The Sleepy Sylph - a popular tavern among visitors of Watedeep - is usually quiet in this strange "in-between" time like an "hour before noon". Well, quieter as the music and scantily clad waitresses attract people at any time of the day. It is also expensive with every drink three times the price of it anywhere else. Despite the popularity (or because of it), the less savoury public like, say, Early's and Lorsan's former friends, keep out of it - the security is way too present. Local clerks, like Uril, do indulge themselves sometimes with a single drink, to enjoy the music and to watch the waitresses, but it's a treat, not the norm. As for Robyn - you need way too much money to get drunk in this place.
The doors are open for the warm weather, and you are greeted with a mixture of aromas: simple food, expensive spirits, and sweet incense. The coloured driftglobes floating about are blinking sometimes in tune with the beat of the lazy music, barely illuminating anything but setting the mood.
It is hard to see the faces in the colourful gloom but turns out you don't have to. Before you could make out even the closest tables, a waitress, dressed in a pink diaphanous robe with rainbow-coloured fairy wings of silken gauze attached to it, greeted you and made a sign to follow her deeper into the tavern.
The table, you were invited to, is laid for six people. The coloured lights from the couple of driftglobes above dance on the heavy silverware and crystal wine glasses. At the table, facing anyone coming to it, sit the man with clear signs of elven blood in his veins. Dark eyes contrasting with the long platinum blond hair create disturbing dissonance but the smile looks honest when he welcomes you to your seats. "Glad you could make it. On behalf of our collective benefactor - welcome. I trust you have questions?"
It wasn't the first time Lorsan had to go into hiding after pulling a scam. It wasn't the first time he'd had to change his identity after the fact - not by a long shot. But it was the first time on two counts...
Never before had he taken someone else with him - in this case the young and rather naive lad known as Early. The kid didn't seem to have a lot going for him - at least that was Lorsan's first impression. There was an uncanny charm and wholesome idealism that Lorsan found bewildering (or was it... refreshing?). Plus, the kid could handle himself. And he had a talent for disguise that confounded Lorsan's skill and imagination. Okay, so the kid wasn't so bad after all.
The second thing that was different this time going into hiding, was that Lorsan had been found. And it wasn't just the simple fact of being found that disturbed him; it was the fact that they found him so quickly, and that the courier who delivered the mysterious box had inquired for him by name - the new name - the name he had only just invented for himself two days prior!
Early had received an identical box too, which led to Lorsan's initial assumption that this was some trick of the crime gang they had both just fled. But then, this music box gimmick was too subtle for that mob. Finally Lorsan had opened the box, heard the message, and decided this was someone else entirely. Who else knew? Who had been watching? What did they want with him?
In the intervening two days Lorsan had wrestled with the decision, wondering when had his cover been blown, and what danger this summons could portend. But finally curiosity had won out over the instinct to flee once more. Besides, if they were watching, if they had found him once already, naturally they would do so again. And the kid seemed intent on going too. Lorsan would have felt uncharacteristically guilty if he'd let the lad go alone and something bad happened to him.
And so it was that the two of them had found themselves two days later inside the Sleepy Sylph - a fancy dig that Lorsan was sure he'd visited before on some job, but couldn't quite remember. He hadn't even bothered to go in disguise this time - it seemed pointless considering the circumstances of the invitation. Feeling more vulnerable than he could remember feeling in a long time, Lorsan followed the waitress into the depths.
Two other guests he also noticed, which roused his curiosity further. One looked like a gutter tramp, one of the woodland kin - probably a young forest exile that made her way to the city and fell into a bottle, never to surface again. The other had the look of a half-blood egghead, probably some intellectual bean-counter, or academic geek. Lorsan was sure he'd never crossed paths with either of them before.
But thoughts of these two went to the bottom of the pile when Lorsan saw the host - another unfamiliar face, but one with much more behind it. So this was it? No ambush? No city guards? Just an arena that he knew how to fight in - a war of wit, where words were weapons. Lorsan's apprehensions started to vanish, and he slipped into a familiar groove, assuming a role with which he felt comfortable.
The first priority: to take control of the dialogue. Drawing a seat for himself, Lorsan pours a glass of white wine, reclines in the chair and replies:
Oh, many questions, for certain. But the first and most important one is: 'What's on the menu?'
Early had stared at the music box delivered to him with a certain level of awe. This thing was....so delicate....and...fine, what purpose could it serve? The key belonged there. A lockbox then, but why so small and fine. After the box had completed its job it attempted to close. Without much thought Early stuck a finger into the closing lid.....not wanting it to stop its strange magic, but the lid began to squeeze with more force than was possible for such a small thing. He yanked his finger out, the nail slipping along the edge, and only losing a bit of skin to the lower edge as it clacked shut. Hmmm, feisty little box. He liked it.
He sat wondering for a moment how he would tell Lorsan that he'd been invited to some secret rendezvous and he'd have to leave Lorsan behind today. Probably just for a night, he shouldn't be jealous. Early imagined a very pretty girl was this Ben Factor, but..then remember most Ben's were boys. But, maybe...Ben needed help with his wayward sister. That made Early a bit more excited about the strange event. It was with only a tiny bit of disappointment that he checked in with his buddy and found that he too had an music box invite. That was ok, he liked Lorsan and actually felt a bit of comfort having the him go as well. It was all as it should be.
Early walked just ahead of Lorsan into the bar, his gaze scanning back and forth across the room for threats before settling on the pink robed waitress that left very little to the imagination. When she seemed to be expecting them, a warm smile appeared on his face and he said, "Oh, well...it is very nice to meet you. Is your name Ben? I suppose a girl as pretty as you can have any name you want. Did you sew those fairy wings on yourself? That's a lovely ...um..dress...that you are wearing. But mostly its your body that's pretty. Do you work here most of the time? When does your shift end? Do you....." his questions trailed off as they arrived at a table that was clearly manned by a ....man....and not another pretty girl. Hmm, so this was Ben then. He glanced at the girl once more, smiling a winning smile....girls liked that...and then said, "Maybe we can talk more later...it was really nice to meet you." He glanced around at the table, watching his friend Lorsan assess the group of faces. None of them looked like folks he'd have too much trouble with in a fight, so he sat down at the table in a relaxed manner, glancing at each face trying to get a sense of who was in charge here. Then he remembered Lorsan was here to do that and relaxed into the booth without much concern.
The guy spoke, and Early scritched his chin..wait...this guy wasn't Ben either? So weird. Then Lorsan spoke...and Early's stomach grumbled immediately. Oh yes...this sort of meeting was supposed to include food right? He was sure it did. "I would like food."
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What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer? Class.
Uril had been worried. Stepping out of his comfort zone was not a customary course of action for the talented scribe. He had spent years, decades, refining his skills and helping maintain his family's business but, in one particularly gloomy day, he decided to risk it all! Now, he is basically a fugitive, at least in his mind, and that music box and golden key were proof that he was about to pay his dues.
The music box's workmanship was quite notable. Uril couldn't resist sketching its mechanism based on his observations in an attempt to reverse-engineer it. He had no plans to build one himself but knowing how to do it was empowering enough. Having the option to one day write a instruction manual on how to replicate this box and key was more than enough reward. That's another well-earned page for his collection of instructions, which was an impossibly thick tome that could only be carried by the slender man over long periods of time if he could use more than just his arms to accomplish the feat. Hence, the heavy tome had been hooked and chained around Uril's waist.
Uril figured that turning himself in to whoever sent him the box and key was the best way to spare his family from the consequences of his actions. The walk between the tavern's entrance and one of the many tables within was one with which Uril was familiar enough, as he had visited the Sleepy Sylph a few times over the years. A drink here was considered a prize on itself, so Ol' Man Quillsworth would bring the family in once in a blue moon to celebrate a large sale or profitable new contract with a library or university. That old man would have no resort should the guilds come for him; Uril at least had a small chance of escape, being on his spry 40s and all...
For almost all intents and purposes, Uril considered himself a human. Most observers would agree with him, but those with elven blood in their veins could often easily sniff out the dash of fey ancestry in Uril's own blood. His hair was brown and kept at neck-length, his face had lost more than just some of its youth, and his facial hair was well trimmed, not that he could grow a thick patch anyhow. His choice of attire left no doubt Uril had maintained a desk job his entire life. It was clean and well put-together, but not fancy enough to pretend he was a regular patron of the Sleepy Sylph. It matters little now that we was surely going to a dungeon, apprehended by some intelligent detective with a taste for unusual, music-box-shaped business cards.
