BQ-105: Let's Join a Gang!

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• Uther Valens - Aasimar Warlock - Level 3: Electricity-powered magician with a history of convincing his allies to do stupid crap just to save a couple of bucks.

• The Great Klardini - High Elf Wizard - Level 3: Senile septa-centagenarian who forgets where he his, who he is, and sometimes what he is.

• Varian Bloomstrike - Eladrin Paladin - Level 3: Native of the plane of nature, this dryadic soldier recently had his brain nearly destroyed by the Xanathar Guild gang.

• Afik Bonefinger - Mountain Dwarf Fighter - Level 3: A paranoid sailor, recently "marked" by the Sea Bitch, Umberlee. Also cursed to have a sword that glows like the sun never leave his grip. Hasn't slept in days.

• Mox - Goblin Ranger - Level 3: A native of Waterdeep, this street urchin is trying to keep his allies from ruining what little street cred he has left in his hometown.

After the adventurers narrowly got killed and got made stupid, they decide to hunker down a bit at the Yawning Portal tavern and figure out what the hell they’re going to do next.

“Well I don’t know about y’all, but I want to sit down and rest my old bones,” Klardini mumbles, his joints creaking as he takes his seat at the booth.

Uther has no time for sitting because his bones are young! “I want to see if there’s a job board or something!”

Varian joins the elder Klardini and rests as well because his bones are stupid.

Mox and Afik decide to join Uther in his quest to find a quest board, which happens to be right over there! Right there! In the tavern, see? How convenient. The quest board is covered in wanted posters, heist jobs, dirty deeds and worthy deeds, nefarious locals and legitimate jobs needing to be jobbed. There’s specifically a “MISSING: Spellbook” sign that looks to be hastily scrawled by Klardini and his old bones.

The trio’s wandering eyes wander on some particular notices in particular:

EMERALD ENCLAVE: INTERESTED IN JOINING THE EMERALD ENCLAVE? MEET AT PHAULKINMERE IN THE SOUTHERN WARD! THERE’S FARM STUFF TO DO!

The adventurers already helped out the Emerald Enclave by nearly dying while delivering a kraken baby into the world—so maybe this one’s a pass.

NEED ASSISTANCE WITH THREATS TO THE CITY—CONTACT HLAM—RESIDENTIAL OLD HERMIT—LOCATION: HOLE IN A CLIFF UNDER THE CITY.

Absolutely not that’s how you get murdered.

As they’re looking at the board, a paper bird folded like some origami nonsense flutters up to their faces like it wants to get nabbed, and nabbing it, Uther does! Uther then casts light on it and opens it up to read the message on the bird-paper:

RAENOR TELLS US YOU ARE A GOOD BET. HE BOUGT YOU TICKETS TO THE OPERA TONIGHT IN THE LIGHTSINGER THEATER IN THE SEA WARD. IF YOU ARE INTERESTED, MEET MIRT AT INTERMISSION. PRVATE BOX C. FORMAL ATTIRE IS REQUIRED FOR ADMITANCE.

Oh hell yeah—free show, private box, and a questmonger?

Uther rereads “Lightsinger Theater” and gets excited because he’s all about some light. He pulls two tickets out of the note. He looks at Afik. He looks at Mox.

He looks excited.

“All right, you two need to dress up in formal attire,” he says, pointing to the dwarf and the goblin, then waves one ticket. “Same idea! We’re getting a big coat!”

“Good idea!” Afik says, catching on. “What about me sword? Is there a sock I can put on it?” The cursed sword still glows and still won’t leave his hand—this will cause a problem if they’re gonna stack up and sneak in.

“Your sword? Do we have a sock. We can probably find a sock,” Uther says. “Or a sheathe maybe?”

“YES! A sheathe to dull the light!” Afik says.

“We should go find a tailor and get fitted so we can go to the show,” Uther says. “We choose the mission that chose us!”

Yay! Railroading!

“We need a tailor that’s like two halflings stacked on top of each other,” Uther ponders. “I’m sure there’s a whole enterprise of small things stacked on small things.”

Mox groans, “Do we need to do that, or…”

“Well, I’ve got two tickets, and I’m going!” Uther declares.

“Understood,” Mox says, standing on Afik.

While the two shorties and the one shiny venture off to find a tailor who won’t ask too many damn questions, Klardini decides that it’s time to haggle! He gathers up all the shit they took from their first trip into the Dungeon of the Mad Mage and decides to hock it for money… after making sure Varian recovers from his trip down to Dumb World.

