FL-480-BC : Watcher

[earthwizard]

Reposted from Backgrounds:

FL-480-BC (Front Line 480 Brelish Commission)

It had gone by several names. When first manufactured, it was designated Front Line 480 Brelish Commission (FL-480-BC). During the war it became known simply as "Front", or after battles, "Survivor". After the Day of Mourning, locals along its patrol had referred to it as, "The Warforged", but it was never mindful of their talk. It had one purpose, to guard the boarder of Breland from the Mournland. So, it thought of itself mostly as "Watcher". That's what it spent most of its time doing, watching, and guarding.

The Day of Mourning had been a turning point for it. That's when it started thinking of itself more as an individual, a free spirited entity. He had lost his entire brigade that day. They had been battling deep within the boarder of Cyre when the mists came. Somehow he survived. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he awoke in a Cannith factory. It was decimated, but he couldn't tell by what. Did a battle take place here? Was it the events of the Day of Mourning?

With no one to command him he was left only to his thoughts. Much time went past as he sat among the ruins of the factory and the remains of his fallen brothers. He watched the mists come and go, and he watched shadows move through them. The whole while he sat perfectly still with no need to eat, or drink, or even sleep. He realized that he began thinking of himself, what he would do next, and without the command of another he got himself to his feet - his first act under his own desire. He shouldered his shield and sheathed his sword. Then he began walking. He thought it was the direction of Breland, but could not be sure.

It took some time before he reached the boarders of the mists. Had it been over a day of walking? He thought so. When he found the small hamlet he walked into town. Some locals confronted him. They didn't want him there, no trouble they said. The war was over, they said. He made his desires clear. He would patrol the boarder and keep the town safe in return for the repair services of the blacksmith and a place to rest for healing if needed. It was, after all, the only thing he knew. And he needed something to do while he could think: to think about his newfound free will. So he patrolled, and watched, and thought. For months he did so.

After some time and consideration, Watcher decided that he needed to find out what happened that day back in Cyre when the mists rose. He needed to know why he was no longer just a mindless soldier in an an army. But how would he learn this? He was ill prepared to just venture forth into the mists. He knew he would just get lost. Furthermore, whatever lurked in there might destroy him. Someone else must know. Sharn was the biggest city he knew of. Surely he could begin his search there. With no where else to go he ventured West, to Sharn . . .

[earthwizard]

Upgrades I

Brinjin, Aeron'eth and Watcher had made their way to the bank vault that belonged to Holma. Inside they found a mountain of wares, some useful, most not.

"What's this?" Brinjin held up what appeared to be the forearm of a warforged. Watcher strode over and took the arm.

Examining it, he said, "This is a component for my kind. I have seen some used during the Last War. They are very effective weapons."

His eyes shifted focus and discovered the other component resting on the table in front of him. "And this too. It produces light. I can use these." His metal and wood face was unreadable, but inside Watcher grinned.

Later, back at Bren's, Watcher began to adjust his components. First the light piece. After a twist and a click, it fit nicely in his chest. He focused and the light began to glow dimly. Yes, this would do nicely. No more need for carrying around those cumbersome glowsticks or worse: torches.

Then the arm. This was a little more complicated, but not insurmountable. Every warforged carries with him/her a set of tools and the Cannith creators were wise enough to fashion the arms such that each can be worked on one-handed. Watcher set to work. It took a few minutes before the new right forearm was in place.

He stood up and tried it out, focusing his mind. Nothing happened. Hmm. He thought. He shifted his body into a fighting stance and flicked his arm at the elbow. With a fluid motion, a switchblade sprung from the forearm, and the hand folded back to assume its vacant position. The switchblade unfolded a second and third time. Clicking into place, it revealed a longsword sturdy as any fashioned from a single piece of metal and sharp. This one had not yet been used. It attached to the arm with a wrist like joint, allowing full motion as if a hand held the hilt, and a pommel rested on the opposing side, balancing the weapon. Watcher tried a few swings in the air. It felt good. He tapped the blade on the nearby table and listened to it hum.

Yes, perhaps I am Blade now, or Switch. He looked down at the shield that rested on the floor, propped against the table. Maybe I am Shield. I do well to protect my allies in battle. Hmm, I will continue to search for a name. And I will find out what happened on the Day of Mourning.

[earthwizard]

Watcher could not be roused from his last extended rest. During this period he felt a presence both alien and familiar seeking him out. This presence carries with it a sense of comfort and home, and yet Watcher feels he has reason to fear it. He tried to keep still and quiet in an effort to hide himself, waiting and watching to decide whether to make himself known. During this time he could hear the soft call: "Forgechild.... Forgechild, where do you wander?"

At the last, Watcher could feel the presence gather its attention suddenly, focused on something nearby. In his meditative state, Watcher could piggyback on this perception and see what had suddenly distracted the presence. A powerful artifact of Cannith make had just been uncovered in a marketplace a few streets away from him. Sensing out through the artifact, he knew that his new friends were near to it. He was suddenly afraid for them, as whatever was searching for him desired that artifact with a near frenzied hunger.

