Risky ritual gone awry, Strider is an amalgamation of sorcerers that accidentally fused into one being, inhabiting what was once a simple aetherforged servant. Cast aside and forgotten, Strider recently regained their consciousness, found themselves broken, covered in dust and stripped for some precious parts.
Slender tall figure with many arms, choir for a voice, this not exactly sneaky conglomerate looks for a way to reestablish themselves in this world.
=Aftermath for #"A Friendly Dispute"=
The door to the Two Silver opens, the tall and inhumanly thin figure of Strider pauses for a second, before six hands clasp the edges to help with stepping inside. Body of Aetherforged sparks, and whirs, big dent on chest plate gives off arcane energies. Strider quickly finds a table and sits down, for a second they just sit still, like a statue, before many arms begin working with machine-like precision. Four of them remove the chest plate, and start tending to the damage, while two more open a small journal and begin writing.
"Our venture, however suspicious, went relatively well. We managed to retrieve most, unfortunately, of the captives, for some troubles have befallen us.
We managed to reignite some of our magic, auspiciously so, as the spirit of water that was brought to our aid managed to save the life of a luminary, who was heedlessly stabbed by one of our companions. Spirits are still as mischievous as we remember them, wonder if We'll be able to call the rest.
Worth mentioning, there was an unfortunate incident where We set in motion a physical object, that ended hurting another compatriot, who seems like a very promising dabbler of arcane. It wasn't disastrous in consequence, but the incident still left a sour taste, and We should make up for it somehow. At the very least, avoid trying to strain this new body to achieve unpropitious physical tasks."
Rest of the writing muses on Arcane theory