Waterdeep: Dragon Heist

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Tristan watches calmly as Alveron attempts to sneak around, tactfully ignoring all the sudden racket. He then strides across the room toward the far door.
 
As Alveron moves cautiously into the hall and Tristan throws caution to the wind, a small halfling woman opens the door with a large clay jug in her hand. She speaks in halfling, you catch a name, "James" before she catches sight of the armored, golden and bloody man and the woman skulking about in leathers. It's clear from the look on her face she expected to find someone else and did not expect intruders.

She screams, dropping the jug which shatters on the ground. Through the open door you see two halfling children who begin to cry. They sit at a small table in combination kitchen and dining room. On the far side of the room another door. Steps can be heard over hair, a single pair of feet moving hurriedly around.
 
Watching Tristan blatantly stroll past her, Alveron sat in shock for a moment before hearing the door open and wincing at the sudden scream. She raised her hands, all too aware of how questionable she looked, "Please -- please calm down miss! I really hope you know common ... We've gotta injured man with us that we rescued from below, we're jus' tryin' to get him somewhere safe. We din't know we'd end up in your home, ma'am. If it makes ya feel better, we've got someone with us from th' watch." Alveron tried to make her most pleasant expression and tone of voice as possible -- she didn't see thieves' cant before or anywhere near here, it'd be hard to believe this was a den, but then hadn't the weird squid thing run this way before? Too many thoughts at the moment -- for now all she could hope to do was calm the situation -- thugs were one thing to deal with, she definitely didn't want to threaten kids.
 
Hearing the scream and running feet, Tristan rushes through the door past the halfling woman. He dashes through the kitchen, determined to catch whoever the woman alerted before they could get out and disappear into the city streets.

The acid-melted metal creaks and screeches as he moves, and blood still drips off the damaged armor to leave a trail along the floor. The children in the kitchen scream in fear as they see him running but her pays them no mind.

Past the kitchen is only an empty taproom, indistinguishable from dozens of others in the city. The darkness of the night sky has faded to a bright gray of pre-dawn through the windows.
 
In the hall, the woman gasped as Tristan rushed passed her into the kitchen and past the children. She let out a small, "eep," as the children ran to cling to her. She settled lightly as Alveron made herself smaller, raising her arms and bowing her head slightly. She listened to the plea, but her face read as concerned.

The woman clutched her children close, "Please, don't hurt us." She began, shying away from Alveron and glancing toward Tristan and occasionally toward the door at the end of the hall. "W... w... what do you want? Where did you come from?" Just then the door opens, a scrawny halfling man shirtless and finishing pulling on his pants, stumbling in. "G-g-guards!" he shouts as he trembles and quakes. "Stay away from my family." The man tries to put on a strong facade, it's not particularly believable.

In the main room of the shop, Tristan stands as two members of the City Watch and a Magistrate enter the shop. "You there, halt and lay down your arms. Do not resist."
 
Attempting to meet the woman's eyes Alveron tried a smile, "We don't intend to hurt ya, forgive my friend ... he can get a bit carried away, his nerves are rattled a bit. I apologize, but as I said, we've an injured man with us who needs care ... don't intend to stay long, but at th' very least, would like to get him out of yer apparent basement." She glanced back towards where she'd come, motioning for Yorin and Biz to approach, but slowly. "These're m'other two friends, and the injured one, as I said." Turning to the newcomer Alveron repeated the same motions from before, internally smirking a bit at the man's attempt of being brave, "I swear sir, we'd rather not be here just as much as ya'd prefer it. Though, ya might wanna check yer basement a bit more closely, might've had some tenants an' not realized it."

