22 Mirtul, Year of Three Ships Sailing (1492 D.R.), nine bells after highsun.
The waning moon has set and it is very dark when we reach the entrance to Candle Lane once again. It is still very uninviting but, as before, all is quiet. We move stealthily through the alley, slipping from one velvety shadow to the next. I find my anxiety growing rather than fading with every yard that we pass unmolested.
Finally reaching the circle of lamp-light around the warehouse entrance, we pause to listen once again.
“There does not seem to be anyone about. Let us approach the door.” I whisper.
Eliana shrugs.
Vaikner calls Fukurou down from his scouting flight above and we furtively move to stand in front of the warehouse door. It is fastened closed with a heavy metal padlock.
“Is anyone good at picking locks?” Eliana asks quietly.
Vaikner and I shake our heads. With a frown of concentration, Eliana fidgets with the padlock for a while.
“No good.” She mutters. “Maybe we can try to get in through these windows.”
There are large windows into the warehouse on either side of the front door but they are covered up with wooden planks.
“Let me try the lock.” I offer. “I have this dagger…”
I do not know how to open the lock but I do not think that our luck will stretch to pulling boards off windows without being noticed. I poke the knife tip hopefully into the padlock and wiggle it around. I do not know what it was that I did but there is a little click and the hasp pops out of the lock!
“I opened it! I opened it” I announce excitedly.
“Alright, shhh!” Eliana sets the metal padlock quietly to one side. “Are we really doing this?”
I am already pushing open the warehouse door. It is heavy but its hinges are well-oiled and it swings inwards noiselessly. The interior is as dim as the street outside and it does not smell good. A disorienting melange of odors wafts out as I step cautiously forward. There is an unpleasantly pungent base note of fish and poorly cured leather. Woven through this, fresh and urgent, I smell excrement and blood. My heart pounds as I move aside for Eliana and Vaikner to join me.
That is when we see them. Bobbing spots of pale light, moving in the distant corners of the large room. Small hunched figures hop and flit within the pockets of weak illumination. They move haphazardly around the echoing space. Perhaps they are searching for something? The noises they are making are not exactly speech. I hear occasional words in many languages and in varying tones. But there are also odd clicks, ringing sounds, and animal growls.
My companions and I have frozen in the doorway, watching in cautious fascination. We have not yet formulated any plan when one of the figures, much closer to us than we at first realized, notices our uninvited presence. There is a shrill whistle, like a kettle boiling furiously. This alarm call galvanizes the remaining shadowy forms. They scatter, dropping their lights and ducking behind various crates and boxes.
There is a moment of stillness and then I hear a different whistling sound. This one distressingly familiar. I feel a sharp pain as the arrow tip grazes my arm and I slump against the side of the door.
Vaikner, intelligently declining to make himself a target by remaining framed in the doorway, turns and slips back out of the warehouse. Eliana runs inside and quickly finds concealment behind a stack of crates.
I, bleeding and cursing quietly, slink along the wall as I peer desperately into the patchy darkness. Eliana has produced her bow and fires off in the general direction of our attacker. The battle has begun and I do not even know who we are fighting!
The interior is a shadowy maze. I can see high stacks of crates, boxes knocked to the ground and broken, and several more…organic shapes. I fear that these are bodies. The darkness stretches upwards to a high ceiling out of sight above me. But there is also a gallery of sorts that juts out along the length of the looming warehouse wall ahead, creating a partial upper floor. I can see more supplies up above, as well as a closed door to an office or to a locked storage compartment.
I have had only moments to recover from the shock of my injury and to try to get my bearings in the dark room. As I peer up at the gallery, a flash of blue light sears through the gloom towards me. I duck and roll frantically, trying to get to some kind of shelter. I bump up against a cold, stiff form. It smells of dirty fur and it slowly leaks blood onto the floor where I lie curled against it. Someone killed a Bug Bear!
I managed to avoid the first wave of blue-lit attack but the next strike hits my legs. I hiss as acid-pain flares through me. I am not sure how I am being injured but at least now I know that there is a wielder of the Art on the upper floor.
Vaikner has realized this too. He has been leaning into the doorway for swift checks on the progress of the fight and I see the green flashes of his magic as he sends a curse at my attacker. Eliana’s bow twangs again and again.
I tuck my feet closer to my body, getting ready to spring forward. I plan to weave and duck across the floor until I reach the far corner of the room. Under the gallery and, hopefully, out of reach of the malignant wizard.
I make it only part of the way there before I hear a clattering noise close by. It sounds very much like the bony clicking of rattles that Inugaakalikurit of the Glacier carve for their young ones out of walrus tusk. I whirl, trying to find the source of the odd sound, and narrowly avoid the cudgel strike of a small figure behind me!
Still feeling the burning pain spreading up my calves, gasping hungrily for breath, I get my first good look at my enemy. Standing only five feet tall, the bird-like creature is cloaked in robes the color of a fresh purple bruise. Their fierce beak is open and they hiss at me. The feathers visible under their hood are blue-black and their eyes are little beads of jet. Their arms and legs are not feathered but scaly and tipped with sharp claws. They carry a cudgel and a dagger and they lunge at me with both as I stare at them in wonder.
I have never seen a Kenku before; only heard tales of these tragic avian cousins punished for some forgotten crime by their ancient god. Deprived of both flight and voice. And adapting to their plight by becoming skilled in mimicry. They use all that they hear in the world around them, weaving it into a unique language of their own.
I would not have wished for my first encounter with these fascinating beings to be one of violence. But, as the Kenku jabs at me with their blade, instincts honed by long training take over my movements. I draw Quen and slash at the oncoming threat. My sword slides easily through cloth, feathers, and flesh. And the Kenku drops to the ground with a gurgling little cough.
