The Tragedy of Undermountain

Chapter One

The Yawning Portal was everything it had been rumoured to be for those who had never once set foot within its unhallowed halls. The three tiers of bawdy and adventure-filled banter, filled with laughter, song, and a constant hubbub were all set against its most clear and obvious feature, the portal itself leading down into the devastatingly fearsome forum that is the Undermountain, the Lair of the Mad Mage, the deepest and darkest of dungeons right here underneath the glorious City of Splendour.

Not deigning to move beyond the ground floor, perhaps in anticipation of gawping at that entrance to the unknown below, the adventurer's inn a more than recognisable aspect of life no matter what its particularities. Eyes were watching everywhere and everyone, especially those belonging to the Yawning Portal's sometime curmudgeonly proprieter, Durnan. Keeping the bar going while his barmaid Bonnie scurried around, he was evidently willing to take some of the group's coin in return for ales of varying quality. Durnan cautioned the group against overly bold adventuring into Undermountain, his veteran eye having seen far too many who were too foolish to know of their own limitations.

Seeking friendly conversation in the tavern, Cala turned to the young musician strumming and humming not far from the bar. Her chat with Threestrings was airy and bright, the bard clearly having designs on the attractive barmaid, Bonnie. It was only when Orren intervened and pressed Threestrings on who he might really be that tension rose slightly. It was dampened down rapidly with the mutual recognition of Harpist interest and a whispered word of caution from Threestrings. The word he whispered was of Zhents. He was on the lookout for them. Threestrings' tone changed markedly as he spoke those words in those hushed terms. Perhaps even the feared leader of the Zhentarim, Manshoon was the rumour divulged on that floor. As Threestrings slipped back into his dreamier ways and began to admire Bonnie once again, Cala's confirmation that indeed she is lovely drew concern across Threestring's brow and a suspicion that perhaps Cala herself had designs on his favourite.

The grizzled veteran Meloon was the recipient of plenty of offers of drink. Foremost among them was Kozak, his Goliath frame matched by his prospensity to imbibe without pause. Kozak boldly challenged Meloon to an arm wrestling contest for a small amount of coin, perhaps looking to display his prowess in front of the assorted figures of renown dotted around the tiers of the inn. It was no real contest. The grizzled veteran Meloon was easily overpowered. The younger, and much much larger Kozak was clearly the stronger of arm. Meloon took the defeat well, his half chuckle and the muttering under his breath that he just was not the man he used to be offered a wistful reminiscence and a moment of bonding between himself and the Goliath. Meloon disclosed a personal perspective - that in his view the Open Lord herself was not the leader the city needed. Somewhat conspiratorial it may have been but the discussion of better times under the former Open Lord, Dagult Nevermeber, spoke of the machinations at play at the very highest level of Waterdhavian politics.

"Sit your digusting ugly self down, right now." The shouted threat burst out even above the general chaos of the continued conversations around the Portal. A group of men had descended to the ground floor and taken issue aggressively with a Half-Orc seated in the corner, seemingly minding her own business as she supped on ale. She rose to her full height dramatically and showed no signs of backing down. There was concern among the group and other patrons. The risk of violence in as charged an atmosphere as the Yawning Portal was ever present with all the bravado and misdeeds accumulated by the regulars during their years of accumulating and prolonging grudges. They were right to be concerned. These thugs lauched themselves at the Half-Orc menacingly. She almost seemed to relish being so heavily outnumbered though, a glint in her eye as she sent the first of her assailants sprawling with a well timed gauntleted fist flush to his temple. Heroic members of the group including Orren, Kozak, and Ruadhán rushed in to try to break up the melee, holding back the Half-Orc's assailants and trying to calm the situation down. But it was not a moment of calmness.

"TROOOOOLLLLLL" Durnan's voice echoed throughout the tavern. A festering creature pulled itself up through the centre of the portal to the consternation of all within eye or ear shot. The monstrosity posed a clear threat even to the hardiest of souls in the tavern. Some retreated, others leapt into action. Meloon rushed for a torch from the wall while Durnan tried to take as much of the beast's focus as he could. Fyrenze and Kozak remained transfixed by the struggle in the corner of the room but others sought to rid the Portal of the danger posed by the Troll. Cala fired Fire Bolts as best she could at the enraged creature. Almost un-noticed, a flock of thin birds with horridly long beaks fluttered from the Troll's back. Most alighted back down on the Troll and resumed their gorging. But some instead made their way onto other patrons trying their best to avoid harm.

As the fighting continued, the Troll lumbered over the side of the portal and its full menace became clear to all. Cala continued to pepper it with Fire Bolts. None of these flashes did significant damage but each was a clear irritant to the huge enemy as other shots fired in from Romily's piercing arrows and Orren's flashing blade as well as the heft of Meloon and Durnan's nouce. Lorxain wisely focused on taking down the bird as it sucked the life from a patron. Ruadhàn made a similar effort. Lorxain struck true with his dagger, slicing the bird apart but it took Ruadhàn a little longer. By the time he had taken down what turned out to be a Stirge, this unknown patron had passed. Lorxain was more fortunate as his efforts were rewarded by healing ministrations offered by another of the mysterious number who made up the Yawning Portal community that day.

With Cala distracting and enraging the Troll, and with Romily, Orren, and Meloon continuing to pressure it with every shot they could muster, Durnan made his move. He charged into the beast, knocking it backwards and scattering it back down the Portal. As he stood, hunched on the precipice of this drop in to the darkness he bellowed: "I'M SICK OF PEOPLE GOING DOWN THERE AND ACTING AS BAIT. Nobody will go down without my explicit say so." Despite Durnan's anger, the danger itself had passed and all breahted a sight of relief. Except the Half-Orc in the corner of the room who managed to clamp herself down on top of her initial assailant and had choked the life out of him despite the best efforts of those around. The others who had accompanied the man had scattered during the battle with the Troll and were nowhere to be seen. Orren did notice a symbol tatoooed onto the fallen man's bald pate, the symbol of an eye.

"Magnificent, you were all absolutely magnificent." A booming, rich voice filled the silence following the stress of the combat. The voice belonged to the instantly recognisable form of the raconteur Volo. Most knew him instantly even if they had never seen him before. Kozak was a clear exception. He seemed perturbed by the theatrical personal style of Volo and the somewhat bombastic sense of self-appreciation his every comment was imbued with. The two sparred a little verbally but it was clear that the experience and way with words would always be stronger with the writer of Volo's Guides. Volo himself had a proposition. It was one he was a little embarrassed to discuss but Cala seemed to have a way with getting information out of him that he clearly wanted to share anyway. Volo's proposition was to help him find someone who had gone missing after a drinking session. Volo's friend, Floon, had not been seen since and he was more than willing to pay handsomely if the group could find him. Volo offered 100 gold pieces, known locally as Dragons, to each member of the group in the case of Floon's safe return. As a gesture of his goodwill, Volo paid 10 GP up front. Despite Kozak's best efforts to haggle a better price with his intimidating presence, it was a value that could handily set the group up so as a collective it was an offer readily accepted. Volo's description of Floon was florid, noting mainly just how handsome he is and what a thoroughly charming drinking companion he always makes.

With a renewed sense of purpose and the lure of gold for each of them, the group set out of the tavern without delay as they began their search for Floon. Although the day was already through much of its journey, the streets of Dock Ward were still busy. Just busy in a different sense to the thoroughfares of Castle Ward or North Ward. A continuing sense of being watched, a wariness about those who passed by marked a change in the community surrounds. Through these narrower streets and onto Fillet Lane where ramshackle buildings generally did not stand out in any meaningful sense meant the one abode which clearly did was immediately noticeable by the group. The purple hew of the Old Xoblob Shop looked distinctly out of place. The curios of the shop were matched by the strangeness of its owner. Xoblob described himself as the third owner of the shop and a keen observer of everything that passed by. He told Kozak that the first of these owners had been the one who had slain a Beholder which was now stuffed and remained quite a curio in the window at the front.

It was Orren who recognised quite how significant this spot could be for observering what may have transpired with Floon given its position not far down Fillet Lane from the Skewered Dragon. Xoblob was persuaded to speak not least when discussion turned to is favourite colour, purple. It was the purple he had noticed when two men were bundled away just a couple of days ago from outside the Skewered Dragon. Xoblob could easily describe the handsome features of the first of these men but it was the purple cloak of the second that he admired. Orren promised that if they found the two men who had seemingly been abducted, Xoblob would definitely be the new beneficiary of that glorious cloak. The deal having been struck, it was time to peruse for curios as a range of trinkets caught their eye. But the prize was still Floon and the group knew its next step was to track down what may have happened to him and the man in the purple cloak outside the Skewered Dragon.

