My family is not a family by blood. We are apprentices to a powerful arcane lord Kelsys Shardcloak. There is always a master and an apprentice. The master's tower is well known and is known for his eccentricities. It was not uncommon to be out to do business on behalf of my master. Any reservations about doing business with a goblin were replace by fear of NOT doing business with my master upon presenting his seal, signet, or other proof of my bond.
GristleGlug steps from the carraige. Memories of the his youth and the raiding parties of his tribe flooded over him. He remembered the night they nailed him to the tower's door by his ears after another unsuccessful raid against the tower. How he squirmed and kicked and flopped about for a day before the master of the tower opened the door. A tall lanky human. He wiggled his fingers at GristleGlug and muttered a few words as he turned away, then stopped. There was a look of astonishment and annoyance as he turned back to stare at the still squirming goblin. Seeing the defiance in his eyes the man said "come see me when you get yourself down, whelp." he said in a gobliniod dialect. He turned and walked off, leaving the door open with the little wretch still nailed to it flopping about.
It took another day before he tore his ears from the pikes thats nailed him to the door. It was still open. He wandered through the tower marveling at its contents for quite some time before he found the master in his study bent over an ancient tome. "You took long enough, whelp." he said without looking up from his study. GristleGlug meandered about the room filled with books overflowing its shelves, stacked on tables, and on the floor. he found a plate of meats and cheeses hidden behind a few stacks and as he stealtily reached for a piece, the master flatly said, "eat your fill whelp." He quickly took the plate and stuffed his mouth full as fast as he could,. The master finally looked up from his tome many hours later, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his long lanky legs. "Do you speak in the common tongue?" he asked, staring at the goblin. GristleGlug shook his head in acknowledgment, a piece of meat flopping out between his lips.
"We'll start with manners then, your training begins tomorrow. You will likely perish. In the unlikely event you survive, you will eventually become my apprentice. You will do my bidding exactly as told." GristleGlug slowly nods.
That was years ago, He waves the door open and walks through. He walks straight to the study to find his master bent over an ancient tome just as he did many years ago. "Why have you returned whelp? What have you failed me at this time?" he says flatly without ever looking up from his tome. GristleGlug places the head of Resmire on the table. "Blagarthkus is in control of SkyReach once again. Glazhael has been slain and we have taken the head of Rezmir the Black which lies before you." GristleGlug pauses before continuing, "Prill has donned the black Mask. She should be returning to seek aid from her sisters. She intends to take the fight to the Dragon Cult. Additionally, the demon sword, Hazirawn, is bound to a new warrior and will need to be watched. "
His Master looks up from the tome. He leans back in his chair and crosses his long lanky legs, staring intently at GristleGlug before speaking. "Amazing my apprentice, simply amazing. You finally start to show some of the promise i saw those many years ago." He pulls a piece a parchment and begins to write. "Take this to WaterDeep, Present it to Lord Dagult Neverember. You begin the next phase of your training." he says as he rolls the parchment and seals it with wax. He then thrusts a small leatherbound book at GristleGlug and leans back over his Tome. GristleGlug pockets the sealed parchment and begins to flip through the book as he turns to leave. Its pages, handwritten in the masters script, begin to detail the process in WaterDeep for the aquisition of lands, notes and incantaions required for building a tower, and the responsibilities of a Masked Lord of WaterDeep. Pausing at the doorway, GristleGlug turns around. "I do not understand Master." He says.
"Truthfully Whelp! You continually remind me why your race is not suited for the gifts I bestow you!" The Master says angrily, never looking from his tome. "You are to be a Masked Lord of WaterDeep. You will extend my reach and strive to attain the goals I give you. Or die in discgrace and failure, which I still feel is the likely scenario. Now heed my orders and go." GristleGlug turns and leaves. A toothy grin begins to form as he walks.
After a long and arduous journey to WaterDeep, GristleGlug is finally granted an audience with Lord Neverember. the squire hands him a rolled parchment bearing the unbroken wax seal of GristleGlug's master as GristleGlug enters the chamber . Breaking the seal and unfurling the parchment The Lord reads. After a few moments of studying the parchment, he says, "I see. Following your actions involving the Dragon Cult, You've earned this on your own merit my little green friend. There was no need to call an old and forgotten debt marker due. You will have your land and title as your master requests."
