Chapter 2: Trollskull Alley

Kamishiro_Rin · February 21

Date

On This 4 Tarsahk
in the Year 1492 DR,
the Year of Three Ships Sailing

★The 4th Day of the Campaign – 1 bells★

T1. Trollskull Manor

Four stories tall and boasting balconies, a turret, and five chimneys, the abandoned building is one of the grandest in Trollskull Alley. You all can refurnish, rebuild, rename, and otherwise personalize your new stronghold to your hearts’ content.

Tavern Rooms

When you all first arrive, the tavern’s taproom is filled with broken furniture, tarnished silverware, casks of wine that have turned to vinegar, and worthless detritus. The tavern’s other rooms are all empty, except for cobwebs, dust, and harmless rats.

Spirit on Tap

The former tavern is haunted by the poltergeist (specter) of the tavern’s previous barkeeper, a half-elf named Lif. Maintaining the tavern was his life’s work, and he couldn’t abandon the place in death.

The poltergeist understands Common and Elvish, but it can’t speak. It invisibly causes mischief at the expense of the new owners by smashing plates, breaking beer barrels, and so forth. If you all don’t take the hint, it writes not-so-subtle warnings (such as “Closing time!” and “Last call!”) on dusty floors and grimy windows. To truly claim the tavern as their own, you all must either appease the poltergeist or destroy it.

Appeasing Lif. If you all work to repair and renovate the tavern with the goal of opening it to the public again, the poltergeist begins to accept you all as the new owners and gradually becomes quite accommodating: pulling out a chair when a character wants to sit down, pouring a beer and delivering it to a character, taking coats when folks come in from the rain, and so forth. Once the business is up and running, Lif can also perform other helpful functions, such as locking doors, sweeping floors, and so forth.

Destroying Lif. Lif’s poltergeist is destroyed if its hit points are reduced to 0.

T2. The Bent Nail

A small wooden sign above this shop’s main door is bare except for a large, bent nail sticking out of it. The front room contains displays of ornate wooden furniture, as well as a selection of bows and crossbows. The wall behind the counter is lined with rows of finely carved wooden canes, quarterstaffs, and shields.

Talisolvanar “Tally” Fellbranch, the owner and chief artisan of the Bent Nail, is a male half-elf carpenter and woodcarver. He is a commoner.

Services

Tally sells wooden weapons and shields at normal cost. He also crafts and sells furniture and wood sculptures.

T3. Steam and Steel

During daylight hours, smoke and steam billow from the many windows around this indoor forge where metal weapons, armor, and tools are made. The forge is owned and operated by a married couple: a fire genasi named Embric and a water genasi named Avi. Both are members of the Most Careful Order of Skilled Smiths and Metalforgers. As an armorer, Avi also belongs to the Splendid Order of Armorers, Locksmiths, and Finesmiths.

Embric tends the forge and is an expert weaponsmith. He claims descent from the efreet of Calimshan and is prone to extreme mood swings.

Avi worships Eldath, god of peace, and uses his magic to quench hot steel. He is an expert armorsmith. Avi is laid back and speaks plainly.

Services

The genasi couple sells all metal weapons, armor, and shields listed in chapter 5 of the Player’s Handbook at normal cost.

T4. Corellon’s Crown

Fala Lefaliir, an herbalist and a member of the Guild of Apothecaries and Physicians, operates out of this stately, three-story town house, the third floor of which has been converted into a greenhouse. Its translucent glass walls allow anyone on the street to see the rainbow of flowers blossoming within.

Fala Lefaliir is an outgoing wood elf with long, braided hair.

Services

In addition to nonmagical herbal remedies, Fala sells potions of the types listed in the Fala’s Potions table. Fala keeps 1d6 vials of each potion in locked cabinets behind the shop counter.

**Fala’s Potions**
Potion	Cost
Potion of animal friendship	125 gp
Potion of climbing	50 gp
Potion of greater healing	250 gp
Potion of healing	50 gp
Potion of water breathing	250 gp

T5. Tiger’s Eye p32

This private detective’s business is unremarkable on the outside, its only distinguishing mark an orange-and-black sign featuring a cat’s eyes. Inside is a regal apartment dimly lit by flickering oil lamps. The door is locked, and visitors must knock or ring the bell before being let in.

You all are met by Vincent Trench, a human detective and the owner of the Tiger’s Eye. He speaks concisely, dresses in a sharp suit, and smokes a slim pipe.

Services

Trench can discover any secret in Waterdeep, for a fee. 50 gp is sufficient for most investigations, but if you all want to learn secrets relating to the major antagonists of this adventure, he might require a service in payment, such as slaying his enemies, posting advertisements for his business in their tavern, or keeping tabs on someone Vincent has been hired to spy on.

T6. Book Wyrm’s Treasure

The front of this bookstore is adorned with a charming sign of a gold dragon curled around a treasure hoard of books and scrolls. Inside, the shop is decorated with beautiful hardwood, and the earthy scent of old books permeates the air. The library fills two floors of this three-story building, and it somehow seems to contain more shelves than the building should be able to hold.

The shop is managed by a short dragonborn of gold dragon ancestry named Rishaal the Page-Turner, who lives on the third floor.

Services

The shop contains books of all sorts. In addition, Rishaal has a small collection of spellbooks and allows wizards to copy spells from them at the cost listed in the Spells for Sale table. He can scribe any of these spells as a spell scroll but charges twice the listed cost for this service.

**Spells for Sale**
Spell	Cost per Spell
comprehend languages, detect magic, feather fall, find familiar, mage armor, magic missile, shield, unseen servant	25 gp
arcane lock, continual flame, darkvision, invisibility, magic weapon, misty step, rope trick, suggestion	75 gp
clairvoyance, counterspell, dispel magic, fireball, fly, nondetection, water breathing	150 gp
arcane eye, fabricate, greater invisibility, ice storm, locate creature, polymorph	300 gp
Bigby’s hand, cone of cold, modify memory	750 gp

T7. Sewer Access

At the east end of Trollskull Alley is a removable metal grate that covers an opening. Below the grate, a ladder descends 20 feet into the Waterdeep sewer system.

Portraits & Statblocks

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OOC

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Peacemonger · February 22

Amberlyn Hillheart

Halfling Folk Hero Celestial Warlock

AC: 15 (Studded Leather Armor+3 Dex) | HP: 24/24 (2d8Hit Die+6Con modifier+4Tough Feat) | Speed: 25 ft.
Senses: passive Perception 11, Insight 11, Investigation 9
Str: 8 (-1) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con:Save: +3 16 (+3) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 19 (+4)
Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common, Halfling

Spell Slots: 2/2 | Healing Light: 3/3d6 |

Brave | Nimble | Children of the Woods | Timberwalk | Eldritch InvocationsAgonizing Blast
Repelling Blast

“My words,” | ‘My thoughts,’ | My actions . . .

Downtime

When the group is together and the final tally is made as far as splitting up all their loot, a task which she does not help with as math is not her strong suit, her eyes grow wide. "Holy [expletive] [expletive]! Are you [expletive in Halfling] [another worse expletive in Halfling] pulling my leg!" It's more money than she had ever dreamed of. Though the last couple of days were in many ways the worst in her life, she brightens up at having a fortune at her fingertips, at least a fortune according to her own standards.

She is a different person for the week that follows. The sad, lonely, out-of-her-depth young Halfling woman gets out of her shell now that she's comfortable with the other four, and now that she's doing things other than risking her life. She spends the first part of each day working on their new home, using her carpenter's tools, and buying the wood, nails, and other supplies, not to mention at least a few new chairs and tables... however far twenty gold takes her. She's the work ethic of a person used to farming, which is to say you rise up early and do what's needed without a fuss.

As she encounters some strange things, plates breaking, barrels toppling, at first Amberlyn scrunches her brow in concern. With a deep sigh, she sets to cleaning things. As it becomes clearer the strangeness afoot, she tries the best thing she knows. "Stop. Whatever mischief this is, you can stop now." It's matter-of-fact, and to the point, and she's not entirely sure what she's dealing with, but she hopes a stern voice and expression is enough.

Rani

It's not long, in fact, it's the first full day after rescuing Floon that she approaches the Elf. "Um... Rani?" She looks up and it's not entirely clear what she's about to ask.

And then it all spills out.