The area outside the Skewered Dragon showed only a couple of signs of possible trouble. Already the passing of just perhaps a day or two had been enough to wipe away whatever may have shown the skirmish Xoblob described. The Skewered Dragon itself was a deeply un-inviting location. It could not in truth be described as a tavern, little warmth or jollity emerged from within its sombre interior. A group of men huddled near the bar, focused more on their drink than in the usual banter and loud discourse of a thriving tavern. At the bar, a somewhat jaded looking barmaid barely reacted to the arrival of a group of adventurers.

Kozak was not intimidated by the cold response to the group's entrance. He strode into the midst of the local patrons and boldly proclaimed his interest in finding a friend. There was little by way of return though as the name Floon meant nothing to those who drank here. Unperturbed, Kozak slowly warmed up the frosty late afternoon atmosphere with the one currency guaranteed to warm any heart, ale. Buying for the locals and drinking himself earned some just a little appreciation. His own physical prowess perhaps also helped as Kozak dissolved the reluctance of these dock workers to share information. With his generosity of ale and a tone that sat well in this part of Waterdeep's non-nonsense Dock Ward, Kozak discovered that someone matching Floon's description along with another man in a purple cloak had been given a beating and taken away by "snakes". The "snakes" had a warehouse not far away, in Candle Lane. The patrons assured Kozak that the beating was deserved as the haughty and dismissive nature of what were descibed as "nobs" was considered insulting by the dock workers.

Cala Mari also tried her charms to try to tease more information out. In front of the dispirited barmaid though it did not seem to work out. Cala described herself as an "adventurer" but her words were twisted and the implications about what an "adventurous girl" might be did not leave the two ladies seeing eye to eye. The barmaid offered nothing and nor did the other patrons. Cala's persuasive touch simply did not have much effect in a place like the Skewered Dragon.

Furnished with enough information to go on though, the group was ready to make their move towards the warehouse of the "snakes". Orren helped the others in the group translate what this local slang might mean. His own knowledge of the Waterdhavian culture helped to explain the conceptual links between snakes and the Zhentarim. Orren was also excited to know what the reference to "Nobs" might be and whether there might be someone from one of Waterdeep's noble houses involved.

Ruadhán knew he was the man for for the job when it came to sneaking down Candle Lane. The alley was dull, the sunlight somewhat encumbered by the storehouses overshadowing the narrow passage to such an extend it needed a flickering light even in the daytime. Sneaking down the lane, Ruadhàn stumbled and fell, cascading his equipment and clattering noise everywhere. Gimbat's help offered no particular assistance as he charged down the lane loudly roaring. The whole of the dock ward must have been able to hear the group as they bulldozed their way so loudly towards their goal. Despite the group's lack of physical tact, the existence of a small snake-like mural on the wall about two-thirds of the way along Candle Lane was enough to get them back on track. A door of sorts but Ruadhán could only succeed in getting his crowbar stuck as he attempted to lever it open. Kozak's power helped. He wrenched half of it away, enough for all to push their way through.

The courtyard of the warehouse beyond what was now not much more than a hole in the wall led to the group's target. A door was the obvious route in but a window to the side of the L shaped building offered the other potential entrance. Orren was wary. He knew far too much noise had been made and whoever might be inside would definitely know someone was coming. Ruadhán peered through the window but could not see anything in particular other than a crates and storage as well as a dozen dead bodies in an horrific scene of carnage. It was of course too quiet but as the group pushed through the door, it was still a surprise for most when 4 squawking Kenkus appeared from behind crates and launched into an attack.

The bird creatures wielded short swords as they launched themselves at the adventurers. The combat was brutal and swift. Fyrenze took a nasty wound as a Kenku's blade struck against his large base. The Forest's Wrath did not take the damage lightly though, he was brutal in his riposte. The spear thrust skewering the neck of his foe and leaving it lying limply on the floor in front of him. Orren's blade was just as true. He struck down another of the Kenku's with a fearsome blow and called on the remainder two to surrender.

With their morale shattered, the Kenkus obliged. The pair squawked a bunch of possible gibberish. "It doesn't like it, does it?" and other out of context commentary told the group that "Xanathar sends its regards". More squawking revealed commentary such as "Tie up the pretty boy in the back" as well as "Follow the yellow markings in the sewer." The gibberish was enough for Gimbat to recognise that something about the pretty boy must have happened in a back room. He scouted out a door and burst it open, only to find it was another store room. But that didn't stop him grabbing the 15 silver bars he noticed in an open case. A few paintings nearby also caught his eye. Lorxian was just as acquisitive. He had found a balcony and amongst the useless items of clothing, a parchment he could tell was magical fell into his possession though what it actually could do remained beyond him.

Gimbat eventually found what he was actually looking for. In a tiny room, a grubby man covered in grime and soot cowered when the Gnome entered. Gimbat was a little surprised to discover it was not actually Floon. Recognising his own lack of social etiquette, Gimbat figured this was a task for someone else so it was the Goliath he turned to for aid. The prisoner declared his gratitude for the rescue and announced himself as Renear Neverember, someone Orren immediately realised was the son of the deposed former Open Lord of Waterdeep, Dagult Neverember. Renear sorrowfully suggested his friend Floon may have been taken in a case of mistaken identity as it was possible that criminal groups were after the huge cache of gold allegedly hidden somewhere by his father before he was deposed. Renear had no idea whether it was true his father had stored the gold and had not seen the man in years now. When Orren offered up guesses for how much gold was being discussed, Renear was vague but did seem to assent to the most extravagant figure Orren proposed. Kozak was keen for Renear to join the group to track down Floon but Orren recommended instead that he find somewhere safe as the squawkings of the Kenku suggested the sewers were the next part of the journey and that was not where a noble like Renear who's adventuring days were behind him needed to be when such dangerous groups were potentially threatening him.

The bodies lying on the side of the room appeared to have two distinct sets of attire. The black leather of half of them was reminiscent of the Black Network, the Zhentarim. Renear's recollection was a fight between two groups. It seems the Xanathar Guild and the Zhentarim were openly hostile and this fight could easily have been to gain control over him and through him, access to the hidden cache.

As Fyrenze tended to his injury, Gimbat and Kozak found a passage to the sewers underneath a particularly heavy crate. After a quick rest it was onwards. Or rather, downwards.

The descent into the dank and unpleasant confines of the sewer system underneath Waterdeep was eased slightly by Ruadhán' lighting the way with a torch. The dim light from the flame illuminated something deeply unpleasant in the sewers. Two grotesquely large caterpillar-like creatures feeding just yards away down the tunnel. Orren charged towards the beasts, swinging his long sword before they had a chance to react. Others followed the cue with blows raining in from all sides. Kozak's strike with the axe was brutal, crushing down into the crawler and utterly destroying it. Fyrenze took up the attack with the second of the two monstrosities, dealing it a powerful blow and then resisting as the crawler lashed out with tentacles and efforts to bite. Fighting as a pack, the group swarmed over as blades and violence fired in. Nobody could really tell whether the mocking words from Vidaris affected the unthinking animal but his litany of insults rang out as Romily's blade ended the crawler's life. Whatever the pair had been eating was completely unrecognisable, a reminder of the fate that could befall any who stumbled too hard in these unwelcoming tunnels.

Ruadhán and Romily scouted ahead, finding a powerful effluent channel crossing their path. The Rogue squeezed across to the point where the flagstone path alongside the filth came to an end. Yellow dots on the wall at the end of the path were the only clue that something may lead beyond. For some reason though, the effluent channel seemed to be more appealing to the group. Wading through knee-high and higher flows of who knows what coming from a grated flow to the north, Romily, Ruadhán, and Bleater made their way to a small ledge with a rudimentary door. Others followed including Fyrenze whose four legs gave him much more stability. Cala did not find the traverse so simple. She slipped face first into the hideous muck and was being swept downstream when she managed to grab on to the handle of Fyrenze's glaive. The force pulled the glaive loose from Fyrenze's grip but Orren was on hand to haul Cala out and set her down on the ledge seemingly unaffected by the disgusting sediment she had just been face to face with.

Listening intently at the door by the ledge, Romily could sense something. Beyond the threshold, a simple space to eat and store worthless used items. They belonged to a Halfling Wererat. Romily pressed the Wererat for information about who might have been passing through. The Wererat did not question her assertion that she was working with "The Eyes". He spun a tale of helping that group track down "The Snakes" and that he and others like him were content to run around for The Eyes and keep them up to date with anything they happened to come across. All in return for food. It was no great stretch to offer rations to the Wererat when he mentioned that the last people he had heard in this part of the sewer were splashing their way along the passage with the yellow dots.

