Gohumbee responds to the Sending spell: "All is well. I arrived home safely. Lord Granitethew is favorable to the arrangement. Several young families will be traveling to Deep Wave Mine."
“Your right pa, we absolutely put you in a bad spot with the mayor, and I’m sorry about that."
He sits reflecting a bit while taking long slow drags on his pipe.
"I guess part of that comes from getting in the habit of rushing into some dire situation, kicking butt, and saving the day. This is fine when dealing with demons, dragons, and giants, but we lost sight of ourselves. We are trying to do good in the world, and we have, but maybe our heads have gotten a little too big.
I can only imagine what the mayor thought when we came riding into town with the kind of hardware we carry, especially me (chuckles). Did I tell you that cutlass came from a space pirate? Yeah, no shi..er it really did!
Only a couple of months ago we were trying to keep Trolkarl from getting imprisoned or executed due to an evil Drow that had infiltrated his ancestral home. The Duke of Daerlun even gave me a letter pronouncing me as a hero of the realm. Me, the guy who left the sheep pen gate open all those times (more self-deprecating laughs). So we kind of started seeing enemies wherever we looked. The evil possessed ring didn't help either."
He grimaces remembering it.
"I don't say this as an excuse or to be a braggart, just explain a little on where our heads were. Certainly doesn't excuse not bringing Mera into this from the start (he puts his head in his hand looking down shaking it in disbelief of his own actions.) You know if I had any sense I would set up residency hundreds of leagues from here, I'm never going to live this down no matter how many times we save the town."
He lets out a big sigh, then goes back to his pipe admiring the setting sun over the fields.
"Once I get the manor established I'm hoping to be able to help with trade. The brewery is going to be up'ing their production and he'll be needing markets for that. Things like that. I'm planning on setting up a small garrison there. I could see about offering some protection when folks take their goods to the bigger towns.”
He looks back at Hap. Not quite being able to read his expression.
"What? I've spent a lot of time in the saddle these last few years, plenty of time for a man to think and reflect on how to give back."
He leans back appreciating the silence that the fact that nobody is currently trying to kill him.
Trolkarl listens in silence as Xymox speaks. When the bard finishes, he ponders a moment, then nods, voice low and firm.
Then we are bound, you and I—not just by the Company, but by scars left from the same blade.
Alamnal has long poisoned the surface. He whispered into the ears that once governed my house, twisted generations of my kin, and dragged the Ravensheld name toward ruin.
Just before we met you, the Company fought him in Cormyr. He brought numerous drow to the surface to serve him. We struck them all down. But like a coward, he fled—slipping back into the Underdark before we could finish it. We had hoped to end his trechary above the surface... but until he is dead, there is no certainty.
So let there be no doubt: this is personal for me, as it is for you. And when next he rises, there will be no hesitation.
He pauses, glancing at the others
His assassins may have initially came for me- but they did not discriminate in their attacks. That made it personal for the Company too.
Your appearance so soon after these confrontations- it was incredible that we should meet a drow upon the surface at this time. That made trust... difficult. That you have stayed with us-despite our doubts- speaks louder than any oath.
So when that day comes—when Alamnal rises again—he’ll find his worst enemies standing together united.
As Trolkarl finishes, the air grows thinner— Not colder. Not warmer. Just tighter. As if the world itself knows to hush.
Xymox stands very still. Not the stillness of peace, but of a bowstring pulled taut. His eyes lock with Trolkarl’s—glinting not with gratitude, but with something older, sharper.
"Then we are bound, you say?"
A whisper at first. Cold and precise, like the first touch of steel at the throat.
"Good."
His voice darkens—velvet burned to ash. His hand curls, slowly, as if wrapping around the hilt of something unseen.
"Because I have hunted Alamnal Deepwalker for over a century. I have followed whispers, chased ghosts, torn secrets from dying lips. I have watched lesser Drow rise in power beneath his shadow, fed by the rot he left behind. All while the memory of my mother—my House—was scrubbed from stone and scroll as though we never lived."
He steps forward. Not hostile—but charged.
"Do you understand what that means, Trolkarl? Her name is gone. Her face uncarved. Her deeds unspoken. That is the kind of death the Drow deal in—erasure. And the only answer they respect is blood and proof."
His hand lifts slowly and rests near his shoulder—mimicking a severed head being carried.
