Ah, Waterdeep. Such a wonderfully lovely town, full of excitement and potential. Markets filled with every potential consumable item for sale, hustlers on every major corner, and taverns filled with tales of adventurers near and far - and more than one of them filled with lies from these very adventurers. Such is life in the big city.
But last night, you cared not for adventure, or excitement, but instead for work. There may be plenty to do in Waterdeep, but you can't do any of it if you have no coin to do it with. You have been scouring the city for days, trying to find any type of job that will at least earn you some coin and a couple of meals, but until last night you came up empty.
Ah, the evening past. Your luck was terrible in searching for work until you stepped into the Yawning Portal. A rousing good time was being had by the patrons, mostly thanks to the marriage of some couple you can't remember the names of. You knew the Portal was famous for its entrance into Undermountain, but you have also come to know that many a stout adventurer has begun their journey to fame and fortune there, either by going into the depths of the dark or by responding to one of the posters advertising for manual labor.
Anyhow, the place was hopping, and you were even able to get a free drink or two just from being there. But that's not what's important. What is important is the small flyer tacked to one of the walls nearest the women's bathroom, and the fact that it got your attention. It stated, quite plainly:
Help! I need a package delivered, and my usual couriers are nowhere to be found! If interested, meet me here the morning after the wedding. G
There was no mention of how much was to be paid, or where this package was to be delivered to, or who this G even is. For all you know, this could be a joke of some kind. Seriously - who tacks up a message looking for couriers near the women's restroom? But it's the best lead you've had in weeks, and you need the coin.
So here you find yourself, one morning removed from the wedding, sitting at a table at the Yawning Portal. Interestingly enough, there are 8 of you inside the main dining hall this morning, and you all appear to be waiting for the same thing - whoever this G is to show up.
It's quiet inside the hall as the sun is barely up, and the place is still a wreck from the night before. A couple of young boys rush through the room from table to table, setting it right again and cleaning up as they go. An older bar wench brings you breakfast - a pitcher of mead and some decent-smelling chicken stew - and leaves you to your thoughts as you wait for this G to show up.
Dorin sits at the table, leaning over his breakfast stew, devouring it as if hecwere starved. He conrinuously casts furtive glances around the room.
Ahhhh...back in Waterdeep. I hope this G shows up quickly. These others look like a moteley crew. I wonder how many it takes to deliver one package?
With a mouth full of food, he addresses the others.
Do ya think G needs us all?
Dorin is large for a Dwarf - tall and well-muscled with huge biceps visible under his Chainmail. A large maul rests next to him with its head on the ground. A battleaxe is sheathed on his back. His beard is intricately braded.
Looking around the common room with rather sobering eyes this morning, the place is rambling and dingy, but it gives the impression of being comfortable rather than dirty and forbidding. Well-worn boards cover the floor. Wood paneling adorns the walls, with an elbow rail usually crowded with not-yet-empty tankards. Rich blue tapestries hang at intervals along the paneled walls. The famed Entry Well that leads down into the Dungeon Level of Undermountain dominates the common area.
Some of the tables in the common room can't be moved; they're built around wooden pillars that hold up the ceiling. All the furniture is heavy, stout wood. Lighting is provided by candle-wheels (chandeliers made of horizontal wagon wheels hung from the ceiling by chains and filled with thick, lit candles).
The infamous Entry Well is an open-topped stone ring 40 feet in diameter. A 1-foot-thick rampart wall rises waist-high, encircling air that drifts straight up from Undermountain. The outside of the well wall is studded at intervals with iron torch brackets, and a block-and-tackle hoist is chained to a stone lintel in the ceiling directly over the well. The well's dry shaft descends 140 feet from the lip of the rampart to the sand-strewn stone floor of the Dungeon Level of Undermountain. The shaft tapers as it descends, from 40 feet across at the top to 30 feet across at the bottom.
At least four guards are in the common room at all times. Two stationed by the well and two stand by the door to the kitchen.
Finally I might be able to get a paying job, Dugwyn thinks hoping his luck has turned for the better. He is dismayed when he sees several others loitering around for the same purpose. Dejected he look for a seat when another Dwarf addresses the occupants of the room.
Do ya think G needs us all?
