BelGareth
In a dimly lit chamber adorned with a blend of ancient runes and magitech apparatus, rows of towering tubes stand sentinel. Each tube, the size of a man, contains the cryogenically frozen forms of agents, their bodies preserved in a state of suspended animation, Dahlias and Roses alike. The gentle hum of arcane machinery and the soft glow of enchanted crystals fill the room with an eerie luminescence, casting long shadows that dance across the stone walls.

One such tube, adorned with intricate glyphs and pulsing with a soft blue light, begins the decanting process. The frosted glass slowly clears, revealing the figure of a warforged within. His name is Disject, a formidable construct of metal and magic, designed for precision and strength. A slave collar, infused with arcane bindings, encircles his neck, its purpose to keep him in check.

As the tube’s lid hisses open, steam billows out, and the enchantments within the collar deactivate. The collar falls away with a clink, freeing Disject from its suppressive grip. His eyes, once dimmed by stasis, flicker to life with a soft, inner light.


 


Standing nearby, Sergeant Hackford, the seasoned spymaster, steps forward. His presence commands respect, his voice a measured blend of authority and reassurance. He adjusts his cap slightly before addressing the newly awakened warforged.

 "Welcome back to the land of the living, Disject,"  Hackford says, his tone warm yet firm.  "Your service in the Dahlias is complete. From this moment forward, you are no longer an uncommon criminal. You are now a Petal, a member of the Roses."
 
Hackford pauses, allowing the significance of this moment to sink in.  "You have proven your worth, and now it’s time to carry out the rest of your mission with the skills and dedication that brought you here."
 
With a swift gesture, Hackford activates a nearby magitech device. A shimmering holographic illusion springs to life in the center of the room, displaying a map of a distant location. The projection flickers, showing scenes of intense conflict and danger. The team, your new comrades, are in dire straits, their situation growing more precarious with each passing moment.

 "Take a look, Disject,"  Hackford says, pointing to the display.  "This is the current situation. Your comrades are in trouble, and time is of the essence. We need you to deploy immediately and save them." 
LairdMaon
 "If I'm seeing this right,"  his eyes virtually attached to the illusory display,  "it looks like they've lost a unit while costing the opponent two units. What're the mission parameters and have they been successful at any of it?"  As he speaks, his body begins undulating stiffly. Within moments, the stiffness of incarceration gives way to the flowing smoothness one might expect from a living construct.
BelGareth
Hackford pinches the bridge of his nose,  "Right, mission parameters, well this one changed too many damn times to keep track of, but they were  supposed  to take out a general, turned out to be something else, I haven't been able to see much since they moved into the command center, you'll either have to wait, or port outside....but that's probably not a good idea"  he points to several locations, it seemed the whole army was mustering for something.
LairdMaon
 "I'm going to go ahead and assume you can't drop me in there with a portable Gate device."  Disject's eyes roam the image,  "What resources  do  i have access to? If my immediate goal is to get these guys out, a haversack of sachel charges might make the difference." 
BelGareth
Sgt Hackford nods  "Oh no, we  DO  have something, it will get you in, and everyone out."  he hands you a small device with two gemstones on it, each was lit with light from inside, as if they held energy.  "Red one is for you, green one is for everyone; the issue here, is survivability, we can't just port you into a mustering army."  he continues to watch the scene unravel,  "your team has to do something to save themselves" 
LairdMaon
Disject snatches up the device and studies it for roughly half a second before grabbing a wad of loose wiring. With deft fingers he ties the thing to a chest plate.

 "That'll do just fine, thanks. Going there should be easy enough, but where's the return set for?" 
BelGareth
Hackford waves his hand without even looking up  "Oh thats pre configured" 
LairdMaon
Disject pulls out a small tin of ointment that he polishes the blade of his manople with. With each pass of the cloth, the blade changes hue, until the whole thing had become adamantine.  "Won't last forever, but it could make the difference." 

Standing up straight, he wills his chambered wand to cast it's spell and says to Hackford,  "Wish me luck."  And he pressed to button and vanishes.
BelGareth
Sgt Hackford looks up and was about to say something when Disject presses the first gemstone.  "Oh....well...ok then."  and then looks down to watch the events unfurl.
BelGareth
The group bursts through the flaming wall as timbers and pieces of the frame fall off, swinging in the warm summer evening breeze as flames licked the sides eager to consume everything it could. The blast, and subsequent burst from within was not something the army outside, encircling the building, was ready for.

Even less so when Cervena,  charged  the enemy, outgunned, and outnumbered, slackened jaws met with steel fury as she tried her best to beat the horde that was surrounding her, in a last ditch effort to afford her friends some time.

Was that what they needed? Time?

It seemed to slow down, the flames paused, jittering with awkward movements, the metal clang of swords being drawn by a hundred solders, the clack of spears smacking against metal, and the stomp of men all mixed into a cacophonous swell that threatened to overtake your senses.

