Killilli’s Dragon Heist

To Kerri, "It's called an offer. I didn't know when I "waltzed" in if you would agree to it or not, thus the additional attempts at convincing you."

Nodding to Edvord, though there's a hint of something simmering behind his voice. "Edvord's compromise is reasonable. No papers signed yet. I can at least get my contact at the Brewers Guild here, and take you to Mirt or one of the others. If all this is still to your dislike at the end, we all walk away from this with exactly what we started with. If we find things more agreeable, then become partners."

As negotiations drag on, and people start to look towards where they believe Lif to be, the ghost takes action. The metal pipe levitates up for a second before swinging towards the chalkboard. It hits the board with a loud “Thwack” the end of the pole pointing at the right hand side of the board with the happy faces. 

Then, Lif turns the chalkboard around, scrawling manically until this image is revealed.

At Kerri’s comment chalk crumbles in midair before you, turning into a fine dust before hurling itself in Kerri’s face. In the chaos, through the dust, you see a floating wooden sign banging repeatedly on the rotting bar which reads “OPENING TIME” before the rest of the sign seems to be snapped off where the times would be. As the repetitive thudding continues, the bar bell is rung incessantly, it’s piercing tones grating on your ears.

Edvord brow furls inward as he watches Lif's antics, recalling what he can of such creatures. "Perhaps end of the day none of our wishes matter. I wouldn't dare cross this apparition upon its hallowed grounds. I've read about such forces as the one you have here, and if you value your health they must be respected and handled with deftness."

Turning to Aldrik, Edvord mutters in a low tone that you can still hear, "What the heck are you getting involved with brother?"

((Is Lif threatening us? Haha!))

(I mean, you can read into the picture as you see fit lol. Blackboard was the best idea I’ve ever had.)

"Okay Lif wants three people to go into a bank and it will make a werewolf! If the bank gets it's windows broken, we'll die?"

Aimee ponders a second,

"Or he just wants us to open up this place after we fix the damage he mostly did himself? Give me pling for yes Lif!"

Aldrik leans towards Edvord, also speaking quietly to his brother as the rest interpret Lif's message. "Seems like I was able to at least convince one of them..." His eyes have a devilish sparkle to them, and his grin returns. "Elfsong is going to be small potatoes if we keep Lif on our side! Still bored, brother?"

Kerri rubs her temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming along. Knowing that whatever she said the girls weren't going to listen to her, "Fine, whatever. But when this turns out to be a scam don't start crying," she says to Aimee and Lyss.

"Trial basis. Common enough on the street, give another kid a bit of trust, and if they hold it, they earn more. They bite your fingers, you bite their hand. If it goes well, partner in the business down here, but names ain't on the deed, and they don't get keys until... Later.", Lyss confers with the others.

Aimee makes the blasting motion to emphasize Lyss's point. Then adds, at a loud whisper,

"Also, I like that one!"

She points at Aldrik.

The ghosts antics eventually settle down, and a hesitant “Pling” answers Aimee’s question. With your uneasy alliance settled, the group has a chance to take a tour of the manor. 

Though the state of the place is atrocious, Aldrik can see it has all the makings of a successful tavern. With your business concluded for now, the only thing to do is wait for Aldrik’s guild contact to arrive in the morning. 

It’s early evening, just before sunset. Did you have anything else you wanted to do? Where are you all staying? (Also, I’m assuming that Aldrik will get in contact with his guild friend this evening.)

((Wanted to report in at the book shop about the mission to the pepper farm.))

((More pastries!))

Before leaving, Aldrik gives the three ladies and Lif a generous bow. "I look forward to whatever this venture may bring. Aimee, Lyss, Lif, was a pleasure." To Kerri, he pauses a moment. "You know, miss, you never gave me your name throughout all of this."

