Salvation Outpost - Chapter 2

The evening, or rather, early morning, passes into the mid part of the day. Despite much of the town being slow to rise after the previous night’s celebration, a few of the town’s early birds still awake and begin to open shops. Sounds of hammers and saws fill the street, as repairs continue.

As the morning train arrives, few passengers disembark. Word of yesterday’s events appear not to have spread quite yet. As promised, Zodor is up early and departs for Vathirond with the morning train, assuring that he will return with the evening train.

Sheriff is making the rounds, checking in on the townsfolk. The dwarven artificer and his six legged contraption are seen in the jailhouse. It appears that the lawman may have found himself a deputy. Or, at the very least, a jail guard.

Those that stayed in the Salvation Hotel are greeted by the aroma of fresh baked goods wafting in from the bakery next door. Vice was given a free upgrade to the hotel’s only suite. SheK was given a room with absolute darkness, not a shadow in sight. In the lobby, a small halfling with a large handlebar moustache sits behind the counter reading the Salvation Times.

Those that stay in Blood Hall have a quiet restful sleep. While drafty, the weather through the night is pleasant enough. The short automaton promises to keep watch and seems to be true to his word. Nothing of note happens during your rest.

The Grey Beyond is open as usual. Roszana is absent, likely sleeping off the festivities. In her place, a rather frenetic, middle aged man with dark hair and a scruffy beard does his best to keep up with the demand for coffee, bacon and eggs. Busy as usual, scrappers, scavengers and adventurers huddle around the job board, looking at what postings are left and hoping new opportunities emerge as the warforged threat has been staved off.

Peldan spends the morning pouring over the elvish notes in the tomes and scrolls. The identity of the elvish author is not clear and there’s no evidence an elf was with the raiders. The halfling quickly finds that the notes appear to be part of a plan for the construction of the referenced ‘Becoming God’. The raiders were looking for a warforged colossus believed to be in the west part of the Mournland. A colossus seems to be the planned vessel for their future god. While this colossus is their first target, there are vague locations of other colossi in the Mournland, even one in the Shadow Marches. The plan appears intentionally incomplete. The focus of this party was to find a colossus and return it to the city of Making. Strangely, these raiders were not necessarily following the direction of the Lord of Blades. Peldan finds personal notes from the elven writer that show worry the Lord of Blades may have his own interests in collecting a colossus.

Peldan reads further and finds their plan seems to rely heavily on the collection of docents and large dragonshards to augment a collosus. They also hoped to find a colossus cannon. The rest of the tomes and notes are a hodge podge of seemingly random ideas, artifacts and myths to incorporate into the Becoming God. Peldan finds references to the Undying Court, a myth about a thirteenth moon, the extinct Mark of Death, the lost House of Vol and several notes on elemental binding.

Perhaps the most unsettling notes Peldan finds, is that the Lord of Blades may indeed be in possession a damaged or incomplete creation forge. There are several notes on potential locations of other forges. The Blades are searching to repair the Lord’s forge.

Vice sleeps long enough to miss the morning train. It’s nearly noon as he steps out into the warm sunlight. The sky is bright blue, white fluffy clouds hang lazily on the horizon to the west. The grey curtain of the Mournland, unobscured to the east. As he makes his way through town, he is greeted by several of last night’s new acquaintances. The diminutive entertainer seems to have made a name for himself. Instead of going up Main Street, he decides to stroll through the blocks of small houses and shacks on the west side of town. He discovers most of the houses seem quickly thrown together, some look patchwork, mismatched. A few look well built, compared to the others. He passes the home of his shifter friend, but he is not home. One house sits just outside the west edge of town. The windows shuttered, yet clearly occupied. A team of horses sit tethered outside it, well fed and cared for.

Meanwhile, SheK follows the warm fragrance of coffee to the Grey Beyond. The server keeps her cup full all morning. As with Vice, SheK is recognized through town. A few of the fortune hunters attempt to approach her, but seeing her dour mood, think better of it and move on. She watches the opportunistic scrappers check the job board. Some bills are taken. A few remain. Later in the morning, Garundah quietly slides into a seat next to the half orc. The young goblin looks to have had a similar evening as SheK. She says "Hello.", seemingly wanting company, but not conversation. She then orders a coffee of her own.

37 working through the night is later joined by Peldan in mending the hall. Much of the desks, tables and chairs turn out to be salvageable. The great main double doors do take some time, but by mid afternoon, the main level of the hall is looking greatly improved. All dust and cobwebs have been removed. Many of the boarded up windows now keep the fraft out. The side doors no long creak and moan and more important, they even latch properly. out. A few sparse panes of glass even manage to be repaired. The few remaining candelabras return to their former lustre.

The attic proves to be more daunting. Pigeons scatter, leaving small nests around the loft. Much of the damaged wood is repaired, but sections of the roof have been lost to time and will need replacing. The bell tower appears strengthened by your combined efforts and the bell no longer seems to sag on its beam.

Peldan feels a pang of pain in his head as he looks into Vera’s room. The chains still hang from the various points around the room. They appear to be anchored into the frame of the room itself. The ghastly remains of bones and remnants of her adversaries are scattered against the walls. 37 can see the reach of the ghostly former occupant, as there is a distinct oval in the room where the floor is clear of debris.

Belaluur greets Vice with a pained smile. The goblin is one of the town’s early birds, whether she likes it or not. "And a it’s-too-bright-to-walk-in-daylight afternoon to you.", she’s replies. Vice notices business in the market is still a little slow.

"Oh, that’s the base of Ikar's gang. They’re the most successful scavengers in town.", she says casually, but darts a look at Irullan at the counter next to her. Vice would recognize the sign that there are too many ears around. "They always bring the best score, don’t they, Irru?", she throws over her shoulder.

"Of course, Bells. They may even sell to you one day.", Irullan is leaning lazily on the counter, reading a copy of the Salvation Times and doesn’t look up as she responds.