Gossip circulating the levels above the Cogs
“I ‘eard that there is a gang of Warforged who want more freedom than what we have given them!” says a human dockside worker at the Salty Ship Tavern, a hole in the wall on the main level of Sharn near the lifts to the docks. He runs his hand through close cropped greasy Black hair and then wipes it on his work clothes which are even dirtier. “We Brelish show the most compassion to all of the other creatures of Khorivare and this is what we get for it, gangs looking to over throw OUR way of life!” he goes on to complain. “I ‘eard they even attacked a ‘ouse Cannith expedition looking for relics down there. What ‘as our beautiful city come to? I say we gather da boys an go down there to set it all straight, you know what I mean?”
A dwarven metal smith wipes the foam from his beard as he sets down his tankard and squints at the rabble rouser. “Oy. I heard that the gangs from the Cogs are acting up because of some sort of big find down there. Maybe some large dragonshard was discovered deep in the Cogs? It doesn’t really matter to me, as long as they keep the fighting down there unless they wants some of me and my kin. We will kick em back down to the Cogs and then some. But if they want to bloody themselves away from us, isn’t that good for us?” he asks with a thick dwarven accent which shows his ancestry from the Mror Holds.
The human responds with some indignation, “Us ‘umans can maintain our own with out your help.” He takes a swig of his swill and relaxes a bit. “Other than the gang fighting, I heard there was a local company involved down with the rumbling going in the Cogs. Some kind of search group, investi…gative or what ever they are called. Course, not sure which one.”
Taking a long pull on his tankard the dwarf wipes more foam from his beard and replies, “Don’t know why a bloody group would want to look into problems in the Cogs. I guess that is there priority, and if they want to die in a scum filled area like that, just means more room for us up there,” with that the dwarf points his stout thumb into the air indicating the upper levels of Sharn and the prosperity that generally goes with it. “Back to the anvil for me, some people in this city have to do some honest work rather than playing hero in the Cogs or prancing about with nobles. If it wasn’t for us, this city would be nothing more than a floating ruin” he grumbles out. Slamming the tankard on the bar, he drops off the stool and walks out into the sweat smelling streets of lower Sharn.