Cassael's Lament - An Eberron Story (Updated 5/1)
Thanks! Although I have to admit to cringing at the words 'fan fiction' placed next to each other, especially in relation to me! 
I never thought I'd see the day that I'd sink so low! I know they weren't meant with any malice, though.
Well, this seems like a good time for a bit of explanation.
I'm not currently in a game, and no one I game with has any plans to run a campaign set in Eberron, so I'm actually gearing up to DM for the first time several weeks for now so I can get my fix! I was excited by some of the elements of the setting as details were announced, and enjoyed it after it was released, but it didn't quite 'click' for me at first, for some reason. I picked up the book a few months later and gave it a good, solid read, and I was hooked. As so many others have said, plot hooks and campaign ideas burst forth from almost every page. The setting really feels alive to me. I've been consistently impressed with the suppliments, as well. It's probably a good thing that I'll be DMing, since I have sooo many different character ideas I want to try!
There were a few factors that lead up to me writing this story, a lack of gametime among them. The warforged are one of my favorite aspects of the setting. I lurk much much much more than I post, but I pretty much devour every thread about warforged. Two in particular that really resonated with me were a discussion about warforged druids here, and a thread on the WotC boards asking if warforged could love. The wheels in my head started turning, and a few weeks later, I realized that I had to get the ideas out of my head somehow. A story hour seemed the best way to do it.
I'll confess that I had absolutely no idea about the story whatsoever when I began writing. I had a few themes that I knew I wanted to explore, and a few set pieces that I thought would be fun, but that was it. I had to go out of state this past weekend, and I was able to solidify a general story arc and most of my ideas during that time, after the first two chapters had been written and posted. Those first two chapters are very late in the story, but I didn't really have a story yet, per se, and it seemed like as good a place to start as any. I figure if a story in Eberron starts off on the lightning rail, on an airship, or in Sharn (preferably in front of a corpse), you're doing something right! I tried to make the jump backwards in time in the third chapter obvious enough to people unfamiliar with the Galifar calendar without explicitly calling it out. I'll try to make things like that a bit clearer moving forward.
This is the first time I've written anything in ages, probably a good ten years or more, and its already the most substantial body of writing I've produced yet. (The last stuff I wrote was some sappy, crappy teen angst poetry waaaaaay back in the day. Oh, the shame!) The first four posts total about 6,000 words. I'm enjoying the hell out of it so far - it definitely gets easier the more you do it! One worry I have is making sure that I give each character a distinctive voice and personality. I had originally planned on four main characters a la a standard adventuring party, but I had three that felt strong to me, and couldn't come up with much for the fourth. Three also seemed like an easier number to handle comfortably at this point, too Two other things that I've worried about so far are dialogue and pacing. This is the first time I've really done dialogue, and it's been interesting so far finding ways to identify the different speakers without resorting to he said/she said, or reams of dialogue without and description/narration. As far as pacing goes, I can be incredibly terse or incredibly verbose, usually at one extreme or the other. I'm trying to balance all that out while leaning towards a punchy, pulpy, Two! Fisted! Action! feel, while still allowing for plenty of character development, interaction, and thematic exploration.
I can't say enough about how much I love warforged. They allow for an incredibly deep exploration into the human condition. What does it mean to be sentient? To have free will? What does one do when the purpose they were created for is no longer necessary? How do the 'forged define themselves now, as individuals and as a race? Hopefully this story will give me a chance to play with some of those ideas without turning into too dry of a philosophical discussion.
Again, I can't thank you enough for all your kind words, Funeris! If no one ever read the story, or if people chimed in to heap derision on it, that'd be alright with me, because I'm writing this for myself. I do remember that day long ago in kindergarten where they taught us to share, though, and I'm glad that you're enjoying it as well!
I never thought I'd see the day that I'd sink so low! I know they weren't meant with any malice, though.Well, this seems like a good time for a bit of explanation.
I'm not currently in a game, and no one I game with has any plans to run a campaign set in Eberron, so I'm actually gearing up to DM for the first time several weeks for now so I can get my fix! I was excited by some of the elements of the setting as details were announced, and enjoyed it after it was released, but it didn't quite 'click' for me at first, for some reason. I picked up the book a few months later and gave it a good, solid read, and I was hooked. As so many others have said, plot hooks and campaign ideas burst forth from almost every page. The setting really feels alive to me. I've been consistently impressed with the suppliments, as well. It's probably a good thing that I'll be DMing, since I have sooo many different character ideas I want to try!
There were a few factors that lead up to me writing this story, a lack of gametime among them. The warforged are one of my favorite aspects of the setting. I lurk much much much more than I post, but I pretty much devour every thread about warforged. Two in particular that really resonated with me were a discussion about warforged druids here, and a thread on the WotC boards asking if warforged could love. The wheels in my head started turning, and a few weeks later, I realized that I had to get the ideas out of my head somehow. A story hour seemed the best way to do it.
I'll confess that I had absolutely no idea about the story whatsoever when I began writing. I had a few themes that I knew I wanted to explore, and a few set pieces that I thought would be fun, but that was it. I had to go out of state this past weekend, and I was able to solidify a general story arc and most of my ideas during that time, after the first two chapters had been written and posted.
Those first two chapters are very late in the story, but I didn't really have a story yet, per se, and it seemed like as good a place to start as any. I figure if a story in Eberron starts off on the lightning rail, on an airship, or in Sharn (preferably in front of a corpse), you're doing something right! I tried to make the jump backwards in time in the third chapter obvious enough to people unfamiliar with the Galifar calendar without explicitly calling it out. I'll try to make things like that a bit clearer moving forward.This is the first time I've written anything in ages, probably a good ten years or more, and its already the most substantial body of writing I've produced yet. (The last stuff I wrote was some sappy, crappy teen angst poetry waaaaaay back in the day. Oh, the shame!)
