I have five new friends. How lucky for me that I have five best friends! They are even wizards! Now, I don’t know much about these wizards, but boy, have they had quite a few weeks. It all started with that horrible fire that killed everyone they loved. From there, it seemed they wanted to drown their sorrows in a pub where they met Volothamp Geddarm. He asked them to find his boyfriend, Floon, as he was worried about him.
It’s impossible for me to know exactly what happened, but the wizards did successfully find Floon. He was hiding underground, captured by the Xanathar Guild, but only after he was captured by the Zhentarim. And after they caused a riot at an orphanage. Renaer Neverember was there too. They found him at a Zhentarim warehouse after they killed a bunch of birds. Renaer suspected that the Zhents and Xants were after him for information about his father’s Stone of Golorr. Captain Hyustus Staget heard that and told them that a “game” was afoot in the underworld. It seems that this stone unlocks some dragons or something, and all the criminal organizations want it. But Renaer was wrong. It turns out Floon knew something about the Cassalanters, and it seems some squid guy wanted that information. It doesn’t matter, though, because my friends saved the day!
What happened next is hard to say, but Volo gave the wizards a haunted house! The wizards spent most of the money they stole from Floon’s house on the renovations. The house is haunted still but in a happy way now. To celebrate, the wizards went to the opera and met my other best friend, Mirt! For some reason, Mirt always sends people to talk to me instead of talking to me himself. I told them all the things I hear while pulling this cart. I told them about Floxil Ustin staying at the Gralhund Villa, the Doom Fists fighting with the other Zhentarim faction led by Urstul Floxin, and some talk about the Cassalanters’ eyes. Or eye. They have eyes, is what I think they were saying. I know that seems like a safe thing to say about someone, but I’ve met many people without eyes. How do they see? Whenever I meet someone without eyes, I make sure to talk a lot so they know where I am, and they don’t run into me. That would be embarrassing for everyone.
So anyway, that is all I have to say about the wizards, which brings me to the next part: the explosion in front of their haunted house. There were a lot of dead people. Some street performers, Zhentarim agents, a gnome, and an elderly woman! It turns out the Zhentarim were chasing the gnome when a Nimblewright exploded. Luckily, one of the Zhentarim survived and took something from the gnome. The gnome was Dalakhar, an old worker for Lord Neverember. It turns out he was trying to meet Renaer at Trollskull Alley as he feared for his life. It seems like he was right to fear! The guy got away but seemed like he was hurt. I think the Nimblewright followed him, probably to help him out!
I’m not too sure what happened after that, but the wizards figured out they should go talk to the artificer guild about the Nimblewrights. Joe and Esmelda of the guild knew the Nimblewright was made by Pere Noel, an artificer that made other artificers look sane. Pere Noel knew who bought the Nimblewrights, but the players had to make some mild threats first. The players broke into the houses of people who owed Mr. Noel money and left them mimics to find in the morning. Turns out the Nimblewright was made for the Cassalanters! I wonder if it’s the same Cassalanters that have eyes!
’Twas the night after payment, and what do you know?
It seems that my patrons still owed me some dough
They’ll need a quick lesson, best learn not to dare
Cross Père Noël, or I’ll give them a scare
Alas, I’m too busy, my vengeance must wait
I’ll need a small miracle before deciding their fate
That very same night, five men strode to my shop,
Complaining that one of my gadgets went “pop”
I knew what they asked, I could help them, you see
But why would I ever do something for free?
