"I'm Faith." With a theatrical bow, she added, "Pleased to meet you. And I certainly hope so. I can't even remember the last thing I was doing before I handed up here."

Eithne simply nods—it's the same in her memories, too... though it's not the first time, for her. Even when she awoke on the battlefield, the sole survivor of her tribe, she had no memory of what had caused the terrible massacre...

'Perhaps the culprits are close, Eithne!' the Voices in her head fret.
'We shouldn't stay here...'
'Aren't you afraid we're going to die, Eithne?'
'But Eithne doesn't know how to leave! Maybe she's right, we need help...'

This time, however, the Voices' excitement isn't enough to overwhelm the lone survivor (considering also that they also argue among themselves, rather than bombarding her in unison with unwanted thoughts). She fixes her azure eyes on the other two present. One of them might remember something... at least a clue as to which direction to take to escape that nightmare place.

As Rogferr hits the ground an ungodly amount of weapons scatter to the floor around him. His eyes stay open yet he stays motionless as he listens to his surroundings. After several seconds a primal fear grips him as he begins to frantically search his body. Pulling out an ornate dagger from his side he starts to frown. 

“I thought you were supposed to prevent something like this from happening.”

Channeling his arcane power, Rogferr pulls an owl out of a pocket dimension. Sitting up Rogferr picks several throwing daggers off the floor and hides them away. Next Rogferr slowly stands up and picks up a few hand axes from the ground and attaches them to the right side of his belt. Moving to a longsword he lifts it up and sheaths it. Lastly grabbing several javelins from the ground and attaching them to his back. As all of the weapons are picked up Rogferr looks around finally noticing the other having a conversation.

“Well met! It seems from your conversation that you did not decide to come here of your own free will either. Please call me Rogferr and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Gimble sits quietly, observing the others. His eyes dart from speaker to speaker, he pulls out his book and begins to scribble notes about the surroundings, the new people, the clockwork city(?). He avoids eye contact and physical contact as people move around

Seeing someone quietly taking notes, Faith goes up to him and says, "I'm Faith. Who are you? And do you know anything about what's going on or where we are?"

Inside the Iedcaru, Jesa looks over the items that Esta had pulled out. "Hmm, an interesting assortment. Do you know what any of them are?" she asks. She would take a quick look through all of them to see if there are any clues. (Investigation: 17)

Once closer to Automata, she sees the automatons bring out the containers and dump something out. "Those are humanoids!" she says in surprise. "We need to go see if they're alright!"  She has the Iedcaru stop and starts to head outside. 

As Jesa steps outside the tower, the others could see a woman dressed in chainmail and dark black clothing. A bit over five-and-a-half feet tall, her long white hair comes down past her shoulders and frames a narrow face with dark grey eyes.  A light scar is visible across her nose. She has a longsword sheathed at her back as well as a painted black metal shield. It is painted with a symbol of an ankh and a scythe upon it. She shouts out to the others, "Is everyone alright?" 

Eithne notices the pal taking notes and listens intently to see how he responds to Faith's legitimate curiosity. However, she doubts he knows much more than they do... or why would he be taking notes at all?

The lone survivor is more interested in Rogferr's statement: "I would have been more pleased to meet you under other circumstances," she approaches and shakes his hand "but finding myself in situations I would greatly prefer to avoid seems to be a constant in my life. My name is Eithne. May I ask you how your dagger was supposed to prevent all this? Does it possess a magic capable of protecting us?"

Meanwhile, out of the corner of her eye, the savage wanderer has been keeping an eye on the disturbing, crawling tower... and seeing it stop and the woman in chainmail coming toward them, she slowly turns, fearing a threat. But the woman doesn't put her hands on her weapons and, instead, begins with words of concern for her and the others... So she gives her a tired smile and replies: "We're not injured, but apparently none of us remember how we got here or why" she sighs. "Thank you for your concern. My name is Eithne. Do you by any chance know anything about this place?"

Jesa continues towards the group. She seems to inaudibly sigh when she hears none of you remember how you got here. "Well, I know you are near the city of Automata, which holds a portal to the plane of Mechanus. We're in the Outlands."  She then shakes her head, "Like you, I'm not sure how I got to the Outlands. However, we are evidently looking for a modron on behalf of..."  At this point she glances back towards the Iedcaru. "Ah, if Esta were here... um... Shemeshka? Yes, the modron belongs to Shemeshka I guess. And she's back in Sigil. Supposedly if we get the modron for her she will help us out."  

Again she looks back at the Iedcaru. "We have a mimir to guide us. But it's missing some of its memory.  We need to travel to several of the cities here in Outland to hopefully fix that. Supposedly then it will be able to track down the modron?"  She shrugs a bit, as though she's heard bits of what's happening but doesn't have the full story. 

Gimble waddles over to the Mimir and says "M-may I?" And begins casting mending, from his innate gnomish magic, on any small cracks or damage if allowed to pass the time. Having absorbed what Jesa said, but giving no social response to confirm

Quote from Culuril >>

Inside the Iedcaru, Jesa looks over the items that Esta had pulled out. "Hmm, an interesting assortment. Do you know what any of them are?" she asks. She would take a quick look through all of them to see if there are any clues. (Investigation: 17)

 

 Perhaps the only but most notable thing Jessa would notice here is that they are an assortment of weapons and (some) magical trinkets, but there aren't any other personal effects. If there is a real connection between all of these people, it doesn't seem to be noticeable from their weapons and/or magical items. She would be able to identify or understand the general use for any magic items as well.

