BelGareth
The Train Heist

The cold air bites at your skin, and the world spins in a blur of white as the teleportation magic takes hold. You feel the familiar tug of arcane energy pulling you through space.

The world snaps into focus with an eerie stillness, the kind that only exists in the highest, most remote peaks. Jagged, snow-covered mountains stretch endlessly in every direction, their rocky faces carved by centuries of relentless wind and ice. The sky above is a bruised shade of twilight, heavy with the promise of more snow. Below, far below, a narrow rail clings precariously to the side of the mountain, a ribbon of steel that defies gravity as it winds its way through the treacherous landscape.

The air is bitterly cold, the kind that bites deep into your bones and steals your breath. The wind howls through the peaks, carrying with it the scent of frost and the distant echoes of avalanches that never seem to end. And then, there it is—a dark silhouette against the white expanse, hurtling along the rail with an almost mechanical precision. The train, a leviathan of iron and steel, suspended impossibly above the chasm below, its many carriages trailing behind like the segments of some monstrous serpent. Plumes of steam rise from its engine, quickly dissipating in the frigid air.

You’re high—incredibly high—snow flurries swirl around you in a dizzying dance, the landscape bathed in the pale light of a cold dawn. It is a sight to behold, the train’s massive bulk dwarfing the icy cliffs as it races through the mountains at breakneck speed. The rail itself hovers over a void, attached to the mountainside by slender, almost spindly supports that look far too delicate to hold up such a behemoth. Yet, there it is, defying nature and logic, barreling forward on its predetermined course.

For a moment, everything seems still, as if the world itself is holding its breath. And then you begin to fall.

You are falling—plummeting from the sky with nothing but the thin, icy air between you and the distant earth below. The wind roars in your ears, deafening, as it tears at your clothes and numbs your skin. The sheer force of the fall presses against your chest, making it hard to breathe and hard to think. The mountains blur around you, streaking past in a dizzying whirl of white and grey.

But even through the howling wind and the rush of the fall, you can see the train—your target—coming up fast beneath you. The carriages are distinct now, the details sharp against the snow-covered backdrop. The timing must be perfect; there is no room for error. A few more seconds, and you’ll be close enough to activate the pendants. But for now, you fall, hurtling through the sky like meteors, deafened by the wind, your heart pounding in your ears.

And then, just as the train’s outline begins to dominate your vision, the world contracts to that singular moment—the drop, the descent, the thrill of the hunt. The ground—or, rather, the train—rushes up to meet you, and the cold, thin air rips the breath from your lungs as you brace yourself for impact.

 
 Spoiler: Image 

 
 

 
 Spoiler 

You're in free fall, I know  technically  feather fall will kick in immediately, but who cares. You have 5 rounds of actions before landing behind the Engine. I'll provide additional detailed information the closer you get (rounds 4-5)
 
Auranghzeb
Cervena almost, almost felt sympathy for Hackford. his group had a knack for overthinking  right before  underdoing. But She actually scoffed at Hackford's suggestion that   He or his mooks actually had planned anything ahead.   

Anyway, that had been moments ago, now she was free falling through freezing air towards a fast approaching train traveling at it's own pace and probably outfitted with defenses. She could levitate freely, but chose not to, simply diving harder into the path of the train, determined to land on top of it before the dwarfs had time to see them.

She adopted the most aerodynamical shape possible and dove down!
LairdMaon
Disject takes the cue from Cervena. He takes aim at the juncture between the first and second carriage and drops like a javelin, mithril toes first.
Ilerien
He was surprised how much he missed clear and chilly mountain air. It was almost like home. Evindal had made his peace with noisy, smelly and fleeting human cities long ago, but it certainly felt refreshing to see the unmoving mountains again and breathe in while diving down to the metal snake of the train. Missing it would've been quite unfortunate. Everything could've gone wrong, so even landing on target might've proven fatal.

  Focus on what's important.   Evindal felt a warm impulse of thought, or, rather, emotion - Amrynn was there, invisible and following him closely.

His companions weren't going to hear him in this slowed down free fall, and, frankly, speaking wasn't all effortless - he was barely able to enunciate a correct formula of a simple spell, for Corellon's sake.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Standard action: Cast  comprehend languages  on self, 110 min.
 
Cygnia
   This...isn't good.   

More half-assed intel from Hackford.  With every mission, it only served to reinforce Tommasia's distrust of the sergeant.  But, until she had actual solid proof that the man was a probable turncoat, all she could do was continue to do the assignments to the best of her ability.

