Sitting around the Blue Flame Tavern

[Smiling Jack]

All right, if everyone else is just gonna sit around here with their thumbs in their asses, I'll start.

Name's Jack Twelvefingers but, most of you who frequent this place know me as "Smiling Jack."  I know some of you goody-goody types--yes priests, I'm looking at you--are asking yourselves "what in the name of holy this and that is this miscreant doing here?"  Well, I'll tell you.  Contrary to popular belief, I am not in the same business that my father was.  Those of you who grew up here without your nose in a book might remember Chand Quickfingers.  He was a thief--a good thief--and it got him killed.  I like living, that's why I don't steal.

I'm what you might call a businessman, an entrepreneur.  I make things happen for people, and that makes things happen for me.  This neighborhood is my office.  I bring folks here from the docks.  Merchants, sailors, travellers, whomever.  I bring them to these stores, these inns, this very tavern.  I set them up with buyers, I connect them with their intrests, and I guide them to their destinations.  But lately times have been tough.  These lazy greycloaks have decided that other areas in town are more important than here.  And as a result, the streets are getting dangerous.

So why am I here?  I want my neighborhood to be known as a safe neighborhood, a place where people feel comfortable and relaxed.  A place where travellers want to come and put their feet up.  If the greycloaks aren't gonna make that happen, then I'll make it happen myself.  If you want to help, fine.  If not, stay outta my way. 

I've been told I have a short temper and a smart mouth.  I don't care.  I'm not here to make friends.  I'm here to make my neighborhood good for business.  My business and your business.  So let's take care of business so I don't have to put up with you bastards any more than necessary.

[Smiling Jack]

Well, well.  Nobody's talking.  I got two words for that:

Six pussies.

[Nazurahei]

My name is Nazurahei, and I'm not a regular here. I tend to spend more time at the Old Forge Tavern, since it’s closer to where I live and work. I am the scribe Saldanri’s assistant, and his place is adjacent the Old Forge. My apartment is right above the shop. It’s got quite a nice view — all the way to the City of the Dead, actually.

I’m here because someone broke into our office the other night. We didn’t have a lot to steal but what we did, the thieves managed to find: silver coins, stacks of vellum and some business records that will be impossible to replace. Saldanri heard news of this new neighborhood watch, and he urged me to join since he’s too old to be wandering the alleys rousting thugs. I tend to keep late hours, so he thought I could assist with knowledge of what transpires on the streets after sundown.

I know you’re probably wondering just how useful a scribe is going to be on one of these expeditions. I am too, I suppose. I’m just here because my employer asked me to lend a hand. Hopefully, I won’t be in the way. I do have a bit of magical training, so perhaps that will come in handy. You see, like Jack, I am an orphan. My father — who worked in the, erm, mortuary sciences — died when I was quite young, and I spent some of my growing years under the guardianship of a mage. I learned a few cantrips from him that might come in useful. The mage’s name, you say? Oh, he was no one important. No one you would have heard of.

[Brand Nar Gath]

Well, well.  Nobody's talking.  I got two words for that:

Six pussies.

So I was talking to the bartender at the black horse.  He says to me "what is the best thing you can think of about hobbits?"  I tell him 'no way I've even met a Hobbit, they the shorties, right?'  He tells me back," well the best thing about the wee folk is that they have five holes right about waist level!  Perfect for a quick spurt or a circle jerk...."

[Smiling Jack]

...and you need those small holes or else you're just kind of flopping around in there with that little thing.

[Nazurahei]

So, what of the dwarf and the holy man? What draws the two of you to the neighborhood watch?

[Smiling Jack]

As for the deacon, he probably didn't realise all the orphans would be adults.

[Nazurahei]

As for the deacon, he probably didn't realise all the orphans would be adults.

Sounds like a priest of Lathander to me.

[Náriël Telemnar]

Humorous. Keep laughing.

