Annett speaks of making the place into one of the premier music and cultural establishments in Waterdeep. Good solid food with quality drinks to back up local or occasionally foreign musicians and bards to entertain the patrons regularly. She'd offer a variety of local brewers ales, whiskeys, wines, and other spirits along with a few select choices from other regions as far away as Chult and the Shaar.
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As the months pass, you get visits from the Carpenter's Guild and Architect's Guild representatives. They give you their estimates and Renaer comes by to check in regularly, sometimes accompanying you to haggle prices down with promises of future projects.
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Provided there are no objections, Unmei's soup kitchen is set up downstairs, and several urchins make their way from the other wards to eat and grab a place to stay. She is even able to utilize them as her little information network throughout various wards of the city.
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Annett has upstairs renovated into a sort of lounge, where musicians and the upper crust come to spend time. Will Renaer and Volo's help spreading the word, soon the place is hopping!
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Please use this time to RP and if you want to spend DT for the Running the Business, you may roll 1d100 + 10 for every 10 DT you spend. If you spend money on promotions and advertising, you may add +1 for every GP spent. (Be wary that using this Downtime activity could end up costing you guys money, if you roll poorly.)
EDIT: Upon looking on the Content Catalogue, this needs to be unanimous. Everyone must spend the DT and contribute to the expenses / split profits.
Dacknar uses the very top room to keep an eye on the comings and going of merchant ships to pass on to his contacts, His fellow proactive maritime salvage collectors -for a price, of who are the 'fat pigeons' to be taken on the seas.
Need to pay for the repairs on the manor somehow.
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Over the course of the next few months, you run the Trollskull Manor as a restaurant, bar, and sometime soup kitchen. Several new and some familiar faces show up regularly to spend some time there.
Yagra comes by with her friend, an elf named Davril Starsong. At first, Dack is wondering if the elf is a new suitor, but soon realizes that he is a representative of the Black Network when the elf slips him a piece of paper when shaking his hand. Yagra smiles at Dack, but quickly scans the room, in a move that Dack is familiar with from some bodyguard work that he did in the past while on shore leave.
Unmei has a group of three urchins that come by to her soup kitchen on a regular basis. One is a tiefling boy named Squiddly. The other two are human, a chubby boy (Jenks) dressed in robes with a stuffed toy owlbear (Ferdinand), and a girl (Nat) that Unmei comes to find out is deaf. They seem to consider themselves adventurers. Squiddly has a toy bow and arrow set, Nat has a wooden sword, and Jenks has a wand and says that Ferdinand is his familiar. They bring her all kinds of information about the neighbors…
All of you notice at one time or another, dishes fall of their own accord, or beer barrels pop their corks, spilling their contents all over the floor, and other odd occurrences happen over the first few weeks. Once Annett seems clearly moving toward opening to the public, the occurrences cease to be troublesome, but rather become helpful; a chair gets pulled out for a customer for them to sit, a mug fills itself at a beer barrel and delivers itself to a waiting customer, a broom sweeps up by itself during slow periods, the doors lock up after a night of business, etc.
The Bent Nail Talisolvanar “Tally” Fellbranch (male half-elf) A small wooden sign above this shop’s main door is bare except for a large, bent nail sticking out of it. The front room contains displays of ornate wooden furniture, as well as a selection of bows and crossbows. The wall behind the counter is lined with rows of finely carved wooden canes, quarterstaffs, and shields.
Steam and Steel Embric (male fire genasi) and Avi (male water genasi) During daylight hours, smoke and steam billow from the many windows around this indoor forge where metal weapons, armor, and tools are made.
Corellon’s Crown Fala Lefaliir (gender-fluid wood elf) In addition to nonmagical herbal remedies, Fala sells potions of the types listed in the Fala’s Potions table.
- Potions
- potion of animal friendship - 125 gp
- potion of climbing - 50 gp
- potion of healing, greater - 250 gp
- potion of healing - 50 gp
- potion of water breathing - 250 gp
Tiger’s Eye Vincent Trench (male human) This private detective’s business is unremarkable on the outside, its only distinguishing mark an orange-and-black sign featuring a cat’s eyes. The door is locked, and visitors must knock or ring the bell before being let in.
Book Wyrm’s Treasure Rishaal (male gold dragonborn) The front of this bookstore is adorned with a charming sign of a gold dragon curled around a treasure hoard of books and scrolls. Inside, the shop is decorated with beautiful hardwood, and the earthy scent of old books permeates the air. The library fills two floors of this three-story building, and it somehow seems to contain more shelves than the building should be able to hold. There are some spell scrolls that are available for purchase.
