Waterdeep: Dragon Heist

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In the main room of the Yawning Portal, things were already bustling. Durnan could be seen through the kitchen window working up breakfast in a frenzy.

The bard Three Strings sat on the balcony playing an upbeat tune to keep the energy high.

Yagra, the half-orc you saved only a day prior was sitting at a small tables with a well dressed man who shook her hand and passed her a small pouch.

The barmaid pointed you all to an empty table, "Space for ya right here lovelies. I'll be sure to get your breakfast right out." She makes her way to the bar collecting three plates of meat, eggs, beans, and toast for you. Despositing them in front of you, she smiles, "First, what'll ya be havin' to drink? Then, Mister Volothamp said something about you lot moving into a right proper home, will ya be needin' your rooms here any longer? If not, are they free of your belongings?"
 
"Just a tea, if you please," Tristan orders as he takes a seat at the table. He nods a good morning to everyone. "We're going to inspect the place today, not sure if it's ready for us to begin living there yet. Think it's best to keep the rooms for another few hours, at least. Besides, my armor and everything is still up there. Need to see about getting that repaired before I prance around in it again before an audience." He shakes his head in disappointment.
 
Alveron couldn't help but roll her eyes at Tristan's comment before replying to the barmaid, "'Spose I'll go with somethin' warm too, a tea or coffee maybe? Dunno the lengths of yer menu, but I imagine it'll be hard to find somethin' unpleasant," she smiled as she settled into her seat. Leaning on the table she added, "As Tristan said though, not sure we'll be leavin' our rooms just yet. If ya need my room for somethin', I don't mind shufflin' about to a smaller one or sharin', I don't have much t'begin with to bother leavin' it inna room."

Beginning to dig at her plate she added, "'Sides ... the one I was sharing with left..."
 
Tristan starts a bit at hearing this, "Yorin's gone now too? That's three in two days! Do we just smell bad or something?"

He sighs. "So what happens with the property then? He was with us to earn it, but if he's not there to legally receive it I'm not sure the city will recognize his claim. Did he give any indication of if or when he plans to come back?"
 
Biz sat down, "Oh, dear, I was just starting to enjoy our odd feral friend's company." When Tristan mentions them smelling he whispers under his breath, "not that bad..."

"I'd love some coffee as well, with pleanty of cream, if you would?" the Tabaxi smiles to the waitress, noticably more calm than he has been before this point. He picks at his claws and continues humming.
 
Reaching into her pouch Alveron pulled out the small purple-handled dagger and showed it to Tristan before putting it away again, slipping a little out of their persona's speaking habit, "I don't know if he will ... I feel like where he went is sort of a one-way trip." She rubbed her face for a moment before working on retying the braid, "Anyways, Iunno what happens with the property. Not usually one ownin' any t'begin with. But if we're gonna be goin' anywhere official, should prob'ly clean up a bit. Wouldn't do t'get chased outta the place we're tryin' to get stuff done at. Maybe a bath house or somethin'? Got a bit'a coin, an' really not keen on any remnants of th' sewer, regardless of yer magic cleaning ya did."
 
"Baths are all well and good, but I need to get my armor repaired if anyone is going to take me seriously in this city. Who's ever going to believe I'm a cleric of Waukeen walking around in this ruined drab?"
He pauses for a second and takes another bite. "Ranear is meeting us at the magistrate's office at highsun and has graciously offered to cover the fee on sale of property. I suggest we reconvene there after finishing our individual errands."
 
