Chapter 2: Trollskull Alley

TROLLSKULL MANOR Part II

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Another message arrives at Trollskull Manor. Yagra Stonefist, who fought by your side at the Yawning Portal against Krentz and the Beauties, knocks on your door, nearly shaking it off its hinges. She delivers a straightforward proposal to you:

"Hey, I never properly congratulated you on your victory at the Battle of the Bards. What a show! Hey, we Zhents are a practical bunch, we're not going to waste any time with anyone but the best. We disbanded Black Wyrm, and we're looking to sign you. We won't take no for an answer. The Zhentarim are looking to back a winner, and you're clearly heads and tails above the competition.

Why don't we sit down and discuss this? My employers have cleared their lunchtime appointments. Come on by - your talent and our resources can make a big difference. Plus, we understand the Great Game is known to you now. All the better to bring you into the fold, get you on-side with the winning team. What do you say?"

"Hohoho we're being headhunted! Maybe now we can up our fee!" Prince chortles just out of Yagra's hearing.

THE TEMPLE OF KELEMVOR

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Alastriona removes her mailed gloves and falls to one knee, head bowed in supplication to the honoured warrior. Still on her knee, she brings out and unwraps the cloth sack to reveal the severed head. With measured motions, Alastriona taps the closed index and middle fingers of each hand together twice (gesture), followed by a shake of her head and a double motion with her right hand of her fingers, palm towards the head (gesture).

No name.

Xelia affixes the new pin to her blouse, beneath her right clavicle. When all the young ones are home, she calls them to a meeting and gently (but firmly) reminds them of their responsibilities to do right by her (and by extension the band) and treat their new ally and friend Lady Remi's possessions with respect. "Whoever "finds" the missing goggles will leave them on this table here prior to our noon meeting. I trust you'll all work together to make sure this happens. You're dismissed." Confident that the goggles will turn up, she walks the length of their new home, looking over the list of necessary updates, and jotting down notes on how to not only restore the home, but turn it into something more.

THE TEMPLE OF KELEMVOR

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Sir Everdawn regards the head impassively. He speaks to Alastriona in Celestial, choosing his words ponderously.

"Wise are you to seek guidance on this matter, Alastriona. There are many levels of justice. Kelemvor's justice is the most fundamental - we preserve the integrity of the Veil at all costs. But, whenever possible, we should also consider the city's justice and the individual's justice. The city watch will want to know who killed this man and why."

"The problem with taking the head to the watch is they might have questions, and may not be able to accept your silence. I can send somebody to accompany you if you wish. The city morgue is in the Castle Ward, over yonder by Ahghairon's Tower."

Sir Everdawn points across the city vista. In the shadow of Mount Waterdeep, a white marble tower with a green copper roof rises above most of the buildings in the city.

Chuckling to himself, Prince finds himself a hiding place to stake out the table and find out who the offending party is.

THE TEMPLE OF KELEMVOR

---

Still knelt upon the floor, Alastriona's throat hums into sound, and from her lips comes the lilting and melodic tones of the divine language. "By your command, M'lord," she says in Celestial, "I will honor the city's justice. I humbly ask for Kelemvor's grace to be at my side, to speak the words of the mortal realm to whomever should listen."

The aasimar goes on to explain, "This person was found beneath the street, in a place marked by the agents of Xanathar. Alongside them was the winged serpent here. I have seen the likeness of this creature on heraldry, though I am unfamiliar with the name."

THE TEMPLE OF KELEMVOR

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"Another victim of the war between the Xanathar's Guild and the Zhentarim then. Undoubtedly Kelemvor has already judged his soul; the City Watch may find this is a missing piece of the puzzle. We will attend to his burial rites once they are done."

Sir Everdawn calls over a woman dressed in simple grey robes. She is bald and covered in burn scars from long ago. Everdown makes introductions between you two in Celestial. "Wynne, guide Alastriona to the city morgue and act as her translator."

Wynne nods. "By your command, m'Lord." She takes a deep breath and dons a white porcelain mask.



Wynne leads you to what she describes as a "dray," a towering horse-pulled public carriage. It is a long, glassed-in carriage with bench seating with additional open-air seating on its roof. Wynne deposits a few nibs in a fare taker's box as you board from the back. She invites you to pick a seat, then joins you and tries to make some conversation in Celestial from behind her mask.

