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"It does sound like some celestial being has taken an interest in you," Rurik replies after hearing Amberlyn's story. "And said being isn't giving you direct guidance - just nudging you in how to use your abilities. It would make you a bit like a clergywoman in ability, if not in position..."

Here, Rurik will continue to share with Amberlyn what he does know about possible origins for her abilities, as well as what she can expect from them based on his own experience with his divine magic.

"You, Badmaw, are just full of surprises," Rurik says to the snappily dressed lizardman. Exaggerated as his attire is, it somehow does fit him. "My apologies. Saer Fancymaw."

Pen's plainer attire is much less suited for a night at the opera, and the cleric is starting to dither over how to persuade them to let him in - or to persuade "Saer Fancymaw" from going all Badmaw on the doorman. The theater attendant's timely arrival thankfully forestalls this from happening, and the half-elf is soon furnished with a fine set of garments more suited for the evening's entertainment.

The paper bird's message had told Rurik whom to expect when he climbed up to the booth, but it was still a shock to come face to face with the (in)famous Mirt the Moneylender. Before he can react, the Masked Lord has engulfed Rurik's hand in a handshake - one that the cleric notes is very firm and fast for a human of his (apparent) age and girth. A part of him starts thinking back to what he'd read in a certain Guide about Mirt delving into the Yawning Portal - wouldn't that make Mirt older than the age most dwarves would live to naturally?

"Ah, i-it's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Mirt." Rurik manages to rally, letting go of the Lord's hand (hopefully) before it became impolite. "Rurik Eversharp, devotee of Dugmaren Brightmantle, the Wandering Tinkerer."

The cleric hears out Mirt's explanation of the organization he is being invited to join. While he has some doubts about his own ability at secrecy, Rurik realizes that being connected a network of knowledgeable individuals would help in locating his master's whereabouts in Waterdeep in the short run, and would be of great use in his future studies in the long term.

And Mirt's explanation of how the emblems work reassures Rurik that he might be able to hide in plain sight, so to speak.

An agreement made, the cleric shakes the Harper's hand again (this time of his own volition), before returning to his seat for the second half of the show.

"The tickets were from Saer Neverember," Rurik replies modestly to Badmaw as they file out of the Theater. "But thank you all the same. I do think they were going for a dramatized version of the battle at the Well of Dragons, in order to make the story flow better. A strict historical retelling might not appeal to the audience, after all..."

Later in the night, after changing out of his fine attire, Rurik sits at the desk in his room and scans through what he's written on a piece of parchment that had once came from a box in a certain warehouse in Candle Lane.

More poetic than normal - the Fall of Tiamat must have influenced his writing. Now if only he could speak this smoothly all the time...

Sighing, Rurik folds up the parchment into its intended shape, before sending it on its way...

"It does sound like some celestial being has taken an interest in you," Rurik replies after hearing Amberlyn's story. "And said being isn't giving you direct guidance - just nudging you in how to use your abilities. It would make you a bit like a clergywoman in ability, if not in position..."

Here, Rurik will continue to share with Amberlyn what he does know about possible origins for her abilities, as well as what she can expect from them based on his own experience with his divine magic.

"You, Badmaw, are just full of surprises," Rurik says to the snappily dressed lizardman. Exaggerated as his attire is, it somehow does fit him. "My apologies. Saer Fancymaw."

Pen's plainer attire is much less suited for a night at the opera, and the cleric is starting to dither over how to persuade them to let him in - or to persuade "Saer Fancymaw" from going all Badmaw on the doorman. The theater attendant's timely arrival thankfully forestalls this from happening, and the half-elf is soon furnished with a fine set of garments more suited for the evening's entertainment.

The paper bird's message had told Rurik whom to expect when he climbed up to the booth, but it was still a shock to come face to face with the (in)famous Mirt the Moneylender. Before he can react, the Masked Lord has engulfed Rurik's hand in a handshake - one that the cleric notes is very firm and fast for a human of his (apparent) age and girth. A part of him starts thinking back to what he'd read in a certain Guide about Mirt delving into the Yawning Portal - wouldn't that make Mirt older than the age most dwarves would live to naturally?

"Ah, i-it's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Mirt." Rurik manages to rally, letting go of the Lord's hand (hopefully) before it became impolite. "Rurik Eversharp, devotee of Dugmaren Brightmantle, the Wandering Tinkerer."

