The concerned citizens of Narrowhaven

Last evening, Grizlan, the Viper Clan’s contracted blacksmith, rushed in to the bank as he usually does. Unloading his day’s work into his vault, he glanced around the bank, checking for pickpockets. Afterall, if he lost any of his ingots, Master Orochi would cut his pay. Something unusual was in the air, though. He sensed a certain tension in the air as several shrouded figures were entering the bank and leaving at regular intervals. In the past few days, he had noticed more of them. He never trusted elves, and especially not the ones from the underdark.

What are these dark skinned elves up to? he thought to himself, going about his business with the dutiful bank warden.

As he left the bank to get something to eat from the tavern, a drow moved under the lamp post, staring him down.
"Can I help you, dark one?" he said to the figure
"Soon… you surfacers will bow to our will." the figure replied
With a scoff, the blacksmith walks slowly, laughing the threat off. "Good luck, laddy."

After his repast, he returned to the clan enclave to leave his invoice with the guild. Orochi, who was normally washing gargoyle blood off his armor, was kneeling in the main hall, looking over the ancient scroll which usually hangs on the wall at the back of the assembly hall.

"Oh, hello sir, I did not expect you to be upstairs. I have your bill, I’ll just leave it on the desk."
Orochi looks up slowly, hearing a tremble in the usually stoic blacksmith’s voice. "What did you see?" the serpentine tiefling asks.
"Uhm… well, there has a lot of those uh… drow in town lately. More than usual, sir."
"I’ve had reports from our scouts that they are mobilizing for something. They’ve spent more time engaging in war games and less time indulging themselves in their usual hedonistic activities."
The smith took a swig from his flask, rolling his eyes. Oh great, just when I find a steady job.

Grizlan turned and left, forgoing goodbyes, as was usual amongst the Vipers. "Well, atleast a war will mean a better market for arms" the smith chuckled to himself, heading back to his quarters.

Meanwhile, Orochi rose and went to the roof. He attached small rolls of paper to several birds. Carrier pigeons. They knew where to go. And soon, so would the agents of the Viper Clan. War, to them, is a business… and the early bird always gets the biggest worm.

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