Noodles, Porridge and Artifact Storage

The Silk Ribbon was the name given to the small Shou enclave, or Shou-Town, in Waterdeep. It was a network of shops, go-downs, and alleys in the Docks District. In the tiny, cramped shops in the Ribbon could be found fine silk, finer porcelain, and the finest spices, but its main draw for tourists from within and without were its famed tea shops, bath houses, and restaurants tucked in the Ribbons warrens. Among the finest was the Dragon Tong Social Club, which boasted “the Finest Northern Cuisine,” although to what “north” they were referring to differed greatly depending on one’s position on a map. The Dragon Tong featured an indoor meditative garden in an open two-storey atrium, with steam rooms off to one side and discreet rooms on the second floor accessible by broad stairways. The restaurant was on the western side of the building. A beautiful hostess dressed in traditional Shou robes led the party to one of its secluded semi-private booths that lined the walls. As they were seated, a serving girl poured out tiny cups of complimentary Pale Jade tea from a fragile-looking china pot, and she expertly passed around the thimble-sized teacups to the brooding adventurers. “We were within sight of the City of the Dead, Siegfried? Why have you taken us to this place?” Varien said, blowing a little too harshly across the steaming teacup that his massive gauntlets threatened to crush. Siegfried leaned over the table. “Varien, I understand. Your sword hungers for vengeance. My axe hungers for the community and wealth of meals paid for by commerce and gold.” Varien rolled his eyes. “We had breakfast just an hour ago!” “Four hours ago!” Siegfried replied. “We’ve had first breakfast,” Alec said. “It’s time for second breakfast.” “It’s Highsun and we needed a meal,” Siegfried agreed. “I’ve been wanted to take you all here since you first arrived in Waterdeep.” He did a quick scan of the dining room, looking at the other booths and tables for a quick moment and then nodded to himself. “You can’t visit Waterdeep and not eat at the Dragon Tong Noodle House. You’ll see what I mean momentarily.” “We’ve been in Waterdeep for days and haven’t eaten here!” Varien protested. “But now, today, when we’ve work to do?” “Azuredge is truly pissed at that!” Siegfried said. Don’t drag me into this, Azuredge said. “Fiendsbane rattles when you choose not to murder a Tiefling,” Siegfried said. “While my axe says ‘how dare you treat these guests of Waterdeep so unfairly?’” “So, after we’ve had brunch with your friends, then are we going?” Varien asked. “I assume a shadowy contact of yours will arrive soon with a dark missive or something along those lines?” Siegfried shook his head. “No, this is just a party of five at the noodle house.” “Wait, so we’re just eating ? We’re not doing anything useful here?” Varien sputtered, spewing tea onto the tabletop. “You trekked us halfway across town for…for-” The serving girl arrived with the first of many plates of gyoza dumplings and dipping sauce. Alec’s eyes widened. “Dumplings!” he exclaimed, loosening his belt of the champion in preparation for a filling feast. “For dumplings ?” Varien finished his tirade. Siegfried popped a dumpling into his mouth and waved over the hostess. “My friend here doesn’t believe that your noodle house was worth the trip. Now, I know better, but I have gold to spend, so please do your best to impress him.” The hostess bowed and smiled at Varien. “It is our honour to serve,” she purred, and then snapped her fingers smartly at her kitchen staff. The food and the tea began to flow like water from a broken dam. The party was treated to generous helpings of tsampo porridge, wa-an ramen, and, to Alec and Bob’s delight, authentic butter tea noodles, a delicacy they’d grown up with in Kirkwall. The main course featured omelettes sprinkled with edible gold dust. “Now this is unnecessary,” Varien said, picking at the gold topping on his omelette. “That’s what makes it so delicious,” Siegfried said between mouthfuls. He indicated Alec, who was in the process of tucking away his third plate of butter tea noodles. “Those are just like his mother used to make!” Alec nodded. “But why are they sprinkled in gold?” Varien asked. “It’s the finest Northern cuisine!” Siegfried said. Bob set down his chopsticks. “This food is from the south!” he said firmly. “Bloody Southerners,” he muttered. “That’s what I’ve been saying!” Varien said to Bob. “You’re all Westerners to me,” Bob replied. Erwen placed a fourth empty bowl of porridge atop a growing tower of porridge bowls. “Just right,” he said with a smile. As the meal continued, the party began to discuss their plans. “So, we delve beneath the City of the Dead first,” Siegfried said. “We’ve got a day or so before the Lords’ Alliance