Finishing breakfast, you each head off to take care of your various errands.
--
Tristan heads off to the Trade Ward where he finds an armorer, licensed with the guild of armorers and metalworkers, who offers the fair price of 3 dragons, 5 shards, and 7 nib. Agreeing to the price, the Cleric of Wuakeen sets off around the market picking up two bars of soap from a small perfume shop for 4 nib, a well crafted heavy net from a fishing supply shop for a dragon, and a set of cook's utensils from a smaller general store for a dragon as well. Heading back to the armorer, he finds his scale mail repaired. He collects the armor and heads off to meet the others 5 dragon, 6 shard, and 1 nib lighter.
--
Alveron begins her errands with a bath in the Yawning Portal's bath house. While in one of the private rooms, she hears a voice. After an incredibly brief conversation, she finishes her bath and goes about the tavern listening to rumors and generally keeping an ear open for the goings on of Waterdeep. While passing from table to table, she notices a Triton who catches her interest, as she follows and studies the rare form before returning to her eavesdropping. She overhears several rumors, about the factions of Waterdeep, the Troll Slayers, the Harpers and the Zhentarim, and a group of Wererats who have been shaking down local businesses. Alveron took the opportunity to pry a little deeper into the Harpers, finding them to be a faction of bards and performers, spies and informants who form one of the largest networks for the transport of information in all of Faerun. Their interest in Waterdeep is the recent Zhent activity and their conflict with the Xanathar Guild. Satisfied with the information she'd collected, she heads for the meeting.
--
Biz left the Yawning Portal headed for the bank, a branch in the Castle Ward was accommodating as the tabaxi withdrew 200 dragons from the joint account for tavern start up expenses. Finding himself with some time after the transaction, he headed to the Library of the Watchful Order across the street. There he dug into the little information published on incorporeal undead and hauntings, finding only small amounts of information whose usefulness was difficult to judge. Undeterred, he turned his attention to the history of Trollskull Manor, finding the Watchful Order's records on the place. Among them, an undated map of the property, and the name of the previous owner: a half-elf named Lif. He hastily copied the map before heading off to the meeting point.
--
Kharul found himself invited into the city by Lord Renaer Neverember, the note mentioned something about a ghost and protecting an investment. It also referenced a group of adventurers who would be his companions and came with a heavy sack of mixed coin. The final line of the note, 'Come prepared.' It was followed by an address in the Castle Ward and a time. It wasn't the first time Kharul had done work for the Neverembers, but he was normally given more notice. The stout man hurried into the city where he stopped by the Trade Ward, exchanging some of his new coin for a flail from a weapon smith before a strange encounter with a white cat. Then he headed off for a shield from an armorer busy at work on repairing some golden splint mail. With his new armaments, he headed off to meet Lord Neverember.
--

Each of the adventurers arrived at the small building one by one. Alveron first as she had not let the gossip distract her from the appointment. Kharul second as he finished his shopping and made his way over. Biz third, though he had gotten lost in his books, he was nearer the destination than the rest. Finally, Tristan who had stopped to collect his armor before heading to the meeting. You are all ushered into a small waiting room, a clerk asks you to wait as the magister is finishing another appointment. Inside, Volo and Lord Renaer sit waiting as well. Volo waves as you enter, but keeps hushed. Renaer turns with a smile, "Ahh good, Kharul, you're here. Everyone, this is Kharul. I'll be covering the cost of transferring the license. I consider it an investment in the adventurers who saved my life. However, like any investment, I find it prudent to keep an eye on it, so Kharul will be included on the deed as well." He looked around, "Is the gruff one not coming? You must be present to be included on the deed."

The door opened and a man in a black robe stepped out, "I've a busy day. Let's witness this and be done with it." He waved a hand, beckoning you all into the sparse office. Inside a simple wooden desk sat facing the door with a single chair on either side. The floor covered in a thick, heavy rug muffled footsteps as you entered. The walls were empty save a single portrait of Laeral Silverhand which hung opposite a window on the walls perpendicular to the door. The magister sat at the desk and removed a quill from a small ink well. "Produce the deed and the payment. 25 dragons a piece." Renaer placed a pouch on the desk, "Only the four of them are present. Volo is the previous holder and I am paying their tax, Saer." He bowed his head respectfully then removed 25 coins from the bag. "You'll find the whole fee there, I expected one more." The man dumped the coin across the empty desk and began counting it with his free hand, still holding the quill and looking to Volo for the deed.
 
Tristan steps forward and pulls a scroll tube from his pocket. "Here is the deed, saer," he says as he hands it to the magistrate.
 
Enjoying the soak and finally getting rid of the stink of the sewer was wonderful. A full bath was a rare treat for Alveron, considering usually they didn't have the time for such leisure. The sudden appearance of a voice made them jolt for a moment as they wore a confused expression the rest of their soak. Having thought on the silver for a bit, Alveron returned to the Yawning Portal, just in time to see a female Triton and made plenty of mental notes -- the haughty yet confident way of speaking, the smooth and elegant movements ... truly a persona Alveron looked forward to using at some point.

Ambling around the Yawning Portal was interesting in its own right, some gossip that might be relevant moving forward, until eventually it was time to head out for the deed signing.

