The Forgotten Forge
Chapter 1: The Bridge
The sky I was soaring through was bleak. No stars in the sky; gloom all around. It was another rainy night in the City of Towers. Sharn isn't just the City of Towers, though. Many people call it The City of Towers, The City of Knives, The City of Lost Souls, The City of a Thousand Eyes, The Gateway to Xen'drik, or The Gateway to Perdition. That's only six of them. I personally refer to it as Home, or at least the small place I live in is Home.
The streets and skybridges were still fairly busy in Middle Central Plateau. Let me explain the geography of Sharn a little. Sharn is separated into seven quarters, Northridge, Tavick's Landing, Menthis Plateau, Cliffside, Dura, Central Plateau, and Skyway. Each of these quarters are separated into levels, Upper, Middle, and Lower, and each of these quarters and levels are each further separated into wards, then into smaller districts. There are also the Depths, which are mostly old sewer systems and sealed off dungeons of ancient civilizations. Even further below the Depths is the industrial heart of Sharn, the Cogs. I don't go there often. When I do, it's hot. Really hot. Like open lava pools hot. It's not pleasant.
My name's Rolin Lazek. I'm an Inquisitive; kind of an adventurer for hire. I help people for a living. Of course they pay me for the help, but I still help. Usually I just have to find someone or something that went missing and return it to the owner, but occasionally the City Watch calls on me to help them if they can't handle it. I won't give you any of the messy details of the most recent case that we solved, except for the fact that I had to remove a parasite the size of my forearm from my body and my partner had more than a few dents in his metal and wood body that the warforged, called Lucan, is made out of. Let's just say that I deserved the night of entertainment at my favorite tavern that night.
Rain was too common in Sharn to shut down the city. People just pulled their cloaks closer to their bodies and continued on with their business. Business never stopped in Central Plateau, especially the shady side of business. Unfortunately I was stuck trying to get back to my apartment in the Broken Arch District of Middle Dura, which was only a mile or so away. Why does my favorite bar have to be all the way in Central Plateau?
The skycoach I was on finally docked off to the side of one of the larger bridges in my district. I tapped the big, metallic man to the side of me on the forearm, "Come on, I want to get out of the rain." I tossed the driver his fare, a few silver pieces, and stepped off the side of the ship towards the bridge. I was free falling for only a second until the enchantment on the bridge kicked in. I love feather fall. It's like floating down till you gently touch down on the ground. I pulled my tan cloak tighter around me as I dropped down. It was a short trip, made slightly longer because of the floating, but I was ok with that. When you could fall for miles just by accidentally falling off the bridge, having the feather fall enchantment activate and a slower decent seemed a small price to pay. Not that I have had to use the bridge's enchantment for anything but getting off a skyship; I've never fallen off one of the many skybridges and I never plan on it.
"Yes, let's go. Dura isn't the safest place in Sharn, even in the upper levels," he stated in an almost monotone voice that seemed to come from a combination of his metal chest and his wooden throat. Warforged were created for war. They were golems that could think and improvise. They were the perfect soldiers. They don't eat, sleep, or need any type of moral to keep fighting at peak performance. It also helped that they were made out of wood, metal, and various other materials. Until the Treaty of Thornhold, which ended the war, warforged were just weapons. The Treaty made them living beings on the grounds that they could think for themselves, which meant that they were to get all the rights that human beings were given. It's been two years since the Treaty.
Lucan has been with me for about a year or so. I don't know what he did from the end of the Last War, the war that engulfed all of Khorvaire for a century, till he met up with me, but he never offered and I didn't want to intrude on his past. It's none of my business anyways, right? I didn't see much of the war myself. I didn't see much of the bloody battlefields, or the raided, smoking villages. Nope. All I saw of the Last War was the few terrorist attacks that destroyed, or tried to destroy a tower or two. I wasn't much of a soldier anyhow. Too much killing for my taste.
"Always the optimist, huh Lucan," I joked as he landed lightly on the bridge next to me. Most warforged choose a more…mechanical name like Gear, Cutter, Smasher, or something like that. Lucan chose his name because he has this dream of being completely accepted by the rest of the world. Despite the fact that the Treaty of Thornhold gave the warforged rights, not all of Korvaire wanted to give the weapons that killed their family members a second chance. Lucan feels that his human-like name will help him be accepted. I'm still skeptical, but it is his name. Who am I to nit-pick? "And pull your cloak closer around you, you'll rust," I joked.