The first four posts total about 6,000 words. I'm enjoying the hell out of it so far - it definitely gets easier the more you do it! One worry I have is making sure that I give each character a distinctive voice and personality. I had originally planned on four main characters a la a standard adventuring party, but I had three that felt strong to me, and couldn't come up with much for the fourth. Three also seemed like an easier number to handle comfortably at this point, too Two other things that I've worried about so far are dialogue and pacing. This is the first time I've really done dialogue, and it's been interesting so far finding ways to identify the different speakers without resorting to he said/she said, or reams of dialogue without and description/narration. As far as pacing goes, I can be incredibly terse or incredibly verbose, usually at one extreme or the other. I'm trying to balance all that out while leaning towards a punchy, pulpy, Two! Fisted! Action! feel, while still allowing for plenty of character development, interaction, and thematic exploration.I can't say enough about how much I love warforged. They allow for an incredibly deep exploration into the human condition. What does it mean to be sentient? To have free will? What does one do when the purpose they were created for is no longer necessary? How do the 'forged define themselves now, as individuals and as a race? Hopefully this story will give me a chance to play with some of those ideas without turning into too dry of a philosophical discussion.
Again, I can't thank you enough for all your kind words, Funeris! If no one ever read the story, or if people chimed in to heap derision on it, that'd be alright with me, because I'm writing this for myself. I do remember that day long ago in kindergarten where they taught us to share, though, and I'm glad that you're enjoying it as well!
Funeris
First Post
Ah well...I definitely didn't use the term "fan fiction" maliciously...or didn't intend to. In retrospect, I should've just called it fiction, even though you are a fan. A decent amount of Enworlders won't read pure fiction....they want the round by round review of battle, etc. And for those individuals, they're missing out on this thread!
I am at the other end of the spectrum...I don't want a round by round review...I can get that playing or DMing...I want exposition based on the game but upgraded to a novel-esque feel. Or, barring that, I want some fiction.
I recently began as a player in an Eberron game and I am having fun with my warforged. Although its not a warforged per the Eberron race...but a bit more mixed up/tweaked version. And he's (it's) a warlock...which I felt would be unique and interesting to play.
Don't worry about the fourth character, mythology teaches that all good things come in threes anyway.
You're writing extremely well. And I'm enjoying this very, very much. Especially since I'm too busy to write updates for my SHs right now.
If you have a moment, an Enworlder by the handle of RagBoy also has some excellent Eberron fiction he's posted. Its worth the read. I'll see if I can't dig up the links and post 'em here for you, later.
~Fune
I am at the other end of the spectrum...I don't want a round by round review...I can get that playing or DMing...I want exposition based on the game but upgraded to a novel-esque feel. Or, barring that, I want some fiction.
I recently began as a player in an Eberron game and I am having fun with my warforged. Although its not a warforged per the Eberron race...but a bit more mixed up/tweaked version. And he's (it's) a warlock...which I felt would be unique and interesting to play.
Don't worry about the fourth character, mythology teaches that all good things come in threes anyway.
You're writing extremely well. And I'm enjoying this very, very much. Especially since I'm too busy to write updates for my SHs right now.
If you have a moment, an Enworlder by the handle of RagBoy also has some excellent Eberron fiction he's posted. Its worth the read. I'll see if I can't dig up the links and post 'em here for you, later.
~Fune
Niv led Autumn and Kiva through the streets of Wroann's Gate, ducking and darting through throngs of farmers, laborers and travelers like a fish navigating the shifting currents of the ocean. She regaled her new client with a description of the city of Sharn and a breakdown of its various wards and districts as they walked. One hour and one lift ride later, they were in the Cornerstone district of Middle Tavick's Landing. The weatherbeaten sign above the door Niv finally stopped in front of showed a small cauldron tipped over, its red contents spilling out to form the words 'Bucket of Blood'. Autumn gazed up at the sign, half-whispering, half-chanting a snippet of verse in a far away voice.
"He waked through the rain
And he walked through the mud
Until he came to a place
Called the Bucket of Blood"
Niv looked over at him, arching an eyebrow. "A warforged poet? I really have seen everything now!"
Autumn chuckled. "No, no, just an old memory from a lifetime ago. There was a scout in one of the campanies I served with during the war who fancied himself to be somewhat of a minstrel. He was always singing a ballad or reciting some epic verse. That was from one he sang most often; the tavern's sign reminded me of it."
"Was he any good?"
"He was alright, I suppose. His singing helped to pass the time in camp, and he had his wits about him enough to keep silent in the field. I don't think he ever amounted to much, even if he survived the war. I remember that our lieutenant would always say he was a bad seed. Shall we enter?"
The roar of the boisterous crowd inside the Bucket of Blood was deafening even compared to the bustle of activity in the streets and marketplaces outside. Autumn observed the tavern out of habit, taking note of the mannerisms, the behavior, and the weaponry of its various patrons. After a few moments, he had already planned out several different escape scenarios in case trouble presented itself. A short, stout, balding man with a prodigious amount of unkempt whiskers and an overabundance of chins bellowed at them as they made their way inside.
"Oi! You! You cannot bring that mangy mongrel in here without it being leashed up!"
Autumn stiffened, attempting to maintain his composure as he responded. "I can assure you, sir, that Kiva is no mongrel, and will be no trouble to you or any of your patrons."
The barkeep waved a pudgy finger in Autumn's face. "I was addressing the lovely young lady here, and I was referring to you!" Niv watched the warforged tense up even more. After a few seconds of awkward silence, the barkeep's expression softened, his mouth splitting into a wide, toothy grin and slapping Autumn on the back. "Just having a bit of fun with you, lad! I wanted to see what it'd look like if you smiled with that set of teeth you've got! Come in, come in, make yourselves at home! I'm Doran, and this here is the finest tavern in Cornerstone! Have a seat anywhere you like, and let one of the girls know what we can get for you!"
