PhoenixAsh
First Post
Update #42: A Missing Cook and a Search Abruptly Ends
Sasha Larkana looks over the back page of the Sharn Inquisitive, reflecting on her task as she patiently sits in the back of a skycoach making slow progress skyward. She is fortunate that she is attempting to find Fortunato for two reasons. First, a warforged cook should be easily distinguished – even in Sharn and even though she has never met the living construct. Second the back page of the Inquisitive has an exhaustive review of Sharn’s fine dining establishments. From what she understands of Fortunato, it is very likely he will have attempted to either sample or look for employment from these restaurants. Therefore, she has a clear path to follow.
Her reverie is interrupted as her skycoach suddenly lurches to the side. Thrown against the window of her coach, she sees a ramshackle coach plummeting precipitously down the side of a tower. Curiously, she is fairly certain she can hear familiar hollering and hooting coming from the descending vehicle…
“Maniac!” her driver curses, struggling to reorient his controls. It is a long time before Sasha reaches her destination – the Skyway. The district hovers completely disconnected from the towers beneath it, the floating crown of Sharn’s architecture. As she disembarks, Sasha finds her steps light and the weight of her armor lessened – the atmosphere is somehow more buoyant at this high point of the city.
Immediately, the cleric notes that wealth flows freely in this part of Sharn. Well-dressed individuals stroll clean and well-paved lanes. The district is well-marked with colorful signage pointing out prominent locations, and stores display lavish wares of every sort. She cannot resist the bitter thought that a fraction of the wealth of this district would improve and save lives immeasurably in Fallen.
Pushing aside the thought, she pays her driver three silver pieces and disembarks, then consults her restaurant guide. The Azure Gateway Restaurant is listed first, and she elects to make that her first stop.
The restaurant is sculpted out of glass and metal and raised to provide a panoramic view of the skyway and the countryside beyond. When Sasha steps inside a hostess in a soft blue uniform smiles pleasantly, “Good evening miss, table for one?”
“No, thank you,” Sasha responds amiably. “I am looking for someone, actually. A warforged, who would have been interested in dining or possibly employment. It would have been traveling alone…”
“Oh,” the woman responds. Her expression falters briefly from its smile. “Yes. I remember. We turned it away.”
“May I ask why?” Sasha asks.
“It was alone, not escorting anyone,” the woman shrugs. “I thought it was some sort of joke or mischief. Are you looking for him for an investigation of some kind?”
Sasha doesn’t answer her question, “Do you know where it went afterwards?”
“I’m afraid not miss.”
“When was this?” Sasha persists.
“A few days ago, I don’t remember exactly.”
“Thank you,” Sasha turns and exits the restaurant. The next restaurant on her list is the Celestial Vista, a few blocks down the street, and it doesn’t take her long to find it. The building is made of stone, but when she enters she can see that skylights made of colorful glass are interspersed on the ceiling at several points. The colorful atmosphere is pleasing, and a male half-elf in a formal uniform greets her politely, “May I help you, miss?”
“Yes, thank you. I am looking for a warforged who was looking either for a job or to dine here, have you seen anyone like that?”
The man looks thoughtful, “Not myself, but I remember hearing about it. I think he had an interview with our head chef.”
Sasha brightens, “May I speak with your head chef?”
The man considers, “I’m afraid he is very busy at the moment. I can ask him, but it will likely be a bit of a wait. I do apologize, but it is the dinner hour.”
Sasha nods, “I understand. Perhaps I could have dinner here in the meantime?”
The man smiles, “Certainly, this way miss.”
The host conducts Sasha to a table and leaves her with a menu. The cleric’s eyes widen as she scans the list of prices for the full ten course meal on the menu.
A waitress appears promptly at her side to take her order. “Soup and a glass of water, please.” Sasha hands the waitress the menu, and she manages to mostly conceal her disappointment - she is unlikely to get a good tip.
Sasha has finished her soup and is enjoying the subtle play of light in the room as the day turns to dusk through the colored skylights when a man in a stained, but formal chef’s uniform sits across from her. “You were asking about the warforged cook? Fortunato?” he asks.
