A fantastic treasure trove is yours for the taking in this adventure for the world's greatest role-playing game.
Famed explorer Volothamp Geddarm needs you to complete a simple quest. Thus begins a mad romp through the wards of Waterdeep as you uncover a villainous plot involving some of the city’s most influential figures.
A grand urban caper awaits you. Pit your skill and bravado against villains the likes of which you’ve never faced before, and let the dragon hunt begin!
Welcome to Waterdeep,the Crown of the North, where a wondrous tale of urban adventure is about to unfold. Our story begins with a gathering of adventurers at the Yawning Portal Inn and Tavern.
Here we have the Castle Ward, and to the East of Castle Waterdeep lies The Yawning Portal. The Yawning Portal is a stone building with a slate roof and several chimneys. Most of the ground floor is taken up by the tavern's common room, which contains a 40' diameter open well (actually the outer shell of a sunken stone tower) that descends 140' to the first level of Undermountain, the sprawling dungeon under Waterdeep. A rope-and-pulley mechanism is used to lower adventurers into the well and hoist them out. Going into Undermountain might be a story for another day, but it is a very important landmark in The Yawning Portal, and of Waterdeep. The upper floors of The Yawning Portal contain comfortable, nicely appointed rooms for guests. Durnan, the proprietor, charges standard prices for food, drink, and lodging. (These prices can be found in the Players Handbook)
PROLOGUE, THE YAWNING PORTAL
LOCAL NEWS: Lately in the City of Waterdeep, two specific factions have been at each other's throats - a lot more than usual. The Zhentarim, and The Xanathar Guild. The reason for this increase in hostilities are not known, but citywide police reports have indiciated a sudden rise in voilence between the two factions. Here's what you know:
Xanathar Guild:The remnants of the old thieves' guilds of Waterdeep were unified into a single, powerful organization by a strange and charismatic beholder who calls himself the Xanathar. The Xanathar deals primarily in slavery, but also has his eyestalks in the trade of drugs, extortion, blackmail, gambling, and the acquisition and sale of smuggled magical goods.
The Zhentarim:The Zhentarim, or The Black Network, seeks to become omnipresent and inescapable, more wealthy and powerful, and most importantly, untouchable. The public face of the organization appears much more benign, offering the best mercenaries money can buy. When a merchant needs an escort for his caravan, when a noble needs bodyguards to protect her holdings, or when a city needs trained soldiers to defend its honor, the Zhentarim provides the best-trained fighting men and women money can buy. However, the cost of doing business with the Black Network can be high.
FOR MONDAY:Take a moment and introduce your characters. What are you doing? What are you thinking? What are you eating? Are you sitting with everyone else? Role-play among yourselves and give us a preview of your character. It's another typical pleasantly rowdy night at The Yawning Portal, but this night marks the start of an amazing journey. And now, let's hear from our players.
To the sound of raucous cheers and clinks of ale in the tavern's corner pit, an apparently young, wiry Wood Elf dressed in a dark green cowl lands a finishing blow on a much larger Half-Orc's jaw. With a victorious bow, he retires to a crowded table of unfamiliar taverngoers with a spare place to sit. He begins to unwrap and rewrap a now-bloodied coating of bandages covering his forearms. Strewn around his neck lies a small trinket that stands out as a symbol for Elven monasteries, exemplified by his apparent lack of intricate weaponry or attire - his only weapon is a simple, wooden quarterstaff that lies idly on the table nearby. His copper-tinted hair is cut short and simply and looks like it has gone unwashed for a long duration of time, accentuated by his pallid skin, which could possibly have been a light shade of bronze on a better day. When his sleeves fall while bringing flasks and tankards to his lips to drink, you can see his wrists are meticulously wrapped with green and white bandages until the elbow. Despite his outwardly calm and careful demeanor, his slender fingers shakily drum over the ale-stained wooden tables.
Sylivar raises his tankard high and gulps the liquid within. With a thin-lipped grimace and a slight shake of the head, he slams the tankard down and lets out a long sigh. "I find it ironic that every direction I attempt to change my life leads to another tavern," he mutters to himself in Elvish, proceeding to peruse the tavern with his amber eyes, nursing the familiar dwarven ale he ordered and drink it in several long drafts. The barmaid knew his orders and had become familiar with reading his energetic, unpredictable movements - and Sylivar certainly drank plenty, not to mention earn a fair bit of revenue for the tavern in impromptu fistfights. Perhaps that is the reason why Durnan hadn't kicked Sylivar out after the more drunken, unsanctioned brawls resulting from an abundance of booze. He places a lopsided, sardonic grin on his face. "So! What's everyone up to, eh? Spend some more time around here and maybe you'll end up like me. Your choice on if that is an improvement," he speaks to nobody in particular. With a wink, he brings the mug of ale closer for another drink. After a moment's hesitation, his expression sours and the mug clinks back on the tavern's table.
As the cacophony of voices and sounds swirled about him in the famed tavern, from beneath the cowl of his cloak, the young dwarf's eyes darted to and fro, taking in every movement, filing it away for future need. The drinks. The conversations. The fights. The strumming of fingers on a cup. Everything served a purpose. The slightest of unconscious movements offering glimpses of what lies inside. Every one has its own story, just waiting to be read.
And Naumick reads them all. Drinking in the unwritten words, he sets them to stone in his mind where they'll never be forgotten.
Short, even by dwarven standards, Naumick sat quietly in a corner table, outwardly facing. Dressed all in dark clothes, a shadow in the corner, slowly nursing a tankard of ale. His crossbow lie upon the table in front of him. Perhaps the only movement discernable other than the occasional raising of his tankard is the slowly caressing of one finger along the crossbows trigger.
