18th-21st of Eleasis (Highsun) – Summer 1486
Location: Waterdeep: City of Splendours
A single cloud partially obscured the sun over Goldenfields on an otherwise glorious summer day. Lying back on a wagon load of vegetable crates bound for the relative metropolis of Waterdeep, Seepage and Smacky lazily argued over what it looked like. Smacky insisted it was the spitting image of the stuffed owlbear head he found on his dead brothers’ pack while Cockseepage was more inclined to think it looked like a collection of countless infinitely small droplets of water huddling together due to unseen powers of attraction beyond her comprehension. Either that or the scrotum of that drunk guard back in Nightstone she stabbed in the balls. Oblivious to this philosophical debate, rather than ride the dusty wagons Pinko instead preferred to run alongside the caravan in wolf form, scouting the woods on either side of the road and stopping to pick the odd interesting looking mushroom.
Over the next two days, the lone cloud had a party. Firstly it invited numerous friends to join it, then it dimmed the lights, cranked up the wind machine and finally hit its crescendo with a thunderously good time involving the thorough drenching of those foolish enough to be on the now muddy roads with the excrement its solar-absorbed lubricant. The ball-sack / owlbear head cloud all the while seeming to dance in the middle of the celestial room, delighted in the mess it had made. Seeps swore at it in Infernal, so it rained a little more.
The sky finally started to clear as the gates of Waterdeep loomed and the stiff sea breeze chased most of the errant nimbus away. The group's first order of business was to see what goodies Zi Liang’s necklace would unlock. House Thann was not difficult to locate, though the well-to-do North Ward was not an area familiar to any of the party. Begging the other two to be on their best behaviour, Pinko rapped solidly on the doors of the lavish urban estate and was quickly greeted by a well-dressed elderly gentleman who even to Pinko's wild upbringing was most obviously a butler. Suddenly remembering his knowledge of formal social graces could be scribed on the tip of his sickle, Pinko simply held aloft the black pearl necklace and asked “Caulder Marskyl?” The butler looked placidly at the filthy elf for a second before the spark of recognition at the proffered jewellery animated his features into a more welcoming state. “Lady Zi’s heirloom? Is she…well?” The slight pause was accentuated by the obvious concern that broke through Caulder’s otherwise textbook servitude demeanour.
“She is.” Replied Pinks. “Though she has chosen a life of monastic study at Goldenfields, and has recently been somewhat promoted, assisting with the defence of the Enclave. We aided her and she said to give this to you and let you know she shall not be returning.” The butler took the necklace and nodded. “Certainly, please take a seat, I’ll arrange the paiges to bring the dowry.” He swung the door wide and indicated several plush-looking chairs in the foyer. “Watsa ‘Doe Ray’?” asked Smacky. “Money from one stuck up, rich family to bribe another even more stuck up, rich family to take their useless progeny off their hands.” chimed in Seeps as she plonked her road-dust-covered self comfortably down on the whitest fabric chair she could see. Feeling much out of place, Pinko stood awkwardly in the doorway looking back out across the trees in the square while Smacks sniffed the lush blue rug for reasons known only to himself.
A moment or two later a loud thump drew all their divided attention to the end of the foyer where Caulder had returned and two young paiges had just deposited a small but weighty box with a circular alcove in the lid. As the group gathered around the butler placed the pearl into the slot and it briefly radiated a stunning glow before an audible click denoted the chest was now unlocked. Not waiting for permission, Smacky raised the lid. Inside was a spell scroll and a glass flask of transparent liquid with a sliver of a fingernail floating in it. “Yoink!” cried Seeps as she darted in and plucked up the velum tube like a piece of candy. “Banishment. Very handy.” she mused while holding the scroll aloft to the light, satisfied with her acquisition. Smacky uncorked the stopper on the flask. It smelt like old feet and brimstone. “Potion of Fire Giant Strength” Caulder mused. “Even a strong lad like you master Orc would find it beneficial.” Smacky grinned and corked the bottle. Finally, Caulder reverently placed the necklace back over Pinko’s head, the tall druid bowing slightly to allow him to do so. “Please treasure it and keep it safe. She was a fine young lady, now obviously grown into an independent and capable woman, with stalwart friends.” he said with a hint of remorse, but also pride. Pinko just nodded and took this as their queue to leave. Happy with their new toys, Seeps and Smacky followed.
