Waterdeep: Dragon Heist

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Opening the doorway, Alveron had been on edge, only to find out what the source of the noises had been. As they'd said earlier -- with a group, eventually someone screws up.

Pulling out one of her short swords, she slashed at the kenku before her, readying with her other hand to pull out her second blade, however it seemed she was out of practice as her next blows missed. She felt herself sweating as the building started to get warmer from the spreading fire, concerned about the attention this was going to bring.
 
What began with a surprise kenku ambush quickly became a surprise to the kenku themselves. With Petydark's bonfire and Yorin's blade and the burning hands of Tristan the avian assailants quickly found themselves out numbered and in great danger.

As the building began to burn from the bonfire and burning hands, the injured kenku shared a glance and threw down their blades. They fell to their knees, one making a noise like the bell which signalled a fire in Waterdeep, the other plead in the voice of a man which sounded as though he'd been tortured, "Please, stop. I'll tell you what you want to know."

Quietly and with great haste, Szilard made his exit. As the fire burned, he looked back for only a moment before he fled into the streets. Too often were hobgoblins blamed for crimes like arson, he did not want to be around when the Watch arrived.
 
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Yorin barely managed to reign in his instincts as the birdmen suddenly surrendered. He took a few seconds to close his eyes and calm himself down, and when he opened them again, Szilard had disappeared, Tristan was playing with dead bodies, and Alveron was frisking the birds for weapons. He shrugged and opted to look around the place before it was too late. He noticed a raised portion of the wall and moved to investigate it before overhearing a small sound from a nearby door. He paused before growling out. "Hidden back area. Might want to check that out." He then walked over to the door, smelling a noxious odor before he opened the door. Upon spying the man cowering in the filthy room, he turned to his companions. "Man here. Don't think it's the one with the funny name, but could be. Either way, shouldn't let him burn to death." He held his breath and reached into the room, pulling the frightened man to a standing position and dragging him out of the closet. "Don't worry, we're here to help. Probably."
 
Glancing around at the growing fire, Alveron shook her head at the Kenku and their surrender, "Fine -- but first, I don't want any new surprises." Collecting the dropped blades of the birds, she proceeded to pat down the two living and the dead, collecting hidden daggers and a key. Eyeing the key with interest, Alveron slipped it into her pocket to check later.

She nodded her head towards Yorin as he called out, but noting Tristan investigating a body, she moved to inspect it, trying to remember all the details she could to recreate later. Returning to the Kenku, she spoke quickly, not fond of the growing flames, "Tell me little birds, why were you here? Did you murder these men or merely find an opportunity? Do you know of a Floon, or have you seen the young Lord Neverember here?"

Tossing one of the newly acquired daggers, Alveron continued, "And the key, what's it tied to?"
 
As soon as the kenku surrender Tristan rushes to the human corpses, wanting a chance to investigate before the fire consumed everything. He searches through the bodies, looking for any sort of papers or documents which might give clue to their identities or what they were using the building for, but finds nothing on them. Indeed, the only piece of any possible significance he finds is a spoke tattoo on one of the corpses.

He rummages through his gear, looking for something with which to copy ther unfamiliar tattoo. Finding no ink or charcoal or anything with which to major a mark, Tristan sighs. Lacking any other option he wipes some fresh blood from his head wound and carefully traces the pattern onto his armor.
 
The less panicked of the two kenku looks up to Alveron and points to the front door of the warehouse, mimicking her voice, "the key...'s it tied to?" Then he shakes his head to indicate no, "a Floon" before adding in a nasally voice, "Tie up the pretty boy in the back room!" He nodded his head, repeating Alveron, "young Lord Neverember" then in a scratchy voice, "Just get him to the boss." and adding in the nasally voice again, "Follow the yellow signs in the sewers."

The second kenku looks to the first and chatters angrily, like a bird defending it's turf before looking to Alveron and adding in the same scratchy voice as the first, "No time to loot the place."

