Adventure: The Forgotten Forge
Sessions: 2006-10-08, 2006-10-20
Player: Daniel Thai
PC: Tuiluilan
Status: Fighter 1

Dear Father,

When you told me to go find my way in the world, I doubt that you thought it would end up like this. I’m sorry that I don’t have a blacksmithy of my own, and that I’m not even working at another one, but distractions seem to come up. And if I’m perfectly honest with you, I find them rather enjoyable. I suppose I should mention what I’m talking about.

I said in my last letter that I’ve been taking up whatever odd jobs I could find. Well, believe it or not, some (if not the most reputable) work that I got came through a tavern. Maybe one day they’ll hire me as a bouncer, I don’t know. But anyway, would you believe that someone ran in yelling that there was a body in the road. Now, I know you’ve never been to Sharn before, but this was in a rather reputable part of town—so much so that I couldn’t even carry my double sword (I know, I know). Anyway, it was on a bridge, and the guy was an older gentleman, clearly dead. I know it was a wound from a bladed weapon, but more than that, I couldn’t tell. Before I know what was really happening, this warforged stepped out from one side of a bridge, and stabbed me. Now, I only had a dagger, which is why I say that no place in Sharn should be too uppity for me to carry a quarterblade. Anyway, this raptoran, Mike, who has some sort of strange name in his native tongue, grappled with him, really taking care of him. I should mention that a raptoran is a tall bird-creature that generally acts strangely.

He did all the right things, that I really don’t know how to do, but that mom’s been harping on me to do—sit forward on the guy when you sit on his chest, ride him if he tries to buck up, and go for a right arm twist. He’s a very good grappler. Anyway, I was trying to stab him when this strange bird flies out of him. His chest panels opened, or something like that. But that’s only the beginning.

From there, I was contacted by a mysterious hooded figure, and asked to go to the Broken Anvil inn. I know what you’re thinking. Not exactly the place for the son of a blacksmith to be going, especially with a name like that. But it all worked out. We were approached by a strange lady—I think I wrote her name down, but the name eludes me now. Anyway, she offered us 1000 gold pieces, with 100 immediate for expenses, if we would go track down something mentioned in the dead person’s notes, supposedly near a sewer. Now I remember wondering: Why on Eberron would they be using us, a bunch of nobodies who only happened to meet on a street corner? The answer is obvious: Because nobody cares if we die. And that’s what made me slightly suspicious of this whole thing from the start.

So we went. The sewer is a place I would rather not revisit. I was considering using parchment as a face mask to keep out the smell, but decided against it. Anyway, we got into a fight with this heavy metal guy—another warforged, who decided he wanted to kill us. Two more strange sewage covered things joined the fight. I managed to dispatch the warforged and one of the shifters, but the others took down the last guy. So we went on, and encountered a swarm of beetles.

Hundreds of them, drawn to our movement, I guess. Beetles are nasty, and it takes fire to beat them. Unfortunately, I did not have a torch. There was this guy—or I should say, halfling, who (the dirty scoundrel), stole a torch that would be necessary to fight this rat swarm, and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. Fortunately, someone got it back and handed it to me, and I started hacking. As strange as this may sound… I was actually invigorated by that fight, although I noticed the strange bird person felt very sick to his stomach—or stomachs, I never bothered to ask about that.

Anyway, I tried setting fire to my bedroll to squash them with a blanket of flame, (quite literally), but that didn’t work as well as I had thought. Eventually, it seemed like they had had enough. After that, we reached a door and had to fight some strange metallic dog creatures. They didn’t want to fight me, which was fine by me. Eventually, we killed them as well, or at least, the two that hadn’t already been squashed by a piece of the ceiling of that room. Finally, we got the item we came for—some sort of schema. I’m still not sure what that is. But we had one final task before we could return it to the lady. It was another warforged who, in the name of the Lord of Blades, demanded the return of the item. We were not feeling in good shape from our previous encounters, and ran. Alain had the bright idea of throwing a dagger in place of the schema, which kind of looks like it, and the warforged went after it. We were going to just escape, when we realized—both that a pair of giant rats were going after the warforged, and that Xame (yes, the coward), had become trapped. Despite my dislike of him, I decided that I was going to help save him. After the rats took care of the warforged, we took care of them.

So that was the adventure. When I come home, I’ll tell you of my companions—a strange bird fellow named Mike, a shifty and craven halfling named Xame, a distant elf named Antinua, and a fellow fighter named Alain. By the way: Alain strikes me (no, he’s never struck me, at least not yet) as a really nice guy—and his flail (ball and chain) comes in real handy at times.

So much for that these adventures. Anyway, I’d like to purchase a double sword when I arrive, and I’m coming soon—and I’m willing to pay extra for your very finest work.

Your Loyal Son,


Player’s Notes

Tui is highly connected with family, and I like what Rachel did with writing home that way, so it’s a logical choice to do stories this way.