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Mark







The mechanical warrior grunted, a little less than satisfied with the answer given to him by the woman. He didn't quite expect anything useful from the woman when it came to an answer, but at least Mark knew that Marina was probably staying out of trouble. He'd have to investigate the disappearance himself, it looked like. Maybe he could try hitting up someplace where a young dwarf like Marina might have drifted into, such as the Laughing Knave. If she had been here, it was possible that she had stayed there during her travels. The way he saw it, the best case scenario was that she was still there. Worst case scenario, she wasn't there and she hadn't been there to begin with. Looking to the Laughing Knave, he considered staying there himself for the time being. Unlike at home, he couldn't just rest anywhere he desired. That would definitely be a swift way to get most of his belongings stolen, not to mention it would probably prove to be a bother to the denizens of the town. He felt something twinge on the inside, remembering the battle. Had those men and women truly deserved to die? He supposed not... Yet what was done was done. Mark had learned long ago to distance himself from his work - no plea of mercy was worth what those who attacked his home brought. He'd do best to simply avoid the mourning. They had no interest in conversing with him, and he had absolutely no interest or desire in communicating with them. Returning to the present, he decided to take his mind off things by ordering a room. A quiet bastion for him to dwell on his next move, and maybe think about how they were supposed to deal with the Witch. A real battle against a real magic user was on the horizon, an experience that would definitely be new to the ex-guardian of the Stormhammer family.

What a chore this search was turning out to be.

Evaluating the damage done to himself, he supposed now might be a good time to take a break to repair himself. For him, repairs were a good way to refresh himself on both a mental and literal level. It typically took an hour at the very least, and typically gave the mechanical man some alone time to dwell upon situations at hand: in this case, Marina's disappearance. He didn't have any immediate business in the town anyways. Taking a quick second to memorize the faces of Lilith and the other warriors - he could presumably make an ally of some, if not all of them - he turned to face the Knave, looking back upon them. "Right then," Mark said, "I suppose next time we meet, it'll be ta put an' end ta this witch, yeah? 'Til then." His rather dismissal separation of the group over, Mark quietly wandered into the Laughing Knave.
Mark







Once the woman had finished speaking, Mark crossed his arms. "A witch, aye? Can't say I've ever stood toe-ta-toe with one before... Per'aps this might be a good learnin' experience. Right then, count me in. B'fer I go out an' put myself on the line, though, I've gotta quick question." Although Mark wasn't too sure that this woman would be able to answer his question, he would have to start somewhere. Marina was, above all other things, his main objective. Nikita had mentioned that it should be done with the utmost haste. "A dwarven lass might 'ave come by this town at some point - Marina Stormhammer. You or any of your lot seen her? Weak one, she is - 'bout useless to have 'round." Marina, although quite lazy and arrogant, was a good girl at heart according to Nikita. Mark doubted this sentiment sincerely. All of his interactions with her had been, in one way or another, negative. Whether it was her messing about in her father's laboratory as Mark was resting, or her stealing gold from her father to spend on her own idiotic whims, Mark had yet to see her do one good thing for her family. She never helped defend their land, and on several counts she had even brought some vagabonds home with her and forced Mark to ward them off by force...

Yet, this would make no difference. Marina was, after all, the daughter of Mark's creator. Mark definitely understood the concern his creator held, as much of a burden as she was, and knew that he owed this much to him. "She's gone missin' since a few days ago, an' it's important that she goes back to 'er family," Mark explained in a somewhat low whisper.
Greetings!

