Chapter 6: The Limitless Rise

[Darren]

Kal's chuckle and slight smile are only half-hidden by the mug he hastily raises to his lips.

[Joe]

Streko looks back toward the kitchen. "Unless age has made her completely deaf, there is no point in discussing this here. You KNOW how she is, Poppa!

"Allow one or two of us, not me, as that would make Momma suspicious, to assist you with emptying some trash from the morning meal. You can let that person or persons know what you wish to have us look into.

"Meanwhile, I will help Momma clean some dishes and discreetly inquire as to her thoughts on Varna's return. She does so enjoy talking about us behind our backs, doesn't she?"

The phrase is delivered with a wink and a smile. Halflings do love their tales, after all.

"Kal, would you and Tangat be so kind as to provide some slight of hand and mouth as you assist me with misdirecting Momma? That way, Belarin and Condign can help Poppa with the chores without seeming too obvious."

Streko speaks in soft whispers, consipratorially, all too aware that his momma might still be able to hear him.

[Jeff]

"Unless age has made her completely deaf, there is no point in discussing this here. You KNOW how she is, Poppa!

"Oh, I do," Orval mutters. "And I think she can hear better now than she used to. Your idea has merit, my boy. I—"

"What are you saying out there?!" Esthryn comes rushing out of the kitchen, rage building on her face. She looks at Orval with fierce eyes. "What did you just tell them?"

Orval freezes. "I...nothing, Esth. That is..."

"Only what we could extract from him," Varna says, slipping around the fer left corner, where she's obviously been lurking, and eavesdropping. "Poppa holds up well under interrogation, I'll give him that. But the ruse is up, Momma. The seacat's out of the net. Spill it!"

Esthryn looks at her daughter, then at the rest of you. She sighs. "I didn't want to bother any of you with something that's probably nothing. I figured you'd rather stay here and relax...not run off on foolish or dangerous errands."

[Darren]

Kal returns his mug to the table. "With all due respect, Mother Tavven, that is simply not our way. Your hospitality has been more than appreciated, but sooner or later we would have to move on, anyway. If adventure is to find us, better that it be in service of those we love."

[Jeff]

Esthryn's anxious expression seems to soften at Kal's words. "You're very sweet, Lord Kalarian."

"Ohh...all right," she sayd. "But just because I'm telling you this doesn't mean you have to do it. I'm only telling you because you keep asking." She pauses. "Orval, you tell them."

Orval shakes his head, then looks at Streko. "I've been telling your mother ever since you got here that we should be asking you and your friends for advice on this."

"Just tell him."

"We have a friend who's been in a bit of a bind. See, I ran into him in the market one day, and we just sort of hit it off. Been friends every since, doing favors for one another. But this favor I haven't been able to help him with."

"His name is Gerus; his grandfolks came from the Mror Holds, but he's been Brelish all his life. He owns a curio shop in North Market...that's in Northedge, here in the Lower City. Gerus is a dabbler, a magewright who knows a little bit of this and a little bit of that. He wanted to be make a living as an artificer, but never could get a license to work for House Cannith. He thinks it's racism, but, well..." He chuckles. "Lots of dwarves work for House Cannith. Best not to talk about that with him."

"He's a gentleman," Esthryn points out. "Treats people right."

"Anyway," Orval goes on. "His problem: his shop is flushed to the northeast end of the district, right up against the cliff wall...and, if I say so myself, uncomfortably close to one of the entrances to the City of the Dead. Normally, that's no problem at all. Despite the stories told about those old catacombs, there's been a disturbance around there recently that's been driving his customers away. Fewer and fewer people have been coming to his shop, afraid of some spook that's been spotted around there...day and night.

"I told him maybe it's a competitor's doing, getting all sneaky about it by trying to scare people away. But, nah, Gerus has no competitors. And he doesn't make enemies. So that's it. He's asked us if we knew anyone who could look into it..."

"Hire an inquisitive," Varna says. "Some are cheap enough."

"He's too proud to do that," Orval says. "Anyway, the good ones are expensive."