I saw it now, a Gond miracle had occurred
These five could help punish the folks who deferred
They almost agreed but then wanted much more
“Fine, if you succeed, choose a gift from these four”
I gave them my sleigh, the one powered by rocket
Three houses to visit, I wrote on their docket
The packages they deliver, likely won’t kill
They’re simply reminders, to pay up the bill
So off they all went, blazing into the night
I hope they’d soon give, my deadbeat clients a fright
Twasn’t easy, conflicts arose at each stop
They even had reason, to punch out a cop
With midnight approaching, they finished in a hurry
Their targets now know, don’t tempt Père’s furry
A deals a deal, don’t let people say Père
Is anything but, judicious and fair
I told them all about, the ones that they sought
About the Casselanters and the nimblewrights they bought
They wanted more still, than the original deal
They argued about it, with incredible zeal
I’m not quite sure how, maybe divine intervention
They managed to swindle me out four inventions
So heed this tale, if you’re late on your due
Père Noël’s wrath, may come looking for you
I have not been with these Weenie Fellows for too long but it’s clear to me, they would be 100% dead if they hadn’t met a rat like me. Let’s start with their haphazard “raid” on a known criminal hideout. The first thing they do when approaching the door is the big one starts yelling. I can’t believe the goblins guarding the place didn’t hear them! There had to be only a 5/20 chance of that happening. Luckily I had the brilliant idea to scope out the space ahead of time and gave them the all clear.
Doesn’t matter though, big guy charged forward and woke a guard up anyway. Then the tall handsome one went on a stabbing spree, even I didn’t have to do anything.
So we head deeper into this dank, foul-smelling lair, and honestly, I love it. We come across some people yelling about ooze, but my spirits were dampened when it was clear the ooze they see isn’t the good kind. Everyone wanted to charge in but I said “wait, we don’t have to use violence”. I suggested the cleric use his booming voice spell and send the pirate in. It worked like a charm, and everyone died.
We made it to the final boss. You could tell right away he is the final boss from the tentacles all over his face. Normal folks don’t have tentacles on their face. Outside of the boss’s . . . I guess you would call it his office? It’s where he was doing his business of torturing the guy we came to save, so its kind of his office. So outside his office, it’s clear there is a motivation issue. The big guy isn’t “mad” enough to fight so we are all start trying to hype him up. I might have took it too far. Listen, I’m a cultured rat, but Meryl Streep was so stiff and rigid she was more Ironclad than Iron Lady. He was so upset, he literally disappeared!
The ensuing battle was hard to watch. You could tell they were dying. The religious one’s brain literally died it seemed like. After killing some of the brain-spiders and the big wizard guy, they were still having trouble. I declared in my most barbaric voice “WE ARE DONE” and of course the rest of the critters cowered in fear. Religious man then decides to go back and save some random dwarf that was suffering from the ooze. The dwarf then pledged his life and in an instant, you could see him go from nameless evil henchman to some guy with thoughts and feelings.
So we saved that guy, but the guy we came to save we also saved. Then that guy and floppy hat guy kissed and surprised all the other guys but not this guy. Spending 500 gold on adventurers to find someone isn’t drinking buddy behavior, its boning buddy behavior. On top of the gold that I’m pretty sure we got somehow, he also gave us a sweet house. It was everything a house should be, dank, rotten, and haunted. We get to the place and everyone immediately starts planning to ruin it. They are going to clean it, renovate it, and turn it into a church. I don’t understand why they would mess with perfection.
The renovations started and the days flew by in the blink of five minutes chunks. While fixing the manor up, we got a letter inviting us to the opera where someone is going to talk to us about the harpers. Knowing that the wizards would never look presentable to the opera, I suggested we go get them some outfits. I did not suggest everyone getting the same outfits but I must say, they cleaned up nicely. After all the outfits were picked out, the gay genies had brought out a 6th outfit, rat sized and perfectly tailored for me! Its not my usual outfit, but looking at myself on that little gnomes shoulder in the mirror, I thought “Damn we looked good. I might get used to this.”
Date of Incident: Hammer 15th, 1495 22:18pm
Date of Submission: Hammer 16th, 1495 11:18 am
Location: 152 Zastrow Street
Incident Type: Peace Disturbance
Responding Officer(s): Doug
Reporting Officer(s): Captain Staget
Case Number: A35122
At approximately 18:34, while patrolling the Dock Ward, Officer Doug was approached by a Waterdavian citizen who alerted him to a potential altercation occurring in a nearby warehouse. Upon arriving at the scene, Officer Doug recognized the address as a warehouse previously listed as a location of interest. Officer Doug informed me of the disturbance. We responded swiftly, assembling an elite squad to conduct a raid on the warehouse.
