Fragments of the Forgotten

You sit within the Dusk and Dawn tavern of Waterdeep, enjoying the ale if it
was somewhat poor quality. You had arrived just a few nights before, and like most
new comers, were directed away from the cluttered streets of the main city, to what
remained of Mistshore, a port almost completely destroyed in the Spellplague.
The Dusk and Dawn accepted all types however, as it was not really a tavern
as they claimed by a large tent set up on the docks, or what remained of them. Over
your stay you have heard the whispers of travelers, claiming the Age of Mortals was
dawning on the realm, entire portions of the world were returning, causing
catastrophic damage in it’s wake.
Nations returned, long thought destroyed in Spellfire, while the earth motes
of Abeir lost their hold in the sky and battered the Toril with their cascading
remains. Powerful beings known as the chosen, recently revealing themselves to the
world, suddenly lost power, the gods unwilling to answer the calls but all the most
worthy.
It was a strange time for Faerun, nations crumbled and cities fell within days.
Orcs formed great nations in the north while forgotten gods returned, to wage holy
wars on those that wronged their people in their absence.

You are sat at a wooden table, the makeshift sign outside being thrashed by
the wind. A storm had been ranging since you awoke, and showed no signs of
dissipating. You know no one within, and understood little of which he or she spoke.
They talked of lands unheard of, and of strange creatures that you knew not.
A waitress ask you if you want another round of ale, adding that the storm
looks as if it will continue long into the night if not the next morn. You look around
your table, at a small group of others as lost and helpless as you. It gave you comfort
to know you weren’t the only one in the predicament that you found yourself in.

Part 1: Making a name

Around the bar several people stand
Notable people: If the players look around the bar, read to them the following
passage, “As you survey the bar, you see a few people that stand out amongst the
crowd. In a far corner sits a man in an evergreen cloak, smoking from a wooden pipe
that protrudes from underneath his hood. No one pays any attention to him, not
even the waitress as they pass by. A few yards away, seated at a rather large table, is
a man adorned in old leather armor, battle worn and filthy, his white hair tied back
into a pony tail, with a few lose strands teasing his face. He speaks to a group of
ruffians, showing them maps and ledgers that are spread out before him. The last
person, although not the least, is a rather nonchalant fellow at the bar. He sits
sipping his wine, his robes rather meticulously clean, and far more elaborate then
any other within the building. His hair stands on end, a Mohawk of silver, revealing
his pointed ears.”
Man in corner- if approached the man in the corner ignores the players unless they
try to assault him (use brigand leader stats). If they threaten him, he will warn them,
“I’d go take your seat again, friends. I do not seek trouble, but I will return it in kind.”

Man at table- As you approach the man you hear him telling the others about some
beast, “It is roaming the woods, killing travelers and livestock alike. This night alone
before the storm drove me into the inn, I found the shredded remains of several
militia men near the Ardeep Forest.”
“The Anderson’s livestock is missing too…” a stranger piped in interrupting
the man, “They set out to kill the thing.”
“Have they returned?” the older, grey haired man asked, obviously a
rhetorical question. No answer was forthcoming.
“I offer ten gold pieces to every man that joins. The bounty will be split
amongst all at completion. This thing can not remain in our woods…. It’s not of this
world, I tell you. I know not who awoke it or hides the beast from the guard’s blades,
but we must end it now.”
If the players volunteer, they are taken on a mission to hunt a leshen (a
creature unknown to Faerun)

Man at bar- you approach the man, although you felt his gaze on you the moment
you stood up.
“May I be of service?” the being asks, rather sarcastically and with some
malice.
If the players introduce themselves the man or ask what he is doing continue,
“I seek a kinslaver…. he has been spotted in these parts, and until I see signs
elsewise, I will not leave.”
If the players agree to help, the man continues:
“The name is Kelorn…a hunter of sorts. I thank you for your aid, however,
there isn’t much pay to be made. It’s a personal matter at the moment…”
If the players agree, they start the side quest, Ears of Friends.

No matter which mission the players accept, the storm keeps them from leaving
until the next morning. Let them rest and enjoy their night in the Tavern.