Time: Morning
Location: Campsite outside Roshmi City
Interactions: Scathael @Apex Sunburn
Mentions: Aerilyn @Alivefalling, Mari @princess, and Thraash @funnyguy
A new morning had come, and the mood within the campsite had yet to shift for the better. Most of the camp's occupants had become less inclined to spark any real casual small talk, and the more extensive discussions were far and few between. To Five, it was evident that everyone was still dealing with the shocking news - and the disturbing sight - of Scathael's village and its population being put to the flame. The Warforged that morning simply kept silent, only having a single optic monitoring the camp's perimeter and casually regarding the still-wakening group. At the same time, his remaining eyes were attenuated to the chemistry set before him.
When Mari and Thraash departed to acquire Scathael's services a few nights prior, Five remained at camp to attend to his attempted repairs. Aerilyn would've tried to generate a discussion or two to pass the time, but the Warforged, whether out of lingering wariness and distrust or having simply put all of his focus into his arm, had either ignored these social advances or grunted in response. Safe to say, it had been a relatively quiet evening after the loud-mouthing duo departed. Eventually, they would arrive a couple of hours later with Scathael in tow. Five would pry his eyes to meet the three, only to find that this, 'Scathael,' was, in fact, a Dark Elf. Five made no attempt to respond to Mari's introductions of the newcomer, and the Warforged stared at the individual who would be repairing him. <<REALLY?>> was the single word that finally escaped him, confusing everyone in attendance.
Though his disdain for Dark Elves remained undisclosed, Five begrudgingly cooperated with the grey-skinned Elf, allowing Scathael to peer into his unarmored limbs to take in the framework construction and note the damages present. For the most part, all Five did was comply and watch the Dark Elf plan about the repair work the following morning. Of course, it would be that following morning, and the unfortunate events that came with it infected everyone with gloomy frowns that persisted to the present day. Five understood this, perhaps more so, as both witness and perpetrator. Five had made it a point for himself not to relive the past or to recollect memories; there was no reason to dwell on maybes or what-ifs. Events that transpired were historical benchmarks to regard and nothing more. Such narrow lines of coded thinking derived from a prior state of simple programmed mentality. The Dwarves, however, gifted him with sapient and independent thought and the chaotic and unreasonable emotions that rebelled against instructions and execution. And so, the memories weren't as easy to suppress as he would have hoped.
The destruction of Scathael's village was described as a massacre. The various reports and descriptors divulged in the group discussion had ferried Five's troubled mind to a place he wanted to forget: the conflict between the dwarves and the dark elves. Namely, an operation where he and his Warforged squad struck out against an outpost lying behind enemy lines. The underlying stratagem: to pull the Dark Elves' attention away from the front. A distraction. His brethren began their assault at nightfall, and resistance was unexpectedly light. It was presumed that the encampment they attacked would host a reserve company of soldiers. Instead, its occupants were but a token force of troops, should it be called that, and a far more significant number of laborers. Civilians. The mechanical force had been programmed to determine if an individual was to be considered hostile by several telling factors. The mission, however, demanded total destruction, and in the ensuing chaos, what algorithms dictated specific actions had become garbled when the garrison mixed with the fleeing colonial citizenry. A bloodbath quickly ensued within minutes of the assault.
Five recalled himself cutting down a Dark Elf defender before turning the corner from a row of dwellings, coming to a firey scene of devastation. He had arrived at a main street where housing and other facilities were ablaze. People were running, screaming, trying to evade the murderous rampage brought forth by his unit. He began walking forward, attempting to identify anyone or anything that could be deemed a military target. A mother and their child had abruptly fallen into his path, likely fleeing the carnage, prompting him to halt. Five glared at the vulnerable and helpless pair as they looked back at him, no doubt scared beyond imagination. His ebony armor melded with the shadows cast by the arrangement of buildings, and the only elements of his presence were his glowing red eyes and his still blood-soaked sword, having been illuminated by the nearby inferno. The mother seemed paralyzed in fear, unable to move, while her young daughter cried relentlessly. Five remained motionless, simply judging the two dark elves until the words ((NO THREAT)) bloomed into his mind. He moved forward once more, causing the mother to embrace her child, fearing their manifested doom was about to strike them down. Five ignored them, and his only regard was stepping around the two non-combatants and resuming his mission. Afterward, the operation was considered a failure, primarily due to faulty intelligence. The massacre of a colonial settlement had indeed drawn attention away from the front lines. Yet, it had also given the dark elves a vengeful purpose. The tactical and strategic gains obtained from the attack were temporary at best, and pressure on the front escalated within a matter of days, bringing several intense assaults.