Dacknar smiles at Yagra, and then shows Darvil and her to a booth/table in the back, tucking the note away to look at later -unless signaled by Darvil to look at it sooner-, where they can talk more privately and Yagra can keep an eye on the rest of the room.
In a low tone "So is this visit from the Network social or business? I would hate to find out that we need to pay insurance against bad things happening to this place. I just want to make it clear, I collect insurance, not pay it.
Now if we are talking about using this place to conduct some discreet business. I may need to talk that over with the rest of my group, since I think that they want this place to be natural territory.
Dacknar give a little laugh
"I have a hard time saying that with a straight face."
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Davril laughs, I do not deal with the collections, I am more of a talent scout. Yagra, here, says you got potential. I'm here to give you an audition. Someone is killing elf and half-elf sailors in the Dock Ward — three dead so far, each one decapitated by a blade in the dead of night. Look into it, will you? Methinks the City Watch could use a little help.
The elf leans back in his chair, Unless you aren't interested...
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Buried in the details and work of getting Trollskull Manor open for business, Annett has little time for anything else. When odd things start to happen she mostly subscribes them to accidents or competitors trying to sabotage the venture before it even gets started.
But when things turn around after opening day and Unmei mentions her thoughts about the mysterious happenings being caused by a poltergist, Annett decides to see if she can turn the spirits presence into a positive. Soon flyers appear promoting 'Meet the Spirit of Trollskull Manor' or 'Spirits serving Spirits at Trollskull Manor.'
As things progress and the poltergist appears more friendly, she is always sure to leave a special symbolic glass of beer sitting out or a place behind the bar for the helpful presence and during slow, quiet times, even finds herself talking to the spirit. Voicing her thoughts and ideas for the business to the empty air, trying to judge whether or not the entity approves or not.
"I agree wit' Unmi, spirts are nah t' be trifled wit'."
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Annett welcomes Unmei's suggestion of learning more about the spirit. She looks thoughtful for a second "What if it is some long lost prince of the city who always secretly desired to an innkeeper. Or maybe a former barkeep, who didn't want to leave the companionship and tall tales told over an evening pint."
She claps Unmei on the back, smiling at the woman. "You're right we should learn more, who knows what kind of a tale we could learn."
To the air around her, "What do you think? Shall we weave a fine tale of joy, sorrow, tragedy and contentment?"
Then tapping her chin in thought. "I guess the best place to start might be with the hall of city records. They can at least give us a history of ownership and when the place was built."
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So what does the note that I was handed say?
Here are your options:
Investigation (Charisma) - Unmei's choice of asking around to the neighbors.
History (Intelligence) - Annett's choice of going to the Hall of Records. If she succeeds at a Persuasion (Charisma) check DC 12, she can have advantage on the check (thereby obtaining greater access to the records.
Feel free to suggest something, if you can come up with a skill that you think could be relevant.
Annett spends the day digging through the city bureaucracy to try and find any records relating to Trollskull Manor and its past owners. Much of the day is wasted unsuccessfully dealing with mid-level bureaucrats, especially a particularly frustrating and stubborn dwarven deeds clerk who simply rebuffs all of her efforts to be charming, nice, alluring, or any other positively persuasive measure. Finally after a moment contemplating the odds of successfully cutting the bearded runt from his officious little stool, she instead sighs, drops two shiny gold dragons on the counter and asks again for the records she's seeking.
Talking to Darvil "So are these sailors part of the network as well? And other than the similar blood line why the interest in some deaths? And no, I don't like someone who thinks they can go kill some sailors without cause."
After Dacknar's meeting and hopefully a future date with Yagra, Dacknar walks up to Unmei.
"Have any of your little charges said anything about some Elven sailor deaths on the dock?"
After a long day digging through city records and dealing with petty bureaucrats, Annett returns to Trollskull Manor with some success. Taking a seat with the others, she pulls out a small journal full of scribbled notes.
"I didn't find much." She says taking a long drink of ale. "This place seems to shift owners every few weeks."
"The last real owner was a half-elf named Lif Silvenai. And as far as I can tell he was the last one to really run the place as a true tavern." She grimaces and glances over at Unmei as she flips back through her notes. "A few years before that it was an orphanage but apparently the owner was a hag who was eating the children. So some dark history there, but I doubt our ghostly companion has anything to do with that business."
