Far to the north of Faerûn, beyond the well-charted trade routes and settled kingdoms, lies a region few have reason to visit and fewer still choose to remain in. The Sea of Moving Ice dominates this expanse—an ever-shifting labyrinth of floes, bergs, and frozen channels where maps lose their meaning and survival is never guaranteed. It is here, in a place long dismissed as inhospitable and unprofitable, that Rook’s Rest was founded.
Rook’s Rest is not a kingdom born of conquest, nor a city raised atop ancient ruins. It exists because something impossible was found—and because others were willing to stay once they understood its value.
The northern reaches of Faerûn are defined by distance, isolation, and cold. Beyond the last permanent ports, settlements become seasonal and tenuous, clinging to the margins of icebound waters. The Sea of Moving Ice itself is less a sea than a restless field of frozen land, its geography reshaped by currents, storms, and unseen forces beneath the ice.
Most folk of Faerûn know little of this region beyond rumor. It is spoken of as a place of lost ships, wandering ice, and strange lights on the horizon. Those who travel here do so for specific reasons: exploration, exile, profit, or desperation. There are no established nations to appeal to for aid, and no standing armies to impose lasting order.
It was precisely this remoteness that allowed Rook’s Rest to develop beyond the immediate reach of southern powers—at least at first.
The founding of Rook’s Rest coincided with a broader era of exploration and expansion sometimes referred to as the Age of Wanderlust. Advances in shipbuilding, navigation, and magical communication made long-distance travel more feasible, even into hostile regions. Merchant ventures sought new resources, scholars chased anomalies, and adventurers followed rumors of untapped wealth.
It was during this period that a wandering sailor named Rook and their crew encountered an island that defied expectation. Amid the frozen sea, they found a landmass that radiated warmth, resisted the crushing pressure of the surrounding ice, and remained unnaturally stable. At its center lay a vast chasm, from which heat and strange energies rose continuously.
What began as a refuge from the storm became a discovery with far-reaching consequences.
Early expeditions returned with conflicting reports—some describing ancient structures far below, others claiming planar distortions or impossible ecosystems. While many of these accounts contradicted one another, they shared one detail: The Chasm was deep, dangerous, and rich with things that did not belong on the surface world.
As expeditions pushed deeper, it became clear that The Chasm was more than a geological anomaly. Its depths resisted full exploration, and no single explanation accounted for its behavior. Objects recovered from below carried unfamiliar materials, enchantments, and fragmented histories that could not be easily traced to the surface world.
Beyond its mysteries, the chasm enabled something unprecedented. Its geothermal output made permanent settlement possible in an otherwise frozen region. The steady recovery of artifacts, information, and resources created sustained economic incentive. What began as temporary expeditions expanded to include laborers, scholars, merchants, and support workers.
Rook’s Rest did not emerge fully formed. It grew quickly and unevenly—an unruly settlement drawn by opportunity and risk alike. Disputes over resources, uncontrolled magic, and reckless exploration made the early city dangerous and unstable, until external oversight imposed lasting structure and control.
Travel to Rook’s Rest is costly, dangerous, and logistically complex. Few powers possess the resources to sustain it at scale. Waterdeep is one of them.
From the outset, Waterdeep viewed Rook’s Rest as an expensive but potentially valuable investment. The discovery of uncontrolled magical artifacts emerging from The Chasm posed a clear threat to the wider realm, and early expeditions operated with little oversight. In response, Waterdeep initially stationed its own military forces on the island to impose order and contain the flow of dangerous materials.
This intervention was largely welcomed by the existing population. Life in early Rook’s Rest was volatile, marked by disputes over recovered items, unregulated descents, and frequent magical incidents caused by reckless adventurers. Waterdeep’s presence brought stability where none had existed before.
Rather than discourage exploration, Waterdeep formalized it. The Delvers’ Guild was established to regulate access to The Chasm, record findings, and centralize recovery. Adventurers were not barred, but contracted—paid to return artifacts to the Guild instead of selling them privately or unleashing their effects unchecked.
To maintain long-term oversight, Waterdeep appointed a Hidden Lord to govern Rook’s Rest indirectly. This position ensures laws are enforced, agreements upheld, and risks managed without requiring constant external intervention.
Control is exercised primarily through economics. Waterdeep funds transport to the island, draws adventurers north, and provides legal markets for recovered artifacts. Rook’s Rest profits from hosting expeditions, adventurers profit from sanctioned dives, and Waterdeep profits by reselling or studying recovered materials at scale. The system sustains itself because every participant benefits—so long as order is maintained.
