The Thieves of Waterdeep

Snow in waterdeep

Bad things happen in the dark

As the cold and the snow settled in Waterdeep a single short figure could be seen shuffling through the snow with his head down. Snow settled onto his well worn cloak and the hood up hid his face from most onlookers who quickly passed in the street. Only a long pointed nose could be seen poking out from the dark cloak hood. Occasionally this figure seem to turn down random alleys avoiding the bright lights of prominent buildings buildings only to emerge from the shadows through the back of buildings.

As the figure passed Black Well Court, head down a cat call made from one of the local toughs caused the figure to stop and stare. 5 muscle bound humans surrounded the short cloaked figure and demanded that what ever he was carrying be dropped or he would cut up and served for breakfast. The figure removed his hood and looked up at this towering human and smiled. The five ruffians, took a step back as his face was contorted in to a picture of malignant glee. In one move his mace swung at the back leg of the lead ruffian crushing his knee. Screaming and collapsing forward the man’s skull was crushed with a single powerful blow from the mace. The four remaining ruffians produced a range of short swords and clubs and moved to attack. The first moving from behind to attempt to stab this obvious dwarf in the back. However, as he stabbed forward, a powerful hand grabbed his wrist breaking bones in a painful twist, the mace however crushed the top of his skull pounding the now corpse into the ground. The dwarf side stepped with agility that defiled his small nature, causing the now three remaining attackers to stumble over their friend’s corpse. Tumbling into their midst the dwarf swung his cruel mace into their knees dropping two more combatants. They lay groaning on the ground as the remaining human dropped his weapons and backed away. The malignant grin of this dwarf grew larger as he resolutely approached this thug, now backing away. As his terrified human backed into the alley, tripping over a broken pottery pot, Thraim causally followed, taking his time over his next kill.

Entering the alley fully, running feat could be heard as a large number of boot prints could be heard. Thraim waited to see this new development, as a force of 30 humans armed in a variety of chain mail and 15 dwarves arrived and now surrounded him. A dwarf emerged from the between his fellow dwarves, armed in dwarven plate mail, shield and carrying an Axe. He looked at Thraim and said in dwarvish “I’ve been looking for you for some time you disgusting Druegar, you took my armour and now you’re going to pay.
Thraim, casually looked round and noted that the human mercenaries all had a variety of professional held weapons. He said “It took your time, but my fate isn’t what you’d expect”.

The Dwarf said “Get him”. As he spoke Thraim’s finger was massaging the hilt of his mace Typus, a cloud of Green Gas suddenly appeared amongst the middle of the Dwarves and the mercenaries. Almost immediately, all the humans and most of the dwarves dropped down coughing up blood and shaking, before lying still. The plate mail dwarf strode forward coughing as he swung at Thraim’s neck. Thraim only managed to partially duck as the blade cut past his shoulder. As he swung for the second time, Thraim became enlarged and managed to step over the swung battle axe aimed at his knees. More blood emerged from the mouth of the dwarf as he connected with Thraim’s thigh, cutting deeply. Grimacing in pain, Thraim’s huge mace was defected by the shield of the dwarf’s hastily raised shield. The foes circled each other as the dwarf armorer continued to cough. Thraim aimed a blow at the head of the dwarf’s head only at the last second change the angle to crash into the arm pit as the dwarf raised his shield to deflect the blow again. Typus struck deep and released it’s unholy magic into the rib cage. The Dwarf Armorer clutched his chest as his rib cage began to wither away, stumbling, and collapsing onto the ground. Thraim muttered some short magic to stem the bleeding in his thigh and then stooped to investigate the dead chief dwarf. He was armored in magical dwarven plate, a magical shield and even a magical axe. Thraim still inside the poisonous gas picked up the dwarf as his trophy and then using his innate druegar ability turned invisible to exit out of the alley.

A crowd of onlookers gathered outside the gas to see what had happened. Thraim, quickly strode away as the gas dissipated revealing the carnage, of corpses lying on the ground. Watchful citizens began to emerge to loot the corpses, lying with death head grins locked on their dead faces.

Walking onwards, Thraim Stumbled carrying the dead dwarf as Typus the mace released it’s chaotic power again into Thraim. Thraim’s cruel visage was replaced with a less evil wild eyed, slightly confused mania visage. Thraim continued on towards the lair of DOOM only to stop and stare to the incredibly drunk Sir Lanceabit who remained asleep at the table, with bad brandy dribbling down his chin, pooling on the table top.

Later that day as Thraim slept, Chaotic dreams began to assault the very fabric of Thraim, waking drenched in sweat he quickly dressed, eyes watering and entered the sewers via the secret lair entrance. Travelling through the maze of the sewers drawn forward by Typus, he emerged up some stairs into a chapel. A guard armed in plate strode over to where Thraim emerged from the side entrance and drew his longsword. A cry from a priest nearby halted the guards attack and he stood aside. Thraim stumbled on drawn on by some higher power, feet shuffling he prostrated himself at the alter and a light emerged from the alter to strike Thraim in the chest. Thraim’s arms were raised up and began to cry hysterically. The priest approached the beset Thraim, and began to cast a augury spell to determine Thraim’s true purpose. A smile emerged from his lips as his prayers were answered. Calling out, in his deep booming voice, he cried “Fratres, quod discipulus nova”. Priests and Acolytes began to emerge to witness this miracle unfold.

Thraim’s head turned his head to stare at this priest saying “is it over?

The priest replied “Yes brother, the choice has been made, welcome to the temple of Beshaba you have much to learn”.


Fever Dream or reality only time will tell. Perhaps the Besheba’s evil brand of Chaos will be exactly what Lanceabit searches and yearns for. Maybe Besheba would value the Walking embodiment of CHAOS on this plain of existance…..or whatever that was that dude said…Avatar maybe……personification….Anyway something VERY CHAOTIC. (Bringing with it the awesome ability to wear some armour and be controlled by a sword!! Dum dum dum)

Snow in waterdeep

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