Varian declines the assistance and uses lay on hands on himself, magically re-infusing himself with 10 Hit Points so he can join Klardini and make sure he doesn’t keep all the money.

The eladrin and the elder elf saunter around Waterdeep, leaving the Yawning Portal behind and taking a lay of the land—deciding to tail their three compatriots into the Trade Ward, where tailors and lootmongers must exist.

As they leave the Castle Ward municipalities behind, they hit the Trade Ward and are smitten with robust activity—hundreds of extravagant signs bedeck the storefronts, and the air is filled with nonstop chatter, music, and mongers hocking their wares. Mules, camels, and even a small elephant pull cartloads of goods to be stocked—breweries and shoeries, candymakers and milkshakers, goldsmiths, silversmiths, bronzesmiths, smithsmiths (who train smiths), pawn shops, boutiques, mattress stores that nobody ever enters, and hundreds of other shops line this bustling uptown. The neverending buzz of business plunges the adventurers into a frenzy of haggling—anything and everything, as long as it’s legal! But if you need something illegal… that’s here too!

“Better find that illegal tailor, Mox,” Varian mutters. “For the stack-em-up job.”

But one sight stands out above all:

The Honorable Knight! Standing several stories tall, this grand marble statue is one of several that caught the adventurers’ attention when they arrived in the city. Kneeling in defense of the city, if Waterdeep is ever threatened, these statues can come to life and defend the city.

“But don’t worry. I’m sure that won’t happen,” Mox says.

“Would that only happen for like the physical threats?” Varian wonders. “Like if the economy tanked, would they come to life and attack?”

“How could I possibly know the answer to that!” Mox says.

“Roll a history check and find out!” Uther says.

“Is it made out of statue?” Klardini says.

Afik is at awe with the statue.  “This statue looks very interesting! Perhaps I should throw my stonecunning abilities at it…”

Afik rolls a 19 and 20 with advantage on his stonecunning History check… and Afik begins to speak as he taps on the statue’s toe for knowledge.

“Hrm… well, he was a male warrior!” Afik begins. “I can tell by the creases in the stone, he was moving into position when he suddenly froze into a stone statue. And it appears that if he were to activate, this structure that’s attached to him would be destroyed! He’s just to powerful to leave it alone—doesn’t pose much danger to us though. Yeah… not a lot…”

“What kind of opportunities does it pose?” Uther says.

“Mm… I don’t think there’s any opportunity to be had with this statue,” Afik says.

“Well if a giant monster is attacking us, we could run to Waterdeep,” Varian says.

Afik nods. “Yeah if mindflayers took over the city I’d probably hide behind the statue. I don’t like it very much though because it’s kind of tall… big… very nice stonework though.”

“Was it created or was it alive?” Varian says.

“It appears it was alive before it turned to stone! It was a living breathing giant person!” Afik says.

While Afik realizes he can throw his sword and have it return to him, he thinks of ways to bet people that he can throw the sword around to make money. He stands on the corner and begins to throw his sword. In a crowed area. In public. Without making any actual bets with people—he just starts doing it.

He rolls a 4 on a performance check on his swordthrowing spectacle—that nobody agreed to bet on, by the way—and realizes he has no real gift of gab, so he’s just some dude acting like a crazy person throwing teleporting swords around.

So the police show up.

“Sir, why are you throwing this enchanted weapon in public?” a guard says to Afik.

“It’s a street performance!” Afik says.

“Let me see your permit,” the guard says.

“I applied for it last week,” Afik says, rolling an 18 on a deception check to lie through his ass about his documentation.

“Well, if you have the permit, you just can’t do it here…” the guard says, then squints at Afik. “Oh yeah, I remember you, dwarf! Short, antsy—I look forward to seeing you tonight!”

Afik sweats a bit, “Ah yes… tonight!”

The guard chuckles. “I should have known you Lightbringer Theatre performers need to warm up before a show. Of course, I hope your juggling routines go well because the whole shift of my City Watch’s ward is coming to see the show tonight. And we better see you on that stage!”

“Do you remember my name?” Afik says.

“Of course—you’re Bearded Bart, the Bastard of Baldur’s Gate!” the guard says.

“I’m glad we’re seeing him tonight,” the second guard says. “Otherwise we’d have to arrest him.”

The guards leave, and Afik realizes he’s committed to his bit a little too much.

The adventurers sell their extra loot from their dungeon spelunking, netting about 601 gp for each of them. They then take Uther, Mox, and Afik to a tailor on Salabas Street to get fitted for their trip to Lightbringer Theater.

