VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
As the party departs from The Keen Edge, armed with their new acquisitions and bolstered by the support of Garrick Ironhand, they set their sights on the Skewered Dragon, the next destination in their quest to find Floon Blagmaar. The streets of the Dock Ward unfold before them, a tapestry of life in one of Waterdeep's most vibrant districts.
The Dock Ward, with its salty air and the constant creak of ships in the harbor, even in the wintertime, feels alive with activity. Sailors haul cargo to and from the ships, merchants hawk their wares with boisterous calls, and townsfolk navigate the bustling streets with practiced ease. The party takes a moment to appreciate the sights and sounds, the cacophony of daily life in a district that never truly sleeps.
As they make their way through the crowded streets, the architecture of the Dock Ward tells its own story. Buildings, worn by time and the elements, stand shoulder to shoulder. So many scaffolds cover the walkways, as repairs and modifications born of necessity are constant. So many scaffolds cover the walkwaysHere and there, the party spots taverns and inns, their windows aglow with warmth and the promise of respite for weary travelers and locals alike.
The diversity of the Dock Ward's inhabitants is on full display, a reflection of Waterdeep's status as a melting pot of cultures and races. The party observes humans, dwarves, elves, and other races all going about their business, a testament to the city's reputation as a place where anyone can find their fortune—or misfortune, as the case may be.
Occasionally, the party catches snippets of conversation, tales of adventures on the high seas, of treasures found and lost, and of the ever-present intrigue that seems to permeate the city's underbelly. It's a reminder of the complexity of Waterdeep, a city where every alleyway and shadow could hold a story.
~~~~~
Eventually, the Skewered Dragon comes into view. It's immediately apparent why the tavern has earned its name—the sign hanging above the door features a dragon, crudely painted and pierced by a skewer. The building itself looks almost like a ruin. Both of its front-facing windows are smashed, and a ship's anchor is lodged in the roof. The door, sturdy and reinforced, suggests that while many are welcome, the safety of its patrons is not taken lightly. Through the windows, you can see a group of haggard patrons drinking from huge tankards.
Upon entering, the party is immediately enveloped by the warmth and dim light of the Skewered Dragon's interior, a stark contrast to the cold, bright world outside. The air is thick with the scent of ale, smoke, and the undercurrents of countless tales and secrets shared over drinks. The tavern's interior, much like its exterior, bears the marks of age and use. Wooden beams overhead show the patina of smoke and time, while the floorboards creak underfoot, echoing the steps of previous visitors.
The main room is spacious, filled with an assortment of tables and chairs that have clearly seen better days. The room is populated predominantly by dockworkers, their sturdy frames and weathered hands a testament to the hard labor of the docks. They gather in groups at tables scattered throughout the tavern, their conversations a blend of boisterous laughter and low, serious discussions, likely revolving around the day's work or plans for the morrow. The camaraderie among them is palpable, forged in the shared experiences of grueling work and the communal relief of the tavern's solace.
The Dock Ward, with its salty air and the constant creak of ships in the harbor, even in the wintertime, feels alive with activity. Sailors haul cargo to and from the ships, merchants hawk their wares with boisterous calls, and townsfolk navigate the bustling streets with practiced ease. The party takes a moment to appreciate the sights and sounds, the cacophony of daily life in a district that never truly sleeps.
As they make their way through the crowded streets, the architecture of the Dock Ward tells its own story. Buildings, worn by time and the elements, stand shoulder to shoulder. So many scaffolds cover the walkways, as repairs and modifications born of necessity are constant. So many scaffolds cover the walkwaysHere and there, the party spots taverns and inns, their windows aglow with warmth and the promise of respite for weary travelers and locals alike.
The diversity of the Dock Ward's inhabitants is on full display, a reflection of Waterdeep's status as a melting pot of cultures and races. The party observes humans, dwarves, elves, and other races all going about their business, a testament to the city's reputation as a place where anyone can find their fortune—or misfortune, as the case may be.