The cleric hears out Mirt's explanation of the organization he is being invited to join. While he has some doubts about his own ability at secrecy, Rurik realizes that being connected a network of knowledgeable individuals would help in locating his master's whereabouts in Waterdeep in the short run, and would be of great use in his future studies in the long term.

And Mirt's explanation of how the emblems work reassures Rurik that he might be able to hide in plain sight, so to speak.

An agreement made, the cleric shakes the Harper's hand again (this time of his own volition), before returning to his seat for the second half of the show.

"The tickets were from Saer Neverember," Rurik replies modestly to Badmaw as they file out of the Theater. "But thank you all the same. I do think they were going for a dramatized version of the battle at the Well of Dragons, in order to make the story flow better. A strict historical retelling might not appeal to the audience, after all..."

Later in the night, after changing out of his fine attire, Rurik sits at the desk in his room and scans through what he's written on a piece of parchment that had once came from a box in a certain warehouse in Candle Lane.

More poetic than normal - the Fall of Tiamat must have influenced his writing. Now if only he could speak this smoothly all the time...

Sighing, Rurik folds up the parchment into its intended shape, before sending it on its way...

"It does sound like some celestial being has taken an interest in you," Rurik replies after hearing Amberlyn's story. "And said being isn't giving you direct guidance - just nudging you in how to use your abilities. It would make you a bit like a clergywoman in ability, if not in position..."

Here, Rurik will continue to share with Amberlyn what he does know about possible origins for her abilities, as well as what she can expect from them based on his own experience with his divine magic.

"You, Badmaw, are just full of surprises," Rurik says to the snappily dressed lizardman. Exaggerated as his attire is, it somehow does fit him. "My apologies. Saer Fancymaw."

Pen's plainer attire is much less suited for a night at the opera, and the cleric is starting to dither over how to persuade them to let him in - or to persuade "Saer Fancymaw" from going all Badmaw on the doorman. The theater attendant's timely arrival thankfully forestalls this from happening, and the half-elf is soon furnished with a fine set of garments more suited for the evening's entertainment.

The paper bird's message had told Rurik whom to expect when he climbed up to the booth, but it was still a shock to come face to face with the (in)famous Mirt the Moneylender. Before he can react, the Masked Lord has engulfed Rurik's hand in a handshake - one that the cleric notes is very firm and fast for a human of his (apparent) age and girth. A part of him starts thinking back to what he'd read in a certain Guide about Mirt delving into the Yawning Portal - wouldn't that make Mirt older than the age most dwarves would live to naturally?

"Ah, i-it's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Mirt." Rurik manages to rally, letting go of the Lord's hand (hopefully) before it became impolite. "Rurik Eversharp, devotee of Dugmaren Brightmantle, the Wandering Tinkerer."

The cleric hears out Mirt's explanation of the organization he is being invited to join. While he has some doubts about his own ability at secrecy, Rurik realizes that being connected a network of knowledgeable individuals would help in locating his master's whereabouts in Waterdeep in the short run, and would be of great use in his future studies in the long term.

And Mirt's explanation of how the emblems work reassures Rurik that he might be able to hide in plain sight, so to speak.

An agreement made, the cleric shakes the Harper's hand again (this time of his own volition), before returning to his seat for the second half of the show.

"The tickets were from Saer Neverember," Rurik replies modestly to Badmaw as they file out of the Theater. "But thank you all the same. I do think they were going for a dramatized version of the battle at the Well of Dragons, in order to make the story flow better. A strict historical retelling might not appeal to the audience, after all..."

Later in the night, after changing out of his fine attire, Rurik sits at the desk in his room and scans through what he's written on a piece of parchment that had once came from a box in a certain warehouse in Candle Lane.

More poetic than normal - the Fall of Tiamat must have influenced his writing. Now if only he could speak this smoothly all the time...

Sighing, Rurik folds up the parchment into its intended shape, before sending it on its way...

"It does sound like some celestial being has taken an interest in you," Rurik replies after hearing Amberlyn's story. "And said being isn't giving you direct guidance - just nudging you in how to use your abilities. It would make you a bit like a clergywoman in ability, if not in position..."

Here, Rurik will continue to share with Amberlyn what he does know about possible origins for her abilities, as well as what she can expect from them based on his own experience with his divine magic.

"You, Badmaw, are just full of surprises," Rurik says to the snappily dressed lizardman. Exaggerated as his attire is, it somehow does fit him. "My apologies. Saer Fancymaw."