Once at the table, Uril started to doubt he'd spend the rest of his life in a dungeon cell; at least not starting tonight. If the detective wanted to lure him into a public space to facilitate his arrest, why would he invite three others with whom he clearly did not share a civic responsibility? Who were these three others sharing the table? Why are there so many elves here? Why does the serving staff in this place never seem to pay too much attention to him? Well, they certainly wouldn't tonight, not while Uril was sitting next to a man who was so impossibly charming. Why is the elf accompanying this man looking at Uril with a tinge of disappointment in his expression? And is this lady on the other chair already drunk? How can these folks be thinking about food first and foremost?
Uril had so many questions he didn't know which one to ask first. Lacking the charisma so many others around the table wielded, the scribe waited for someone else to ask a relevant question.
"Robin Banks wit Cheese, comin' to Teh Sleepy Sylph in two days... Hic!"
Two days go by in a blur, and funds dry up. Fast. Yet here they are, standing in front of The Sleepy Sylph because some fancy box told her too on some bender. Maybe today's the day she cuts down on her drinking. The elf blows a raspberry with her lips and guffaws. Pffbt. "Kay Cheese, go strut yer stuff." Robin Banks stretches casually, holding out her foot. A little mouse moves from her shoulder, down her side and proceeds to scurry down her leg and hop off the tip of her toe. It sniffs out a tiny hole and proceeds to scout out the premises ahead of her.
The mouse leaves on a job...
With an empty belly, empty pockets, a bit of a headache and a foggy memory, she heads into the establishment. Robin blinks. Was she in the wrong place? She didn't know whether to pinch herself or to slink off before she gets hauled out for not being able to afford breathing in a place like this. But it smelled so good and every sound, and everyon, and everything, was so intoxicating to the senses. Banks almost didn't need a morning top off, but she was pretty thirsty.
Baby blues wide and batting, Banks was not immune to her waitresses welcoming presence. "Bet ye've heard it all..." She knew she was out of her league in this place, but what did she have to lose? "But I'm gushin' over yer outfit." Robin loved it. The wings, the fabric, the grace... "It's adorable." She continued to yammer as she fawned over the escort and her outfit. "Whut's yer name? Ken I ask ye summin'?" She could lead Robyn anywhere she wanted, and she followed along, even if it was back off the premises. "Think if ya cleaned me up an' dolled me up like yous beauties, I could be pretty cute too right?" The elf was tall, of olive fair skin and a freckled complexion. She has short green wavy hair that hasn't been combed in a while, but was adorned with a braid pinned on one side with an ornate hairpiece. Robin wore simple clothes that consisted of black leggings, a tank top with a jacket, and no shoes. Although toned like a dancer, she bobbed and weaved about at a seemingly odd pace with added awkward movements. However, Banks was incredibly nimble, light on her feet, and moved silently like a mouse. "If you'd teach me, I could teach you summin'-" She pauses to think, or was she distracted. "Hmm... S'pose them cute pieces of clothin' dun leave much fer pocketin', but there's always the ol' faithful..." Robin's sat at her seat. "Well, b'lieve it or not I can cook!" She adds when being left with her company at the table. She can't cook. She's a mooch by day and a 'cat burgling jewel thief' at night.
Robin Banks tilts her head before she turns her body to sit forward in her seat. As her eyes fall over the table of men before her, she physically deflates a little. However, they are met with a toothy grin. "Pleasure!" She says in response to the elven man greeting them. Robin then leans back in her chair to get comfortable. And as if on queue for the awkward table pause, Banks opens her mouth again. "Where's the booze, the food an' my cute fairy outfit?" She counts on her fingers and proceeds to put her feet up on the table. "Questions is, ya want something frum me." She states as she crosses her legs. "So what's in it fer me an' what's the catch?" Puts her hands behind her head. Robin Banks may be a bit rough around the edges, lacking in table manners and perhaps was not a natural negotiator... nor was she good at putting things in order, or was it priority? But, she usually had an idea of what she wanted anyway. Yeah, that.
"And the food you shall have!" The smile of the dark-eyed man became even wider. "With a proper booze, of course." He slightly nodded his head toward Robin. "I am sure, the menu here will satisfy your refine tastes," (if there was some irony in the tone it was hard to deduce) "as well as our discussion - your justified curiosity."
He nodded slightly to the pink waitress and she gracefully glided away without uttering a single word. The staff here was well trained - both alluring and comforting, delightful to look at yet keeping just out of reach, for visitors to never lose hope and not cost trouble at the same time. Your pink guide did not answer Earlie's flirting nor Robyn's questioning, but her quick smiles and teasing glances from under the dark curls, all accompanied by melodic laughter conveyed her attention well enough. She had to return twice to bring everything ordered, smiled once again (a touch more professional rather than genuine, though wine, music and coloured darkness masked the missing charm), and finally "floated" away.
The food is surprisingly good - the place is by far not the restaurant, everything at the table had to be a "special order" for the special guests for quite special money. The man looked around, making sure that everything is in order, made a gesture welcoming those hesitant to begin the feast, took a sip of wine from his glass and started to speak.
"I appreciate your direct approach, miss and will try to answer equally straightforwardly." He looked down, collecting his thoughts and began.
"My name is Darius Blackwood and I represent a certain philanthropist who prefers to remain anonymous. I am sure you understand. Said philanthropist, our benefactor, believes in the power of individuals to bring about change when said individuals join the forces and work together towards a noble goal. It might sound a bit naive but I can assure you, the benefits our capable individuals get on this job are quite real." He gestured toward the table every single thing on which was screaming "gold!". " And if the idea of joining an organization working towards the betterment of society is not really your thing, our benefactor offers quite generous financial support and legal protection in case of clashes with the law." Darius smiled and gave each of you a knowing look.
"You may ask why the secrecy then if all the members are doing is helping the realm. A fair question. But you see, sometimes the law simply can not catch up fast enough with the situation. Take the reason for our present meeting, for instance. A collector has purchased a dangerous artifact that can - and will soon, mind you - kill quite a lot of people. Despite warnings, the collector refuses to part with it, and the authorities have been unresponsive. What can we do in such a scenario? We, and by that, I mean everyone associated with our benefactor, believe that taking action to relieve the collector of the artifact and neutralizing it is justified. Would you not agree?"
Darius leaned back in his seat and regarded everyone with a firm look, any trace of sweetness gone from his eyes. "In short, you are offered money, legal protection and assurance for your consciousness in exchange for use of your prominent skills in a delicate operation. You can walk away, as no names have been mentioned - yet, but... Would you?"
Having commenced the conversational contest, Lorsan suddenly found himself disarmed. This Darius was using a tactic that Lorsan was unprepared for - honesty! This was a genuine offer of employment - honest pay and honest benefits for honestly dishonest work? To perform in a clandestine manner that which the authorities would not, or could not do openly. Could it be real? As the tipsy girl had said, What's the catch? Questions raced through Lorsan's mind.
The first and only time Lorsan had worked with a group, it hadn't gone so well. He knew Early could be trusted, but he didn't know these other two, even though they didn't seem like crooks. And there has been hints at a larger quantity of staff. Furthermore, if the goal was the betterment of society, then where did the gold come from? And how could they be sure this benefactor wasn't another scammer posing as a do-gooder. No, this was too good to be true. Lorsan had to keep digging, and find the cracks in the facade...
"So what did you say was the name of this 'organisation'?" he asked innocently. "Also, what kind of 'prominent skills' are you referring to? Who else would we be working with? What's your role exactly? And what assurances can you provide that we won't simply be hung out to dry when the job is done?"
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How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Lorsan was the first one to talk and yet, there were no doubts the same questions were in everyone's minds. There was a touch of amusement in Darius's dark eyes as he looked at the elf. "Why, I did not mention any names but my own. Unless, of course, you would not mind sharing yours." He gave Lorsan a pointed look then smiled and raised the hand in a calming gesture.
"Let me begin with your last question. Though... What answer would you expect? You have my word as I have yours that the job I will point you at will be done, and done without - and I'm afraid this is an important condition - without excessive violence. A hard thing to pinpoint, I agree, but if, say, you decide to burn down the previously mentioned collector's house or murder his children to force him into compliance - you will be left to your own fate."
