Episode 1: Arrival at Greenest

The battle cry echoing back through the air toward them was sure enough sign that Reaver had entered the fray, and Theo took his cue. Ducking out from his cover, he locked his aim onto the cultist who had just pulled a javelin from his shoulder. "That looks like it stings. Best we put you out of your misery, eh?" he murmured to himself.

With the big metal man between them, Theo didn't have a clear shot on his target, so he quickly darted across the field into the shadow of one of the nearby buildings, hugging the wall as he moved. Once he thought he'd found a good angle, he spun around and - pausing only a brief moment to steady himself - loosed his bolt towards the injured cultist. His new position left him a little more exposed than he'd have liked, but he expected his enemies had other things to worry about for now.

Bigger, shinier, and angrier things, to boot.
 
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The wounded cultist had only just regained his footing when the whistling of an arrow spelled his end. The force of the crossbow proved adequate in punching through the leather armor, and the cultist let out only a gurgled grunt as he grasped the bolt protruding from his chest before falling to the ground, motionless.
 
Halfdan moved the moment he heard the low whistling of Theo's projectile sing through the air. He had been momentarily stunned by the ferocity of the Warforged's fury. Sure, the thing was actually acting the way it looked, but the past few weeks had almost been enough for Halfdan to stop expecting that. Good it was on his side though.

As he rushed to stand by the constructs side, Halfdan looked not towards the enemy before the metal man—who frankly probably didn't need to be considered with the metal giant in his face—but rather towards the lightly robed figure. Memories of flames and ash coursed through his mind. He remembered clearly the danger of magic running unchecked; lightly robed figures amongst mercenaries unleashing flames while another dragon circled above.

A scimitar to the ribs he could understand, but who knew what a caster left unchecked could do? He instead focused on the figure beyond the corpse of the cultist. The cold-fire within demanded the acolyte's death, but with barely enough willpower, Halfdan resisted. They needed information.

He unleashed a swift blow towards the acolyte's head with the flat of his halberd's blade, and just as swiftly followed through with reversing the direction of his swing back upwards to strike with the haft of the weapon on the same spot. He moved with such mastery that both hits appeared nearly simultaneous.
 
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The swift execution of the group's attack coupled with its ferocity was proving exceptionally efficient. The acolyte scarcely had time to raise his hands up to try and ward off Halfdan's attack before the halberd cracked against his skull. The first blow staggered him and the fluid follow through of the second attack fell in time with the acolyte's momentum to leave him wide open. The blow left him sprawled in the dirt road, and he didn't so much as stir.
 
Zarros looked up from behind his rock in time to see the first cultist impressively manage to stay on his feet after being struck by the metal man's javelin only to fall to Theos crossbow bolt moments later. He watched as Halfdan expertly incapacitated the robed figure with a quick flourish of his halberd. It seemed as though his earlier assumptions of Halfdans combat skills were spot on.

Zarros' eyes narrowed, focusing on the remaining cultist. “It looks like you're all mine.” He whispered to himself. The others had more than proved their capabilities, Now it was Zarros' turn to prove his worth. He could only hope to be as efficient as his new allies.

Zarros sprang into action quickly. He stepped out from behind his rock moving swiftly towards a flanking position behind the cultists. As he came into range he slid into a crouch launching both his daggers in quick succession. His second dagger left his hand before the first one had even reached its target. As he slid to a halt he came to rest on one knee freezing in place as he looked onwards to see if his aim was true.
 
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The remaining cultist's knuckles were white from his iron grip on his scimitar as his two companions fell to the ground in rapid succession. The dominating form of the warforged loomed over him and that was where his full attention was at. It was from behind though that his end came. First one, then two daggers hit true, buried deep into the cultist's back. The scimitar fell from his hand as he reflexively tried to reach back for the hilt of the daggers, but the color drained from his face and he collapsed to the ground his mouth agape with his dying breaths.
 
Zarros' stone-faced expression quickly changed into a grin as he watched the final cultist drop to the ground motionless. A warm feeling of satisfaction washed over Zarros as he witnessed the final moments of the cultists' existence. In ordinary circumstances he would not take pleasure in the death of another person but in this case he was more than willing to make an exception. He rose from his kneeling position and walked the remaining distance to the others. He bent down as he reached the corpse of the cultist he had just slain pulling his blades from his back. He paused to wipe the blood and gore off on the fallen cultists clothing before returning them to their sheaths.

“Well I don’t think that could have gone any better.” He remarked as he looked down at the motionless bodies of the cultists. “ If you don’t mind me saying we make one hell of a team.” He added as his eyes came to rest on the robed form of the unconscious acolyte.