A disembodied voice speaks in everyone's head  &lt;now Disject&gt; 

Then time stops, almost imperceptibly, as  something  snaps back into place, as if it were a lost component, and it found it's home again, except, not at all. It found another thing in the same place, the same exact thing as it was, and it trembled, the universe frowned, and then fixed it in one simple instance.

The house exploded outwards with the sudden power of a volcano, timber and stone expanding like a bubble, a dome of pure and utter violence. And it was going to pass you in a few moments.

The ground near it trembled, and you could see pebbles vibrate so violently they broke apart before the bubble of violence even reached them, closer, and closer, it came, like an inevitable wave of death, the end is nigh, and it is coming for you.

Disject presses the button, you all flash suddenly, caught up within a blinding white light as you all are enveloped in protective magic, transporting you somewhere else entirely, just as the wave of inexorable power washes over where you were standing, you see the hobgoblin solders near you, ready to dive headlong into the fight, simply disintegrate, their flesh evaporates off their bones before they even have a chance to fall, their bones turn to dust as the wave passes through on it's journey to share it's power with everything within range.

With a jolt, you appear in a dark room. The loud *snap* of the explosion coming along with you, and the white light blinding you.

You hear a voice nearby.

 "Well well well, that was a close call, wanit?"  Sgt Hcakford says with a chuckle  "I thought Disject had punched all of your tickets, nice job"  He says, smiling from ear to ear, but then realizes no one can see him  "I'll have the magewrights come and assist you all, the blindness and deafness we can cure"  With a curt motion of his hands, several wrights come into the room, and being to lay hands on you all, removing the maladies in turn, your vision comes back albeit a bit blurry, as well as your hearing, which comes back with a tone that doesn't go away.

 "The next room has places for you all to stay, bunks, lockers, and food. We'll debrief tomorrow morning, rest, all of you, you deserve it." 
 
 Spoiler 

DING DING DING
everyone gain a level, except Disject, who already did.
 
LairdMaon
 "I got them out, didn't I?"  The fingers of Disject's left hand dance across the makeshift wires holding the foreign device to his chest plate, unwinding and removing the thing.  "I'm pretty that counts as a successful extract and deliver job. I don't hear them complaining about suddenly being safe, do you?" 
rypt
Pilgrim does not immediately set down Cur's remains.  In fact, when the magewrights enter the room to tend to his damaged plating, he turns the load-bearing shoulder away from them, as though to protect the lifeless shell he carries.    "What will be done with the remains of this forgeborn?"   he asks.
Cygnia
   "If he can't be resurrected, then at least we need to see if someone among the Petals is able to cast  Speak With the Dead ,"    said a scowling Tommasia.    "Cur might have been the only one to see what happened to the hobgoblin general during the assault.  We can't let his death be all for naught."   
Olive_Sophia
 

Endymia was quiet for a while, slowly recovering from the conclusion of their first mission. That explosion had really been something else. Eventually the ringing stopped and her head began to clear. She realized she'd been listening to the sergeant, and she remembered most of what he'd said.   "Thanks, Hackford. We needed an out there."   She looked around the strange room, first checking to see how her party members were faring, and then she started taking notice of their eerie surroundings. This too, was unlike anything she'd ever seen. It was creepy stuff, and it drove home what the Petals were actually capable of. Endymia had never signed up to be a part of whatever this was, and she certainly didn't want to see the inside of one of those tubes.

Still, she was happy to be alive and safe. A wave of relief washed over her. She started thinking about what she could do with her night.   "Ah, yes. It'll feel good to get out of this armor and clean up. Maybe a few drinks before bed..."   As she was talking to herself, her clear blue eyes happened to pass over Disject, and she remembered that she still owed him an introduction.

  "Sorry about before. My name is Endymia Su'courte. I assure you I'm really quite a respectable woman apart from all of this..."  
Auranghzeb
In an instant Cervena was headlong charging a platoon of Hobgoblins, then being lectured by Hackford...

Oh, how she longed for the solitude of her woodlands.
 
Thanks Disject 

She says drily.


 I don't like your games Hackford. I swore loyalty to the Roses, but these blind missions are getting old. What's going on? You suggest discretion and then send a bomber? Why bother then with the infiltration?  

She stands firm, all 5'2 of her.


 Im tired of your dirty work and I'm going back to the woods unless you clearly outline what's at stake. 
Ilerien
Evindal stood silently for some time, trying to overcome dizziness and the extremely annoying ringing in his ears. Neither his eyes were doing great, but what they've managed to pick was... unsettling, to say the least.

  - Thank you for the extraction, Disject, sergeant,   - he said a bit louder than as usual, trying to feel his emphatic link to Amrynn. Has the wisp teleported with them?
BelGareth
Sergeant Hackford steps forward, his demeanor calm and authoritative, as he addresses the concerns raised by the team.

 "Right, let's get this sorted,"  Hackford begins, his eyes sweeping over the team.  "First things first, Disject, you did indeed get them out, and that's no small feat. Successful extraction and delivery, as you said. Well done."
 
