Having helped Bearchief, the party gathered their loot, and began trekking back towards civilization. One night, the drow ranger, Zyn disappeared, leaving behind some of his better gear:
· Derpa-Dirk, the magical blade pulled from the hide of the owlbear.
· Bracers of Archery looted recently from the old dragon hoard
· 3 Arrows of Oxidation (the arrows Zyn nature-MacGyvered out of the rust monster dooly-boppers, which being rust monster dooly boppers, will significantly injure anything metallic they hit).
With no sign of a body, blood, or even a struggle, the party came to the conclusion that Zyn was simply done with them. The human monk Turnin climbed a tree to look, and took it upon himself to give a short, poignant speech to the recently departed, apparently either over or simply forgetting the first few days with the creepy, quiet, face-slashing drow.
The remaining party pressed on, passing through a few small farming communities, and eventually made it to a larger town without incident nor adventure. In town, the broaches of the human wizard Kyllar, the human monk Turnin and the gnome barbarian Gnofulk (the halfling rogue Shadowale didn’t get one, being unconscious and all) were noticed by a keen-eyed warforged, who outfitted them with supplies at a discount. The warforged heard they were headed to Sharn, and pointed them down the street, in the direction of the spectacular lightning rail station.
The party strolled into the crowded station and purchased some tickets. Now recently conscious and needing a good revitalizing drink Shadowale wandered over to the bar, joined by Gnufolk, and both proceeded to drink heartily, while the rest of the party (Kyllar and Turnin) pestered any passenger who looked even remotely interesting.
The first victim was a large red dragonborn, who, as it just so happened, was going to be sitting in the same car. Pleasantries were exchanged, and the party learned that the dragonborn was Rhogar, a mercenary fighter with morals. Probably sensing that it would be a long trip if he didn’t indulge this monk and wizard, the fighter joined them in pestering other notable passengers. (Zyn’s player decided to drop Zyn and take up Rhogar. Ta-da.)
Seeing a young man dressed respectably and cradling a book, Turnin bounded over and struck up a conversation. The timid man introduced himself as Henley, a neophyte cleric in the Order of the Silver Flame, the most dominant religion on the continent, which asks its followers to live noble lives and strive to exterminate evil. Henley was an orphan from the Last War, a massive conflict in Eberron. Lonely, Henley longed for a community after such loss and devastation, and joined the order. Rhogar threatens/suggests that Henley consider joining the order very carefully, or at least keep his nose clean before wandering off with Kyllar, noting that blind fanatics rarely produce good things. Turnin stays, remembering the cool cleric book he grabbed from Brenda wayyy back when, and asked Henley what he made of it. Being new to all of this, and only on Page 4 of his own cleric book, Henley suggested that Turnin might have more luck asking someone in Sharn – either a bishop in Silver Flame, or some kind of other religious scholar. Henley is eventually released from Turnin’s social grasp, and scurries to the other side of the crowded room to study in peace.
With Turnin and Henley conversed about clerical business, Kyllar and Rhogar had struck up a conversation with an odd, nervous, and somewhat shady-looking individual. The individual has a helmet covering his entire face, with a single slit for the eyes) identifies himself at Rhyllik, and Kyllar and Rhogar learn that he is a Drow, returning from the mysterious continent of Xen’Drik,after a long adventuring and archeological expedition with a few trifling treasures and notes for his guild in Sharn.
As the conversation winds down, someone trips over a small goblin, and a large, plate-clad orc moves in protectively. Apologies are exchanged, but before a new conversation can be struck up, the crackle of static electricity signals that the train has arrived.
As everyone shuffles to board the train, some members of the party eye up the two other conspicuous persons at the station whom they had not been able to pester. The first is an incredibly tall and muscular humanoid, wearing a mask and clad head-to-toe in gleaming plate boards near the front of the train.
The second is a female dwarf in a longcoat and reading an upsidedown newspaper. Gnofulk had noted that she was looking pretty often in Shadowale’s direction, but she boarded the middle section of the train before anyone could talk to her…
The party boards the train in the rear, taking takes their “seats” in a rather crowded car, filled with long benches and many workmen. Gnofulk grumbles that 5 gold per ticket should have gotten them actual seats, and that it seems like a steep price for these workers to be paying. Perhaps a greedy ticket seller noticed they stood out and pulled a fast one on them? Or are things related to the bustling metropolis of Sharn really this expensive?
