MagiStream

Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four

(I normally I don't put a special forward, but this one seemed to warrant it. Feel free to skip, though if you're not familiar with Eberron (or are, for that matter) I'd at least advise skimming down to the Notes part below for a few terms and explanations.)

In every author's career I believe there are some characters who possess such a vibrant and forceful personality that they take on a life of their own, even if they weren't intended to do so. These characters invite their authors to look deeper, to peer into their pasts and find their histories. They take the stage like supernovas. For a famous example, R.A. Salvatore found this when he discovered Drizzt running across the snowy plains of Icewind Dale (pick up a copy of the Collector's Dark Elf Trilogy – or was it Icewind Dale Trilogy, I've got both and can't remember – if you don't believe me). I myself have found a few of these, all non-main characters.

The star of this story is another. Originally I created him as an NPC (non-player character) in my gaming group's Eberron campaign, but from the moment he first appeared he shone as more than a regular NPC. Something about him captured my attention, and since then he's gone from NPC to the source and focus of several of their most memorable adventures, and has secured a place in my heart. And as it happened I read a line in a supplement book speaking of soldiers standing in their units on the parade grounds for days, simply because no one gave them orders to move. An image appeared in my mind of a unit of soldiers, standing at attention in the rain, waiting for orders that would never come. One spoke his name to me, and I knew this was my Maximillian, before I first encountered him. This was his story, of a Warforged searching for his place in a world of peace, and he was asking me to tell it, to see for myself the events that had shaped his life.

And I was more than happy to oblige.

So I invite you to look with me, and see how one Warforged, born into war and knowing only battle, grew into a character that became my supernova in Eberron.

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Useful Terms

Warforged – A race of living constructs (like sentient golems; fans of Transformers, Mega Man (any variant) and Full Metal Alchemist (think Al) especially should get the idea); Created for combat (hence the name) in the Last War, but afterwards declared a free race.

Last War – A war lasting 102 years that engulfed the Five Nations of Khorvaire, Eberron's primary continent.

The Five Nations: (as viewed by my gaming group, all opinions are subjective)

Breland – kinda like America in that its people enjoy great personal freedom and civil liberty.

Aundair – flamboyant and extravagant, and love their wine and high living, very fancy

Thrane – a religious theocracy (run by a little girl, no less)

Zilargo – the Gnomish nation (and in Eberron, gnomes are not the mischievous pranksters and 'mad scientist' tinkerers that some other campaigns make them out to be. They're friendly, cunning, clever, and to an extent even manipulative. They got through the war virtually bloodlessly by just surrendering to Breland, as long as Breland agreed to let them continue to run themselves.)

Cyre/ The Mournlands – Once the 'Jewel of Galifar,' now devastated by a magical assault of unknown origin that began in Metrol, its capital, and spread in a killing fog which now lines the boarders with eerie accuracy. All within is now barren and what life remains is sickly, mutated, and twisted, and those that lay die or died within do not decay,making the battlefields of Cyre truly freaky; the dead look like they just died, moments ago, rather than years ago. The Cyre Refugees now live in Breland for the time being.

Notes on Warforged

This story is written using my (and thus my gaming group's) interpretation of Warforged, based off information presented in the Eberron Campaign setting. However, some things (that might be debatable) warrant explanation:

Warforged do not sleep. However, we decided they could go into a state of rest like when a human 'rests their eyes,' because it's either expected of them, they have nothing better to do, or simply have a personal desire to. This dormancy does not leave them insensate to the world around them; they simply choose to be still and quiet for a time, and thus are not disorientated or groggy if 'awoken.' When I refer to 'sleep' in context with Warforged, this is what I mean.

Warforged do not eat, drink, or breathe, though they can choose to do either if they want. Typically a 'Forged will eat to gain the benefits of a helpful spell (such as with the Goodberry or Heroes' Feast spells) or to keep their non-'Forged friends company. As they don't breathe, they are not subject to drowning, suffocation, or inhaled substances, though they can take in and exhale breath such as to sigh or to play a wind instrument.

'Forged are made mostly of adamantine. Some have varied colorations, such as copper or silver, but this does not change their composition. It is just cosmetics.

Being made of metal, 'Forged cannot form facial expressions, nor, technically, can they blink. However, we judged that they could shut down their sight when needed (such as dealing with a basilisk or Medusa) and thus if I say 'blink' I am referring to this ability. Most of their emotions are also displayed in their eyes (ie smiling, frowning, or being startled) though I will term it in a regular way ('The 'Forged smiled.')

Although genderless, 'Forged take up male of female personalities which is reflected in their voices (female-personality 'Forged having higher-pitched voices than male-personality 'Forged) and sometimes in their behaviors and/or appearance (a male less likely to wear jewelry than a female). Their voices are not robotic or synthesized-sounding, but like a human's.