"Can't get the Watch to do anything about it," Esthryn adds. "Not unless someone important goes missing. Homeless people don't count." Her expression turns angry.

Just then, the front door to the Eatery opens. You glance over and see what you don't often see entering restaurants in any city:

A warforged. Six and a half feet tall, hulking body covered in thick metal plates that look like they've seen some of the grime and rain of the Lower City. He looks like a traveler...one who can handle himself. A backpack is strapped to his back, and a quality longsword hangs from a thick leather belt that may or may not be part of his body. Hard to tell with warforged. Blue gemstone eyes glow softly in the dim morning light. He pauses in the doorway, seeing all of you gathered around the bar.

"Addy!" Esthryn exclaims. "Oh, Sovereigns...I completely forgot! I'm so sorry...I'll get the stuff together."

Streko's father grabs her arm. "What if...what if Adamant went with them?" Orval says. "Would you feel better about it, then?"

[Darren]

"I didn't think constructs liked omelets," Kal says to no one in particular.

[Ken]

"Neither did I," says Belarin. He continues in a whisper, "That line about helping people we love was very good. I'm impressed." Pause. "You've been reading books again, haven't you?"

[Brian]

Condign looks at the warforged, then back at Streko's parents.

"I am sorry, but do you know this. . .well, this. . . thing?" His expression and his tone are both decidedly chilly.

[Dave W.]

As usual, the morning walk loosens Adamant's wooden ligaments. As he hears the tavern, he realizes that he feels happy; happy to be on this particular errand, happy to be functioning so well, and happily looking forward to seeing the Tavvens again.

"There it is again," he thinks, "I feel. So many seem to believe that I shouldn't or couldn't; even those I might consider friends believe it to be at least unusual."

"Ah, but I do feel happy today." His eyes brighten impishly as he reaches the Eatery door, "too happy for deep thoughts." Adamant opens the door and steps in to hear Mistress Tavven call him "Addy".

Usually the nickname gives him a warm sense of belonging that becomes articulated in the glowing gems of his eyes. But today there is a faint note of tension... and strangers. Strangers are sometimes problematic for Adamant.

He stops in the doorway and sizes up the new faces. Two humans, a halfling, and a strange horned humanoid Adamant does not recognize. This new creature arrests his attention. If there is a threat here, it will be this creature.

But the Tavvens appear relaxed towards the group. Varna is here, perhaps the tension is just the girl and her mother.

Adamant realizes that he is a stranger to these new people. How must he look to them? He knows many of the fleshy races can be intimidated by his tall, armored frame of wood and metal. The adamantine plates advertise that he is a warrior as would the sword at his hip and the shield on his back.

The engraving of the crown, hammer, and bellows on the center of his chest would be a sign to many that he is Cyran. Few people would appreciate that reminder of the War. Some might show pity for Cyrans, but he is not a normal Cyran; he is warforged. His existence is a reminder of the War.

The morning happiness has faded into a nervousness Adamant is unable to explain. These are probably friends of the Tavvens; he should try not to offend. His three fingered hand wants to reach up and touch the gold and silver Octogram attached to his left breast; a nervous habit.

Realizing that he's still blocking the door, he takes a single step inside. He tries to relax and stand less tall, taking on a more submissive posture in order to appear less threatening. This was one of the first behaviors he learned.

Adamant turns to Esthryn, "Mistress Tavven, please, perhaps I have come at an inconvenient time. I do not wish to cause you trouble." His voice has a deep, warm tone that may seem unusual for a warforged. It is decidedly bass, like a brass tuba.

Adamant struggles not to react to hearing Condign refer to him as a "thing". He feels the temptation to stand tall, to defend his race, to intimidate the strange creature. But that would be selfish; this is not his home; not this tavern, not this city, not this nation. The Tavven family have been uncommonly kind to him, picking a fight in their tavern would be a poor way to repay them.

And he is a Vassal of Dol Arrah. His place is to defend others not his own ego.

He silently recites the Litany of St Houst: "How long wilst thou batter me? How stridently wilst thou seek me harm? It matters not, for Dol Arrah is my Refuge, my Battlement, my Rock." He stands quietly, to all appearances relaxed. But his attention stays on the tiefling.

