Allies. Lost and Found

As cunning and clever as Virgil thought he was, he knew he couldn’t match wits with the High Administrator. Caught in her snare like an insect caught in the web of a hungry spider his mind moved quickly to formulate an answer that would suffice.

“Brightcandle Virgil Crane,” interjected Henry. Virgil kept his face still at this latest revelation.
“returned to investigate the various Cult activity within the holds of Waterdeep. As a delicate mission of secrecy, he was not allowed to talk about it or contact any superiors in Waterdeep due to the nature of the mission. However, now that the Cults activities are now coming to an end, you will have a full report of your desk by morning High Administrator.”

Anveena’s eyes shifted sideways, her head barely turning to acknowledge the scribe as her gaze went between the two of them.

“Very well, Head Scribe Riverwood,” She conceded, after a pause. “No later than 9th bell.” She rose suddenly from her elevated position, gathering her ledger and gracefully exiting via the double doors to the rear or the room. Her personal guard flanking her exit.

The others all mingled an moment, agreeing to return to The Hoard to discuss their options on where their efforts would be focused next. Virgil lingered back, moving over to Henry’s desk as he busilly scooped up the various recounts of the meeting. As he opened his mouth to speak, Henry shot him a look that stole his voice.

“Come,” Henry said in a cool tone. “I need to speak to you before the night is through.” His smile feigned as the weight behind his words weren’t lost on Virgil.

“Of course,” Virgil agreed, and beamed his most charming smile. “Would you mind if we spoke at the Hoard?” Henry gave a resigned nod to Virgil and he returned the nod, before he spun and exited through the council chamber door.

Virgil kept his calm, walking from the palace back to the hoard without displaying any of the agitation that he felt when it came to dealing with that woman. His exploits as Neifion over the past months had earned him the ire of the City Watch, The City Guard and The Magisters.
Now, it seems, the Masked Lords themselves have their suspicions.

The eighth bells chimed as Henry approached the Dragon’s Hoard. Light poured out from behind the green and gold stained glass windows to paint the cobblestones while music and disjointed conversation imbued the ambience with feelings of comfort and laughter for the passers by.

In front of him stood two very uniquely striking figures. The beautiful crimson skinned Tiefling named Valaya, stood smiling as patrons came and went, flanking the door was her counterpart, a tall muscular blue skinned Genasi. The man known as Tide. Both wore outfits that accentuated their charm and beauty. Valaya’s velvet dress, while giving her room to move, hugged her as the wind blew, outlining her legs in perfect profile. It then split into two seperate pieces of velvet, wrapping her waist and chest in a conservatively cut neck and short sleeves, tied and hanging loosely in down her back. Her thick mane of black hair hung loosely about her shoulders, framing her face.

Tide wore a vest over a tight dark blue shirt, rolled up to show off his toned muscular physique. His cerulean skin caught the light from within making it almost glow as blue as the clearest noon sky. His hair was combed to a side, with half his hair shaved short and motifs of waves shaven in it down to the scalp.

Both of these individuals bore welcoming grins and beckoning hands motioned patrons to enter or bid farewell to valued guests. When Henry approached, both gave a short bow in unison, as if rehearsed.
He stepped past them, a little flushed at the public display of respect. He was more accustomed to being unnoticed, he preferred the anonymity that comes with looking like someone that people wouldn’t engage with. Yet here, at The Hoard, his kindness and reputation preceded him.

The crowd bustled this way and that, moving to tables while laughing and drinking. Within the centre of this standing in front of the bar stood Lillian Creswell. Like an island amid a turbulent stream. Unmoving against the torrent of activity that swelled around her. .
Her gaze locked with his and he moved to her, almost unwillingly, her mere presence alone drawing him in.

“Master Crane waits for you you upstairs,” she said in her dry commanding tone whilst an elegant hand came up to point to the spiral staircase at the end of the common room. His eyes shot up to the balcony and there, leaning against the balustrade stood Virgil. His face had that charismatic smile that he always wore and he had three, no, four people laughing and admiring him.

Virgil casually looked down, beaming that big smile and motioned Henry to join him. Henry looked back down and Lillian was already back behind the bar, serving drinks whilst conversing with a member of the gentry.

A song finished at the opposite end of the hall as claps and cheers went up, praising the two musicians that sat on armless seats, lutes in hand.

Another tune began, and only a few bars in, an applause of recognition ignited amongst the crowd. A song he’d only heard about through word of mouth. A Hope in The Night. It was a haunting song about Neifion, portraying him as a protector of the people. A scourge against evil.
Henry had to admit that he was quite impressed with the level of infamy Virgil had garnered during his exploits as the Vigilante known as Neifion.