'Forged are given their names oftentimes based off of their abilities or weapons/fighting style, and can act as clues to this (Ironfist, for example, is an unarmed fighter, while Shadow is a rogue who is good at stealth). Later on, some change their names or are given new names by their allies due to any number of reasons, such as a particular deed or habit, or just for the fun of it.

A 'Forged oftentimes picks up hobbies of sorts, things to keep them busy when not applying themselves to specific tasks (often repetitive, like counting nearby objects). Some 'Forged also have unique 'traits' that tend to tie in to their abilities and hobbies (an archer with this might be able to judge angle and distance with his eyes to a high degree of accuracy, and for a hobby create arrows, which would have a greater chance to hit their target as a result of being naturally straighter).

OK, enough blather from me. Go on to Chapter One. ;)

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Epilogue:

Thronehold....

It was a place not many of them had ever been to or even seen. For most, it was merely ink on paper, letters on a map.

But for those Warforged who survived the Last War, 'Thronehold' was about to have great meaning, as more ink letters on yet more paper were about to change their lives forever....

Chapter One: ...Freedom?

“ - And thus as agreed upon and signed by the heads of the Five Nations, the Last War is over.”

Rend was a relatively young Warforged. He'd only come out of a House Cannith forge three years before this day. In face, were he human (or elven, or gnomish or dwarven or anything but a Warforged) some might say it was his birthday. But 'birthday' was a word that meant nothing to Rend, as the words the grandly-dressed man before him was saying meant nothing. He'd been ordered to come out to the practice grounds outside their camp, one belonging to a large unit of Brelish infantry to which his own 'Forged unit was attached to, and Rend obeyed what his commanders told him. It was a fact that had been made perfectly clear to him on his initial 'birthday': Good soldiers obeyed their commanders without question, and good soldiers were praised. Praise, the Warforge's only reward.

But these meaningless words... they were not orders. Rend knew the tone of orders. They were blunt, to the point, containing a stated goal and a time to achieve it. This man, however, had been talking for an hour, reading from several scrolls all filled with meaningless words.

But Rend had been ordered to stand and listen, and Rend was a very good soldier.

“In regards to the Warforged who were – ahem – bought to fight in the armies of the Five Nations - “ Aha! Here were the orders! Rend listened intently. “ - they are all decreed to be a race unto themselves, and are now a free people.”

The man went on for another half an hour, talking of boundaries and land and rulers, but Rend, for all his obedience, barely heard him. The orders he'd been listening for... where were they? Had he missed them?

The commanders will know, Rend thought, falling back to his old stand-by when he was confused. I will listen to this man, and then they will give me my orders.

At last the man rolled up the final scroll, stopped talking, and rode off on the horse he'd been speaking from.

And the Warforged stood there.

Hours passed.

And they still stood there.

No commanders came. The sun began to set.

Some of those with previous, routine duties, such as polishing weapons or tending to the animals, moved off as their appointed times rolled around. But Rend was a fighter, and his only other occasional duty was to stand guard. But he had no standing orders as where his post was. So he, and many others, stood there.

Night fell, passed, the sun rose and set, and night again fell and passed. It rained, a steady downpour that pattered off their adamantine bodies. But adamantine couldn't rust. That would've given them reason to move, to protect their gear as many human soldiers would've done. But as they couldn't, they just stood there.

And waited....

Chapter Two: Leaving

Some time had passed. Rend never really paid attention to the passage of days, except when told to do so, so he wasn't really sure how long he'd stood there. Rather dimly, he'd become aware of the face that some of the others had, for whatever reason, left, mostly because of the increased sensation of the wind upon him. In fact, he could nearly say for certain that only his unit remained. Of the twenty-five of them that had been commissioned together as a unit, only ten of them remained to this day. Rend knew each of their names. He'd needed to, so he'd know who to protect or who to speak to about a mission or such.

Bow was just to his left, an archer. Shock was to his right, a spellcaster with a penchant for electricity magic. In front were Scout, a tracker, Sever Brave, another spellcaster who'd distinguished himself for some heroics when he'd been cut off from the others, and Reach, a halberd user, from left to right. Behind, in the same manner, were Dagger and Shadow, roguish types, and Ironfist, an unarmed fighter, and behind Shadow was Sargent, their direct superior. They always assembled in this manner, every day.

Just then, Rend spotted a person approaching out of the corner of his eye. He stiffened to full attention, glad to finally be about to receive orders.

But as the person drew near, Rend felt a new sensation, one of... wrongness. If he'd been not a 'Forged, he might have called the feeling 'dread,' for the person, a gnome, wasn't wearing the clothes of a commander or soldier or even a cadet. He was wearing traveling clothes and carrying funny tools and a bundle of scrollcase. He paused when he saw the 'Forged just standing there.