Zarros stared at the still breathing form for a moment pondering what to do next. A frightening grin spread across his face as an idea began to form in his mind. “We should probably restrain him before he wakes.” He said as he produced a pair of manacles from his backpack. “This isn’t exactly what I normally use these for but I can make an exception given the circumstances.” His words were followed by a sly wink as he began shackling the robed cultist.
 
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Reaver wound up to cleave the cultist in two. However, when its axe was at its apex, the man before the barbarian suddenly dropped, a pair of daggers visible from the man's back.

The warforged looked around in a fury and saw a cheering Zarros. Even in Reaver's anger-induced tunnel vision, it rightly surmised the rogue as the one who stole its kill. ITS kill.

BLOOD FOR BLOOD! As Zarros moved forward to pluck his daggers from the corpse, he had no idea how close he came to losing his head.

Blood for blood! Reaver was able to push the rage into the background once more as Zarros wiped the glorious viscera from his blades.

Blood for blood! Sufficiently calm now, the warforged lowered its axe and nodded along with Zarros. "We do seem to be efficient as a unit."

The barbarian first put the javelin in its left hand away, then bent down and plucked up the one it'd chucked at the left-most cultist. It had been lying in a pool of blood, so following Zarros' lead, Reaver wiped the haft and point on a reasonably clean part of the cultist's clothes and put that javelin away as well.

"Allow me," Reaver offered and used one arm to heft the shackled breathing zealot onto its shoulder, then wheeled around to Halfdan. With a robed figure on its left shoulder and a battleaxe in its right hand, it inquired. "Where to?"
 
Halfdan had been standing around with crossed arms, assessing the field after the last cultist fell. He saw Zarros approach from where he unleashed his surprise attack, and collect his weapons. He also noticed that the warforged eyes seemed to take a few seconds to dim down, and that Reaver held that battleaxe in a ready position a beat too long after Zarros' approach. It wasn't anything overt, but it did raise the thought in Halfdan that he had no idea what it's inner world looked for whatever force animated the creature. It almost seemed like the battle-rage some of his bunk mates described during their training. They'd always spoken of the difficulties they had relinquishing it's hold when no longer needed. Halfdan wasn't sure if he was relieved or not that at the Warforged's possible capacity for feeling.

He decided he'd keep a closer eye to it's mannerisms, try to figure out it's patterns. Only a fool went into battle without considering who held the shield at his side, and Halfdan did not know enough to generalize with something as foreign as Reaver.

"Yeah, not bad for a ragtag grouping of travelers who just happened to have the same harebrained idea," Halfdan replied to Zarros' comment as the other restrained the creature. He looked around, glancing first to the end of the road where the town was and then back to where the corpses laid across the same road. It was only a matter of time before random chance brought someone who'd see the corpses. If they were specifically looking for these three they might notice the signs even if they hid the bodies.

Better to not bother and go for speed. Halfdan pondered as the warforged hoisted their prisoner like a bag of grain and queried him. The house to the southwest smoldered slightly but the damage appeared to be superficial. It would do nicely to get them out of sight and give them some time for their questioning.

"That way," Halfdan responded to Reaver with a pointed thumb towards the house. "We're gonna want some privacy to get some information off this guy."
 
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When the last cultist fell, Theo lowered his crossbow with a quiet whistle. Things had gone smoothly, which - in his experience - was a rarity when it came to hastily made plans like that. He supposed that was the benefit of working with people who actually knew how to handle a weapon as opposed to street thugs. Strapping the crossbow back in place at his back, he trotted over to where the others had begun to discuss their next move.

"Restraining prisoners isn't what you normally use those for?" Theo quirked an eyebrow at Zarros and smirked. "Well aren't we all just full of surprises."

Habitually, he ducked down next to the two fallen cultists while Halfdan was directing Reaver with their captive, checking them over for any coin or valuables. Once he was reasonably satisfied he'd found and pocketed everything of note, he straightened and moved to follow the others. "So're we opening good-guard or bad-guard?"
 
Zarros matched Theo’s smirk with a smirk of his own but gave no reply. He hardly believed it necessary to elaborate further. “If you guys don’t mind I would like to initiate our interrogation of this poor fool when he wakes.” He said gesturing to the unconscious man currently slung over the metal man's shoulder. Zarros began heading towards the house indicated by Halfdan as he continued “I don’t mind if you all take over but I have an idea that I think should terrify him and help make him more receptive to our inquiries that would be most effective if applied while he is still groggy and confused.”

