One arriving at the wagon camp, Curascious pulls out a small bag and dumps out a surprising amount of gear out of it—mostly steel that he's scavenged from the previous adventures we've gotten ourselves into. There's already a lot of work done, but he puts on the finishing touches. 

It appears to be a construct of sorts, made of metal and filled with lots of clockwork.

Muttering a few words, he crushes his crystal spellcasting focus and sprinkles the dust over the big pile of steel. As he does so, Crawley the spider collapses. Acting swiftly, Curascious places Crawley into a cavity in the steel construct and begins more incantations. 

The construct lurches to life, standing on four legs. Curascious smiles, jots down some notes in his technical manual, and stows the book away in his bag.

"What happened to crawley, did dis metal ting eats him!?!" Tith quickly draws his weapons 

The caravan looks interested in Curascious until Tith draws his weapons then they turn and busy themselves at their wagons.

“Crawley is fine. My previous attempts at alchemy were always thwarted, until I realized that I had to give up my connection to certain arcane powers in order to infuse those powers into my creation.

“My work in recent times has been focused on saving Crawley, as I knew I would lose him once I severed our connection. But thanks to a special housing I’ve made inside this steel defender, Crawley can survive and can control the construct. I call it Crawley, Mk. 2.” 

//Inspiration for coming up with such a good story to account for the changes//

"..........uh ........right.......... den can i eats  Crawley?"

“Impossible,” says Curascious, gesturing towards the steel defender as he explains in a rapid-fire delivery: “The integral housing is the only thing keeping his spirit anchored to his physical form. If he were to be removed from the chassis, his corporeal manifestation would fade from the material plane before...” 

Belatedly seeing the look on Tith’s face, Curascious abruptly stops. “Crawley is...ah...not...for eating,” he finishes, first shaking and then nodding his head as he speaks. It is clear that that last sentence took considerable effort on his part.

"oh" Tith puts his weapons away

 The little gnome in the gaudy wagon looks... slightly crestfallen and turns back toward his own wagon.

Herd peeks over at Curascious's handiwork, commenting, "That feels... familiar. I have seen work like that done before - I think, but by much larger hands."

As if the memory stirred something within him, the green smoke that seems to perpetually escape him seems to do so more voluminously. However, instead of floating away, the smoke draws itself to parts of Herd - specifically, the parts that are him and not the bits and pieces that he picked up and mostly integrated into himself, like the chain mail and shield.  As the smoke sticks to his metal skin, they seem to form very, very faint designs across his body. A closer inspection would reveal them to be runes of some sort.

Herd looks down, "Well - I have not experienced this before. I am unsure whether a heightened state of alarm is required."

Herd while looking around, gets distracted by the colorful, gaudy wagon and begins walking that way.

Mozu stretches and opens the door to their wagon, “Yes, you are all unique and special.” Mozu says dryly as he sets down his equipment.

"Oi, you! Color Gnome! what you gawkin at? you wanna fight?!" Tith again draws his weapons "bring it shorty!"

The little gnome ambles over with a huge smile on his face.

"My name is Findal Dinfizzle Findazzle and I am not looking for a fight my fine gentleman." He bows to Tith. As he bows a small magpie peeks out of the corner of his hat then flies up and lands on his wagon. 

"Don't mind Peppercorn, she is a bit of a drama queen. So, I take it you are the new guards? Pity about the last ones, but ogres do happen... am I right?" He bows to each of you dramatically then starts back toward his wagon whistling to himself.

Mozu nods as he takes a seat, “Correct. If they died, they died.”

As the gnome leaves he turns to his party, “I expect you to not make the same mistakes.”

"we get ta fight ogres? Best. Job. Ever."

//It is now evening with the plan to move out at first light. Any last minute shopping you are outside the largest city and can likely find anything you might want to buy.

Quote from JcAndD >>

Mozu stretches and opens the door to their wagon, “Yes, you are all unique and special.” Mozu says dryly as he sets down his equipment.

"That may be a true statement for organisms in general, but I cannot make that assumption as I am a construct and might have been one of many," Herd replies.

He thinks for a moment, "I see what you did. Apologies, I'm still learning the idiosyncrasies of living creatures. I believe this is what they call, 'fishing for compliments.' You, too, Mr. Mozu are unique and special."

Quote from JcAndD >>

Mozu nods as he takes a seat, “Correct. If they died, they died.”

As the gnome leaves he turns to his party, “I expect you to not make the same mistakes.”

Herd replies to Mozu, "Mr. Mozu - we were not present to know their mistakes. How do we know if we're making them or not?" 

Mozu raises two fingers, “Here is their mistake: Dying.” He closes a finger, “If you do not die, then you have not made their mistake. No matter what, victory is solely in survival.”

"Do tha choppin, don't be the choppin"

Mozu points to Tith, “Exactly.”