Nerds and Dragons – Part 2

Hello everyone!

I cannot, if I were given a thousand lifetimes, express enough how much I enjoy being the Dungeon Master for a campaign once more.  I ran one campaign nearly two years ago, and having that game fall apart around me was horrible.

Forgotten Realms as a campaign setting is a thrill to play in.  There have been hundreds of thousands of words written, and tons of books and source materials to pull from.  Combined with the innate flexibility that D&D offers, I am having a blast putting my on spin on Waterdeep and the intrigue which occurred after the Time of Troubles.

Furthermore, because I take a portion of time at the beginning of each session to tell a portion of story before we get going, it also gives me a chance to flesh out the characters and the world I have them living in.  I got to introduce a new barmaid and her silent bodyguard, who ended up being a Jason Momoa with tusks and the voice of Benedict Cumberbatch.  It was.. man I had them eating out of the palm of my hand with that one.

Without further ado, the second portion of Nerds and Dragons!

Part 2

A week, one sevenday, has passed since Illsvar offered you a place within Waterdeep.

You’ve come to understand something in those seven days.  Illsvar is a man of his word.  Illsvar is also a complete mystery

You still do not know to whom he bends the knee.  You still have not figured out the meaning behind the symbol worn by the cultists who tried to kill you, nor has he offered any useful information on that front.  What you have been told is how to provide food and payment to the Dark Dwarves borrowed from the Underdark to complete the route to Skullsport.  He has also provided you with an Innkeeper to manage the Inn for you.

While Illsvar operates on a system of cunning and deception, the woman he assigned to run your inn is his polar opposite in both manner and deed.  Where he is a blank slate, Naymora is a riot of color and laughter.

Fun, vivacious, able to converse with anyone without losing the upper hand, holding more curves in her figure than most elves could boast, armed with a memory which has no equal and an attitude which you cannot resist, she has worked rapidly to improve the Inn until you can barely recognize it.  With only a week at her disposal, she has almost completely rebuilt the exterior, given it a fresh coat of paint, and also brought in the most efficient bouncer any of you have ever heard of.

His name is Grokk.  He puts the Orc in Half-Orc.  Easily seven feet tall, Grokk is the kind of man who’s muscles have muscles.  No matter how big a shirt he wears, he constantly seems on the verge of breaking it.  Four long, wicked tusks protruded from his mouth, and his skin is the color of an overripe olive.

He never speaks two words when one would do, never one when none will suffice.  He doesn’t yell, or run, or shout remonstrances.  If you made trouble in the Inn, he quietly walks over, bodily lifts the offender into the air, and without so much as word make sure that person is given over to the tender embrace of the hard-packed dirt ten feet from the Inn’s entrance.

Without fail after such an incident, Grokk walked past Naymora’s station at the bar so the two can exchange a solid high-five.  There was never a more unlikely duo, but their partnership was nothing if not effective.  Each evening, the crowd grew in both numbers and the overall level of their hygiene.  A cook had been brought in, and all of you agreed that despite the Inn being in the Hells, whomever she had tapped to make the stews and gravies common to Waterdeep was top-notch.

“If only I had strong adventurers by my side, I could…”

These were the words she used to wheedle small favors from each of you.  They were accompanied by an attractive pout and a wicked gleam in her eyes.  Laughter inevitably followed, and while you knew you were being used, you went along with the act despite knowing her tricks.  The tasks were never anything onerous: take a small purse of copper and silver and go purchase what the Inn required in another part of the Docks.  Seek out a new source of groceries so the locals didn’t have to eat their normal fare, which was awful at best.  Head down to the nearest slaughterhouse and pick up the various animal carcasses for the Dark Dwarves.  Whatever the reason, whatever the task, they were just dangerous enough that she could not take care of them herself, but not so dangerous that any of you felt bad about it.  She rarely left the Inn and given her figure and the normal dangers of The Hells, you couldn’t really blame her for asking for your assistance from time to time.

Illsvar kept you busy with Go to a nearby alley and deliver a package with shadowy figures who never seemed to pay for their goods.  You were sent out in the dead of night to accept a crate which you were never to open, upon pain of Illsvar’s displeasure.  These crates invariably went into the larder and were handled by the Dark Dwarves without you ever seeing where they went or what they contained.

On the evening of the seventh day since your new employment began, Illsvar arrived in his usual fashion.  A drunk staggered in, clothed in rags and wielding a smell unlike anything you could’ve imagined existing before that moment.  The drunk made its way to your table and staggered into the edge of it upon tripping over his own feet.  Before you could do more than cover your noses in horror and disgust, a sharp pair of eyes took in each of you, while the drunken routine never showed a single crack.  Without a word, Grokk arrived to assist the drunk in leaving the premises.  He put a gentle hand under the drunk’s arm to steady him, simultaneously sending an unmistakable message that the drunk could either walk out or be dragged out.

Unseen in the whole affair was the small scroll which had whipped out onto the table when Illsvar had smacked into it.  Once the Inn had returned to its normal bawdy levels, you managed to spy the tiny bit of parchment left for you.  Opening it, the four of you poured over the document Illsvar had given you.

The instructions were as short as they were ominous:

Dear Adventurers,

The time has come for your next real mission.  Without making a scene, I need each of you to leave the Inn and join me at Cliffswatch Inn.  I will give you further instructions upon your arrival.  This is a mission of some importance, make haste.

  ~ Illsvar

Each of you looked at the other, and as a group silently agreed to begin making your way towards Illsvar and whatever new madness he had in store.

Nerdfully,

The Unsheathed Quill