He appeared as though he was about to add something else but thought better of it. "Best to keep chatter to a minimum for the time being." He thought to himself. After all, more cultists could pass by at any moment. ”Oh man this is going to be fun. I can’t wait to see Halfdans face when I pull this stunt." Zarros' face grew into a large grin once again as he was clearly amused by something. "Hopefully he doesn’t cut my head off. Ahh who cares it would be worth it." Zarros continued to ponder over his plans in silence as they proceeded towards the house. As always he kept a sharp eye out for anyone approaching their position.
 
As Reaver sauntered to the house Halfdan suggested, it noticed Theo starting to loot the corpses. Not a bad idea, Cheeks, Reaver silently lauded him. It also ignored the banter between the two sneaky types, not the least of which because the warforged did not really understand it.

It know about sex, of course. But it had obviously not experienced the act. Still, most of its time, Reaver had only really interacted with the crudest humans. Enough, in fact, to assume that the banter was about sex, but not enough to be able to contribute to repartee. So ignoring it was the safest way to go.

"I am afraid I'm unfamiliar with that saying, Master Cheeks," Reaver replied. "And it does not really make sense to me. I am not sure there are 'good guards' or 'bad guards.' Generally, I would expect that guards embody the spirit and nature of the group they guard, and their 'goodness' is a matter of one's own perspective, particularly relative to the group. To that end, from my perspective, the guards we just painted the road with were 'bad guards.' But to our friend here," Reaver rolled its shoulder to make the acolyte bob a bit, "I'm sure they were good guards." It paused, considering that statement. "Well, until they failed miserably in their jobs." It finished that up sincerely, not even realizing someone might interpret that as an attempt at humor.

The confusing statements kept coming, this time from Zarros. Warforged don't have eyebrows, but Reaver really wanted to raise an eyebrow at Zarros' request to indicate its suspicion. The best it could do was to dim one of its eyes and to brighten the other, and so it did.

Reaver still only knew the name of Master Cheeks, so it decided to make a nicknames instead of carrying on with "horned human" and "shiny human." It was not uncommon for warforged back home to give nicknames based on identifying features, so it proceeded down that path.

"I take no issue with it, Horns," Reaver replied. "However, I fear that Sir Spear may be a little more difficult to convince." The barbarian lifted its axe and generally waved its head in Halfdan's direction. It was not a threatening gesture, but rather the one just about anyone would make to point while holding a stick. "Still, I for some reason doubt your intentions, sir."

"Would someone mind getting the door for me?" it inquired as Reaver approached the door of the hovel. "And be on guard--we do not know if anyone is inside, nor how these theoretical inhabitants would react to our presence."
 
Halfdan rubbed the stubble over his chin as he pondered the interaction between Theo and Zarros. "What the hell did I get myself into and who did I get into it with?" he thought as he shook his head in consternation. Reaver's reply wasn't much better at making him at ease with his current positioning in the world. He had a feeling he'd just have to roll with fate's tugging and try to survive the ride as far as strange bedfellows went. "It's a turn of phrase, Tin—" he paused in mid-talk. He was distracted from the idea of trying to explain at the sudden realization. They didn't even know each other's names. Halfdan suppressed a chuckle. Now that he had time to think, the path the night took was starting to gain a measure of comedy.

Halfdan turned towards Zarros as Reaver neared the door. "You can take first crack at it," he said to the horned man. "Don't waste the first impression. We need him properly intimidated. Then maybe afterwards we can do a proper damn meet and greet. Don't know what to call you guys." He held the door open for Reaver, and motioned them all in. "Standing guard will only get us a few moment's warning before we're surrounded and trapped," he said to the group. "Not to mention adding the risk that whoever stands guard is spotted. Better to stick together and be about our business with haste, I think."
 
Theo wouldn't find much of note upon the fallen cultists other than some pocket change.

The interior of the house had been thoroughly ransacked. Tables lay overturned and the contents of cupboards, cabinets and drawers lay strewn about the floor haphazardly. Whoever had come through hadn't seemed to have any specific direction in mind, and the entire contents of the main room (which served as a kitchen) had simply been upended. Tableware and cookware, spilled flour, spices, candles and more had been scattered all over and trampled upon. Even the contents of a soup pot had been spilled onto the floor to mingle with the flour and create a muddy mess on one side of the room.

The acolyte slung over Reaver's shoulders remained motionless. The skull cracking that Halfdan had dealt him proved quite effective.
 