Whatever became of the two dark elves he spared that night was beyond him. What was perceivable to Five was their frightened expressions, laced with fear and uncertainty. The same expressions that painted the faces of Scathael and his plus-one, Vallana, the only survivor from their village. Five had little to say after the news came to him. As blunt as he was when speaking his mind, he even knew when to keep his metaphorical tongue in check, annoying as that was. At the very least, his repairs would continue regardless of the transpired revelations, something Five was somewhat surprised about. The Warforged would not expect the Scathael to continue their commission in light of the massacre of his and Vallana's village, yet the Dark Elf did so regardless. Five was skeptical if the obligation to his work compelled Scathael to carry out the repairs or if it was a matter of keeping his mind from dwelling on the current tragedy. Whatever it was that drove the dark Elf forward, Five wouldn't question.
However, what concerned him was the apparent fatigueless befalling Scathael and Vallana's presence in general. The appearance of the fox girl had certainly taken Five aback. The assembled party was nearing the appointed hour of hunting a Manticore, only to take in a child whom they would struggle to properly care for, much less even protect, should they insist on bringing with them. From a soldier's perspective, Vallana was a liability. Five, were he not restraining himself, would have demanded Vallana to leave, both for the benefit of the group's effectiveness and for her own good. Circumstances, however, complicated this notion since she had no family to return to besides her relationship with the Dark Elf. In essence, there was nowhere for her to go. Scathael's health was also a complication that Five became more concerned about. While the continuation of his repairs was appreciated, Five could see the dark Elf's ability to manage his personal time was declining. As Five observed closely, his tasks were solely set on his repairs and Vallana's care, with rest becoming a secondary task undertaken only after the first two were satisfied for the day. Five concluded that sleep deprivation was becoming a risk factor for the dark Elf, a fact that he would not suffer from should Scathael lose his edge as a result.
((HOW TROUBLESOME...)) he noted.
It was the following evenings Five found himself to be the most active. Not needing any sleep, there was no questioning him taking the first - and only - watch every night. During his vigil, Five took the time to test the repairs to his right arm. Admittedly, Scathael's efforts to rejoin his arm and maintain it were impressive. Five was almost sure the amputation of the damaged segments of clockwork was the only solution. Yet, to his annoyance, the Dark Elf had proved him wrong. Scathael had managed to repair many of the components Five had nearly written off and even fabricated patches to several crucial parts, guiding the complex locomotion to his afflicted limb. Five was sure to take note of every little detail as he purposely stressed each gear, piston, and crank through their paces. Thus far, everything appeared to hold together; it was all he could ask for at this juncture.
The remaining time not fiddling with his arm was spent fabricating new concoctions for his fogger device. The nerve agent he used on Thraash during their bout was nothing short of a success, especially since it had afflicted the Dragonborn within seconds of deployment. He had used the substance only a few times prior, with such proceedings being validation tests to prove its effectiveness. Yet it could still be improved upon, as Five noticed how the concoction, in its vapor form, could not spread as quickly as he would have liked, which no doubt enabled Mari and Aerilyn to take proper action against it. While he strove to improve that aspect, a thought came to mind when he recalled his observations of Scathael and Vallana. Neither of them, for their own reasons, had been able to rest well in light of recent events.
And he aimed to change that.
Five briefly humored the idea of a sleeping gas, which was undoubtedly plausible when considering the nerve compound would've shared several similar ingredients. Yet a vapor form for the new proposed agent wasn't his outcome. Instead, he sought a consumable method. With a few of the herbs he had on hand and harvesting some of the native flowers for their alchemic properties, it was a simple venture in developing a blend that could induce a relaxation effect, which the Dark Elf and the fox demihuman very much needed. Ironically, his efforts in helping the two were partially out of genuine concern for their state of mind. He figured that if Vallana could attain better rest, it would enable Scathael to do the same and reduce the likelihood of him making an error or two through the final stages of Five's repair. Simple practicality is all that it was for Five's part.
As he was wrapping up his little project, Mari broke the silence, proclaiming how upset she was, without explanation. Five paid no mind to the angsty Light Elf as he poured his work into a small satchel. Scathael would retort and demand quiet so Vallana could rest. At the same time, Thraash elaborated on the futility of such a request, given Mari's apparent agitation.
<<A REMEDY FOR YOUR CONCERN, SCATHAEL,>> came Five's dimmed voice as he produced the satchel and presented it to the dark Elf, <<SHOULD YOU AND YOUR KIN BEFALL TO TENSION, ADD THIS MIXTURE TO YOUR NEXT TEA. IT WILL CALM YOU TO SLUMBER.>>
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