The Apprentice

Glug has noticed signs around the city. He sees familiar markings graffitied on buildings. He feels like he is being followed. He smells the stench of his people. Yet they have not approached him. They have stayed in the shadows. Through the City Watch, he hears reports that thefts and murders are on the rise around the Chasm. Finally, he catches sight of two goblins using a sewer opening to escape a group of guards one night. His tribe, His former tribe, has survived in some fashion and has made the ocean crossing to Neverwinter and the Sword Coast. He begins to stalk the dark, shadowy places throughout the districts. Their activities have had enough of an adverse effect in the New district that the Chasm Bridge project has come to a halt. Materials, tools, and laborers have disappeared without a trace. The job sites on both sides of the ravine have been fenced off and put under guard; all construction halted until further notice. No one else mentions his people. Few ever see them and live to tell the tale. There has even been pushback from the various criminal groups in Neverwinter. The bridge would be good for business. If the tribe survived the great monster that turned a whole city into undead monsters, and they infiltrated the cities of the Sword Coast, he wanted to know how they did it, and he wanted to kill them all. His exile and humiliation by the tribe cannot go unpunished. And this requires power. More power.

Since being teleported across an ocean, he has noticed that the blind flashes of inspiration that guided him to learn the secrets of the arcane have dulled as of late. He finds himself in a rut. He is able to read through books on magical theory at the Hall of Justice. He even finds a detailed book on correctly pronouncing and accenting spell words, but his innate understanding of the basics can only carry him so far. The Arts require study. The Arts require sacrifice.

Most of the Wizards in Neverwinter look down on him. Some stereotypes are annoyingly true, but they still get tiresome. Few great masters in the city would talk to him, much less teach him something.

Talking with the captain gets him the name of the Lord of Neverwinter’s personal wizard advisor – Hilnik Svenderhof, an elderly gnome who has served Lord Neverember since his days in Waterdeep. While Hilnik claims not to have the time for an apprentice, he does have a recommendation for a young wizard looking for training. One of the great wizards of the Realm, Eliminster, established a mentor program years back through the Harpers. An inexperienced wizard could be connected with a wizard anywhere in the world and learn through correspondence. The Harpers provide mirrors paired to each other that can allow communication between Master and student, as well as line of sight for spell training.

The mentors usually work one-on-one with apprentices but can be assigned multiple students depending on need. The mentor may also bring in a specialist to teach a particular school to students if the facet of the art is not strong for them. Lessons also can include basic and advanced classes in math, science, survival, geography, history, languages, specific crafting, economics, or any other subject that a teacher can be found for. These classes aim to expand the Harpers' reach and create allies or agents.

Glug is instructed to make contact by finding a flier to train cats to obey commands on the wall of a tavern called the Washer Woman. The tavern is in one of the poorest parts of the New District, and the outside reflects this. However, the inside of this small building is immaculate. It may be the cleanest drinking establishment that he has ever seen. And while the tavern itself is not very fancy, it has beautifully carved tables and chairs. The carvings and reliefs in this place look like they were done with the utmost care. At the back of the building is a neatly organized posting board. The flier is easy to find, and as instructed, Glug carefully signs his name on the paper's lower right corner of the border. His name disappears as soon as he finishes signing. He sits down and has a pint from a meticulously cleaned mug. He gladly pays for the brew and, after a sip, notices that the drink is one of the better beers he has had. He suspects that years of grime on cups, or perhaps filthy barrels, or even the critters that make their way into the brew sometimes have made his drinks less than pleasant until now. He orders food from the bar, receives an excellent stew, and makes himself comfortable, waiting to be contacted.

Late into the wee hours of the morning, the barkeep, a wonderful old dwarf named Fedli Ironhammer, tells him that he is closing. Glug tips the dwarf for his good food, drink, and kindness, then disappointedly heads out the door. Just outside, leaning against the wall, next to the door, is a woman smoking a pipe. The Tiefling looks him up and down as he exits the tavern. The door is shut behind him and locked. The woman smiles at him, full of sharp teeth. She has ash-grey skin, a long, thin tail, and cloven hoofs for feet. She asks Glug to spare a coin. He looks her over and passes her a few coppers, to which she gives a huge smile. Glug walks on, heading out of the district and looking to get back to the barracks. He notices her casually following him. So, he stops and looks at her. She suddenly seems extremely close, almost touching him. 

She leans over and whispers in Glug's ear, “You have a temperament for the Art.  Many before you have left the tavern early, maybe even let their emotions get the better of them, and left angry. Some wouldn’t hold their tongue and asked the barkeep or patrons if they knew anything about us. And most wouldn’t have spared a few coins to a stranger. You have a few qualities we look for when we look at a newcomer—patience, discretion, kindness. What we practice is done in secret. How we teach can be difficult. Often, it is done across great distances. Sometimes, it is done at odd times without a set schedule. Your initial evaluation was positive, and I have decided to give you a mirror."

 She hands him a small, hinged, flat, compact mirror made of silver. 

"My name is Divrea, and I will contact you through this folding mirror. The mirror will shake slightly when I try to contact you. If you don’t or cannot answer right away, I will attempt to contact you again the next day around the same time if possible. We will speak soon!"

Divrea moves backward backward into a patch of inky night and disappears.

Glug heads back to the barracks.