Disclaimer:I do not own Dungeons and Dragons. Although I do own a copy of DnD for Dummies. And Turbine is bullshit. Just putting it out there.
Legacy of War
Act 1 – Stonework
Chapter 1
Somewhere, in a world very much like our own, there is a hill. It is an ordinary hill. Running up this ordinary hill, is a stone path. It is an ordinary stone path. At the top of this ordinary path is a bluff overlooking a port town. It is an ordinary port town.
On this ordinary bluff overlooking the ordinary port town with the ordinary stone path running up the ordinary hill, at one point in time, the time our story took place in, was a very un-ordinary creature.
This creature was a warforged.
And his name was Stonework.
Stonework stood, gazing over the town of Fisher's Cove. He watched the townsfolk go about the business of starting the day. He watched the sun rise on the horizon. He watched ships coming and going from the port, some small fishing vessels, others large transports.
He watched all this.
And he felt nothing.
He busied himself with an ant that was working its way slowly up his massive stone-iron leg. He made a game of it, letting the ant climb up to a certain point, then using a blade of grass to scoop it up and place it back on his foot.
An hour passed before he got bored with this and crushed the ant between his thumb and index finger. Seeing no point in staying, he lifted his ax and headed off to gather firewood, which he would then trade to the innkeeper in return for some balm. Winter was approaching, and his limbs would freeze without a daily application of the creamy reddish-brown substance.
He walked on, mentally reciting the names of each plant and animal he encountered. He saw no point to it, but the innkeeper had told him that it might help him to increase his capacity for knowledge, and that it was a good way to see if he had forgotten anything. He had not understood the first part of what the innkeeper had said, although he had understood the second part, and agreed with it.
As he walked into the shade of the first copse of trees, he marked the change in animals; He had begun that days recital with chickens, gophers, and rabbits, and now he saw squirrels, quail, and a vixen laying in the shade of a large oak. This last one was a rarity, even for him, who the animals held no fear of.
He spotted a rather old apple tree, and thought it a decent place to start. He lifted his ax, steadied it, then brought it down on one of the tree's outermost branches (he never chopped the tree at the trunk, and did not understand why anyone would). The branch came off with just two strokes.
Stonework lifted the branch, studied it, then dropped it at his side and started on another branch. When this too had been cleaved from the main body of the tree, he lifted the branch, studied it, and then dropped it with the first. He repeated this process three more times before he was satisfied.
The work done, he gathered up the branches, lifted them up on one shoulder, then rested his ax on the other. He cast one more glance at the vixen, and saw that three cubs had materialized while he was working. He hesitated, then plucked an apple from the tree, split it into four parts with his massive hands, then offered the three smallest pieces to the cubs.
The cubs sniffed them, tasted them, then grabbed them and ran back to their mother. The fourth piece he offered to the vixen, who took it without hesitation. He turned to leave again, then stopped and picked one more apple for the innkeeper.
He slipped the apple into the pants the innkeeper had made for him and lifted the ax back onto his shoulder.
Satisfied, he turned and headed for home.