He climbed the final stairs as Virgil was handshaking his patrons vigorously, patting them on the back and sending them back down stairs. Henry noticed the women’s flushed expressions and their quiet giggles of admiration. Or was it amouration? Virgil oozed a charisma that was almost palpable. He’d watched the man defuse situations with gentle words and assurances. He’d seen that same silver tongue turn to a smoldering brand that inspires fear just as easily.

“Henry! Thank you for coming on such short notice!” he exclaimed with enough of a staged presence that made others mingling look around to take notice. Virgil extended a hand and Henry obliged, shaking it as Virgil clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

“It is good to see The Hoard doing so well,” Henry said awkwardly, trying to keep the conversation feeling natural, but failing somewhat. Virgil picked up his verbal stumblings, putting a guiding arm about his shoulder and leading him to a nearby room.
Virgil’s hands flickered as he mumbled an arcane verse and the air beside the two shimmered. Henry blinked, realising he was behind some form of illusion and turned back to Virgil who was hastily inscribing an intricate sigil upon the closed door before him. Henry recognised the sigil as one he’d seen him use before and watched as the door opened to a long hall, longer than should be possible.

“Let us talk away from prying eyes and eager ears.” Virgil said, motioning Henry to enter.

Henry walked into the warm hall, immediately smelling cinnamon and cedarwood. “Can I take your coat? Would you like a drink?” He offered as they walked past the coat stand then further down the hall where firelight flickered from an adjoining room.
Henry hung his own coat up on an empty hook next to an all too familiar black, wide-brimmed hat and velvet lined lengthened coat.

In the next room sat a plate with three different cheeses, some bread and apples, sausages and finally a small keg and two wine glasses.

Although Henry hadn’t felt hungry intitalliy, the sight of the food made his stomach growl and he realised he hadn’t eaten since the morning.
Virgil seemed to notice the change in Henry’s expression and gestured for him to sit, which he did and cut himself a generous slice of cheese and bread.

Virgil sat opposite him, also making a plate of food and began cutting it up into smaller portions.
“I think it’s best you start this conversation, Henry.” Virgil stated after he’d poured a glass of wine and offered it to the scribe. Henry declined the glass, at which Virgil merely gave him a small salute, clinked both glasses together himself and took a swallow of the crimson fluid.

Henry nodded, finishing off the cheese and sausage in his mouth before dabbing his lips with a serviette.

“Firstly. Your exploits over the last few months have been somewhat documented. Pieced together by myself from City Watch reports that had been filed about your actions. The uneasy alliance you’ve made with Rorden Fasille has been noted but not recorded in any official capacity.”

Virgil kept his visage the same, but was relieved to hear that Cesil Fasille had not been associated with him. Fasille had not offered him any form of amnesty or immunity from the laws of Waterdeep but if Neifion uncovered any information out about internal corruption within the watch or government, he was to bring it to Fasille to deal with and not take the law into his own hands.
Virgil trusted Fasille, barely. He returned his gaze to Henry.

“Go on.” He said to the scribe, taking another swallow of wine.

“However, I must ask for some specifics to fill in certain details. Obviously I cannot give the story of Neifion in this report, so I will need to fabricate certain information for the High Administrator. Understand I take no pride in this, but for the integrity of the Council and of the Initiative, it must be done.”

Virgil nodded, knowing what Henry was putting at risk for simply even considering the idea of lying to Anveena.

Over the next hour they filled in the details and made the story believable, wrapping the lie within a truth, so that it would hold against any inspection.

“Second. I must congratulate you on your intervention against the cults of Zariel and The Dragon within Waterdeep Proper. Your actions thwarted the bolstering of the Cult of The Dragon and weakened their hold even further within our city, affording us some more breathing room while The Initiative take the fight to them out in the field.”

Virgil paused, wondering if he’d finished his statement. It seemed if Henry was waiting for some form of acknowledgement of his exploits. Virgil withheld any such self adulation, knowing the fame he once sought had earned him more attention than he was ready to handle.

“Anything else?” He asked.

“Lastly,” Henry continued. “I must formally request that you return your Harper’s pin and inform you that you are no longer considered to be an affiliate of The Harpers. This will also be detailed in the report.”
This last part did sting Virgil. Henry went on. “The harpers do not carry out the kind of justice you seem intent on meting out.”