I held onto my hood as the skycoach sped away. A handful of people scurried off to wherever it was they were off to. Empty stalls littered the bridge, waiting until morning came, along with the merchants and potential customers, to spring to life again. Dura was the poorest quarter in Sharn, next to the Depths and Cogs, but it was affordable. I'd rather live comfortably in the places I could afford than strive paying for rent just to be accepted by the Sixty Families of Sharn; the sixty longest running lines of pure Sharninites.
"Well, let's go." I started to walk towards the tower on the right. I couldn't wait until I could go sleep off the dwarf spirits I had drank at the tavern. Why do I always drink two to many drinks at a celebration? I should really learn to control myself. A metal, two-fingered hand that never seemed to press to hard on my fleshy body stopped me in my tracks.
"Wait. I thought I saw something over there," Lucan said as he pointed over to the opposite side of the bridge. At first glance I couldn't notice anything in particular. Knowing that Lucan has better vision than my own green, human eyes, I decided I should probably look a little harder. In the shadows I could just make out the outline of a figure laying a pool of rainwater.
"What the...?" I wondered as I jogged over to the shadow. When I knelt down next to the body, the pool of rainwater was actually a mixture of water and his own blood. "Lucan! Get ov-," I shouted, until I realized he was standing right next to me. "Oh, you're here," I continued more quietly. "Well, what do you think?"
"Looks like a mugging." Lucan responded.
"Really?" I asked sarcastically. "I think it's more than a simple mugging. Yes, it's nighttime in the poorest quarter of Sharn, but this is still an open bridge way. He could still get caught by the Watch. True, the Watch isn't the most reliable at investigating crimes they don't see, but if they saw a murder, they would definitely intercede. The victim must have had to have something really important on him, or the mugger would have to be really stupid or brave. My vote is on the important, valuable item."
"I thought I saw a figure jump over the side of the bridge when I shouted for you. I think I may have startled him."
"Sure. You go and look around for the person you saw and keep a look out for the Watch. I'd rather not get caught looking over a dead body; I'm not that good with the Watch."
"Are you sure that is wise."
"Yeah, I'll be fine. You'll just be a down the street a little, and its not like I can't take care of myself."
"If you say so," Lucan said reluctantly. He started to scout the bridge. He's a great guy, but sometimes he thinks too much. What? I'm just kidding. I know he's only looking out for me and, yes, I probably take his caution more into consideration, but you don't have to listen to him 24/7. God it gets tiring after a while. Besides, I can take care of myself.
Back to the corpse. Most people would be squeamish at the site of a corpse in a pool of its own blood, but I've seen more than my fair share of dead bodies in the City of Knives. The body appeared to be a middle age human. His face was slightly wrinkled and his glasses were shattered, the wire frames bent. His unblinking eyes were wide open. His skin was still slightly warm when I closed his eyelids. His graying hair was receding from his forehead about halfway back. Poor bastard. The back of his head was caved in from a bludgeoning blow. His clothing were those of someone who wasn't quite upper class, but almost.
I wonder if Mr. Mysterious has any identification papers on him. I lift up the side of his jacket, careful not to move the body, or get blood on my hands, in case the Watch showed up. A small packet of papers fell out of the jacket pocket and into the blood puddle. "Perfect," I whispered. I quickly grabbed the papers out of the blood-water mixture pooling around the corpse; then washed my hands off in a nearby puddle. Blood on my hands would a bad thing.
