Sul, 1st of Rhaan - Part I
Journal of Tharkhad, correspondent to House Sivis
A Journal of the events chronicled by Tharkhad, Sharn correspondent to House Sivis for the Korranberg Chronicle. Included are the dispatches sent for publication, and the events and people encountered which led to those events.
Sul, 1st of Rhaan
Part I
A representative of House Sivis has contacted me to be part of an investigative team to report to the Korranberg Chronicle on events of interest in Sharn. As Gormliss d’Sivis put it, “Our readers hear so many exciting and fascinating things about the City of Towers that it is our duty to give them tales of life in Sharn. See what you can do to spice it up, but we need adventure, excitement, and mystery. Give us details of locales, interesting personalities, and what it is like to be alive in Sharn.”
I’ve lived my 47 years in Sharn, in a small, isolated community that didn’t interact much with the rest of the city. I suppose I need to discover this excitement as much as anyone else. My name is Tharkhad, and while I’ve spent a lot of time learning about people, I don’t know that I have the rest of the skills necessary to even have an adventure in Sharn.
Not to worry. As Gormliss said, “I’ve gathered together a team to work with you which should be well-rounded and sufficient for your needs. You have all been given a room in an apartment in the XXXXX district of Sharn. You can go meet them after we discuss the details of transmitting your reports.” After we talked about giving my missives to the local House Sivis in Barmin Tower, he gave me the address of the apartment. He also told me to contact Bonal Geldem, a scholar at the Morgrave University. “He has been researching some interesting things that might lead to a story or two,” added Gormliss.
The apartment is in what I would call a “hardworking poor” section of Sharn. It’s in a lower level, but it’s not dirty, and there are plenty of everbright lanterns set close enough together to provide a comfortable level of light. I’ve noticed that there is a correlation between the distance between lanterns and the prosperity of the neighborhood. As the higher towers block much of the sunlight in the lower levels, the lanterns provide the only illumination in many parts of lower Sharn. This must be one of those “Sharn details” that Gormliss was talking about.
The building itself looking like at one point it was a barn or stable of some sort. Someone had decided to convert it into housing, so they took what the barn had to offer and made a nice big apartment building out of it. The ground floor is a large, high ceilinged common area with a kitchen and dining area to one side, and a sort of living room with tables and chairs on the other side. Stairs lead up to the balconies which face each other on the long side of the barn, each with four doors which lead to the private rooms on the second floor. All in all, it’s clean, allows for privacy, and has a large area to relax in. Better accommodations than I expected, really.
When I got there, I saw that the rest of the team had already arrived and were unpacking. In the common room was an adamantine-reinforced warforged talking to a sturdy-looking human. Upstairs was a slim elven woman who was trying to bet a shifter that she could jump from balcony to balcony across the common room. Poking around the kitchen area was a human dressed in furs and feathers with odd tattoos.
“Any rooms left?” I asked with a smile, and the human talking to the warforged broke off his conversation and introduced himself.
“I’m Gear d’Cannith, and you must be Tharkhad?” the raised inflection in his voice indicating a question.
I nodded.
“Well, up there is Samia, talking to the shifter, Rand. In the kitchen is the shaman, Baldon d’Tharashk. Our male personality warforged here doesn’t have a name, and he wants to know what we should call him.” Gear made the introductions by pointing and waving to the different members of the group. “Everyone, this is Tharkash, the guy Gormliss was talking about.” Individual members of the group waved or ignored me, depending on their level of attention.
“He needs a name?” I asked, looking at the powerfully built warforged.
Gear nodded. “Often, warforged don’t have an identifier other than a number when the come out of the foundry. 32927-90210 here feels that we would be better at picking out a name than he would. We’ve been racking our brains trying to come up with something that makes sense, but so far we’ve had too many silly suggestions and none that he likes.”
At silly, Gear rolled his eyes up at Samia, who impishly yelled down, “What’s wrong with Daffodil, anyway?”
Gear laughed.
Seriously, the warforged asked, “What is wrong with Daffodil?”
Gear smiled at him and said, “Daffodil is the name of a flower, which really isn’t sufficiently, well, martial for a ‘forged of your prowess.” He clapped a hand on the ‘forged’s shoulder. “We’ll come up with something, don’t worry.”
“Perhaps his deeds will point the way to a name,” I ventured.
Rand had made his way down the stairs, getting ready to watch Samia’s leap. He nodded and said, “That’s always the best way. Nicknames are often bestowed based on a deed that shows a person’s true soul. So it should be with your name, ‘forged.”
“Wheee!” Samia shouted as she leapt across the common room, grabbing the balcony railing with her hands ash she reached the opposite side. “That’s one gold from you, Rand!”
I looked at Rand, who smiled and shrugged. “It seemed important to her.” He then tossed the gold piece up towards Samia’s perch, whereupon she dropped from the balcony, deftly caught it, and landed cat-like on the floor.
Gear indicated the three rooms still left available, and I went upstairs to pick one, and drop off my meager supplies. Afterward, I called a meeting for a chance for all of us to talk about our assignment and get to know each other.
Rand was a shifter who had been a tracker and scout in Xen’Drik. He and his father and fought the degenerate giantkin there until Rand decided he wanted to see more of the world. Upon arriving in Sharn, he saw a House Sivis poster asking for adventurous spirits.
The warforged was one of a thousand or so ‘forged created near the end of the war, and turned loose on society with nothing but his martial skills. The gnomes of House Sivis had found him while he was looking for some way to use his skills.
Samia said she came from Aerenal, the elvish island-continent. Her mentor had received a letter, and shortly after had advised her to come to Sharn and contact House Sivis.
The shaman Baldon was a member of House Tharkash from the Shadow Marches, new in town and rounded up with the same advertisement that caught Rand and Samia’s attention.
Gear d’Cannith said he was a local House Cannith involved with working on warforged schemas, but hadn’t had much practical experience outside of the foundries. His dragon mark flowed up his arm from wrist to mind-bicep, and he said it allowed him to repair ‘forged. He was referred to House Sivis by a supervisor who thought he should, well, get out more. Gear spent almost all his time at House Cannith, and was really interested in the impact of warforged on society as a whole. I thought it was a good thing that the ‘forged in our group was not sensitive, because in his enthusiasm he sometimes referred to the ‘forged as if they were objects. He obviously liked our ‘forged though, so perhaps I’m being overly sensitive myself.
I introduced myself as a local who had been trained in writing and who knew a little bit about Sharn. I have some training in performance, also, as a storyteller, and perhaps that would be useful to the group.
“When do we start?” Samia asked.
“Any time, I guess.” I said. “If everyone’s stuff is packed and we are all ready, we could head out to Morgrave University this afternoon to find Bonal.”
It all sounded so simple.