“Yes, I am trying to find him, and offer him a job. Did you hire him here?” Sasha asks.
“No, I didn’t,” the man sighs. “It’s not a bad cook. Still needs some work – it made some interesting dishes for me to sample, but the flavors didn’t blend properly. I think it must be difficult for it to understand what is too strong of a seasoning for pallets like yours and mine.”
Sasha nods, “Did it mention where it was staying, or where it might go next?”
The chef shakes his head, “I’m afraid not, it seemed disappointed – but it probably tried other restaurants. I don’t think it would have had much luck in the Skyway.”
Sasha sighs but smiles, “Thank you. I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me.”
The chef nods, and then departs back for the kitchen. Sasha settles her bill, leaving a generous tip for her server.
Sasha next makes her way to the Cloud Dragon. Its architecture is in soft rolling grays, inscribed with laconic dragon shapes. It’s a pretty building, but the host inside is unpleasant when she brings up the matter of the warforged cook.
“It didn’t have a membership card, so I turned it away. Then, it had the gall to ask for a membership! I told it to go to the Warforged Rights Movement. That got rid of it, at least,” the man tersely explains.
Sasha frowns softly, “If I wanted to buy a membership, where might I go to find one?”
“Oh, I can sell you a membership miss,” the man answers, immediately more pleasant. “Twenty gold for a years membership. No guests, they need their own cards and there is a dress code but you would have no trouble with that,” the man indicates Sasha’s glammerweave vestments with a casual gesture.
Sasha struggles to keep her expression neutral. The blatant display of bias has her taken aback. Still she manages to keep answer curtly, “Another time, perhaps.” Leaving the restaurant, she reconsiders her plans. There are a great many restaurants in Sharn and there is no guarantee any of them actually hired Fortunato. She considers that it might be easier if she arranged it so Fortunato finds her. Hailing down a skycoach, she directs it to the office of the Sharn Inquisitive, tossing her own copy of the paper in a nearby waste bin before leaving.
***
“I’m sorry miss, but the next issue won’t be published for another three days,” the night clerk does seem sincerely apologetic to the beautiful, if severe cleric.
“That’s too long for what I need,” Sasha sighs. An advertisement in the paper had seemed like the perfect solution to get a message to Fortunato, but she had less than two days – certainly not three to contact it. The man smiles sadly in sympathy. She considers a moment and then asks, “Is there a ‘Warforged Rights Movement’ in Sharn?”
“Is there!” the man laughs. “You haven’t been reading the Inquisitive much lately, have you?”
“Ah – no, I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance,” Sasha apologizes.
“Well, that’s alright. We’ve been running a story about a Jack-in-Irons, some sort of warforged poltergeist haunting the bowels of Sharn. It’s murdered a pair of Warforged – torn them apart really, and no one knows how. Our reporters interviewed several ‘forged at Right’s Movement headquarters in the city. So yeah – there’s a movement alright,” the man explains.
Sasha brightens, “Do you know where I could find them?”
The man considers Sasha for a moment. Sasha beams a pleasant smile. Oh why not…
“I probably shouldn’t, but here’s a list of all the locations we know about. It’s supposed to be for field reporters, but we have several copies. And the story is pretty dry so…” the man shrugs and hands a piece of parchment to Sasha.
“Thank you!” Sasha’s bright smile dispels any lingering concerns the clerk has about the minor violation in protocol. He watches her leave with a slow sigh. “Why can’t more of them look like that?” he murmurs as she exits.
Sasha visits several Warforged Rights chapterhouses in the upper parts of the city. She finds that though they are active politically, they largely serve as meeting places for the living constructs to meet and converse. It is somewhat unnerving walking into these chapterhouses – the metal and wood stares of the living constructs initially seem cold and unfriendly. Some of them most likely are, but those who approach her are pleasant when she explains herself and something else. Relieved, she decides eventually. It would seem that when non-warforged enter, it is often to cause trouble.