His papers were encased in a leather cover with House Sivis' mark on it to show that it was valid. Pretty high quality ID papers. Brown leather cover and even his portrait was there. "Name: Thallius Clearwater, Occupation: Research of Khorvaire's History at Morgrave University," I mumbled to myself. Morgrave University isn't as highly respected as the University in Korranberg mainly because of some of the priceless artifacts from Xen'drik that go missing so often. Maybe this man got caught transporting one of those artifacts. I put the papers back in his pocket and noticed a pouch was clutched tightly in his right hand. After unlatching his fingers from the pouch I picked up the hand-sized bag. "Wonder what this-Ugh!" I exclaimed as I was roughly pushed to the ground. Stone isn't the best tasting snack
"That bag belongs to me and my lord, Flesh-bag!" the stranger hissed. I'm just going out on a limb here, but I think I found the mugger. And it's a warforged. I really wish I could tell the difference between a male and female warforged. The slightly, and I mean very slightly, more feminine tone in the voice made me assume it was female, but you wouldn't be able to tell from the figure. All warforged look pretty much the same. This one happened to be standing above my prone body and her cloak cast her body in shadows. One thing that I definitely could see was the mace in her right hand.
"Hay, hay, hay, can't we talk about this?" I stammered as I stumbled backwards. I know this looks cowardly, but I'm on the ground, weaponless, against a machine created for warfare who was stalking me with a weapon. I'm not as brainless as many women believe my gender to be. "What bag? I mean, there isn't anything on him. I don't even know who the guy is?" I was stalling, along with pocketing the bag. Staying alive definitely comes before looking brave.
"But you've seen me, and I enjoy the sound of bones breaking," She snarled at me as she raised the mace for a close encounter with my skull. Got to stall long enough for Lucan to get here. I reached for my dagger, under my jacket, behind my back. I just got my hand around my dagger's handle when a metal dog tackled into the mugger's weapon arm. A defender homunculus. Artificers and mages sometimes make them to defend themselves and their workshops. What was one doing here? Why was one helping me? I guess I shouldn't be so picky about who or what saves my butt. Where the heck is Lucan?
I rolled backwards and to my feet just as a bolt of lightning scorched past my left side. "Snap!" I shouted as I spun out of the way. Behind me was another strange sight. Above the sound of the metallic sounds of the struggle behind me I examined the strange sight of a shifter who was lowering a wand in her hand. Her outfit was very plain, yet exotic. She had a sash of wands hanging from her right shoulder to her left hip. A bag was hanging off the right side of her hips. She was wearing a sleeveless, dark-green tunic that hung down to mid-thigh. Feathers hung from the armbands around her biceps. Her pants were plain brown cloth and she wasn't wearing any shoes. Normally that would take somebody really stupid to do that. But she was a shifter. Shifters are decedents of humans and lycanthropes, werewolves and such. They were deemed not evil by the Church of the Silver Flame during their crusade against lycans since being a shifter wasn't a disease. She nodded in acknowledgement. "Thanks," I said as the whistle of the City Watch screeched in the distance.
"Great," I grumbled as I finished drawing my dagger, not that I was going to use it unless I needed to; the homunculus looked like it was handling itself pretty well. A loud blur crashed past me into the fray. It was Lucan, wielding his broadsword and working with the shifter's homunculus. His hood had fallen off his head and water was dripping from his head plates.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah I'm fine. What took you so long?" The whistle of the Watch grew louder. I could hear the shouts of people in their homes. "Fight!", "They're attacking that poor person!", and "Someone get the Watch!" and various other things were like a staccato chorus. The shouts were probably going on since the beginning of the fight, but I was a tiny bit preoccupied.
"Are you two planning on explaining yourselves to the Watch or are you going to get outta here?" the shifter asked, hands on her hips. "'Cause I'm skipping out before I get caught. The Watch doesn't play nice with my kind." Along with warforged, the human guards don't take too well to the shifters. They have that lycanthrope background, and they look funny. Sideburns and hairy forearms aren't what humans expect to see on their women.
I could hear the three combatants sparring. I quickly glanced back at the battle. The mugger was starting to falter. The combination of the homunculus and Lucan were beginning to be too much for her. One problem; just as I thought they'd have her beat, she seemed to kick it into overdrive and started swinging faster and harder.
I shrugged. "I dunno, but that's a good question," I responded. "What do you think? You wanna skip out? Or do you want to hang around with your new girlfriend?" I shouted to Lucan.
Without saying a word, Lucan just took two steps backwards and turned into a full run away from the wildly swinging warforged mugger. "Run," was all he said as he flew past me and the shifter.
"I'm with him," and I ran after him. "You coming, too?"