At Ranaer's question of Yorin, Alveron lowered her head slightly, "Unfortunately his path takes him elsewhere." Raising her head she looked over the Kharul person, "My social circle seems t'be expandin' quite rapidly lately ... I look forward t'working with ya."

Sitting quietly in the office she watched the goings on, attempting as well to glance over some of the papers for reference in case her Tiefling friend was needed down the line.
 
The magister collects the deed, looks it over and turns to Volo. "You officially grant this deed to these interested parties?" Volo agrees. The man in the black robe takes a seat in the chair and takes each new owner's name one by one on a piece of paper retrieved from the desk. He then adds Trollskull Manor to the bottom, writes his own name and allows Volo to write his own before sealing the paper with wax, also produced from the desk. Replacing the wax in the desk and gathering the coin in the pouch once more, he leads you out of the office.

In the lobby he hands the sealed paper and the bag of coins to the clerk. "A deed transfer, and the associated tax. Already counted." He remarks, as the clerk files away the note and empties the coin into a slot in the desk. You hear the clanging of coin on coin as they fall into the hole. The magister turns around, "I must take my leave. Enjoy your new property, and see that you keep up on your taxes. With the recent gang activity it's looking like there may be additional taxes levied to cover repairs and the increased Watch presence." He heads back into the office, leaving you once more in the waiting room.

Renaer gives a content smile, "Well that was about as pleasant as a menial task can be." He separates the remaining coin into four piles of six dragons each and hands one to each of you. "It was going to be spent on you anyway." He shrugged, taking the twenty-fifth dragon and handing it to the clerk. "I do appreciate your fitting us in on such short notice." He smiled and nodded as he headed toward the door, "Come along then."

Outside the building you find a comfortable carriage, large enough to seat ten passengers comfortably. It is pulled by a team of 6 large horses overseen by a single man in fine pants and a waistcoat. He checks his watch as Lord Neverember approaches. "You're to take them to their new property, Trollskull Manor. When you've dropped them off, come by to collect Saer Volo and myself from the Yawning Portal." He opened the carriage door and folded out a simple step ladder to make it easier to enter the carriage.

Clambering inside, you find yourselves in a small room of a carriage. In the center a bucket with a bottle of wine and several glasses hanging carefully beneath it. The driver hits the top of the carriage with an open hand and shouts, "Right then, Trollskull Manor is your destination! Just give us a good pound on the wall when you're ready to be off!" Lord Renaer and Volo said their good byes as the cabin door closes. Through the window you can see them heading toward the Yawning Portal.
 
Climbing into the carriage, Alveron took a look around the inside, glad they took a bath before arriving for the deed tradeoff earlier. Settling herself into a seat she worked at retying her braid as she looked over the babysitter from Neverember.

Clearing her throat she smiled, "So ... seems like now might as well be when we get introduced, yeah? Name's Alveron, tend to spend most of m'time as a bartender, seems I'm movin' up in the world though to have m'own tavern. Even if it is shared four ways."
 
Kharul had been quiet for most of the conversation, only giving Renear a cursory nod in response to his greeting. He was an older, dark, stout figure with thick bands of muscle beneath his simple clothing. His most striking feature was a crimson tattoo across his forehead of a horizontal bar and dwarven runes beneath it that read ‘cursed hands’ to those that understood the language. He also had a thick beard white beard that mess braided with iron rings, and a seemingly permanent scowl.

He remained silent as they entered the cart, and his expression remained unchanged in despite Alveron’s warm reception. “Ya heard me damned name already, din’cha lass? Innit introduction enough?” He sighed heavily before offering a small, seated bow. “Ta name’s Kharul. Renaer figures it wouldn’t look good fer you lot ta get offed by spooks, so here I am.” He crossed his arms and leaned back, figuring his explanation would suffice.
 
Alveron chuckled, "Aah, I see now. Tough guy, got'cha. All grumbly n'growly. Well Kharul, nice t'meet'cha." Reaching into her coinpurse Alveron pulled out the small purple mechanical crab and began to mess with it, "Seein' as apparently you're the professional here, what kinda suggestions you got for us? Hm?"
 
Tristan studies Kharul for a long moment before speaking, silently glad he had his armor returned to its former glory before meeting a hired hand of Raenar's. "And what exactly is the nature of your relationship with Lord Neverember? You do coin-work for him and his father? Report back what you see?" He stiffens slightly at the notion of being observed, sitting up just a little in his seat and folding his hands on the table. "It is a business we're trying to run, after all, and you don't seem the most hospitable type."
 