While the kenku share their story, the frightened man is drug out of the storage closet by Yorin. His pants and soiled and he's shaking, but seeing the two kenku on their knees and the lack of marking on the party, he straightens up and puts on his most dignified voice, "I am Lord Renaer Neverember, and you have saved my life. Thank you." He looks to the fire consuming the furniture and spreading to the structure itself, "Might we take this conversation outside?"

Just then, bells like the kenku had mimicked and shouting can be heard from outside coming down Candle Lane.
 
Yorin and Alveron check the hidden room while Petydark and Tristan watch both the kenku as well as the fearful but dignified noble.

Pushing on the wall, Yorin exposes a small store room about five feet wide and ten feet deep and upstairs a bell rings. Inside, to one side of the door sit four wood framed paintings of major cities of the Sword Coast: Luskan, Neverwinter, Baldur's Gate, and Silverymoon. Searching through the crates together they also find a crate marked for travel on the High Road. In the crate are fifteen 10-pound silver bars, all corroded and black from improper care and storage, but they might fetch a good price from the right buyer.

Over by the entrance, Petydark stands over the two kenku with a devilish grin and a small flame in her hand. Renaer gives her an uneasy look before he turns to the cleric, he seems about to speak as the front door of the warehouse is kicked in. A captain of the Watch along with a dozen other Watchmen charge into the room along with a tabaxi man who does not wear the tabard of the watch. Several of the watchmen begin tending to the fire, two elves with simple magic, and the rest by hauling buckets.

The captain steps forward and bellows, "Stop! Arson is a capital crime and you are found guilty. Men, seize this woman at once and those two scoundrels as well." He looked toward Renaer and Tristan, "Explain yourselves! What business did you have here? Make it quick or you'll find yourselves in iron as well." He seems dead serious as Renaer steps forward, "That won't be necessary captain, I am Lord Renaer Neverember and this man, along with his companions," he points toward the stack of boxes behind which Yorin and Alveron had disappeared, "are with me. They just mounted a rescue from these thugs." He kicked at one of the kenku. "They were searching for clues to the whereabouts of my friend as well."

The captain looked Neverember over, bowed politely and spoke calmly, "Apologies my Lord, I did not recognize you in my haste to quell the danger. Biz! Get over here, you're to assist the young Lord and his companions. You'll be the eyes and ears of the watch. Keep them out of trouble." He draws his sword and points it at one of the kenku, "Speak up, who sent you, where's this man's friend?!" Then kenku let out a gruff laugh in a deep voice with an orcish accent, "Hahaha, Xanathar sends its regards." He tried to stand and the captain ran him through. "Anything else?" He questioned the other. The second bird man had a look of primal fear in his eyes as he again mimicked the nasally voice, "Follow the yellow signs in the sewers."
 
A lean orange and black striped Tabaxi with small round glasses sitting on his nose steps into the door, writing in a book frantically. "As you wish, Captain," he swiftly responds, his nose still in the book. He looks up just in time to see the small bird fellow being executed, to which he turns around and dry heaves.

He steps away, toward the cleric and the noble after taking a moment to collect himself. "A pleasure to meet you Lord Neverember; good cleric," looking between the two men, "I am Bizarre Path, but everyone around here calls me Biz." He bowed, never offering a handshake and he absentmindedly strummed the viol that was strapped to his hip with a claw.
 
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Alveron followed Yorin into the hidden area, her eyes widening along with her smile as she saw the items set before them. She glanced at the paintings, noting they were quite good quality, but the faint glint of the silver caught her eye more. Speaking softly she commented, the accent dropping out of her speech, "You know ... this box just says silver, not how much was supposed to be in it. These are gang members, right? How about we take some for ourselves, try to sell it, and split the profits?" Gesturing with a thumb over her shoulder she continued, "No promises the Watch will give us anything if we're 'good citizens' and return it, after all."

Yorin snarled upon spying the metal. Despite not having the innate weakness to silver that Lycanthropes possess, shifters were taught at a young age to be weary of the stuff. Still, money was money. ”Doesn’t look very heavy at all. Wouldn’t be too difficult to take a couple of bricks of it. Watch would probably just take it anyways.” He shrugged before shifting to offer his pack to Alveron. ”Paintings look like they’re worth a lot, but would be hard to sell. Would have to keep them whole to keep their value. Not worth the trouble.”