Dugwyn eyes the muscular dwarf thinking, A little rude to just yell out like that without an introduction. Howerver, he smiles at his kinfolk as he approaches the table and bows at the waist, "Dugwyn, at your service." He takes a seat and continues answering the dwarfs question, "Me 'opes so, or at least a couple of the stout folk will be gettin a job." He winks at the dwarf at his table as he begins to pour some mead into his mug."
Aye, Dugwyn, I be Dorin Stonehammer of Stoneshaft Hold. With any luck, we'll both be gettin' employed.
He raises his mug to the fellow dwarf who has just joined him.
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For the first time since she had started staying here, Haven almost looked like she fit in. Normally the bright colors of the uniform of her faith clashed against the drab and lived-in look of the inn and the girl's almost regal mannerisms were entirely out of place in this part of town. However, this morning she appeared nearly lifeless, her blue eyes only half opened and her head resting wearily against her hand. To an outside observer, she was just another patron dealing with a hangover. In truth though, Haven was just simply exhausted.
She hated it here. The people here were nothing like those in the temple she grew up in. Even the marriage last night, which Haven was initially excited to take part in given the numerous ceremonies conducted by the temple, devolved into nothing but another excuse to get drunk. Oh gods...the alcohol. The smell was atrocious and inescapable. Even now, in the morning hours when people should be preparing for a new day, her face turned to be greeted by a glass housing the familiar odor, a wave of nausea passing through the poor priestess' body with a shudder and washing over her face. Haven pushed herself away from the table in disgust and began wandering the common room, one hand brushing against her face in a gesture that was equal parts worry and frustration.
It was the rough voice of a dwarf that finally pulled the girl away from her troubled thoughts. So he was here for the same reason she was. Haven blinked and looked about the room, noticing the small group gathered for the first time. She could only pray that G did indeed need them all, or at the very least he needed her. She would do almost anything to get out of here at this point. With an uncertain shrug, Haven addressed the dwarf that had called out, the girl still pacing even as she spoke. "Maybe it's something precious? Or maybe this G simply subscribes to the idea of 'better safe than sorry.'". Haven paused and nervously bit her lip as she muttered a final line to herself. "Whatever it is, please just get me away from here."
What's your name, lassie? Ya seem a bit under the weather. A little hair o' dog will fix 'er up right, eh Dugwyn?
He raises his glass...
Can I get another round fer the lassie?!
Dugwyn skeptically eyes the contents of his mug as he replies to Dorin's statement, "Me can't see how ye can stomach this swill Dorin. I'd much rather have an nice dwarven stout. The tall folk let their brews ferment to long."
He turns to the sickly looking lass, "Lass, Durin is right one must rise at the tree where one fell," as he passes the jug in her direction.
He turns to the rest gathered in the inn, "What about the rest of ya lot, come join us for a taste and tell us who ye be." He picks up his mug and tries to suppress a grimace as he takes another drink.
The serving girl watches as Haven turns pale and looks ill. She hurries over with a ceramic carafe and a clean glass. She sits it down in front of the small girl and pours a clear liquid into the glass from the carafe.
"Don't worry girl, I have seen that look a thousand times before. It's the look ye get when the night has been too harsh and ye about to make a mess for me to be cleaning up." she chuckles and holds the glass out to Haven "Drink up girl. It will make ye feel a tons better. I promise. It is me own special recipe."
Haven sips the sharp, clear liquid in the cup. It smelled a bit like roses and a bit like licorice.
The serving girl says "A couple of sips of that and you will feel as right as rain." as she goes over to tend to the others.
Grommund grunts, snores and rolls over from his place on the floor in the corner near the women's privy. With a snort he wakes up suddenly, bleary eyed and mussy. He smells strongly of the mead that is on offer in the Yawning Portal.
He gives his eyes a couple of rubs and stands, stretching. He observes the other patrons now crowding the common room for breakfast. Grommund runs a hand through his auburn beard and hair, doing his best to comb them into some semblance of order before approaching the others. Like Dorin, he has the tall and powerful frame of a mountain dwarf. He wears armor made of thick, boiled plates of leather which are threaded together into a flexible suit. He carries a pack of gear, and there is a stout short sword strapped horizontally to the small of his back.
"Good mornin'. Beggin' your pardons for the snorin'. Must had a wee titch too much tae drink last night," he says by way of introduction. Grommund grabs a seat at the table with the other dwarves and the human girl. "My name is Grommund Geargrip, lately of Baldur's Gate. I'm here looking tae make a new start. I don't suppose you're all waiting for G as well?"
