Over the next month or so, the three companions rested up in Lossal, sorting out various personal projects, many connected with the copious loot they had acquired over recent months. Gorfang spent some time shifting backwards and forwards to Gadûhvrás, both instructing and directing his embryonic orc city and working in total secrecy on a special vault for the bulk of his and Lynien's treasure.
Lynien returned to her training duties with the thieves' guild, instructing the awed apprentices in as much of her near-supernatural skill as they could handle, and also subtly spreading the Way, the philosophy of her interpretation of Nebekheshut's 'religion'. The basic beliefs and viewpoint she spread lightly, but she kept her eyes open for those special individuals who were suitable for more intensive training.
Eloy, apart from little sleep and much whoopee, spent considerable time with Crastinuc and Odius, furthering the cause of his despicable God. The vision they'd seen on the steps of Gozân's tomb was worrying him, though, and he went to the trouble of using a scroll of Scry to look for it. The spell wasn't especially successful, and all he saw was an impression of fields around the construct. It could have been anywhere from Dalaghendor to Stryre. He did some maths and concluded that - if it walked at the speed of a human - it would be another three weeks before it arrived. He hastened to convey this reassuring information to his companions, which was a shame, because he was dead wrong.
Two weeks later, rumours began to reach Eloy and Lynien's ears of an interest being taken in their affairs. Shopkeepers, publicans, and other contacts they met began to mention encountering a dark-haired man with a moustache, probably an Erlyid, asking questions about them and their movements. Many had had no qualms about confirming that local celebrities used their premises.
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Eloy began to wonder if this was Setram, back to find those responsible for plundering his treasure, but Gorfang and Lynien weren't so sure. Whoever it was, he was on their home turf, and finding him was not going to be hard, especially with the experts at the thieves guild to hand. Gorfang was putting off going to see Darnivarn for some reason, so Lynien and Eloy went to the guild and put out the word on the street. By evening, several of the guild's street soldiers reported having seen the man, working his way around the three's best known haunts but always ensuring he was there when they weren't, building a detailed picture of the three's movements and capabilities. At the day's end, when followed to the Wargate, he had blended into a crowd of countryfolk leaving the city for their homes on outlying farms and simply vanished. He seemed to have no base or home within the walls.
Based on his movements that day, they roughed out a search pattern to try and intercept him and turned in for the night.
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The next morning, they began to cross the city, aiming to cut their pursuer's path and confront him. They'd been going for no more than an hour when, quite suddenly, on a hunch, Lynien made a seemingly random turn into a side street just off Main Market. Five steps took them face to face with their objective.
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The man was as he'd been described, a Southerner with a moustache, and he appeared completely unsurprised to see the three adventurers. Gorfang confronted him; "Can I help you?" he demanded as an opener. The man looked swiftly from one to the other of them, as if counting, and then said calmly, "Will you accompany me out of the city so that we can settle this please?" It was said as if it was a formality, a suggestion so obvious that it barely needed speaking, and he seemed a little surprised when Gorfang said flatly "No; why?"
The man looked at him for a moment, and then said, "So that there is no danger to any of these innocent bystanders," as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Lynien glanced at them, the usual mix of dim sheep and street scum; 'innocent' was not a word she'd have used of many of them herself. Gorfang sneered slightly. "Why would I want to do that?" he said contemptuously.
Up to now, the man had acted and behaved entirely as would an actual human, but this statement appeared to cause him some difficulty. His head tilted mechanistically over to the horizontal as he - it - considered Gorfang and his statement. After a moment, it clearly decided to discard the statement, and straightened. "Very well," it said, "I will kill you here." Gorfang folded his arms. "Why?" he demanded. "What happened to my trial?" The man didn't hesitate. "No trial is necessary. The Law has been broken. An example must be made. Transgressors must be punished. This is my Purpose."
"What Law? What Purpose?" demanded Gorfang. The man replied, "The forces of Elemental Law create such as I to redress imbalances in the Law of Creation. Some of my kind punish oathbreakers and such. My Purpose is the protection of the last resting places of the Fateless. Such places are spiritually significant to the fabric of reality, some more than others. The Tomb you robbed was warded and I was alerted to its' desecration. Once you are dead, I will ward your graves in exactly the same way." Gorfang lifted an eyebrow. "Where does it say that, exactly?" he asked. "It is written," was the response. "Yeah, but where?" persisted Gorfang.
Gorfang continued to talk to the strange man, trying to undermine its' logic, while his companions quietly prepared themselves to fight it; he needed no preparation, ever! Eloy chugged a potion quietly, while Lynien deftly slipped a hand into their opponent's pocket. Or tried to. Her fingers slithered over where the opening should have been, but found nothing. It dawned on her that this was not a man, in light mail with a tunic over, belt, pouches, sword on hip; it was an object shaped and coloured like the outside surfaces of those things, but all in one surface, one object.
Without a sound, Eloy invoked the Nullity of his God and vanished into the gaps between the universes. Leaning sideways, he cast a Protection from Law on Gorfang, then hastily changed position in case the orc reacted as he usually did to inexplicable things. Lynien reached inside her tunic to activate her amulet and confer Bull's Strength on herself, revealing stretches of tawny skin that came close to fatally distracting the orc from what he was doing. Then she slipped on Maedar's Ring and vanished.
"This conversation is without merit," declared the man suddenly. His form shimmered and shifted, returning to that of the construct they'd seen in the vision at the tomb as he drew his sword. He levelled his left hand at Gorfang, clearly preparing some kind of spell or power. With blinding speed, Gorfang reacted, drawing Gozân's sword and striking left and right. The blows he delivered seemed to cut less deeply than he'd expected, and as he watched he saw the tiny golden mechanisms that made up the construct's 'flesh' working frantically away, knitting its substance back together to repair the damage.
Lynien saw an opening from her flanking position and struck into it with Balacalantar. Forged to combat Outsiders, the Darkling Claw bit deep and punctured the construct. From a safe distance, Eloy tried a Doom spell, but the construct shrugged it off, and completed its' spell in Gorfang's direction. A ray of black light shot out and struck the orc, who felt a piece of his strength and power drain away. Many warriors would have reacted to such a happening; Gorfang, typically, reacted with a screaming bloody frenzy.
The twin blades of the doublesword flashed and flickered, and bits and sections of golden machinery spun glittering off in all directions. Lynien, encouraged by the success of her last attack, joined in, and Eloy hurled another spell despite the lack of any actual results. Gorfang's fury was more than equal to their foe, and the inevitable got no further than drawing his silver sword before the accumulated damage brought it to disintegration.
The fact that it was made of gold had not been lost on the locals and passers-by, and no sooner had it fallen than a wave of urchins and opportunists appeared, grabbing bits and pieces of golden machinery and running away with them. Before the two could get control, a quarter of the construct had been scattered away into the undercity. When they noticed the futile writhings of the rest of the machine as it tried to reassemble itself, they felt that this had not been a bad bargain, but Gorfang made haste to collect the remainder and haul it off down to Sanano the smith's forge to be melted into rough pigs of solid, inert gold.
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