Naumick watches.
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Corrin Kettlewhistle: Halfling Life Cleric (Curse of Strahd) Kip Dalton: Human Lore Bard (Waterdeep Dragon Heist) Debauchery Dalliance: Half-Drow Oath of Conquest Paladin (White Plume Mountain)
His skin was a pale blue. Very lean and tall wit a shiny and somewhat elongated bald head. He is wrapped in a somewhat unconventional set of leather armor with bits and bobs all over. Avys wears goggles around his neck and strapped to his waste is his trusty dagger and tools. On his back his has a boomerang wrapped in cloth, but oddly glowing ever so slightly. He sits at the crowded table affixing an oddly glowing set of gems to his gloves, meticulously fitting them with a set of jewelers plyers. He takes a moment and looks up at the elf, seeing him gulp down the ale he pauses for a moment, perhaps intrigued.
"Well, my scruffy looking elf friend, I do not fancy alcohol... no judgements of course, but I find that it dulls the mind too much and I'd like to stay sharp... otherwise, I'm working. I don't suppose someone like you would be in need of a tinker or craftsman now would you?"
He continues on with his work, scratching his head as he makes adjustments to his adapted gloves. He begins mumbling slightly.. "Hmmm that's not right.. perhaps a test" pulling out his hammer as he carves a fitting delicately, placing a new gem within it. His hand glows over the hammer as the gem becomes almost suddenly locked into place (he casts mending to repair the hammer with the left over material, embedding the gem-like stone by refilling any gaps in the slot he made)
In the great foliage of the jungle, deep in thought, and far from civilization, a little birdie perched on a branch. This particular bird was just a little bit different than other birds, because even though, at the moment, she was a bird, she was was actually something quite different. She was quite the misfit, but, right now, Kasha the druid was going through a period of deep soul searching and mourning. She wanted to be alone, with her thoughts, and nothing else.
But, it wasn't always so.
Sure. There was a time where Kasha was a somewhat productive member of a team. There was a time when Kasha's father was alive. There even was a time where she believed her mother loved her. Then there was that time the cat turned into a man. That was it, the cherry on top. Now, her life was upside down. Now, her father was dead, her mother admitted she was born simply to fulfill a prophecy - no love was involved at all - and, to top it all off, her life was lacking the one thing she simply wanted the most: to BE in love. So here she was. In the jungle. On a branch. In a tree. Miserable. Lonely. And unloved.
"KASHA."came a familiar voice in her mind. "What."she growled. "Is it. Mother." "COME HOME."her mother ordered. "No."she refused. "Leave me alone. Like, forever?" "I CAN SENSE YOUR PAIN." the voice said. "LEAVE THE MORTAL WORLD." "Nerp."Kasha said. "I wish father was still alive." "A TRIVIAL CONCERN. WE DISCUSSED THIS. FULFILL YOUR JOURNEY." "Hanging up now. Stop bothering me!"Kasha rolled her eyes and "hung up".
Hhhhh. I need a distraction. Even far out here she's bothering me. I gotta get outta here.
Kasha flew out of the jungle, and towards the coast once more. Yes, a distraction. That's what I need. Plenty of those in Waterdeep. When she reached the City of Splendors, she reverted back to her half elven form and walked barefoot down one of the streets. Kasha had magically vibrant green eyes that definitely alluded to a fae heritage, slightly pointed ears, and hair that was straight, and brown. She was tan, rugged, slender, and athletic - giving her a wiry physique. She strut around as if she didn't have a care in the world, and the thought of finding a distraction and trying to forget her troubles put a smile on her face.
That's when she walked by the Yawning Portal. Oh yeah, this place. I've heard of this place. There was a sign by the door that was obviously announcing the special of the day, but Kasha couldn't read very well, so it took her more than a minute to figure it out.
The moment Kasha entered, she smiled, looking around. She could smell the food. Wow. It was busy today in here. She startled for a moment and realized something. She looked sheepishly at the camera. "Oh yeah."she muttered to herself, covering her mouth as if she was embarrassed. "Gotta dial it back a wee bit, yo."she mentally turned her "LEVEL" dial from sixteen to one. "That's better. Khkhk."
Then, over by the table on her left.
"So! What's everyone up to, eh? Spend some more time around here and maybe you'll end up like me. Your choice on if that is an improvement,"
That voice. She looked for it's source, and gasped so long and loud it could easily be heard over the din of the tavern. She stepped over the unconscious half-orc like it was nothing, approaching the source of the familiarity.
"Sylivar?? Is that you?"Kasha squeaked in genuine surprise. "What are you doing here??
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Naumick watched the newcomer enter, cocking an eyebrow and shifting slightly.
"Unexpected," he mutters to himself, reaching forward and draining the last of his tankard, giving him an excuse to move from his perch and approach the bar via a route that takes him closer to the two. As he passes, he inspects the newcomer closer, quietly filing away all that he reads. (Perception: 14))
At the bar, he waits for the barman -- a showman always regaling those around him with his banter of days of yore -- leveling his glare at the man until his drink is filled. He then offers the barkeep a wink, knowing from his study of the man that he was not someone the dwarf wanted to tangle with. Naumick then saunters back toward his perch, making sure to wander back past the other two in hopes of gleaning some aspect of their conversation.
Dang first nat20. It's very obvious the half elf and the elf know each other. The female is extremely carefree, but emotionally genuine, affectionate, and caring. She has a slight layer of dirt on her, as if she rolled around in mud last week and never cleaned up. Based on her demeanor, she seems harmless - or perhaps that's the vibe she's giving off. You can tell she's been through a lot, both physically, and perhaps, emotionally.