Should that order fail, Waterdeep’s stationed forces remain in place, prepared to act if the situation threatens to spiral beyond containment. It was order that finally brought some semblance of peace to the island and prosperity soon followed.
Several decades have passed since Waterdeep first imposed order on Rook’s Rest. What began as a loose collection of outposts and temporary camps has since consolidated into a permanent settlement with a stable population, a regulated economy, and institutions built to last. The island is no longer a gamble undertaken only by the desperate or the reckless; it is a destination with schedules, contracts, and expectations.
This transformation did not happen quickly. Early years were marked by reconstruction, failed systems, and repeated redesigns as the realities of The Chasm forced adaptation. Each improvement—stronger lifts, standardized equipment, safer descent protocols, more reliable infrastructure—was born from necessity rather than vision. Over time, these incremental solutions accumulated into something more advanced than what southern cities have seen.
Today, Rook’s Rest supports a diverse community: delvers and scholars, engineers and merchants, laborers, officials, and families who have never known another home. Trade routes are established, supply chains maintained, and recovered artifacts processed through official channels. Wealth flows through the city, unevenly but consistently, funding further innovation and expansion.
Yet at its core, Rook’s Rest remains dependent on The Chasm. Every system, regulation, and industry ultimately serves the same purpose: enabling descent and return. Adventure is not a pastime here—it is the engine that drives the city’s economy and the reason its people endure the isolation and risk. Without the promise of what lies below, Rook’s Rest would lose both its relevance and its lifeblood.
The city stands now in a state of controlled momentum: stable enough to function, ambitious enough to grow, and always looking downward. Whatever its future holds, it will be shaped by those willing to descend into the depths and bring something back.
Rook’s Rest is a city built around a single truth: everything here exists because of The Chasm. After years of disorder and rebuilding, the city settled into a practical layout designed to manage risk, movement, and daily life in an unforgiving environment.
At the city’s center lies the Rim, encircling The Chasm itself. From there, four districts extend outward, each serving a distinct role.
The Rim surrounds The Chasm and serves as the operational heart of the city. It houses the Delvers’ Guild headquarters and the systems that regulate descent and return. Access is restricted, heavily monitored, and tightly scheduled. Civic agriculture and other critical infrastructure operate here under regulation, but nothing in Rook’s Rest is more controlled—or more consequential—than the Rim.
The South District is the civic and gateway district, and the face Rook’s Rest presents to the outside world. It contains the offices of the Hidden Lord, city hall, courts, and Waterdeep liaisons. The primary port is located here, where migrants, officials, and sanctioned traffic arrive. Commerce in the South is formal and regulated: customs houses, banks, bonded warehouses, and licensed exchanges dominate the district.
The West District is where most people live. Housing, food markets, taverns, small shops, and everyday services are concentrated here. This is the social and cultural center of the city, handling internal commerce and daily life away from constant oversight. If you are looking for a place to eat, rest, or blend into the crowd, you’ll likely find it in the West.
The North District is the industrial and extraction district, and the coldest part of the city. Heavy manufacturing, forges, power works, and processing facilities operate here, along with industrial docks that support steam-powered ice-fishing and harvesting fleets. The district remains habitable largely due to the heat produced by active industry. Older structures here predate the district’s current role, remnants of earlier phases of the city’s development.
The East District is defined by institutions and infrastructure. Hospitals, trauma wards, colleges, technical academies, transit hubs, and system control centers are located here. Housing exists, but it is dense and utilitarian, designed for essential workers, students, and short-term residents who need to remain close to their duties. The East is always active, always maintained, and rarely at rest.
Together, these districts form a city that is orderly, advanced without being indulgent, and always oriented toward what lies below. Where you live, work, and travel within Rook’s Rest will shape your experience—and may determine how close you come to The Chasm itself.
Magic is woven into daily life in Rook’s Rest, but it is never unregulated. The city depends on spellwork to function—lighting streets, powering infrastructure, preserving food, stabilizing transit—and for that reason, treats magic as a regulated force, subject to law, oversight, and consequence.
Magic is permitted where it is predictable, contained, and useful. It is restricted where it threatens people, systems, or stability. These boundaries are widely understood, and violations are enforced based on outcome, not intent.
