Gateway to the Savage Frontier, Chapter 1: A Thief in the Night

Hello friends! Welcome back. I've been telling you about a city called Neverwinter, which is the jewel of the Northlands in a distant place, Faerun, or... the Forgotten Realms as it is often called. Our next tale is about a group of young adventurers trying to make their way in that same land. The area surrounding Neverwinter is known as the "Savage Frontier." Our adventurers decided to make their living here, in this supposedly savage land. It didn't take long for it to live up to its name.

It was a night of celebration, our adventurers were in the local tavern in the town of Yartar. They had successfully completed their latest mission, to protect a caravan all the way from the dwarven hold, Citadel Adbar far to the east.

The Forgotten Realms Wiki has the skinny on Citadel Adbar.

The common room's attention was firmly on the dwarf, Chode Hammer. He was trained as a scout by his father in the city of New Phlan, where all of our storie's adventurers hailed from. The room was silent as Chode started his tale. "We had thought this was going to be a routine mission, guarding a shipment of mithril down from the citadel. No sooner did we sign on, than ol' King Harbromm himself called us to his chambers high in the tallest tower of the fortress. The dwarf talks through his great whiskers, and it sounds like a bellows, but he didn't have to say much to get our attention this morning. He pointed to the northeast, where a peculiar dust cloud was floating above one of the mountain valleys. We had all seen it."

"'Do you see that?' he said,'It is dust, the dust of tens of thousands of Ice Mountain Orcs as they march from their caves to raid the south.'"

"'That always happens this time of year,' one of us said."

"'The old dwarf nodded,'Aye, they come in the thousands, but is that cloud of a thousand orcs? I think not. If we're lucky, it is only a thousand times ten. Guard well this caravan adventurers, for I tell you, evil is awake again in the Realms. It's eyes and ears... and daggers, will be all around you!'"

"Well, after that speech, you can imagine how worried we were. We scanned the horizon constantly, looking for those dark clouds of dust. We didn't see any, but oh, the stories we heard. Seems every farmer in the north has seen a dozen trolls or a hundred orcs creeping across their land."

He stopped to take a swill from his mug of nut-brown ale. A burly, shirtless man across the bar called out, "So you came all this way with such a fine looking sword and it never tasted orc blood? Perhaps you didn't want a fight. Perhaps... it's just a child's toy with a fine golden handle for show?"

Before the man had finished, the sword in question was in Chode's hand, gleaming in the dim light of the tavern. All was still, the tension palpable, as the room waited to see if there was about to be a fight. After a moment, Chode re-sheathed his weapon. "This sword will be saved for orcish blood, you're lucky I do not care to soil it with yours."

Immediately there was a release of breath in the room, as the drone of conversation and the clinking of glasses resumed. However, all was not quite well, the man realized he had been insulted, and began to cross the room. A tall, thin, man in a black cape was sitting in the corner, he motioned at the burly fellow, calling him off. The burly man frowned, then left the tavern in a huff. Several others followed him. The man in the cape nodded to the bartender, who then cried, "More for everyone! It's on the house!"

Everyone surged forward, the threat of the fight already forgotten. Our adventurers soon resumed their merry making and story telling. A good time was had by all, by the end of the night, things were a bit... hazy.

The party awoke back in their room at the inn. As Chode put it, all but the "clothes on their backs" had been stolen.

It was an old trick... Chode lamented. Someone had slipped them something during the excessive merrymaking, now they woke to forge-hammers in their heads, and their possessions nowhere in sight. Thankfully, the team always kept a sack of platinum hidden in a pillow for just such an occasion as this. They agreed that their first priority was to find a job that would pay them the money they needed to live, but each also vowed to catch the thieves and exact payment for last night!

The first order of business almost needed no mention... after purchasing new equipment, the party trucked their way across the plaza and, stern faced, opened the door to the tavern where they had so recently made their merry. The burly man and his compatriots were there. Chode simply pointed a finger, and swords were drawn!

The taverns in Gateway get straight to the point.

The men, who it was presumed were bandits, went down easy, but unfortunately, besides a few coins, there was no sign of their equipment. Everything must have already been sent on to their superiors. Perhaps the mysterious man in the black cape?

With the tavern not leading to anything substantial, the party began to explore the town of Yartar, looking for work. "Work" found them soon enough, in the form of a squirrely little man being hassled by thugs. He had a dagger drawn, and sweat beaded on his brow. He was in serious trouble, being surrounded by men who were almost twice his size. Augustar, a paladin, was the nominal leader of our party. He liked to consider himself a "patient paladin," but there was no patience for thugs and bullies. Augustar nodded, and the party set upon the evil men.

The battle was over quickly. The man stammered his thanks... "Gosh... I-I... thank you so much! My name is Krevish." 

The man seemed to be a very ineffective fighter, he clutched a book to his chest, but, fighting was oddly his profession. He was quick to prove himself useful, offering to lead the party to his captain, who was bound to have a mission for them. Once again, little discussion was necessary for the party to decide they wanted to pursue this option. 

They followed Krevish around several corners and into a back alley, where he pressed a hidden panel within a wall. A door swung open, and they followed him down a dark corridor, hands on the hilts of their weapons. At the end of the hall was a heavy wooden door. Krevish knocked in a complex pattern of beats, with both his knuckles and palm. In a moment, the door was opened by an angry-looking fellow in a full suit of well-crafted armor.