For most of your life you believed yourself a middling member of Waterdeep’s nobility, one of the many noble sons of House Thann. Recently, however, your parents revealed to you that you were entrusted to them by your true mother, a woman who barely escaped the cataclysm in Neverwinter and died shortly thereafter. They believe that she was a member of Neverwinter’s royal family, and that you may be the last heir of Nasher Alagondar, the rightful king of Neverwinter.
The Lord of Knowledge was once greatly revered in the City of Skilled Hands. He has sent you visions, haunted your dreams, and left scraps of knowledge in your path, guiding you to Neverwinter. You can feel it in the air here. Oghma has brought you here to be part of that most momentous of events — the birth of a truly new idea. The Jewel of the North will shine again, as it did once before, with the beauty of invention, knowledge, and inspiration.
You were sent to Neverwinter to prove your worth as one of the Harpers, a millennium-old secret society that has quietly rooted out the forces of evil and tyranny across Faerûn. Cymril was your mentor. She was guiding the Sons of Alagondar against Lord Neverember. But that night when you were ambushed by Neverember’s men, she turned on the Sons, and was then killed herself. You took her pin to hide the Harpers’ involvement, but now the Sons have fallen into disarray and the other Harpers think you’ve betrayed them. If you can untangle this knot of intrigue, perhaps you can still prove your worth to the Harpers. If you can’t, perhaps they’ll hunt you down and kill you for betraying them.
Claimed: Marcus de Tylmarande
Dead Rat Deserter
Rumors circulate around Luskan that the Dead Rats are all actually wererats, but that’s ridiculous. Only the higher-ups, really. Like you. Or, like you were, until that night that you were brought before King Toy, accused of betraying the gang, and almost got gutted right there. You managed to escape, but it was close. You slipped away, south, to Neverwinter. Last place a Luskar would ever dream of going, right?
Claimed: Horst Stevinn
When your people passed into the Feywild, they were drawn into an ageless cycle of war against the Prince of Frost. When he was finally defeated, many of your people returned to Faerûn to seek out the ruins of your ancient kingdom. When you found it despoiled and desecrated, however, rage overtook your people. They yearn for bloody vengeance, and many of them care little if innocent mortals are crushed along the way. For now, calmer heads prevail, giving you time to discover the truth of the matter. So you have gone out to discover who has committed this crime, so that your people can direct their fury at them alone. If you do not discover the truth quickly enough, however, your people may seek to satisfy their grief in blood, regardless of where it comes from.
Each autumn, at Runemeet, each of the Uthgardt tribes travels to its ancestral mound. For your tribe, the Thunderbeast, that’s Morgur’s Mound, the holiest site of your people, where Morgur, Uthgar’s mortal brother, lies buried alongside the bones of a thunderbeast, your own tribe’s totem. When you arrived, however, you found the mound desecrated, the bones stolen, and Morgur’s grave exhumed. The entire tribe was consumed with rage and grief. They decided to return to the High Forest, but they asked you to remain to discover the truth of what happened, so that they might recover their sacred relics, and punish those responsible for their crime.
Claimed: Cefrey Thunderbeast
Few understand what it means to truly be a predator. You cannot be weak, of course, but you cannot be bloodthirsty, either. That’s what the Gray Wolf has forgotten. The Shadovar came to your people with tales of your ancient kinship and the power they could grant you, but they have infected you with their ideas of dominance and power. A true pack, out in the wild, has no time for such foolishness. This is what wolves do in captivity. This is what vicious dogs do. Your tribe has turned you out. You must form a new pack to hunt with, for you have powerful and cunning prey to hunt: the shadow that has fallen on your people.
Heir of Delzoun
Every dwarf in the North knows the tale of lost Gauntlgrym, once capital of the great kingdom of Delzoun. Seventeen years ago, the ghosts of Delzoun came to many dwarves, bidding them to seek out the lost city. Many claim to descend from the fabled kings of Delzoun, as your family does. Perhaps, if those legends are true, and you can find the lost city, you could lead your people into a new golden age. Perhaps that is why the ghosts sought you out. You have spent years following stories, legends and rumors into dungeons deep and caverns old. Your quest has brought you to Neverwinter. You know you near the end of your quest, but you know that is when you will most need staunch allies at your side.