Glancing between the two she added, "Might ya be the James the miss called for earlier?" She smiled, "Got yerself a brave one, regardless." Alveron glanced over at the two children, and gave them a small wave, reaching to her small coin purse as she internally winced from hearing the Watch speak to Tristan -- they were told not to go down to the sewers ... yet they did. This was a corner they didn't really want to be backed into, but for now they could just try to make these people speak well of them. Kneeling slightly she reached to her coin purse and pulled out her marked coin, a flicker of a frown on her face as the small mechanical crab had apparently latched onto it again. Prying it off she held the coin out towards the children, "Wanna see a trick? I can make this coin dance b'tween my fingers," hiding her nervous habit in a pseudo-magic trick she glanced at the others before continuing, "or -- even disappear!" Waving a hand infront of the other the coin seemed to vanish, she showed her hands to the children, hoping at the least to take their mind off probably what was quite terrifying. She rested her head on her hand as she looked between the pair, "Wonder where it went ... maybe ... it got stuck in my braid somehow?" Making a show of digging through her hair, a flash of gold was revealed as she pulled the coin out and showed it to them, smirking, "Maybe I need to brush more often if it means finding coins!"
 
Tristan very slowly raises his arms, palms upturned to show that his hands are empty. He shouts "these halflings are sheltering criminals and kidnappers! I am a holy man of Waukeen and they have destroyed my symbol of devotion!" As he says this he gestures vaguely at his pitted and half -melted armor, no longer the glorious display of subservience to the Lady of Gold it was mere hours ago.
 
Biz slowly enters the room, holding his hands up. He steps beside Tristin and shows that he is unarmed. "Hello, my good sirs," he chuckles nerviously as he fumbles for some form of identification to show that he's from the Watchful Order. "This is all one big misunderstanding. My companions and I were helping track down some miscreants in the sewers, and after a fight, we noticed that one of the members of the Xanathar Guild seemed to come in to the basement here. You should be warry of the passegeway into the sewers, by the way, ma'am," he nodded to the frightened woman. "Captain Staget sent us on our mission to rescue this man, and we were simply trying to escape from a dangerous place when we ended up in your shop. I appologise."
 
The magistrate frowned, "Captain Staget..." The name lingers in the air as the black robed man considers what he'd heard. "So a Captain from the Dock Ward sent a bunch of adventurers into the sewers and you followed the trail here to this small business and home in the Southern Ward where you found the halflings harboring dangerous and violent criminals?" A small sigh escaped his lips as he turned toward the Watch, "Call a Wagon. It sounds like there were several crimes committed here."

One of the men stepped outside, retrieving a small bronze whistle and blowing three short tweets. A reply came from down the street, three tweets in response. The man stepped back in, "It'll be here post haste, sir."

The magistrate nodded in approval and moved passed the two men with their arms in the air, stating, "Stay here, do not move while I attend to this." He then began announcing himself as he entered the kitchen, "I am Lucius, Magistrate of Waterdeep. Lay down your arms and raise your hands above your head. Submit and no one need be hurt." He passed the table and stood in the door of the hallway and addressed the halflings of the home. "Sir, you and your family are accused of many crimes: treason for harboring members of the Xanathar Guild, Assault against a priest or lay worshiper for your involvement in the attack on the priest of Wuakeen out front. How do you plea?"

The man, James, looked up at the imposing figure, "Me and my family... we didn't so anything of the sort. These..." He glanced at Alveron, his words caught in his throat. "These people, made unlawful entry into my home and startled my wife and children..." He hung his head.

Lucius replied dryly, "No. The cleric was assaulted, his armor clearly damaged and bloody. They entered in the course of a sanctioned investigation by order of Captain Staget, honored member of the City Watch." The woman began to cry and Lucius' attention turned to her with the children still clinging about her skirt hiding themselves in the fabric. "Hampering justice is punishable by a tenday of hard labor and a fine of two hundred dragon. Another seventy five dragon owed for damages to the holy man's armor, along with a tenday of imprisonment. The price of treason is death, but I am not eager to widow a wife or orphan children without due cause." He straightened up and put on a hard face, "The two of you will be taken into custody, your children will be looked after in an orphanage while you serve your time and we further investigate the serious allegation of treason. We will split the sentence across you, hard labor for the man of the house and imprisonment for your wife. You'll be able to collect your children at the end of your tenday and that will give us the time we need to adequately verify your guilt."