Niv picked a small booth tucked away in a far corner of the tavern and flagged down a nearby serving girl. "One mug of tal and a bowl of stew, please." Kiva laid down under the table as Autumn took a seat across from Niv.
"I'd like some tal as well, please. And a leg of mutton for my friend, as well." Autumn added, shrugging his shoulders at Niv's look of surprise.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't eat or drink, am I right?"
"That's right. but I've been in enough taverns and inns to know that my kind aren't exactly welcome, since they can't sell us a meal. In the eyes of many innkeeps and barkeeps, each warforged they let in is one less person they can profit off of. So I try to order something just to be polite. You can have mine so it doesn't go to waste."
Niv smiled. "How very conscientious of you."
"Well, I must admit, it's not entirely without benefit to me. These are difficult times for all of us. With the war over, my people are struggling to find our way in this world. We seek a greater sense of purpose, as individuals and as a whole. People are trying to move on with their lives, and every time they see me, I serve as a painful reminder to them of what they've lost. To one person, I represent the enemy who took one of his limbs, or ended his comrade's life. To a child, I am a the reason one of her parents never came home, or the farm or village that was destroyed during the war and forced her into a refugee camp." Autumn paused for a moment as their food and drink was delivered. He dropped the leg of mutton under the table for Kiva and continued where he had left off.
"My people were created for war. Our single, solitary reason for existence was to kill, to maim and to destroy, to prolong the war that nearly consumed this entire world We were given life in order to fight and to die, an expendable replacement for the dwindling numbers of humans able to fight. In the eyes of far too many, that is all we will ever know, and all we will ever be useful for. Yes, a small act of kindness on my part here and there will benefit the person who receives it, and that is very good. Ultimately, though, it is myself and the other warforged who will benefit as each of those acts helps insure that we will gradually come to be judged as individuals who are as worthy and as capable of anyone madeof flesh and blood. At least, that is my hope."
Niv stared at him, the mug of tal and bowl of stew placed before her moments ago remaining untouched. "Are you sure this isn't some elaborate hoax with a human hidden underneath all of that warforged armor? You have more insight into human nature than most people I've met." She smiled, trailed off into silence. "So what's your story, Autumn? How did you come to these realizations, this level of awareness... is it something you saw during the war?"
Autumn chafed at the question, his voice becoming somewhat strained. "That is diffcult to say. I consider the war, and any involvement I had in it, to be a lifetime ago in a very literal sense. My life, as far as I am concerned, began almost eight years ago in the Eldeen Reaches. I awoke in the care of an elderly shifter. She taught me the lessons she had learned since childhood; a way to live in harmony with the world around us, to draw strength from it and to return its blessings by defending it from those who would lay waste to it and to its children. Through her, I was initiated into druidic mysteries that stretch back for thousands of years. From her, I gained a sense of purpose, a reason for being, and the beginnings of an understanding of my place in the grand scheme of things."
"Oh? And what would that place be?"
"I don't know yet. As I said, I'm only beginning to understand it." Autumn's jaw flexed in a way that almost resembled a smile. "I watch, and I learn, I observe signs and portents as I find them. When I learn of my place for certain, I'll let you know. Before I left the Reaches, my teacher told me she had seen several signs. These signs told her that I would find the answers to some of my questions in Sharn. So, after several months of travel, here I am. An that's my story, for the most part. If I may return the question, Niv, what is your story? And what is your place?"
Niv took a long, slow sip of her tal before setting it down on the table and answering. "Now that isn't as easy it would seem. I've lived in Sharn my whole life. Or for all of my lives, I guess you could say. I spend so much time wearing different faces that sometimes, the lines between who I am inside, and who I am at the moment tend to blur after a while. Where does Niv end, for instance, and where does Gorm, the half-orc you met earlier, begin? Is there really a difference between the two? Are they masks that I choose to wear, roles that I choose to play, or different pieces of me that reveal themselves at different times? Multiply that by the number of different names and faces and lives I wear, and I still don't think I'd be ready to begin to answer your question. I suppose its like being an actor on a stage permanently. You know, it's funny; I've heard it said that there are some people who are always alone in a crowd. Well, some of us can be our very own crowd, and still find ourselves alone."
"It certainly sounds like it is a burden for you. Regardless, I would very much like to be able to do what you can do. I know who I am, and who I'm trying to be, but most people will only see me for what they think I am. You are able to make people see you in whatever way you want them to."
Niv looked away, a slight cast of bitterness coloring her laughter as she drummed her fingers on her mug. "But at what price, Autumn? Is it worth it if I wind up losing myself in the process?"
"I don't know, but I think that it's harder to get lost when you have companions with you. Kiva and I look out for each other since our paths crossed. I don't know where I would be if not for her. You don't have to be alone, Niv. No one has to be, if they don't want to."
Niv nodded, lost in thought as she drank her tal. They sat there for a while in silence, alone in the raucous crowd of the tavern.
"He waked through the rain
And he walked through the mud
Until he came to a place
Called the Bucket of Blood"
Niv looked over at him, arching an eyebrow. "A warforged poet? I really have seen everything now!"
Autumn chuckled. "No, no, just an old memory from a lifetime ago. There was a scout in one of the campanies I served with during the war who fancied himself to be somewhat of a minstrel. He was always singing a ballad or reciting some epic verse. That was from one he sang most often; the tavern's sign reminded me of it."
"Was he any good?"
"He was alright, I suppose. His singing helped to pass the time in camp, and he had his wits about him enough to keep silent in the field. I don't think he ever amounted to much, even if he survived the war. I remember that our lieutenant would always say he was a bad seed. Shall we enter?"