I take a few steps forward before I hear Eliana’s hoarse warning from somewhere to my left. I see another Kenku, this one wearing much more ornate embroidered robes and carrying a staff, floating down from the upper floor in a glowing blue cloud. Their eyes are alight with rage as they look at their dead companion.
“Elodie, be careful!” Vaikner has come inside and is staring at the levitating Kenku wizard with anxious eyes. “Get out of the way!”
I am already leaping behind a stack of crates, desperately trying to avoid the Kenku’s acid-pain attack. I must have managed to escape most of it: it only stings a little this time.
Vaikner is squaring up to battle the wizard while Eliana shoots down another Kenku that was stealthily approaching, attempting to ambush our group.
The Kenku wizard, more furious than ever, blasts more blue sparks at Vaikner. Fukurou swoops in to protect the Drow and is struck by the scintillating pain-shower. There is a sad little “phhht” noise and the owl disappears. Despite Fukurou’s heroic sacrifice, Vaikner is also hit by the Kenku wizard’s spell! He lies, unconscious or dead, on the warehouse floor.
The Kenku turns to Eliana, clicking their beak menacingly.
Mind churning with anger and sadness, I vault to the top of the stack of crates that I was using as shelter. Balancing on the top box, I am at the same level as the floating Kenku wizard. Silently, I draw my dagger. I whip it through the air at the wizard and they caw, startled, as it strikes. They scrabble uselessly at their chest. I watch the wizard wobble as the blue glow around them fades. The light disappears and the Kenku drops painfully to the floor. They reach up once, as if beseeching the unseen sky for aid, and then their clawed hand falls limply down. They are no longer moving.
Sighing in tired relief, I slip and hop my way down the tower of crates. I run over to Vaikner, kneeling down to examine his injuries.
Crumpled in a little purple pile, without the odd mix of intense enthusiasm and uncertainty that usually animates him, Vaikner looks even smaller than normal. His vibrant blue-black skin has frosted over into ashy tones and his eyes are closed. He smells comfortingly of dusty paper and leather-bound books. And of some sweet fragrance – sandalwood, perhaps? I feel blood irritatingly tickling its way down my arm and wince as the curse-burns on my legs flare with painful heat. Bowing my head, I force stillness into my anxious air.
“My Lady, may Your healing breath soothe his pain.” I whisper, focusing on the cool flow of restorative energy that passes from me to the Drow.
Vaikner stirs.
“We survived.” He says, blinking up in surprise.
“So it would seem.” I reply, breaking into merry laughter.
“Quiet! There is still something here!” Eliana whispers urgently.
We help Vaikner to his feet and then the three of us stand, back-to-back, listening.
Eliana is right. I hear a sad little whimper coming from a nearby box. We approach silently and then Eliana reaches down. The plaintive cry is cut off as she grabs and lifts a small struggling form out of the crate. I prepare my swords.
“This is another one of the enemies!” I cry. “Move out of the way!”
“Wait!” Vaikner calls. “I want to talk to it. I have questions.”
“She is very small.” Eliana points out. “I can hold her. You can always hurt her later Elodie.”
I give her a grudging nod.
This Kenku is only three feet tall and has some delicate yellow tracery along her beak. Her feathers are more gray than brown and her clawed talons are not as thick as those of her companions. She appears to be a juvenile. She wears gray and purple robes. A small knife drops from her shaking hand as we look at her.
“What is your name?” Vaikner starts his interrogation with kindness. “I will not hurt you but we need some information.”
“Is your name.” The little creature replies in Vaikner’s own voice, and then makes a series of sounds that resemble the satisfying clicking noises that I heard when I pried at the tumblers on the warehouse lock.
“Click?” Vaikner questions. “May we call you Click?”
“Call you Click.” The Kenku responds.
I shift uneasily; the experience of hearing Vaikner’s voice perfectly reproduced by the little bird form is eerie.
The Kenku whips around to me, eyes growing wide in horror. Her beak snaps shut and, despite Vaikner continuing to gently question her, she says nothing else.
“I think she saw you kill her companions.” Eliana turns to me. “She’s very frightened. Maybe you could move away a few steps? It might reassure her enough so that she talks again.”
“You killed her companions too!” I protest, aggrieved.
“Yes. But, you know, more from a distance. It wasn’t quite so bloody. And I am not looming over her with the blades that killed her friends. And that are, I will mention, still dripping gore.” Eliana points out caustically.
“Fine.” I grumble, walking away.
I retrieve my dagger from the Kenku wizard as discreetly as I can, and clean all my blades. Then I stalk in a circle around my companions and the Kenku, examining the bodies on the ground.
There are Humans and Orcs, a Dwarf and a Bug Bear. Many are dressed in simple black leather, some wear purple sashes. I look over the contents of the shattered boxes. And I open several crates to peer inside those too. I see swords and arrows, chain mail shirts and helms. There are also provisions: sacks of grain and wax-sealed tubs of fat. This place seems to have been an arms depot. Or the staging ground for an army preparing to march out to battle. But there is no army quartered in a warehouse in a dimly-lit alley in this part of the Deep. At least, none that I have read about.
While I busy myself with exploration, my companions have convinced the little Kenku to start talking to them again. Sniffing in irritation, I cannot help but listen in.
I am struck by Vaikner’s kind tones and by Eliana’s patience. They coax information out of the Kenku even though her responses are a disjointed mix of phrases in many voices. Speaking to her is like solving a series of puzzles. Intrigued despite myself, I unconsciously draw closer and start to participate in translating Click’s singular speech.
The little Kenku darts nervous glances at me but, fortunately, seems to have decided that I am not as dire of a threat as she first thought. She continues to speak, even when I join the group once again.
The tale that we piece together is grim. Click confirms my suspicions that searching for Volo’s friend has thrust us firmly into the midst of the Deep’s gang warfare.
