Chapter 3: The Enemy Within

[mike]

Mike, give us some flavor text to go with Torhak's raging! What's he look like doing this?

Well, since you asked ...

Torhak initially head towards one of the warforged, twirling his axe as he runs ... but as the cloud of foul-smelling vapors emanates from the gray-cloaked spellcaster, the dwarf's blood begins to boil.

"Enough games, foul sorcerer," mutters Torhak.

He bites his lip, hard enough to draw blood. The intricate twirling of the axe stops. The precise and deliberate movements of the dwarf vanish as he heads straight for the gray-cloaked spellcaster with a loud howl, more fit for a wolf than a dwarf.

He slashes at the spellcaster once he reaches him, putting all of his strength into a wild swing of his axe. He feels one of the warforged nearby do something, but it is an annoyance, little more.

"HAH!!!" he shouts as he faces the spellcaster. "I'LL RIP YA TA SHREDS, FOUL DOG!!!"

[Darren]

Even through the nausea, Kalarian's eyes burn with anger. His instinct is to rip the gray-cloaked caster to shreds, but his logical, tactical mind takes hold. Coughing and gasping for air as he moves, Kal launches himself as quickly as possible towards the green-cloaked caster, the knowledge that the man could be killed by the warforged before he gets a chance to question the sorceror driving his feet.

____________
Kal will move as far as he can towards the green cloaked caster.

[Josh]

Grafth keeps a steady hold on the ballista, searching for the next open target. When he is able to get a clear shot of either warforged (preferably the one nearest the green-cloak), he will attack it.

[Jeff]

Round 2

23 = Goran / Grafth
19 = green-cloaked 'caster
18 = grey-cloaked 'caster
17 = Ralsor
16 = Torhak / Mist
14 = warforged
10 = Kal (nauseated)
6 = Streko (nauseated) / Matheu
5 = Fherina

________________________

Goran has a clear shot on the greycloak, so he refocuses his aim and lets fly his arrow, immediately reaching for the next. Even as he draws the string back for his second shot, he sees the first strike the spellcaster at the shoulder—and break and fall away! His second arrow is a bit too high, sinking into the grass behind the spellcaster.

There is clearly some magic resilience on the part of this enemy.

Grafth swivels the ballista to the right and trains his eye on the attacking warforged. The one who ran off after the greencloak is behind a large boulder, so the shifter has only the other one to target. Grafth is almost distracted by the sound of an arcant phrase behind him, but is reassured when Lever places his three-fingered hands upon his shoulders. The shifter feels energy surge through his own armor, and the world comes into greater, sharper clarity; it is a sensation almost like shifting, but with sight and reaction instead of smell.

When he releases the massive crossbow bolt, the whole device shudders under Grafth's grip. The oversized missile swishes through the air strikes true...just barely, shearing away the warforged's right arm (along with its military pick) and sending it spinning in place. The warforged keeps fighting, but it clearly could not sustain another injury half as devastating as Grafth's!

As Kal stumbles, still coughing, in the direction of the boulder and where the green-cloaked spellcaster had gone, he sees a flash of red...and silver rspirals...and could swear he hears something that sounds almost like a children's rhyme from the man. When he reaches the boulder, he sees the black-haired man stepping back, attempting to steer clear of the warforged's reach. The man spares Kal only a quick glance, marking his presence.

The grey-cloaked spellcaster turns his eyes skyward, cognizant of the half-elf sniper. However, he turns his hands toward Torhak, utters an arcane phrase, and sprays a jet of fire at the dwarf. The flames lick across Torhak's body, singing skin and beard and reddening his flesh...but again, Torhak barely feels it. The bright orange light and unpleasant heat server only to make him madder still. After loosing his spell, the greycloak backs up a little.

Torhak immediately follows, his war axe leading the way....but his wild swing misses the man by an inch. Mist keeps pace beside him, though Torhak isn't aware of her, and renews her attack. Her scimitar draws a small line of blood from the greycloak, but it seems trivial to him.