The roar of the boisterous crowd inside the Bucket of Blood was deafening even compared to the bustle of activity in the streets and marketplaces outside. Autumn observed the tavern out of habit, taking note of the mannerisms, the behavior, and the weaponry of its various patrons. After a few moments, he had already planned out several different escape scenarios in case trouble presented itself. A short, stout, balding man with a prodigious amount of unkempt whiskers and an overabundance of chins bellowed at them as they made their way inside.
"Oi! You! You cannot bring that mangy mongrel in here without it being leashed up!"
Autumn stiffened, attempting to maintain his composure as he responded. "I can assure you, sir, that Kiva is no mongrel, and will be no trouble to you or any of your patrons."
The barkeep waved a pudgy finger in Autumn's face. "I was addressing the lovely young lady here, and I was referring to you!" Niv watched the warforged tense up even more. After a few seconds of awkward silence, the barkeep's expression softened, his mouth splitting into a wide, toothy grin and slapping Autumn on the back. "Just having a bit of fun with you, lad! I wanted to see what it'd look like if you smiled with that set of teeth you've got! Come in, come in, make yourselves at home! I'm Doran, and this here is the finest tavern in Cornerstone! Have a seat anywhere you like, and let one of the girls know what we can get for you!"
Niv picked a small booth tucked away in a far corner of the tavern and flagged down a nearby serving girl. "One mug of tal and a bowl of stew, please." Kiva laid down under the table as Autumn took a seat across from Niv.
"I'd like some tal as well, please. And a leg of mutton for my friend, as well." Autumn added, shrugging his shoulders at Niv's look of surprise.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't eat or drink, am I right?"
"That's right. but I've been in enough taverns and inns to know that my kind aren't exactly welcome, since they can't sell us a meal. In the eyes of many innkeeps and barkeeps, each warforged they let in is one less person they can profit off of. So I try to order something just to be polite. You can have mine so it doesn't go to waste."
Niv smiled. "How very conscientious of you."
"Well, I must admit, it's not entirely without benefit to me. These are difficult times for all of us. With the war over, my people are struggling to find our way in this world. We seek a greater sense of purpose, as individuals and as a whole. People are trying to move on with their lives, and every time they see me, I serve as a painful reminder to them of what they've lost. To one person, I represent the enemy who took one of his limbs, or ended his comrade's life. To a child, I am a the reason one of her parents never came home, or the farm or village that was destroyed during the war and forced her into a refugee camp." Autumn paused for a moment as their food and drink was delivered. He dropped the leg of mutton under the table for Kiva and continued where he had left off.
"My people were created for war. Our single, solitary reason for existence was to kill, to maim and to destroy, to prolong the war that nearly consumed this entire world We were given life in order to fight and to die, an expendable replacement for the dwindling numbers of humans able to fight. In the eyes of far too many, that is all we will ever know, and all we will ever be useful for. Yes, a small act of kindness on my part here and there will benefit the person who receives it, and that is very good. Ultimately, though, it is myself and the other warforged who will benefit as each of those acts helps insure that we will gradually come to be judged as individuals who are as worthy and as capable of anyone madeof flesh and blood. At least, that is my hope."
Niv stared at him, the mug of tal and bowl of stew placed before her moments ago remaining untouched. "Are you sure this isn't some elaborate hoax with a human hidden underneath all of that warforged armor? You have more insight into human nature than most people I've met." She smiled, trailed off into silence. "So what's your story, Autumn? How did you come to these realizations, this level of awareness... is it something you saw during the war?"
Autumn chafed at the question, his voice becoming somewhat strained. "That is diffcult to say. I consider the war, and any involvement I had in it, to be a lifetime ago in a very literal sense. My life, as far as I am concerned, began almost eight years ago in the Eldeen Reaches. I awoke in the care of an elderly shifter. She taught me the lessons she had learned since childhood; a way to live in harmony with the world around us, to draw strength from it and to return its blessings by defending it from those who would lay waste to it and to its children. Through her, I was initiated into druidic mysteries that stretch back for thousands of years. From her, I gained a sense of purpose, a reason for being, and the beginnings of an understanding of my place in the grand scheme of things."
"Oh? And what would that place be?"
"I don't know yet. As I said, I'm only beginning to understand it." Autumn's jaw flexed in a way that almost resembled a smile. "I watch, and I learn, I observe signs and portents as I find them. When I learn of my place for certain, I'll let you know. Before I left the Reaches, my teacher told me she had seen several signs. These signs told her that I would find the answers to some of my questions in Sharn. So, after several months of travel, here I am. An that's my story, for the most part. If I may return the question, Niv, what is your story? And what is your place?"
Niv took a long, slow sip of her tal before setting it down on the table and answering. "Now that isn't as easy it would seem. I've lived in Sharn my whole life. Or for all of my lives, I guess you could say. I spend so much time wearing different faces that sometimes, the lines between who I am inside, and who I am at the moment tend to blur after a while. Where does Niv end, for instance, and where does Gorm, the half-orc you met earlier, begin? Is there really a difference between the two? Are they masks that I choose to wear, roles that I choose to play, or different pieces of me that reveal themselves at different times? Multiply that by the number of different names and faces and lives I wear, and I still don't think I'd be ready to begin to answer your question. I suppose its like being an actor on a stage permanently. You know, it's funny; I've heard it said that there are some people who are always alone in a crowd. Well, some of us can be our very own crowd, and still find ourselves alone."
"It certainly sounds like it is a burden for you. Regardless, I would very much like to be able to do what you can do. I know who I am, and who I'm trying to be, but most people will only see me for what they think I am. You are able to make people see you in whatever way you want them to."
Niv looked away, a slight cast of bitterness coloring her laughter as she drummed her fingers on her mug. "But at what price, Autumn? Is it worth it if I wind up losing myself in the process?"
"I don't know, but I think that it's harder to get lost when you have companions with you. Kiva and I look out for each other since our paths crossed. I don't know where I would be if not for her. You don't have to be alone, Niv. No one has to be, if they don't want to."
