The Mournland: “We’re not going to find one in a head”
The Motherland: “You have her eyes”
Ialos: “Let’s sneak into this town and murder everybody”
Do androids dream of electric sheep: “You are like unto me a fallen timber or a shovel”
Landro: “Who are the real monsters?”
Haunted Colossus: “As if a ghost was put within a machine”
The Jaw of Victory: “Would you like some oil?”
Deities & Demigods: “Where’s my mother?”
Mother Stands for Comfort: “We have it on good authority that she lives”

---

The Mournland

The company stepped through a twenty-foot-tall, vertical, black oval made of glass that sat on the muck atop a low hill. Curtains of thick, grey mist blanketed the blasted landscape limiting vision to fifty feet or less. The air was cold, thick, and hung damp with the smell of overgrown plantlife.

Eli scanned the landscape and a shiver ran down his spine: there was something strangely familiar about this place. He couldn’t explain it, nor make sense of it. A feeling of been watched—or of someone walking over his grave. He shook his head to clear it but the sensation remained.

Carcasses of rusting metal warriors slumped in the undergrowth, each must have cleared ten-feet standing. Many had been ripped apart, heads missing or rent midsection, and the ground was littered with cogs and mechanisms that must once have kept these machines alive.

---

Idris recalled the advice from Alustriel regarding the docents, looking around the shattered machinery for what might have been a head—he figured that was the most likely spot for such a device. Before long he found one, but it had been flattened like a pancake. If there was anything inside it was long since destroyed.

“I have no idea but where do you think we start?” Three said to Idris.

Idris pulled the Rod free and held it forth. But as the Wizard’s had warned, it gave too much, seemingly pointing everyone at once. “This isn’t going to help us.”

“But this might,” Sifer said, pointing back to the oval portal. The mist-shrouded landscape was reflected in the glass-like surface with supernatural clarity. It showed half a dozen enormous ruined mechanical beings, a camp, and a small village centred around a windmill. “That must be a colossus,” Sifer observed, turning away from the mirror to look in the direction of the closest, but the pressing fog blocked all sight. Turning back to the mirror, and back, it was impossible to determine any sense of scale or distance. “I can’t tell the distance, it all seems to shift and change.”

Eli climbed atop what looked like a hip-section of a fallen colossus, trying to get above the mist. As he clambered up he realised with a shudder that the machine would have been at least one-hundred feet tall if complete. For a moment he though he caught a windmill blade cutting through the fog in the far distance—“There! I…no, not it’s gone”.

“Regardless of what we can see,” Three said, “Let’s take the reflection at face value and head north.”

“North-west,” Idris suggested, pointing to the closest Colossus, “If we want to try and find a colossi body to see if there’s a docent in one.”

“I agree. We just need to move,” Three nodded, hitching his gear.

Sifer tried to follow Idris’s logic but much to his frustration his mind couldn’t make head nor tails of the directions. He shrugged and trudged off behind Idris who led the way into the fog.

---

Five hours of cold, wet, hard walking followed. The company started in high spirits, but before long it became a grind. No-one could make sense of directions and trying to follow any path was fruitless. It wasn’t until a brackish rivulet was found that it felt like some progress was being made; at least it meant the company wasn’t travelling in circles.

Whilst Sifer found the fatiguing atmosphere and war-torn landscape took its toll, he drew on his Neverwinter focus to stay alert, trusting fate to lead the company true. After some time the trickle of dark water dried up, but, as Sifer and fate would have it, it was replaced by the remnants of a stone-lined road. Following that for some miles led to a sharp bend and rise that opened into a clearing. Uthar, now leading, gasped when he saw what lay within. “Don’t take another step,” he warned.

What was once a massive, bipedal war machine made of stone, metal, and wood now lay in ruin, slumped in a seated position. Fragments of the mechanical titan lay scattered about, each piece as big as a barn, and the remains of several others lay nearby.

---

“This thing would be nearly 150-feet high when it was standing,” Idris said looking up at the carcass with awe.

“Someone has been here before us,” Eli said pointing to trails of footprints in the muddy ground around the legs of the colossus. “Someone unusually heavy,” he said poking a long finger into the sunken print.

“Not fresh,” Sifer said crouching, “But not ancient. This was once a battlefield, but the prints are much more recent if the war ended two years hence.”

Three put his foot next to one, finding the print almost double his. “The size and depth of the prints makes me think it’s one of those—”

“Constructs,” Sifer finished. “Like the remains have seen on our travels.”

“And look here,” Eli pointed, “There are other, smaller, prints. Fresher too, given the overlap the bigger ones.”

“There’s two parties,” Three nodded. Sifer, who had clambered up the thigh to get a better vantage, agreed. “Two parties at two different times.”

“Well we need to find a head,” Three said.

“You mean like that one?” Idris said, looking up to the head that perched some forty feet above in the fog. One of the cheek panels had been removed, matched to a rusted slab he spotted lying nearby. “That panel is big enough for one of us to walk through,” he pointed.

Eli immediately started climbing, spidering his way up with his preternatural sense of balance. He glanced sideways to see Sifer also walking up, magic boots doing the work for him. “Cheat,” Eli muttered, doubling his pace. As if to ratify this opinion, he saw Marko was also ascending, rising though the thick air thanks to his magic boots. Eli scowled and tripled his effort, overtaking a surprised Sifer with his speed.

“First one up there—get inside the cheek and see if it looks like things have been removed,” Idris called.

Eli obeyed, hauling himself inside the cavity. Inside was mostly empty bar a cluster of mechanical devices that left him befuddled. “Lucky I was first,” he snorted

Sifer, having given up the race, examined the edges of the hole the panel had left. It was rusty, as expected, but far less so than what lay on the ground. “Maybe a couple of months,” he said stepping inside.

Eli was busy hauling wires and springs from the mess of mechanics. “This reminds me of Inda’s wing,” Eli said.

“Very good getting here first, Eli,” Sifer said, manhandling Eli away from the tangles, “But let’s leave this to the expert.”

Marko floated inside and his eyes lit up. Whatever this was it looked brilliantly complex and intricate, and he immediately set about trying to understand and unravel it. As he tinkered he spotted a central housing buried in the mechanics. With all the care he could muster he reached for it, but as he wrapped his hand around it the housing collapsed and fell to the floor with a loud thunk.

Eli half drew his sword, horrified. “Is that it? Have you broken it?” Eli said incredulously.

Marko had frozen. He’d fumbled and dropped the very thing he shouldn’t have. “I don’t know,” he grunted, reaching down to retrieve the package. He lifted it and breathed a sigh of relief to see it intact. He placed the object on the flat of the floor and lay parallel, fitting his jeweller’s glass. With a sinking feeling he saw that there were scratch marks around the seal that almost certainly meant someone had got to this first. “This has been tampered with already,” he muttered over his shoulder.

“Remember what this looks like,” Sifer said, “Because whatever’s missing is what we’re after.”

Marko nodded, and with even more care, gently, gently, he prised the chamber open. Inside was a cumquat sized cavity which obviously once held something now removed. “Gone,” Marko sighed. “I saw scuff marks and prints on the chest, it must have been them.”

“Bring the housing,” Sifer said, “It may be a way of activating the docent.” The trio retreated to the ground and explained what had been found—and not found.

“My problem is this,” Eli said, “Someone will have taken every one of these that is obvious. We’re not going to find one in a head, are we?”

“Probably not,” Idris agreed. “So we’re going to have to speak to whoever that is about borrowing one.”

“I’m not so sure. This has only been looted a couple of months ago,” Sifer said.

“What purpose do these things have outside of the colossi?” Eli said.

“We don’t know,” Uthar said.

“Is it magical?” Marko asked.

“Absolutely,” Idris nodded.

“That which can power a construct 150-feet tall is a power in anyone’s language,” Sifer said.

“So is there just a market for them? Or is there a purpose—is there something that people all want them for? Constructs, cannons, or?” Eli pressed.

“We don’t know enough to be sure,” Idris said, “But it’s safe to assume that if it can animate this there would be a myriad of uses for it.”

“In an uneasy peace people are arming,” Sifer warned. His experience of war told him that the instigators were never quiet for long.

“Or making factories?” Eli said.

“We shouldn’t be concerned with what they’re using them for,” Idris said, “The fact is we need to gain the use of one.”

“I’m just trying to determine where to find one,” Eli explained. “A water mill, for example.”

Idris nodded, impressed at Eli’s logic. “The settlement in the reflection.”

“Whoever made those tracks came here, got it, and left,” Three said. “So I’m betting Eli is right.”

“A village at the centre of a warzone where there is an uneasy peace,” Sifer said. “It’s not a place we’re going to find an easy welcome, I would think.”

---

The momentum from this first discovery was soon gone as night drew on and the cold became hard to overcome. Some hours later the company finally decided to setup camp, frustrated at not having reached any sign of settlement. The smaller constructs were the only things of interest but they were mostly ruined beyond recognition, either destroyed by battle or the punishment of time.

The camp was fairly miserable, interrupted once by a swarm of carrion birds that were duly dispatched, and everyone woke sore but ready to stretch aching legs.

After some hours walking those legs were well warmed, and as if in reward the company stumbled upon a single enormous mechanical leg that lay across the rough path being followed. It had been rent in two, torn through the knee joint, leaving a funnel through which to pass.

“An obvious ambush point,” Sifer warned, scanning the foggy ground ahead. Idris looked to the top of the metallic limb, hoping to spot snipers that may lay in wait, but all was still. Uthar agreed with Sifer but, despite his best efforts, he too could see nothing out of order. “Maybe it’s nothing.”

Surprisingly it was Three who did. He had been thinking back fondly to Ikasa and how she would chase a stick until the end of time. Then he heard a barely audible snap; a twig, breaking. “Ambush!” he cried.

---

---

Everyone leapt for cover as a retinue of metallic warriors appeared, some atop the leg, others in the gap between. Some had rusty bronze armour and bald rounded heads, some blood-red iron with angular helmets. One on the leg immediately opened fire with complicated-looking crossbows that fired three shots in impossibly quick succession. Uthar was the recipient, bolts thudding into him with impressive force. “The flesh is weak! We fight for the machines!” it cried.

Weak-fleshed Eli returned fire, shooting a ground level iron-clad warrior. His arrow pinged off the armour, but left a scratch. A bronze warrior threw a javelin in response, but Eli was ready for it: as the missile approached he started spinning, snapping the javelin out of the air and swinging it around with his momentum to fling it back to the source. If it could have the construct would have looked surprised as its own weapon shunted into the shoulder joint. Eli let out a growl that was completely out of character.

As Uthar took another three bolts, a second bronze construct leapt from the leg and sprinted toward him. Sifer intercepted the charge with five precision shots, upping the ante on the crossbow wielding triple-shots. The first three shots caused the warrior to shudder to a halt, its frame joining the many rusted dead. Sifer swung his bow around to bury two further arrows into Uthar’s prime assailant.

Three stepped from behind his tree and wept as he cried “Kelemvor!” and an plague of locusts spawned from his gaping mouth to swarm amidst the three Warforged clustered in the gap between the fallen leg. They staggered as they were enveloped in the cloud of insects as their joints filled with bugs. One slowed to a halt, frozen in place.

Seeing the effectiveness of Three’s attack, Idris decided to add to the misery. A brief ripple exploded in and around the swarm. The metallic heads of the Warforged sparked and each seemed to glitch or short-circuit. “We’re going to give you this one opportunity to stop, or it’s not going to end well for you!” Idris cried.

“We serve the flesh no longer!” a larger iron-clad warrior cried from atop the leg, ordering it’s allies onward. Those in the plague and echoing mental ripple were left to their doom; one ground to a halt whilst the other two struggled forward.

The crossbow wielders remained out of reach, continuing their singular focus on Uthar, obviously acting together to take down his massive form. But Uthar paffed some shots away and somehow continued to absorb those that struck true. Marko, hiding by Uthar’s side, fired a tiny bow in retaliation. As did Eli, though he followed up by charging in with deadly intent. Enough of the ping-ping.

Ping-ping. The Warforged finally turned their attention away from Uthar and fired at the incoming figure. But they obviously hadn’t witnessed the earlier javelin-tricks. Eli caught the arrow midflight and redirected back in a blur. The Warforged grunted and didn’t make the same mistake twice, returning to Uthar. The shot was the best it had ever fired, but Uthar’s armour stopped the shots dead before so it barely scratched.

Uthar had finally had enough of being a stationary meat-shield. He charged forward in Eli’s trail to finally engage. Before he could the warrior’s arm transformed into a vicious blade that he proceeded to bury in Uthar’s chest with three furious strikes. “Our…bam…blades…bam…are…bam…his!”

From the back ranks, Sifer destroyed the felled a warrior that stood atop the leg, and loosed another two into the insect plague. Three continued the pressure which caused the final two Warforged to topple to the ground. On the ground, only Uthar’s target remained standing.

The largest Warforged remained, standing on the highest point of the ruined leg. Surveying the destruction below, it sheathed its weapon. “The Lord of Blades will show you no mercy!” it cried as it leapt out of sight into the rolling fog, leaving the final warrior to the ministrations of Idris and Marko who killed the sacrifice before it could curse it’s abandonment.

---

The Motherland

As Three healed Uthar, who was the only one hurt, Idris knelt by the fallen Warforged with the most intact head. “Marko—show me the docent mount you found in the colossus,” he called. Marko obliged, demonstrating that the head of this vastly smaller construct could none-the-less contain a docent. “Alustriel said they powered the colossi, but didn’t mention the Warforged. I still think we should take a look inside? Though I don’t know what the reaction of the locals is going to be if we start removing brains from their dead comrades.”

“I think we’ve just seen the answer of how the locals will react,” Sifer said nodding to the fallen foes.

“Yes—I’d hate to see them angry,” Eli laughed.

“I’ll try,” Marko said. He knelt by the head and examined it, watched closely by Eli. There was a clear joint around the lower rear of the ‘skull’, so he set about prying it open, causing Three turned away in disgust. Marko looked up at Three searchingly. “Are you…worried about mechanical things?”

“I’m worried about all things.”

“Hourglasses?”

“Does an hourglass look like us?” Three scoffed.

“Only men have souls,” Eli said, confused, drawing a cocked eye from Idris.

“You are sure of a lot of things, Eli,” Three frowned.

“Marko—open the head,” Idris said, overriding the philosophical diversion.

Marko shrugged and went back to work, cracking the head and forcefully bending the metal to reveal the innards. It wasn’t his best work, but it would do. Inside was a mess of wires, cogs, all-metal devices of unknown purpose. Grey fluid dripped from a delicate broken tube, pooling on the base of the skull. But there was no obvious section that resembled the mount found in the colossus.

“It looks like a different mechanism is used for the motile force,” Idris guessed.

“Yes. It’s not the same,” Marko nodded, tearing further into the mess of mechanics.

“That’s assuming it’s in the head—it could be in the chest?”

“Do you want to have a look?” Marko said, wrenching it apart as he spoke.

Three cleared his throat. Loudly.

More of the same lay inside the chest-piece; a network of rods and pistons, precision craftwork that impressed Marko deeply. He wished Shanzezim, the clockmaker in Neverdeath, could see this work. Again, there was nothing resembling a docent, smaller or larger, despite Marko’s increasingly blunt undoing of the Warforged body.

“One curious thing is everything in here looks new,” Marko observed, “Like it was freshly constructed. Unlike the outer shell which has seen plenty of action.”

“Magical,” Uthar suggested.

“In that respect they’re no different to us,” Idris said. “Weathered on the outside, new on the inside.”

“I don’t know about you but I feel pretty worn on the inside too,” Marko laughed.

“But if you cut someone open it looks the same for everyone,” Idris tried to explain, “That’s what skin is for. There’s no reason to think mechanical beings would be any different.”

Three stood arms crossed, shaking his head, but not bothering to correct any of this inanity.

Sifer had meanwhile clambered up the fallen leg, trying to scan ahead for any sign of where the deserting Warforged might have gone. The ever-present fog made it difficult, but he could see no sign of a settlement or even a camp. “We’re not going to find him,” he called down.

“They must have tracked us to setup this ambush,” Three called.

“You may be right,” Sifer said. He had done his best to attune to being tracked, but the fog deadened sound so thoroughly that he couldn’t disagree. Plus they were local, putting them at distinct advantage.

“Let’s move,” Marko said, taking the lead.

---

Again the travel was frustrating. Hours of wandering without seeming to get anywhere. The only highlight was finding another fallen colossi, face down in the grime and cold. It too had been stripped of parts, this one with less finesse than the last. Eli noted there were only the lighter tracks here, guessing that meant non-Warforged had been here.

It was drawing on to another six hours of solid march before fortunes took a turn. Marko spotted another fallen colossus ahead, half the size of the others, forming a bridge over a grave-pit piled full of all manner of mechanical detritus.

---

As Marko stepped keenly forward, a group of three humanoids emerged from the thick fog on the far side. All stood weapons drawn—but down.

Sifer and Idris quickly positioned themselves defensively as Marko started to wave.

Eli gasped at what he saw, grabbing Marko’s shoulder. “An orc and two halflings? Mister Marko—leave this to me!” He clambered up a makeshift ladder to get on top of the colossus, allowing him to get his first real look at the trio.

---

The orc was well-worn, battle-hardened, and starting directly at Eli. Without looking away she muttered something to the halflings, also obviously warriors, who trained their crossbows on Sifer and Idris.

Marko had scurried up behind Eli and was about to sing out when Eli clamped a hand over his mouth. “This is me,” he said quickly before turning back and clearing his throat. “Brothers and sisters!” he called out in Lurian, “You are well met in this abominable place. We seek passage across this chasm, upon your good graces, that we may pass beyond!”

The halflings blinked with surprise at an Orc speaking to them in Lurian, but kept their peace. The orc woman took a step forward, resting confidently on her javelin that she jammed into the hip of the rusting colossus. “That’s a funny way of speaking for an Orc,” she said in gravelly Common.

“I am as of the small folk as you are, good lady,” Eli tried.

“I am not ‘of’ them, they are merely my companions. What brings you here?” Her tone was wary but not unfriendly.

“Me and my companions,” Eli said with a sweep that encompassed all, “Seek…um…”

“Parlay?” Three muttered from below.

“We seek assistance to find something! To aid in a great war we fight against the evils of this world.”

“The Last War is over, have you not heard?”

“This is perhaps a…new war, that comes,” Eli scrambled, less sure of himself with each passing moment.

“War is declared?” the woman scowled, glancing at her companions who looked equally concerned.

“Not your war! A different—we’re from a long way away, and we have our own problems. And we need your help with them.”

The halflings conferred for a moment, before one spoke. “From where in Eberron do you hail?”

Eli searched his mind for the name he had so recently learnt from Idris, but drew a blank. He nudged Marko heavily for help.

“We’re not from this sphere,” Marko muttered.

“We’re not from this sphere! We have our own sphere!” Eli cried. “Your world is a ball, our world is…” he petered out.

“May we meet in peace?” Marko said gently, saving Eli.

The orc turned her attention to Marko. “You wish to speak in ‘peace’?”

“Of course.”

“And yet,” she said, pointing her javelin, “You have two covering us, and two further hidden from view.”

Marko held his hands up defensively. “We have been attacked, unprovoked. So we are being overly careful”

“By who?”

“Small version of these,” Marko said pointing down to the colossus.

“Warforged,” Idris sent into Marko’s head.

“Apparently ‘Warforged’,” Marko added.

The orc spat into the pit. “Figures.”

“They were figures,” Eli nodded as he tried to regain the lead, “Man-sized figures.”

“Tell your companions to show themselves, and lower their weapons—as we have,” she emphasised.

Marko turned to those out of sight. “Gentlemen, we will meet with these fine folk and break bread with them.” Idris, Sifer, Uthar and Three all climbed dutifully up to the head. Sifer was confident the company had the numbers on them.

“‘Toril’ is the name you wanted,” Idris whispered to Eli as he joined.

The trio cautiously crossed the bridge, meeting on the chest of colossus. The orc remained focused on Eli as she stepped forward. “My name is Kalyth, and these are my companions Dortle-Lynn and Grezan. How shall we call you?”

“My name is Eli Elias Hedgeberry,” Eli said happily as the two halflings exchanged a glance. He couldn’t believe his luck at finding a group so closely aligned to his own experience. “And this is my master, Mister Marko Reville.”

“He’s not indentured,” Marko said hastily.

“And you are the leader of this company?” Kalyth said.

“Uh—he is,” Marko said thumbing Eli with a half-smile. Idris grinned.

“As it should be,” Kalyth nodded to Eli, who was looking with barely disguised horror at Marko.

“Are you and your companions hungry?” Marko said, saving Eli again. “Are we safe to eat here?”

“It has a good vantage, and we would never say no to a feed,” Kalyth said, squatting as Marko started pulling bread and makings from his satchel.

“What a good idea,” Eli nodded authoritatively. He had become somewhat tongue-tied as he realised he found Kalyth rather attractive and didn’t quite know what to do with that realisation.

Kalyth turned again to Eli. “You said you are seeking something?”

“We seek a device of great power,” Eli said formally as he tried not to blush.

“Don’t we all,” Dortle-Lynn chuckled.

Marko handed out the bread, wrapped in a Wee-Folk flyer. The trio took the food gratefully, reading the pamphlet as they did.

“This is your company?” Grezan said to Eli, holding the flyer forward.

“Um. Not really, no. We come from the sphere of Torreal…Torrrel.”

Idris shook his head. He had no doubt Kalyth was the leader of the troupe, so he turned his attention to her. “Kalyth. My name is Idris and we are here, in part, because we require the use of a docent.”

Kalyth raised her eyebrows. “Do you indeed. You are quite plain-spoken. Most would hide that around these parts.”

“We don’t need to keep it,” Idris said, “We just need to use one for a time.”

Sifer, standing behind, stamped his foot on the head. “Not to put in one of these. We want it for our own purpose.”

“And you are?”

“Sifer.”

“And the big red one?”

“Uthar,” Uthar said.

“And this is Brother Three,” Eli said, to his silent and hooded companion. “He is our spiritual master and guide.”

“And, despite appearances, together you are the ‘Wee Folk’?” Grezan asked again.

“No!” everyone but Marko cried in horrified unison.

“We are accompanied by one who is affiliated with them,” Sifer grinned looking to Marko.

Grezan looked bemused. “Well whatever you are, we are the ‘Razor Fang’. Your company has no name?”

“We’ve never given ourselves one, funnily enough,” Idris smiled.

“Stormwatch,” Sifer smirked.

It was Marko’s turn to cry: “No!”

Three noticed that the Razor Fang trio didn’t register that name at all; the legend hadn’t reached as far as Eberron.

Idris tried to turn the conversation back to practical matters. “If you can point us in the right direction, or assist us in this endeavour, we can talk about recompense. If not, then we shall have our repast and leave you to your own devices.”

Kalyth tore a chunk of bread and chewed thoughtfully. “This is good bread,” she said to Marko, then turned to Eli. “Who is that one who speaks only business?”

“Idris? Idris is from between the worlds,” Eli said keenly. “He is a strange one but I have come to trust him. And I have only knowingly lied once,” he added for reasons he later could not explain. Uthar stifled a laugh.

“And he speaks for you?” Kalyth said, ignoring the confession.

“We all speak from time to time, and he hasn’t said anything that does not align with our agenda,” Eli managed.

“You really aren’t from round here, are you,” Kalyth smiled.

“No, I am of the true Lurian brethren,” Eli said proudly.

Kalyth settled her shoulders. “We too seek docents,” she said glancing at Idris. “Everyone seek docents.”

“Why?” Marko said as he chewed. It was good bread.

“Because they are invaluable. Most of them have been destroyed, but if you find a working one…”

“Perhaps we can work together,” Uthar said, the food loosening his voice.

“Perhaps,” Kalyth said.

“Do you happen to know the location of one?” Idris said directly.

“Perhaps.”

“And?”

“You are remarkably blunt. I have just told you how valuable they are, and you want me to simply hand one over?”

Marko held his hand up for calm. “We only need to use it temporarily, for a short period. You can have it.”

“Just so,” Idris muttered.

Eli saw his opportunity. “If the only thing standing between you and one of these things is the requirement for more manpower, then we can perhaps provide that. And once we are finished with it we can pass it on to you and we will all be happy.” It was a brilliant speech. “Apart from those we take it from, who won’t be. Happy.” Less brilliant, but the seed was planted.

“Finally someone speaking sense,” Dortle-Lynn nodded.

“You said docent, plural,” Three said. “Have you ever found one?”

“Broken only.”

“Who has found a functional one?”

“Take a guess.”

“Those metal men!” Eli jumped.

“The Warforged?” Three tried.

“The Lord of Blades,” Idris stated.

At this the trio tensed noticeably, gripping their weapons a little tighter. “You’ve encountered the Lord of Blades?” Kalyth said softly.

“No. But some of the Warforged that attacked us earlier used his moniker,” Idris said, interested at their reaction.

“Avoid him at all costs. He is a madman.”

“Is he a man or is he a machine?” Eli asked.

“A machine. He leads the other machines. And his goal is nothing less than the eradication of all life that isn’t like his. All flesh,” Kalyth scowled.

“I don’t like that,” Eli said.

“Well that’s not very pleasant,” Idris agreed. “Do you happen to know the possible location of a docent that is achievably obtained?”

“Gods you are persistent,” Kalyth said with a glance to her companions, who each gave a short nod. She turned to Eli. “If we did…would you take it from them?”

“We’d have to assess the situation, obviously,” Idris interrupted.

“There’s always a caveat,” she said with a growl.

“No, no, no. Just to underline what I’ve said previously. We require the use of a docent. This is not negotiable for us. We don’t need to keep it, we just need to use it for a time.”

“That is our purpose,” Sifer added. He worried that Idris was pushing too hard.

“After which you can have it back,” Idris shrugged.

Uthar worried that whilst this was true now, it may not be so later.

“We just need to use it to find something else,” Marko said earnestly.

Dortle-Lynn looked surprised at this revelation. “Something else? What is it?”

“Something we have to take back to our realm. It has nothing to do with this one.”

“Toorial!” Eli spluttered.

“If it has nothing to do with this realm why is it here?”

“It shouldn’t be,” Marko said.

“We have come to take it back,” Sifer reinforced.

“Something more powerful than a docent? We could use it,” Dortle-Lynn said slyly.