She continues scanning her scribbles, occasionally squinting at the poor hand-writing. "Some dwarves ran it for a bit then sold it to the hag, unwittingly of course. Before that another dwarf owned it. A mage who apparently still lives in the city somewhere." She sighs and tosses the journal onto the table. "The list goes on, but nothing that specifically points to who our spirit might be."
As you explore the surrounding area and businesses you were able to pick up a little history of the Manor. The owner of Corellon's Crown, Fala Lefaliir, a wood elven herbalist and apothecary said the place has been closed ever since a half-elf named Lif passed away suddenly. Fala was apparently a good acquaintance of Lif and came across his body. "His heart gave out on him." Fala says sadly. "I always told him he should take better care of himself, but he'd just laugh and say he got plenty of exercise working the bar and dealing with the guilds. Trollskull was definitely his love, he would've hated the rundown state its been in."
You also have trouble getting some of the children to actually stay in the place overnight. After a little cajoling and kindness you eventually find out it is because the place has a bit of a reputation for being haunted. "Everyone knows miss, this here place ain't no good for kids." One of the urchins says. "You spend the night 'ere and you end up never leavin'. Been that way e'er since that ole drink slinger kicked off."
Rakdon's effort's to find out more about the manor lead nowhere. In fact he ends up alienating the owner of the Book Wyrm's Treasure, a short, stocky dragonborn of gold dragon ancestry named Rishaal. The dragonborn easily sees through Rakdon's clumsy attempts to wheedle information from the bookseller. "I'll be keeping an eye on you lot." He says pointing a scaly finger toward the door. "I'll not stand for any trouble like that with the orphanage. Any sign of foul play and you can bet the the Watch will be called." He adds with a smokey snort before closing the door.
Darvil shrugs at Dacknar's question. "Let's just say sailor's dying on our turf isn't good for trade. Especially if there're dying without our consent."
Unmei's charges don't know anything else about the killings, only that it isn't healthy to have elven blood and be wandering the Docks after dark.
Annett shrugs at Unmei's question about poltergeists, shaking her head. "I've no idea how to do anything when it comes to poltergeists, outside of either keeping them happy or getting out when they aren't." She says, her eyes searching the room for any sign of the Trollskull's lurking spirit.
"As for having a heart stop, sure it can be natural. But there are probably a dozen poisons or magical means for doing such a thing. Several that would leave little or no real evidence behind unless the victim was being looked over by a cleric or mage on the lookout for such things." She waves her hand in the air. "And I doubt there was much investigation into the passing of a simple barkeep."
She shrugs again. "So far he, or she, seems happy enough with our keeping the place as a tavern. After all things went from troublesome vandalism and accidents to helpful care, cleaning and looking out for customers as soon as we opened for business. Maybe he just wants to be sure we aren't like that hag or some other owner that brought evil into Trollskull." She adds speculatively.
"I know this spirit thin' be somethin' we needs t' look in t' but so far it has been harmless, if nah help full. But I 'ave been told that thar 'ave been some killin's o' those wit' elf blood down on th' docks 'n a mate o' mine would like t' 'ave it checked out. Do any o' ye wants t' help take a look?"
"Rakdon do ye feel like bein' bait?"
While pondering the unexpected changes, a dark haired woman steps out and tosses a bucket of dirty wash water into gutter. She wipes her arm across a rather attractive face, adjusts the dark green bandana that matches her eyes and holds back her hair. Noticing the two of you gazing at the manor she offers a bright smile while gesturing with the bucket.
"We're just the daily clean. Should be open and serving in about an hour." She says cheerfully before disappearing back through the door.
Annett sets the cleaning bucket down behind the bar and returns to her seat at the table with the others.
"I've been meaning to dump that water all morning." She says. "That new server keeps forgetting to do it at the end of the night." She adds shaking her head and wondering if she was going to need to make a staff change soon.
With a glance toward Dacknar she smiles. "Well, I don't much care about Zhents getting bumped off, but if it'll help Dack get in Yagra's good graces I'm in." She says giving the half-orc a friendly wink. "Also wouldn't mind a little break from cleaning and barkeeping."
"Nor do I 'ave any love fer th' Zhents. But I was told that both were sailors. 'N th' killing o' sailors fer no reason peeks me interest. So tonight I shall be taking a wee look. If I find somethin' great if not 'tis not me problem. If ye wants t' come help great but th' bar needs t' stay open so some o' ye will needs t' stay"
Dacknar realizes the he has become board and soft tending bar and is looking for an excuse, any excuse, to put a little action back in his life. And thumping on some elf sailor killers down on the docks, sounds like the work out that he needs.