"Only by dragging his wretched skull back through the gates of Menzoberranzan—only by placing it before the Matrons who spat on my family’s ashes—can I reclaim what was stolen. My House. My name. My honor."
A pause. Just long enough to taste the silence.
"You say you faced him. That he fled like the snake he is. Then you know the shape of my fury. And if you truly count him an enemy of yours as well—then know this: I will not be denied again. Not by walls. Not by mercy. Not by fate."
He exhales—sharp and slow. And when he speaks again, his voice is quieter… but no less lethal.
"I will see Alamnal unmade. Not just killed—unwritten. And if The Company walks that path with me, then I swear this: when the time comes, I will not falter."
Then—just briefly—he offers the faintest smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.
"But I warn you… that day may test even your fire, warlock."
Starker to Hap:”Kind sir, I would be extremely grateful if you could recommend someone trustworthy and wise with whom I could contract to oversee the construction of a tower for me near your son’s new manse. If he has your recommendation as an honest being I would feel comfortable leaving him a substantial sum in gold and platinum with which to hire laborers and purchase materials. If the job is done well perhaps this overseer could become my steward. I feel I will need to leave soon to support The Company in its next adventure and have little talent for nor interest in personally overseeing design or construction.
“In return for this favor I will consider myself in your debt and you may ask Sir Chadwick what that means.”
Surveys and plans are made for Cerric's Hill. First phase will be logging and forest clearing at the top. Lumber will be milled from the larger trees. Smaller trees will be prepared to be used for palisade wall if desired or fencing of some kind. Stumps will be cleared as well to make the land useful for building or gardens. The stumps will be milled where appropriate for burl wood or made into charcoal as appropriate. Stonecutters are contacted and plans made for quarrying good bedrock for construction as well. Hap is willing to oversee operations of all of this while you are off gallivanting across Faerûn. Ma Jenkins is beaming with pride that her boy has become a knight and now is constructing a manse.
The blacksmith has been working diligently on all of your suits of armor. All but the mithril plate are now repaired back to original condition. Hoid is itchy to get to the armorers in Waterdeep to have his armor repaired.
Many options and loose ends stand before The Company at this point. What will you do?
(( Consider Hoid an NPC under my control at this point. Him separating from The Company is fine if you all want to go somewhere other than Waterdeep next. ))
Starker: ”I would like to kill Alamnal or go to the Tower we have located on the map fragments. I would like to buy a 400gp lockbox, the required material component I need to be able to summon a construct ahould we need one. Waterdeep will have many places I could buy one, but so would other large towns or cities.
”As the second most recent addition to The Company, I will defer to whatever is decided. Havkng learned all I can here I would like to now be somewhere else learning new things until my tower is complete.
”Thank you for your kind attention to these matters.”
Turns to Ham:
“I hope this will suffice as the first tranche of funding. Please determine a fairnwage for your efforts and pay yourself out of it as well.”
"Everything has been sorted out for the manor, and Hap can handle anything that comes up while I'm gone. So I'm ready to go.
I say we head to Waterdeep so Hoid can get his armor fixed and see if we might pick up some rumours/leads about Alamnal. Assuming we don't get any actionable info then try and find the tower. "
Agreed, Chadwi.... Sir Chadwick. Waterdeep seems the prudent move - Hoid may see armor restored, and we position our selves to potentially learn more about Illiandil.
Through the Sending Stone,I remain in contact with with Gaius- so should Alamnal reveal himself on the surface again we should quickly know.To now return to the lodge and seek a long faded trail into the underdark- seems more desperate than wise.
Chadwick donates a 100GP to the temple (GP removed from character sheet).
Arranges a party at the Donkey for all his friends and family. He also invites the lovely lass (does she have a name?), Yanthin, Mera, the mayor, and the council. Plus anyone else the party thinks should be included but I forgot.
Arranges with a merchant to deliver food stuffs and a couple of pigs to be delivered to his parents farm to make up for everything they've been eating for the last few weeks.
Let me know how much that would cost for both.
Does anyone want to carry the Fey Warden's Glaive and or the leather armor of radiant resistance? I was going to leave them at the Jenkins house unless we wanted to try and sell/trade the armor at Waterdeep. I think the Glaive is worth holding onto for the Fey knowledge boost.