“Yes, I remember Fortunato,” a construct nods, his frame laced with a shining silvery material. “I suggested several restaurants to him that might be open to his services.”
“Can you tell me which ones? It’s really important I speak to him, the job I’m offering won’t be available for very long,” she explains.
The warforged considers, “I do not remember exactly. The warforged had a list from the newspaper, and I circled some for him. Do you have a copy? That might help my memory.”
Sasha winces. She just threw it away! “No, I don’t.”
The warforged makes a grating noise within its mouth, a sound Sasha realizes indicates it is thinking, “Honestly, most of the restaurants were in the lower parts of the city. You might try there. Or try some of the chapterhouses there; you might have better luck finding him. Be careful though, some of the lower districts are dangerous.”
“I’ll do that, thank you,” Sasha turns to leave, but pauses and smiles back at the ‘forged. “Let me just say, I’m impressed with what you do here.”
“Thank you,” the warforged’s expression doesn’t change, but its tone indicates its pleasure. “Good night.”
Sasha decides against searching the lower districts at night. She returns to Lyrandar Tower and takes her rest immediately, intent on an early start in the morning. When she does awaken, she leaves a brief note on her door indicating where she will be and swiftly hails down a skycoach.
The lower reaches of Sharn are not entirely safe and that includes the Cogs district where she is headed – Sasha knows this, which is why she is fully armed and armored. Traveling with other members of the Irregulars seemed an unnecessary and wasteful proposition, considering how strapped for time she is. However, after she becomes well and truly lost and several shifty humanoid eyes begin to mark her progress, she begins to doubt the wisdom of her actions.
She doesn’t falter, however, continuing with a confident stride as if she knew exactly where she was going. Unfortunately, this only works until four goblins and a pair of bugbears step in front of her path.
“Where you goin’ girlie?” one of the goblins cackles, casually hefting a barbed metal mallet over his shoulder.
“That is no business of yours,” Sasha says sternly. Her hand falls to the hilt of her longsword at her hip. The group of goblinoids glowers as they consider just how easy a mark the cleric will be.
Which is when a heavy hand grips her shoulder…
Sasha Larkana looks over the back page of the Sharn Inquisitive, reflecting on her task as she patiently sits in the back of a skycoach making slow progress skyward. She is fortunate that she is attempting to find Fortunato for two reasons. First, a warforged cook should be easily distinguished – even in Sharn and even though she has never met the living construct. Second the back page of the Inquisitive has an exhaustive review of Sharn’s fine dining establishments. From what she understands of Fortunato, it is very likely he will have attempted to either sample or look for employment from these restaurants. Therefore, she has a clear path to follow.
Her reverie is interrupted as her skycoach suddenly lurches to the side. Thrown against the window of her coach, she sees a ramshackle coach plummeting precipitously down the side of a tower. Curiously, she is fairly certain she can hear familiar hollering and hooting coming from the descending vehicle…
“Maniac!” her driver curses, struggling to reorient his controls. It is a long time before Sasha reaches her destination – the Skyway. The district hovers completely disconnected from the towers beneath it, the floating crown of Sharn’s architecture. As she disembarks, Sasha finds her steps light and the weight of her armor lessened – the atmosphere is somehow more buoyant at this high point of the city.
Immediately, the cleric notes that wealth flows freely in this part of Sharn. Well-dressed individuals stroll clean and well-paved lanes. The district is well-marked with colorful signage pointing out prominent locations, and stores display lavish wares of every sort. She cannot resist the bitter thought that a fraction of the wealth of this district would improve and save lives immeasurably in Fallen.
Pushing aside the thought, she pays her driver three silver pieces and disembarks, then consults her restaurant guide. The Azure Gateway Restaurant is listed first, and she elects to make that her first stop.
The restaurant is sculpted out of glass and metal and raised to provide a panoramic view of the skyway and the countryside beyond. When Sasha steps inside a hostess in a soft blue uniform smiles pleasantly, “Good evening miss, table for one?”