He surveys the stew and mead. He grabs himself a bowl and tankard, and takes a sip of the sweet honey brew as he waits for a response from the other adventurers.
"Well met Grommond," Dugwyn responds. "We all be hopen' that this G be haven' enough work for all of us" He lowers his voice in a conspiratorial whisper,"Or at least for me self and me Dwarven compatriots."
Aye, Grommund, we are. Dorin Stonehammer of the Stoneshaft Hold. Pleasure t'meet ya.
Making her back over to the dwarves table for the third round of drinks the serving girl this time stands over the table "Not before ye fine lads go off and drink the entire morning away. I need to know which of ye is paying? Cause dishes not be getting done on their own and them mugs of mead ain't free."
She then turns her attention to Grommund "And I be needing something for the floor space ye took up last night. nearly had three fine ladies trip over your ass. Just because we are the most popular inn in Waterdeep don't be meaning we take charity. My boss will be along any minute and he gonna be wanting to square the books."
"And if ye be wanting to go down that hole over there and throw your life away, well I can't help you there. No one goes down or comes up without Durman's approval. Plus he's the only one to get that lift contraption to work anyway. Will tell you though, cost a gold to go down and a gold to come up." she says as she waits for an answer.
As the serving girl berates the dwarves asking for coin Dugwyn sheepishly keeps quiet as he considers his flaccid coin purse. Perhaps one of me new companions will cover the bill, he hopes as he quickly finishes the contents of his mug.
Despite her general distaste for the abrasiveness of dwarves, Haven turned to the table where they had gathered and offered a polite and practiced curtsy. "Haven Amberline, initiate of Lathander." Haven didn't have a clue what 'hair of the dog' was supposed to be and it showed; the look on her face was one of confusion and suspicion. Either way, whatever she was being offered, she was fairly certain she didn't want it. "Thank you for the offer, Sir Dwarf, but I must decline. The temple frowns upon its clerics getting inebriated, especially during the sacred dawn."
The offer of the serving girl was much more difficult to turn down though. Haven was only able to stammer out half of an apology before the concoction was placed into her hand despite her hesitance to accept charity she wasn't actually in need of. It seemed a tad impolite to let the gift go to waste though; the intentions were honest even if they were misplaced. With a cautious sniff and a shrug of her shoulders, Haven tasted the barmaid's invention. It might have been strange but at least it was something to drink in this place that wasn't alcohol.
Dorin slaps a Gold on the table.
I'll be in for a gold. I sure that'll be coverin' my expenses and some o' the others.
The serving girl burst out in laughter as she slaps Dorin upon his strong dwarven shoulder. "Put ye coin away. I am just having some fun with ye. Whoever this G. fellow is he already left coin to pay whomever's bill that showed up this morning. If I was going to charge ye don't ye think I would have got the payment up front like in most taverns?"
Bahwhawha! Good one! Where is this G?
The loud burst of laughter brought Siann out of her slumber, slouched over in one of the shadowed booths in the back of the tavern.
Blinking, she recalled her entrance last night, the main room a wall of sound, laughter and music in equal measure. Almost immediately she found the notice from the mysterious "G". With a glare she staked out her place to wait , paid for some food and stayed alert until only the staff and the few others interested in the "work" remained.
Standing, she stretched mightily, the sauntered over to the table where the others were gathered.
Hail, Rock-brothers. May the earth embrace you always."
She nods to the holy woman, then waits politely to be invited to sit.
Namara wrinkled her nose as she entered the place the local barbarians called the Yawning Portal. The smell had not improved since the previous evening, although the raucous clientele had thinned noticeably, and the reek of alcohol had a stale smell.
At least those that remained were no longer in the uninhibited throes of drink, as they were last night during the wedding party. The participants certainly had seemed to enjoy themselves, but she wondered how any of them would show their faces in public again after some of the bawdy displays and general drunkenness.
she chided herself.
And if the coin provided by working for this "G" allowed her to continue her search for the infidels who despoiled her clan's shrine, a few hours among the unclean was a small thing to endure.
Treading carefully past puddles of spilled ale and ... other things ... Namara made for the table where a small group appeared to be gathered. She spied a pair of dwarves - so unlike the well-manicured stout folk of her homeland - and two women.
One of the women appeared to be a servant of the heathen sun god, a crude imitation of wise Kor, unsharpened by the teachings of the Loregiver, but better than some of the faiths she'd encountered in the cold north. Walking up to the table, Namara smiled and introduced herself.