Nodding, Alveron quietly hefted three of the ingots into Yorin's pack, tucking them into some of the fabric and wrapping them where she could to prevent noise, "Yeah ... those we'll probably just hand off as they are. We'll take three of these -- twelve isn't too strange of a number for transport, and we'll show them these 'stolen items' that we happened to find as they showed up."

Satisfied with her work Alveron nodded, the accent returning, "Right, time to deal with the newest guests, 'fore they decide we're more thugs. Good thing ya found the noble, but from the birds, think Floon got mistaken for th' young Lord." Messing with her braid she continued, "Sounds like we might be explorin' the sewers now." With a smirk, "Don't envy ya with your nose, to go down there."

Yorin grimaced and shifted his pack to better accommodate the weight. ”I’ve smelt worse. Wonder if smelly man is going to be worth anything for rescuing. A fancy man is worth more than a pleasure man, yes?”

Alveron smiled, "Depends on who's payin', Yorin. Always depends who's payin'. Like with Xoblob, he knows -- someone wants somethin' bad enough, he can ask silly prices." Stepping out from the back, she moved around with her hands easily visible, "Hello Captain -- as th' young Lord says, we were here chasin' a lead on where a friend disappeared to. Happened to bring us here, where things got a touch outta hand, obviously."

Moving up towards the others Alveron gave a small bow as she finished putting away her shortswords and tried to find a place for all the new daggers she'd collected, "We were lookin' to see if anyone else might be left here, didn't want to leave 'em to the fire, like the Lord nearly was, but instead we found a hidden area, some items I'm sure the owners might like back. Very nice paintings, a crate of silver -- 'least I think it's 'spose to be silver, all black and nasty." She placed a hand on the shoulder of the surviving Kenku, "This lil' bird has been reasonably helpful though, once he stopped tryin' to stab us. Can we maybe not kill 'im so casually?"

Seeing the Tabaxi she smiled again -- unfortunately a race they couldn't properly mimic, but they still liked them all the same. "Nice to meet ya, Biz. I'm usually called Alveron, if it seems we'll be workin' together for a bit."
 
"My pleasure, Alveron and friend." Biz bows slightly again, he appears nervious, still seemingly shaken by the death in the room. "Though I'm not looking forward to the sewers," he leans in slightly with his back to the captain and whispers, "I'd never want to make the captain mad." He looks around the much less on fire room for a few minutes, trying to understand what he was getting himself into.
 
Tristan nods a greeting to Biz. "Hullo. I'm sure we'd be glad to have a member of the Guard join us in our search." He smiles brightly, "I guess we should be getting Lord Neverember here home safely first, though. I'm sure that can't have been a pleasant experience."

When the others return Tristan eyes them curiously, wondering what he's sure they're hiding. "You found paintings here? I'm sure I heard about some going missing in the court. We can take them with us and return them to the rightful owners after we ensure Lord Neverember is safe." He nods. "Unless there is anything else I think we had best be off. The sooner we can get back to searching for Floon the better."
 
The Watch captain gestures and two of his men collect the remaining kenku while several more begin searching the warehouse. "Now that we've got the scene under control I best introduce myself." He stands at attention for a moment, "I am Captain Hyustus Staget of the Waterdeep City Watch."

As he relaxes slightly he looks around, "You've all made quite the mess here and arson is not to be taken lightly. For your aid in rescuing Lord Neverember, I'll overlook the death you've wrought here, but I'll be taking your fiery friend with me. There was a report of threats of fire and violence at The Skewered Dragon and she matches the description from the witnesses." He sighed removing two small folded papers from a pouch at his side, "The Code Legal of Waterdeep. Please familiarize yourself with it - not all Watch officers are as nice as me."