sends a council to meet in Daggerford, at which time we can visit Dragonspear Castle and strike another rune from Fiendsbane’s blade.” “Does anyone have a map?” Varien said. “We have Gundren’s map of the Sword Coast,” Siegfried said. “Plus I have all the shipping charts you could want.” “I have a map of my travels from Kirkwall,” Bob said. “I have a great sense of direction and can draw a map of everywhere I’ve ever been from memory,” Erwen said. The rest of the party turned to look at him. Erwen spooned some porridge into his mouth. “I think I’d like to see that,” Varien said. Siegfried summoned the hostess and whispered in her ear. She nodded and quickly retrieved a wheeled sand table, which she drew parallel to their table’s edge. Picking up a chopstick, Erwen hopped over and began to sketch a perfect topographic representation of the Sword Coast and the Western Heartlands into the sand. Varien was impressed. “So here’s Waterdeep, and here’s Neverwinter, and down here is Daggerford with Dragonspear Castle marking the end of the Trade Way here in the southeast,” Siegfried said, pointing to Erwen’s map. Varien began to trace a line between destinations that had a minimum of backtracking. “You want to see the City of the Dead, visit with the Cassalanters, chase the Xanathar Guild, and then we go to Daggerford? What about the Crags?” “Those are to the north of Neverwinter,” Siegfried said. “Mount Hotenow is located there.” “And Warlock’s Crypt?” Varien said. “There are some disagreements on the location,” Siegfried said. “There are several places that go by that name. We might have to find out more information at a place like Candlekeep.” “And where’s Candlekeep?” Varien asked. Siegfried pointed to a southern location. “All the way down there?” Varien protested. “I can teleport!” Siegfried said. “Besides, don’t you have a librarian half-sister who could get us an in with the sages at Candlekeep?” “Oh, brother,” Varien said under his breath. “Also, don’t you have any plans to visit your sister to see if she made it to Silverymoon?” Siegfried said. “Hadn’t thought about it,” Varien admitted. “The way I see it, our most clear lead is at Dragonspear Castle.” “Absolutely,” Siegfried said. “The City of the Dead will be a breeze. Tomorrow we tackle the Xanathar Guild.” He looked at the golden omelette in front of him. “Now why all of a sudden am I thinking about the Temple of Waukeen?” “Didn’t you get some information about the Temple?” Varien replied. “From your Harper contacts?” “Actually, I was thinking about my first kiss,” Siegfried said. “Tell me more,” said Bob. “I was at a fancy Waukeentide Ball at the Temple of Waukeen one season,” Siegfried said. “I was fourteen years old, she was covered in gold glitter, and I was uncomfortable and didn’t know where to look. But you’re right, it’s been said that Dagult Neverember’s spies can be found at the Vault of Glory here in Waterdeep. And Bob, didn’t you meet a priestess of Waukeen at the Lightsinger Theatre?” Bob nodded. “Her name was Obaya Uday. She was a pilgrim from Chult.” “Chult?” Siegfried’s eyes widened. “That’s where they found that necromancer’s temple. Yikes!” “Don’t start,” Varien said. “We are not going to the Tomb of Annihilation!” Siegfried said. “That’s a scary place! There are diseased dinosaurs down there!” The party’s conversation was interrupted as the young serving girl appeared with a plate of oversized fortune cookies. Varien smiled at the girl and tipped her a single gold piece. The coin disappeared almost before it touched her palm. She bowed and backed away. Varien idly took a bite of his cookie and spit out a wad of paper. “What’s this in my food?” he exclaimed. Siegfried slapped his forehead. “Those are fortune cookies! There’s usually a rolled-up piece of paper tucked inside that tells your fortune or lets you know what your lucky numbers are, that sort of thing. What does yours say?” Varien unrolled the paper and saw a short note written in a flowing hand that was beginning to show the tremors of age. He shared it with Siegfried.   Before you go beneath the City, we should speak. Undevvur Thort   “Now Varien, this is why we go to such places as this noodle house, so that people can overhear us and offer to help,” Siegfried said. Varien rolled his eyes. Siegfried mentally tallied up the party’s bill, and then doubled it. He rose and sought out the hostess at the restaurant’s bar in the centre of the dining room. “Honestly,” he said loudly, “a meal fit for a prince!” as he slammed down the hundred gold coins on the countertop. “Wait, they charged how much for this?” Varien said, astonished at the extravagance. “Is that what food costs down in the South?” Erwen tried to throw up but found he was unable to dislodge the tasty food in his belly. There was much bowing from the restaurant staff. The adventurers were treated to hot towels on their way out and left feeling refreshed. “So, Varien, now before we visit the City of the Dead, and I know that’s your favourite sentence-starter today, the owner of the local magic shop wants to chat with us.” Varien stepped aside and with an extravagant bowing flourish, said “Lead the way then, Prince.”   