"Peace be upon you. I am Namara, a fellow sojourner and, I suspect, fellow supplicant to our prospective patron. May I join you as you share salt?"
Glancing suspiciously at the food and drink laid upon the table, she tried to catch the eye of the barmaid.
"Do you have some hot water, for tea? And bread, perhaps with some olives or nuts?"
The serving girl almost choked as Namara made her request.
She made her way into the kitchen and soon returned with a mug of hot water and a platter of bread and cheese. She then looked at Namara "Sorry no tea hun but the hot water we got. No olives or nuts either." she said as she set the platter down.
Dugwyn laughs heartily at the serving girl's joke the mead he is drinking almost spewing out of his mouth. Of course its free who'd pay for this swill, Dugwyn thinks as he hastily refills his mug. He continues conversing with his table mates when a human female approaches the table and greets the table in the tradition dwarven manner. He is impressed by her words but concludes, atrocious accent but well intentioned.
He replies to the women in common, Hail and well met, may ye mines never run dry. I be Dugwyn Deepforge, have a seat, and who might ye be?"
A few seconds later another of the tall folk approaches the table and introduces herself. When he hears Namara ask for tea he almost chokes on the mead in his mouth . it not the best mead but far better then tea, he thinks. Nevertheless, he acknowledges her with a customary human greeting, "Good-day."
Dorin nods at the tea-drinker and raises an eyebrow at the dwarven speaking human woman.
Good day t'ya both. Have a seat, and a drink with us.
Grommund freezes for an instant until other people start offering to pay for their morning repast. When the serving girl reveals her joke, he guffaws loudly. "Good one, miss!"
He takes in the new humans as well. He smiles at the women. "Mornin'."
Namara keeps her smile in place as the barmaid brings the bread and cheese, which appeared to be of the pungent, cow's milk variety the northerners preferred. Edible, at least, and for once not paired with pig, or fried in pig grease, or wrapped around a sausage of ground pig ...
"Hot water is fine, I brought my own tea," she says, pulling a small pouch from her pack and shaking a measure of the pungent leaves into a silver ball, punched through with holes, which she drops into the steaming water.
Siann returns Grommun with a thin smile of her own, and also nods in Namara's direction.
She doesn't take in any of the offered food or libations, instead taking a seat, leaning back and crossing her arms...waiting.
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The door to the tavern swings open and short gnome excitedly steps through. He is dressed in fine clothing and the quarterstaff he holds is held upright, acting as a walking stick.
"Facio, Voco, Ferre." He utters in a soft voice as his free hand motions in the direction of the open door.
Along with the motion of his his free hand, the door closes behind him without him actually touching it.
He sports a smile and his face conveys eagerness. He quickly scans the room and heads directly towards the table that the others have gathered. Along the way, he loses his footing while slipping on some spilled liquid. Quickly clutching his staff with both hands and performing a graceless dance, he barely manages to keep himself upright. He tries to stifle the embarrassment of his reddening face as looks around to see if anyone has seen his clumsy display. Approaching an empty stool he drops his pack and lays the staff against the table. He climbs the tall barstool like a person would ascend a ladder. Reaching the top he stands on the stool for a moment and drops into a seated position with his legs dangling from the front of the stool.
"Good morning all. Which of you is... G? I'm here in response to the flyer. Name's Gossamar. Fronar Gossamar. What a fun time last night."
Fronar's eyes scan around the table smiles at the dwarves, "Looks like a few of you are still celebrating!" He face shifts to surprise as both his hands cover mouth, "This IS the right place... isn't it?"
All of you are sitting around the table, the food and drink going down easily, and the conversation between you all flowing nicely as well. You are all getting acquainted and getting to know one another, and things seem ok. Time passes rather quickly, and after 30 or so minutes you begin to wonder if this G is ever going to show up. And then, as if fate heard you questioning your being there, the door opens, the morning sun shining from behind someone who walks into the tavern, shutting the door behind him.
When your eyes adjust to the quick bright and then back to normal, you are able to see who it is that came in - a middle-aged, slightly portly man, dressed in green robes. He is carrying several large scrolls and tubes, one of which falls out of his arms and begins to unroll on the floor. A quick glance shows that it is nothing more than a simple map of somewhere. He looks down at the map, then up into the tavern, and upon seeing all of you at your table, he approaches and sets his arm load of stuff down on the table, some it spilling into your own personal space.