Darius laughed lightly to soften his words. "But I am quite sure you are not that kind of professionals. Otherwise, you would not be here. Each of you was invited precisely because of your ability to handle such delicate work with talents supporting a subterfuge, rather than brutal force. You are also expected to work together, with me as a liaison between you and that yet-to-be-revealed organization. Did I answer your questions? Shall we move on with the full introduction?"
Uril was one of those who was hesitant to reach for a morsel, but the glance of encouragement from their patron was all that was needed. He reached for a cracker, one with yellows, greens, and reds atop it, and slowly savored it. In his head, he tried to isolate each ingredient so he could perhaps soon add another page to his tome... "I guess I'll have to ask the name of this dish," he thought.
"Organization?" Uril asked, still in his head. He had not worked anywhere but his old man's shop ever since he was able to hold a quill. New employment was uncharted territory for him; and hence, exciting. Of course his penmanship was good enough to warrant a job offer. "I guess he is not here to arrest me after all." the half-elf thought with relief. And legal protection could come in handy whenever a real detective finally found him.
The scribe was convinced already, as naive and trusting as that may be of him. "I am Uril Quillsworth,"he finally utters, certain that this statement is already enough to metaphorically have crossed the point of no return. He looked around, expecting others to also share their names. When they didn't, or at least delayed it, Uril started to realize he might have rushed it a bit. This whole... criminal... deal as fairly new to him, and he was already showing it.
From the moment the food and drinks arrived, Early was stuffing his face. Grunts and slurps of appreciation were made, almost to the point of disrupting the conversation at hand. The food began vanishing at an alarming rate. Eventually though, Uril makes his introduction, and Early has had enough. Enough of the food? Enough of the talk? Enough questions bubbling in his brain? It's too hard to tell, but he puts his hands up and says, "Hold on. Hold on hold on." Then he points to Uril. "Uril." He points to the elf, "Darius." Then he adds, "And Ben and Phil want to hire us." While the obvious confusion ripples through the faces of the group, Early nods as if he's decided he's got it all. "My name is Early."
He raises his hand to summon the pretty girl back, hopefully with more drinks.
Robin didn't feel the need to get handsy the waitress, she was a gentle lady and could appreciate respectfully. If anything, she was watching to see if anyone gives the waitress, or any others a hard time. Banks was ready to swat away any unwanted advances in protection of the professional workers. However, she did plan to consume her drinks efficiently in order to have an excuse for them to return more often.
With the arrival of drinks and a delightful spread, Robin's attention was split further. She'd take her feet off the table to greet the meal as the elven man began to string together big words, very big words. Long words. Words she knew, and words she thought she knew. They were good words. Lots of words, paired with more words. And good drink, and yummy food. She watched, she listened, however when the man next to her started chowing down, she too went to town. She kept her wrestles hands busy by helping herself to drinks of all kinds, even from out from under the nose of others at the table when they weren't looking. Of course she'd also inspect, sample, and try to pocket every type of food that was subjectively reasonable. And when there was something she spotted she wanted, she'd offer the man something else to distract him so that she could reach for it before he did. So while her 'snack buddy' consumed his fair share beside her, she took advantage of it and hoarded her extra share in her pockets. Who knows when she'd be able to indulge and eat such delicacies. Plus it was free. Right?
Banks lean in to Early, "Who do ya thinks got more coin?" She reaches for a roll. "This Phil Ian Tropics," And sits back. "or Bennie Victor?" She starts buttering it. "I bet Phil spends wildly an' owns some tropical resorts." She gestures with the utensil before going back to buttering it. "My money's on Ben." Finishing with a little flourish, she puts the knife down. "He sounds like a winner." Robin takes a bite out of her roll, winks and washes down her bite with a swig of wine.
"I'm Robin Banks." She declares placing her mug down onto the table.
Lorsan falls silent for a few moments more as he processes the latest revelations from Darius. This organisation, whoever they were, were decidedly humane. But their demand for minimal violence also revealed something else - they knew more about Lorsan than he expected - not just his skills and location, but his morals! Who WERE these people? He was still contemplating this when the next revelation landed - these people at the table weren't just fellow recruits - THIS IS THE CREW. Naturally this made Lorsan inspect them more closely...
The half-elf - Uril. First to respond. First to give his name. Quick to trust. Desperate possibly. But probably also quick to intuit the benefits against the costs. Smarter than Lorsan first gave him credit for. Would likely have the brains to mastermind the heist.
The gutter elf - Robin. So many rough edges. But a sharp eye, by the looks - taking in the room, assessing every opportunity and threat. And with a steely glint too - she knows how to handle herself, and more than just a street brawler. Nimble. She could get into places others couldn't.
And of course Early. Ah, that lad! Mind of jelly, but heart of gold. He'd be the one to get them out of a tight fix - either through muscle or pure charm. But he'd also be the one to hold them all together. Not to mention his other special skill.
Lorsan nods his head, slowly, to himself. Yes, this could work. A new crew, and a decent one at that. A new patron, and a powerful one at that. The chance to do what he did best, to get paid reliable coin along with the other benefits, and even - could it be possible - make the world better in the process. One job... and then he'd see. He turns once more to face Darius.
Early was propped up on the bed on his side, topless, with only a sheet covering his manly parts. Sitting on the bed, facing away from him, the waitress was pulling a slip back over her bare torso. His chest muscles rippled as he casually shifted position.
“So, I can’t really say too much, you know how these secret missions go, but its big time. Save the world style. Real hero stuff.”
”Mmmhmmm….”
The waitress may have been rolling her eyes, given her tone, it was clear she wasn't impressed. Early guessed maybe she didn't believe him. And could he blame her? It was fantastical. Gutters to ….riches. There was a saying about it. He might even get s medal one day.
He thought back to the conversation in the tavern. The details were foggy, but he was sure Lorsan had a handle on it. The drunk girl that he was really rather fond of. The smart looking one. They might make a really good crew. Especially with Bennie and Phil who seemed like they'd be great bosses.
There’d been a bunch of talking about the mission, but it had all sorta gone over Early’s head. The food, drink and uhhhh, scenery had been distracting.
He abruptly rolled over and pulled some nickers on. The group had decided to meet and make a plan in a private room here. He was probably late. He gave the waitress one last hug and kiss and a nice smile that said “maybe again” without any awkward words or promises, and then, grabbing his few belongings, which included a heavy bag full of steel armor and padding, and a massive sword, he left to meet the group.
He strolled into another room a few minutes later, that a big table laid out with various papers and information. Lorsan and Uril seemed to just be setting up. Robin was sitting at the table with a mug of beer looking quite relaxed.
Early dropped his stuff then put his hands on the table, facing the crew. “I am SO excited to be working with you all on this thing. But, Im a little foggy on the details. Can someone remind me what we’re supposed to do again? What did that Darius guy say?”
Lorsan rolls his eyes and begins replaying the conversation for Early.
[Antman like cut scene back to the conversation in the tavern, with all peoples voices overlayed by Lorsan’s voice]
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What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer? Class.
"Splendid!" Darius looked like he was about to applaud Uril's brave decisiveness. He did not do it but nodded appreciatively to every name entering the conversation. Once Lorsan decided to surrender his (current) name too (and the last accord of the theme music died out), Darius clapped his hands and smiled. "Now, when we all know each other, let me officially welcome you to The Golden Vault. This is the name our organization is known by to those worthy of its attention. You are now among those worthy. Let's see if it stays this way."
Darius paused, letting the pink waitress add a few more bottles to the table. When she was gone he continued. "Please, place the music boxed at the table in front of you." He waited until everyone did so then placed his own small golden box in front of himself. His music box looked similar to the others except the lid was decorated with several gemstones. Darius looked at it for a few moments, then pressed some of the gems (all the boxes flashed with golden light) and clapped his hands again. "Thank you. You officially agreed to take the assignment. You can retrieve the boxes while I will explain what we are dealing with. We are talking about none other than Duke Varkenbluff and his collection."
Indeed, the name could be familiar to the citizens of Waterdeep. For the unfamiliar, Darius briefly explained the situation, mentioning the building the Duke recently acquired and rebuilt for his collection.