He turned his attention to Alveron, "You and your companions are free to go, but do not flee the city, we may call on you as witnesses and your priest will be delivered his damages. Where might you all be found?"
 
Hearing the sentence passed, Tristan suddenly becomes guilt -stricken and nervous. He turns toward the magistrate, still keeping his hands in plain sight, and calls out "Woah, ok, just a second if you please. Some things need to be clarified, I think. I accuse this man of sheltering criminals because the network of tunnels in which the Xanathar's Guild were hiding exits into his cellar. I was assaulted by goblins and some weird ooze monster in the tunnels below, and judgment has been passed on them in return. These monsters were those clearly working with the kidnappers to commit acts of violence. This man and his family committed no act of violence of which I am aware. I have the means to repair or replace my armor and I would not levy such a hefty charge against those who have children to feed. I would welcome an investigation into all else."
 
Listening to the Magistrate through the house, Alveron couldn't help but keep moving the coin between her fingers -- this had gotten so out hand at this point. They were pretty sure this family had been unaware, but now there were different people trying to say different things ... she glanced at Tristan as he attempted to backtrack his statement and internally sighed. At the Magisters approach she motioned once more for Yorin to come up next to her so they could see the injured Floon -- there was no point for him to still stay back considering over half the group was now on the main floor.

She frowned at hearing the sentence, looking at the concerned family -- so easily could things be ruined. Alveron went to make a comment but bit her tongue, eventually replying to the Magister properly, bowing her head slightly, though still keeping her hands visible and away from her bandoleer of daggers. "Magister, unfortunately, most of us do not live within Waterdeep proper ... I'm definit'ly willin' to testify on their behalf, for I feel this is more misunderstandin's piled on shattered nerves than anythin' else. As at least I don't live here ... I can't really say where I'll end up, but at th' very least, I expect I'll hover 'round the Yawning Portal?" She gestured to Floon behind carried by Yorin, "A man there by th' name of Saer Volo asked us to find his friend, an' I expect he's getting quite nervous for news. As it is, we still need t'get this man healed up, he's been through a lot."

Looking back towards the family she frowned again, "Hopefully can help you lot ... really did not intend for things to get so ... hectic."
 
Magister Lucius turned to face Tristan at his outburst. Even across the kitchen it was easy to tell he was displeased. He sneered, "Fine. We'll take you and the halflings on the wagon to the cells. We'll get to the bottom of this and dole out sentences appropriately. The accusations you levy are quite serious and we must be sure these punishments are accurate to the crimes."

Lucius turned back toward Alveron, "Those of you who remain will stay at the Yawning Portal or leave instructions to reach you within the city. You are not to leave the walls of Waterdeep until this business has been concluded. We will call you to witness once our investigation has concluded." He took a deep breath, clearly trying to level himself as the wagon could be heard rolling up outside.

"Come along then," he addressed the halflings whose heads hung as they filed through the kitchen toward the front door and their uncertain fate. As Lucius passed Biz he remarked, "I expect a report from Captain Staget on this unorthodox excursion. You'll pass along the message." Then he looked to the guard, "We're taking this one as well, he's more explaining to do." He pointed to Tristan and one of the members of the watch nodded, "Right this way. Best not to resist." He opened the door allowing the halfings to pass him on their way to the wagon.
 
Tristan shrugs and steps into the wagon. He waves mournfully to the rest of the party. "Guess I'll catch up with y'all later. Sorry for the complications."
 
With the halfling family and Tristan safely in the wagon it pulls away. Lucius turns back to the rest of you, releasing you from the scene of the crime, "You're all free to go, but I'd prefer not to see you on the wrong side of the law again. This whole mess is going to require a lot of cleaning up and I'd rather that no innocents end up in prison, or dead." He the three of you with Floon's body out of the shop and locks it with an arcane lock before giving you a shard to pay the fare for a taxi to the Yawning Portal.

