Waterdeep: Dragon Heist

[Expersprobi]

It is early Spring and within the City of Splendors, tensions are mounting between the Xanathar Guild and the Zhentarim. Rumor has it that each of these two organizations are becoming increasingly hostile, the city whispers with concern of open fighting in the streets, but no one seems to know just what set the two at odds. Though the City Watch has kept the streets relatively safe, the evidence of the conflict can be seen in broken store fronts and tagged buildings throughout the city.

After working a few odd jobs in the Undercliff together, you'd finally settled on seeking some more adventurous work in Waterdeep proper. Inside the city walls, at the famed Yawning Portal Inn and Tavern, you sit around a sturdy wooden table lit by a brightly burning candle and littered with plates cleared of food and half-drained tankards. The sounds of gamblers yelling and drunken adventurers singing bawdy songs nearly drown out the off-key strumming of a young bard three tables over.

Then, all the noise is eclipsed by a shout: "Ya pig! Like killin' me mates, does ya?"

Looking around, you see a seven foot tall half-orc hit by a wild swinging punch from a human man whose shaved head is covered with eye-shaped tattoos. Four other humans stand behind him, ready to jump into the fray. The half-orc cracks her knuckles, roars, and leaps at the tattooed figure -- but before you can see if blood is drawn, a crowd of spectators clusters around the brawl. What do you do?

 

[ramonlimon2]

"I've got 5 gold on the orc! Who's gong to match?" Tristan shouts, climbing onto the table to get a better look at the fight.

 

[Abrahms]

Sitting at the table with the group, Alveron was currently in their normal form for hanging around Waterdeep: a human woman, tanskinned with dark green eyes and black waist-length hair, currently tied in a braid. Across her left eyebrow some old cut remained, visible as she looked around at the growing crowd. Leaning back in her chair she frowned at the group seeming to set themselves up for a brawl, glancing at Tristan who seemed keen to encourage it.

Raising her voice she tried to call out, "Iunno about you lot -- but I don't really wanna end my night in a cell! Maybe not keep at it?!" Alveron scowled as her words seemed to disappear into the din of the excited crowd, looking to her companions at the table, raising her voice once more to be heard, "Do we really wanna stay here if it looks like things're about to go very badly, very quickly?"

 

[Expersprobi]

From their spot standing on the table, Tristan and Petydark can see the half-orc grab the man and throw him to the ground. With their view of the ground obstructed by the crowds, they catch glimpses of green half-orc fists flying, and the tattooed man seems to be struggling to free himself. The four other men approach the half-orc to join in the fight. Alveron's comments fall on deaf ears as the spectators egg on the combatants with mocking shouts and words of encouragement.

Standing and sniffing at the air, Yorin gets a faint whiff of blood, but not enough to be lethal, he quickly recognizes that the half-orc is defending herself, and not looking to kill her attackers. Bending down to get a better look, between their legs, the shifter can see the woman has the tattooed man pinned to the ground, resting her weight on him to prevent his escape despite the struggle. He also catches a glimpse of small knife which one of the four with the defeated man pulls as he approaches the distracted half-orc woman.

 

[WetHawk]

The large, hairy man stood up from his crouched position and let out a low growl before wordlessly pushing through the crowd. He approached the man who was pulling a blade on the half-orc and let out a snarl, staring the man down before speaking in a low, gravely voice. “No blades. Fight fair.” Yorin continued to growl, assuming a readied stance as he bared his pointed canines menacingly.

 

[Expersprobi]

The man with the knife turned to see the snarling shifter. He dropped the knife, then pointed to Yorin and shouted at the two nearest to that side, "You two get him, we'll get her off Krentz!" He turned back toward the half-orc who was clearly focused on the man pinned under her and not on the surrounding threats.

 

[Pashalik Mons]

Szilard calmly takes a swallow of his ale and looks to Alveron. "It never ceases to amaze me how unruly humans can get." he says flatly. Wearing a plain outfit that might have looked nice had it not been as old, Szilard almost looked like a normal accountant. It was only the sharp ears and grey skin that said otherwise. "Shalak nav kovek! The watch report does not need to be any more incriminating than it already is." he says, in a sharp accent, each word like a snapped twig. He works his way around the crowd for a moment before deciding pushing through is a waste of time.

Putting his right hand on his belt, he snaps two fingers of his left hand up at the ceiling, and directs a few, small strands of arcane energy to take form. As they do, the horrid, grating sound of nails raking down a chalkboard fills the air.

Spoiler: Language

Shalak nav kovek: A phrase in Goblin that translates to something like "Let's back up our comrade." but with a distinct inference that the speaker is going to do it and expects you to join in.