The group of Kenku that we fought here were members of the Xanathar Guild. Compatriots of the purple sash-wearing miscreants who attacked Yaghra at the Yawning Portal. And of the gang-feud victims whose dead bodies we saw in the streets of this Ward. The crew that the Kenku belonged to invaded the warehouse earlier this evening.
Candle Lane is a Zhentarim strong-hold and the Xanathar Guild knew that the Zhents would bring any valuable prisoner here. Click does not know what Floon possesses that is of such importance to both the Zhentarim and the Xanathar groups. She only knows that her crew was tasked with defeating the Zhents and with taking the item that their prisoner was holding back to their leader, Xanathar.
The Xanathar contingent did defeat the Zhents but, because they were unable to find whatever item of value Floon was supposedly carrying, they simply took the Human back with them. Down into their sewer tunnels. The Kenku and her companions were left behind to scour the warehouse for any additional valuables and information. Which is what they were doing when my companions and I arrived.
“Well, at least we didn’t walk in on their battle with each other.” Eliana sighs. “What are we going to do with this Kenku?”
“I fear that, if we let her go, she will report back directly to her gang. And they will return here to attack us.” I bite my lip.
“I promised her that she would not be hurt!” Vaikner interjects, looking at me accusingly.
I return his stare coolly.
“I was going to say that, despite the risk, we do not have much other choice.” I continue calmly. “We cannot execute her in cold blood. She is unarmed. And only a Fledgling.”
“Alright.” Eliana shakes her head. “We let her go and hope for the best, I suppose.”
Vaikner turns and speaks to Click urgently.
“Little One, please go somewhere where you will be safe! Do not come back or talk to anyone about what you saw here! Can you do that?” He asks.
“Do that! Promised! Not be hurt. Not come back or talk. Will be safe.” Click responds in a mishmash of Vaikner’s own words, looking pleadingly around at us.
We lead the Kenku to the warehouse entrance and then release her, watching her scurry down the alley. Pushing the heavy doors closed, I find that there is a strong bolt on the inside. I slide it to, feeling a little more secure to have a locked door between us and Candle Lane.
I quickly describe what I saw during my brief rummage through boxes while Vaikner and Eliana interrogated the Kenku.
“We should check upstairs also.” Vaikner suggests. “We may find something useful.”
Carefully weaving our way through the dark lower floor, we find a staircase in one corner of the warehouse. This leads us to the upper level and, while Eliana and Vaikner try the closed door directly off the stairway, I do a rapid sweep of the open portion of the gallery. I do not wish to be surprised by another attack from the dark.
As I approach the overhang where the Kenku wizard stationed himself to blast us from above, I slow down. To my relief, I do not see that the creature has left any unpleasant gifts for us.
In fact, after kicking apart several moldering crates, all that I discover are some bottles of rancid cooking oil. I turn to go back to Eliana and Vaikner. As my air creates eddies in the dust, I see a pale shape flutter on the floor at my feet. It is a piece of parchment. Curious, I reach for it and then pause, lips parting in dismay. The parchment is rolled into a small cylinder, cleverly affixed with a fine leather strap to a large black snake. A smooth-scaled, glistening serpent with small bat-like wings growing from its sinuous form. I have never seen a winged snake before…
The creature is dead, pierced through with an arrow. An arrow that is a match for the bolt that wounded me just a short time earlier. I run my finger with gentle sympathy over the ebony scales, admiring their fading luster and the intriguing way that the reptilian skin melds seamlessly into papery wings. The creature gives a twitch. I step back hurriedly before reaching towards the now-still body for just long enough to remove the parchment from its little leather cradle.
There is a symbol inked onto the front: another winged serpent weaves its way sinuously across the sheet of paper. There are also letters but I cannot make them out. It appears to be some kind of coded message. I put it in my pocket to show to my companions later.
Eliana and Vaikner, opening the door off the stairway, have entered a small series of interconnected rooms taking up one corner of the upper level. I join them, realizing that their search has yielded even more disconcerting discoveries than my odd message-snake and bottles of aged cooking grease.
Grim-faced, Eliana points out a solid wooden chair in the middle of what appears to be an abandoned office. There are leather and metal restraints attached to the arms and legs of the seat. The wood of the chair is chipped and stained. There are blood spatters on the floor all around. And fragments of something ivory-colored. A tooth?
I shake my head in disgust; the stench of old blood, sweat, and vomit scream torture chamber as loudly as does the awful chair itself.
Vaikner, his lips tightened into a pale, angry line, holds out a necklace on a broken chain.
“This was on the floor, under the chair.” He explains.
I examine the necklace curiously. The chain is wrought of fine golden links and the pendant is a large smooth oval of heavy white bone. Or ivory. The front of the pendant is carved into the likeness of a woman’s face. In this simple silhouette, a profile, a gifted artist has managed to capture the delicate lines of a refined nose and the strength of a stubborn chin. It is a striking impression of a determined and elegant face.
Turning it over in my fingers, I am saddened to see that the lovely piece is damaged. There is a thin crack that begins just behind the woman’s neatly coiffed hair, and that widens into a gaping hole encompassing the back of the pendant. Looking closer, I realize that nearly the entire back is broken off. There is a cavity here; the oval pendant seems to have been constructed of two halves with a hidden chamber within. Whatever the pendant may have held, it is now empty and little pieces of ivory crumble away under my seeking fingers as I run my hand over the jagged edges of the broken ornament. At least it was not tooth fragments that I saw littered around the chair…
Vaikner stores the necklace securely in his cloak pocket and we descend the stairs in silence. I am looking around gloomily as we reach the main floor when Eliana suddenly grabs my elbow.
“Look there.” She whispers. “There is another door, tucked away under the stairwell itself. I guess we didn’t see it, coming up. Maybe another storage chamber?”