Streko stumbles his way toward the warforged, still gripping his flame-wreathed sickle but is still unable to bring it to bear. The warforged, however, takes the opportunity. Bereft of its weapon arm, it pummels him on the shoulder with its other hand...which feels like a hammer blow to the halfling. Pain blossoms from the wound. Streko hears something like a metallic grunt of satisfaction from the warforged soldier.

Kal sees the other warforged reach through the green-cloaked man's defenses. His military pick slashes him in the arm, tearing cloth and exposing a bloody gash. The man's singsongy chant stops under the pain.

Matheu launches himself from the rail of the ship and glides smoothly down below. A draconic growl is heard from his tiny form, but almost immediately Streko feels his pace quicken. Energy and speed has bolstered his body, despite his pain. Gather your senses, Streko, and strike faster.

Beside him, Goran hears the gnome Fherina begin to sing. There is a power to her rhythm, though he cannot understand the Gnomish words she uses. Supernatural confidence begins to flow through him. She looks up at him and nods, pointing down again. Try again! she seems to say, even as she keeps singing.

_________________________________

• Goran's 1st attack: 10 + 7 - 2 (Rapid Shot feat) +1 (height advantage) = 16 (0 damage)
  
• Goran's 1st attack: 4 + 7 - 2 (Rapid Shot feat) +1 (height advantage) = 10 (miss)
  
• Lever casts an infusion on Grafth's armor that grants him a +4 on Dexerity.
  
• Grafth's ballista attack: 8 + 5 - 4 (ballista) + 2 (Dex bonus) + 1 (height advantage) +1 (masterwork ballista) = 15 (hit) / damage is 20!
  
• Greycloak's spell: 23 Concentration check (casting defensively) / 16 ranged touch attack (success) / 13 fire damage to Torhak
  
• Torhak's attack: 4 + 8 = 12 (miss)
  
• Mist's attack: 22 (hit, 1 damage)
  
• Warforged's attack: 16 (4 damage to Streko)
  
• Warforged's attack: 21 (6 damage to greencloak)
  
• Matheu casts Haste on Streko, granding him a +1 bonus on attack rolls and a +1 dodge bonus to AC and Reflex saves, an additional 30 ft. of movement, and a second free attack with any weapon he's holding.

Now Kal, Streko, and Amal can act again as normal.

Josh: it would take Grafth a 2 full rounds simply to reload the ballista, should he decide to do this.

Edit: Grafth's attack removed the warforged's arm, so I had to amend its attack on Streko. Now it did only 4 damage with its slam attack instead of 10 with its pick.

[Darren]

Eyeing the green-cloaked caster warily, Kalarian steps forward, sparing a glance towards his infused sharrash, seeing the energy crackle on the blade. His eyes flick up to the metal body of the warforged, and his lips curve into a smile as he brings the weapon around in an arc, slashing at the construct with renewed energy.

_____________
Kal is attacking the warforged with his sharrash.

[Josh]

"Thank you," Grafth says to Lever after nodding in satisfaction at the results of his shot. "You seem to have quite a talent, and good intuition in battle." The shifter pauses for a moment, considering his options.

"Let's reload. If Kalarian draws out that other warforged, we should be able to disable it."

[Jeremy]

Goran nods back at Fherina.

"Damn right." and -snicker-snack-, out comes the arrow onto the bowstring. Same target. The half-elf growls with a growing battle-lust. He couldn't give a damn if the spellcaster makes him his next target or not.*

---

* At least, not until he gets clobbered by a spell...then he'll probably care!

[mike]

Torhak howls and continues to slash at the spellcaster with his axe.

[Joe]

Streko feels the world around him slow. He winces at the throbbing pain in his shoulder, but still holds his flaming sickle.

"You had your shot...now take mine!" Streko strikes at the legs of the warforged, attempting to slice them free of the machine's torso.