(On History DC12 a few more details in spoilers)
Duke Varkenbluffis is an eccentric collector, of rare artifacts and antiquities from all over the world. He is known to buy but never sell his precious relics. There are a few collectors around the world who compete with each other for the title of the best and his collection is at the top of the list.
He allows visitors sometimes (scholars in particular for he loves to listen about the importance of his findings), but he guards the collection fiercely. Many have gone missing in their attempts to steal from him, and some say that they are now part of the exhibition, immortalized in their petrified state. No one ever risked checking the rumour but it is known that the Duke used the help of mages to secure his collection as well as more conventional ways to protect it.
"Recently," continued Darius, "the Duke happened to buy a freshly unearthed curiosity, which he called "the Murkmire Stone". A jade-green stone, harder than diamonds, and covered in peculiar symbols, that - as he is very much convinced - are some ancient runes. However, the very researcher who dug the stone up - Dr. Dannell - is sure that the thing is an actual egg of a beast that devasted the city in which ruins the egg was found. As I mentioned before, Duke Varkenbluff refused to listen Dr. Dannell and to part with the egg.The good Doctor will join us later to provide the details. For now, I can tell that by her calculations, we have about six days until the egg hatches. Therefore..."
Darius did not finish his sentence. A new voice, full of despair, interrupted his explanations. "We do not have six days, Darius. I found the book and re-calculated the time. We barely have twelve hours!" The miniature human woman dressed in the robes of the New Olamn - Waterdevian bardic Colledge, sat heavily on the sixth place at the table, burying her face in her hands. A hairpin dropped down from her frizzy red hair, and the curtain of curls covered this statue of grief. Everwatchfull pink waitress approached the table and offered the woman a glass of water, patiently waiting until she was noticed. Finally, the woman composed herself, sat straight and accepted the glass. "Thank you,"she whispered. She drank it all almost in one gulp. "I miscalculated. We need to retrieve the egg before midnight," she said, her voice steady now.
She poured herself now a glass of wine, drank it as well, pulled the hair back, tied them in a messy bun, and looked at everyone attentively. "Are those the people, Darius? Good. We need to act fast. I am Cassee Dannell, Darius probably told you about me. Sorry, for the drama," she rubbed her forehead, "but when I realized... It's too late! You understand? Way too late! I did not even finish the case. I will, though, it has to be ready by the late evening..." She was talking fast now, seemingly thinking as she was going. "What do you need to get the egg? I have the map. Not exact but still. The collection is closed now, but it will be open at fourth - no, sorry, at fifth bell." (A clear sound of city bells rang once outside) "And I have two tickets for the Gala there - had to pull some favours but I got them. Oh! There are four of you... But you can not do anything during Gala anyway, can you? What else... I can not join you, did I tell you that? They would not let me in and I need to work on the case to contain the egg..."
She took a deep breath and repeated, looking at everyone with intense anticipation. "How can I help you to get it?"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Uril hoped he had one of the answers Lorsan was looking for: "A hoarder, if there ever has been one," Uril comments, clearly having heard of the Varkenbluff name before. "His collection is famous across the lands." Uril turns to face Darius and admits: "When you mentioned a collector, I had hoped you were not referring to the most infamous of collectors." Turning to his new teammates, the quarter-elf explains: "I have heard many a story of folks gone missing while attempting to pilfer Mr. V-bluff's collection. He entices them with a visit to the collection, gauges their intent, and... they are never heard of again." Uril raises both eyebrows and delivers the twist, as if delivering a frightening conclusion to a bonfire tale: "Because they join the collector's statue collection!"
(OOC: May I roll some checks on "The Murkmire Stone," Dr. Cassee Dannell", and "The Golden Vault"? If so, please see spoiler below.)
Early looks around the planning room, nodding as Lorsan continues to fill him in on the ever so recent conversations. The details finally settling into the man's mind. "Right, there's a map ?ya? Where is it? Can I see it? What's the map about? What's it for? The Duke's secret collection chambers and all the traps inside?" Undoubtedly, Lorsan and Uril continue to go back over the remainder of the conversation.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer? Class.
Uril, despite his incredible knowledge about all possible organizations of Waterdeep, never heard about The Golden Vault. Not the name, at least. However, word is, that Harpers got a competition now, regarding meddling in someone's business. There are quite stubborn rumours, that people in dire need sometimes get unexpected and miraculous help. Everyone involved is very tight-lipped about it, but rumours mention the appearance of someone - a man, a woman, different races are mentioned - after which the help is given. Interestingly, the price of the help is never discussed. The legal cases are even more difficult to track, but it is known that sometimes people expected to be in jail are met on the streets. But how and why - hard to tell, cases are different and those who got free are rarely willing to talk Ornate music boxes are not something extraordinary by themselves, however, Uril could remember a case or two for different organizations use all kinds of seemingly simple items as a sign of belonging. The elaborate design, obvious functionality and no less obvious high price of the thing hint at its legitimacy. No one would go to such an expense to set a trap for random people.
The name "Dr. Dannell" does sound a bit familiar and indeed bound to Murkmire. Not the stone, but Uril did hear about an expedition of the bardic college into the High Desert. The college made a big deal about it, claiming something serious was found. Names were mentioned - a bunch of scholars studying the newly found Murkmire ruins. Dr. Dannell was among them.
"I see we are already discussing..." Darius finally got the chance to add a few words to the conversation after the dramatic appearance of Dr. Dannell. "Would you hold your questions for a few moments?"
The relaxing atmosphere of the main room of the tavern with its music and flickering lights did not seem to fit the preparations, at least not to Darius. "Let us move somewhere more suitable first".
Apparently, The Sleepy Sylph had some backrooms as well, to one of which all of you were now invited. The room had quite ordinary though well-made furniture: a large wooden table, surrounded by comfortable chairs, a small table in the corner with a few bottles and wineglasses on it and a sofa nearby. The walls are adorned with oil paintings and ever-burning lanterns. A comfortable and laid-back space that, nevertheless, says "business meetings" rather than "festive gatherings".
"Much better, even if unplanned," said Darius, closing the door. "Please, take a seat and let's discuss things properly.""Dr. Dannell, we might indeed begin with the map."
"Of course!" From one of the numerous pockets (the college knew its members and preferred the practical approach to clothing), the red-haired woman produced a piece of paper with a hand-drawn map.
The map:
"I was invited with the others there when the Stone was bought and transported in. Could not check it all, of course, but talked to the people and could deduce the prohibited areas like the basement. Then I tried to warn them about the danger and they threw me out." Dr. Dannell sighed heavily but immediately shook her head not allowing herself to fall to despair again, and continued. "What else? Yes, Gala."She looked at Lorsan. "This is a big addition to the collection. The Duke wants to brag about it and invited both nobles and scholars. At the sixth bell, the Gemstone wing will be opened for everyone invited to see the new gem - the egg! At eighth, the doors will be closed. But everyone will begin to come in at the fifth bell to see the rest of the collection first, get some drinks, mingle with others, you know the usual. Here are two tickets I was able to get."
Two pieces of paper - no! pieces of art, were laid on top of the map. The paper is thick and heavy, with a smooth texture that feels soft to the touch. The lettering is embossed in gold, shimmering in the light and adding a touch of elegance to the design. It is not just a ticket, it is a symbol of exclusivity and prestige, and yet another demonstration of the Duke's wealth.
"Yes,"commented Dr. Dannell," the Duke is very proud of his collection. But," she lowered her eyes, while Uril was retelling what he knew about Duke Varkenbluff, "I am sure the rumours are exaggerating. There are some alarms there, of course" she pointed at the map, "but I do not think he will petrify people."There could be more confidence in her voice and she quickly added: "But there are quite a few guards and the curator. Not a pleasant guy. Works late sometimes."
"So let's brainstorm", Lorsan says to no one in particular. "I suppose, logically, we need to grab the egg before the Gala, during the Gala, or after. Before may be too difficult with such limited information. During would require some manner of subterfuge, to take it in the open, perhaps making a switch. After would be a matter of stealth, but we would have the advantage of all the information of the place."
He looks at the others. "Ideas?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
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The Sleepy Sylph - a popular tavern among visitors of Watedeep - is usually quiet in this strange "in-between" time like an "hour before noon". Well, quieter as the music and scantily clad waitresses attract people at any time of the day. It is also expensive with every drink three times the price of it anywhere else. Despite the popularity (or because of it), the less savoury public like, say, Early's and Lorsan's former friends, keep out of it - the security is way too present. Local clerks, like Uril, do indulge themselves sometimes with a single drink, to enjoy the music and to watch the waitresses, but it's a treat, not the norm. As for Robyn - you need way too much money to get drunk in this place.