At this point, one of the men who was sent to search comes back, "Captain, sir. It's the painting from the estate. They're intact. Also a crate from the High Road marked for silver, twelve bars in total." Captain Staget nods, "Very well, it sounds like we owe these good citizens a reward." He reached into his armor and removed a small pouch, "We've got the four paintings, reward two harbor moons a piece plus an additional two for the full set." He began counting out coins, as he continues mumbling to himself. "Twelves bars of silver, probably fifty dragons or so at market, reward for returning stolen goods is about half that, twenty five dragons for each of the twelve bars that's three hundred dragons or another six harbor moons." He added the six coins to the collection in his hand, now sixteen harbor moon in all before turning back to the small group in front of him. "Alright, the City Watch has provided me with a small stipend with which to lower the crime rate by offering bribes and rewards for information on unlawful activity and lawful deeds. Please accept this reward on behalf of myself and the City Watch, we thank you for your service but remind you it's best not to meddle in criminal matters. Leave this dirty business to the City Watch." He offers the coin to Tristan and then retrieves an extra sun which he offers to Renaer, "For you, Lord Neverember, that you might find safe and fast passage home."

With rewards delivered, and his men moving the bodies out to the wagon, Captain Staget nodded, "Alright then. You all keep the blood off the streets, okay?" He placed two fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle swinging his other hand up around in the air, motioning to 'wrap it up.' There's a hustle to the guards now as they work, the man who searched upstairs bringing down a small box "This is all I found, sir. Just the paper birds, nothing else." He offered the box to the captain who let out a small, "Damn," before he pointed to Biz, "I believe he'll have more use for those than an evidence locker; there's nothing written on them or they wouldn't be here." The captain seemed a little annoyed by the lack of leads. He then added, "I expect one headed my way when you've finished this assignment Biz, no need to stop by the post. You've done more than enough."

As the last of the bodies were removed from the warehouse, a member of the watch entered carrying two familiar looking backpacks, "Sir, apologies, but there's not enough room on the cart with the Hobgoblin, the Elf, the Kenku, and the fifteen bodies. We had to remove their belongings. What would you like to do with them, sir?" Captain Staget shook his head, "Leave it for these fine, upstanding citizens. I'm sure they'll put it to good use while they're staying out of trouble and out of the sewers." His critical gaze passed over each of you. "Have a good day you lot. I sincerely hope I'm not dragging your bodies out of the next warehouse." He turned to make his exit followed by the man who left the two bags in front of you.

Renaer turned to everyone, "Thank you all for saving me."
 
"No problem at all. Can you tell us how you ended up in this sorry situation though? We're still searching for your companion" Tristan asks.

As he speaks he digs through one of the packs for ink and paper.
 
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"Floon and I met up at The Skewered Dragon. He mentioned I'd missed Volo by a bit, what a shame I always enjoy the old man's stories. We played a few rounds of cards before Floon was thoroughly out of money, so we decided to head back North, see if we couldn't find more comfortable accommodations and sleep off the loss. Well, his loss, my gain." Renaer looked down at the single sun in his hand and placed it in his empty coin purse. The coin fell through a hole in the bottom, hitting the ground with a clang. He frowned as he bent over to pick it up, continuing his story. "We'd turned down a street that was rather quiet, passing that stuffed beholder and drunkenly laughing about how dumb he looks. That was just before some thugs jumped us, tied us up and dragged us here."

Renaer shivered, "They questioned us, mostly me. The Zhentarim thinks that my father embezzled a large amount of fold while he was Open Lord, and that he hid the dragons somewhere in the city. They think they can find it by using an artifact 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."

He stared at the coin in his hand, flipping it over, studying every detail. "When the others attacked, I was being escorted back from another interrogation. In the chaos, I took the opportunity to hide in the cupboard where you found me. I could hear those creatures outside, so I just stayed hidden. I worry the Xanathar guild took Floon because they though he was me. I feel terrible about it. Please, help him."

Renaer looked around to each of you, realizing he hadn't actually been introduced to his saviors. "I am Lord Renaer Neverember by the way, might I get your names?"
 
Alveron listened with interest as the captain counted out coins, especially focusing when he mentioned the market value of the ingots. They smiled internally, 'Thanks for the starting price, Captain ... gives me a place to haggle from.'

