The Tale of the Forgehold Capers: A Story of Deceit and Friendship

The story of a tabaxi, a half elf, and the power of determination.

## Prologue

Within the city of Skyreach, the human masterminds of House Torball have constructed a sentient robotic race called 'warforged'. These creations, neither man nor machine, are used for all sorts of menial labor. They are stronger than a typical man, and their endurance is unmatched. Their success in the fields, either for labor or fighting, has caused them to be spread across Hasania, wherever the coin was abundant. Despite their abilities, they also contained within them something that perhaps House Torball would regret; a soul. Through the magics used to imbue their bodies with life, they were also given personality and livelihood. Perhaps something within the magnificent minds of the Torball craftsmen wanted to prove they could create something more than machine.

As time went on, some warforged were brought into better lives, leaving the laborious work behind. The divide became apparent, and unexpectedly the warforged in the labor classes began to grow rebellious. On a particular Ioniin day in Skyreach, at The Torball Forgehold deep within the Ashblack district, this rebellion was fueled by a creation gone wrong. House Torball had been tasked with creating a monstrous warforged, less 'man' and more 'war machine'. Through their process, the imbuing of the body with life went awry, and the creation sought nothing more than to destroy the lives of the 'soft' races around it. Perhaps the inner anguish of its warforged brethren had come to life in the form of this monstrosity. When the other warforged at the Forgehold caught wind of this, they cheered for their now imprisoned brother, calling for his freedom, and their own as well. This leads us to now...

## Chapter 1: Failed Acquisition

Ronwe and Nowun had just returned to The Drunken Dragon after a conversation at the Sanctum of Sages. The two would be headed to Ashblack momentarily, seeking to acquire an immovable rod. Earlier in the day, the half-elf Ronwe had inquired not-so-successfully about an immovable rod. The shop he visited, The Dragon's Hoard, was a prominent goods shop within Clifftop, and adventurers from all across the lands sought their inventory and offered recommendations on its behalf. The proprietor, a black dragonborn named Cozz'tek Taradis, was a usually well-tempered man, enjoying his business success and the conversations he would have with adventurers who had seen the world beyond the city walls. On this particular day, however, his temper had shifted to one of frustration and anger. Unbeknownst to Ronwe, who entered the shop eagerly with child-like wonder, Cozz'tek's shipment of immovable rods was delayed. As Ronwe approached the counter, Cozz'tek looked at him expectantly, fervently hoping that he would not ask about the availability of *those damned rods*. His wish would go ungranted.

"Do you have any immovable rods?" Ronwe asked. Cozz'tek eyed the half-elf, anger boiling up inside. It wasn't this fellow's fault, after all, that the rods were missing. How would he have known? But his inner fire, himself being of chromatic origin, was unabated. "Everybody wants an immovable rod!" Cozz'tek spat. Perhaps that was too eruptive, Cozz'tek thought. "Look, I've got a wait list... I've been waiting on my shipment for a while... The damned Torball craftsmen down at the forgehold are taking their sweet bloody time... much longer than usual." Ronwe's mood shifted to disappointment. "Is there anything I can do to help." Cozz'tek was surprised at this. An adventurer who actually lived by the unwritten code? "Look..." Cozz'tek said, exasperated, "how about if you can go get after them down at the forgehold, I'll give you one for free. It'd help get these buzzards off my back." Just as he finished those words, another adventurer walked up to the counter. "Do you have any immovable rods?" he asked. Cozz'tek spat.

## Chapter 2: Tension

Nowun led Ronwe deep into the city. Knowing that the lower wards of Vias were trouble, he led the two of them to Northgate via skyroach. From here, they descended down into the lower wards, which by normal standards were very well-kept and livable for a lower section of the city. The two descended further still, leaving the district of Longstairs behind for the slums of the Deepworks. Here, people lay hapless in the street, strung out, broken and destitute. The two made their way precariously through the crowds, avoiding peddling salesmen and other sorts of beggars. In the horizon, the broken ground gave way to a large opening which descended deep into the earth. Ahead, smoke stacks could be seen breaking through the ground, polluting the air above. Though for the people who lived down in the Deepworks, this was how things were, and they were forced to accept that. Nowun and Ronwe led themselves down the steep serpentine walkways into the deepest levels of the city, where a looming view of the Forgehold dominated their sights.