Onwards the group pushed, through the ankle-deep trickle towards a rondel that may once have marked a key node in the sewer system but was now little more than a junction. The junction was its own danger though. As the leading members of the group made their way through it, arrows fired in from opposite diagonals on the circle. An arrow flew narrowly past Ruadhán, alerting him to the danger. But another one glanced across Romily, lightly nicking her and drawing blood. With more haste, most of the group pushed through to the southern aspect of the rondel except for Kozak and Ruadhán who headed north. Lorxain was a little slow in his approach though, the dallying of the wizard leaving him too long in the crossfire and taking an arrowed blow of his own.

Most of the group made their way south trudging through sludge and once again found a door set into the sewers. Creeping through, Romily discovered it to be another simple eating station next to discarded and disused grubby clothing that had clearly been through the sewers far too often. Having enough of the steady approach though, Gimbat burst through another door he found in the corner of the room to find himself face to face with a Goblin pointing an arrow at him. The arrow missed its mark as it whizzed towards the diminutive Gimbat. His own blow did not miss the mark, cutting deeply into the archer and claiming the scalp. Orren picked up the bow and arrows as well as a few coppers as a small reward.

Kozak and Ruadhán found little of interest in their scouting of the northern passage aside from a potential drop down onto another passage so decided to regroup with the main segment of adventurers. An underpass of sorts put the group to crawling - uncomfortable for a couple of the larger members of the party but at no great difficulty as emerging the other side of the underpass into an unoccupied room littered with straw mats. Someone was here. But no longer. The eeriness of the surroundings didn't stop Orren pressing on to open a door and come face to face with a Duergar clearly ready to take on all comers as he stood in the narrow confines by the door, preventing the group from swarming him too easily. The Duergar's mind was also ready. The slings and arrows of outrageous insult and mental attack from Vidaris did nothing to perturb him. The blows the Duergar inflicted were powerful but not enough. He stood his ground though, fighting to the last until he was eventually rendered apart by Kozak's might.

Two more doors in the room the Duergar had died in. Orren speculated the place to be a barrack. It was definitely no random assortment of sewage. One of the doors had been barricaded with a series of wood planks. The wood was no match for Kozak's strength but most chose not to follow him. Romily, Lorxain, Bleater were not put off by the horrid smell emerging from the room as they entered after the Goliath. Ruadhán and Vidaris hung back sensing this might not be the moment for valour. Gimbat and Orren made for the second door and another passage.

In the boarded up room was a cesspit. Foul smelling stench filled the air. A deeply unpleasant experience made all the worse when Romily noticed bones seemingly floating in a liquid pool. Kozak was curious. The huge Goliath peered down into the pool to try to get a closer look. The pool itself reared up and struck at Kozak. The Ooze's mindless malevolence would have burned into a lesser man but Kozak's stony resilience allowed him to shrug off what should have been a terrifying blow.

Seeing their largest companion struck so powerfully, everyone in the cesspit ran. Ruadhán and Vidaris were already ahead of them. But nothing would have prepared the fleeing group fow what they saw when they caught up with Gimbat and Orren. The Gnome and Warrior had burst into a more ornately draped room. Orren shrieked in terror when he saw what was in that room. Ahead of the pair was a handsome young man being tormented by a grimacing Half-Orc. That was not what shocked Orren. The shock was in seeing a tall, elegant, slim figure rise from his seated position at the end of the room. The true terror was in that figure's face. Tentacles spewed out where a chin should be. The figure rose gracefully and floated towards large double doors at the side of the room.

While the scene did not halt the pair's advance, a sense of dread formed itself in Gimbat's mind. A hideous form of what could only be laughter and the message that he was about to die. No words had been passed but somehow the message buried itself into Gimbat. The tentacled-figure made his point even clearer by tossing a grotesque brain with feet towards the Gnome. Neither Gimbat nor Orren took a step backwards. Orren launched at the Half-Orc as did Gimbat. Despite trying to Shield himself, the Half-Orc in his robed attire was no match for the violence thrust upon him as the two hacked until Orren's blade dealt a blow no natural resilience could resist.

As the Half-Orc went down, the brain inflicted its blow on Gimbat. A radiating blast of energy struck Gimbat in his weakspot - his brain. His efforts to resist were not enough. Gimbat slumped to the floor in drooling unconsciousness. Seeing the danger, Orren bravely flung himself at the brain that had devoured the intellect of his Gnomish friend. The brain bled but did not stop. It was about to launch another strike when from nowhere Vidaris charged in to the rescue to fling his blade down onto the brain just in time and to save whoever the next victim was to be. Vidaris's heroism would no doubt be recorded in song to be heard for centuries to come.

The tentacled creature was no longer anywhere to be seen. The group attempted to tend to Gimbat but no ministrations they could offer had an effect in restoring him to vitality. The handsome man turned out to be the prize they had sought. Floon. Bleater helped heal him up from his wounds for which he expressed eternal gratitude. He was still clearly deeply shaken by the suffering he had endured but glad to be alive and to have been rescued.

Worried at what else might be lurking, the group scanned the alcoves and neighbouring rooms. The two double doors led to a strange room. Strange in that it held a contraption with insignia resembling eyes. But keen to hasten their escape from this place, the group focused on retrieving what they could from the scene of the battle they had just faced. In an alcove lay a purple cloak. Presumably the one worn by Renear Neverember on the day of the initial abduction. A loose flagstone signified even more. A passage. A passage underneath the sewers. Despite the fearsome dark, the group preferred it to any further exploration of this place of horror.

The passage emerged to another loose flagstone which when pushed led into a brewers celler. Their appearance must have been startling. Covered in the filth of the sewer and the gore of combat. Carrying with them a limp Gnome. Yet nothing seemed to startle the Halfling the group met as Vidaris proposed doing business to purchase some of the local ales. The bizarre is all too frequent in a place like the City of Splendor.

With Floon in hand, the group returned to the Yawning Portal, rightly assuming Volo would be there. Volo was delighted to see his friend Floon, air kissing and gripping him tightly. Volo explained to the tired and battered adventurers that he could not quite fulfil his side of the bargain due to a slight liquidity issue. But he had something to offer of even more value - a scroll. The group was nonplussed to receive a piece of paper until they came to realise what the script written on it explained. The scroll was a deed of ownership for a tavern - Trollskull Manor. It had been in relatively recent use but had come into Volo's possession after a period of non occupation. The internal deliberations were short. The deed was accepted and hands were shook with Volo.

As Durnan called time on the evening's opening hours, a mysteriously dressed dark-skinned woman with dazzling ornamentation approached Lorxain. He recognised her as being the woman who had intervened to help keep another patron alive when a Stirge had struck in what must have been only the evening before but seemed like so long ago already. She introduced herself as Obaya Uday and offered her services of restoration for the stricken Gimbat. Her demand in return was the group would seek out and provide to her the Selemac of Q!uthing which she believed to have recently changed hands somewhere in Waterdeep. A threat rang out in the ears of the adventurers. Failure to make good on the deal would result in their being afflicted with curses. Obaya cackled in a language none of those present understood, levitated Gimbat then let him drop as she turned and climbed the internal stairs of the Yawning Portal. Gimbat landed with a thud. "Ow, my head hurts." His words were a relief to his companions, his limited intellect had been restored.

Chapter Two

With the rescue of Floon and the acquisition of title deed, the group was minded to take a well earned rest and to perhaps build lives in Waterdeep. Opening a tavern definitely appealed to a sense of wellbeing. They may well have been a little dismayed when they arrived at their new manse to discover it in quite a dilapidated state. Trollskull Manor had clearly seen better days. But the optimism of having survived a near deadly encounter under the streets of the city carried the day and a desire to make as much as possible from what they now had.

Initial cleaning and maintenance may have been a chore but also allowed time to explore the local area. For many of them it was still a new city and still filled with wonder at all of its splendour. The local community in Trollskull Alley was perhaps less inspired by the awe having entrenched themselves in the day to day grind that brings all peoples down over time. Children played in the grime of the alley. Passers by barely acknowledged the new owners of the finest building in the area. An inquisitive Halfling did show some interest but in the main it was a studious avoidance of unnecessary contact and conversation that ruled this particular corner of the world.

It should have been a restful first night in a new home but expectations and reality so seldom mesh for those trying to build a sense of calm and peace in a place like Waterdeep. Orren, Lorxain, and Ruadhan found their slumber futile. They were awoken by crashing sounds in the tap room. Barrels of long-expired ales had been scattered, drinking vessels destroyed. The sweet smell of fermented sugars wafted through the entire building. Someone or something had deliberately unleashed chaos across the tap room but left no trace of themselves. Even the sharpest of eyes amongst the group could not spot anything that might offer a clue as to who had been there, and why.