-----------------
Sorry this is sort of longish.
Adamant wants to size up the tiefling in particular. I'm not sure if you want to do Perception or Insight.
If Perception: 1d20+5=20
If Insight: 1d20+10=22

Okay, yeah, I really mostly wanted to play with the dice roller...

[Jeff]

"I am sorry, but do you know this. . .well, this. . . thing?"

Esthryn frowns when she hears this. She gives Condign a stern look, then disappears into the kitchen...only to reemerge from around the hallway corner.

"Good morning, Adamant," Orval says. "Right on time, as always. I'd like to introduce my son to you. This is Streko...and his friends, Lord Kalarian, Belarin, and Condign."

"No, don't you run off, Addy," Esthryn says. "It's no bother at all. In fact, I'm very glad to see you this morning. I can have the food ready in a flash. She glances at Condign and gives him another motherly glare. "And pay no mind to what he says. Con...Condin..." Esthryn always has trouble with the tiefling's name. "Well, he's new to this city and its great diversity."

Adamant can see that Condign is a warrior; not only by the armor and weapon he wears, but his very stance suggests that he, too, is appraising Adamant in turn. Condign's subtle glance around the room looks like a Cyran captain assessing the battlefield, noting exits, obstacles, and hidden threats.

Although Adamant does not recognize what Condign is, once he does hears the term 'tiefling' he will recall that tieflings are a race that were once human nobles, a very long time ago, on the continent of Sarlona. But foul rituals with devils gradually turned them into what they are today, a humanlike people with a dramatically different appearance and infernal resilience.

_________________________________

Adamant's History check (1d20+1=21)

Welcome aboard, Dave!

[Joe]

Streko steps forward and reaches out with one hand.

"Adamant! A delightful name for one of your kind. My parents and my sister all seem fond of you and that, in and of itself, gives me reason to share in that sentiment. Greetings to you!"

[Darren]

Small sparks jump between Kal's fingers and the mug on the table. He appears not to notice them. "If the Tavvens know and trust you, then it gives me no reason to assume you mean harm." As though that settles the matter, Kalarian turns back to Orval. "It would be our pleasure to investigate this matter for you. I've been sitting too long, and I have to stop into the tailor's shop, anyway."

[Ken]

Belarin appraises the newcomer and says, "Good to meet you, Adamant. Please excuse us if our demeanor leaves something to be desired. It's simply that the last dozen or so warforged that we've met have tried to kill us. Still, they were certainly not in the honorable service of Dol Arrah." With a nod, he indicates the symbol on Adamant's chest.

"Our hosts here have just asked us to investigate a problem involving a friend of theirs. And I get the distinct feeling that Orval and Esthryn would appreciate your presence as well, which alone speaks highly of you. Are you available for a jaunt?"

_________________________
Religion check: 23
Hi, Dave! Welcome aboard!

[Dave W.]

"Good morning, Master Tavven," Adamant replies. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Streko." Adamant starts to bow to Streko and pauses a second when the halflimg extends his hand. He stares just a second at the small, soft, five fingers before carefully wrapping them in his huge three metal fingers.

"I am pleased you approve of my name, and it does seem fitting though I had no hand in choosing it."

"Lord Kalarian, I am honored to make your acquaintance." Adamant bows. He glances down at the sparks, the hand, and the mug. "I can assure you I would not permit Master and Mistress Tavven to come to harm. It is rare to find such generous people."

Bowing to The tiefling, Adamant speaks slowly and carefully, "Please forgive me if perhaps I was staring, I have never encountered one of your race before."

He then turns to Esthryn, "No Mistress, Master Condign is technically correct. Any sage or artificer would tell you that I am a 'thing'. I am not a scholar, but it seems to me that word may need to be stretched since the creation of my people."

Adamant similarly greets Belarin with a bow. "An honor Master," Adamant's eyes glow somewhat brighter. "I spent several years fighting many dozen human brigands along the Cyre border," his voice takes a lighter, almost musical quality, "I promise not to measure you against their behavior either."