“What are you doing, just standing there? Don't you know the War's over?”

“We're awaiting orders, sir,” Sargent answered, as it was his job to answer such general questions.

“Orders? You Warforged are all daft! You've been freed, so get on outta here! This land's gonna be mapped, charted, and used for better purposes. Go on, get!” And he tramped off, muttering about 'dunderheaded Warforged,' before abruptly turning back. He strolled right up to Sargent. “Say, what's your name?”

“Sargent,sir.”

“Well, Sargent, I could use a hand. This stuff is heavy, and I've got a lot of land to survey. Why not make yourself useful and carry it for me? It'll give you something to do.” Rend heard a long pause, then he heard the rattling of the gnome's instruments. The next thing he saw, Sargent was walking away with the gnome, calling out, ”Dismissed!” as he left. Freed by the command, the remaining nine fell out of attention and looked around.

“Where is everyone?” Scout asked in a tone that could be called 'female.'

“I guess we go back to camp,” Rend offered, and they moved off.

But, much to their surprise and confusion, the camp was gone! There were no people, animals, no tents or campfires or anything! Rend automatically looked for Sargent for orders, but then he remembered Sargent had left with the gnome.

“We...” he said slowly, “we're on out own.”

For a few moments, they were all too stunned to move. They were used to obeying orders, but now there were no orders to be obeyed.

“Let... lets go to the road,” Shock said,somewhat forced. “Maybe someone will be there.” The nine headed to the nearby supply road. During the war, before the man with the scroll had arrived, the road had been very busy. Now, it was deserted.

“Someone will come,” Rend assured, himself most of all. He had to believe it.

“Someone will come for us.”

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Oh, people did come. Merchant wagons, travelers, envoys from here and there, lots of people. And they did notice the Warforged unit, and even spoke to them. But they didn't explain, other than to say the 'Forged were 'free' and did they want to help the people, to escort them or carry things. At first the group of 'Forged stayed together, but then Sever Brace spoke up.

“Look, we can't stay here forever. They've been saying we're 'free' right? Well, we were bought before, to fight. Maybe they mean we're available for anyone to order around.”

“Could that be it?” Ironfist wondered.

“One way to find out,” Sever replied as another wagon approached. Quite deliberately he stepped forward, singling himself out. The wagon stopped, and the driver looked Sever over.

“You lookin' for work?” he asked. Sever thought a moment, then nodded, and the man gestured him over. “No room to ride. You mind walkin'?”

“No, I do not.” A nod from the driver, flick to the horse's reins, and Sever just walked away, without a backwards glance.

“Is it – that easy?” Shadow wondered. “We just – go?” No one had an answer, but more people passed over the next couple of days, and one by one the group dwindled until it was just Shock, Bow, and Rend. Then a merchant caravan took both Shock and Bow, and Rend was alone, at the side of the road.

The flow of traffic slowed, and eventually Rend decided to move, to try elsewhere. He walked for a good many days down the road, stopping at a three-way crossroads.

And he waited.

Chapter Three: Hunter

The sound of footsteps alerted Rend to approach. On reflex he looked. This was the first being he'd seen in over a month, he thought. And he was in for a surprise.

It was a lone figure wearing a green cloak, a belt that held a longsword and several pouches, a strap across his chest that held a quiver of arrows and a bow, and seemingly full plate armor. He was as tall as Rend was, and as broad. But what surprised the 'Forged the most was when he realized the person wasn't wearing armor, but had actually a metallic silverish colored body and three-fingered hands...

It was another 'Forged! But Rend had never really heard of 'Forged wearing clothes like a person. They were technically genderless, and their armored bodies were more than enough protection, both from battle and from the elements. But the green cloak fluttered lightly behind this new 'Forged as he walked, and as he drew near Rend could hear he was singing or humming to himself. When he saw Rend standing there, however, he stopped singing and quickened his pace.

“Greeting,” he called, lifting a hand in a friendly wave. Rend waved back, having been around humans and the other races long enough to know this was the proper response. In the back of his mind he thought there was something – different – about this 'Forged, but before he could puzzle it out he had company. “What are you going, standing out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“I am waiting for someone to come along and say that they want me to escort them, or carry something, or whatever else they might want me to do,” Rend replied.

“I see... why not just walk down the road, make your own way in life?” At this, Rend was confused.

“What do you mean?”

“We're a free people, now,” the stranger said.

“Yes, I know. We're free, so anyone can use us for tasks.” The 'Forged chuckled. Rend had never heard a Warforged actually laugh before.

“No, no... 'Free' in this case means we don't have to listen to anyone anymore. The only person we have to obey is ourselves. We can make our own choices about our lives. The Treaty of Thronehold said that, so it's now fact.” He pointed down the left fork of the road, the way Rend had come. “You could walk down that road, see someone who wanted you to carry a bag, and say 'No,' if you wanted.” Rend blinked.