Occasionally, the party catches snippets of conversation, tales of adventures on the high seas, of treasures found and lost, and of the ever-present intrigue that seems to permeate the city's underbelly. It's a reminder of the complexity of Waterdeep, a city where every alleyway and shadow could hold a story.
~~~~~
Eventually, the Skewered Dragon comes into view. It's immediately apparent why the tavern has earned its name—the sign hanging above the door features a dragon, crudely painted and pierced by a skewer. The building itself looks almost like a ruin. Both of its front-facing windows are smashed, and a ship's anchor is lodged in the roof. The door, sturdy and reinforced, suggests that while many are welcome, the safety of its patrons is not taken lightly. Through the windows, you can see a group of haggard patrons drinking from huge tankards.
Upon entering, the party is immediately enveloped by the warmth and dim light of the Skewered Dragon's interior, a stark contrast to the cold, bright world outside. The air is thick with the scent of ale, smoke, and the undercurrents of countless tales and secrets shared over drinks. The tavern's interior, much like its exterior, bears the marks of age and use. Wooden beams overhead show the patina of smoke and time, while the floorboards creak underfoot, echoing the steps of previous visitors.
The main room is spacious, filled with an assortment of tables and chairs that have clearly seen better days. The room is populated predominantly by dockworkers, their sturdy frames and weathered hands a testament to the hard labor of the docks. They gather in groups at tables scattered throughout the tavern, their conversations a blend of boisterous laughter and low, serious discussions, likely revolving around the day's work or plans for the morrow. The camaraderie among them is palpable, forged in the shared experiences of grueling work and the communal relief of the tavern's solace.
A look of surprise comes across the penguin's face. "Eh, maybe not so loud? This is the most dangerous part of town. I dunno if we wanna announce ourselves as friends of the guy who just went missing. Let's start with the bartender", Nootie whispers to his compatriots.
((Did Volo give us a description of Floon or were we too stupid to ask? I couldn't find anything when I was scanning through the thread.))
((Did Volo give us a description of Floon or were we too stupid to ask? I couldn't find anything when I was scanning through the thread.))
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
(( I do believe that bit of information was not requested ))
Lok's shout cuts through the din of conversation, causing a sudden lull as patrons turn their heads, some with expressions of annoyance, others with curiosity. The mispronunciation of Floon's name adds a layer of confusion, leaving the tavern's patrons momentarily puzzled before a mix of chuckles and grumbles fills the air.
A few of the dockworkers shake their heads, muttering under their breath about the disruption, while others return to their conversations, dismissing the interruption. The tavern keeper gives Lok Ahl a pointed look, a silent reprimand for the disturbance.
The tavern keeper, accustomed to the varied clientele the Skewered Dragon attracts, sizes up Ben Zine with a practiced eye before responding with a nod. "Salmon it is, then. And beers all around, twice over. Coming right up," he replies, turning to fulfill the order.
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
His comment elicits a few chuckles and nods of understanding from the tavern's patrons. The dockworkers, no strangers to the appeal of a good drink after a hard day's work, seem to appreciate the clarification and Ben Zine's approach to mending the brief disruption.
The tavern keeper, too, cracks a smile at Ben Zine's explanation, his earlier annoyance fading in the face of the warlock's charm and the promise of good business. The atmosphere in the Skewered Dragon begins to warm again, the patrons' attention returning to their own drinks and conversations, the earlier tension dissipating like foam on a beer.
(( Yes I had to look up what Flat Tack means ))
The tavern keeper, too, cracks a smile at Ben Zine's explanation, his earlier annoyance fading in the face of the warlock's charm and the promise of good business. The atmosphere in the Skewered Dragon begins to warm again, the patrons' attention returning to their own drinks and conversations, the earlier tension dissipating like foam on a beer.
(( Yes I had to look up what Flat Tack means ))
I've not spent much time here before, sir, but could you tell me about your establishment? I'm a thirsty fella who likes to drink long into the night when he can, and my usual haunts are becoming a bit dull with a few of my peers moving on. Does your place here get much cards or dice going?