Turning to the elder Tavvens, Adamant draws himself to his full height. "I once said to you that my sword is yours to command. That wasn't a simple expression of gratitude, it was a commitment. I would be more than honored to defend your son and his friends if that would ease your minds."

-----------
Oh, yeah, Hi guys! Thanks for letting me in on this. I've really enjoyed reading in lurker mode.

[Jeff]

Esthryn seems torn. "I don't know, Addy...that's not why we found you, to be sending you off to dangerous places!"

Tangat sits at Kal's feet, but he stretches his nose forward, as if trying to scent the warforged.

Orval briefly explains to Adamant the errand in question, the matter of Gerus and the mysterious sightings in the North Market. "If you would just go with them, Adamant, just there and back. Nothing too involved, mind you. I don't want to take you away from High Walls. You do enough good there."

"If he goes," Varna says. "I go."

Esthryn's face darkens. "Oh, Varnyra...must you?"

But Varna only smiles. "I must. I, too, need to move again."

[Darren]

Kal smiles a mischievous smile and places an arm around Varna. "The girl is a natural born adventurer, Mom," he says to Esthryn. "But don't worry. I'll look after little sister."

Kalarian turns his attention to Adamant. "As for you, won't the omelets get cold if you don't deliver them quickly?"

_________________
Dave, I promise Kal won't be a jerk to Adamant forever. It's just that, as Belarin pointed out, so many warforged have tried to kill us lately, I thought it would be fun to play into this a little bit.

[Dave W.]

Feb 14, 2010 0:49:51 GMT -4 Jeff said:

Esthryn seems torn. "I don't know, Addy...that's not why we found you, to be sending you off to dangerous places!"

Adamant descends to one knee to be gem to eye with Esthryn. He presents his empty hands palm up before her. "Mistress Esthryn," he says, using her first name for the first time before this group, "these hands have been in dangerous places. They have done dangerous deeds. They will again. You and your husband have done so much for me and for High Walls; please, let me do this for you."

When Varna makes her demand, Adamant softly adds, "This is twice the reason to allow this. I will defend both your children."

[Dave W.]

Feb 14, 2010 1:18:14 GMT -4 Darren said:

Kalarian turns his attention to Adamant. "As for you, won't the omelets get cold if you don't deliver them quickly?"

Adamant's blue eyes flare for just a second as he turns to face Kal. "The hunger that burns my people in High Walls is heat enough; they will be happy with cold food. Mock me and all warforged if you must but please be polite enough to leave the suffering poor out of it."

----------------------
Darren, Kal can pick on Adamant as long as you need him to. It's just roleplay... besides he's got big shoulders... he can handle it.

[Brian]

Adamant:

"Please forgive me if perhaps I was staring, I have never encountered one of your race before."

Condign nods briefly, then notices the symbol of the octogram.

"I did not know your. . .kind ascribed to any particular religion. I am familiar with Dol Arrah. She has a noble reputation."

He looks to the others. "I would also like to investigate the happenings in the North Market. I have been idle for too long." Condign glances briefly at the warforged. "I do not believe we will need assistance. However, if my lord Orval insists, it would be dishonorable to refuse."

Condign turns to the warforged. "In the past, I have had interactions with one of your kind, a warforged called Lever. It had the support of a remarkable young woman named Charis. You seem to have the support of these fine halflings. I would welcome your assistance." Condign pauses briefly. "Adamant."

---------------------------------

Religion Check: 1d20+6=23

Welcome, Dave! That was a wonderful first post. Here's to interesting times.

[Jeff]

It isn't really omelets that Esthryn gives to Adamant to take back to High Walls, anyway. She gives an assortment of grains and vegetables, too, things that are "older" but far from spoiled.

"This is twice the reason to allow this. I will defend both your children."

Esthryn smiles. "Thank you, Addy." She reaches out and pats him softly on the cold metal surface of the cheek. Though none but a warforged would know it, there issome sensitivity there, however muted, through wood and metal; after all, warforged were made to be susceptible to pain, to make them better soldiers. Or perhaps feeling is merely a byproduct of being living.