 

[WetHawk]

Yorin’s pointed ears flattened against his head as he heard the horrible sound, and his eyes narrowed at one of the men indicated towards him, and in an instant he pounced towards him, landing a solid punch to his jaw, letting out a snarl as foam began to froth at the corners of his mouth. The man retorted with a punch to Yorin’s chest, but he barely reacted, feeling another blow glance off of his rippling biceps. He watched as the half orc laid out Krentz and landed another solid blow to one of the men he was fighting, and gave her a nod of respect. This large woman fights well... maybe it would have been a fair fight regardless.

 

[Abrahms]

Seeing the rest of their party try to break up the fight, or at least get people to scatter, Alveron felt frustrated looking at the throng of people that basically acted as a wall. At first her hand rested on her dagger, thinking maybe she could try to knock out some of the thugs with the pommel, before reaching further to a small pouch of tiny metal spheres, good for tripping people or distracting with noise. Holding the pouch she tried to work her way into the crowd, but wasn't able to get very far. Still attempting to throw the pouch she got distracted and jostled from everyone around her, forgetting to open the pouch for the metal ball bearings to even scatter on the floor. Alveron gave a deep sigh as they were pushed along by the crowd, watching here and there through gaps what happened inside the ring.

 

[ZombWie]

Seeing Tristan climb up on the table to watch the fight Petydark giggles and jumps up onto the table to watch the scene and share in Tristan's fun. "A bar fight! Who will win? Wait..." Petydark tames her exuberance when she sees the single female is up against five men. "She looks capable, but how is that a fair fight?" Petydark glances at the rest of the group and then decides she must act. One second she is there the next only the smell of pine sap and rich loamy soil remains. At the same moment across the room and in the middle of the quarrel she pops into existence. With a forward tilt of her head and a slowly widening smile she says to the five hostile men, "Gentlemen, gentlemen! Why fight? Your ale sits on the table warming with each passing second you waste on fighting."

 

[ramonlimon2]

When his call for bets is ignored by the crowd, Tristan scowls a little. He watches the fight intently, waiting to see if he would have won or lost his coin. When Yorin and Petydark jump into the fray, he sighs at the interference and goes to wade in after them. Stumbling off the table, he is unable to push his way into the ring just yet. In annoyance he shouts "in the name of Waukeen stand aside!"

 

[Expersprobi]

Shouts of alarm suddenly ring out from the crowd nearest the elevator to the Undermountain as a hulking creature climbs up out of the shaft in the middle of the tap-room - a monster with warty green skin, a tangled nest of wiry black hair, a long, carrot-shaped nose, and bloodshot eyes. As it bares its yellow teeth and howls, you can see that a half-dozen bat-like creatures are attached to its body, with three more circling above it like flies. Everyone in the tavern reacts in fear except for the barkeep, Durnan, who shouts "Troll!" as he reaches for his greatsword and springs over the bar to fend off the beast.

 

[ZombWie]

"...with each passing second you waste on fighting..." Pety trails off as the screaming starts and a howl blasts out into the space from the direction of the giant hole in the floor. Slowly she turns her head to see the troll crawling over the wooden railing and into the tavern. Where did you come from, she thinks to herself, then leans back on her right leg and lifts both hands into the air. "Narv-eithel torog!" she screams as a chimney of flame erupts beneath the troll causing it to hop back and forth to avoid the fire. Two small stirge hanging from the trolls back are held over the flame just long enough to swell and burst, blanketing the area with thick sticky troll blood. Petydark's head juts back in an involuntary revulsion.

 

[Pashalik Mons]

Szilard takes in the rapidly changing situation without missing a beat. He recites a word of power, and a pale, skeletal hand grabs the stirge plaguing Yorin. Szilard clenches his fist and the hand does likewise, killing the pest.

 

[WetHawk]

Yorin's nostrils flared as he sniffed a foul stench a moment before a large troll clambered up from down below. He bared his teeth, recognizing the larger threat, and felt his primal instincts fully take over as his long canines burst from his mouth, his nails lengthening, and his fur growing thicker. He let out a howl, ignoring the pinpricks of the bugs nearby as he bounded towards the troll, reaching back for his axe and taking a swing before he noticed the raging bonfire beneath the beast. It gave him pause for a moment too long as he swung his axe, cleaving the air beside the beast. He glared at it in rage and was about to bring the axe back around for a second strike before Durnan felled the troll. Yorin breathed heavily for a moment before he began to calm, and his animalistic features began to fade.