[Jeff]

Round 3

23 = Goran / Grafth
19 = green-cloaked 'caster
18 = grey-cloaked 'caster
17 = Ralsor
16 = Torhak / Mist
14 = warforged
10 = Kal
6 = Streko / Amal / Matheu
5 = Fherina

________________________

Grafth sets to reloading the ballistae, with Lever's help.

Goran lets fly again, bolstered by the supernatural valor of Fherina's strange song. His first shot misses, but his second slaps into the grey-cloaked caster. The man's body jerks from the impact, but it hardly slows him down.

Kal watches as the green-cloaked man takes a quick step back away from the warforged, muttering through the pain of his injury, "Stupid and rude, give the worms some food." With a gesture of his hand—and not a single spoken word to trigger it—he conjures red and silver fire from the air, then hurls it at the warforged. The strange energy—no spell that Kal recognizes—hits the living construct straight on. The fire doesn't seem to burn at the wooden components of its body so much as dissolve portions of it. The warforged bellows, then the fire washes away again. The attack seems to have brought a measure of glee from the black-haired man.

The grey-cloaked man moves back again, snarling another arcane phrase. A five foot ball of fire rumbles into appearance beside him, and with a gesture is rolls at Torhak. The raing dwarf is only partiall cognizant of it, but too furious to dodge effectively. The flame, while swiftly moving, rolls into him, scorching him. Worse, the flaming orb seems there to stay, and Torhak will need to continually contend with it.

Ralsor runs down from the wheelhouse to assess the battlefield from the main deck. "Khyber," he mutters, "Let's keep that fire away from the ship, eh?"

Torhak's rage does not relent, and with his next few swings he scores a nasty hit on the greycloak. The heavy war axe slides away with a satisfying spurt of blood. The mage screams his pain, and even in his rage Torhak sees the face within the hood glow red from the man's eyes. At least he can bleed, though it's harder to get him to do so!

Mist keeps pace as the greycloak and Torhak move back. Unwilling to lose her position as the mage moves past the boulder, she nimbly leaps up upon the side of the rock, half-crouched, and attacks from there. She draws blood with another slash of her scimitar, but it is minor. "Our weapons are not sufficient, Tor—" she begins to say, then sees Torhak's vicious blow. "Well done."

Seeing Amal move in to flank the warforged, the construct facing Streko renews its attack. The construct's hand manages a blow directly across Torhak's head. There is a loud bang, and the halfling nearly swoons from the concussive force of the blow!

Surprised by the efficiency of the greencloak's red-and-silver fire, the other warforged's next attack is clumsy, easily dodged by the mage.

Kal, in full control of his senses again, brings his sharash to bear with a two-handed grip. The war scythe crackles with electricity as it swishes through the air, but swing is off, and the warforged evades it.

Streko, in a haze of pain, nevertheless has control enough to swing his sickle. Hastened by Matheu's spell, the angry halfling swipes the flame-rustling blade....and as desired, it sheers through the wood components of the warforged's legs. The first cuts deep...the second severs one leg altogether. Without a sound, the construct drops to the ground and lays utterly still, smoke rising from its badly singed body!

"Well done, Streko!" Amal shouts with both a laugh and a cough. The Blademark then makes his way carefully across the battlefield to get behind the grey-cloaked mage.

Matheu flaps his wings and hovers in place, eyeing the flaming orb that harrasses Torhak.
_________________________________

• Goran's 1st attack: 4 + 7 - 2 (Rapid Shot feat) +1 (height advantage) +1 (bard song) = 11 (miss)
  
• Goran's 2nd attack: 10 + 7 - 2 (Rapid Shot feat) +1 (height advantage) +1 (bard song) = 17 / damage is 4 + 2 +1 (bard song) = 7 (but only 2 damage is taken)
  
• Green-cloak's touch attack: 15 +5 + 1 = 21 (8 damage to the warforged)
  
• Greycloak casting defensively, Concentration check = 18 (success)
  
• Greycloak casts a spell. Streko's Spellcraft check is 8, so he does not identify it.
  
