Upon the party’s return to Beldabar’s Rest, they are informed that an entire wing has been reserved for them. Apparently, Malarn has paid up through two months in advance for the rooms — very kind for such a menacing character. However, they have been requested to stay put until further notice on completion of their task. This, the adventurers were certain, was not so politely phrased by their patron.
The group enjoys a night of freedom yet with the foul taste of defeat in their mouths as the trail of the Iron Orb had turned cold. As the group sullenly appreciates the private common room provided them, the door swings open and a familiar figure strides in. The closes behind him and, as what seems to be tradition, two heavily armed swordsmen take their places on either side of the door in the hallway.
“Good Evening.” Malarn says unwelcomingly. “I assume since you are here, you have been successful in your task…” he pauses for a reply, his cold gaze scanning the room.
“The Master requires your assistance in another matter of great import.” A sly smirk crosses his pale lips. “You may, again, choose not to accept and leave at this point…” he gestures to the door. After a moment of calculated hesitation, the none in the group decide to take that chance.
“As I thought. Your next task requires you to travel to Waterdeep and find a ship that will take you to Murann. Once there, you will infiltrate the city and meet with a man named Lanos Tzak at the Wet Wolverine. He has information on the whereabouts of your next item.”
“It is an iron crown, crudely forged to resemble flames. Once found, you must escape the city and make your way through the Small Teeth to Imnescar where you will meet with our Allies. Further instruction waits you there.”
“Your travel costs will be covered — there are two crates outside.”
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