A party is arranged. All of the key people from your time here are present, save for the young lass. Her mother was not too pleased. But, a party is held and all enjoy the time together,
A meeting with The Lady of the Waters was held earlier with Mayor Brassbeard, Yanthin, Mera and Chadwick to commemorate the restoration of The Pact.
(( Supplies and sundries for the Jenkins farm considered included in treasure rounding for daily living. ))
The fire in the common room crackles gently, casting a warm glow over the weathered faces of The Company. The hour has grown late—late enough that even the bravest voices have quieted to murmurs, and only the clink of mugs and the occasional low chuckle drift through the air. Xymox rises slowly from his seat, not commanding attention—simply stepping into it, as a shadow might fill a space left unguarded.
He lets the room breathe for a moment, then speaks with a calm, deliberate tone—low and clear, meant for his companions and no one else.
"I spoke with Yartol tonight."
A pause, just long enough to remind them who he is—mercenary, somber-eyed, weather-worn, and quietly dangerous.
"He’s chasing something. Something with wings and fire. A dragon. Its name is Gryndrenur."
He doesn’t let the name hang too heavily—he simply says it, like a truth that needs no dressing.
"It took someone from him. Allindra. I don’t know the full tale, and I didn’t pry, but when he speaks her name, it feels like a wound that never closed. He’s not looking for justice. Not for coin. Just vengeance. And the kind of silence that only a blade can bring."
Xymox steps forward slightly, resting a hand on the back of an empty chair, his eyes drifting from face to face.
"He says it will take six to bring it down. Not because it’s some world-ending terror—because it’s guarded, dangerous, and in its own lair. And he won’t strike unless there’s enough strength to finish the job."
Now, a faint smile—not sly, but knowing.
"He did mention this: the treasure in Gryndrenur’s lair is enough for a hundred men. That’s not a bard’s flourish. That’s what he said—enough for a hundred men. Gold, artifacts, things buried with the beast that could buy kingdoms or ruin them."
The smile fades as his voice lowers.
"But Yartol doesn’t want it. He wants the dragon’s head. The rest… well, we’d be welcome to it."
He steps back, now folding his hands calmly before him.
"I gave him no promises. None. But I told him I would bring the matter to you—my Company. Because I do not point my blade or my bow without knowing who stands beside me."
A pause, then he adds, quietly but firmly:
"This isn’t a call to arms. Not yet. But if you would consider it—if you’d weigh the risk and the reward, the purpose and the peril—then we’ll speak more."
He raises his cup slightly, a small nod of respect.
"To choices well-made. And the monsters that wait when we’re ready."
Then, without flourish, he sits again, leaving only the fire and the silence to carry the weight of what’s been said.
Starker:”I would like to go to Waterdeep but am in no rush to do so. I would very much like to go somewhere soon where I can buy an ornate lockbox worth roughly 400gp. Always happy to kill a dragon and tales its hoard and Alamnal needs killing. I am intrigued by the lich’s tower and am excited to empty the Iron Flask and use it to trap an unsuspecting resident of another plane.
“All that being said, I an happy to go wherever The Company decides. All else being equal, or if there is a lack of agreement, I propose we trust in Kragen’s wisdom to guide us aright.”
Starker:”I would like to go to Waterdeep but am in no rush to do so. I would very much like to go somewhere soon where I can buy an ornate lockbox worth roughly 400gp. Always happy to kill a dragon and tales its hoard and Alamnal needs killing. I am intrigued by the lich’s tower and am excited to empty the Iron Flask and use it to trap an unsuspecting resident of another plane.
“All that being said, I an happy to go wherever The Company decides. All else being equal, or if there is a lack of agreement, I propose we trust in Kragen’s wisdom to guide us aright.”
Kragen chuckles at the Mages jest, hearing the heavy sarcasm in his response.
Looking at Xymox. "It is unfortunate that Yartol has lost, a friend. Vanquishing a Dragon would be a worthy cause, however challenging and deadly.", "The riches it possesses are not of concern."
Looking at Hoid. "My grumpy brother, would like to have his Plate restored, seems like the prudent direction would be to Waterdeep. On the way, we can deliberate what compels the Company to action."
Kragen chuckles at the Mages jest, hearing the heavy sarcasm in his response.
Looking at Xymox. "It is unfortunate that Yartol has lost, a friend. Vanquishing a Dragon would be a worthy cause, however challenging and deadly.", "The riches it possesses are not of concern."