• Torhak's Reflex save: 10 + 1 = 11 (failure, 7 fire damage to Torhak)
  
• Torhak's attack: 7 + 8 = 15 / damage is 10 + 5 = 15 (10 damage to greycloak)
  
• Mist's attack: 16 / damage is 5 + 1 = 6 (1 damage to greycloak)
  
• Warforged's attack: 25 (critical hit, damage is 12 to Streko!)
  
• Warforged's attack: 8 (miss)
  
• Streko's 1st attack: 14 + 4 + 2 (flanking bonus) +1 (haste bonus) = 21 / damage is 1 + 6 fire damage = 7
  
• Streko's 2nd attack: 18 + 4 + 2 (flanking bonus) +1 (haste bonus) = 25 / damage is 4 + 3 fire damage = 7

[Darren]

Kalarian spares a glance at the caster, at once impressed with the man's skills and worried about his mental state. Deciding that the sorceror doesn't pose a threat to him, for now, Kal renews his attack against the warforged, hoping to force him back a step or two so that Amal might be able to flank him, as well.

_______________
Kal will again attack with the sharrash.

[Joe]

Streko points a finger at the caster. "And now for you!" He prays to his blessed goddess and launches a spell.
____________________________________________

Streko casts SPIRITUAL WEAPON against the spellcaster and sends a mystical sickle toward the fiend.

[mike]

Torhak snarls as he strikes the spellcaster ... and smiles.

The dwarf is vaguely aware of something burning, but ignores it.
____________________________________________

Torhak continues to press his attacks against the spellcaster.

[Jeremy]

Goran reloads, and fires again with careful deliberation.

"This guy's costing me arrows -for little return." he snarls to himself.

[Josh]

Grafth keeps an eye on the state of battle below as he hastens to fix the hefty bolt in place.

[Jeff]

Round 4

23 = Goran / Grafth
19 = green-cloaked 'caster
18 = grey-cloaked 'caster
17 = Ralsor
16 = Torhak / Mist
14 = warforged
10 = Kal
6 = Streko / Amal / Matheu
5 = Fherina

________________________

Goran lets fly with two more arrows, but both miss their mark, sinking into the grass near Torhak and Streko with a loud swish. Even as she sings her bardic song, Fherina groans light-heartedly.

Stifling a shout of glee after his last successful blast, the strange, green-cloaked man steps to his left and mutters, "My warforged foe, you'll crack and burn, your pleas for peace I'll gladly spurn." He raises his arm and throws another blast of red-silver fire. The construct is wearing down.

With Lever's skilled assistance, Grafth has loaded the ballista with enough time to loose another mighty bolt. With the boulder blocking the other warforged, the only target is the grey-cloaked mage, though it's a tough spot, even from above, and with allies all around. Very risky. Grafth can hear Fherina's bardic song and it gives him the determination to try it anyway. The large device swivels on its axle, the heavy cables stretch, then make a loud slam as it launches the missile through the air...

The massive bolt tears through the grey-cloaked mage's body, tearing fabric and spilling an excessive amount of blood on Torhak (who thinks he did that at the moment). The mage stumbles back, expresses his agony with an inhuman bellow. His hood falls back, revealing a profusion of black, almost hornlike spikes jutting from his temple and all around his head like a disturbing crown. Red eyes glow with anger and pain.

"Nicely done," Lever remarks to Grafth.

Yet the greycloak still stands, the crossbow bolt impaled clear through his torso, showering blood upon the grass.

Despite the mage's obvious agony, he snarls again and waves one hand at Torhak, keeping the fiery sphere upon him, then hoarsely grunts another spell of his own. But the pain is too much for him and he fumbles the spell, blooding spilling from his mouth.

Ralsor moves the Thunderhead even closer to the field of battle.