“Hi there. Let me show you what you’d like to find,” the attendant says, which is a very odd thing to say in retail.

“It’s for a wedding!” Afik says.

“A surprise!” Uther adds.

“A surprise wedding!” Varian says.

“We’re not getting married,” Afik says.

“Well—we’ve got maybe two ways of doing this,” the attendant says, confused. She takes them to the clothes. “This right here is more of a large robe, so most of what you can do is throw the whole thing over you… since this one…” she points at Afik. “Is wider than this one…” she points at Mox. “There’s going to be like, um, like the opposite of a muffin top! But you could also may be do…”

She pulls out a hoop skirt dress, true, baby blue, Southern belle-style with big, poofy sleeves and a skirt that could clean a basketball court in one swipe.

“This dress kind of billows out, and the top is a corset that will fit the goblin very snug! The combined kit is going to be 18 gold pieces.”

“Okay, that sounds reasonable,” Afik says.

“Wait, how much will you haggle down!?” Uther says, declaring haggling.

“We’ll throw in this hat for free,” the lady says, handing over a large straw bonnet hat with a pink ribbon.

Mox and Afik gladly take the dress and hat.

Uther stands before the dressmonger. “Is what I’m wearing appropriate for an opera?”

“This, um…” the woman says.

“He’s our date!” Afik says.

“No we’re going there to meet someone,” Uther says.

“I’m the bottom!” Afik adds.

“If you want to keep a very similar look, but up it, the a robe could be what does it. Same sort of theme?” she says, looking at his black and yellow lightning pattern.

She disappears into the back office and brings out a yellow suit with black, lightning style patterns. Uther loves it and immediately buys it for 15 gold pieces.

Mox looks around. “Do you have any… illegal items?” he says, rolling persuasion.

He rolls poorly.

“I want you to leave!” the woman shouts.

“Nice one, Mox!” Varian says.

“Hey we have no fewer illegal items than we did before!” Mox says.

“Can you stop shouting ‘illegal items?’” Varian shouts.

“She didn’t even have any—it’s fine!” Mox says.

“Should have told her that we’re cops,” Afik says.

Oh yeah, they’re still in the store by the way.

“Get out!” the woman shouts.

They head further up Salabar Street and find a chapel, hopefully there’s someone holy inside who can break this damn curse on Afik’s returning sword that won’t stop glowing ever. The chapel is a temple to Tyr, who is the god of JUSTICE!

“Let justice be done here today,” Afik says.

As they approach, the doors to the temple fly open as a crone woman, bedecked in an old shawl, sea shell jewelry, and terrible skin disease, hobbles out. She turns to shake her old, decrepit, gnarled fist at the people in the temple.

“You shall rue this day! Tyr nonsense!” she shouts, then runs past the adventurers.

“I’m sure we won’t have that problem,” Afik says as she passes by.

“Yeah I’m sure none of us care about her enough to help her out,” Uther says, not bothering for any side quests today—they’re already on one!

 “Let’s go inside and see if we can deal with this curse,” Afik says, waving his curse around.

They step inside the small temple and take in the cozy atmosphere. It’s like a courtroom, but inviting! An elder cleric to the god of justice, Tyr, stands behind an altar in the middle. He looks annoyed… and if he’s already annoyed before meeting the adventurers, well… #tyrbless

“That cleric looks like he can help!” Afik says.

“What can I do for you?” the cleric mumbles.

“Here!” Afik says, throwing his glowing sword at the cleric, who leaps to the side as it immediately teleports back into Afik’s hand.

Two guards on either side of the door draw their weapons. “Put your weapon down!” one of them shouts at Afik.

“That’s what we’re here for!” Uther says.

Afik proceeds to drop, throw, bounce, and relieve himself of his weapon several times to show that it won’t stop returning back to his hand.

“What kind of sword is that?” the cleric says.

“I don’t know. You tell me. It’s bright and noisy,” Afik says, bathing the lukedark interior with the cursed light.

“It’s cursed. Definitely cursed,” Mox says.

“We can remove curses on weapons like this. For 25 gold pieces,” the cleric offers.

“Aww…” Afik says. “That seems reasonable!”

The cleric prepares the altar for a good, old-fashioned curse exorcism. “Place your hand up here on the altar with the cursed weapon,” he says.

Afik removes his glove and places it with the sword on the altar.

“Hrm… another one,” the cleric says, concerned.

The mark of Umberlee glows on Afik’s hand—the dead ghost of dead Larry’s dead mother placed the curse on him mere episodes ago!

