The heroes wandered toward Neverwinter, alone or in small groups, for their own reasons.
The dragonborn from the southern cities sought adventure and excitement, and found in standing in line at the southern gates, waiting as soldiers inspected farm goods and trade goods for sale in the city.
To the north, an argument had broken out among merchants and travelers as the solider at the gate, wearing a cloth tied around one arm in a golden color that identifies him as a native of Mintarn and a proud mercenary, stopped the people trying to enter and telling them that the Watch Commander had ordered no entry during an event of ‘urban pacification,’ whatever that meant. There was the sound of unpleasantness rising in the group before the gate, but an eladrin, a solider himself, warned the grumbling crowd that the man was only following orders. A young elven girl in the crowd, no more than twenty summers, remembered that on her previous visit, she had heard of a wodden bridge that allowed people to enter through the docks district.
An old rickety smuggler’s route, who knows when it’ll be torn down or collapse under its own weight, but it allowed the small group: the eladrin soldier, the young elven girl, a young human man dressed in rags, and a barbarian girl- herself claiming the age of sixteen winters- to enter the city proper.
To the south, the dragonborn Mishann had grown tired of the line, and seeing another gate manned by bored soldiers, broke from the line to enter it, ignoring the jeers and angry mutters of the merchants around him. Approaching the gate, the dragonborn was questioned by the soldiers, who revealed themselves to be mercenaries of Mintarn, under the employ of Lord Neverember, benevolent protector of Neverwinter, and allowed him passage into the city, extorting the ‘tax’ of 10 gold for entry, satisfied in taking the dragonborn’s last three gold instead.
They spoke of the Hall of Justice,. where Neverember held court- or at least allowed his people to do so. When the dragonborn warlock asked for a place to find honest work, the mercenaries told him that he could try his luck with the Hall of Justice, or down at the docks, where they were always looking for strong backs and loose morals to fill positions.
The two fey and the two werewolves wandered into the Beached Leviathan, a bar in the northern docks that was run by an ex-pirate captain named Harrag. An attempt to find a wizard, someone to help find a cure for the lycanthroy that affected the youths from Luskan and the woods to the east was fruitless in the tavern, where they harassed a young human wearing a blue hat with stars on it. A dragonborn warlock happened into the bar at the right time, and learned of a group looking for anyone with knowledge of the arcane.
The group, now partially formed, decided that the bar full of drunken sailors and pirates was not the best place for a quiet conversation or introductions, so they set out to find a cleric, still pulling at the thread of curing the lycanthropy that had brought the young humans to the ruined City of Neverwinter.
Moving through one of the slower markets, the group stopped to help a human merchant named Clorde, who had broken down in the middle of the marketplace, on his way to set up his haber dashery. He continues to sell his hats, but in the absence of customers, he’s been trying to fix the wheel- unsuccessfuly.
Kerith was the first to respond, seeing that the man needed help and no one stopping to render aid. Her comments, while insightful and perhaps amusing, were not as helpful to Clorde, who was rescued when Sorannis stepped in to assist, lifting the axle and allowing Clorde to fit the wheel properly.
Sorannis was set to leave- continuing the mission, when the grates around the market exploded, and spellplague horrors crawled forth from the sewers- an event unheard of as far west and north as the docks. This surprise led to the horrors slaying many of the frozen townsfolk, while the heroes sprang into action. A number of larger plague-changed drakes crawled from the nearby water pipes, clawing up onto land in a frenzy of scale, tooth, claw, and blue flame.
The united heroes, working together with a tiefling who happened to be talking with a friend in the market, until the friend was killed by the plaguechanged. As the monsters massed, a hero joined them in the fray, a large human man dressed in full plate armor, wearing a mirthral silver crown set with saphires- the legendary Lost Crown of Neverwinter, which makes this man the rightful heir to Neverwinter’s empty throne. The heroes united showed that untrained rabble were no match for them, and quickly dispatched with the waves of plaguechanged zombies coming out of the sewers and dealing with the drakes one at a time until the market again stood empty.
“Catch your breath but a moment,” The Lost Heir warned, pointing out a growing white speck in the clouds descending toward you, “their master comes.”
The white dragon landed with a smash, shaking loose the roofing tiles of nearby houses and creating a hushed silence from the nearby crowded markets, who had begun to empty as the fighting started. Every eye was on your group, alongside the Lost Heir- the rightful king of Neverwinter! Within minutes the dragon was laid low, while the heroes, injured but alive, and the Lost Heir used a ritual to burn the spellplague out of the dragon- with an unintended effect, the dragon was turned to stone, a reminder of your accomplishments that cannot be erased.
The crowd surged forward, cheering the all but crowned new king, who thanked you for your assistance and gave you a token of his esteem for your aid in battle defending ‘his people.’ Moments later, General Sabine arrived with mercenaries in tow to restore order to the Docks, and she quickly surmised that your heroes were responsible for defending the city. To this end, she paid you what a mercenary earns fighting on the wall separating the Protector’s Enclave from the Chasm that spews forth these plaguechanged monsters- the most dangerous and high-paying assignment in the city.
She told you to report to the wall for duty if you wanted more.
Lost Heir of Neverwinter, wearing his artifact crown was able to help us defeat the dragon. He is a mystery, although one that saved your lives (dragon’s fire attacks did half damage because of him and his crown).
General Sabine and her crew of mercenaries paid you for helping defend the city- a day’s wages as thought you had worked on the wall. This impressed the mercenaries, although General Sabine suggested that if you were worth your weight in salt, you’d come join the real fight on the wall tomorrow.
People who know of you
Aothir Shieldbreaker, dwarven arms merchant whose life you saved in the docks market. His goods were spared any sort of destruction.
Nagda half-ork barbarian woman who guarded a table loaded with sharp and intimidating weapons. You saved her table from being raided. You also saved her life.
Clorde, human hat merchant, thanked you for saving his life.
Jarvy, halfling foodseller, sold hot meat pies baked in a clay oven. You saved his life, allowing him to flee- and you even kept his cart intact, although it’s now behind a large dragon statue. Jarvy has a big mouth, and it’s no doubt that he’ll tell the tale of you and the Lost Heir.
- Spellscarred Horrors (whores are next time)
- White Plaguechanged Dragon
- Group Treasure
- 150 GP
- 2 Potions of Healing (families of the deceased could not be located)
- Individual Treasure
- 9 GP each character
- Brooch (50 GP value), signifies that we are “Friends of the Lost Heir”
ENDING PC STATUS
Mishann (Chris) 1AP; ?HP; ?Surges
Kerith 1AP; ?HP ?Surges
Rain 1AP; ?HP ?Surges
Sonja 1AP; ?HP ?Surges
Sorannis 1AP; ?HP ?Surges
Waxter 1AP; 33HP 9Surges