"Sorry about that," he says matter-of-factly as he turns and retrieves the fallen map, rolling it back up and setting it down on the table with the rest. "It's been a hellish last couple of days, and I haven't the time to deal with everything properly."
He grabs a chair and then signals to the bar wench to get him something to eat or drink, and he then turns back to the lot of you, his blue eyes squinting slightly as he gauges your intentions.
"So, I am guessing that as all of you are the only ones in the bar, and you are all sitting at the same table, that you saw my note last night. Wonderful! I'm so glad that it was taken seriously. Posting by the women's restroom is not exactly a good way to get the attention of would-be employees, let me tell you..."
As you stare at him, he finally begins to realize that he has forgotten a few important points.
"I'm babbling on again, aren't I? And without a proper introduction, no less! Gordrenn, purveyor of magical paraphernalia, material necessities, and related items to many wizards of note, thank you very much! And yes, it is I that put that note on the wall that you all seem to have seen."
He takes another look at the lot of you and, seeing your bowls and drinks, gasps slightly.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry! I've interrupted breakfast, haven't I? Well, please - continue eating and drinking. Although time is short, nothing is more important than a good, hearty breakfast, eh? I can wait until you are all finished!"
He sits back in his chair, crossing his arms and smiling, happily waiting for you to finish your breakfast.
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While sipping chocolate milk from his goblet and upon hearing the mention of "magical paraphernalia", Fronar's eyes widen in surprise and a mist of the liquid jets forth into the air, like a geiser erupting. Wiping his mouth clean with sleeve of his fine shirt he excitedly turns to look at Gordrenn, "Did you say magic and wizard's items?!" His shock subsides, "Are we going to be dealing with such items?! You can't just mention wondorous trinkets and then stop!"
Fronar's eyes roll slightly back in head, as if finishing an encounter with a lady of the night. "Oooooohhhhh, does the parcel to be delivered contain such an item? What is it? What does it do? Where did you get it? How does it work?" Out of breath from the rapid barrage of questions, Fronar eagerly awaits a response from Gordrenn.
When Fronar asks excitedly about the package, Gordrenn begins rummaging through the scrolls and parchments on the table.
"The package is nothing more than a simple chest. Well, a simple locked chest. Well a simple locked and magically warded chest, containing goods and items for an old friend of mine. Tauster, in the village of Thurmaster, located in Haranshire, which is...now where is that blasted map?" he then pauses and looks up.
"I will find it in a moment. Please go on eating." he says.
For the enjoyment of everyone, with eight players please give everyone the time and a chance to respond to an NPC, that way everyone gets a chance to shine and ask questions of him/her. It is fine to interact with each other multiple times back and forth but please limit your interaction with a NPC if you have already interacted with him or her until others have time to post as well.
Dugwyn is enjoying his breakfast when a gnome enters the room and introduces himself. Dugwyn barely gets a chance to nod in his direction when G enters the tavern and is bombarded with questions by Fronar. Dugwyn observes, excitable little guy.
Dugwyn quickly finished his breakfast stew as G looks for his map. He stands up and bows slightly at the waist, "Dugwyn Deepforge at your service. Since ye seem to be in a rush I be gettin' right to the hart of the matter. How much ye be payin' for this endeavor and how much of an advance are ye be givin'?"
Athelwyn spends the better portion of the morning teetering between the prospect of taking up the posted notice on its offer or trying her luck finding a newly minted adventuring band intent on exploring the depths of Undermountain. Fortunately, the latter seems to suffer no shortage of competition. That, coupled with the horror stories of failed enterprises involving Hallaster's seemingly endless dungeon, ends up making her decision for her. Her nearly empty coin purse lends its own weight to the decision as well. The task proposed by this "G" seemed easy enough. She would need to be more vigilant about protecting her funds from swindlers this time.
That the table is already severely crowded introduces a brief pang of concern that she might be too late. Her posture is rigid and her gait graceful as she approaches the varied assortment of individuals sharing in discussion over breakfast. She tilts her head back as if to command a vantage her short stature can't truly afford and bends slightly at the waist, left arm extended behind and right hand resting casually against the base of her neckline.
"Athelwyn Hemwallow addresses you respectfully." Her accent is bizarre, though her words are properly formed, and her strange bow evaporates into a straight-backed posture once more. Her garb marks her as a wizard plainly, further evidenced by a crystal bauble displaying a hand with an outstretched finger dangling from her neck, though the origin of her garments are plainly not of the North nor anywhere within easy riding distance.