Which, yet again, said ability was neutered without Jinx by her side.  No intel that any of the dwarves on this train had dark companions.

Tommasia had heard war stories of veterans who had lost an arm or leg in battle (and was too poor or "unworthy" to get it restored) still being able to sense that missing body part.  'Phantom limb' was what they called it.

Jinx made her feel  whole .
Olive_Sophia
 

Endymia had steeled herself for another mission, but the suddenness with which this one had begun was still a shock. She was... falling now. Snow surrounded her on all sides, the wintry landscape eliciting excitement and demanding respect. From here, the true achievement of the Osmielt clan's train system was on full display. It must have taken an incomprehensible investment to erect such a marvel.

Under the magewrights disguise, Endymia had become a smaller figure - a fair dwarven woman with light hair. She didn't look entirely unlike her true self, but there was more roundness in her face, and more color to the eyes. She almost looked friendlier this way.

Now wasn't the time to be worrying about appearances, however. They were diving towards that hurtling train now, and they'd be landing any second now. At first she thought of using her black cape to direct herself with the wind, but she quickly abandoned that concept. If the pendant didn't work properly, this was going to be a heavy landing. She'd have to do her best to grab onto the machine's top and right herself. She prepared to use her weapon to anchor herself if necessary.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 


Endymia doesn't have much in the way of prep round actions, so I'm mostly holding until closer to landing unless we see something else. Her Halberd should still be poisoned with T'sous from the last encounter, but if not she'll apply another dose now.
 
BelGareth
As the world around you snaps back into focus, the roaring wind fills your ears, almost deafening in its intensity. The ground rushes up to meet you, but before panic can set in, the Feather Fall pendants around your necks activate, slowing your rapid descent into a gentle glide. The sensation is surreal—like floating down through the clouds on a soft breeze, despite the roaring wind that still whips past you.

Beneath you, the dark silhouette of the train grows sharper, more defined. The carriages stretch out like the segments of some great iron serpent, winding through the snow-capped mountains. The train is long—twelve carriages in all, each one finely crafted from dark, gleaming materials that seem to hum with an otherworldly energy. The craftsmanship is impeccable, every inch of the train radiating the Osmielt dwarves' pride in their work.

With the wind still howling in your ears, you brace yourselves for the landing. The moment your feet make contact with the roof of the train, you feel the sudden jolt of the metal beneath you, and the truth of your precarious position sets in. The train hurtles along at a breakneck speed, the surface beneath you slick with frost and shaking with the force of the powerful engine. Maintaining your balance is no small feat; the metal feels treacherous underfoot, forcing you to move with careful precision.

As you stabilize yourselves, your eyes take in the train’s construction. The carriages are made from a material that seems to resist any magical probing, an unsettling realization that hints at powerful wards or possibly even an inward-focused antimagic field. The very air around you seems to hum with energy, but your spells feel muted, your senses dulled.

The wind, relentless and icy, continues to howl as you move, making it nearly impossible to communicate with one another except through the most basic gestures. You feel the cold biting at your exposed skin, the frigid air stealing the warmth from your bodies even as you prepare to make your way along the length of the train.

Twelve carriages. Twelve opportunities for danger and discovery. The path ahead is anything but clear, and the sense of foreboding that hangs over you is as tangible as the cold metal beneath your feet.

 
 Spoiler 

Everyone balance checks or go prone, DC 15
Verbal communication is all but impossible unless you yell....
Spellcraft DC 26 - there is indeed an antimagic field effect on all the trains composing materials.

Looking around, you can see the there are windows to the carriage below you.
 
Auranghzeb
As she lands, Cervena feels the pull of the train speed and her weight giving in to the momentum, she tumbles and falls prone. Before getting up, she drinks the potion and transforms into a dwarven version of herself.


 


Eivindal and Tomassia seem concerned with something. But Cervena can't sense anything strange. She immediately sets to look for an entrance or a ladder on the side or at the back of the train, she keeps extremely close to the roof and moves at half her speed while keeping at least one hand on the roof.
Ilerien
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Balance check: 5, spellcraft check: 23 (both fail).
 

Evindal landed with as little grace as possible, landing on his nethers and almost rolling off the carriage. Even before getting back up he registered a vague feeling of wrongness, as the dweomers he had woven creaked at the seams, so to speak. He shuddered and muttered another short incantation, looking at the roof of the carriage.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Cast  detect magic  - let it be the price of failing that spellcraft check. :)
 
Cygnia
 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Discord: Balance check made w/19, Spellcraft missed
 


It was only just before impact that Tommasia realized that her ankle (although healed) was still tender from the last mission.