Pen's plainer attire is much less suited for a night at the opera, and the cleric is starting to dither over how to persuade them to let him in - or to persuade "Saer Fancymaw" from going all Badmaw on the doorman. The theater attendant's timely arrival thankfully forestalls this from happening, and the half-elf is soon furnished with a fine set of garments more suited for the evening's entertainment.

The paper bird's message had told Rurik whom to expect when he climbed up to the booth, but it was still a shock to come face to face with the (in)famous Mirt the Moneylender. Before he can react, the Masked Lord has engulfed Rurik's hand in a handshake - one that the cleric notes is very firm and fast for a human of his (apparent) age and girth. A part of him starts thinking back to what he'd read in a certain Guide about Mirt delving into the Yawning Portal - wouldn't that make Mirt older than the age most dwarves would live to naturally?

"Ah, i-it's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Mirt." Rurik manages to rally, letting go of the Lord's hand (hopefully) before it became impolite. "Rurik Eversharp, devotee of Dugmaren Brightmantle, the Wandering Tinkerer."

The cleric hears out Mirt's explanation of the organization he is being invited to join. While he has some doubts about his own ability at secrecy, Rurik realizes that being connected a network of knowledgeable individuals would help in locating his master's whereabouts in Waterdeep in the short run, and would be of great use in his future studies in the long term.

And Mirt's explanation of how the emblems work reassures Rurik that he might be able to hide in plain sight, so to speak.

An agreement made, the cleric shakes the Harper's hand again (this time of his own volition), before returning to his seat for the second half of the show.

"The tickets were from Saer Neverember," Rurik replies modestly to Badmaw as they file out of the Theater. "But thank you all the same. I do think they were going for a dramatized version of the battle at the Well of Dragons, in order to make the story flow better. A strict historical retelling might not appeal to the audience, after all..."

Later in the night, after changing out of his fine attire, Rurik sits at the desk in his room and scans through what he's written on a piece of parchment that had once came from a box in a certain warehouse in Candle Lane.

More poetic than normal - the Fall of Tiamat must have influenced his writing. Now if only he could speak this smoothly all the time...

Sighing, Rurik folds up the parchment into its intended shape, before sending it on its way...

"It does sound like some celestial being has taken an interest in you," Rurik replies after hearing Amberlyn's story. "And said being isn't giving you direct guidance - just nudging you in how to use your abilities. It would make you a bit like a clergywoman in ability, if not in position..."

Here, Rurik will continue to share with Amberlyn what he does know about possible origins for her abilities, as well as what she can expect from them based on his own experience with his divine magic.

"You, Badmaw, are just full of surprises," Rurik says to the snappily dressed lizardman. Exaggerated as his attire is, it somehow does fit him. "My apologies. Saer Fancymaw."

Pen's plainer attire is much less suited for a night at the opera, and the cleric is starting to dither over how to persuade them to let him in - or to persuade "Saer Fancymaw" from going all Badmaw on the doorman. The theater attendant's timely arrival thankfully forestalls this from happening, and the half-elf is soon furnished with a fine set of garments more suited for the evening's entertainment.

The paper bird's message had told Rurik whom to expect when he climbed up to the booth, but it was still a shock to come face to face with the (in)famous Mirt the Moneylender. Before he can react, the Masked Lord has engulfed Rurik's hand in a handshake - one that the cleric notes is very firm and fast for a human of his (apparent) age and girth. A part of him starts thinking back to what he'd read in a certain Guide about Mirt delving into the Yawning Portal - wouldn't that make Mirt older than the age most dwarves would live to naturally?

"Ah, i-it's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Mirt." Rurik manages to rally, letting go of the Lord's hand (hopefully) before it became impolite. "Rurik Eversharp, devotee of Dugmaren Brightmantle, the Wandering Tinkerer."

The cleric hears out Mirt's explanation of the organization he is being invited to join. While he has some doubts about his own ability at secrecy, Rurik realizes that being connected a network of knowledgeable individuals would help in locating his master's whereabouts in Waterdeep in the short run, and would be of great use in his future studies in the long term.

And Mirt's explanation of how the emblems work reassures Rurik that he might be able to hide in plain sight, so to speak.

An agreement made, the cleric shakes the Harper's hand again (this time of his own volition), before returning to his seat for the second half of the show.

"The tickets were from Saer Neverember," Rurik replies modestly to Badmaw as they file out of the Theater. "But thank you all the same. I do think they were going for a dramatized version of the battle at the Well of Dragons, in order to make the story flow better. A strict historical retelling might not appeal to the audience, after all..."