Kharul looked at Alveron and shrugged. "Not bein' paid ta make friends, lass. And before ya make yer offers, richer than ya've tried before." At the question of suggestions, a grim smile finally crossed Kharul's face. "Me professional opinion is tha' ta damned place should've been torn down ages ago. From what I heard, a stiff breeze could bring ta place topplin' down."

Kharul turned towards the second voice and squinted as the glint of his armor strained his eyes. "By ta gods, lad! I've never seen such a mockery of ta fine art of smithin' before in me damned life! Is it meant ta look piss-stained?" He let out a hoarse laugh, not a particularly pleasant sound. "Not tha it's yer business, but ta young Lord took interest in hearin' about me travels in ta Underdark. Shared many a tale over drinks with 'im, an' apparently he figured tha this'd be a fittin' matter fer me."
 
With a strange smile Alveron replied, "Nah, I have my own ways of making Friends."

The smile faded to a smirk as she listened to Kharul speak to Tristan, cutting in again, "The Underdark though? Sounds pretty impressive ... also sounds like Lord Neverember decided to make ya an enforcer for a lackin' tavern. Bit of a ... interestin' change in scenary, yeah?" Glancing down she continued to fiddle with the small crab, "Kinda addin' on to what Tristan said ... think we're plannin' to try an' make this place worth our time, even if, like ya said, a 'stiff breeze' could tip it over. After we clear it out, what'cha bringin' to the table?" Continuing, Alveron looked up to try and meet Kharul's gaze, "Far as I know, we don't got our own hole in th'ground like the Yawning Portal, I expect someone as experienced as you'd prob'ly get bored quick fast an' inna hurry."
 
As the carriage rattles down a cobblestone-lined road, Tristan stares curiously at the large facial tattoo his new companion sports. "So is that more...traditional in the Underdark, or did you just think your forehead was too innocuous?" he asks. "What are the runes?"
 
Biz sits in the carriage, more afraid of Kharul than he is willing to let on. He pulls out the copy of the floor plan that he had gotten from the library as the others talked.

"Um... No giant hole to nowhere, but it does seem like it could be a nice place," he shows the plans off to the others, purposely not making eye contact with the frightening duergar. "I pulled some of our funds out, to give us a bit of capital for getting things back in shape. I didn't learn much about ghosts, but perhaps I can observe them and send my findings to Volo..." the Tabaxi stares off into space for a moment, "to be a contributor to a tome by the great Volo would be a dream come true." He shakes his head, trying to tamp down the excitement he was feeling. This is neither the time, nor the place to make a fool of yourself over having met your idol, Biz.
 
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The carriage suddenly lurches to a stop. "Woah!" You hear the driver shout to the horses through the thick walls, "Apologies for the abrupt stop! This should just take a moment!" The next thing you hear is the man climbing down off the large carriage.
 
Smiling at Biz's comments, Alveron soon found themselves trying to stay in her seat as the carriage suddenly stopped. Raising an eyebrow as she looked around at her fellow passengers, Alveron moved forward on her seat to look through the windows, noting they hadn't gotten too far just yet.

With a sigh, she opened the door to the carriage, leaning on it as she peered forward to try and figure out where the driver had gone or at least what had happened.
 
Stepping out of the carriage, the bustle of the street grows loud around Alveron. Toward the front of the carriage the driver approaches a small creature with his hands raised. Just barely can Alveron hear the a growl and yipping from the small creature as it backs away from the carriage driver. As Tristan follows her out, he notices the same, but recognizes that it is not a puppy, but a wolf pup, and several rough looking half-orcs in the crowd seem to be heading in the direction of the carriage.

The driver is having no luck in his attempts to calm or corral the small animal.
 
Tristan takes a look at the developing scene then sticks his head back through the door and says, "well the driver is trying to calm a wolf puppy, and there's a bunch of half orcs heading over. I'm gonna guess this will turn into a fight real quick."
 
"A ... wolf-pup? Strange thing to find inna street," Alveron frowned before looking back at Tristan, "We shouldn't assume it's a fight -- 'member where assumptions got ya just th' other day? We'll still be careful, but if anyone's gonna start something, it'll be them. Not keen to see the Watch so soon again."

Alveron's gaze moved over Biz first then Kharul, "Biz's got more coin on 'im than I'd like to lose, can you two keep an eye if anyone tries somethin' with the carriage?"
 
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