The Forgotten Forge Epilogue (Naomi)
From Toosigma
| Title | The Forgotten Forge - Epilogue |
|---|---|
| Author | Philip Mann - Naomi |
| Campaign | Convergent Threads |
| Session | Intersession |
| Posted | |
| Game Date |
I worked a normal evening when we returned, telling my family at the Eyrie what happened as we finished cleaning up. I glossed-over some of the details that I was still sorting out in my own mind, but I explained most things to the best of my ability. Mama seemed excited to hear how we climbed into the sewers and made it through the door with the seal on it, but she was somewhat disgusted when I told her of the beetles and the horrid rats. Mayhap she had some experience with them during the war.
Kayli was very interested in the sort of adventurer that Hero was, but I could not bring myself to tell her the unvarnished truth. No, she did not need to know how he had lied to the Watch and to Lady Elaydren; at least not until I was sure of his reasons. Instead, I told her only the good things and how he took the lead so often. This seemed to please her and it warmed my heart to see her smile, I only hope that I have not done her a disservice.
Mr. Laran, on the other hand, was very difficult to read. When I mentioned that we would be meeting with Lady Elaydren in three days he told me to pursue what I must. Seeing that I was trying to comprehend the feeling behind the statement, he explained that, while I would be missed when my adventures took me away from the Eyrie, I always had a place under his roof and at his table. I do not think I will ever get tired of being welcomed into this family.
When Kayli and the others went to bed, I ventured into the night. I could not shake from my mind the contempt that the warforged expressed toward the “flesh bags”. What has made them bear such hate toward the namegivers*? I have seen few warforged in this city since my awakening, but none have attacked their fellow citizens. Indeed, most have engaged in tasks both menial and extraordinary in the service of those around them.
As I had so many mornings before, I found myself wandering around near the University District as the sun began to crest the horizon. The early breeze brought the smells of damp grass and baked goods as I sat on my favorite bench near the southeastern edge of the plateau. This was a grand locale that allowed a commanding view as the shadows retreated from the tallest towers silently announcing that dawn had arrived in Sharn. Shielding my eyes, my gaze drifted to my hand, and it became the world before me. I studied my digits as though I had never seen them before, moving each one and marveling as they responded to the simple request with amazing articulation. Does it not matter to those hateful ones that it is the namegivers who brought them forth into the world?
Through my hand I saw into my past just weeks before. Everything became as when I was first able to move again. I saw every detail of the crystal dust that drifted down my body as I wiped it from my shoulders…and the deep brown eyes filled with hurt and terror…I clenched my fist and cast my hands from my sight as I quickly stood from the bench. A part of me had almost killed her, a part of me that must have felt as those who attacked us felt. But that part was restrained by something more powerful: the part of me loved her.
Yes, I know it was love. A different love than I feel for the Larans, who I care for greatly and respect, and I believe feel the same toward me. No, the love for this unnamed girl, my first love, was something pure and unqualified. When she was near, it burned white-hot through me. I still feel it when I think of her, though I have tried to cast the memory to the winds.
Still thinking of that evening, I made my way to a winding set of stairs that would take me to Everbright. As I descended, I was passed by a sturdy warforged who, though unarmed and carrying a huge box of some exotic flowers, looked ready to battle at any moment. I nodded and he returned the silent salutation as we continued on our separate ways. Am I so different from this creature? We are both born of the will of the namegivers, though I do not wear my birthright for all to see.
Walking below a bridge, the thoughts of the girl and of my own origins were pushed from my mind by the memory of a pitched battle on a similar bridge nearby. What part does the Lord of Blades have in this? Did we stumble into his affairs two or three times by coincidence, or have we become the icons of his hated “flesh bags”? If he found out that I am more like him than I am the namegivers he so hates, would he try to turn me from them or would he see me destroyed for siding with them? These and similar questions flit about my mind as I near the alchemy shop…