With a disturbed night behind some of them, it was a bleary-eyed morning and yet more cleaning and mending. The local area was of course well worth scouting. Fyrenze made an acquaintence with the owners of Steam & Steel, a smithy. Fyrenze's efforts to charm the owners, Embric and Avi, did not make the progress he may have been hoping for. A somewhat hot tempered discussion ended with Fyrenze refusing an offer to join the Most Careful Order of Skilled Smiths & Metalforgers. It took a calmer intervention from Avi to suggest a period of apprenticeship for Fyrenze where he would work for free in return for training.

Bleater found himself more at home at Corellon's Crown. The laid-back herbalist seemed to enjoy the company of the Kenku and offered to brew a potion for him if he were to return a Gazer's eye to help with the creation of a new concept.

Orren tried to knock on the door with a the image of a tiger emblazoned upon it. He began to draw a bit of attention while he continued his efforts to no avail. Whatever was behind the door would remain mysterious.

Lorxain and Cala found common cause at a bookshop named Book-Wyrm's Treasure. The hoards of books and scrolls separated the dust inside the store though there appeared to be more shelves than was theoretically possible in each room. The Dragonborn owner of the store attempted to impress with his sagacity and knowledge but Cala in particular appeared unamused by his words.

Ruadhán and Gimbat both aimed to drown themselves in ale at a small local bar called Frewn's Brews. Silence greeted their entry and a brusque response from the owner, Frewn. His small Halfling stature clearly held a large temper. Ruadhán was entirely rebuffed and unable to quench his thirst. It was a surprisingly hostile encounter. Gimbat had a little more luck by offering to work with Floon to explain exactly what was going on over at the Trollskull. His offer to betray his colleagues was enough to earn him some of the locally brewed ale.

A messenger arrived at the Trollskull with an invitation for Orren. It was the most delightful of invitations, tickets to the opera at the Lightsinger Theatre in Sea Ward. It was as strong an incentive to wash as the group had received in quite some time. The Fall of Tiamat was a glorious rendition in Giant. The host providing the tickets was none other than Mirt the Merciless, the corpulent old adventurer who had clearly taken something of an interest in the rescurers of Floon and Renear Neverember. Mirt revealed himself as a member of the Harpers, a secret society that tasks itself with protecting society against entities and groups. Mirt's physical appearance, his well-known lavish lifestyle, and the time that had passsed since his most glorious of adventuring years were all apparently a clever ruse to keep his identity hidden from those who would oppose the Harper's mission.

Perhaps it was the emotion of the moment with the beauty of the operatic performances still ringing in his ears, but Orren took this to be the time to announce that he too was a member of the Harper organisation and he encouraged those with him to join. Lorxain and Cala both chose to take the Harper pin and to pledge themselves to oppose tyranny and anyone who would seek domination. Mirt issued the three with their first task as Harpers, to track down a Mare with the capability of speech who has been seeking the identity of Zhentarim operatives.

Others found cause in different places. Eremin found a home with the Emerald Enclave. It was an eerie form of home though. A summons to visit Phaulkonmere was offered by a domestic cat. Melannor Fallbranch greeted him and introduced Eremin to the disembodied voice that was Jeryth Phaulkon. The voice implored the druid to deal with an infestation of abominations in the area of Undercliff just outside the city walls of Waterdeep. She also warned of Dopplegangers disturbing the balance and insisted they must all be driven from the city.

Ruadhán found his purpose after an abrupt demand originating from The Blackstaff, Vajra Safahr. It was clearly a demand and had little to denote friendlieness through the means by which it was conveyed. The brusqueness perhaps was the ultimate reason as to why Lorxain ultimately chose to decline The Blackstaff's offer to join Force Grey. Ruadhán on the other hand took up the charge to work in support of The Blackstaff and others who would defend Waterdeep and its inhabitants against all threats. Safahr revealed that one of Force Grey's operatives in the city, Meloon Wardragon, had been acting strangely and needed to be observed.

An invitation to join the Order of the Gauntlet was issued with far less subtlety. A woman shouting for the attention of Kozak and Longbeard from outside the front door of the Trollskull was somewhat annoying but her message and ultimate offer was somewhat persuasive. Both Kozak and Longbeard joined the Order. They were asked to show their willingness by finding out what was behind a series of gang fights in the Sea Ward. Safahr shared more information with the pair, alluding to the return of the notorious Black Viper. The Viper was apparently back in Waterdeep and had been involved in a series of high profile heists.

Vidaris kept his ear to the ground, hearing as much as he could about his own name as his fame began to slowly drift upwards.

The attention of groups and power brokers was clear. This was a group marked for something. The rescue of the son of the former Lord of Waterdeep had brought notoriety that meant many were watching them.

The group also felt they were being watched at home. The night was once again disturbed. In the early evening, it was disturbed by children playing. They ran off once they were discovered but there was evidently a gap in Trollskull's exterior. Later on in the night there was another disturbance emanating from the tap room. This time, Orren was able to notice a spectral figure at the centre of the hubbub but all efforts to communicate with it came to nought.

A Dwarf visitor the next day brought everyone back to the reality of life in Waterdeep and the bureaucracy that entails. An application for a licence in the name of Longbeard Smitesalot was submitted to the Fellowship of Innkeepers for the bargain price of 25 gold pieces, a pre-requisite before the Trollskull could be opened once more as a licensed establishment.

Having gathered information from their various sources, the decision was to tackle the problem of the Abominations in Underhill. Orren was familiar enough with the direction to ensure the group were able to make their way out to the lesser-visited outskirts of the city. It was a drastically different location to the ones the city dwellers typically called home. Wider, more open expanses. Greenery in most directions. Farms and properties clustered together rather than packed alongside each other in the endless rows of Waterdeep proper.

It was obvious where the problem lay in Underhill due to the silence. The sounds of animal life were gone. It was a stillness that contrasted so strongly with the city. There was no sign of anyone or anything. But there was a smell. It was everywhere. A rotten smell that spoke of wrongness. As the group began to filter out around a farmhouse, Orren knocked to try to find a response. Kozak moved ahead. His huge frame an obvious sight had there been anyone to see him. At the back of the farmhouse, Kozak's boldness was responded to by a low moan. It was a Zombie. The undead being slouched towards the Goliath who called over his companions, attracting the attention of another Zombie emerging from a nearby barn with a trail of animal entrails behind him.

The Zombies were resilient in the face of powerful strikes not least from Kozak. Blows that should have felled a regular mortal were nothing to these creatures. Kozak's persistence paid off though as he smashed the skull of one of those attacking him. Gimbat was on hand to splatter the other.

The attack from seemingly out of nowhere was enough of a caution to the group to be a little more circumspect as they moved around the fields looking for more clues as to what had happened here in Underhill. The Zombies had left nothing living inside the barn. Crops in the field seemed to have been abandoned, suggesting nobody was on hand to keep these life giving smallhold farms going. As the group searched the fields, Bleater found himself under attack. The Scarecrow that had been patiently keeping birds away had moved towards him from behind and struck him. The shock was a little too much for Orren who found the idea of scarecrows moving around and doing more than just standing stupidly so fearsome that he could not bear to look. As the group piled in to try to take down this abomination, Ruadhán hatched a plan. He doused the Scarecrow in oil and set fire to it. The Scarecrow let out an awkward cry and was weakened enough that he could be chopped into smouldering firewood.

It was a victory but a short lived one. As the group moved further into the distrct, another Scarecrow attacked. This time, with knowledge of how to eradicate the strawman already in place, it was a relatively easy kill. However, a Gazer beam blasted through and threatened to overpower the group as they basked in the warm glow of a fiery kill. Behind the Gazer, an Illithid. The Mindflayer tossed an Intellect Devourer at the group, immediately startling Gimbat. There was no panic though, especially from Bleater who skillfully deployed his Thorn Whip, connected with the Illithid, and dragged it into a well. A maelstrom of attack later and both the Gazzer and Intellect Devourer were dead.

Bleater's actions may have saved the entire group that day. He revelled in the glory of the moment, scooping out the Gazer's eye to take back to the herbalist in Trollskull Alley. Somewhat surprisingly though, there was no sign of the Illithid in the well. Gimbat was lowered down it but could find nothing. Nor could Ruadhán when he was lowered down as well. The Illithid had seemingly vanished through the very earth at the bottom of the well.