The doors are open for the warm weather, and you are greeted with a mixture of aromas: simple food, expensive spirits, and sweet incense. The coloured driftglobes floating about are blinking sometimes in tune with the beat of the lazy music, barely illuminating anything but setting the mood.
It is hard to see the faces in the colourful gloom but turns out you don't have to. Before you could make out even the closest tables, a waitress, dressed in a pink diaphanous robe with rainbow-coloured fairy wings of silken gauze attached to it, greeted you and made a sign to follow her deeper into the tavern.
The table, you were invited to, is laid for six people. The coloured lights from the couple of driftglobes above dance on the heavy silverware and crystal wine glasses. At the table, facing anyone coming to it, sit the man with clear signs of elven blood in his veins. Dark eyes contrasting with the long platinum blond hair create disturbing dissonance but the smile looks honest when he welcomes you to your seats. "Glad you could make it. On behalf of our collective benefactor - welcome. I trust you have questions?"
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
It wasn't the first time Lorsan had to go into hiding after pulling a scam. It wasn't the first time he'd had to change his identity after the fact - not by a long shot. But it was the first time on two counts...
Never before had he taken someone else with him - in this case the young and rather naive lad known as Early. The kid didn't seem to have a lot going for him - at least that was Lorsan's first impression. There was an uncanny charm and wholesome idealism that Lorsan found bewildering (or was it... refreshing?). Plus, the kid could handle himself. And he had a talent for disguise that confounded Lorsan's skill and imagination. Okay, so the kid wasn't so bad after all.
The second thing that was different this time going into hiding, was that Lorsan had been found. And it wasn't just the simple fact of being found that disturbed him; it was the fact that they found him so quickly, and that the courier who delivered the mysterious box had inquired for him by name - the new name - the name he had only just invented for himself two days prior!
Early had received an identical box too, which led to Lorsan's initial assumption that this was some trick of the crime gang they had both just fled. But then, this music box gimmick was too subtle for that mob. Finally Lorsan had opened the box, heard the message, and decided this was someone else entirely. Who else knew? Who had been watching? What did they want with him?
In the intervening two days Lorsan had wrestled with the decision, wondering when had his cover been blown, and what danger this summons could portend. But finally curiosity had won out over the instinct to flee once more. Besides, if they were watching, if they had found him once already, naturally they would do so again. And the kid seemed intent on going too. Lorsan would have felt uncharacteristically guilty if he'd let the lad go alone and something bad happened to him.
And so it was that the two of them had found themselves two days later inside the Sleepy Sylph - a fancy dig that Lorsan was sure he'd visited before on some job, but couldn't quite remember. He hadn't even bothered to go in disguise this time - it seemed pointless considering the circumstances of the invitation. Feeling more vulnerable than he could remember feeling in a long time, Lorsan followed the waitress into the depths.
Two other guests he also noticed, which roused his curiosity further. One looked like a gutter tramp, one of the woodland kin - probably a young forest exile that made her way to the city and fell into a bottle, never to surface again. The other had the look of a half-blood egghead, probably some intellectual bean-counter, or academic geek. Lorsan was sure he'd never crossed paths with either of them before.
But thoughts of these two went to the bottom of the pile when Lorsan saw the host - another unfamiliar face, but one with much more behind it. So this was it? No ambush? No city guards? Just an arena that he knew how to fight in - a war of wit, where words were weapons. Lorsan's apprehensions started to vanish, and he slipped into a familiar groove, assuming a role with which he felt comfortable.
The first priority: to take control of the dialogue. Drawing a seat for himself, Lorsan pours a glass of white wine, reclines in the chair and replies:
Oh, many questions, for certain. But the first and most important one is: 'What's on the menu?'
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Early had stared at the music box delivered to him with a certain level of awe. This thing was....so delicate....and...fine, what purpose could it serve? The key belonged there. A lockbox then, but why so small and fine. After the box had completed its job it attempted to close. Without much thought Early stuck a finger into the closing lid.....not wanting it to stop its strange magic, but the lid began to squeeze with more force than was possible for such a small thing. He yanked his finger out, the nail slipping along the edge, and only losing a bit of skin to the lower edge as it clacked shut. Hmmm, feisty little box. He liked it.
He sat wondering for a moment how he would tell Lorsan that he'd been invited to some secret rendezvous and he'd have to leave Lorsan behind today. Probably just for a night, he shouldn't be jealous. Early imagined a very pretty girl was this Ben Factor, but..then remember most Ben's were boys. But, maybe...Ben needed help with his wayward sister. That made Early a bit more excited about the strange event. It was with only a tiny bit of disappointment that he checked in with his buddy and found that he too had an music box invite. That was ok, he liked Lorsan and actually felt a bit of comfort having the him go as well. It was all as it should be.
Early walked just ahead of Lorsan into the bar, his gaze scanning back and forth across the room for threats before settling on the pink robed waitress that left very little to the imagination. When she seemed to be expecting them, a warm smile appeared on his face and he said, "Oh, well...it is very nice to meet you. Is your name Ben? I suppose a girl as pretty as you can have any name you want. Did you sew those fairy wings on yourself? That's a lovely ...um..dress...that you are wearing. But mostly its your body that's pretty. Do you work here most of the time? When does your shift end? Do you....." his questions trailed off as they arrived at a table that was clearly manned by a ....man....and not another pretty girl. Hmm, so this was Ben then. He glanced at the girl once more, smiling a winning smile....girls liked that...and then said, "Maybe we can talk more later...it was really nice to meet you." He glanced around at the table, watching his friend Lorsan assess the group of faces. None of them looked like folks he'd have too much trouble with in a fight, so he sat down at the table in a relaxed manner, glancing at each face trying to get a sense of who was in charge here. Then he remembered Lorsan was here to do that and relaxed into the booth without much concern.
The guy spoke, and Early scritched his chin..wait...this guy wasn't Ben either? So weird. Then Lorsan spoke...and Early's stomach grumbled immediately. Oh yes...this sort of meeting was supposed to include food right? He was sure it did. "I would like food."
What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer?
Class.
Uril had been worried. Stepping out of his comfort zone was not a customary course of action for the talented scribe. He had spent years, decades, refining his skills and helping maintain his family's business but, in one particularly gloomy day, he decided to risk it all! Now, he is basically a fugitive, at least in his mind, and that music box and golden key were proof that he was about to pay his dues.
The music box's workmanship was quite notable. Uril couldn't resist sketching its mechanism based on his observations in an attempt to reverse-engineer it. He had no plans to build one himself but knowing how to do it was empowering enough. Having the option to one day write a instruction manual on how to replicate this box and key was more than enough reward. That's another well-earned page for his collection of instructions, which was an impossibly thick tome that could only be carried by the slender man over long periods of time if he could use more than just his arms to accomplish the feat. Hence, the heavy tome had been hooked and chained around Uril's waist.
Uril figured that turning himself in to whoever sent him the box and key was the best way to spare his family from the consequences of his actions. The walk between the tavern's entrance and one of the many tables within was one with which Uril was familiar enough, as he had visited the Sleepy Sylph a few times over the years. A drink here was considered a prize on itself, so Ol' Man Quillsworth would bring the family in once in a blue moon to celebrate a large sale or profitable new contract with a library or university. That old man would have no resort should the guilds come for him; Uril at least had a small chance of escape, being on his spry 40s and all...
For almost all intents and purposes, Uril considered himself a human. Most observers would agree with him, but those with elven blood in their veins could often easily sniff out the dash of fey ancestry in Uril's own blood. His hair was brown and kept at neck-length, his face had lost more than just some of its youth, and his facial hair was well trimmed, not that he could grow a thick patch anyhow. His choice of attire left no doubt Uril had maintained a desk job his entire life. It was clean and well put-together, but not fancy enough to pretend he was a regular patron of the Sleepy Sylph. It matters little now that we was surely going to a dungeon, apprehended by some intelligent detective with a taste for unusual, music-box-shaped business cards.