The usual tavern ambient was like a home for the Eladrin. Leaning back on her chair and lazily playing some notes on her lyre, Feliara watched as the fight went on and rapidly finished with an amazing blow. A few more notes and her eyes jumped again from client to client, searching for something unusual, something magic... But as everyone knows, alcohol has the power to turn something ugly into something beautiful, and in this case, made the poor elf see all the faces with the same boring characteristics. Her mug was too far for her to grab it, so she used mage handto bring it closer to her mouth. After a long sip, her eyes settled on Avys, his companion and probably the most interesting person she had seen in a long while. The familiar feeling of his magic fills the air and she rapidly snaps out of her alcoholic trance.
The noise in the tavern increased as she now found herself almost about to fall, making her chair balance on two legs without any kind of magic. Rapidly, she made the chair fall forwards to avoid being the center of attention of the tavern and after the loud thud that the frontal legs of the chair made, she talked to the drunken elf with a smile on her face.
"Improvement you say? Damn, I wish I had your resistance! Besides that... Maybe your strength, huh... That would work too"
After saying that she winked at him before taking another sip of her mead. She enjoyed the company of Sylviar, he always made a boring tavern become something more enjoyable and after some work, that was just what she needed. Surely she like picking on him just like any other bard, obviously respecting the limits and always being as respectful as she could, but that tavern would be an awful place without him. Feliara untied the piece of cloth that was holding her braid before shaking her head, making her hair flow like gravity didn't even dare touch it. Her brown eyes jumped across the other's elf facial features, like a rabbit on a field, searching for that little offense that her words were intended to create.
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Discord: Vápni Jhonson - Half Orc Fey Wanderer-- Hiritos // Sun-Scales - Dragonborn Armorer-- The Breath of the Machine // Acidia Lavenus - Cabal-- Mass Effect: Last Hope
Umbría: Lena - Oni Abyssal Blodrager-- Journey to the West (Pathfinder 1e) // Karzar "Sawtooth" - Soldier-- When Stars Fall (Starfinder)
Face to Face: DM -- Deepspace & Dragons // Kar'Val - Dragonborn Draconic Sorcerer // Aust Liadon - Summoner--Muntsa's Draconic Adventure
Avys looks up at Feliara as she balances on her chair and begins to tease Sylviar, shifting his head towards her as he puts away his tools for the time being. Meticulously placing each in its own container or sack "I see you're making friends per usual Feliara. Please don't fall, I don't think the floor is particularly clean in this wonderful establishment" He turns towards the other elf, covered in dirt with those bright green eyes. He observes her motions a bit and pauses before responding with a dry expression on his face, "Hello to you too. And you are?"
He will casually begin to sip some of his tea as he looks throughout the tavern casually as the ruckus continues and the patrons drink around him. He stares down at his tea stirring it to cool it down just the slightest bit before taking another sip.
Naumick looks to where he was sitting, deciding it's a bit too far to properly hear. He moves to the tables the others occupy, mumbling. "Crowded. You mind?" as he makes the universal hand motion of taking a seat. Not waiting for an answer, he plops down and takes a drink from his mug, before offering an awkward smile.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Corrin Kettlewhistle: Halfling Life Cleric (Curse of Strahd) Kip Dalton: Human Lore Bard (Waterdeep Dragon Heist) Debauchery Dalliance: Half-Drow Oath of Conquest Paladin (White Plume Mountain)
"Oh!"Kasha said, as more people spoke up or looked at her. "Hi! I'm Kasha!"she waved animatedly. "Are you all friends of Sylivar, too??"she asked expectantly. This was great! An old friend. New faces. And plenty of distraction. Then the dwarf scootched in. "Hello, there!"she said, patting him on his shoulder. She turned to Sylivar, amazed. "Syl, do you know all of these people? Look at you, making new friends! This is fantastic!"she squeaked out the last part, clearly happy for him.
"Unexpected," he mutters to himself, reaching forward and draining the last of his tankard, giving him an excuse to move from his perch and approach the bar via a route that takes him closer to the two. As he passes, he inspects the newcomer closer, quietly filing away all that he reads. (Perception: 21))
Sylivar's tendencies resemble what would normally be a common sight on drinkers absconding their woes through booze, but Naumick can tell Sylivar's inebriation is slightly overexaggerated. Perhaps it was how the Wood Elf felt most comfortable. Perhaps it is so he is underestimated or playing the fool - if he was intently observing the brawl he was in, Sylivar's sways and staggers presumably because of alcohol were all cleverly executed maneuvers to throw off his opponent's judgement. Minor inflections of his voice and expression tells that he enjoys playing the fool, regardless of the situation. However, he resembles other tavern frequenters in the sense that he returns to the bars to forget something bitter from long ago.
Sylivar cuts the blue-skinned individual a slightly bleary glance with faded, amber eyes. His gaze quickly refocuses on the hammer containing the gemstone. The cynical grin remains plastered on his face. His head jerks in the direction of the ever-watchful barman, snipping out a comment. "I'll take another of these Beholder Brews!" he calls, drumming his slender, yet calloused and bruised knuckles against the worn counter. His grin returns as he settles his eyes over the intricate possessions of the one who addressed him. "My, my. I don't believe I've seen someone like you before. Or is old Durnan spiking the drinks with hallucinogens? Not that I'd mind. I mean, really - it's not hard to imagine someone having blue skin, but what really gets me is someone brought a gem like that into a place-" he gestures around with a thin, robed arm - "Like this." He raises a fresh drink in Avys's direction, eyes glimmering as he hears a jeering voice.