It had been quite a day but once again the night was not for easy slumber back at the Trollskull. Eremin was perhaps the only one to sleep peacefully, comforted by a necklace received from the gratitude of Jeryth Phaulkon for the work the group had performed in ridding the city of abominable threats. For everyone else it was a continuing nightmare. Banging and crashing disturbed the night. Orren tried to reach out, offering calming words and calling for whoever it was to show themselves but to no avail.

To better understand exactly what might have been causing such commotion after dark, Cala and Lorxain became acquainted with the Great Library. The most likely piece of information revolved around an Elf named Lif who had died while the owner of the Trollskull around 50 years ago. The history of the Manor was fascinating though. Plenty of backstory through the ages though it was perhaps a little surprising to discover that originally, the building had come into life as an orphanage around three centuries earlier.

Armed with a little more information, the group hoped to be able to better comprehend their experiences but the daytime offered further prospect of making a mark in the city. Kozak encouraged the group to focus on the gang fighting affecting the Dock Ward he had been told about. The only person they knew in that area was of course Xoblob. The eccentric Gnome was again more curious than the curiosities he had for sale but also mentioned more trouble at the Skewered Dragon, the very watering hole where Renaer and Floon had been seized presumably by Zhentarim agents just a few days earlier.

What greeted the group when they burst into the Skewered Dragon was a very different scene to the one Kozak had found to be some comfortable amongst the dock workers. Blood stained the furnishings and a husky smell wafted throughout the tavern. There was a stand-off. A group of eight similarly dressed people of varying races and ethnicities stood, weapons drawn while a small band of Drow faced back at them. Neither side blinked as the group barged their way forwards and placed themselves directly in the middle of whatever had been happening before their entry.

The standoff was tense but nothing eased that mood. Orren called out to ascertain exactly who the group of eight were. He caught sharp words in response. The Knights of the Dragon's Pen mocked him and his companions for lacking the wit to provide a name for their collective. Their leader proclaimed himself the most locquacious of wordsmiths and had the name Vernaculis. The poet-warrior cast aspersions on the weakness of those who stood in front of him while those standing behind began to bristle as the tension rose.

It was Orren who cracked, disbelieving the claim that these Knights were serving the grizzled veteran Artus Cimber, striking out and making contact against a well-armoured, heavy-set opponent. The blow was clearly impactful but the group did not respond in kind, clearly torn between responding with violence and maintaining some focus on the Drow. The Dark Elves watched on with perhaps a hint of amusement as erstwhile foes. The remainder of the group took up positions anticipating more of a skirmish but it was the Knights of the Dragon's Pen who found themselves backing away. They left with more choice words of insult, making clear that paths would cross again in future.

A snigger escaping the lips of the Drow behind the bar returned the group's attention to the reality of the tavern's new situation. The friendly banter some had enjoyed here previously was now gone, the lingering smell of violence all that remained. With the aggression still pent-up from the encounter with the Knights of the Dragon's Pen, it was channeled towards the Drow. The three elves displayed no concern at being outnumbered. There was no backward step but perhaps that was a mistake. Weapons were drawn on both sides but the battle was somewhat one-sided. Despite skilled swordsmanship drawing blood with almost each strike, the Drow were overwhelmed. One was savagely torn apart by an enraged Fyrenze and another fell to a cleaving blow from Gimbat. Only Orren seemed to consider mercy as he forced the once-smirking Drow to surrender before his life blood seeped away completely.

Attempts by Vidaris to persuade the Drow to talk, to explain why he had taken over this tavern and who he was working for were met with stony-faced resistance. Others chimed in but it was Fyrenze who seemed to take the task the most to heart. He sliced at the Drow leaving him close to death after being on the receiving end of barbed commentary about the Centaur's family. Derogatory words cast towards Fyrenze's late mother tipped him over the edge and it took the might of most of his companions to hold the raging animal back. While Fyrenze was met with a physical barrier of his travelling companions, Longbeard ministered healing to the Drow to bring him back into consciousness. Still the Drow would only throw humiliating words at the Centaur who finally had enough and murdered his tormenter, the blood oozing down the Drow's throat and with it any hope of knowing exactly what had happened here. A distant sound sparked the group into action, not wanting to be seen alive in a tavern now full of death. They fled the scene, beating a hasty retreat through the streets of Waterdeep.

Although late, the destination the group chose for its getaway was the Yawning Portal. There was still business to be conducted. The prospect of Dopplegangers having infiltrated the city and making their base at the well-known drinking hole still needed to be investigated. A quiet word with the clearly lovelorn Threefingers did not particularly enlighten but interrogation of some of the staff certainly did. The delectable Bonnie admitted to her being a Doppleganger and having been sent from Thay. She regretted the deception and was clearly keen to make a new life in the City of Splendour. Whether she could would be in the hands of the group who also discovered other Dopplegangers amongst the staff in the tavern who seemed not to have the same honesty or sense of belonging to their new home. The group determined in the end that they would report the Dopplegangers and possible links to the Red Wizards of Thay but would keep Bonnie's secret for her.

Another task to accomplish at the Portal was to understand what had happened to Meloon Wardragon. He had been described as acting strangely. As he was the group's first contact when they arrived in Waterdeep, many within the group felt a personal connection to the grizzled old veteran. Finding his room on the upper floor, the group forced their way in to find Meloon grappling with an axe while muttering to himself with a crazed look in his eyes. Perhaps he was under magical possession with this axe was the first thought that the group voiced. Kozak's brute strength helped to answer that question as he wrenched the weapon away from Meloon. That did not stop the problem though as Meloon turned his ire on those who had stepped in to save him. Orren and Kozak combined to force Wardragon down and grapple him around the neck until he passed out.

As Meloon slumped, barely lifeless, a small horribly distorted brain appeared next to him. It charged at the group. Gimbat recoiled in horror, the memory of meeting an Intellect Devourer once before and it absoring his own mental capacity time still haunting the Gnome. The Devourer was rapidly despatched with the swing of a boot from Fyrenze. Reviving Meloon though was a challenge beyond the skills of the group. Reluctantly they found themselves requesting the assistance of Obaya Uday once more. She was angered that the group would approach her without bearing the Selamac of Q!uthing as she had demanded in payment for her prior revival of Gimbat but determined that it was Meloon this time who would owe her an allegiance. Her ability to employ a Greater Restoration was enough for the day and for the group to recognise that if they returned again to the Yawning Portal it had better be with the Selamac in tow.

Once again it was a disturbed night. Banging and crashing echoed throughout the Trollskull. The morning arose with a warning etched into the walls. It read: "She is below but if the seal is released she must be banished forever as I could not manage." Clearly the warning was from Lif, the apparition who had haunted the Trollskull from the moment of the group's arrival. Cala and Lorxain dived into the details of hundreds of books and reports to try to track down information that could help to explain what the warning might be about. It took quite some time but eventually they were able to source material which showed more detail about the Trollskull's origins. It had passed through a few different hands but perhaps the most significant was a period in which the building had been an orphanage a couple of hundred years ago.

The group also explored information around town about a minor noble family called Cassalanter. Rumours abounded that the family had a link to the Black Viper, the person believed to be in possession of the Selamac of Q!uthing. The Cassalanters seemed also to have had a chequered history, emerging into prominence a couple hundred years ago but having found notoriety when a previously deceased Cassalanter re-emerged from a crypt within Undermountain to wreak havoc on Waterdeep. The family seemed to have lost an association with luck at that time and while still wealthy were perhaps not in the same position as they had found themselves in previously.

Life in Trollskull Alley continued. The Fellowship of Innkeepers arrived for an inspection of Trollskull Manor. The guild representative, Broxley Fairkettle, a Halfling with a pleasant comportment seemed to be satisfied with the repair work being led by Fyrenze and told the group the matter would be considered at the Fellowship Hall the following day. Cala took it upon herself to pay a visit to the Cassalanter's villa but was refused entry by a gruff guardian at the gate and left without making much progress in her investigations.

Nights were troublesome at the Trollskull. Whether it was the banging and crashing of Lif's evident trauma or intrusions by children or by rats there was always something. Rats proved particularly tiresome not least during the evening that saw some of the local homes and business defaced. A small group of concerned Trollskull Alley inhabitants formed conspiratorially. It seemed as though blame was being attached to the new owners of the Tavern. The instigator directing blame was clearly Frewn of Frewn's Brews. There was definite anger amongst the sleep deprived group. Ruadhan and Orren both went out to make their mark. Orren considered getting physical in the face of Frewn's provocation but it was Ruadhan who turned the group's anger away from the Trollskull, aided by some subtle placing of thoughts by Cala into the minds of those present.