Low-level magic is common and socially accepted throughout the city. Examples include:
Such magic is expected to be professional and restrained. Improvised or careless spellcasting that disrupts public space or operations is treated as negligence, even if no harm was intended.
Magic becomes illegal when it produces unacceptable risk. In public or unregulated spaces, the following uses are prohibited:
High-level spellcasting is beyond most individuals in the city. Those capable of it are watched with suspicion.
Intent is not a defense. In Rook’s Rest, responsibility is determined by what the magic does, not why it was cast.
Necromancy is absolutely prohibited within city limits, without exception. This ban includes:
Summoning magic is tightly constrained. Any summoned entity lacking a short, fixed duration must be:
Uncontrolled summoned entities are treated as immediate threats. Authorized forces are empowered to neutralize them without warning.
Weapons may be carried openly or concealed, but not brandished. Drawing or displaying a weapon in public is treated as escalation unless:
Public duels, vendettas, and magical confrontations are prohibited. Most disputes are expected to be resolved through:
Public violence—magical or mundane—is treated as a failure of restraint and escalates enforcement response accordingly.
Magical law in Rook’s Rest is enforced by two distinct forces, each with a defined mandate.
Rook’s Rest Civic Guards, appointed through the South District, serve as the city’s primary peacekeepers. They handle routine enforcement: public safety, licensing compliance, disturbance control, and investigation of magical misuse affecting daily life. Many are trained to recognize spellwork and carry sanctioned countermeasures, though their role emphasizes containment and procedure rather than punishment.
Alongside them operate Waterdeep–appointed guards, stationed specifically to keep adventurers and other high-risk actors in check. These enforcers are expected to be capable mages or specialists trained in counter-spell tactics, containment wards, and anti-magic response. Their jurisdiction focuses on chasm-related incidents, unauthorized high-risk spellcasting, and any situation likely to exceed civic control.
Consequences scale with severity and impact and may include spell suppression, confiscation of magical items, fines, license revocation, detention, or removal from regulated spaces. Repeated or extreme violations can trigger expulsion from the island.
Rook’s Rest is a well-developed city shaped by deliberate design. Its technology reflects coordination, craftsmanship, and long-term planning, favoring systems that are dependable, repairable, and suited to local conditions. Large-scale infrastructure supports daily life, communication keeps the city unified, and household technologies provide comfort and reliability for its residents.
Magic is woven throughout these systems as a tool of regulation and refinement. It is applied where precision, stability, or coordination are required, reinforcing mechanical solutions rather than replacing them.
The city’s power grid relies primarily on mundane energy sources, chosen for their predictability and resilience. Geothermal heat drawn from beneath the island forms the foundation of the system, converted into steam that drives turbines, warms residential and industrial spaces, and powers heavy machinery.
Steam engines and boilers dominate industry and transit, fueled by geothermal output, waste heat, or imported combustibles. Their presence—audible, visible, and constant—is a mark of the city’s industrial capability. Windmills positioned along the island’s perimeter supplement the grid, supplying auxiliary power to lighting, relay systems, and non-critical infrastructure. Where heated channels prevent freezing, water-driven turbines support pumping and localized generation.
Mechanical energy storage, including flywheels, pressurized steam tanks, counterweights, and accumulators, smooths demand and buffers output. These systems allow the city to maintain steady operation during maintenance cycles or periods of peak usage.
In areas affected by planar interference, particularly near The Chasm, Planar Shards are incorporated as stabilizing components. Installed within control systems, safety mechanisms, and critical junctions, shards regulate magical fluctuations and ensure precise operation under strain. They do not generate power themselves; rather, they allow existing systems to function reliably where conditions would otherwise disrupt them.
The most visible expression of this integration is the Elemental Transit Ring, which encircles the city and enables rapid movement of people, cargo, and emergency services between districts. Powered by conventional engines and reinforced through shard-regulated controls, the Ring stands as a symbol of civic coordination and technical expertise.
Communication in Rook’s Rest is structured to balance accessibility with accountability.
Speaking Stations are fixed arcane communication points installed throughout the city. Found in government buildings, guild halls, hospitals, transit hubs, and guard posts, these stations allow direct voice communication between registered locations. Conversations conducted through Speaking Stations are effectively unlimited in length, but are routed through civic infrastructure, logged, and subject to oversight. Access is controlled, and misuse is treated as an administrative offense.