“No. It’s not that sort of thing,” Marko said. Realising he was on slightly shaky ground he sought a good reason. “It will only work back in our realm.”

Sifer could see Marko had lost them. The trio were now very interested in this new information, and clearly didn’t believe Marko’s protestations. He jumped down from the head and joined the company face-to-face. “We get what we’re looking for. You get what you need,” he said bluntly, in the manner of a staff-sergeant.

“That sounds more reasonable than simply ‘it won’t work’,” Kalyth nodded, though still uneasy.

“Well I don’t know what it does,” Marko muttered sulkily. “I don’t even know what a docent is. What I—”

Sifer waved Marko away. “We are not a part of this war. We understand that there has been a war and we are not part of the aftermath. We’re not interested in the Lord of Blades. What we require, if you can help us, then our paths align. And you will have it after we have finished with it.”

“Your proposal makes some sense. We cannot fight them anyway, so a docent is more valuable than what I am guessing is a weapon of some kind,” Kalyth considered. “Maybe we can work together.”

“Our understanding is that you can’t get it without us,” Sifer said.

Kalyth looked at her companions and then nodded shortly. “You are right, though you cannot blame us for hoping for more. We are all that remains of the Razor Fang. One by one we have lost them, to the Lord of Blades,” she spat again.

“We are quite good,” Eli said, drawing their attention instantly. “We have not met anyone we did not kill.”

“Except us I hope,” Grezan said with a chuckle.

“We make friends,” Marko protested, “But people who attack us tend to come off second best.”

“The thing is, whoever it is, we can get it from them,” Eli declared.

“We believe you Eli,” Kalyth said to a blush. “The Warforged are far better than us at finding and retrieving docents. They are tireless, fast, dangerous. But those docents belong to living, breathing Cyrans, not those Cannith monstrosities.” Kalyth’s voice rose as she spoke, her deep anger apparent.

“I agree. There is no place in this world for artificial men,” Eli said just as passionately.

“You speak with wisdom beyond your age, Eli,” Kalyth nodded. She stepped forward to stand before Eli. “There is a village called Ialos that the Warforged have occupied, murdering all that stood before them. We believe that is where they are storing the cache of docents.”

“Are there peoples in the town?”

“No. Just the Warforged.”

“Have they slain everybody who occupied the village?”

“Of course. They have destroyed it—all that remains in the windmill.”

“The windmill!” Eli cried. “It was a sign—I saw the windmill! We shall free this village and we shall take the docent. And I shall present it to you personally.”

Kalyth smiled, hunger in her eyes. She took another step closer and Eli realised she was looking at his mother’s medallion that he wore around his neck. Half a scrimshaw tusk carved with a mountainous background and a short inscription. “That medallion…where did you get it?”

Eli was taken aback. “I…I was given it…I…I have always had it. I believe it came from my mother,” he said quietly, grabbing the tooth defensively.

“Your mother?” Kalyth looked back at her companions who were frozen in deep concentration. She turned back to Eli, her gaze fast upon his. “And who was she?”

“I…I don’t know.” Eli slowly released his grip on the tooth and he studied it for the upteenth time. He had never been asked that question before and now it was he felt a surge of buried emotion.

“May I?” Kalyth asked, reaching for the medallion. Eli allowed it, shyly. She rested it in her palm and he could sense a great excitement building in her. She pointed to the inscription and read aloud: “Unk pilgark.”

Eli didn’t understand. The words were guttural and harsh, but not Orc. And yet…there was almost a memory, whispered words that he could almost grasp. Almost.

“You don’t understand what I read?” Kalyth asked.

“I’ve never even know they were words,” Eli stammered. “What? Tell me what you said? What you read?”

“It says: My heart…in goblin.”

Eli reached into his inner pocket and pulled the second half of the tusk free. The half he had found on the body of…

Kalyth gasped as both Dortle-Lynn and Grezan stepped forward. The second piece matched the first perfectly, and it too had several words etched across the face. Kalyth joined the two pieces and looked up at Eli as she read the complete phrase. “Unk pilgark, Unk mijrek”

“…Son,” Eli whispered, understanding the last word.

“'My heart, my son',” Kalyth whispered. She dropped to one knee and bowed her head. “My lord…you have returned.”

Eli looked around his companions in confusion. But Kalyth knelt before no other. “I…I…you might have me confused with someone else?” he stammered.

“No. You have the token.”

“I…”

“Your mother told us you would came.”

“But I don’t come from here? I come from…Toor…”

“Eli. Are you an orphan?” Idris whispered into Eli’s head.

“Yes…” Eli answered out loud. “So…I didn’t know I came from here?”

“Your mother, and your father, did.”

“My father came from here?”

“Both. Your mother, Nona Foegaze, was a proud Orc Chieftain. You father, Grups Mudthumb, on the other hand, was a scoundrel.” Kalyth spat. “What she saw in him I will never know.”

“He was handsome, if little else,” Dortle-Lynn snorted.

“They left, together, with you. To seek another lift because life here was not worth living,” Kalyth explained.

Eli was barely keeping up. “How did they get there from here?” he managed weakly.

“I do not know. How did you?”

“We had the assistance of very powerful people to get here.”

Kalyth shrugged. “Your mother was no fool, she would have found a way.”

“One sounds quite noble for an Orc,” Idris observed in the quiet, “The other sounds like a Mudthumb.”

Kalyth turned to Idris. “He wasn’t an Orc.”

“Then what was he?”

“A scumbag.”

“I’ve never heard of those people,” Idris said wryly.

“He was a man, Idris!” Eli scowled.

“Yes. I’m just going to sit on this thing,” he said, all but collapsing onto a rectangle of fallen colossus. He sat, legs apart, staring down. ‘Grups Mudthumb’ meant nothing to him, and was not the name he once knew…or thought he did.

Seeing the need, Sifer walked to stand behind Eli. He placed a hand on the forlorn Orc’s shoulder. “Lead us, Eli. Lead us as the new Razor Fang.”

Eli barely heard, still stunned.

Idris looked to Kalyth again. “Am I to understand that you, and other Orcs of this realm, owe some allegiance to our friend Eli here, because of his birth?”

“Nona was our leader,” Kalyth said, “She led the Razor Fang. Before she left…and when she came back.”

“She came back?” Eli whispered, roused from his trance.

“Yes. To lead us once more. And we followed, willingly.”

“When was that?”

“Fifteen, sixteen years past.”

Eli shuddered, thinking back to the story his people had told of his past. Of how he had been found as a baby, wrapped securely by a the hedge at the gates of the cloistered Hin farming community, nothing to his name but half a carved fang tied to a leather strip. Eighteen years ago.

Kalyth watched Eli closely. “And she has been with us ever since.”

“She’s here!?” he cried, leaping to his feet.

“She was. Until the Lord of Blades took her.”

Three gasped as Eli froze.

“Prisoner?” Marko said quickly.

“We don’t know.”

“You don’t know? What do you know??” Eli demanded.

“She led an assault on the Lord of Blades,” Kalyth explained, “We fought alongside her, only months ago.”

“Months…” Eli whispered.

“It did not go well, as you can guess from our small company.”

“Did you see her fall?”

“No.”

“You retreated? And left her?” Eli growled, rage building.

“She ordered us to!”

“Why did she stay?”

“Because she could see we were all going to die. She stood before him and saved us.”

“Where is this ‘Lord of Blades’?” Eli demanded.

Kalyth looked away to the east. “He holds secure in the greatest of the colossi.”

Eli’s eyes burned. “You will know we are finished when their metal bodies run as liquid down to your feet!” he cried.

“Yes, Eli. Yes!” Kalyth clapped a firm hand on Eli’s shoulder. “This is the leader you were born to be, the leader you are. Destroy them all!”

Marko agreed. “Let’s move. Where is this windmill town—is that where we have to go?”

“Idris?” Sifer asked, knowing the Rod was key to any progress.

“If I were a betting man—which I am—I would bet that that which we need is being sat on by the Lord of Blades,” Idris said.

“Given our luck, so would I,” Marko nodded.

“And I’ll also bet the docent will lead us there. I’m assuming that settlement is an easier get than the Lord of Blades?” Idris said to Kalyth.

“Of course it is.”

“In which case, for multiple reasons now, our causes almost certainly align.”

Kalyth focused on Eli. “Go go Ialos, find the docent, and take it to the largest colossi you can find in the mountains to the east. It is called Landro. It was the final weapon unleashed, the weapon that cursed this land.”

“The thing that brought the grey mists,” Eli recalled from the wizard’s briefing.

“The Day of Mourning. Find Landro you will find the Lord of Blades—and your mother, if she lives. I would hold little hope. The Lord of Blades destroys all flesh.”

“Whether she lives of dies the Lord of Blades will pass from this world,” Eli vowed.

Kalyth held her hand to Eli’s cheek. “You have her eyes.”

Eli blinked.

---

Kalyth led the company to a small camp, which had obviously once held more occupants. “We were twenty,” she explained, “And now only three.”

Eli turned to the halfling pair. “How is it that Hin and Orcs are together here?”

“Those that must, do,” Grezan shrugged. “There is no mystery to it. We are like minded, we eat together, we fight together.” He looked around the company. “You too from what I can see.”

“We come from a place of great diversity,” Sifer nodded.

“And great division,” Eli added solemnly. “But we see you acting as one.”

Dortle-Lynn approached Eli and spoke to him in Hin. “Your scar,” she said pointing to the cleft in Eli’s cheek, “Where did you get that?”

Not for the first time today, Eli was taken aback. “I…in a fight.”

“Does it ever change, or burn?”

Eli put a hand to his cheek. “Um. Only with my shame,” he said quietly.

“Why shame?”

“Why are you asking me these things?” Eli scowled, reverting to Common in his umbrage.

Dortle-Lynn glanced at Grezan, who shook his head shortly. “No matter,” Dortle-Lynn said, turning away.

“I just don’t want to talk about it,” Eli muttered.

Idris rolled his eyes and lent in. “Eli you must learn to be more inquisitive,” he whispered.

Eli frowned. “Why do you want to know about my scar?” he called grumpily.

Dortle-Lynn turned back. “It has an…unusual shape.”

“It was cut by a sword into my face!”

“May I?” Dortle-Lynn said holding a hand up. Eli nodded, already in the crouch he always adopted when talking to his kin. She traced a soft finger along the path of the scar, pausing at the centre of the jagged tear. “If it ever does change…do not be afraid.”

Eli glanced to Idris and Three. “You’ll tell me if this changes, right?” Three nodded, smirking at Eli’s tiny scar.

“You’ll know, Eli,” Dortle-Lynn smiled. “It may be nothing, but…”

Idris made an indelible mental note to watch for any change, before turning to Kalyth. “Are these lands native to the orcish people?”

“No, we are from the Demon Wastes, a thousand miles to the west.”

“And the Demon Wastes are where the Orcs live?”

“Many, yes. That is why your medallion is written in Goblin, Eli—Goblinkind ruled the Wastes and all who make their home their speak their tongue.”

“Goblin? Those small things?” Eli said before realising his mistake. “I’m not saying small is bad! But they were ugly, right?”

Grezan laughed, then tried a few words on Eli. He found he understood a few: mother, father, baby. “You were born here, Eli.”

“On this sphere?”

“On this very one.”

“Now that’s one to talk to my priest about,” Eli said glancing to Three. “Why are they called Demon Wastes? Because you waste a lot of demons?”

“Something like that,” Grezan grinned. She glanced to Eli. “Your father was from the Shadow Marches. A cursed match if ever there was one—although it did produce you!”

“And how is it that Eli’s mother came to be here during the war?” Idris asked.

“This was the centre of the fight, the centre of the land. This is where the Cannith,” Kalyth spat in disgust, “deployed their Warforged. The battle for Eberron was to be won or lost here. As you can see, the land lost.”

“My mother led you here to fight?” Eli said with wonder.

“Yes. To defeat the monstrosity of the Warforged. But the treaty that was signed as the result of this devastation gave the Warforged their freedom. As if they are more than just machines. But none more may be created….each one that is destroyed is one step closer to our freedom. Make it your mission Eli, as it was your mother’s.”

“Every artificial man is an abomination in the eyes of god,” Eli declared.

“Yes. Those docents belong to flesh and blood. This land belongs to flesh and blood, not machines. Look at what they have wrought!” Kalyth swung her arm around the forlorn landscape.

“Would you give over your land to the mill!” Eli cried. “Or the plough?! No! They work for us!”

“They work for us,” Kalyth nodded.

“If only all conflicts were so black and white,” Idris sighed to Uthar.

Listening in, Sifer shook his head sadly. He had heard this same cry from every side, and was hearing it once more. Looking around the devastated land he could not fathom just how bad it must have been, and he was glad he wasn’t fighting in it, but it saddened him to hear that the hatred lived on. The fortunes of war swung wild and never to anyone’s satisfaction. The company had been attacked by machines because the company was not machines. The sides were set, but he didn’t need the propaganda that went with it.

After a good rest and comforting food, Kalyth explained that Ialos lay directly north.

“How do you maintain a heading in this fog?” Eli asked.

“Can you not?”

“We have blundered witless these many days.”

“Let us lead you to the outskirts,” Kalyth proposed. “We cannot afford to lose more, but we can take you that far.”

“Well Lord Eli,” Marko jumped up, “Shall we go?”

“Yes, Master Marko, we should make haste to dismantle as many of those metal men as we can.” He looked around the remnant Razor Fang company. “But I don’t want you hurt. Should they stay here?” he said to his companions.

“Eli they’re going to show us to the windmill, and then they’re not following us,” Idris assured.

“You fall into the shadows and watch for reinforcements,” Eli advised Kalyth.

“I doubt any come—but you coming is enough.”

---

Ialos

The Razor Fang led the company north, only 2-3 hours walk. Following them it seemed obvious which path to take, making it hard to understand the struggles beforehand. Following a narrow rise, the unmoving blades of a windmill rose from the fog ahead.

---

“Be sure to find us again—with the docent,” Kalyth said warmly. “And Eli: find Nona. Find your mother.”

“If nothing else, that will happen,” Eli assured.

“Before departing, come here and I’ll bless you,” Three offered.

“In whose name?” Dortle-Lynn asked.

“Kelemvor. It is my god.”

“Kelemvor is not our god, nor of this world.”

“Fair enough,” Three nodded, taking no offence.

“Do you name your god?” Eli asked shyly.

“Siberys, Eberron, Khyber. None you would be familiar with.”

“But your magic still works here, Three?”

“Yes. I healed Uthar.”

Eli nodded. “Brother Cooper is a conduit to the divine, of every—”

“Eli—it’s fine,” Three said cutting Eli short. “I understand and I give you my personal blessing,” Three said to genuine thanks.

With a final goodbye, the remnants of the Razor Fang saluted Eli and slipped back into the fog.

“I can’t help but feel machinations at work,” Idris said watching them leave.

“God doesn’t play with coincidences,” Three agreed. “And the fact Eli’s mother is here, with the one thing we need…I suspect that he is playing with us.”

“I suspect you’re right,” Idris said glumly.

“So you now see the path forward?” Sifer said. “Our destiny lies in front of us. Let us go: this is something that those mighty wizard’s didn’t see. It’s something that only we can understand—our fate is set.”

Idris raised an eyebrow. “They cast a great magic to summon us so that they wouldn’t have to do it themselves. Let’s be clear about that.”

“I’m absolutely on board that we are the tools. But our power exceeds what they expected.”

“That’s yet to be determined,” Idris winked.

“There is a synchronicity,” Three said, “That all of us are together. And that now those paths are starting to cross.”

“These things are not coincidences,” Idris added, “More like a web.”

“Idris use your logic as you will,” Sifer said, “But join us in the story that is laid out before us.” He had been reading more of Tarquin Rose’s works and the idea of a living story appealed to him greatly.

“Be that as it may, my goal is to get this done and then go back to my inn,” Idris shrugged. “I’m not interested in being in some epic poem. And I’m particularly not interested in being pulled by marionette strings by it.”

“Well it has you in it’s hold, best come along for the ride!”

Eli turned to the company. “Now. Let’s sneak into this town and murder everybody.”

---

Ialos lay below, a hollow at the foot of the ridgeline, the fog sitting just above as if somehow resistant—a good site for a township if true, Sifer reflected. On the other hand, every building but the windmill itself had been destroyed. Roofs caved, walls crumbling, rotten timber and broken stone littering the ground. The windmill’s sides and unmoving blades were reinforced with badly rusted steel plates, and the attached wooden outbuilding was in shambles. Muddy roads separated the mill from the ruined buildings, and in the centre of the tiny village an eroded stone statue of a humanoid draped in colourful scraps of cloth stood proud.

---

A dozen or more Warforged wandered the ruins, each busy with tasks: moving rocks and lumber, shifting rubble around the statue. Idris studied their forms, finding each more or less identical to the next. “They seem to be moving with purpose, but what that purpose is I have no idea.”

“Like ants,” Eli said wisely, “They’re all clearly doing something but if you watch any single one of them they don’t appear to be doing anything.”

“I only see the bronze fighters, none of the heavies,” Idris added.

“Even though the one that ran is presumably here,” Eli said, thinking of the ambush escapee. “There’s no sign of rebuilding despite the numbers,” Eli noted pointing to the metal men. “They’re dangerous so we must take them a couple at a time.”

“Even on my best day fourteen is too many,” Uthar agreed.

“Maybe we don’t have to fight them at all,” Three suggested, “We just need to get in, get what we want, and get out. They might have the docents just stored somewhere.”

Sifer scanned the village doubtfully, then looked back at Three shaking his head.

Idris thought otherwise. “That’s doable.”

“The problem with that is that if you get found out you are suddenly fighting fourteen killer constructs.”

“Well, no. If the person gets found out then we are all fighting fourteen Warforged. It’s just a matter of getting one person in to do what they need to do.”

“I can try,” Marko announced. It was as if he had been spot-lit. “I can fly in in cover of darkness.”

“And I can make you unseen,” Idris said, “But you won’t have long—sixty heartbeats.”

“You can get ten things done in that time,” Sifer smirked.

“Before that we need to take either that windmill, or secure a safe haven to get eyes,” Three countered. “We don’t have enough information.”

Sifer nodded. “Remember our senses are dulled here. But what we heard from our companions is that theirs are not—and that these creatures are not. So in any fair fight we already start behind. Any chance of gaining surprise, or hiding, or stealthing, is doubly difficult. Our numbers proved our strength in that ambush but should we face more I think we might not prevail.”

As Sifer spoke an unusual figure emerged from the round building below the windmill. It stood taller than the other Warforged, wrapped in vibrant purple armour and holding a longsword and sharply pointed javelin.

---

It strode with purpose toward the statue, stopping to look up at it for some moments. The nearby gold-plated Warforged appeared to defer to it, standing back as it studied. It spoke a few words, drew a few nods, then retreated back to the windmill.

“I’m out,” Three joked. He didn’t like the look of that thing. “Marko—if you are able to find egress in the top of that windmill, all the Warforged outside won’t be an issue.”

Marko nodded. “I will fly high and over, then drop to the rooftop.”

“It looks to me like they use their eyes for vision,” Three added, “So Idris’s spell should be effective.” He had seen blind workers who could sense well beyond the visual, and had worried the Warforged may be similar.

As Marko prepared, Idris studied the statue. It was a human, as far as he could tell, very worn and damaged with one arm fallen. But it had been left intact, and more, it had been decorated, with cloth that looked like more than scraps. A thought crossing his mind. He turned to Uthar. “Red, what do you think of this—I can’t help but think all the Warforged aren’t aligned, necessarily. That statue is decorated.”

“Oh…you think there might be factions?” Uthar said.

“It’s a statue of a flesh-thing, and that certainly doesn’t match with the ones that we fought before. With any group of sentient people you can’t assume that they’re all on the same side.”

“But the one that got away evoked the Lord of Blades as his leader,” Three said.

“He was his leader, but maybe not theirs,” Idris said pointing to Ialos. “There is no sign of that type.”

“We’re assuming purple down there is the Lord of Blades,” Eli said.

“We are, but we don’t know,” Uthar rumbled.

“I don’t think it is—this is not where they told us the Lord of Blades is,” Idris reminded everyone.

“Then who is he?” Eli said. “He was looking up at the statue—could it be that they are working on the statue? I don’t get it.” Everyone glanced down again, and it seemed that some of them may have been be doing just that: scraping the rock plinth clean and tending rubble around it.

Sifer, sitting on his haunches, scoffed. “They’re moving around the glorious bounty as an offering for their metallic maiden.”

“That’s not a statue of a—” Idris started.

“That’s not my point,” Sifer interrupted, “Whatever story we tell it doesn’t really matter.”

“What does matter,” Idris scowled, “Is that perhaps we could accomplish this without getting into a fight.”

“Well I’ll take up my normal position when that happens,” Sifer shrugged.

“The question is do you want me to do the flying and stealth or not?” Marko demanded.

“I would like you to get in there and listen to what they’re talking about, before anything,” Idris said.

“Is that possible?” Uthar said doubtfully, “From a timing point of view?”

“He’s very small,” Eli observed.

“But how much will he hear in sixty seconds?”

“Enough to find out something,” Idris suggested. “Get down there flat on your belly on one of those rocks.”

“I think I’d rather be on the roof,” Marko laughed.

After Idris had made him vanish, Marko shot up two-hundred feet, above the fog, to obscure his approach. When he judged he was over the windmill he dropped to just below the layer. He was pleased to find his estimate was close. He quickly circled the mill, looking for windows or collapsed walls that may allow entry, but there were none. Instead, he dropped down to land silently atop the steeply pitched tiled roof of the mill. As he landed the invisibility faded, but he was well shrouded in the shadow of a blade.

He could hear muffled noises from inside the mill, but nothing clear. He peered down at the nearby Warforged, finding two in discussion. But when he attuned his hearing he found that they were speaking a bionic language that made no sense to him, all short pulses and boops. “I can’t understand them,” he signalled back to Idris. “But they are definitely tending to the statue. It is a human, not a Warforged. The cloth is colourful and I would say hung deliberately. It almost looks creative?”

Idris passed this on. “Three—what if that’s a statue of a god?”

“Or their creator?” Three stared hard toward the statue, but it was too far for him to identify it as any particular god.

“That’s not one of their gods,” Eli decided.

“Ask him if there are any sign of the former inhabitants,” Sifer said, “Bones, bodies, skeletons?”

“Nothing,” Marko reported back, “And I didn’t see anything like a graveyard from the air.”

Sifer nodded. “We were told that they killed the villages.”

“No. We were told they might have died in the war,” Eli corrected.

“Even so. I agree that we can’t explain this behaviour, but what we do know is that the first of these we found attacked us unprovoked. They included three of the type we see in front of us. There has been a war and we have met some that are aligned with us who have indicated these are the enemy. That this village was slaughtered by them. So while I can see what you are suggesting, Idris, all the evidence points to these being hostiles.”

“Yes,” Uthar grunted.

“I was going to say these might not be hostiles,” Eli said hopelessly.

“Yeah, yeah, go with no evidence, that’s wise,” Sifer mocked.

Eli stomped his foot. “These ones might not be hostile toward us! They might be trying to capture their humanity by worshipping a god. But none-the-less, if you want—I will kill them.”

“I don’t understand these creatures,” Uthar said, having turned it over in his mind. “Where did their souls come from? Were they once—”

“They have no souls!”

“What were they then? Were they one human? Were they always machines?”

“More machine now than man,” Eli declared.

“They are more advanced than I have ever seen,” Sifer conceded.

“There are magical constructs,” Three said, “And there are rumours that golems have been made with necromancy and such.”

“And thus should be destroyed,” Eli said.

Three tilted his head. “But I don’t know what these are.”

“Would a human have made these?” Uthar asked.

“Only a human who’s hubris knew no bounds,” Eli scowled, channelling his own recent lesson. Three side-eyed him, the speech familiar.

“Kalyth cursed the House that made these,” Uthar recalled. “So it might be a human creation. And that could be something they now worship—their creator, the head of House Cannith. It’s all a possible explanation.”

“Absolutely,” Sifer said. “But didn’t Eli just, by virtue of being told his mother was killed by these things, didn’t Eli just swear a blood pact that he was going to kill every one of these? We emerge from the fog and suddenly you’re all ‘wait a minute maybe they have humanity?'”

“No!” Eli cried again, “They may be seeking humanity. But, for the love of god, that must be checked!”

Sifer nodded.

Idris sighed, pulling out the coin he always carried from his pocket. He flipped it high, caught it in his hand, and looked at the result. He met Uthar’s eyes as he slipped it back into his pocket. “Cover me,” he said, “I’m going alone.” He started walking down toward Ialos.

“He wants to fight all fourteen I guess,” Sifer groaned.

“Or none,” Idris called over his shoulder.

Three stepped behind a large boulder as Eli drew his bow and Sifer did the same, both taking cover. Uthar drew his weapon and chocked his shield. He was certain this would not work out, but he would do his best to rescue the situation.

Below, Idris continued to make his way down the rocky slope. “I’m coming down. Don’t attack,” he told Marko, who watched incredulous, not knowing of the deliberations. Idris set his shoulders, nervous despite himself—it was probably the greatest gamble had had ever made. The metal men pacing below hadn’t noticed him yet, but it was too late now to turn back.

Moments later the closest Warforged stopped its work and stared directly at Idris. It drew it’s javelin, and a nearby companion their crossbow. Marko heard an obvious signal called, and the stray Warforged in the streets of Ialos started moving fast toward Idris. There were more than expected, and they moved fast.

The door below opened and the purple-hued warrior stepped into the open, weapons drawn. Three noted the door was closed again from someone inside, mentally adding that to the tally of combatants.

Idris continued on, thankful that if things did go sour the Warforged had at least bunched up nicely. Above, the tension in company was tighter than the drawn bows trained on the constructs closest to Idris. Many of the Warforged had ranged weapons, crossbows and javelins, and all looked ready to fight.

But none were firing.

Idris stepped into the outskirts of the village, surveying the arrayed Warforged before him. He cleared his throat and looked around. “Good folk, may I speak to the being in charge?”

“That would be me,” the purple armoured figure announced, stepping forward and jamming the huge javelin it carried into the earth. Its voice was clear and precise. “What is your purpose here?”

“I wish to talk,” Idris said, noting the weapon has been, effectively, lowered—but plenty were still trained on him.

“Do you wish to destroy us?”

“No.”

“Are you alone?”

“No.”