Following the execution of the raid, six living individuals and twelve deceased were discovered. Among the deceased were three drow, five humans, and four kenku. The bodies had been moved into a pile and appeared to be arranged in preparation for a ritual, which was being conducted by one of the living individuals, identified as Jesus (see below). Initially, the individuals were to be detained; however, upon recognizing their affiliation with the Weenie Wizards Guild, I instructed otherwise. (Note to recorder: Please update Case Number A3951 to reflect new information. Follow-up with the ‘Sole Surviving’ Weenie Wizard is required.) The individuals posed no immediate threat. The Wizards were questioned and provided details of what occurred during the initial disturbance. According to the individuals, there was an altercation between the Zhentarim and Xanathar’s Guild, with the latter searching for an individual, one Floon Blagmaar, who was reportedly present during the initial disturbance. The individual was most likely moved to the sewers and, as such, is no longer a concern for the City Watch. The Weenie Wizards departed at approximately 22:00. Crime scene investigators were summoned shortly afterward and discovered several maps of potential criminal hideouts, which have been filed under evidence numbers E3415 and E5019. The coroner arrived at approximately 23:45 to take possession of the bodies. A ward has been placed on the warehouse that will alert us if any individuals return to the scene of the crime.
Name: Sploosh
Description: a dragon born who plays the bagpipes
Address: 1800 Pennsylvania ave
Additional Notes: A bagpipe player with no lips seems far fetched. Unclear why they were lying about it.
Name: Leaf
Description: Normal sized for a gnome. A bit dirty. A rat with was riding on his shoulder.
Address: “between places”
Additional Notes: Rat had what could only be described as a smug look about him. Rat was not questioned at this time.
Name: Sobek
Description: A “sea merchant” with long hair.
Address: a boat on moored on the docks
Additional Notes: Definitely a pirate
Name: Dave
Description: Large almost barbarous look. Kind eyes
Address: Corner of Park Place and Boardwalk
Additional Notes: Didn’t talk much, seemed to be dodgering any questions
Name: Jesus Chriost
Description: Tatooed and balding human.
Address: In his wagon.
Additional Notes: Jesus Chriost is his name, his god, and his religion. Unclear which of the three originated first, though I have significant doubt regarding the sanctity of at least one of them.
We do not condone vigilantism; however, given our history with the Weenie Wizards and their cooperation, no charges were filed. Of greater concern is the reason behind their friend’s capture. It appears that the underworld is pursuing an artifact known as the Stone of Golorr. I fear that another ‘game’ is unfolding in the underworld (see Case A34115 and B411 for previous instances of the ‘game’). I have formally requested funding to double the guard presence in the Southern and Dock Wards.
No follow-up is required at this time; however, I do hope this is not the last encounter with the Weenie Wizards. We still need a caterer for the Winterale party.
I was utterly unprepared for the secrets hidden within Floon’s vault. As the safe door creaked open, we sat there, mouths agape at the sight before us. Inside, we found three potions of invisibility and 1,200 Dragons, meticulously arranged in twelve neat piles, along with an additional 200 Dragons haphazardly scattered about. But it was the letters that truly unsettled me. It appeared these Dragons had been obtained through morally questionable means, perhaps by witnessing, or participating in, some rather unsavory dealings.
My faith in my good friend, however, was restored when we uncovered a note indicating that Floon had been donating a portion of this wealth to the Starlight Sanctuary orphanage. The Weanie Wizards, ever resourceful, quickly decided that the Sanctuary would be our next destination in the search for Floon. And so, we set off toward the orphanage, with the troupe already concocting what I could only describe as an unusual plan for our arrival.
At the Sanctuary, we would never turn away a lost soul, and little Pip seemed as lost as ever. He clearly hasn’t bathed in weeks, maybe months. The pirate who came in with him seemed to have neglected any sort of care for the child. Grommuk took to him immediately, which is good, as unfortunately, I don’t see Pip getting adopted anytime soon. The pirate who brought him here, though, lingered for a bit too long. He was inquiring about the finances of the orphanage. It must have been odd to him to see so many repairs going into the dilapidated building, but ever since Floon started giving to the Sanctuary, we’ve been able to put it right into helping the kids.