The guards slam shut the doors to the temple.

“Why did Umberlee send you?” the cleric says, holding Afik’s arm.

Afik panics. “I knew that wouldn’t be a good tattoo to get—so I think there’s a misunderstanding!”

The cleric leans in towards Afik. “I’ll remove the curse, but you tell that High Trident of the Sea Bitch to back off.”

“Sure! Consider it done!” Afik agrees. “What’s the address?”

“The Queenspire!” the cleric utters.

Afik remembers “Feeling some kind of way, guys!” as their ship pulled into the Waterdeep harbor.

The cleric performs the ancient ritual to remove the two curses from Afik, and the glowing sword clatters to the floor.

“Y’all can have that thing!” Afik says.

As they leave the temple, the guards give them souvenirs—a foam hat of Tyr, which looks like a viking helm, and a plastic action figure of Valour, the champion of Tyr. Valour is an elf, but when they squeeze his legs, his elf parts fall off and he becomes a dwarf! It only works once though because they lost the elf pieces.

Damn ears, can’t keep track of them.

The adventurers find a place to get dressed for the theater. Mox stands on Afik’s shoulders and they don the hoop skirt dress—bonnet included! Uther trades out his lightning bolt themed robe for a lightning bolt themed suit.

They set off for the Sea Ward, where the Lighbringer Theatre is located. Of all the areas in Waterdeep, this location is the most wealthy—servants bustle, hustle, and rustle about on behalf of their masters, and nobles flaunt themselves about. People who live here have money to spend—the perfect place for an opera.

The adventurers approach the theater, which is true to its name—arcane lights and spells light up the large structure in a dazzling array of color in the dusky night air. Guests bedecked in gaudy fashions of the latest design hither to and fro, mingling at the front gates before stepping into the extravagant lobby.

Mox, Afik, and Uther pair up, looking exceptionally… exceptional, sauntering in with their high class outfits.

Mox grabs Uther’s arm.

“We’re just here as friends remember. We’re here to meet someone,” Uther says.

“That’s what you tell everybody!” Afik says, in character, forgetting that he’s the bottom half and not supposed to be talking.

Mox smacks Afik in the head, which looks like a large woman punching herself in the groin. “Uh, sorry!” Mox shouts, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

Some people start to stare.

“Sorry!” Mox says, giving his groin one last punch. “I just—sometimes I just get really excited around the theater.”

While three of the adventurers go undercover into the theater, Varian and Klardini are bored and want to go do something. They hear about the Heroes Garden, which is nearby, and a perfect spot for them to just sit around while the party is split. The large park is full of grass and trees—a perfect getaway from the developed ostentatiousness of the Sea Ward.

Mox, Afik, and Uther approach the entrance to the theater and see that the Sea Maiden’s Faire Variety Show is performing tonight.

“Tickets please?” an usher says, ushingly.

Uther hands over the two tickets.

“That’s the appropriate number,” Mox says.

“Right this way,” the usher says, accepting the tickets and showing the two (three) of them inside.

They enter the lobby and see lots of well-to-dos mingling about, sipping champagne and eating little finger foods. You know, pompous ritzy artys nonsense. The house is not yet open, but there is plenty of time to mingle and rub elbows (or knees) with the upper caste.

Uther looks for anyone who catches his eye in particular, then notices Afik is also scoping the area from below, peeking below the skirts like an upside down periscope. They notice that there are no other goblins—and that Mox presents himself as a rather tall goblin.

“You’re just ugly,” Uther encourages Mox, noticing his concern at the lack of other goblins.

Yeah! Mox isn’t a goblin tonight—he’s just an ugly person!

“Are you suggesting that most goblins are very short?” Mox grumbles.

“You’re obviously not a goblin,” Afik encourages.

“Well good thing there aren’t any goblins around to hear you say that,” Mox states, in character.

A woman deep in her spirits saunters up to them—she’s dressed in her finest attire. “Good eeeevening!” she mutters, “Are you ready to see the Sea Maiden’s Faire? I don’t know if I’ve seen you around the Sea Ward. What are your names?”

Uther bows. “I am Uther Valens, and this is my esteemed associate… who… can introduce themselves!”

“Mox the Mighty… tall!” Mox says.

“Yes, Mox the Mightytall,” Uther confirms.

“Oooooh,” the woman says, slurring her awes. “I don’t think I know the Mightytall family! Quite a mouthful.”

“We’re new money!” Mox says.