The party arrived at Thort’s Findings, which was located in the centre of the block bounded by Hassantyr's Street, Tarsar's Street, Whaelgond Way, and Ussilbran Street, amid a stand of tall trees that fenced in the disembodied head of one of the famous Walking Statues of Waterdeep, the Swordmaiden. The centre of its jaw and mouth had been replaced by a door, giving the female statue’s face a bucktoothed appearance. The door led into the cramped, multileveled shop proper. Thort, the eponymous proprietor, was leaning on his cane behind the counter next to the hulking form of Derek, his animated armour bodyguard and ambulatory cash register. The aged ex-adventurer’s wrinkled features crinkled up even further with a look of recognition. “Ah, I see you got my note! Welcome, friends!” “Thort! Some of my friends you know, and some of them you’re meeting for the first time!” Siegfried said, making introductions. “I nearly ate your note,” Varien said to Thort. Thort shrugged and smiled. “One has to get creative in their old age, now. And any friend of a customer like young Master Thann here is a friend of mine!” He glanced at Erwen, who was all but climbing the shelves to get a good look at the wares contained upon them. “Careful, my small friend, with what you touch. You break it, you might unleash untold horrors by accident. And, of course, you buy it.” Alec gazed thoughfully at the shop’s contents. “That reminds me, I might have something I’d like to unload.” “Ah! Some business up front!” Thort slapped a hand to the blotter on the countertop. “Well then, come forward, friend, and let’s dicker, shall we?” Alec thumped his unholy greatclub onto the counter. Thort screwed a loupe into one eye socket and tried and failed to contain a greedy smile as he surveyed the weapon. “I assume this one comes with quite the backstory, does it?” “Well, let me regale you with the tale of the Devil Behind Thrones, who once wielded this fearsome club,” Siegfried said. He recounted the party’s encounter with Markosian, embellishing where necessary. Thort ate it up. “Oh, I think we can come to a satisfactory arrangement, my burly friend,” Thort said to Alec with a wink. “I think a fiendish weapon such as this I might be willing to buy from you for a rather fitting figure, that is to say, 9,000 gold? Delightfully devilish, no?” “That’s a good starting number, “A tantalizing offer! Why, you must be familiar with my store policy: Interesting Trades Considered!” Thort said with a smile. With a metallic thunk, Derek tapped a gauntlet to the sign next to the NO CREDIT warning that indeed stated INTERESTING TRADES CONSIDERED. “My shop is open to you, young man, and if you see something you’d like to trade for this item, it will certainly have the same certificate of authenticity that I am writing up for this item that late belonged to the Devil Behind Thrones.” As Alec began to peruse the shelves, Thort leaned over to Siegfried and Varien. “If you were to take the stairs, through the door and then take the first door on the right, you might find something interesting,” he whispered. Varien and Siegfried took the cramped, winding staircase up to the second level, the walls seeming to close in on them with overladen shelves threatening to dump their contents. They found the door, which took them to another narrow hallway festooned with dusty relics on all sides. Alec looked through the collection of oddments crammed into every corner of the store. All of the items bore placards in beautiful flowing handwriting that extolled the virtues of each object, along with some of their quirks. He saw an amulet of mighty fists , the placard reading “ You’ll land blows hand over fist with this mighty amulet.” He checked out a gauntlet of rust with a placard that stated “ Don’t handle your metallic valuables while wearing these!” Alec also spied a scabbard of keen edges with a card that read, “ There’s never a dull moment when you pull a blade from this scabbard! The shingggg sound means it’s working! Also, don’t cut yourself.” “Oh, I like the sound of that,” Alec said, thinking of the many bladed weapons in his possession. Beside the scabbard lay a pair of bracers of greater defense . “Dodge, duck, dip dive and dodge with these bracing bracers,” read the placard. Thort gave Bob an appraising look. “And what about you, young friend? Might I interest you in a staff of untold might? There’s an umbrella stand chock full of them over yonder.” He pointed to a thicket of staffs and staves in the corner. Bob felt drawn to a particular staff whose placard read, “With this staff, you have the power.” Bob pulled it out and hefted it experimentally. It was made of solid ebony with a gem of dark quartz studded at its tip. Bob could feel magic emanating from the wand. “A powerful accessory for a powerful man,” Thort said. “And perhaps we can work out a special price for a special pair of brothers. The scabbard and the staff, with the greatclub in trade, plus, shall we call it, 8,000 gold dragons?” Bob smiled at the double entendre. “Sure, Alec and I can turn out our pockets for such artifacts.” “Let’s go!” Alec said with a grin.