"You're so pretty! And you're classy, and you look so... so... like elegant even when we're crawling in the muck. And I'm so drab, and plain, and just blah! My clothes make me look fat, my hair's all a mess, and I probably come across as a nobody to everyone. The only boys that ever look at me that way are weird, smelly, or just seem mean through and through." She ends off with a noise that's between a huff and a sigh. "I... we've all this coin now. Can you... help me look like a woman who's worth 300 gold?"

It's a new outfit, of which Amberlyn still wants something practical, but far, far nicer than what she has. It means a haircut. It means perfume. It means a thorough cleaning.

Rurik

It's a day or two after their escapade that Amberlyn finally approaches Rurik in earnest. "So... you're a holy man, right? I mean, that makes you like really smart, and knowledgeable, and you must work hard right? Have you ever heard of anyone getting magic by being kicked by a goat." He hand instinctively goes up to the scar on her nose, and it's clear she's not speaking a metaphor or fable. "That is weird, right? Would you be up to talking about holy things? I'll pay for the drinks."

For her end, she'll listen intently to any and all lessons Rurik can impart about his own faith or the divine in general. On the slip side, she'll try to explain herself, but it's all unclear to her other than a language that sounds like song, and just... a strange sense of things far bigger and grander than herself.

Pen

Whereas the others have amazed her, her introduction to Pen was far different. She got to see him at his lowest, which makes him far more approachable in some ways. "Hey." She finds Pen during a time in the week that seems like a good time for a talk. "You did really good. About all of it really. So... if you don't mind me asking... what happened? Why aren't you a guard? You're more than fit I think. I mean... can you try again?" Amberlyn in part does want to know the story. In part, she wants to support the person who helped support all of them, defended all them when it counted.

Badmaw

"Badmaw?" It's halfway into the week that she finally asks Badmaw the question on her mind for him. "What... are you exactly? I mean, you're tough, and scary, and you're really, really good to have around whether I'm in trouble or not, but..." her words are much more curious than frightened, more like someone trying to understand a puzzle more than any sort of worry, "What makes a Badmaw? Like if anyone asked, 'Hey Amberlyn, your friend Badmaw is really strong and powerful... how can I raise a full army of Badmaws'... what would I tell them assuming I wanted to tell the truth?"

By the end of the week, she's a whole new woman. She looks clean, put together, her clothes fit her perfectly, and she looks like a proper adventurer. Most of all there's a comfortable confidence. She's still wide-eyed, each day trying a different new food with near child-like wonder, still running into people of all manner of backgrounds she's never seen before. With it though she seems to be better settled in.

She still speaks of finding a way to lose her powers, but she doesn't seem to be in much of a rush any more, is okay with waiting a bit longer.

OOC

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Action: —

Bonus Action: —

Reaction: —

Edited February 22 by Peacemonger (see edit history)

Kamishiro_Rin · February 22

Open for Business?

If you all intend to fix up and reopen the tavern in Trollskull Alley, they can expect to deal with various guilds without whose support the business is likely to fail. Repairs to the walls and the roof require the approval and oversight of the Carpenters’, Roofers’, and Plaisterers’ Guild. The Cellarers’ and Plumbers’ Guild is best equipped to handle the refurbishing of the basement and plumbing. Clean bedsheets are provided by the Launderers’ Guild. The streets around the establishment are kept up by the Dungsweepers’ Guild and the Loyal Order of Street Laborers. Meat must come from the Guild of Butchers; ale and wine from the Vintners’, Distillers’, and Brewers’ Guild; and bread and pastries from the Bakers’ Guild. The list goes on.

The “Tavern Keeping Expenses” sidebar lists the costs that you all must pay to get your place ready for business, as well as the recurring obligations they must meet while the tavern is open for business.

Sample Guild Representatives

Once it becomes known around the city that the tavern in Trollskull Alley is planning to reopen its doors to the public, the adventurers receive visits from guild representatives interested in the tavern’s welfare. This section describes a handful of these representatives.

Broxley Fairkettle

Fellowship of Innkeepers

Broxley is a laid-back, law-abiding halfling with mutton chops and bushy eyebrows. Inns and taverns are few and far between in the North Ward, so he makes frequent visits to your place to see how it’s doing and to offer his well-wishes. If none of you all are members of the guild, he strongly urges them to join “to avoid further harassment.” The cost of membership in the Fellowship of Innkeepers is included in the regular expenses outlined in the “Tavern Keeping Expenses” sidebar.

Hammond Kraddoc

Vintners’, Distillers’, and Brewers’ Guild

Hammond doesn’t like adventurers, but he likes their coin. This effete, well-dressed man is always seen in the company of a young scribe, Jinny, who wears spectacles and silently records notes and conversations in her small book as Hammond speaks.

Justyn Rassk

Guild of Butchers

Dead-eyed, slack-jawed Justyn grew up in the toughest neighborhood in the Field Ward and has the scars to prove it. The guild doesn’t pay him enough for him to afford a residence in the North Ward, and going to that part of the city fills his heart with resentment. He darkens your doorstep once a month to deliver a cartload of chopped meat for the tavern’s larder. Although delivery fees are covered by the guild’s monthly dues, Justyn always demands some extra coin for his service. If you all don’t give him a gratuity of at least 3 gp, he says, “Maybe next time the meat will be someone you know.” He lets the threat hang in the air, then departs.

Ulkoria Stonemarrow

Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors

Ulkoria has defended Waterdeep with her magic more times than she can recall. She’s known as “the Gargoyle” because her face is frozen in a scowl that frightens adults and children alike. No one knows where she lives, but it’s believed to be underground, possibly a cellar or dungeon under one of the city’s oldest estates. She uses teleport spells to enter and leave her home, and she’s never seen without her shield guardian close by.

A little-known fact is that Ulkoria once owned the tavern in Trollskull Alley. She sold it to a family of shield dwarves, who fell on hard times and sold it to a woman who made it into an orphanage. “Turned out to be a hag who was cooking and eating the children,” Ulkoria recalls. The estate passed through several more hands in the years that followed. Ulkoria hopes the new owners make something good of it.

Anytime she passes through the North Ward, Ulkoria stops by the tavern for a drink and to check out the place while her shield guardian waits outside. If she doesn’t like what you all have done with the establishment, she keeps her criticisms to herself. You all can hire her to cast glyphs of warding on the place, for which she charges 300 gp apiece.

Tavern Keeping Expenses

This sidebar summarizes the one-time payments and continuing expenses associated with running the tavern in Trollskull Alley, as well as providing rules for determining how much coin the business makes or loses.

One-Time Expenses.

1,000 gp to renovate the tavern over 12 days,
250 gp for guild licenses and contracts (paid up front)

Regular Expenses.

50 gp per tenday for maintenance and wages of hirelings
10 gp per tenday for all other guild expenses

Profit or Loss.

At the end of every tenday, Rin will roll a d100 + 10 and consult the Running a Business table in chapter 6 of the Dungeon Master’s Guide to determine whether the tavern lost money or earned profit. If you all spent coin on promoting your business during that tenday, add 1 to the roll for each 1 gp they spent. If you all have unpaid expenses, subtract 1 from the roll for each 1 gp they owe.

**Running Trollskull Manor**
d100 + (n)	Result
1–20	You made a loss of 90 gp this tenday
21–30	You made a loss of 60 gp this tenday
31–40	You made a loss of 30 gp this tenday
41–60	You broke even this tenday
61–80	You covered your business costs and earned a profit of 1d6 × 5 gp.
81–90	You covered your business costs and earned a profit of 2d8 × 5 gp.
91–110	You covered your business costs and earned a profit of 3d10 × 5 gp.

Edited February 22 by Kamishiro_Rin (see edit history)

Kamishiro_Rin · February 25

Date

On This 16 Tarsahk
in the Year 1492 DR,
the Year of Three Ships Sailing

★The 16th Day of the Campaign – 18:00★

IC

Ouránia

A little after a tenday of getting settled into your groups jointly-owned property in Trollskull Alley, a small white cat approaches the building. It jumps on fences and up the eves into a window and sits atop Ouránia’s bed. At some point in the day, she returns to her room and upon noticing the cat, it speaks:

“Interested in joining the Emerald Enclave? Come meet us at Phaulkonmere in the Southern Ward.” in a melodious male voice.

   When the message is delivered, it visibly appears that the cat suddenly comes back into itself, looks around, and then saunters off, as if it didn’t just speak to you. A DC12 Intelligence (Arcana) check reveals that . . .. . . The cat is an ordinary animal upon which an animal messenger spell was cast.

