Locations

An open-air marble colonnade set on a pile-supported pier, crowned by a broad azure-glazed tile canopy and ringed by a low balustrade above the water. Enchanted crystal lanterns and deep eaves create a luminous, weather-sheltered arcade with uninterrupted harbor views and a controlled single approach.

A high-risk silver mine set into a steep mountain slope, defined by a timber headframe over a stone-banded shaft collar, wind-tossed ventilation collars with louvered shutters, and benched yards held by dry-stone retaining walls. Post-collapse barricades, fracture flags, and methodical rescue staging convert an industrial site into a controlled engineering theater.

An urban civic-medical hall of pale ashlar with tall mullioned windows and gauze screens, organized for hygiene-first workflows: ground-floor triage and operating theatres under shadowless rune-lamp grids, a mezzanine sterilization/linen/apothecary band, quiet recovery and isolation wards above, and attic vent cowls with a drying loft over cellar boilers, cisterns, and waste staging. The air carries thyme and antiseptic.

The administrative heart of Waterdeep—power's architecture, cold and patient.

Cidrella Vexweld's workshop is a contained explosion of creativity: blueprints tacked to every surface, wires running like vines along walls, and half-finished contraptions clicking and ticking as if the room itself refuses to sit still. Ozone and hot metal ride the air; arcane conduits hum in the bones of the building. In the center, a ceiling-mounted multi-axis brass armature (Unit 7) descends to perform domestic miracles with the delicacy of a surgeon and the enthusiasm of a child.

The City Watch Headquarters Complex stands as Waterdeep's most innovative government facility, representing the evolution of law enforcement from simple community policing to sophisticated intelligence operations. Two distinct buildings—the welcoming Shield Hall and the discrete Spire of Inquiry—are connected by dramatic sky-bridges that span Justicar's Way, creating a powerful architectural statement about the balance between transparency and security in modern governance. The Shield Hall maintains the grand public character expected of community law enforcement, with its limestone facade, heraldic displays, and accessible entrance hall designed to inspire citizen confidence. Across the street, the Spire of Inquiry presents a deliberately understated granite exterior that projects quiet authority without drawing attention to its sophisticated intelligence operations. The two buildings are linked by the Bridge of Scrutiny (formal coordination) and the Bridge of Whispers (informal consultation), enabling seamless cooperation while maintaining functional separation. Together, the complex houses 275-325 personnel across both buildings, operating around the clock to coordinate everything from street patrol to regional intelligence analysis. The architectural design physically manifests the philosophical balance necessary for effective governance—grounded community service elevated by strategic wisdom.

Where corruption hides behind commerce—a respectable dock facade concealing weapons trafficking and Silent Hand supply chains.

Waterdeep's Dock Ward is a dense, working waterfront of tar-darkened timbers, salt-stained stone, rope chandlers and sail-makers, warehouses packed tight against narrow streets, and a constant churn of carts, crews, and tide-driven labor. The air is thick with brine, fish, pitch, and smoke; the soundscape is bell-peals, gulls, shouted numbers, and rigging snapping in the wind.

A sequestered woodland bowl enclosed by an oak ring and hedgerows, shaped as a living sanctuary: a latticed canopy vault above moss-soft ground, three linked spring-fed crystalline pools, stone-set meditation spirals, and low-impact, braided paths. No built structures—only woven screens, living-wood arches, and set stones integrated into the land's own restorative systems.

A civic-scale library complex organized around a grand reading hall with clerestory lanterns, disciplined column grids, and a secured vault core. Public entry flows through a dual vestibule screening system into layered quiet zones, while sub-archives below grade maintain cool, stable microclimates with flood-stop protections and isolation valves added after a prior water incident.

A weathered stone and timber cabin built into the mountainside with the practical efficiency of a master stoneworker. The workshop interior shows decades of craftsmanship—tools hung with military precision, half-finished projects, and the smell of stone dust and pine. A stone chimney rises beside the structure, and the approach reveals careful defensive sightlines typical of dwarven military engineering.

