Wagner will return to the manor.

Toser and Mana can deliver the good news to Melannor (or perhaps see the lady Jeryth).

(Sitting at a gate at Love Field. TX waiting to board.)

"I'll join you all at the manor shortly," Sterling announced before heading into the city.

(( He'll go into town to purchase the 10g of materials to allow him to re-cast Find Familiar, then will head straight to the manor. @DM: Does an extra 1g sound like a fair price for the brass brazier he also needs? ))

Toser agrees with Mana.  "We will make contact with Melannor Fellbranch and advise of our progress and the outcome."

Quote from RodTheBard >>

(( He'll go into town to purchase the 10g of materials to allow him to re-cast Find Familiar, then will head straight to the manor. @DM: Does an extra 1g sound like a fair price for the brass brazier he also needs? ))

 As the brazier has no cost, it can technically (RAW) be covered by a spell casting focus/component pouch. If you wish to spend 1gp on it thematically thats fine but I won't charge you for it.

The renovations have started but there is still some way to go (though after wrapping up the Emerald Enclave reward there will be a small time jump).

Those that return to the Enclave meet again with Melannor Fellbranch. "Thank you for dealing with the threat. Lady Phaulkon has divined that the attacks have ceased" and you are handed 75gp for your troubles.

(if you wish to have any conversation with Melannor you may. Otherwise we will have our time jump)

The time between now and a few tendays later is relatively uneventful. You get the renovations completed and can open for business. If there is anything in particular you would like to do during this time jump (other than this being the official time for levelling up) then let me know. 

(( Sterling will actually spend nearly all his coin on two "packets" of incense & herbs for his spell, plus the brazier. Upon coming back to the manor to find we've been paid, he'll then add his share to his coin pouch.

He'll learn Hold Person and Disguise Self (replacing Thunderwave) and will finish his training in weaver's tools as part of his leveling up. He'll also create a simple brooch (leather, quartz and gold filigree for now) emblazoned with his new personal sigil, to pin onto the chest of his outfit.

Hopefully he can also spend a week of the downtime researching how to craft studded leather and a Cloak of Protection, including both the time and materials/cost required. I figure it's up to the DM if that's even allowed, and I'm fine either way, but even if just for the flavor, he'll want to look into such things. ))

During the downtime, Oriace immerses himself in both the renovations and his newfound studies in the College of Requiems. While he still maintains his usual camaraderie and sharp wit, there is an unmistakable shift in his performances. His melodies take on a more somber tone, laced with eerie harmonies that seem to tug at the emotions of those who listen. On quiet evenings, when the manor is still and the workers have gone, he experiments with his music in the main hall, the ghostly echoes of his mournful tunes filling the half-renovated space. Some may overhear him softly practicing Toll the Dead in his chamber, the haunting chime reverberating unnaturally against the walls, or catch him humming Spare the Dying and Aid under his breath.

Despite his immersion in these studies, Oriace remains ever-watchful over the manor’s progress. He oversees the laborers with a keen eye, ensuring that every copper spent on renovations is put to good use. Yet, what occupies his mind most are the disturbances that plagued them before—the occasional misplaced item, the unexplained drafts, the faint sense that something unseen watches them. He makes a habit of walking the halls late at night, strumming absentmindedly on his instrument, hoping the resonance of his new melodies will stir whatever unseen force lingers. He does not speak of his suspicions outright, but those observant enough may notice him lingering at certain doorways a moment longer, or pausing before stepping into a dimly lit room, his fingers idly plucking a quiet, melancholic tune as if listening for something only he can hear.

I was going to get to the unseen force as the summary for downtime, but seeing as it was brought up already, I will jump to that now. (Sterling I will need to look into your downtime research and what we have discussed previously, and then I will get back to you).