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
The bartender, leaning on the counter with an air of casual pride, nods in response. "The Skewered Dragon's been a fixture in the Dock Ward for more years than most can remember. It's a place for hardworking folks to unwind, share news, and yes, enjoy a game or two."
He glances around the tavern, ensuring everything is in order, before continuing. "As for games, we do host them here, though we try to keep things friendly and fair. Three-Dragon Ante is the popular choice among our patrons—a game of strategy, chance, and a bit of bluffing. It's a favorite for its mix of skill and luck, and because it's a good way to pass the time and enjoy some camaraderie. You'll find a game most nights, over in the corner there," he says, gesturing towards a section of the tavern where a group is already gathering around a table, cards in hand.
He glances around the tavern, ensuring everything is in order, before continuing. "As for games, we do host them here, though we try to keep things friendly and fair. Three-Dragon Ante is the popular choice among our patrons—a game of strategy, chance, and a bit of bluffing. It's a favorite for its mix of skill and luck, and because it's a good way to pass the time and enjoy some camaraderie. You'll find a game most nights, over in the corner there," he says, gesturing towards a section of the tavern where a group is already gathering around a table, cards in hand.
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
The bartender accepts the beer with a grateful nod, a smile forming on his lips as he pours himself a drink. "Well, thank you for this. It's not every day I get served at my own bar," he says with a chuckle.
He then leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a confidence. "We do see a mix of folks at the tables. Regulars, mostly from the Dock Ward, who know the game well and are always up for a match. But we also get our share of newcomers, adventurers, and travelers looking to test their luck or simply enjoy the game."
The bartender pauses for a moment, glancing around the tavern before continuing, "And then there are those you wouldn't expect to find in a place like this. People like Renaer Neverember, for instance. He's been known to partake in the games from time to time. Comes in to lay low and enjoy a bit of gambling among the dockworkers. It's an interesting sight, seeing someone of his stature mingling with the regulars."
He then leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a confidence. "We do see a mix of folks at the tables. Regulars, mostly from the Dock Ward, who know the game well and are always up for a match. But we also get our share of newcomers, adventurers, and travelers looking to test their luck or simply enjoy the game."
The bartender pauses for a moment, glancing around the tavern before continuing, "And then there are those you wouldn't expect to find in a place like this. People like Renaer Neverember, for instance. He's been known to partake in the games from time to time. Comes in to lay low and enjoy a bit of gambling among the dockworkers. It's an interesting sight, seeing someone of his stature mingling with the regulars."
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
You are well aware of the name Neverember, particularly because of Dagult Neverember's significant and contentious role in Waterdeep's recent history. Dagult is the former Open Lord of Waterdeep, and a figure whose actions and policies have left a lasting impact on the city. You do not know the name Renaer, however.
Cookie looks at her drink and then tries to subtle look at the others drinks to see if hers is filled the same amount. She smells her drink to make sure it's really alcohol. She has found away from home a lot of places assume by her size that she either doesn't need as much drink or is a child.
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
It's pretty damn strong.
Cookie takes a big drink and blinks her eyes in surprise. It's as of this place was trying to make up for all the watered down drinks she has been survived since leaving home. She takes a bite of the smoked salmon on bread and is enamored. Her drink forgotten as she takes slow methodical bites. Savoring and dissecting the flavors in an attempt to unravel its secrets.
Finished and satisfied with her meal, she looks to the others.
This is not really my preferred type of place. There are things that can be learned in such places as these, but more often trying to find knowledge in a place like this results in meeting a lot of resistance. Does anybody have an idea on how we can find out more about Floon? Ben, you seemed to have a good rapport with the bartender. He seems the most like to know something of what happened that night.
Finished and satisfied with her meal, she looks to the others.
This is not really my preferred type of place. There are things that can be learned in such places as these, but more often trying to find knowledge in a place like this results in meeting a lot of resistance. Does anybody have an idea on how we can find out more about Floon? Ben, you seemed to have a good rapport with the bartender. He seems the most like to know something of what happened that night.