Varien and Siegfried entered the first door on the right. It was a small closet packed floor to ceiling with items and objects in various degrees of repair, and in the centre of the room in the only cleared space was a pedestal atop which sat a marble bust. The bust appeared to be staring at the pair as they approached. “Hello?” Siegfried asked. “Is it me you’re looking for?” The marble bust began to move, its features rearranging themselves as though a hidden potter was making adjustments to soft clay. The bust’s impassive and blank visage became a face that was more familiar to Siegfried: that of High Harper Remallia Haventree. The bust began to speak. “You had an interesting day yesterday, Brightcandle,” Remallia said to Siegfried. “That I did. Remy, this is Varien Aether,” Siegfried said. “Seigfried, this is Remy, my boss.” Remallia nodded to Varien. “Oh yes, we’ve heard much of your exploits, Champion of Phandalin.” “Good things, I hope?” Varien asked. “Of course,” Remallia said. “Among other things, you’ve made it plain your intention to delve beneath the streets of Waterdeep in search of various items, correct?” “That’s correct,” Siegfried said. “Specifically, we’re going after the Ettin Axe of Uruth, but also we hope to bring the Grand Game to a close by recovering the Stone of Golorr.” “It is well and good,” Remallia replied. “I am going to give you two names. If you find yourselves in difficulty, we have an asset planted in the Xanathar Guild. His name is Thorvin Twinbeard, a dwarven engineer and trapmaster. It has taken us a long time and a number of false starts to infiltrate the Xanathar Guild, so contact Thorvin only as a matter of last resort.” “And should we make a loud entrance, we won’t kill any dwarves who sport two beards,” Siegfried replied. “Quite,” Remallia said, her stony brows furrowing. “Should your journeys take you into Undermountain, depending on how deep you delve, there is a Harper safehouse in Skullport located in the ruins of Dalagor’s Fortress, protected by a Dragonborn mage named Felrax. Skullport and Undermountain are places where you must tread lightly for they are far from the reach of the Masked Lords of Waterdeep.” “Strangely enough, lawless dens of iniquity are this one’s favoured terrain,” Siegfried said, nodding to Varien. “You’d make a terrible Harper, my friend.” Varien rolled his eyes. “Varien has acquitted himself well as an ally of the Harpers, however unwitting,” Remallia said. “We’ve been watching, of course. May this information serve you well as you delve below into dark and dangerous territory.” Siegfried nodded. “As a report, those agents arrested in Neverwinter are no longer in chains and are on the move to safe harbour.” “Very good,” Remallia said. “What are your proposals for rebuilding the network?” “Sadly, since they were all made, there’s not much we can do at this time,” Siegfried said. “As it happens, I’ve made Dagult very unhappy and paranoid, so developing a network is going to take some finesse. There’s going to be a meeting of the Lords’ Alliance in the coming days.” “We’re aware,” Remallia said. “We will be observing those proceedings and I will do my part to rebuild where I can,” Siegfried said. “To be honest, a lot of good work has gone to waste since we were betrayed by Brightcandle Absalon.” “Indeed,” Remallia replied. “Apparently he was not up to the task.” “Tell a man to sober up and he turns on everything he holds dear,” Siegfried said. “Neverwinter’s never been the easiest beat,” Remallia said. “Even prior to the Lord Protector’s ascension.” “Well, if the Lord Protector has to be the change that is made to make Neverwinter more hospitable, I’ll look into that. The Lord Protector will find it more difficult to place me in irons.” “We shall be watching your career with great interest,” Remallia replied. “For the time being, it may be best if I am the only Harper operating in Neverwinter,” Siegfried said. Remallia considered this. “We shall take your suggestion under advisement,” she said. “If there is a new chapter to be organized, it might be best if done without my knowledge, as I am