Once at the table, Uril started to doubt he'd spend the rest of his life in a dungeon cell; at least not starting tonight. If the detective wanted to lure him into a public space to facilitate his arrest, why would he invite three others with whom he clearly did not share a civic responsibility? Who were these three others sharing the table? Why are there so many elves here? Why does the serving staff in this place never seem to pay too much attention to him? Well, they certainly wouldn't tonight, not while Uril was sitting next to a man who was so impossibly charming. Why is the elf accompanying this man looking at Uril with a tinge of disappointment in his expression? And is this lady on the other chair already drunk? How can these folks be thinking about food first and foremost?
Uril had so many questions he didn't know which one to ask first. Lacking the charisma so many others around the table wielded, the scribe waited for someone else to ask a relevant question.
"Robin Banks wit Cheese, comin' to Teh Sleepy Sylph in two days... Hic!"
Two days go by in a blur, and funds dry up. Fast. Yet here they are, standing in front of The Sleepy Sylph because some fancy box told her too on some bender. Maybe today's the day she cuts down on her drinking. The elf blows a raspberry with her lips and guffaws. Pffbt. "Kay Cheese, go strut yer stuff." Robin Banks stretches casually, holding out her foot. A little mouse moves from her shoulder, down her side and proceeds to scurry down her leg and hop off the tip of her toe. It sniffs out a tiny hole and proceeds to scout out the premises ahead of her.
The mouse leaves on a job...
With an empty belly, empty pockets, a bit of a headache and a foggy memory, she heads into the establishment. Robin blinks. Was she in the wrong place? She didn't know whether to pinch herself or to slink off before she gets hauled out for not being able to afford breathing in a place like this. But it smelled so good and every sound, and everyon, and everything, was so intoxicating to the senses. Banks almost didn't need a morning top off, but she was pretty thirsty.
Baby blues wide and batting, Banks was not immune to her waitresses welcoming presence. "Bet ye've heard it all..." She knew she was out of her league in this place, but what did she have to lose? "But I'm gushin' over yer outfit." Robin loved it. The wings, the fabric, the grace... "It's adorable." She continued to yammer as she fawned over the escort and her outfit. "Whut's yer name? Ken I ask ye summin'?" She could lead Robyn anywhere she wanted, and she followed along, even if it was back off the premises. "Think if ya cleaned me up an' dolled me up like yous beauties, I could be pretty cute too right?" The elf was tall, of olive fair skin and a freckled complexion. She has short green wavy hair that hasn't been combed in a while, but was adorned with a braid pinned on one side with an ornate hairpiece. Robin wore simple clothes that consisted of black leggings, a tank top with a jacket, and no shoes. Although toned like a dancer, she bobbed and weaved about at a seemingly odd pace with added awkward movements. However, Banks was incredibly nimble, light on her feet, and moved silently like a mouse. "If you'd teach me, I could teach you summin'-" She pauses to think, or was she distracted. "Hmm... S'pose them cute pieces of clothin' dun leave much fer pocketin', but there's always the ol' faithful..." Robin's sat at her seat. "Well, b'lieve it or not I can cook!" She adds when being left with her company at the table. She can't cook. She's a mooch by day and a 'cat burgling jewel thief' at night.
Robin Banks tilts her head before she turns her body to sit forward in her seat. As her eyes fall over the table of men before her, she physically deflates a little. However, they are met with a toothy grin. "Pleasure!" She says in response to the elven man greeting them. Robin then leans back in her chair to get comfortable. And as if on queue for the awkward table pause, Banks opens her mouth again. "Where's the booze, the food an' my cute fairy outfit?" She counts on her fingers and proceeds to put her feet up on the table. "Questions is, ya want something frum me." She states as she crosses her legs. "So what's in it fer me an' what's the catch?" Puts her hands behind her head. Robin Banks may be a bit rough around the edges, lacking in table manners and perhaps was not a natural negotiator... nor was she good at putting things in order, or was it priority? But, she usually had an idea of what she wanted anyway. Yeah, that.
just an unstable unicorn.
"And the food you shall have!" The smile of the dark-eyed man became even wider. "With a proper booze, of course." He slightly nodded his head toward Robin. "I am sure, the menu here will satisfy your refine tastes," (if there was some irony in the tone it was hard to deduce) "as well as our discussion - your justified curiosity."
He nodded slightly to the pink waitress and she gracefully glided away without uttering a single word. The staff here was well trained - both alluring and comforting, delightful to look at yet keeping just out of reach, for visitors to never lose hope and not cost trouble at the same time. Your pink guide did not answer Earlie's flirting nor Robyn's questioning, but her quick smiles and teasing glances from under the dark curls, all accompanied by melodic laughter conveyed her attention well enough. She had to return twice to bring everything ordered, smiled once again (a touch more professional rather than genuine, though wine, music and coloured darkness masked the missing charm), and finally "floated" away.
The food is surprisingly good - the place is by far not the restaurant, everything at the table had to be a "special order" for the special guests for quite special money. The man looked around, making sure that everything is in order, made a gesture welcoming those hesitant to begin the feast, took a sip of wine from his glass and started to speak.
"I appreciate your direct approach, miss and will try to answer equally straightforwardly." He looked down, collecting his thoughts and began.
"My name is Darius Blackwood and I represent a certain philanthropist who prefers to remain anonymous. I am sure you understand. Said philanthropist, our benefactor, believes in the power of individuals to bring about change when said individuals join the forces and work together towards a noble goal. It might sound a bit naive but I can assure you, the benefits our capable individuals get on this job are quite real." He gestured toward the table every single thing on which was screaming "gold!". " And if the idea of joining an organization working towards the betterment of society is not really your thing, our benefactor offers quite generous financial support and legal protection in case of clashes with the law." Darius smiled and gave each of you a knowing look.
"You may ask why the secrecy then if all the members are doing is helping the realm. A fair question. But you see, sometimes the law simply can not catch up fast enough with the situation. Take the reason for our present meeting, for instance. A collector has purchased a dangerous artifact that can - and will soon, mind you - kill quite a lot of people. Despite warnings, the collector refuses to part with it, and the authorities have been unresponsive. What can we do in such a scenario? We, and by that, I mean everyone associated with our benefactor, believe that taking action to relieve the collector of the artifact and neutralizing it is justified. Would you not agree?"
Darius leaned back in his seat and regarded everyone with a firm look, any trace of sweetness gone from his eyes. "In short, you are offered money, legal protection and assurance for your consciousness in exchange for use of your prominent skills in a delicate operation. You can walk away, as no names have been mentioned - yet, but... Would you?"
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
Having commenced the conversational contest, Lorsan suddenly found himself disarmed. This Darius was using a tactic that Lorsan was unprepared for - honesty! This was a genuine offer of employment - honest pay and honest benefits for honestly dishonest work? To perform in a clandestine manner that which the authorities would not, or could not do openly. Could it be real? As the tipsy girl had said, What's the catch? Questions raced through Lorsan's mind.
The first and only time Lorsan had worked with a group, it hadn't gone so well. He knew Early could be trusted, but he didn't know these other two, even though they didn't seem like crooks. And there has been hints at a larger quantity of staff. Furthermore, if the goal was the betterment of society, then where did the gold come from? And how could they be sure this benefactor wasn't another scammer posing as a do-gooder. No, this was too good to be true. Lorsan had to keep digging, and find the cracks in the facade...
"So what did you say was the name of this 'organisation'?" he asked innocently. "Also, what kind of 'prominent skills' are you referring to? Who else would we be working with? What's your role exactly? And what assurances can you provide that we won't simply be hung out to dry when the job is done?"
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Lorsan was the first one to talk and yet, there were no doubts the same questions were in everyone's minds. There was a touch of amusement in Darius's dark eyes as he looked at the elf. "Why, I did not mention any names but my own. Unless, of course, you would not mind sharing yours." He gave Lorsan a pointed look then smiled and raised the hand in a calming gesture.
"Let me begin with your last question. Though... What answer would you expect? You have my word as I have yours that the job I will point you at will be done, and done without - and I'm afraid this is an important condition - without excessive violence. A hard thing to pinpoint, I agree, but if, say, you decide to burn down the previously mentioned collector's house or murder his children to force him into compliance - you will be left to your own fate."