A monumental Trades Ward guildhall built to teach by example: a rusticated granite plinth (fortress‑grade base) rises to polished marble ashlar with refined orders, deep cornices, and a voussoired grand portal set with the Guild's seal. Within the symmetric block, a double‑height Grand Hall of Works displays demonstration arches, bond patterns, and model plinths; above, the north‑lit Keystone Library and drawing vaults preserve plans, surveys, and quarry cores. Below, the "Hammer & Chisel" workshops and Proving Cellar host training and structural tests (compression, shear, wedge). Members gather in upper studios and the Hearthstone Lounge opening to a small roof cloister around a bell cote. A rear service court with jib/beam hoist admits stone and models away from the ceremonial front.

Korrath Threnx's workspace is the antithesis of improvised tinkering: a cathedral of precision where every tool has a place and every place has a label. Meticulously filed blueprint tubes line the walls; stone and metal samples sit in identical compartments marked with tolerances and coefficients. A massive oak drafting table anchors the room, lit at angles that banish shadow and leave no excuse for error.

An elegant private salon in a Castle Ward noble estate where Lady Argenthorne hosts influential aristocrats for refined conversation and political calculation. The room features rich furnishings, candlelit intimacy, and the subtle exchange of power through knowing glances over brandy. This is where the nobility assesses new pieces on Waterdeep's great political board.

A narrow street in the Trades Ward lined with metalworkers' shops specializing in locks, keys, and security mechanisms. The third bench workshop is renowned for its master craftsman's ability to analyze unusual metalwork. The air smells of hot metal and filing dust, punctuated by the rhythmic tap-tap of hammers on steel.

A packed Dock Ward establishment where working folk gather—longshoremen, barrel-makers, carters, and carpenters crowding the common room under a thick haze of pipe smoke. When the Last Light Company's exploits make the news, this is where the tradespeople raise their tankards and toast "To a job well done!" with genuine civic pride.

A small frontier village built around an old mill and stone bridge crossing a mountain stream. Simple timber buildings cluster near the village square, with smoke rising from chimneys in winter. The village sits at the edge of Thornwood Forest, serving as a waypoint for travelers and loggers.

Dense forested wilderness in the northern Sword Coast, characterized by ancient trees creating natural corridors and shadows. The terrain becomes increasingly hostile and contaminated as it approaches Silent Hand operations, with normal wildlife patterns disrupted by unnatural presences. Offers both natural beauty and deadly danger, serving as hunting ground for enemy patrols.

A plague village frozen in crisis—where death is organized with dignity and mercy transforms passage.

A half-full Dock Ward tavern where oil-lanterns paint ceiling beams amber "like honey on old wood," centered around a prominent hearth that gives the establishment its name. A trio of moon-elf fiddlers plays in the corner while sailors, caravan guards, and off-duty watchmen gather to share stories, debate philosophy, and process the extraordinary events shaping their city.

An unremarkable inn in Stonebridge, exactly as advertised—nondescript in every way that matters. Second-floor rooms with street-view windows, an innkeeper who barely looks at guests twice, and the kind of deliberate anonymity that makes it perfect for those conducting delicate business. The sort of establishment where discretion is the primary service offered.

A 50-acre hidden-valley estate presenting a polished country manor with a glass rotunda conservatory, formal gardens, and a water "research" plant—concealing an engineered suppression network, subgrade prison blocks, and terrain-integrated guard posts. Two streams converge near the estate core and feed a lake outfall; precision sluices, cisterns, and dosing vaults distribute suppression throughout the manor, conservatory, and utility galleries under the cover of environmental purity research.

A multi-building academic campus organized around a central lawn, built in pale marble that throws a brilliant morning glare. Covered colonnades and terrace walks connect the main hall concourse, faculty suites, and a grand enclosed amphitheater that seats approximately three hundred. The site reads as a self-contained academic quarter with formal gates, arcaded circulation, and a clear axial route from the entrance to the Scholar's Quad.

A river-straddling trade hub defined by an ancient five-arch stone bridge over the Silver Rush, a paved market square with guild arcades and a central fountain, and a busy west-bank quay lined with warehouses and cranes. The town's civic stonework and timber dockworks show centuries of maintenance against flood, ice, and the constant wear of commerce.

