Never a Dull Moment

The Waukeentide celebrations had quickly disintegrated into a chaotic tempest of panicked gentry that alternately were cowering in place or doing their best to make a quick exit. There was a rattle of armor as a squad of Mintarn mercenaries burst forth from the festhall’s interior to secure the area. Radegast cast sending to contact Siegfried. Where did you go? Did you know this would happen? Siegfried’s response was immediate. Take notes. Who is missing. Who was slow to intervene. There are your conspirators. Eyes and ears open. Mouth shut. Radegast nodded to herself and surveyed the crowd, her intuition sending uncomfortable ripples down her spine as she mentally retraced the steps of the assembly on the balcony. Kavatos Stormeye and Zephyris Brightmantle approach the Lord Protector during the Challenge of the Spehres, and Kavatos and Dagult exchange a few words.   Radegast strained to recall the scene and remembered reading a few words from Kavatos’s lips from her vantage point.   Kavatos mentions a Sleeping Dragon . Dagult nods in response to that and jerks his head towards the exit. Kavatos bows and departs, Zephyris falling into step behind the wizard. The Challenge of the Spheres continues. Minutes later, Danan Starling moves to strike. Radegast shouts a warning. Varien covers the Lord Protector Captain Durham Shaw is quick to plug Starling full of holes. Radegast shook her head to clear away the ghosts of the recent past. She thought about Sleeping Dragons. Unless Kavatos was speaking in literal terms, he could only mean the Sleeping Dragon Bridge, one of the three bridges over the Neverwinter River that linked Castle Never with the Protector’s Enclave.   She cast sending again. I nvestigate the Sleeping Dragon right now. In the House of a Thousand Faces, Siegfried smiled to himself, knocked back his drink, and departed at full speed, heading towards a bridge he’d seen a hundred times in history books, but a thousand times in his dreams. There was a flash of light as a dimension door opened near the centre of the balcony, from which emerged Kavatos Stormeye and Zephyris Brightmantle, who were quick to move to Lord Protector Neverember’s side. Kavatos’s third eye glowed fiercely as the mage held out his arms, ready to cast any number of offensive spells in defense of the Lord Protector. Dagult waved them away, even as Sergeant Knox, Captain Shaw and General Sabine helped form a phalanx around him. “Now, now,” Dagult admonished the partygoers. “There’s no further cause for concern! Eat! Drink! Be merry! Your Lord Protector and your City are both safe this night.” His words were largely lost on the fleeing patrons. Liset Cheldar was doing her best to placate the crowd and gestured for the Lord Protector’s entourage to make their way from the balcony indoors. “Varien, with me, please, we have much to discuss,” Neverember called over his shoulder. “We do?” Varien asked. Bob fell into step beside him as he followed the Lord Protector’s party indoors, through the half-empty festhall, and into private chambers beyond, picking up other members of his inner circle including Mayor Galt, Teliann, Preceptor Theraclast and Fitzhugh Montgomery as they went. The moment the party was behind closed doors, the Lord Protector’s demeanour changed drastically. “This is unacceptable, General Sabine!” he rounded on the leader of the Mintarn mercenaries. “An assassination attempt, on a public holiday no less? You said the Moonstone Mask was secure!” He pointed an accusatory finger, rings glinting in the lamplight. “It was, Lord Protector!” Sabine said, her tone unflappable. “The Moonstone Mask was until a few moments ago the safest place in Neverwinter-” She stared daggers at Liset Cheldar, who cringed and fled the room. “This won’t do, I’m afraid,” Neverember continued. “Perhaps your men have grown complacent as their tours of duty lengthen. I believe it is time for new blood in the streets, if you take my meaning.” “How so?” Sabine replied. “Did we not protect you against Valindra Shadowmantle and her undead army? Did we not defeat the False Heir of Neverwinter? Did we not ensure your victory against the Cloaked Ascendancy?” Neverember ignored her and turned to Soman Galt, who was double-fisting from steins of beer abandoned by fleeing patrons. “Mayor Galt, I request that you draw a levy from the city’s populace. Men and women of fighting age shall be called up to serve in a new, homegrown detachment of the Neverwinter Guard, and in turn we will rotate out a section of the Mintarn mercenaries.” “Sire, I’m sure that’s not necessary,” General Sabine said, her eyes flashing. “Oh, but it is, Sabine,” Neverember said. He swept his arm out in the direction of the docks district. “The city has just witnessed a young, misguided soul lay down his life for a doomed cause. I believe there are those who witnessed this travesty who will wish to lay down their lives for the cause of the greater good. The cause of hope. If Neverwinter still has enemies within, then only the true sons and daughters of Neverwinter