There were a couple more events of things going strange, with some minor damage that those working on the renovations claim happened when they weren't paying attention, and "CLOSING TIME!" written in the dust from the works. As the works progress though, and it becomes clear you are getting the place ready to open as a tavern once, it changes. Oriace, as you are playing you start to notice helpful actions. A chair pulled out for you to sit on. Your door opening for you when on your way to your room. A mug of beer poured and floated over to you. And these start to happen to the others too. Coats are taken from you and hung up to dry if you come in from the rain. The doors get locked at night even when you forget. The floors are swept every night.

Mana falls into the routine of more civilized life, eating prepared food, sleeping in a bed, etc. He begins following the teachings of the College of Shadows, learning how to weave shadows about himself that dance and obfuscate an area up to 20’ around him. He hones his resolve within dim light and ameliorates his own fear of the dark. During this time, he replaces Feather Fall with Blindness/Deafness and adds Detect Thoughts to his repertoire with which he frequently tries to commune with whatever entity is present in the manor. First by detecting it and then using his own limited telepathy to begin a conversation to determine its name and intentions.

He compliments the others as they advance in their own “studies” and encourages them profusely. He is somewhat taken aback by the mood change he has noticed in Oriace. Having never met a somber Halfling before, this drift in personality was puzzling to him. He invites Oriace to aid in the search for the apparition and volunteers to tag along if he is willing to have company.

”You know, if this turns out to be a friendly ghost, maybe we could rename the common room to the “Lift Your Spirits Taproom”. Mana giggles at his own suggestion over a communal meal.

Now this entity can't speak. But it can understand, which based on the wording of the 2024 version of the spell is good enough to detect thoughts. So you are able to sense its present and read its surface thoughts. You don't need your telepathy to talk to it as it understands common and elvish (and your telepathy seems one way?) however by talking, and then reading its surface thoughts, you are able to communicate simply. The poltergeist is the tavern’s previous barkeeper, a half-elf named Lif. Maintaining the tavern was his life’s work, and he couldn’t abandon the place in death. He couldn't bear to see the place be anything but a tavern and so when there have been others looking at owning it, particularly as some people were vocal about not wanting it to be a tavern again, he started haunting it to keep them out. Now he has seen you are genuine about running the tavern, he is happy to help in anyway he can.

He is always invisible, and knows no way of becoming visible, however he can picture how he looked in life for Mana to see.

Toser wiped a smudge from the polished bar of Trollskull Manor, nodding in satisfaction. The tavern had come a long way from the abandoned ruin he and his companions had first stumbled into. Now, it was one of the livelier spots in Waterdeep, with regulars, rowdy songs, and the occasional spectral clatter from the unseen resident poltergeist.  

It had been several tendays since his last adventure outside the city walls, but life had hardly been dull. Between performances, managing the tavern, and aiding the Emerald Enclave, Toser had also been honing new skills—ones that blended magic and melody in ways he hadn’t thought possible.  

One rainy evening, Toser had found himself deep in conversation with Sister Orva, a kindly cleric of Eldath. The gentle woman had taken an interest in his music, often lingering after performances to share wisdom. One night, over a shared bottle of wine, she had taught him something truly special.  

“Music has power beyond charm and laughter,” she had told him, her wrinkled hands tracing a faint glow in the air. “You can use it to shield, to comfort.”  

It took practice—more than he expected—but in time, Toser learned how to weave protective magic into his Bardic Inspiration. Now, with a single strum and a whispered verse, he could grant an ally a shimmering veil of temporary resilience. The first time he used it in a brawl at the tavern—protecting a hapless patron from an angry half-orc—he had grinned. *Sister Orva was right. Music wasn’t just about performance—it was about power.*  

Of course, not all power was meant for defense. There was also the thrill of destruction, and Toser had found a mentor in that realm as well.  

Master Arannis was a reclusive high elf, a wizard of great renown who had taken an odd liking to Toser’s humor. The old mage had invited him to his tower, offering cryptic lessons between sips of imported elven wine.  

“You have talent,” Arannis had mused, watching Toser struggle with a simple firebolt. “But you lack *intent.* Magic isn’t about knowing—it’s about *commanding*.”  