Cannith. Trouble. Watcher quickly grabbed his pack and shield. He released the blade from his arm. It smoothly flicked out. Good. I'm ready. Returning the blade to its stowed position he set off toward the marketplace. There he expected to find the others. There he hoped to discover the nature of this troubling alien presence.

[earthwizard]

Goblins. Why am I here, helping them? Perhaps some remnant of a sense of duty toward Breland. I follow Bren, because the command structure is familiar. But now that the war is over I am more than just a soldier. I am an individual.

But what of my origins. What of House Cannith? Did they have a plan for the Warforged or were we just a means to gain power? I'd pursue the matter with MummyJohn, but he is a strange creature, outcast from his house (or some such) and more connected with organic growth than the forge. Though, there are organic parts within me.

And the day of Mourning. The mystery remains. I feel that mystery is beyond me yet.

At least this duty with the goblins will serve to test me and make me a better fighter. Already I have acquired new armor, something I can aspire to. I will take this plate mail and make it my own. I will scrub it clean of the paint left by the Emerald Claw soldier (pesky brats), and polish it until both it and I are worthy of each other.

[earthwizard]

Upgrades II

The party rested. Watcher only needed 4 hours of inactivity, so he took some extra time overnight to work on his armor. He removed his scale mail to make it easier to move and work with the plate. First he laid it out on the ground to examine it as a whole. He made sure each piece was placed correctly. Pauldrons, cuirass, culet, cuisses, greaves, rerebrace, vambrace, gauntlets. Slowly, meticulously, he picked up the pieces and examined them, identifying any scratches and dents. There were only a few.

Hmm, this armor is like me - still relatively untested. It's best days are yet to come.

Looking about his pack he thought, It appears I will not be cleaning you tonight, as I have no utensil to perform the task. Our first encounters together will be messy. That's alright. You'll serve as a constant reminder to better myself.

With that Watcher decided to take some time to practice a bit with his shield and sword. He taught himself two new techniques: One a double attack slashing move with his sword, the other a block and riposte using his shield. Satisfied that his imaginary foes lay decimated, he returned to the group and completed his rest.

The next day.

Battle, tactics. I feel invigorated! My new techniques are paying off. Though it seems Bren still needs to work on his. He keeps fumbling with that bow and getting himself surrounded by skeletons. He'd better learn it quickly.

Bren did, and Watcher was impressed. An adaptable leader. I can respect that.

After their first two encounters Watcher felt emboldened and stronger. The group was taking a short break. The fleshbags have to catch their breath. Watcher took the opportunity to break out his new plate armor.

"Brinjin, will you help me don this plate mail?"

"I just smash things."

Well, at least he's good at that.

"Bren, will you help me?"

"Sure, Watcher."

I feel a bit encumbered, but it will do. I must always work to improve myself.

"Thanks, Bren. Let's go crack some skulls."

[earthwizard]

A Cannith foundry.
Back to the Mournland.
A supernatural presence.
Bring it on.

I am strong now. I am always improving. I am ready to test myself against the Truth of Past Days, whatever that may be.

Though I have been battered, I have not yet been knocked down. Weapons clashed against me, but I was not broken. At the end of battle, always I remained standing, with the flesh of the dead about me.

I have followed the others. I have stood as their fortress. Now this forgechild returns.

[earthwizard]

Upgrades III

My traveling companions have been gracious. With the resources of our accumulated wealth, and the talents of Mummyjohn, they crafted a new sword arm for me. I am now more efficient.

Though, I saw in the market a slate of metal so pure and hard that an average hammer and smith could not dent it. Adamantine plates that can be forged and bound to a warforged. Hmm, I will have to keep watch for this.

---------

Mummyjohn. He bears the mark of making, though claims no allegiance to House Cannith. He has proven trustworthy in battle. Though, he still confounds me. He is man, he is wolf. He appears to be very close to nature, yet embraces the crafting ability he was born with. He is an enigma, and I think will remain so. This business with the mechanical drakes may bring out his true motives, whatever they may be.

Mechanical drakes. Who would think of such a thing? Probably the same people who thought of mechanical men. Cannith. Why did they create us? Was it just for war? Did they intentionally give us sentience? Is my 'soul' part of their design? Or are we Warforged an unexpected twist in their plans? And have they abandoned men in favor of dragonkind or are some other hands at work here attempting to imitate that of Cannith? We will find out.

[earthwizard]

Calmachia - so we have discovered you and all the corruption you represent. You bitch. You tortured and slaughtered my companions. You deserve worse than we granted. But it is over now. Begone, you wretched creature. I have avenged my comrades and my captain.

And now who is this? An even greater dragon appears before us - Khyber himself. Well Khyber, I have destroyed your perversion of a daughter. Do you now wish to avenge her? One soul for another? No? Fine. What do you want then?