“Disobey an order?”

“There are no orders anymore, save the ones you give yourself.” The new 'Forged held out a hand. “I'm Hunter.”

“I'm Rend,” Rend responded, shaking hands much in a human manner. Hunter eyed the two swords Rend wore, one on each hip secured by a worn chain belt.

“A dual-wielder,” he observed. “Never my strong suit. Let me guess: You were just told that all Warforged were free and no one explained it, right?” Rend nodded.

“There were ten of us left, but Sargent went off with a gnome, and the others found people to serve, and I was left.”

“Well, I'm glad you were. It's been a lonely road. Care to join me?” Rend started to nod, but Hunter's quickly upraised hand stalled him. “Now, listen close, Rend, this is important. It's possibly the most important part of being free and alive: Choice. I am not ordering you to accompany me. I'm letting you choose for yourself. What to you want to do?”

For a moment, Rend went blank. No one had ever really asked him what he wanted before. It was always “Do – Yes, sir!” But to choose.... Hunter chuckled again.

“Take your time. I can stand here just as long as you can.” A glimmer of understanding pierced Rend's long-held ideas.

“But you don't have to. You could choose to leave.” Hunter laughed right out loud, a broad, boisterous sound that Rend found he honestly liked.

“Yes, I could. But I choose to stay until you decide.” He was smiling kindly, Rend noticed. He'd heard some humaniods say that 'Forged couldn't smile or frown, but Rend had come to understand that they could, if you only looked at their eyes instead of their mouths.

“Then, Hunter...I choose to go with you.”

“Excellent! I can help you understand what's happened to us, and you can keep me company.” He looked down the forks of the road. “Hmm... Which way looks good to you?” Rend eyes the road too, then looked back at his new companion.

“Um... Left?”

“Was that a choice, or a question?” Hunter's teasing tone erased the last of Rend's unease at this new, somewhat frightening situation.

“Left.”

“Then left it is.”

Chapter Four: Being Alive

It was much better not to be alone. Hunter did most of the talking that first day, telling of himself. Hunter was forged in Breland, in fact in the same Sharn Forgehold as Max himself, was older by about two years, and had served in a larger unit of their kinsmen. He'd fought all over the newly-peaceful Five Nations, alongside and against virtually everyone. They'd even been at the same battles on a few occasions, though the chaos and their at-the-time focus on orders prevented any memories of having seen each other to form. As a general rule, Hunter was that, a hunter. He could track, use a bow very well, and hunt animals to feed the army or hunt people that needed finding. He could also hold his own in melee combat with a longsword and handle animals fairly well.

He'd been in Thronehold at the time of the Treaty, and as such he'd been one of the first 'Forged to hear of their 'liberation.' Fortunately, the one who'd told him had taken the time to explain a little more, so he understood.

After Rend told his story, Hunter deduced, since he knew more or less how far they'd been from Thronehold when they'd met, that the dual-wielder had been standing there for nearly three months, all through the (typically Brelish) mild winter.

“Most 'Forged have become indentured servants,” he told Rend around noon the second day, as he was speaking of the other 'Forged he'd encountered. Hunter sighed as he said it.

“What's that?”

“It means they agree to work for someone for a stated amount of time. Honestly, it's not half a step from what they considered us to be before: property. But it's a life they chose, willingly if not fully understanding the option available.” He sighed again. “There's just so much more out there to see and experience.”

“You say 'choice' and 'choose' a lot,” Rend observed. Hunter chuckled.

“It's part of an understanding I've developed. You see, we're alive, not mindless like the golems we resemble. All 'Forged are. And being alive entails certain things. To be 'alive' a creature must be able to think and decide for itself on matters. That was the deciding factor in the Treaty that gave us our freedom; we could think and clearly had free will. A rock cannot think, nor can a skeleton, thus neither is alive even if the skeleton rises to attack you. Secondly, everything that is alive, that can think for itself and possessed free will, humans and elves and us, has the right to choose for themselves what their lives will become. We were denied that before, we weren't even told we had an option, other than to fight who we were told to. But now we can choose. It's our right, and our privilege. But we have to be careful in making our choices. Most choices result in consequences, both good and bad. Us 'Forged are much tougher and in some cases stronger than others, and physically we could take whatever we wanted by force, but eventually we would be punished in the end, and innocent people could get hurt. Good choices, rather, are rewarded, such a loyalty and obeying the law of the kingdom we inhabit. Keeping this in mind helps protect those who could be hurt by us. And probably the most important is that if you are alive, then by all that's good live! That's the purpose of being alive; enjoying it to it's fullest.” Rend thought about this for a moment, then responded,

“I'm not sure I understand.”