He then turns to Pilgrim, who is still cradling Cur's remains.  "As for the remains of our forgeborn friend, Pilgrim, rest assured, this isn't the end for Cur. Here in the Rose Petals, we have the means to interrogate the dead and, if necessary, resurrect them. The magewrights will take Cur to the appropriate facilities. We’ll ensure that any vital information he carried is not lost." 

Endymia’s quiet musings catch Hackford’s ear next. He offers her a reassuring nod.  "Endymia, you're welcome. The extraction was critical, and I'm pleased we could get you all out safely. Take a moment to recuperate; you've all earned it." 

Cervena’s frustration does not go unnoticed. Hackford meets her fierce gaze squarely.  "Cervena, I appreciate your forthrightness. The nature of these missions requires a delicate balance between discretion and decisive action. Disject was a contingency, you lot seemed to keep botching the ball. The stakes, as always, are the security of the realm and the survival of our people. Your loyalty is valued, but so is your insight. If you feel the need to return to the woods, I won't hold you back. But know this: every action we take, every risk we endure, is to protect what we hold dear." 

He pauses as if to reflect on his words, as if he was hearing them for the first time.  "Actually...we're not really sure whats going on."  he admits  "We were on schedule for the 23rd celebration of the peace summit, and then...well, you know...this, the agency is scrambling right now to figure it out, diviners are working non-stop shifts, and...we're coming up against a lot of resistance, double, triple agents, intel that shouldn't have been possible to known, key personnel started missing, it's a giant mess, and it all points towards the Empire of the East Sun. We're not sure why, the Queen's were...friends...and now she can't reach her, all efforts are blocked or fail, she worries for the worst....I'm sorry about your mission going sideways....at least you got out..."  he pauses, his eyes were wide, he stared past you all for a moment, and a feeling of great loss overwhelms you all.

He catches himself after a long awkward pause,  "Anyway, we have more things to be done, you lot have been the most successful team, so you'll have your choice of several missions, but rest up first, sleep, and speak to the quartermaster, if they don't have what you're looking for, it can be commissioned." 

He waves a dismissive hand, and departs himself, head down, eyes focused on a thought. He looked  troubled 
 
 Spoiler 

yes Amyrnn came along.

Everyone can requisition 20k worth of gear.
 
Olive_Sophia
 

Endymia smiled innocently when the sergeant complimented her and told her to relax. It was a charming sight, but inside she was only thinking selfishly about the payoff - the rewards she'd claim and the delights she'd enjoy. In the end it had only been a day of effort, but considering the urgency and danger level, the purse was bound to be considerable. She could probably live off of it for a while if she wanted to spend it slowly, though that was rarely how she played her hand.

From the way Hackford described it, things were really coming apart in the political sphere. Endymia didn't fully grasp what was going on, but she knew that whenever royals started fighting, it always got bloody. Whatever the case, it sounded like there would be more work for her immediately.   'I guess I won't be getting off with one day after all,'   she thought.   'Ah well. I'll make em pay for it.'   The white-haired woman went to discuss her requests with the quartermaster. She mainly wanted to upgrade her weapon, but there were a number of magic items that could prove useful in the coming days. She also produced the tetsubo she'd claimed from the fallen oni and asked the magewrights to identify it for her.

Afterwards, Endymia caught up with Evindal.   "Hey, things didn't exactly turn out how I expected back there. But maybe we could still share that drink? I wouldn't mind getting to know you a bit better, if they're going to keep this team together."  
Ilerien
  - Small consolation, but it kind of lightens the mood to think we're not alone in the not knowing what's going on department,   - Evindal chuckled mirthlessly.   - Though us being the most successful team, frankly speaking, sounds frightening.  

The elven mage approached the quartermaster to find out what of his pretty large wish list could be procured, who had, it seemed, just finished discussing the same matters with Endymia.

Hearing Endymia address him, Evindal gave her a pointed look and nodded slightly.
  - Far it be from me to renege on a promise, however different the circumstances might be,   - he smiled and gestured for her to lead on.   - Lead the way, if you please. I just hope they have decent drinks here.  
Auranghzeb
Double, and triple agents? What was Hackford talking about. This was veering out of control. Cervena could read it in his face more than in his rambling. She didn't like it one bit.

But this was what she swore loyalty to. She couldn't abandon now. But what about Endymia? Could her sister be a double agent? What interests could she have in the stability of the kingdom or in the continued peace, she fed on violence.


Cervena's mind was spinning. She needed rest and meditation, she needed to delve into this from her inner mind and not let the emotions take over, that was a dangerous path.


 Alright, Hackford, We'll talk in the morning. 

And she moved to her quarters, to meditate.
LairdMaon
Disject nods at the acknowledgement of his successful mission.

