Neverwinter is not a small city. Although it has been razed and risen from the ashes several times, its frontier citizens remain within their beloved city, stubborn and stalwart. The city is home to some 23,000 citizens comprised of mainly Humans, Elves, Drow, and Half-Orcs. Not all of them love the Lord Protector. but most of them respect him.


The Siege of Neverwinter was a total surprise. There was no warning. The City Guard did what they could to defend the walls, but in many cases, they could not stop the relentless onslaught from the forces of Evil. Fighting poured into the streets, and many died.

During the battle, rumors surfaced of eight heroes who had found and rescued several wounded, elderly, and children from a safehouse. Among the wounded was Dagult Neverember himself, wounded by a half-dragon during the opening forrays at the Main Gate. Rumor said that these eight were invisible, ghosts in the night. The citizens of Neverwinter named them at first simply The Eight, but later they were called the Unseen Eight.


After the siege ended, word spread quickly that the Unseen Eight were meeting directly with the Lord Protector. It was not long before several of the local merchants of Chatterstreet Market devised a massive feast in honor of the heroes. With the blessings of Lord Neverember, the streets of the Southwest district of the city (called the Lord’s Enclave) was turned into a huge festival with the Eight being the guests of honor seated on a large raised platform with Lord Neverember and members of the City Council, save for one. Mayor Soman Galt was no where to be found.

The festival was amazing. Colorful carts and wagons, flags and ribbons, and people of all sorts lined Chatterstreet for a hundred yards. Each vendor was there, supplying wares and services to their fellow citizens. Bards and musicians played their tunes. Dozens of halflings in bright-colored costumes moved throughout the gathering, juggling, cartwheelings, and preforming acrobatics. Children laughed and squeeled as they were provided new toys. A busy, lively hum rose from the festival and the smell of roasting pork, and cut flowers filled the air.

“In gratitude for the great services you have rendered to our community,” said Shooma, a prominent blacksmith within the town council. “The citizens of Neverwinter invite all to feast in honor of those who helped to defend our fair city. Some gave their lives, and we ‘member them today! But above all, we honor the brave souls of the Unseen Eight who sit with us here today.” Shooma gestured to them all, and raised a flagon. “We owe you a debt that cannot be repaid, but we wish to express our gratitude with this splendid food and entertainment.” He paused for a moment, and then smiled. “With heartfelt thanks, from the City Council and the Merchants Guild of Chatterstreet.” With that, he raised his flagon, and took a long drink as did many others. And then the feast began in earnest.

The feast was splendid, of course. The main course featured roasted boar, spiced potatoes, along with fresh fruits and vegetables. Ale, mead, and wine flow freely. During the meal, on a center stage, a local bard named Nanky offers some fine entertainment including a read of poetry recounting the exploits of the Eight as they rescued the folk within the safehouse. Some of the the retelling is fabricated, but it is very grand and heroic. A dozen are made in the Eight’s honor, and and each is met with a thunderous “Hear! Hear!” and loud applause from the crowd.

After the meal, Lord Neverember made a magnificent speech, encouraging the people of Neverwinter. He then turned his attention to the Eight, introducing each of them by name. As he did this, he awarded each one with a golden medallion featuring the emblem of Neverwinter etched into it. He explained that only the noblest of heroes are awarded these medallions.

The festival finally slowed down in the wee hours of the morning, Each of the heroes was given a free room at the Moonstone Mask for the rest of their stay in the city. The Moonstone Mask is a legendary tavern floating off the southwest coast of the city. As Liset Cheldar, the current owner explained, when the Spellplague hit and parts of the city started floating away, some guests had the brilliant idea to tether the tavern’s block to the ground, so it would stay accessible.  The rooms in the Mask are luxurious beyond imagination, and so expensive that usually only the most prominent citizens can hope to afford a night’s stay. The first patron to ever visit the Inn was the Old Sage, Elminster.

Moonstone Mask
Moonstone Mask Lobby

In addition to their room and board being paid for during their stay, they also have access to the Teleportation Circles usually only reserved for Neverember and members of the City Council. This allows them to move throughout the city with moderate ease and privacy. However, if any of them still crave the attention, they are greeted happily by the people of the Lord’s Enclave District. Shouts of “Hail the Eight!” and “Huzzah!” will be the norm.

The tenday goes quickly, and before long it is time to meet Lord Neverember at the Halls of Justice for the trip to Waterdeep.




  1. Anonymous says:

    Brune enjoys and encourages others to enjoy the festivities. Occasinoally he will detect for feinds/fey/undead especially around people who don’t seem to enjoy themselves.


  2. Fieldmechanik says:

    As a paladin, Brune has Divine Sense. The presence of of strong evil registers on his senses like a foul odor, and powerful good rings like heavenly music in his ears. During the festival, Brune opens his senses from time to time to detect such forces within 60 feet. (He can do this a number of times equal to 1 + his Charisma modifier) And interestingly enough, he does notice something towards the end of the festival.


  3. Fieldmechanik says:

    Brune notices two figures on Chatterstreet proper, one smelling of the stink of Evil, and carrying weapons that emenate descecration. He is a handsome man with black hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and beautiful green eyes.
    The other man is rugged and unkempt. His hair is brownish-red and his eyes a shade of amber. He wears a tattered cloak, and would easily pass for a beggar. He appears to carry no weapons openly, and seems to wear no sort of armor. However, his presence rings with an entrancing melody of tinkling bells and chimes in Brune’s ears.
    The two men stand within the crowd, staring at each other. They seem to be studying each other, or perhaps communicatiing telepathically. The confrontation lasts only seconds. Even as Brune considers calling forth his own powers and abilities to engage in the situation, the two men turn and fade back into the crowd, moving out of Brune’s range of detection and seemingly disappearing from the festival. Whatever standoff occured, it was apparently at an end.



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