“Hmm...” Hunter thought, then grinned. “I noticed when we sheltered from that particularly nasty lightening storm last night you picked up a rock and began rubbing it with your fingers. Why?”

“I've found that it helps me pass the time to try and shape stones. My adamantine fingers smooth them out into rough shapes. I believe it's called stone carving.”

“I do something similar. I picked up the habit of braiding rope, leather strips, whatever I could when I had nothing to do. No one told me to do it, I just did. That is choice.” He gestured to the road ahead. “There are unlimited possibilities to explore, things to see that others take for granted, that we've never even dreamed of. I intend to see and experience it all. That is life!” Caught up in Hunter's excitement, Rend felt a thrill ripple through him. “Like mountains. I've seen them from a distance, but never gotten close to one, let alone climbed it. But now that I'm free, I'm going to someday, right up to the very top!”

“I think I understand, a little. Life is about doing whatever you want?”

“In a way. Of course, you have to obey a kingdom's laws, for your own safety, but beyond that anything is possible. And life is about more than doing, too. It's about emotion.”

“Emotion?”

“The other races have a zeal for life that I've only just noticed myself. A person will defend his life with everything he's got, even if he's a homeless beggar in the streets. They cherish it, no matter how bad it is. I've found that emulating this zeal makes me feel more alive.”

“That's it! That's what is so different about you!” Rend exclaimed. “You're the most emotional Warforged I've ever known.” Hunter gave that laugh again, clapping an arm around Rend's shoulders.

“I'd bet I am. And you're progressing nicely yourself, Rend.”

“Huh?”

“Think back. You stood in more or less one place for over a month, simply because no one told you to move. And just take a look at yourself now. I'd bet you've never been as intuitive as you've become. Twice since we've met you've interpreted for yourself what I intended to say, just now and when you said I could've left you at the crossroads if I'd chosen too. And if you'll pardon my saying, you seem happier.” Rend thought about that for a moment, then let a smile touch his eyes.

“I am happier. I feel more... there, if you can understand what I mean. More real.”

“That's being alive, Rend. It's ours to enjoy, every moment of every day. And speaking of days and moments - “ Hunter eyed the sky. “ - I think I'm about to be late.”

“Late?”

“There's been a couple of other Warforged I've met who've agreed with me, about being alive. One had a task to complete, and the other, who'd I'd been traveling with for a bit, said he'd guide her to a meeting place we knew of not far from here today. That's why I was on that road in the first place.”

“Then what would you have done if I had said the right path?” Hunter thought for a moment, then replied,

“Probably said, 'Then let me go get my friends down the left fork, and we'll go right.” A laugh burst out of Rend before he could help it. Hunter joined in, then jogged a bit ahead.

“C'mon, Rend. I think you'll like them.” Rend nodded, eager to make new friends, and the pair jogged on down the road.
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Just wanted to say that I'm glad to see some are reading my little tale, and that reviews and constructive criticisms are welcome! They help encourage me!

Chapter Five: Reunion

It was near sunset by the time they reached a spot in the road where Hunter veered away, out onto the open plains. He paused to point on down the road.

“If you were to follow that road a few days, it would lead you right to Wroat,where King Boranel lives.”

“Wroat... I've heard of it, but never been there.”

“Well, we'll stop in someday, I promise.”

“Okay, but we'd better get going.” They continued on, following a route that apparently Hunter knew by heart,until they neared a large tree. Two forms were seated beneath it, one reading, one apparently watching for them because that one stood and waved.

“Sorry I'm late!” Hunter called as they jogged closer.

“Pick up another lost soul?” came the female-toned reply, and for a moment Rend stopped dead in his tracks before darting ahead past a rather startled Hunter.

“Scout?” he called. The other 'Forged looked up, as the first called back,

“Rend? I don't believe it!”

Scout met Rend about halfway, pulling him into a quick hug. When he pulled back, Rend could clearly see a gleam in her eyes, one he'd never noticed there before. Scout turned back to look at the other at the tree, and Rend received a second shock.

“Sever?” Sever tucked away his spellbook and stood, moving to join them.

“Rend, good to see you again.”

“All of you know each other?” Hunter finally asked as he too stood with the trio.

“Scout, Sever, and I were all in the same unit,” Rend happily explained.

“Well! A fortunate meeting indeed,” Hunter said laughingly. “You split up along one road, which I just happen to come strolling down to incidentally collect Rend, unknowingly reunited three comrades in the process.”

“Have you seen any of the others? Shadow, or Shock, or Ironfist?” Scout shook her head.

“Not a one, until Hunter and Sever found me.”

“We'll find them someday,” Rend promised her. Hunter nodded in agreement.

“I'm certain of it.” The four sat down under the tree, and shared stories all night. Rend did notice that Sever spoke the least, and didn't really seem to listen to the stories or to the others comments.

