Bex Journal Entry 1

[Found wrapped in a red velvet cloth deep in Bex’s bag of holding, this small, leather-bound book has been treated to resist water and has yellowed pages full of cramped, spidery handwriting in the Elven language. This is the first entry, translated.]

Far 6 Barrakas, 998 YK

Mother,

I’m starting another journal, in the hopes that someday I’ll be able to share my stories with you. It’s been seven years since we left House Phiarlan, since we last saw each other, and I still don’t know if you’re alive or dead, or where you might have fled to. Until I know for sure, though, I refuse to abandon hope altogether. And since a changeling’s life – or, at least, this changeling’s life – is such a stew of truths and falsehoods, recording the facts of my travels is sure to help both of us someday.

I’m still working with the Cyrans whom I accompanied to Sharn with Prince Oargev, back in 994. We’ve stuck pretty close to the City of Towers since the Mourning, taking work where we find it, trying to make ends meet. Some of that work has come from Lady Elayden d’Vown of House Cannith, for whom we acquired a schema only a couple of weeks ago. [Bex has drawn a crude sketch of the schema in the margin, an adamantine plate in the shape of a seven-pointed star, covered in strange engraved patterns. It’s described as about six inches long.]

That all started when we found the dead scholar, Bonal Geldem, on the skybridge, and the warforged called Cutter attacked us. Elaydren had hired Geldem to find a lost schema; when Cutter took him out, on behalf of the Lord of Blades, she hired us instead. We went deep under the city, through the Rat’s Market in the lower levels, through the sewers to the hidden House Cannith foundry. We faced some iron cobras in the vault, got the schema from a trapped safe, and beat another warforged agent of the Lord of Blades who called himself Saber. He tried to flee when he realized he was outmatched, but Ralharath burned him down. I saw a final messenger take off from his chest when he fell, presumably to take the news back to his master.

Elaydren was pleased with us, told us to keep the journal, and said to check in at the House Sivis Message Station in Barmin Tower if we ever wanted more jobs. We paid such a visit on a stormy evening to find the tower ransacked. The gnome clerk, Pelkin, had been attacked by a human-sized cloaked figure, leading at least four hobgoblins. They stole a message – a message meant for me – and didn’t take anything else. She didn’t know what the message said, but she confirmed that Lady Elaydren had sent it. We decided to look for her, starting at the place where she’d hired us in the first place. Arturo seemed pleased with this plan, probably because she hired us at the Broken Anvil tavern. That tiefling does love to drink.

I really didn’t care for the way Ralharath handled the situation, talking to Pelkin’s mind, and not stopping when we all saw how much it bothered her…when we all asked him to stop. I’ve never cared for having him (or anyone else) in my head, but at least I’ve had a couple of years to get used to it. And I may not be human, but at least I know how to act like one. Ral could really use lessons. I wonder if all kalashtar are like that.

Rocky was good enough to get the watch to keep an eye on Pelkin. As we made for the Broken Anvil, a clockwork owl swooped in to deliver a message from Lady Elaydren, asking us to meet her there. We quickened our pace, knowing that danger couldn’t be far behind her. Relic suggested I adopt a different persona, but changing in front of strangers is never a good idea. I think he just likes all my different faces. Can you blame him, Mother?

The Broken Anvil was much as I remembered it; Lady Elaydren, not so much – dressed to travel, and not to impress. [Bex has sketched Elaydren here, with some mostly illegible notes about her face.] She gave us a backpack full of gold, supplies, and instructions, and told us to get out of town – fast. A warforged bruiser calling himself Glaive showed up with four hobgoblins in tow before we could get out the door, though, demanding the schema. A fight broke out.

I put Lady Elayden’s face on, hoping to confuse the hobgoblins and give her a chance to escape. Changing form right in front of the Lady was risky, to be sure, but I don’t think she’s inclined to sell me out, especially given the beating I took saving her life. The tavern didn’t fare as well, though. One little fire and Rebexa Chandler and Company are banned for life. At least the matron didn’t turn us over to the watch. And at least I have other personas that may still be welcome there…

It’s all immaterial, really, as we’re leaving Sharn right now. I don’t know when, or even if, we’ll be back, or where we’re going. Nor can I be sure when I’ll have time to write again. I can only promise that, when I can, I will.

Yours,
Bex