One of those present was Vincent Trench, proprieter of the Tiger's Eye. The private investigator was unsubtle in defending the Trollskull group as his gaze lingered for far too long on Cala. Other relationships in the Alley were perhaps not like this one and though Cala did not feel comfortable, Trench's defusing of the group's sentiment meant Frewn did not win hearts and minds,

The group resolved to deal with Frewn once and for all. Early the next morning before most had arisen, they pushed their way into his establishment. The potentially friendly relationship once sought by Gimbat with Frewn was now out of the window. Instead, the Gnome's focus was more on how Ruadhan was able to be quite so sneaky, it was definitely the hat.

They were not along in the bar. One slumped patron had clearly had too much. Another was studiously ignoring them as he seemed to be standing confrontationally close to Frewn. That someone was a Drow. Once it became clear it was a dark elf, Fyrenze's ire grew. His last encounter with the Drow ended up in the Centaur crushing the same elf to death twice. There was no prospect of quarter being given here either. The Drow attempted to ignore the new entrants into the drinking establishment then fired mocking barbs their way with some choice words that only inflamed the situation. Fyrenze figured defenestration was the best option.

The Drow went flying out of the bar but it was not possible to finish him off as a member of the City Watch on dawn patrol had noticed the fracas and responded to it. He questioned everyone and insisted they all go their separate ways. The Drow once again insulted the group as he departed.

Back inside Frewn's Brews, the Halfling proprieter was clearly more keen on discretion than valour. He ran towards a stairwell and disappeared. Ruadhan followed, with others in hot pursuit. They did not find Frewn. What they found was their triggering of a mechanism that cascaded them downwards into a foul-smelling pit. The three who stumbled into it were face to face with three Carrion Crawlers. The hideusly large worms seemed to be hungry and only one group of three was going to emerge alive. When Ruadhan's hat appeared once again over the edge of the hole in the ground, it was clear who had won out. The battle had been bloody but Frewn was nowhere to be seen and a new question had emerged - just why would a bar have a hidden pit with crawlers in it?

The day passed with the question still unanswered but that night, the disturbance at the Trollskull was worse than ever. The sounds of high pitched crying carried throughout the building. An exploration of the building found the sounds and images of crying children hidden everywhere. A sense of deep foreboding was most intense at the uppermost level of the Trollskull. Eremin was bravest, finding a space with disturbing hum in what appeared to be a wall but once the druid pushed his Halfing's arm against it, the physical world distorted around his arm and child's doll came into his possession.

It was an horrific moment. All through the Trollskull, images of crying children came just about into view. They were not quite present but not absent. The inaudible hum grew louder, the basement its source. A green glow pressed its way through each of the many cracks in the floor of the erstwhile beer cellar. It was Orren who asked for Lif's help. The warrior suggesting Lif might open whatever was sealing something below as he had done those many years before. Lif's unseen efforts were only enough when Eremin offered up the child's doll. As he did, the physical manifestation of the Trollskull melted away around the group and they found themselves instead in a green haze with a disturbing sensation afflicting one and all.

It was an unreal place wherever it was the group found themselves. There was a path. There were walls. But there weren't. Everything and nothing seemed both real and impossible at the same time. Orren found his thought processes uncomfortably silent. Ruadhan knew that the rapier he held was a serpent and had to be discarded immediately. Others were clearly and visibly frightened by this place. Bleater appeared different. But nobody could quite put a finger on what it was they were seeing. Gimbat seemed fairly unsure what it was that was afflicting everyone.

Despite the swirling green in front of them, a way forward seemed possible. The way circled, and spiralled in front of the group. Something of a howling, cackling sensation burned into the perception of each, afflicting any sense of bravado they may have once had. Something flitted in and out of the darkness. Whatever it was formed only on the periphery of sensation until it burst into reality and struck at Kozak. It took intervention from the cleric, Smitesalot, to put down the threat. The Shadow was far from the only threat though. Fey beings including Boggles appeared and harassed the group, surrounding them at times, seeking to cut off one from others. They were handily despatched though. Orren, Fyrenze, and Ruadhan standing particularly strong against them. More Shadows and more haunting kept the group on their toes until they finally found the density of mental pressure almost too much to bear.

It was too much for Orren and for Lorxain once they rounded yet another corner of the cirle and found themselves face to face with the terrifying visage of a Green Hag. Around her stood more Boggles, more Shadows, and a couple of Redcaps. The battle was forged with fire, particularly from Ruadhan who lit arrows and used them to devastating effect. Despite the danger and despite the attempts to dominate the thinking of the group that occasionally sent some of them awry, they stood victorious once the final blow piered into the Hag from Ruadhan's arrows and she disappeared from view along with the green mist and the many mental distortions. The group found themselves in the Trollskull, not moved from where they had been. It was unclear whether time had passed or whether what they had experienced had found any base in reality. But they all knew it had happened. Lif appeared in front of them, a sense of contentedness radiating from his slightly less transparent visage. He poured each of them an ale.

Chapter Three

BOOOOM! The sound rumbled through the Trollskull, shuddering fittings and rupturing some of the external features the Tavern had boasted. The noise was such that nobody could have slept through it. The only issue at hand was whether to explore what might have happened. A few of the hardier souls braved the venture outside. Ruadhan, Orren, and Kozak led the way. What they found was carnage. The aftermath of whatever had caused the sonic disruption clearly had a devastating impact. There were bodies in the Alley and licks of flame still curling around occasional embers. Kozak investigated the dead and the dying. Some were beyond identification, others had been luckier and might still be alive. Two were of particular interest. One had a snake charm lying next to him. Another was a Halfling who seemed strikingly familiar. It was Frewn. He was not dead but he was barely alive. Kozak tried to get more information from the pair but it was of no real use.

Kozak and Ruadhan searched for anything that could explain what might have happened. Attempts to speak to the Herbalist, Falla Lafir did not really help as the elf was clearly far too spaced out. It was not long though before the City Watch arrived to try to impose order. Kozak and Orren tried to keep their enquiries going which riled up the Watch and brought suspicion upon themselves. Vidaris was more subtle in trying to probe but he too got nowhere. Bleater however did spot someone observing. A stoic, silent figure in the shadows was watching.

The figure was shadowy indeed, something of a Shifter between the light and the day. He gave his name as as Lysander and confirmed, hestitatingly, that he had seen what had happened. Lysander had been tasked by his employer, Renaer Neverember, to attend a meeting in Trollskull Alley but being cautious he had hung back before making his presence known. While he was watching, a group of Halflings and a group of black-clad men had come together in the middle of the Alley. They were struck by a Fireball fired by some kind of construct of the type known from the celebrations at the Temple oF Gond. The construct had raced off and in the confusion Lysander had not been able to intervene so he instead resolved to wait and watch once more to better understand exactly what had been seen.

The naming of Renaer Neverember drew interest from the group. Bleater and others did not fully trust him so kept a wary eye on this observer while more City Watch arrived to eventually take away some of the injured. Orren insisted the black-clad figure and Frewn be kept under close guard despite their injuries.

The arrival of Renaer changed things. A quiet word in the Trollskull held to clarify what might have happened, away from the prying ears of neighbourly snoops. Renear confirmed Lysasnder's tale. He had been in hiding since the abduction and had been passing messages through intermediaries to get to the bottom of the issues around the groups trying to take hold of him and the issues around the wealth amassed by his father. Neverember was supposed to be at the meeting in the Alley but due to the fear that had been instilled in him, had chosen to send Lysander instead. Clearly it was him who was meant to be the target of fiery death but it was also clear that others had found out about his proposed meeting given the two groups who had converged at the scene. Renaer still could not show himself too publicly so he asked that the group take Lysander on board and pursue the investigation themselves. There was an item Renaer mentioned that his contacts had identified as key to the location of his father's hoard, something called the Stone of Golorr.

The first port of call had to be the House of Inspired Hands. The Temple of Gond was the only lead so far with the construct potentially being one of Gondan design. The temple was a bizarre place. Mechanisms and designs, many of which could never work, were everywhere. High Artificer Valetta was quite keen to offer an apprenticeship into the capabilities of the masterworks but was roundly rebuffed by the group. Despite their lack of interest in learning the ways of Gond, Vidaris was able to persuade Valetta to discuss the construction of what she described as Nimblewrights. These constructs had a humanoid appearance and matched what Lysander said he had seen at the time of the explosion in Trollskull Alley.

It was not straightforward to work out who might have taken receipt of the Nimblewrights. Back and forth conversation picked out the most suspicious potential purchaser, a Zardaz Zord based in the Dock Ward. An old friend in the Docks was fairly helpful when the group found themselves back in the less salubrius part of town. Xoblob the strange Gnome with his many trinkets was able to point the group towards Zord's ship, the Eyecatcher. The docks were buzzing around the Eyecatcher along with its sister ships the Heartbreaker and the Hellraiser. Gaining access though was problematic. A burly docksman blocked the boardwalk towards the jetty. For once the group decided to eschew violence and cut a deal. The dockhand was a hairy and bulbous mass and his price was Vidaris. The Bard agreed to take one for the team. What happened between the burly man and Vidaris took a good few minutes but would not be spoken of in detail by either person involved.