"I'll catch up. I have to get my homunculus out of there alive," she responded as she turned her full attention back to the battle. Pulling out another wand she uttered the activation word and a beam of light shot from the wand to the mugger. Sparks flew and the warforged froze mid-swing. She made a sharp whistle and the dog charged over to its master.
"Why didn't you just do that before?"
"I thought you'd be able to take care of the warforged quicker. That wand is expensive to make," she said as she started after my partner with her mutt in her tracks. Women. I shook my short black hair and started after my partner and the strange shifter. The Watch just got onto the bridge as I rounded the corner into the next tower. This was a very, strange night.
Chapter 2: The IntruderThe rain started to lighten up as I neared my apartment. I rent. Buying is too permanent for me. Plus; you never know when you're going to need to move to a different part of town because you ticked off the wrong people. Always good to have a way out. No solid ties to anything. I've had this particular apartment for about a year now. Not quite the longest I've owned an apartment, but most of the previous ones were in a very slummy district. They were affordable, but not too many upstanding citizens would consider going to the districts in Lower Dura.
It had been a relatively quiet jaunt from the murder scene, mainly because I was saving most of my breath for the running and Lucan was never much of a talker. The shifter didn't seem to be much of one either.
"So what's your story?" I asked between breaths. Maybe a little personal, blunt maybe, but hey, I was short on talking juice.
"Not much for small talk are you?" she retorted, completely steady. I guess it is true that shifters can run. I don't get to deal with two many shifters, and the ones I do come in contact with, it's usually not the kind of contact I like very much. Shifters usually tend to live in more wild areas, like the Eldeen Reaches, north-west of Breland.
"Excuse me…for not inheriting…a running trait. Just looking…for a name…to go with the face." Running and talking are not a good combination for me. Lucky for me, my apartment is in the next tower.
"Rheia," she spoke softly. The rain had soaked her black hair which glistened in the light of the everburning torches that occasionally lit the streets in Dura. Her loose clothing clung to her figure. She was muscular, but lean, hinting at smooth curves. If it wasn't for her sideburns and heavy forearm hair that all shifters have regardless of gender, she'd probably be quite attractive.
"You can stay at my place tonight if you want to. It's not much, but it'll keep the rain off. We can talk more there," I said after I caught my breath a little. I had slowed down to a slow jog. I hadn't heard anything remotely similar to a Watch whistle in a while. We were probably safe. If not, too bad for me, I preferred my lungs not to burn, thank you very much.
"Sure. How far?"
"Woman of many words." Always a friend of sarcasm, I am. "You can stop running. We just take this lift up a few floors." We had entered the tower my apartment was in and the rain could no longer touch me. Good; I didn't care too much for being soaked to the bone. There wasn't much to the inside of this tower. Not at this level. Mainly there were just a few closed shops, some empty stalls, and the large hole at the eastern side of the tunnel. The lift was a large metal plate that was magically raised or lowered from this level to anywhere in the tower. This was one of the better towers in the district. Most towers in Dura had either stone steps or platforms.
"Lucan, you want to fetch the lift for us? I still need to get my body back to normal. Too much running for me." Good old Lucan. He never gets tired. He never eats, never sleeps, and never has to go to the bathroom. Perfect roommate. With my hands on my knees, I stood resting, while Lucan went towards the giant whole and pushed the button that sent the lift to this level. Sure, I probably could have done it, but why do that when I'm obviously not up to full strength and there's a perfectly good person who's not tired at all.
"So you from around here?" I asked after I straightened. I started to walk towards where the lift was going to end up.
"Yes." She also strode towards the lift.
"How long you been here?"
"A while."
"You know, if you actually answered my questions I'd be done a lot faster." That's me. Always the nosy one.
"If you stopped asking questions you'd be done a lot faster." That's her, the antisocial one.
The metal lift had risen to our level. We each stepped onto it and Lucan hit the button to go up. This was so much better than stairs. The stone walls started to move down around us as we slowly moved our way up the tower. They should really have music for these things.
"Sooo….what were you doing at the murder scene dressed for a fight?" See, they need music. If they had music I would have been preoccupied.
"I'm not carrying any weapons. And I thought you were going to stop asking questions," She said as she turned her head towards me. She was just slightly shorter than me so her head was inclined slightly. Her green eyes locked with my own blue eyes for a split second.