We gather around the door. It is stuck shut or locked. But, after I give its rusting handle a satisfying wrench, it flies open. Coughing, I step back from the powerful blast of fishy stench that emerges. I can see several clay jars that probably hold the fermenting finned creatures responsible for the reek. I also see heaps of rotting fish nets. And, lastly, I notice a tall Human man, currently barreling his way out of the doorway and trying to push past us.
“Stop that! Stop!” I gasp, reaching for his slippery form and coming back with a handful of slime and fish scales.
He kicks out at my injured legs and I stumble, staring at him as I fall. He stares back, his face hard, but does not stop running. The pale smooth skin, those thick waves of gold-red hair, that distinctive, handsomely-hawkish nose! They are all familiar!
“Wait!” Eliana steps forward. “Are you Floon?”
Her question stops the man’s headlong rush forward.
“Floon! Do you know Floon? Where is he? Is he safe?” He barks out fiercely.
His eyes are a blaze of fear, passionate grief, and fury as he stares demandingly at each of us in turn.
Next to me, Eliana gives a dejected little sigh and her hand drops away from whatever complicated repair work she had suddenly decided to perform on her braided locks.
I fight back a wave of sympathy at the young man’s obvious distress, narrowing my eyes at him mistrustfully.
“Ah, you must be Floon’s friend? The second missing young man?” Vaikner says with the cheerful politeness of one whose coat has not been smeared with fish guts. “I am Vaikner, and these are my companions Eliana Cooper and Elodie Skyshard. We were tasked by Volo to find Floon and bring him home safely. And, well, now I suppose that we are also finding you.”
He smiles ingratiatingly at the young man. The man does not smile back.
“What is your name?” I ask curtly.
He whips around in my direction and frowns a little, seeing my struggle to get back to my feet. His eyes lose a little of their wild light.
“Yes, I am Floon’s…friend. My name is Renaer. Renaer Neverember.” He sighs.
A long silence follows. The type of silence that is actually quite noisy; busily filled by multiple people rapidly thinking many thoughts.
“Yes.” Renaer says in irritation. “That Neverember. My father is Dagult Neverember. But we are not on speaking terms. And, as you can see, I never left the Deep! I had no need to, having done nothing wrong!
“Now, please! Tell me what you know about Floon!” He cries.
I look around at my companions, brows raised and hair curling in nervously, as the situation that we have found ourselves in suddenly starts to make more sense.
Dagult Neverember, previously Open Lord of Waterdeep and, more recently, ruler of the Deep’s rival city of Neverwinter – I did not know that he had a son!
Of course I, like many others in the Realms, only know what is most scandalous about Dagult: that, after ruling the Deep for many years, he disappeared. And then resurfaced in Neverwinter, in the far north. Ruling over that city instead.
In the chaos that followed his departure, and during the search for his replacement, it was not immediately discovered just how much of the Deep’s treasury Dagult took north with him. Once Lady Laeral Silverhand, the current Open Lord, was prevailed upon to take leadership of Waterdeep, a thorough investigation was started. Distressingly, this revealed that Lord Neverember had robbed the Deep of a mind-churning amount of funds. As well as of some of this city’s truly irreplaceable historical treasures.
It remains unknown whether Dagult took all his loot with him to Neverwinter. The warm welcome that he received there however, and the many expensive construction projects that Neverwinter has since embarked upon, suggest that Lord Neverember paid his way into the heart of that northern city with at least some of Waterdeep’s coin.
There are those that believe that some of the Deep’s treasures are still here, hidden away in secret caches that Lord Neverember prepared throughout the city. Those hopeful individuals continue mounting treasure-seeking expeditions in the Deep, even several years after Dagult’s departure.
Certainly both the Xanathar Guild and the Zhentarim order, now involved in an increasingly expensive gang war, would be keenly interested in treasure abandoned and free for the taking. And, like any reasonably suspicious individual, they would find it difficult to believe that a son of Dagult Neverember’s would not be involved in his father’s nefarious schemes. Naturally, they would assume that Renaer would know about any treasure hidden away by his father. And would capture him in an attempt to make him reveal its whereabouts.
Floon, unfortunate in his choice of friends, is most likely just an innocent victim in all this.
“Look, Floon is just an innocent victim in all this!” Renaer says heatedly. “Whatever my father did and whatever you believe that I am guilty of, he has nothing to do with it! Please tell me, have you found any sign of him?”
“He is not here.” Eliana finally answers. “You were both taken by the Zhents, yes?”
“Yes. They grabbed us from the alley outside the Skewered Dragon where we’d met for a drink. I think that Hannah, the owner of that tavern, works for the Zhentarim.” Renaer answers.
Hannah!
I nod darkly.
“Well,” Eliana continues. “They brought you here and…questioned you?”
“They tortured me!” Renaer growls out.
“Right.” Eliana winces. “And then the Zhentarim were themselves attacked by the Xanathar Guild. We spoke to one of the survivors of the raid. Apparently the Xanathar were looking for something of value held by a Human prisoner of the Zhents. They could not find it so they took the prisoner with them instead. Took him down into the sewers.
“Since you are still here, I assume that they took Floon. Do you know what they were looking for? And where exactly they may have taken Floon?”
Renaer takes a pained breath as if Eliana had struck him. He sinks his head into his hands. I think about how joyful he appeared in the little painted locket in Floon’s rooms.
“I do not know what they were looking for.” He mutters. “The Zhentarim who beat me also kept asking about some treasure that I supposedly had. I had no answers for them either.”
“Could this be what they were searching for?” Vaikner is holding out the broken pendant to Renaer.
He grabs it with a gasp.
“This is mine! It is my mourning necklace. For my mother.” He says.
Seeing that Vaikner and I are staring at him blankly, he hisses with frustration.