The nerve of those Jesus Freaks. They come to a house of Syreth and to convert us? I’m sorry, you want an orphanage run by a god who is responsible for The Purifying Flame, killing all those non believers 800 years ago? And to insinuate that we are taking money from the mouths of our own children? I did not have time for that meaningless distraction today.
I hav met new friend today. Pip. He is nice to me. I hav been a orfan so long but now with friend ofanege is much better place I feell like will be friends for long time. I show him bathroom and Sister mariane office. He likd both place alot. He in bathroom for sometime, his number 2 might have turnd number 3. If he take longer than he will miss concert from bag playing man.
I had never considered myself a religious person, but Jesus the human made some great points about Jesus, the God. At the very least, he was convincing enough that I followed him next door for the orphan concert. That was a fantastic idea on my part. Bagpipes are not Kragor’s preferred instrument, but when the one they call Sploosh started playing The Vanguard of Gruumsh’s Fury, a battle hym fit for the most glorious of battles, I was right back in my youth. And just like in those days, we started throwing those orphans around the pit. Everyone had a grand time. It could have been the music, the beauty of screaming children, or just the general fear in the air, but Kragor felt his heart grow 10 times that day. I decided right there the one they call Grommuk shall be my son.
Sister Marianne is a devoted follower, always sacrificing for the children. So, I did find it odd when she asked for my blessing to be passed on to those who put the children in danger in the first place. To be fair, after putting them at such risk, they did manage to save 19 from harm. The pirate was particularly heroic. Anything less than 15 children, and I would not have allowed my blessing to be passed. May their orphan senses serve them well in their pursuit of saving one of my children, Floon.
“Hello?” we heard from outside. Someone was approaching. We quickly gestured to hide, thinking we could catch them by surprise. But alas, these individuals were clearly well-trained in combat, and we were no match for them. I pleaded for mercy, appealing to what I hoped was their human side. But as I saw the axe swinging toward my head, I realized they were nothing more than ruthless killers.
I sat huddled in the dark closet when some saviors seemed to find me. My heroes, it seems, were looking for Floon, and considering it’s probably my fault he’s missing, I told them everything I knew. The Zhentarim were after me to learn more about the Stone of Golorr, which my father supposedly used to hide the location of his secret stash. My father and I are estranged, but that didn’t seem to matter to them. While I was holed up in this warehouse, the Xanathar Guild attacked the Zhentarim. In the chaos, Floon gave me an invisibility potion he had hidden, and I managed to hide, but the potion wore off before I could escape, leaving me stuck in this broom closet.
All is not lost, though, for dear Floon. It seems we have a paper bird, and with some clever engineering, we’re going to attempt to follow it after writing Floon a letter. As long as no one interrupts this plan, it should work!
“I want to join your guild,” declared the diminutive gnome, launching into a heart-wrenching tale of familial treachery and homelessness. Ordinarily, I might have been vexed by such an unsolicited interruption, but the genuine joy radiating from this little fellow (or perhaps, a youthful man, you can never tell with the whimsical races) softened my resolve. Moved by his plight, I decided to welcome him into our fold with a Weanie Wizard patch of unparalleled distinction. After some deft magical work, we shifted our focus back to more pressing matters—namely, my own troubles.
I recounted the tale of my missing friend, Floon Blagmaar. He had vanished following a night of revelry at the Skewered Dragon, and I had not heard a peep from him since. That was two days ago, and I feared for his safety. Floon is well-regarded, both among the common folk and the upper crust of society. It is this broad exposure that concerns me—inevitably, he would run afoul of trouble, and I feared that time had indeed arrived.
I offered a reward of ten gold pieces each up front, with an additional hundred gold upon completion of the task. To my astonishment, the brave adventurers declined any payment! They insisted on covering all my expenses from that moment forward. Truly, I had never encountered such noble strangers!