Renegade Red Wizard
You were fortunate enough among Thay’s population to show an aptitude for magic. Escaping the life of toil and slavery that most Thayans are condemned to, surrounded by works of necromancy all the time, you thought little of the art’s moral implications for most of your life, approaching it as an academic pursuit — until your best friend was arbitrarily slain and you were forced to reanimate him as part of one of your classes. You fled Thay, going as far as you could, crossing all of Faerûn to the Sword Coast. Others likely missed it, though, but your training makes it unmistakable. You see the hand of Szass Tam here. Thay has come to Neverwinter. There’s nowhere left to run.
Scion of Shadow
You were born into one of the noble families of Thultanthar — not that of the High Prince, but with enough status to ensure a life of comfort and power for yourself. You grew up learning of the inferiority of the lesser creatures of Faerûn, and how the Empire of Netheril would rise again. You were sent to oversee some military outposts, but there, something changed you. Other Shadovar speak of how the sun burns them, but to you it felt like a cleansing. Or perhaps it was the example of the people you were sent to crush in the empire’s name. Something about Toril spoke to you, though. You knew that this was the world you wanted to live in, rather than the one that you were born into. You pulled some strings to have yourself assigned to Prince Clariburnus’s expedition in Neverwinter Wood, as far from the watching eyes of Shade Enclave as you could get. There, you managed to sneak away. The purpose of that expedition, though, and the presence of one of the Twelve Princes leading it, concerns you. You will not have escaped at all if Netheril’s shadow falls upon your new home.
A middle child of one of Waterdeep’s endless noble houses, you’ve enjoyed a life free from want but you’ve never had real power. Like so many others in your position, you joined a “devil-worshipping cult” There’s never a real cult, of course, just rumors to intimidate business rivals or to excite potential lovers. The secret meetings give you a chance to meet some of Waterdeep’s true elite and climb the social ladder. Or so you thought, until one night you arrived late and stumbled onto the gory scene of a mass human sacrifice. You were drawn in, and then everything went black. You awoke in your own bed with a strange brand burned into your flesh. Terrified and confused, you fled Waterdeep, heading north to Neverwinter. You don’t know what’s happened, much less what to do next.
For many years, you lived a normal life. Then the nightmares began. They grew more and more maddening, until one night you awoke, wreathed in blue flame. It burned your home and killed your family, leaving glowing blue scars on your body. Hated and feared, you were driven from your home and forced to take to the road. Eventually, you learned that the strange marks were a spellscar, a mark of the Spellplague upon you. You met fellow travelers who directed you to Helm’s Hold outside of Neverwinter. They told you that there were people there who could help people like you.
Bregan D’aerthe Spy
You belonged to one of the houses of Menzoberranzan until that fateful night when one of your rival houses wiped you out, murdering nearly all of you in a single night. You managed to escape, and perhaps a few others did, but of course you would be hunted by your enemies, tying up loose ends. Luckily for you, one of the mercenaries from Bregan D’aerthe found you first. They accepted you into their ranks as a mercenary, offering you protection and a job. Jarlaxle, Bregan Daerthe’s founder and sometimes leader, has tasked you with keeping tabs on the situation in Neverwinter and finding ways for the company to profit. One day, one of your superiors might come to you for information. Until then, you’re largely left to your own devices.
Claimed: Micar’eyl Auvrymtor
Son of Alagondar
You grew up in Neverwinter, when the survivors first built the Wall and faced the immediate, overwhelming loss of the cataclysm and defended their shattered homes against that first wave of terrible monsters. Now that you’ve managed to create something, now that things have calmed down, this Waterdhavian upstart has decided that he’s going to “rebuild the city” for you. He says you need his help. He was nowhere to be found when things were really bad, of course, but now, he says, you need his help. You’re a member of the Sons of Alagondar, a resistance group fighting for independence against the imperialist “Lord Protector,” Dagult Neverember. Nothing has chased you away from your home. You are a child of Neverwinter, and while the city stands, you will never kneel.
Claimed: Branwen Farlong
Seeker of Illefarn
You grew up in Ardeep Forest near Waterdeep, built over the ruins of old Aelinthaldaar, the ancient capital of Illefarn. The ruins and relics of that ancient empire have fascinated you all your life. Recently, your people discovered a dead eladrin, dressed in a manner not seen in Faerûn since ancient days and speaking a strange accent that a sage told you seemed more closely related to the elven spoken in Illefarn long ago. It took some doing, but you managed to track his movements back to Waterdeep, which he’d reached by ship from Neverwinter. You have come to the City of Skilled Hands in pursuit of the mystery, and the hints connecting it to the ancient ruins of Illefarn.