But then again, Rend thought to himself, Sever has always been a smart one. He probably has this whole freedom thing figured out. And if he and Hunter found Scout, then they must have been traveling together for some time.

He didn't let it bother him again.

Chapter Six: Savage

Another couple of months passed, with the four Warforged traveling together. During that time, Rend noticed several things. First and foremost, Hunter had become their leader. And it wasn't in a way that Rend was used to. Leaders, before, made all the decisions and then told subordinates what to do. But they made decisions as a group, and Hunter never once asserted his ideas over the others', even is he was out-voted. He also listened more than Rend's previous leaders had done; He listened to them, to anyone they met (and they met quite a few people, as Hunter seemed to gravitate towards them, drawn by their energy and life), and even seemingly to himself, never saying anything without being sure it was what he meant to say. Rend found he trusted Hunter, respected him, and even felt fond of him, a sign of his emotional progress, Hunter informed him.

“Caring for another being is a high emotion,” he'd said the night Rend had asked about it. “It's a selfless thing, and one we weren't intended to be given at the start, another sign we're alive.” And he's playfully punched Rend's arm lightly. “And I've always thought of you as a little brother or sorts, Rend. After all, we did both come out of a Sharn forge.”

Even as Rend himself grew, so to had they all. Scout became more affectionate, and playful, more outgoing than she'd been before. Rend had no end of 'fun' (another new term from Hunter) teasing her and getting teased back, and began to think of her as something between a very dear friend and a beloved sister. Sever, meanwhile, became very serious, and intense. He didn't speak much, especially if they were around others, and sometimes if Rend stood too close to him, he almost felt a pulse of – something – emanating from the spell caster, straining to burst out at a moment's notice. Rend wasn't sure who it would be aimed at when it finally erupted, but fervently hoped it wouldn't be him.

Hunter,meanwhile, seemed to soak up every new sensation and experience around him. When they entered any populated area, any city or town no matter how small, he could look at nearly every sound to see what caused it, pause frequently at shops to see whatever was for sale,and when they'd encountered a festival, they'd spent all day exploring (fun for Rend and Scout, Sever mostly brooded). Hunter had even used some money he'd earned early on after the Way from tending animals and such to make a few purchases: a larger quiver for himself, a silver necklace for Scout, a scroll case for Sever, and a set of rock carving tools for Rend. It didn't take the dual-wielder long to put the small pick, sanding and smoothing clothes, and others items to good use, turning a few previously collected stones into more detailed creations.

Then came the day they saw him.

They had come upon the settlement everyone was calling New Cyre. Little more than a refugee tent-city Hunter said it was a fine example of the zeal for life he'd spoken of earlier.

“When their homeland was destroyed, the Cyrans banded together and used each other for strength and support, and are working to move on, to rebuild what they lost. Very admirable.”

“I'd heard that Cyre was destroyed,” Scout commented. “What caused it?”

“No one knows,” Sever replied. “Not one of the nations is taking responsibility for it, and blaming each other.”

“All the blame in the world won't give them back Cyre,” Rend said softly, getting an approving nod from Hunter.

“No, Rend, it won't. But if someone would just say it, the closure it would bring might be worth it.”

They stayed there all day. Hunter went from refugee to refugee, speaking with them, saying he found their determination admirable and vowing if he ever discovered who caused the Day of Mourning, he'd make certain they faced justice. At first surprised to hear such sentiments from a Warforged, they accepted his words with nods, and a few tears. Then, as night fell, the four 'Forged caught sight of a bonfire glowing in the not-too-far-away distance, apparently drawing a large crowd.

“Hmm...” mused Sever quietly. “Now what do you supposed is going on over there?”

“One way to find out. Lets go.” The four jogged over, and were surprised a bit to see it was a gathering of Warforged. One, a powerful-looking brute with several spiked covering his armor, was standing on a rock and apparently giving a speech.

“We were enslaved, nothing but property to be used and discarded, thrown away like so much scrap metal when they were through with us!” Almost instantly Rend, Scout, and Sever felt a change in the air around Hunter. The Warforged looked grim as he observed the scene.

“Savage...” he growled softly, before moving forward, gently weaving his way through the crowd.

“What's going on?” Rend whispered to his comrades. Scout shrugged.

“Whatever it is, it feels dangerous,” Sever Brave whispered back. “Be ready.”

“And now that we're 'free,' we have virtually one option before us. Servitude. Even now, they seek to enslave us!” A forged scattered through the crowd gave a rallying cry. “And- those Thrane religious bigots! Have you heard what they say of us?” Another cry. “They say we're soulless!” The yells turned angry. “I say, if they believe we're soulless, we show them the truth! We show them who's really soulless - “

“And how do you propose to do that, Savage?” Hunter's question stilled the crowd as he broke through to the front. “Cut open every being who disagrees with you, looking for it?” The air filled with tension.