Animal Messenger
   2nd-level enchantment (ritual)
   Casting Time: 1 action
   Range: 30 feet
   Components: V, S, M (a morsel of food)
   Duration: 24 hours
   By means of this spell, you use an animal to deliver a message. Choose a Tiny beast you can see within range, such as a squirrel, a blue jay, or a bat. You specify a location, which you must have visited, and a recipient who matches a general description, such as “a man or woman dressed in the uniform of the town guard” or “a red-haired dwarf wearing a pointed hat.” You also speak a message of up to twenty-five words. The target beast travels for the duration of the spell toward the specified location, covering about 50 miles per 24 hours for a flying messenger, or 25 miles for other animals.
   When the messenger arrives, it delivers your message to the creature that you described, replicating the sound of your voice. The messenger speaks only to a creature matching the description you gave. If the messenger doesn’t reach its destination before the spell ends, the message is lost, and the beast makes its way back to where you cast this spell.
   At Higher Levels. If you cast this spell using a spell slot of 3rd level or higher, the duration of the spell increases by 48 hours for each slot level above 2nd.
   Source: PHB, page 212. Available in the SRD.

Rurik

   Rurik receives the following message, written on a paper birdPaper Bird
   Wondrous item, uncommon
   After you write a message of fifty words or fewer on this magic sheet of parchment and speak a creature’s name, the parchment magically folds into a Tiny paper bird and flies to the recipient whose name you uttered. The recipient must be on the same plane of existence as you, otherwise the bird turns into ash as it takes flight.
   The bird is an object that has 1 hit point, an Armor Class of 13, a flying speed of 60 feet, a Dexterity of 16 (+3), and a score of 1 (−5) in all other abilities, and it is immune to poison and psychic damage.
   It travels to within 5 feet of its intended recipient by the most direct route, whereupon it turns into a nonmagical and inanimate sheet of parchment that can be unfolded only by the intended recipient. If the bird’s hit points or speed is reduced to 0 or if it is otherwise immobilized, it turns into ash.
   Paper birds usually come in small, flat boxes containing 1d6 + 3 sheets of the parchment.
   Source: WDH, page 191. Also found in IMR, page 94.:

“Renaer tells us you are a good bet. He bought you tickets to the opera tonight at the Lightsinger Theater in the Sea Ward. If you are interested, meet Mirt at intermission. Private Box C. Formal attire is required for admittance.”

Enclosed are tickets for the entire party to The Fall of Tiamat, an opera sung in Giant describing the evil dragon queen’s defeat at the Well of Dragons.

Portraits & Statblocks

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OOC

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Edited February 25 by Kamishiro_Rin (see edit history)

Kazic5000 · February 26

Badmaw
Dhampir Lizardfolk Athlete Beast Barbarian

AC: 18 (Unarmoured Defense, Shield) | HP: 29/29 | Speed: 35 ft. climb, swim
Senses: Darkvision 60ft, Danger Sense, Passive Perception 12, Insight 10, Investigation 10
Str: 11 (+0) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con:Save: +3 17 (+3) | Int: 10 (+0) | Wis: 10 (+0) | Cha: 10 (+0)
Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common, Draconic, and Halfling

“My words,” Badmaw spits out in a raspy voice | ‘My thoughts,’ Badmaw thinks to himself | My actions . . .

Badmaw entered his manor for the first time slowly, cautiously, clutching a vial of holy water. As he moved through the building, he took pause at the kitchen. A sense of pride and excitement filled him, temporarily overshadowing his paranoia, as he thought of all the time he would spend cooking new and exotic dishes here.

He continued through the manor, eventually reaching the attic bedroom. When an attack didn't come, it didn't put Badmaw's mind at ease. The poltergeists were hiding, and instead of being put to rest immediately, would be a lingering issue. The lizardman sighed, and placed the vial in his belt while peering out into the street below. It was a fine view, and distracted him a bit from his worries.

'1 day of delving in the depths and now I get to sleep in the heights' He thought with a grin.

Badmaw spends the majority of the coming days working on the exterior of the building, roofing and painting. It's fairly easy work, given his aptitude for climbing and Amberlyn's expertise on the subject. He might have even called it enjoyable, had it not been periodically interrupted by guild swine bringing a tide of paperwork, vague threats, and demands.

"The HELL do we need a launderer's guild for? I do my own damn laundry!" Badmaw bursts out, then sighs with his head in his hands. "Just..." He begins, waving the guild representative away. "... put your papers on the stack on the bar. We'll get to them soon."

As the representative left, Badmaw stared at the stack of papers with a tired disdain. This was tribute, just like the tribes back home would demand. Waterdavians liked to think themselves so civilized and just, but they followed the same rules. We had stepped onto their turf, they had a lot more people the we did, and they had been here a lot longer. If we didn't do as they said, they'd find a way to take what they wanted anyway. But, because these people fought with paper instead of steel, this territory was dense with groups each looking for their pound of flesh.

It was the same game, but so much more drawn out, it was exhausting. The party was gonna need a hand from someone experienced with Waterdavian paperwork, so Badmaw broke out the paper bird, and sent a message to Volo.

Volo

Trollskull restoration going well, but guilds gave us paperwork. Please help before I kill a representative, and go to jail. Drinks on me.

-Badmaw

And in short order, Badmaw, Volo, and a keg of lager sat at a table. Numbers were crunched, tankards were emptied, and esoteric guild law was navigated. Volo even found some clauses that helped them save a few gold. Volo tried to extol the benefits of working with these guilds, but all Badmaw could see was the massive numbers on the pages.

"I don't see why we gotta pay these guys. I mean the cellar's already built, and we crap in chamberpots! Besides, we -" The lizardman was suddenly cut off by a sheaf of papers flying into the air with no apparent reason. "HOLY HELL! GHOST!" Badmaw yells as he stands up in shock, knocking his chair over, and mirrored by Volo. The reptile quickly reaches into his belt, and retrieves a vial of holy water, intent at throwing it at the table.

"Hold, Saer!" Volo holds his hand up to stop Badmaw. "The water will ruin all our hard work! Stay your hand!" Badmaw hesitated, but kept his arm tense, ready to strike. "Besides, this spirit seems more mischievous than malevolent." Volo looked around the room, unsure of where to address. He spoke in a lofty voice, as if to speak to everywhere at once. "Good spirit, what is thy name?" A writing stylus rose into the air, and descended on an empty page to form the letters 'L I F'

"Lif!" Volo continued. "These are good people. They wish to see this place returned to it's former glory, and beyond!" The writer announced, waving his arms wide in a grand display. "If you love this place you are bound to, I beseech thee, do not interfere with them!"

No response came, but neither did any further trickery. After a tense minute, Badmaw replaced the vial in his belt. "I need another drink." He huffed, sitting back down with Volo to finish off their paperwork.

More representatives come throughout the day. Badmaw's attitude toward the various visitors ranges from neutral to dislike to 'gods dammit, stop talking before I bite your face off.' But none draws his ire more so than Justyn Rassk. The other representatives at least had the decency to have numbers behind them, but this guy demanding such an exorbitant fee all by his lonesome? On top of the proper guild fees? And for a resource Badmaw had spent the last year getting himself? No chance the lizardman would tolerate that.

"You want a gratuity, dicksneeze?" Badmaw shouts at Justyn "You'll find one right here!" He yells, grabbing at his crotch. "Get the hell outta my bar, you godsh forshaken piece a piss!" Badmaw meant to sound more intimidating as he began shoving Justyn out, but it was late in the day. Badmaw was tired and pretty drunk. "And if I find anything wrong with my shipmentsh, YER GOIN IN THE STEW!" And with Justyn out, Badmaw slammed the door.

Later in the week, Amberlyn finds Badmaw hanging out in the kitchen, writing of possible recipes for Kenku, and warnings to wash sewer creatures before putting them in your mouth. "Hey short stuff, nice new armour. You're starting to look like a bona-fide ass kicker!" Her complements bring a wide grin to his face, and a few happy swishes of his tail. But when she mentions an army of Badmaws, his grin fades slightly, tinged with worry and melancholy. There already is an army, his kin -

The Witherscale.