However her eyes widened slightly at realizing the sheer amount of gold that had been handed off to the group for all they had found -- more gold than they'd potentially seen in one place, even though through the virtue of coins, it all fit into one small pouch.

She nodded as the captain left, moving to dig through the two backpacks to try and get an idea what was even in them before moving away as Tristan dug through for his own interests. Crossing her arms she listened to the Lord as he spoke, before giving a small bow towards him, "Name's Alveron. Speakin' of Volo, he sent us to try an' find the wayward Floon. Gotta be honest, not really one for magics and relics, so dunno really what the 'Stone of Golorr' is, but sounds important." Alveron pulled out her coin of Tymora to spin in her fingers as they thought, finding the small mechanical crab had somehow caught it in its claw again, "Hm ... the kenku mentioned yellow marks in the sewers, so that's probably where they took Floon. Hear anythin' more interestin'? Or any of the ones who took'im maybe stand out in your mind more? Like ones who seemed in charge, dunno."
 
Renaer shook his head, "I didn't see anything, but you've already heard the two I did. The orcish drawl, and the nasally man. It seemed like the orcish man was in charge, he didn't say much but when he did it was commanding. Though that may just be a product of his heritage?" Renaer glanced up from the coin to the woman. "The Xanathar Guild is dangerous, you should be careful."
 
Tristan sketches the symbol of the tattoo onto a sheet of parchment and shows it to Raenar and Biz. "Do either of you recognize this symbol? It was tattooed on one of the corpses."
 
Biz pushed his glasses up him nose with a thumb, looking at the paper, "Ah, yes, that is the symbol used by members of the Xanathar Guild to designate themselves. I don't know much about them, other than that the watch tends to have issues with their members on a regular basis." He looked down cautiously at the blood scrawled across Tristan's shield, raising an eyebrow, "I had been concerned that you were amoung their ranks," he points to the blood, "but I imagine you simply wanted to remember the symbol for later?"

He looked at the group he had been unceremoniously placed into and shivered slightly. Why am I always put on babysitting duty?
 
Tristan nods. "Indeed. And with the building on fire and the city watch undoubtedly rushing in it seemed important to note the symbol before we lost the body. If you have a rag or handkerchief I would be much obliged."
 
Biz pulls out a bit of fabric from his pocket, and rubs it onto a bar of soap that he carries around with him. He holds out the cloth, making sure that he doesn't touch Tristans hand as he passes it off to him. He retracts his paw almost immediately, and continues to be a bit jittery until the blood is cleaned up.
 
Frowning slightly at Renaer's comment of the orc's "heritage" her smile quickly returned. "Well, we'll see how things end up. With all this new coin, think we might grab us some gear to prepare for wandering everywhere but the sewers." She winked towards Ranaer with a grin, "Anyways, hopefully ya get home safe, maybe hire a bodyguard, yeah? Seems you're pretty well known, and a pretty big target yerself with all this 'dragon hoard' stuff."

Alveron bowed slightly towards the Lord, keeping in mind all the blades they currently carried. "If ya don't mind, I need to speak with apparently our newest helper on this search for Floon." Placing a hand on Biz's shoulder she leaned down and pointed towards the area the guards had found the stolen loot earlier, "If we're gonna be workin' together, I need to have a chat with ya. Privately." She smiled strangely, "Nothin' dangerous, jus' lets me know if we're truly gonna be friends or not."
 
Biz recoils slightly from the hand on his shoulder, but he calms as he allows Alveron to lead him away. "I would be happy to speak with you."
 
Leading Biz back to the hidden area, Alveron closed the opening most of the way, making sure it didn't reseal itself, but still allowed some light into the area. Her posture changed as the accent dropped out of her voice, "Right." She crossed her arms as she looked at the Tabaxi. "If you're going to be with us, though I don't normally share this so casually, I don't think time is on our side to let this ... play out and get a better feel for each other." Shifting her stance she blocked the exit, lowering her voice as she continued, though her form and features changed, becoming thinner, her skin changing color to be more fair. Eyes faded from green to blue, her hair shortened and lightened to a light brown, ears lengthened, body changed under the simple leather armor until Biz found himself looking at a male elf who smiled. The man stooped for a moment to grab the small cord of leather that had fallen as the hair changed.