"Improvement you say? Damn, I wish I had your resistance! Besides that... Maybe your strength, huh... That would work too"
Bards and their musings. Bars would never be the same without them. Time to put on a show. Isn't that something they enjoy? Sylivar's expression sours in the way one would expect someone with a muddled mind to respond. His brow slowly furrows as he glances towards the Eladrin, inflections in his face appearing to be hostile for all intended purposes. "Mocking someone's strength after watching them make a pulp of the tavern's previous pit champion is never wise, but what would I know?" A beat. Sylivar's face cracks in a smile of similar, pleasant tone. He offers a still-bloodied fist in a casual fist-bump manner. "Feliara! How's it going? The tunes have been improving. I like punching to the rhythm of your...harp? Lyre? Not sure. I never was one for learning music - listening is my preference."
Sylivar's hand grasped outwards to bring his drink upwards for another sip, but for the second time in a row, he was interrupted. A flash of genuine irritation flooded on his features as he turned around, but it was quickly substituted by a similarly genuine expression of surprise. He had met the Half-Elf on a previous occasion before. Something about her ability to remain genuine and brutally honest despite her woes was admirable - it was something Sylivar was unable to do. He spares a glance at the dwarf who wandered near. In one, fluid motion, Sylivar picks his quarterstaff off the table, planting it firmly on the side of the tavern wall some eight feet away, and pushes, shoulders connecting with some random folk nearby. Like dominos, the row of patrons on the table jostles enough to provide additional seating room. Syl grins, setting his quarterstaff along the bench, much like dividers in current-day grocery stores. "Kasha! It's been some time. You know me, bumbling around taverns and seeing what there is to see. Friends are found and lost with ease, but shouldn't you be the one making that attempt? I can't imagine there are more bars in the woods to mill around. If there were, I wouldn't be here. What about you? How've you been holding up?" He wipes his brow with the back of his forearm. The pristine, white wrappings instantly become dirtied with filth. Syl's life wasn't one of luxury, but that doesn't wipe the grin from his features. "More importantly, what are you here for? You clearly didn't expect me here."
Naumick bristles as he petted like a wee dog, but bites his tongue, offering another awkward smile. He takes another gulp of his ale, raising his hand with 2 fingers when Syl calls out for the Beholder's Brew.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Corrin Kettlewhistle: Halfling Life Cleric (Curse of Strahd) Kip Dalton: Human Lore Bard (Waterdeep Dragon Heist) Debauchery Dalliance: Half-Drow Oath of Conquest Paladin (White Plume Mountain)
Feliara laughs as she bumps her fist with Sylivar's before cleaning hers with a napkin. With an agile movement, one that no drunk Eladrin should attempt, she stood up and sat on the backrest of her chair, leaving her feet on the seat. From there she used her mage hand again to grab her tankard while talking to the elf trying to contain her laughter.
"Sylviar, you know I'd never mock your strength! Not when I can barely lift a chair"
Taking another sip to calm her dry throat, she almost reached the point of no return while leaning back. Her arms flailed around and after almost falling for a second time she spoke again to her beloved Sylviar.
"I'm glad to see that you beat his ass, maybe next time I'll bet a few coins for you"
She then noticed the girl talking to them, a Half-Elf who seemed quite young. With a swift movement she did a small reverence while seated towards the Half-Elf, a noticeable warm smile on Feliara's face accompanied her words. The bright attitude of Sylviar's friend already made a good impression and for what it seemed, she could be a great friend.
"Nice to meet you Kasha! I'm Feliara, though people around here know me as 'Please Shut Up'"
After laughing soflty at her own joke, she went back to her original position. Crossing her arms and resting them on her knees, she waited with curiosity Avys' response to the elf. She hoped that he wouldn't take it as a threat or something, last thing she needed was fighting between her friends.
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Discord: Vápni Jhonson - Half Orc Fey Wanderer-- Hiritos // Sun-Scales - Dragonborn Armorer-- The Breath of the Machine // Acidia Lavenus - Cabal-- Mass Effect: Last Hope
Umbría: Lena - Oni Abyssal Blodrager-- Journey to the West (Pathfinder 1e) // Karzar "Sawtooth" - Soldier-- When Stars Fall (Starfinder)
Face to Face: DM -- Deepspace & Dragons // Kar'Val - Dragonborn Draconic Sorcerer // Aust Liadon - Summoner--Muntsa's Draconic Adventure
"Kasha! It's been some time. You know me, bumbling around taverns and seeing what there is to see. Friends are found and lost with ease, but shouldn't you be the one making that attempt? I can't imagine there are more bars in the woods to mill around. If there were, I wouldn't be here. What about you? How've you been holding up?"
"HA!"she laughed, once, loudly, putting an arm around you and leaning in for an affectionate hug. "I don't get out much in that regard. I've been ok. Kinda hit a rough patch lately. Just wanted to get away."
"More importantly, what are you here for? You clearly didn't expect me here."
"I didn't!"she admitted. "It's good to see you again! I was honestly just looking to get into some trouble! Let's just say.." she thought for a moment. "...i'm on a vacation! How are you? Are these your friends?"
COMING SOON
Coming March 15th : DRAGON HEIST
A fantastic treasure trove is yours for the taking in this adventure for the world's greatest role-playing game.
Famed explorer Volothamp Geddarm needs you to complete a simple quest. Thus begins a mad romp through the wards of Waterdeep as you uncover a villainous plot involving some of the city’s most influential figures.
A grand urban caper awaits you. Pit your skill and bravado against villains the likes of which you’ve never faced before, and let the dragon hunt begin!