   GODS!   
 Feather Fall  or not, this was still a moving train and the sellsword put all her concentration into not injuring her ankle AGAIN as she landed.  So caught up in that, that, as Tommasia could sense something was "off" about the train, she couldn't really figure out what it was exactly.
rypt
Lacking the flesh and blood to perceive the cold as his organic companions did, Pilgrim nevertheless registers the subzero temperature in the tightening of his metal joints and the stiffening of his wood-fiber musculature woven underneath.

Sudden acceleration and dizzying speed are as kindred to the warforged.  Freefall, however, is not.  Straining to focus on the thin black line speeding through the swirling snow, he aims himself at the front of the train, trusting in the magic of his pendant.

Arms outstretched, it takes a moment for the dwarf-disguised construct to steady himself atop the roof of the carriage.  For the span of a heartbeat, one can perceive the steam rising from his body before it is ripped away by the speed of the train's passage.

Taking a single step forward, Pilgrim wishes he could perceive the metallic report of the train's dark, gleaming skin beneath his feet.  Had the metal anything to say, he might be able to hear it, were the sound not stolen by the howling wind.  Something of the train's construction was unusual, but in these difficult conditions, he could not pinpoint what it was.
Olive_Sophia
 

Endymia was lucky enough to find her footing as the magic set her down upon the train's icy roof. But at once the roaring winds kicked back in, threatening to throw her over backwards - if she didn't freeze to death first, that was. With the unflinching determination of Tiamat's finest, she took one step forward after another, fighting against the relentless whirlwind. It was hard to make heads or tails out of the situation in such intense conditions, but there was no staying here.   'Onwards!'   she bid herself with gritted teeth. She needed to make it to the end of this car, at least. Then there might be options.
LairdMaon
The sheer wrongness of the metal exterior of the train startled Disject. His feet fly out from under him as he lands and he fumbles to gain a grip. He finally does stabilize himself at the edge of the roof.
BelGareth
The wind howls as you descend, the train hurtling beneath you at incredible speed. The Feather Fall pendants activate just in time, slowing your rapid descent into a controlled, almost surreal glide. One by one, you touch down on the icy, slick roof of the train. The landing is far from graceful—Evindal and Disject, despite their best efforts, stumble as they hit the unforgiving metal, struggling to keep their balance on the narrow, swaying surface.

The train races on, the world a blur of snow and ice as the freezing wind continues to batter you from all sides. The noise is overwhelming, making communication nearly impossible without shouting. The metal beneath your feet vibrates with the power of the train's engine, adding another layer of difficulty to maintaining your balance.

Ahead of you, the connection between the carriages comes into view—a small platform leading down to the entry point of the next car. The carriage directly in front of you is a fuel cart, filled with glowing Pyrestone, a rare and volatile crystal used to power the train's magitech engine. The faint crimson light from the crystals spills out through small gaps in the carriage, illuminating the way forward with an eerie, otherworldly glow.

The platform leading to the entry point is slick with frost, the narrow walkway offering little protection from the elements. The hatch at the back of the fuel cart seems to be your best option for getting inside without being immediately detected. The wind howls around you, and the train continues its relentless pace, the metal creaking and groaning as it speeds along the precarious mountain track.

 
 Spoiler 

Balance check DC 15 if you use the platform to enter the fuel carriage.
 
LairdMaon
Disject clambers his way down between the cars and locates the coupler. He engrosses himself in determining the engineering involved in it, trying to learn how to activate it properly and how to activate it  improperly .

 
 Spoiler: ooc 

I'd like to take 10 on a Knowledge (architecture and engineering) check with my 18 for a total of 28.
 
BelGareth
Disject clambers down while the others look on, the wind whipping their hair into streamers. He almost slips on the rime ice built up on the outside of the train but catches himself with a hand, his metallic fingers scraping against the frosty surface. His grip holds, and he lowers himself carefully between the two carriages, the wind biting into every inch of exposed surface, the roar nearly deafening as the train barrels forward at high speed.

Once down, he peers through the small window of the fuel carriage. It’s as they suspected—the glowing Pyrestone crystals are bouncing gently within their compartments, illuminated by their soft crimson light. The heat radiates faintly through the window, in stark contrast to the frigid air outside. The crystals shift in sync with the train’s vibrations, an almost hypnotic pattern emerging from their rhythmic hum.