When they inquired whether I wished to join the search, I was initially hesitant. My talents lie more in the realm book magic than pow pow bang magic. However, they made a compelling point—I was the one who knew Floon best, and they continued to pay for my drinks. So, with my wealth still in my pockets, we set off for the last place I had seen him.
Our journey was grimly punctuated by a reminder of the underworld’s machinations. A fierce clash between members of the Zentharim and Xanathar’s guild had left the street littered with bodies, while the city watch cleaned up the mess and managed the curious onlookers. Since Floon was not among the fallen, we pressed on with our mission.
At the Skewered Dragon, Sploosh made a dramatic entrance, bursting through the doors and launching into a song. Alas, the song was one word long “ouch”, as a Drow at the bar hurled a bottle at him, bruising Sploosh’s spirits and head.
Dave, incensed on behalf of Sploosh, confronted the Drow. Dave was soon placated as the drow and he shared in their disdain for bagpipes. We then asked the Drow for any information about Floon. Although he recalled the events of that night, he refused to divulge further details, reigniting Dave’s ire. After some light intimidation, we learned that Floon had met another fellow for drinks and gambling, and later left, followed by a group of shady individuals. It seemed the Drow feared these individuals more than he did Dave, and no amount of force would coax more information from him. It was Leaf who suggested employing the most persuasive tool in our arsenal—gold. After parting with some coin, we discovered that this group was known around these parts and frequented a warehouse on Candle Lane.
Armed with this new lead, the party decided to gather more information about Floon before confronting the enigmatic warehouse workers. We headed to Floon’s home. En route, we stopped by the aftermath of the gang skirmish once more. This time, the adventurers wished to investigate the bodies. Sploosh and Sobek performed a duet, their harmonies enchanting the guards, allowing Leaf to surreptitiously procure keys from one of the deceased and remove Zentharim patches from their uniforms, leaving one to ponder, is it grave robbing if the bodies are not in a grave?
Floon’s residence was modest—a small 2 story one-bedroom dwelling. Locked as a house should be when you are missing. Dave, thinking with brawn and brain, tossed Leaf through the window, and just like that, we were grave robbers and burglars!
We ransacked the house with abandon. Sploosh tossed books from the bookshelf, while everyone rummaged through Floon’s belongings. No clue about Floon’s acquaintance from that night emerged. Leaf, having search everything he could at knee high decided to go a different route. Outside he found a rat. “Squeak” he…asked? “Squeak squeak” the rat replied. “There is a secret button on the side of the book shelf” Leaf informs us. We rushed upstairs, and sure enough, the rat proved accurate. The bookshelf slid away to reveal a safe embedded in the wall.
We struggled to open the safe, but our efforts were in vain. After some deliberation, Dave declared, “I’ve got this,” and proceeded to shove Meryl Streep into the safe. Before we could stop him, a sudden snap sounded from within. The safe door slowly creaked open…
Even in a reputable establishment like the Yawning Portal, a bar fight is scarcely worth the attention when more pressing matters require your focus. My pressing matter, at that moment, lay at the bottom of my mug, where I hoped its contents might dull my concerns. The brawl seemed to involve Yagra Strongfist, a formidable half-orc who earned that surname, squaring off against a handful of humans. These misguided souls appeared to be taking her on one at a time—a bold, yet foolhardy approach, destined to end poorly for them.
Suddenly, I noticed a lone figure cutting through the crowd, shouting fervently about “Jesus Chroist,” the deity of Life and Tempest. To my surprise, this zealot intervened, seemingly compelled by some sense of duty against overwhelming odds. In what could not have been more than six seconds, the innkeeper offered a large, ponytailed individual beer in exchange for his aid. Without hesitation, he and his dragonborn companion leaped into the fray. The dragonborn unleashed a torrent of fire upon their foes before launching into a rousing song on his bagpipes that seemed to invigorate his allies.
As the combatants traded blows, the large one—possessed of remarkable strength—seized one of the humans, his intentions clear: he meant to throw the man into the infamous pit. At that moment, a thought crossed my mind—could these individuals be the solution to my particular predicament? While I pondered, a fourth companion, clearly well-acquainted with the others, rose and, in a brilliant display of magical prowess that could rival even my own, put all but one of the humans to sleep.