Niv nodded, lost in thought as she drank her tal. They sat there for a while in silence, alone in the raucous crowd of the tavern.
Last edited:
Funeris
First Post
Bravo...Bravo.
One thing though...In Autumn's last spoken paragraph: "I don't know, but I think that it's harder to get lots..." Emphasis mine of course. I know you meant lost but... That's why spellchecker will never work 100%
I love the character insight at the end of the section. You're definitely translating their personalities quite well into the written word. I empathize with them. And through their seperate experiences (related through speech), one can see why they ended up journeying together. They're two sides of the same coin.
Bravo.
~Fune
One thing though...In Autumn's last spoken paragraph: "I don't know, but I think that it's harder to get lots..." Emphasis mine of course. I know you meant lost but...
That's why spellchecker will never work 100%I love the character insight at the end of the section. You're definitely translating their personalities quite well into the written word. I empathize with them. And through their seperate experiences (related through speech), one can see why they ended up journeying together. They're two sides of the same coin.
Bravo.
~Fune
Lharvion 9, 998 YK
Breland
Cornerstone, Sharn
"Niv, wake up! We're going to be late!" Autumn stood over Niv's bed, shaking her gently to rouse her from her slumber. "It's already past the tenth bell, we don't have much time!"
Niv moaned something unintelligible from beneath her sheets.
"Niv, you've been talking about this job for days, I know you don't want to lose this one. We need to go now!"
"Uuuuurggh, no shouting! My head feels like brgrgkgglpphh...."
"Well, I tried to warn you not to start a drinking contest with a bunch of shifters in their own tavern. You're not used to the spirits they drink."
"wazzzeazzy... no problem. goodtimez had by all. now more sleep."
Autumn sighed heavily, his broad shoulders sagging in defeat. "Alright, I didn't want to do this... Kiva! Come here!" Kiva barked happily and jumped up on the bed, licking Niv's face. Niv leapt out of bed screaming.
"Auuugh!!! Eeew eew eew eew. Okay, okay, I'm up!" Niv stretched languorously, yawning as the taut, lithe muscles of the shifter form she was wearing began to wake up before clutching her head and grimacing in pain. "Owwww. Did you put a bunch gnomes inside my head while I was asleep? I don't remember ever being in so much pain!"
"Be glad it's still attached to your shoulders. Do you remember the dwarf you had been talking to? You told him that you thought he was a woman because his beard was so short, and then you passed out. I had to fill the tavern with fog just to get us both out of there alive after that. It took me until just a few minutes ago to get most of the dents from that hammer of his out of my legs. You made it out of there last night with two marriage proposals and only four death threats. I'd say it was quite an accomplishment. We're behind schedule, though. If you want to make it to the arena in time to catch a skycoach, you'd better hurry up and get changed! I'll give you something for your headache along the way."
***
Autumn flagged down a skycoach that sailed in just as they reached Cornerstone Arena. A low growl from Kiva insured that no one else tried to barge their way on to the coach before them. "Lareth Hall, Morgrave University, please." The skycoach driver nodded curtly to Autumn, gave Niv a look of disdain, and tried to stay as far away from Kiva as possible without falling out of the small craft.
"This is a new form for you, Niv. I don't think I've ever seen you looking quite like this before." Niv had taken on the appearance of a male changeling about 5 and a half feet tall, with an unruly shock of grayish white hair. Two large, solid white eyes dominated a smooth, nearly featureless gray face.
"Well, I figured I should let our employer know who they're dealing with, but I don't feel the need to give away all my secrets. And by the way, the name for this face is 'Mok'."
"Sorry, Mok. So how did you get this job again? Can we trust our employer?"
Mok scoffed. "Of course we can't trust them - we can't trust anyone, especially someone who would hire services through Professor Saeral."
"Who is Professor Saeral?"
"Professor Malloran Saeral is a doddering, senile old elf who teaches Comparative analysis of gender roles in Early Dhakaani artwork at Morgrave University. He's had an office buried deep inside one of the towers of Morgrave for as long as anyone can remember. Strangely enough, no one ever seems interested in signing up for such an esoteric subject. He is known amongst those who are in the know as a man with connections. He is legendary for his ability to connect interested parties with hired help suitable for a variety of delicate and discrete tasks. Crusaders and scoundrels, thieves and explorers, thugs and smugglers, the good Professor always seems to know just the right person for a job. What most people don't know is that Malloran Saeral doesn't exist. It's an open face for any and all changelings in Sharn to wear when they're looking for work. People looking to hire talent through the Professor leave a message in his office. From time to time, a changeling will wear his face, show up at his office, and if he finds a job he likes, introduce himself to the client as being referred by the Professor."
"Interesting. What happens if two changelings show up at once?"
"There are a few signals we leave for each other so that two Mallorans don't show up in the same place at the same time. It's a pretty good system; Saeral's office clerk doesn't even know about it, the clerk just collects his messages when he's out and passes them on to him whenever he shows up. There's always a job for someone. If you find something that doesn't suit your interests or talent, there's bound to be someone else who will take the job. Most of them are pretty small-time, but occasionally, you find a big one. And Autumn, my friend, we have found ourselves a big one this time!"
Mok's explanation was interrupted by the bored voice of the skycoach pilot. "Lareth Hall, Morgrave University. That'll be 15 sovereigns."
***
The inside of Professor Saeral's office looked about as old as Sharn itself. Papers and books were stacked almost to the ceiling, filling up the entire front room. Narrow paths from the door to the clerk's desk, Saeral's private office, and a small meeting room provided the only visible evidence of the floor. Niv announced their presence in a cheery voice. "Hi there! We're Mok and Autumn, here for a meeting with some of the professor's associates." The young human clerk looked up from her copy of the Korranberg Chronicle, annoyed at the disturbance.
"Yes, so you are. You're just in time. The others are already waiting for you in the meeting room."