“No, thank you,” Sasha responds amiably. “I am looking for someone, actually. A warforged, who would have been interested in dining or possibly employment. It would have been traveling alone…”
“Oh,” the woman responds. Her expression falters briefly from its smile. “Yes. I remember. We turned it away.”
“May I ask why?” Sasha asks.
“It was alone, not escorting anyone,” the woman shrugs. “I thought it was some sort of joke or mischief. Are you looking for him for an investigation of some kind?”
Sasha doesn’t answer her question, “Do you know where it went afterwards?”
“I’m afraid not miss.”
“When was this?” Sasha persists.
“A few days ago, I don’t remember exactly.”
“Thank you,” Sasha turns and exits the restaurant. The next restaurant on her list is the Celestial Vista, a few blocks down the street, and it doesn’t take her long to find it. The building is made of stone, but when she enters she can see that skylights made of colorful glass are interspersed on the ceiling at several points. The colorful atmosphere is pleasing, and a male half-elf in a formal uniform greets her politely, “May I help you, miss?”
“Yes, thank you. I am looking for a warforged who was looking either for a job or to dine here, have you seen anyone like that?”
The man looks thoughtful, “Not myself, but I remember hearing about it. I think he had an interview with our head chef.”
Sasha brightens, “May I speak with your head chef?”
The man considers, “I’m afraid he is very busy at the moment. I can ask him, but it will likely be a bit of a wait. I do apologize, but it is the dinner hour.”
Sasha nods, “I understand. Perhaps I could have dinner here in the meantime?”
The man smiles, “Certainly, this way miss.”
The host conducts Sasha to a table and leaves her with a menu. The cleric’s eyes widen as she scans the list of prices for the full ten course meal on the menu.
A waitress appears promptly at her side to take her order. “Soup and a glass of water, please.” Sasha hands the waitress the menu, and she manages to mostly conceal her disappointment - she is unlikely to get a good tip.
Sasha has finished her soup and is enjoying the subtle play of light in the room as the day turns to dusk through the colored skylights when a man in a stained, but formal chef’s uniform sits across from her. “You were asking about the warforged cook? Fortunato?” he asks.
“Yes, I am trying to find him, and offer him a job. Did you hire him here?” Sasha asks.
“No, I didn’t,” the man sighs. “It’s not a bad cook. Still needs some work – it made some interesting dishes for me to sample, but the flavors didn’t blend properly. I think it must be difficult for it to understand what is too strong of a seasoning for pallets like yours and mine.”
Sasha nods, “Did it mention where it was staying, or where it might go next?”
The chef shakes his head, “I’m afraid not, it seemed disappointed – but it probably tried other restaurants. I don’t think it would have had much luck in the Skyway.”
Sasha sighs but smiles, “Thank you. I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me.”
The chef nods, and then departs back for the kitchen. Sasha settles her bill, leaving a generous tip for her server.
Sasha next makes her way to the Cloud Dragon. Its architecture is in soft rolling grays, inscribed with laconic dragon shapes. It’s a pretty building, but the host inside is unpleasant when she brings up the matter of the warforged cook.
“It didn’t have a membership card, so I turned it away. Then, it had the gall to ask for a membership! I told it to go to the Warforged Rights Movement. That got rid of it, at least,” the man tersely explains.
Sasha frowns softly, “If I wanted to buy a membership, where might I go to find one?”
“Oh, I can sell you a membership miss,” the man answers, immediately more pleasant. “Twenty gold for a years membership. No guests, they need their own cards and there is a dress code but you would have no trouble with that,” the man indicates Sasha’s glammerweave vestments with a casual gesture.
Sasha struggles to keep her expression neutral. The blatant display of bias has her taken aback. Still she manages to keep answer curtly, “Another time, perhaps.” Leaving the restaurant, she reconsiders her plans. There are a great many restaurants in Sharn and there is no guarantee any of them actually hired Fortunato. She considers that it might be easier if she arranged it so Fortunato finds her. Hailing down a skycoach, she directs it to the office of the Sharn Inquisitive, tossing her own copy of the paper in a nearby waste bin before leaving.