"Are you one of the Doomguides? I've heard stories about the Doomguides ever since joining the temple, but I have yet to meet these legendary holy warriors devoted to Kelemvor's teachings."

THE TEMPLE OF KELEMVOR

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Alastriona stares at the city through the glass. "I do not have that honor," she replies in Celestial. "Sir Everdawn and the others have given me guidance, but I possess neither title nor purpose in service to Kelemvor."

After a bit of awkward silence, she adds, "Perhaps they are watching us. Weighing our actions upon the scales until they deem us fit to bear the mantle. We ought to aspire to those expectations; perhaps even surpass them."

Alastriona's lack of expression mirrors the porcelain mask of her companion, though her eyes belie her own self-doubt in such words.

In the single clean corner of his musty room, Stitches lays out sketch paper, charcoal, and measured lengths of string. He places the goggles in a shaft of sunlight streaming through the filthy window and begins to draw, penciling 1:1 diagrams of the lenses from multiple angles. He checks each of its dimensions with the string, noting them in the proper location: the width of the eyepieces, the angle of the bridge of the nose, the thickness of the strap. Included are entries on color, shading, and reflectiveness. Satisfied he has what he needs, he packs up his supplies, wraps the goggles in a spare bit of tissue paper, and heads downstairs.

He places the package on the table and pats it once to say farewell, making no bid to conceal his actions. Then he heads outside, turning left at the apothecary to visit Steam and Steel. Returning the genasis' greetings back at them, he gets down to business. He unrolls his sketches, points to the print of the goggles, and rubs his fingers together while making the sound of clinking coins.

He has no money to spare now, so with their quote fixed in his mind, he waves goodbye and heads back to the manor for the meeting. out shopping for a new outfit.

STEAM AND STEEL

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Stitches arrives at Steam and Steel and finds they've been up for hours. Avi the water Genasi greets Stitches with a smile and looks over the diagrams drawn with the hand of an expert forger.

He presents a calm demeanour with reassuring smiles and a refreshing lack of pretense. "Hey, these look just like a special order item we do. Lets you see in the dark, right? Nice drawing skill, by the way. You really did the bevels justice here. And, I hope you don't mind me saying that the avian motif would really suit you. You know, we've actually had a customer default on an order of these recently and we'd be really pleased to find a new buyer. They paid half up-front already, and then we never heard from them again. So, I'd be happy to sell all three for them to you at half price."

Embric the fire genasi emerges from the back, and gives his husband a hug, sending a small cloud of steam rising into the air. He speaks in gruff but honest tones. "Hard to run a profitable business in this city with a partner like Avi!" He gives Avi a hearty slap on the back, and adds "But, easy to build a happy life."

"Embric's just joking. Profit isn't our goal; we just want to make a living doing the work we love!"

"Speak for yourself, Avi! I'll buy us that mansion in Sea Ward yet, mark my words!

The two genasi thank Stitches for his patronage. Avi checks over Stitches' new armour to make sure it is still fitting right before he leaves, and send him away with a wave.

THE CITY MORGUE

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Wynne and Alastriona cross the city fairly quickly in the dray and make their way deep into the Castle Ward. Here, the streets are spotless, barristers and magistrates move swiftly between appointments, and soldiers march in unison. The two pass beneath the grand landmark of Ahghairon's Tower, the first ruler of Waterdeep; and Piergeiron's Palace, the administrative center of the city and the seat of Open Lord, the ruler of Waterdeep, Laeral Silverhand. Clustered near these grand buildings are City Watch barracks and offices. Wynne guides Alastriona to the morgue, where a dwarven clerk greets her. After you present the head, the clerk takes a statement from Alastriona with Wynne translating.

THE CITY MORGUE

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Alastriona speaks of the urgency in rescuing a friend and associate, kidnapped against his will. She says she tracked Floon's movements to the sewer system, where she found him in chains under the heel of a green human. The aasimar fought them in order to rescue Floon, and unfortunately she was forced to slay the kidnappers, which included a tattooed human, a short dark-skinned human, and a tiny four-legged human with their brain on the outside.