Turning his attention to the next carriage, the one connected to the fuel cart, Disject narrows his eyes at the window. Unlike the open view of the fuel cart, this carriage’s window is blocked by metal slits, providing both privacy and protection for whoever, or whatever, is inside. The slits allow a minimal view—you can see several dwarves covered in overalls chatting away in what looks like a berthing area for the trains engineers.

Between the two carriages, the coupling mechanism is a thick, robust steel latch, well-secured against any sudden breaks. It hums faintly, a dull vibration moving through it from the train’s relentless motion. There are no signs of easy release or weaknesses here; these cars are meant to stay together unless forcefully separated.
rypt
Pilgrim moves to the edge of the engine car and braces himself against the rushing wind, lowering himself into a crouch as he runs his hands along the curious metal skin of the carriage.  He waits for a moment until he has Disject's attention, then points with one hand to the door to the fuel carriage, and with other, to the roof of the fuel carriage.  He then sets both hands before him, palms up, gesturing as though each hand held the weights of a scale.
Olive_Sophia
 

Endymia watched Disject prod around at the connection between the cars. But it was hard to know what was going on down there. The mission was still the same, get to the other side of this train. The fuel car ahead seemed empty... They could try to enter there, but the unstable elements might prove dangerous in their own right. In the end, the paladin decided it was worth the risk. She inched along the icy pathway, clinging onto the guardrail until she found her destination. Once there, she tried to get in through the hatch.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

 Balance Check:   (1d20+4)[ 20 ] 
 
LairdMaon
Disject locks metallic eyes with Pilgrim. Turning his face partially toward the fuel car, he holds up a hand with no fingers up. Turning toward the second car, he gestures as though caressing a long beard and holds up several fingers, pauses for a moment and then points at Endymia.
BelGareth
As the wind continues to whip around you, the group knows there’s little time to waste. One by one, you descend from the roof of the train to the small platform between the carriages, the slick frost making each step treacherous. Disject, already near the hatch, motions for you to follow. With a sharp twist, he unlocks the latch, and the heavy metal door groans open, revealing the dimly lit interior of the fuel carriage.

You slip inside quickly, shutting the door behind you, and the howling wind is immediately replaced by an eerie silence. The temperature shifts drastically, the bitter cold outside giving way to the heat radiating from the glowing Pyrestone crystals. The warm, crimson light casts long, dancing shadows on the walls of the carriage, creating an almost otherworldly atmosphere.

The fuel cart itself is a long, narrow space, packed tightly with rows of secure containers holding the Pyrestone. The crystals, vibrating in time with the train’s motion, pulse faintly with energy, their brightness increasing and decreasing in rhythmic waves. The heat is palpable now, and the air feels heavy, thick with the latent power of the crystals.

At the far end of the carriage, where you expect the engine room to be, a reinforced steel bulkhead stands in your way. Unlike the rest of the train, which hums with the constant vibrations of motion, the bulkhead is dead still, impenetrable to both sound and sight. The door is heavily reinforced with multiple locking mechanisms, designed to keep unauthorized personnel out. No light seeps through any cracks; the engine drivers on the other side are completely cut off from the rest of the train. It’s clear they aren’t meant to interact with anyone except in the most extreme of emergencies.

No sounds come from beyond the door—either the drivers are oblivious to what’s happening in the carriages behind them, or they simply don’t care. You realize quickly that whatever happens in the rest of the train, you’re unlikely to get any interference from the front.

The air inside the fuel carriage feels strangely oppressive, thickened by the magical energy radiating from the Pyrestone. The walls of the carriage are lined with the humming fuel containers, each crystal locked in place by iron cages to keep them from shifting with the train’s motion. You move carefully through the narrow space, each step on the metal floor clanging softly beneath your boots.
LairdMaon
 "Attention, please!"  Disject quietly calls the rest of the party to him,  "Now that we have made inside and can hear each other, I'd like to tell you what I've discovered about this vehicle. The couplings between the train cars are difficult at best to disable, but that's something to deal with once we find our target. The potentially bigger issue is the material that the train cars themselves are made with. They incorporate an anti-magic field. It doesn't project farther than the structure itself, but it means we cannot use magic on them. I just want everyone to be aware of that restriction." 
Cygnia
   "I assume that field includes the prevention of Pilgrim's ability to rust metal upon them?"    asked Tommasia in a low voice and a dark scowl on her face.  She wondered if all this security on the train was because of whatever the cargo was or just typical of this dwarven clan's paranoia.