Later in the night, after changing out of his fine attire, Rurik sits at the desk in his room and scans through what he's written on a piece of parchment that had once came from a box in a certain warehouse in Candle Lane.

More poetic than normal - the Fall of Tiamat must have influenced his writing. Now if only he could speak this smoothly all the time...

Sighing, Rurik folds up the parchment into its intended shape, before sending it on its way...

"It does sound like some celestial being has taken an interest in you," Rurik replies after hearing Amberlyn's story. "And said being isn't giving you direct guidance - just nudging you in how to use your abilities. It would make you a bit like a clergywoman in ability, if not in position..."

Here, Rurik will continue to share with Amberlyn what he does know about possible origins for her abilities, as well as what she can expect from them based on his own experience with his divine magic.

"You, Badmaw, are just full of surprises," Rurik says to the snappily dressed lizardman. Exaggerated as his attire is, it somehow does fit him. "My apologies. Saer Fancymaw."

Pen's plainer attire is much less suited for a night at the opera, and the cleric is starting to dither over how to persuade them to let him in - or to persuade "Saer Fancymaw" from going all Badmaw on the doorman. The theater attendant's timely arrival thankfully forestalls this from happening, and the half-elf is soon furnished with a fine set of garments more suited for the evening's entertainment.

The paper bird's message had told Rurik whom to expect when he climbed up to the booth, but it was still a shock to come face to face with the (in)famous Mirt the Moneylender. Before he can react, the Masked Lord has engulfed Rurik's hand in a handshake - one that the cleric notes is very firm and fast for a human of his (apparent) age and girth. A part of him starts thinking back to what he'd read in a certain Guide about Mirt delving into the Yawning Portal - wouldn't that make Mirt older than the age most dwarves would live to naturally?

"Ah, i-it's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Mirt." Rurik manages to rally, letting go of the Lord's hand (hopefully) before it became impolite. "Rurik Eversharp, devotee of Dugmaren Brightmantle, the Wandering Tinkerer."

The cleric hears out Mirt's explanation of the organization he is being invited to join. While he has some doubts about his own ability at secrecy, Rurik realizes that being connected a network of knowledgeable individuals would help in locating his master's whereabouts in Waterdeep in the short run, and would be of great use in his future studies in the long term.

And Mirt's explanation of how the emblems work reassures Rurik that he might be able to hide in plain sight, so to speak.

An agreement made, the cleric shakes the Harper's hand again (this time of his own volition), before returning to his seat for the second half of the show.

"The tickets were from Saer Neverember," Rurik replies modestly to Badmaw as they file out of the Theater. "But thank you all the same. I do think they were going for a dramatized version of the battle at the Well of Dragons, in order to make the story flow better. A strict historical retelling might not appeal to the audience, after all..."

Later in the night, after changing out of his fine attire, Rurik sits at the desk in his room and scans through what he's written on a piece of parchment that had once came from a box in a certain warehouse in Candle Lane.

More poetic than normal - the Fall of Tiamat must have influenced his writing. Now if only he could speak this smoothly all the time...

Sighing, Rurik folds up the parchment into its intended shape, before sending it on its way...

"It does sound like some celestial being has taken an interest in you," Rurik replies after hearing Amberlyn's story. "And said being isn't giving you direct guidance - just nudging you in how to use your abilities. It would make you a bit like a clergywoman in ability, if not in position..."

Here, Rurik will continue to share with Amberlyn what he does know about possible origins for her abilities, as well as what she can expect from them based on his own experience with his divine magic.

"You, Badmaw, are just full of surprises," Rurik says to the snappily dressed lizardman. Exaggerated as his attire is, it somehow does fit. "My apologies. Saer Fancymaw."

Pen's plainer attire is much less suited for a night at the opera, and the cleric is starting to dither over how to persuade them to let him in - or to persuade "Saer Fancymaw" from going all Badmaw on the doorman. The theater attendant's timely arrival thankfully forestalls this from happening, and the half-elf is soon furnished with a fine set of garments more suited for the evening's entertainment.

"WIP," WIP.
 

"It does sound like some celestial being has taken an interest in you," Rurik replies after hearing Amberlyn's story. "And said being isn't giving you direct guidance - just nudging you in how to use your abilities. It would make you a bit like a clergywoman in ability, if not in position..."

Here, Rurik...

"WIP," WIP.
 

"WIP," WIP.
 

"WIP," WIP.