Curtains of water fall from the sky as you traverse the labyrinthine walkways of Sharn. The stone and wooden paths wind around and between the towers and spires high above the ground, forming a complex latticework that can be very confusing on evenings such as this. The rain falls hard, running off higher walkways and balconies in drenching waves, making it difficult to see much more than a few feet ahead of you. The distant glow of everbright lanterns, barely visible in the soaking gloom, does little to light the paths on this warm, wet evening.
Demon trods through the downpour. He grumps to himself "I need to find a place to sleep. Even a warforged could drown in this."
You round a corner and the skybridge ahead spans the distance between platforms attached to the sides of two different towers - Dolannan Tower and the Kelsa Spire. A body lies on the floor of the bridge, and you can see a mixture of rain and blood pooling around it. A leather satchel, still clutched tightly in body's hand, lies in the expanding puddle of water and gore.
Demon stops in his tracks, looking about, before hurrying over to inspect the body.
The blood is slowly expanding out from the body - whatever happened here happened just before you rounded the corner.
With a yell, something whips past the back of your head, and hits the ground hard behind you. Turning, you see a female warforged lying in the rain, loosely gripping a battle axe. She appears to have just slipped and fell while trying to take your head off.
.
Demon steps back quickly. "Hey! What the - who are you?"
The warforged lunges to its feet, grabbing up it's weapon to swing at you again.
"Stay down!" Demon yells, thrashing out with a vicious kick at her midsection.
Your kick connects hard, but does not knock the warforged prone. "Nice kick, flesh lover. Let me cut my name into you."
She rushes forward, swinging wildly again with a great heaving roar. As she brings the battleaxe around, she actually skips it off the top of her left hand on accident, hitting herself.
From the nearby towers, you hear someone yell over the pouring rain. "Hey! What's going on?"
Demon punches the warforged in the wrist, knocking her battleaxe out of her hand.
The battleaxe sails out of her fist, which she then tries to beat you with.
Blocking the punch, Demon knees her in the side. "Who are you?!" he yells, sweeping her legs out from under her. He grabs her by the throat, attempting to pin her down.
Slamming her head to the ground, you pin her by her throat. You can hear the sounds of more people raising an alarm in the distance, as she glares up at you. "I am Cutter, flesh-whore. Our Lord bids you to destroy all weak flesh. And to get out of my way."
She flails beneath you, and tries to punch you in the abdomen, but can't get any power behind it, and doesn't wiggle free.
"They murdered that man! Help! Guards!" The sounds of citizens approaching grows louder.
Demon attempts to slam his knee into her side, but her arm blunts it. Letting go of her neck, he scoots over to the body of the man, attempting to see if he might still be alive, or if there is anything important on him.
Cutter jumps up, grabbing her battleaxe and looks at you with contempt. The whistles of the guard are approaching fast. She pushes a button on her forearm, and a small golden thing flies out of it into the night. Then she runs and leaps from the bridge. The sounds of guards fast approaching, their whistles blaring, echoes off the walls of the towers.
You inspect the body of the man. His papers state that he is one Bonal Geldem, a Provost at Morgrave University studying in the School of Pre-Galifar studies.
Inside the leather satchel is a small journal, about 3 inches by 6 inches and about an inch thick. It has a cover of dark brown leather with strands of mithral thread woven in a strange pattern. It bears no title, just the mithral-threaded icon on the front cover. Inside, every page is blank, but the sheets have a strange feel; they don't seem to be paper or leather, but something not readily identifiable. There is also a wrapped apple, some sheets of parchment, quills and inks, and a purse.
Demon grabs up the satchel and its contents and slips into the night.
Two males and a female, wearing the green-and-black studded leather of Sharn's City Watch, emerge from the rain-drenched night. The leader, a powerfully built bald dwarf with a close-cropped beard, steps forward, leveling his crossbow in your direction. The small ball of arcane light, hovering just above and behind his left shoulder, illuminates the area. To each side, a human male and female stand with halberds at the ready.
"Olladra's bloody nose!" the dwarf curses. "By order of the Watch, drop your weapons and explain yourself!"
Demon stops, holding his hands up. "I am unarmed." He slowly turns around to face the Watch. "I came across this body by accident. There was another warforged here, who attacked me, and then fled."
The dwarf approaches, letting the light fall on you, peering at you through the rain. "What were you doing out here?"
The two members of the watch stoop to inspect the body. You can see one or two citizens who've braved the deluge to see what happened cautiously approaching the bridge.
Demon looks about at the members of the watch investigating the body of the man. "I...was heading home. To High Walls."
"Do you know this man?" The dwarf gestures at the body.
"No, Sir."
"But I believe his name is..." Demon shuffles through the satchel he picked up, looking for the identification papers. "...Bonal...Bonal Geldam - Geldem, sorry." He hands the paperwork to the dwarf. "This was next to him, officer..."
The Sergeant takes the papers, looking them over. "Sergeant Dolam. Thank you. Looks like he was some kind of teacher with the College. Great. What was your name, warforged?"
"Demon is what I am called, Sergeant."
