Tales From The North Ward Guard Post 2

“I heard there was a palaver between the pantheons.” One of the two gate guards said in a: would you believe that? tone of repartee to his comrade- a seven foot tall dark brooding man who could not have seemed to care any less. As they walked into the North Ward guard post the working scribe noticed the late evening outside was brisk and warm for a change and, at least for now, the rain has given Waterdeep a brief reprieve.

 

Losifan Urdo is a scribe to the city watch and is responsible for collecting registrars from the North Gate to make sure they are error free, legible, and be available to ask questions to the gate captain or his designee regarding the lists of individuals, caravans, or adventuring parties arriving and departing Waterdeep.

“And,” the irritating gossip monger continued; “there was an immediate distrust between Protector Hawkwinter, Kelemvor the Good, and the avatar of death Eva Maerklos. They did not care for the death’s mistress at all.” The man could not hope to hide his fascination with the subject it would seem.

Losifan was educated in the church of Denier and could read nearly every written modern language but he did not need his extensive training to read the irritation on the brooding face of Captain Turgoz Tenhammer.

“Today’s transits and taxes collected Sai Losifan Urdo.” The formidable captain said industriously. “This is Duke Elton of Balder’s Gate he…”

But before Turgoz could continue with his formal introductions Duke Elton burst from behind Tenhammer to extend an enthusiastic hand in the face of Losifan nearly upsetting hours of work.

“Elton Johns good sage, I have traveled from afar to offer my expertise in whatever capacity the city desires.” His quick speech and bickering mannerisms immediately put Losifan on the defensive.

“If you please,” Losifan said, “I have to process this and I am already hours behind.”

“Apologies, I will trouble you no further.” Duke Elton Johns promised him, only to return to his previous subject matter of the pantheon meeting vying for favor of his superior.

The scribe watched in awe as the towering Turgoz stood uninspired at the incessant banter emanating from the Duke. The powers that be somewhere decided Sai Johns should temper his enthusiasm at the gates, Losifan harrumphed at the humor.

After counting the taxes collected Losifan Urdo then changed his focus to the transits, people coming and going from Waterdeep during the daylight hours when the city gates are open. He read them with passing interest taking care that all is legible.

“These three caravans,” Losifan indicated for the two guardsmen. “Populated wagons that leave north this time of year are unusual. Did they offer explanations or claims of their journey?”

Captain Tenhammer immediately responded, anything Losifan mused to divert the Captain’s weakening patience for Elton Johns. Looking down on the names in question, Turgoz though briefly and then spoke aloud with confidence. His voice booming over Johns.

“The first company to leave was a group of craftsmen from the Jewelers Guild bound for Neverwinter; their spokesman was a man named Wykkar Brown; they also traveled with a half elf who claimed to be from Neverwinter. The second faction was by far the largest,” Turgoz looked to Elton Johns for confirmation then thought better of it. “they were led by a Waterdeep noble Kym Tarm, all eight who traveled with them were adventurers bound for the Kryptgarden. The last set was the most evasive when encountered. They barely made the gate before it closed for the evening and since their company was leaving only gave their destination as the Goldenfields.”

“They did travel with a mongrel-beast, some bastard I know not of what.” Remarked Duke Johns in sour repulsive tone only individuals born from old money are capable of.

“Thank you gentlemen that will be all for this evening,” Losifan said dutifully giving to the two guards leave. Wishing he could retire to his apartment, Losifan rose to stretch and regarded the hours of work still in front of him when a sting, brief as a pinprick, bit into his neck below his ear.

Just as the sage fell lifeless to the floor a diminutive devil materialized from nothing wearing a hellish smile. The imp scooped up the days transits from the North Gate then paused; and with a sinister nightmarish cackle grabbed the sack containing taxes collected. It turned to leave but a curiosity caught its eye: a set of masterwork keys on the sage’s inner belt, not keys to this guard post but for something…