I'm hoping to find somebody who is willing to DM an Eberron campaign for a group of 3-5 people with varying experience with 5e. Some familiarity with the setting is preferred, and while we don't have any set direction or preference for the campaign's themes, we'll leave that up to you. Although we have no preference as to where the campaign is being hosted, trying to set up live sessions is going to be incredibly difficult, so we ask that you refrain from that. Feel free to either PM me or drop a post below if you're interested!
Mark







The battle won, Mark paused for a moment to analyse the damage he had taken. He supposed that's what he got for being a braggart - the zombie had hit him with surprising force. Normally, this is when Nikita would berate him for taking such vital damage, and he'd receive repairs that would take a great deal of time before being sent out once more. Fortunately for both of them, Nikita hadn't expected Mark to remain unscathed during the journey made to search for his daughter, and had modified several of his internal components to repair through more conventional means. Things such as healing magic and potions were able to reinforce and replace broken parts, meaning that he wouldn't be put out of commission for months on end due to a lucky blow. Of course, Mark held enough knowledge to figure out how to repair himself manually, although this was usually something that was still very time consuming. Hopefully, he'd be able to have the chance to sit down once he figured out what was going on. Nothing set off the automaton quite like preventable issues did. He was already rather irritated at the idea of having to find Nikita's useless daughter, and having to "protect" the town that he had just entered added more fuel to the fire.

Mark whirred back to life as he turned to face the others. At least he hadn't been alone in his plight. It's a good thing that the town had some competent fighters already The first chance he got, he was going to find out how much he was going to get paid for this. Looking around, he saw that the villagers who the group had been able to herd back into their homes were now slowly coming out. A part of him wanted to get them back into their houses, and he considered shooing them away once more. The mechanical fighter saw no purpose of them coming out on such a preemptive note, especially so quickly after an attack by whoever had done this in the first place. Mourning could wait until after the streets were cleared, and the danger was removed from the situation. More importantly, though, he had several questions about what was going on at the moment. Questions that, perhaps, could do without the interference of the victims of the assault. Turning to the woman who had sprinted off in a mad dash after the bird that caused all of this chaos, his eyes dimmed a bit as he looked down at her, a bit less than impressed at how the town's natural line of defense had handled this situation.

"A bit 'f an understatement, lass," Mark quietly grunted, his voice conveying the frown his face was incapable of producing. He had no desire to get mixed up in whatever internal affairs were plaguing this town - he just needed to find Marina and return home. In spite of that, though, he also knew that he couldn't say, in good faith, that he had searched this town, and thus couldn't turn tail and leave the very first stone unturned. "Ya've got some explainin' ta do. First, though..." he thrust a thumb first to himself, and then to the other fighters who had been injured in the fight. "Might be best to get everyone who needs it fixed up, yeah?" Mark said. He was in no danger of death himself, at the moment, but he also wasn't going to discuss any sort of business as long as the damage to his systems persisted.
Quilrith nodded as she listened to the gnome, shaking his hand. Come to think of it, Tergo was the one who had come to the aid of the halfling, wasn't he? She hadn't paid too much attention to where he had gone after the battle, but she did remember his attempt to ward off her attacker. It was certainly an attempt. One fluke does not a warrior make, though, according to her sister Esphora after a particularly embarrassing defeat. Though that might have been to make Brenfan's victory in their training session lose value, rather than to teach the spectators a lesson. The fond and distant memory only solidified the great weight of her quest and her purpose for being here, bringing her back to where she was at the moment. "Well," she said with an encouraging smile, "at least you're willing to stand up for what you believe in. Not all battles are won with blades and broken bones."

After shaking the gnome's hand a few times, Quilrith withdrew her hand and placed it on her chin. A scholar who studied goblins? Not only that, but somebody who was interested in finding out their methods of living and what their society was like? What a curious field to study. Though Quilrith's own education was very limited due to her upbringing, the closest thing that they had to proper books were tomes about the local flora and fauna surrounding her clan's forest. Of course, they several other books as well, though Quilrith struggled to wrap her head around them, and thus she dismissed them. How many books were there really on goblins? A frown crossed her face, which she quickly covered up by her hand. Perhaps it may be a good idea to briefly change the subject.