***PLACEHOLDER - PLEASE DO NOT POST***
CRISPY DM PRESENTS:
WATERDEEP: DRAGON HEIST
CHAPTER ONE: A FRIEND IN NEED
Welcome to Waterdeep, the Crown of the North, where a wondrous tale of urban adventure is about to unfold. Our story begins with a gathering of adventurers at the Yawning Portal Inn and Tavern.
Here we have the Castle Ward, and to the East of Castle Waterdeep lies The Yawning Portal. The Yawning Portal is a stone building with a slate roof and several chimneys. Most of the ground floor is taken up by the tavern's common room, which contains a 40' diameter open well (actually the outer shell of a sunken stone tower) that descends 140' to the first level of Undermountain, the sprawling dungeon under Waterdeep. A rope-and-pulley mechanism is used to lower adventurers into the well and hoist them out. Going into Undermountain might be a story for another day, but it is a very important landmark in The Yawning Portal, and of Waterdeep. The upper floors of The Yawning Portal contain comfortable, nicely appointed rooms for guests. Durnan, the proprietor, charges standard prices for food, drink, and lodging. (These prices can be found in the Players Handbook)
PROLOGUE, THE YAWNING PORTAL
LOCAL NEWS: Lately in the City of Waterdeep, two specific factions have been at each other's throats - a lot more than usual. The Zhentarim, and The Xanathar Guild. The reason for this increase in hostilities are not known, but citywide police reports have indiciated a sudden rise in voilence between the two factions. Here's what you know:
Xanathar Guild: The remnants of the old thieves' guilds of Waterdeep were unified into a single, powerful organization by a strange and charismatic beholder who calls himself the Xanathar. The Xanathar deals primarily in slavery, but also has his eyestalks in the trade of drugs, extortion, blackmail, gambling, and the acquisition and sale of smuggled magical goods.
The Zhentarim: The Zhentarim, or The Black Network, seeks to become omnipresent and inescapable, more wealthy and powerful, and most importantly, untouchable. The public face of the organization appears much more benign, offering the best mercenaries money can buy. When a merchant needs an escort for his caravan, when a noble needs bodyguards to protect her holdings, or when a city needs trained soldiers to defend its honor, the Zhentarim provides the best-trained fighting men and women money can buy. However, the cost of doing business with the Black Network can be high.
FOR MONDAY: Take a moment and introduce your characters. What are you doing? What are you thinking? What are you eating? Are you sitting with everyone else? Role-play among yourselves and give us a preview of your character. It's another typical pleasantly rowdy night at The Yawning Portal, but this night marks the start of an amazing journey. And now, let's hear from our players.
To the sound of raucous cheers and clinks of ale in the tavern's corner pit, an apparently young, wiry Wood Elf dressed in a dark green cowl lands a finishing blow on a much larger Half-Orc's jaw. With a victorious bow, he retires to a crowded table of unfamiliar taverngoers with a spare place to sit. He begins to unwrap and rewrap a now-bloodied coating of bandages covering his forearms. Strewn around his neck lies a small trinket that stands out as a symbol for Elven monasteries, exemplified by his apparent lack of intricate weaponry or attire - his only weapon is a simple, wooden quarterstaff that lies idly on the table nearby. His copper-tinted hair is cut short and simply and looks like it has gone unwashed for a long duration of time, accentuated by his pallid skin, which could possibly have been a light shade of bronze on a better day. When his sleeves fall while bringing flasks and tankards to his lips to drink, you can see his wrists are meticulously wrapped with green and white bandages until the elbow. Despite his outwardly calm and careful demeanor, his slender fingers shakily drum over the ale-stained wooden tables.
Sylivar raises his tankard high and gulps the liquid within. With a thin-lipped grimace and a slight shake of the head, he slams the tankard down and lets out a long sigh. "I find it ironic that every direction I attempt to change my life leads to another tavern," he mutters to himself in Elvish, proceeding to peruse the tavern with his amber eyes, nursing the familiar dwarven ale he ordered and drink it in several long drafts. The barmaid knew his orders and had become familiar with reading his energetic, unpredictable movements - and Sylivar certainly drank plenty, not to mention earn a fair bit of revenue for the tavern in impromptu fistfights. Perhaps that is the reason why Durnan hadn't kicked Sylivar out after the more drunken, unsanctioned brawls resulting from an abundance of booze. He places a lopsided, sardonic grin on his face. "So! What's everyone up to, eh? Spend some more time around here and maybe you'll end up like me. Your choice on if that is an improvement," he speaks to nobody in particular. With a wink, he brings the mug of ale closer for another drink. After a moment's hesitation, his expression sours and the mug clinks back on the tavern's table.
Naumick watches.
As the cacophony of voices and sounds swirled about him in the famed tavern, from beneath the cowl of his cloak, the young dwarf's eyes darted to and fro, taking in every movement, filing it away for future need. The drinks. The conversations. The fights. The strumming of fingers on a cup. Everything served a purpose. The slightest of unconscious movements offering glimpses of what lies inside. Every one has its own story, just waiting to be read.
And Naumick reads them all. Drinking in the unwritten words, he sets them to stone in his mind where they'll never be forgotten.
Short, even by dwarven standards, Naumick sat quietly in a corner table, outwardly facing. Dressed all in dark clothes, a shadow in the corner, slowly nursing a tankard of ale. His crossbow lie upon the table in front of him. Perhaps the only movement discernable other than the occasional raising of his tankard is the slowly caressing of one finger along the crossbows trigger.
Naumick watches.