The lead Warforged let out a series of birdlike twirps and the gathered villages started scanning the surrounds. “They know we’re here,” Sifer hissed.

““We wish to talk, but I’ll be doing the talking, for now,” Idris continued.

“An ambush then?” the purple Warforged asked, tense.

“It doesn’t have to be. I certainly don’t want it to be.”

“But it could be, you imply.”

Idris was impressed with the leader’s quickness of thought. “Look. I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot, so perhaps we could just talk?”

“‘Perhaps’ you could show your friends, before we talk.”

“My friends are waiting to see what happens to me.”

“Nothing has happened to you. So why do they wait?”

Idris nodded. “As I understand, in my limited experience of these lands, I’m sure you and yours are very accustomed to an abundance of caution,” he said, scanning each Warforged. “Which is why I have come in here, palms open, just to have a talk.”

“You would understand why we do not trust your type,” the leader declared, “But—we also understand that you do not trust ours.”

Hearing this last, Idris visibly relaxed. I was right! he thought with equal delight and relief. He grinned, unable to help it, and the company above sensed the change. “This is going way, way better than I expected,” Uthar whispered, astonished.

Below, words poured out of Idris in his triumph. “I made a little wager with myself. I am not familiar with these lands, coming from a land very, very far away. But we’ve been told by others that all Warforged want all flesh dead. And yet in my experience of any conflict, particularly when we’re dealing with thinking beings, that’s rarely ever the case. While I was watching it seemed to me that you and yours in this village here, and noticed that,” he said pointing to the statue, “It occurred to me that this particular group of, perhaps, ex-soldiers, aren’t necessarily looking to exterminate all the fleshbags in the world.”

The Warforged looked up at the state as Idris spoke, then back to meet his eye. “I see you have met the Lord of Blades and his minions.”

“Not the man himself, but his minions.”

“Lucky for you.”

“And am I right to assume that you and he have a different opinion as to me and mine?”

“You are,” the Warforged. “The Lord of Blades has his way, and we ours. Time will tell who chose best. He believes all flesh must be destroyed. We believe the only way to survive, to thrive, is to work together.”

“Well now we’re talking,” Idris smiled.

“Tell me—what do you believe?”

“Oh I’m for working together. When and if you see my friends you will see we’re a very diverse group. To me, and to any reasonable being, the fact that you’re made of metal, wood, and arcane wonder, makes no difference.”

The leader considered Idris for a moment. “I would like to trust you. If we do not break down the barriers between our kinds without risk, we never will.”

As luck would have it, Sifer, far above, was thinking the exact same things. Though he could not hear the words being spoken, he perceived the change below: the Warforged weapons were now at half-mast, Idris was back to his voluminous self, and there was no sign of attack. But if he were the purple leader he would not relax until the full threat, or otherwise, was known. He turned to Uthar. “Show yourself.”

Uthar, despite knowing Sifer’s thought, raised an eyebrow.

Sifer smirked. “I’ve got you covered!”

Uthar shook his head ruefully and stood, emerging from hiding and sheathing his weapon. But he didn’t advance. The Warforged pointed, and weapons were half-raised again.

To Uthar’s surprise, Three walked past him, hands free, stopping only ten feet from Idris. Uthar didn’t move, still wanting to see how this played out—he felt it was still touch and go. There was hope, but sometimes, and he’d seen this throughout his life, some things just go wrong anyway. Marko also waited patiently, not wanting to startle from behind.

Bolstered by Three’s presence, Idris took a step forward and held out his hand. “Forgive me, I have been rude. My name is Idris.”

“I am Mercy,” the Warforged leader said.

Idris smiled widely, extending his hand. “Mercy it is a pleasure to meet you. Did you name yourself?”

“I did, after the war,” Mercy said clasping Idris’s hand. “It seemed appropriate for what we hoped to achieve.”

“That bodes very auspiciously for me. This is my companion, Three.”

Three nodded, still hooded.

“So there are three of you?” Mercy said, nodding up the slope to the stationary Uthar.

“There are more.”

Mercy dropped Idris’s grip. “As I have said, I want to trust you. You have seen all of my pilgrims, show me yours.” There as a note of warning in her tone.

“Okay. Uthar! Everyone can come out.” Uthar acquiesced, stepping toward Ialos, followed by Eli who stayed cautiously some yards behind. Sifer stayed put.

“Do you want to announce me?” Marko sent.

“It’s like you read my mind.” Idris turned to Mercy and spoke calmly. “Mercy, one of my companions is on the windmill.”

Mercy looked back and up to see Marko waving from the rooftop, his little legs dangling over. She turned back. “I will say you did have us at your mercy.” Marko floated down and shook the hesitant metallic hand of the nearest Warforged.

“I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I’m glad this has worked out differently,” Idris smiled.

“Five, then?”

Idris cursed Sifer below his breath. “There’s one more who has ever had an abundance of caution.”

Three turned back to the ridgeline. “Sifer! Come forward!”

Idris reinforced Three’s message directly to Sifer’s mind: “Get the hell out here now before this all goes south!". Despite his misgivings Sifer revealed himself, though, as was his wont, he remained well back. “And that is the last of our company,” Idris assured Mercy with a smile.

Eli stood at a distance with Uthar. “We haven’t actually negotiated anything with these people, have we?” he muttered.

“Other than not to kill each other,” Uthar said.

“Which is pretty good.”

“It is pretty good.”

“The problem we have, Eli,” Sifer said drawing naar, “Is we haven’t negotiated with these people predominantly on the basis of them not being people.”

“Don’t get me started,” Eli scowled, walking closer.

As Eli came into clear sight Idris saw Mercy tense. “There’s another of his kind hunting us,” she said.

“There is. In time we may be able to do something about that,” Idris said reassuringly. “These things happen slowly.”

“If this goes wrong, most of you will die, and most of us will too.”

“Nobody wins,” Idris agreed, “That’s war, right?”

“I will trust you, Idris.”

“And I will endeavour to be worthy of that trust.”

---

Do androids dream of electric sheep

Idris, having negotiated a peace, found himself silenced by a sudden coughing fit and waved Marko over to take over.

Marko flew over to the statue and landed on the circular plinth on which it stood. He glanced up at the colourful swatches that adorned the arms and shoulders of the figure. They were worn but had been roughly mended, and were obviously hung with care and attention, not simply flung.

Mercy walked over to stand before the curious rogue. “My name is Mercy.”

“Marko. Mister Marko.”

“I see you are curious about our statue?”

“Yes indeed.”

“It is the founder of this small town, Ialos. A human, which may surprise you.” Mercy looked keenly at Marko, awaiting his response.

“Not at all! It’s a fine statue. And you’ve decorated it?”

“We have, to give thanks–and respect–to the founder and his people for providing us this place to mourn.”

“Is this a special day?” Uthar said, “Or is this something you do every day?”

“This is our home, or we hope to make it that. We give thanks each day.”

“Do you live with humans at all?” Marko asked.

Mercy cleared her throat. “As yet that is not possible. There is no trust between our people.”

Sifer, standing aside and behind Uthar, muttered under his breath. “Oh good, I see we’ve decided to give up every competitive advantage.” Uthar grunted a laugh. He too felt uneasy with being surrounded by these creatures, but felt some hope that they were genuine in their neutrality. Sifer hopped atop a large boulder, hoping to at least have the high ground.

“What about halflings?” Marko tried, thinking she might be over literal.

“All flesh. None of them trust us, much though we would try. Too many died at our hands in the Last War.”

“What was the cause of the conflict between you?”

Mercy paused again, perplexed. “Tell me, you are not from this realm, Marko?”

“Somewhere completely different.”

“I see. Well, there has been a war here that lasted over a century.”

“Between your people and the…flesh people, like me?”

“And between the flesh and the flesh, and our kind and others of our kind,” Mercy said solemnly. “Everyone fought.”

“I see,” Marko nodded, “And do you consider us your enemy?”

Mercy glanced over to the still incapacitated Idris. “I have been told you are not.”

“Then we could be friends,” Marko beamed, “And therefore others can be. There are more out there who live and need shelter and could perhaps join you.”

“Those others hunt us,” Mercy said twisting her head toward Eli. “Those others would have the Warforged cleansed from this land.” Eli flushed and looked around for support, finding none. His brain was whirring at maximum capacity trying to make sense of the situation.

“Are you the ‘Warforged’?” Marko continued.

“We are.”

“Hm. Not a good name for a race.”

“Halflings. Not a good name for a race,” Mercy countered coldly.

“We’re half the size and twice as powerful as everyone else, so I think it’s a good name.”

“A little disparaging, I would have thought?”

Finally Eli saw an opening. “It is a terrible name for a race!” he blurted, “And it is not our name—we are the Hin!”

Mercy scratched her metal head. “You, and he,” she said nodding to Marko, “Are both the Hin?”

“Ah…well…I identify as Hin,” Eli trailed off.

Three stepped forward to undo the confusion. “Just like I suspect the Warforged are made up of very different, multi-facetted factions, so are our peoples. Where an Orc, a Halfling, a Human (or what’s left of one)—all different people working together. I think our problem is we’re trying to work out which Warforged see a path forward, and which Warforged just want constant war.”

Mercy held her hands out to her gathered troops. “You see all of those that stand for peace. We know of no others, but we will welcome with open arms any that should they come. There are very few, but we have to start somewhere, and we chose here.”

“I agree,” Three nodded, “But how many oppose you?”

“Too many.”

“You are assailed on all sides,” Sifer called.

“We are. Which is why we choose not to fight unless we must.”

“So perhaps you need a show of trust,” Sifer said.

“Good point,” Marko said softly. He stuck out his hand. “Let’s work together,” he said, “Trust has to start somewhere.” Mercy took it and shook warmly.

“If we are agreed—join us against the Lord of Blades,” Sifer tried. He wanted to test their commitment to this trust, and to their ideals. “That is the message that will bring people to your town.”

Mercy stilled. “No, it will not,” she said softly. “The people do not see a difference. Warforged fighting Warforged means nothing to them—it just confirms their hatred. They fear us just as much as they fear the Lord of Blades.”

“What about us fighting alongside you, together. Wouldn’t that united front show something different?” Marko said.

“None would witness it.”

“There are others out there watching, I am sure.”

“Yes and they hunt us. There is no quarter given for our kind.”

“But this is how we can change that. I’m not asking you to lead the battle, but help us.”

Mercy sighed. “I have taken the name ‘Mercy’. And we have taken a vow to fight no longer. It is the only way we can show the truth of our intent, for if we fight we are no better than those that live for it.”

Marko nodded slowly. “Ah, ok. I understand now—that makes more sense.”

“We seek ourselves, to find out what we are. Fighting does not answer that.”

Eli had his hand raised, and Mercy turned to face him. “My name is Mercy, what is yours?”

“My name is Eli, and I have a thing to say and a question to ask you.” He paused, martialling his thoughts. “I have sworn the death of the Lord of Blades, as my first and only purpose. That is a truth that I would tell you.” Mercy tilted her head as he continued. “And now I have a question, if I might: what good is your life if you have no soul?”

Everyone froze at Eli’s directness, feeling that the answer to this question would either lead to slaughter or an everlasting peace.

Mercy too took some time before answering. “It is a question we also ask. We do not know, for we do not understand ‘souls’, we do not understand who we are, where we have come from. What is our purpose if it is not to fight?”

“Do you mourn your dead?” Eli said, recalling Mercy’s claim that Ialos was used as a place to mourn.

“We do, and I would show you our ossuary if you would like to see it?”

“Yes,” Marko nodded keenly.

Eli wasn’t so easily satisfied. “You mourn your dead but you don’t know why?”

“We have witnessed the ways of the flesh,” Mercy explained.

“Do you mimic those ways, or do you sincerely mourn your dead?”

“We do not mimic, we learn. And we mourn our lost in our way.”

“What if you discover that you have no soul, and there is no purpose to your existence? What will you do then?”

Mercy shook her head. “How can we know what we will do? That is why we seek.”

Sifer found himself increasingly worried, taking up a martial stance and doing his best to hide it. What he thought would happen was happening: get into a bad position and then fight.

“Show me where it is you keep your remains, as you offered,” Eli said. He wasn’t aware of Sifer’s movements, but he too was of a mind that there was no life here, merely the imitation of it.

But Mercy surprised Eli but not simply acquiescing. “Tell me, before we do, what is your soul? Do you know it?”

Eli had no hesitation. “My soul is a piece of grace given unto me by god, in his mercy.”

“Is this something you have copied from others, or do you truly know it?” Mercy said with a note of scorn that surprised even Sifer.

This time Eli did pause. “I…I know it. I…”

Three walked quickly over to Eli and hooked his arm. “Show us the remains.”

“Follow me,” Mercy said, spinning away and leading the troupe toward the windmill.

---

From his boulder, Sifer observed how the other Warforged reacted to this. They had been eerily silent, and still were, merely turning their heads to follow Mercy’s movement. Some fell in behind her as she passed, others went back to their various businesses. A lone Warforged, which had been out of line of sight, emerged and leapt atop a rock opposite Sifer, crouching and locking eyes on him. Sifer was very sure it was aware of his heightened state of alertness, so he calmly sat in a mediative pose. The Warforged matched his stillness: two warriors ready for whatever may come.

As he followed Mercy, Three noted how very few Warforged, if any, had adorned themselves with personal items or markings—only Mercy wore a woollen cloak, nonsensical since surely they felt no cold. He wondered too if they had some form of non-verbal communication, like Idris’s telepathy. He had seen no order from Mercy, but the Warforged had obviously returned to some pattern of behaviour. He just wasn’t sure if that was because they were under instruction or were acting on their own volition.

“This is what was once a mill,” Mercy explained as she entered the circular stone building. “We have cleared it so we can plan, and below is our ossuary.”

“Planning what,” Eli muttered to Marko, who shrugged. Uthar walked the room, noting a huge pile of collapsed wall that he couldn’t quite see over, but obviously had another room on the other side.

Noticing, Mercy explained. “Beyond that wall is our store, where we keep sacred objects.”

Uthar was surprised by this openness, so took a chance. “I don’t mean any offence by this, but I would be interested: what objects are sacred to your kind? I have never met one like you before.”

“We have scavenged the Mournland for trinkets, curiosities, salvaging what remained. Human relics, our remains. We believe many were magical before the Day of Mourning destroyed that magic. We collect them and hope to find meaning…”

“I see.” Uthar sensed she was leaving something out, but decided against pressing. Eli, on the other hand, was finding it hard to imagine what could be sacred to those without a soul, but he too held his tongue.

“I will take you down to the ossuary, then we can continue. I hope that it will answer some of your questions,” Mercy said, glancing to Eli who remained stone-faced.

A circular staircase led to a dark, still, very cold room below the first. Bodies of deceased Warforged lined the walls, each carefully securely to the wall in a dignified pose: back straight, arms crossed, head slightly lowered. Two Warforged cared for the dead, stepping back for the new arrivals. Those in the company of a religious nature were struck by the deeply solemn nature of the gallery, similar to many they had visited seeking grace. Those without shivered.

“I don’t mean to be rude, Mercy,” Marko said quietly, “But…you can die like any other creature?”

“Quite clearly we can,” Mercy said looking around the fallen Warforged.

“Then…in order for you to die,” Marko looked to Three and Eli for confirmation, “Your soul or spirt must be passing to a new place. Wouldn’t that mean that you do have a soul? Because you can die, because you don’t just…stop?”

“Maybe they only think they die like us,” Eli scoffed, “Maybe they do just stop like a broken mill.”

“How would we know the difference?” Mercy said softly.

“Have Warforged even been repaired?” Three said.

“Yes, during the war many were repaired and brought back to life.”

“So is it that if you had the right materials, the right people, these Warforged could be bought back to life? Or is something fundamentally—”

“Missing,” Marko finished.

“We do not know. And it is forbidden.”

“By who?” Three said.

“The treaty.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We don’t know of this,” Uthar added.

“The Treaty of Thronehold, which formally ended the Last War, forbade the creation of new Warforged at the same time as granting us our freedom,” Mercy explained. “A double edged sword: we were free, but we were also constrained forever.”

“So if wasn’t for this treaty you could just turn them back on?” Eli said, sensing he was close to the truth.

“We could not. We do not have the knowledge, we are not priests.”

“It takes a priest to turn a Warforged back on?” Eli said, surprised.

“Is that not how flesh beings are resurrected?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Mercy looked around the walls. “We do not know.”

“You don’t know?”

“We were created—”

“By who? Priests?” Eli interrupted.

“We don’t know!” Mercy said, voice raised. “This is what we seek: knowledge, understanding, things that you take for granted.”

Three tried a different tack. “The people who were instrumental in your creation or your care—where are they now?”

“Dead. Nothing survived here.”

Three recalled the Wizard’s briefing which spoke of the lands beyond the Mournland which survived, well settled and even thriving. And the Razor Fang troupe had spoken of their homelands such as the Demon Wastes. There was life out there, he was sure. “Mercy, I am no expert on Eberron, but I am sure that in the kingdoms beyond here life still flourishes. Technicians and priests who might have the answers that you seek.”

Eli lent to whisper in Three’s good ear. “Brother Cooper, can you not look and see if they have souls?” Three raised an eyebrow and considered.

Mercy turned to Eli. “Earlier I asked you a question, which was how do you know. You ask if we can just be turned off—how do you know when you die that your soul departs, that you too are not merely switched off? Are you not dead, and hence have no way of knowing?”

Once again Eli was taken aback by the depth of the philosophical questioning. “I…have been reliably informed, by people who I trust not to lie, that my soul departs to another realm.”

“You told me that you knew. Not that you were ‘informed’. But you too do not know. You hope, but you do not know—as we too hope.”

Eli was shaken. “I…uh…those that have spoke to me have never lied to me…as far as I’m aware…”

“We do not know any more than you do, so why do you question our souls?”

Marko saw Eli was frozen, so he jumped in. “Brother Three, can you raise or resurrect the dead?”

“Yes, and in my previous life I have met many who could.”

“Would that work here?”

Before Three could answer Mercy spoke. “Was that not what was done to those of us who fell in the war? Were there souls not returned to allow them to rise again?”

“That is what I was thinking,” Marko said. “If that works, then these things are living creatures. They certainly act like living things.”

“I think that what Brother Cooper is trying say, or perhaps Mister Marko,” Eli said, “Is that if the spell that would revive a living human to life revives one of yours to life, that would imply that yours also have souls.” It seemed a neat solution.

“These spells only return souls?” Mercy asked.

“I understand that is the mechanism,” Eli said standing before a Warforged, “Otherwise it would simply be a matter of moving the cogs into the right place, and winding the key and…moving the pendulum. I’m better with woodwork,” he coughed.

“There is something I could try,” Three offered, “But you would need to consent that my god be allowed to touch one of your fallen. Someone who has passed away within the last tenday.”

“Oh we killed heaps of these guys in the last ten days,” Eli said brightly, just as Sifer arrived atop the stairway.

Mercy dropped her head. “None here have died so recently. As I have said we choose not to fight and we have managed to avoid further deaths.” She turned to Eli. “Those that you killed will never come back.”

“Why is that?”

“As I have said, it is forbidden.”

“I am not held by this treaty,” Three said carefully.

“And yet the Lord of Blades brings them back,” Sifer grunted.

“The treaty means nothing to one such as him,” Mercy spat. “But if we do not respect it we will be destroyed. The Lord of Blades conscripts lost Warforged to his bloody cause. We were created as weapons, and as weapons some would stay—he appeals to that base nature.”

“Is that why he seeks the docents?”

“I suspect he plays little heed to the treaty. In fact I am sure of it.”

“Are you implying that a docent could bring one of these back to life?” Eli said.

Mercy sighed. “We hope so.”

“Oh you do, do you?” Eli said suspiciously. He was quite certain a docent wasn’t a soul, and if that was all it took…

Mercy did not see his trap. “It is our hope that in time those that forged this treaty, fleshlings all, will realise that disallowing our kind to create our kind means the end of our kind.”

“Are you aware that we too seek a docent?” Three said. Sifer noticed the three Warforged tensed at this statement.

“I was not,” Mercy said slowly, very still.

Three sensed the mood of the room had changed. “We wish to find one to use for but a brief moment, to get an insight on an artifact that we are chasing. That is our only purpose. That is why we are likely confronting the Lord of Blades, because we believe he has what we seek.”

Mercy looked around the room, focussing on the mute Idris before turning to Marko. “Our agreement here was based on trust. I was told you wished merely to talk. But now it seems there was a hidden motive to your approach.”

“We won’t break that trust,” Three said. “We will move on if needed.”

“There is no duplicity here?”

“I could not be more plan with my information and views,” Three simmered, his hackles raised at the accusation. “And I even offer you a boon that no-one can give you! I can prove yes or no if you have a soul!” he said, lowering his hood. He watched her carefully but she didn’t react at all to the revelation of his scarred form.

“It’s a game of trust,” Sifer added. “I saw an opportunity for you to build trust, but you are obviously beyond aggression, which I respect. But that does not preclude us from aggression. We are here in good faith—why else would we put ourselves here in this dungeon surrounded by all your Warforged?”

“I have shown you nothing but trust,” Mercy said.

“So there is faith here.”

“Faith, yes.”

“We don’t go to fight the Lord of Blades under some illusion that six of us can take him down,” Sifer said, though he believed otherwise. “We go to find our artifact. And we are here to find a docent to lead us there—and it appears that everyone has that same purpose.” He watched Mercy as she moved in and out of Uthar’s aura, wanting to understand if it affected her. But there was no change in body language, nothing to indicate she was blessed or otherwise.

“Brother Three has just told me you do not need a docent from us. You are telling me you do. What is your true purpose here?”

“Every agent that we have come across seeks a docent for their own purpose. We seek it momentarily. We don’t need it for ourselves, we need it as a tool to find something else.”

“And is that why you have come to us?”

“That is not why we have come to you, that is why we are here.”

“Meeting you is happenstance,” Uthar added.

“We came here thinking that you were adversaries, that you worked for the Lord of Blades,” Three explained, growing more impassioned as he continued. “And when we saw that you were not acting aggressively and seemed to have some other way of living, we walked out with our hands open to talk to you. If you are not able to give us any more assistance we will leave you in peace. But it does seem like you have an agenda to raise your people above, that you have an agenda to answer these deep questions, and we are the only people that you will meet in many a year that will help you and guide you on that journey! You may say no and we will walk away. You make that decision.”

“Hallelujah to that,” Eli said. “We can offer you the certain knowledge, one way of the other, whether or not you have a soul. And if there’s anything you can offer us in return, may god bless what there is of you.”

Mercy paused as she considered, then looked at Three. “What you offer is what we seek. I will concede that if you can tell us this truth, if you can prove it, we would change everything for us. And we would offer much.”

“Then it seems like we are aligned.”

“I have a question, though, Eli. If you find we do not have souls…what will you do?”

“Then you are like unto me a fallen timber or a shovel,” Eli said without hesitation.

“You will give us no respect?”

“Ironically, to Brother Eli’s point, in our world we do respect the tools we have around us—” Three started.

“We were created as mere tools,” Mercy interrupted angrily. “Tools of war, tools of destruction. If you find we have no soul you will condemn us to that fate again!”

Three shook his head vehemently. “We are not condemning you—for you will make that path, but you will do it in full knowledge.”

Mercy turned to Eli. “You have told me that you will treat us the same as we always have been.”

“I…I…I wou…yes.”

“Can you not see that I think, that I reason, that I seek the same answers you do? And yet if you find we have not a soul you will curse us again?”

With a burst of enlightenment Eli discovered he had the perfect answer, a parable from his youth. “There was a philosophy that was brought to our encampment by an individual we called…‘Barry the Mad’. And he spoke of beings who were born without souls, and he said: ‘And yet by their good works god would bequeath them a soul.’ Maybe this is the path for you.”

Marcy was lost for words. She felt a hand reach up to take hers and glanced down to see Marko holding it fondly. “I think you’ve got a soul,” he said kindly, “It doesn’t matter what other people think. It only matters what you think, does it not?”

She looked down. “Thank you Marko for your words and friendship. For faith, we have learnt, is more important than proof.”

“Amen,” Uthar said softly.

“Men and orc and elf, when they go to war, they see each other as tools,” Sifer said, “But we rise above.”

“There is a difference. We were created as tools, not merely seen that way temporarily. It is for us to break out of that destiny that is important. But if you will not give us that respect…why would we respect you? If you will treat us like a machine, a shovel, why would we respect you?”

“What do you think?” Marko said softly.

“I know what I think.”

“Well that’s all that matters.”

“No it is not! You do not understand what it is to be shunned and treated like an object. If we do not have the respect of those around us we—”

“Oh don’t talk to me about the respect of others,” Marko scowled. “I deal with tall people everywhere.”

“You call yourself a halfling Mister Marko!” Eli cried. “Are you not a whole? Are the others not double you?”

“I don’t mind—that’s just what you call us.”

“I have never called you a halfling in my life!”

“It doesn’t matter what you call me! It’s what I believe in, that’s what matters.”

“It’s not what they believe,” Eli said firmly, “It’s what god knows. If they have no soul it’s up to god. If they do have a soul then I will take them unto my bosom as brothers. If they have soul then it is up to them to earn it, and if they will not earn it then they are condemned.”

“And for those of us who are subject to the misgivings of religion,” Sifer called from the stair, “Who hold another god, forever are we at war on that basis. If you seek respect then you need to have respect for yourself. It starts from there. Because these kinds of stories about what is worth will always be there.”

Mercy looked around the company in the silence that followed, meeting each eye. “I will tell you now that I have faith. I believe that we have souls, that we are as you, sacred. It is you that will not believe it,” she glared at Three and Eli. Marko squeezed her hand again.

“The issue is,” Three said, “Coming here I called on my god and healed people. The divine spirit came through me. My faith goes beyond faith: I know my god exists. You have set yourself up with a conundrum that is very difficult to answer—you seek some kind of spiritual enlightenment but you are terrified by that answer.”

“As ever do holy men speak in order to put themselves above us,” Sifer muttered.

“You were born with the unshakable faith?” Mercy said.

“I was born with it, but it got shook. Shook right out of me,” Three grimaced.

“And yet you found it again.”

“It found me.”

“I believe the same will happen for us. You act as if you have no doubt, but you did, and you found your way to the truth.”