Yorin frowned and his ears flattened as Durnan approached, staring down at his own long nailed hand for a moment before taking Durnan's hand. "One day, I dream to hunt like you." He gave Durnan a respectful nod, sheathed his battleaxe back in the simple leather strap on his back and took the tankard of ale offered to him before turning back to the half orc woman he had ended up assisting. "You're a strong fighter. Still, you should try to avoid going up against so many. Especially when they have blades. Why is it that those men have marked you as quarry?" He eyed her curiously as he paced back around to his table, one of the few untouched by the chaotic events, and took a seat, giving her a gesture to offer for her to do the same as he took a drink from his ale.

 

[Abrahms]

Squished between patrons, Alveron was surprised when suddenly people started scattering, screaming about a troll -- 'A troll ... here?' Alveron turned to see the confusing and worrying sight as the large shape and its horde of stirges emerged, spreading into the room.

Unfortunately slow to react to everything going on, Alveron watched as Tristan attempted to throw a flask of oil towards the troll, standing as it was in a bonfire and Durnan's command, she ran towards another oil flask for the lanterns and managed to aim true. Internally Alveron was pleased -- at least they managed to hit something. Drawing one of her shortswords she moved to help the halforc if she could, though wasn't really needed there.

Between the rest of the group and Durnan, the troll was finally felled, leading to cleanup for the tavern. Moving to pick up her misplaced bag of ballbearings, Alveron took the time to check over the dead and abandoned gang member, taking care to study their appearance and dress, wishing she'd heard more how he spoke or seen how he moved. Quickly digging through his gear, she didn't find much, nothing to mark him, not even any coin on him. She frowned, thinking to herself, 'No money ... nothing to give his name, a weapon and cheap gear. Strange to go drinking without funds unless you were never intending to drink to begin with ...' After a moment, Alveron smiled, mumbling under her breath, "We'll see if you're not useful yet ... welcome to the collection, nameless thug."

Standing she glanced around, glad this wasn't a mess she had to cleanup, but still out of habit started helping pick up chairs and righting tipped over tables.

 

[Expersprobi]

The crowd fled in a panic, most out the door, a few up to the balconies above. A bonfire springs forth beneath the beast who hopped from leg to leg as the stirges flew forth and assailed the adventurers and the brawlers. Durnan and Yorin both press the assault on the troll, Durnan shouted, "Douse him in oil and set him ablaze!" Szilard felled one of the bloodthirsty creatures with a ghostly hand and Yagra finished a second with her mace. Meanwhile Tristan threw oil at the beast narrowly missing but Alveron had more luck with her throw. The oil set alight and boiled the bloated stirges clinging to the back of the beast before they had chance to move. Petydark, moved with her dagger to finish the last stirge while Durnan felled the oil drenched, burning troll. Up on the balcony, Alveron caught sight of the minstrel, Three-strings who watched the fight eagerly.

In the end, there was only the one casualty, the wounded member of the Xanathar Guild who crumpled under the the strige who struck at his neck. In the chaos Krentz's unconscious body had been dragged off by his guild mates who were no where to be found. Durnan made his rounds to each of our company, "Thanks for standing with me to keep this bar safe, you fought well. Please, have an ale on the house." He waved a hand to signal safety and the barmaids scuttled out from their hiding places to douse the fire, clean the blood, and clear the troll as well as resume service of alcohol to the patrons.

Yorin was approached by Yagra who introduced herself. "Thank you, friend, for catching that dagger back there. I would be in much worse shape had you not. I am Yagra, a sword-for-hire here in Waterdeep. If you ever need some extra muscle, you can find me here." She smiled and toasted the shifter before wandering back off into the growing crowd of patrons.

Gathered back at your table, Durnan approached once more with a tray of golden ale. "Drink up, it's a special blend. Quite rare, and on the house, just the once." He left a drink for each of you before returning to his place behind the bar where he shouted, "Can we get back to the revelry in here!? C'mon Three-strings, I don't pay you not to perform." Music picked up and the tavern began to bustle.

Oh, from the Undermountain
A troll did crawl
To interrupt a brawl
His back some stirges blood-fountain

The troll did attack
And ran off the crowd
Durnan yelled real loud
'Til adventurers fought back

They threw oil
They made fire
They're heroes-for-hire
And the troll they did foil

The music continued from the balcony above, though the singing died down as Three-strings reflected on his rough lyrics. Soon, a man approached the table. He was older, but with a friendly smile and carried himself with confidence. He pulled up a chair and took a seat, "Heroes-for-hire? That's wonderful news. I am Volothamp Geddarm, but you may call me Volo... and I could use your help." Szilard, recognized the name of the man, a notorious braggart and embellish-er of facts, though well respected in the sage community for his collected works, the Volo's Guides, a series of books which cover a variety of topics from monsters to locales. Many of the books are rumored to be 'in the works' or 'as yet unpublished', but Volo's Guide to Monsters is particularly lauded as a masterwork of collected information - so popular that it is difficult to find a copy especially since it's between printings.