 "20k? That sounds like new spikes and a paint job. Maybe even an artisanal oil and polish job..." , he turns to make his way to the Quartermaster's forge, listing the minor luxuries he might get with his reward.
BelGareth
As the team regroups and takes stock of their situation, the heavy sound of footsteps echoes through the chamber. Emerging from a side corridor is a towering figure, his presence commanding and unmistakable. Standing nearly nine feet tall, the newcomer is a Primordial Troll, his skin a vibrant mix of earthy greens and blues that seem to shift and shimmer as he moves. His features are sharp and angular, yet there's an intelligence in his eyes that sets him apart from the brutish reputation of his kin.

Clad in a patchwork of finely crafted leather armor and adorned with various pouches and satchels, he carries himself with a peculiar grace. As he approaches, the team can see that he bears an array of weapons and tools slung across his broad back, each meticulously maintained and gleaming with enchantments.

 "Ah, there ye are, ye bunch o' merry adventurers,"  he rumbles in a deep, resonant voice, his accent lending a lyrical quality to his words.  "Name's Garrick, yer friendly neighborhood quartermaster. Been keepin' an eye on ye lot, makin' sure ye've got what ye need to keep the baddies at bay." 

He grins, revealing a set of sharp teeth that somehow manage to appear welcoming rather than menacing. His eyes twinkle with a mix of mischief and wisdom, hinting at a sharp mind behind his imposing exterior.

 "Now, if ye've come lookin' for supplies, ye've come to the right place,"  Garrick continues, gesturing to the collection of goods he carries.  "Need a wee bit o' gear, do ye? I've got potions, scrolls, weapons... you name it, I've probably got it tucked away somewhere." 

With a deft flick of his wrist, he produces a small ledger from one of his many pouches and begins leafing through it with surprising dexterity.  "Let's see what we've got for ye today. Oh, and if there's somethin' specific ye're after, just say the word. I like to think I'm a bit of a miracle worker when it comes to findin' the rare and unusual." 

Garrick leans in conspiratorially, lowering his voice as he adds with a wink,  "And don't ye worry 'bout the paperwork—I've got it all sorted out. After all, what good's a quartermaster if he can't bend the rules a bit for his favorite crew, eh?" 

 


As dawn's light spills into the room, illuminating the dust motes hanging in the air, Sergeant Hackford gathers the team around the large shimmering holographic illusion. His presence commands attention, his accent adding a crisp formality to the morning's proceedings.

" Good morning, everyone, " Hackford begins, adjusting his cap as he surveys the team. " We've a trio of missions before us, each one pivotal in its own right. These aren't simple tasks, mind you, so choose with care. "

 Mission One:  The Prison Break

Hackford taps a spot on the map, his finger resting on a hostile region deep behind enemy lines. " Our first mission is a prison break. There's a facility holding key figures, individuals who, if liberated, could throw a spanner in the works for our adversaries. Releasing them will not only rattle their command structure but force them to pull resources off the front lines. There's also a rumor that some of our Petals might be locked up there, so it’s a chance to bolster our own ranks. "

He pauses, emphasizing the need for stealth. " This is a job for shadows and whispers, a chance to disappear like smoke once the deed is done. "

 Mission Two:  The Train Heist

Shifting to a rail line etched across the map, Hackford's eyes narrow with focus. " Next, we have a train heist. Now, I won't sugarcoat it—this one's a beast. The train belongs to the Osmielt clan of Dwarves, coming out of the South East holdings of the Crimson Blockade. They’re a clever lot, with their fancy missile turrets and mechanoid warsuits. But the cargo they’re carrying... well, let's just say it’s worth the risk. Successfully intercepting this train would tip the scales in our favor. "

His tone carries a note of challenge. " You'll need guile, grit, and perhaps a touch of luck to pull this off. "

 Mission Three:  The Officer Rescue

Finally, Hackford indicates a besieged point on the northern front. " Lastly, we have a rescue mission. Our magewright-seers have pinpointed an officer whose survival is vital to our cause. He’s surrounded, cut off, and running out of time. Extracting him will keep our momentum and morale intact on the front lines. "

Hackford straightens, his gaze steady as he looks at each member of the team. " These missions are no walk in the park, but your actions will echo through the war effort. Discuss, deliberate, and decide which course to chart. "

With that, Hackford steps back, giving the team space to ponder the weighty decision before them, his confidence in their abilities unspoken but palpable.
Cygnia
Tommasia's ankle was finally feeling better.  Of course, what gave her more comfort was having Jinx back by her side.

She had a few requests for the quartermaster in terms of upgrades for herself.  But, looking over her proposed list, she took back the quill and added one more item.  For Cur, for Pilgrim and for Disjects' sakes, she had to make sure she could prevent the loss of another team member.  Her belt didn't work as well on warforged as it did on flesh and blood beings.

 
 Spoiler: Shopping list! 

Memento Magica (2nd lvl 6000 MIC p164)
Fearsome Armor enchant (5000 DotU version p97)
Circlet of Persuasion (4500 DMG p252)
Eternal Wand: Repair Moderate Damage (4420 MIC p159/ECS 114 2d8+3 "heals" construct 2/day)
 


****

Tommasia weighed the options.  Already she could hear Cervena grouse about the rest of their crew not being "stealthy" enough to do a prison break.  And, to be fair, she probably would have a point.