The murmur of polite conversation fills the car, and a few small games are struck up between passengers to pass the time. A hour or so into the trip, there is a shudder which reverberates down through the cars, and the screech of twisting metal can be heard. Games end and the passengers murmur in worry.
The party stands up, and declares that they’ll go see what’s what, and prepares to set out to find some authority figure on the train. A helpful lad suggests that lightning rails have two engines – one active in front; one inert in the rear, and that they are nearest to the rear one. The party heads towards the rear of the train, but finds a storage car, filled with misc boxes, as well as a few coffin-shaped stacks, and an upbeat warforged that most of the party recognizes – Gofer!
Gofer is accompanying/guarding some cargo for his community – honored dead being brought to Sharn. He is glad the excursion with Bearchief went well, and while he heard the shudder, he doesn’t know what it was. The party leaves him to his vigil, and continues toward the rear of the train.
The door opens surprisingly easy, and an older man sits up from one of the bunks. He identifies himself as an engineer, who is actually stowing away to Sharn. Once brought up to speed by the party (he’s a very sound sleeper), he attempts to contact the active engine car at the front of the train, but the signal isn’t going through. Kyllar summons a familiar, who can’t quite keep up with the train. Before it winks out of existence however, Kyllar is able to see through its eyes, noticing some smoke coming from a hole in one of the middle cars. The engineer points out that since the train hasn’t slowed down, the damage could be superficial. The only way to tell would be to investigate the smoke and reach the front of the train. Declaring the old man useless, the party tells the engineer to stay put – they’ll investigate the source of the smoke, and contact the active engine car up front.
The party advances, dispensing updates to Gofer and the workers back in their car as they make their way toward the front of the train. They exit their old car, and as they open a door to the next car up, two warforged unload mammoth crossbow bolts into Rhyllik, dropping him mid spell. A few other bodies are slumped in seats, the party noticing wounds from blades and bolts.
Most of the party launches themselves at the hostile warforged, clambering over seats, sprinting down the aisle, or just sneaking about in attempts to close the distance with these devastating ranged weapons. Hiding in a booth, Kyllar drags Rhyllik into relative cover, but the drow is beyond Kyllar's abysmal knowledge of healing. A brawl at the end of the car ensues, with Rhogar taking the brunt of one of these large bolts before the warforged are finally dispatched. Knowing how resilient warforged are, the party takes a moment to confirm that their foes are well and truly downed. Rhyllik proves to be beyond saving – dead from one of the devastating bolt shots before the party truly entered the battle.
The party scours Rhyllik’s equipment. They find a ceremonial Xen’Drik longsword; a few books of archeological and anthropological notes on Xen’Drik; a pair of letters; 20 Gold and 40 silver; and Rhyllik’s enchanted helm.
The party backtracks again. Gofer cannot identify the warforged without a good description, so the party brings him up to hopefully identify their opponents. Unfortunately, Gofer cannot help. The fact that both foes are warforged suggests some kind of affiliation between them, but they are not from Gofer’s community, and he cannot speculate what they might be after, and dismisses the party’s suggestion that these foes would be after his community’s dead.
The party asks if Gofer wants the remains of these warforged (and obliquely, if there is a “parts” market for dead warforged), Gofer replies in the negative on both counts, and retreats to sooth the passengers as the party presses on.
Kyllar divines that the longsword is a magical, and offers it up to Rhogar, saying that the dragonborn can keep it if he does a good job. Rhogar takes the blade, regarding Kyllar with a little of what might be dragonborn sarcastic incredulousness. Kyllar also identifies the helm as a Helm of Darkness- exerting a minor Darkness spell within the helm; enough to presumably let a drow wander about in the daylight with no ill effects.