Wandering the streets, trying to get your bearings, it takes a moment but you reach a larger intersection where life has begun bustling this morning. There you're able to find a wagon which takes you along to the Yawning Portal. On the way, Floon rouses from his unconscious slumber. He is disoriented, scared, and claims to be in pain, but you're able to talk him down explaining that Volo sent you to find and rescue him and recounting some of the things you'd seen.

Floon insists on waiting to share his story until Volo can hear it. "Not one to miss, but not one I'd rather retell," he claims. Finally, the wagon pulls up to The Yawning Portal.

Inside Durnan already has repairs underway for the damage caused by the troll. The bar is full of patrons enjoying themselves as though no fight with man nor beast had happened there the day prior. Speaking with Durnan, he offers comfortable rooms with two standard meals (whatever's made by the kitchen) and ales for two dragon a night or a suite for four dragon a night that allows you to request a meal of your liking and fine wine twice daily. He offers you the chance to think on it, commenting that it's the least he can do for your help. He'll hold the rooms for a day.

Next you find yourselves in the company of Volo and Lord Neverember...

Meanwhile Tristan rides the wagon with the halfling family in quiet contemplation. Any attempt to start conversation is stifled by spiteful looks and drown by the light sobbing of the wife and children. After what seemed like an eternity, the wagon arrived at the holding cells in the Castle Ward. There the halflings were escorted across a courtyard and into a small hut attached to the prison wall. Tristan was himself taken into the prison proper where he was left in a cell opposite a familiar elf...

Volo and Neverember both asked after your missing allies. Petydark taken into custody for arson, Szilard fled the city afraid for his life and freedom, and Tristan caught in a bit of a legal mess. Volo was hardly surprised, "That elf was ready to burn this place down too, and the Yawning Portal is an institution! And I've written pretty extensively on hobgoblins in my masterpiece, Volo's Guide to Monsters. Shame about your cleric though." He let out a sigh and Neverember speaks up, "My family may not be what it once was, but I do still hold some sway. Perhaps, Volo, you can get Floon cleaned up and comfortable. Get him some food. Neverember placed a pair of dragons on the table. I will take these adventurers to free their friend." Volo agreed and the four of you made the trek to the prison...

Petydark was quiet at first, seemingly displeased with how things had gone but eventually she turned toward Tristan with a grin, a small flame conjured in her hand illuminates the cells. "I can get us out of here. We just need to work together..." A door opens at the end of the hall and a guard comes to release Tristan, escorting him back above where Neverember and the rest of the party wait. After a brief, hushed discussion between Neverember and the guard, he nods and turns, "We're all set, but it seems I've used all of my good will in the justice system around here for the time being. The halflings will also be released once the paperwork is finished."

The trip back to the Yawning Portal is long, and exhaustion sets in. Your limbs feel heavy, and your stomachs ache for sustenance. You all gather around a table joined by Volothamp Geddarm, Floon Blagmaar, and Renaer Neverember. Renaer orders a small feast as Floon begins his tale:

"Volo and I went down to the Skewered Dragon for a bit of gambling, to take his mind off his new book and overcome some writer's block. We gambled for a while, before Volo called it a night and headed home. While I was still there, Renaer showed up. We shared some drinks, lost some money, and decided to call it a night. On our way back here, we were assaulted by five men, the last thing I saw before it the world went black was a stuffed beholder hanging in the window of some stupid shop.

I woke tied to a chair next to Renaer. The men - Zhentarim - were beating us for information about some... stone? The Stone of Golorr. They stopped when the Half-Orc and the others attacked. They thought I was Renaer and knocked me out. I don't know where they took me, but it was some foul smelling dungeon. The Half-Orc tortured me for information. He too wanted the stone. When I insisted I didn't know anything, that thing with the tentacles tried too. I could feel him in my mind as they knocked me out again.

Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the cart with you lot. First I figured you were just another group who wanted that Stone. I sure am glad that Volo sent you to save me."