That was when the real lessons began. Toser learned not just to cast but to shape his spells, altering their very nature. Fire could become ice, lightning could become thunder—he was no mere bard now. He was a force of arcane whimsy, a performer whose magic could dazzle or destroy.  

And oh, how he loved it.  

Just as he was growing comfortable with his new abilities, Melannor’s latest message arrived—this time, carried by a nervous-looking squirrel that barely avoided the grasp of Trollskull Manor’slp resident cat.  

*Relic stolen. Nature defiled. Find the culprit.*  

Toser sighed, rolling the tiny parchment between his fingers. “Another night, another problem.”  

But as he reached for his lute and spell focus, he couldn’t help but smile.  

With new tricks up his sleeve, this was bound to be fun.

And with that, he stepped into the streets of Waterdeep, ready for whatever came next.  

It was not going well.  The disappearing all night was easy to explain, it was the bruises that magic healing never totally took care of.  Wagner was well on his way to almost getting a reputation as the “ghost”, an invisible vigilante and thorn in the side of ne’er do wells throughout Waterdeep. Then disaster struck. He grew a little lax in his security and a group of those he had messed with had caught up with him and beaten him to a pulp. Scared off by an unexpected passerby, the thugs left him for dead. The passerby was actually seeking out the “ghost” himself, and took him in to help him heal.  A priest of Tyr, he was no stranger to the pursuit of justice, but tried to get Wagner to see that his mad quest for glory was a fool’s errand. That there was another way.  Wagner returned to more bardic pursuits but kept up a friendship with the priest.

Mana will convey all that he has learned about Lif, his former life and desire to continue serving.

”We have a very unique opportunity here, and with Lif’s help, we could become the most popular establishment in all of Waterdeep.”

Mana imagines doors being held open, chairs drawn out for customers to be seated, coats and hats being collected and returned invisibly.

”Lif, what do you think about pulling Maître D duty on occasion? Or would you prefer to stay behind the bar?”

The sight of taps pulled, mugs filled and countered, bottles retrieved, uncorked, flipped, drinks measured, shaken or stirred all by invisible hands behind the bar could be quite the draw.

”Perhaps a bit of bouncer duty, should a time arise? Not that I expect a bawdy crowd ever. I believe we are all aiming for a higher class clientele.” Mana looks to the others for confirmation. “To that end,” Mana lowers his voice theatrically “listening in and conveying to us juicy information from clandestine conversations could help us thrive in the political and power balances in the city.” Raising his voice again. “Of course, if that fits into your sense of business ethics.” He directs to Lif.

Oriace, ever the pragmatist, quickly embraced the presence of Lif, the tavern’s resident poltergeist, as an asset rather than an anomaly. He made it a personal mission to learn as much as he could about both the spirit and the tavern’s past, engaging Lif in long “conversations” through his own telepathy and, soon after, a more practical approach—he purchased a blackboard. Mounted in a prominent corner of the common room, it became a means for Lif to communicate with them all, scrawling messages in chalk with unseen hands. He hoped that patrons would be both mystified and delighted by the seemingly self-writing board, perhaps even leaving notes of their own in return. 

Oriace, however, saw an opportunity beyond mere novelty. He took to the idea of the supernatural theme with zeal, frequently reinforcing the image of a tavern run by unseen hands. With his own magic, he regularly summoned an Unseen Servant to assist alongside Lif’s more independent efforts. While the servant lacked true sentience, it helped establish a distinct atmosphere—patrons would marvel as chairs seemed to pull themselves out for them, cloaks were hung by invisible hands, and mugs of ale floated across the bar with no visible bearer. It was, Oriace mused, a gimmick that would set Trollskull Manor apart from every other establishment in Waterdeep.