"You're a goblinologist?" Quilrith asked. "I, uh, can't say I've met any goblinologists, but it's good to see that it's a growing field. I'm what's called an astronomer, myself. I think it's really fascinating, seeing things that are so high in the sky at night. The stars, they feel so close to us, but yet they remain just beyond our grasp." She smiled for a second, letting her hands drop to her side. After an uncomfortable bit of silence, she cleared her throat and turned her gaze back to the gnome. In the back of her mind, she was curious to know what would happen if they were the ones who had ransacked the caravan. What would be done if they took the life of the girl's parents? What if they killed the girl? Concern crossed Quilrith's face as she considered the growing possibility that either of these were happening right now. "Anyways, I guess it's a good thing one of us knows how to converse with goblins," she pointed out with a concerned smile. "Perhaps we might be able to resolve this without violence." She doubted it, but as long as she was willing to give it a try, it was certainly possible.
Darunia


"Thank you," Darunia said with a gentle nod. "That will be all for now. You've been very helpful, and I appreciate that." Rather tired of the company of the owner and barmaid, he shut the door and locked it. Realizing the window was still open, he lunged for that and quickly closed it, letting out a minor groan as he felt the sun's light sting his eyes once more. Once that was done, he sighed. Finally, he was alone at last. Darunia threw himself onto the bed. A useless commodity for one such as himself, but he still enjoyed the pleasant feel of linen against his back. He'd have all of the time in the world to come up with a great battle plan after taking a quick break... but before he could even consider some sort of rest, he needed to take care of some housekeeping. Even if the owners shared as much information and had been as pleasant as they would have to any one person, there were several things that he needed to do to make sure his experience here was as optimal as could be.

To begin with, he needed to scour the room for whatever he could find that might help him. He eyed the chamberpot, then the treasure chest, and finally the window. This room seemed rather bare, a large problem to the Drow. Being inventive had always helped him out of most situations, but that's the thing. Being good at invention and coming up with creative solutions only worked when inspiration struck, and as it just so happened, he wasn't feeling particularly inspired. In any case, he began to go through everything in the room. He opened his chest and looked behind it, looked under his bed, and dug throughout the entire room, in search for anything that might prove to be helpful. A forgotten piece of cloth, a nail, screws, even a lost coin would prove his search was a success.

@Ciaran I got an 18 for initiative.
Quilrith looked town at the gnome and nodded. "Of course not," she said with a small grin. "So long as we are both working to ensure the safety of others, I hope you don't mind if I come along." While she couldn't quite get a feel for the gnome's capabilities against the goblins, she was caught a bit off guard by his desire to study them. While it was true that there was certainly power in knowing one's enemy, and thus it was a good idea to have information about the little beasts, Quilrith had a feeling his research was for a different purpose. The only time she'd ever studied the little pests was when she was tasked with helping her clan route them out of the forest. Maybe the purpose of his study was to find out the best way to keep them under his thumb? She wasn't too sure. "Tergo, was it? A pleasure to meet you. My name is Quilrith Vambash." Sticking out a hand, she decided to awkwardly meet the gnome halfway and crouch down to his height, extending a hand.

While they were at it, she supposed now was also a good time to find out about the gnome's interest in goblins. "If I may ask, is there anything in particular that interests you about goblins?" Quilrith asked, curious about Tergo's intent. "Most people I've spoken to seem to have a very negative, very murderous opinion of the creatures."
Quilrith quietly scratched the back of her head, still having not quite recovered from the events of the past few minutes. What a bizarre way to start off her search. She was a bit dissapointed in knowing that the man she'd defeated was most likely just a random drunkard harassing the flutist. In the back of her mind, though she knew it was probably impossible, she hoped that her first day would prove to be successful in finding those who had wronged her clan. She and her siblings had very little information to go off of, barring the letter written by their father. She didn't even know what happened to him, or if either of them were still alive. If she could get her hands around the fiends that abducted her mother... In any case, she needed to find some way to probe into the whereabouts of the people that took her mother. That was, after all, why she came here in the first place. She took a mental note of the halfling's face and features: he might be able to help her. If somebody had stopped by that might be important to finding her enemies and the flutist had seen it, he could relay the information to her. Besides, the small man did owe her for protecting him from that drunkard. Quilrith did feel a little bad hanging that justification over his head, but she needed all of the help she could get.

Before she could approach, however, the mention of a kidnapping caught her ears. Quilrith turned to face the dwarf woman and gnome, approaching them. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation," she said. "It is my duty to help those in need. Allow me to offer my assistance in retrieving the girl."
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