"Then I'll have the food ready when you return. That's another reason to be careful, all right? High Walls needs you."

Condign, Kal, Belarin, and Streko know of Dol Arrah. One of the members of the Sovereign Host, she is the brother of Dol Dorn, Sovereign of Strength and Steel. Dol Arrah is said to be the goddess of light, whether the sun or the spiritual light of the mortal soul. She is a goddess of honor, forthrightness, and self-sacrifice. Some theologians say that Dol Arrah and the Silver Flame may be the same; as follower of the Flame would deny this, and a Dol Arrah priest might say that some have merely given Dol Arrah a different name. From all that Condign's heard about Dol Arrah, her tenets are also remarkably similar to those of Kalok Shash, the Binding Flame.

And of course Streko knows of Dol Arrah very well. Although he worships Olladra specifically, all Vassals—followers of the Host—spent time studying the others of the Nine. They even learn a bit about the Dark Six, gods who were cast out from the Host ages ago.

________________________________

Religion checks: Belarin (23), Condign (23), Kal 1d20+3=19, Streko (no need)

[Dave W.]

I suspected we weren't really ferrying omletes to high walls. I like the metaphor; it has high mock-ability.
-------------------

Feb 14, 2010 9:42:34 GMT -4 Jeff said:

"Then I'll have the food ready when you return. That's another reason to be careful, all right? High Walls needs you."

"Thank you. I promise we will be careful. If we seem to be over-matched I will see that we withdraw safely."

Adamant turns to the adventurers, "I'm saddened that you have had bad experiences with warforged. I would never claim my race is better than any other; we have been blessed with the freedom to choose for ourselves. Some choose to do evil. I don't understand why. I don't understand it when warforged make these choices nor when humans, halflings, eladrin, or any other creature does. Perhaps we can discuss this at length sometime."

Adamant raises his right hand to touch the octogram on his left breast. "As for my Lady Dol Arrah, I was... inspired by Her. I have trouble explaining it, though I would very much like to discuss with any of you", turning to look directly at Streko for a moment, "at a more appropriate time."

"But first I would like to hear any other details regarding this 'disturbance' if you have more Master Travven. Information can be the keystone to a successful campaign."

[Jeff]

"Oh, I don't really know any details," Orval says. "You'll need to ask Gerus. I can give you directions to his shop, Shining Detritus. You can walk to North Market, if you like, but coaches can get you there fast enough. It's in the Lower City, still, so there's no need to take any lifts or skycoaches."

Varna disappears to retrieve whatever equipment she needs.

_______________________________

I was mistaken earlier. North Market is still in the Lower City, not Middle. (I'll correct my former mention of it.) It's north of the district of Terminus (where you all arrived by lightning rail), across the gap in the Northedge quarter of the city.

[Joe]

'Streko nods. "Then let us be off to locate this Gerus person and find out why ghosts have targeted his shop. I suggest we prepare ourselves for adventure and meet back here in, say one bell? That should allow Kal to visit his tailor and the rest of us to pack accordingly."

Varna disappears to retrieve whatever equipment she needs.

Streko smiles. "Well, I suppose that's settled then."

[Jeff]

If Adamant needs to wait an hour, he can. But he can also go to and from High Walls with the food. Alternatively, the entire party can join him as he returns to High Walls with the donated food...only a bit of a detour before heading to North Market.

___________

Actually, Kal has to wait towards the end of the day for his new clothing. It's still morning now.

If you wish to do anything before departing, let me know.

[Brian]

Condign retreats to his room to gather what he needs. He opens his storage chest and removes his crossbow and the quiver of bolts. He attaches the crossbow to his belt and slings the quiver over his shoulder. He takes out his dagger and sheaths it. He closes the chest and sits on his bed.

Condign raises his red arms and looks at the burnished metal of his arm guards. He examines the intricately wrought metal and thinks about their link to his past. He's worn them constantly ever since he was old enough to put them on. There's much he knows about his youth, and so much more that he doesn't.

