This past tenday-and-a-half our Fellowship has taken a much deserved holiday in the City of Splendors, as honoured guests of the Council of Waterdeep. Thank Beshaba, we have been spared from attending any tedious Council meetings during this time. The Cunts of our Fellowship have been paid out handsomely, to the tune of five thousand golden Waterdeep dragons each.
Today, as part of the Highharvestide festivities, we were officially honoured at a grand ceremony presided over by Lady Laeral Silverhand. [“Ol’ Pennyfingers” and I got tipsy together the other night, and when she told me all about the Harper Schism of the 1370s, I realized that the two of us are a lot alike. We buried the hatchet, and now I consider Lady Laeral a true friend.] The ceremony was very, very long—the Herald’s Call to Assembly, the Divine Invocations, the Moment of Silence, the Sword Coast Alliance Treaty Acknowledgement—two hours in and Lady Laeral hadn’t even given her opening speech yet. I dozed off, but bolted awake when I heard Lady Laeral intone the word “CUNTS” to the applause of the assembled crowd.
First, Tegan was called to the dais, and after the expected oral formalities he was given Maestro, an enchanted brass lyre. Tegan theatrically demanded that Gunx immediately join him up on the stage, and drop a sick draconic beat, while Tegan played his latest banger for the gathered noble guests. Tears were shed.
Then Tegan left the dais to Gunx, so Silverhand could give him his propers. Lady Laeral presented Gunx with a pair of magical Winged Boots, fashioned from leather dyed a deep summer-sky blue, matching the hue of Gunx’s own azure draconic hide quite stylishly.
Then Brick was summoned to the dais. Special mention was made of his slaying of the red dragon Morkretangrokk, and the epithet “Brick Burninatorsbane” rippled through the crowd of overawed aristocrats. Silverhand presented Brick with a magically animated shield that he seems eager to test.
Then Lady Laeral called Tolarin next. As he stepped forward, the audience cooed, as if he was a precocious child getting a trophy at a spelling bee. Judging by the squeals of delight from the Waterdhavian ladies when Tolarin put on his adorable Cloak of the Bat, if he’s not careful some aristocrat might adopt him, and he could wind up enrolled against his will in elementary school.
Jorad went up to the dais next, and looked legitimately incredulous when Silverhand presented him with a Broom of Flying. I honestly thought for a moment that he was going to deck her… Alas, it was not Beshaba’s will. Lady Laerel is a dear friend, of course, but that would have been too funny. Not wanting to stand there looking like a janitor for another second longer, Jorad leapt astride the broom and skedaddled.
Then, Lady Laeral called me up as the final recipient, just as I had asked her to. My reward was a Robe of the Archmagi, just like the one Laeral wears, except mine is gorgeously grey, and doesn’t smell, and hers is boringly white except for the pit stains… I’m joking, i’m joking. But seriously, my robe is super fetch. Praise Beshaba, klaatu barada nicto amen.