Autumn opened the door into a small, dimly lit chamber dominated by a large, round oak table surrounded by six chairs. Across the table, a female hobgoblin clad in resplendent chainmail reclined in her chair, fixing a stern gaze on each of the three figures in turn as they entered the room. A hulking brute of a bugbear stood at attention behind her, one giant hand poised near the morningstar dangling from his belt.
"I am Meksoor Dhakaan, Ambassador of Darguul. In this place, I am the hand and voice of the Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat'kor. You are the changeling Mok and the warforged Autumn. You will sit."
Autumn and Mok each took a chair as instructed, while Kiva sat on her haunches at Autumn's side. Mok tried to break the ice. "Was it a long journey from Darguul, Ambassador?"
"The journey was uneventful, and the destination most unpleasant. This city is overrun with verminous humans, their very presence an affront to the former glory of Ja'shaarat. Every moment I spend here within their stink is an eternity, so you would do well not to waste my time with idle banter. What proof can the two of you provide me that you are worthy of the task I have for you? Time grows short."
Autumn interjected as Mok tried to hold back a slew of insults. "In addition to the gifts all changelings share, my associate is as skilled in swordplay as he is in wordplay. He also possesses a fair amount of sorcerous talent. I am a veteran combatant and tracker, and an Initiate of the Wardens of the Wood. The wolf, Kiva, is a deadly hunter. The three of us are more silent and discreet than most you could hire, save perhaps for the two goblins hiding in the shadows behind us."
Meksoor allowed her face to express a small amount of surprise. "You were able to see them? How is that so?"
"No, I did not see them, Ambassador. It was a fair guess. You are no doubt a formidable combatant yourself, given your station and the noise of the brutally spiked links of chain hanging from your waist. You are too wise to travel solely in the company of the Marguul behind you, fearsome and worthy as he certainly is. The skills of the shaarat'kesh are legendary, and it stands to reason that one such as you would be able to retain their services. The heirs of Dhakaan are too crafty to rely too heavily on standard tactics, but guessing that one lay in wait on either side of the door seemed a reasonable assumption to make."
Meksoor flashed a grin full of sharp teeth. "I will admit, warforged, I am impressed. Saeral seems to be worthy of his reputation after all." With a signal from her hand, the bugbear behind her produced a small satchel, placing it on the table. "Among the contents of this package, you will find a map to an ancient temple, a remnant of the eternal glory of the Empire of Dhakaan. Buried deep within is an item that is... precious to me. Eleven thousand years ago, our land was first defiled by the foul presence of the elves. After a brief struggle, the superiority of our mighty Empire was proven, and the elves were driven from our land in disgrace, swearing never to return. True to their nature, though, they have betrayed their words, and now seek to carve out a new home for themselves in our ancestral land." She slammed her fist against the table. "This insult shall not be allowed. Within your destination lies one of the most powerful weapons our empire ever produced. It allowed us to end the conflict with the invaders quickly and decisively. It is called Duur Kasaal, and you will retrieve it for me."
Mok tried to catch his breath, whispering as if in a dream. "Cassael's Lament".
"You have heard of it? Again, you surprise me. I have also provided you with several sets of identification and traveling papers, and a modest line of credit from an untraceable House Kundarak account. Passage has been booked and paid for on tomorrow's lightning rail bound for Thaliost. That should get you most of the way there. Succeed, and I may have more work for you in the future. If you fail, pray that you perish in your attempt to recover my weapon. Whatever death you may find there will be a blessing compared to what I will do to you, should you return empty handed."
Mok slung the satchel over his shoulder, sidling towards the door slowly. "Not to worry, Ambassador. You've picked the right people for this job."
"There is one more thing before you go. Given the danger involved in recovering Duur Kasaal, we have hired an additional swordarm to aid you. You will find him here." The bugbear handed a folded parchment to Autumn. "Now go."
***
"Autumn, can you believe this!? I knew this was going to be big, but this! This is our ticket out of here! If we pull this off, we're set!" Niv bounced around animatedly as she spoke, wearing the same face and clothes she wore to their first visit to the Bucket of Blood several months ago.
"Settle down, Niv, you're going to fall out of the skycoach!"
"I can't settle down! Don't you understand? After this, I can leave this city for good! You know how long I've been waiting for that!"
"I know, Niv, I know. That's why I think it would be best to calm down so we can plan this through and make sure we get everything right. It looks like we're almost in Clifftop. Lets find Meksoor's sellsword so we can get on with this."
***
Autumn, Niv and Kiva received a cold stare from the innkeeper of the Broken Flagon as they entered into the late morning gloom of the run down establishment. "We don't want yer kind in here, clank! What do you want, and be quick about it!"
"My apologies, sir. I need but a moment of your time." Autumn checked the name written on the parchment in a precise, firm script. "I'm looking for Sir Aldren Morathus."
Breland
Cornerstone, Sharn
"Niv, wake up! We're going to be late!" Autumn stood over Niv's bed, shaking her gently to rouse her from her slumber. "It's already past the tenth bell, we don't have much time!"
Niv moaned something unintelligible from beneath her sheets.
"Niv, you've been talking about this job for days, I know you don't want to lose this one. We need to go now!"
"Uuuuurggh, no shouting! My head feels like brgrgkgglpphh...."
"Well, I tried to warn you not to start a drinking contest with a bunch of shifters in their own tavern. You're not used to the spirits they drink."
"wazzzeazzy... no problem. goodtimez had by all. now more sleep."
Autumn sighed heavily, his broad shoulders sagging in defeat. "Alright, I didn't want to do this... Kiva! Come here!" Kiva barked happily and jumped up on the bed, licking Niv's face. Niv leapt out of bed screaming.