Sitting at a table in the only completed room, on the first floor of the Tower, currently under construction, FickleBoom waves in a weary looking old soldier. "I realize that your men have been overlooking little tike's transgressions Sergeant, and the Tower's Master pays you well to do so. However, He'd like you to reverse course on this issue. Pick up the bumbling little brat the next time he gets caught. Throw as much of the book you want at him but make sure he gets assigned to this cell." Handing the Sergeant a small scrap of parchment. "We would never put those two individuals together in a cell, It's spells..." The Sergeant falls silent at FickleBoom's look. "Our benefactor has asked for your assurance in this matter Sergeant. See that it is done before he returns." FickleBoom hands the Sergeant a small bag of coins.
GristleGlug steps from the carriage followed by Prill with her little faerie dragon nestled in her arms, and what looks like four bronze skinned halflings. Taking in the construction completing the 3rd floor, he smiles a toothy grin. He waves the door open and strides through startling FickleBoom, who spills one of the vials he is holding into the small cauldron. A loud "POP" and a billow of smoke rushes up to have FickleBoom coughing as he turns to greet the Tower's Master. GristleGlug stifles a snicker and says "Remove the sign FickleBoom, It's not your tower and it looks tacky. Not to mention, it will drive away the type of clients you really want. I see construction has been progressing well in my absence. Business has been good?" he asks. FickleBoom replies. "Yep and yep, but you still need to interview for staff. Hock aint the best greeter nor servant. I'll have them here tomorrow." "And the task I asked for months ago?" Asks GristleGlug. "The little brat is still there. you should've let me have his hands removed for palming those potions. Not protect him. I know you got your reasons, but it aint right. a theif's a thief." "and this particular thief I owe a debt." replied GristleGlug. He turns to the carraige driver. "return with the individuals on his list, I'll take care of the interviews tonight. Let them know they they will start tonight, if they pass." he hands the driver a small bag of coins and walks to out of the room.
Late that night the driver returns with several individals. The driver instructs them to stand in a line outside the tower. A small robed figure strides from the tower, it's face shrouded by a hood. Followed by a wild haired gnome. The gnome points out a halfling in the middle. "She works a weekend shift as a barmaid at the Griffon's Eyeball." says FickleBoom. "Make's a fine stew when the cook aint around." She nods. "What's your name?" asks the hooded figure. "Deadra" she responds non chalontly. "How do you measure loyality?" asks the hooded figure. "two sticks of copper, a dash of silver, a couple sprinkles of gold, stir in three cups of trust and bake it till the jobs done." she replies. The hooded figure pauses for a moment. "Deadra, hire your staff. You report directly to me. Fix that stew FickleBoom refered to, enough for everyone." He removes his hood, hands her a bag of coins and walks back into the tower.
Deadra steps forward and says "Anyone that can't work for a goblin, walk. The rest of you, we have a tower to get in order." Seven of the remaining ten individual stay. She walks to the carraige driver, who hasn't moved, places a few coins in his palm. "Return these wretchs where you found them and the carraige to your employer. Purchase a new carriage and return by morning, you're my new stable master." The boy pockets the coin, hops to the carraige seat and drives off.
Deadra wakes atop a few sacks of flour in the kitchen to find a goblin grinning toothily over her. "I'm sorry Lady, Lady, Lady..." she stammers. "Prill, just Prill" she answers. "I'm sorry... Prill. I didn't know where..." she stops. "GristleGlug said you have a room on the first floor., you weren't there. We're kinda hungry for breakfast. You look about the same size as me. I laid out a dress and a couple things for your hair." Deadra scrambles out of the kitchen searching for her room. The third door she opens has a beautiful, simple but sparkly dress and thirty seven different hair adornments, all of a different color. Not sure if she is expected to wear all of them or not, she picks a simple bronze, cleans up and runs back to the kitchen to fix breakfast.
Sitting at the table, Prill smiles when Deadra steps out, hands full of plates. "Get me an audience with Marshall Ravengard." GristleGlug says as he picks up a few slices of bacon and heads off to his study.