"I'm an Inquisitive. It's my job to ask questions. And, yes, you're probably right. You probably weren't carrying any blades. But you were carrying enough wands for the Brelish army. I just want to know why." She looked away first. One point for me.
"It's not against the law to carry wands."
The lift had reached the level with my apartment on it. Lucan hit the button to make the lift stop. We each got off the platform and entered the tower opening. There was no street running through this level. That's one reason why I chose this level for my home. Not as much traffic going through. There were actually about three levels to this section of the tower. Each level was a row of apartment buildings. The first level had its doors on the floor. You reached the next level by climbing a set of stairs to the walkway that created an overhang for the first level. The third level was the same as the second level, just a row higher. I was on the second level, third door on the left hand side. There were two sets of steps. One set started at the lift, the other started directly across the room. The room as a whole wasn't really that big. We were near the top of this particular tower; it ended early into Upper Dura.
Rheia started off the platform towards the center of the level. I crossed my arms across my chest. "My house is this way," I said pointing up the set of stairs on the left. The damp tunic moved against my skin uncomfortably. I really didn't like rain. Unfortunately for me, rain was part of the package for living in Sharn. "It's a little known fact that most criminals, when given a choice, will choose to turn right more often than left," I continued. Hence the choice in direction of my apartment.
She half turned and grinned. "Aren't we the paranoid one?"
"This is Middle Dura and in my profession, I tend to make a few enemies."
She turned towards me fully and started back towards the steps. "You? Make enemies?" she questioned sarcastically with her head slightly tilted to the right, "I never would have guessed."
Ignoring her blatant sarcasm, "Come on Lucan, let's go. I want to get out of these wet cloths."
"I, too, need to dry off. Let us go. Rheia, after you," the metal man said as he stood stock still on the lift.
With an eyebrow raised, "Why thank you Lucan. At least someone here has some kind of manners."
"Yeah, lucky me. Now can we get off the lift before someone else in the tower decides they need it." I started up the stone steps. Soon there were the light sounds of Rheia which were followed by the heavy feet of Lucan. My apartment wasn't very far from the steps. It was only the third one in, so you could see it from the top of the steps. The crude pillars that shot down from the floor of the third level's walkway cast shadows across the floor and halfway up the wall until it was swallowed by complete shadows of utter blackness. Even the parts that weren't shadowed from the pillars were still cast in shadows, just not as dark. The only light came from the two dim everburning torches at the base of each set of stairs.
My hand raised quickly as a sign for the other two to stop. I turned my head slightly, my eyes never leaving the door, so they could see my finger raised to my lips.
"What's wrong?" Rheia whispered into my ears.
I hadn't even heard her get that close to me. I was impressed, but I couldn't let it show. I kept my face in the shadows. I just pointed towards my doorway. The door was slightly ajar, not enough to be obvious, but I was a suspicious kind of guy.
"Couldn't you have just forgotten to close it when you left?" she asked, still whispering.
I shook my head slightly, "No, I always lock my door from the inside with a wizard lock, only I know how to open that," well, me and the wizard who helped develop the lock. "On top of that I have a mechanical lock on the outside that, as you can see, is currently picked. If you have any wands that won't break anything in my home, pull that one out. Lucan, …hmpf. Rheia, do you have any silencing spells you can cast on Lucan so he's not as loud as he normally is?" Lucan had taken my warning to heart, if he had a heart, and stood completely still at my signal. It's hard to move and stay silent when you're made out of metal, wood, and various other objects.
Without saying a word, and making only the slightest sound, she drew a wand out and pointed it towards the metal man and whispered a word under her breath that was hard for even me, who was standing right next to her, to hear. No visible effect had taken place, but I knew that the silencing spell had worked; Lucan had taken a step forward and his normally heavy footsteps were as silent as a stalking cat. I'd have to remember to ask Rheia why she carried a silencing wand around the city, the offensive spells were question enough.
I pointed at Rheia and told her to wait at the side of the door, she was our back up. Whatever enemy of mine is in there, they shouldn't know about her considering I had just met her that night. I pointed to Lucan and gestured for him to enter in front of me. His body could be repaired, mine had to heal. He came forward without pause or sound. Magic is a wonderful thing. Lucan and I walked to the door and I glanced at Rheia. "Wait until I call for you, or run. This isn't your fight." She just stood there looking at me. If anything she looked more resolved. I nodded. Good to see she's loyal, or just likes the idea of a fight. I wonder if she's part wolf.