Led by their enigmatic matriarch, The Long Tooth Lady - the Witherscale are a relatively small, but formidable tribe of vampiric lizardfolk that occupy a northern part of the Vast Swamp. Powerful magics are cultivated in their lineage. Chiefly among them is a druidic magic that allows veteran warriors a limited shapechange ability. The unusual aspects of the Witherscale have been great boons to the tribe, but have also given them a largely feral nature. It has also led to them being targeted by groups looking to harvest or destroy their abilities. Naturally, this caused them to be a very guarded people. Their ways and rituals closely guarded from all but the tribe's most trusted allies.

Badmaw hesitated for a long while, wondering how much to tell Amberlyn of his people, if anything at all. The Witherscale had lots of enemies - holy orders, goblinoid tribes, even some other lizardfolk. It was dangerous to spread too much information around. You never did know how people would react, or how word would spread. But Amberlyn had proven reliable so far, even saved him from getting mauled by that braindog. She seemed like a good sort, seeming to enjoy his company, and not a big zealot like those holy order types. And he did want to know more about her, so sharing some of his story was only fair. Maybe not the whole thing quite yet, just enough to see how she reacts.

Badmaw leans back in his chair, balancing on the rear legs, while tapping his pen against the page. "Well, someone already beat you to making an army. Got a whole tribe of reptiles just like me down south." Badmaw chuckles "Believe it or not, I'm one of the nice ones. Most of my kin are so feral and simple they just tear up and eat anything they come across immediately." He says, his usual grin now faded. "Animals, other tribes, lost humans who took a wrong turn, whatever." Badmaw looks to Amberlyn briefly, studying her reaction. "Which, when they're hunting or fighting, is great. But as you can imagine, it's not really an environment where you can build anything for yourself."

Badmaw sighs and lets his chair fall forward. "So all them lunkheads are wrangled up and kept together by the elders, and the few born with a bit more sense in their head." He shakes his head. "Which is a damn exhausting job..." Clicking his tongue, he continues. "Eventually I just got sick of it. Packed up and headed out to find something new and build up my own dreams."

A slight smile returns to his face "And here I am, building up my own restaurant. In no small part thanks to you, and the other guys I might add. You really pulled my ass out of the fire with that braindog in the sewers, by the way." He says, chuckling. Lifting up his shirt, he reveals the scar of the intellect devourer's claws on his stomach. "That bastard would have got me if you hadn't been there." He says, patting his stomach, then putting his shirt back.

He drums his fingers on the desk, a pensiveness returning to his face. "I'm proud of what we're building here, but I do miss my people." He shakes his head side to side in contemplation. "Part of me wonders if I should have stuck it out with them, tried harder to build something there." He shrugs. "I don't know how I would have done that, though."

"So yeah, that's me." He says, smiling once more and patting his legs. "Take a lizardman, give him a bunch of family issues and a deep need to make good food, send him across a few countries, and you more or less got a Badmaw."

OOC

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Action: —

Bonus Action: —

Reaction: —

Edited February 28 by Kazic5000 (see edit history)

Doggie_arf · February 26

Rurik Eversharp
Gold (Hill) Dwarf Sage Knowledge Cleric of Dugmaren Brightmantle

AC: 18 (Scale Mail, Shield) | HP: 19/19 (2d8+4+2) | Speed: 25 ft.
Senses: Darkvision 60 ft., stonecunning, passive Perception 15, Insight 15, Investigation 13
Str:Athletics: +0

Str Save: +0 10 (+0) | Dex: 14 (+2) | Con:Con Save: +2 14 (+2) | Int: 12 (+1) | Wis: 17 (+3) | Cha: 08 (-1)
Languages: You know Common, Dwarvish, Gnomish, Undercommon, Primordial, Deep Speech

Spell Slots: 1st - 3/3 | Channel Divinity: 1/1 |

“My words,” Rurik says carefully | ‘My thoughts,’ Rurik thinks to himself | My actions . . .

Downtime

As Rurik wakes up in his room of Trollskull Manor, he again wonders (and not for the first time!) if maintaining the aged building is more trouble than it is worth.

After his daily prayers and ablutions and a quick breakfast, the cleric dons his former vestments (now sadly condemned as working clothes after their recent sewer dive) before tromping down the stairs.

The last couple of days have been spent carefully replacing the rotted or damaged supports in the basement - a good number of the supports have already been swapped out for new, sturdy beams that wouldn't collapse under the weight of the entire building. Repairing a cellar has a lot of similarities to maintaining a mining tunnel, and with Amberlyn's experience in woodcrafting (and some muscle from the others) a lot of progress has been made. Once he's certain that the basement supports are all solid, he can move on to fixing the stone and brick work up above.

The clattering of plates and mugs from the kitchen draws Rurik's attention as he's reaching for the trapdoor to the basement. Sighing, he peers into the room, one hand straying towards his amulet as he notes that no one is (visibly) there. Despite what he'd said when they'd first seen the building, the cleric hadn't actually expected Trollskull Manor to be haunted. Dealing with a restless spirit powerful and willful enough to touch the Material Plane is not going to be an easy thing. While Rurik can temporarily drive it away or harm it with holy water, the ghost would probably just return. And bear a grudge.

Thankfully, the repairs on the building appear to be placating the poltergeist to an extent. As to what exactly their spectral tenant wants...well, they'll cross that chasm when they get there.

As if sensing Rurik's scrutiny, the unseen spirit gives the dishes one last, pointed rattle. "Yes, yes, I'll be at it," the dwarf sighs, getting the message. Walking back towards the bar, he pulls open the trapdoor with a grunt, before climbing down the ladder into the musty darkness below. "Tinkerer's Beard, this is going to be a headache..."

----

Amberlyn

Rurik brightens up noticeably after Amberlyn makes her offer during a lull in the refurbishing. "I won't turn down the opportunity for good drink, my dear. As for your question...I'll have to think back to my studies. After we're done for the day."

Some time later, the cleric of Dugmaren Brightmantle is seated at the table of the halfling's establishment of choice. "Now to explain what I can," he says, after wetting his lips on his tankard. "Calling me a 'holy man' is a rather, er, flattering way of phrasing things, Amberlyn. I am merely a humble scholar of the divine, one of the least members of my order. What abilities I do have come from years of study and prayer."

"I have noticed some similarities in your magic - the calling of sacred fire is a fairly common orison, or basic prayer, for several clerical orders, including mine. I would surmise that your powers are of divine origin, albeit from some kind of...blessing? Instead of active devotion. Have you had any...dreams or visions related to the divine?"

Paper Bird

Rurik frowns as he pores over the contents of the unfolded paper bird. Apparently, he'd made enough of a good impression on Renaer Neverember during their rescue; the young lordling hadn't held being mistaken for Floon against him. An embarrassing mistake that the cleric has sadly made a few times over the years...

The night's entertainment will sadly be rather opaque to Rurik - he'll have to rely on what guides they'll provide to patrons who aren't familiar with the language. At least he will not be underdressed for the opera - their hunt in the sewers and Amberlyn's new outfit have inspired him to invest some of his funds in his own wardrobe upgrade.

The evening sees Rurik walking towards the Lightsinger Theater in the Sea Ward, along with any other party members who are willing to get dressed up for a night at the opera. Rurik himself is wearing a rather fine outfit, the polished symbol of the Gleam in the Eye hanging over a dark, velvety mantle that evokes the look and feel of his old vestments.

After flashing his tickets at the booth and getting directions (and hopefully guide pamphlets for The Fall of Tiamat), he heads up towards their seats, making a note of where Private Box C is so he knows where to go during the intermission...

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Edited March 5 by Doggie_arf (see edit history)

zaffo · February 27

Pen Calder

HALF-ELF Inheritor Battle Master Fighter

AC: 16 (Chain Mail) | HP: 26/26 (1d10+3+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Prof Bonus: +2
Senses: Darkvision 60ft; passive Perception 13, Insight 11, Investigation 11
Str: 19 (+4) | Dex: 15 (+2) | Con:Save: +5 17 (+3) | Int: 13 (+1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 13 (+1)
Languages: Speak, read, and write Common, Elvish, Sylvan, and Halfling

“My words,” Pen says. | ‘My thoughts,’ Pen thinks. | My actions . . .