Darius laughed lightly to soften his words. "But I am quite sure you are not that kind of professionals. Otherwise, you would not be here. Each of you was invited precisely because of your ability to handle such delicate work with talents supporting a subterfuge, rather than brutal force. You are also expected to work together, with me as a liaison between you and that yet-to-be-revealed organization. Did I answer your questions? Shall we move on with the full introduction?"
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
Uril was one of those who was hesitant to reach for a morsel, but the glance of encouragement from their patron was all that was needed. He reached for a cracker, one with yellows, greens, and reds atop it, and slowly savored it. In his head, he tried to isolate each ingredient so he could perhaps soon add another page to his tome... "I guess I'll have to ask the name of this dish," he thought.
"Organization?" Uril asked, still in his head. He had not worked anywhere but his old man's shop ever since he was able to hold a quill. New employment was uncharted territory for him; and hence, exciting. Of course his penmanship was good enough to warrant a job offer. "I guess he is not here to arrest me after all." the half-elf thought with relief. And legal protection could come in handy whenever a real detective finally found him.
The scribe was convinced already, as naive and trusting as that may be of him. "I am Uril Quillsworth," he finally utters, certain that this statement is already enough to metaphorically have crossed the point of no return. He looked around, expecting others to also share their names. When they didn't, or at least delayed it, Uril started to realize he might have rushed it a bit. This whole... criminal... deal as fairly new to him, and he was already showing it.
From the moment the food and drinks arrived, Early was stuffing his face. Grunts and slurps of appreciation were made, almost to the point of disrupting the conversation at hand. The food began vanishing at an alarming rate. Eventually though, Uril makes his introduction, and Early has had enough. Enough of the food? Enough of the talk? Enough questions bubbling in his brain? It's too hard to tell, but he puts his hands up and says, "Hold on. Hold on hold on." Then he points to Uril. "Uril." He points to the elf, "Darius." Then he adds, "And Ben and Phil want to hire us." While the obvious confusion ripples through the faces of the group, Early nods as if he's decided he's got it all. "My name is Early."
He raises his hand to summon the pretty girl back, hopefully with more drinks.
What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer?
Class.
Robin didn't feel the need to get handsy the waitress, she was a gentle lady and could appreciate respectfully. If anything, she was watching to see if anyone gives the waitress, or any others a hard time. Banks was ready to swat away any unwanted advances in protection of the professional workers. However, she did plan to consume her drinks efficiently in order to have an excuse for them to return more often.
With the arrival of drinks and a delightful spread, Robin's attention was split further. She'd take her feet off the table to greet the meal as the elven man began to string together big words, very big words. Long words. Words she knew, and words she thought she knew. They were good words. Lots of words, paired with more words. And good drink, and yummy food. She watched, she listened, however when the man next to her started chowing down, she too went to town. She kept her wrestles hands busy by helping herself to drinks of all kinds, even from out from under the nose of others at the table when they weren't looking. Of course she'd also inspect, sample, and try to pocket every type of food that was subjectively reasonable. And when there was something she spotted she wanted, she'd offer the man something else to distract him so that she could reach for it before he did. So while her 'snack buddy' consumed his fair share beside her, she took advantage of it and hoarded her extra share in her pockets. Who knows when she'd be able to indulge and eat such delicacies. Plus it was free. Right?
Banks lean in to Early, "Who do ya thinks got more coin?" She reaches for a roll. "This Phil Ian Tropics," And sits back. "or Bennie Victor?" She starts buttering it. "I bet Phil spends wildly an' owns some tropical resorts." She gestures with the utensil before going back to buttering it. "My money's on Ben." Finishing with a little flourish, she puts the knife down. "He sounds like a winner." Robin takes a bite out of her roll, winks and washes down her bite with a swig of wine.
"I'm Robin Banks." She declares placing her mug down onto the table.
just an unstable unicorn.
Lorsan falls silent for a few moments more as he processes the latest revelations from Darius. This organisation, whoever they were, were decidedly humane. But their demand for minimal violence also revealed something else - they knew more about Lorsan than he expected - not just his skills and location, but his morals! Who WERE these people? He was still contemplating this when the next revelation landed - these people at the table weren't just fellow recruits - THIS IS THE CREW. Naturally this made Lorsan inspect them more closely...
The half-elf - Uril. First to respond. First to give his name. Quick to trust. Desperate possibly. But probably also quick to intuit the benefits against the costs. Smarter than Lorsan first gave him credit for. Would likely have the brains to mastermind the heist.
The gutter elf - Robin. So many rough edges. But a sharp eye, by the looks - taking in the room, assessing every opportunity and threat. And with a steely glint too - she knows how to handle herself, and more than just a street brawler. Nimble. She could get into places others couldn't.
And of course Early. Ah, that lad! Mind of jelly, but heart of gold. He'd be the one to get them out of a tight fix - either through muscle or pure charm. But he'd also be the one to hold them all together. Not to mention his other special skill.
Lorsan nods his head, slowly, to himself. Yes, this could work. A new crew, and a decent one at that. A new patron, and a powerful one at that. The chance to do what he did best, to get paid reliable coin along with the other benefits, and even - could it be possible - make the world better in the process. One job... and then he'd see. He turns once more to face Darius.
And I'm Lorsan Lladove.
[Cut to the opening credits and theme song]
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
[opening credits fade back in from black]
Early was propped up on the bed on his side, topless, with only a sheet covering his manly parts. Sitting on the bed, facing away from him, the waitress was pulling a slip back over her bare torso. His chest muscles rippled as he casually shifted position.
“So, I can’t really say too much, you know how these secret missions go, but its big time. Save the world style. Real hero stuff.”
”Mmmhmmm….”
The waitress may have been rolling her eyes, given her tone, it was clear she wasn't impressed. Early guessed maybe she didn't believe him. And could he blame her? It was fantastical. Gutters to ….riches. There was a saying about it. He might even get s medal one day.
He thought back to the conversation in the tavern. The details were foggy, but he was sure Lorsan had a handle on it. The drunk girl that he was really rather fond of. The smart looking one. They might make a really good crew. Especially with Bennie and Phil who seemed like they'd be great bosses.
There’d been a bunch of talking about the mission, but it had all sorta gone over Early’s head. The food, drink and uhhhh, scenery had been distracting.
He abruptly rolled over and pulled some nickers on. The group had decided to meet and make a plan in a private room here. He was probably late. He gave the waitress one last hug and kiss and a nice smile that said “maybe again” without any awkward words or promises, and then, grabbing his few belongings, which included a heavy bag full of steel armor and padding, and a massive sword, he left to meet the group.
He strolled into another room a few minutes later, that a big table laid out with various papers and information. Lorsan and Uril seemed to just be setting up. Robin was sitting at the table with a mug of beer looking quite relaxed.
Early dropped his stuff then put his hands on the table, facing the crew. “I am SO excited to be working with you all on this thing. But, Im a little foggy on the details. Can someone remind me what we’re supposed to do again? What did that Darius guy say?”
Lorsan rolls his eyes and begins replaying the conversation for Early.
[Antman like cut scene back to the conversation in the tavern, with all peoples voices overlayed by Lorsan’s voice]
What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer?
Class.
"Splendid!" Darius looked like he was about to applaud Uril's brave decisiveness. He did not do it but nodded appreciatively to every name entering the conversation. Once Lorsan decided to surrender his (current) name too (and the last accord of the theme music died out), Darius clapped his hands and smiled. "Now, when we all know each other, let me officially welcome you to The Golden Vault. This is the name our organization is known by to those worthy of its attention. You are now among those worthy. Let's see if it stays this way."
Darius paused, letting the pink waitress add a few more bottles to the table. When she was gone he continued. "Please, place the music boxed at the table in front of you." He waited until everyone did so then placed his own small golden box in front of himself. His music box looked similar to the others except the lid was decorated with several gemstones. Darius looked at it for a few moments, then pressed some of the gems (all the boxes flashed with golden light) and clapped his hands again. "Thank you. You officially agreed to take the assignment. You can retrieve the boxes while I will explain what we are dealing with. We are talking about none other than Duke Varkenbluff and his collection."
Indeed, the name could be familiar to the citizens of Waterdeep. For the unfamiliar, Darius briefly explained the situation, mentioning the building the Duke recently acquired and rebuilt for his collection.
(On History DC12 a few more details in spoilers)
Duke Varkenbluffis is an eccentric collector, of rare artifacts and antiquities from all over the world. He is known to buy but never sell his precious relics. There are a few collectors around the world who compete with each other for the title of the best and his collection is at the top of the list.