Coincidentally, I too was an orphan. The priests of Lathander in the Western Highlands found me as an infant, still clutching my dead mother, victim of a bandit raid. Although they gave me the sort of generic name they give to all such foundlings, "Morning", they had no real capability at their small temple to raise a child so they gave me over to the larger Temple of Torm.

I toiled long hours and gave my life meaning through hard work and devotion. I was raised to learn the value of honest labor and quiet wisdom. Noting my grim cast, the priests of the temple took to spelling my name with a 'u', and as a teen, when it was clear that I planned to dedicate myself to the church they added the appellation 'Deacon' (meaning an uninitiated priest).

Several years ago I started to question my life at the temple and came to Waterdeep to seek greater meaning in my life and ministrations. I moved in to this neighborhood and hold a position at Waterdeep's temple of Torm, but my passion has been to tend to the needs of the less fortunate around this area. It angers me to see how the poor and weak are being victimized in this current wave of crime.

Every day I work and devote myself to Torm. Every night I work to help those in need. I'll work with this night watch to cut out the rot in our community. The longer we let this corruption fester, the more we endanger the moral fabric of our entire community. Every criminal we imprison or kill will be held up as a sacrifice to the great god Torm.

[Nazurahei]

Humorous. Keep laughing.

Coincidentally, I too was an orphan. The priests of Lathander in the Western Highlands found me as an infant, still clutching my dead mother, victim of a bandit raid. Although they gave me the sort of generic name they give to all such foundlings, "Morning", they had no real capability at their small temple to raise a child so they gave me over to the larger Temple or Torm.

I toiled long hours and gave my life meaning through hard work and devotion. I was raised to learn the value of honest labor and quiet wisdom. Noting my grim cast, the priests of the temple took to spelling my name with a 'u', and as a teen, when it was clear that I planned to dedicate myself to the church they added the appellation 'Deacon' (meaning an uninitiated priest).

Several years ago I started to question my life at the temple and came to Waterdeep to seek greater meaning in my life and ministrations. I moved in to this neighborhood and hold a position at Waterdeep's temple of Torm, but my passion has been to tend to the needs of the less fortunate around this area. It angers me to see how the poor and weak are being victimized in this current wave of crime.

Every day I work and devote myself to Torm. Every night I work to help those in need. I'll work with this night watch to cut out the rot in our community. The longer we let this corruption fester, the more we endanger the moral fabric of our entire community. Every criminal we imprison or kill will be held up as a sacrifice to the great god Torm.

As relieved as I am that you're not one of those zealots of Lathander, I still find you a bit scary.

[Smiling Jack]

I did hear, in between all the "blah blah blah," the phrase "quiet wisdom."

That's what I like in a cleric.

[Smiling Jack]

So what's the story, dwarf?  Let me guess:

Orphan?

[Nazurahei]

So what's the story, dwarf?  Let me guess:

Orphan?

That or toilet trained too early.

There had to be some kind of early trauma make him so angry.

[Gabriel Cash]

Firstly, I killed all your parents.

My people are from here in Waterdeep. They usually sent me away to relatives so I could train. They said "You suck the life out of a room even worse than Uncle Albrecht the goblin raper." yeah whatever.
Look if someone's mother has the face of a baboon it's not an insult its an observation.

Still I had some good times as a lad. I remember me and my mum going down to the pond to kill the ducks. She was a good shot, could take a fucking ducks head clean off at 30 yards. She does some official work now, but it don't leave much time for killin' things and then what's the fucking point of it all I ask

Fucking gem merchant, tiara-making wind bags have lost all appreciation of a good bloodletting streets awash in the gore of your enemy and good times like that I mean sure there's some collateral damage but fuck it was bound to happen anyway wasn't it hey don't you fucking look at me like that old people die all the time and maybe that ratbag aunt Clara of yours should learn to keep her bearded old yap shut while she still has a few teeth

And Boss, I'm sure you did say "he needs to leave", but I swear I heard "break his knees", I hope your friend is okay.

Ryan- my new background : I murdered all their parents.

[Smiling Jack]

So I guess the dwarf joined up to get free grammar lessons from the scribe?