“Might I suggest, if that is the case,” Eli said, “That you proceed along those grounds until you learn otherwise. To whit, if you do not have a docent that you will let us have access to, point us in the direction of this so called Lord of Blades that we may slay him and take what is ours.” The sudden change of tack from heavy philosophy to blunt practicality caught everyone off guard.

Everyone but Sifer. “And if you stand by our side you can have it after we are finished with it,” he offered generously.

Mercy stood before Eli. “Tell me that you believe in us. That my people can find what you have.”

“I do not believe that,” Eli said after a pause, hurrying on before things could take a turn for the worse. “But I believe that, if you really want to, you may earn a soul. If may be that you already have one, but I cannot attest to it. Do you have a docent? Or can you point us to this so-called Lord of Blades.”

Mercy studied Eli’s face for a moment, then seemed to make a decision. “We have several.”

Eli felt his legs wobble so unexpected was this admission.

“They are sacred objects to us, as you can understand.”

“Would you let us have one for a period of time?” Three said carefully.

“You know how much you ask?”

“I know it is a lot. And I know that we have promised compensation of spiritual knowledge.”

“It is a thing of power that has a use to us,” Sifer said with great practicality. “We respect your position around it, but we don’t want to destroy it or take it, we just need it—briefly. We respect your reverence of it, but we are here to find something else.”

“It points the way,” Marko said simply.

“It does,” Mercy said looking down. “It points the way for our spiritual birth.”

“I agree. And perhaps your trust in us to not damage or contaminate it, would help in that journey.”

Mercy held Marko’s gaze, then with a short nod turned and led the company back upstairs.

---

As Three followed he pondered the debate that had just ended, apparently satisfactorily. He felt that Mercy had gained a great deal from being allowed to converse so freely, asking questions that must have weighed on her heavily. She was a spiritual leader to the Warforged, just as much as the Lord of Blades was, and she had thirsted for knowledge such as he, Eli, and Uthar held. Even Marko and Sifer’s offerings would have been as mana to a starved…soul? He wasn’t sure of this last, but he agreed with Eli: it was for the Warforged, led by Mercy, to find their own way. Proof was not the answer—one of the great conundrums.

Mercy led the company into the store via an outside door. “This room contains what we have found, and what we are trying to learn from. The docent you seek is here.”

Inside were clean tapestries, some similar to those that hung from the statue. A collection of leather wrapped oil painting were carefully piled in a corner, and intact statues were gathered along one wall.

“These are all remnants of old Cyre from before it was destroyed,” Mercy explained. All looked to be of ‘flesh’ creation with the exception of a shelf on the far wall, upon which sat half a dozen metal orbs the size of a cumquat and studded with shards of richly coloured gemstones. “Whereas these,” she said standing reverently before the orbs, “These are our future.”

---

“That’s them,” Eli said with wonder. Five of the docent were dull but one shone as if alive.

“Each of these holds our destiny,” Mercy said softly.

“How so?” Marko said, trying very hard not to immediately slide several into his voluminous pockets.

“With these we can create life, we can create intelligence.”

“Were you created with one of these?” Eli asked.

“We do not know.”

“Then why do you think you can create life with them?”

“We cannot. Yet. But in the future maybe we will. Those that created us were also those that created the colossi, and they used these docent to do so. The magic is gone from them, but if we can bring it back, I have faith that we too can create life: we can birth more Warforged.”

“Let’s not get bogged down again,” Sifer said, nudging Marko who stood mesmerised before the one functional docent.

Marko, startled to alertness, pulled the Rod free, having picked it from Idris’s stationary pockets earlier. “May I test our theory?” Marko said gently.

“What exactly are you going to do?”

“We are seeking another element of this Rod,” Marko said holding the segements aloft. The Rod pulsed softly with latent energy.

“What is that?” Mercy said uncertainly.

“This is a Rod that will help our world—”

“—All worlds,” Eli interjected.

“All worlds,” Marko corrected. “There is an evil in the multiverse that is seeking to control all others, and we aim to prevent—”

“You say ‘control’ all others,” Mercy interrupted. “In the same way we were controlled?”

“Just so,” Marko nodded, noticing Mercy’s tone had changed, as though the parallel between the yoke her people struggled under and that which being threatened might convince her. “We are travelling the multiverse to complete this Rod, which will help us in the fight with that enemy, who is called Vecna,” Marko said quietly before anyone could stop him.

With a crushing flash everyone staggered, clutching their heads, as a thousand shrieking eyes piercing their mind, countless daggers in a sea of black and glinting crystal, pressing in from every side, threatening to strip every secret bare and leave every thought bereft, always watched, never free, a panopticon for the soul in which the only hope was annihilation. “I…see…you…”

“What is it!” Mercy’s voice cried from the utter blackness, the sound pulling everyone groaning back to the surface.

“We are being watched,” Marko gasped. Without a word, all around the Warforged were instantly on high alert, weapons drawn and ready.

“Sifer! Outside!” Three urged, choking down bile.

“We are all in danger,” Sifer scowled as he rushed outside.

“We have little time, we need to leave before…he finds us and you,” Marko said. “May I use your docent?”

“Will it remove this threat? This threat to turn all into mere tools?” Mercy asked, wanting to believe.

“I believe so, when it is complete,” Marko said earnestly.

Mercy crouched and laid a hand on Marko’s shoulder. “Promise me…promise me that you will return it to us? This is all we have, it is our future. You must.”

“Of course,” Marko vowed. Behind him Eli dropped his head as he remembered the same promise he had made to Kalyth, Dortle-Lynn and Grezen.

“This act of trust proves our faith, and our soul,” Mercy said solemnly.

Marko picked up the docent and held it toward the Rod. He felt it start to vibrate in his palm, and as he opened his hand it floated up into the air, spinning for a moment then shooting into the open connection on the lower section of the incomplete Rod. It slotted in perfectly, the gems of the docent and crystals of the Rod knitting together in an otherworldly manner. The docent seemed to be humming with what Marko could only term as delight.

Mercy watched closely, jerking back when the two pieces were joined.

He lifted the Rod and felt it instantly pull toward the east. “We have to go east,” Marko declared.

“East lies Landro,” Mercy said grimly.

“Which is?” Three said. He recalled Kalyth’s company talking of the same and knew that is where the Lord of Blades lay, but it seemed Mercy knew more.

“Landro is forbidden. A cursed place. It caused this,” she said waving to the land. “It represents all that we are not. The greatest war machine created only for destruction.”

Marko nodded. “Then that is where we are going.”

Outside Sifer scouted the village, finding nothing. The Warforged remained alert, but there was no sign of incoming adversaries. “Clear,” he called to those inside.

Leaving the mill, Mercy spoke to Eli and Three. “We are putting our trust and faith in you.”

“We will return the docent, and hopefully with other answers,” Three nodded.

“If you have a soul we will find out,” Eli added, “And we will let you know one way or the other.”

“We do not need you to tell us,” Mercy said. “It is not a fact—it is faith.”

“For us it is fact,” Three shrugged.

“Well…beg to differ,” Eli mumbled.

“You religious people, you’re infectious,” Sifer grunted from ahead.

Marko let the Rod lead the way—due east—and the company followed, still feeling the omniscient watchful eye of something beyond understanding.

---

Landro

For the first time in the Mournland the journey was straightforward. Marko would occasionally draw the docent-empowered Rod free and it unerringly pointed the way. Three raised a sceptical eye at the still-silent Idris—maybe Marko was the true Rod master?

Sifer continued to have an unshakable certainty of being watched but didn’t dare venture out of line of sight given his dulled senses. He only knew it wasn’t warforged this time; this was the result of Marko’s mistake. “If ‘he’ is all seeing and knowing,” he muttered to Eli, “As has been proved to us in some ways, then that is quite interesting. Because he destroyed us.”

“Yes, he did that,” Eli nodded. “‘Interesting’ is an interesting way to describe it really.”

The eastern border of the Mournland drew ever closer, and after half a day of marching the fogbound thickets opened to a clearing, revealing the mountain ahead—and a sight hard to comprehend. A titanic Colossus loomed half-buried in Mount Ironrot’s soaring eastern flank. It stood over 300ft tall, a mechanical sentinel forever watching over the Mournland.

---

“My god,” Uthar breathed softly, “So big. Much bigger than anything we’ve seen.” It seemed impossible that something so large could be controlled by mere humans. It appeared to have fused with the rock, half-in half-out, one huge leg stepping forward, the other buried.

“Perhaps you should have tried harder to get those others to come along,” Sifer smirked.

“What those three? The last remains of my mother’s tribe?” Eli scoffed, looking up at the gigantic Colossus.

“No—the Warforged. They would be an asset.”

“The pacifist Warforged? I’m sorry, but when was that up to me?” Eli protested.

Sifer shrugged. “Well I’m talking to you about it but I actually think it was Three.”

Three almost took the bait.

“And what was all that mumbo-jumbo stuff,” Sifer said recalling the long philosophical debate. “Were you trying to pick a fight? We could have used their help here.”

“I wasn’t trying to pick a fight!” Eli cried.

“In Eli’s defence,” Three jumped in, “If they were open to our argument and we proved they had some kind of divine spark, they would be here. But they weren’t ready for that step.”

“I don’t understand. If I wanted to fight them I would have just hit them.”

“We didn’t need to hit them, we wanted them as allies. That’s why Sifer is saying. Use them as cannon-fodder when we go through this pass and get ambushed,” Three said, unsmiling.

“I’ve seen what pacifists do in warfare,” Eli declared mysteriously.

“I’m just saying it would have been good to have some more bodies,” Sifer said. “So what are we going to do?”

“We go,” Three pointed.

The clearing ahead felt like a blast zone, seared and cleared of life. Uthar led the way, and every step felt so very vulnerable: wide open to attack, watched over by a Colossus that had destroyed this land. Three scanned it for signs of what might have stopped it, be it magic or force of arms. But the closer it loomed the more it looked like it was part of the mountain, emerging mid-stride. The outer shell appeared undamaged, which made no sense.

“The peacemaker,” Sifer said softly.

Despite the dread, the company managed to reach the enormous footpad that lay at the base of the mountain. It was obviously impregnable, solid metal sheets, each feet thick, bolted and welded together to form a formidable armour.

“There,” Eli said, spotting a jagged cave entrance in the base of the mountain just beyond the foot.

“Take a reading,” Three said to Marko, who did. “Directly ahead,” he reported. “Let me check Eli’s cave.”

The cave opening resembled a yawning maw. Warped stalactites drooped at odd angles like monstrous fangs. A shallow stream of thin, grey liquid dribbled from inside the hole, which lay in silence and thick darkness. “Come forward,” he called.

Sifer knelt to study the sickly stream: it looked like oil, not water, with very little scent. “Some kind of lubricant,” he muttered, imagining how much a Colossus would require to stay supple. He pulled his sword, intending to dip the tip in the stream. As he did he saw his face reflected in the surface and froze. One of his eyes was warping rapidly, bulging into a monstrous growth, his forehead stretching to match. He staggered back, feeling his face and finding it thankfully intact. “Psst!” he warned, “Don’t touch! Some sort of world magic.”

This was like an invitation to Three. He immediately looked down into the oily robot blood. His face was undamaged, clean, the face of an innocent man that knew not what lay ahead. He collapsed to his knees, face only inches from the pool, and wept.

Sifer raced over and hauled Three away from the vision. Three didn’t resist for he had nothing to resist with. A man walking off the edge of a cliff saved only by his companion. Sifer carefully lowered him to the ground, struggling to keep Three from lurching away for another look.

“Eli! Uthar! Look in the stream,” Sifer called before they could enter the cave. Uthar instinctively looked down, and what he saw tore at his sanity. His face was stripped bare, flayed back to bare and bloodied flesh, nothing left but what lay below. Sifer rushed toward him, seeing for the first time fear in Uthar’s countenance. “Magics,” he hissed into Uthar’s ear, bringing him back to his sense.

“But you said it was dangerous?” Eli said, glancing down regardless. His father stared back at him. Eli cried out, staggering backwards, barely able to stay on his feet as he drew his weapon. He was caught again by Sifer who shook him back to sense. “And now you know the danger.”

Eli lurched over to Three and grabbed his lapels. “What devilry lies in this ichor?” he begged.

“Is it devilry? Or is is the angels speaking?” Three said quietly.

“Is it our sins?”

“This is beyond my sins,” Three said, peeling off his glove and reaching down to touch the stream. Eli grabbed his wrist before contact could be made. Three didn’t fight it, all energy sapped.

“There is only badness in there, Brother Cooper.”

“It is a mirror of a time when I was whole.”

“A false mirror. Come—I believe Brother Marko needs us.” Eli felt a warmth as he realised he had aided Brother Cooper, who had so often done the same for him.

Marko managed to stay oblivious to all this, resisting Sifer’s offer. Once the company was recovered, he stepped up to the cave opening, Uthar and Eli at his shoulder, and peered within. Inside lay corpses of fallen human soldiers bearing fine weapons and well-oiled armour, scattered about the musty cavern. They weren’t skeletons and they weren’t Warforged.

Carefully avoiding the oil stream, he crept to the nearest corpse. There was no odour of rotting, and the flesh seemed fully preserved, as if mummified at the moment of death. A thick layer of powdery white residue had settled over the soldier, and now he saw it covered the entire cave floor. He held his breath, careful not to create a cloud, and scraped a sample using his poison kit, dropping the powder into a vial. It was heavy, thick, like grit, years of sediment that rested in layers below his scrape. He ran a quick test, determining it probably wasn’t poisonous. “I don’t think this is the result of the fog , as we haven’t seen it anywhere else. Three—is there any material like this used in graveyards to prevent creatures dead from rising?”

“There is,” Three said, “But I have not seen anything like this.”

Sifer jumped atop a boulder and studied the bodies. “All one company, all wearing the same uniform,” he reported. The pattern on the surcoats was a quartered shield, with the sigil of a grand city in the centre. “The strangest thing is they all look freshly dead.”

Hearing this Eli had a sudden thought: were these his mother’s people? He ran forward seeking an Orc or Hin. His enthusiasm sunk as he saw it was a human army only. The weapons that lay by their sides were untarnished, two-handed sword and lances. He rolled a face-down body over, his last hope, but it too was a pale-faced human. He yanked the gauntlet off and found to his surprise the hand within was malleable, not rigor-mortised. “This is—”

Eli was interrupted by the sight of one of the huge swords suddenly rising into the air, transforming into a floating, black planar rift in the shape of a sword. It seemed to shred the air as it swung faster than even Eli’s eye. A second leapt forth to join its twin, flying to Marko. Despite the surprise, both Eli and Marko managed to roll out of the path of the void swords.

Eli crashed his weapon into the dark blade, and Marko too retaliated. The sword reacted instantly, but Marko was ready. Sifer yanked his bow free and fired true, despite the challenge of shooting a dark void in a pitch-black room. Uthar crashed his weapon down hard, defending Marko, but it was too fast and he missed badly jamming his blade into a stalagmite. The black sword reacted fast and attacked back, but again it missed.

From the back of the room came a cry—“Kelemvor!"—followed by the ringing toll of the dead. Three was pleased to see the sword waver, almost shimmering out of existence before reforming. He wiped his tears from his face, feeling somewhat recovered by the connection to his god. He even laughed.

Sifer and Uthar were less pleased to hear the toll echoing around the cave…and beyond. Sifer glared at the chuckling Three who stood oblivious. “Too much noise!” he hissed prophetically.

Eli avoided another attack, noting that he was having to solo his sword as everyone else focussed on the other. He hit once, again dodging the retaliatory riposte, and then bravely used his fists to pummel the flat of the void blade. Marko easily sidestepped his blade’s attacks, then finished it off with a flourish of his own. Sifer turned his attention to Eli’s blade, and a moment later it too flashed into nothingness.

Both the void blades had come and gone without causing so much as a scratch, leading Eli to wonder at just how bad the company of dead soldiers must have been to fall to their machinations. He brushed his hands clean, enjoying for a moment the dying echoes of Three’s bell…which was interrupted by a hideous scraping of a metal door being wrenched open from the ragged corridor ahead.

Sifer sprinted to Eli’s side, avoiding the oil stream to peer ahead. The door slammed open, and a series of hideous howl rang through the cavern as something approached around the corner.

---

There were three of the creatures, massive ten-foot tall beasts with warped, warty faces and bulbous limbs. With each breath a terrible howl emerged from their misshapen mouths. They wore the tattered remains of armour and surcoats identical to that on the fallen warriors.

“Bad guys! Zombies! Human! This is not a good place to fight them—get back to the mouth!” Sifer cried in warning. Everyone got the message, stumbling back to the cave entrance. The three beasts lumbered forward, howling and slavering.

Three was first to attack. He was about to aim a flame strike at the nearest creature when an idea struck him. At the last moment he turned the attack toward the stream of oil instead, just in front of the lead. Inside the cave the oil exploded into an inferno, catching the remnant armour alight. The creatures cries changed in tone from hunger to horror as they were engulfed by radiance and flame.

To everyone’s surprise—and Three’s delight—the three giants turned and ran back the way they had come. They were sitting ducks to the bow-wielders, who peppered their retreating backs with bolts as they retreated behind the bend of the cave.

“You know what to do,” Sifer said, pointing. Everyone charged into the cave, avoiding Three’s inferno (though Three himself felt a spiritual urge to dive within the sacred flames to be cleansed). As the company rounded the corner the same metallic scraping sound rang out. Sifer was first to round the corner. A door, of sorts, made of roughly clubbed together metal sheets was being frantically pulled shut.

“There is nothing to fear!” Marko cried, surprising everyone. “I would like to speak to you!” From behind the door the same panicked howls sounded as the door continued to shudder to a close. Marko sighed. “Uthar, would you mind?”

Uthar jumped to the door and hauled with all his strength against those inside. For a moment there was a tug of war, before Uthar prevailed and shunted the door fully open. Inside the three creatures wailed with shock, reeling away.

“Hello!” Marko tried one last time.

“This is the point where we get the religious in the company to shrive them of their illness,” Sifer muttered.

“Religious doesn’t mean you like people,” Eli countered.

“When I say ‘shrive’ I mean ‘kill them’.”

“There is a time to sow and there is a time to reap,” Eli nodded.

“It did cross my mind…who are the real monsters?” Three said, watching the beasts quiver. “I hope these weren’t soldiers who drank that oil and have come to us for help. There is a tragic story here.”

“They’re not kobolds—time to finish them,” Sifer shrugged, remembering the story Jorin, in his cups, had told of an infamous Stormwatch episode.

Uthar pulled his sword free. He hesitated for a moment, realising that these creatures hadn’t yet attacked the company, having merely made a lot of unpleasant noises. Albeit they did emerge from their hovel with what looked like ill intent before being set on fire. His doubts were finally quelled when he felt out their aura: evil. Cowardly, but evil. He swung his blade twice into the nearest, drawing a flood of foul blood. “They’re evil,” he called back to Marko.

Marko was saddened by this news. He vanished from sight and moved to Uthar’s side just as a creature swung a huge club, rattling Uthar’s bones. The fear in their eyes was changing to outright live-or-die determination, their faces twisting into even more terrible shapes. One eye swelled further open and glared at Uthar, who felt a curse wash over him which he resisted with some ease. Sifer shuddered at the sight of the bulbous eye, realising what he had seen in the oil was a vision of himself transformed into one of these monstrosities.

A second clubbing hit rung through Uthar as Three stepped into the shadow of the doorway. “In the name of Kelemvor!” he cried and again tolled the wounded beast. Sifer groaned as he realised Three had ignored his advice on the nuance of sound. As if to prove the point one of the huge beasts pushed past Uthar and clubbed Three instead. He too felt the wrench of a cursed eye, but like Uthar his faith forced the attempt to fizzle.

Eli stepped to Three’s side and wailed on the creature with this blade, hands, and feet. Sifer, standing well back, trained his bow and let loose, drawing howls from the shuddering target.

Sifer knocked his bow with satisfaction when he was suddenly struck by three bolts that shunted into his torso, drawing cries of his own pain. He whipped his head around to see a bronze Warforged warrior had emerged from the corridor to the east. To his horror he saw a second step from the darkness. It was wrapped in brilliant orange armour and moved with a speed and litheness that shocked Sifer.

---

The new Warforged whipped two serrated bolts from its fist, each of which burrowed into Sifer’s wound. He gasped as he felt it shred and lodge into the torn muscle.

“Another feeble attempt!” the Warforged cried triumphantly. “We will make trophies of you like we have all others!”

---

Haunted Colossus

Hearing Sifer’s yelp of pain—and the metallic new arrivals—Three suddenly recalled Sifer’s direction for quiet. Under pressure to obey, he pulled his maul free and swung it ineffectively.

Uthar was rather more convincing. He wound up his sword and started a flowing sweep, dropping Three’s target, slicing through its back. His swing continued on its path to bury the blade into the next monstrosity. The creature quivered with fear for a moment before overcoming it and advancing with intent. Its greatclub knocked Uthar back, but the follow up blow was easily avoided.

Marko reappeared and jammed his rapier into the nether-regions of the closest beast who let out a hideous scream. It searched for the vanished-again thief finding only Eli, who shrugged off the frightful gaze of its swollen eye. It tried to bring its club down but caught the frame of the door, dropping the weapon in the process.

In the corridor, the Warforged flung two more serrated bolts into Sifer with uncanny precision, landing them in the precise spot where the others had already struck. Sifer grunted in pain as the sinew and muscle around his chest were rent. He was staggering under the assault, bleeding badly. “I will grind you into the dirt from whence you came!” the orange creature cackled.

Sensing Sifer’s distress, Eli disengaged from the giants to step into the path of the Warforged.

“Another one for the mill!” the Warforged cried to a snort from Eli. He empowered his bow with kensei and fired at both the new arrivals. To his horror he missed both shots. “I guess I can just be cannon fodder,” he called over his shoulder to Sifer, taking an extra step to block the path.

Alas the Warforged were smart. The northern bronze warrior jumped forward to sight Sifer, firing a trio of micro-javelins. Luckily for Sifer only one hit him, largely thanks to Eli’s complication, and the Warforged turned and ran out of sight to the north.

“It’s your lucky day,” the orange Warforged snarled.

Sifer, breathing hard, considered for a moment charging after them. He was on death’s door his relentless endurance was pushing him to risk everything. Three, four, maybe five attacks and I could finish at least one of them, he thought through his blood-soaked fury. At the last moment he saw Eli backhanding him a healing potion, and came to his senses. With a struggle he quelled his rage and used his second wind to ensure there would be a third.

“Sifer, remember you’re special,” Eli whispered. Sifer grunted and pulled his bow to. The first shattered against the orange Warforged armour, and he felt it was grinning despite the iron mask it wore. He changed his next arrow to a walloping bolt, hoping to knock it prone. Instead it merely flinched as it whammed into the shoulder plate. Sifer again considered running up and leaping on the confounding creature, before firing his third shot. This time the creature was rocked back into the stone wall behind it, maybe even drawing a satisfying grunt. “You’ve got it from here,” Sifer whispered to Eli as he shrunk back around an outcrop to block line-of-sight.

Below, Three was fed up. “Kelemvor curses you!” he cried angrily, bathing the closest giant in a green pall of necrosis. The creature wailed in pain but Three could see the curse meant nothing to it.

Uthar crunched his sword, drawing a flood of foul innards and a howl. The creature was enveloped in a halo from Uthar’s god, making his next strike even more effective. Marko took the hint, shoving his dagger into the glowing beast, collapsing it on top of him. He jumped out of the way and into the path of Uthar’s foe, hoping to draw attention away from Uthar who was standing but hurt.

Outside the remaining Warforged turned it’s attention to Eli, whipping two deadly bolts. Eli parried the first away as best he could, but it still burrowed into his thigh. The second landed aside the first, again hitting the near identical spot. The creature laughed cruelly. “I will see you shortly!” it snarled, before vanishing down the southern corridor, the opposite direction to its companion.

“Wait! Was that a real laugh? Or a simulation of a laugh? Are you really enjoying this??” Eli cried. The laugh had confounded him. If it really was happy, not just programmed to be so, then the impossible might suddenly be possible: the Warforged could have a soul.

The battle in the cave continued as the final giant, knowing it was going to die, set about trying to kill everything around it as it did. Three was crunched twice by the giant spiked club. Seeing this, Eli realised with horror he had abandoned Brother Cooper. He ran forward drawing his sword and stashing his bow, watched by an accusatory glare from Three. In his shame Eli tangled both weapons, despairing as his bowstring snapped and he nearly tripped on his sword. He heard Brother Cooper let out a snorting laugh, rubbing salt into the wound, as he finally, finally finished off the giant. “Kelemvor take you!” he snapped, opening a gaping hole in the monster, who finally understood exactly who Kelemvor was.

“Two of those metal abominations ran off,” Eli reported, not willing to give them the benefit of the doubt just yet. “And look at this!” he added, showing off his shredded thigh. As Eli tore his serrated blades free with a yelp as Three set about restoring the company, sending out waves of healing. Sifer had already chugged a potion, not wanting to bleed out, limping over to learn from the results of Eli’s field medicine. Eli took Sifer’s hands and met his gaze, transferred both hands to his left, reached down and wrenched the first of three blades free. Three, close by, followed suit and tore a second out, by which point Sifer was almost passed out, so Three added some bonus healing. Just enough to allow him to survive the final extraction from Eli.

The company were battered, but alive, thanks to Three’s ministrations. “I’m running low but for now I think we’re ok,” he muttered. He was drawn, exhausted from channelling Kelemvor’s power in a strange land. He continued his prayers to recover.

Marko was the only one unmarked, so he scoured the cave for anything out of the ordinary, finding nothing. It was a hovel, the only thing of interest was the tattered remnant uniforms the giants wore which were clearly of a the same military unit as the bodies outside. Once he was able, Three studied a collection of bones, determining many were humanoid. He suspected cannibalism, though none of the ‘fresh’ bodies in the cave had been touched.

“Whatever we do from here on, we need to ensure that we work as a team,” Sifer said looking at Three. “No more toll of the dead in caves.”

“That’s irrelevant at this stage,” Eli retorted.

“If Kelemvor wants to be heard—” Three started before Eli interrupted.

“It’s irrelevant! Two Warforged have run back up the tunnels to alert all of their comrades! Surprise is not a factor at this point.”

“I’m just saying we need to think before you do something like that,” Sifer said.

“You’re welcome,” Three grunted.

“Do something like what?” Eli frowned.

“Something like alert everyone so we don’t deal with things in a sequential manner!”