Condign sighs and lowers his arms. One day everything will become clear. For now, he has work to do.

He stands and grabs his shield, then checks to see that his longsword is properly sheathed. His fingers absently caress the lock of hair attached to his belt.

Confident he is fully prepared for battle, he makes his way down to the tavern and decides to accompany Belarin and the warforged to High Walls.

[Ken]

"I'll go with you to High Walls, Adamant, if you don't mind," says Belarin. "I'd like to see more of this amazing city, and there are advantages to becoming familiar with the less-well-off areas of town." He glances at Kal. "A side project of mine that needs pursuing," he says with a roguish smile. "You have to get new clothes, and I have my own hobbies."

______________________
If the trip to High Walls is only a slight detour, then Belarin will opt for going there first, considering it's still morning.

[Dave W.]

Adamant speaks to Esthryn, "Since there is time, if it would be convenient for you, perhaps I might take your generous donation to High Walls and return."

He turns to Streko, Belarin, Kal, and Condign. "I will be back before the bell."

Adamant will try to cover the distance back to High Walls at a jog [Do you want an endurance check?]. When he gets there he finds his friend, Luthwen, a young female half-elf who has recently begun helping him work among the refugees.

"Luthwen, I am afraid I am pressed for time today. The Tavven family has a task for me. Please distribute their donation for me." She starts to protest but Adamant interrupts and places one large hand on her slim shoulder, "No, I know you will do well. I know I can trust you. Remind those who receive a share to have hope; there are good-hearted folk in the world." He hands her the backpack.

Adamant heads to the small room he uses mostly for storage. He glances at the sheets of paper on the bed. "Later", he thinks. He grabs the pair of throwing hammers and hooks them to his belt. He pulls the longsword out for a quick inspection. He checks the small disk attached above the Cyran symbol engraved on his chest [sorry forgot that, there's a small rune-covered disk attached just at the neckline].

He slings his shield on his back and sets back out for the Eatery.

[Dave W.]

Feb 14, 2010 15:45:22 GMT -4 Ken said:

"I'll go with you to High Walls, Adamant, if you don't mind," says Belarin.

"Certainly, Master Belarin. It would be my honor, though I intend to move apace."

----------------------------
Sorry, didn't see that post while I was composing my own. Adamant will still start off at a jog but will slow if it seems that Belarin is having trouble keeping up. Also amend the previous post to include an introduction to Luthwen:


Arriving at High Walls, Adamant explains "I usually distribute the donation personally. I need to find a friend of mine; she will stand in my stead today."

When he finds Luthwen, he introduces her, "Master Belarin, may I present Luthwen;" Adamants eyes shine and his voice takes on the musical quality again, "I suppose you might call her my second-in-command. Luthwen, this is a Master Belarin, he is a friend of the Tavvens."

After giving Luthwen instructions, he says to Belarin, "I would like to retrieve some items from my room." Adamant's shoulders shrink in a bit and his head dips a little down and to the left. His hand move to absently touch the octogram on his chest. "You are certainly welcome, though there is little of interest there."

[Jeff]

Yay, the party splits up!

No need for an Endurance check, Dave. Skill checks don't need to be used at every turn. Not that you can't offer...

Streko and Kal

Orval asks Streko and Kal to remain at the Eatery while the others head off on Adamant's errand. He takes the time to talk in quiet tones—to Kal, a strange thing—about dragonmarked business. He tells Kal about when the Tavvens first came to Sharn, several months after House Jorasco "discovered" Streko. Convincing Streko to stay and work for the house, Jorasco brought in the family and helped them find the very apartment they live in now. Esthryn was a waitress here and Orval revived his herbalist business.

As they talk, customers come and go. At one point a middle-aged human couple come in, peruse the menu, and become indignant.

"'Blood of Vol'?" the woman reads aloud from the posted omelet menu. Her accent is Karrnathi. "How dare you?" She stares daggers at Esthryn, who stands frozen in shock. The woman storms out of the restaurant.

The woman's husband lingers, shaking his head. "Religions and cults should not be the stuff of such jest." He walks briskly out.