Her chocolate eyes survey each of the faces in turn around the table. As she completes the circuit, she further remarks, "I intend to accompany this band as bidden by the notice. . ." She considers for a brief second before continuing awkwardly as if unused to the words, ". . .hail, and well met."
Haven had already pushed her bowl of stew away long before Gordrenn made his unflattering entrance. Maybe it was her own anxiousness, the nausea, or even her habit of eating very little upon waking, but whatever it was, Haven couldn't find it in herself to eat more than three or four spoonfuls of the food offered to her before losing the desire to continue.
Haven was sitting up tall in anticipation of the group's benefactor arriving, her posture exaggerated and her hands folded in her lap as she did her best not to seem too uninterested in the conversations or people around her. When Gordrenn did finally arrive, Haven's eyes followed him the entire way, offering the man a pleasant smile when he looks in her direction. His explanation of things left Haven with dozens of questions, though Haven soon shook those doubts from her head. It would be more prudent if she didn't appear over eager or too inexperienced. With a meek voice and a head bowed in deference, Haven asked one of the questions floating around her mind that she had deemed appropriate. "Excuse me, Master Gordrenn, but what can you tell us of the road to Haranshire? Should we expect to run into any danger?"
Dorin watches the entrance of the Gnome and the late-coming mage with interst, but all of that stops when G enters.
Finally, he arrives...
After listening to his tale and watching the gnome all a twitter, a practical question is finally posed by Dugwyn.
Leave it to a dwarf-brother to get down to brass tacks!
I be Dorin Stonehammer of Stoneshaft Hold, Gordrenn. Well met. I would be knowin' the pay fer the task too. Also, why bring us to the entrance o'undermountain, then ask us to travel to Haranshire?
Gordrenn listens to what you all say, smiling wide at Dorin's comment.
"Ah, you are too correct, my friend! This is the famed entrance to Undermountain. Right down that there well I do believe. But if one wants to find adventurers or ones with a certain skill set for hire then what better place to do so than the famous Yawning Portal. That and I needed to hire quickly as my time was short. And as this is an urgent matter, I had to do what I had to do, if you take my meaning."
He continues to muddle through the scrolls and parchments, unrolling one and then rolling it back up, then another, until finally he seems to have found what he's looking for, unrolling a rather large parchment and pointing to a specific location on the map.
"There! That's where Haranshire is. West of Nashkel, east of Cormyr. The village is right on the Churnett River, a half-day south of the southern end of The Redwood."
He grabs his cup and takes a long drink from it before pulling out a quill and some ink, writing in the common tongue (for those of you who can read) on the map. The writing says, simply, "Tauster, here in Thurmaster".
"What I need is for you to take the chest from here to Tauster. It's a rather long way off, and it won't be a quick trip. I've already arranged for whomever I hire to be part of a caravan traveling from here south to Nashkel, which is 2 tendays and a half away. You'll be provided with food and water for the journey, as well as seats on a cart, provided you respond should trouble crop up."
"From Nashkel, you'd need to travel another tenday east to Thurmaster, following the Churnett River. The caravan won't be going with you, so at Nashkel you'd separate from the caravan and take the chest by yourself. It isn't heavy, but you may want to consider finding a cart and horse to haul it from Nashkel to Thurmaster. If no cart or horse then two of you will have to carry it together. That's a long walk carrying it by yourself."
"I can pay you 150 gold coins - you can split that among all of you however you like, none of my business really - to do this. I will pay you half up-front, with the second half to be paid upon delivery by Tauster. All you need do is take this scroll..." at which point he produces a scroll from his belt pouch "...and have it reviewed by Tauster. It has all the instructions on it that I've given you so far, and he'll be able to counter-sign and then have you paid."
Gordrenn stops here, looking over the lot of you.
"So, are you willing to do this for me? Willing to make some coin for a simple courier job?"
Dorin looks to each of the others.
I am willin'.
"I'm in as well, sir," Grommund speaks up. He doesn't seem particularly enthusiastic about the job, but he seems resigned to it.
