Zharik, What the Fuck?! (21/09/16) Edit
Darkness broken by beams of light. A familiar narrow in the path, lit by torches. Guards. What could they be doing here. “Halt” we hear. We obliged, “We’re just seeking safe passage to Neverwinter. Our town was destroyed by the earthquake.” Not a problem they said. They look familiar, but all the City Watch look familiar. These aren’t men to trifle with. “Just gonna have to look around and make sure you are smuggling anything.” We allow them, knowing full well that Durkon and Davorin were stowing away. Didn’t even think to cast a concealment spell or disguise them in any way. Would the guards even know who they were? “You’re free to go.”
Killgore leads the way with Hallwinter. “Lorkoris, you aren’t free to go.”
DAVORIN THROWS A DAGGER! --intercepted by Naka-- a rant ensues, Killgore escorts the townsfolk to safety. Blades start flying as the Knights offer us amnesty in return for Davorin. No other option really except to fight. Might get ugly. Suddenly, solace, a break from the eternal black sky as the moon sends its bright ambassadors to illuminate us. Zharik takes particular notice of the sight. He’s on the ground writhing. Blades are swinging. Davorin gets his new sword stuck in the pitch. Zharik becomes the familiar wolf and attacks. Rigo.
“What the fuck?!” Rigo yells as he’s being bitten. “Give us the Drow!” A voice calls from behind us. Hobgoblins. Smelled them for some time. We’re in too deep. Keep digging. We’re keeping Nox and Davorin, and fighting to do so. They loose an arrow. Intercepted by a flying Naka. He keeps it. Another! Drops a Knight. They’re confused. Best to let them know that they did us a favor so that they won’t make the same mistake twice.
Killed the Knights. Neverwinter is going to be a tough. Better keep our heads down if we ever get inside those towering walls. Might not be an issue. Hobgoblins are dropping us left and right. Even Durkon can’t keep his head above water. Droop just stuck a knife in Davorin’s back. Shit. Rigo, you’re our only hope. Nox is losing control of the situation. Should have bought some healing potions. Durkon’s up. Everyone’s up. Hobgoblin bashing time! Everyone but us is dead but the fight’s still not won. Tears fall as we take turns bashing Wolfik. Try to capture him. Fail. Try to illusion him. Succeed but to no avail. Nothing left to do but defend ourselves. Wolfik dies by our blades.
Zharik returns, stumbles to his feet. He seems not himself. What hasn’t he told us. The Hobgoblins had a note. 1000gp for the bearer of the glass staff. Nox. Being offered by the Black Spider. Who is this Black Spider? His markings are everywhere. The pouch of good berries. The note to Iarno. The ***. More secrets. Who’s holding back. I am afraid our bond of bloodshed isn’t enough to keep each other from claiming the prices on our heads. We should catch up to Killgore.
Writing Prompt Edit
I want to know about any connections you have in Neverwinter that might prove helpful in any kind of crisis. Surprise me.
Davorin (Lorkoris Wolfsbane) Edit
Davorin’s emo poem about having no friends in Neverwinter:
How many friends have I in this town?
Early in life, allies would abound.
None were as loyal as my dear almost brother—
To me, it was only him and no other.
Alas, he was gone long before ‘twas his time.
Redemption, shall I never see for that crime.
In a place now controlled by what’s left of my gang
Might there be a memory? A symbol? A Fang?
Durkon Beerfist Edit
I did not leave nor enter Neverwinter on good terms (old habits die hard). After being exiled from my village, I headed into Neverwinter to start a new life, or at least to finish living what was left of my current one. It was in Neverwinter that word reached me of my wife’s passing; killed in a raid by the orc/goblin alliance. I had never deserved that woman, I was never a good husband: unfaithful, selfish, dismissive of her needs in pursuit of my own, but she stayed with me through it all (over 100 years). Upon hearing of my exile, she promised to wait for me to return, she knew I would return.
I don’t know how they found me in Neverwinter to tell me of her passing, but the news hit me hard. I barged into the nearest tavern and began to soak my sorrows in ale. The barmaid, Luicena (a middle aged, and fairly attractive human), bore the brunt of my emotion, listening to my story beginning to end. She then shared her own story with me; her woes of being a single mother trying to make ends meet by aiding the local crime syndicate, her abusive boyfriend and how much she feared leaving him. That night we shared all of ourselves with each other.
