This thread is for the Steel Shadows adventure, as played in by Seeker (warforged cleric/9), Reason (warforged juggernaught/9) and Melina (changeling sorceress/9).
The adventure begins...
Two warforged wait in a room furnished with cast-offs and non-wood improvisations, reinforced or well-built, chairs and stools at tables high and low, each with a small pile of pamphlets and some scrap paper, piled neatly, and the occasional charcoal stick. To the extent that the furniture has a unifying theme, it reminds the modern reader of Adirondack furniture: a certain grace, perhaps even beauty, in a form that could only be comfortable to someone wearing plate armor. Or warforged. Unusually, for either a bar or a classroom, the arrangement of things giving impressions of both, although neither cups nor blackboards are present, every table has attached to it an everburning torch of unusual design, with a familiar sort of grace, or perhaps even beauty, that looks like it would be uncomfortable for a person with skin.
The smaller of the two opens his eyes and nods at the door, to which the larger, who is spiked, steps, and opens. A House Tharashk messenger lowers his hand and looks between the two, then nods at the smaller, who has not stood up. However, he addresses the doorman. "Is Ess-Kay-Arr, formerly of the Brelish 137th Autonomous Battalion, receiving letters here?"
SKR stands up. "I am here, and I will receive the letter." The larger of the two, at the door, holds out a hand, to which the messenger completes his duty. "Thank you," SKR says. He waits until the messenger leaves and mutters something obscure, then says: "Reason, hold it away from you. You radiate too much magic for me to see clearly."
Reason holds the letter up for close to twenty seconds. "Anything, Seeker?"
"No. But better safe. Especially tonight." He reads:
I know that we have not spoken since the end of the war. However, if this letter reaches you, I implore you to come to the Blackbones district of Sharn. Someone is murdering warforged. I have heard of your recent exploits from a mutual friend in the Watch, and I hope that you can put an end to the terror that haunts my home. Look for me in the Red Hammer - ask anyone in Blackbones for directions.
Your comrade in arms,
Ash
"Not for long," Reason growls at the third sentence.
"Indeed." Seeker refolds the letter and taps it on the table as he stares off into space, or possibly, the future. "I would have rather heard of this before we began the Society meeting tonight."
"We can't call it off."
"No. We'll just have to head to Blackbones as soon as we're done." Seeker puts the letter away. "It's not a good sign that he didn't know we were in town."
"He and others will if we take care of the problem." The big spiky warforged speaks so matter-of-factly that the obvious euphemism seems mild, rather than threatening.
"We will. And none will think to wonder why so many of our siblings come to talk with us."
If warforged could, Reason would have grunted; but he is content to turn and eye the door, as if it were his natural enemy.
----
Some time later, Reason says a word, and the pair of warforged turn to hustle through an alley and the brightly-lit shopping district beyond, a shortcut which will save them from several flights of stairs. Shoppers step out of their way much as they would step under an awning when it began to rain, and pay them no more attention than the weather, except for one, whose frowning concentration on a rack of jewelry is broken by the familiar sound of the warforged's tread. "What's up, you two?"
Seeker stops in front of the seventeen year-old human-looking girl, who had earlier assured him she was dressed in the height of demure fashion, excepting, perhaps, the very work-like pouch of 'stuff' she felt safer carrying around. "This." He hands her the letter. "It sounds like something I can not permit to happen."
The adventure begins...
Two warforged wait in a room furnished with cast-offs and non-wood improvisations, reinforced or well-built, chairs and stools at tables high and low, each with a small pile of pamphlets and some scrap paper, piled neatly, and the occasional charcoal stick. To the extent that the furniture has a unifying theme, it reminds the modern reader of Adirondack furniture: a certain grace, perhaps even beauty, in a form that could only be comfortable to someone wearing plate armor. Or warforged. Unusually, for either a bar or a classroom, the arrangement of things giving impressions of both, although neither cups nor blackboards are present, every table has attached to it an everburning torch of unusual design, with a familiar sort of grace, or perhaps even beauty, that looks like it would be uncomfortable for a person with skin.
The smaller of the two opens his eyes and nods at the door, to which the larger, who is spiked, steps, and opens. A House Tharashk messenger lowers his hand and looks between the two, then nods at the smaller, who has not stood up. However, he addresses the doorman. "Is Ess-Kay-Arr, formerly of the Brelish 137th Autonomous Battalion, receiving letters here?"
SKR stands up. "I am here, and I will receive the letter." The larger of the two, at the door, holds out a hand, to which the messenger completes his duty. "Thank you," SKR says. He waits until the messenger leaves and mutters something obscure, then says: "Reason, hold it away from you. You radiate too much magic for me to see clearly."
Reason holds the letter up for close to twenty seconds. "Anything, Seeker?"
"No. But better safe. Especially tonight." He reads:
I know that we have not spoken since the end of the war. However, if this letter reaches you, I implore you to come to the Blackbones district of Sharn. Someone is murdering warforged. I have heard of your recent exploits from a mutual friend in the Watch, and I hope that you can put an end to the terror that haunts my home. Look for me in the Red Hammer - ask anyone in Blackbones for directions.
Your comrade in arms,
Ash
"Not for long," Reason growls at the third sentence.
"Indeed." Seeker refolds the letter and taps it on the table as he stares off into space, or possibly, the future. "I would have rather heard of this before we began the Society meeting tonight."
"We can't call it off."
"No. We'll just have to head to Blackbones as soon as we're done." Seeker puts the letter away. "It's not a good sign that he didn't know we were in town."
"He and others will if we take care of the problem." The big spiky warforged speaks so matter-of-factly that the obvious euphemism seems mild, rather than threatening.
"We will. And none will think to wonder why so many of our siblings come to talk with us."
If warforged could, Reason would have grunted; but he is content to turn and eye the door, as if it were his natural enemy.
----
Some time later, Reason says a word, and the pair of warforged turn to hustle through an alley and the brightly-lit shopping district beyond, a shortcut which will save them from several flights of stairs. Shoppers step out of their way much as they would step under an awning when it began to rain, and pay them no more attention than the weather, except for one, whose frowning concentration on a rack of jewelry is broken by the familiar sound of the warforged's tread. "What's up, you two?"
Seeker stops in front of the seventeen year-old human-looking girl, who had earlier assured him she was dressed in the height of demure fashion, excepting, perhaps, the very work-like pouch of 'stuff' she felt safer carrying around. "This." He hands her the letter. "It sounds like something I can not permit to happen."