Trollskull Manor

Their new house was a shock to Pen in more ways than he could wrap his mind around, and he suddenly found himself a co-owner of it. He didn't have any refined skills like Rurik or Amberlyn to contribute to fixing it up, but growing up without a father made him the "man of the house" so he was always helping his mother with odd jobs around the farm. If nothing else he was "a good mule," as his mother would tease. While his feeling of being a fish out of water faded some as the revitalization of the property progressed, he doubted it would disappear entirely. But he couldn't help but notice a bit of pride growing in him. While this wasn't in his plans when he left home for Waterdeep, he was undeniably a property owner in the finest city around, even though the building seemed to be worth it's weight in fuddy-duddy bureaucrats from guilds of one kind or another turning up for this fee or that. The whole situation seemed to be sweeping him up and carrying him off somewhere. What was this tide of fate Pen found himself in? Was he to be an innkeeper? Business partner with these folks? Could he contribute half as much as any of the others? He helped whomever he could as much as he could to keep his mind off it. If nothing else, he reasoned, it was a good distraction. Perhaps the manor could even be a base of operations for him to further explore his options.

Amberlyn

Pen was in a good mood. There was plenty of work to be done and he had hardly any time to let his mind worry about what was to come. And then, as he sat down for a short break, tired and content with what he had accomplished so far, Amberlyn came to him and asked what he knew someone would eventually. His face fell, but he tried not to let her notice, he didn't want her to feel like she had wounded him by asking. If anything, if anyone were to ask, he was glad it was her. And maybe it was about time he got it off his chest. He took a moment to compose himself and decide just how much of the story of his whole life, since it was directly related, he should dump at her feet. "The long and the short of it is I messed up." He paused before giving her a knowing look, "I'm a farmer too. From Daggerford." He hesitated. "Basically... well... I came to Waterdeep to join the Guard. I don't really care about the Guard, but it's the only path to the Griffon Cavalry." As he struggled with how to continue, Amberlyn encouraged him to continue. He ignored the bit she had said about wanting to be a hero. That wasn't it. Pen never really thought about being a hero. "Yes. They're a mix of eagle and lion. You see there was... I had just come to the city and there was this little girl... a poor little street urchin being attacked by a thug. He had ahold of her and I... hit him. Broke his arm to let her escape. This, 'thug' turned out to be that Watch captain we saw at the warehouse. And then he made it very clear to me that the 'little girl' I had just let escape was some sort of shape shifting serial killer he had spent months undercover tracking down. Only to have me cock everything up at the death. He arrested me on the spot and I was taken in and interrogated. I told him everything. Daggerford, the Griffon Cavalry... He figured out pretty quickly that I wasn't trying to help any murderers escape, so he let me go, but not before telling me to kiss joining the Cavalry goodbye. He had important friends in the Guard and made it clear that I would never be welcome among them." Pen sits back and sighs as he continues, "He was true to his word. I checked. After waiting a few days I went to the Guard to try to sign up. They all knew me already and showed me the door before I could get out a word. So no," he sighed again, "I don't think I can try again. Not unless I can prove I'm much, much more than worthy to as many people with influence I can." He looked around the room and saw that the others had likely heard at least some of his story. The better for it, he conceded. Fate seemed to want them working together for now. It was probably best they know at least that his face was probably well known by many if not most of both the Watch and the Guard.

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Edited March 4 by zaffo (see edit history)

astronavigatrix · March 1

Ouránia 'Rani' Airgetlám

High Elf Noble Fey Wanderer Ranger

AC: 16 (scale mail) | HP: 18/18 | Speed: 30 ft.
Senses: passive Perception 14, Insight 12, Investigation 10
Str: 10 (+0) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con:Save: +1 13 (+1) | Int: 11 (+0) | Wis: 15 (+2) | Cha: 13 (+1)
Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common, Elvish, Infernal and Drow

“My words,” Rani says. | ‘My thoughts,’ Rani thinks. | My actions . . .

GENERAL

Despite her protests, Rani knows that the building is, if nothing else, a good way to save up some coin in one way or another- any night she spends under its roof is one less night she has to waste money on an Inn. However, there are so many things to take care of- guilds to appease and renovations to plan, that it all makes her head spin a bit. It takes her a day or two to stop being so out of sorts, setting herself up in a corner room if only for the sake of it making for easy egress if something should go awry from within.

Then, of course, she rolls up her proverbial sleeves and gets right to it.

She's nearly useless at most household chores save for cooking and washing dishes, but dealing with people is easy enough. Where Badmaw cannot cope with paperwork and pleasantries, she does her best to smooth things over and offer help as needed.

And if a night or two finds her wandering off into the night looking around for a certain someone, well...

AMBERLYN

Rani scarcely has time to offer a greeting before a tumble of words leaves the halfling's mouth. By the time Amberlyn is finished, she finds herself smiling gently, both flattered and endeared. Really, Amberlyn is far more earnest than the people she's used to. It's terribly refreshing.

"Well, thank you for the compliments, really- I don't really think about it much, but I suppose compared to everyone else, I do stick out a bit, don't I?" Which is just fine by her, really- she has no issue with it- but she doesn't want to seem as though her appearance is all she cares about either. Though that, she supposes, is a trouble for another day. For now, she smiles at her slight companion and gives a considering noise.

"The thing about having gold though," she begins, "is that you never really want to look like you've got too much of it. People might get ideas about trying to divorce you from it. That said," she continues, already reaching for her cloak, not bothering with most of her armor, "I think you're plenty pretty as is! Trust me, I've met my fair share of rich girls whose perfume and silks couldn't hide how awful they are- inside and out. But I do love a good bargain- and dressing up even more so."

She claps her hands together, pleased, and smiles as she begins leading the way out of the manor.

"Shall we start with armor? That way, we can coordinate everything else beneath after that's all settled in order to compliment it properly!"

PEN

"You're going to wear yourself out if you're not careful."

It's just after lunch, at some point in the tenday, when she spies him readying to head back out to work. While she's hardly an expert in overwork, so to speak, but she's run herself ragged for other reasons when she ought not have before. Careful stock has been taken of her companions over the last tenday, and with Pen, she's somewhat certain that he's still trying to prove something. To whom, she hardly knows. However, he's always trying, and admirable though it might be...

"Working yourself half to death when you never know when we might land another job isn't very wise." A thorough presumption, that they'll have work again soon, however she thinks Saer Volo may have more to offer them still. Or he should, if he intends to remain in their good graces- and given the man's personality, she thinks having a group of adventurers handy might be in his interests, best or otherwise.

"If you're going to insist on doing something," she continues, polishing off her drink and getting to her feet, "then come spar with me."

RURIK

"Have you had a look at the library yet?"

Rani speaks around a bite of a pastry, a few dusting rags tucked into the crook of her arm as she pauses on the stairs to give Rurik a greeting. Much like all the rest, he's been hard at work on the manor, and she feels a bit badly that she can't contribute much.

"I've been trying to clean it up as best I can, but I'm afraid organizing it properly is just a little beyond me."

While she likes to read, she's almost embarrassed to admit she'd never really understood how books were arranged or considered beyond alphabetical order. The books that weren't in their rightful place when she'd begun cleaning have been stacked neatly, awaiting their return to the stacks, but...

"When you have the time, you should take a look. I'm sure you've a better idea of what to do with it than I do."

BADMAW

"Do you think," Rani begins one morning as she steps into the kitchen in the middle of tying her hair back, "that the people asking us for money for things like fixing the building realize how asinine they sound?" Most of the time, she doesn't tend to bother Badmaw when he's cooking for mealtimes, but she's woken up fidgety and boiling over with anxious energy and she wants to do something to quell her nerves.

Hearing Badmaw fuss and grumble about the solicitors is as good a way as any.

Hopping up onto an empty counter well out of the way, she tilts her head as she observes the Lizardfolk curiously, clearly wanting to ask questions about the process at hand but restraining herself until she at least gets an initial answer.

THE ENCLAVE

A talking cat is more surprising to her than she feels it should be. The invitation is one she considers for a bit before taking, making her way to the Southern Ward only after telling the others where she's headed, just in case. She in particular needs be wary around strangers, though she doesn't let them know that- only says that it's 'just in case' she's not back before nightfall- not without sending word, at least.

Once she arrives, she hems and haws a bit, but decides she might as well dive in if she's going to- the worst that could happen is that she has to try and run before things get tricky.

With that thought in mind, she takes a breath and knocks firmly on the door, keeping her hands on her shortswords just in case.