"Auuugh!!! Eeew eew eew eew. Okay, okay, I'm up!" Niv stretched languorously, yawning as the taut, lithe muscles of the shifter form she was wearing began to wake up before clutching her head and grimacing in pain. "Owwww. Did you put a bunch gnomes inside my head while I was asleep? I don't remember ever being in so much pain!"
"Be glad it's still attached to your shoulders. Do you remember the dwarf you had been talking to? You told him that you thought he was a woman because his beard was so short, and then you passed out. I had to fill the tavern with fog just to get us both out of there alive after that. It took me until just a few minutes ago to get most of the dents from that hammer of his out of my legs. You made it out of there last night with two marriage proposals and only four death threats. I'd say it was quite an accomplishment. We're behind schedule, though. If you want to make it to the arena in time to catch a skycoach, you'd better hurry up and get changed! I'll give you something for your headache along the way."
***
Autumn flagged down a skycoach that sailed in just as they reached Cornerstone Arena. A low growl from Kiva insured that no one else tried to barge their way on to the coach before them. "Lareth Hall, Morgrave University, please." The skycoach driver nodded curtly to Autumn, gave Niv a look of disdain, and tried to stay as far away from Kiva as possible without falling out of the small craft.
"This is a new form for you, Niv. I don't think I've ever seen you looking quite like this before." Niv had taken on the appearance of a male changeling about 5 and a half feet tall, with an unruly shock of grayish white hair. Two large, solid white eyes dominated a smooth, nearly featureless gray face.
"Well, I figured I should let our employer know who they're dealing with, but I don't feel the need to give away all my secrets. And by the way, the name for this face is 'Mok'."
"Sorry, Mok. So how did you get this job again? Can we trust our employer?"
Mok scoffed. "Of course we can't trust them - we can't trust anyone, especially someone who would hire services through Professor Saeral."
"Who is Professor Saeral?"
"Professor Malloran Saeral is a doddering, senile old elf who teaches Comparative analysis of gender roles in Early Dhakaani artwork at Morgrave University. He's had an office buried deep inside one of the towers of Morgrave for as long as anyone can remember. Strangely enough, no one ever seems interested in signing up for such an esoteric subject. He is known amongst those who are in the know as a man with connections. He is legendary for his ability to connect interested parties with hired help suitable for a variety of delicate and discrete tasks. Crusaders and scoundrels, thieves and explorers, thugs and smugglers, the good Professor always seems to know just the right person for a job. What most people don't know is that Malloran Saeral doesn't exist. It's an open face for any and all changelings in Sharn to wear when they're looking for work. People looking to hire talent through the Professor leave a message in his office. From time to time, a changeling will wear his face, show up at his office, and if he finds a job he likes, introduce himself to the client as being referred by the Professor."
"Interesting. What happens if two changelings show up at once?"
"There are a few signals we leave for each other so that two Mallorans don't show up in the same place at the same time. It's a pretty good system; Saeral's office clerk doesn't even know about it, the clerk just collects his messages when he's out and passes them on to him whenever he shows up. There's always a job for someone. If you find something that doesn't suit your interests or talent, there's bound to be someone else who will take the job. Most of them are pretty small-time, but occasionally, you find a big one. And Autumn, my friend, we have found ourselves a big one this time!"
Mok's explanation was interrupted by the bored voice of the skycoach pilot. "Lareth Hall, Morgrave University. That'll be 15 sovereigns."
***
The inside of Professor Saeral's office looked about as old as Sharn itself. Papers and books were stacked almost to the ceiling, filling up the entire front room. Narrow paths from the door to the clerk's desk, Saeral's private office, and a small meeting room provided the only visible evidence of the floor. Niv announced their presence in a cheery voice. "Hi there! We're Mok and Autumn, here for a meeting with some of the professor's associates." The young human clerk looked up from her copy of the Korranberg Chronicle, annoyed at the disturbance.
"Yes, so you are. You're just in time. The others are already waiting for you in the meeting room."
Autumn opened the door into a small, dimly lit chamber dominated by a large, round oak table surrounded by six chairs. Across the table, a female hobgoblin clad in resplendent chainmail reclined in her chair, fixing a stern gaze on each of the three figures in turn as they entered the room. A hulking brute of a bugbear stood at attention behind her, one giant hand poised near the morningstar dangling from his belt.
"I am Meksoor Dhakaan, Ambassador of Darguul. In this place, I am the hand and voice of the Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat'kor. You are the changeling Mok and the warforged Autumn. You will sit."
Autumn and Mok each took a chair as instructed, while Kiva sat on her haunches at Autumn's side. Mok tried to break the ice. "Was it a long journey from Darguul, Ambassador?"
"The journey was uneventful, and the destination most unpleasant. This city is overrun with verminous humans, their very presence an affront to the former glory of Ja'shaarat. Every moment I spend here within their stink is an eternity, so you would do well not to waste my time with idle banter. What proof can the two of you provide me that you are worthy of the task I have for you? Time grows short."
Autumn interjected as Mok tried to hold back a slew of insults. "In addition to the gifts all changelings share, my associate is as skilled in swordplay as he is in wordplay. He also possesses a fair amount of sorcerous talent. I am a veteran combatant and tracker, and an Initiate of the Wardens of the Wood. The wolf, Kiva, is a deadly hunter. The three of us are more silent and discreet than most you could hire, save perhaps for the two goblins hiding in the shadows behind us."
Meksoor allowed her face to express a small amount of surprise. "You were able to see them? How is that so?"
"No, I did not see them, Ambassador. It was a fair guess. You are no doubt a formidable combatant yourself, given your station and the noise of the brutally spiked links of chain hanging from your waist. You are too wise to travel solely in the company of the Marguul behind you, fearsome and worthy as he certainly is. The skills of the shaarat'kesh are legendary, and it stands to reason that one such as you would be able to retain their services. The heirs of Dhakaan are too crafty to rely too heavily on standard tactics, but guessing that one lay in wait on either side of the door seemed a reasonable assumption to make."