Haven does her best not to betray her inner feelings, simply replying to Gordrenn's offer with a slight shrug of her shoulders and a "Sounds fair to me." Mentally, however, she was breathing a sigh of relief and counting herself lucky. The idea of doing the grittier mercenary work didn't sit well with her, and as an added bonus, she got out of Waterdeep without having to worry about expenses for food and water. The more Haven thought about it, the more ideal it all sounded. It was far too perfect to be the work of circumstance. In this, as with many things, Haven saw the hand of her lord and instantly felt a renewed resolve in staying the path she had chosen.
Namara tried not to let disappointment show on her face. The money wasn't much, split six ways, and less considering they'd get only half up front. But she'd made nothing during her time in Waterdeep up to now, and the trail had gone cold. This, at least, was a ticket out of the city and an opportunity to search for fresh leads.
"I am at your service, Master Gordrenn, and may it be a fruitful endeavor for all involved," Namara says, favoring the rest of the table's occupants with a swift glance.
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Fronar stands on his stool and performs a victory jump in the air like he just won a large betting pool! "Woohoo! 150 GOLD! I'll have to be on the lookout for lavish things to pamper myself with! Landing upright on the stool he pauses and looks around the table. Either these individuals don't value coin the same as him, or he grossly misunderstood the amount presented. Whichever it was he was excited to be getting out and exploring.
Fronar masked his excitement immediately as took a proper respectful stance. Stroking his chin with one hand to present the demeanor of a wise man in deep thought he addresses Gordrenn, "I agree to your terms good sir! Do you have any suggestions of monuments, sights, or persons of interest that a traveler new to the area should not miss? Or perhaps, things we should take care to avoid? We wouldn't want to present ourselves and amateurs to those that may seek to take advantage of us." Fronar raises a single eyebrow and follows up, "When does our arranged transport set off?"
Looking around at the rest of his new "companions", Fronar makes a suggestion, "If there are no objections, I would gratefully accept the burden of maintenance and care of these documents until we arrive safely at our destination."
"I be interested but 160gp would be easier to split," Dugwyn suggests hopefully as he bends over to examine the map.
"Aye, a 160 gold would go a long way towards ensuring we all feel fairly compensated and do our work to the best of our abilities," Grommund agrees.
Siann's lips twist with derision at the Gnome's ignomious entrance, then dismisses him from her attention as the other man appears.
Eyebrows raised , Siann listens as "G" is revealed and the intent of the "Mission" is revealed as well.
Ignoring the blather of the gnome, she keys in on the practical questions posed by the Dwarfs, "Indeed, 160 is a more practical amount for our number. " she declares, her arms crossed , her gaze level and direct.
He shifts slightly in his seat, frowning a bit as he does so.
"More coin, always about more coin. But I am really pressed for time. So I will tell you what I will do. Final offer. I will give your group here 180gp for the job. That's 20 more than you just asked for. As well as I will throw in 5gp for each of you to cover miscellanous expenses on the road." he says as he picks a empty mug up from in front of one of the dwarves and sets it back down again. "Now I realize that there is 1..2..3...4..5...6..7..8 of you so that's lets see... 40 more gold... Now that's a total of 220gp. That should be more than fair. And don't even think about stealing it," he warns you. "It's got a wizard's mark inside it, and I'll know wherever it is. Steal it and I'll send all kinds of bad things after you."
"Now, speaking of time...we've got 5 of you who have agreed." he then goes around asking the names of the ones that have agrred and writing them down on a piece of parchmnet. "There's Dorin, Grommund, Haven, Namara and Fronar. The other 3 of you? Yes? I'd like to get moving quickly, as we'll need to get this all drawn up legally and such. And, of course, witnessed at a nearby temple. And as Tauster needs his things..."
You all get the impression that he isn't being rude or mean, just that he's pressed for time.
You study the map briefly, taking note of all the terrain features and the trail that you should be following. The road from Waterdeep to Nashkel is well-traveled, and there are several places to stop along the way that are secure enough where you don't have to worry about ambushes or bandits. Because of this, you shift your focus to the road leading from Nashkel towards Thurmaster.
You notice that the road appears to end at a town called Milbourne, just east of Thurmaster. It travels along the southern edge of The Lyrchwood, and then banks north to follow the Churnett River to Milbourne. By your estimation, and the distances between things on the map, you are guessing it's about 2 days from Milbourne to Thurmaster.
You notice that there are several places within Haranshire that could potentially be used as places to ambush someone or a group of someones, just based on the terrain indicated on the map. However, you also know that the actual terrain may differ slightly from what's represented on the map, and that just about anywhere could potentially be used as an ambush spot.