Corrin Kettlewhistle: Halfling Life Cleric (Curse of Strahd)
Kip Dalton: Human Lore Bard (Waterdeep Dragon Heist)
Debauchery Dalliance: Half-Drow Oath of Conquest Paladin (White Plume Mountain)
His skin was a pale blue. Very lean and tall wit a shiny and somewhat elongated bald head. He is wrapped in a somewhat unconventional set of leather armor with bits and bobs all over. Avys wears goggles around his neck and strapped to his waste is his trusty dagger and tools. On his back his has a boomerang wrapped in cloth, but oddly glowing ever so slightly. He sits at the crowded table affixing an oddly glowing set of gems to his gloves, meticulously fitting them with a set of jewelers plyers. He takes a moment and looks up at the elf, seeing him gulp down the ale he pauses for a moment, perhaps intrigued.
"Well, my scruffy looking elf friend, I do not fancy alcohol... no judgements of course, but I find that it dulls the mind too much and I'd like to stay sharp... otherwise, I'm working. I don't suppose someone like you would be in need of a tinker or craftsman now would you?"
He continues on with his work, scratching his head as he makes adjustments to his adapted gloves. He begins mumbling slightly.. "Hmmm that's not right.. perhaps a test" pulling out his hammer as he carves a fitting delicately, placing a new gem within it. His hand glows over the hammer as the gem becomes almost suddenly locked into place (he casts mending to repair the hammer with the left over material, embedding the gem-like stone by refilling any gaps in the slot he made)
In the great foliage of the jungle, deep in thought, and far from civilization, a little birdie perched on a branch. This particular bird was just a little bit different than other birds, because even though, at the moment, she was a bird, she was was actually something quite different. She was quite the misfit, but, right now, Kasha the druid was going through a period of deep soul searching and mourning. She wanted to be alone, with her thoughts, and nothing else.
But, it wasn't always so.
Sure. There was a time where Kasha was a somewhat productive member of a team. There was a time when Kasha's father was alive. There even was a time where she believed her mother loved her. Then there was that time the cat turned into a man. That was it, the cherry on top. Now, her life was upside down. Now, her father was dead, her mother admitted she was born simply to fulfill a prophecy - no love was involved at all - and, to top it all off, her life was lacking the one thing she simply wanted the most: to BE in love. So here she was. In the jungle. On a branch. In a tree. Miserable. Lonely. And unloved.
"KASHA." came a familiar voice in her mind.
"What." she growled. "Is it. Mother."
"COME HOME." her mother ordered.
"No." she refused. "Leave me alone. Like, forever?"
"I CAN SENSE YOUR PAIN." the voice said. "LEAVE THE MORTAL WORLD."
"Nerp." Kasha said. "I wish father was still alive."
"A TRIVIAL CONCERN. WE DISCUSSED THIS. FULFILL YOUR JOURNEY."
"Hanging up now. Stop bothering me!" Kasha rolled her eyes and "hung up".
Hhhhh. I need a distraction. Even far out here she's bothering me. I gotta get outta here.
Kasha flew out of the jungle, and towards the coast once more. Yes, a distraction. That's what I need. Plenty of those in Waterdeep. When she reached the City of Splendors, she reverted back to her half elven form and walked barefoot down one of the streets. Kasha had magically vibrant green eyes that definitely alluded to a fae heritage, slightly pointed ears, and hair that was straight, and brown. She was tan, rugged, slender, and athletic - giving her a wiry physique. She strut around as if she didn't have a care in the world, and the thought of finding a distraction and trying to forget her troubles put a smile on her face.
That's when she walked by the Yawning Portal. Oh yeah, this place. I've heard of this place. There was a sign by the door that was obviously announcing the special of the day, but Kasha couldn't read very well, so it took her more than a minute to figure it out.
Then she walked in.
The moment Kasha entered, she smiled, looking around. She could smell the food. Wow. It was busy today in here. She startled for a moment and realized something. She looked sheepishly at the camera. "Oh yeah." she muttered to herself, covering her mouth as if she was embarrassed. "Gotta dial it back a wee bit, yo." she mentally turned her "LEVEL" dial from sixteen to one. "That's better. Khkhk."
Then, over by the table on her left.
"So! What's everyone up to, eh? Spend some more time around here and maybe you'll end up like me. Your choice on if that is an improvement,"
That voice. She looked for it's source, and gasped so long and loud it could easily be heard over the din of the tavern. She stepped over the unconscious half-orc like it was nothing, approaching the source of the familiarity.
"Sylivar?? Is that you?" Kasha squeaked in genuine surprise. "What are you doing here??
She turned to Avys, "Hello!"
Naumick watched the newcomer enter, cocking an eyebrow and shifting slightly.
"Unexpected," he mutters to himself, reaching forward and draining the last of his tankard, giving him an excuse to move from his perch and approach the bar via a route that takes him closer to the two. As he passes, he inspects the newcomer closer, quietly filing away all that he reads. (Perception: 14))
At the bar, he waits for the barman -- a showman always regaling those around him with his banter of days of yore -- leveling his glare at the man until his drink is filled. He then offers the barkeep a wink, knowing from his study of the man that he was not someone the dwarf wanted to tangle with. Naumick then saunters back toward his perch, making sure to wander back past the other two in hopes of gleaning some aspect of their conversation.
Corrin Kettlewhistle: Halfling Life Cleric (Curse of Strahd)
Kip Dalton: Human Lore Bard (Waterdeep Dragon Heist)
Debauchery Dalliance: Half-Drow Oath of Conquest Paladin (White Plume Mountain)
Dang first nat20. It's very obvious the half elf and the elf know each other. The female is extremely carefree, but emotionally genuine, affectionate, and caring. She has a slight layer of dirt on her, as if she rolled around in mud last week and never cleaned up. Based on her demeanor, she seems harmless - or perhaps that's the vibe she's giving off. You can tell she's been through a lot, both physically, and perhaps, emotionally.