There was a hostile reception with a couple of guards on The Eyecatcher. Tempers flared, especially those belonging to Fyrenze and Orren, but eventually a cool enough head from Ruadhan and a swish of his flamboyant hat somehow caught the right eyes. The eyes of the Trollskull group grew large as plates once they made their way into the Eyecatcher itself. An extraordinary feast was laid out with signs of abundance everywhere. The host was just as sumptuous. Zardaz Zord was just about the most handsome man anyone in the group had ever seen. Exquisite attire accentuated his athletic physique. The charm was just as overwhelming. Most of the group were easily persuaded to tuck in to what turned out to be an unparalled experience of succulence.

Zardaz's price for this generosity was subtly understated. He asked the group for the retrieval of a trinket belonging to his grandmother, a shawl known as a Selamac. The dots were joined instantly, this was the self same item the group had to track down to pay restitution to Obaya Uday for her previous restoration of Gimbat's intelligence. Zord also requested the return of his Nimblewright. He named the Gralhund's, a minor noble family, and instructed the group to take the hunt to the Gralhund residence in the North Ward.

Once the group were off The Eyecatcher, some of the persuasiveness seemed to wear off. It was still their best hope to find what they were looking for though, in particular trying to find the Selemac of Quthing. As evening fell, a small set of the group determined to take their efforts to the Gralhund's while others returned to the Trollskull to make sure all was well at the homestead.

The Gralhunds were not especially well fortified and a locked gate posed no real challenge to the group especially as they decided to clamber over the wall with Ruadhan leading thw way. A couple of dogs noticed them though so when Vidaris managed to make his way over the fairly low-hanging wall, he lulled them to sleep with a gentle song. A surly looking groundskeeper also found himself slumbering. Orren did the humane thing and put the two mastiffs down while they slept. Lysander did the same to the groundskeeper. As the group's introduction to the Gralhunds it was characteristically sharp and pointy. Fortunately though nobody else seemed to respond to the violence in the courtyard. A scout around the external grounds found a stable. Ruadhan climbed up it while Orren sought to worry the horses within. When the stable door was opened they bolted but Orren was able to step aside just in time.

Eventually the group chose to enter tha main structure on the house, the Gralhund Residence. Inside the rooms there were signs of destruction everywhere. A guard room was entirely stripped of weaponry. Two bodies lay on the floor of the pantry and two more were in the laundry room. The wounds were fresh. Whoever had killed these staff of the Gralhund had done so recently. It became much clearer who that was when the group burst into the great hall. The finery and splendour the Gralhunds had accumulated for display was just a backdrop to the site of half a dozen corpses. Two thugs sprung into action, their repose after what must have been fairly recent combat disturbed by the arrival of the Trollskull group. Whatever victory these thugs might have been enjoying was short lived. Lysander and Orren each cut one down swiftly.

There were most sounds of combat from stairs at the back of the room. There was not much time for the group to get to grips with the scene in front of them but later anaysis found Zhentarim symbolism amidst those of the Gralhund guards. Two sides had been fighting one another but as this was the Gralhund Residence, the guards must have been defending themselves against attack.

The group charged upstairs towards the sounds of steel on steel. Eight men lay dead or dying already, some clad in black leather, others in chain mail bearing the arms of House Gralhund. Similarly garbed foes battled one another. The group threw themselves into the action immediately, taking aim at the lighter armoued side of this combat. Ruadhan skewered one from behind while Lorxain blasted another with magic missiles. The last of this particular group was taken down by one of the chain mail wearing combatants. If it felt as though the fighting might have moved into a hiatus that sensation was shattered when the chain mail warriors turned towards the Trollskull group. Words were not the weapons of choice. Steel was. Orren's steel shattered through the chain of a Gralhund guard. Lorxain's missiles took down another. Lysander finished off the threat. The Trollskull group had managed to do to this group of guards what the Zhentarim had been struggling to achieve.

More banging from behind the southern door of the room the battle had taken place in drew the group's attention. Behind it was a heavily scarred man kicking at another door. He snapped to attention immediately and tried to extract himself from danger despite being significantly outnumbered. He might have managed it but Ruadhan was too fast and too crafty. The scarred man's life ended impaled on Ruadhan's rapier, the one member of the Trollskull group he clearly had not seen.

It took some effort to force the door but inside was the prize the scarred man had been looking for. Lord Gralhund. He was somewhat dazed and confused, a foppish presence who did not at all seem to be the head of a mighty household involved in whatever machinations had drawn the attention of someone like Zardaz Zord. Questioning him drew non-answers and a sense that Lord Gralhund had little to no idea why his home had been invaded by Zhentarim. Disappointed, the group split up to explore the remainder of the compound.

Lorxain discovered a library, much to the learned one's delight. A book placed in prime position on a reading plinth drew his eager attention. As soon as he attempted to turn a page, an almost imperceptible click launched three Spectres into Lorxain's vision. Alone and with three undead closing in on him, Lorxain realised he was in trouble. He called for assistance and Orren heeded that call. Orren's interest in a caged falcon he had discovered in an adjoining room was easily dropped as he charged into battle. The Spectres proved challenging foes. Their presence drew lifeforce from Lorxain to the point where he was within an inch of his life ending. Orren's attempts to force the Spectres to take him on instead did little to sway their grim persistence. The Wizard managed to despatch two with what little he had left in his magical arsenal and Orren struck through the other. Lorxain was saved but only just. He resolved to take shelter while others took the fight to whoever or whatever might still remain in the Residence.

Ruadhan discovered who it was that remained. He picked his way into what turned out to be the master bedroom. Three figures huddled at the far end of the room by an open window. But Ruadhan's attention was mainly focused on a huge Half-Orc who bellowed at him and raised a massive mace. The brute and the dashing blade tangled for a few moments. Would power or cunning be crucial in the fight? Despite the significant strength advantage owned by the Half-Orc, he could only land a single blow on his more dextrous opponent. Ruadhan was sharper and more accurate. His repeated blows eventually enough to cut down the Half-Orc.

As the Half-Orc went down, a blur of movement at the far end of the room was hard to see in detail. One of the figures fell, clutching at something as they did. The other two in turn leapt from the window into who knows what was waiting for them beneath. The fallen figure turned out to be Lady Gralhund. She was clutching some kind of shawl, a garment of ever shifting patterns difficult to look at for more than a moment without a sense of nausea.

Outside the compound the sounds of shouting and the distant cries of the City Watch meant it was no longer time for the group to be present at the sight of a massacre and with the noble Lady Gralhund's death potentially placed on their headds. A rapid exit and a leap into a nearby alley was their only prospect of avoiding being cornered in desperately incriminating positions.

In the alley, the group re-gathered. Having split up somewhat they were back together. There was an expectation of a chase but what they were looking for was right in front of them. A Nimblewright. Non-active. Blood dripping from a blade in its hand where it had struck before leaping out of the window. Whatever it was supposed to have in its other hand was absent. No sign of whatever it was that had prompted such drastic action.

There was little time to ponder what might be though as a group blocked off the exit to the alley. As they moved towards the Trollskullians positions, a flicker of memory sparked to explain who they were. It was the Knights of the Dragon's Pen. An exchange of insults between the groups was the extent of the viciousness between them. The Knights were after the Stone of Golorr but after a moment of internal discussion they turned and walked down the alley towards the exit while the conversation barbs were still ringing. Ruadhan followed them as they hustled out of the alley but as he did, his eye was caught by a shadowy figure barely visible crouched behind one of the ramshackle structures that passed for buildings in this alleyway.

The group converged on what Ruadhan had seen. It was a slight figure clad in black and in a defensive posture as it maintained a crouched position. Orren called out gently to try to build confidence. It was clear whoever this was had been injured. Kozak offered his healing hands to help. With a bit of coaxing and the help of Cala in setting the right atmosphere, the figure emerged. It was a woman. Orren twigged who she was almost immediately. The Black Viper. Perhaps Waterdeep's most notorious thief. She had been in the Gralhund Residence and was one of those who had leapt out of the window. The Viper explained what had happened. The death of the Half-Orc bodyguard had triggered the Nimblewright to kill Lady Gralhund and to flee with the Stone of Golorr. The Viper had chased after it but Lady Gralhund had snatched the Selamac of Quthing from her. It was supposed to be part of a trade but everything had gone wrong when the Zhentarim had attacked.