Here is the updated link to the map that is hosted without reqiring login, I will also add it to the campaign tab.
Link to the Map
"Aye, count me in," Dugwyn offers as he considers the map. Nice map with fine details. Hmm didn't I hear a story about Naskiel and problems at the mines some years ago, he ponders. When he is done he shares his opinion about the relative safety of the journey and possible ambush points.
"More'n satisfactory fer me, sir. I'm ready to depart immediately," Grommund says to Gordrenn.
Beaming inwardly at the prospect of more than doubling her beltpouch's meager contents as an added, upfront bonus, Athelwyn nods sedately in response to Gordrenn's question before stating, as casually as she can muster, "We have an accord. It seems the mural of my destiny shall be told in no shortage of travel. Perhaps the road will be more agreeable than the sea?"
"That is satisfactory." Siann says succinctly, moving to look for herself at the map.
As she does so, here eyes move of their own accord down, down to rest on Murann, in Amn. She stares for some moments, a frown growing on her brow. Finally, she turns abruptly and returns to her seat.
Dorin moves to stand beside Dugwyn. He smiles at the map and claps Dugwyn on the shoulder.
This should be quite a trip!
At the acceptance of all 8 of you to undertake this job, Gordrenn stands up and smiles wide.
"Excellent! I am so glad to have found my couriers. Now, if you will just follow me to the nearest temple, which is just a few blocks away..."
He gathers up his things that he has strewn about the table, and you follow him out the door to the nearest temple (which happens to be consecrated and dedicated to Tyr), where you all sign a contract outlining the details of the job. The contract, should any of you wish to read it, is pretty explanatory, and outlines the following:
1. You will be transporting a chest from Waterdeep south to Nashkel, then east to Thurmaster;
2. The chest is the property of Tauster, whom you are delivering the chest to;
3. You will be part of a caravan that is leaving Waterdeep bound for Nashkel, and that the caravan will provide you with both food and a ride to Nashkel, provided you are able to provide security services should the need arise;
4. You are to be paid 220 gold coins in total, with half of the payment up front and the other half upon delivery.
The contract does not include anything you have not agreed to, and a review of it shows that everything is on the up-and-up. It is then signed by all 8 of you, Gordrenn, and then witnessed and blessed by the priest at the temple. Gordrenn then has you follow him to where the caravan will be leaving from and introduces you to the caravan master, Barshan.
"A good man, this Barshan. Don't do anything to mess up my relationship with him - we depend on each other so much for goods and services, that to lose him would be a shame!"
Gordrenn then shows you to a cart, with 2 horses, that is carrying the chest. He explains again that the chest must be delivered post-haste to Tauster, and he then hands you a pouch that, should you look, contains 110 gold coins in it. He also hands you a parchment that, should you look, contains the details of the remainder of payment, with his signature on it. It also outlines that payment will not be made available unless counter-signed by Tauster. Gordrenn then thanks you for doing this job, and he leaves, smiling, the parchments and scrolls still juggling in his arms.
The caravan will be leaving Waterdeep in approximately 1 hour, and the journey to Nashkel will take 2 ten-days. What are you doing?
All eight of you split the 50% upfront payment.
Please add 13 gold, 1 electrum, 2 silver and 5 copper to your sheet (0.42 pounds)
New Quest will be added to the campaign tab:
Deliver Chest To Tauster in Thurmaster in Haranshire
A man named Gordrenn has paid us 110 gold up front to deliver a chest to a wizard name Tauster who resides in Thurmaster which is in Haranshire.
New Notable NPC will be added to the campaign tab:
Gordrenn:
A middle-aged, dark-haired, slightly portly wizard (we think) who introduces himself as Gordrenn. "Purveyor of magical paraphernalia, material necessities, and related items to many wizards of note," Gordrenn has hired us to deliver a chest to a wizard named Tauster who resides in Thurmaster in Haranshire.
New Party Treasure will be added to the campaign tab:
Scroll of Payment
A contract between the group and Gordrenn on a parchment that, should you look, contains the details of the remainder of payment, with his signature on it. It also outlines that payment will not be made available unless counter-signed by Tauster. Whom you are delivering the chest to.
The group needs to decide who is carrying the scroll of payment that has been signed by Gordrenn and must be counter signed by Tauster upon delivery to receive the other half of the payment.