Far beyond the gates of Neverwinter, the Sword Coast churns with tension... like a storm behind the horizon."

To the south, the towers of Waterdeep gleam in the morning sun, cloaked in splendor, power… and secrets. Known as the City of Splendors, Waterdeep rules not by swords—but by silver. Its masked Lords maneuver behind closed doors, shaping the future with trade, treaties, and quiet threats.

"But Waterdeep is not without rivals."

Neverwinter rises again from the ashes—and with it, Lord Neverember’s ambition. Once Open Lord of Waterdeep, now Lord Protector of Neverwinter, his name still draws sneers in southern courts and clenched fists in quiet chambers. He claims loyalty to the Lord’s Alliance—but many say his loyalty ends where his interests do.

Among the alliance's fractured cities, mistrust simmers.

Lords of Seaton and Yartar whisper that Neverember seeks more than stability… that his mercenaries and taxes betray a man who wishes to build a kingdom, not a city.

"And in the silence between empires, others move unseen."

The Harpers—that ancient, scattered network of spies, bards, and idealists—try to hold the balance. To prevent tyranny from growing unchecked. But the world is changing. Coin speaks louder than conscience, and even the Harpers bleed.

From the shadows, another name spreads like rot through the roots of a tree… The Zhentarim.

To merchants, they offer protection.
To smugglers, opportunity.
To politicians? Leverage.

"But to most... they are only a rumor. A name spoken once, and never again."

The Black Network, as they’re known, weaves itself into ports and trade routes, inns and guild halls. And once they grip a region, they rarely let go. Coin buys loyalty. Fear enforces silence. And every caravan, every ledger, every blade... can be turned to their purpose.

"These are the powers at play. These are the strings behind the curtain."

The Sword Coast may look calm… but beneath the surface?

"Something stirs."