under watch,” Siegfried said. “While I am the target of Dagult’s anger, I am the only known Harper operating in Neverwinter at this time. However, I can certainly draw the Lord Protector’s ire away from others.” “Wise counsel,” Remallia said. “It may be that we need to let Neverwinter lie fallow for the time being until the heat is off. But by all means, continue your work.” “Now then,” Siegfried said. “What about entrances to Skullport and the Xanathar Guild base of operations? And does Thorvin know what those tiny brain dog creatures are?” “Ah yes,” Remallia said. “Skullport can be reached by traveling through a series of natural caverns and magical locks that stretch from the South Sea Caves on Waterdeep's shore to the River Sargauth far below Mount Waterdeep, but it’s a treacherous approach and one that is difficult to do in secret, as those magical locks, canals and hoists are often guarded by Skullport’s defenders. In ages past, hoists would transfer ships from one level to another. If Skullport has a front door, it’s thus. Skullport is also accessible via Undermountain, which of course is a whole other complication. That’s the hard way, from the Yawning Portal on down. There are, however, whispers of another way to access Skullport. An extremely dangerous route, through what is known as the Dungeon of the Crypt. We don’t talk about the Dungeon of the Crypt, but if you can find the entrance, then Skullport is rumoured to be accessible from there.” “A crypt, you say?” Varien said. “Is it full of undead?” Siegfried said. Remallia’s bust affected a shrug. “Our agents have never reported back,” she said. “We’re not your typical agents,” Varien said. “Of that I am convinced,” Remallia said. “But you may find that entrance a challenge.” “And where is this entrance?” Siegfried asked. “That’s just it,” Remallia said. “There are rumours that hidden among the abandoned vaults and mausoleums of the City of the Dead is a secret entrance to this all-but-forgotten dungeon. But it is a secret that has been paid for in blood, many times over.” “We happen to be going that way this very afternoon,” Siegfried said. “I wish you all the luck in the Realms,” Remallia said. “It would be helpful if we knew which grave site to investigate,” Siegfried said. Remallia’s bust frowned. “We have only scant rumours and fragments of half-truths when it comes to this, but there is a place one can stumble into and if one is quick-witted enough, can stumble back out again. I speak of the Deepwinter Vault. We have heard rumours of disappearances in and around the Vault. We have left it alone due to certain contingencies. Siegfried knew that the Deepwinter Vault was a mausoleum belonging to a defunct noble family named the Deepwinters, whose line had died out hundreds of years ago. Of all the shady parts of the City of the Dead it was one to be avoided. “In that case they’ll never see us coming,” Siegfried said. “I leave that in your capable hands,” Remallia said. “We’ll be wanting to get there before sunset,” Varien said, fixing Siegfried with a look. Remallia nodded. “The City of the Dead is not the safest place to be after dark, yes. However, as I understand it you have special dispensation to be lurking therein. Use that to your advantage when exploring the City of the Dead.” “We can definitely do that and get two jobs done at once,” Siegfried said, thinking of the Xanathar Guild. See Varien? You ask for efficiency; we get you efficiency!” “Then let’s get going,” Varien said. “I’d like to buy something from Thort first,” Siegfried said. Varien exhaled loudly. Remallia smiled and then the bust’s features warped back into an impassive blank-featured face. “Thort! Have you in your stockpile a pair of gloves of thievery ?” Siegfried asked as he and Varien came back downstairs. “Do I?” Thort said. “For 1,000 gold pieces they can be yours.” “Done,” Siegfried said, spilling coins across the counter. “Boys, I am going to have to restock after your visit today!” Thort exclaimed. “You’ve really put me through my paces! So many holes in my shelves to fill.” He brandished a copy of the Waterdeep Wazoo.   “Now we come to the reason I asked you here today.” “You mean it wasn’t to lighten our purses?” Siegfried asked. “Ha!” Thort said. “That’s just the cost of doing business! But seriously I couldn’t help but read this fascinating article on the front page about your intentions to recover a lost artifact…” “That one’s not for sale, unfortunately,” Siegfried replied, “but if you’d like to give us pointers on what to pick up when we delve below the city…” “Ha!” Thort said again. “Believe you me, you’ll know what tickles my fancy when you see it. However, I did want to share with you, if you’re interested, I’d like to offer my services to provide you with some lore about the Ettin Axe that you might find useful.” “With delight!” Siegfried said. Thort coughed politely and indicated the bare countertop before him. Siegfried thought for a moment. “Tell me about the Ettin Axe and I will tell the Prince of Many-Arrows where the best magic shop in Waterdeep is. For when he comes to Waterdeep, with all the artifacts and relics he’s uncovered from the age of Uruth Ukrypt and beyond, plundered gold and rare magical items to trade, you’ll know every item of renown and what it might be worth on the magical market. And he’ll be grateful when he hears who told me this knowledge. Out of the pure interest of the prosperity of his people and friendship with Waterdeep.” “Are you offering me exclusivity?” Thort asked, a thoughtful look on his face. His eyes flashed like gold coins in the light. “It’s far more valuable in trade then me just handing you some coins right now,” Siegfried said. “When I hand over the axe, a holy religious artifact, to him, he’ll want to know who helped point me in the right direction.” “All right, if you allow me the opportunity to authenticate the artifact before it changes hands,” Thort said. “Thort my friend, I can put you in the room where it happens,” Siegfried said with a sly smile. Thort smiled. “Then I shall tell you what I know. The Ettin Axe of Uruth was fashioned by Lethchauntos the Black and wielded by King Uruth before his death in the Battle of the Westwood. It is famous for its double personality, for it has been imbued with sentience not once, but twice, and those sentiences are at odds. King Uruth wielded this weapon for a time, until it was claimed by War Lord Gharl in the aftermath of the Orcfastings War, when Waterdeep was still known as Nimoar’s Hold. It was interred with the War Lord’s remains when he died, and for many years sat forgotten among the many relics housed in the Hall of Heroes.” Thort leaned forward. “But then, during the Siege of the Black Horde in 1235DR, orc infiltrators managed to enter the city through underground means. There is much academic debate on how they gained access, because the walls of Waterdeep were never breached during the siege. However, there is talk of fell bargains and arrangements made with those who lurk beneath the streets of the city. That said, the orc infiltrators did breach the City of the Dead and raided the Hall of Heroes in revenge. An operation that is still viewed with some professional embarrassment by the caretakers and guardians of that district. As the Black Horde threw itself against Waterdeep’s walls, and as Aghairon and his griffon cavalry proved themselves legendary defenders of the city, these orc infiltrators did indeed make off with the Ettin Axe. In fact, some historians argue that this theft was the main objective of the Black Horde’s siege of Waterdeep, given that it was but a minor engagement in a life-and-death struggle for the human realms of nearly the entire Sword Coast in those days. This was revenge for the plundering of King Uruth’s own burial crypt by Waterdhavian adventurers. Stories tell of a battle, between the guardians and the infiltrators within the walls of the City of the Dead, a horrible hand-to-hand knock-down drag-out bloody brawl, and, it is said that the orcs retreated to the Deepwinter Vault, and that is where they were last scene, the axe disappearing with them. However, subsequent divinations performed after the weapon was stolen revealed only that the double axe remained within Waterdeep, suggesting that the Black Horde interlopers had failed to escape with this potent symbol of orcish might. The search continues. May you have better luck than those who went before you.” “Thort, you’re a gem. You’ve saved us an incredible amount of work just now,” Siegfried said. “That’s just the kind of service I provide,” Thort said, pleased with himself. “I look forward to hearing of the successful results of your exploits. And remember old Thort when you find yourself picking through the bones beneath the City of the Dead.” Siegfried bowed, making sure to make it obvious that he was carrying Azuredge on his back. Thort’s eyes twinkled. “I see you’ve already added to your collection,” he said. “Bravo and congratulations on your new acquisition. May you continue to serve Waterdeep well, Siegfried, uh, Alagondar, is it?” He consulted the newspaper. “Yes, Alagondar. May you serve Waterdeep as its true champion. I suggest you begin your search in the Hall of Heroes, for there may yet remain clues of the weapon’s whereabouts there.” “Thank you,” Siegfried said. “Now, do you have any potions of healing or a rope of mending or that sort of thing?” “You’ve tapped me out, I’m afraid,” Thort said. Before the party left, Siegfried sold Thort a number of potions he’d collected for a tidy sum. “Now,” Varien said. “To the City of the Dead!”