The Third of Kythorn,
All my life I dreamed of seeing Waterdeep: the City of Splendors! The Crown of the North! A cauldron of cultures, a place where people of all races, from all walks of life, are free to pursue their destiny as they see fit. Now that I’m here, under circumstances I would never have imagined, I am rapidly coming to wish I’d never set foot in this accursed place.
Lord Bardryn is dead and I’m terrified at the thought of what might happen next. But that is, unbelievably, not even our most pressing problem: the Dock Ward is aflame and there is chaos in the streets as the City Watch seeks to put down the striking dockworkers. Our new comrade, Geswanouth Slahoot, who I took to be a level-headed and sensible man, is apparently a former stevedore and could not contain his rage when he saw his comrades being assaulted. (Obviously, I sympathize, but If I’d acted so rashly every time I saw one of my kind being abused, I’d never have lived to see my fourteenth year.) We have now all been swept into the fray… I have done my best to frighten the guards and send them on their way with spellcraft, but I fear further bloodshed is all but certain, and our involvement has only made the situation more volatile.
Serves me right for daring to hope that our luck might have turned, even momentarily. Thanks to Viola, I was able to make good use of Lord Bardryn’s seal, and the Masked Lord’s “final correspondence” is enroute. It feels ghastly to do so in wake of the man’s murder, but I can only hope my bit of subterfuge will help prevent even greater calamity. Carric’s associate Rydell secured a trusted courier for the letter and also a safehouse in town where I might be less conspicuous. I also consulted the papers taken from the late Lord Bardryn’s estate — while mostly unenlightening, there is enough there to begin my investigations — assuming we survive the night, and assuming we are ever able to stop lurching from crisis to crisis!
Even the rescue of the so-called “Common Alliance” prisoners from the South Fort Keep was accomplished easily and without bloodshed, thanks in good part to Viola’s “childhood friend” Endrich — a pretense whose transparent falsity he made no effort to conceal. Regardless of the true nature of their affiliation, it turned out “Endrich” was a prison guard who was willing to assist us in our caper, for reasons unknown. This halfling nightblood is nothing if not resourceful, and if her shady contacts can help us achieve our aims without needless violence, probably best not to ask too many questions.
Also, it appears we have a highnose in our midst! Turns out the fierce axe-wielding battlemage Clara is actually Lady Clara of House Arundel. Her good name, combined with Carric’s forgery of Xari Wisetide’s seal — fortuitous that I found correspondence bearing the Open Lord’s mark amongst Lord Bardryn’s papers! — was enough to persuade the warden of South Fort Keep to release the priest, Igald, and two other prisoners of interest into our custody. The warden also sent one of his Eldritch Knights as an escort, but an explosion in the Dock Ward served as the perfect distraction for me to cast a blindness spell on him. (This time, my new powers worked better than expected and he was deafened as well…) Some argued for killing the man, but it was Clara… I’m sorry, Lady Clara… who not only spared his life, but even took a nasty punch to the face to help sell the story that our caravan had been waylaid by conspirators seeking to release the prisoners. I remain uncertain why a highborn battlemage is interested in aiding a popular uprising, but I’m grateful she interceded in favor of mercy when others were all too ready to slit the poor man’s throat.
Unfortunately, the trio of rescued prisoners don’t appear to know much about what is going on. Carric tells us that Shava and her co-conpsirators have “something big” planned for the morrow, but as of yet we’ve no inkling of what that might be. First, we’ll all have to survive tonight’s bedlam. More guards approach, and I pray to Mystra we can extricate ourselves from this tinderbox before any more innocent blood is spilled.