For personal correspondence, residents make use of Sending Scrolls. These small, portable arcane scrolls are attuned to specific individuals or other scrolls. When spoken into, a Sending Scroll transcribes the message into arcane script and transmits it as a short written communication. Messages sent between scrolls are strictly limited in length and frequency, encouraging concise exchange rather than extended dialogue.
Sending Scrolls may transmit brief messages to registered Speaking Stations, but they do not support open voice communication. Extended conversation requires physical presence at a station, preserving the importance of location, access, and institutional oversight.
For citywide information and public programming, Rook’s Rest relies on Broadcast Receivers. These devices receive scheduled audio transmissions sent from centralized broadcast halls operated by civic authorities, guild coalitions, and emergency services. At these halls, spoken announcements and prepared programs are transmitted through reinforced signal lines and arcane relays, allowing a single source to reach receivers across the city simultaneously.
Broadcast Receivers are one-way devices. They do not transmit information back to the source, nor can they be tuned freely between private channels. Programming schedules are posted publicly, and emergency broadcasts override all other transmissions when necessary. Taverns, factories, guild halls, and many private homes keep receivers active during operating hours, treating broadcasts as a shared civic resource.
Everyday life in Rook’s Rest reflects the same practical sophistication found in its public works.
Most households are equipped with heating stoves and ice boxes for food storage, both considered standard fixtures. These appliances are valued for their reliability and ease of maintenance. In guild residences, administrative housing, and wealthier homes, arcane-assisted refrigerators allow longer-term preservation of food and medical supplies.
Lighting, clocks, elevators, broadcast receivers, and mechanical conveniences are common throughout the city. Tools are sturdy and purpose-built, protective clothing incorporates insulation and hazard indicators, and personal equipment emphasizes durability over ornamentation.
These technologies are not regarded as luxuries. They are the expected tools of a population accustomed to coordination, maintenance, and systems designed to be relied upon.
Rook’s Rest is a city shaped by people who chose to stay. Over time, this has produced a culture that values presence, reputation, and shared experience. Art, fashion, food, and belief all serve as ways for residents to mark who they are, what they’ve endured, and what they aspire to become.
Life here is public by default. People are known by what they do, who they work with, and how they carry themselves. Culture is something lived openly, not curated from a distance.
Daily life in Rook’s Rest revolves around guild schedules, shift work, and the steady movement of people between districts. Taverns, markets, guild halls, and performance venues function as social centers where eating, entertainment, negotiation, and argument blend together.
Conversation is constant. Music, laughter, and broadcast programming spill into streets and workshops alike. Being visible—seen, heard, and remembered—is part of belonging. Privacy exists, but it is not the default posture of the city.
Music is the city’s most recognizable art form and its most common release. Styles favor large ensembles, strong rhythm, and collective performance, closely resembling big band, swing, early jazz, and Dixieland traditions.
Entertainment in Rook’s Rest is:
Dance is widespread and physical. Partner dances dominate tavern floors, emphasizing speed, stamina, and trust. Knowing how to dance well is considered a practical social skill and a mark of confidence.
Theaters and performance halls host organized concerts, musical revues, and dramatized retellings of expeditions, often accompanied by live orchestras. Broadcast Receivers extend major performances citywide, allowing entire districts to listen together during notable events.
Fashion in Rook’s Rest is shaped as much by admiration as by environment. Adventurers, delvers, and prominent guild figures are public figures, and their appearance carries weight. Coats, boots, gloves, harnesses, and distinctive silhouettes seen on expeditions or stages are quickly adopted, adapted, and discussed.
Across the city, common elements include:
Materials favor wool, leather, canvas, and reinforced fabrics, often enhanced with subtle magical treatments. The dominant palette leans toward charcoal, slate, rust, navy, and olive, with brighter colors appearing as accents—linings, scarves, ties, jewelry, or performance wear.
Style is not gendered. Expression comes through tailoring, cut, and personal detail. Visible mending, patches, and alterations are common and often read as marks of experience.
To dress well in Rook’s Rest is to signal confidence, ambition, and awareness of how one is seen.
Food culture in Rook’s Rest emphasizes warmth, abundance, and familiarity. Meals are designed to be shared, repeated, and remembered rather than refined.
Common fare includes stews, chowders, dense breads, pickled vegetables, and smoked or cured meats. Taverns typically serve one or two rotating dishes, often anchored by a house stew known more by reputation than recipe.
Street food is common in the Marketward, offering portable meals and hot drinks meant to be eaten while walking. Alcohol consumption is culturally normalized, especially around music and social gatherings.