As the cavern opened up around them, they could see just how vast the Torball Forgehold was. House Torball, using their Mark of Making, had procured this space many years ago to establish a main location to complete the bulk of their builds. Since that time, the forge had grown to an immeasurable size filling the vast cavern with hundreds of feet of building and support structures to keep their operations afloat. Nowun and Ronwe waded through crowds of workers, their wiry bodies moving supplies and other materials to and from the forgehold. As the two walked closer to the large main doors of the forgehold, they saw a group of warforged collected outside, about 20 to 30 in number. They appeared to be chanting, with signs held high. They could hear several phrases being belted out with broken, mechanical voices "FAIR WAGES", "FREE OUR BRETHREN", "DOWN WITH THE FLESHFOLK!". Nowun, feeling brazen, approached the group of protesters. "Hey... what's going on?" he uttered, getting the attention of the closest warforged. The mechanization turned towards him, eyes alight with curiosity. "They have our brethren trapped within the walls of the forge! They pay us unfair wages! We are more than this!" the warforged recited. Nowun, not to be minimized, asked "How can we help?" "FREE OUR BRETHREN" is all he heard in reply. Nowun decided to take a different approach. "Who is in charge around here?" he inquired with the gusto and determination of a suburban mother. The warforged quickly pointed towards a small door off to the side which appeared to lead into an office. If his face could show fear, it surely would have.

## Chapter 3: Breaking In

The two approached the door and knocked. The door opened a moment later, with a mustached man peeking through the crack. "What do you want?" the man bellowed. "What's going on over there?" the two asked. The foreman, frustrated at being interrupted, turned the tables on the two adventurers. "How about I ask you two a question" he jeered "what are *you* doing down here, asking me questions, at my forgehold, dressed like *that*?" In reply, Ronwe stated they were looking for an immovable rod, and were told to come check on things. Eyes rolling, the foreman said back "Oh, so now those damned shopkeeps are sending errand boys to check on my business then?". He spat on the ground. "I don't owe you any explanation. We're tied up at the moment, but things will get done. Tell them the shipment will arrive soon." Before Nowun or Ronwe could reply, he slammed the door in their faces.

"So..." Nowun began to look off into the air, rubbing his furry chin with this hand "perhaps we could just walk in and see what's going on for ourselves." Ronwe looked at him, surprised at his unabashed confidence. Nowun met his eyes, stating with confidence "Yeah... you know, if we just act like we belong, they won't even question us. I may have had some experiences like this in the past. I think we can manage." Secretly a changeling, Ronwe knew a thing or two about changing forms, however as he had kept up his half-elven persona for some time, the thought of changing and surprising his companion at a time like this was out of the question. He would just have to play it cool. "And look!" Nowun said excitedly "there's just a clipboard laying here on the ground right at my feet! Everybody knows you don't question somebody with a clipboard." Ronwe nodded in agreement. That was one of the 6 truths that none could refute. The plan would surely succeed.

Clipboard in hand, the two approached the large main doors of the forgehold, moving past the protesting warforged. "FREE OUR BRETHEN" they bellowed. "Well" Nowun started "perhaps we'll kill the death robot." The protests, hearing his jeers, turned their anger towards the two. "DOWN WITH THE FLESHFOLK!" they screamed, their voices grinding above even the sounds of the large factory behind the doors. Smiling at his ability to anger them further, Nowun led himself and Ronwe to the main doors, where two guards stood, faces glazed over in frustration of being stationed across from protestors. The two adventurers walked right by them with no issues, entering the forgehold.

Within the forgehold, workers buzzed like bees, moving to and fro from projects. Materials moved wildly throughout the factory floor, with several large rooms sprouting from the main one. One in particular caught the attention of Ronwe. It was heavily barricaded, with metal welding and wooden logs used to keep the doors shut. As the two began to investigate, they were approached by a guard who was off-put by their curiosity. "What are you two doing?" he said sternly. Nowun and Ronwe turned, eyes wide. Thinking quickly, Nowun put on his most professional face. "Oh us? We're from home office. We're here to check out the problem." The guard stared for a moment, from Ronwe back to Nowun. "Oh. Of course. My apologies! Here, I'll show you."