can root them out once and for all!” he exclaimed. “You will train up this new detachment with the care and attention to detail I have come to expect from you, Sabine,” Neverember said sternly. “And I believe you know who among your number are the best candidates to be drawn down in the coming days. Send them back to Mintarn for a spell, until they remember who they are supposed to be fighting for.” “As you wish, of course,” Sabine said, ice-cold. Radegast furrowed her brow, intuiting that Sabine was taking this issue personally and that Neverember’s orders amounted to a punishment. “If I may be so bold, Lord Protector,” Radegast said, “is this vestige of loyalty to Neverwinter’s former royal line something you truly wish to extinguish? Would you rather this cease to be a problem, or stamped out entirely?” “What do you mean?” Neverember said, a trace of uncertainty in his voice. “I’m talking about a creative solution,” Radegast continued. “If loyalty is to be applauded, and if people favour the former sovereign rather than its current leadership, why not bring a member of the former ruling family’s into a position within your administration, not as a figurehead but with a seat at your table?” The room grew quiet. “At your pleasure, of course,” Radegast continued. “engagement with a small faction – those with royalist sentiments – with an heir that they can rally behind and openly support as your ally and friend, to consolidate your position.” “Surely this is a better approach,” Radegast said. “Co-opt the heraldry, place this person as a functionary on city council, and show them to be self-absorbed and incapable of organizing even an unsuccessful assassination attempt. You can say to the people of Neverwinter ‘see, here is your royal, and you no longer need the likes of him to shine like the Jewel of the North.’” The Lord Protector’s eyes narrowed. “Forgive me, Lord Protector, I’m just a historian who has read histories a thousand times over, where some farm boy with a sword is equated with holding destiny and honour in his hands, winning over citizens who cannot recognize competent leadership.” Bob stepped away from Radegast. “Make them truly see this unfit, uncultured royal,” Radegast said. “If the people of Neverwinter see this incompetent exposed as a failure, they will grow tired of this heir and rally all the more to your banner.” Mialee’s eyes widened in silent horror at Radegast’s speech. Dagult cleared his throat. “Perhaps you have spent too much time in libraries with your head in a book rather than out in the living world evaluating the facts on the ground,” the Lord Protector said in a restrained voice that still betrayed his anger. “You appear to have a less than complete grasp of the legitimacy of competing claims to the Crown of Neverwinter.” “I mean no disrespect, Lord Protector,” Radegast continued. “But in elevating this heir so, you will also see which worms come crawling out in celebration of this royal, and use their celebrations as a means to expose those who are harbouring feelings of favour towards, er, alternative leadership of Neverwinter,” Radegast said. “And in doing so, betray themselves as having an interest in taking your life, Lord Protector. Think of it as a way of laying traps and squashing sympathies. A proper method of manipulation.” Dagult continued to glare at her. Radegast read the room and realized she hadn’t swayed the members of Lord Neverember’s inner circle to her way of thinking. She closed her mouth and bowed her head in deference. Neverember let the ensuing silence speak volumes for a few moments. “Now then,” the Lord Protector said, rubbing his hands together as he changed the subject. “Where is that Sigmund Thann? Odd that he departed the Challenge so abruptly, wouldn’t you say, Varien?” “Indeed,” Varien said. “I have no idea where he ventured off to – he left on his own.” “Quite,” Neverember said. Then he smiled widely as if remember something. “Now then, Varien! Not only did you emerge from the Challenge of the Spheres the victor this day, but you also put yourself in harm’s way to defend the Lord Protector of Neverwinter. Today I declare you a Friend of Neverwinter.” He drew his longsword with a ringing sound and bade Varien to bow before him. Varien hesitated only momentarily as he took the Lord Protector’s measure and decided that Dagult was both sincere in his gratitude and looking to gain Varien’s favour for some reason. Varien took the knee before the Lord Protector, who lightly tapped each of the paladin’s shoulders before gesturing at him to rise. “And you will be rewarded for your service!” Neverember said. “ Let it not be said that Lord Dagult Neverember does not pay his debts! I shall commission the craftsman of the city to create a gift befitting one of your stature.” “Thank you, Lord Protector,” Varien said. He turned to General Sabine. “You know, General it’s kind of interesting that he chastises you then knights me despite me not being from around here, is it not? No hard feelings, sorry.” He held out his hand to the leader of the