“You would not believe their catacombs though!” Uther adds, remembering the trek down to the grave of Mox’s ancestors.

The woman stumbles. “Catacombs? Catacombs you say? How long have you been in the catacomb business?”

“Uh, many generations!” Mox says, thinking back on how far up the family tree Amoxi the Cold was situated.

Other austere women gather around them, impressed at Mox’s entrepreneurial success with keeping dead bodies underground.

“Come here listen! This woman here has made a fortune in catacombing!” the woman states.

“Oh,” Mox begins. “Well, do you know my great great great uncle? He’s, uh, dead… Amoxi the Cold.”

“Amoxi the Cold? I don’t think I’ve heard of him, but you do look familiar. Did you happen to know Sir Brigford the Wise?”

“Yes!” Mox says.

“Well you do look quite like him. Wonderful, wonderful man, Sir Brigford the Wise. Twas a shame at what happened to him,” she slurs, and the women around nod their heads.

Mox’s ears perk up. “Remind me again what happened to him?” he says.

“He was slain! By that filthy Xanathar’s Guild. Cut down in his prime! His estate was bought up, so it didn’t go anywhere, but he has such a wonderful setup at the City of the Dead. Very chivalrous! You’re into catacombing—so what about you, Mr. Valens?” the woman turns to Uther.

“Oh I am a scientist. I discover and look into this magical entity called ‘electricity.’ Imagine candles, but instead of running on fire or magic, it runs on… a different type of magic! My typical type of magic doesn’t get a lot of traction with the aasimars—they’re more like holy and radiant, and I’m more like zappy zap. I wasn’t expelled or anything, but more like ‘recommended for expulsion,’ so if you do happen to know anyone in a particular local guild, I’d be happy to meet them.”

“You’d be happy to join the Guild of Chandlers and Lamplighters—they’re responsible for keeping all the lamps and lights going in the city! Especially…” she takes out a fan and leans in close, whispering to Uther. “Especially if they feel like some new invention might be a threat to their business. But you didn’t hear that from me!”

Uther ponders. “Not really a threat to their business… more like a threat to the whole world. Imagine we’re going to use electricity powered by—”

“Tell me about these catacombs!” the woman immediately dashes over to Mox. “I know quite a many elderly people who may want to do business with you at some point. Where do you have catacombs located?”

“Oh—we’re in the catacomb acquisition phase right now. We’re trying to expand our portfolio of catacombs,” Mox says.

“I did not know there was such a trade in catacombing estates!”

“It’s Waterdeep. There’s a trade in everything!” Mox says.

“Oh you!” she says, and gives a light giggle. “Anyways, tata! I’m off to go stuff my face at this raw bar!”

“Raw Bar was my nickname in high school!” Mox says.

“Oh silly you! Women don’t get educated here!” she says as she stumbles off to eat a bunch of shrimp.

The doors to the house open, and ushers send people to their proper seats and boxes. Afik/Mox’s and Uther’s box are in the farthest back seat at the worst angle—free, but terrible! Piling in next to the trio-dressed-like-a-duo are five other patrons, all dressed in military style uniforms. Two of them are the guards who spoke to Afik while he was “street performing.”

One of the guards leans towards Uther and says, “I can’t wait to see your buddy up there on stage!”

“Shit!” Afik grumbles, crotchly.

“I was going to arrest him, but then I realized he’s going to be part of the show,” the guard says. “Is she okay?” he says, pointing to Mox, hearing the panic from her downstairs.

“Oh my downstairs is fine! Unfortunate catacombing accident,” Mox says, grabbing Afik’s face through the dress. “It’s rude to ask!”

The show begins, and a cavalcade of fanfare kicks off—elephants parade on the stage, trumpeting as explosions and acrobats kick off with jolly feats of strength, then stepping forth in a grand display with tailed coat and ringmaster’s hat with a long cane, a devlish mustache and pointed beard, is the man of the hour himself!

“Good evening! Good evening, people of Waterdeep! I am Zardoz Zord!” he bows, a bright twinkle in his eyes as the audience erupts with applause. “I’m your ringmaster and proprietor of the Sea Maiden’s Faire! Great tales and stories and variety await! Let us begin!”

As the show continues, Mox, Afik, and Uther keep waiting for a dwarf to appear, juggling. He doesn’t show—maybe Bearded Bart, the Bastard of Baldur’s Gate isn’t performing? Intermission arrives, and as the lights raise in the house, the trio sets off to find Mirt in his box for their quest.