Rackdon, Unmei, and Annett all follow Dacknar down to the docks where they spend much of the night drifting from seedy tavern to seedy tavern and alley to alley asking questions but learning few answers. Finally as the evening turns more to the next morning, on of Unmei's young charges, a tiefling orphan named Squiddly, comes running up to her.
"We 'eard you was lookin' fer elves in the docks, mis. I spotted one not far from 'ere an 'e didn't look so good." He says, tugging at Unmei's arm.
This being the only real lead, the group quickly follows Squiddly to the Muleskull Tavern on Ship Street. Shortly after you arrive a drunk half-elf sailor staggers out singing a raunchy sea shanty and stumbling down the street toward whichever ship he's on leave from. Following from a discreet distance, you wind through the narrow streets of the Dock Ward, the chill wind of early autumn dampening the air with a light mist.
Just as it looks like it is all for nothing, Rakdon spots a shadow lurking in an alley Judging by the glint of poised steel and the dark skin of a drow, it doesn't take much to figure out the lurker means ill.
With a grunt Dacknar cracks his knuckles and rushes forward as the drow prepares to knife the hapless sailer.
Marquez looks at Bhoors curiously to gauge his reaction the the unexpected encounter. ”Surely a mestake has been made? Has the great Volo, how do jhoo say? left us outside to dry?”
Dacknar sends his face smashing into the drow's face. The sound of cracking bones cracks through the alley and several of the hapless dark elves teeth clatter off the walls to land haphazardly in the grit and grime of the dim street. The drow's eyes roll into the back of his head and he drops like a wet sack of flour to the ground unconscious and except for the slight gurgle and whistle of breathing through a bloody broken nose.
The drunken sailor staggers on unaware rounding the final corner before he zigzags his way aboard a caravel sitting dark and quiet except for the usual night watch.
Dacknar's companions gather around the half-orc and fallen drow, keeping an eye out for any sign of the City Watch.
Annett lets out low whistle gazing at the drows shattered features. "He's never going to want to look in a mirror again." She says quietly. "So now that you've got him, what are you supposed to do with him?" She asks.
Uncertain if they plan to waylay the man or not, things become murkier as the half orc suddenly rushes into a dim alley. Seconds later the sound of a hard fist crushing flesh and bone echoes into the night. As the rest gather around whoever the brawler attacked, they seem to let the sailor wander on. Instead focusing their attention on the fallen body in the alley.
"Let me check this note for an address on it that I got. If not I can just take him to the Rusty Anchor, I am sure I would find Yagra there."
Reading the note (hopefully has an address on it) Dacknar searches the Drow for anything useful and throws the would be killer on his shoulder to be taken to the address or the Rusty Anchor.
The note does indeed have an address, that of a small magic shop in the Trades Ward called Weirdbottles Concoctions. Unmei's attempts to question the footpad or whatever he is lead nowhere as the man is only capable of a few mumbling gurgles before he passes out again. A quick search reveals the studded leather armor he is wearing, a short sword, a Lantanese pistol with twelve bullets and smokepowder packets along with a small pouch containing 12 gold dragons and 24 silver shards, and 15 nibs.
With the dark elf slung over Dacknar's shoulder, the group makes its way back to the Trade Ward and after a few wrong turns and quick dodges to avoid curious City Watch patrols, find the magic shop. Dacknar's meaty fist pounds on the door multiple times before a drowsy gnome answers the door, initially bent on giving the unexpected intruder a good verbal thrashing before slamming the door, but seeing the big half-orc with a drow draped across his shoulder and more importantly the note from Davril, changes the shopkeep's mind.
He quickly invites Dacknar and the rest of you inside briefly. Thanks you for the good work while insuring the drow is tied up and given a draught to keep him asleep for the next several hours. "We'll take it from here. And I'll see that Davril, knows of your quick work." He says in a business like manner, while offering each of you a pouch containing 50 dragons and quickly sends you on your way.
Then it is back to the Manor for a well earned rest as the sun just starts to creep up over the eastern horizon.
”Ugh, whee chould have just asked them how they came to be in dhe manoor. Thees es taking too long. ”
Jingling the coin purse ”Working for the Zents pays well. tucking the purse away and Dacknar takes the armor and sword to be sold later.
”We better get back to the manor to make sure everything ran fine.” And Dacknar starts to walk back to the manor.
Unmei stakes out the magic shop letting the others return to the manor for a well deserved pint and some rest.