Freshness, variety, and preparation quietly signal status, but extravagance is rare. Sharing food is considered a meaningful social gesture; refusing it without reason is often noticed.
Rook’s Rest has no state religion and no dominant faith. Belief is personal, varied, and largely decentralized. Temples and shrines exist throughout the city, often shared by multiple traditions, but no religion holds authority over law or governance.
Religious practitioners are common and generally known by their role—healer, mediator, scholar, delver—rather than by doctrine. Faith is assumed rather than asserted.
The chasm is not worshiped, but it shapes shared customs. Before major descents, people lower their voices, perform small personal rituals, or mark names carefully. These practices are cultural rather than doctrinal, observed by people of many beliefs and by those with none.
Rook’s Rest follows the standard Faerûnian calendar, but holidays function primarily as civic observances rather than religious festivals. These days mark remembrance, accountability, or continuity rather than celebration alone.
Some observances slow the city deliberately. Others heighten vigilance or suspend expeditions. Even on festive days, work is expected to resume.
Status in Rook’s Rest is earned through visibility and contribution. Reputation spreads quickly through guild networks, taverns, and broadcasts. Stories matter, but consistency matters more.
People are not considered “from Rook’s Rest” by birth alone. They become so by staying—by learning the city’s rhythms, contributing to its life, and understanding how to move within it.
Belonging is open, but it is not automatic.
Beyond the lifts lies a place of fractured magic, lost histories, and impossible discoveries—a depth that has ended many stories and begun others that carry far beyond the island. The Delvers’ Guild stands watch over The Chasm not to diminish its promise, but to ensure that those who descend have the chance to return and be remembered.
No one arrives in Rook’s Rest by accident.
Passage north is rare and deliberate, and choosing it means accepting what others turn away from. Whether drawn by opportunity, necessity, or ambition, you came knowing the cost—and knowing that whatever waits below the Chasm cannot be reached by staying where you were.
When creating your character, consider one of the following origins for your backstory, or create your own consistent with the same spirit.
Your origin may shape first impressions, but it does not define your place here. Reputation in Rook’s Rest is earned through action, consistency, and survival.
The island endures because its people do.
Joining the Delvers’ Guild is how you begin operating in Rook’s Rest.
Upon arrival, you are issued an identification card, a Guild badge, a registered Sending Scroll, and a work visa authorizing your stay on the island. Together, these mark you as a sanctioned member of the Guild and grant you access to Guild facilities, lifts, and services. They are expected to remain on your person while conducting Guild business.
You are assigned lodging in the Guild dormitory wing. Rooms are practical and often shared, and assignments may change as membership shifts. Life in the Guild is communal by necessity; you will be living, training, and delving alongside other members.
Guild membership grants legal access to the Legend’s Chasm and the right to descend using Guild lifts. Delves are undertaken at your discretion. You decide when to explore and how far to push. The Guild does not approve each descent in advance.
What the Guild does expect is a record of your return. After a delve, members are required to log notable events, recovered items, and observed conditions. These records support future expeditions and contribute to your standing within the Guild. Failure to report does not stop you from delving—but it will be noticed.
Before your first descent, new members receive a brief orientation covering lift procedures, emergency protocols, and recordkeeping expectations. You are not expected to know everything, but you are expected to learn quickly.
The Guild provides structure where the Chasm offers none. It gives you the tools to survive, and a place to return when you do.
Before your first descent, all new delvers attend a Guild orientation.
This briefing is mandatory and practical. It exists to show you how to use Guild systems—and where those systems stop protecting you.
The Guild lift is the primary method of descent into the Legend’s Chasm.
During orientation, delvers are issued a Guild badge and shown how to operate the lift. The lift responds to active badges; without one, the platform will not descend. Delvers are strongly advised to keep their badge on their person while near the Rim. Lost or damaged badges must be reported immediately.
New members are cleared for lift access to Floors 1–5. These upper levels resemble the surface world most closely and serve as the threshold between the city and the deeper Chasm.
Guild lifts stop only at established anchor floors, set at five-floor intervals. Delvers must traverse all other depths manually.
The lift will get you close. Everything between anchors is on foot, rope, or improvised routes.
Floors 1–5 are considered monitored depths.
If a team fails to return from within this range, the Guild may attempt recovery when conditions allow. This is not a promise—but new delvers are not expected to disappear without notice.
Beyond Floor 5, this doctrine no longer applies.