***
“I’m sorry miss, but the next issue won’t be published for another three days,” the night clerk does seem sincerely apologetic to the beautiful, if severe cleric.
“That’s too long for what I need,” Sasha sighs. An advertisement in the paper had seemed like the perfect solution to get a message to Fortunato, but she had less than two days – certainly not three to contact it. The man smiles sadly in sympathy. She considers a moment and then asks, “Is there a ‘Warforged Rights Movement’ in Sharn?”
“Is there!” the man laughs. “You haven’t been reading the Inquisitive much lately, have you?”
“Ah – no, I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance,” Sasha apologizes.
“Well, that’s alright. We’ve been running a story about a Jack-in-Irons, some sort of warforged poltergeist haunting the bowels of Sharn. It’s murdered a pair of Warforged – torn them apart really, and no one knows how. Our reporters interviewed several ‘forged at Right’s Movement headquarters in the city. So yeah – there’s a movement alright,” the man explains.
Sasha brightens, “Do you know where I could find them?”
The man considers Sasha for a moment. Sasha beams a pleasant smile. Oh why not…
“I probably shouldn’t, but here’s a list of all the locations we know about. It’s supposed to be for field reporters, but we have several copies. And the story is pretty dry so…” the man shrugs and hands a piece of parchment to Sasha.
“Thank you!” Sasha’s bright smile dispels any lingering concerns the clerk has about the minor violation in protocol. He watches her leave with a slow sigh. “Why can’t more of them look like that?” he murmurs as she exits.
Sasha visits several Warforged Rights chapterhouses in the upper parts of the city. She finds that though they are active politically, they largely serve as meeting places for the living constructs to meet and converse. It is somewhat unnerving walking into these chapterhouses – the metal and wood stares of the living constructs initially seem cold and unfriendly. Some of them most likely are, but those who approach her are pleasant when she explains herself and something else. Relieved, she decides eventually. It would seem that when non-warforged enter, it is often to cause trouble.
“Yes, I remember Fortunato,” a construct nods, his frame laced with a shining silvery material. “I suggested several restaurants to him that might be open to his services.”
“Can you tell me which ones? It’s really important I speak to him, the job I’m offering won’t be available for very long,” she explains.
The warforged considers, “I do not remember exactly. The warforged had a list from the newspaper, and I circled some for him. Do you have a copy? That might help my memory.”
Sasha winces. She just threw it away! “No, I don’t.”
The warforged makes a grating noise within its mouth, a sound Sasha realizes indicates it is thinking, “Honestly, most of the restaurants were in the lower parts of the city. You might try there. Or try some of the chapterhouses there; you might have better luck finding him. Be careful though, some of the lower districts are dangerous.”
“I’ll do that, thank you,” Sasha turns to leave, but pauses and smiles back at the ‘forged. “Let me just say, I’m impressed with what you do here.”
“Thank you,” the warforged’s expression doesn’t change, but its tone indicates its pleasure. “Good night.”
Sasha decides against searching the lower districts at night. She returns to Lyrandar Tower and takes her rest immediately, intent on an early start in the morning. When she does awaken, she leaves a brief note on her door indicating where she will be and swiftly hails down a skycoach.
The lower reaches of Sharn are not entirely safe and that includes the Cogs district where she is headed – Sasha knows this, which is why she is fully armed and armored. Traveling with other members of the Irregulars seemed an unnecessary and wasteful proposition, considering how strapped for time she is. However, after she becomes well and truly lost and several shifty humanoid eyes begin to mark her progress, she begins to doubt the wisdom of her actions.
She doesn’t falter, however, continuing with a confident stride as if she knew exactly where she was going. Unfortunately, this only works until four goblins and a pair of bugbears step in front of her path.
“Where you goin’ girlie?” one of the goblins cackles, casually hefting a barbed metal mallet over his shoulder.
“That is no business of yours,” Sasha says sternly. Her hand falls to the hilt of her longsword at her hip. The group of goblinoids glowers as they consider just how easy a mark the cleric will be.
Which is when a heavy hand grips her shoulder…