Looking at Hoid. "My grumpy brother, would like to have his Plate restored, seems like the prudent direction would be to Waterdeep. On the way, we can deliberate what compels the Company to action."
Back to the group. "That would be my suggestion."
"No worries, friend Kragen. I'm completely in agreement. With any luck, we may come across the white worm on our way to Waterdeep! I will let Yartol know that, perhaps after Waterdeep, we may be able to assist him in some way."
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Once pleasantries commence and bonds are confirmed, Kragen to the group.
"We clearly have some unfinished business with That Drow, however is that our most immediate need to address?"
Kragen waddles off to go see if his Chainmail has been repaired at the local smithy, as he waits for the group to deliberate.
Pondering the priority of the various open threads, Trolkarl considers -perhaps at least knowing the status of the mine should be considered as well.
He will go with Kragen to the smithy to see about getting his own armor repaired.
Kragen are you able to send a message to Gumby? I thought you have have used that spell, but I could be mistaken.
“Gumby! How’s the mine? The emmisary work? Chadwick’s a knight—gods help us. Return soon. Can manage fiends, but shopping and cooking may be my end.”
If not, perhaps we could try to find some traditional post and I can be a little more verbose.
Gohumbee responds to the Sending spell: "All is well. I arrived home safely. Lord Granitethew is favorable to the arrangement. Several young families will be traveling to Deep Wave Mine."
Chadwick’s response to Hap at the farm.
“Your right pa, we absolutely put you in a bad spot with the mayor, and I’m sorry about that."
He sits reflecting a bit while taking long slow drags on his pipe.
"I guess part of that comes from getting in the habit of rushing into some dire situation, kicking butt, and saving the day. This is fine when dealing with demons, dragons, and giants, but we lost sight of ourselves. We are trying to do good in the world, and we have, but maybe our heads have gotten a little too big.
I can only imagine what the mayor thought when we came riding into town with the kind of hardware we carry, especially me (chuckles). Did I tell you that cutlass came from a space pirate? Yeah, no shi..er it really did!
Only a couple of months ago we were trying to keep Trolkarl from getting imprisoned or executed due to an evil Drow that had infiltrated his ancestral home. The Duke of Daerlun even gave me a letter pronouncing me as a hero of the realm. Me, the guy who left the sheep pen gate open all those times (more self-deprecating laughs). So we kind of started seeing enemies wherever we looked. The evil possessed ring didn't help either."
He grimaces remembering it.
"I don't say this as an excuse or to be a braggart, just explain a little on where our heads were. Certainly doesn't excuse not bringing Mera into this from the start (he puts his head in his hand looking down shaking it in disbelief of his own actions.) You know if I had any sense I would set up residency hundreds of leagues from here, I'm never going to live this down no matter how many times we save the town."
He lets out a big sigh, then goes back to his pipe admiring the setting sun over the fields.
"Once I get the manor established I'm hoping to be able to help with trade. The brewery is going to be up'ing their production and he'll be needing markets for that. Things like that. I'm planning on setting up a small garrison there. I could see about offering some protection when folks take their goods to the bigger towns.”
He looks back at Hap. Not quite being able to read his expression.
"What? I've spent a lot of time in the saddle these last few years, plenty of time for a man to think and reflect on how to give back."
He leans back appreciating the silence that the fact that nobody is currently trying to kill him.
As Trolkarl finishes, the air grows thinner—
Not colder. Not warmer.
Just tighter. As if the world itself knows to hush.
Xymox stands very still. Not the stillness of peace, but of a bowstring pulled taut. His eyes lock with Trolkarl’s—glinting not with gratitude, but with something older, sharper.
"Then we are bound, you say?"
A whisper at first. Cold and precise, like the first touch of steel at the throat.
"Good."
His voice darkens—velvet burned to ash. His hand curls, slowly, as if wrapping around the hilt of something unseen.
"Because I have hunted Alamnal Deepwalker for over a century. I have followed whispers, chased ghosts, torn secrets from dying lips. I have watched lesser Drow rise in power beneath his shadow, fed by the rot he left behind. All while the memory of my mother—my House—was scrubbed from stone and scroll as though we never lived."
He steps forward. Not hostile—but charged.
"Do you understand what that means, Trolkarl? Her name is gone. Her face uncarved. Her deeds unspoken. That is the kind of death the Drow deal in—erasure. And the only answer they respect is blood and proof."
