Skullport Shakedown: An Unlikely Cast of Characters

Volo,

You’ll notice we haven’t reported back within the implicitly assumed time frame for your little fetch quest. If you read this and it’s still invisible, we weren’t dead yet a sun’s and moon’s rise ago. At the time of writing we’re not yet topside, but plan to be soon when I get over having my brain leak out of my ears (stop laughing, you fiend – I swear there is a perceivable difference in my performance). “Send” me if you want to adjust scope based on this report, otherwise I’ll see you at Halfway’s soon to wrap up. Do you need an overview of expenses?

Your trinket caught the interest of the magpie-eyed Zhents and has been in their possession roughly since the moment we set foot down here. This by means of a noxious feller of the brain-eating persuasion. Name’s Roxy. He’s been making meals of some of the citizens. Possible opportunity for a clever person to gain a conduit for information down here (see “Frankie” of Skull square), plus perhaps an entry for your next book, should you care to do away with the tentacled parasite. Happy to retry ourselves, if properly compensated but we’d need more firepower and significant hazard pay. Roxy seems remarkbly resistent to both banishment and appeals to morality. The latter is not a surprise. Consider figuring out how he was compelled to act- maybe the Zhents can be moved to get rid of him if he’s lost his use. Likely lower risk and cleaner than extending our contract to include assassination – it’ s not our forte.

Other persons of interest:

Goblin operator of a boxing ring / gambling den called the Batroost, name of Grubbus Pipsnout. Can possibly provide dumb muscle where needed, and has a hand in the local gambling scene (where said Roxy, apparently, had been cleaning out the house). The aunties were willing to pay lil shorty for his information, but my estimation is that he’d not be a hard nut to crack for a minor business advantage. Possibly another good source of intel. Provided the gold to pay for purchase of said trinket.

Madcap necromancer in Deadman’s Corner who makes zombies to have an audience for her conversations with herself. Cheap buy, but picky on payment type. Called Laurel Stillwater. Has a sister? Apparently willing to hold onto sums of gold without much instruction and then hand them off to whoever. Could send a runner by once a week just to ask for the petty cash, I guess.

A victim of Roxy. Orc. Mugrub, or somesuch. Not herself particularly interesting, but she’s the link where Roxy broke his clever little chain of diversion. Mugrub picked up the gold from Zombies-R-Us and went to purchase the trinket from Thimblewines, which Roxy then presumably took off of her when he had her brain for a snack. Tentacle hickies gave him away. Wonder if he tried to hide her murder by killing others, or if hels just hungry a lot.

Crystallene, operator of Thimblewines and an overall delight. Unsure if she knew we would come for the key or if the pickup by Mugrub was what she expected. Did she even know what she had? She knew to sell well, so she must’ve been aware of something. Wonder if she fences other wares, as making a living off of mechanical cockroaches and painted eggs seems unlikely.

Found both guide and initial contact to be performing within parameters. Consider a sweep of the travel route as the slavers and their pet snakes were pesky and you almost lost Gwenson, (who you apparently pay upfront). Asathra is wasted on that inn. Girl is too clever for her own good – that little puzzle of hers almost reduced cuz Damien to tears and drove auntie Elissa to drink.

The Skulls are a pesky lot with not a single sane thought still between them. Please advise on a clothier, as I do think I’d look dashing in a bow tie.

Faithfully,

Tio

Ps. Unicorn from C3 to E4.

Skullport Shakedown: Moving Pieces

Flamerule 1 (Founder’s Day), Waterdeep, Halfway Inn, Brother’s Barkeeper Charity Chess Tournament

A carefully manicured hand with glassy nails moved to the earth level of the dragon chess board and nudged a white warrior piece forward. “So, how are the book sales these days?”

The human wizard smiled at his opponent and moved a black basilisk piece on the lower level. “Not bad, really. There was that… unfortunate happenstance at the docks some time back, which caused a modest increase in demand.”

A soft chuckle and another white warrior slides gently forward. “One orc’s death is another orc’s breath, I do suppose.”

He cocks an eyebrow as the black sylph finds a new home on the upper level of the board. “That’s a more poetic translation than I usually hear. Not a common proverb either. Do you count the orcs among your friends?”

A smile reveals slightly pointed teeth. “There are many orcs. Certainly a few would consider me such.” A third white warrior moves. “One caravan master told me that whenever she and I go out on the town, she has a very wicked time.” Bright red eyes crinkle at the pun.

Volothamp considers his options. The tiefling who drew lots against him doesn’t seem overly concerned with the moves he had made thus far, and he had preferred a standard opening sequence. Maybe he could pull off the Stone Thief’s Mate. It would be a quick way out. He positions the black dwarf in preparation. No alarm shows on the face at the other side of the table. An amateur then, most likely. “Wicked, no less.” he says, “That’s something, from those who drink fermented warg’s milk with their morning porridge.”

They pick up the pace of their play. White Oliphant. Second black Basilisk. White unicorn. Volothamp makes his penultimate move, nudging the black Sylph forward again, face neutral.

His opponent’s head dips, tipping a dark curl forward from behind a slim, pale antler. “Fermented warg’s milk…” he shudders. “Personally I prefer southern brandy. Even the product of our beloved local Chauntea sanctuary, which is probably just distilled novice sweat, is vastly superior to that.” Eyes still down, the tiefling lifts his hand towards the middle board, then pauses, sending a pupilless glance up from under curls and eyebrows. “That said. A drink?” He pulls out the Paladin piece and drops it to the lower board, beckoning over one of the ale boys with his free hand.

Time to recalculate. The Paladin’s Counter wasn’t the strongest response to his manoeuvre, but it was a clever one. Effective. Profoundly noncommittal in response to his own decisiveness. Held until the last possible moment, too. He stretched in his seat. This could yet be an interesting game.

Two glasses of brandy later, with the game’s end a decently engaging victory, Volo finds himself lingering at the bar to await the drawings for the third round of the tournament. The slight tiefling leans back beside him, a booted leg stretched out into the walkway. “Shame to find such a strong opponent this early on. I could have used the prize money.”

The wizard smiles. “This is where I might offer to keep an ear to the ground for any interesting opportunities. However, knowing neither your name nor your trade, I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage. Yourself too, perhaps, if it turns out we could be of use to one another.”

The tiefling extends a hand. “Tio. Sometimes I work with local guilds to follow up on accounts. See if things can’t be resolved… harmoniously. Beyond that, well, it is said that I like to entertain.”