A new voice spoke to Biz, though the manner and accent hadn't changed, "Even this is not who I truly am, but I believe it shows my point." He adjusted the armor that now rested differently on his form, "Thankfully ... my Elf and my Human are mostly the same size, so I don't need to worry about changing my gear." Hands resting on the handles of the shortsword, Alveron continued, "Now ... people like me are ... perhaps not exactly favored. And the other two already know, Yorin and Tristan. I expect them to keep my secret, as they know I will keep their own, nor use their forms." The elf focused on Biz, studying him, "I show this to you out of trust, which I expect will be needed if we're to work together, and my abilities will likely become relevant if we're to work our way through the sewers, but hopefully if you know in a more ... controlled environment, we can speak about this and not end with blades drawn."

Alveron smiled, his arms spread wide, "If you believe this to be an illusion, you're free to test how real it is."
 
Biz's eyes go wide with fear as the figure before him shifts and changes, but the expression quickly turns to curiosity. He raises one eyebrow and he inspects Alveron for a few moments. "A shapeshifter, I see," he continued to study the intruiging creature before him. "I'm not really one to try to end things with a blade, and this revelation merely piques my intrest. I thought, no offense intended, that I was being ordered to babysit a group of small time criminals so that I could report back and get them arrested." He touched the skin of Alveron's arm, curious if it felt the same as an elf or a human, not that he really knew what they felt like. "This makes my job much more interesting. I appreciate that you told me about this, and you should know, I have no intention of making an issue with you or your friends out there. I would like to help in any way I can, not because I was ordered to, but because it seems like the right thing to do."

He pulled out a sheet of paper and began scrawling down notes on it. A minute later he stuffed the folded up paper back into his pocket. "Would you mind if I studied you? Not now, but later, after our mission. Your kind has not been written about much, and perhaps if the academic world had a better understanding, there would be less fear."
 
Alveron played at mock offense, "Small time criminals?" He smiled, "How rude. I think you'll find we can be quite honest, with the right group. Besides, I'd definitely rather not be arrested ... leads to questions and typically means I have to 'burn' a persona." The elf frowned, "I quite like my current set too. That's assuming things went nicely..." He rubbed his neck for a moment, "that's a big assumption."

As Biz wrote down some notes Alveron tried to peek before the pages went away, "Er ... how do you mean study? I'll be honest there's a fair amount I doubt I can explain it's just ... an instinct I suppose. Plus, I don't know if 'better understanding' would do much -- if anything it might make things worse, understanding what I can do. Knowing my limits ... could likely get others killed or arrested under false assumptions. A tabaxi who lost their tail from accident, a tiefling merely born without one as well, among other things."

Alveron's form returned to that of the human woman from before as she rebraided her hair, "Too many people assume all we do is 'collect' people. I expect some are like that, I try to be reasonable about it, I don't use friends, and the people I mimic most are those I met miles away from here. This woman I think was a blacksmith, the Elf some passing merchant. The Tiefling someone I met in a tavern one night who caught my eye. Her horns were such an interesting design ... If I could walk the streets as myself, maybe, but then I'd probably be sought after by every thieves guild from here to Neverwinter for some scam or con, or merely killed on the spot just to remove the risk." She sighed, "Sorry ... anyway. I don't know, we'll have to discuss it, but ... just. This is a big risk for me to even mention let alone show to someone. In finding Floon I may need to use my ability to get us through places, or scout areas. To make things easier for friends, I have a tell." She pulled out the coin of Tymora, flipping it between her fingers, "Lady Luck is pretty fickle, but she's been decent to me. If you're ever unsure if it's me or not, check for this coin." Placing the coin away, her posture started to shift as the other accent returned, "Anyways, think we got some shoppin' to do, 'fore we go trottin' through the sewers. Got more coin now than think I've ever seen in one place."

Pushing the door open again slightly she gestured for the Tabaxi to exit, "Shall we?"
 
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