## Chapter 4: The Colossus

The guard led the two to a side door. They entered the small metal hallway, passing multiple rooms along the way. They ascended up several flights of stairs, until finally reaching a room with a large window overlooking the factory floor below. The guard explained the situation. "So this up ahead is the observation room for this specific floor. Below you'll see the colossal warforged. Mind the blood... an unfortunate few have lost their lives trying to stop this thing." The guards head sank as he finished his statement. Nowun and Ronwe looked out of the window and saw chaos below. A large warforged, around 20-30 feet tall, was pacing about the massive factory. It has one arm equipped with a massive axe which dragged about the floor behind it, leaving a massive scar in its wake. Its other arm was like a hammer, with a massive steel ball on the end. Surrounding it were several bodies which were broken and bloodied, beyond saving. The guard turned towards them, a ghastly look on his face. "So... take your notes... I hope you guys back at home office can fix this. They're working on a way to remotely disable it, but who knows how long that will take." As he finished speaking, he left the room to wait for the two to finish their job.

Without missing a beat, Nowun banged on the window. The colossal warforged turned towards the window. Ronwe stared at Nowun, horrified. "Why did you do that?" Nowun shrugged his shoulders, "I think we can take it" he said brazenly. Then, the creature moved towards the window and raised its large hammer arm. As it did it let out a bellowing cry "DESTROY!". The arm crashed into the window, shattering it and denting in the floor of the room. It repeated this multiple times, leaving Nowun and Ronwe to find whatever cover they could. Between bashes, Ronwe turned to Nowun. "Well... maybe we can just take pot shots at it" he said, desperate. Nowun frowned. "I can't really help with that" he said "I've only got daggers." Ronwe steeled his will then attempted to dispel magic on the beast. Unfortunately, it had no effect. As that finished, the guard ran back up the steps. His eyes wild in fear, he shouted "We need to get out of here!" Ronwe and Nowun thought that sounded like a grand idea.

The three of them walked back down the stairs, into the cramped hallway below. The guard began talking about the recent goings on, but Ronwe had none of it. He snuck into a nearby room and investigated some boxes. He opened one and found a single immovable rod inside! What luck! Nowun noticed his companion was gone and snuck away from the guard, who clearly hadn't noticed their departures as he continued in his conversation, alone. Once he met up with Ronwe, he looked into the box with amazement. "Well, that's fortunate" Nowun said quietly. He picked up the rod and stashed it, and the two hurried back quietly to rejoin the guard. He led them to the exit. "Tell home office I said hi!" he said. Nowun answered "of course, Susan talks about you all the time." The guard smiled, turning to head back to his post. As he walked, his smile slid from his face as a thought dawned on him "Wait. Who is Susan?"

## Chapter 5: Alleviation

Out of the forgehold, prize in hand, Nowun and Ronwe made their way once more past the protesting warforged. A fire lit within Nowun as he was once again the target of their jeering. "DOWN WITH THE FLESHFOLK!" Nowun turned to the group, rage in his eyes "I. Have. Fur!" he said. With anger in his steps, he marched towards the leader of the protest. The others in the crowd couldn't help but give him space as he marched with the fervor of a suburban woman whose meal was made incorrectly. Approaching the leader, Nowun asked "Why are you guys even shouting? Calling me a fleshfolk is racist!" The warforged looked down at Nowun. Silence washed over the group. The workers moving to and fro from the forgehold stopped in their tracks, sitting to watch the confrontation. "Perhaps..." the warforged said, voice mechanical and suppressed "we are becoming what we ourselves fight against." He knelt down to ponder, as did the other protesting warforged. With their mechanical gears spinning, Nowun and Ronwe felt pleased with the result and left to rejoin their party at The Drunken Dragon.

## Epilogue

And thus ends the tale of the tabaxi and half-elf who just wanted a damned immovable rod, yet ended up causing a movement. Oh, and Nowun is totally a Karen.