His hand lifts slowly and rests near his shoulder—mimicking a severed head being carried.
"Only by dragging his wretched skull back through the gates of Menzoberranzan—only by placing it before the Matrons who spat on my family’s ashes—can I reclaim what was stolen. My House. My name. My honor."
A pause. Just long enough to taste the silence.
"You say you faced him. That he fled like the snake he is. Then you know the shape of my fury. And if you truly count him an enemy of yours as well—then know this: I will not be denied again. Not by walls. Not by mercy. Not by fate."
He exhales—sharp and slow. And when he speaks again, his voice is quieter… but no less lethal.
"I will see Alamnal unmade. Not just killed—unwritten. And if The Company walks that path with me, then I swear this: when the time comes, I will not falter."
Then—just briefly—he offers the faintest smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.
"But I warn you… that day may test even your fire, warlock."
Starker to Hap:”Kind sir, I would be extremely grateful if you could recommend someone trustworthy and wise with whom I could contract to oversee the construction of a tower for me near your son’s new manse. If he has your recommendation as an honest being I would feel comfortable leaving him a substantial sum in gold and platinum with which to hire laborers and purchase materials. If the job is done well perhaps this overseer could become my steward. I feel I will need to leave soon to support The Company in its next adventure and have little talent for nor interest in personally overseeing design or construction.
“In return for this favor I will consider myself in your debt and you may ask Sir Chadwick what that means.”
Surveys and plans are made for Cerric's Hill. First phase will be logging and forest clearing at the top. Lumber will be milled from the larger trees. Smaller trees will be prepared to be used for palisade wall if desired or fencing of some kind. Stumps will be cleared as well to make the land useful for building or gardens. The stumps will be milled where appropriate for burl wood or made into charcoal as appropriate. Stonecutters are contacted and plans made for quarrying good bedrock for construction as well. Hap is willing to oversee operations of all of this while you are off gallivanting across Faerûn. Ma Jenkins is beaming with pride that her boy has become a knight and now is constructing a manse.
The blacksmith has been working diligently on all of your suits of armor. All but the mithril plate are now repaired back to original condition. Hoid is itchy to get to the armorers in Waterdeep to have his armor repaired.
Many options and loose ends stand before The Company at this point. What will you do?
(( Consider Hoid an NPC under my control at this point. Him separating from The Company is fine if you all want to go somewhere other than Waterdeep next. ))
Starker: ”I would like to kill Alamnal or go to the Tower we have located on the map fragments. I would like to buy a 400gp lockbox, the required material component I need to be able to summon a construct ahould we need one. Waterdeep will have many places I could buy one, but so would other large towns or cities.
”As the second most recent addition to The Company, I will defer to whatever is decided. Havkng learned all I can here I would like to now be somewhere else learning new things until my tower is complete.
”Thank you for your kind attention to these matters.”
Turns to Ham:
“I hope this will suffice as the first tranche of funding. Please determine a fairnwage for your efforts and pay yourself out of it as well.”
<Hands Ham 100pp>
"Everything has been sorted out for the manor, and Hap can handle anything that comes up while I'm gone. So I'm ready to go.
I say we head to Waterdeep so Hoid can get his armor fixed and see if we might pick up some rumours/leads about Alamnal. Assuming we don't get any actionable info then try and find the tower. "
Agreed, Chadwi.... Sir Chadwick. Waterdeep seems the prudent move - Hoid may see armor restored, and we position our selves to potentially learn more about Illiandil.
Through the Sending Stone,I remain in contact with with Gaius- so should Alamnal reveal himself on the surface again we should quickly know. To now return to the lodge and seek a long faded trail into the underdark- seems more desperate than wise.
Before heading out a few last things.
Chadwick donates a 100GP to the temple (GP removed from character sheet).
Arranges a party at the Donkey for all his friends and family. He also invites the lovely lass (does she have a name?), Yanthin, Mera, the mayor, and the council. Plus anyone else the party thinks should be included but I forgot.
Arranges with a merchant to deliver food stuffs and a couple of pigs to be delivered to his parents farm to make up for everything they've been eating for the last few weeks.
Let me know how much that would cost for both.
Does anyone want to carry the Fey Warden's Glaive and or the leather armor of radiant resistance? I was going to leave them at the Jenkins house unless we wanted to try and sell/trade the armor at Waterdeep. I think the Glaive is worth holding onto for the Fey knowledge boost.