Torhak, inspired by the spray of blood upon him a moment earlier, renews his attack with fervor. A couple heavy swings of his dwarven war axe, and suddenly, his enemy topples. Mist, still crouched on the boulder, looks on without comment; Amal, who was standing opposite the dwarf, gapes. The grey-cloaked caster sits, half-propped up by the giant crossbow bolt lanced through his body. His head, however, has rolled a short distance away, severed at the jaw. Amal turns away, partially sickened.

Mist springs from the boulder to engage the final warforged. Her scimitar rings loudly off the other construct's metal plating, a mere glancing blow. The enemy warforged looks over its shoulder, marking the fate of its allies, and starts to turn away—then presses its attack against the green-cloaked sorcerer. The tip of its heavy pick catches the edge of the man's cloak and turns him slightly off-balance, but fails to strike flesh. The man laughs with a flourish.

Kal moves forward to keep up with the slowly-retreating warforged, swiping his sharash in yet again. At last his aim and the strength of the blow is perfect: the war scythe cuts through the wood fibres of the construct's body, sundering the livewood sinews. The electricity that still wreathes the weapon crackles across the warforged's body. It vibrates, groans, then collapses the ground, utterly still.

Streko, who has just begun his supplication to Olladra, stops his spell, saving it, now that the obvious enemies have all fallen.

Aboard the Thunderhead looking down, Fherina claps her hands like a child. "Amazing!" she calls out. She looks up at Goran. "You did good, too, Reacher. But with that creature-man, I think more than regular arrows are needed. We need to find you some magic ones, right?"

Refresh your page!
Remember, the map represents where everything and everyone is at the end of the round.

The green-cloaked man, seeing the warforged and the greycloak down, looks with concern to where the Emerald Claws soldiers have fallen.

_________________________________

• Goran's 1st attack: 2 + 7 - 2 (Rapid Shot feat) +1 (height advantage) +1 (bard song) = 9 (miss)
  
• Goran's 2nd attack: 4 + 7 - 2 (Rapid Shot feat) +1 (height advantage) +1 (bard song) = 11 (miss)
  
• Grafth's ballista attack: 14 + 5 - 4 (ballista) + 2 (Dex bonus) + 1 (height advantage) +1 (masterwork ballista) +1 (bardic song) -4 (firing into melee) = 16 (hit) / damage is 21 (only 16 is actually taken)
  
• Green-cloak's touch attack: 17 (5 damage to the warforged)
  
• Greycloak casting defensively, Concentration check = 15 (failure)
  
• Torhak's attack: 6 + 8 +2 (flanking) = 16 / damage is 8 + 5 = 13 (damage is 8)
  
• Mist's attack: 11 (miss)
  
• Warforged's attack: 10 (miss)
  
• Kal's attack: 14 + 2 = 16 / damage is 7 + 1 + 6 (electricity damage) = 14

The battle is over.

Guys: feel free to give me a bit more description even in battle next time. If you're attacking somehow, how are you doing so...and what are you aiming for? If you roll well, well, you might hit just there. If not, no biggie. Don't rely on only me to provide description. If you really need incentive, I do take player contribution/creativity into account when XP is doled out at the end of each chapter.

[Darren]

Half-crouched, Kalarian takes a quick survey of the battlefield. His head swivels, his cheek brushing against his high collar, his eyes narrowed slightly. Satisfied that the fight is over, for now, he relaxes his posture. He spins the sharrash once, bringing the butt of the weapon to rest on the ground and leaning on it casually, as though there had never been a fight to begin to with. He turns his full attention to the green-cloaked caster. "You fought well," he says, "and we mean you no harm, unless you mean to do us harm. What happened here? Who are you, and who were they?" he asks, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

___________
Jeff, I can't speak for everyone, but I think most of us are trying to give description...we're just not writers like you are.

[Josh]

"We make a good team," the shifter says to Lever, extremely satisfied with the results of their attacks. "Let's head above deck and see what the others have in mind. Its getting too dark to worry about a scouting mission now, but we'd probably want to make sure there are no other surprises around here.