They find Mirt, a large man with a shaved chin and a glorious, blonde mustache. His ornate cane is a dull cutlass decked with gemstones and a silver hilt. He eyes them as they sit with him. “May I assist you?” he says, his cheeks turning red.

“We’re looking for… Mirt?” Uther says.

“I’ve been told that I’d be meeting with somebody,” Mirt says. “So you’re the duo that the Harpers sought to send my way?”

“We were chosen by a document,” Mox says.

“An origami one, too!” Uther adds.

“Of course of course,” Mirt says. “I’ve been told to pass this message along to you. “There is a dray-pulled cart in town, pulled by someone named Maxene. Maxene is a courier for several other agencies. We hear that she has learned the identity of some Xentarim operatives. Meet with her, and discuss the details with her to discover the Xentarim wearabouts.”

“You couldn’t have brought her here?” Uther says.

“We can’t locate her,” Mirt says.

“Ah okay, well let’s go find her then,” Uther says, standing up.

“You’re not going to stay for the second act?” Mirt says.

“Oh we can definitely stay—there’s this gentleman next to us who is raving about a dwarf that will be performing soon.”

Mirt smiles. “Ah yes, I’ve heard of him. Bearded Bart, the Bastard of Baldur’s Gate!”

“Yes!” Uther says.

“Yes!” Mox says.

Afik grumbles from beneath Mox.

Mirt looks down towards Mox. “What… am I hearing?”

“We just wanted to do well on your mission, so we brought extra help!” Mox explains.

This raises further questions as Mirt still doesn’t realize that Mox has a dwarf hiding under his skirt.

“You never know what kind of tools we’ll need!” Uther adds.

Afik sticks his arm out and waves.

“You should be impressed both by our forward thinking and our smuggling abilities right now,” Mox says. “Nobody has suspected a thing.”

Mirt’s eyes light up. “No… I suppose they wouldn’t! Whatever you do in the future, I wish you the best of luck. Find out what you can from Maxene and report it here. The horse pulling the cart usually has a flower behind its left ear.” He hands them a piece of paper. “Fold it up into the shape of a paper bird, and it will fly off to where it needs to go.”

Uther takes the magic paper.

“I shall enjoy the rest of the show,” Mirt says. “Though this isn’t quite the most impressive thing I’ve seen tonight,” he adds, staring at Mox and Afik.

As Afik, Mox, and Uther return to their seats, Varian and Klardini are still resting in the Heroes’ Garden. Twilight looms, and Klardini is snoozing away after telling longwinded stories to Varian, who is also falling asleep.

Back at the theater, the second act begins. Afik, Mox, and Uther have returned to their seats, and soon on stage, a skinny dwarf, taller than most, without a beard, somersaults onto the stage. He’s juggling a variety of weapons. The guards notice this and write a few things down in a notepad.

“Hey Mox, have you ever noticed how all dwarves look the same?” Uther says, loudly.

“Ssh!” Someone shushes them from up front.

“We were just remarking about that guy’s appearance to your friend,” one of the guards mutters.

“He might even be our friend!” Mox utters, and the three of them quickly retreat from the theater before the guards catch on.

They reconvene with Varian and Klardini and fill them in on the situation as they get out of their fancy dress costumes. They determine to split up and head to the Castle Ward to find a horse-drawn taxi cart being operated by Maxene.

Varian sleuths down one of the alleys and spots a cart that matches the description his allies gave him—a horse with a flower behind the left ear. He holds his hand up to the driver, a woman with a long, braided ponytail.

“Man, this horse’s mane has a real max-sheen!” Varian says, complimenting the horse.

The lady and the horse give him an odd look.

“Do you know any… um… are you Maxene?” he questions the driver.

“Who wants to know?” the woman says.

“I don’t know. My friends went and saw a carnival, and I had to stay in the park with an old man and, um… something… listen, yesterday I had a bad day! Earlier today I had a bad day! I was in a coma! I don’t know if you’re Maxene or not!”

The woman sighs. “Let’s go for a ride,” she says, and lets Varian into the passenger seat as they continue through the Castle Ward. “So why are you looking for my horse in particular?”

“We can go find my friends and figure that out!” Varian says, completely forgetting his mission under layers of trauma. “Earlier today, we fought a bugbear, and I don’t remember a lot after that—I laid in the park for a few, they said ‘Maxene,’ and I was talking to a horse.”

“I’m Maxene,” the horse speaks. “So you found me.”

Varian’s eyes light up. “I knew it! Did you like my clever wordplay?”

“Sure,” Maxene says.