Calmachia is dead. I found the fate of my comrades. Am I now free of my past? Where do I go from here? Built for battle, that is what I will do. I will champion the warforged. I will protect them when they cannot protect themselves. I will inspire them when they are tread upon. We will no longer be experiments. We will be accepted as unique sentient beings. We demand it.

[earthwizard]

After the encounter with the Lamia

Damn, that bitch was tough. What happened? We fought as we always do. This place is unlike Eberron. We will have to adapt. I must examine my technique.

[earthwizard]

What madness drove me here?

Since when has Aeroneth been afraid of portals? Since when has he been wary of the arcane?

Take this. Find a place where the veil is weak and cut through. This will want to go home.

Here we have explicit instructions, yet my companions do not wish to follow through with them. What madness has corrupted them? Or has some madness corrupted me instead?

Gwen, she has been distant for some time. Though she's traveled with us and fought beside us, I do not think she considers herself "part of our group". She could leave us at any time. Surely she sees no reason to pursue this. That must change. Unit cohesion is imperitive to mission success. I must convince her that we are acting to further the good of Eberron - to prevent catastrophe.

Aeroneth, he wishes to return home to the Feywild. What has he here? Gydd. I have seen the way he acts around her. Surely somewhere in that arcane mind of his is wisdom enough to see that his new home is here on Eberron, along with the fate of those he cares for. Still, his feyspire was under assault in the future we visited. It is an integral clue to the spread of the mist.

Mummyjohn - he must see that his brother is tied to this somehow.

Jozan - some men are just cowards. It doesn't matter how much you try to knock sense into them. Still, even cowardly men deserve protection, and Jozan has shown his value more than enough. I almost feel sorry about dragging him along with us through these ludicrous travels. Sometimes I think he'd be better off settling in Sharn. Despite his cowardace, he seems to want to travel with us, and that is enough for me. Sometimes, when war comes to you, you must go with the army you have, not the army you wish you had.

Still, I would be comforted by a legion of warforged at my back. What are they doing? Who is tempting them with this talk of a dead god? More madness. My people are being preyed upon yet again. They have power of their own. If only they had a cause. We could be great once more.


. . .


Sharn is in ruins, and Brinjin is here. Some strange events are certainly afoot. The mists are re-writing time. Perhaps this has something to do with the Lord of Blades. Perhaps this has something to do with that warforged cult I found in Sharn. Perhaps it has to do with the draconic profecy. Certainly it has to do with this damned blade of Asherta.

If this is the future that awaits us, then we must do everything we can to prevent its occurance. Brinjin is here - he will certainly know what is going on. A clue here will help us resolve things in our own time before they get out of hand.

[earthwizard]

5 Minutes . . .

Watcher awoke alone in the cave-like room. The only sound was the soft humming of the arcane portal at the center.

What happened? I need to remember. Why am I here? My blades. A battle.

Watcher bolted upright to a fighting stance. He examined his surroundings. Nothing. Nothing? Not a damn thing!? Suddenly he was reminded of the Day of Mourning. He'd been knocked unconscious then and left for dead. A chill came over him, and had he flesh he would have shuddered at the haunting memory.

Mymmy-John! The present came rushing back, and a hot anger along with it. How could I have let him die!? Fight a cloud? Why did I think I could even attempt such a thing? What good are blades against mist? The deep anger at himself and the mist creature built to a rage, and Watcher let out a scream that echoed through the chamber, rattling the loose stones nearby. His sigil and eyes glowed a furiously bright red.

I should have assisted with the barrier. We'd all be alive then, or at least on the other side of the . . . portal. Watcher's attention focused on the portal that dominated the center of the room.

Gwen. Aeroneth. Both went through the portal. Why didn't they return? Those crow-begotten cowards left Mummy-John to die!

His anger had gotten the better of him in that moment, but Watcher knew how to shake off emotion. He knew how to focus his anger, and his intelligence told him who was really to blame here - the mist and the creatures of Xoriat. And himself. He kept second guessing his actions. Why couldn't he wrench Mummy-John out of the mist? What was he thinking trying to attack it in the first place?

He took another few moments to calm himself and focus his mind. Neither Gwen nor Aeroneth returned, and that could only mean one thing: something on the other side was preventing them from doing so.

It could simply be a one-way portal and they'd be waiting for him, and Mummy-John. Or. Or they could be in some danger themselves. By now they've either overcome whatever is on the other side or perished themselves. Well now Mummy-John was dead. Possibly Gwen and Aeroneth as well. No. I will not let that happen. I will not fail them again. If they are dead then I will not let them perish in vain. I will complete this mission, and destroy those who stand in my way.

Watcher readied his swords. The slithering sound of steel being drawn clinked and echoed through the cave. He set his body into a battle crouch and strode smoothly, patiently, into the portal.