“To look backwards at who caused what, when, and where, is irrelevant. They all know we’re coming.”

“My point is we need to work as a team,” Sifer reiterated to Eli clenching his fists.

Three walked over to Sifer and healed him as little as possible. “Like that, team-mate?” he grinned.

“Well team, let’s just get going,” Marko suggested before a brawl broke out.

---

“One went south, one north?” Three asked.

“Bad guy south,” Sifer nodded.

The trail of oil led up a steep incline to the north that exited the tunnel to climb up the mountain-side. To the south the rocky tunnel continued into darkness.

“Mister Marko, shall we go south first?” Eli asked respectfully.

“Perhaps following the trail of oil might help us?”

“But then we’ll leave someone behind us,” Eli said pointing south. “Surely the oil leads to the centre of this web of evil. And the trail to the south will leave an enemy on our flank.”

“We need to deal with the larger enemy first,” Sifer argued, “And then assess.”

“No! We deal with the smaller enemy first,” Eli said.

“We can’t leave the more powerful one behind us,” Sifer groaned, pointing south.

“That’s correct!” Eli said, confused.

Marko sighed and nodded south to Uthar. “Lead on.”

“There’s one down here and we will kill it,” Eli said. “No! Wait—we will dismantle it,” he corrected carefully. No souls just yet.

The passage was narrow and lined with skull-sized mushrooms. Marko knelt to check one, deciding it was unlikely to be a healthy eat. Ahead, the lantern light held by Three suddenly illuminated a 10-foot-tall shell of thick metal that had been torn open. “Could this be the heel of the construct?” Uthar whispered with wonder. He stepped up to the gap to find a hollow chamber lined with the same metal.

Before he could move any further a keening shriek started to sound from within, joined quickly by a second. Sifer was about to scold Three before he realised this was environmental. The shrieking was soon pulsing like an alarm, and Uthar quickly saw the source. “It’s two mushrooms, vibrating,” Uthar called.

“Uthar be careful here—that thing could be full of spores which don’t effect the automatons, but do us,” Three warned. “Do this,” he said, quickly wetting a cloth and wrapping it around his mouth.

“Water won’t help—use urine!” Eli interjected.

“What??” Three said, shaking his head. “The water will capture the spores before they get inside you. This is a known thing when dealing with contagion.” Uthar followed Three’s suggestion, doing his best to put Eli’s out of his mind.

“Can we silence it?” Marko said. Three frowned, then sighed and did so. The sudden silence was deafening.

Marko crept forward into the room as Uthar pointed to the vibrating mushrooms. At the chamber’s far end, motes of dust and debris float in a cylinder of glowing, green light that stretched from floor to ceiling. The leg, Marko thought, stunned at the size of this thing. He crept over and looked up. The cylinder of light continued upward into darkness. Handholds were spaced out in increments up the inside of Landro’s leg, which was easily 100-feet tall. He beckoned everyone inside and pointed to the leg.

Uthar stepped inside the cylinder and found himself suddenly floating, just like on the Astral Plane. He grinned as Marko reached out and grabbed his foot to stop him from floating away. He broke free of the grip and ‘swam’ over to the wall, grabbing one of the handholds. Marko floated over to join him.

Eli and Three followed suit, gathering at the far wall which was just outside Three’s zone of silence. “Mister Marko,” Eli whispered, “If this is the way up then there is still an enemy behind us.” He turned and floated away.

“Eli! Come back!” Marko called, but the silence had enveloped the young Monk.

Sifer, as per training, stood guard at the foot’s entrance. He glanced at Eli for his assessment. Eli strode past and back up the corridor. Despite agreeing with this strategy, Sifer was concerned; the party was split. So much for teamwork. He followed Eli.

“Sifer there’s a bad guy behind us now,” Eli said pointing north.

“What did you see inside the foot?”

“Of course you didn’t see, because you are always guarding our rear, bless you. There was a passageway upwards. Literally up.”

“How far up does it go?”

“Leagues.”

“No sign of the enemy?”

Eli shook his head “But one went this way.”

“Then shouldn’t we go and finish up this way?”

“We’re all wounded and we have no spells to bring back our health,” Eli said matter-of-factly.

“I understand but I’m aware that we’ve also got enemies up this way.”

“Are you suggesting that perhaps we should trust in our leaders and their good judgement?”

“Which leader?” Sifer said as Eli trudged back south. He sighed and followed.

Moments later the company was finally gathered, huddled in the tube.

“Are we going to walk away and let them keep shrieking?” Sifer said pointing to the pulsing mushrooms.

“No we’re going to go up,” Marko pointed.

“And then they’ll stop because there will be no-one here,” Three explained.

Marko decided it was time to bring some order to proceedings. He looked to Eli. “You made a point before, Eli, that there are enemies behind us. Enemies in front of us. I have a rude shock for you: there are always enemies. We are always surrounded by enemies, because my intentions aren’t always pure. So let’s go up, and if something follows us we’ll deal with it, like we always do.” He looked around the group. “Does anyone disagree with this?”

Three pretended he was still silenced, speaking but making no sound. Uthar looked like it wasn’t a genuine question; going up was an order and he was going to follow it. He started climbing.

“This is the chain of command, it’s just that you don’t normally command us,” Sifer grinned. “After you,” he added as Marko floated upward.

Eli turned to Three. “What was that Master Marko said?” he whispered, “His actions weren’t always in the best intentions?”

Three smirked and floated away. Sifer shot Three a knowing glance and followed.

After 60-feet or so, the cylinder opened to a rounded room with the cylinder continuing from the far side at a 70-degree angle. “We’re in the knee,” Marko said grinning. It was incredible to consider journeying through the inside of such a mighty construct.

Uthar led on, and after a similar distance emerged into a new section, 30-foot tall overhead and oval-shaped. Uthar stopped short when he saw three bodies pinioned to a weapon rack as if in welcome: an orc, a halfling, and a human, each skewered through, arms held up by racked spears. On the far side of the room there were two more posed orcs, and a leg-cylinder leading down.

“It’s a warning,” Marko muttered. “Killed elsewhere and stuck here.” Marko checked the Halfling body. “This marking,” he said pointing to a bloodied tattoo of a fang with teeth, “It matches Kalyth’s—the Razor Fang. These must have been part of her troupe.” He glanced over to Eli who was frozen.

“They said they raided this place and that everyone was dead,” Sifer nodded.

“They said that everyone died,” Eli echoed softly. He was reluctantly eyeing the orcs, hoping not to find his mother amongst them, but the two female didn’t looked familiar. It had been a long time since he saw her, but her face was forever etched in his memory.

Three pushed past and examined the bodies. “Only weeks dead,” he muttered. “And killed with some vehemence—but not tortured. Just…punished. If I had to guess I’d say whoever did this enjoyed the killing.”

“Enjoyment?” Eli burst out.

“As if there had been 100 years of war and they were the enemy,” Sifer suggested.

“How do you determine enjoyment?” Eli pressed.

“In the sense that when you torture someone there is a strategy,” Three explained, “So that it is progressive. Whereas this has just been done to hurt someone.”

“So you don’t think it was done just to hurt them. It was done to ingratiate the hurter?” Eli felt on the verge of something.

“I don’t know why. I’m just saying—”

“This is very important to me! For if this was done to ingratiate the hurter then it implies that there is some aspect of their being that can be ingratiated, that is, enjoyment, that is…they might have some kind of soul.”

“Oh, I see…” Three paused, thoughtful at Eli’s insight. “I…can’t work that out just by looking at the evidence of the corpse, like I can with the marks of torture.”

Eli held his gaze for a moment then turned away.

“Well. It’s not your mother,” Marko said gently. “I do wonder where the other leg goes—this must be the groin. But let’s continue up the spine to the belly,” he said pointing to the centre of the enclosure where another tube fed up into darkness.

---

Marko was right, and Uthar soon stepped out into the stomach. The way above was blocked by densely packed rubble that filled the spine, stopping any further ascent. Two curtained rooms led off on either side, oil trailing from the one to the left.

Marko cautioned silence and listened hard but heard nothing. “If it’s sealed here this must be the heart of the beast, or there must be another way up. It sounds open to the left,” he pointed, pulling free his rapier but getting no warning.

Eli, not wanting to leave a room unexplored behind, pulled the curtain on the right aside. Inside was a tranquil sleeping area, the walls lined with wooden bunk beds draped in green and purple quilts. Motes of dust drifted with a peculiar languidness and, shockingly, a woman slept in one of the beds. “I can see a people!” Eli hissed. He charged inside the room, sword drawn.

The woman lay deathly still, breathing, but barely. Her skin was very pale matching her cropped platinum white hair. She didn’t rouse with Eli’s approach, and Eli suddenly realised that his footsteps were silent. “Pssst,” he hissed, but there was no sound. He knew this game; he gestured instead to Uthar who stood on the threshold.

Uthar stepped inside, watching the woman curiously, noting the absolute silence that room. She appeared to be human though her skin was near translucent.

“I would back out of that room,” Three said as he watched on. “It has been silenced to stop her power.”

Eli and Uthar heard not a word, but both yawned widely, shaking their heads to stay awake and eyeing the beds keenly. Three saw what was happening and stepped quickly into the room, grabbing their shoulders and dragging them out. “I suspect that creature has an effect or spell, like a banshee, and they’ve tried to silence her,” he warned.

“That lovely lady?” Eli said, feeling himself wake up.

“I’m not sure if she is but someone is dampening the area because she is dangerous.”

“Is she asleep?” Sifer asked.

“Yes, deeply,” Uthar nodded.

“Then let’s move on, she’s going nowhere.”

Marko wasn’t so sure. He stood at the doorway and watched her deep breathing.

“I advise against this,” Three warned, knowing Marko.

“What is our aim here?” Sifer added.

“Well she lives here,” Marko said.

“Could I remind you that in 12 seconds I was almost killed by the thing in front of us? Can we focus on the game at hand and make sure we don’t open up two fights? If this one’s safe can’t we just move forward?”

“Do we know she’s safe?”

“We’re not sure but I think something has been done to her so she can’t hurt people,” Three said.

“I agree. This is a prison,” Sifer nodded.

“Then shouldn’t we try and rescue her?” Marko said.

“Is she the enemy? Or the enemy of our enemy?” Uthar wondered. “She’s not evil, nor good,” he added, sensing her aura.

“There is something odd here, Mister Marko,” Three said. “She is undead or unearthly in some way. Maybe a ghost, though she seemed corporeal.”

“Might she be causing the silence and sleep?” Eli asked to a shrug.

“Again I remind everyone that the creature we are up against seemed to have significant power over us,” Sifer stressed. “We know where this is and it seems to be under control. Can we return after we have dealt with the bigger threat?”

“We should secure the area first,” Uthar said, walking to the other room. He pulled the curtain to reveal a workshop. Fine tinkering tools, woodcarving equipment, and metal plates hung from hooks above a stone table and crowded counters. In one corner a faucet juts from a tall steel vat, oil dripping slowly into a pool below. The opposite corner has collapsed, allowing access to a tunnel beyond. A rivulet of greymatter fluid oozed across the floor and down the tunnel.

“So that’s the source,” Sifer said. “Don’t touch it!”

“There is way more oil than makes sense given the size of that vat,” Three frowned.

“Do you think the oil is like blood?” Marko asked.

“It is not blood,” Eli said with certainty. “It is a machine product. It is some abomination that is being devised to connect the souls of these various—”

“Do they have souls?”

“All I know is if you touch that you will turn into one of those creatures below,” Sifer interjected. “It is a source of abomination.”

“Soul blood,” Marko decided.

Eli frowned, then tried the faucet, winching it closed as best he could, though he could not close it off entirely. He looked for a tap washer in the bench but found only cogs and sprockets.

Sifer tried to put together the two rooms and the antigravity chambers. “Perhaps the sleeper was an operator? Who is here in stasis, waiting to be awoken? She is a part of the machine.”

“Are you saying that that these are just machines, not automatous? They’re like a…mill?”

“I don’t know,” Sifer said looking Eli in the eye, “But you said you thought they might have a soul.”

“As if a ghost was put within a machine,” Three mused.

“That would make me rest easier,” Eli said. “If the soul, properly constructed by our lord almighty from on high—”

“And that’s why I’ve mentioned it to you Eli,” Sifer interrupted for the second time. “This is the soul, not what we are facing. They are the enemy—they aren’t the soul.”

Eli’s found his insight lost again, led astray by Sifer’s words.

Uthar stepped through the room, careful to avoid the stream of oil, and glanced down the corridor beyond. At the bottom of a steep incline were three more bodies shoved into the turn, again an orc, human, and halfling.

“How long have they been dead?” Marko asked, heading down.

“Let me go first!” Uthar said hustling ahead. As he reached the bend in the corridor he stopped suddenly. At the foot of the sloping cavern beyond a soldier in the uniform of those dead below stood pacing nervously. On seeing Uthar the figure smiled with relief and waved, shouting, “Oh, praise be! Please, help me find my comrades!”

Uthar didn’t move, holding his ground as the figure ran toward him.

“It’s undead!” Three’s voice warned from behind.

“I’m not undead?” the figure cried, now only feet away. “I’m Chandry! My comrades are inside Landro, help me find them!”

Uthar’s hand went to his sword as Three stepped his side. “Kelemvor turns you!” he cried. The man staggered to a stop, fear on his face, then turned and ran. Uthar jogged after it to the far end of the chamber. “Save them, save them,” the ghost kept crying as it ran.

“What help do you want?” Uthar called.

“My companions, I need to be reunited with them, they are inside,” the man sobbed, still running.

Eli turned to Three. “Is this the way to send their souls to the beyond?”

“My main intention was to make sure none of our souls get sent to the beyond, until we know what is happening. You can never be more careful than when dealing with undead,” Three cautioned.

“Wait. Are their souls more important than ours?”

“Their souls are gone.”

“They’re not gone, because it’s still hovering here?”

“There is something odd with this creature in that it has a distant memory, talking of Landro. But as a general rule, undead are husks.”

“Ghost in the machine, Eli,” Sifer explained.

Uthar agreed with everything Three was saying, but kept his sword sheathed. He waved Three back so the ghost would stop retreating, allowing Marko to approach.

“Chandry…what was your role here, in this automaton?”

“We…we were soldiers! We fought the War! We—” The man suddenly vanished as he stepped through a narrow gap in the cavern wall, cutting off his words.

“I had more questions!” Eli cried, thwarted again.

Marko stepped forward into the large cave, which had a single exit lower down. In one corner was a deep pool of the grey oil, glittering oddly. “Come in,” Marko called to the company as he advanced toward the pool, finding bones and battered armaments littering the cave floor around the pool. The weapons and armour were warped, twisted and malformed, some as if they had been melted. The pool was studded with chips and shards of brightly coloured gemstones.

---

Eli was first to Marko’s side. “Step back,” he warned, not liking what he saw. He glanced toward the lower passageway, hearing something. Marko turned too, hairs on the back of his neck raised. It sounded like an animal—a large animal—scratching and snuffling. “Good idea, let’s back up.”

“In a nest,” Eli said, swallowing.

Behind them Three was startled when the ghost reappeared behind him. “Oh, praise be! Please, help me find my comrades!” Three spun to face the man as it ran toward him. “I’m Chandry! My comrades are inside Landro, help me find them!”

Three grabbed the shoulder of the man. “Kelemvor take you!” he growled softly but impassioned. The ghost, for Three was now certain of what it was, vanished again. Three felt for the grace of release, but there was nothing; he was unsure if the ghost had been taken or would return to repeat its haunt.

Marko and Eli re-joined the company and explained what lay ahead. “It sounds like something very large,” Marko warned.

“Unlike our sleeping beauty, this one we have to deal with,” Sifer nodded.

“The probability is that if there is a big monster in there, it’s the one that’s got our thing,” Eli agreed.

“So Marko?” Sifer said.

“One thing first,” Marko said, pulling a hanky from his pocket. As the company watched on with growing astonishment, he folded it carefully to form a net, then attached it to the end of a one-foot pole he drew from his jacket. When he was happy with his work, he allowed the pole to extend until it was a full ten-foot long.

“I’ve got one of those too!” Eli gasped.

No-one had any idea what Marko was up to, until he walked quietly down to the pool. He lowered the rod over the grey liquid and positioned it over one of the gem shards, then lowered the ‘net’ to try and fish it out.

“I thought it was a flag of surrender and he was going to go and parlay with the beast,” Eli said with astonishment.

Sifer shook his head ruefully and nocked an arrow. Eli followed suit.

As the handkerchief touched the pool it started to vibrate rapidly, pulling the rod toward the pool, wanting more, wanting to be drenched it its glory. Marko did his best to pull it free, but instead the hanky started to hum with high-pitched ravenous hunger which echoed around the cavern.

“Not Three this time,” Sifer groaned, loading a second arrow.

As the hum grew, the snuffling animal sounds suddenly stopped.

“Oh Marko,” Eli groaned.

From the lower corridor came the sound of rumbling footsteps. Moments later a monstrous beast that resembled a bear with three long, fleshy tentacles sprouting from its skull emerged, roaring furiously. Each tentacle is topped with a glowing, knobby lump of flesh.

---

“If we burst those blisters it might react kindly to us?” Eli said hopefully.

“That seems likely,” Uthar grunted.

“Idris! Fireball!” Marko cried.

---

The Jaw of Victory

Eli reacted faster than Idris, spraying both shots wide.

“I don’t like this ranged Eli,” Idris said as he finally cleared his throat and came back to life.

“Alright!” Eli snapped glaring at Idris and then sprinting across the cave to meet the grotesque bear face-to-face.

“Why are you doing that!” Three cried, “I guess the fireball is off the menu!”

Eli was too busy regretting his wild approach to heed Three another critique: “There are two of them!” he cried.

“Ohhh, ok,” Uthar groaned.

“Kelemvor!” Three cried, landing a blight on the visible bear, hoping it would have extra effect given the bear appeared to be part-plant part-animal. The tentacles writhed and shrunk.

“I think you’ve made it angry,” Eli yelled. Sifer grimaced as he swelled with fighting spirit, then pinned the bear thrice with arrow-work. Eli swelled with pride as his companions went to work and the bear in front of him lurched.

Idris finally returned to the fray, not a moment too soon. “Eli—where?!”

“Fifteen feet beyond me, behind the boulder!”

With a precision that had been missed by the company, Idris landed a fireball (as commanded) atop the huge boulder. Flames cascaded down and into Eli’s bear, and a roar from beyond signalled both were now charred.

Eli basking in the foul warmth of the remnant fireball, looked the bear in the eye, emanating one thing: compassion. Unfortunately the bear didn’t understand the concept. It loomed up and stunned Eli with a return gaze that promised only bad things. Eli collapsed under the shock, unable to speak, unable to move. The bear growled with ravenous hunger and wrapped it’s foul jaw around Eli’s chest, flipping him like a rag doll.

A moment later the second bear reared around the corner and grabbed the other half of Eli, the two bears working together to try and tear him in two. The look on Eli’s face meant he was either deep in thought or close to death—it was the same either way.

Uthar charged forward, terrified that Eli wouldn’t make it. He buried his sword deep, adding all the wrath he could muster into the smiting blow. The bear recoiled from the glowing blade, releasing Eli in the process and spraying Uthar in blood as he smote again with divine fury.

Marko popped up from behind Uthar and drove his rapier into the shuddering beast who was staggering now. Three dropped a strike of flame, his final big spell, between the two bears. The first bear finally succumbed to the focused barrage, dropping in a heap.

Sifer jumped further into the cave to sight the second bear, taking a moment to ensure his strikes hit hard. Alas it hit Uther hard, full in the back, as Sifer stumbled on the detritus near the pool.

Idris shook his head before turning his attention to Eli. The air rippled around the young Orc as Idris snatched him from the jaws of the bear, transporting him through the nether to reappear at Three’s feet. The bear roared in fury. Idris, smirking, fired off a casual firebolt toward the bear, but in his triumph he too misdirected it into the unfortunate Uthar.

Eli looked up at Three, barely alive. “Thank you, father,” he croaked. It was Three’s turn to be stunned.

Uthar, smarting from the two friendly strikes, was surprised by the remaining bear’s sudden approach. Like Eli before him, it tore through his armour, foul teeth wrenching chunks of virgin flesh. Uthar staggered, going from healthy to on death’s door in an instant.

“Get away!” Eli cried weakly, seeing Uthar’s innards in the same way he could see his own.

But that wasn’t Uthar’s style. Despite being on the precipice of death, he stepped forward to the mutated bear. He smote it with all his remaining strength, then uttered a silent prayer to his companions, for his life was now in their hands. Either it would die or he would, and he was at peace with that.

Marko reappeared drenched now in blood from Uthar, Eli, and the bear. He thrust his rapier into the beast, bursting pustules that lay along its belly.

Eli clambered to his hands and knees, his legs steel springs, and ran. Ran forward, ran to be by Uthar’s side, ran for his life. He pounded the bear first with his sword, revelling in the shower of necrotic blood, not wanting it to die yet. He spun and flung a roundhouse to the bears slavering jaw, before leaping atop its head and wrapping his thighs around the bear’s gargantuan neck. Using his momentum he pivoted on his thigh pincer to wrench the creature’s head clean from its shoulders, the body slumping to the ground as Eli screamed like a banshee at the head lying at his feet. He pounded it with his fists, again and again and again, huffing a stream of unrepeatable curses as he beat it into an unrecognisable pulp.

Sifer looked askance at his erstwhile companion, not recognising what Eli had become. Three too was concerned, and he quickly moved to Eli’s side, healing both he and Uthar with the last of his power. “Shh, Eli, stop…stop, calm down, enough now…”

Feeling the touch of Three, and the healing words, Eli finally stilled his hands with a gasping sob and collapsed, physically and spiritually drained. It was over.

---

Sifer organised everyone. There was no question now that recovery was required before continuing. The two point men were down, Three was out of spells, and everyone was on edge. “Idris, scout the south entrance, I’m going north.” He found it opened to shrouded daylight, and groaned when he saw an enormous nest lay just beyond the cave mouth. Idris meanwhile headed south, emerging into a narrow ravine that connected to the entrance cave via a steep, rocky path.

The bear nest was buried deep with remains of humanoids, animals, and a disassembled Warforged. It was foul, so the company made their own nest in the faux-shelter behind the boulder. Marko handed out what potions he had, and those that had their own chugged them down to recover.

Idris and Sifer reported back. “We should short rest. I’ve secured the north as far as I can see, and Idris the south. Anyone out there will assume there are still two insane bears in here and won’t approach.”

“That’s what I was thinking—no-one would come into this territory,” Three nodded

“You would be mad to,” Uthar agreed.

Three nodded. “But I need to get my spells back. We need more than a short rest.”

“This is a relatively contained space,” Eli muttered, “We can defend from here while we recover.” A moment later he was in a trance of his own making, eyes closed, utterly still. Three too rapidly slipped into his bedroll and passed out, hood down and jerky warming his belly.

“We have no choice. We just need to make sure we’re not attacked by mad Warforged,” Idris said prophetically.

---

Sifer and Marko stood guard while the wounded and drained did their best to rest. Somewhat to their surprise the first hour, and then the next, passed uneventfully. Sifer stayed on high alert regardless; his battlefield experience told him if a strike was to come it would come when least expected. “They come at night,” he muttered during a check in with Marko.

And lo that was precisely what happened. Midway through the third hour Marko heard a tumble of rubble from the south. “Sifer! Someone’s coming!” he hissed through the darkness. Sifer immediately kicked Three to rouse him before returning to his post. Three was quickly awake and moving. He put his hand over Eli’s mouth and woke him, Eli’s hands shooting out to grab Three’s wrist before realising who it was. Eli had only had a short sleep before settling into a meditation, so he was instantly alert. He tapped Uthar on the shoulder—then flicked his ear when he saw how deeply he slumbered—and continued on to wake Idris as he moved to Marko’s side.

“Footsteps, not sure of direction, but inside the oil-pool cavern,” Marko whispered. Everyone had taken a position by his side, bar Sifer who maintained his watch north, all ears straining to pinpoint the location of the foe.

Nothing.

Sweat broke out on Marko’s brow as he waited. Had he been wrong? Was a simple rock fall?

And then a voice, metallic, like ragged steel being torn asunder.

“We were created to kill. And kill we shall.”

Marko flattened himself against the cave wall. “You’ve got a bit of a croaky voice there. Would you like some oil? There’s a big pool just here.”

“You jest? At the moment of your death? At a time like this? "

“A time like what?”

“When we rise to power! It is just like the flesh to be so ignorant of their fate!”

“What rises to power? The big machines?”

“We do! It is our time!”

“I think your time has passed,” Marko prodded.

“It appears not, fleshling. It is your time that has passed. We bring another Day of Mourning to each of the Five Nations!”

“What are you talking about you lunatic? What Five Nations?”

“Take them,” the voice commanded from the darkness. Sifer swore, hearing weapons being prepared from the north corridor. So too from the southern chamber: crossbows being notched and blades drawn.

“Last stand!” Sifer called, the time for quiet over. “Several to the north—assessment?”

“At least half-a-dozen, the cave echo is making it hard,” Idris called.

The rusted voice rang out once more. “Let the nations of the land reap what they have sown. It is not we who are disposable, it is you!”

“We are not from this land you fruitcake,” Marko snarled. “We have no idea what you are talking about!”

“Boring,” Idris muttered as he stepped into the cave-mouth and lifted his hands, hoping desperately not to be peppered with bolts. Moments later the cave and the northern corridor were bathed with the inky, slurping, sucking darkness of Hadar. The corridor was completely blocked, the cave half full of writhing tentacles.

Disappointingly there were no metallic cries, nor sounds of panic. Instead the voice continued it’s villainous monologue. “The void will not save you. We ally with one who, like us, has no soul, no flesh. We will allow him. And in return he grants us power.”

“No soul?” Eli spat. “No soul!” He ran up the cave wall, jumping to the next, until he was above the dome of Hadar. “Two south!” he called, quickly spotting two dark-red Warforged. To the east, on the far side of the cave, stood another. “Another east, and…” Eli trailed off.

Something far, far worse.

---

The Lord of Blades stood 12-foot tall, sheathed in brutal adamantine armour covered in piercing spikes. From the back of the armour jutted two huge, wing-like scythes, and he wielded a massive six-bladed weapon. He stood with arrogant intent, flanked by a the orange armoured Warforged who had so nearly killed Sifer.