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Arcana Check

Edited March 1 by astronavigatrix (see edit history)

Kamishiro_Rin · March 1

Date

On This 16 Tarsahk
in the Year 1492 DR,
the Year of Three Ships Sailing

★The 16th Day of the Campaign – 18:00★

IC

Ouránia

When Ouránia arrives at Phaulkonmere for the first time, Melannor introduces her to the lady of the estate: a noblewoman-turned-demigod and Chosen of Mielikki named Jeryth Phaulkon. Jeryth, the only member of her family who currently resides at Phaulkonmere, manifests as a disembodied female voice that can be heard by anyone in the villa gardens. She offers Ouránia membership in the enclave and bestows upon her a charm of restoration. She explains that the charm has 6 charges. You can use an action to expend some of its charges to cast one of the following spells: greater restoration (4 charges) or lesser restoration (2 charges). Once all its charges have been expended, the charm vanishes from you.

Jeryth also offers Phaulkonmere as a safe haven for Ouránia and her friends. Finally she says that, as a member of the Emerald Enclave, Ouránia can petition Jeryth to cast a spell, which she is happy to do if Ouránia’s renown in the enclave equals or exceeds the spell’s level.

“Well, if you wish to join, Ms. Ouránia, then I can tell you your first mission: Outlying farms are being terrorized by a scarecrow come to life. It has slaughtered livestock, chased horses, and spooked farmers. No people have been killed as yet, so the City Guard is dragging its heels. Something must be done!”

Jeryth also explplains: The Emerald Enclave is a widespread group of wilderness survivalists who preserve the natural order while rooting out unnatural threats. The organization is decentralized, hardy, and reclusive. Barbarians, druids, and rangers of good or neutral alignments are commonly drawn to the Emerald Enclave.

Goals

Restore and preserve the natural order.
Destroy all that is unnatural.
Keep the elemental forces of the world in check.
Keep civilization and the wilderness from destroying each other.

Beliefs

The natural order must be respected and preserved.
Forces that upset the natural order must be destroyed.
Civilization and the wilderness must learn to coexist peacefully.

Member Traits

Members of the Emerald Enclave are spread far and wide, and usually operate in isolation. They learn to depend on themselves more than others. Survival in a harsh world also demands great fortitude and mastery of certain fighting and survival skills. Members of the Enclave who dedicate themselves to helping others survive the perils of the wilderness are more social than others who are charged with defending sacred glades and preserving the natural balance.

Ranks

Springwarden (rank 1)
Summerstrider (rank 2)
Autumnreaver (rank 3)
Winstalker (rank 4)
Master of the Wild (rank 5)

As the building is nearing the end of its refurbishment, a dwarf with a large symbol of a fist on his shield and a man with a hell of a blonde mustache enter and sits down. When asked why he was there, he says he’d like to speak to Badmaw and Pen.

The dwarf introduces himself as Reinmith Shadowaxe, agent of the Lords’ Alliance. “Har har har! Why don’t you join us! You’ve earned a name and we’d like talent like yours!”

The man with the mustache identifies himself as Aaron Humphrey Bacon and says, “NO! You should join us in the Order of the Gauntlet! You could do some real good with us!”

Reinmith explains: The Lords’ Alliance is a loose coalition of established political powers concerned with mutual security and prosperity. The organization is aggressive, militant, and political. Fighters and sorcerers of lawful or neutral alignments are commonly drawn to the Lords’ Alliance.

Goals

Ensure the safety and prosperity of cities and other settlements of Faerûn.
Maintain a strong coalition against the forces of disorder.
Proactively eliminate threats to the established powers.
Bring honor and glory to one’s leaders and one’s homeland.

Beliefs

If civilization is to survive, all must unite against the dark forces that threaten it.
Fight for your realm. Only you can bring honor, glory, and prosperity to your lord and homeland.
Don’t wait for the enemy to come to you. The best defense is a strong offense.

Member Traits

To seek out and destroy threats to their homelands, agents of the Lords’ Alliance must be highly trained at what they do. Few can match their skills in the field. They fight for the glory and the security of their people and for the lords who rule over them, and they do so with pride. However, the Lords’ Alliance can only survive if its members “play nice” with one another, which requires a certain measure of diplomacy. Rogue agents within the Lords’ Alliance are rare, but defections have been known to occur.

Ranks

Cloak (rank 1)
Redknife (rank 2)
Stingblade (rank 3)
Warduke (rank 4)
Lioncrown (rank 5)

Aaron explains: The Order of the Gauntlet is composed of faithful and vigilant seekers of justice who protect others from the depredations of evildoers. The organization is honorable, vigilant, and zealous. Clerics, monks, and paladins of good (and often lawful good) alignments are commonly drawn to the Order of the Gauntlet.

Goals

Be armed and vigilant against evil.
Identify evil threats such as secretive power groups and inherently evil creatures.
Enforce justice.
Enact retribution against evil actions—do not strike preemptively.

Beliefs

Faith is the greatest weapon against evil—faith in one’s god, one’s friends, and one’s self.
Battling evil is an extraordinary task that requires extraordinary strength and bravery.
Punishing an evil act is just. Punishing an evil thought is not.

Member Traits

The Order of the Gauntlet is a dedicated, tightly knit group of like-minded individuals driven by religious zeal or a finely-honed sense of justice and honor. Friendship and camaraderie are important to members of the order, and they share a trust and a bond normally reserved for siblings. Like highly motivated soldiers, members of the Order of the Gauntlet seek to become the best at what they do and look forward to testing their mettle. There are few, if any, “lone wolves” in this organization.

Ranks

Chevall (rank 1)
Marcheon (rank 2)
Whitehawk (rank 3)
Vindicator (rank 4)
Righteous Hand (rank 5)

Portraits & Statblocks

(for Ouránia)

Melannor Fellbranch—Emerald Enclave

(for Badmaw, Pen, and Amberlyn)

Reinmith Shadowaxe—Lords’ Alliance

Aaron Humphrey Bacon—Order of the Gauntlet

OOC

—

Edited March 2 by Kamishiro_Rin (see edit history)

Peacemonger · March 2

Amberlyn Hillheart

Halfling Folk Hero Celestial Warlock

AC: 15 (Studded Leather Armor+3 Dex) | HP: 24/24 (2d8Hit Die+6Con modifier+4Tough Feat) | Speed: 25 ft.
Senses: passive Perception 11, Insight 11, Investigation 9
Str: 8 (-1) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con:Save: +3 16 (+3) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 19 (+4)
Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common, Halfling

Spell Slots: 2/2 | Healing Light: 3/3d6 |

Brave | Nimble | Children of the Woods | Timberwalk | Eldritch InvocationsAgonizing Blast
Repelling Blast

“My words,” | ‘My thoughts,’ | My actions . . .

Downtime

As the two men made their case to Pen and Badmaw, Amberlyn is working hard on making some final repairs on the bar. She's a couple nails in her mouth, and using a small hammer getting a third nail in to get a loose piece of wood locked in place. "Sounds like you two really want the same thing, just a slightly different way to go about it. I mean, you can argue if faith or a... uh... 'coalition' is better. Can debate all about whether to stop some wrong thing ahead of time or when you're certain it's a problem. But... you could get just all get along and work together, right?"

Not knowing the history, the rivalries, how the different in attitudes leads to very real challenges, it's an easy thing for Amberlyn to think it must be easy to just let go of differences and work together. "Um... this Gauntlet group? It has people who know about like... powers of light, and radiance, and stuff about fighting evil and whatnot?"

Rani

As Ranis suggests to go for the armor forth, Amberlyn's eyes go wide. "That. Is. So. Smart. Yes! This is exactly the thing I need to hear, thank you!" She gives the Elf's legs a bit hug. "Of course! Armor is like... you know, armor. They can make it kind of fancy, but only so much, and clothes can get all sorts of weaving, and dyes, and styles. Yes, the armor first."

Her excitement is contagious. "I'm actually going to like... look good. I'm... thank you."

Pen

Amberlyn moves to sit next to Pen, actively listening as he starts his story. That he's also a farmer isn't much of a surprise. Something about his just says 'farmer' or 'son of a craftsman' or some other more provincial work. "Griffon Cavalry? As in riding half-birds, half-lizards or whatever those things are?" She's heard the name before in stories, but has never seen one. Easy enough to mix up which animal combinations belong to which mythical beasts.

"Okay, so you want to be a hero and such, right? Then what happened?"