The group's hope for a simple resolution to their efforts to find both the Selamac of Quthing and the Stone of Golorr was expectedly dashed when a group of Kenku entered the alley. From another direction, the City Watch appeared. The Viper took up arms and so did the group. Their target was the Kenku. Gimbat and Kozak smashed into them, ripping a couple apart. More concern grew from the other direction. For some reason the City Watch began chanting. That spooked several of the group who turned their focus away from the Kenku and towards these chanters. Orren was convinced that chanting is never a good sign. Battle raged between the group and the chanters as well as with the Kenku. None amongst them had time to react when a small figure appeared with a crackle behind The Black Viper and screeched out "I've got it". The Viper could not respond either. Whoever it was was gone again before it could be tackled.

The Kenku were not alone. A small group of men pushed in behind the birds and struck at the Trollskullians, their blows easily shrugged off by Kozak's stony resilience. The group may never really know how grateful they would be for Ruadhan's sharp eyes. He spotted a figure crawling over a nearby rooftop and struck it down with an extraordinary piece of bowmanship. With the help of the Viper, the group were able to slice and dice their way through everything still alive and hostile in the alley. The chanting amounted to nothing much in the end as the chanters were cut down before anything nefarious could arise. Cala's mind whips and various fiery goat actions from Bleater burned through the last of the opposition.

The Black Viper was grateful for the assistance but revealed that she had lost the Stone of Golorr when the small figure appeared and shortly afterwards was gone again. The hunt would be back on. Orren offered a night's stay for her at the Trollskull as a sign of friendship. Though privately he did worry that bringing the most notorious thief in the city into their homestead might not be the wisest of moves.

Obaya Uday was delighted when the group brought the Selamac of Quthing to her. She cackled somewhat and offered another reward if the group would eliminate a troublesome rival named Grinda Garloth. The threat of curse had been lifted and the group could be at peace with the price they had paid to restore Gimbat's meagre intellect. What Zardaz Zord would think of the group having found the shawl based on his lead but not returning it to him as they had also agreed would remain to be seen.

After some more comfortable rest than the group had experienced in quite some while, the knock on the door of the Trollskull the following morning was a rude awakening. It was Broxley Fairkettle, the Halfling with the distinct accent placing him originally from far to the north of Waterdeep. He was disappointed the Trollskull group had not been at the meeting of the Fellowship of Innkeepers. The committee had decided they needed to see the operation of the Trollskull for themselves before giving final approval to admit the new owners into the Fellowship. An opening event with free drinks for all committee members was the only way for the group to prove themselves.

Invitations went out to some of the friends the Trollskullians had made during their time in Waterdeep for a soft launch of their tavern and the rapid purchasing of food and drinks to help with the celebration sent the group off on various shopping sprees. Invitations were hurriedly written for various friends the Trollskullians had made since their arrival into Waterdeep. A show of popularity would likely be enough to sway the committee, especially if the ale was flowing.

Something as straightforward as a celebration of opening a tavern naturally arose suspicion amongst the group so they set security precautions on the door and kept an eye on whatever might be upset what could be a positive evening for the group to confirm their place in Waterdhavian society as tavern owners. Those fears did not come to pass, at least initially. Several of the guests brought gifts for the group in recognition of the friendships developed including a particularly girthy longsword from Mirt, a magical pot from Obaya, a rapier from Renaer, a book from Volo, an alarm from Valetta, and some particularly exquisite pantaloons from Floon.

Of course the good times could not keep rolling forever. A winged snake gatecrashed the party. Some of the group attempted to communicate with it but the only words it would offer were the threat that all the group would die. Bleater and Fyrenze managed to shut the hissing snake into a pot. Along with Lorxain, they took it into the cellar away from the rest of the group to avoid the party being overly distubed. To try and extract more information from the snake Bleater took the chance to open the pot but the snake just hissed of death. He found his aspirations of tying the snake up were thwarted by the being's biological advantages. With Eremin also helping, the snake charmers eventually gave up their efforts and snapped the winged beast apart but only after Bleater had taken out his frustrations by first pulling off the wings.

The evening seemed to be going well after that blip, especially for the Committee who were slowly getting drunker and drunker in the corner. But the peace was shattered with a figure in black who had slipped in un-noticed. What was certainly noticed was Threestrings, the amiable bard from the Yawning Portal. His throat had been cut. He slumped to the floor, dead instantly. Orren screamed out for his friend and launched to attack the dark figure. Kozak and others joined in. But none of them could lay a finger on the assailant who demonstrated remarkable agility to evade every single blow. There was no riposte against Orren or the others. After a few efforts to strike, Orren lowered his blade. "The Black Viper?" It was indeed her. She explained that the group should actually look at who they thought was Threestrings. His body had morphed and what had seemed all evening to be Threestrings was actually a Doppleganger. Bleater harvested the creature for body parts. The Viper revealed she had watched Threestrings for the past couple of days. She also gave the group a tip as a favour for having helped her out in the alley previously. The Stone of Golorr was in the possession of Grinda Garloth. Lorxain pointed out that was the same person Obaya Uday had asked them to eliminate.

A few hours of clean-up were all it took to ensure the Trollskull was in its usual just about acceptable condition. The Committee had been impressed or at least they were so drunk that impressing them was simple enough despite the goings on during the evening. The Trollskull was officially open. But the bigger goal of accessing the Vault of Dragons by finding the Stone of Golorr was still ahead.

The Dock Ward was all too familiar to the group. It was a fairly simple matter to ask their old friend Xoblob where they might find Grinda. Although Xoblob was not the most direct in his way of speaking, the location of the a vessel moored in the docks called the Mistshore. It was indeed a misty location but that was because the weather had rolled in to the cost from the Sea of Swords and a light drizzle was accompanied by a denser atmosphere creating more limited visibility. The whole area had an acrid smell thanks to the fires that had clearly impacted the docks here with several buildings damaged beyond repair at some recent time. The lower visibility from the misty conditions might explain how Kozak and Gimbat managed to find themselves wandering onto a small ship that bobbed in its moorings. Various cutthroats and brigands enquired whether there were services the pair required. It was a fairly frosty encounter, other members of the group backing away from taking on a group of people who seemed very willing to sell their sword skills. Gimbat however decided the best course of action would be to scranble around the side of the ship and attempt to surprise the brigands from another direction. What he actually achieved though was to splash down into the water and find himself needing to be hauled back up - at a small price of gold paid to the untrustworthy denizens of this particular vessel.

A somewhat bedraggled Gimbat rejoined the rest of the group as Kozak dragged him along. The sounds of something riotous were up ahead. Multiple voices hollering made quite a commotion so despite the Trollskull Adventurers general lack of subtlety, it was a fairly simple matter to identify this group without being noticed. They were banging on a hatch to an unusually shaped construction resting alongside a jetty. Whoever they were, they did not appreciate being interrupted. They outnumbered the Trollskull Adventurers and were confident enough to warn them off. A particularly rugged looking Duergar led the calls for immediate departure in a gruff and direct manner. That was enough of an indicator for the Trollskullians to leap into action. Orren and Kozak thrust forward into battle with the others following shortly afterwards.

The fight was bloody. These bandits were not a match for the Trollskull group who cut them down viciously. Some of the bandits fled in a small rowing boat. Even the tough Dwarf could not withstand the crushing blows of Kozak. The only fly in the ointment of the beatdown was Gimbat's creativity. He successfully hopped across to a perpendicular jetty but found himself ambushed there by a massive Merrow. The horrific fish monster and the Gnome grappled one another and attempted to fling the other into the sea. Gimbat showed surprising tenacity to survive being bundled off the jetty by a much larger opponent. He was finally rescued by a flaming blast from Lorxain that put the Merrow down for good.

The hatch these bandits had been battering on was also no match for the Trollskullians. They forced their way in to find a figure in robes crouching in the corner. She was intimidated by Orren and Kozak who wanted the Stone of Golorr but it was not in her possession. This figure, who the group surmised was Grinda Garloth, claimed she had given it to her cat who had taken it to a mausoleum in the City of the Dead. There was no reason to disbelieve someone who appeared to be in over her head in this environment so the next step was the famous crypt as large as a town in itself.

The City of Dead was not far. The pall of the unliving wadded to the close atmosphere of a now foggy day. A little bit of persuasion was all that was needed to find the way to the Garloth family crypt. There was no real sense of foreboding amongst a group pressing their way into the abode of the dead. Ruadhan unlocked the crypt door and everyone pushed on through. Inside it was clearly a place of tombs. Dusty in corners but not in the main corridors which suggested this was a place frequented more often than just for a very occasional burial.