Eithne tries to piece together the puzzle composed of the various pieces of information provided by Jesa and concludes: "If you don't know why you're here... and if this Shemeshka can help you... perhaps she can, in fact, help all of us. I'd say you've just earned our help."

Immediately afterward, Gimble goes to tend to the Mimir, and the savage wanderer raises an eyebrow, unable to help but smile at the chainmail warrior at the apparent absurdity of the situation: "See? What did I tell you?"

Meanwhile, the lone survivor scans her other traveling companions from the corner of her eye. So many different people, yet all with that blank memory... were they all, like her, subjected to an unspeakable horror? Perhaps the same mind-blowing force that destroyed her tribe is the same one behind the fate of all these traveling companions?

'If that's the case, you should abandon them at once, Eithne...' the Voices in her head advise. 'If you stay with them, those who have already struck can strike again!'
'You must not be annihilated like us, Eithne... You must avenge us!'
'We live in you... You are all we have left...'

'But perhaps by staying with them and joining forces, I can resist!' Eithne replies with determination—and the Voices seem to accept this possibility... at least for now.

A slight look of disappointment creeps onto Rogferr's face. 

“Well I can say I am happy to have someone around that has a plan. Sadly it seems we are all in the same situation. With no information I will gladly join someone that has an idea of what to do. I am ready to move when others are.”

Faith nods, "Having something to work towards sounds a lot better than wondering aimlessly. I'll be glad to join you if you will have us."

The mending on the mimir goes to work, returning the minor breaks and scratches to their normal state, although the mimir is already a bit of a patchwork style that no magic will fix. It does look a bit better though all in all.

When you turn to check out the gleaming metal city, rigid beings move purposefully through Automata’s perfect street grid. Most travel in sync with the reverberating rhythm of the great, toothed gear that rises like an arch at the gate-town’s center. As you near the community, your mimir rattles energetically, and the glow in its eye sockets pulses in time with the pervasive ticking.

Jesa seems a little confused by the gnome starting to use his magic on the mimir. "Can... oh, I guess. Do you know what you're doing?"  She watches him as first Eithne, then Rogferr, and also Faith seem to agree to help out with their work to find the modron.  She's relieved that Gimble's efforts seem to only have a positive effect on the mimir. 

When they get nearer to the Automata community, and the mimir rattles and glows, she turns again to the others. "Oh! That might be a good sign. This mimir seems to be missing information on several of the portal cities here in the Outlands. We were told that traveling to these cities would help restore that information. Perhaps it is working!" She unfortunately isn't quite sure if that's really the case. Nor how she would even know. 

"Mimir, are you acquiring the information you need?"  She figures just asking it shouldn't hurt. 

Eithne, who grew up surrounded by wilderness and forests, despite having had more contact with civilization recently, is still clearly uncomfortable with the highly mechanized environment she now finds herself in... and to some extent, even with the mimir! She is therefore relieved that Gimble is taking care of it.

Since the mission's primary purpose at the moment is apparently to help the mimir gather information, the savage wanderer forces herself to follow with interest the scene of Jesa consulting with it, hoping for a positive response.

Esta steps lightly down from the Iedcaru, her hazel hair catching faint glimmers of the mechanical city beyond. Her mismatched eyes — one crystal blue, the other a sharp cat’s yellow — sweep across the group, lingering on each stranger in turn. She walks over to stand besides Jessa, and speaks to the group, her voice is calm, measured, carrying no hint of panic despite the bizarre circumstances.

“Names seem to be the one thing we all still carry. I am Esta. Like you all, I woke here with no memory of the crossing... some of us in the same situation have been tasked with finding this modron with the hopes of some answers... perhaps it too can benefit you.”

She folds her arms, gaze flicking toward the glowing mimir and the clockwork city beyond.

“Automata may hold what we need, but it will not give it freely. I suggest we keep our eyes open — for threats, for opportunities, and for anything of value. If we’re to survive this place, we’ll need more than good intentions. Demons and the like seem to roam freely here and they don't take kindly to... well, us.”

Her tone softens slightly as she looks back to Jessa, then to the others. “Still… better to face the Outlands with company than alone. If you need some answers, then maybe stick with us until we get some.”

"I require being in close proximity to the portal in order to attune to the information. But hey! I think the line starts right over there!" The mimir's eyes continue to blink steadily but it turns to face the city.

Jesa turns to look where the mimir seemed to indicate. "Guess we go that way. And stand in line," she adds with a sigh.  She starts to walk towards whatever seems the end of this line. 

"Mimir, is there anything else we'll need to do? Just get you close to the portal?"

With the immense, cloud piercing height of the Spire behind you (up at the top is where Sigil is located) you head into Automata at the comment from the mimir. It takes a couple minutes actually to find the end of the line, but son you see a forest of stanchions creates a mile-long path to the great mechanized gate at Automata’s center. Hundreds of travelers stand in queue, seeking to pass through the gate to Mechanus. Amid the line, modron overseers orchestrate the orderly, sluggish procession to the gate. Around you, every block and building looks identical and equally built and spaced.

"You got it! Like real close though, ya know? And one of you lucky souls needs to give me the skinny on the town we're in, ya got it? Piece of cake!"

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