Voyage of the Mourning Dawn (Eberron: Heirs of Ash, Book 1)
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A young street thief finds herself embroiled in a quest to find a powerful super-weapon thought lost during the final days of the Last War. She's never known anything but the dingy streets of her own city, but she is taken in by the crew of the airship "Mourning Dawn" and soon finds herself in strange lands filled with wonders and horrors beyond her wildest dreams.
the watchman who apparently was named Rolf countered. “Nobody in their right mind would be out on a night like tonight.” Seren had no argument. “Mmm-hm,” came the other guard’s agreement. She heard the dry hiss of a match striking stone, followed by the faint smell of burning herb. “No thanks, trying to quit,” Rolf said to some unspoken offer. “Wife can’t stand washing the smoke smell out of my armor.” “You sure?” said the other. “Karrnathi cigars. They’re the best.” “Aren’t those
local guildmaster of House Cannith. Moon had put in at Wroat so that Ashrem might visit Dalan during the rendezvous. Dalan’s expression was bored and mildly annoyed, though it softened into a pleased smile when he recognized Tristam. Tristam gave a small wave, hoping to move past Dalan and find his master. “Ah, the promising young student and his bodyguard,” Dalan said, upsetting Tristam’s expectations. He shook Tristam’s hand warmly and then nodded at Omax. “It has been some time, Tristam. How
behave yourself down there, Seren. Not that I’d mind swooping to your rescue and your inevitable gratitude, but I don’t want you to get hurt.” She looked at him sharply, but he held out a hand to stop her. “I’m not making judgments, Seren. Kol Korran knows every crown I made hasn’t been an honest one—but no stealing in Cragwar. Understand?” She laughed lightly and smiled at him. “I’ll keep my hands out of other people’s pockets, Gerith,” she said. “Good,” he said, his usual bright smile
to demur again, but his sharp eyes focused squarely upon Seren in the shadows of the stair. He gave a slight nod and reached for the bag and coins, clasping the guildmaster’s hands with both of his own in a gesture of exaggerated gratitude. Seren made her way to the back door and quietly unlocked the latch. “I thank you, Master d’Cannith,” Jamus said, bowing repeatedly as he clasped the man’s hands. “The orphans thank you as well.” “Yes, the orphans,” she heard the other man growl as she
the Ghost Talons, they’ll only increase the fee for their aid. I fear they’ll already be charging a great deal, given our obvious desperation.” “Sorry,” Seren said, bowing her head pertly to Koranth and sheathing her dagger. Tristam put his wand away as well. The halfling scowled and said something unintelligible. “Koranth only speaks a little bit of your language, unfortunately,” Gerith explained. “The others speak only the halfling tongue.” Dalan spoke to Koranth in the same high-pitched,