Mintarn mercenaries. Bob quickly sucked in a breath through suddenly clenched teeth. He stepped away from Varien. Sabine’s expression was carved in ice, but she extended a gauntleted hand, which Varien took. Sabine’s grip was like iron, and Varien could feel his own gauntlet protesting under the vise-like pressure. “Congratulations on this great honour,” Sabine said in a brittle voice. “May you day in the Lord Protector’s sun be long.” She released her grip on Varien’s hand. Varien turned to Bob and mouthed “yikes.” “And what of this assassination attempt? There should be an investigation,” said Kavatos Stormeye. “Yes, indeed there should,” Neverember said. “But whom should we charge with such a task?” Bob sighed heavily and stepped forward. “As an agent of the Lord’s Alliance, I appreciate your offer, Robert Trevelyan,” Neverember said. “But by your own admission you are a stranger in a strange land, as it were, and I fear your investigation may begin at a disadvantage, you not knowing the lay of the land, so to speak. Perhaps you should find someone with local knowledge to partner with.” “As you wish,” Bob said, indicating Varien. “I understand that Varien spent several months here recently.” Varien nodded. “Well then, do you swear to faithfully follow this investigation, wherever it may lead?” Neverember asked. “I do,” Bob replied. “Splendid!” the Lord Protector said. “Now, as I recall, Varien here expressed his interest in going fishing for evidence. Perhaps the two of you should do so.” “As you wish, Lord Protector.” “I would like to make it clear that this Friend of Neverwinter doesn't speak for all of us,” Bob said quietly to General Sabine as he walked by. Mialee fixed Radegast with the same expression she had used when she had caught her daughter with her hand in the cookie jar. She steered the Lord Protector back towards a table laden with bottles of liquor. For her part, Radegast put on her best “sorry, mum” expression. Bob backed out of the room, mouthing “I’m so sorry” to General Sabine as he left. As soon as they were out of sight, Bob slapped Varien upside the head. “Tact, Varien, have you heard of it?” “Tactics you mean?” Varien replied. “Yes, obviously.” Bob sighed heavily. Varien and Bob exited the Moonstone Mask. Varien leaned over the edge of the earthmote and spied the body of the assassin still floating in the harbour. “Okay, I have an idea on how to collect Danan’s corpse.” He cast fly on himself and jumped off the edge of the floating island.  “I guess I’ll take the stairs,” Bob sighed to himself as he began hiking down the bridge that connected the inn to the docks. The waters of the harbor were foul with the stench of rot and bilge, evidence of a bustling port with ships and the city both discharging all manner of effluent into the water. The corpse of the assassin bobbed in the waves as Varien approached from above. Suddenly the body jerked, as if alive. It dipped beneath the waves and bobbled back to the surface, blood and chum surrounding it in a reddish haze. Then, it began to move through the waters as if pulled by an unseen force towards the wharf at a considerable clip, a wake forming behind it. “What’s this?” Varien said. From his vantage point above the body, he could make out the dark shape of something below the waterline, directly beneath the corpse. “Oh no, this fish isn’t getting away!” Varien said to himself.

Bob pushed his way through the crowds that still milled about on the docks, some townspeople on their hands and knees collecting the last of the Waukeentide coins from the cobblestones. As he neared the waters, the reek of the wharf caused his nose to wrinkle involuntarily. Filthy Westerners , he couldn’t help but thing, recalling how that in Kirkwall, every effort was made to keep the waters of the harbor clean. Bob could see Varien descending slowing in mid-air between the Moonstone Mask and the water, and as he reached the edge of the nearest pier he could see the body of Danan Starling moving through the waters.   “Swimming?” Bob said to himself. “That can’t be right – nobody could survive that fall.” He took off his cloak and readied his wand and staff.   “Time to go fishing,” he said as he jumped into the water, splashing awkwardly and cringing at the foul scum that had collected on the surface.   He swam over to Danan’s body, gulping breaths of air at the sudden exertion and the effort necessary to keep pace with the corpse, and grabbed it, attempting to tug it towards shore.   He had no luck in doing so.   Suddenly he was aware of a large shape beneath the waves. It breached the surface, a ridge of dorsal spikes along its spine pointing skyward. A triangular face bisected by a long, pointed nose was next, its angry exhalation blowing bubbles around him as he growled something at Bob in a language the sorcerer didn’t recognize.   “Oh dear,” Bob said as he treaded water. He might not have understood the humanoid’s speech, but he had seen similar creatures along the coasts near Kirkwall. This was likely a saltwater scrag, a kind of large troll.   