Virgil took the pin fastened under his lapel, looked at it a brief moment before placing it on the table and slid it across the table in an easy motion. It stopped a mere inch from the table edge.

“Know this, Virgil.” He added taking his spectacles from his tiny eyes and wearily rubbing them. “The work you do here is in the best interests of The Sword Coast, The Harpers, The Lord’s Alliance and all the free folk. It is for this reason I will continue to support you and your exploits within Waterdeep.”

Virgil opened his mouth to say something that resembled a thank you but was cut off as Henry suddenly pointed a finger at him his eyes snapping open to glare.

“You must improve the way you conduct your operations. You were but one exploit away from having The High Administrator bring down the full force of The Magistars upon you.”

Virgil conceded this point, reflecting upon the questioning he’d faced earlier that day regarding his whereabouts over the last month.

“If she had just asked you if you killed Varram, then this wouldn’t have been…”

“She thinks I killed Varram?” Virgil said, surprised..

“Of course, you were gone for a month without word. You returned to Waterdeep just after rescuing him and turning him into the Palace. Anveena made a compelling argument against you, that’s why I’m doing what I can to keep her sights off of you.” Henry said. “You’re powerful, and an integral part of bringing down the Cult. If you didn’t have this bloody secret, this could’ve been avoided…” Henry sighed, knowing there was nothing more he could do to aid the matter. “This is your best hope Virgil,” Henry said gesturing to the report. “And if this doesn’t get her sights off of you. It’ll be both me and you that meet the wrath of the Masked Lords.”

Henry shuddered at the thought. He’d seen the full power that the Magistars wrought. What they could do. He hoped Virgil took it as seriously as he did.

“There is something dark still afoot within Waterdeep. Something is terribly wrong here. Our protective measures aren’t enough these days.”

“Tell me about the murder.” Virgil asked. “How were the bodies found? What was used to kill these men? How were they killed? Any signs of struggle?”

“What?” Henry said in bewilderment. “Why? You know I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

“You’re putting yourself in danger by forging paperwork Henry.” Virgil stated matter-of-factly. “If you're walking on thin ice, you might as well dance.”

“Well, if I share this information with you and Anveena asks you about the death of Varram, and what you know about it while you’re in a Field of Truth again. I might not be able to protect you, and that makes this report—”

“Look illegitimate.” Virgil said, cutting of Henry, in realisation. “That puts us in danger again. But even if she does ask, I can feign ignorance along with everyone else. Her field of truth doesn’t work if I don’t speak.”

“That’s correct, Virgil.” Henry let out a weary sigh, running his hand through his thick and graying hair, frazzling it. “Ok. Here’s the information. The guards replacing the shift found the two guards and Varram. Upon examination, the guards appeared to be stabbed in the back. The wounds were deep and precise. There was no sign of struggle, but that, counter-intuitively, leads me to believe someone got past them and stabbed them unawares. That’s why Anveena questioned everyone coming in and out of the building. Varram’s cell was opened, with the guards keys most likely. Once in, the assassin sliced Varram’s jugular and he died soon after. In all cases only one slice was needed, and all the wounds fit the profile of a generic dagger.” Henry slammed his hand on the table, obviously letting out some much contained anger. He clenched his hands into fists. “To think that all of this happened under all of our noses!” He exclaimed, slightly raising his voice. “First Omarion gets past my guards to Kerri, then Langdedrosa escapes the Bracers, then a high security prisoner is killed right under the nose of the Lords’ Palace! It’s like some sick joke! Why do you think I implored them to double the guard. Obviously what we had was not enough.”

Virgil studied the flustered scribe closely. Henry was a true patriot. A believer in the people and what this place stood for. He was willing to go all in on this venture. To help him, help Neifion with his activities within Waterdeep’s walls. He gave him a moment to calm and stood, fetching his journal from the nearby bench and placed it before him.

“I need you to bring your attention back to the events reported in the tomb located under The Serpent Hills.” Virgil stated as his journal flew open and the pages began turning rapidly. Stopping to rest on a page of text.

Henry thought a moment and nodded. “Yes, I recall those reports. What is it you’ve discovered?”

******

Virgil brings up the five rooms corresponding with the five colours of the Cult of The Dragon.
He shows Henry the parallels between what they’ve already experienced. Including the attempted assault of the Yuan Ti in the swamps, Langdragosa’s sudden appearance to help us remove Rezmir from the scenario. Virgil believes that  what they saw within the Yuan Ti chambers is a sign of things past, and things to come. The Five Headed Abomination they faced within the Tomb is a clear representation of what could come to pass if Tiamat is allowed to be brought to our plane. He points out that Stedd noted the snakes seem to be maneuvering to usurp the Cult of The Dragon. Their representatives moving into position.