   "This Osmielt clan of Dwarves...is there any reason why we can't just  buy  their cargo?  Are they allies of our enemies?"     Usually, she wouldn't expect dwarves to willingly ally with goblinoids, but war made strange bedfellows sometimes.
BelGareth
Sergeant Hackford blinked, his expression momentarily frozen in a mixture of surprise and faint amusement, as if Tommasia had just suggested buying a dragon’s hoard with a handful of copper coins. He adjusted his cap slightly before responding, his tone carrying a hint of incredulity mixed with patience.

" Tommasia, have you ever dealt with dwarves before? " he asked, his voice tinged with a faint chuckle. " The Osmielt clan, like many dwarven nations, is notoriously xenophobic. They’re as stubborn as a mule in a mine, and twice as likely to dig in their heels. Bargaining with them? It’s a process that can take months—months we simply do not have. "

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking with Tommasia's to underscore the seriousness of the situation. " The Osmielt clan has tenuous ties to both our kingdom and the Empire. They’re fiercely independent, valuing their resources above all else, and they have no qualms about playing both sides if it suits their interests. The truth is, they’re not particularly fond of anyone who isn’t dwarven, and getting them to the bargaining table takes an amount of time and patience that we simply don’t possess. Even if we could get them to talk, there’s no guarantee they’d sell. And by the time we’d reach an agreement, the cargo would be long gone. "

Hackford paused, letting his words sink in. " We need those resources, and we need them now. The only way to get them is to take them, straight from the source. If we try to wait, or negotiate, we’ll lose the edge this mission offers us. And make no mistake—those resources could turn the tide in this war. "

He straightened up, his expression returning to its usual composed state. " So, no, they’re not exactly allies of our enemies, but they aren’t our friends either. The only thing we can count on is their loyalty to their own interests. And that’s why we need to act decisively. "
Auranghzeb
Not having anything to talk about with the quarter master, Cervena spent her time with the few scholars remaining in the barracks. He sharpest weapon was her mind and to hone such a weapon one needed a special kind or steel not findable in the quartermaster's supplies. It was now time to embrace the path of the sanctified mind and open her inner sight to the elevated sacrifice. She had seen the army of the enemy had Onis and other aberrations on their side and as the slayer of evil she will take the fight to them, even if it meant following orders from a Hack...


***

This group was a trainwreck, so it was natural that the train heist looked as the better fit. But Cervena's attention went to the officer.

  Hackford, can't you sort the priorities? A trapped and surrounded officer with vital information seem much more urgent than anything else. Why do we play this game of choices when we really don't have them?  
BelGareth
Sergeant Hackford adjusted his cap, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he listened to Cervena’s words. His eyes gleamed with a hint of knowing amusement, the kind that only comes from years of dealing with impossible situations and the people thrown into them.

" Oh, there’s a choice, Cervena, make no mistake about that, " Hackford replied. " But let me be clear: all three of these missions will be initiated, whether you lot are involved or not. You see, that officer you mentioned? His situation is critical, no doubt about it. But so is the prison break, and so is the train heist. Each one of these operations serves a strategic purpose, each one could tip the scales in our favor, and each one has been planned to go forward regardless. "

Hackford leaned in slightly, his voice lowering just enough to draw the group’s focus. " You’re right, Cervena; this isn’t about playing games. It’s about giving you some agency in what comes next. Figured you’d at least appreciate some input on your next assignment, considering the... diverse skill sets you all bring to the table. The reality is, you get to pick where you go, but make no mistake—these missions are all getting done, one way or another. "

He straightened up again, his expression returning to its usual composed demeanor. " So, if you think the officer is the priority, then that’s where you’ll go. If you think you can pull off the train heist, all the better. But understand this: whatever choice you make, the other missions will still move forward, just with different hands at the helm. The only difference is who’s handling what. So, what’s it going to be? "

Hackford’s gaze swept across the group, his confidence in their abilities evident. " The choice is yours. But know that no matter what you choose, we’re counting on you to get it done. " he says, winking at Cervena.
rypt
Pilgrim is as a great metal statue amidst the activity within the chamber, greeting the quartermaster with a nod.  He shares his list of desired upgrades with the colorful troll, further inquiring about a space where he might ply his own craft.

 
 Spoiler: Shopping 
Upgrade +1 warhammer to +2 (4200 gp, self-crafted)
Add Sizing enchantment to warhammer (3500 gp, self-crafted)
Upgrade +2 plating to +3 (3500 gp, self-crafted)
Strongarm Bracer component (6000 gp)
Rock Boots component (2000 gp)
 


****

He listens in silence to sergeant's briefing.  After a moment of consideration, he shares his initial thoughts.    "My magical abilities are particularly useful in the manipulation of metal.  My first impression is that they would best be put to use aboard the dwarven train.  Where is your officer surrounded?"  