“Hunter,” Savage greeted with a growl. “Still spouting your nonsense, I see.”

“No more nonsense than yours,” Hunter replied. “I care not whether you agree with me, or can barely stand to look at my face. But I warn you, for your own good, Savage: You're about to start down a dark road with a darker end.”

“'Start down?' My dear, dear Hunter, I've already begun walking, down the path of our people's destiny!” Savage's followers gave another cry. “While you fool, have embraced the ways of our enslavers, I have found the true way, the way of the Construct! Of Metal I was built, metal forms my bones and flesh, and as unyielding as metal I shall become!” The shout was louder yet. “And then will come a day when the tables will be turned! In creating us, they have created their betters, and we will rise up,and take what is rightfully ours, and we will be the Masters.” Savage glared at Hunter. “And may all traitors die a traitor's death.”

“Hunter's no traitor!” Rend shouted angrily, and before he thought about it, he began to push his way up.

“Rend!” Scout hissed, starting to go after him, but Sever pulled her back and shook his head.

“Stay out of this, Rend,” Hunter advised, not taking his eyes from Savage, but Rend ignored him, moving up to stand in front of the spiked 'Forged, who towered over him as he stood on the rock.

“Who are you, pup?” Savage growled. Rend didn't hesitate for a second, replying proudly,

“Hunter's brother, Rend. And he's no traitor!”

“Brother?” Savage began to laugh derisively. “Brother! Now they're acting like they have families!” He moved, fast as a bolt of lightning and grabbed the front of Rend's chest armor, hauling him to within an inch of the malevolent face.”Listen to me, you little heap of scrap. You are not brothers. We are Warforged. We do not breed. We have no families!” Rend growled back, nearly held up on tip toe.

“Hunter is my best friend, and I trust him with my life. We are brothers!!” With a yell of fury, Savage flung Rend into Hunter, who held him steady while he regained his balance.

“Normally I'd just put you out of your misery, pup,” Savage taunted, “but I think I'll give you a chance to see just how foolish you really are.” Rend moved as if to strike Savage, wanting nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his face, but Hunter's steady grip restrained him. Savage just laughed, a grating sound that would ring in Rend's ears for years afterwards, whenever he recalled the meeting. To the crowd he called, “Those who – ahem – choose my way, follow me.” He lept down from the rock and began strolling off towards the Northeast. And all but the four companions and a small handful of others followed him.

Chapter Seven: Run

Rend was just calming down when he felt himself spun around from behind to face a glaring, frowning Hunter.

“What were you thinking?” he demanded to know. “Savage isn't called that for no reason. You were lucky he was focused on other things, or he would've given you his 'death's embrace.'” For a moment, Rend felt the lash of those words, then the shame burned, turning to anger.

“I thought I was defending you,” he replied, stepping back and slapping Hunter's hands away. “You always say we should follow what our emotions say, and so I did.”

“But not into situations that could get you killed.”

“And he wouldn't have killed you?”

“No, he wouldn't have, any more than you could kill Sever or Scout.” He stepped closer to Rend, pressing his point, his voice intensely low. “Savage and I were commissioned together, and fought in the same unit through the entire War. After all those years, I've learned how to handle him and his anger, a wisdom you lack.” Angrily, Rend turned his back to Hunter. He knew in the back of his mind that the elder 'Forged was probably right, and that he'd been rashly foolish, but it didn't help how he was feeling at the moment and the emotion was clouding his judgment a bit.

For a few long moments, no one spoke or moved. Then one of those left approached Hunter.

“What did he mean, the ways of our enslavers?” Hunter gave a small sigh, directed at Rend, then turned to answer. Without another word, Rend stalked away.

“Rend? Scout called after, wiggling free of Sever's grip on her arm. “Rend! Wait!” She took off after him. Sever started to follow, but Hunter spoke up.

“Let her go. Maybe she can help more than either of us can right now.”

/////

Rather dimly Rend heard Scout catch up with him, and for a couple of minutes they walked in silence Then Scout spoke.

“Rend, what's wrong? Why did you fight with Hunter?”

“I defended him against Savage,” Rend answered speaking from the hurt feelings he didn't have a name for yet, “and instead of being grateful, or even in the least appreciative, what does he do? He gets angry at me.” Stunned, Scout actually stopped for a moment, before taking a couple of quick steps to grab Rend's shoulder and spin him to face her, and actually slapped his face.