Badmaw

Amberlyn listen with rapture. Everything in Badmaw's past in just so... different. "That's... I think that's pretty cool, Badmaw. I mean, I'd heard stories of vampires being all pale, and pretty, and sparkly, and wooing innocent young women to lives of sin and the like. Think... think your kind of vampire's more interesting." She nods, deciding that it's better to have Badmaw around that some 'pretty vampire', whatever that might even look like.

"That's... a lot of courage. I came here because I want things to go back to normal in my home, to go back. You came to leave. I admire that." She playfully punches him. There's no force behind it, and even if there was, arm strength isn't her strong suit. "And don't go sweet talking me into being some sort of big hero like the rest of you. Going to make me actually start considering keeping these strange magics I have."

Rurik

Amberlyn isn't quite sure the difference between a holy man and just a scholar of the divine, but she accepts it. She doesn't need to know all the details inside and out, just that there is a difference, and Rurik is the latter. "Well, yeah... visions, voices... all very strange. Like I saw this place was... really scary honestly. Like everything was singing but the song was just so intense, and loud, and like nothing I'd ever heard before. No fun barroom, toe-tapping tune, something more ominous. And I get a feeling? a guidance or something? Showed me how to each each of these magic things. Lots of golds, and whites, and a sense of a heavy burden about it all. That's the best way I can describe it."

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Edited March 5 by Peacemonger (see edit history)

zaffo · March 4

Pen Calder

HALF-ELF Inheritor Battle Master Fighter

AC: 17 (Splint) | HP: 26/26 (1d10+3+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Prof Bonus: +2
Senses: Darkvision 60ft; passive Perception 13, Insight 11, Investigation 11
Str: 19 (+4) | Dex: 15 (+2) | Con:Save: +5 17 (+3) | Int: 13 (+1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 13 (+1)
Languages: Speak, read, and write Common, Elvish, Sylvan, and Halfling

“My words,” Pen says. | ‘My thoughts,’ Pen thinks. | My actions . . .

Rani

Pen had to concede, Rani made a fair point. Pen had been pushing himself a little hard physically lately, partly because he wasn't sure what else he was good for, really, and his upbringing ensured that doing nothing while everyone else worked would've made him sick to his stomach. Badmaw had taken over the kitchen and had become something of a leader or at least representative for the house, managing supplies and dealing with the various guild reps that poked their head in now and then. Rani was good at not only keeping Badmaw from eating them, but making sure they felt safe enough to come back without the Watch in tow. She could help Amberlyn and Rurik too, who were obviously the skilled hands. The only option left to Pen was to lift and carry what needed to be lifted and carried, even if, from time to time, he lifted or carried something that didn't need to be or set someone's work back some hours with a careless step, testing someone's patience. Rani's offer to spar caught him off guard though. Despite her obvious martial prowess, he had sort of imagined her as someone who was above the rough-and-tumble. It wouldn't have surprised him in the least if Rani's skills had come completely naturally and she hadn't practiced a day in her life. Of course he knew that was ridiculous if he gave it a moment's thought, but such was the impression Pen got from the way she carried herself.

"Well alright," he replied after a moment, and pushed some tables and chairs out of the way. He found a sturdy bit of scrap wood that would serve for a mock short sword and Rani found another. Soon the loud clacking and cracking of wood could be heard from anywhere in the manor.

Rurik

As Rurik was kind enough to offer and Pen was still curious about how exactly an opera worked ("It's like a play but with music all the time and everyone sings instead of speaks," is how someone had tried to describe it to him.), Pen agreed to tag along. Pen thought it was probably also a good idea to go with as protection, not that Rurik was incapable of handling himself, Pen had witnessed that first hand, but there was always safety in numbers. This would most certainly require a change in wardrobe, however, as Pen had done his best to clean them but there was still a hint of the sewers coming from his clothes and armor. He made arrangements to meet Rurik and anyone else who came along at the theater and left early to finally spend some of his loot from their adventure. He found a decent set of used splint armor and had it sent to the manor, and a new set of comfortable, functional, and durable clothes. He was feeling quite pleased with himself, wearing the finest set of clothes and he had ever owned when he arrived at the theater, only to have his ego brought right back down to earth when he was refused entry precisely because his new clothes weren't nice enough. Spotting a nearby tavern he pointed to it and said to the others, "I'll meet you there when it's done," somewhat dejectedly.

Badmaw

Pen tended to admire Badmaw. He had passion and drive and little tolerance for anyone raining on his parade. He was like the big brother Pen always wanted. Except he was a giant lizard. Looking back, of course Pen recognized that it was a foolish thing to say, but one day, when Pen was quietly watching Badmaw happily organizing his kitchen while simultaneously tending to his stew (a new recipe), it just slipped out anyway. "Where I'm from, Lizardmen are monsters that snatch goats in the night, sometimes children or people who've lost their bearings in the forest."

Alliance/Order

"Well, Saer Shadowaxe, Saer Bacon, I can speak for myself at least and say I'm flattered. Let me sleep on your offers and send you a message in the morning." The next day, Pen sends a letter to Saer Bacon that reads:

Dear Saer, I considered and decided I would like to take you up on your offer to join the Order of the Gauntlet. I look forward to working with you in the future.

Pen Calder

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-210g for splint armor delivered, new clothes and for being a bit gullible

Edited March 5 by zaffo (see edit history)

Doggie_arf · March 5

Rurik Eversharp
Gold (Hill) Dwarf Sage Knowledge Cleric of Dugmaren Brightmantle

AC: 18 (Scale Mail, Shield) | HP: 19/19 (2d8+4+2) | Speed: 25 ft.
Senses: Darkvision 60 ft., stonecunning, passive Perception 15, Insight 15, Investigation 13
Str:Athletics: +0

Str Save: +0 10 (+0) | Dex: 14 (+2) | Con:Con Save: +2 14 (+2) | Int: 12 (+1) | Wis: 17 (+3) | Cha: 08 (-1)
Languages: You know Common, Dwarvish, Gnomish, Undercommon, Primordial, Deep Speech

Spell Slots: 1st - 3/3 | Channel Divinity: 1/1 |

“My words,” Rurik says carefully | ‘My thoughts,’ Rurik thinks to himself | My actions . . .

Rani

"What books there are aren't in great condition," Rurik sighs, adjusting the collar of his now-work clothes. "I've taken some time to fix the worst of the damage, but there are limits, even with magic. And our, ah, spectral tenant kicks up a fuss if I spend too long mending books. I doubt maintaining a library is one of its priorities."

The dwarf is about to continue down the stairs to his ghost-sanctioned repairs, when he recalls something that had slipped his mind during the hustle and bustle. "By the way, Rani, I've been meaning to ask you about the, er, brain-creature we encountered in the sewers. You seem to have recognized what it was trying to do to Badmaw and myself."

Rurik winces a bit at this last bit, as he remembers the searing headache the little monster had somehow inflicted on him. If only he could know what exactly that thing had been trying to do. He has some suspicions, but nothing concrete. And the last few days of hard labor hadn't exactly been conducive for further study...

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Kamishiro_Rin · March 6

Date

On This 16 Tarsahk
in the Year 1492 DR,
the Year of Three Ships Sailing

★The 17th Day of the Campaign – 18:00★

IC

Pen

After Pen messages the Gauntlet recruiter, Sir Bacon sends him a letter inviting him to the Halls of Justice, the temple of Tyr (located west of the Market in the Castle Ward), where he can be sworn into the order. The letter explains that Pen’s immediate contact in the Order will be Savra Belabranta. The Belabrantas are a Waterdavian noble family that raises griffons for the Griffon Cavalry.

The swearing-in ceremony involves the recitation of an oath to find and destroy evil in all its forms. The oath is spoken while every candidate wears a silver gauntlet (a symbol of the order). After the ceremony, Savra gives new recruits their first mission:

“We hear that the Zhents are paying gangs in the Field Ward to attack suspected Xanathar Guild members. Fights are breaking out in the ward daily. Stop a fight before it happens. We need to send a message to these thugs that further altercations won’t be tolerated.”

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Kazic5000 · March 7

Badmaw
Dhampir Lizardfolk Athlete Beast Barbarian

AC: 18 (Unarmoured Defense, Shield) | HP: 29/29 | Speed: 35 ft. climb, swim
Senses: Darkvision 60ft, Danger Sense, Passive Perception 12, Insight 10, Investigation 10
Str: 11 (+0) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con:Save: +3 17 (+3) | Int: 10 (+0) | Wis: 10 (+0) | Cha: 10 (+0)
Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common, Draconic, and Halfling

“My words,” Badmaw spits out in a raspy voice | ‘My thoughts,’ Badmaw thinks to himself | My actions . . .