Outside as he unties the two horses and steps up the stirrup to be astride Mouse, Aldrik looks to Edvord. "Well, that could have gone smoother, but... could have gone a lot worse also. I need to ride to the Brewer's guildhall before the evening sets, and drum up an inspector for tomorrow. You're welcome to come, unless you have some other shadowy corner to loom broodingly in before returning home tonight."

As Aldrik re-saddles Princess Irulian Buttercup the Third for Edvord, Edvord tugs at his goatee thinking the days events through. "No... no dark scary secret plans... at least for today. Though that bookstore does merit closer scrutiny the next time we are here during business hours. I'll ride with you to the brewer's guild. Beats dinner with our parents and Petoyr. The food is always good, but the conversation somewhat lacking."

Kerri rolls her eyes, "You can call me Kerri," she says through gritted teeth.

Over the course of the evening, the chatter outside dies down outside and the sound of Aimee’s pie munching fills the manor, competing in loudness with Kerri’s grinding teeth..

Lyss arrives at Book Wyrm’s Treasure just as Rishaal is closing up. The bookish Dragonborn is chuffed at your success, licking his lips at the prospect of having his delicious scotch bonnets again. At your description of the creatures, he furls his brow, “Hmm, seems like necromancy to me. Some in the order have dabbled in the art, but nobody taking part in those… practices. Ghastly stuff, creating undead minions. Please, keep me informed if you get wind of any more of this sort going on. We’d do well to nip it in the bud before someone gets really hurt.” 

On your mention of the Reinholdts, he shows recognition. “Ah yes! A very well respected family they are. You’ll do well to have their name backing you. That Edvord is a very academically and magically gifted, I fear my humble little bookstore will be quite underwhelming.” He gestures around the room, the three stories of the moderately sized building are filled with more books than it seems possible to hold. “Aldrik though…. I heard there was another brother, no notable achievements though….. maybe the best is yet to come.” He smiles carefully

Before you leave, he reaches into a drawer, bringing out a thick red book with gold binding and draconic lettering on the front. “Here, I have a gift for you. Your very own spellbook! This here on the front is your name in my native tongue. You’ll find chapters on the rudiments of magic theory and a few starter spells. Treat it with care, and try to fit some time for study between your escapades my young Book Wyrm.” 

The following morning, the brothers return slightly before the scheduled arrival, the streets are busy with towering horse led drays and carriages. To the southwest the peak of Mount Waterdeep peeks above the endless sea of buildings, with the stoic head of the Noble Knight statue facing out towards the dock ward. A few minutes later, a figure approaches the door.

Lyss leaps off the stool to subject Rishaal to an enthusiastic hug. 

"I will, I promise!"

She'll proudly show it to Kerri and Aimee, and stay up reading it aloud to Lif by lantern light before falling asleep.

"Mmm! Dats grut Lyss! Ah ha few," she swallows the pie in her mouth, "get one too! Ohh look he put your name on the front!"

The figure approaching the Trollskull Tavern moves lightly on their feet, avoiding obstacles, such as those left behind by the draft horses, easily. As the figure gets closer, anyone looking their way sees a male elven face full of sharp, angular, and stern features. The tan skin combines with golden hair tinged with copper, and contrasts with the black tunic and leggings the man wears. All of his clothing is black except for a few forest green and brown accents. They give the air of some sort of uniform.

A small pack rests on his shoulders, and a short sword hangs at his belt.

The elf pauses in front of the Trollskull Tavern and looks up at it's three stories, scanning the full breadth and height of the building. After a moment he moves his lean frame forward to the main entrance.

Again he pauses and pushes on a loose board or two on the wall next to the doorway. One gives a little more than the other. He pulls a crowbar from his pack and angles it behind the edge of this board. It holds for a moment before breaking into three pieces, two of them crumbling into more dust than wood.

His face remains impassive but he does nod to himself as he puts the crowbar away.

Finally he raises a heavily calloused hand and knocks firmly on the door.

"Aldrik," he shouts. "It's Cico."

He looks back up the street for a moment then turns back to the door.

"From Harvest Road," Cico calls into the tavern.