The fact that the Blue Wyrm Speaker could also be a Yuan Ti is very alarming. It could prove their infiltration.

Virgil also believes that The Yuan Ti are attempting to take over the ritual. In order to summon something akin to Tiamat but in the image of The Cult of The Undead Dragon.
He asks Henry to look into any lore or stories that would fit the bill of a five headed entity that mirrored Tiamat.

Under her Spell.

Neifion stepped through a glyph marked door, closing it behind him without even a glance in its direction as he strode toward the room down the hall of his compound.  He placed the book upon a stand in the hall then with each step Neifion allowed the persona to shed becoming Virgil once more. Gone was the dark tailored vest and shirt, the mask, hat and flowing cape only a simple white shirt under a red velvet vest and worn trousers.
He stopped at the mirror at the end of the hall confirming it was him in the reflection and not The Lord of Bats. A young man stared back. Older around the eyes that he remembered, grim faced and tired. He forced a wry smile to his lips and suddenly he recalled this young man.
This mask was a pleasant one. He would keep this one on. 

His fingers worked reflexively as they untied the plaited leather binding around his right thigh, before unbuckling his holster belt and gently wrapping the etched leather about it's contents and placing it on the edge of the table and poured most of wine from a nearby decanter into a rough wooden mug before taking a steadying breath and downing the entire contents tipping his head right back to drain the last drop. Closing his eyes as he drank it down.

Imagery of battle, torture and death flashed behind his eyelids, replaying the events of the last few months culminating into a final scene of execution.

Those images began to fade as the warmth and forgiveness of the alcohol began to embrace him.

Light filled his mind and that light then took shape. It formed the curve of a hip, the softest of skin, the most inviting of lips.

He allowed himself a brief moment and a smile. Before he felt the tingling warning of The Geas. It threatened him to stop this thinking. To stop feeling for her.

"Oh come now," mused Cynthia, breaking his moment. "It wasn't all that bad! You're the hero of Waterdeep! Everyone's talking about Neifion." He could hear her footfalls approaching and still he kept his eyes closed.
"Wanted by The Law. Feared by The Lawless."

He opened his eyes to see the red haired woman standing but inches from him eyes level with his.
"You've done it." She said with a tone of congratulatory satisfaction.
It took every ounce of will to not just lunge his head forward and drive his head into her nose. A notion Cynthia seemed to pick up on as she suddenly appeared seated at the table, smoking her trademark cinnamon cigarillo.

"Your work over the last few ten-day have bought a semblance of balance back to Waterdeep. Crime is down back in Undermountain. Corruptions have been rooted out and dealt with. The Cult of The Dragon lost an ally they didn't even know they had." She explained, counting the points off on fingers with shimmering pearl fingernails. "And, you also made some new friends. That watchman and his merry bunch of misfits seem nice!"

"They tried to arrest me at every turn."

"Nicely." She added with her charming smile. Pausing to draw in the smoke and exhale lt slowly. "I've heard whispers that your friends are on their way back to Waterdeep. You should join them at The Hoard."

Virgil's head cocked slightly to the side
"This isn't a joke, Cynthia." He growled.

"And I'm not joking," cutting him off. She waved a hand before her, leaving a streak of arcane energy that lingered in the air for a moment. He felt the mental restraint of the geas lifted from him like the weight of worlds suddenly gone. She leaned forward at the table pointing a finger at him.
"Don't force me to go this far again," she said coldly. "No one else could have achieved what you have done here. No one else! You need to understand your role in protecting Waterdeep goes beyond that of your companions."

She was right. He knew it now. Virgil would never forgive her for forcing him like this. Yet Neifion would forever be in her gratitude.

She again appeared before him. A soft finger running down his lips, chin and neck before placing her hand over his heart. She kissed him and he did not resist for he could not. As their mouths locked he felt a jolting surge of power enter his body. Cynthia wrapped a hand around his neck, grabbing his hair roughly. The other around his waist holding him to her. He felt as if he were about to break apart as his entire body contorted and jolted. He could see nothing but a searing emerald light. Then he was on the floor alone and gasping for breath. Power flowed through him. His body and mind renewed.

"Your mind is free once more, Virgil
I lend you more of my power as is your reward and right." The voice now an echo in his mind.  "You are free to pursue The Cult of The Dragon outside of Waterdeep once more. But listen for my call."

He would always listen. He understood his need. His worth.

He would always listen.