Sharn, city of towers, the greatest city in the Eberron world, it keeps within it two million souls, each striving for a foothold on the ladder of life. It is raining and the water falls in sheets. It seems to always be raining whenever I visit the city, as if my presence makes the towers themselves weep.
Looking up the tallest towers are invisible in the downpour and I wonder idly if they are taller than the clouds above the rain, the nobility up on their high perches looking down on the pitied souls below as the water swirls and wind gusts around on the lowly streets. My once dry perch is steadily succumbing to the driving rain; there are dryer areas in the city to stay the night though I'm a little wary of going out into the downpour for a marginal comfort.
A young woman passes below herding several small children through the labyrinth of passages, the woman is smartly dressed in warm clothing though the children she herds are scraggy, all in ill-fitting clothes, their faces streaked with dirt, only half are wearing shoes. There are still good people in the city and I feel oddly comforted to know that these children will be dry tonight, maybe even have a meal if the woman has money to provide for those not her own.
The wind roars again and a roof tile slips above me, letting the rain in. so much for staying dry tonight, suddenly going out in search of a better roost is a reasonable idea. Stretching my wings to shake loose the water I take to the air, immediately the whole city is in my view, each gutter and drain overflowing into their own river, pooling in the market squares forming almost lake-like puddles.
A scream cuts through the night, desperate, one of agony, for one man the ladder of life just got slippery. I fly over in the direction from where the scream came, three figures huddle over a smaller fourth, even with the driving rain and my great height the tell tale red of blood washes in to join the rest of the swirling water. One less soul in the city tonight, several figures including a dog rush toward the scene, one figure rushing well ahead is caught by one of the attackers and thrown bodily over the bridge, his demise causes one of the approaching men to slow and a curse rings out, though somewhat muffled by the rain. The wind buffets under my wing, time to find a perch, the souls below are forgotten as I search for a speck of dry in the unrelenting rain.
The city watch bell tower, every available dry spot taken by other birds though many of the pigeons fly off into the rain at my approach, I find it strange that birds cannot abide my presence in this form, though tonight I'm relieved as I settle down for the remainder of the night.
A/N: Hi, this is a campaign I played many, many years ago with an old D&D group and was my first attempt at writing up a character story, I hope you enjoy, sadly the campaign was never truly finished, but if there's a wish then I'll see about finishing the story off behind the scenes. Enjoy!