He then looks to Disject.    "The weapon you deployed in the enemy camp -- what was it?"    He turns to Hackford, adding,   "And what are we to do should the enemy deploy a similar weapon?"  
LairdMaon
 
 Spoiler: Shopping 

+1 Defending spikes for both armor and shield portion of manople.
 


****

The smaller Warforged looks up from scratching a smiley face into the wooden arm of his chair.  "Nah, there's no evidence..."  He looks around, as if startled.  "Wait, what's the question?"

  It takes him a moment to recollect his thoughts and he answers Pilgrim first, " My weapon? Oh, my manople. Think punch dagger and buckler meet and have a baby, but the baby has grown up! Best of both worlds and I just added extra sharp points for increased defense!"  

Disject turns to regard the three options,  "If there are other groups who can handle the jobs we don't take, then I'd like to place my mark on either the train job or the prison break, favoring the train most of all. Trains have mechanisms in them. Mechanisms don't take kindly to wrenches jammed into them, as a whole, and if I make that wrench adamantine..."  He lets his words trail away.
rypt
Pilgrim shakes his head.    "No, you mistake me.  I refer to the explosive device you triggered in the moment of our departure."  
LairdMaon
 "Oh! The  explosion !"  Disject giggles like a broken toy,  "Yeah, that wasn't me. All I did was get us all together and hit the red button on the device these guys,"  he jerks a thumb at Hackford,  "gave me. I didn't blow up anything this time." 
Ilerien
 
 Spoiler: Shopping list 
Additional spellbook (15)
Scrolls: solid fog (700 + 400), dispel magic (375 + 300), [PHB2] dimension step (375 + 300)
[MIC] Add the enchantment of [MIC] circlet of mages to the headband of intellect (5k + 2k for combining)
[MIC] Improve vest of resistance from +3 to +4 (7k)
Pearl of power I x2 (2k)
Wand of protection from evil (750)
Everlasting rations (350)
Potion of invisibility (300)
Rope (silk) (10)
...aaand 125 GP remain
 

Evindal nodded respectfully at the qurtermaster.
  - I was made aware of the ability to hasten the process of transcribing arcane formulae. I welcome it wholeheartedly, as there is no time for me to do it the ordinary way. You have my sincere gratitude,   - he turned to the sergeant.
  - If I understand you correctly, Hackford,   - said the wizard thoughtfully,   - the Osmielt clan is a neutral party with regards to the conflict. Is the cargo a single train's carrying worth turning them into our enemy? Dwarves tend to keep grudges for centuries. Anyway, if that's been decided already, my bet is on the prison break. It should both hurt the enemy and bolster our ranks, while the other missions, if successful, bring either one or the other to the table. Of course, not everyone fits the bill of "shadows and whispers",   - the elf cast a small and fleeting smile at the others.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Knowledge (local) check to recall information about the Osmielt clan (mostly to ascertain if negotiations are indeed useless, and what their reaction would be to the heist Hackford is speaking about):  (1d20+14)[ 34 ] 
 
Olive_Sophia
 

The newly arrived quartermaster was a remarkable troll. The shifting colors of his skin gave Endymia pause, and made her wonder about what kind of life such a creature must have lived. But rather than prying into his business, she decided to pursue her own. After requesting a short list of equipment for her next mission, she presented the large tetsubo from before - a finely shaped hunk of wood with lines of bound metal bolts.   "This is one of the weapons that the demons used against us. I want to have our boys analyze it and see what we can make of it. We might learn something about what happened tonight."

"Do see that it's returned to me, won't you? I may be able to find a use for the thing - or a buyer, one."  

--

The next morning Endymia arrived in good spirits, all made up and fully presenting the part of a knight in shining armor. She was refreshed after a night of rest, and the large payoff from the previous job had her feeling a bit more optimistic about this next mission. She greeted the others and listened to Hackford's briefing on the available missions. The paladin mulled them over while the others talked it out.

  "The heist has my attention. I'll admit that the machine weaponry you mentioned is worrisome, but the payoff could be enormous. In an environment like that, maybe I could put my natural charm to good use,"   she said, with a vain flip of her long white hair.   "Say, Hackford, is there any chance you could get me a legitimate reason to be on that train?"

"And another thing, a big job like this can't be done without some pretty thorough planning. We need to take some time to discuss how we're going to handle security and the other passengers, as well as angles for boarding the train. Having a general timetable of events could help us keep things organized in the case that communication becomes difficult..."   Endymia continued talking over these issues with the others, offering her feedback and opinions as appropriate. She wasn't the most well-versed on the magitech they'd be up against, or on the Osmielt dwarves themselves - but she did understand the basic requirements for pulling off a clean robbery.
BelGareth
As the team gathers in the briefing room, the light from the afternoon sun filters through the small, high windows, casting long shadows across the floor. At the front of the room, Sergeant Hackford stands with his usual air of authority, a holographic illusion map hovering in front of him, displaying the route of the train they’re about to infiltrate. His eyes gleam with the familiar sharpness that speaks to the importance of the mission at hand. With a habitual gesture, he adjusts his cap—something that seems more for show than necessity, given that it always sits perfectly on his head.