I nodded to Lucan, who was waiting for my signal to open the door. He had to duck slightly so he would fit under the door frame. His shoulders were still a tight fit, but he could make it through. He placed his two fingered, one thumbed hand onto the door and barreled in. I followed close behind. Lucan didn't draw his sword. In these close quarters he wouldn't be able to wield it well enough for it to be useful. I did draw my dagger. It was a simple straight piece of metal, pointed at the end and bladed on both sides. I drew another dagger from my boot with my left hand. I preferred to fight with two daggers. I wasn't bad with a rapier or a short sword either, but daggers were easier to hide, and throw if I needed.
Lucan went to the left and I went to the right, surrounding someone was a good way to get a quick victory. My apartment was fairly plain, a wooden living area, with a small bedroom near the back. My apartment was actually one of the nicer ones in Dura, I had indoor plumbing. That room was to the left of the bedroom.
The only thing out of place in the room, besides the slight mess that's always there, was the man sitting, with his legs crossed, in the middle of my living area in my chair facing my doorway. Yeah, not too much out of place.
"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" I asked with my blades still raised. So far the person had made no move from the seat and just sat there with legs crossed. I couldn't tell where his eyes were because they were shrouded in shadows cast by his hooded cloak which protected him from the darkness of the unlit room. He was either a messenger, or he had backup. A quick glance around showed that there was no one else except for the three of us in the room, there might be someone in the bedroom or bathroom, but I doubted it.
"You can tell your companion that she can come in. I'm not your enemy, just a messenger," said the man as he spread his hands out to the side, palms up, in a gesture of peace. His voice suggested that he was past his prime, probably late 40's, but I still didn't lower my blades. Age didn't mean weak, not in a world where a single sip of a potion will allow you to lift a block of stone the size of my living room.
"No one's here but us, old man." When in doubt, try to anger them. Angering someone usually makes them lose their composure and sometimes allows them to slip and reveal something they weren't supposed to.
"Have it your way, but I think the neighbors might get suspicious with a female shifter outside your door whilst we talk of the recent murder," he said simply as he placed his hands in his lap.
"We didn't have anything to do with that murder. Who was he anyways?" I asked. I'd given up on the angering him, didn't seem like he was the kind of guy to go and blow his top too often. I lowered my weapons, but didn't sheath them. I'm a pretty quick draw, but I didn't feel like taking any chances.
"I can't answer any questions, but my superior can." He still hadn't moved from his position. He even had perfect posture. His superior must be one of the nobles, or one of the dragon marked houses, which were basically nobles.
"Rheia, you can come in, don't put your weapon away, but don't come in blazing either," I shouted out to her, not taking my eyes off the intruder. "And close the door," I continued after she entered. The door thumped quietly into place. "Thanks."
"Sure," she responded. She was standing ready, feet shoulder width apart, wand out in front. All that was missing was the dog at her feet.
"Where's your mutt?" The thought just occurred to me that I hadn't seen it since we started our little jog through the city.
"Sent it to look after my own house. Got to have someone there. So who's this?" She asked, gesturing at the man in the chair with her wand.
"Apparently. You never know when you'll have an uninvited guest." A subtle poke at my house guest. I wondered if he'd get the point, or if it'd have to be more obvious.
"That's not important," the man said as he stood, cloak covering his body. "What is important is that my superior would like to talk with you about what transpired tonight. She was working with Mr. Clearwater on something important when he died."
"So, what? She wants us to continue his work because we happened to be at the wrong place right time? I don't think so. I'm not a scholar; I'm not interested in history." Never agree to working outside your jurisdiction when the messenger breaks into your house to give you the message. That's my motto.
"Who is your superior?" Rheia asked.
"Go to the Broken Anvil tonight and ask for Lady Elaydren," the man said as he walked towards the door. When he was close enough to Rheia to touch her he stopped. She moved to the side and he made a slight bow. He opened the door and bid us all a good evening. Yeah right.
Chapter 3: The Broken Anvil