A party is arranged. All of the key people from your time here are present, save for the young lass. Her mother was not too pleased. But, a party is held and all enjoy the time together,
A meeting with The Lady of the Waters was held earlier with Mayor Brassbeard, Yanthin, Mera and Chadwick to commemorate the restoration of The Pact.
(( Supplies and sundries for the Jenkins farm considered included in treasure rounding for daily living. ))
/Plans?
Head on out to Waterdeep. Chadwick will put word out that if anyone wants to travel along they are welcome to join them.
Before we head out...
The fire in the common room crackles gently, casting a warm glow over the weathered faces of The Company. The hour has grown late—late enough that even the bravest voices have quieted to murmurs, and only the clink of mugs and the occasional low chuckle drift through the air. Xymox rises slowly from his seat, not commanding attention—simply stepping into it, as a shadow might fill a space left unguarded.
He lets the room breathe for a moment, then speaks with a calm, deliberate tone—low and clear, meant for his companions and no one else.
"I spoke with Yartol tonight."
A pause, just long enough to remind them who he is—mercenary, somber-eyed, weather-worn, and quietly dangerous.
"He’s chasing something. Something with wings and fire. A dragon. Its name is Gryndrenur."
He doesn’t let the name hang too heavily—he simply says it, like a truth that needs no dressing.
"It took someone from him. Allindra. I don’t know the full tale, and I didn’t pry, but when he speaks her name, it feels like a wound that never closed. He’s not looking for justice. Not for coin. Just vengeance. And the kind of silence that only a blade can bring."
Xymox steps forward slightly, resting a hand on the back of an empty chair, his eyes drifting from face to face.
"He says it will take six to bring it down. Not because it’s some world-ending terror—because it’s guarded, dangerous, and in its own lair. And he won’t strike unless there’s enough strength to finish the job."
Now, a faint smile—not sly, but knowing.
"He did mention this: the treasure in Gryndrenur’s lair is enough for a hundred men. That’s not a bard’s flourish. That’s what he said—enough for a hundred men. Gold, artifacts, things buried with the beast that could buy kingdoms or ruin them."
The smile fades as his voice lowers.
"But Yartol doesn’t want it. He wants the dragon’s head. The rest… well, we’d be welcome to it."
He steps back, now folding his hands calmly before him.
"I gave him no promises. None. But I told him I would bring the matter to you—my Company. Because I do not point my blade or my bow without knowing who stands beside me."
A pause, then he adds, quietly but firmly:
"This isn’t a call to arms. Not yet. But if you would consider it—if you’d weigh the risk and the reward, the purpose and the peril—then we’ll speak more."
He raises his cup slightly, a small nod of respect.
"To choices well-made. And the monsters that wait when we’re ready."
Then, without flourish, he sits again, leaving only the fire and the silence to carry the weight of what’s been said.
Starker:”I would like to go to Waterdeep but am in no rush to do so. I would very much like to go somewhere soon where I can buy an ornate lockbox worth roughly 400gp. Always happy to kill a dragon and tales its hoard and Alamnal needs killing. I am intrigued by the lich’s tower and am excited to empty the Iron Flask and use it to trap an unsuspecting resident of another plane.
“All that being said, I an happy to go wherever The Company decides. All else being equal, or if there is a lack of agreement, I propose we trust in Kragen’s wisdom to guide us aright.”
Xymox nods at Starker in agreement.
Hoid is ready to go to Waterdeep. He has no opinion about where to go after that.
He doesn’t trust Yartol. “He is up to something,” he summarizes. But, he thinks that about everyone and everything.
Kragen chuckles at the Mages jest, hearing the heavy sarcasm in his response.
Looking at Xymox. "It is unfortunate that Yartol has lost, a friend. Vanquishing a Dragon would be a worthy cause, however challenging and deadly.", "The riches it possesses are not of concern."
Looking at Hoid. "My grumpy brother, would like to have his Plate restored, seems like the prudent direction would be to Waterdeep. On the way, we can deliberate what compels the Company to action."
Back to the group. "That would be my suggestion."
"No worries, friend Kragen. I'm completely in agreement. With any luck, we may come across the white worm on our way to Waterdeep! I will let Yartol know that, perhaps after Waterdeep, we may be able to assist him in some way."