Having survived the abandoned mine and ancient Dwarven city, defeating The Watcher's guardian and meeting The Watcher, the party journeys to the coastal city of Luskan to meet with the mysterious benefactor that has been supporting the archaeological team headed by Theodore and Gertranya. On arrival in Luskan, the party is informed that they will not be meeting with this mysterious benefactor as he wishes to remain anonymous. However, The Benefactor (as the party has taken to calling him) offers the party 1000 gold per week to essentially be at his beck and call, performing security duties for caravans, providing muscle at one or more of the taverns he owns, and generally standing in corners looking mean.

While the party is acting as paid muscle for The Benefactor, Theodore has been asked to return to The Watcher's library and begin translating the works he finds there, searching for references to something called "the conduit" with the goal of discovering where it may be located. For now, all the party can do is bide their time and fatten their money pouches by looking mean and occasionally knocking heads.

Greetings adventurers! I hope this message finds you well. I have been translating the journals you found in The Watcher's library but the work goes slowly, even with the help of The Watcher himself. I think you may find this excerpt interesting although I have no idea whether it will be helpful in the long run.

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[Transcribed and translated from The Watcher's first journal, describing his experiences immediately after coming to Abeir-Toril, estimated to be approximately 35,000 years ago.]

The storm was terrible. I have never seen such fury in the wind and waves. The captain was dead, killed by a falling spar as the ship broke apart around us. Most of the crew either washed overboard or crushed like the captain by falling debris. We had to act, The Accords be damned. So we broke the prohibition on blood-blending, combining our [blood-magic*] and attempting to cast a mass teleport spell. This was the only way to save ourselves. I argued that whomever of the crew that remained alive should be saved along with us, but was overriden as the crew were all plain-blood and thus not deemed worthy of saving by my colleagues.

The spell worked, or at least seemed to. I had never teleported before so I wasn't aware that teleportation was supposed to be instantaneous. Instead we found ourselves falling through the stars, which is like not what we were actually doing but is the best way I can describe it. And then a flash, and the 10 of us were deposited unceremoniously on hard, dusty ground. We were, at least, alive. We didn't know where we were, or realize just how far from home we had actually come, but we were alive.

* This is an inexact translation, but is descriptive enough. Hopefully more details on the magic of The Watcher and his kind will come to light as his works are translated.