After freeing Floon, she discovered the sack with the severed head and winged serpent. Once Floon was returned safely home, Alastriona visited the Church of Kelemvor to seek peace for the unknown individual, and is now at the morgue.

She makes no mention of the others.

THE ZHENTARIM MEETING

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Prince and Butler make their way back to the Yawning Portal, where Yagra has set up a meeting between the two of you and a handsome elf named Davil Starsong."Gents, real pleasure to met you. Have a seat. Let me get right to it - Raspberry Barret blew my mind. Best show in Waterdeep history. I'm telling you, you killed it. You know you did. Incredible. Hey, what do you drink? No no, you're money's not good here. This is 100% on the Black Network."

He orders anything you request. If you request something too cheap, he'll insist on something nicer. Bonnie returns with drinks. She's not her usual chatty self, and treats Butler and especially Prince with a cold shoulder.

"Okay, we're interested in signing you to an exclusive deal. We're willing to pay you 10 suns* a show. On top of that, a lucrative signing bonus for the whole group - 30 suns*." He opens a small, ornate wooden chest with a crushed velvet interior cradling the 30 beautiful platinum coins.

"In exchange for this generous sponsorship, you agree to represent the Zhentarim exclusively in the Battle of the Bards competition from here on in, wear the appropriate attire during the show, speak well of your employer. Easy money, am I right? But wait, there's more."

"We recognize you are men and women of many talents. We know you can handle yourselves, and honestly, we could use some help. Do you know who started this whole war between the Zhents and Xanathar's Guild? Yeah, turns out it was neither of us. A foreign Zhentarim operation that has infiltrated Waterdeep and carelessly sparked this war. My colleagues and I want to end the violence and restore the peace - and stamp out the competition. We have a few missions lined up that you'd be perfect for. The spoils of war will be all yours as compensation for a job well done, with one or two exceptions. Just some particular items we've lost and we're looking to regain."

"Hey, and if you thought that was great, I've saved the best for last. Once you're in the Black Network, you're family! And we treat our family very well. My friend Istrid can get you a fair loan - and that's no easy feat these days. My buddy Skeemo's got magic if that's your thing - serious mojo. My beautiful colleague Tashlyn can get you the best weapons money can buy, and some strong arms to swing 'em if you need some extra manpower. And we also work with the renowned Ziraj the Hunter should you need to feed the fishes in Waterdeep harbour."

"Is this an amazing deal or what, fellas? Of course, we'd have to ask you keep this arrangement exclusive - moonlighting with our competition will be frowned on. But you play me straight and I'll play you straight. What do you say, is this the beginning of a beautiful friendship?"

---

* - A sun is a platinum piece. 1 platinum sun = 10 gold dragons

THE ZHENTARIM MEETING

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Butler frowns as Bonny departs and gives Prince a quizzical look before glancing back at their host. Perhaps she doesn't like the company we're keeping he thinks to himself before turning his attention back to Davil. He listens to the deal layed out before them with growing surprise. At the mention of wearing only approved outfits he casts another glance at Prince trying to gauge his reaction. As Davil finishes he leans back, enjoying the taste of the very expensive Sembian brandy that Davil recommended before responding "That sounds like quite the offer....surprisingly generous if anything. If I might ask what makes you think we're worth it? Seeing us play one gig hardly seems like it warrants it"

A bell jingles as Stitches opens the door to Piatran's Clothiers, a tidy, one-room shop in the Trade Ward. The kenku opens and closes the door a few more times, listening closely to the chime before shutting it for good and glancing around at the wares. He gently brushes his hands against the silk shirts, brocade, and fine woolen suits on display, careful not to upset any of the wooden mannequins.

An old, rail-thin human man greets him, a look of slight confusion spreading across his face. Stitches reaches into his pouch and pulls out a fistful of gold dragons, hold them up to the man's face, and points to three-piece suit. The man chuckles. "Well, I've never dressed a kenku before. It will be nice to try something new for a change."

In a few short hours, Piatran has taken Stitches' measurements and made adjustments to a dark frock coat, a double-breasted shawl-collared waistcoast, and fitted trousers, along with several linen shirts and a small selection of cravats. A top hat and polished wooden cane complete the look.