A grand temple dedicated to Tyr, god of justice, featuring soaring marble columns, scales of justice symbolism, and halls of judgment. The temple serves as both a place of worship and a center for legal counsel and arbitration. High vaulted ceilings echo with hymns, and sunlight streams through stained glass depicting scenes of justice and mercy.

A ribbon of mud and thawing earth winding north from Waterdeep through increasingly wild country. In spring, the road becomes a muddy quagmire where horses struggle at every step. The Thornwood Forest crowds close, its ancient trees forming natural corridors that funnel travelers into predictable paths—and into the watchful eyes of those who monitor the route. This is the threshold between civilization and something darker: a contaminated wilderness where the Silent Hand operates with impunity.

The Trade Way stretching south toward Waterdeep. In early spring, the road is muddy but passable. Cavalry escort for wounded travelers. A slow, somber journey home from the battles at Westwall Watchpost.

An establishment known specifically for "discrete information exchanges"—a place where fences, arcane specialists, and information brokers conduct business away from official eyes. The atmosphere is tense and cautious; patrons glance toward exits, conversations are guarded, and some inquiries are poison that brings "visits from unpleasant people."

The Waterdeep Chronicle print shop—where public narrative is constructed through print and strategic omission tells the true story.

A narrow three-story building in Dock Ward housing a shipping broker's office. From the outside it appears as any legitimate, prosperous maritime enterprise. Inside, third-floor offices conceal the machinery of evil—three color-coded ledgers (brown public, blue private, black coded) documenting human trafficking operations disguised as agricultural logistics. The respectable facade masks systematic complicity through professional compartmentalization.

The Thornwood is an old, dense forest of towering trunks, deep hollows, and winding game trails that can swallow a traveler's sense of direction in a dozen steps. In winter it becomes a hushed cathedral of snow-laden boughs and lethal cold; in spring it turns to a muddy labyrinth heavy with damp earth and decaying leaves. The forest feels watchful—its wildlife quick to react to disturbance, and its shadows deep enough to hide ruins, patrols, and worse.

A deep ochre-banded canyon cut with darker igneous ribs, its south descent glazed in places by old fire. Vines strangle a pair of draconic threshold pillars that open into a vaulted stone nave lined with brass braziers and a basalt plinth. After the Incident, rippled translucent glass planes, crazed edges, and ash-talused overhangs transform the complex into a hazardous labyrinth of light and echo.

A walled, three-building stone compound one block off the working wharves, organized around a crowned, cobbled yard with trench drains and a lantern-lit covered cartway. An arched stone gatehouse with iron-banded leaves controls access. Inside: a high-bay briefing hall with clerestory lancets and a round map table (Building A), a hardened forge-and-engineering workshop with hooded hearth and roof cowls (B), and a quiet infirmary wing with curtained beds and an herb-lined sanctuary (C). Target walls, dog kennels, fire points, and wall anchors signal industrial readiness over ornament.

A low‑beamed crossroads inn of timber and fitted stone—solid, smoky, and busy—squatting at the junction like a toad with three working chimneys. A peeling compass sign with a spinning needle creaks above the door. Inside: a commanding bar run under Durja's eye, shadowed corner booths for quiet observation, and an alcove near the kitchen used for private tending and triage.

A twin-towered civic-military outpost of ashlar stone and oak framing arranged around a hardstand courtyard on a shallow rise west of Waterdeep. Parapet walls with crenellations, a 50-foot main tower, and a broad east-range hearth define its immediate visual character. Converted interiors (mess hall, infirmary, forge) and herb-lined warm walls show a lived-in facility optimized for operations, triage, and daily rhythms in harsh weather.

Two-hour journey through Westwood forest connecting Waterdeep to Oakhaven's quarantine boundary. Featured in the Company's initial journey to the plague-stricken village and their return with wounded.

A hilltop inn-and-trade compound arranged around a cobbled courtyard: a heavy timber longhouse tavern with twin chimney stacks, a northeast guest wing, a west stable and coach yard, and a southeast market arcade. Low fieldstone walls, crowned yard drains, and a discrete roof perch with commanding sight lines make it an ideal northern waystation with built-in observation and weather resilience.