But it explained the unease she felt when she landed upon the train.  With their luck, there was a very good chance other anti-magic protocols were involved elsewhere -- no doubt, the closer to their goal would have higher, more dangerous security.
LairdMaon
 "Very likely, yes."  Disject nods his head.  "We are likely looking at mechanical means of affecting the structures. Luckily, Pilgrim has a large weapon that might be able to handle that need." 
Ilerien
Evindal snapped his fingers.

 - Of course. The material itself is protected from the arcane. An elegant solution,  - he looked at his companions.   - Oh. I must've said it out loud. My apologies. There's still teleportation magic available, but I wouldn't rule out the Osmielt clan taking care of that as well. Do we have any mundane means to damage metal of dwarven make?  
rypt
Pilgrim looks from Disject to the interior wall of the carriage, the eye-like slits in his head narrowing.    "Something about this metal seemed odd,"   he remarks, running a hand along the metal's surface.    "It seems the Osmielt's are more skilled in their craft than I realized."    He then moves closer to the wall, bringing his head near to the metal as he continues  to run the tips of his fingers along the unusual steel.  For a moment, it seems as though he is listening to what it has to say.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Just giving some context for Pilgrim's [ 35 ] Smithing check rolled in Discord.
 

  "I have never known metal such as this,"   he says finally.    "Some novel alloy, magically reinforced and warded against further transmutation.  I can neither break it nor shape it.  That this train itself is not Hackford's prize speaks to the significance of its cargo."   
LairdMaon
Disject nods to Pilgrim, Evindal, and Tommasia, bowing in exaggerated politeness.  "Shall we move on, then?"  He maintains that position until the others have moved on ahead of him.
rypt
Pilgrim channels magic into his warhammer before nodding to Disject.    "Yes.  But I must counsel caution.  If the dwarves have forged this metal into armor, then I expect their guards to be formidable."  
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Pilgrim will cast  greater mighty wallop  on his warhammer and change its size to large via the Sizing enchantment.
 
Cygnia
   "Maybe we'll be lucky and we'll somehow be able to snag a scrap of it,"    said Tommasia, though her tone didn't sound like it was a likely scenario. Still, a warforged enhanced with such metal could be useful to the war effort.

She hefted her sword, not ready to activate the wand hidden it its hilt just yet, and followed after the others.
rypt
Pilgrim seems either oblivious to, or unconcerned by, Tommasia's pessimism.    "Yes, on this, we are of a like mind."  
Olive_Sophia
 

There was an undeniable relief as the cold and the whipping winds were suddenly closed out, but it was spiked by the anxiety of their ongoing mission. The otherworldly glow of the pyrite crystals cast a wavering light over the Paladin's face as well as the wall behind her.   "I  may  be able to force my way through the dwarven metal if it comes to it. When the goddess is behind me, no mundane material can deter me. I've cut through an adamantine shield like butter before. But I don't expect the reinforced hull to be as easy. Let's try not to rely on that possibility if we can help it."  

Endymia discussed with the others some more, and then resolved herself.   "Yes, let's move to the next car. I can see some dwarves inside - mechanics perhaps. We could try to have a chat with them, but I don't know dwarven. If we can't keep clear of those fellas, let's knock 'em on the head and let them rest somewhere quiet."  
BelGareth
As you crack open the door to the guard carriage, the roaring wind outside fades to a dull rumble. Inside, three dwarven guards sit around a makeshift table, illuminated by the dim, flickering light of lanterns that cast shadows across the walls. The atmosphere is a mix of practicality and tension, with weapons and tools neatly stored along the walls, ready at a moment’s notice.

The guards look up as you enter, clearly expecting you. They regard you with a mix of irritation and anticipation, assuming you’re the engineers here to fix the problem they’ve been grumbling about.

" About time you engineers showed up, " grunts the largest of the dwarves, his scarred face and thick braided beard making him look every bit the battle-hardened veteran. " We’ve got a blasted coupling further down the line that’s been rattling since we hit the last ridge. Ain’t gonna last much longer on these tracks, and I don’t fancy taking a plunge down the mountain if it goes. "

The shorter guard with the wiry frame and a sly grin adjusts his spectacles, chuckling. " Best get to it, eh? You’ll find the problem at the next coupling down. Grim here’s about ready to have a heart attack over it. " He snickers, casting a sidelong look at the larger dwarf.