Danan’s limp body rose out of the water as well, and Bob could see the spikes of a crude trident protruding from the corpse’s back, where the scrag had doubtlessly speared him.   In the air above, Varien conjured his stormbow and took aim. “First catch of the day,” he said, and fired an arrow juiced with an Eldritch Smite. The projectile hit the scrag in its shoulder, catching the creature by surprise. It roared in pain and thrashed about in the water. Varien’s second arrow missed.   The creature righted itself and dipped its mouth and nose into the water, drinking deeply. Bob could see the monster’s wounds begin to heal, as if the seawater itself was a sort of rejuvenating potion.   The scrag looked up at his attacker and with his free hand plucked Danan’s body from his trident. Then he hauled back and threw the trident with the force of a trebuchet into the sky. Varien couldn’t avoid being speared by the weapon, which trailed a long rope made of twisted seaweed.   The scrag grinned, seawater gushing from its mouth, and began reeling Varien in.   Varien twisted and pulled away from the creature with all his strength, and was rewarded with a blinding bolt of agony as the trident’s prongs yanked out of his torso. The weapon fell back to the water’s surface with a splash.   Bob’s eyes widened as the scrag turned its attention to him, biting his arm with its needle-like teeth. As it opened its jaw to take another chunk out of him, Bob managed to work his arm free and get out of the way of its toothy visage.   The creature snorted, grabbed Danan, and begain swimming forcefully beneath the docks.   “Oh no you don’t!” Bob gasped. “Get zapped, fish-face!” He cast  shocking grasp , which electrified the scrag, even as some of the lightning energy traveled back through the water to zap himself.   “Tell me!” Bob shouted at the writhing creature. “How do you feel about a flame strike?” He cast the  flame strike  spell at the creature, which detonated in a column of radiant fire, and then, using his metamagic ability cast a  quickened spell , allowing him to follow up with a  fire bolt .   “It’s a regular ol’ fish fry!” Bob shouted with a grin. Then he looked beyond the burning scrag to see where the creature had been heading. The dripping underside of the docks towered above them.   Broken buildings, partially submerged in trash-strewn water, clustered around the massive barnacle-encrusted pilings of the rebuilt Neverwinter docks. Sagging, salt-encrusted rope bridges connected some of the buildings that themselves are sandwiched and crushed together, disappearing into a tangle of shattered timbers, waterlogged wrecks, and sunken chunks of rubble from Castle Never and other stone structures that had fallen into the harbour during the cataclysm and now form the foundation of the city itself.   "It's trying to make a break for some underwater tunnel!" Bob shouted at Varien.   “Oh, it’s definitely going under, if you know what I mean!” shouted Varien as he swooped down so low that his boots were brushing the tops of the waves. He had drawn Fiendsbane, and landed a  thunderous smite  upon the saltwater scrag, following up with another smite that sent the waterborn troll reeling. His second slash opened a long, bloody gash along the creature’s flank, sending blood and gore pouring into the water.   With an anguished howl, the creature, grievously wounded, tossed the body of Danan Starling aside and began to dog-paddle away from Varien and Bob, whimpering as he did so.   “No, don’t go!” Bob cackled after the departing scrag, who dove beneath the waves out of sight. “Looks like you put the fear of Sune into that scrag,” he said to Varien.   Bob turned and swam over to the assassin’s corpse, rolling it over.   “Huh,” he said.   The rough handling of the body had knocked a heretofore unseen mask from the man’s face. The mask itself was intricately carved from bone and featured wavy line engravings as well as a cluster of festooned feathers around its edges.   Bob realized that he had seen this type of mask before in his travels. It was a Hathran Mask of Disguise, common in the Unapproachable East, used primarily by the wizards of Rashemen and Thay.   The mask had come loose, and Bob noticed that the man’s face had changed. The shape of his nose, his eyes and even his hair colour.   “Varien, look at this,” Bob said. “The assassin wore a disguise.”   Varien drifted lower into the waters to get a better look. He blanched.   “I’ve seen this man before,” he said.   In fact, it had been that very morning, as the face of the dead man belonged to one of the Harpers who Siegfried had ordered around in the wine cellar of the Mask of a Thousand Faces.   Varien gave Bob a grave look. “This man was a Harper.”   Bob’s eyes widened. Varien’s attention was suddenly distracted by their environs.  “What the heck is this place?” he asked aloud.   Varien and Bob found themselves amid the ruins of a Neverwinter long drowned by the rising tides of commerce. The harbour waves battered the broken buildings and with each wave came a cacophony of grinding, creaking noises from the flotsam and jetsam that washed up against the polluted shoreline beneath the docks above.   