He allows visitors sometimes (scholars in particular for he loves to listen about the importance of his findings), but he guards the collection fiercely. Many have gone missing in their attempts to steal from him, and some say that they are now part of the exhibition, immortalized in their petrified state. No one ever risked checking the rumour but it is known that the Duke used the help of mages to secure his collection as well as more conventional ways to protect it.
"Recently," continued Darius, "the Duke happened to buy a freshly unearthed curiosity, which he called "the Murkmire Stone". A jade-green stone, harder than diamonds, and covered in peculiar symbols, that - as he is very much convinced - are some ancient runes. However, the very researcher who dug the stone up - Dr. Dannell - is sure that the thing is an actual egg of a beast that devasted the city in which ruins the egg was found. As I mentioned before, Duke Varkenbluff refused to listen Dr. Dannell and to part with the egg. The good Doctor will join us later to provide the details. For now, I can tell that by her calculations, we have about six days until the egg hatches. Therefore..."
Darius did not finish his sentence. A new voice, full of despair, interrupted his explanations. "We do not have six days, Darius. I found the book and re-calculated the time. We barely have twelve hours!" The miniature human woman dressed in the robes of the New Olamn - Waterdevian bardic Colledge, sat heavily on the sixth place at the table, burying her face in her hands. A hairpin dropped down from her frizzy red hair, and the curtain of curls covered this statue of grief. Everwatchfull pink waitress approached the table and offered the woman a glass of water, patiently waiting until she was noticed. Finally, the woman composed herself, sat straight and accepted the glass. "Thank you," she whispered. She drank it all almost in one gulp. "I miscalculated. We need to retrieve the egg before midnight," she said, her voice steady now.
She poured herself now a glass of wine, drank it as well, pulled the hair back, tied them in a messy bun, and looked at everyone attentively. "Are those the people, Darius? Good. We need to act fast. I am Cassee Dannell, Darius probably told you about me. Sorry, for the drama," she rubbed her forehead, "but when I realized... It's too late! You understand? Way too late! I did not even finish the case. I will, though, it has to be ready by the late evening..." She was talking fast now, seemingly thinking as she was going. "What do you need to get the egg? I have the map. Not exact but still. The collection is closed now, but it will be open at fourth - no, sorry, at fifth bell." (A clear sound of city bells rang once outside) "And I have two tickets for the Gala there - had to pull some favours but I got them. Oh! There are four of you... But you can not do anything during Gala anyway, can you? What else... I can not join you, did I tell you that? They would not let me in and I need to work on the case to contain the egg..."
She took a deep breath and repeated, looking at everyone with intense anticipation. "How can I help you to get it?"
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
History: 18
What is this Gala? And what do you mean about the collection opening?
Things were suddenly moving quickly.
(My initial roll was 10 but it changed when I added text)
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
A quick roll before a more engaging post:
-> History: 14
Uril hoped he had one of the answers Lorsan was looking for: "A hoarder, if there ever has been one," Uril comments, clearly having heard of the Varkenbluff name before. "His collection is famous across the lands." Uril turns to face Darius and admits: "When you mentioned a collector, I had hoped you were not referring to the most infamous of collectors." Turning to his new teammates, the quarter-elf explains: "I have heard many a story of folks gone missing while attempting to pilfer Mr. V-bluff's collection. He entices them with a visit to the collection, gauges their intent, and... they are never heard of again." Uril raises both eyebrows and delivers the twist, as if delivering a frightening conclusion to a bonfire tale: "Because they join the collector's statue collection!"
(OOC: May I roll some checks on "The Murkmire Stone," Dr. Cassee Dannell", and "The Golden Vault"? If so, please see spoiler below.)
-> History check on "The Murkmire Stone": 27
-> History check on "Dr. Cassee Dannell": 13
-> History check on "The Golden Vault": 21
Early looks around the planning room, nodding as Lorsan continues to fill him in on the ever so recent conversations. The details finally settling into the man's mind. "Right, there's a map ?ya? Where is it? Can I see it? What's the map about? What's it for? The Duke's secret collection chambers and all the traps inside?" Undoubtedly, Lorsan and Uril continue to go back over the remainder of the conversation.
What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer?
Class.
For Uril
Uril, despite his incredible knowledge about all possible organizations of Waterdeep, never heard about The Golden Vault. Not the name, at least. However, word is, that Harpers got a competition now, regarding meddling in someone's business. There are quite stubborn rumours, that people in dire need sometimes get unexpected and miraculous help. Everyone involved is very tight-lipped about it, but rumours mention the appearance of someone - a man, a woman, different races are mentioned - after which the help is given. Interestingly, the price of the help is never discussed.
The legal cases are even more difficult to track, but it is known that sometimes people expected to be in jail are met on the streets. But how and why - hard to tell, cases are different and those who got free are rarely willing to talk
Ornate music boxes are not something extraordinary by themselves, however, Uril could remember a case or two for different organizations use all kinds of seemingly simple items as a sign of belonging. The elaborate design, obvious functionality and no less obvious high price of the thing hint at its legitimacy. No one would go to such an expense to set a trap for random people.
The name "Dr. Dannell" does sound a bit familiar and indeed bound to Murkmire. Not the stone, but Uril did hear about an expedition of the bardic college into the High Desert. The college made a big deal about it, claiming something serious was found. Names were mentioned - a bunch of scholars studying the newly found Murkmire ruins. Dr. Dannell was among them.
"I see we are already discussing..." Darius finally got the chance to add a few words to the conversation after the dramatic appearance of Dr. Dannell. "Would you hold your questions for a few moments?"
The relaxing atmosphere of the main room of the tavern with its music and flickering lights did not seem to fit the preparations, at least not to Darius. "Let us move somewhere more suitable first".
Apparently, The Sleepy Sylph had some backrooms as well, to one of which all of you were now invited. The room had quite ordinary though well-made furniture: a large wooden table, surrounded by comfortable chairs, a small table in the corner with a few bottles and wineglasses on it and a sofa nearby. The walls are adorned with oil paintings and ever-burning lanterns. A comfortable and laid-back space that, nevertheless, says "business meetings" rather than "festive gatherings".
"Much better, even if unplanned," said Darius, closing the door. "Please, take a seat and let's discuss things properly." "Dr. Dannell, we might indeed begin with the map."
"Of course!" From one of the numerous pockets (the college knew its members and preferred the practical approach to clothing), the red-haired woman produced a piece of paper with a hand-drawn map.
The map:
"I was invited with the others there when the Stone was bought and transported in. Could not check it all, of course, but talked to the people and could deduce the prohibited areas like the basement. Then I tried to warn them about the danger and they threw me out." Dr. Dannell sighed heavily but immediately shook her head not allowing herself to fall to despair again, and continued. "What else? Yes, Gala." She looked at Lorsan. "This is a big addition to the collection. The Duke wants to brag about it and invited both nobles and scholars. At the sixth bell, the Gemstone wing will be opened for everyone invited to see the new gem - the egg! At eighth, the doors will be closed. But everyone will begin to come in at the fifth bell to see the rest of the collection first, get some drinks, mingle with others, you know the usual. Here are two tickets I was able to get."
Two pieces of paper - no! pieces of art, were laid on top of the map. The paper is thick and heavy, with a smooth texture that feels soft to the touch. The lettering is embossed in gold, shimmering in the light and adding a touch of elegance to the design. It is not just a ticket, it is a symbol of exclusivity and prestige, and yet another demonstration of the Duke's wealth.
"Yes," commented Dr. Dannell," the Duke is very proud of his collection. But," she lowered her eyes, while Uril was retelling what he knew about Duke Varkenbluff, "I am sure the rumours are exaggerating. There are some alarms there, of course" she pointed at the map, "but I do not think he will petrify people." There could be more confidence in her voice and she quickly added: "But there are quite a few guards and the curator. Not a pleasant guy. Works late sometimes."
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
"So let's brainstorm", Lorsan says to no one in particular. "I suppose, logically, we need to grab the egg before the Gala, during the Gala, or after. Before may be too difficult with such limited information. During would require some manner of subterfuge, to take it in the open, perhaps making a switch. After would be a matter of stealth, but we would have the advantage of all the information of the place."
He looks at the others. "Ideas?"
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?