They cross a curve and see Klardini shuffling around, looking lost. He spots them and doesn’t act surprised one bit to see Varian talking to a horse.

“Hello, horsey,” Klardini says.

“This is the forgetful wizard I told you about,” Varian says.

“Does he know what you’re here for?” Maxene says.

“He’s here to find my spellbook!” Klardini shouts.

“I know it’s something about the Zhentarim—we need to find the lightning one or the half-goblin half-dwarf,” Varian says.

Klardini casts locate object and looks for Mox’s goblin nightfruit. Where there’s a goblin nightfruit, there’s a goblin Mox!

“He’s just a couple of blocks over this way!” Klardini says, and they pick up their goblin comrade.

“Ah, hello!” Mox says.

“This is the half goblin,” Varian says.

“Are you Maxene?” Mox says to the driver.

“Yes,” the horse says.

“You’re… oh,” Mox says.

“We found Maxene!” Varian says. “What are we doing?”

Mox clears his throat. “I have many questions. You are Maxene. You are a horse, and you can talk. Do you know Mirt?”

Maxene nods. “Mirt is a member of the Harpers.”

“And are you a member of the Harpers?” Mox says. “We were told to find you. We have found you.”

“We win!” Klardini shouts.

“What do we do now that we have found you… Uther!” Mox says, seeing Uther.

Uther arrives, but he also forgot what they were supposed to ask Maxene about.

“He told us that you give us free pony rides around the city,” Klardini says. “Also I’m senile and I can’t remember things.”

“Let me just consult my memory,” Uther says.

“I think Xanathar killed my uncle!” Mox says, remembering things.

“He stole my spellbook!” Klardini adds.

“The fact that you are a horse has really thrown us for a loop,” Mox says. “I bet you didn’t expect me to be a goblin!”

“I didn’t expect any of you at all!” Maxene shouts.

“Do you know about Xanathar’s agents? His Zhentarim agents?” Uther presses the horse.

“Those are two different gangs!” Maxene says. “I overheard two of my recent passengers talking—giving off clues that they work for the Zhentarim. There was a male sun elf carrying a lute, and a female half-orc bodyguard—two days ago, I don’t remember what they were discussing, but I dropped them off at the Yawning Portal. They rambled about hiring spies to root out the Xanathar Guild’s hideouts in the city.”

“Thank you for sharing your secrets with us,” Mox says. “Clearly, we won’t share it with anyone else.”

Mox gives Maxene some acorns.

Klardini gives Maxene his amulet of free coupons from the Sorcerous Maiden. “Thank you for your information!”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you learn to be a talking horse?” Mox says.

“One of the Emerald Enclave cast awaken on me,” Maxene says.

“So you were a sleeping horse?” Mox says.

“That’s rude,” Maxene says.

Uther puts his hand on the snitch paper in his pocket and whispers to the others, “Let’s find out who these Zhentarim agents are first… we may like them better!”

“We may like their hideouts—free rent!” Afik suggests.

Oh yeah, Afik is here now too! He was actually here the whole time!

“Thank you, Maxene,” Mox says. “I just really didn’t expect you to be a horse.”

They depart and return to the Yawning Portal, where all this shit began in the first place. It’s night time now, and as they enter the bustling tavern, they notice a large, female half-orc taking a nap at a table against the wall.

Uther goes to her table, picks up her drink, takes a sip from it, then slams it on the table next to her.

“Agh! Don’t touch my stuff!” the half-orc grumbles, waking up.

“Oh, this is yours? Hey, you’re all lonely. Nice to meet you,” Uther says, sitting with her.

“Piss off!” the half-orc growls.

“Can I get you another drink?” Uther says.

The woman leers at him. “Phandelver’s Red,” she answers him, pointing at one of the kegs tapped for dispensing.

Uther has one of his companions go get a Phandelver’s Red for the woman. “I gotta know—my friends and I are starting an adventuring guild. You ever done that?”

The half-orc rolls her eyes. “You’re bothering me, kid.”

Klardini sits at the table on the other side of her. “Hey lady, we’re trying to start a band, and we need a good lute player. Do you know anybody who plays the lute?”

The woman stares at the two men on either side of her. “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.”

“Are you having memory problems like me?” Klardini says.

“Well, I’m kind of bored—so I’ll give you some info if you arm wrestle me for it,” she says, flexing her bicep.

Klardini looks at his own brittle, old, dusty arm. “Well… I’m too old. Let me get my friend. Come on, Mox!”