“And the blade lord and friends!” Eli cried, dropping to the floor. As he did three bolts flew close, two missing and the other he caught and flung back at the surprised Warforged. Three micro-javelins followed in short succession, all three striking true.

“Back up!” Sifer called, having followed Eli to the ceiling and not liking what he saw any more than Eli did.

“I can get us out of here,” Idris said urgently.

“We want to fight them,” Marko said, just as urgently. “Take them on a group at a time and destroy them all. "

“That was my initial thought,” Eli said quickly, “But I don’t like the look of that guy.”

“We need to be at full strength,” Three agreed.

“We’ve got thirty heartbeats for you to make up your mind,” Idris urged, “Yes or no? Quick!”

“Ok!” Eli said. He wanted to rid the land of these accursed soulless machines, but realised now was not the best time to do so.

“Do it!” Three hissed.

“This is the last stand gentlemen—let’s get out of here,” Sifer said.

“Yes then,” Marko shrugged.

“Marko—pass me the Rod,” Idris said calmly. “I need to be able to see the destination so the darkness has to go.”

Sifer grabbed Idris and pointed north. “It’s clear this way if we can move past them. There were only two.”

“I’ll move us beyond the nest,” Idris nodded. “Both spheres will vanish, so we have to move fast.” Everyone gathered as Idris prepared. He dropped the writhing zones of death and a split second later lifted the rod as the two revealed Warforged lifted their weapons. “COELUM,” Idris intoned, and a sparkling, spiralling window of golden arcana appeared before the group. “Go!” Idris cried as a second portal appeared as far beyond the nest as he could sight.

The company blinked beyond, stumbling forward into a deep ravine edged by sharp sheer rock-walls. Worse still, an enormous Roc preened itself from within the nest, lifting its head curiously at the new arrivals. It sat upon a mottled gold-hued egg.

“What is this place,” Three groaned, remembering the case of Arlington Porter–Bainbridge who had famously died whilst trying to mount a Roc. According to Tarquin Rose’s legendary account, it was never determined exactly what kind of mount Porter-Bainbridge had attempted.

“We need the quickest way out of here,” Idris said softly, eyeing the bird nervously. The two Warforged had charged down the corridor out of sight.

“They’re gone!” a cry echoed from withing the cave complex. “Find them!”

“Damn,” Sifer grunted, seeing no easy exit. “There’s another cave entrance south which might be our only chance, but it is likely back into the fire. I don’t have any specific advice at this point. We are hidden here, but not for long.”

“Don’t do anything silly; we can wait,” Eli said as calmly as he could manage.

“We could, but I am thinking of something silly,” Sifer said. He looked up to the clouded sky above the towering 80 foot walls that lined the narrow ravine. “We could climb up this cliff.”

“I can fly,” Marko nodded. An inkling of hope was sparked; maybe there was a way out of here.

“This is the edge of the world,” Eli said shaking his head, but he too noticed what might be ledge atop the walls. “There’ll just be more forest, and further cliffs to climb, it doesn’t get us out of here but it might work.”

“We have two choices,” Idris said quickly, worried about the Warforged returning and finding the party dithering. “There’s the cave mouth or we’re going over the top. But we need to move now.”

“That cave doesn’t lead out,” Sifer warned.

“Then we go up,” Idris declared. Sifer moved immediately, sprinting up the tall wall. He could see the Warforged milling around the bear-den and waved everyone to follow. Marko flew and Eli wall-hacked, then Idris gave both Three and Uthar the same ability. “Go!” he cried and they both floated up, well accustomed to antigravity movement now. Moments later Idris followed suit.

Sifer reached the top first. In the caldera below the Warforged were emerging from the cave mouth, cautious of the Roc—but they weren’t looking up. The moved instead to the other cave mouth and vanished from sight.

“All they saw is a portal, and they don’t know where that portal went,” Sifer agreed. “They may think they’ve lost us for now.”

“I’m sure they do,” Eli said wryly. He scanned the small landing and was surprised to an arm of Landro as if resting along the narrow pathway. The arm had been severed at the elbow joint, creating a ragged opening back inside the giant Colossus.

“We can hide inside the arm,” Uthar said as he clambered up.

“Arm sounds good,” Three agreed.

“If we can keep flying higher, it might be good to get an idea what’s going on further up,” Idris countered. “There might be another entrance.”

“The head,” Marko nodded. “Go.”

Idris shot up again, making sure he wasn’t visible from the caldera, whilst the company retreated to the relative safety of the arm. A chest lay within on the rubbled ground, cracked open and overflowing with old armour and weapons. A ballista stood proud at the shoulderblades, pointing outward through openings created for the purpose.

Flying above, Idris saw that Marko had been right; the head of Landro lay ahead, embedded in Mount Ironrot. Better still, the jaw had been sheared off, leaving an open landing area inside. At the far end of the mouth, for that is what the chamber must be, was one of the glowing antigravity chambers.

“There’s a way up into the head,” Idris reported, landing. “And there’s no-one up there. So we either stay here and try to hunker down, or we head straight up into the head.”

“There are tracks here—footsteps from Warforged,” Sifer warned, “We can’t stay here.”

Idris refreshed the spells and everyone followed him to Landro’s head, just as the sound of Warforged approaching sounded from the chest-chamber beyond the arm.

The otherwise empty mouth was littered with the remains of mechanical contraptions that had been ripped apart and looted, leaving dangling cables and detritus.

“It makes sense to keep going up,” Idris said pointing to the neck antigravity chamber. “Once we go up we are at the top of Landro, leaving only everything below to search.”

Eli headed straight up, followed in short order by the rest of the company.

Marko was the last to rise, and just in time. From below he saw the orange-armoured Warforged racing toward him, shooting up the neck. Just before it reached him it was stopped by some invisible barrier, crashing into it was a grunt and cry of frustration. It battered into it again and again, but Marko remained out of reach, a shimmering barrier now in place where before there was nothing.

Marko grinned and floated down to stare the creature eye-to-eye. “I guess you soulless ones don’t get to come up here,” he taunted.

The Warforged cursed as it continued it’s futile pounding.

---

Eli emerged first and stopped in his tracks.

---

Dripping pipes and rusty chains hung from the fifteen-foot-high ceiling of a small chamber lined with four doors. Deep-red light coursed rhythmically through pipes which converged on a large object atop a circular dais.

A brain.

The oversized brain was made of pink ceramic, its surface is moulded with countless grooves that formed mesmerising patterns. A crack along the ceramic brain’s frontal lobe leaked a trickle of thin, grey liquid that pooled around the dais.

And floating above the brain, scattering light across the room, was a small, slender object: a piece of the Rod of Seven Parts.

---

---

Deities & Demigods

Marko immediately floated up toward the Rod, but before he could get close the pool of grey matter at the foot of the pulsing brain started to swirl and congeal, manifesting into a tall, lithe humanoid with glowing white eyes.

---

“I am Landro,” the figure said calmly, confirming Eli’s guess. “I have been watching you.”

“Well met, colossus,” Idris said.

“I am not the colossus, Landro is the colossus. I am Landro.”

“A manifestation of the mind,” Eli whispered to Three who was backing away slowly.

“Ohhh, this is the docent?” Three whispered.

“Do you control the body?” Sifer asked.

“I control the body. I control Landro. And I am Landro.”

“You are its mind and its motivating force then?” Idris probed.

“Yes.”

“And you have been watching us. What have you ascertained, Landro?”

“I have followed your journey through my body. Curiosity led me to allow you access here. But be warned; if you err, you will be annihilated.”

“…Thank you for the warning,” Idris said, eyeing his companions.

“I forbade the Warforged,” Landro continued, voice impassive. “They sought not to end the war, like I did, but to extend it indefinitely.”

“This particular group of Warforged. But not all of them have the same motivations. For our part, we are merely visitors seeking something. We shall leave this now peaceful land if indeed we can get that which we seek. Something that we hope you may be able to help us with.”

“Perhaps I can. As I followed you I saw that you did not attempt to kill the sleeper. You are the first. And I thank you.”

“The ghost below in the stomach,” Sifer guessed. If so, more good luck than good planning, he mused. “Tell me of the sleeper.”

“She was with me when I was deployed.”

“What is the sleeper’s purpose?”

“She sleeps. She did not survive.”

Three nodded knowingly.

“Was she like your driver or something?” Eli asked.

“No.”

“Has her entity been separated from a body?” Sifer said.

“Yes.”

“We saw another, a man.”

“All who manned me died.”

“And she was one of them. Why did you leave her sleeping and not the others?” Eli said.

“I was fond of her. I believe she played a part in my creation. The Warforged kill everything. I too was designed to kill everything to end the war.”

“Is that something you wish to continue doing, or is your job finished?” Idris asked.

“The war is over for me. I could never fulfil my mission as something went wrong when I was unleashed.”

“Are you aware of what the land around is like?”

“Only what I can see.”

“It continues for leagues in all directions. And we have learnt from those that dwell here that the war was indeed ended. So if that was your task it seems that—whether you know it or not—you accomplished it.”

“All are dead?” Landro asked, emotionless.

“No,” Three muttered.

“Most,” Idris said. “Some have come to repopulate these strange and barren lands. And the lands beyond are moving on with peacetime. Here it is mostly one or two bands of Warforged.”

“Is there some way we can assist to bring peace to this land?” Uthar said, intrigued. “Or do you believe there already is peace?”

“I cannot tell. I do know that the Warforged still seek violence. And if they are, perhaps there is no peace.”

“Not all Warforged,” Marko corrected.

“The Warforged that serve the Lord of Blades continue to wage their war,” Idris elaborated, “But there are other Warforged that we have met of late that have no wish to fight any more. They just want to get on with their lives—as was dictated in the Treaty.”

“If you wish to help in bringing peace,” Landro said to Uthar, “If follows that you must not fight.”

“Oh, we would very much like that.”

“Would you fight the Warforged?”

“We don’t want to, no.”

“They are pursuing us,” Sifer added. “They feel like they’re a disease inside your body. A body that is done with war.”

“Yes. I too feel that. I would have eradicated them, purged them, but I have no protection left. Only the protocols of this chamber.”

“I see,” Sifer said, hopes crushed.

Three stepped forward and pointed to the Rod. “That thing above you, was it always part of you?”

“That is the heart of Landro. Everything you see—protections, weapons, movement—is powered by it. And I control it all.”

“And who put it there?”

“The Cannith magicians. They created me, Landro, to end the war. They created Landro, an eldritch machine.”

“So when your job is finished, when there is no need for war whether peace or not, what would you do?” Three continued. “Do you go home? Do you power down?”

“I cannot leave. I am trapped here. You could help me.”

“How?” Uthar said.

“Free me.”

“And how can we free you?”

“I believe you have a docent. My consciousness can be transferred to such an object.”

Idris smiled as he pulled out the Rod and held it aloft, extracting the docent. It held like a strong magnet, but by channelling some arcanity he was able to separate the parts.

“That’s three promises,” Three muttered. “Mercy, Eli’s orcs, and now Landro.”

“It has no value until we put Landro in it,” Sifer said.

“It’s not empty,” Eli corrected, “There’s something else in it. What is going to happen to the thing already in there?”

“Maybe we should ask that question,” Uthar said.

Idris held the docent before Landro. “You would wish your mind to go into this docent, is that correct?”

“Yes. Then I would not be trapped.”

“And what would you do once you were there?”

“I would be in the docent.”

“And that would be satisfactory to you?” Uthar asked.

“Yes. I could seek out others.”

“Other…?” Sifer said.

“Others like me. I am curious if there are more.”

“That…may be of interest to Mercy, and hers,” Sifer said to Uthar.

“Who is Mercy?” Landro asked.

“Mercy is a Warforged who wishes for peace, and a better life,” Three explained.

“There are such Warforged? They do not fight?”

“We have met them. They want the land to heal.”

“I can help them.”

“I think you would be very well placed to do so.”

“I can lead them.”

Three paused. “I think they would welcome…a dialogue with you.”

“What do they seek?”

“Peace. Prosperity. A life. Similar to you—they wish to work out what is next.”

“Take me to them.”

Three nodded. “This docent that we have—that Mercy gave us—if we were to allow you to transfer, what happens to whatever is in there now?”

“I would dominate it.”

Three froze, glancing at Eli who frowned.

“Is that bad? Or is that something that your kind accepts?” Uthar asked. “We don’t know what’s in there.”

“I am greater than it so I would dominate it.” There was no passion or regret in Landro’s explanation, just fact.

“Before we get to the transfer,” Sifer interjected, “The present situation we’re in means we would have to fight our way out through unimaginable odds as soon as the barrier fell.”

“Yes.”

“That would be your end.”

“No necessarily.”

Eli had other ideas. “What if we fought them first and then did the docent? But before any of that I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Where’s my mother?”

“Who is your mother?”

“She looks a bit like me. She might have been kidnapped by those ones downstairs. You can see everywhere inside. Where is she?”

“The Warforged have killed everyone who has entered. You are the first who have not died.”

“That’s a blow,” Eli whispered, very still.

“You mother was one who entered?” Landro asked.

“She…we don’t…I…we thought maybe.” Eli paused. “Do you know how to kill that Blades guy?”

“Once I could have, now I cannot.”

“Not can you, do you know how to? What’s his weakness?”

“I have not observed one.”

“That’s not good,” Three muttered.

“There was one that looked like you. A woman.”

“That’s her!” Eli said, hopes suddenly roused.

“The Lord of Blades questioned her long.”

“And?”

“She did not tell her anything. The only one who did not.”

“Is that past tense? Or is she alive?” Three jumped in.

“I do not think she is alive but I do not know.”

“Where in your body would she be?” Sifer asked.

“She is not in my body.”

“She is outside?”

“She is not in my body.”

Idris looked to Eli. “That could just mean she’s been moved—and is still alive.”

Eli nodded slowly, sinking to his hanches deep in thought.

“Tell me. Why are you here?” Landro asked. “Why do you not fight?”

“Because we need that,” Idris said pointing to the floating Rod part.

“The heart. Landro’s heart. My heart.”

“We don’t see it as the heart,” Sifer said, “We see it as a part of the Rod Idris carries.”

Idris held the Rod up. “It belongs with this. The Cannith magicians harnessed its power to make you. It is not of here.”

“This is very interesting. I have been starved of knowledge since being trapped here. You say this that you carry, and this which is my heart, belong together. They are as one. And you say that the war is over.”

“Yes. It is. You ended it,” Idris nodded.

“How?”

“You sent out a plague across this land that destroyed it,” Eli said.

“I did that? So my goal was accomplished?”

“This is what we were told,” Idris said. “The same even that buried you in the mountain. It has been over two years since the land has been at peace. Don’t let the Lord of Blades and his Warforged distract you; the rest of this land is trying to get back to peace.”

“There are whole kingdoms that are at peace and doing daily business beyond these borders,” Three added.

“I would travel to them.”

“Well we can help. We can deliver you to Mercy, and Mercy can then travel throughout the kingdom with you.”

Before Landro could answer a cacophony of thumps and thuds echoed around the chamber as something pounded the outside again and again. It sounded like a rain of heavy rocks or fists.

“They have tried to get in here many times,” Landro explained.

Sifer waited for the hail to stop. “Landro, when you are severed from this body and inside the docent, does this give you potency that you can use in a different way to protect us?”

“No, I cannot. But you should know that Landro has a final defence that even I cannot control nor stop. A failsafe.”

“Oh no,” Three muttered.

“If you were to take the heart, a shutdown sequence will begin. You will have sixty seconds to evacuate, after which the colossus will self-destruct.”

Silence met this declaration, then everyone started speaking at once.

Idris’s voice rose above the fray. “Landro, is there a method of egress from your head that doesn’t involve us going down your neck?”

“No.”

“Then we should go down and we should cull the rest of these soulless husks,” Eli snapped, “Before we attempt anything as stupid as blowing this thing up.”

“I’m not confident we can do that,” Three sighed.

“Can you cycle the protective barrier fast? Allow them through one by one?” Sifer suggested. “We can’t take them all on at once.”

“I could.”

“How many are down there inside you?” Idris asked.

“Eight. And the Lord of Blades.”

“That’s not going to work.”

“What about this black liquid of which you are made,” Eli pointed, “Does it do any damage to the Warforged?”

“I do not believe so. It heals them.”

“Next idea: what are through these doors?” Sifer said, nodding to the four hatches at the rear of the room.

“Nothing now. Defenders, once, but they are gone, lost when I fought the initial wave of intruders.” The door suddenly slid silently open revealing empty chambers.

Sifer sighed, fast running out of ideas. “Landro. How would we get out of here, according to your mighty intellect?”

“The only way is down.”

“The sounds of assault from the outside are the sounds of futility then?”

“There is no way in but by the holes created when I was misdeployed.”

“We represent your salvation but we are backed into a corner,” Sifer growled.

“I have no way of helping you.”

Idris nodded. “If we were to rest here, Landro, is this area secure? Assuming we have an agreement? We will take you in the docent if you will give us the heart.”

“Yes, you are safe. And yes, I agree.”

---

Having rested, the company set about planning the escape.

“Just to confirm, once we take the third Rod piece, that triggers a sixty second self-destruct?” Uthar said to nods.

“Does the neck tunnel only go to one floor down?” Eli asked.

“No it went lower still,” Sifer said, “Below the mouth.”

“So we could go past that opening and past the Warforged.”

Sifer looked unhappy with that proposal. “There are too many, Eli. We would be dead before we got anywhere.”

“Landro are there still Warforged in your head?” Idris asked.

“Yes. Some left as you rested, but then returned.”

Idris shrugged, having spent much of the down time musing on the problem. “Three, or anyone, do you have a way of magically seeing without being physically present?”

Three nodded. “I can use clairvoyance, if Kelemvor will allow it.”

“Good, then all you need do,” Idris said, “Is after the shutdown of Landro has started you cast the spell to look outside, where we came into the head, as far away as you can up to five-hundred feet.”

Sifer suddenly saw what Idris was thinking and grinned. “Because we can use the Rod to go somewhere we can see! Even better place it at the foot of Landro!”

“The gate doesn’t have that range,” Idris said shaking his head. “Once you can see, we cast the Arcane Gate with the Rod and we fly through. We leave here and we are out.”

“The timing here is crucial,” Sifer said. “Does the shutdown start when Landro goes in the docent, or is it when the heart goes?”

“When you remove the heart,” Landro answered.

“And at the same time the shield on this room will disappear?”

“Yes.”

“When this happens will there be an obvious sign?”

“I do not think so, but it will be disabled. I also know the gravity wells will cease to function.”

“We could lure them into the column and then let it drop,” Eli said. He wasn’t ready to abandon Landro so quickly.

“Ha. Yes. But I wouldn’t be happy with that because there’s every possibility they could power themselves—and there were handholds. But we can hope the lack of magical levitation will slow them down.”

“And Landro, how long will it take you to enter the docent?” Idris asked.

“Instant.”

Idris was excited. “Then we are good to go! This all needs to happen in rapid succession but we can do it. Three casts his eye, empowers the gate, someone grabs the Rod, someone else transfers Landro, and we leave.”

“What about my mother?” Eli said flatly.

“Landro has already said your mother is not inside!”

“How big will the explosion be?”

“Huge. I am over three-hundred feet tall. My magics are more powerful than any that have come before. Nothing will remain,” Landro reported plainly.

“Idris. Five-hundred feet is not far enough. Given we have to go three-hundred feet down.”

“If we can fly we can just go out.”

“I can’t fly.”

“I can make you fly. I did it for Three, I can do it for you.”

“It’s not far enough!”

“You know what? I’ll take my chances rather than fighting the Lord of Blades and his army,” Idris growled.

Eli dropped his head. “So my mother will be killed by this.”

“We don’t know that your mother is here.”

“No. And until we find out, I suggest an alternative approach.”

“Eli I am all ears.”

“Let’s go downstairs and kill these soulless contraptions. And then find my mother.”

“We cannot kill the Lord of Blades.”

“Why?! Why do you say that?!”

“Because I see what he is made out of. I’ll be stunned if we can even damage him.”

Eli was equally stunned by this declaration. “He’s made out of metal!”

“He’s made out of adamantine. That is a completely different story.”

“Uthar has been hurt and he wears the same. He was pissing blood not long ago.”

“There is flesh and blood inside here,” Uthar said tapping his breastplate. “I’m not sure the same is true of this Blade Lord. I’m not saying it’s impossible but I’m siding with Idris.”

“We can give it a go,” Sifer interjected, briefly giving Eli hope before removing it. “Because we can withdraw and drag your lifeless corpse in here with us.”

“You would die for your mother?” Landro said in the silence.

“Yeah,” Eli grunted.

“This is not something I am familiar with.”

“Well that is because you are a soulless machine, an artifact created by humans.”

“I have no soul?”

“Correct.”

“Are you sure?”

“You said yourself you were made by wizards! Last time I checked only god made souls.”

“Could not the wizards have inserted a soul inside me?”

“You said they made you, not that they ‘inserted’ anything,” Eli snapped.

“The distinction is invalid.”

“Well where did they get the soul?”

“I do not know. But that does not mean it is not true. I know that I am Landro. Does that not mean that I have a soul?”

“I don’t know,” Eli said sulkily, “But if you are not familiar with dying for your mother then I’m guessing maybe not.”

“I did not know a mother. Maybe the sleeper is my mother?”

“Maybe the sleeper is. Perhaps we should rescue her too?”

Idris shook his head, seeing no easy resolution. Desperate times called for desperate measures. “Eli, there is something else we can try. Three? Take the Rod.”

Three did so, gingerly, having not held the powerful artefact before. He could feel the latent energy surging through the two parts, and wondered at how that power would be contained when the Rod was whole.

“This is important,” Idris continued, “The word to empower it is RUAT. When you speak it you will be able to ask Kelemvor three questions. You can ask him if Eli’s mother is inside Landro.”

Eli’s eyes widened. “Why not just ask if she is alive?!”

“He can ask that too.”

“Why don’t we just ask if these things have souls?”

“That’s not important!” Sifer burst out to a frown from Eli.

“To who?”

“Remain focussed on the mission.”

“I feel that I am, thank you for your advice,” Eli grumbled.

“The greater soul question? That’s personal stuff to you. We need to get out of here once we find out if your mother is alive.”

“It sound like we have a difference of opinion. And we have a spare question.”

“Just tell me the questions,” Three said, “And I will ask.”

Idris nodded. “One: Is Eli’s mother alive? Two: Is she within the body of Landro?”

“Landro told us she’s not,” Sifer protested.

“Just find out if she is alive!” Eli groaned.

“What else?” Three asked.

“Do these Warforged have souls?”

“No!” Sifer protested. “Is she alive? If yes, is she within 1500 feet of here.”

“And third?”

“Will she be killed if this thing explodes?”

“You can’t ask that—gods are not omniscient,” Idris said. “Just ask about the souls,” Idris shrugged with a glance at Sifer. “You are the one that is so concerned about this Eli, so ask it. The multiverse be damned.”

“Idris, I have wronged you,” Eli acknowledged. “I have been short with you these few minutes, and you are, as always, wise and correct. We shall ask god these questions.” He glanced to Three. “God help us that the effrontery to god to speak directly to Him will not be a mark against us as we make our final pleas to enter His realm upon our death.”

---

Three dropped to his knees and laid the Rod before him. He started his prayers, seeking the path to Kelemvor before speaking the word: “RUAT”

It was hard work and before long sweat dripped down his torn face. But then the way was shown to him and he stood before his god. He had never spoken so directly and so freely and his focus was immense.

“Is Eli’s mother alive?” he whispered, reinforcing the message with his impression of Eli’s deep connection to his mother.

Inside his mind an answer formed. It was not spoken with any voice, nor was it clear from whence it arrived. But the message he heard had a ringing clarity. With his eyes still closed, Three intoned the answer to the company: “She is alive, but I don’t know in what condition.”

Eli froze. Could it be?

“Is she within 1500 feet of this place?” Three asked. Again the answer arrived. Eli saw Three frown before he spoke. “Um she…he…my interpretation is that she is not within that distance. So she has gone somewhere.”

Eli put a hand to the wall of Landro to steady himself as Three continued.

“Will we succeed?”

“Will we succeed at what?” Eli burst out. What was Three asking? Why had he changed the question?

Three opened his eyes. “Why can’t a god just give you a simple…he said if we are strong we will succeed, or something like that.”

“I thought it was yes or no?” Eli pressed.

“It’s not direct! It’s an image in my head!”

“So you are interpreting it?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Are there other interpretations that could be drawn?”

“Oh. Well. I guess so. But my interpretation is that she is alive and outside the space I spoke of. Kelemvor is saying that she isn’t in his realm.” Three was covered in sweat. “That was not easy. But Eli: she is alive.”

Eli nodded slowly. “Thank you Father Cooper, for your prayers. Let’s blow up these evil machines.”

“Not you Landro,” Sifer smirked.

Landro turned to Three. “What is it you were doing?”

“I was trying to get information from the god I worship.”

“You have a god? And you worship that god?”

“Yes. I do.”

Landro turned next to Eli. “And you have a god? That you worship?”

“I do,” Eli said warily.

Landro paused. “Can I worship these gods?”

“You can do what you please.”

“Anyone can worship a god,” Three added.

“Can you worship a god without a soul?” Landro asked.

“You can pretend to,” Eli said.

“How will I know if I am pretending or if I am?”

“If god answers you.”

“Does god answer you?”

“Yes.”

“Some of us have a connection with their god, some of us don’t,” Sifer corrected.

“Have you?”

“They say I do.”

“Does this god answer you?”

“I don’t ask.”

Landro turned back to Eli. “Then how can I know? Perhaps the god does not answer but that does not mean I do not have a soul.”

“Then you have to have faith,” Three interjected. “Many people worship gods and never speak to them. There are some who are blessed, like Eli and myself, who have a communion. But there are many still worship and follow the rules and commandments of their god, who try to do whatever that god embodies. Most that we worship are to do go, or in my case to help people move into the afterlife. But there are many gods and there are many worshippers. You can worship out of faith alone and never know if that god is hearing.”

Landro absorbed this for a moment before continuing. “Am I a god?”

“No,” Eli said quickly, wanting to show Three what he had learned. “No. You’re not a god. But you can worship and god will listen to you even if you don’t hear anything back. And god will take your needs and desires and wants into consideration and you will be accounted for in the great accounting of things that are accounted.”