Hackford’s voice, distinct with its crisp accent, cuts through the quiet room. " Right then, listen up, you lot. We’ve got ourselves a proper job this time—a train heist. High up in the bloody mountains, this one, so don’t get too comfortable. " He pauses for effect, letting his words sink in. " You’ll be transported to the target location by means that—let’s just say—don’t concern you at this time. All you need to know is that you’ll be where you need to be when you need to be there. "

With a small smirk, Hackford taps his cap lightly, as if ensuring it hasn’t shifted an inch, then continues. " Once you’re in position, you’ll be dropping in from above—yes, you heard that right—from quite the altitude. So, to keep you from splattering across the roof of that train, you’ll each be receiving one of these. " He gestures to a small box, opening it to reveal a set of gleaming pendants. " These are Pendants of Feather Fall. When the moment comes, these little beauties will slow your descent, letting you land with all the grace of a cat on a fence. "

He picks up another item from the box—a small vial filled with a shimmering liquid. " Next, you’ll each be under the effect of a Veil spell, courtesy of our finest mages. It’ll disguise you lot as dwarves from head to toe, beards and all. Can’t have you standing out like a sore thumb, now can we? " He holds up a second vial. " And to complete the illusion, you’ll also receive a dose of vocal alteration—make you sound just like those gruff little buggers. No offense to any dwarves present, of course. "

Hackford places the items on the table before the team, letting them take in the significance of the mission. " Now, as for the mission itself, you’ll be infiltrating a train run by the Osmielt clan. It’s twelve carriages long, with the cargo we’re after located in the rear. The train’s bristling with defenses—automated turrets firing magic missiles, and a good number of stout Dwarven guards, each one more suspicious than the next. You’ll be starting at the front of the train and working your way back. No handholding on this one, I’m afraid. You’ll have to adapt as you go. "

With a flick of his hand, Hackford zooms the holographic map to highlight the train’s path through the treacherous, snow-covered mountains. " The train’s high up in the mountains, so it’ll be cold, and the terrain won’t be forgiving. You’ll need to stay sharp, work together, and get the job done. We’re after the cargo. What’s inside it, you ask? Let’s just say it’s something we can’t afford to let slip into the wrong hands. "

Another cap adjustment, this time with a glint of self-awareness, as Hackford continues, " I won’t insult your intelligence by telling you this’ll be easy. It won’t be. But if there’s a team that can pull this off, it’s you lot. So, gather your gear, check your spells, and be ready. Once you’re on that train, there’s no turning back. " he pauses as if he forgot something " And one last thing " he pulls a token out for each of you " If something happens, place this on a body, and it will be transported to our infirmary here... " he lets that sink in for a moment.

Hackford steps back slightly, giving the team a moment to absorb the briefing. " Questions? No? Good. Then let’s get to it. " He motions them to the teleportation circle in an adjoining room where the door is slowly rising up to reveal the dark chamber within.
LairdMaon
Disject takes a vial and slips it into his bag of holding. The pendant goes over his head and around his head as he follows Captain Hackford to the teleport station.  "Begin at the front and work to the caboose. You said the target is towards the rear of the train. Is it in the last carriage?" 
BelGareth
Sergeant Hackford listens to Disject’s question, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considers the best way to respond. With a small, almost imperceptible sigh, he adjusts his cap—though by now, it’s clear he does it more out of habit than necessity.

" You’re right about one thing, Disject—the target is at the rear of the train. But as for it being in the very last carriage? " He gives a slight shrug, his tone pragmatic. " That’s all our intel could gather. The Osmielt clan is notoriously tight-lipped, even for dwarves, and getting reliable information out of them is like trying to squeeze blood from a stone. "
LairdMaon
 "I've got two more questions before I am truly ready. First, what's our extraction plan looking like, and, second, how big is the cargo?"   Disject watches Hackford's hat, waiting to see if it moves on it's own and that's why the man keeps adjusting it.
Auranghzeb
Cervena is ready, she grabs the mission items and glances around the room. As far as shock troopers where, this lot was ok.

Then she chuckled a little bit, imagining her sister with a dwarfs beard.


 Let's go 
Olive_Sophia
 

There was hardly any color in her face to begin with, but she still looked drained when Hackford brought up their entry plans, more specifically the part where they'd all have to turn into a bunch of stinking dwarves.   "Ugh. It's no use, trying to be charming in a form like that."   She cupped her face with a hand, as though she was left truly adrift by the revelation. Endymia took a moment to recollect herself and then prepared to set out.

  "Let's try and keep a low profile to start. But once a fight breaks out, let's really let them have it. I don't care what becomes of their train - technological marvel though it may be."  
Cygnia
   "Find the correct car, remove it from the rest of the train -- think there's  a wand or essence of rust monster that could eat away the connection . Better or quicker than acid or fire at least.  Or eat away at the damn turrets too."     Tommasia knew little of artificers' technology.  Whatever could give them ANY advantage in getting this so-called "important" cargo away had to be considered.
BelGareth
Sergeant Hackford listens to Disject’s questions and the comments from the rest of the team, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considers his response. With his usual habit, he adjusts his cap—though it’s clear to anyone watching that it’s perfectly in place.