It was a waterlogged, rotting ghost town - a splintering, rotting mass of ancient wood and stone. Seaweed covered the ruins like tangles of green fishnets, and foreign objects in varying states of decay drifted through the foul water, surrounded by oily sheens.   And Bob and Varien were not alone beneath the docks. A pair of thugs stood amid the ruins, staring agape at the duo as they approached.   “Oh, that stupid scrag!” one shouted as he aimed a complicated clockwork crossbow at Bob and Varien.     In the Moonstone Mask, the Lord Protector’s party was beginning to break up. General Sabine took her leave as soon as it was socially appropriate to do so, and not a minute later.   Radegast beckoned Alec to join her as she followed the General out into the hallway.   Sabine was speaking to Sergeant Knox in low tones. Radegast listened as best she could.   “I want you to have this assassination plot solved before our new Friends of Neverwinter can claim to do so,” Sabine was hissing to the Sergeant, who nodded and departed after being dismissed.   Radegast stepped out from behind a pillar. “General Sabine?” she said.   Sabine betrayed only the slightest stiffening of the spine as Radegast spoke. “Yes?” she replied.   “Please accept my apologies for my half-brother Varien Aether,” Radegast said. “Unlike the rest of us, he can be very blunt at times, but I want you to know we meant no disrespect.”   “Apology accepted,” Sabine said.   “So, I have a question,” Radegast continued. “Was there to be any involvement at the Sleeping Dragon Bridge today?”   General Sabine betrayed no emotion in her response to Radegast. “Why do you ask?” Sabine said. “Have you developed an interest in architecture?”   “It’s just something I overheard that might be pertinent to your own investigation of the night’s affairs,” Radegast said. “The half-orc overheard something and went to investigate. I’d wager that you should be able to catch him if you take a horse and go there now.”   Sabine turned to regard Radegast as if for the first time. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked coolly.   “Hey, us girls have got to stick together,” Radegast replied. “I don’t think the Lord Protector is holding either of us in high regard at the moment.”   Sabine’s eyebrow arched ever so slightly. “Indeed.” She nodded to Radegast and took her leave.   Radegast cast a  sending  spell to Siegfried.  Kavatos and Zephyris are the ones to watch. And you should take the General out for dinner sometime.   Radegast turned to Alec. “You know, if we hurry we can probably fill up at the buffet.”   “I’m in,” Alec said. “Let’s go see if there’s any food left.”     It was a short walk from the House of a Thousand Faces to the Sleeping Dragon Bridge, the third and westernmost of the city’s three emblematic bridges. It was carved in the likeness of a dragon and connected Castle Never to the Hall of Justice. Much of the original carving had disappeared beneath reinforced and repaired sections after it had sustained heavy damage during the Ruining of 1451DR.   Siegfried could see a knot of Mintarn mercenaries milling about on the Castle Never side of the bridge. He squared his shoulders and marched up imperiously. “I’m here on behalf of the Lord’s Alliance,” he barked. “What have we got here? Make way!”   The Mintarn mercenaries shrank back. “Be our guest,” one of them piped up, pointing his sword in the direction of a large humanoid corpse splayed out on the ground. It was a large wight, or what was left of one.   “This thing clawed its way up from under the bridge,” another Mintarn soldier said. “Went on a bit of a rampage, so we had to put it down.”   “Quite,” Siegfried said, kneeling down beside the freshly dead undead. The creature’s face was a twisted mask of necromantic hate and rage, which as he understood it was what fueled the unfortunate undead creatures as they sought to kill and convert other humanoids into more of their kind. “Under the bridge, you say? Show me.”   The Mintarn merc nodded and grabbed one of his companions. “Come on, grab a torch.” He indicated Siegfried should follow.   The trio made their way past a crude wooden palisade that blocked off the riverbanks from the streets above (“Left over from the difficult days after the cataclysm,” one soldier explained) and climbed down to the water’s edge. Beneath the bridge, the waters of the Neverwinter River coursed over a series of small waterfalls that under any other circumstances would have merited a moment’s consideration.   What caught Siegfried’s attention however were the fresh footprints emerging from a ragged sewer pipe that jutted out from beneath the bridge. He grabbed one of the mercenary’s torches and tossed it into the mouth of the pipe. It clattered down for a few seconds before something snuffed it out. “All right,” Siegfried said to the two mercenaries. “Time to get our hands dirty.” Above him, he could hear the sound of approaching hoofbeats.