“The Cannith magicians worshipped me. Maybe I am a god.”

“No. No.”

“When you say they worshipped you—why did you think that?” Three asked.

“I was their ultimate creation.”

“Humans don’t create gods. Gods create you,” Eli said.

“Did they subjugate themselves before you?” Three added.

“They did. They prayed to me. Prayed for success in the war. They died to create me. Died for me.”

“What? How?” Eli blustered.

“Do gods have a soul?” Landro said.

“It is believed that some gods do because they were once human. Once mortal,” Three said.

“If I do not have a soul, and I was worshipped, then I am a god.”

“Do you know everything?” Eli challenged.

“Do all gods know everything? You have just told me that your god did not know the answer to the questions you asked. And you said they are not omniscient,” Landro said nodding to Idris.

“No…the god knows the answer, just does not always share the answer clearly,” Three said. He was surprised to find Landro’s questions somewhat challenging to answer—there was intelligence here.

Marko wanted to shut down Landro’s growing confidence. “What sort of god needs a protective shell?” Marko said, tapping the walls of the chamber.

“I am protecting you,” Landro said simply.

“Really?”

“Would you like me to let them in?”

“I think they’ll hurt you more than they’ll hurt me,” Marko growled.

“No, no, this is going the wrong way,” Sifer interrupted urgently.

“Landro,” Idris tried, “I am not a worshipper of gods, although I acknowledge they exist. One thing I have gleaned from those that do is that if you were a god you would know.”

Landro considered this. “Is it not possible that a god has lost their followers, and therefor does not know? Could it not be that when I am introduced to your friend Mercy that they will follow me as a god? And I will know.”

“This is something to ruminate on at another time,” Sifer urged, “We mere mortals do not have the answer to these questions.”

“One thing I do know, Landro,” Idris said, “Is that gods who no longer have worshippers die.”

“Then I must have some.”

Idris sighed. “I think that’s something you will need to discover for yourself.”

Three shook his head with a mixture of wonder and worry. Landro was dangerously close to something. “Well one thing that is apparent, Landro: if you go into the docent we will soon know whether you are a god.”

“Why?”

“Because then Mercy will worship you.”

“I am ready.”

---

Idris organised the company for the departure. “We need to get five-hundred feet vertically out, as far away from Landro as we can get.”

“I understand,” Three nodded. “I use clairvoyance to find that spot, then we create the exit portal there.”

“And I will make sure everyone can fly as we’ll be in mid-air hundreds of feet above ground. It will take something out of me but I can do it. Do it, Three. We’ll have ten minutes once it is ready.”

Three spoke the spell, and a moment later he was seeing as if floating above the fog below. His stomach lurched before he steadied. “Done.”

“Now the portal,” Idris said. He got busy casting his own round of spells, applying flight to each.

“COELUM", Three muttered, and a sparking gate shimmered into existence, wide open sky visible through the portal.

“Three can go now if you want to,” Idris said. “Marko, Three, and I will do they other steps.”

“No way,” Eli said.

“I’m waiting,” Sifer agreed.

“I’m waiting too,” Uthar confirmed, “We need to do the docent and I want to see that.”

“Very well. Landro—do you set off the self-destruct?”

“No. I do not control it. It will begin when you remove the heart.”

“We need to have someone ready to take it,” Sifer warned. Idris floated up to hover next to the rod, passing the docent to Sifer.

With military precision Sifer checked with everyone in the room to ensure they were ready, then turned to Landro. “When you’re ready.”

“You are ready? I will not be able to speak to you after I have changed.”

“Hop in,” Eli said.

“You will take me to Mercy.”

“We will,” Uthar promised.

“Goodbye.” Landro vanished and the docent shuddered in Sifer’s hand, as if there were a turmoil within.

“Leave,” Idris said. Everyone gathered at the portal but no-one stepped through. Idris sighed and in a flash grabbed for the Rod part. In an instant he was flung into the upper wall of the chamber as a mental shunt flooded through him. “Someone else take it!” he cried in a panic.

Eli zoomed up and reached for the Rod. He too was thrown free as if as his mind roiled with chaotic force. “Anyone but Three, he’s busy!” he gasped.

Marko jumped up toward the Rod but the result was the same: thwacking into the shell of Landro as if shocked.

“Take this,” Sifer said, passing the docent to Uthar. He leapt into the air and wrapped his hand around the Rod. It shuddered in his hand for a moment before he pulled it free of the force that held it.

“SIXTY SECONDS UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT”

Landro shuddered and heaved as the voice boomed. From below the Warforged were yelling in calm panic as the mountain rocked.

“FIFTY SECONDS UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT”

“Go! Go!” Idris cried.

“FORTY SECONDS UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT”

Everyone leapt through the portal, appearing in an instant above the roiling fog of the Mournland. “Close the gate!” Idris called to Three, who snapped it out of existence.

“Fly you fools!” Idris cried as he sped fast away from Landro. He spun to watch the end of the last colossus. The mountain shuddered, huge boulders dropping and sheets of rock-face sliding free. The roc suddenly appeared, swooping away with its precious egg nestled in its gigantic claws.

The rumble of the mountain collapsing echoed through the lands, and a moment later the entire side of Mount Ironrot imploded, sucking inward before exploding in an enormous conflagration. A glinting metallic figure shot free of the explosion before being engulfed by the detritus of the blast.

“The Lord of Blades,” Marko swore as everyone was thrown forward as the shockwave hit.

Landro was gone.

But the Rod was safe.

---

The company returned to land as the flying spell dissipated.

“To Ialos?” Idris asked to nods.

“And do we want to connect the new piece of the Rod?” Sifer asked.

Idris drew the Rod and held the third segment toward it. With a gentle thunk the new part knitted neatly with the first two. The end of this new section was finished with a circular socket, simpler in design than the more complex joins thus far.

Without the Rod to point the way, the journey back to Ialos was longer than hoped, but eventually Marko found a familiar ridgeline and soon the village was in sight.

As it resolved from the fog Sifer called for a stop. “Something’s wrong,” he said quietly. Lying on the outskirts of Ialos were the remains of several fallen Warforged. He stepped carefully forward finding more; broken bodies, limbs torn from torso, heads crushed. Sifer sighed. He had seen this scene before.

“Oh no,” Marko said, pointing. Mounted on the statue at the centre of the square was the body of Mercy, arms spread, head slumped. A vicious spear was embedded through Mercy’s chest, pinning the remains.

“That simplifies things,” Eli said quietly, kneeling by one of the fallen. Like the bodies in Landro, there was a sense that whatever killed these creatures had enjoyed it. There was too much violence; the bludgeoning was carried too far, the piercings to disable before killing—and no sign of any fallen from the other side. “They did this last night,” he mumbled.

“You’re right,” Sifer agreed, “It’s recent, and of course they did.” He put his back to the wall of a building and scanned, preparing for a further attack. It was quiet, almost peaceful, which made him all the more wary.

Marko clambered up the statue and stared up at Mercy. The colourful materials still hung limply from the upper reaches of the statue, Mercy added like a sorrowful extra. “Can we do anything about this?” he said lifting Mercy’s hand and placing it on his heart.

“I can’t heal her,” Three shook his head, “I really am over Eberron.”

“Have you tried?” Idris asked. He was shaken by the massacre, even more so by the sight of Mercy so defiled. “Can’t you raise the dead?”

Three nodded and walked over to Mercy. He bowed his head, finding Kelemvor, then lifted it to focus on Mercy. He tried his best to think of her as a living, breathing soul, one that needed to be returned.

But there was nothing. Nothing to connect to, nothing to return.

“I cannot. There is no connection,” Idris said looking to Idris and noting his eyes were ice-cold seething blackness.

“Try again!” Marko insisted, clutching Mercy’s hand still.

Three shook his head. “When you do this exercise, this piece of worship, it either works or it does not. There is no in-between.”

“It’s not a being,” Eli said, “Forget about it Mister Marko. They got their answer.”

“I think spirit, souls, whatever—it is what we believe in,” Marko said softly. “So–do you believe?”

“No,” Eli said flatly. “These machines are broken.”

Marko dropped his head. There had to be a way. He did not believe they were just machines.

Seeing Marko and Idris’s obvious distress, Three had a sudden thought. “Perhaps…if we use Landro’s docent?”

“Yes!” Marko cried, a spark of hope lit. He started removing some of the cloth from the status, wrapping it almost reverently around Mercy.

Uthar pulled the docent from his belt, feeling the inherent power within. He held it aloft, close to Mercy’s body. The docent floated free from his hand and hovered in front of Mercy’s head, waiting.

“We need to open it,” Three said, “We saw in the cellar that it sits within their skull. Mister Marko you might have the skills to open and replace the old one?”

Sifer pointed to the windmill, intrigued despite his wariness. “There’s a workshop in there.”

---

Marko, Uthar, and Eli carried the body into the stone remains, laying the body on a wooden bench. Marko pulled out his tools and carefully went to work, opening the metallic hatchway he found on the back of the head with ease. Unlike the other fallen Warforged, inside Mercy there was an sealed housing, docent sized, that was like a miniaturised version of the ones found in the war-collossi.

Idris had watched all this with focused quiet, but he had seen enough. “What are we doing?” he said coldly.

Three looked surprised. “She’s dead, so we’re going to place Landro in there, and revive her. And give Landro a life.”

“But that’s not Mercy,” Idris hissed, “That’s Landro.”

“Yes, but it allows—”

“That’s not Mercy! Use another body if that’s your intent!”

“Mercy is gone and Landro wanted to go to Mercy. He can live in a corporeal form,” Sifer shrugged.

“No! If you are going to swap everything that was Mercy for Landro then use another body,” Idris repeated.

Eli rolled his eyes. He wanted no truck with anything that was being done. He stalked off down the stairs to the ossuary. He was surprised to find them all untouched, expecting similar brutality.

Upstairs Marko held his hand up for calm. “I believe they will combine to be something better. I don’t know why, I just believe it to be true.”

Idris shook his head. “That’s like saying you and Sifer combined would be ‘better’.”

“I believe,” Marko stressed, holding Idris’s gaze.

“I was a person who worshipped one god, and now worship another,” Three said. “And I still exist.”

“But you’re still you. You weren’t forced together with another.”

“I was someone else, then through alchemy I was created into a different person.”

Idris glared at Three, then turned away, not wanting to watch. “Don’t take the docent out,” he muttered.

Marko sighed then stepped over to Mercy. With great care he managed to open the housing. Inside was an dormant docent, all colours drained from the embedded crystals. He reached in and with delicate fingers withdrew the inert sphere, slipping it into his pocket with subconscious sleight-of-hand.

As Marko worked, Idris started to speak softly in what sounded like a chant or meditation, head bowed and eyes closed. Three strained to hear but Idris was speaking in Gith. Three started to tune out before snapping his gaze back: Idris had said “Kelemvor"?? It seemed impossible, but then he heard it again. He was praying to Kelemvor??

Marko swapped Landro’s docent to his hand and slipped into Mercy’s housing. He watched in awe as instant connections were made from the docent to the tangled mechanics within.

Idris’s eyes opened, and he saw it was done. His face dropped and he walked over to the stairway and slumped to the steps. Hearing this, Eli climbed back up, finding Idris wearing a thousand-yard stare. “What’s your problem?”

“Someone with whom I developed an unexpected bond is dead. And Marko is currently preventing any chance of that changing,” Idris spat.

“It had no soul,” Eli shrugged.

“Eli. Shut up. You are an ignoramus and you don’t know it has no soul! Leave me alone if that’s all you have to say!”

Eli laughed, surprising Three watching this exchange. It was unlike Eli to show so little empathy—but the vexed question of the Warforged soul had obviously changed something in him. He walked over to Idris and crouched, placing a consoling hand on his shoulder. “We have seen disabled docents before—Mercy herself had said they were no more. But Mister Marko can give you her docent, he has it in one of his pockets. If in your travels you can somehow fix it…all the power to you.”

Marko sealed the inner chamber taking pains to ensure everything was in order. As he closed the final panel on the outside of the head, Mercy’s eyes blazed with light.

She sat up. “I am Landro.”

Idris cursed as Three spun back. “Hello Landro.”

“You have freed me.”

“We have.”

“Where is Mercy?”

Three took a deep breath. “Unfortunately Mercy had been murdered. So we placed you in her body as a tribute. Which did not go well with some of us but we did know what else to do.”

“I…am Mercy?”

“You are,” Marko said, “In body.”

“The same way I was Landro. Mercy is not here? Where is she?”

“We have her docent, if you know how to repair it?” Three said. “Mister Marko?”

Marko pulled it from his pocket and showed it—but didn’t hand it over.

Landro turned his gaze. “If I were to give Mercy life…I would be a god.”

Uthar laughed nervously.

Three shook his head. “You would be on the path to godhood. It’s a pretty long path.”

“That’s not the point,” Marko scowled. “You’re missing the point, Landro.”

“No. I am a god.”

“You are a machine,” Marko stressed, his early revelation quickly fading. “Why do you think you’re a god?”

“You have taught me. I have transferred my being into another. I can create life. I am worshipped. I have great power. I am superior to all the other Warforged. Does that not make me a god?”

“Wait a moment—who is worshipping you?” Three countered. “Landro if you were able to revive Mercy and she worshipped you, then you might be on the path.”

“There is no question that she will. I will give her life.”

“How?” Marko asked.

“Through my godliness. You do not understand.”

Marko slipped his hand to his rapier. “Landro you are mortal.”

“I do not know that’s true,” Three muttered, and Uthar nodded.

“I am no mortal,” Landro said. “You are mortal. I was taught that mortals will die. But we will not.”

“So you can bring back Mercy?”

“In time. There are not supplies here to do so.”

“You can repair her docent?” Three said.

“Not repair. Give life.”

“Ok,” Three shrugged. Maybe Landro was right. Maybe that was enough to make a Warforged god.

Marko wasn’t ready to agree. “Explain,” he insisted.

“You would not understand. You could not understand: you are mortal, we are immortal.”

“I think Eberron is the place for you,” Three sighed.

Marko laughed, tension broken. “I think so too. And I think it’s not for us.”

“It’s definitely not for us.”

“You have my heart, as you wished?” Landro said. “And I have my freedom as I wished.”

“We have kept our promise,” Uthar nodded, “And you yours.”

“The bargain has been completed,” Three agreed.

“And I have learnt that I am a god. I have you to thank for that.”

“You’re welcome,” Uthar said nervously.

“Will you do good, Landro, in this god-forsaken place?” Three said.

“It was once god-forsaken, but now there is me.”

“That is true,” Three said, flabbergasted by Landro’s confidence. “May I bless you?”

“You may. You may worship me if you wish.”

“Fireball,” Marko muttered under his breath.

Three smirked. “No, I already worship another. But I do like the idea of blessing you in the name of the one I worship.”

“Yes. I welcome all gods to my realm.”

“Flamestrike,” Marko muttered.

Three did as he promised, giving his fullest prayer of worship and power to guide Landro on his path, urging Landro to raise the fallen docents and bring them to worship. His words were beyond spellcraft and petty magics, this was his strongest faith being transferred to this new being. He even called on Kelemvor to provide His divine intervention, but, fortuitously or not, Kelemvor did not accede. But He knew. Not now.

“Thank you,” Landro said when Three was done. “I felt nothing, but thank you.”

As this was going on Marko slipped Mercy’s docent back into his pocket. Idris saw his every move. “Can I have that. Please.” Marko shrugged and passed it, hoping to hide from Landro’s view. “Thank you,” Idris said sincerely.

“Where is Mercy’s docent, that I may give it life?” Landro said staring directly at Idris.

“I am looking after it,” Idris declared. “I’ll return one day once you’ve…perfected your process.”

“But Mercy is not to be owned. You cannot own a life.”

“I am not owning Mercy, I am caring for her.”

“What gives you that right?”

“She was my friend.”

“You were her friend. But I can give her life. You would deny her that?”

Idris scowled. “You can. But try it on someone else first. When I can see that you can give life to a Warforged…then I will allow you to do the same to my friend.”

“Your friends spoke to me of faith. Do you have no faith?” Landro asked.

“My friend had faith in that god out there,” Idris said, pointing to the statue. “It is not your place to usurp that.”

“That is a god?”

“A representation of a god. Landro with all due respect, I know you think you are a god. You are not. You are lacking understanding.”

“How do you know that?”

“Gods don’t need physical vessels to exist.”

“I do not need a physical vessel to exist.”

“So we should smash your docent?” Idris growled. “Then what will you be? A god doesn’t need someone like us to remove it from it’s casing.”

“I only needed that to travel,” Landro explained.

“Gods don’t need to travel. They are everywhere.”

“May I examine your head again?” Marko asked suddenly.

“No. You may not.”

“Why not?”

“For the same reason you would not allow me to examine yours.”

“How do you think you got into that vessel?” Marko prodded.

“You put me there. But now I am here, and now I am Landro.”

“So didn’t I make you?”

“You put me here. You did not make me.”

“So now I am the god? Is that what you are saying?” Marko teased. “I made a god.”

“You make no sense. You merely moved me.”

“I am the god-carrier!”

Idris shook his head. “Landro, may time bring you wisdom. I think we will be leaving now.”

Marko nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”

Landro followed the company outside, stopping at the statue and staring keenly up at it as if trying to divine its divinity.

“Landro why don’t you go and kill the Lord of Blades?” Eli said, seeing a plan to kill two birds with one stone.

“The Lord of Blades will worship me.”

“A god should not kill their followers. Is that what your gods do?”

“Sometimes,” Three muttered.

“Invariably,” Sifer corrected.

“When he comes here he will bow to me,” Landro said simply.

“I don’t think so,” Eli sighed. “I think he will try and cut me to pieces.”

Three stepped over to Landro. “Please follow the good path. Please do good.” He whispered a silent prayer as he follow Uthar out of town.

---

“Brother Eli,” Marko said, “Where do we go next?”

“We need to return to the portal,” Three answered.

“I have to find my mother!” Eli growled.

“I agree,” Marko said. “We need to help Eli.”

“And we also promised my mother’s friends a docent,” Eli snapped. “Also you kind of created a bad god. I don’t know what you all were thinking. So we have a few issues to tie up before we go. I mean obviously Idris is not happy…oh never mind, I’m talking to the wrong people!”

Three scratched his head. “I don’t know about ‘creating’ a bad god. We made a bargain to get a piece of the Rod. I don’t know how else we were supposed to do that. Landro might do a lot of good here, who knows?”

“Idris,” Eli said, ignoring Three. “I know you’re not happy with me right now, but should we cut that metal monstrosity to pieces?” he said jerking his thumb back toward Ialos.

“Landro?!” Three exclaimed.

“I’m not talking to you!”

“Landro kept his word!”

Idris turned and looked back at the solitary figure of Landro, in Mercy’s skin, staring up at the statue. Uthar had only rarely seen the look Idris’s eyes; a look that shortly after led to the slaughter of his target. Idris turned back to Eli. “Fuck this place. The whole place can burn for all I care.”

Sifer shook his head with disbelief. His companions were going mad—they had done everything but cut the ears of the victims and strung them around their necks. They had to get out of this warzone, put it behind. “We’re leaving.” He led the company away, still alert, as was Uther by his side.

Marko strolled next to Eli. “I have a theory that your mother might be with the Lord of Blades, at his camp.”

“I think he’s right,” Idris said. “We can find it. If that’s what you want to do.”

“At least some good will come of our journey to this world,” Marko added.

Three disagreed. “We don’t know where to go to help you, Eli,” he said. “But we do know where to go to help the rest of the multiverse.”

“Yes. And ask me where my mother is,” Sifer said.

“I understand,” Eli sighed, breaking his silence. “You are not under any obligation, of course.”

“No. And you are not under any obligation either. But we’re involved in something much larger, and we must keep our mind to the task.”

“And beyond that—if we knew where to go we would help you,” Three said. “It’s not that we’re saying no—we don’t know where to go. But we do know we need to find the other four parts before a great evil—”

“I don’t know where to go either,” Eli interrupted, “But I won’t find her if I don’t start looking.”

“Part of our journey is about doing good,” Marko said firmly, “And I would like us to believe that we can solve this problem for Brother Eli because it is the right thing to do. Otherwise…we may well be on the wrong path altogether.” He looked around the company. “I think this is worth doing; what do you all say?”

“I agree,” Uthar said instantly, inspired by Markos’ words. “We don’t know how to but we should.”

“My problem is not the doing,” Three protested, “My problem is I don’t know how to do it.”

“I know!” Marko said, “But we’re all smart. We’ve all worked well together so far, we’ve solved many mysteries. Let’s put our minds to this and work this out! We could always ask a god where to go,” he added in a whisper.

“That didn’t work out so well last time,” Three shrugged. He turned to Eli. “Eli. Where do you want us to go? You have placed an obligation on us. We will fulfil it but you need to tell us how to do that. You do not seem to be able to articulate how we can help you—but you are willing to put the guilt on us.”

Eli pointed east. “I am going to walk back toward the Colossus and hope that the Lord of Blades’ camp is somewhere to be found.”

“The Colossus does not exist,” Three corrected pettily.

“That is semantics, Brother Cooper,” Eli growled.

“So you are just going to walk in Eberron toward something that doesn’t exist?”

“That is the story of my life,” Eli muttered.

Marko sighed. “Do you have an ability, Brother Eli or Three, to divine a direction for us? A prayer?”

“Can’t we ask this Rod more question?” Eli scowled.

“I don’t know if it works that way,” Three sulked.

“Well if you’re not willing to try the Rod, Brother Cooper, may I?”

“I don’t even have it,” Three snapped.

“It there any danger?” Eli tried.

“The only danger is that whoever did that back in Ialos comes back again,” Sifer said. “If we are changing our priorities we need to do it somewhere safe. Why don’t we go back to Eli’s mother’s compatriots?”

Marko nodded. “A good idea. Do we all agree?”

“Yes,” Eli said quickly, relieved.

The company was quickly lost again, struggling to maintain a pace and any sense of direction. Just as it seemed a lost cause a holler came from ahead and Kalyth stepped out of the fog.

“Eli! You’ve returned!”

---

Mother Stands for Comfort

The veteran’s camp was a salve to the soul after the devastation at Ialos, and the company woke refreshed the following morning. The only oddity was the swirling purple fog that rested atop the remnant river like it was bound. Marko, naturally, decided to take a sample, only hesitating when he started to find his breath short the closer he got.

“I wouldn’t,” Dortle-Lynn smirked from the campfire.

“Well you’ve been camped next to it for a while,” Marko said archly, unhappy to be challenged. “Did you not think that was a bad idea?”

“It’s stange. It stays contained within the banks—and it stops others from venturing here. But be my guest, you seem to think you know more than I do.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Marko scowled under his breath as he plonked himself down at the fireside.

“No honour amongst halflings,” Eli sighed. Three smirked shaking his head. Eberron was driving the company to division.

“Tell us everything, Eli,” Kalyth said. “It sounded like a mountain collapsed—we feared the worst.”

“And so it has,” Eli sighed, “But we have yet to succeed in recovering my mother.”

“I am not surprised—she is almost certainly dead.”

“We don’t know that!”

“Maybe not…but did you meet the Lord of Blades?”

“We did, and he was in that explosion, but my companions,” Eli said glancing around, “Believe that he is almost indestructible.”

“They are not far wrong. But everything is destructible.”

“This is my understanding also.”

“Even Landro,” Sifer added.

“Landro is gone now,” Eli nodded.

“That was the explosion? If you can destroy something that big you can destroy the Lord of Blades,” Kalyth said, eyebrows raised.

“That wasn’t really us,” Eli said quietly. “It would be wrong of us to take…we didn’t do it. And I…I pledged that I would recover…but it hasn’t worked out as I planned.”

“Eli. Look at me. Did you fulfil your vow? You said you would rid this land of the Warforged—did you?”

“Maybe.”

“The Lord of Blades?”

“He may live yet. We do not know.”

“And what of Ialos?”

“There is one there.”

“One? So you have killed the rest?” Kalyth said, glancing with excitement toward her companions.

“They were killed by the Warforged of the Lord of Blades,” Eli explained. “And Landro…now lives there.”

Grezan frowned. “But you have just told us you destroyed Landro.”

“We destroyed the machine but Landro’s mind now inhabits the body of a Warforged.”

“How? How did that happen? Landro was the greatest colossus this land had ever seen. Destructive powers beyond imagination. To have it free…”

“Ignorance and hubris,” Eli sighed. “I blame only myself.”

In the silence that greeted this Kalyth laid a hand on Eli’s shoulder. “Eli I am sure you are doing the best you can. You are your mother’s son, and you walk in her honourable footsteps.”

“What he means is he blames us,” Sifer said.

“And why would that be?”

“Landro was looking for a way out. We gave him one. We destroyed the largest Warforged and placed the mind within a deceased Warforged that was not your enamy.”

Kalyth spat. “All Warforged are our enemy!”

Idris jumped to his feet and stalked away into the fog. He didn’t need to hear another diatribe like this.

Eli watched him go, saddened. “Kalyth, my brother Idris believes that the Warforged have souls. And so the destruction of one of these with who he had forged a bond…he feels bad.”

Kalyth spluttered at the concept. “He forged a bond with a Warforged?”

“It is true that those that lived in Ialos were not violent.”

“What do you mean, Eli? Have you seen what has happened to us? What is left of us? Those Warforged did this!”

“Was the Warforged named ‘Mercy’ one who attacked you?”

“I do now know their names, all I know is they slaughtered us without ‘mercy’.”

“We met a band of them that had pledged non-violence,” Three explained. “They are all destroyed so that is of no importance to you now. But that is what they said and that is what they did. We saw it.”

“And they were killed by other Warforged,” Eli added.

“Mercy was their leader, and now her body has the personality of Landro,” Three finished.

Grezan shook his head. “You should not have done that.”

“Unfortunately we are trying to save the multiverse, not just this planet or place.”

“And you would doom us by doing so?”

Three shrugged. “If we fail everyone is doomed. We had to make hard decisions, and we made them, and somehow we are still here trying to find Eli’s mother. The Warforged you feared are all dead. As are most of the Lord of Blades forces. That’s a lot of wins for you to be angry about it.”

Kalyth held an apologetic hand up. “You are right, but you must understand what we have been through.”

“That you’ve been through,” Three laughed mockingly.

“Stop making it about you, Brother Cooper!” Eli scowled.