"The look on your face is simultaneously worrying and promising, Horny," Theo remarked as he followed the others into the building, regarding Zarros with a raised eyebrow. "And I can only take it to mean we're going 'bad guard'. Which, by the by, big guy-" he turned to address Reaver, tilting his head up towards the large metal man, "-in this context means being mean. Threats, menace and the like. Good guard'd be using the carrot instead of the stick, acting all nice and reassuring and promising to let him go if he cooperates. Making friends instead of making him piss himself."

Theo plucked a wooden stool from where it had been tipped over and set it upright, perching himself on it and crossing his legs. "Alright then, Horny, let's see what you got. See if we can't find out what in the hells these people are doing here."
 
“Alrighty then” Zarros remarked. “Let's get started shall we?” Zarros walked over towards reaver. “I’ll just take that there.” he said as he plucked the cultist from Reavers arms. Carrying the man was not as easy for Zarros as it was for the tank of a warforged but Zarros only had a short way to go and carried the man to an empty corner of the room, setting him down with his back to the wall. Before continuing Zarros addressed the rest of his party. “So it is going to get very weird here in a second. Just go with it” Zarros remarked, looking across the room at each one of them. A mischievous smile spread across his face. “Please hold your questions until the end of the show.” He he added in a playful voice.


Zarros turned back around and looked down at the cultist unconscious form. He pulled out his waterskin, uncorked it, and splashed the cultist in the face.

Zarros positioned himself in front of the cultist as he came to consciousness. Zarros began speaking in a condescending tone as if talking to a child. “Oh hi there little guy. Are you ok?It’s time to wake up.” He paused for a moment allowing the cultist to regain at least some of his awareness before continuing in a more serious tone. “We have questions for you, but first I want to make sure you understand your situation.” Zarros paused for another moment to make sure the cultist had regained enough of his senses to comprehend what he had to say next.

Zarros stared deep into the cultist eyes as his voice took a more firm tone. “So you think working with a dragon is going to make you strong? You have no idea what true power is, just look how easily we dispatched your comrades. Sure a dragon can kill you in a dozen painful ways but that is just death. It is over and done with so quickly.” Zarros stepped back from the cultist a pace or two as his expression changed into a dark sinister stare. “ I serve a master whose ability to cause pain transcends your mere mortal body. He won’t just take your life, He will pull your soul into the nine hells and deliver you into an eternity of anguish, And you know what? It would be just as easy for him to do as blinking is for you.”

At that point it became clear that Zarros facial expression wasn’t the only thing that had changed. To those viewing him from the back it was unclear when the changes had started but the cultist had a front row seat to watch his transformation. Before long everyone could see that Zarros form had begun to change. His horns had doubled in width and tripled in length. His form now loomed over the cultist as he had slowly grown a foot taller. And those were just the most immediately obvious of his changes. As he stared at the cultist with malicious intent his skin slowly changed into a dark grey leathery hide, Long fangs now protruded from his mouth. His fingers that were once like any other persons had begun to grow. They extended into to an abnormally long length and each one was now tipped with a three inch claw.

Zarros leaned in closer to the cultist and grinned at him. He made sure to give the cultist a good hard look at his new fangs before he leaned in even closer. He leaned in until their heads were side by side. Zarros whispered into the cultist's ear. “So, If you want to avoid an eternity of agony and despair I suggest you answer our questions truthfully and promptly. ok?” Zarros then leaned back from the cultist's ear and patted him on the cheek offering him a half smile. Zarros returned to a slightly cheerful tone as he spun around to look at his companions. “Ok so now that we have gotten that unpleasantness out of the way, who has questions for our new friend?”
 
Reaver was so distracted by the state of the house that it almost didn't notice Zarros snatching up the acolyte. The metal man considered objecting, but thought better of it. Instead, it tiptoed through the muck on the floor and leaned up against the wall behind where Theo posted up on a stool.

The barbarian crossed its arms without putting its axe away, so the haft protruded upward at an angle.

It then turned its attention to the scene in the corner of the room. Zarros' body had already started to transform. "That's not... normal, right?" Reaver whispered to Theo. "Looks kinda like wizardry."

After focusing on its cohort's message, Reaver decided it was all just an intimidation technique. A radical one, but it seemed effective. Again addressing Theo, the barbarian continued. "I usually just threaten to take fingers. And, you know, take them until they decide the investment isn't worth the cost."

After Zarros asked for questions, Reaver piped up from across the room. "Why are they here? And who do they serve?"
 
As the acolyte started to come too, he was still very out of it as water and blood ran down his face. His head swam and his vision was blurry as the figures before him started to take vague shapes in the shadowy room. The warforged drew his eyes initially and the acolyte was wide-eyed and clearly in dismay and at his situation. As Zarros spoke though, the half-tiefling quickly drew the acolyte’s attention and the prisoner licked his lips nervously, eyes darting from Zarros to the others and back again.