Piatran puzzles over the shoes for a few minutes, before retreating to a back room. He returns with the footwear now widened, with three holes in the toe and one hole in the heel for Stitches' talons to poke through. The craftsmanship is too fine to have been completed by hand in that amount of time, but the old man makes no indication of how he accomplished the feat.

Stitches marvels at himself in a full-length, three-part mirror. He'd avoided tails and stuck with a dark gray, nods to the practicality required by his profession, but he thought he looked quite dapper. He also sticks his fingers in the additional pockets and compartments he requested be sewn into the lining, learning their locations for quick access.

Doffing his new hat, he gives a low bow to his new tailor and adds two more dragons to the pot in gratitude. After carefully packing up his new outfits, he heads back to Trollskull Manor to get ready for the opera.

THE HARPER MEETING

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Xelia and Stitches make their way to the Lightsinger Theatre in the Castle Ward. Within its gilded is a taste of high society. You see wealthy patrons in elegant formal wear being waited upon by their entourages and a small army of servants works efficiently to distribute refreshments. Some of the wealthiest patrons are golden constructs waited upon by golden mechanical servants. Much to their owners' delight, the constructs are causing a good deal of hubbub and envy among their peers.As the play is about to begin, you make your way to your reserved box seat, which you have all to yourselves. As the curtain rises, you are treated to an incredible display. A live orchestra sets the mood and an elaborate production begins. You witness some of the Sword Coast's best actors dressed in elaborate costumes bring to life the tale of the rise and fall of Tiamat. Off-stage mages add a frightening degree of realism with illusionary magic. Even for an experienced theatre-goer, this opera is something else!

As intermission arrives, a fat, wheezing visitor with a glorious moustache and regal atire arrives at your box. He demands to see your admission slips, but it quickly becomes apparent that he isn't interested in tickets, he's interested in the Harper pin. He takes it from you and introduces himself.

"So you're Renaer's rescuers, hmm? Always a pleasure to meet some fresh young adventurers!" He offers and gives a crushing handshake. "They call me many names. I liked The Old Wolf the best, but seems like Mirt the Moneylender is what stuck. It is what it is. And you are?"

THE CITY MORGUE

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While Alastriona gives her statement, another joins the group in the crowded office - a woman in her mid-thirties with dark skin and cobalt eyes. The Dwarf's eyes nervously dart to her from time to time, but she observes impassively, steadying herself against a long duskwood staff engraved with runes and veins of silver.

After recording Alastriona's statement, the dwarf takes the bag containing the head from Alastriona's possession, tags it with today's date (Kythorn 11, 1492 DR), and takes it out, leaving Wynne and Alastriona alone with the woman. She twirls her staff and takes the dwarf's seat. She looks Alastriona square in the eyes. Wynne begins to translate but then stops abruptly as an invisible translator speaks from some unknown place, her voice stern like iron.

"The Watch keeps the streets clean, but they don't go below very often. The things that go on underneath our streets would make everyone run for the hills if they knew the half of it. Once you open that can of worms, there's no end to that disaster. No, that job is for me and my operation, the Grey Hands - consider it a private security force. We do the jobs the Watch won't, or can't."

"Renaer spoke highly of you - you specifically, but also of your friends. I'm looking to fill out our roster. Shitty pay, dangerous work. Honestly, I can't think of a good reason to join us. Except this: if you're like us, and you feel compelled to do something about the rot underneath this city, you can become a part of something bigger. Make an impact."

THE ZHENTARIM MEETING

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Davil Starsong speaks frankly with Butler.

"There's the gig, and then there's your involvement in other matters. I believe you are familiar with 'The Great Game' already. Neverember's Enigma. You and your associates are players, pretty good ones from what I've heard, and we want you on our side. And, we certainly don't want you playing for another team. Playing for our team will bring us both prosperity. Despite what you may have heard, The Zhentarim is simply that; a network of mutually beneficial relationships working to enrich one another."

THE CITY MORGUE

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Alastriona hesitates, her eyes flitting to Wynne as though uncertain of who ought to speak.

"I..." the aasimar begins in the language of the divine, a slight frown on her lips as she regards the woman seated across from her. "Do I know you? Are you a Doomguide?"