Meksoor flashed a grin full of sharp teeth. "I will admit, warforged, I am impressed. Saeral seems to be worthy of his reputation after all." With a signal from her hand, the bugbear behind her produced a small satchel, placing it on the table. "Among the contents of this package, you will find a map to an ancient temple, a remnant of the eternal glory of the Empire of Dhakaan. Buried deep within is an item that is... precious to me. Eleven thousand years ago, our land was first defiled by the foul presence of the elves. After a brief struggle, the superiority of our mighty Empire was proven, and the elves were driven from our land in disgrace, swearing never to return. True to their nature, though, they have betrayed their words, and now seek to carve out a new home for themselves in our ancestral land." She slammed her fist against the table. "This insult shall not be allowed. Within your destination lies one of the most powerful weapons our empire ever produced. It allowed us to end the conflict with the invaders quickly and decisively. It is called Duur Kasaal, and you will retrieve it for me."
Mok tried to catch his breath, whispering as if in a dream. "Cassael's Lament".
"You have heard of it? Again, you surprise me. I have also provided you with several sets of identification and traveling papers, and a modest line of credit from an untraceable House Kundarak account. Passage has been booked and paid for on tomorrow's lightning rail bound for Thaliost. That should get you most of the way there. Succeed, and I may have more work for you in the future. If you fail, pray that you perish in your attempt to recover my weapon. Whatever death you may find there will be a blessing compared to what I will do to you, should you return empty handed."
Mok slung the satchel over his shoulder, sidling towards the door slowly. "Not to worry, Ambassador. You've picked the right people for this job."
"There is one more thing before you go. Given the danger involved in recovering Duur Kasaal, we have hired an additional swordarm to aid you. You will find him here." The bugbear handed a folded parchment to Autumn. "Now go."
***
"Autumn, can you believe this!? I knew this was going to be big, but this! This is our ticket out of here! If we pull this off, we're set!" Niv bounced around animatedly as she spoke, wearing the same face and clothes she wore to their first visit to the Bucket of Blood several months ago.
"Settle down, Niv, you're going to fall out of the skycoach!"
"I can't settle down! Don't you understand? After this, I can leave this city for good! You know how long I've been waiting for that!"
"I know, Niv, I know. That's why I think it would be best to calm down so we can plan this through and make sure we get everything right. It looks like we're almost in Clifftop. Lets find Meksoor's sellsword so we can get on with this."
***
Autumn, Niv and Kiva received a cold stare from the innkeeper of the Broken Flagon as they entered into the late morning gloom of the run down establishment. "We don't want yer kind in here, clank! What do you want, and be quick about it!"
"My apologies, sir. I need but a moment of your time." Autumn checked the name written on the parchment in a precise, firm script. "I'm looking for Sir Aldren Morathus."
Black Bard
First Post
Great, great, story, Anti-Sean!!! The interaction between Niv and Autumn is just fabulous, anf as an Eberron fan and DM I'm must compliment the way you just put the scenario flavor into your SH. Congratulations!
Thank you very much for the kind words, Black Bard, and thank you Funeris, as always! Feel free to use Professor Saeral, Funeris. I was trying to come up with a plausible contact for them to get the job through, and once the idea clicked in my head, I thought it'd be a great tool to use in game as well. I had to struggle for a while to not saddle him with a cheesy joke name a-la Professor I.N. Cognito or somesuch The last post put this story over the 10,000 word mark, I can hardly believe it! I finished a first draft of the next update late last night. I may get impatient and give it a quick revision and post at lunch, but it'll more likely go up late tonight after a more thorough revision and a once-over by my wife. She's mentioned that it reads a bit like a screenplay to her, so now that I'm more comfortable with the dialog, I need to start moving in the other direction and make sure there's enough description happening, as well.
The next update was a bit harder to write than the last few. (Public service announcement: listening to Tom Waits while you're trying to write does *not* help, unless by 'writing' you mean curling up into a fetal position and sobbing, or heading out to the bar to crawl into a bottle.) The upcoming leg of the story is the one that is least fleshed out in my mind so far. Once we get past a certain point, it should all fly right off the keyboard, though. I know where I want it to go, I just have to make sure I put enough pieces in place to get it there the way I want to.
It's great knowing that I've got some other people along for the ride, it definitely makes it a lot easier!
The last post put this story over the 10,000 word mark, I can hardly believe it! I finished a first draft of the next update late last night. I may get impatient and give it a quick revision and post at lunch, but it'll more likely go up late tonight after a more thorough revision and a once-over by my wife. She's mentioned that it reads a bit like a screenplay to her, so now that I'm more comfortable with the dialog, I need to start moving in the other direction and make sure there's enough description happening, as well.The next update was a bit harder to write than the last few. (Public service announcement: listening to Tom Waits while you're trying to write does *not* help, unless by 'writing' you mean curling up into a fetal position and sobbing, or heading out to the bar to crawl into a bottle.)
The upcoming leg of the story is the one that is least fleshed out in my mind so far. Once we get past a certain point, it should all fly right off the keyboard, though. I know where I want it to go, I just have to make sure I put enough pieces in place to get it there the way I want to.It's great knowing that I've got some other people along for the ride, it definitely makes it a lot easier!
Sidekick
First Post
Hi Anti-sean.
I'll take this opportunity to say - THIS ROCKS!!!!
and
give me more....
I think that I'll also be using prof saeral. Its a very cool concept, and I'd love to have my PCs hired by the same person, for two completely different jobs. perhaps the second time to steal back something that they've already taken from another.
hehehehehe
I'll take this opportunity to say - THIS ROCKS!!!!
and
give me more....
I think that I'll also be using prof saeral. Its a very cool concept, and I'd love to have my PCs hired by the same person, for two completely different jobs. perhaps the second time to steal back something that they've already taken from another.
hehehehehe
