY! Reaver's roar subsided, leaving nothing but its insane cackling blowing on the wind. The barbarian reared back its right arm and, with the practiced precision of a military war machine, released the javelin it held at the left-most front guard. As it executed the moment, its eyes pulsed a bright red, leaving light trails in the twilight.

Without waiting to see how its shot would land, the war machine charged to the northwest, its movement leaving a trail of billowing dust on the road and a windy wake. As it moved, it dislodged its battleaxe from its shoulder mount to prepare for the next phase of its onslaught.

Within moments, the towering metal man stood before the other guard, menacingly staring down at him.

The ever-present cackle continued.

(Dice rolls)
 
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The javelin flew true, and the force of it nearly tore the cultist right from his feet as he spun to the ground. A guttural cry tore from his lips, but to his credit he caught himself with his other hand as he fell, and managed to land on one knee, instead of prone on the ground. The man had either a lot of luck, or at least rudimentary combat training enough to rely on his reflexes to control his movements.

He reached up to grip the javelin with his hand and wrenched it free with guttural growl of pain. His armor had spared it going clean through, but that left it to do further damage as he ripped it free. In the torch light the flow of blood on the front of his leather armor, and his hand were clearly visible.

The hardened response of the cultist was not reflected in his companion though who stumbled back a step in shock as the Warforged bore down on him. To his credit though, he tightened his grip on his scimitar and prepared to attack.
 
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