The female Watch approaches you and Sergeant Dolam. "A local says that a different 'forged attacked this man. Said she could tell the difference between the black stone-work of this one and the lighter tones of the attacker. He might not be our guy." She says, gesturing at Demon.
Dolam inhales deeply through his nose, and hikes up his trousers, thinking. "No. No, I don't think he is. But I would advice against disturbing a crime scene in the future, Mr. Demon." He waves the papers in front of him, gesturing with them at Demon. "If that's all you have, best be on your way for now. Let us handle it."
"Thank you, Sergeant."
Demon turns and departs, heading back towards the Inn he is staying in, The Broken Anvil.
You leave the bridge and the members of the watch, heading down to High Walls, and the Broken Anvil Inn. Nestled between two towers is the remains of a large, armored Sky-ship. Covered in heavy, thick iron, only half of the ship remains, the rear of the ship having sheared off and disappeared into the depths. On the side of it can still be seen the name of the ship: Anvil. Rain cascades off the hull.
You clamber up a swaying rope and wood walkway, suspended hundreds of feet above whatever sidewalks and concourses are below it. Your hands grip the side-ropes tightly. You nod at the innkeeper before heading up to your room, the satchel in your arms.
Demon enters his room, and sits on the bed, opening the satchel to examine it.
As you sit down, you realize you are not alone in the room. Sitting quietly in the corner is a woman. She wears a dark blue cloak and has delicate features, deep blue eyes, and sleek black hair bound with silver and turquoise ornaments. She wears a signet ring of House Cannith on her right ring finger.
As you notice her, she calmly speaks up in a soft, clear voice. "We have important information to discuss regarding the death of Bonal Geldem."
Demon stands quickly, placing the bag down. "Who? Who are you?"
"I'm sorry about barging in here, I'm usually not about theatrics. But I can't be seen with you, in case you were followed, which you almost certainly were."
"Followed? Lady, who in Cyre are you?"
She looks mildly stung by the barb, but straightens her shoulders before answering. "I am Elaydren d'Vown...of House Cannith. I had been working with Provost Geldem to recover a family heirloom. We were to meet earlier tonight, but as you know, he never made it. I saw you fight off the other warforged, and followed you here."
"What does this have to do with me?"
"The heirloom, according to family legends, was locked away in a foundry that dates back to pre-Galifar Sharn. Poor Bonal believed he discovered the location of the foundry in an ancient House Cannith journal. I was going to fund an expedition to go to the site, but...without Bonal..."
She stops for a moment, composing herself.
Demon looks at the satchel on the bed, then opens it, extracting the journal with the mithral stitching. He turns it over in his hands, and looks up at Elaydren. "This?"
Seeing it in the light for the first time, you finally get a look at the symbol stitched into the journal. It is the same symbol that is engraved on the inside of your left forearm. A series of interlocked triangles.
"Yes, I believe so."
"What...what is this?" Demon asks, holding up the journal so she can see the symbol.
"I don't know. I just thought it was a design Bonal liked. I'm not sure where he got it."
Demon looks down at the symbol on the journal for a long moment. "You want me to retrieve this...heirloom."
"Yes."
Demon growls in his throat. "I'll do it."
She smiles. "The location of the lost foundry is deep within the Dorasharn Tower. Fifty-seven levels below the tower's present day sewer system."
"What is it? The heirloom."
"The relic is an adamantine plate in the shape of a seven-pointed star about the size of your hand. It has no special powers itself, but is an ancient schema - a piece of a pattern used by Cannith artificers of old to craft unusual items. Recover this piece of history for us, and House Cannith will be extremely grateful."
"It seems someone else wants their hands on this...schema...as well."
"I'm hoping you can find out more about that warforged, and what it wants."
Demon looks at her intently. He speaks, not to her, but almost to himself. "Who is Jenzan Teskelyndros? I don't really know. He's a farmer with a stolen wand who fired off a blast of fire on Olarune 15th, 891 YK, killing an envoy named Laren Helmworth. She was a childhood friend of King Jarot, from Wroatt. Why? Because he was drunk at the time, and lost his footing. Envoy Helmworth was not the man's target, it was the guy she was shaking hands with, Prince Thalin of Thrane. The man believed Prince Thalin had been having an affair with his wife, and caused her to leave him. For what it's worth, Prince Thalin had not been having an affair...but he had been helping to get the woman out of an abusive situation he had no jurisdiction over. Jenzen was from Cyre, and Princess Mishann had specifically told Thalin to leave it alone, it was her prerogative."
Demon sighs. "If Jenzan hadn't been drunk, he may have killed Prince Thalin, who then never challenges Princess Mishann's claim to the crown of Galifar. If he hadn't been drunk, King Jarot wouldn't have held his son, Thalin, at fault for causing the death of his childhood friend, and might have realized that Princess Mishann may have been completely qualified, but that Thalin was exceptionally qualified to be a good King. If he hadn't been drunk, the King might not have snubbed Prince Thalin on his deathbed. If he hadn't been drunk, Thalin wouldn't have claimed the crown for himself, starting the Last War, millions of people would have lived, and warforged are never created."
Demon looks at the marking on his wrist and on the journal. "I am never created. If that man hadn't been too drunk to stand, and hadn't hidden behind the bottle when he hit his wife."