“A likeness of a lost family member is made on the occasion of their passing.” He explains impatiently. “When my mother died, my father had this pendant sculpted for me. I was wearing it during my questioning. It must have gotten damaged when they struck me…”
“I am sorry about your mother.” I say. “What was kept inside the pendant?”
“Thank you. She died many years ago.” His voice is low with old pain. “And there was nothing inside it. It was solid ivory.”
“That does not appear to be the case.” Vaikner points to the empty hollow visible inside the damaged pendant. “Perhaps your father put something of value within and did not tell you about it?”
“I do not know what my father may have done.” Renaer speaks coldly. “We have been estranged for a long time. One of the matters that came between us was his treatment of my mother and his callous reaction to her death. I knew what he was long before his many crimes opened the eyes of the rest of the world to his rotten character.”
There is another silence, again weighted down with many unspoken thoughts and questions.
“The Xanathar have taken Floon, in the false belief that he carries something of value to them. It seems likely that they have confused you with him. And, if there was something precious inside this pendant, than the Zhentarim already have that. Unbeknownst to the Xanathar. This situation has become…complicated.” I muse.
“There is nothing complicated about it!” Renaer snaps. “We have to get Floon back. The Xanathar took him to the sewers? Is that what your informant told you? That makes sense because their stronghold lies under the Deep. So that is where I will go now. Please, will you help me?”
“I will help you.” I say gravely.
“Certainly. I will help also.’ Vaikner speaks up with a reassuring smile. “After all, our task was to find Floon. And so far we have only managed to locate – what is the expression I am looking for – his better half. Yes?”
“Yes.” This time, Renaer smiles back.
“Well, let’s get going then.” Eliana sighs quietly.
A loud knocking breaks into our conversation. We all jump a little as the noise echoes through the dark space.
“Open up in the name of the City Watch!” A resonant voice demands as the pounding on the front door continues.
“Oh dear.” Vaikner says.
“Right. This is less than ideal.” Renaer nods.
I shake my head regretfully.
“I would never normally consider leaving a scene like this, directly counter to orders being given to us by an officer of the Law.” I say hesitatingly. “But, sadly, the Watch Officers that I have encountered in the Deep thus far have disappointed me in their lack of professionalism, perceptiveness, and general integrity. Officer Hafthome in particular displayed a startling lack of respect and understanding of our quest. I fear that it may be wiser to remove ourselves from the Watch’s attention.”
Renaer is staring at me in silent disbelief.
“I am very sorry!” I say apologetically. “I did not mean to offend you. As a newcomer to your city, these are just my initial impressions of your peace officers.”
“Um. No offense taken. Elodie, was it?” He blinks.
“Yes.” I beam at him, relieved that, despite his initial agitation and his pervasive aroma of fish, he at least seems open to reasonable discussion.
“Right.” Eliana smiles sympathetically at Renaer. “Since we are currently in a Zhentarim lair, are surrounded by dead bodies, and have more urgent matters to deal with than explaining all this to the Watch, I agree with Elodie. Let’s leave quickly and quietly.”
“The windows upstairs are not boarded up.” Vaikner says. “Hurry!”
Renaer nods, looking about him briefly before helping himself to two short swords that are spilling out of a broken crate nearby.
Then, ignoring the Watch’s continued attempts to break down the warehouse door, we file quietly up the stairs. Once in the small office, I run to the window, pushing it open and examining the alley beyond. It is dark and empty. But the drop from this window is long and there is nothing but hard cobbles beneath.
“I have rope. Here, use this!” Vaikner is scrabbling in his pack.
Renaer is staring balefully at the stained chair in the middle of the floor.
“Here, let us put this to a good use.” Eliana suggests.
She shoulders past Renaer and approaches the scarred seat. I see now that it is bolted to the floor. It will be the perfect anchor for our escape and I nod in approval as Eliana ties one end of Vaikner’s rope firmly around the torture chair. Renaer smiles grimly.
I lean back against the window frame as Eliana tosses the remaining rope outside and shimmies quickly down it. She lands safely in the alley and Renaer descends after her. Vaikner leans out in his turn but the rotten boards of the parapet shift beneath him and he loses his balance. His cloak flaps as he falls out of the window. I jump forward, reaching for the purple folds of cloth with one desperate hand. I catch him!
Holding tightly to one side of the window frame, I am hanging halfway out of the building. My other hand is holding onto the back of Vaikner’s cloak as he dangles over the alleyway. He twists and flails, scrabbling to gain some kind of purchase on the smooth bricks of the warehouse wall.
I do not know if it is fading excitement of the earlier battle, the strength-sapping blood loss from my wound, or the poisonous effects of fish fumes rising from Renaer. But I am suddenly overcome with the hilarity of this undignified scene.
“Stop it! Stop squirming!” I gasp out amidst a gale of giggles.
Vaikner just snorts angrily.
“Here, Elodie! Drop him! I will catch him!” Renaer shouts.
He has positioned himself, arms held out, directly underneath us. I look doubtfully between him and Vaikner. Renaer is tall and seems relatively well-muscled. And Vaikner is an Elf: elegantly slender to the point of emaciation. But still, it is a long way to fall.
My laughter dries up as I hear the sound of a door shattering open below me. This, and the growing ache in my arms settles matters. I let go and watch Vaikner plummet, robes fluttering prettily in the twinkling starlight, before he lands neatly in Renaer’s waiting arms.
“Ooof!” I hear them exclaim in unison.
I swiftly slide down the rope and join my companions on the ground.
“The Watch has gotten inside the warehouse!” I call. “Which way shall we go?”
“Follow me!” Renaer commands. “I will lead you out of here!”
His voice is confident and his face is shining with excitement.
“Yes, but where are we going?” Eliana questions.
“Just trust me!” Renaer calls back, already running.