It was clear Zarros’ words and the change to his physical appearance were having the intended effect as the cultists attempted to scoot backwards away from him. With his back to the wall he had nowhere to go though.

“Who the fuck are you people?!” he demanded.

There was an almost indignant anger to his words that masked the fear in his voice, but not the fear visible in his eyes.
 
Halfdan watched as Zarros took the unconscious cultist from Reaver, and positioned himself after Zarros set down his bundle. He leaned against a wall intentionally selected to place him out of view from the prisoner. He ignored the joking and banter between Zarros and Theo, if only because it was becoming a constant struggle to keep the anger from freezing him solid. He wasn't sure if he'd get the answer he was looking for, but he judged the odds good. How many robed weirdos could there be around the continent going around attacking small populations in the middle of the night with a dragon assisting?

His weapon arm began to itch from within as if a thousand ants crawled through his veins. To prevent himself form being hasty, he leaned his halberd against the wall and narrowed his eyes as he focused on Zarros waking up the acolyte.

His choice of positioning just off to the side behind them gave him a good view of the profile of the Acolyte's face. It also gave him a great view of the freak show. "What the ever-loving fuck..." Halfdan thought to himself as the changes came across Zarros' visage. His hand unconsciously rose towards his holy symbol, with a faint warmth beginning to coalesce as he prepared to call whatever powers his nascent connection to divinity could grant. But then he actually focused on the words coming from the half-tiefling's mouth, and his eyebrows creased. "Damned imbecile...little sick joke could cost us our chance..." Halfdan thought as he straightened up and began to reach towards his halberd.

He paused and leaned back again as, incomprehensibly the acolyte seemed to fall for it. Just how hard did Halfdan crack the man's skull? From the low muttering he couldn't make out across the room where Theo and Reaver stood, he reckoned they were similarly puzzled by Zarros' approach. Well...he did tell them he'd get weird. Halfdan would have to have words with him later and find out if these kind of sick jokes were common for him.

But the eyes! Yes, Halfdan knew his away around intimidation. They had him. Just as soon as enough wits congealed back in the acolyte's head. Halfdan was pretty sure the Warforged's questions were lost in the man's initial awakening. He remembered the first time he laid eyes on the metal man. Throw in the peculiar diction, and it wouldn't be surprising if the groggy prisoner mistook the whole of it for an apparition.

In a fluid motion, Halfdan pushed off from the wall, and approached in from the Acolyte's blind spot. He leaned down to his right with one hand against the wall, as if blocking off that direction. The fact that the pommel of his short-sword as it hung from his scabbard now occupied the entirety of the acolyte's peripheral vision on that side was no accident. Halfdan rested his other hand on the acolytes shoulder, and gave it a firm squeeze with his hand.

"What our fiendish golem meant to say was," Halfdan said with a head bob towards the warforged. "Who are you and your buddies running roughshod around this town, and why are you attacking this place?". The malice and venom in his words were unmistakable, and further emphasized by the tightening of his grip on the acolyte's shoulders as he punctuated his question.
 
"Definitely not normal," Theo murmured lowly in reply to Reaver, brow furrowed. He recognised illusion magic when he saw it at work, but that didn't make the whole display less unpleasant to watch. "He did warn us things were going to get freaky, to be fair."

Perhaps more uncomfortable than the actual illusion was just how much the horned man seemed to be enjoying it. Sadism wasn't exactly a quality Theo looked for in an ally, but... well, nobody was perfect.

Halfdan's movements drew his eyes next, and the cold anger in his face was enough to prompt an arch of his eyebrows. That was a lot of anger just for a raid on a town that presumably the warrior had never been to. And an interesting choice of questions, to boot. Who and why were relevant in their own way, but - at least in Theo's eyes - less so than options like 'where are the townsfolk' and 'how many of you are there'. The two things combined were enough for Theo to speculate that their halberd-wielding friend might have some history with these dragon-allied cultists.

He'd be lying if the common theme of "dragons" and "creepy robes" hadn't set off a few red flags in his own head as well.

Pushing such contemplations aside from the time being, Theo hopped to his feet and paced around to within their captive's view, flashing him a grin. "Might wanna think carefully before you give your answer, pal. If you make a good enough case for yourself by being helpful, maybe sell us a believable sob story, there's a chance you might even get to walk away from his."

Given the demeanour of the rest of the group, Theo had to admit that the likelihood of that happening was probably extremely low, but robes down there didn't need to know that.
 
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