Volo smiled, "I'm glad they got to you in time. It sounds like you had outlived your usefulness to those criminals." He looked up, "I suppose I owe you all a reward then. I confess that I have but few coin to spare. But never let it be said that Volo reneges on a promise. Allow me to present something much more valuable." He holds out a scroll tube. "The dead to a remarkable property here in Waterdeep! We'll need a magistrate to witness the transfer of ownership. I'll arrange a meeting with one after you've inspected the estate and deemed it satisfactory."
 
Tristan shrugs and stretches in his armor, the pinching weight having given him a crick in his neck. "I am glad we were able to resolve the matter successfully. It's good neither of you was too badly injured, though I'm sure the bruises will stick around for a few days. Or if you'd rather get back to being pretty a mite quicker, come see me after I've had a good night's sleep. I'll be taking a room here tonight," he winks.

Turning to Volo, his smile slips as the weariness shows more heavily. "Payment is payment, but going forward it will undoubtedly suit you better to be clear about what exactly you're offering in a contract. We can visit the place tomorrow, barring any surprises over the night." Tristan accepts the tube from Volo and pulls out the deed. Unfurling the scroll, he chuckles a bit as he skims the document. "Trollskull Manor, how appropriate." Tristan hands the document around to be read and lets the conversation wander as he fills his belly, rolling it back into the scroll tube when he gets it back and tucking it into a pocket.

Eventually Tristan is ready to call it a night. He stands and pats Raenar on the shoulder, saying "Thank you again for getting me out of prison. I can see what kind of stress you're under, and to burn a favor on my account is truly the act of a friend. Whatever you need, come to me and I will see it done." He then heads off to rent the rooms from Durnan and to get ready for bed.
 
Alveron had lounged in her seat after eating and listening to Floon's story, now that he was finally awake and speaking -- and speak he did. She briefly got a chance to look over the deed before Tristan reclaimed it and went off for the night, sighing as she stretched. "Truly, seems we've an interestin' crossin' of favors," she smirked before frowning, "though I wish that family hadn't gotten caught up in everythin' as well."

With a thumb she gestured towards the direction Tristan had gone, "Can I ask where ya even got th' deed for such a place? Seems ... a lil' surprisin' for you to have such a thing, if, and ya don't mind me bringin' it up, you're such a struggin' writer as ya claim. Why not jus' sell the deed to cover yer expenses?" Leaning back in her seat they fought the urge to shift to the Tiefling and ask to see the deed, make sure it was legitimate ... that could be later.

Smiling towards Yorin she continued, "I bet you're interested in a place named 'Trollskull Manor' -- usually they're all named somethin' flowery and fancy. T'be honest, the only things named Trollskull I'm more familiar with is a street an' a tavern mentioned by customers. There somethin' ... more interestin' about this manor to have it protected so?"
 
Volo smiles, "Well, I purchased it of course. That's where most of my money recently went. It was meant to be an investment in my next book, Volo's Guide to Spirits and Specters. Unfortunately I know far too much about the former and not nearly enough about the latter." Volo took a drink of his ale. "Anyway, I won it at auction, heard it was haunted and thought it was be a good place to learn more about specters. There was some moving furniture, but nothing ever presented itself to me. Without a haunt it's of little use, just a large home."

Volo nodded at them mention of the tavern and the alley, "Ahh yes, Trollskull Manor and Trollskull Tavern are one in the same. The manor is the entire building, the tavern only the first two floors - though it could be more I suppose if you wanted to rent out more than that. The manor itself is built on Trollskull Alley in the North Ward and was once a manor belonging to Trollskull, one of the warlords who inhabited Waterdeep, made it a harbor before Warlord Nimoar took power and named it Nimoar’s Hold, the Town of Waters Deep" You can read all about it in my comprehensive Gazette. Volo shuffles through his bag and hands you a small booklet entitled Volo's Waterdeep Enchiridion: A Visitor's Guide to the City's Splendors.
 