I soon understand why our guide grinned in happy triumph when asked about our escape. Flight through the Deep with Renaer is exhilarating! He knows every street, every alleyway, every rooftop! And every shadowy hiding spot.
Even wounded, I delight in this wild run; hair streaming out in unconstrained joy behind me. It is invigorating to be out in the fresh briny air, performing basic but effective evasive maneuvers with someone who is clearly well-trained and familiar with the terrain around them.
We encounter several Watch patrols. Mostly, they clump heavily past us, unseeing, as we meld into the darkness of a doorway or lean back into the shadows of a rooftop above them. Once, as we are racing to get ahead of a slightly more determined group of officers, a slow-moving vegetable cart pulls out in front of us and blocks our path. Renaer and I both vault, laughing, over the top of the sluggish vehicle. Landing on the opposite side, we see Vaikner slide out like a greased cat from the muddy puddles under the cart. A few moments later, muttering imprecations about the filthy conditions of the streets in the Deep, Eliana also wriggles and claws her way out from under the vegetable wagon. The Watch officers do not choose to follow either the route over, or under, the vehicle and my companions and I run off, chortling, into the night.
We are deep into a tangle of unfamiliar streets in Southern Ward when Renaer finally pauses. He listens intently for a few moments, and then takes a deep breath.
“Alright. I think that we managed to lose all of them.” He says. “Now, if you’ll come with me, I will take you to the closest entry to the sewers. So we can look for Floon.”
“Renaer, wait!” Eliana cries. “Elodie is injured. Vaikner too, I think. We need to take care of their wounds. And we need a plan. Maybe some extra help too, if we are going down to the stronghold of the Xanathar Guild.”
Renaer shifts impatiently in place.
I wince, holding onto my arm. As the exhilaration of our wild flight through the Deep fades, it feels colder and weaker than before.
“I lost Fukurou.” Vaikner says quietly. “I would like to summon my Familiar back if I can. I just need a little time and a few supplies.”
Renaer looks at each of us in turn and I can see the agonized struggle in his eyes. It is clear that Floon is precious to him. And that Renaer can barely stand to wait another moment before throwing himself into the quest to rescue his beloved. But yet, he knows that he is unlikely to succeed alone. He needs us.
“We trusted you, Renaer, to get us away from Candle Lane.” I say, breathing slowly in an attempt to master my pain. “Trust us now. We will help you get Floon back. Just give us a little time.”
“We can meet you again in an hour.” Eliana says firmly. “At – where do you want to meet?”
“The Thirsty Throat tavern.” Renaer answers shortly, still clearly chafing at any delay. “It’s at the junction of Candle Lane and Zastrow street. You would have passed it when you were going to the warehouse. While you are attending to your injures and gathering supplies, I will see if I can find anyone else to come with us. To help us.”
“Alright, Renaer. We will see you in an hour.” Vaikner says politely.
Renaer has already disappeared into the darkness.
“I do not really trust him.” I mutter. “I suppose that one can be closely related to a masterful criminal without being involved in his perfidious deeds. And one can be of intense interest to illegal gangs through no fault of one’s own – a simple misunderstanding. And, finally, one can be extremely skilled at evading officers of the law in the streets of the Deep because…one is athletic and has an interest in architecture?
“But, when all three characteristics are combined in one individual…well, I just have an uneasy sense that there is more to Renaer than we realize.” I conclude.
Vaikner and Eliana both shake their heads noncommittally. Neither seems interested in pursuing the subject.
After several minutes of walking a rather circuitous route, we find a familiar street sign.
“Oh look!” Vaikner exclaims happily. “We are close to Xoblob’s shop. We can stop in there for supplies. I need lavender, I know he has some of that…”
Vaikner’s voice fades into a preoccupied mutter as he organizes his mental shopping list. Eliana and I follow quietly behind him. Before long, we are once again navigating the all-purple landscape of Xoblob’s shop. I hang back as Vaikner selects his desired items and then makes a hopeful and disarmingly polite trial at haggling with the gnome shopkeeper.
“Xoblob? Since I am a repeat customer now, and a fellow admirer of purple, would you not say that this makes us friends?” Vaikner enquires craftily.
“Yes. Xoblob is friends!” The gnome screeches cheerfully.
“Well then, as your friend, would you perhaps let me buy these supplies at a lower price? As a friend I am sure you care about my financial well-being and would not want me to spend more than I can afford?” Vaikner springs his trap.
Xoblob regards him in stony silence for a moment.
“As Xoblob’s friend, Xoblob is sure that you care about Xoblob’s business growing more successful. And so you will want to pay Xoblob full price!” He cackles.
Vaikner sighs.
I look at the Drow’s disappointed face. It must be my exhaustion that spurs me to the ill-advised choice to also attempt wheedling. I step up to the shopkeeper’s counter.
“Xoblob,” I begin. “Would you consider me a friend too? Or, at least, do you believe that you and I could become friends?
“Because, if so, then it would be a whole group of us friends here, purchasing goods from your shop. Perhaps, for more friends, you would be willing to offer a reduced price?” I conclude clumsily.
Xoblob looks me up and down with excruciating slowness.
“You are not Xoblob’s type!” He crows out. “Sorry to break it to you, but Xoblob doesn’t want to lead anyone on. Not even a strangely round and restless blue Elf!”
“I beg your pardon?” I say icily.
“Come here, Elodie. Just let Vaikner finish his shopping.” Eliana has appeared at my side and is steering me away from the gnome.
“But, I think that he thought…that is, I thought…I am not sure I understand!” I protest weakly. “I am not entirely certain what happened but I feel that something was definitely wrong with the conversation that just occurred!”
I slump down near some mauve merchandise, my wound sapping my energy to continue arguing.
Xoblob looks over at me, shaking his head in an obnoxiously pitying way. I feel a sudden burst of returning strength and clench my fists.