"It's never bothered anyone before," Esthryn says meekly to no one in particular. "Just a bit of fun. There's also a Balinor's Bounty..."

Adamant, Belarin, Condign

Adamant leads the way back to High Walls, crossing streets and the skybridges south and east of Olladra's Kitchen. Both Belarin and Condign find it a little hard to keep pace with the tall warforged, not so much out of speed but for his consistent stride. But after a while he shortens his pace to accommodate them. A half an hour later they pass through tall, well-guarded gates.

High Walls is not quite what most of you expected: to say it's impoverished is an understatement. For one, your first impression is of a prison camp for undesirables, and the longer you stay there the more you realizes it's only a few steps from being so. It's named for the fact that the entire district is walled in with only a few exit gates—and though the gates are open, they are heavily manned by the Watch, as if at any moment they could shut the residents inside.

Most of the residents are refugees from Cyre—those who happened to be outside the borders of Cyre on the Day of Mourning, or were actually able to escape the killing cloud that emerged and grew from within the doomed nation. Displaced from all they'd ever known, the surviving Cyrans became refugees.

Most courts of the land accepted them, especially once the Treaty of Thronehold was signed two years after the Day of Mourning. Aundair was one exception; Queen Aurala turned away all Cyrans at her borders. Quite the opposite, Breland showed the most compassion. Most have settled in the town of New Cyre in eastern Breland, but many have come here to Sharn.

The buildings here are in a state of disrepair. There is vandalism. The people look haggard, worn out, or haunted by the things they've seen or lost. Eyes turn with suspicion on Belarin and Condign—especially Condign. More than anything, there is a heaviness in the air of High Walls, a tension of resentment, made all the darker by the gray cast to the buildings and the precious little sunlight which filters down from the city above.

However, Adamant's presence seems to enliven some of these lost souls. Belarin and Condign can see that Adamant is not only respected here, but looked up to. He seems to be an unofficial protector of their community, though clearly not all of the people are optimistic enough to be heartened even by him.

When Adamant visits his "right-hand woman," the half-elf Luthwen—who carries herself like the war veteran she probably is—she gives both Belarin and Condign instant approval, simply for being in the warforged's company.

In general, warforged seem to receive a bit more respect from Cyrans. House Cannith, which produced the warforged, was the only dragonmarked house ancestrally based in Cyre; it seems more natural for the people to have accepted the warforged as a people of their own.

Belarin realizes that High Walls is not the sort of place he'll be able to make the contacts he wants. Not only is there an obvious disdain for outsiders—against non-Cyrans, or anyone who doesn't live here—but it just don't look like this district will have the resources he requires. It's poor. The crime here will be base; those with the skills or connections he needs will have gone elsewhere.

For all this, High Walls looks self-sustaining. The people get along well with each other, for the most part, and even seem look out for each other, sharing duties, sharing food. And Adamant seems a paragon of this very ideal. Though the grime of Hall Walls clings to his adamantine armor, he still seems to be a shining beacon to them. He is not the only warforged here, but he is clearly the only one taking active care of the district's infirm.

While moving through the cluttered alleys toward Adamant's tiny personal room, an old woman at the side of the street fixes her gaze on Condign as he passes. Her eyes look scarred and lacking retnas, suggesting blindness, but she seems to look straight at him.

"Rats and birds!" she shrieks at him. "The setting sun will seize your horizon!"

Adamant knows of the old woman; she is Wirtha, one of the saddest of the souls in High Walls. Not only did she lose her husband and two children on the Day of Mourning, but she allegedly saw them fall victim to the killing mists. Wirtha was one of the few people to have been so close to the arcane conflagration and lived. Her mind is largely unhinged; she was said to have scalded her eyes with acid shortly after arriving in High Walls.

[Darren]

"These are the best accomodations Jorasco could set you up with?" Kal says, clearly shocked. Then he realizes the offense he may have caused. "Please, Orval, I do not mean that your home is lacking. It is simply that a dragonmarked heir of the house deserves more. He deserves to be treated properly, with respect, by his House. Don't you agree?"