Grafth heads up to find Goran, Fherina, and the ship's captain.

[Jeff]

"You too," the stranger says to Kal, breathing heavily from the stress of combat. "That was enjoyable."

Up close, all but Grafth and Goran have a better look at the stranger. He is clearly human, with long, lanky black hair and a lean yet handsome face with almost aristocratic high cheekbones. He wears a dark green cloak—a darker shade than the Emerald Claw soldiers' capes—and finely crafted studded leather armor over green and black clothes.

To the dragonmarked sensibilities of Kal, the man seems very well coordinated, not unlike himself and other sorcerers he's known. The man's eyes are even the perfect match of his hunter green cloak, yet they seem quite bright. The only weapon he appears to carry is a dagger. There is no trace of the magefire he conjured during the battle.

"My thanks, and I mean you no—" He stops, suddenly. "The captain! He must not die!" The stranger's mood suddenly becomes grim.

Ignoring the rest of Kal's question and the stares of everyone else, he moves quickly to stand over the bodies of one of the fallen Emerald Claw soldiers. "Relith, damn you..." He looks up at the others. "Is there a healer among you? This man mustn't die, not yet at least. He has information. Please!"

Matheu lights upon the boulder, eyeing the stranger carefully. There is something foreign about this man, he projects telepathically to everyone except, of course, the stranger himself. And it has nothing to do with where he is from.

[Darren]

"We're not in the business of helping the Claw, friend," Kalarian says, following the sorceror towards Captain Relith. "But since this man was attacked by his own, I get the impression that there's more to this story." Kalarian nods silent assent at Streko.

[Josh]

"Something foreign..." Grafth repeats the pseudodragon's words. "I'm not surprised, given the nature of the other 'man' we just fought." The shifter looks around to those on board, his sharp, verdant eyes resting finally on Ralsor. "Well, captain, what say you? Night approaches— we have mere minutes until all save perhaps Goran and myself would find a scouting mission useless."

[Jeff]

Ralsor turns at Grafth's approach. "Excellent shooting, Grafth!" The captain claps him on the shoulder. "You're my new artillerist."

"But here's the thing. You can't really....hide an airship in any conventional. Even if I kill all the lanterns"—he gestures to the still-swaying everbright lanterns—"we'll be seen from quite a distance in the dark. I can suppress the elemental, which will dim the light, but that also makes us dead in the water until I rouse her again. I prefer to let her move. Air spirits, naturally, prefer to be as free as possible....relatively speaking."

Ralsor addresses both Goran and Grafth now. "At some point, you'll need to go on foot, and then I'd move the ship out of sight, high above. That's the only way to do it at night in such an open land. The question is....do you want to press on in the morning? Or is time a factor? We don't know what that thing was, or if there's more of them somewhere. Or if it'll be missed."

From his perch on the boulder, Matheu flexes his batlike wings. There is something else out there, he says as he stares northward, the direction the warforged came from. And something...stinks.

[mike]

After felling the cloaked spellcaster, Torhak drops to his knees, his eyes closed and his head hanging low. He says nothing. His face, twisted with rage, eventually becomes calm and tranquil, and his breathing becomes even and regular once more.

Eventually, he gets up, and moves closer to the spellcaster. He pulls the cloak away from his fallen enemy. With his axe, the dwarf cuts a lock of hair away from the spellcaster's head, and tucks it away into one of the many pouches on his belt. He brushes his fingertips across the caster's face, closing the fallen man's eyes.

Torhak heads slowly back towards the ship, wiping blood from the keen edge of his axe with a scrap of cloth.

[Jeff]

Torhak feels the temporary weariness that follows his combat frenzy. Then he begins to feel the injuries dealt to him during the fight....the burns on his arms most of all.

When he pulls away the fallen mage's cloak, he sees a middle-aged, perhaps older, face. There is seriously something wrong with him...but his angular features visibly soften as Torhak watches. The black protrusions around his head turn to dust and crumble away. The man's fingers, twisted into sharp claws, shrivel into wrinkled, normal hands. The mage's head is mostly bald, but wisps of hair remain, which Torhak was able to cut away.

