📰 A Friend in Need

The kenku opens its beak, glances at Vinny, and then closes it again. It edges its way to the door, before taking flight. But not actual flight, because, y'know, no wings.

The warehouse is yours.

Vincent hears a noise from beneath the stairs. The door to this storage closet hangs loosely on broken hinges. The cramped chamber beyond smells strongly of sour fish and vinegar. It is filled with discarded ropes, canvas tarpaulins, and splintered wood from smashed barrels.

Vinnie hears ragged breathing coming from under a tarpaulin at the north end of the room. Pulling it back reveals a bedraggled young noble Revember cowering in the stinking detritus. He smiles up at Vincent nervously.

Renaer's lower lip wobbles as he nods at Patience's offer of a moment to cry.

After a good sob, he collects himself enough to recount what happened.

He and Floon were drinking in The Skewered Dragon, but Floon was too intoxicated to find his way home by himself. Renaer offered to escort Floon. They were jumped by five Zhentarim thugs as they headed north on Zastrow Street, and taken to this warehouse.

Then the Zhent thugs who kidnapped them were attacked by the Xanathar gang inside this warehouse.

The Xanathar took Floon away, but Renaer believes that Floon was taken because he believes that they mistook Floon for him - and Renaer was too scared to correct the misunderstanding. Later Renaer slipped his bonds and hid. He could hear the Xanathar kenku searching for him.

"The Zhentarim thinks that my father embezzled a large amount of gold while he was Open Lord and that he hid the dragons somewhere in the city. They think they can find it by using an artefact called the Stone of Golorr, which was in the hands of the Xanathar Guild until recently. Apparently, someone stole it. The Zhents thought I knew something about all of this, but I don’t. My father and I haven’t spoken in years."

Renaer nods, "They did mention sewers, and something about yellow markings and Fishgut."

He then starts sobbing again, as he suffers with survivors' guilt.

"Fie! I shall not sit idle and abandon my companion." Exclaims Renaer.

"Furnish me with one of the fallen rapscallion's blades and we shall storm the foe's lair together!

I'll have you know that the blood of kings flows through my veins."

He holds a hand out, expecting one of you to fetch him a shortsword. When it becomes clear that you're not squires he retrieves one himself.

Renaer holds the kenku's dirty, dented shortsword aloft in what he imagines to be the sort of heroic pose struck by bygone kings of lore. But his pretensions are rather undercut by his next proclamation:

"To the sewers on Fishgut Alley!"