I agree, we are not known here. Do you think I should just ask? I didn't want to lay it on too thick... I might want to drink here again.
Zine tries listening to any nearby conversations, just trying to discern who may be about a lot, common topics, whatever is going on. (rolling for whatever)
Zine tries listening to any nearby conversations, just trying to discern who may be about a lot, common topics, whatever is going on. (rolling for whatever)
Cookie looks at Ben in amazement.
If Floon is still alive now, he would most like be dead in many weeks time. I think we need to try a quicker path. I could use second breakfast today.
Cookie gets up with her plate and makes her way to the bartender.
Good, sir! I greatly enjoyed your smoked salmon. Your combination of flavors work so well. A true inspiration. I was wondering what other foods you may have? I so rarely have a chance at having second breakfast since I left home and would love to try some of your other creations.
If Floon is still alive now, he would most like be dead in many weeks time. I think we need to try a quicker path. I could use second breakfast today.
Cookie gets up with her plate and makes her way to the bartender.
Good, sir! I greatly enjoyed your smoked salmon. Your combination of flavors work so well. A true inspiration. I was wondering what other foods you may have? I so rarely have a chance at having second breakfast since I left home and would love to try some of your other creations.
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
The bartender, pleased by their interest in the tavern's fare, wipes his hands on his apron before responding. "Glad to hear you enjoyed the salmon. Our kitchen might not be the largest, but we take pride in what we serve. Let's see," he muses, running through the menu in his mind. "We've got a hearty beef stew that's been simmering since morning—perfect for a cold day like today. There's also a roasted chicken that's nearly ready, seasoned with herbs and served with root vegetables. And, of course, we have a selection of bread and cheese for those looking for something a bit lighter."
"But of course, our specialty is the smoked salmon. I can't even imagine a bar that doesn't carry a top tier smoked salmon. Just classic bar food, that."
"But of course, our specialty is the smoked salmon. I can't even imagine a bar that doesn't carry a top tier smoked salmon. Just classic bar food, that."
I would love to try them all. I think I'll start with the bread and cheese platter and a bowl of the beef stew for my very large friend. There is no way somebody his size could be full after just the one meal.
Cookie looks up at the bartender and gives him her best warm smile and tries to make her eyes look as big and round and cute as she can. She find the bigger folk lets their guard down more if you come off cuter.
Say, while I have you here. We are looking for a man named Floon. Heard he was seen here recently. Do you happen to know anything about his whereabouts?
Cookie looks up at the bartender and gives him her best warm smile and tries to make her eyes look as big and round and cute as she can. She find the bigger folk lets their guard down more if you come off cuter.
Say, while I have you here. We are looking for a man named Floon. Heard he was seen here recently. Do you happen to know anything about his whereabouts?
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
The bartender, who had been attentive and forthcoming about the tavern's offerings, adopts a more reserved demeanor at the mention of Floon's name. He pauses for a moment, considering his response carefully before speaking.
"I appreciate your concern for your friend, and I can understand why you'd ask," the bartender starts, his voice steady and sincere. "But as you may have guessed, it's not in my practice to speak about those who come through these doors. Trust is a valuable commodity here in the Skewered Dragon, as in any tavern. Patrons come here seeking a reprieve, a bit of anonymity, and I intend to respect that. Breaking their trust would harm the very foundation of this place."
He offers Cookie a sympathetic look, acknowledging the gravity of their search. "I wish I could help you more directly." He pauses for a moment, considering his words closely. "If Floon has come to harm, that would be a shame. My advice? Keep asking around, but do so with discretion. Waterdeep is full of ears, and not all of them friendly."
"I appreciate your concern for your friend, and I can understand why you'd ask," the bartender starts, his voice steady and sincere. "But as you may have guessed, it's not in my practice to speak about those who come through these doors. Trust is a valuable commodity here in the Skewered Dragon, as in any tavern. Patrons come here seeking a reprieve, a bit of anonymity, and I intend to respect that. Breaking their trust would harm the very foundation of this place."