Once outside Pinko raised the necklace towards the sky to let the light shine through it, only to have his appraisal thwarted by a cloud drifting across the sun, seemingly obstinate to the sea breeze creating eddies of leaves in the streets. Still, he estimated he could get at least 500 gold from a high-end pawn shop. Twenty minutes later he was happy to have been proven correct. That afternoon Pinko wandered off to explore this stone forest of Waterdeep and perhaps visit one or two of the more ‘interesting’ herbalists he noticed on his previous visit a few weeks before while mushroom hunting with Smacky.
Smacky and Seepage headed to the docks, their Zhentarim ‘Fang’ badges proudly displayed as they confidently breasted into the shadiest looking tavern they could see, ‘The Sailor’s Own’. Upon entering the whole room was thick with the seaman’s exotic tobacco smoke from ports up and down the Sword Coast. The dower patronage of deck hands that stared at them were almost comically arranged on nautically themed chairs, each unique and sporting a price tag as if this was some sort of odd furniture gallery. The huge half-orc barkeep didn't seem to take too kindly to Seep’s witty repartee and it was probably only the muscular presence of Smacky towering over her that kept certain elements of the patronage from ironically making the worst mistake of what would have been much shorter lives by approaching her. Two depressingly poor ales that were likely more rat faeces than hops flavoured later, the couple left the seedy dive friendless. They’d not gotten three steps down the street however when a rotund, cloaked figure called out from the shadows with a voice far more feminine than its broad-shouldered frame suggested. “While we appreciate the enthusiasm for the cause my friends, agents in Waterdeep are not usually quite as forward with the general populace. I would say you were lucky ol’Guthlakh in there didn’t take your teeth out with the billy club he keeps under the bar, but then looking at you it was perhaps more fortunate for him that he didn’t try. I am Darius.” said Darius, briefly flashing their Zhentarim wolf badge. “How may the Waterdeep Chapter assist you, comrades?”
Cockseepage indicated she had acquired a number of gems a little too warm for the regular market and if there was a safe way to perhaps exchange them for say… magically infused items an adventurous sort may find useful? It was a bald-faced lie, their gemstone collection had been acquired via reasonably legitimate means, but she felt the situation called for a more dramatic explanation. Also, having procured one spell scroll already, perhaps there were more floating around this rodent-infested town. “Argh, you wish to visit Le Fence?” Darius mused. “That can be easily arranged, follow me.” They lead Smacks and Seeps through a few alleys, away from the docks to a perfectly reasonable looking if somewhat down-on-its-luck milliner and haberdashery store in the Trade Ward. The proprietor didn’t even look up from the number crunching she was doing that seemed far too complex for a small business with few customers as the portly Darius squeezed past and into a back room filled with bolts of cloth and a change room or two. Smacky was delighted when a secret knock on the mirrored back wall of one of the cubicles resulted in the whole glass pain swinging inwards. “Oooo datz some fancy spy stuff right dere!” he knowingly exclaimed as he ducked through the portico. Seeps held a straight face but had to admit she was a little impressed too.
The hidden chamber was dark, lit only by a single oil lamp that filled the space with a sweet smokey ambient mist. Darius waited outside and however the mirror had opened, there was no one currently just beyond it. A caged counter with no fewer than four pre-loaded crossbows protruding from slots in the walls on either side pointed directly at an ‘X’ painted crudely on the floor, quite possibly with blood from the last person to ask “Why are there four crossbows pointed at the red ‘X’ painted crudely on the floor?” Though mechanics was not his strong suit, Smacky’s intuition and keen eyes spotted the thin filament running from each weapon to a common spot on the ground out of sight below the counter which lead him to believe the smiling bespectacled goblin waiting to take their order could unleash every bolt simultaneously with a tap of its foot.