“Alright, all done!” Vaikner calls cheerily. “We can go now.”
Eliana ushers us both out of the shop. She looks cautiously up and down the near-empty streets.
“We need healing.” She says anxiously. “Elodie, could somebody from among your Elves help you?”
“Not an Elf. An Air Genasi.” I mutter tiredly. “But, yes.
“Only…the Temple of the Seldarine is a long distance from here. But, do not fear. Healing can be purchased from other deities also. Let me see…the closest temples to this stretch of Zastrow street…there is Helm’s Hall in Snake Alley. It is a church dedicated to Helm, the Human god of Guardians and Protectors. Helm is worshiped by knights and guards alike.” I explain.
“And?” Vaikner asks.
“And what?” I ask in reply.
“What other temples?” Eliana questions impatiently. “You said ‘closest temples’ and, of course, Vaikner needs to know about them all.”
Vaikner scowls at her.
“Oh! There is also the Temple of Good Cheer, dedicated to Lliira and Milil, in Fishwife Alley. They offer music and dance lessons. But, after I told you about Helm’s Hall, I did not think it was worth mentioning it.” I say steadily. “Did you not hear me say that there is a temple to Helm, the god of Guardians and Protectors, nearby?”
“Temple of Good Cheer sounds nice…” Eliana begins.
“We are going to Helm’s Hall!” I say firmly.
My companions decide not to argue the point and we walk towards Snake Alley. We do not have far to go but, even as we reach the location where the temple should be, I grow uncertain.
I made a note of Helm’s Hall as an intriguing destination to visit during my study of Volo’s helpful maps: it was definitely in Southern Ward. But perhaps I misremembered the exact address?
Even accounting for the modest neighborhood, can this ramshackle old house, surrounded by a dusty garden with only a moribund fence to restrain its weeds from invading the street, be a hall of Helm? Sighing sadly, I realize that I had expected carved columns, graceful arches, and heroic statues. Much like those to be found at my own Temple but perhaps a little more militant. This building does not look like it would house valorous and watchful knights. Rather, it may perhaps be home to their weary old retainers who like to sit around a bubbling pot of bean stew and complain about their aching feet. I sigh again.
“It is very quiet. And I see no lights on.” Eliana points out worriedly. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
“Oh, certainly.” I reply haughtily. “Volo’s Guide to Waterdeep was most specific.”
“Let us go and knock on the door.” Vaikner suggests brightly.
We open the crooked gate. It creaks painfully. We walk carefully down the uneven path to the sagging front porch. Eliana mutters a curse as she trips over a sword lying on the path. It is small and made of wood. As she kicks it aside, I notice many similar objects scattered in the yard. There are more toy swords and a little wooden wagon, listing to one side because it only has three wheels. I see a small, stuffed Owl Bear, a little worse for being left out in at least one rain storm. There is a jumping game drawn in chalk on the paving stones under our feet. And a fort carefully constructed out of old crates with a little Waterdhavian flag fluttering proudly at its tilting roof. I frown, shaking my head in confusion.
Eliana strides up to the door and knocks. There is no response. Casting a concerned glance back at Vaikner and myself, she knocks again. Much louder this time. I hear muffled noises from deep within the house. A mysterious blend of squeaks, laughs, whispers, and shushing sounds. Closer to the door, a slow, heavy tread can be heard approaching. It stops and there is a quiet metallic clank. Then the footsteps start again, even heavier and slower this time.
“Who goes there? Who disturbs the peace of this house at such an irreligious hour?” A stern, slightly hoarse, voice asks.
I push past Eliana to get to the front door.
“I am Elodie. Elodie Skyshard. A Divine Knight of my Lady Aerdrie Faenya. I am here with my companions Eliana Cooper and Vaikner, a Drow Wizard. We are wounded and seek healing. We were injured on a mission to rescue a Human who is being held by the city’s illicit gangs.” I explain rapidly.
The door opens just wide enough to reveal a very tall, very elderly Human man. His stiffly upright posture makes his worn dressing gown look as dignified as kingly robes. The long white hair flowing down his back, as well as the matching long snowy beard, add to the impression of a noble knight, long forgotten but still faithfully guarding some ancient outpost. He is holding a greatsword in one hand as he stares out at us thoughtfully.
“Very well. Come inside.” He finally says. “I am Saer Kiber Ederick, Knight of Helm. And Keeper of this house.”
He stands aside, moving stiffly. We pass into the hall, softly lit with a dim lamp. There are doors opening off the sides of the passage and a stairway straight ahead. I breathe in deeply, smelling the milky aroma of porridge as well as something more richly sweet and buttery. With a hint of cinnamon. I hear more of the muffled whispers and giggles coming from the stairs.
“I would ask that you keep your voices low. So as not to wake the little ones.” Saer Ederick sighs. “But I think that would be closing the stable stall after the charger has already bolted.
“Squiddly! Nat! Jenks! Back to bed with you!” He barks out fiercely.
Startled, I look up and see several sets of little feet scurrying across the upstairs landing. Saer Ederick’s mustache twitches a little as he smiles.
“There are Fledg – young children here? Here at the temple?” I ask.
“Why yes.” Saer Ederick’s tired smile grows brighter. “That is its primary purpose, after all. This is Helm’s Hall, it is true. But, after many years spent in more war-like pursuits, I am passing my last days in my God’s service in more gentle work. This is a home for those young ones of the Deep that have no other. The orphans and those children that are uncared for. They live here.”
“Oh!” Vaikner exclaims, his face marked with greater wonder and joy than I have yet seen him display. “That is a wonderful thing that you are doing!”
Certainly kind, I muse, but also rather extraordinary. To spend his last years here, looking after Fledglings instead of receiving the well-earned glory and accolades that his valorous deeds surely deserve? Saer Ederick is a very curious person.
