The city of Neverwinter suffers for lack of a king. Even in safer times, the reputation of the Savage North was well earned. Now, times are worse and the land more savage by far. The great cities, once bastions of light and civilization, lie crippled. The small towns that served to shelter travelers stand empty—or have been claimed by murderous tribes and hungry monsters. Roads etched into the earth with thousands of years of use are increasingly obscured by forest, bramble, and marsh. Communities now struggle alone amid the wilderness, fortunate if they see an outsider once in a generation. Neverwinter labors to breathe in the suffocating harshness of this new North, the sea its only lifeline. With few traders braving the increasingly long treks between settlements, the city's docks now provide the area's main means of import and precious little export. Gone are the days of plenty, beauty, and luxury.
Today, Neverwinter struggles to break free of the forces that brought it low, still weak and surrounded by danger. Factions within the city scrap for power while foreign potentates scheme and wage their proxy wars within the city. Every hand is against another and none can be trusted--yet the people of the North have always been resilient. Many who fled the destruction thirty years ago have returned. Opportunists and looters arrived as well. People began to rebuild. Lord Dagult Neverember, the Open Lord of Waterdeep, came to restore order with his army of Mintarn mercenaries. Today the city struggles back to life under the watchful rule of the self-styled Lord Protector--but there are many who say that what the city really needs is a king. A true king, as in the olden days.