Laughing into her mug, Alveron replied, "Hah! So ... pawnin' it off on us I see, hm?" She set her drink down slowly, "Uh ... though ... not exactly sure how to deal with 'spirits' in general, and 'specters' at all." Nodding her head towards Biz, and the direction Tristan had gone, "Not really one for magic ... just bein' able to talk to people mostly, maybe be where they don't expect either."

Alveron leaned on the table, "Are we gonna ... have to get it 'exorcised' before we can even consider doin' somethin' with it? Cuz ... if it's historical, I could see maybe tryin' to get it goin' again, given we've got some funds ourselves. Dunno if the others would be interested ... but," she smiled towards Volo, "I like t'have a backup plan, case things don't go as I'd like. Yanno?"
 
Volo shrugged, "I'm not sure it's haunted. Could just be someone playing tricks, stacking chairs when I'm not around to convince me of a haunt. Nothing I tried actually called out a spirit though, so exorcism probably isn't necessary." He took a long drink of his ale, he was clearly getting to the tipping point between helpful and drunk. "If there is a ghost, you really have two options: hit it with magic - because regular weapons just don't work so well; or convince it you're friendly, probably by doing something helpful. Helping it could really get you in good with a specter... unless it's born of evil magics that is. Easiest way to explain it is ghosts come in two types, those that want to be here to accomplish or finish something, like running a successful bar, or killing the man that killed them; that's how you get poltergeists and revenants. Then there's those that are pulled her by necromancers or acts of evil be them gods or devils, they're nasty business and rarely can they be reasoned with or befriended."

He let out a sigh, "In any case I recommend caution if the property is indeed haunted. I would not have offered it in payment if it had proven more useful for my book, or if it was too dangerous for a group of adventurers such as yourselves. It seemed an appropriate reward seeing how light my coin purse has been as of late."

Renaer claps Volo on the back, "Not to worry, Volo. You'll see more royalties from your book with the second printing and until then you're welcome to stay with me and work on your next book."
 
Taking another swig herself, Alveron nodded, "Well, if it's a person, can easily deal with that, an' if words'll work, can easily do that too. Could be another interestin' friend to get to know." Lifting her mug she finished it off before digging into her coin pouch to pay for her room, prying the mechanical crab from yet another coin.

With a nod towards the others at the table, "Hopefully see ya around again, but not for such dire reasons. Appreciate th' meal -- maybe come see the manor at some point, if we can figure out what we wanna do with it." With that she wandered towards the bar to pay for her room, giving a small bow towards the table as she went.
 
Biz wasn't feeling particularly social sitting there in the bar with his new allies and one of the writers he most respected. His mind was reeling from all of the excitement, and he couldn't seem to snap himself out of it. What had he gotten himself into. Now we own property together?

The Tabaxi had never experienced people like his new friends. They looked out for each other, and even were willing to put up with Biz's cowardice. The members of the watch would often berate him when they saw him avoiding danger or vile situations, but these folks allowed him to hide when he was feeling overwhelmed, and didn't make him feel bad for it.

They may be a bit rash, and uncouth, but Biz had grown to enjoy their company more than he had thought he could. He sat and drank and listened to Volo, too starstruck to even introduce himself, but when the idea of a good nights rest came up, Biz was ready to jump on it.
 
Chapter 2: Trollskull Alley
After a long, much needed rest in the comfortable rooms at the Yawning Portal...

Alveron
Despite the tendency for Yorin to sleep at the foot of your bed, you find yourself alone in your room. On the small side table a letter is held down by the crude knife with a purple hilt and on the floor lies the tarnished silver from the warehouse.