Once you descend past Floor 5, you do so without the expectation of rescue. The Guild does not dispatch recovery teams beyond this depth. This boundary is stated clearly during orientation.
Delvers are encouraged to go deeper only when prepared, and rarely alone.
The lift stabilizes a limited amount of magical and planar resonance per ascent. This limit applies to the entire platform, not to individual passengers.
Mundane cargo places little strain on the lift. Newly recovered artifacts, planar materials, and enchanted items place significantly more. As multiple delvers board, the lift adjusts its warding to the combined load.
If the threshold is approached, the lift will warn you. If it is exceeded, the crew may refuse ascent.
Delvers unwilling to leave items behind may ascend manually. Manual ascent places no limit on what can be carried—but offers no protection. Routes may shift or collapse, exhaustion accumulates, and rescue is not expected.
Items brought to the surface are processed by the Guild to dampen residual planar energy and stabilize their resonance. Once processed, these items no longer interfere with lift travel on future descents.
Failure to declare recoveries will be noticed.
Orientation does not make the Chasm safe.
It does not teach you how to fight.
It does not guarantee survival.
What it does is show you:
The lift will take you down.
The Guild will record your return.
What happens between is up to you.
A delve is any descent into the Chasm beyond the Rim.
Delves may be undertaken at any time, alone or in groups. The Guild does not require advance permission, assign objectives, or dictate how you explore. What matters is what happens during the descent—and what you bring back.
Most delves begin at a lift platform.
Delvers select a cleared anchor floor, board the lift, and descend to the chosen depth. From there, all movement is manual. Paths may include tunnels, vertical drops, natural caverns, ruins, or improvised routes carved by previous teams.
Some delvers choose to descend manually from higher floors using ropes, anchors, or climbing routes. These methods are legal but riskier. Manual routes are more likely to shift, collapse, or become misleading over time.
Once you leave the lift, the Chasm does not care how prepared you are.
The Chasm is not uniform.
Conditions change as you move:
There are no safe zones below the Rim. Resting, retreating, and pressing forward are all choices with consequences. The deeper you descend, the fewer systems exist to intervene on your behalf.
Surviving a delve is success.
Returning with information is progress.
The Chasm is not empty, and it is not orderly.
Delvers should expect hostile encounters during any descent. Some threats are creatures native to the Chasm, shaped by its layers and planar influence. Others migrate, emerge without warning, or behave in ways that defy surface expectations.
Not all threats are monsters.
Unsanctioned delvers occasionally enter the Chasm without Guild approval, descending by unmonitored routes or bypassing lift controls. These intruders compete for the same paths, resources, and artifacts as Guild members, and are not bound by Guild doctrine or oversight.
Within the Chasm, delvers are not expected to police one another. There is no practical enforcement below the Rim, and survival takes precedence over adjudication. Conflicts between delving parties—whether with creatures or other delvers—are treated as part of the inherent risk of descent.
Actions taken below are reviewed only after return, through records, testimony, and evidence. Violence against Rook’s Rest civilians or Guild members is not tolerated. Other conflicts are judged by outcome and circumstance, not by immediate intent.
Delvers are advised to act with caution, document encounters when possible, and remember that while the Chasm does not enforce rules, the city still keeps records.
Time does not pause in the Chasm.
Movement, combat, exploration, and decision-making all occur under continuous pressure. Supplies matter. Fatigue accumulates. Hesitation carries risk, but haste often carries worse.
Retreat is a valid outcome. Many successful delvers measure survival by knowing when to turn back.
Delving in groups increases survivability and flexibility.
Groups can:
Groups may split temporarily, but doing so increases risk. The Chasm rewards coordination more than heroics.
A delve ends when a delver returns to the surface, whether by lift or manual ascent.
Upon return, delvers are expected to report to the infirmary for rest and assessment. Injuries, exhaustion, contamination, and planar exposure are common and are treated before further activity is permitted.
Recovered materials, artifacts, and notable findings are submitted for appraisal. Maps, journals, sketches, and other records are filed with the Guild archives. If any member of the party failed to return, this must be reported immediately so the absence can be logged.
Once appraisal is complete, accepted materials are secured for shipment to Waterdeep or reassigned for Guild use. Delvers are then paid according to the value and significance of what they recovered, as well as the quality of their records.
Not every delve ends in profit.
All delves end in a record.
What is written after your return determines what the city learns—and what it can attempt next.