Second Council of Waterdeep Opening Invocation and State of the Sword Coast
Scene opens in the Lords’ Palace. The council chamber is quiet, the cold air laced with incense and the distant crackle of magical braziers. Heavy banners of each faction hang from the carved pillars. Guarded silence reigns until the resounding steps of Lady Laeral Silverhand echo into the chamber.
Laeral Silverhand (standing at the head of the table, hands on the carved chair of the Open Lord):
“Let this council be brought to order.”
She pauses, surveying the chamber, meeting each delegate’s eyes in turn. Her gaze lingers a beat longer on Neverember, then shifts to Elia.
“The Sword Coast stands bloodied, but unbowed. Though the cult strikes at our cities and minds alike, we have held our line. Our champions have not faltered.”
She gestures toward the adventuring party seated nearby.
“You all know their deeds. The white wyrm Arauthator lies dead, his hoard broken. The wyrmspeaker Varram, once thought untouchable, sits shackled beneath our very feet. And from the darkness of Neverwinter Hall, a fiend was drawn into the light.”
A ripple of murmurs passes through the chamber at the mention of Maelthra.
“These victories are hard-won, but they do not mark the end. Rather, they illuminate how deep the cult’s claws run. When devils wear the faces of our aides and dragons seethe in our skies, can any of us claim true safety?”
Laeral’s voice grows colder, commanding.
“Our enemies have tasted defeat. They will strike back with fury. And we must answer with unity, resolve… and truth.”
She turns slightly, opening her hands to the room.
“There will be no shadows in this chamber today. No secrets left unsaid. From this moment forward, we meet not as factions, but as defenders of the Realms. You may speak freely, but know that silence serves the cult as surely as betrayal.”
She takes her seat with finality, the silver embroidery of her cloak catching the brazier light. The invocation has ended. The council has begun.