The note reads:

Alveron.
My heart yearns for the blood of my quarry and I can resist it no longer. After finding Nara’s blade, her scent consumes my every thought. I cannot think, I cannot breath, I cannot fight without distraction from thoughts of her survival, and in that sense I bring greater danger to you all than my absence would cause. You helped to bring me back when I was nothing but rage, and for that my spirit shall be joined with yours forever in your struggles. If I survive my ordeal, we shall meet again in this life, and if not, I will see you in the next, my friend.
May your future hunts prosper and grant you great fortune.
Also, if I hear that the priest has gotten you killed, I will be back to paint his shiny clothing red.
~ Yorin Gorum


Biz
You wake to find a folded paper bird on your side table. Unfolding it you find the following letter:

Biz,
I was surprised last evening my a late summons to the Court. A Black Cloak questioned me about sending civilians into the city sewers. I learned through the meeting that Floon was found alive. Well done.


For the time being, the City Watch has no further need of your aid as a Watchful Magus. Though we may call on you in the future. I'm sure you understand.

Captain Staget

P.S. I wish you and those adventurers the best of luck in your future endeavors. Remember that your reputation is everything in this city.

Tristan
You awake to a loud knock at the door. A messenger boy recites his message, "Lord Renaer Neverember would like to inform you that he has scheduled a meeting with a Magister at High Sun. You are to bring the deed. Volo will sign it over to you and your party officially and Lord Neverember will cover the fee."

The boy smiled and held out a hand, waiting in the door.

-----------

The smells of breakfast greet each of you in your rooms, beckoning you all downstairs. Having already paid for the night you are entitled to this meal before you begin your day.
 
Waking in the morning, it took Alveron a few moments to figure out what was missing ... something they were fairly used to, yet had almost gotten to the point of ignoring by now. Sitting up in the bed, still as the Human persona, her longer black hair tied and braided out of the way, she looked down at the foot of the bed to find it quite empty. Maybe he's already left for breakfast...? they thought until Alveron began looking for the tiny mechanical crab once more. The night prior they'd set it on the bedside table, yet while getting prepared for bed, the damn thing kept disappearing only to reappear elsewhere, gripping something with its tiny claws.

A glint of metal caught her eye, making her think for a moment it was the tiny crab, until they realized no ... it was the dagger Yorrin had been upset about, and the dark silver was on the floor below it. With a deep sigh she pulled the blade out, laying it on the bed next to her and read the note, her form shifting to Yorrin unintentionally as he finished reading. He picked up the dagger in his thicker hand with a sigh that was almost a growl, muttering, "I've collected so many ... parting gifts from Friends lately. I'd hoped I wouldn't collect this one either."

Alveron reread the letter again, smirking at the final line, adding, "At least I know he'll keep that promise." Reaching into his bag he pulled out the purple egg as well for a moment before placing both it and the dagger back inside, and finally catching sight of the mechanical crab with a chair leg in its tiny grasp. Padding across the room their form returned to the Human as she picked up the little pest, getting dressed in her gear, and placing away the items, attempting to wrap the silver as she and Yorrin had done before to prevent noise. At the least I would've given you most of these, you'd need the money more... Alveron thought as she began to head downstairs. They were fairly sure today was going to be just as long as yesterday.
 
Biz awoke to see the small paper bird, much like the ones the captain had gifted him the day before. Opening it and reading the note from his former boss, he breathed a sigh of releif. Being a part of the watch had never really been my favorite thing, I only did it because I had been drafted. He gathered his things and freshened up, preparing to head down to the bar. He whistled a happy little tune as he passed by the rooms of his new companions and made his way down the stairs.
 
A loud banging on the door jolts Tristan awake. He sits up and takes a second to rub the sleep out of his eyes and compose himself before going to answer the door.

Standing in his bright yellow pyjamas Tristan listens to the messenger speak, sighing when the young man who can clearly see that Tristan just woke up and hadn't even the time to get dressed, thank you very much still held his hand for a tip. "Let me get my purse," Tristan tells the boy before shutting the door in his face.

When he reopens the door Tristan is the picture of civility--clean pressed clothes, freshly combed hair, a winning smile. He hands the youth a shard and waits for the boy to scamper off before heading downstairs. "I wonder if Durnan would have any advice about heading up a haunted bar?" he wonders to himself as he walks down the hall.
 
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