The party ventures to the next car. Its doors open, and the party discovers that they are in a sleeping car; a long hallway opening into a number of smaller private rooms. They knock open doors, and find a frightened couple who state that they had felt the initial shudder, and heard “clomps” down the hallway, but had kept quiet, and their door shut. Another door is open, a passenger dead with a large blade gouge in his chest. In another compartment, the party finds Henley, cowering and clutching his book. His story is much the same as the quiet couple in the other compartment. He is too scared to join the party, but thinks he has just learned something called “Cure Wounds,” and is able to magically heal a few of the party’s wounds. He asks if there is anything (besides fighting, he’s weak) that he can do to help, and the party tells him to sit tight with the door closed. As the party reaches the end of the car, they notice a hole in the roof; something broke into the car. They party regards the hole, assuming that the warforged they had slain made it, but are curious as to why they would have needed to come through the roof. Gnofulk is hoisted up to peer through the hole, and in the distance, he sees other warforged running on the roof of the rail cars towards the engine up front.
It doesn’t seem practical or safe to travel on the roof, so Gnofulk is lowered, and the party opens the door to the next compartment as a pair of the massive crossbow bolts bury themselves into the walls nearby. Hiding behind the edge of a bar counter, safe from the shooters but exposed to the party is a very belligerent, plate-clad orc. Gnofulk tries to vault over/past the orc, but is grabbed midair and dragged to the floor beside the greenskin, who bellows at the gnome in broken common to see if the party is “here to fight too” and if they “is good guys or bad guys.” The orc thus distracted, Turnin dashes along the wall, and flings himself over the bar, past a sneaky warforged and towards the pair of shooty-warforged, caning one in the head with his staff. The small goblin pries the orc’s fingers off of Gnofulk, gesturing towards Turnin and soothing the big guy that the party is probably on their side. Or, the goblin concedes, that at least the green duo is in “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” kind of situation.
The sneaky warforged, unaware of his brethren being caught up fighting the acrobatic Turnin, charges around the corner of the bar, slashing at the orc with two katar-style swords. The orc roars, and responds with swipes of his axe, though neither are felled. Rhogar charges the slashing warforged; and Kyllar, perpetually restricted to minor sniping spells due to his compatriot’s quick actions, takes some pot shots at the ranged warforged. Shadowale sneaks behind the bar itself, hiding amongst the bottles and, popping up to shoot the slashing warforged in the side of the head.
Turnin continues to occupy the attention of the ranged warforged with stave strikes, who, unable to reload and fire their massive crossbows, stab at the monk with daggers. Freed of the orc’s clutches, and with a little help from the goblin, Gnofulk clambers onto the bar, running down it to join Turnin’s fight. The goblin spurs the orc onward to join the monk as well, but the orcs legs are short, and can only slowly plod towards the fight. Rhogar advances lockstep to support the orc, and Shadowale pops up over the bar, bounding across the wall and tables to reach Turnin’s fight too. The fight is soon over.
The goblin calms his orc counterpart and does the talking while the big guy calms down. The party learns that there they were looking for a drink in the bar car when these warforged busted in and started shooting up the place. The orc held them off; a few retreated. The duo heard clomps on the roof, fell back to the rear of the car, though the expected attack never came. The party noodles out that the warforged they dispatched further back were likely the ones sidestepping the orc, but they cannot figure out the goal of the warforged. The Orc would like to finally get his drink and relax, but Rhogar convinces the green pair to take up position in the sleeper car, and guard that hole in an attempt to protect the workers in the rear of the train.
Their rear secure, the party advances to the next car, throwing back a door and revealing the source of the smoke seen earlier by Kyllar. Something has blasted a gaping hole in the side of this passenger car. Wind whistles through the gaping hole, tussling the hair on the numerous dead passengers.
In one corner lays the dwarf who was eyeing up the party at the station. Kyllar recognizes her, and searches the body. A few coins are found, as is a slip of paper, nestled behind the newspaper she had been looking over. On this slip is a crude sketch and written description of Shadowale, though the name is listed as Falco. He is described as belligerent and likely emotionally distressed and last seen wandering around Fal-Narath. There is a simple instruction, asking the reader to watch Falco, and see that he makes it to Sharn alive. At the bottom of the slip are two brief descriptions of Turnin and Kyllar. As the party shares a moment of collective bewilderment, the train lurches, and starts to noticeably speed up….
…and despite all of this, no one has remarked on the odd mark that has manifested itself on the back of Turnin’s head after the ordeal recovering Bearchief’s relic. Is it an acid burn from helping Bearchief? Dirt or grime from poor D&D hygiene? A bruise? Someone else’s blood?
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