He offers Cookie a sympathetic look, acknowledging the gravity of their search. "I wish I could help you more directly." He pauses for a moment, considering his words closely. "If Floon has come to harm, that would be a shame. My advice? Keep asking around, but do so with discretion. Waterdeep is full of ears, and not all of them friendly."
Cookie returns to her seat with the others a little dejected. Giving Lok the bowl of stew and picking a piece of bread to mindless eat.
I suppose it couldn't be that easy. Somebody here has to know something. How much do you think it would cost to get somebody smashed enough so they would freely tell us what we need to know? Oh if you guys want any of this bread and cheese. It's very good.
I suppose it couldn't be that easy. Somebody here has to know something. How much do you think it would cost to get somebody smashed enough so they would freely tell us what we need to know? Oh if you guys want any of this bread and cheese. It's very good.
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
Lok Ahl scans the room. His gaze moves from one patron to another, assessing their reactions and demeanor. It's then he notices a particular dockworker, seated alone at a table near the back of the tavern, who seems to have taken a keen interest in their group following Cookie's mention of Floon.
This dockworker, rugged and weathered from years of hard labor, tries to appear nonchalant, sipping his drink and occasionally glancing around the room. However, his attention consistently drifts back to Lok Ahl and his companions, his eyes narrowing slightly each time Floon's name is mentioned. It's clear from his body language and the timing of his interest that he knows something about what happened to Floon, or at the very least, is aware of details that could lead the party closer to finding their target.
This dockworker, rugged and weathered from years of hard labor, tries to appear nonchalant, sipping his drink and occasionally glancing around the room. However, his attention consistently drifts back to Lok Ahl and his companions, his eyes narrowing slightly each time Floon's name is mentioned. It's clear from his body language and the timing of his interest that he knows something about what happened to Floon, or at the very least, is aware of details that could lead the party closer to finding their target.
Lok isnt sure what this means but assumes Zine thinks the dockworker might be trouble and wants Lok to move in.
Lok walks to the dockworker and asks "Hi neighbor, would you like to join us for a beer or three? We have plenty to share!"
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
The dockworker, caught somewhat off guard by Lok Ahl's approach, eyes the rest of the party warily before his gaze shifts back to Lok Ahl. After a moment of contemplation, he responds with a tone that's firm but not unkind, "Appreciate the gesture, but I'd rather you didn't. I'm not looking for company or trouble. Just want to be left alone, if it's all the same."
His response, while polite, carries an undercurrent of tension, as if the mere act of being approached has put him on edge.
His response, while polite, carries an undercurrent of tension, as if the mere act of being approached has put him on edge.
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
The dockworker, taken aback by Lok Ahl's unexpected decision to simply sit in silence, initially seems unsure how to respond. The absence of pressure or further questions leaves a space between them, filled only by the ambient noise of the tavern around them. This unexpected gesture of patience allows the dockworker a moment to gather his thoughts, to weigh the potential risks and benefits of sharing what he knows.
After a few long moments, during which the tension at the table seems to slowly dissipate, the dockworker finally breaks the silence. "You're looking for someone, aren't you?" he asks, his voice low, an edge of resignation hinting that he's made a decision to speak. "Floon, was it? I don't know much, just saw him a few nights back. He was with someone, but it was hard to see who. They left together, and that's the last I saw of him."
Nootie's gaze sweeps over the tavern's patrons, observing the various states of merriment and inebriation among the dockworkers and other customers. Amidst the laughter and loud conversations, Nootie spots a figure slumped over a table in a dimly lit corner of the tavern. The man appears to be nursing a drink, his movements slow and uncoordinated—a clear sign of his inebriated state. Importantly, he seems to be alone, without companions to notice or intervene in a conversation.
Lok loudly responds, "Oh, gee, thanks, Mister...uh...Mister...What was your name again?"