The third guard, a stern-looking woman with piercing green eyes and a silver-gray beard, nods toward the door leading further down the train. " Get it sorted, and be quick about it. Don’t need another delay on account of that shaky coupling. " Her gaze is cool, appraising, but she doesn’t seem inclined to question you further.
Ilerien
The dweomer allowed Evindal to speak Dwarven, but he preferred not to - his voice would've likely betrayed him not being a dwarf. Evindal nodded to the guards and looked expectantly at both warforged, as his familiarity with power delivery systems was limited by surface-level theoretical knowledge picked up from a couple of books roughly on the subject he had in his library.
BelGareth
Moving to the other side of the cart, keeping the annoyed guards within your periphery, you pretend to take a look at the locking mechanism for the coupling. It quickly became evident that these guards were not engineers, it was a simple cable popped loose that was banging against the housing unit.


 
 Spoiler 

You all speak dwarf as part of the dweomer, you all look like dwarves, and now you have the access to the rest of the train to move about.
Door, go through it!
 
Ilerien
  Well, that was easeir than expected.  

The cable secured reliably enough for it not to annoy the guards anymore, the elf opened the door and stepped into the next car.
Cygnia
Tommasia followed after Evindal with a nod.  Dweomer or not, she wanted to minimize any chance something could be "off" about her to these dwarves.
BelGareth
 The Next Car: Barracks Carriage 

As you open the door to the next carriage, the change in atmosphere is immediate. The air feels heavier, not from magic, but from the sheer presence of activity. This isn’t just a storage or maintenance space—this is clearly a barracks.

The interior stretches out before you, lined with rows of ironwood bunks stacked three high on either side of the central aisle. The bunks are utilitarian, with thin mattresses, neatly rolled blankets, and a scattering of personal items tucked into corners or hanging from hooks. The air carries the scents of oil, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of weaponry. Along one wall, a rack of well-maintained weapons gleams faintly in the dim light, ranging from warhammers to crossbows and heavy dwarven axes. Shields, emblazoned with the Osmielt Clan’s insignia—a stylized gear set into a mountain—hang in precise formation next to the weapons.

The lanterns here are mounted in protective casings, casting a steady, warm glow across the space. Small tables bolted to the floor are scattered throughout, surrounded by sturdy stools. Several dwarves sit around these tables, casually talking, eating, or sharpening weapons. A few glance up as you enter, but the weight of your disguise holds. You’re just another group of engineers here to do your job.

 "Maintenance crew?"  one of the dwarves asks, barely looking up from his mug of ale. His tone is gruff but disinterested.  "About time you lot made it this far. The rattling’s been driving us mad back there." 

Several of the other dwarves chuckle or shake their heads, but no one challenges your presence. The barracks isn’t a place of high alert, and the guards here seem more concerned with waiting out their shifts than inspecting everyone who passes through.

The lantern light glints off a table near the center of the carriage where three dwarves are playing a dice game. Coins and scraps of metal—likely tokens for betting—clink softly as they toss the dice back and forth. One of them mutters something about being cheated, but the others laugh it off.

The faint hum of the train vibrates through the floor, and the occasional creak of the carriages shifting on the track underscores the low murmur of conversation. The soldiers here are fully armored but relaxed, their weapons mostly sheathed or set aside for now. You notice a few of them polishing gear or inspecting their tools, clearly more focused on their tasks than anything else.

At the far end of the carriage, a reinforced door marks the passage to the next car. It’s heavier than the others, with visible bolts and a sturdy, mechanical locking mechanism. Above it, a small brass plaque glints faintly in the dim lantern light, engraved with dwarven runes. Even without understanding the language, the precise craftsmanship suggests that this is a transition to a specialized area—likely somewhere focused on upkeep or repairs.

From beyond the door, you can hear faint noises: the clinking of tools, the hiss of escaping steam, and the low hum of magitech energy. The muted sounds suggest that the next carriage is alive with activity, though none of it seems hurried or alarmed. It’s not hard to guess that this is where the train’s maintenance operations take place, likely staffed by dwarves who are just as focused and precise as the soldiers in the barracks.

The door itself, like the others, shows signs of frequent use. The edges are slightly worn, and the handle glints faintly from countless hands turning it. The atmosphere around it feels heavier, tinged with the scent of oil and faint traces of heated metal seeping through the cracks. It’s clear this door leads to a space that’s not meant for passengers or casual wanderers—it’s a workspace, practical and essential to the train’s operation.

The dwarves in the barracks barely glance up as you approach the door, still assuming you're part of the maintenance crew.