He drags the little goblin over and plops him down in front of the woman. They arm wrestle with opposing Strength checks—Mox rolling a 4, and the half-orc rolling a 16.

“Wait wait!” Klardini says. “That’s cheating. You gotta do it right!”

“Next!” the half-orc says. “I’m just warming up.”

“Uther, you’re up!” Klardini says.

Uther rolls a 0 for his Strength check and groans, “Owwww! You don’t have to grip so hard!”

“Well, I’m not as strong as I once was—but I’ll give it a shot,” Klardini says, rolling a 4.

So far, the wizard, the rogue, and the warlock have all gone up against the half-orc bodyguard in a contest of strength. You know who hasn’t gone up against her? The fighter or the paladin… maybe they should have led with that!

Varian Bloomstrike steps up and grabs the half-orc’s hand—they begin to arm wrestle, and he rolls an 11 while she rolls a 5!

“Okay, that was fun,” she says. “I’ll pass the word along to my partner that you need a lute player.”

“Well you better. I play woodblock by the way,” Varian says.

“So… what’d you find down there?” the half-orc says, pointing at the opening to the Yawning Portal. “I heard you all went down there.”

Uther puts in a set of fake vampire teeth, then reveals his sinister sneer to her. “What do you think!?” and the teeth fall out.

She chuckles, “You found the Undertakers!”

“Is that what they’re called?” Uther says. “Hey, what’s your name?”

She crosses her arms. “Yagra Stonefist. Did you bump into the Xanathar Guild down there at all?”

“We bumped into a couple of bugbears, and I lost my mind,” Varian says.

“We bumped into the so hard that some of them ended up dead,” Mox says.

Yagra chuckles, “Good!”

“We heard that you may also like to make dead Xanathar people?” Mox says, winking.

“Who’d you hear it from,” Yagra says, leaning in.

Mox thinks for a minute. “You literally would not believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“We… have our own agents,” Mox says.

Yagra leans in closer. “From what I hear, you are agents of Xanathar… is that not what you told the Undertakers?”

“Yeah, so we could steal their teeth!” Uther chimes in.

“What do you really want from me?” Yagra says, no longer joking.

“A lute player and information,” Klardini says. “In that order.”

“You’ll have to speak with my partner—he’s asleep though. You’ll have to try some other time,” Yagra says.

They decide to cash in for the night and get some rest, then continue their discussion the following morning. As they reconvene downstairs for breakfast, the adventurers see Yagra eating with a male sun elf, young and dashing with a lute strapped to his back. He sees them as they enter, and he waves.

Varian turns to his comrades and whispers, “We have one gang who told us a bout another gang who put us against another gang to undermine a fourth gang!”

They forgot who they work for now. The Harpers? The Zhentarim? Xanathar’s Guild? Those stupid Undertakers?

“Well, whichever one is going to give us loot and teeth—we will take. Because we want to become our own gang with our own guild. We learn from the pros! Crush them from the inside, learn how they do it, take the best aspects of each gang—and be duplicitous about it. Play both sides so that we wind up on top!” Uther says, rousing the rest of his allies together—outside of earshot of Yagra and her boss.

Varian approaches the table and sits. “Hey, I hear you like to play the lute,” he says.

“You hear correctly, sir,” the sun elf man says, eyeing the lute strapped to his back.

“Yeah well… we need… um, do you have a place where we can talk privately?” Varian says. “There are eyes everywhere! And ears!”

“Yes… there certainly are eyes,” the sun elf says. “We can step into my room.”

Varian takes out a woodblock and gives the secret signal that the three of them are going to the sun elf’s room.

“That’s the signal!” Mox says.

“So this is your… band?” the sun elf says as they are unable to go up the stairs to his room due to the other four adventurers still standing on the stairs.

“Hold on—we’re still doing auditions. This is the committee to form the band,” Varian says as they slip past the rest of his adventuring party and step into the sun elf’s quarters.

“And you wish to join the Zhentarim?” the sun elf says, sitting down.

“Is that what you got out of this?” Varian says. “I’m interested in learning more!”

“Fair enough. My name is Davil Starsong, and any questions or suggestions come through me. You will stay quiet about this or—”

“Quiet about what?” Varian says.

“You’re going to have to prove something. I’ll pay your passage into the Dungeon of the Mad Mage if you wipe out Xanathar’s agents on the first floor. Do that, and we can discuss this more. You can bring friends.”

“You got yourself a deal,” Varian says, shaking his hand.

“Once this is done, we’ll discuss… forming a band. And we will make this band work,” Davil says.

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