The usual tavern ambient was like a home for the Eladrin. Leaning back on her chair and lazily playing some notes on her lyre, Feliara watched as the fight went on and rapidly finished with an amazing blow. A few more notes and her eyes jumped again from client to client, searching for something unusual, something magic... But as everyone knows, alcohol has the power to turn something ugly into something beautiful, and in this case, made the poor elf see all the faces with the same boring characteristics. Her mug was too far for her to grab it, so she used mage hand to bring it closer to her mouth. After a long sip, her eyes settled on Avys, his companion and probably the most interesting person she had seen in a long while. The familiar feeling of his magic fills the air and she rapidly snaps out of her alcoholic trance.
The noise in the tavern increased as she now found herself almost about to fall, making her chair balance on two legs without any kind of magic. Rapidly, she made the chair fall forwards to avoid being the center of attention of the tavern and after the loud thud that the frontal legs of the chair made, she talked to the drunken elf with a smile on her face.
"Improvement you say? Damn, I wish I had your resistance! Besides that... Maybe your strength, huh... That would work too"
After saying that she winked at him before taking another sip of her mead. She enjoyed the company of Sylviar, he always made a boring tavern become something more enjoyable and after some work, that was just what she needed. Surely she like picking on him just like any other bard, obviously respecting the limits and always being as respectful as she could, but that tavern would be an awful place without him. Feliara untied the piece of cloth that was holding her braid before shaking her head, making her hair flow like gravity didn't even dare touch it. Her brown eyes jumped across the other's elf facial features, like a rabbit on a field, searching for that little offense that her words were intended to create.
Discord: Vápni Jhonson - Half Orc Fey Wanderer -- Hiritos // Sun-Scales - Dragonborn Armorer -- The Breath of the Machine // Acidia Lavenus - Cabal -- Mass Effect: Last Hope
Umbría: Lena - Oni Abyssal Blodrager -- Journey to the West (Pathfinder 1e) // Karzar "Sawtooth" - Soldier -- When Stars Fall (Starfinder)
Face to Face: DM -- Deepspace & Dragons // Kar'Val - Dragonborn Draconic Sorcerer // Aust Liadon - Summoner --Muntsa's Draconic Adventure
Avys looks up at Feliara as she balances on her chair and begins to tease Sylviar, shifting his head towards her as he puts away his tools for the time being. Meticulously placing each in its own container or sack "I see you're making friends per usual Feliara. Please don't fall, I don't think the floor is particularly clean in this wonderful establishment" He turns towards the other elf, covered in dirt with those bright green eyes. He observes her motions a bit and pauses before responding with a dry expression on his face, "Hello to you too. And you are?"
He will casually begin to sip some of his tea as he looks throughout the tavern casually as the ruckus continues and the patrons drink around him. He stares down at his tea stirring it to cool it down just the slightest bit before taking another sip.
Naumick looks to where he was sitting, deciding it's a bit too far to properly hear. He moves to the tables the others occupy, mumbling. "Crowded. You mind?" as he makes the universal hand motion of taking a seat. Not waiting for an answer, he plops down and takes a drink from his mug, before offering an awkward smile.
Corrin Kettlewhistle: Halfling Life Cleric (Curse of Strahd)
Kip Dalton: Human Lore Bard (Waterdeep Dragon Heist)
Debauchery Dalliance: Half-Drow Oath of Conquest Paladin (White Plume Mountain)
"Oh!" Kasha said, as more people spoke up or looked at her. "Hi! I'm Kasha!" she waved animatedly. "Are you all friends of Sylivar, too??" she asked expectantly. This was great! An old friend. New faces. And plenty of distraction. Then the dwarf scootched in. "Hello, there!" she said, patting him on his shoulder. She turned to Sylivar, amazed. "Syl, do you know all of these people? Look at you, making new friends! This is fantastic!" she squeaked out the last part, clearly happy for him.
Sylivar's tendencies resemble what would normally be a common sight on drinkers absconding their woes through booze, but Naumick can tell Sylivar's inebriation is slightly overexaggerated. Perhaps it was how the Wood Elf felt most comfortable. Perhaps it is so he is underestimated or playing the fool - if he was intently observing the brawl he was in, Sylivar's sways and staggers presumably because of alcohol were all cleverly executed maneuvers to throw off his opponent's judgement. Minor inflections of his voice and expression tells that he enjoys playing the fool, regardless of the situation. However, he resembles other tavern frequenters in the sense that he returns to the bars to forget something bitter from long ago.
Sylivar cuts the blue-skinned individual a slightly bleary glance with faded, amber eyes. His gaze quickly refocuses on the hammer containing the gemstone. The cynical grin remains plastered on his face. His head jerks in the direction of the ever-watchful barman, snipping out a comment. "I'll take another of these Beholder Brews!" he calls, drumming his slender, yet calloused and bruised knuckles against the worn counter. His grin returns as he settles his eyes over the intricate possessions of the one who addressed him. "My, my. I don't believe I've seen someone like you before. Or is old Durnan spiking the drinks with hallucinogens? Not that I'd mind. I mean, really - it's not hard to imagine someone having blue skin, but what really gets me is someone brought a gem like that into a place-" he gestures around with a thin, robed arm - "Like this." He raises a fresh drink in Avys's direction, eyes glimmering as he hears a jeering voice.
Bards and their musings. Bars would never be the same without them. Time to put on a show. Isn't that something they enjoy?