Despite his enthusiasm for their resident spirit, Oriace never neglected his other duties. He kept a sharp eye on the renovations, ensuring no corners were cut and that every dragon spent went toward making the tavern not just operational, but exceptional. He oversaw the hiring of staff, favoring those who could adapt to the tavern’s “haunted” charm and work alongside Lif rather than fear him.

 As Sterling continued practicing his trade, he developed quite the skill weaving together cloth, leather and magic. Being able to craft armor--including some for his companions--gave him yet another canvas on which to display his artistic talent. He'd even managed to snag a job fashioning an outfit for a local noble, which helped out the manor during a slow week.

Mana:

Oriace:

Toser:

Eventually, the true nature of the disturbances came to light as the existence of Lif was eventually revealed, to which Sterling initially just shook his head. ("I knew it was a ghost!") But as Oriace worked with Mana to integrate the spirit into the functioning of the tavern, the would-be jeweler warmed up to the idea of having an assistant around the place--especially now that he was being helpful.

Mana is absolutely gobsmacked at the artistry in the studded leather that Sterling produced for him. He feared his complexion would clash horribly but couldn’t stop the silly grin as he looked at himself in the mirror and flashed action poses. His pale jade skin seemed to perfectly accent the purples of the armor. (His charisma is at least 2 points higher while wearing it, jk).

”Thank you! Thank you so much! Keep whatever coin is left over. I can’t thank you enough.”

Wagner has fully revealed his new solo act now, staged sword fighting with an unseen foe, courtesy of unseen servant.  He claims to patrons that it’s Lif, but the real spirit is not that good of a fencer.

Oriace is momentarily at a loss for words as he examines the exquisite armor Sterling has crafted for him. He runs his hands over the intricate details, appreciating the way the design not only complements his stature but somehow enhances his very presence. “Sterling,” he finally says, his voice carrying a rare reverence, “this is beyond anything I could have imagined. A true masterpiece.” He turns in place, watching the way the light catches the carefully placed embellishments. “I feel as though I am half a spirit myself, wrapped in this—like something between the living and the unseen, a figure stepping between the world of the living and the echoes of the past.” He smiles, shaking his head in admiration. “To think that a simple garment could do that… you have a rare gift, my friend.”

His gaze sharpens with thought. “This deserves more than just appreciation—it deserves preservation. I think I’ll ask around and see if any of the enchanters in town can weave some protective magic into it. Magical garments resist wear and decay, and this piece is certainly worth such investment.”

Turning his attention to Wagner’s performance, he watches for a moment, then claps appreciatively. “Brilliant,” he remarks with a knowing grin. “You’ll have people lining up just to witness a duel with a spirit. I’ve no doubt this will only add to our reputation. Keep at it, and soon enough, every noble and traveler in Waterdeep will be clamoring for a seat at our tables." After a while he returns to Wagner and says, "If you want to include a dramatic killing blow with an unexpected twist, I can cater to that."

(With a Bardic Inspiration die from Oriace, Wagner could receive a killing blow, feint death and return to live for a dramatic finish. See below for the feature.)

You start to get your business up and running, attracting a lot of repeat customers. Your charm is certainly enough to stand out in Waterdeep, the city that has everything, but not quite having had this before. Lif loves being able to get involved once again, with the blackboard being a big hit and allows him to communicate effectively with you all. While this is going on, you all continue to improve yourselves individually too, both physically and also aesthetically with some of you getting your custom armour. As well as your relationship with the guild growing as you continue to pay your fees on time and make a good name for your tavern, some of you make sure to also grow your relationship with factions (which although I am not fully tracking renown, could come in handy at later dates).

Chapter 3

Early one morning, while you are all downstairs, (up to you exactly what your character is up to, but what matters is that you are present),  windows rattle as the roar of an explosion fills Trollskull Alley. Charred bodies and anguished screams fly through the air. A thick cloud of acrid smoke billows outward from the blast, which seems to have occurred right outside your door. 

“What in the Nine Hells!?” shouts Wagner as he scrambles to get out the door to see what’s going on.