" Right, Disject, let’s address your questions first, " Hackford begins, his tone measured and calm. " Extraction plan’s a bit fluid at the moment, if I’m honest. We’ll be keeping a close eye on you during the mission, and I’ll update you when we’re closer to the mark. Could be a quick getaway, could be a bit more chaotic—won’t know until we see how things unfold on the ground, or rather, on the train. "

He pauses for a moment, catching Disject’s gaze as the warforged subtly watches his cap. There’s a brief flicker of amusement in Hackford’s eyes, but he continues without acknowledging it. " As for the cargo’s size… well, that’s the tricky part. We don’t have exact dimensions, I’m afraid. Could be a chest, could be a crate, could be something even larger. You’ll need to be ready for anything. The Osmielt clan isn’t keen on sharing their secrets, even under the best circumstances. "

Hackford then turns to Tommasia, nodding at her suggestion. " Ah, rust monsters… Believe me, if we could’ve found one, we’d have brought it along. Unfortunately, those little devils have been scarce for generations. Some say they’ve been hunted to near extinction, others think they’ve gone to ground somewhere deep. Either way, they’re not an option. Acid or fire might have to do the trick, unless you’ve got another clever idea tucked away. "

He gives the room a sweeping glance, his expression shifting to one of quiet determination. " This isn’t going to be a walk in the park, and I know none of you signed up for an easy job. But remember, the objective’s clear: get that cargo, whatever it is, and get out with as little fuss as possible. Keep a low profile as long as you can, but if it comes to blows, don’t hold back. We’ve got no room for half measures on this one. "

With a final nod, Hackford straightens up, his voice firm. " Now, if there’s nothing else, let’s get to it. Time waits for no one, least of all us. "
rypt
Pilgrim takes one of the pendant chains between two fingers, holding it upward so it hangs at eye-level.  All of his magical equipment is integrated into his armored frame.  He is wholly unaccustomed to donning even simple jewelry such as this.    "It may prove to our advantage that the cargo is located at the rear of the train.  Disconnecting the rearmost cars from the rest of the train could potentially limit the number of guards able to mount an effective defense."   

To Tommasia, the warforged adds,   "There will be no need for rust monsters.  I am capable of rusting, melting, and otherwise shaping metal.  I will prepare my runes accordingly."  
Ilerien
The elf, who was silent and contemplative through the entire conversation, stirred.

  - How do we even distinguish the correct chest, crate or whatever that is? If I were to protect an immensely valuable piece of cargo transported on a train from suspected thieves, I'd make obscurity my last line of defense. Let the lucky miscreants who'd managed to get that far lose time and their minds over sorting the correct container from a hundred more, some with cheap replicas of the object the thieves are after. Also, I'm pretty sure the dwarves are aware of the ways to block divinations - for example, enough lead in the walls of the containers would make it all but impossible to scan the contents,    - Evindal said, looking at Hackford intently.   - We have to have more information on what the cargo is, lest we bring back some useless piece of junk.  
BelGareth
Sergeant Hackford’s eyes narrow as he listens to Evindal’s words, his usually composed demeanor slipping just enough to reveal a flash of irritation. He adjusts his cap—not out of habit this time, but more as a way to channel his frustration.

" Evindal, I’ve no time for this sort of dithering, " Hackford snaps, his voice cutting through the room with a sharp edge. " Do you think we haven’t considered every bloody angle of this mission? Do you think we don’t know the risks? Of course, the dwarves will have their tricks—lead-lined containers, decoys, all manner of distractions. But that’s why you’re being sent in. "

He steps forward, his gaze locking with Evindal’s, the frustration in his voice now mixed with a hardened determination. " You’re not being sent on this mission to pick flowers, you’re there to make decisions, to adapt, to use your bloody head. If it were as simple as handing you a map with a big red X on it, we wouldn’t need the likes of you, now would we? "

Hackford pauses, his voice lowering but still laced with a hint of ire. " The cargo’s value isn’t in its appearance; it’s in the impact it can have on this war. You’ll know it when you see it, and if you don’t, well, then you improvise. But right now, we don’t have the luxury of sitting here discussing hypotheticals. Time is slipping through our fingers, and the longer we delay, the closer we come to losing the one edge we have. "

He straightens up, his voice regaining its usual authoritative tone. " So, unless you’ve got a better idea, I suggest you gear up and get ready to move. We’ve already wasted enough time as it is. "

Hackford turns away, signaling that the discussion is over. " This mission starts now. Get to it. " He finishes, looking at a timepiece as if you were on a schedule.

You are rushed into the teleportation chamber by silent magewrights. The runes flash at your sudden disappearance.

 The Train Heist 