One thing she had failed to share, however, was that her boyfriend was a town guard and due home in the morning. Upon returning from his night watch he found Luicena and I asleep in their bed and woke me up with a sword at my throat. My military background mixed with the fact that I was still in a state of grief and (to be honest) still drunk from the night before, was an explosive combination. As I wrestled him to the ground I smashed his face in over and over again with my fists, failing to stop even when I felt my hands connect with the ground behind where his head had been.
The commotion was enough to arouse the suspicion of several people outside Luicena’s house and the guards were called. I got dressed and gathered my things in enough time to hightail it out of Luicena’s house and out of Neverwinter.
I am unsure of Luicena’s loyalty to me; we hardly knew one another, I murdered her (albeit abusive boyfriend), we didn’t get to talk much before I fled. However, I feel if there were an ally left for me in Neverwinter, and I have not been known to collect or keep allies for long, it would be her.
Killgore the Trout Edit
During my time working at the docks, I came to know a man named Pol Smeckerous. His trade by day was a swordsmith but who had a passion for his hobby: semiology. As I worked at the docks, I noticed him coming around and looking, not quite inspecting, but just studying the crates and chests that were being unloaded from the ships. At first I was suspicious but the Dinkun explained to me that during his breaks from designing and repairing blades, Pol liked to come down to the docks and study the seals melted to the seams of the crates as well as the symbols painted on the side of the crates of items not deemed that valuable. I noticed that occasionally, he take a charcoal rubbing of a seal or sketch of a new stencil he hadn’t seen before.
For Pol, being at the docks was great because not only could he see new seals and stencils from all over the world, but once he became friends with Dinkun, he was able to see what part of the world the symbol came from and if it wasn’t too sensitive, could see who shipped it and who was receiving the package.
Being passionate for his hobby means that everywhere he went he was constantly on the lookout for new and interesting symbols. Whether drinking in the bar or walking through the market, whenever he would see a new symbol he would stop the bearer and try to get as much information about it as possible. Sometimes that ended with him sprawled on the ground with a bloody nose but more often than not, people are happy to talk about themselves and Pol was happy to listen.
His skill in swordsmithing is formidable as well. He is not, by any means, the top smithy in Neverwinter (that honor belongs to Futanari Chin-chin) but he has been known to produce some pretty respectable weapons.
Nox the Collector Edit
It is not a matter of how but more a matter of when…
It is the age of high priests, red robes and invisible moons. I am alarmingly concerned with the latter but I do not fear creepy crawlers. Neverwinter has light, but it is proportionally defiled.
Cazic Toxxulous, the demented archlich that can guide me properly.
A depth of knowledge with the visage of the macabre; a scythe piked with the skull of a horse to accompany the skin hung from his bleached bone. He is a valuable asset to The Dead, the neutral collective of corporal souls that heed a necromancer’s call. His mission is to revive the 3 metalbone golems: Terror, Fright, and Dread as they are aptly named. Perhaps if I were to join him I could get a glimpse of what the dead plane contains. I must be wary since he is known to banish anything foolish enough to foment the dead before they are ready to deploy.
Tunare Marr, the glowing priestess that has assured my destruction, a beautiful and powerful maiden of growth who enjoys the might of the Protectors.
What she holds in Neverwinter could be one of the most powerful artifacts devised by the order of light. I do not know what it is but it is crucial to obtain for Dendar. She is a competent and skillful priest, but a priest nonetheless and I hear she likes to wander at night.
I will need powerful allies to hold their own when the time is right. I believe both to be interested in my plight; but they know whose strings I must cut to be a free agent. I do not understand, however, what page I might be in their books?
I suppose in the meantime I can glean what I can from the madmen that roam the city. It is a little known trick that the mad have an impressive connection to the different planes and deities. Perhaps the great library, in particular the section Mechanimagica could give me knowledge to impart to Cazic.
Rigo the Spicy Edit
I… don’t know what came over me. One moment I am sweet talking the guards and the next I am on the ground writhing in pain, with an overwhelming voice in my head screaming “KILL” and filling me with an insatiable bloodlust. I vaguely remember what happened next, but what haunts me is the sheer viciousness of my attacks. Killing wasn’t enough, I recall tunneling up through a man’s anus and out the other side of his body covered in gore. I believe this happened more than once. I have many regrets, but added onto that is for some reason that damnable goblin made it through completely unscathed.
There is no one in Neverwinter that I know. However I know of a great House of Knowledge for the god Oghma there, perhaps the high priest Watger Brighthair can help me understand what happened to me.