Sylivar's expression sours in the way one would expect someone with a muddled mind to respond. His brow slowly furrows as he glances towards the Eladrin, inflections in his face appearing to be hostile for all intended purposes. "Mocking someone's strength after watching them make a pulp of the tavern's previous pit champion is never wise, but what would I know?" A beat. Sylivar's face cracks in a smile of similar, pleasant tone. He offers a still-bloodied fist in a casual fist-bump manner. "Feliara! How's it going? The tunes have been improving. I like punching to the rhythm of your...harp? Lyre? Not sure. I never was one for learning music - listening is my preference."
Sylivar's hand grasped outwards to bring his drink upwards for another sip, but for the second time in a row, he was interrupted. A flash of genuine irritation flooded on his features as he turned around, but it was quickly substituted by a similarly genuine expression of surprise. He had met the Half-Elf on a previous occasion before. Something about her ability to remain genuine and brutally honest despite her woes was admirable - it was something Sylivar was unable to do. He spares a glance at the dwarf who wandered near. In one, fluid motion, Sylivar picks his quarterstaff off the table, planting it firmly on the side of the tavern wall some eight feet away, and pushes, shoulders connecting with some random folk nearby. Like dominos, the row of patrons on the table jostles enough to provide additional seating room. Syl grins, setting his quarterstaff along the bench, much like dividers in current-day grocery stores. "Kasha! It's been some time. You know me, bumbling around taverns and seeing what there is to see. Friends are found and lost with ease, but shouldn't you be the one making that attempt? I can't imagine there are more bars in the woods to mill around. If there were, I wouldn't be here. What about you? How've you been holding up?" He wipes his brow with the back of his forearm. The pristine, white wrappings instantly become dirtied with filth. Syl's life wasn't one of luxury, but that doesn't wipe the grin from his features. "More importantly, what are you here for? You clearly didn't expect me here."
Naumick bristles as he petted like a wee dog, but bites his tongue, offering another awkward smile. He takes another gulp of his ale, raising his hand with 2 fingers when Syl calls out for the Beholder's Brew.
Corrin Kettlewhistle: Halfling Life Cleric (Curse of Strahd)
Kip Dalton: Human Lore Bard (Waterdeep Dragon Heist)
Debauchery Dalliance: Half-Drow Oath of Conquest Paladin (White Plume Mountain)
Feliara laughs as she bumps her fist with Sylivar's before cleaning hers with a napkin. With an agile movement, one that no drunk Eladrin should attempt, she stood up and sat on the backrest of her chair, leaving her feet on the seat. From there she used her mage hand again to grab her tankard while talking to the elf trying to contain her laughter.
"Sylviar, you know I'd never mock your strength! Not when I can barely lift a chair"
Taking another sip to calm her dry throat, she almost reached the point of no return while leaning back. Her arms flailed around and after almost falling for a second time she spoke again to her beloved Sylviar.
"I'm glad to see that you beat his ass, maybe next time I'll bet a few coins for you"
She then noticed the girl talking to them, a Half-Elf who seemed quite young. With a swift movement she did a small reverence while seated towards the Half-Elf, a noticeable warm smile on Feliara's face accompanied her words. The bright attitude of Sylviar's friend already made a good impression and for what it seemed, she could be a great friend.
"Nice to meet you Kasha! I'm Feliara, though people around here know me as 'Please Shut Up'"
After laughing soflty at her own joke, she went back to her original position. Crossing her arms and resting them on her knees, she waited with curiosity Avys' response to the elf. She hoped that he wouldn't take it as a threat or something, last thing she needed was fighting between her friends.
Discord: Vápni Jhonson - Half Orc Fey Wanderer -- Hiritos // Sun-Scales - Dragonborn Armorer -- The Breath of the Machine // Acidia Lavenus - Cabal -- Mass Effect: Last Hope
Umbría: Lena - Oni Abyssal Blodrager -- Journey to the West (Pathfinder 1e) // Karzar "Sawtooth" - Soldier -- When Stars Fall (Starfinder)
Face to Face: DM -- Deepspace & Dragons // Kar'Val - Dragonborn Draconic Sorcerer // Aust Liadon - Summoner --Muntsa's Draconic Adventure
"Kasha! It's been some time. You know me, bumbling around taverns and seeing what there is to see. Friends are found and lost with ease, but shouldn't you be the one making that attempt? I can't imagine there are more bars in the woods to mill around. If there were, I wouldn't be here. What about you? How've you been holding up?"
"HA!" she laughed, once, loudly, putting an arm around you and leaning in for an affectionate hug. "I don't get out much in that regard. I've been ok. Kinda hit a rough patch lately. Just wanted to get away."
"More importantly, what are you here for? You clearly didn't expect me here."
"I didn't!" she admitted. "It's good to see you again! I was honestly just looking to get into some trouble! Let's just say.." she thought for a moment. "...i'm on a vacation! How are you? Are these your friends?"
"Nice to meet you Kasha! I'm Feliara, though people around here know me as 'Please Shut Up'"
Kasha crumpled into a giggling fit before she wiped a tear from her eye. "Oh my gosh! I love it! I think you are I are going to be friends!"
Ugh, stupid formatting.
Naumick looks into the aforementioned camera, stone-faced, before turning back to the conversation, anxiously awaiting the stronger brew to arrive.
Corrin Kettlewhistle: Halfling Life Cleric (Curse of Strahd)
Kip Dalton: Human Lore Bard (Waterdeep Dragon Heist)
Debauchery Dalliance: Half-Drow Oath of Conquest Paladin (White Plume Mountain)