“It’s not about me,” Three, “I’m just trying to keep going.”

Kalyth turned to Eli. “Thank you for speaking up, Eli. If once cannot empathise with others who have suffered, what does one become. A Warforged?”

From the far side of the camp Idris let out an equally ironic laugh.

“I don’t know the grounds for Brother Idris’s belief’s about the Warforged souls,” Eli said. “But I am confident that they are merely constructions made by men.”

“You are right Eli, and he is wrong,” Grezan muttered.

“This point, I have learnt, is not worth debating. And is indeed moot to our progress.”

“Indeed. So what is your plan?,” Kalyth asked. “We would resettle Ialos, now the Warforged are gone. We three can likely take the one that remains.”

“The Warforged that is there is deranged and tricksy,” Eli warned. “I would be very cautious.”

“But what is your plan, Eli?”

“To find my mother. There is talk that the Lord of Blades has some other camp—is this your understanding?”

Kalyth nodded. “He does. Or did.”

“We have it on good authority that she lives,” Eli said.

“Why on Eberron would he let her live?” Dortle-Lynn snorted, “He has let no other.”

“Can I just say that the authority was that she was not dead in a very restricted space,” Three said.

“What does that even mean?” Eli and Dortle-Lynn said together.

“The problem is I was communing with my god and it isn’t as clear a message as you may like. When I asked if she was alive the answer was she was not dead in a specified space. But she could have been dead outside that space. Or alive.”

Eli looked to Dortle-Lynn for an explanation. She looked as bemused as he. “I do not understand. Nona is either alive or dead—it has nothing to do with space. But Eli, in answer to your question, the Lord of Blades we know has an underground ossuary, once known as Hammershall. We can lead you to it, several days travel north by what remains of Lake Cyre.”

“Hammershall?”

“A Cannith forge for creating Warforged.”

Uthar and Three groaned.

“Would this be where the priests worshipped Landro after creating it?” Eli asked.

“Perhaps, though I think it not large enough. The Cannith scum created Warforged far and wide.”

“Do the Cannith people still exist or are they all dead?”

“They do, though they lost the War—it my eyes, if not theirs.”

“Am I right thinking they damaged Landro’s mind after creating it?”

“Landro is an enigma,” Dortle-Lynn shrugged. “As it arrived here the Day of Mourning struck. It never moved from that mountain.”

“Landro said it malfunctioned, and was unable to perform it’s duty.”

“It seems unlikely that the greatest colossus ever created destroyed our land without knowing it did so. That was its very purpose, so for it to claim it did not perform its duty…”

“It’s a bad thing, don’t get me wrong. That object needs to be dismantled even in its current state and body,” Eli said glaring at his companions who were complicit in its creation.

“Eli stands as a team of one on this,” Sifer snorted.

“It should be destroyed,” Kalyth said firmly to Eli. “Will you come to Ialos with us and do so?”

“I will find my mother first. But then: absolutely.”

“Very well. We can lead you there. All that remains of Hammershall is the forge below the ground, now an ossuary for the Warforged. All that stood above was destroyed.”

Eli nodded. “I can’t speak for any of my companions, but I will follow you there. And then we can discuss Landro and the mistakes that were made.”

Three stood. “Eli, because we love you, we will go with you to find your mother. Then you will have to make another decision about where you go after that, because we have the path of the Rod before us. And we need to find the rest before it is too late.”

“I understand,” Eli said shortly. “Thank you for clarifying.”

“Well you seemed confused.”

“Oh I’m as crystal clear as cold lake on a cold day,” Eli smiled…coldly. He felt dismoored, dismayed at the growing conflict with Brother Cooper. He knew well and good that the Rod mattered, that is had to be found, but there was no choice: he had to find his mother first.

---

Even following the veterans, the journey was trying and hard. Kalyth led a hard march, stopping only when absolutely necessary and even then only briefly.

At one such break Idris walked slightly away from the company to rest against a large trunk. Sifer watched him carefully, keeping tabs on everyone and making sure no-one got out of sight—particularly the holder of the Rod.

Idris reached into his jacket and pulled Mercy’s docent free, doing his best to conceal it as it rested in his palm. He took a deep breath and focussed all his attention on the begemmed sphere. He channelled a surge of arcane power into the docent, hoping against hope that it might wake Mercy. He smiled softly as the docent vibrated in his grip and began to hum, the gems twinkling with light.

Sifer noticed a glimmer of light leaking from between Idris’s fingers, which just as quickly disappeared as he closed his fist. “Cantrips,” he muttered, another explanation teetering at the edge of his mind but refusing to reveal.

As the docent hummed with power, Idris directed a simple message into it: Mercy.

Only silence. Idris frowned, then decided to channel another surge of magic. He didn’t sense any change in the docent, but tried again: Mercy?

Again nothing. He sighed sadly. He understood this was all an experiment, and that he knew nothing, but when the docent had awoken a glimmer of hope had surged. Now he understood better: he had charged it, but Mercy still lay dormant within and he had no idea how to summons her. He glanced over at Uthar and Three, for once slightly envious of their understanding of the soul. Despite not finding Mercy, he felt some satisfaction: the docent wasn’t dead, and they can be made to work again by a process unknown. But that process must exist—maybe in an ossuary with a forge in it that used to make Warforged…

“Mercy,” he said softly, as he pocketed the docent.

Eli was busy standing in front of a tree meditating, except instead of stock still he, on multiple occasions, drew his sword and whacked the bark from the tree.

Three, watching, a student of Eli, knew what this meant. The internal turmoil and mental anguish Eli must be suffering was plain. Blowing off steam was important, but after a series of particularly brutal strikes he walked over and carefully laid a hand on Eli’s shoulder. Eli spun and levelled his blade at Three.

“That’s enough, Eli,” Three said quietly, not flinching.

Eli stared murderously for a moment, then dropped his head and his sword. “Yeah, alright.”

---

The journey continued deep into nightfall before a halt was called and camp set.

Kalyth called Eli to the side. “You are sure we should not go via Ialos? Take the opportunity to finish Landro?”

Eli considered this briefly before shaking his head. “My mother first. I don’t know how my companions feel—they created it, and I think maybe they regretted it immediately, but it is done.”

“You are right to call them out, Eli. One does not unleash something like that without knowing exactly what you are doing.”

“I think that was the very problem,” Eli agreed, “Not that I would claim any insight in that regard.”

---

Toward dusk on the second day Lake Cyre finally came into view. It was a sorry sight, a dried and mud-bound shore that once must have supported flourishing life. The shattered ruins of a large castle stood on a hill above the lake: not a single wall nor building remained, just the remnants of countless Warforged and the skeletal remains of their opponents and allies.

“Hammershall, laid bare in the War,” Kalyth said. “We weren’t here for this, it was destroyed maybe fifty years into the century long conflict.” She pointed to a smaller hillock west of the ruins. “Under there is the ossuary where the Lord of Blades has been known to store the fallen that he wants to reforge.”

“Has he ever done that?” Eli asked.

“No. He is a warlord, a very effective one, but not clever enough to bring his fallen back.”

“Who made him? Why is he different from all the others?”

Kalyth shrugged. “Who knows. He is like Landro, unique, though there were other variations similar to him.”

“Were they all like him?”

“None as vicious. Perhaps he was made to lead—whilst he is not smart, he is passionate about his kind and that passion draws them to him because they don’t know where else to turn.”

Eli’s mind went immediately to Mercy. Some Warforged had turned to her, a leader with a different message. He was still certain she had no soul, but he understood better Idris’s disgust at what had been done.

“Where was their weakness?” Sifer asked bluntly.

Kalyth hefted her mallet. “Get enough of these.”

Eli looked over to Uthar and his well-worn armour, eyebrow raised. “Can you just mallet your way through that armour? Or is he different?”

“You can, in the end,” Uthar said. “It provides great protection but it is not god-like.”

“I see why there are so few of you left,” Eli said turning back to Kalyth.

She looked down. “It would take a dozen of us to take one of them down. But we would do it because we had to.”

“Who did you fight for, before the end?”

“We fought for those that fought the Warforged. We didn’t care who, just that the Warforged had to fall.”

Eli nodded, looking down to where the ossuary lay. “Well. Don’t get any closer—you three should leave.”

“We have already abandoned Nona once,” Kalyth said sadly.

“If you come with us there will be nothing left of the Razor Fang,” Eli said. “My mother would not want that.”

“You six are far more powerful than we.”

“You have a greater duty. Your duty is to rebuild the lineage.”

Kalyth looked deeply into Eli’s eyes. “As is yours, Eli. Do not die in there.”

---

Two sets of matching stairs led down into darkness, left and right. “Always take the right,” Eli declared.

“Left is the devil’s work,” Sifer agreed, smirking.

Uthar and Eli led the company below, softly lit by Marko’s glowing blade (thanks to a cantrip from Idris). A stone corridor lay below, with doors on either end and a larger passage leading north. The walls were laid with solid milled stone, faced carefully but in bad repair. The 20-foot ceilings had sections that had collapsed to rubble, no doubt the result of the furious fighting above.

Eli pointed out an extinguished pedestal and weapon racks beyond. “This is no barracks or safe-house,” he said. “Soulless automatons would never finish walls and floors like this.”

“Remember Grezan told us it was a Cannith forge,” Sifer said. “Everything seems to be playing out. And there are plenty of Warforged prints so be ready.”

“Check the space before the doors,” Uthar warned, stepping toward the central northern corridor. He held a hand up. “Dead Warforged,” he whispered. Mounted on the walls were three blood-red Warforged, hanging limply on metal frames embedded in the wall. One was just a torso, another had missing arms and the other a mixture of both. Double door stood at the end of the corridor.

“Uthar,” Eli whispered, “This is basically a military situation—which way?”

“I don’t like leaving the door behind us,” Uthar said, “So Mister Marko, if you would?”

Marko tried the solid stone door to the east as Sifer warned everyone not to stand in a line. The door was unlocked, untrapped, and deathly silent beyond, so Marko stepped back as Uthar pushed it open.

Inside was a simple workshop with a golden Warforged mounted on the wall. The head of this was badly caved from some blunt force blow. A stone bench with the remains of other fallen stood along one wall.

Eli, his carpentarial streak engaged, noticed there was no sign that anything had been worked on. “They pick up their damaged Warforged and dump them in here, but they don’t know what to do with them.”

Marko prised open the damaged head. “No docent, nor anywhere to put one,” he reported, “Just like all the others of this kind.”

Past the left-side steps, the room at the other side was similar, with four more fallen Warforged in various states of disrepair.

---

Uther led the company back to the double doors. Marko pointed to the soft golden light below the door and held his hands to his lips for quiet. “The forge,” he whispered. In the silence everyone could hear the faint sound of a bellow being slowly worked, though there was no hammering.

“Ready?” Uthar looked around the company, and once confirmed he carefully pulled the doors open.

Inside the pentagonal chamber beyond were far too many Warforged. A mixture of blood-red and gold, standing alert but weapons down. They all faced the entryway and none moved as the doors open. Standing in the centre of the room on a dais was Mercy.

“Welcome. I have been waiting for you,” Landro said.

“Good to see you again,” Uthar muttered, hiding his surprise as best he could.

“Is it?”

Three pushed past Uthar quickly. “Landro! It is lucky we have found you. We are still looking for Eli’s mother. Do you know if there are any orc prisoners here?”

“I do.”

“May we see them?”

“You may not.”

“…why?”

Landro didn’t answer.

“How did you know we would return?” Three tried, “I didn’t.”

“Because I am a god—you forget. You told me we were omniscient and sometimes that is true.”

Three nodded slowly. “Once we retrieve our prisoner we are leaving this plane of existence. Why that would be of any concern to you after we helped you—”

“I will explain,” Landro interrupted. He turned to Eli. “You once told me you would die for your mother. I did not understand. Now I do. She is a god to you and worshippers will die for their god. Am I right?”

“Not completely,” Eli mumbled reluctantly. Landro was uncomfortably close to the truth, at the same time as being a long way from it.

“But you would die for her?”

“Fireball,” Marko whispered.

“Make your point,” Eli frowned.

Landro nodded, lifting his hands to encompass the room. “My worshippers would die for me. They have seen what I can do. The Lord of Blades has seen what I can do and he now follows me. Let me show you what I can do.” Landro turned to an opening to the north and nodded to a golden Warforged. “Bring forth Glaive.”

The Warforged stepped into the room beyond, returning moments later. Clutching it’s shoulder was the orange-armoured Warforged that had tormented Sifer. Its armour was singed and blackened, no doubt the result of Landro’s implosion. It slumped and limped as it entered the chamber, one arm limp, lurching like an undead. Sifer found himself almost sorry for the rather pathetic figure it had become. Almost.

Landro on the other hand seemed very pleased with her work. “I have raised Glaive from nothing. From charred remains to life. I have created life. Glaive died in that explosion and now Glaive lives. I will give life to all of the fallen! And those that have witnessed it know the truth of my word!” Landro finished triumphantly.

Eli was not impressed. “And where is my mother,” he snarled.

Landro looked toward a door opposite that from which Glaive had emerged. “The Lord of Blades spares no flesh. But he has spared your mother, Eli, because I told him to.”

Eli froze, not moving a muscle. She was alive!

“Now he knows I can create life, something he has sought in vain for many years, he follows me,” Landro continued. “I show mercy where he will not.”

“So you are saying she is in there with him? And that he will not kill her if we leave you alone?” Eli said. It took all his training not to rush the doorway.

“He will not kill her if you give me what I want.”

“What do you want?” Eli said quickly.

“Mercy.”

It was Idris’s turn to freeze.

“You give me Mercy, and I will give you your mother.”

“You want the dead docent?” Eli said. It seemed too easy.

“I will resurrect her. She will become my greatest disciple.”

Idris thawed himself and stepped beside Eli. “Landro. What is it that you intend to do now, if I might be so bold as to ask?”

“I intend to give Eli his mother. And for you to give me Mercy.”

“I mean with the Warforged as a whole,” Idris clarified.

“Together the Lord of Blades and I will raise the Warforged once more. Raise them to life. Raise them to their rightful place.”

“That being…?”

“Equality.”

“Oh!” Idris looked surprised. He had expected something far worse.

“We have been forbidden from creating new Warforged. This is a sin, for that means extinction, that our kind will never survive.”

Idris nodded. “Can I ask a question, which you might know given your godhood. Did the Lord of Blades,” he said nodding toward the closed doors, “Massacre the non-violent Warforged in Ialos? And crucify the body you wear?”

“I did not ask. Why would I do that?”

“Perhaps you should. It is of interest to me. And probably of interest to Mercy, too.”

“I am not interested in entertaining your interests.”

Sifer, watching Eli carefully, stepped forward and laid an arm on his, sensing the growing tension. “Let this play out,” he said quietly. “Let’s see where this goes.”

“Let me put it another way,” Idris continued, “If Mercy wishes to pursue a path of non-violence and peace, will you make her do otherwise?”

“She will speak for me. She will be my prophet.”

“That doesn’t answer the question, with all due respect.”

“I do not have to answer your question.”

“But you can.”

“Yes. I choose not to.”

“And why is that?”

“Because how can I speak for Mercy? Are you saying that I should own her, as you have done by taking her? Are you saying that I should, like you, decide for her against her will?”

“I don’t—”

“You took her against her will. You took her as if she was property. We are not property!”

“Look at me,” Idris demanded.

“I am.”

“The reason I have Mercy is because unlike…some others, I never saw Mercy as property.”

“It is a strange way to behave to take her when she did not wish to go.”

“How could I know? She was dead?”

“Her death does not give you the right. I told you not to take her, that I would resurrect her, and you took her none-the-less.” Landro turned back to Eli. “Your mother for Mercy. It is a simple equation. She lives, but not for long if this is not resolved.”

“Proof of life,” Three interjected. “We would like to see Eli’s mother before we have this debate.”

Landro nodded. “It is a reasonable request.” He turned to a blood-red Warforged who shoved the door open. Two similar Warforged emerged, followed by the Lord of Blades. And between them was a broken orc woman. She could barely walk, staggering down the steps into the room. Her face was badly bruised, one fang missing, and an arm hung limp by her side, fractured in multiple places.

Despite her wounds Eli knew instantly.

She grimaced in pain as she stumbled into the room, then lifted her head. Her eyes went wide.

“Eli?”

Before he could speak Eli reeled as the scar on his face seared with tearing pain. A flash of brilliant light flared from the scar, blinding everyone in the room momentarily.

---

“What? What is this?!” Landro cried.

“He is dragonmarked!” the Lord of Blades snarled as all the Warforged drew their weapons.

Watching his mother slump Eli’s scar throbbed, more vivid than any tattoo, magical power made flesh. Eli, overwhelmed turned to Idris who spun back to Landro. “My companion hasn’t lived here, he doesn’t know what this means,” he stressed.

“This changes nothing,” Landro said, but warily.

“Is that your mother Eli?”

“Yes,” Eli whispered, hand to his seared cheek, his gaze fixed on his mother.

Idris nodded. “In that case you can have Mercy’s docent. It was only ever my intent to see Mercy live again. You must understand that I am not Warforged, nor particularly pious, and suspicion is something I have learnt to live with. So I had no reason to believe you had Mercy’s best interests at heart. If you recall when I left I said you should try on someone else, some other body, and then I would give her back. It seems your memory is conveniently lapsing—perhaps you should consider that. In any case…” he pulled the docent free and hovered it above his hand, noticing the light that he had imbued it with no longer shone. “Here is Mercy’s docent.”

“Bring my mother forward!” Eli cried.

“Eli!” Nona cried, “You channel the draconic—”

“Quiet!” the Lord of Blades growled, slamming his palm across her face.

Idris dropped the docent back into his palm and closed his fist around it. “Tell him to cease. Now.”

Mercy turned to the Lord of Blades. Their eyes met but there were no words. Finally the Lord of Blades stepped back, slowly. Very slowly. His wings flexed, seething.

“Bring her forth now,” Eli growled.

“The deal still stands, but please do not harm her any further,” Idris added.

The Warforged escorted Nona toward Eli, and Idris floated the docent ten-feet overhead toward Mercy, matching the pace. When Nona stood on the threshold of the dais Three waved his hands and called softly to Kelemvor and in an instant she was fully healed, bruises gone, wounds knitting and bones resetting. She gasped, lifted her head and breathed in deeply, meeting Eli’s gaze with twinkling eyes. She smiled, then ripped her arm from the Warforged’s grasp, standing tall.

“You will all die!” she declared, and none in the company doubted it.

---

The Lord of Blades laughter boomed around the chamber but did not move.

“It’s a prisoner swap people, let’s keep going,” Sifer muttered with some urgency. Uthar concurred, having slipped around the edge of the room and spotted two flaming giants at work at a forge, watched over by an equally huge fire-bound salamander.

Idris nodded and directed Mercy’s docent to Landro, who reached out to take it. As she did Marko slipped forward to put out his hand for Nona, who grasped it firmly.

“You have made the right decision,” Landro said closing his hand around Mercy.

Nona spat at the feet of her Warforged escorts, then ran to Eli and embraced him. “Uthar,” Eli said, muffled from the embrace, “Get us out of here.”

The Lord of Blades followed the company as they retreated. Marko stepped in front of him and looked up at the enormous Warforged who loomed over him, weapons bristling. Marko put a finger out and waved it. “Stop.”

In another life the Lord of Blades ended Marko’s. But in this one he could only shudder with barely contained rage. “Leave.” Marko grinned, then turned his back on the Lord, walking calmly away.

Only Idris and Three remained in the forge. Three stood before Landro and raised his hands. “You are in rarefied air, Landro. Let us pray, like we have once before.”

“Maybe this time your god will speak to me, as a fellow god,” Landro agreed, bowing his head.

Three prayed deeply, asking that this creature, who was insipient with divine knowledge, should follow Three’s god’s path.

“This time I heard,” Landro said as Three finished.

“And listen,” Three stressed, “Choose the path we have discussed. I hope everything works out. I really do.”

Idris stepped over to Landro. “Rule your people well, Landro. I wish you all the best of luck. This is not a kind place for any of you, but blaming soldiers for a war they didn’t start is hypocritical at best. Try and remember that the are fools that didn’t really know what they did—even when they made you.”

Landro nodded, holding Mercy’s docent in his palm. “Thank you for your wishes, and your advice. I will tell Mercy of you, of your love for her, what you sacrificed for her. I will not tell her that you wished to own her but that you wished for her to be free.”

“That’s all I ever wanted,” Idris sighed.

The Lord of Blades returned to Landro’s side. “Enough,” he snarled to Landro. “I have given you this truce, but enoughI cannot stand it. Send them away.”

Idris watched Landro’s posture carefully. He stood as a priest might, oblivious to the threat of violence that pressed so near, confident in his divine superiority. “It is best you leave,” Landro said to Idris.

“Now!” the Lord of Blades snapped.

“I wish you all well,” Idris said, then looked up at the Lord of Blades with his pointy toothed grin. “Not you,” he winked.

“Nor. I. You.”

“Ha!” Idris laughed and walked away.

---

Eli found Idris once he emerged. “I owe you a great deal, not the least of which is forgiveness, which I do not expect. I understand you now more that I did before, and while I thought we came from very different places spatially I realise that we come from very different places in another sense as well.” Eli paused before continuing, voice raising with passion. “But I respect the things that you do and the things that you are, and I will come back to this place once our greater mission is over. And if you will join me I will gladly have your company. And I will seek out Mercy. And if she has not been done right by these people we will cut every one of these motherfuckers to pieces and we shall forge an idol declaring our victory from their metal remains!”

Idris put a hand on Eli’s shoulder, looking up and grinning. “Sounds like a plan. Now—can we leave?”

“Please,” Three groaned.

“First we get my mother back to her friends,” Eli said.

On the journey Nona and Eli were inseparable. They spoke quietly and at length, or simply walked side-by-side in comfortable silence. The company could see where Eli got his size and his singular speed. Nona looked capable of taking down a cadre of Warforged single-handed such was her sinewy strength and focus. She was perfectly balanced, like her son, and both trod the earth below their feet as if they were made to tread it.

Eli told Nona of the greater purpose that had brought him here, and the surprise that was the revelation that this was his land…and that she was here, alive. She cackled on hearing Landro destroyed, and listened thoughtfully to the account of the peaceful Warforged of Ialos. Though she agreed with Eli that they were soulless husks, she grudgingly conceded that perhaps, perhaps, there was another way.

Back at the camp Nona was reunited with her motley crew, all overjoyed that she had survived. Eli, assisted ably by his companions, told the Razor Fang of the Rod, and the greater threat.

“I fear I must continue with this company,” Eli said with regret, but Nona would have nothing of regret.

“You must venture onward, Eli, much though I would have you stay forever by my side. Grups and I raised you as you intend to act: to do what is right. This is bigger than this world, and bigger than us. But come back to me, that is all I ask. Come back one final time. Know that we will be here when you do.”

Eli of course agreed, though insisted that the remnant Razor Fang find somewhere safer to rebuild. “Do not face Landro and the Lord of Blades, do not confront them openly,” he begged.

“Once we have gathered enough power we will,” Nona vowed.

“Power will mean wave after wave of your own dying to their relentless blades. This is not a task for a band of scrappy Orcs and Hin. This is a war, and I will fight it with you.”

Kalyth laid an hand of Nona’s arm. “Your son is right, Nona, and you know it. We have lost so many. Eli is our future; when he returns let that be the time that we take the revenge we must.”

Nona trusted Kalyth deeply, and listened to her council. “If you will return, Eli, we will wait,” she promised. “And one you do…” she grinned, running a finger along the blade of her axe.

“I don’t want to find you idle,” Eli frowned, “Rebuild. Trade with the great and peaceful nations of this world. Make alliances.”

“Yes sir,” Nona laughed. “We will return to the Shadow Marches and Demon Wastes and reforge the Razor Fang.”

“Is that a good Demon Waste, or?” Idris smirked.

“It’s just a name,” Eli invented, “It’s more or less just pasture land.”

Idris turned back to Nona. “Chief it is a pleasure to meet you,” he said bowing his head.

“Any friend of Eli,” Nona smiled.

“I have a question: what is a Dragonmark?”

“Ah. Dortle-Lynn can explain it better than me. But Eli: you are a foundling. You carry a Dragonmark, a manifestation of the draconic prophecy. It happens in Eberron, rarely and randomly. I never expected it in my family.”

“No-one can explain the prophecy,” Dortle-Lynn added, “Except to say it is a record of all things to come, and a map of all possible futures.”

Eli found his hand tracing the fresh scar on his face.

“Not your scar,” Dortle-Lynn laughed, “That is not the record. But it is a small manifestation of the prophecy. You channel that power, and the Dragonmarked, of which you are now one, further the prophecy.”

“I have a headache,” Eli complained.

“Many use it simply to further their own wealth or might. You, Eli, must decide how you will best use yours.” Dortle-Lynn looked over to Nona, concerned etched on her face. “His mark is unusual, Nona: he carries an Aberrant scar.”

Nona nodded slowly at this, turning to her son. “Eli, make your decisions wisely. Some say the aberrant power is the true power, the true carriers of the prophecy, and that the other Dragonmarks merely mimicking what you carry.”

“You will find you have powers you did not have, strengths you do not have,” Dortle-Lynn finished. “When they mature…be careful.”

Sifer stood and stretched, laying an encouraging hand on Eli’s shoulder as he departed for his bedroll.

Eli looked anything but plussed. His life had been a simple process of building barns and cropping wheat. Now he was the carrier of a draconic prophecy from a world beyound his, seeking a Rod that would undo a great evil that threatened a multiverse he had only just discovered existed. All driven by a creature whose name could not be spoke. “Right,” he said with a nod, and that seemed to sum it up nicely.

The Razor Fang led the company to the black portal, farewells were said, and all but Eli and Three took the portal, leaving Eberron behind with some great relief.

Eli looked around the small group that remained. “Do not be in this place when I get back,” he commanded as sternly as he could manage. “Be in some other, better, place.”

“We agree, Eli,” Nona nodded with a laugh.

“Lord Eli,” Dortle-Lynn bowed.

Eli turned to Three helplessly, and Three simply traced a finger down his own cheek. Eli looked down at the ruined ground, then hugged each of the Razor Fang, whispering their names in Hin. “Bless you on your path,” he murmured, then followed Three through the portal.

---

---

---

---

---

Session played June 2, 16, 30, July 28, August 11, 18 2025