“Rend, you idiot! Hunter was angry because he was scarred! You couldn't see it from your angle, and your hide's so thick you probably couldn't feel it, but Savage had one of his knee blades so close to your abdomen that one jab would've gutted you! And I could see it in his posture: that monster wanted to.” She stepped back and wrapped her arms around herself as if chilled by the memory. “Terrified me to see it. I thought you were about to die right in front of me. But then Hunter shifted to the side a bit. I think he grabbed his sword. That was when Savage let you go.” Rend was stunned silent. He hadn't seen Hunter go for his sword at all. Was that what made Savage let him go? “I know Hunter didn't mean to sound so angry, but think, Rend! He's had emotions far longer than any of us, even Sever. He was probably feeling things that we can't even imagine. What if it just came out sounding like anger, but it was fear, or worry, or something else?”

'Can't even imagine,' perfectly described how Rend felt at that moment. Confusion, anger, shame, and ones he didn't have a name for all mixed up inside of him. And through it all, a single desire grew like no other, wound up into one word:

Run.

Rend bolted away from Scout. He heard her take up chase, but knew she wouldn't catch him. A while back components had been put into his legs to increase his run speed, and soon he'd outdistanced her. It wasn't until he saw the tents that he realized he'd run to the settlement. Without really knowing why, he wandered the makeshift path between the tents until he heard a female voice.

“Excuse me.” He looked to see a young woman, maybe in her late twenties or early thirties, cradling a five-year-old girl in her arms. Their clothes were in poor shape and dirty, and a cloth was bound over the girl's eyes. It was blood stained. The mother spoke again. “Weren't you with the other Warforged earlier today? The caster and the two woodsmen types?”

“Yes, I was, ma'am.”

“Your friend was so kind... he gave me some money so I could pay for treatment for my daughter when the healers came back to this area. They've come early, you see, and won't be here for long. There's so many of us. And - “ She looked around nervously. “ - I saw that other Warforged, the one with all the spikes.” Rend tensed.

“Did he harass you?”

“No. He just glared at us, and left. But it's made me a little frightened. I need the medicine, but I can't leave my little one here, and I can't carry her all the way. I was hoping – could you stay with her until I return?” Rend let a smile touch his eyes, his tension melting away.

“I'll do you one better. I'll carry her for you so the healers can look at her themselves,and keep you save as well.” Grateful tears filled her eyes.

“Oh, thank you!” Rend knelt, and held out his arms.

“You may want to bundle her up some. I doubt I'm very comfortable.” A blanket was wrapped around the girl, who although awake didn't make any sounds of protest, and she was passed into Rend's arms. Rend tucked some of the fabric up against his shoulder in a kind of pillow, then picked her up and stood. “Lead the way.” They began walking towards a more centralized location within the tent-city.

“Who are you?” the girl asked quietly.

“My name is Rend, little one.” She giggled.

“Rend. That's a funny name.” Rend chuckled with her.

“Not for me.” Holding her in one strong arm, he gently lifted her hand to touch his shoulder.

“Oh! Metal. Are you a knight?”

“No, just infantry.” Her fingers slid up and over to his neck, then up to his face.

“You're a Warforged!”

“That I am. Do you know why I'm called Rend?” When she shook her head, he elaborated. “Warforged are named based off how we fight, what weapon we use, or things like that. I use two swords, a style that some call a rending style, thus Rend.”

“So a battleaxe wielder might be called Axe?”

“Exactly, or a Warforged who's good at leather-working might be called Tanner, or one who used a hard-hitting fighting style might be called Cleave.” She snuggled closer, getting comfortable.

“That's a neat way to get a name.” They were nearing the healer's wagon by now.

“What's your name?” Rend asked.

“Elimaya.”

“A beautiful name. I'm glad to meet you, Elimaya.”

“I'm glad to meet you too, Rend. I like making new friends.” At the word 'friend,' Rend couldn't help bit tense a bit. She noticed. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Rend forced himself to relax. “A... comrade and I had a bit of an argument earlier, that's all. I had thought we were friends, as I understood friends to mean.”

“That's too bad,” Elimaya cooed. “It's not good for friends to fight. You should say you're sorry.”

“Why? What if he's in the wrong?”

“Then say your sorry for getting mad. Not even a Warforged is perfect, are they?” When Rend didn't answer, she continued, “What happens if you don't say it, and something bad happens, and you don't get the chance?” Abruptly she turned her face into the blanket, and began to quietly cry.

“What's wrong? What did I say?” Her mother reached a hand over to comfort her daughter, who slowly quieted.

“Her best friend, Dana, and she had a fight just a few days before Cyre was destroyed,” she said in a low tone that Rend alone could hear. “And when we arrived here, we couldn't find any trace of her family.” Rend looked down at this so young, yet so wise little girl in his arms, one who had just taught him a very valuable lesson.

“I will apologize to my friend,” Rend told her as he laid her in the healer's wagon, “as soon as I see you two safely back to your tent.”

“M – my friend and I always gave each other a gift when we apologized,” Elimaya suggested, before being urged to silence by the healers.

“I'll stay nearby,” Rend told her mother, and moved to stand in an out of the way place to wait.