Saer Ederick nods at the Drow.
“It is not what I would call a quiet or peaceful retirement.” He says wryly. “But the young ones here gift me with more than I could ever gift them.
“Now come, tell me why you need my aid. What is this mission of mercy that you spoke of earlier?” He asks.
He shows us into a large room off the front passage. There are comfortable, if rather thread-bare and stained, armchairs scattered around. I see small and large tables, bookshelves, and, again, many toys. The walls are decorated with an odd mixture of vivid drawings, all enthusiastically created by childish hands, and souvenirs of Saer Ederick’s time as a warrior: old shields, pennants, and weapons. This servant of Helm was obviously no passive observer of the troubles of his time but an active participant in many battles.
I settle into a soft chair with relief. Eliana, with occasional help from Vaikner and myself, quickly describes the events of this evening to Saer Ederick. He listens patiently, snowy brows drawing together at the mention of the Zhentarim.
“This is why we have come here. We are very sorry to disturb your rest, Saer Ederick.” Eliana apologizes. “But we have yet to find the young man that we are looking for. And we are not in the best condition to do so right now. We were hoping that you could help.”
The old knight nods slowly.
“Yours is a worthy cause and I can help you.” He says.
“And, ahem, the price?” Vaikner asks nervously.
“Well, as you can probably see, the Hall is always in need. There are always supplies and clothing that need replacement. Our funds are often stretched just to provide daily necessities such as food. There is rarely enough for the things that nourish the heart and mind, not just the body.” Saer Ederick shakes his head. “Whatever you can spare will be very much appreciated. And will go to a most excellent cause.”
Looking around, I notice that the bookshelves are only sparsely filled and that the toys here, as outside, are very lovingly used. Reaching into my purse, I retrieve five gold dragons and pass them to Saer Ederick. Eliana and Vaikner also hand the knight gold. He beams.
Eliana has been scanning the room.
“That mace over the fireplace, Saer Ederick, is that a weapon that you recovered from a follower of Bane?” She asks.
There is a tightness to my companion’s voice that I have not heard before. Her gaze is fixed on the ugly weapon and, for the first time, that quiet sense of peace emanating from Eliana seems disturbed. Like the surface of deep, still water after a stone is dropped into it; its mirror-calm shattered.
Saer Ederick’s bushy brows bristle menacingly.
“Indeed! You are familiar with Bane and his followers?” He replies.
“Enough to know that they are a blight upon the Realms. And to honor you for your victory over any of them, Saer. We have a common enemy.” She answers shortly.
Saer Ederick brightens, looking at Eliana with approval.
“Let me help your friends with their injuries. We can exchange tales of battle another time.” He smiles.
When the knight gently places his hand on my shoulder, I feel sudden quietude: the peace of taking rest in the sure knowledge that a stalwart companion is watching over me. Then, a jolt of energy and, just at the periphery of my hearing, something like the urgent ringing of a bell of warning. My heart speeds up and my hair crackles with vitality. As Saer Ederick steps back, I sit up straight in my armchair, free of pain. And brimming with strength and resolve.
“Thank you Saer.” I bow to him respectfully.
Saer Ederick heals both of my companions, and then speaks to Eliana quietly. He starts to give her a special blessing; a mark of fellowship given their shared foe.
As they talk, I follow the renewed sounds of whispering out into the front hallway. The little feet on the upper stairs scuffle back hurriedly out of sight when I first approach. But, as I stand quietly for a moment, three small figures hesitantly venture back out onto the landing.
There is a short round Human boy, skin and eyes a matching dark brown. Next to him is a small Tiefling boy, tail curled neatly around his ankles and green eyes shining with merriment. Finally, I see a tall pale Human girl. Her features suggest that she has Shoon ancestry. I am almost certain that I have seen these same little faces before. Perhaps they were among the children at play that we passed when walking these streets earlier in the day?
They all three gaze at me curiously and I gaze back, unsure of what to do. Finally, I smile tentatively and cautiously raise my hand in greeting. The tall girl returns my uncertain gesture. The two boys start nudging each other and whispering furtively. I catch the words “blue one” and “two swords”. Saer Ederick’s voice grows louder as he walks Eliana and Vaikner towards the hall. I glance back that way for a moment and, when I look back at the stairway, the children are gone.
Shrugging, I return to my companions. They are saying their grateful goodbyes to Saer Ederick and I join my voice to theirs. The knight accepts our thanks. He gives us all some sweets that taste of stale mint before wishing us good luck on the next part of our quest.
Walking down the uneven path to the street I sigh contentedly . It is good to move easily, without the pain of my arrow wound and the burning of the Kenku wizard’s acid-splatter spell.
The night is warm and the air smells like rain and fresh-baked bread. I am eager to continue our search for Floon. But I feel a little stirring of regret to be leaving Helm’s Hall behind. Plain and worn-down as the house may be, it is rich in gentleness and affectionate care for others. I decide that I would like to return to this place in a quieter, happier time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hope that you enjoyed this chronicle of the beginning of our adventuring party’s first battle as a trio, as well as their introduction to Renaer Neverember and Saer Ederick. Please head over to the images section (coming soon) to check out some of the art that I found inspiring for the Kenku, Renaer, and the Helm’s Hall orphans.
I have several songs that play along in my mind for this chapter:
For the Kenku in the Warehouse:
Nightfire Ritual, Ian Fontova
For Renaer Neverember:
Under pressure, Queen
For Lord Dagult Neverember:
I Want it All/We will Rock you mash-up, Queen from Sucker Punch
For the escape from Candle Lane through the streets of the Deep:
Chase Me, Run the Jewels
Run Boy Run, Woodkid
Please also visit my playlist on Spotify. I will be populating this with all of our campaign tunes as we adventure onwards:
Tears of the Seldarine 
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