Amberlyn

Badmaw stood bewildered, wide eyed as Amberlyn casually mentioned vampires. Blinking a few times, he blurts out "Y-you know I'm a vampire? Damn. Most softskins just assume the stuff I do is regular lizardman stuff." He says, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. I gotta be more careful. He thinks to himself. Maybe less crawling on walls in the future. An uneasy smile grows on his face. "Hey, I appreciate you being cool with all that, but don't go telling folks about it, yeah? You never know who's not cool with it. And the folks who aren't are REALLY uncool with it." He says, drawing his thumb across his neck, and sticking out his tounge with a choking sound.

Chuckling, he continues. "But hey, maybe if that happens you can just heal me up again." He shrugs "I don't know why you'd ever want to get rid of that magic." He shakes his head. "One job using it and you got a manor and more gold than could fit in a backpack." He says with his arms wide, illustrating the grandeur. "I'd be dead before giving up that kind of ability. You could probably buy your whole village with a couple more jobs."

Badmaw cracks a wide grin "Mayor Amberlyn, that'd be you. Head honcho slinging spells and piling gold." He imitates her spellcasting gestures and spell sounds. "Besides, fighting gangsters was pretty fun, yeah?" He laughs heartily "You really wanna go back to humdrum life after blasting dudes like that Xan in the bar?"

Rani

Badmaw sighs heavily. "They don't give a damn if this place gets fixed or not." He shakes his head. "This place sat abandoned for who knows how long. Now someone actually comes along ready to do the work, and they got all these little rules and fees for us." He says, rolling his eyes. "They just want money not to screw with us." He growls, waving a wooden spoon around wildly. "And the sad part is, if we wanna make any money off this, we gotta play ball. It'd be too expensive to fight them all, we'd go broke."

He starts filling a bowl with the contents of his pot. "I aint paying that Justyn dick, though. He can go kick rocks. And if he messes with our order, there's always seafood. Speaking of..." He hands a spoon and a bowl filled with Crawfish Jumbalaya to Rani. "Try this, old lizardfolk recipe."

Badmaw laughs menacingly "Though, if he does mess with us, I'm thinking of hiring that detective neighbour of ours to find out as much as he can about that little weasel." He punches his hand with a wicked grin. "Find out where he lives, use those lockpicking skills of yours to bust in, steal his stuff, kick his ass, and blackmail him with whatever other greasy stuff the detective finds."

Badmaw grabs a bowl for himself, then sits next to Rani to enjoy his meal with her. "It'll be a rich, full day." He says with a wide grin.

Rurik

Badmaw arrived to the opera house in what he believed to be fancy people clothing. White powdered wig, White linens, blue and gold tricorn hat and jacket, and high leather boots. "Mmmmyeeessss, I say, we are ready for a most ELEGANT night on the town!" He said in a high voice and a puffed out chest, hamming it up with how he thinks nobles act. "Saer Fancymaw at your SERVICE, my dear fellows!" He says with a goofy smile and his pinky in the air.

It's all fun and games until the doorman refuses Pen entry, then Badmaw's typical menacing demeanor returns. He pokes the man hard in the chest, and growls out "Listen, punk - he's got a ticket same as anyone else. He's going in, or I'm gonna drag you through the muck, and we'll see who's clothes are nicer then." The lizardman then glowers at the doorman while waving the rest of the party through, before heading in himself.

The opera itself catches Badmaw by surprise with it's quality. Although he doesn't understand the words, the movements and performances of the cast convey the story enough that the lizardman follows along with rapt attention. He even has to fight back tears from the singing when one of the heroes falls fighting Tiamat. When the opera is over, Badmaw cheers with a standing a standing ovation.

Leaving the theater, Badmaw pats Rurik on the back. "Thanks for inviting me, Rurik. I think I understand why fancy folks go to these things now."

Pen

Badmaw just smiles at Pen after his awkward attempt at small talk for a few seconds, before replying "Yeah, that sounds about right." He says, nodding, and staring at Pen with that same slight smile for a good ten seconds. He then sniffs, and asks. "You want some stew? It's got some goat, and uh, other stuff in it."

Factions

The lizardman's brow raised at the enthusiasm of the two new faces vying for his loyalty. He turned to Pen and Amberlyn, gave them a shrug, then turned back to the two faction representatives and asked them the most important question.

"Which one of ya is gonna pay me more?"

That question and more consistently led Badmaw toward the offer of the Lord's League rep. Badmaw wasn't so eager to be around an order looking for "inherently evil creatures", so he gave a wide berth to the mustache man, and went in to shake the dwarf's hand.

"Sounds like a deal. Send word when you got details on a job, and I'll see what I can do."

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Yes, Badmaw rocked up to the opera house in the George Washington fit https://cdn.costumewall.com/wp-content/plugins/image-hot-spotter/images/GeorgeWashingtonCosplayCostume.jpg

Kamishiro_Rin · March 11

Date

On This 16 Tarsahk
in the Year 1492 DR,
the Year of Three Ships Sailing

★The 16th Day of the Campaign – 18:00★

IC

As the two men made their case to Pen and Badmaw, Amberlyn is working hard on making some final repairs on the bar. She’s a couple nails in her mouth, and using a small hammer getting a third nail in to get a loose piece of wood locked in place. “Sounds like you two really want the same thing, just a slightly different way to go about it. I mean, you can argue if faith or a... uh... ’coalition’ is better. Can debate all about whether to stop some wrong thing ahead of time or when you’re certain it’s a problem. But... you could get just all get along and work together, right?”

Not knowing the history, the rivalries, how the different in attitudes leads to very real challenges, it’s an easy thing for Amberlyn to think it must be easy to just let go of differences and work together. “Um... this Gauntlet group? It has people who know about like... powers of light, and radiance, and stuff about fighting evil and whatnot?”

“Oh! But we have very different agendas!” they both said in unison before giving each other the stink eye.

“We fight for the good gods to eradicate evils!” the Gauntlet recruiter, Aaron, said.

“And we uphold civilization against the chaotic forces of barbarian hoards and criminal scum who destabilize public safety and order!” the Lords’ Alliance recruiter, Reinmith explained.

“If those two result in the same outcome,” Aaron acknowledge, “Then all the better!”

“But sometimes, the two do not align—rarely—but the possibility exists,” Reinmith said. “The Lords have an obligation to the Law, upholding it, and maintaining order and safety. If some fanatical paladin of Torm gets it in his head to start lopping off the heads of people who don’t pay Torm sufficient reverence, then we’d have an obligation to put him down like the rabid dog he’d have become!”

Aaron—a paladin of Torm—narrows his eyes at Reinmith. “I would like to note that you’d sooner find just such a paladin as you’d find one dining cordially with Lolth herself.”

Aaron splutters at the idea of doing missions for money, but Reinmith is happy to welcome you aboard with promisces that although the Lords’ Alliance doesn’t pay, per se, at least, not a salary, but the missions almost always result in loot and treasure that is yours for the keeping.

He says that your primary contact is Jalester Silvermane, a field agent who reports to Open Lord Laeral Silverhand. Jalester spends much of his time in the Yawning Portal and other taverns that adventurers are known to frequent.

He then tells you that “Members are expected to complete whatever missions are assigned to them in a timely, professional manner. Refusing to accept or complete a mission can result in suspension or dismissal. An alliance member who is suspended receives no alliance missions until the suspension ends, while dismissal from the alliance means a loss of membership and the loss of all renown in the faction.”

“However, here’s your first assignment, Cloak Badmaw,” he adds. “A gang war is causing unrest throughout the city. We have offered protection to members of the Dungsweepers’ Guild, and you have been assigned to protect a group of them. Meet them at the Muleskull Tavern, on Ship Street in the Dock Ward, at six bells and guard them while they work. Do this every day for a tenday.”

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Edited March 11 by Kamishiro_Rin (see edit history)

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Chapter 2: Trollskull Alley

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T6. Book Wyrm’s Treasure

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T7. Sewer Access

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Open for Business?

Sample Guild Representatives

Broxley Fairkettle

Hammond Kraddoc

Justyn Rassk

Ulkoria Stonemarrow

Tavern Keeping Expenses

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