 

[Pashalik Mons]

Szilard manages to get in a swift jab with the skeletal hand, but it's nearly lost in the rush of action. As things wrap up he goes over the situation in his mind, a reflexive habit to try and make the details stick. He takes Durnan's offer with a grateful nod and sips it while watching Volo with interest.

 

[ZombWie]

Petydark dips a finger into the mug of special ale and then into her mouth. With a quirk of a single eyebrow and a smile she picks up the drink and takes a large swallow followed by an equally large exhale. "That is delicious Mister Durnan! Thank you. Burning that troll down was an absolute thrill." She turns back to the table and smiles at their newly arrived guest.

 

[WetHawk]

Yorin nodded to Yagra and let out a growl of approval. "Yagra. I'll remember that name. I hope to see you again, Yagra. May your sword stay sharp in your travels." He sat down and took a deep drink of the golden ale, feeling his body relax from the seemingly magical beverage. He felt his wounds begin to close and marveled at the effect before turning to Petydark and snarling slightly. "Fire is dangerous and easy to lose control of... You fought with it well though." He gave her a respectful look before turning to face the fancily dressed man, arching an eyebrow in surprise. "Yorin. Hero? Perhaps if the coin is enough." His eyes flicked over to Alveron... She was more of the people person.

 

[ramonlimon2]

Tristan lifts the mug in a gesture of thanks. "A toast then, to opportunity and fortune!"

Turning to Volo, he asks "and what can we help you with today, Master Geddarm? Chasing down another rumor for you to publish?"

 

[Abrahms]

Listening to the bard, who Alveron had noticed hidden up on a higher floor, they thought he maybe could have done better with his lyrics, but then again, their skills were more with mimicry and not having to come up with something on the fly.

Finally joining the table once more, she looked at the drinks offered by Durnan -- if it was something special and unique, they sort of wanted to save it for a nicer scene than the bloody and still smoldering tavern, but unfortunately the only flasks she had currently carried oil and it probably wouldn't be good to try and casually dump oil, and then attempt to pour the ale into the flask without being washed and -- it'd just be a mess. With a sigh she took a swig, mentally imagining somewhere cleaner and without a dead troll nearby. Bringing her drink down she caught sight of the newest member to the table, the figure who requested he be referred to as Volo.

Hearing the rest of the group seemed interested, under the table Alveron started running a small coin between her fingers as she leaned against the table with a smile. "If helping save the famous Yawning-Portal makes us heroes, then heroes we are. Especially if the bard upstairs gets his song a lil' more polished, I imagine word will spread fairly quick, as popular as this place is. So, what can we do for our first customer? From Tristan's comment I take it this' probably more than just needing a cellar cleared of some pesky pests, yeah?"

 

[Expersprobi]

Volo frowned at the idea of chasing rumors, and though he seemed cheerful enough in general, his mood was somber. He stroked his mustache, adjusted his floppy hat, and tightened his scarf. "I am a chronicler, a wizard, and a celebrity. I am not a rumor monger." He retorts before smiling again at Alveron as he explains, "I trust you're aware of the rising violence in our city these past tendays. I haven't seen so much blood since my last visit to Baldur's Gate. But now I fear I have misplaced a friend amid this odious malevolence."

"My friend's name is Floon Blagmaar. He's got more beauty than brains, and I worry he took a bad way home a couple nights ago and was kidnapped -- or worse. If you agree to track him down with all due haste, I can offer you ten dragons apiece now, and I can give you each ten times that when you find Floon. May I prevail upon you in my hour of need?"

The man produces five small sacks containing coin from beneath his cloak and holds them out with an uneasy smile. "Please, help me find my friend."

 

[ramonlimon2]

Tristan takes a sip of ale as he fixes Volo with an appraising look. "Trade is good, but the demesne of Waukeen has no place for price gouging. And this is important work," he nods "call it half and we'll take the job."

 

[Expersprobi]

Volothamp frowned and began to tuck the coin back into his cloak. Before you stood a broken and desperate man who pled, "This is all I have at the moment, until the royalties from my book come in. I swear I'll have the rest of the money when you've found Floon, but it's all I can do to offer you this measly sum now. I saw you stand against that troll and those bandits, what did you have to gain? Why would you not help a man in need - one who is willing to pay?" He re-fastened his cloak and began to adjust his scarf, lingering at the table a moment longer.