The extra security actually raised Seepage’s expectation of a reasonable payoff here. Showing no fear at this understandably necessary piece of customer service complaint management hardware, she stood on the ‘X’ and tipped the party's collection of valuable and semi-rare gemstones into the pewter dish on the counter. “Greetings new recruit! No names ‘ere pleaze, you may just call me ‘Le Fence’.” The goblin’s accent was obviously false and Seeps couldn’t understand the need to try to sound foreign and aristocratic in such a trade as the exchange of stolen goods, but played along all the same and pretended not to notice as it slipped in and out of usage. “ ‘ow manies of my fine wares do you wish?! For this donation of shiny things you can ‘ave four from the ‘goodly’ bag, two from the ‘fancy’ bag, or just one from the ‘extra fancy goodly’ bag.” Translating this and noticing three apertures at knee height in the wall of the counter, Cockseepage figured out the exchange system seemed to be something of a lucky-dip situation. She also now realised the true purpose of the rigged crossbows. They were not to stop theft, they were to stop complaints of ‘unfairness’ if you were not so ‘lucky’.
Her first two picks from the ‘goodly’ bag yielded two potions, one of climbing and one of greater healing. Seeps was not overly impressed but had enough wits about her to realise Smacky was chomping at the bit to play the game, shifting his sizeable weight nervously from one foot to another behind her. Gambling on the ‘fancy’ pot for their last grab, Smacky’s massive paw only just fit through the hole. He instantly felt something cold and hard and hoped for a magic weapon! Excited, he tried to extract it and completely failed at the task. He tried several more times growing further frustrated with each futile tug. ‘Le Fence’ began to giggle. Smacky’s patience was obviously failing as orc swear words flowed quickly when the goblin finally swung his foot and tapped the button on the end of the ‘Immovable Rod’ the ham-fisted barbarian had refused to relinquish. It released just as Smacks was giving it an almighty pull, the result of which had him tumbling backwards across the room as inertia did its thing. He came to rest with the foot-long rod triumphantly raised in the air having just burst a hole in the wooden partition it was housed behind. Le Fence didn’t seem to mind the damage, more impressed with himself for his little joke. Smacky didn’t mind as he now had a magic rod that even he couldn't force to move once activated. Out of tradable gems and the afternoon getting on, the duo thanked Darius for the service and began to look for Pinks and a place to spend the night.
Weighed down by newly acquired coin from the sale of the black pearl, Pinko had had a very successful afternoon. In just the third apothecary shop he came across, 'The Stinky Weed' the young halfling who ran the place was staring at the refracted afternoon light dancing on the floor from a large crystal he’d positioned in the window. Milo's eyes were bloodshot, he was giggling to himself incessantly, and munching on what looked like a whole barbecued chicken. Whatever he was on was most certainly the exact sort of gear Pinks wished to acquire. Fortunately, a shadow passed across the sun at that moment breaking his trance and allowing Pinks to strike up a friendly conversation. Some idle chat between connoisseurs and the donation of a few of the rarer shrooms the Druid had collected recently later, and Pinko left the shop with a small bag of the foulest smelling oily herb mix that he’d ever held to his nose. Milo ensured that he’d ‘fly’ into the best sleep of his life and warned him to have snacks on hand. Feeling experimental and reflecting on Smacky’s gastronomical ability to turn mushrooms into a magical antidote, Pinks rolled some of the green mess into a firm streamline pellet and shoved it where the sun don’t shine. Right, he thought, that may take a while to kick in. Before it does, he'd best find his companions. He listened for the sounds of alarm through the background early evening din of the city, heard a watchman’s whistle, and headed towards it confident his friends would be found in that direction.
With plenty of gold coins or 'Dragons' as they had learnt the locals call them left to spend, the reunited trio decided they’d bed down in the best inn that would take them. “I knews t’was a trick all along!” Smacky tried to insist, again, as they entered ‘The Sleepy Sylth’, a fancy-looking establishment on Snail Street just in the Castle Ward. “Then why did you club the mage over the head with all those people watching?” Pinko retorted. “He was SAWZING her in half!” an exasperated Smacky explained, again. Fortunately Seeps had been able to convince the City Watch his barbarian friend was in fact, an idiot, and with a quick ‘fine’ paid to the good Sergeant, the Half-Orc remained free to wander the streets as long as he didn’t try to bash any other street performers earning an honest living.