The final human, having narrowly escaped the pit-related demise not once, but thrice, finally recognized the dire turn his fortunes had taken and attempted to flee. The heroes, however, had other plans! They hurled all manner of items—beer bottles, saucers, and more—trying to halt his escape. Finally, the sorcerer threw wind itself, slamming the door shut just as the man reached it. The poor soul ran headlong into the door, knocking himself out cold.
As the dust settled, the group converged, and it was then that I noticed what bound these eclectic characters together—the noble crests of hotdogs emblazoned on their shoulders. At last, I had found the very sort of adventurers I sought. Yet, as I approached them to extend my offer, someone rudely cut me off, preventing my grand introduction.
In the City of Splendors, some considered Waterdeep hot dogs the most splendid of the all its splendors. That’s why Steve Schelinski felt five feet tall when he heard the news: he had been picked by his firm to work for the Weenie Wizards. Finally, his break into hardcore accounting had arrived. No longer would he handle the books for small businesses or wealthy wizards. He was in the weenie business now, and people everywhere would respect him.
Then the fire happened, and everyone died. Steve thought that was it; he should join the gnome circus instead. But damnit, he had a fiduciary duty to the survivors to recover any assets they still had. He put out the word that any surviving members should meet him at the Yawning Portal. Steve arrived early to see who would come.
Right now, there was only a single Weenie Wizard. Judging from his outfit, he seemed a sailor of some sort. Steve had never seen any nautical-related line items on the books, and if he didn’t know any better, he might think this man just picked up the Weenie Sigil off the ground and was pretending to be one. Steve chastised himself; the man was mourning. Now was not the time to accuse him of such debauchery.
Steve spotted another wizard, called Sploosh, if his memory was correct. Sploosh, despite being in a tavern with live music already playing, decided to start performing “Sweet Caroline.” Steve thought Sploosh must be filled with grief over his dead guild members as he poured his entire soul into the rendition. The entire tavern stopped talking to listen. Sploosh splashed into the chorus with deft skill, the whole bar joining in. As the sea of voices echoed with “So good, so good,” tears of sadness and joy streamed down everyone’s faces. Sploosh was still playing when Steve saw Jesus Chroist walk in.
Jesus Chroist, formerly a Frankfort Fellow, worked nights in shipping and receiving. Nice guy, though always trying to “heal” and get them to follow his god, also known as Jesus Chroist. Seemed like a perfectly fine god despite all those murders in his name a thousand years ago. Chroist leaned in for a hug from Sploosh.
It was hard to miss Dave the Barberarian walking into the tavern. Dave seemed to be a regular at the bar and in moderately good spirits despite his father having just died in a grease fire. Dave was a “legacy” guild member, his father having held a high rank in the Bun Barons before guild formation. Despite his size, Dave was quite nimble with his two axes, Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Sandra Day O’Conder. He often cut people’s hair with them for a small fee.
Dave requested “Don’t Ye Stop Believin’,” and Sploosh obliged. While technically good, you could tell Sploosh didn’t put his soul into this one. Most people went back to their drinks. Jesus got up and did a fairly good dance that looked like an artificer’s machine but began crying during it.
Steve approached the group and informed them of the news. They were the only ones left from the fire. All their guild assets had been burned; all that was left were five hot dog carts and the experimental frozen water cart. Dave seemed particularly broken up about the fire, having just realized his father perished in it. Steve informed them that he was paid out until the end of the month and would continue to help them until then.
Steve was feeling good about himself, successfully transferring the assets of the guild to these four individuals. That was until Sploosh groped him. He could only assume Sploosh was so overcome with grief he didn’t know how to compose himself. With that, Steve felt it was his time to leave. Before leaving, Jesus pulled him aside to talk about a business opportunity in textiles. Being a finance guy, Steve got pitched dozens of ideas a week, but something about the way Jesus spoke to him made him believe in his idea. Steve gave him his card.
While walking out, there seemed to be some commotion in the tavern. It sounded like something for someone else to take care of.