____________________

Just a reminder that Torhak does become fatigued (-2 to Str and Dex) when his rage has ended. Doesn't last too long, though.

[Josh]

At Ralsor's praise, the shifter nods deeply. "Without Lever's aid, I would not have struck blows half as true."

Listening to both the captain and Matheu, he looks back over the port rail, to the scene below. "I do not think we should set off on foot tonight, especially if something is headed toward us that we cannot contend with. Let's wait to see what Kalarian and the others below will do with our 'friend' in the green cloak, and what this massacre was truly about.

"If we're to wait until morning, I'd just as soon hide the ship in the sky, as you proposed, or fly a wide holding pattern around the area, circling back in the morning to continue our search."

Grafth turns back to those on deck, "And let's not forget that we still have Pel to contend with."

[mike]

Given the strange countenance of the gray-cloaked spellcaster, Torhak heads over to Kalarian before heading back to the ship.

Once he reaches Kalarian, he describes the ugly features of the spellcaster that disappeared.

[Joe]

Streko goes to Torhak, lays a hand on the dwarf's shoulder and feels his dragonmark burn to life, sending waves of mystical strength into the exhausted dwarf.

"If Matheu is right and something stinky approaches, I would rather have you in full fighting shape, my friend."

Streko then takes his holy symbol and offers praise and love to Olladra, allowing her blessed healing energies to infuse his injured dwarven friend.

"Now, friend Torhak, there seems to be some urgency regarding the Emerlad Claw agent. If you don't mind, I had best see to him. I shall return to assist afterwards."

Streko goes over to the Claw Captain and inspects his wounds. If he is near death, he will first stabilize him. Otherwise, he will follow Kal's lead regarding expending healing, especially as he is in dire need of some healing himself!!_______________________________________________

Streko uses his dragonmark to restore Torhak's strength and energy and then casts Cure Light Wounds on the dwarf. Regarding the Claw Captain, he will first stabilize the injury and make his next decision based upon whatever Kal suggests.

[Darren]

As if just just noticing him, Kalarian is surprised by Streko's condition. "Are you alright, my friend?" he asks, placing a hand on Streko's shoulder. "If you can, get the captain on his feet. Then I think we need to get everyone on the ship and get airborne until morning." Kal surveys the remainder of the battlefield quickly, seeing the downed warforged. He gives the halfling an admiring look. "You are more dangerous than you appear, Healer."

Kal listens to Torhak's description of the mage as he watches Streko work. "That doesn't seem familiar to me. We should ask Matheu if that means anything. Once we're back on the ship, I'm hoping these two can answer some of our questions," he says, jerking his thumb towards the sorceror and the captain.

[Joe]

Streko smiles at Kal. "I will be fine once we are back onboard Thunderhead, although this does seem to be the place we are searching for, don't you think?' As to the construct over there....well...don't anger a halfling...with a flaming sickle and an upset stomach. That's all I have to say on that matter!"

He winks at Kal, then provides another brief burst of healing energy directly from his goddess, through his holy symbol and into the Emerald Claw Captain. "I will need to inspect him more in a private room away from any passengers to know the full extent of his injuries. Perhaps one of our mighty warforged friends can carry him to the ship and perhaps we should...hide...the bodies of the dead until they can be disposed of properly." He eyes the remaining Emeral Claw agent, a sorcerer, with undisguised malice and deep distrust.

[Jeremy]

Ignorning Fherina's disdain, Goran stows his bow over his shoulder and moves to go down to the area of combat, where the Emerald Claw soldier lies near to death. He walks up behind Streko.

"Can I help? I cannot heal like you, but I have some small skill in it."

Meanwhile, Goran will hunt around for any of his arrows he might salvage. He will also have a look at the Grey-Cloak fella.