If the crisp white table cloths, many-hued wandering drift-globes and strolling minstrels painted the inn as the sort of establishment the Mickale trio might be out of place; the whole skewered fowl being carried to the tables, a generous selection of quality ales behind the bar and scantily clad wait-staff (complete with silken fairy wings) balanced things out nicely. His posterior experiment already kicking in, Pinko immediately ordered one of each bird on the menu and was soon chowing down gazing with wonder at the colourful magic orbs bobbing to the melodic tunes of the in-house bards… he was soon in a higher plane of existence and oblivious to all and sundry around him. It was all a bit too fancy for Smacky who after a single over-priced beverage and tiny quail demolished in one bite headed back to ‘The Sailors Own’ in the docks to arm wrestle that half-orc bartender, probably get into a fight with some crewmen, and sleep on a sticky tavern floor like the good adventuring barbarian he was. In this pursuit, he succeeded incredibly well. He had no idea whose teeth were in his pocket when he awoke, tongue stuck to a floorboard, he was just glad they were superfluous to the ones in his mouth.
Cockseepage the Tormented was nearly stunned into silence with the sheer weight of possibility she saw in the ‘Sylth’. This was the kind of life she was meant to lead. Wealth was temporary, so best flaunt it while you’ve got it. Reading the room and watching her fellow aristocratic patrons' behaviour for a few moments gave her the system overview she desired. She firstly secured the most expensive lodgings available, and let it loudly be known she had done so. She ordered fine wine by the bottle and sat herself down unannounced at the table of the most dashing Dwarf in the room. He must have been quite young, his beard barely touched his chest. The tiefling had heard tell of the incredibly robust dwarven endurance and constitution and this evening she intended to put it to the test. As the first bottle emptied and her new companion, though shocked at her surprise appearance, had become forwardly amenable to the very un-nuanced solicitations Seeps was laying on the table, a thought crossed her mind, or perhaps somewhere a little lower. When the rather dainty little half-elf with clover green eyes returned with the second bottle of Zzar, an almond fortified sherry, she slipped her a few extra gold, gently wrapped her red tail around the girls’ waist and locked her own golden-hued eyes with the pretty green ones. “Oh sugar.” said the waitress dressed as a fairy. “I like what you’ve got going on here.” she flashed a playful smile to the Dwarf who Seeps now realised despite their deep flirtations she had yet to ask him his name, “But for this little fey to come play is gonna take a lot more bling than those few little dragons are worth.” Without missing a beat, Seeps downed the entire sweet contents of the wine carafe, which greatly impressed both of her admirers, plucked out the hair clip given to her by the lady of Ardeep woods from her own midnight black locks and slid it into the auburn hair of the waitress. “The emerald in this suits your eyes wonderfully, don’t you think?” she enunciated carefully in her most flirtatious tones. The bargain struck, the young courtesan took Seeps by the hand, who in turn tickled her nameless dwarven friend under the beard and the three of them retired to the lavish room pre-booked for just such an eventuality.
At some stage during the night having fallen asleep in his own room to the strange cacophony of squeals of delight and pain coming from the suite next door, Pinko woke with the unusual sensation of being light as air. This, his addled brain quickly concluded, was because he was in fact hovering several feet above the bed. All he could smell was nutmeg, and the little donkey’s playing cards in the corner of the room reminded him of Clarence, their overpriced mule Smacky bought in Nightstone which they must have left behind in Goldenfields to an unknown fate. One of the donkey’s didn’t have a face, but it didn’t seem to mind and was obviously winning the game at hoof with some great skill. The moon shone like a landscape portrait over the city, sitting low in the sky with a fluffy pink cloud partially obscuring it. Pinks drifted out the window and peered into the next room. Seepage was busy tying a nearly naked dwarf to a chair, while a half-elf with very dishevelled silk wings and no pants on held the warlock's glowing whip uncertainly. Silently, the druid pushed open the window, drifted in, scooped the un-objecting girl up and the two flew off on a private adventure into the night. The gentle clatter of the elven hair clip falling from the waitress-come-courtesan's head as she ducked out the window alerted Seeps to her departure. This disappearance confused her, but she’d finished with that toy anyway. This other one however was not yet worn out. Good. The rumours had been true after all. As she picked up her whip and turned to the still nameless dwarf strapped firmly in place she gently secured the gag and whispered in his sweaty ear. “I’d tell you the safe word… but there isn't one.” Wide eyed, her prey nodded enthusiastically anyway.
Next Episode: Yelling at Clouds
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