A 'City of Splendors', Waterdeep is a crossroad where all manner of peoples and ideas mingle and converge. The deep harbor welcoming ships from far and wide are primarily responsible for the bustling markets full of just about anything one could hope for if willing to part with the right coinage. Spring has arrived to Waterdeep. After a long, cold winter, the snow has melted, the young green leaves on the trees planted throughout the nicer sections of town brilliant against the rain soaked trunks and grey sky and buildings. Despite the drizzle, the mild temperatures have brought hundreds of people to the street eager to escape their winter confines. The harbor is once again clear of choking winter ice and a dozen ships seem to be accessing the harbor a day.
The city is broken up in to many districts or wards. And while visitors may easily get lost and confused, most locals know their way around several wards with ease, if not the entire city. While the wards may have a overall characterization, any and all can be found there, regardless of economic status.
The Sea Ward is in the northwest of the city and is home to many established nobles and those whose fortunes are one the rise. The rich and the powerful (or those who wish you to think such of them, and can afford the rent) reside or run their businesses here. When the warlords and pirates of early Waters Deep gained enough gold, they built fortresses on what used to be fields of grass tousled by sea wind. You can still see the remains of some of those old castles incorporated into the palatial homes of the noble families that dwell in the Sea Ward. Blue and gold are the Sea Ward’s colors in competitions, and the ward’s mascot is the sea lion — a fanciful combination of fish and feline. Several ornate temples to the gods are also found in Seaward's wide, clean streets.
To the west of fashionable Seaward is North Ward, a respectable area occupied by upper middle class residences and noble villas. Townhomes are even more common here and the Northward is home to several nice inns, merchant shops, and typical industries and services of moderate price. Though it has taverns and shops to suit a variety of tastes, the tenor of the area tends toward reserved and polite. Most streets are lined with row houses inhabited by the families of prosperous people of business, investing, and civic service. They are each wealthy enough to employ a servant or two, or they endeavor to appear as such. The ward comes quietly to life just after dawn. Just as birdsong fills the air, servants begin hustling about on errands. These aren’t the live-in staff used by noble houses, but people hired to come and work for a day. Most of them come from less affluent parts of the city, arriving with the tools of their trade and outfitted in their customary garb: launderers and cooks in white, chimney sweeps and housecleaners in black, valets and child-minders in gray, gardeners in green, and tutors in blue.
The Field Ward lies to the north of both the Seaward and Northward and lies between the inner and outer walls of the city. The area grew without much plan or regulation and therefore is a messy tangle of muddy streets and tenuous tenements. The residents of the Field Ward are some of the poorest in the city. It is not an official ward, and as a result the Watch doesn't patrol the area, leaving many crimes here uninvestigated. The City Guard is present due to its duty to guard the walls of the city, but rarely gets involved in "minor" problems of the area. . It has no sewer system and isn’t served by the Dungsweepers’ Guild — a fact that will be quite evident to your nose. The Guild of Butchers operates several slaughterhouses, smokehouses, and leather-making facilities in the area — noisome operations that have been pushed out of the city proper.
The Castle Ward is the heart and mind of Waterdeep, if not its soul. It houses the city’s military forces, courts, government, and the Market — the largest market square of any city in the North. It encompasses the City Navy’s docks in the Great Harbor and all of Mount Waterdeep, and it is home to six walking statues, numerous temples, and many other landmarks.Castle Waterdeep stands above the city on a great bluff that extends out from the mountain, its towers soaring hundreds of feet into the sky. It surprises many to learn that this isn’t where Waterdeep’s rulers reside, nor from where the city is governed.
The castle was and is a redoubt of last defense should the city be attacked, but for well over a century, the ruler of Waterdeep has occupied the Palace of Waterdeep — also known as Piergeiron’s Palace, and still called that by elderly and long-lived citizens (including many elves). Though not quite as large as the castle, the palace is far more comfortable and lavishly decorated, with many halls used by government officials, guildmasters, and nobles for meetings and court proceedings. Many other buildings in the ward are given over to city business, including several courts for magisters and the barracks of the City Guard. So many of the ward’s structures are offices and meeting halls for business owners, solicitors, publishers, and the like that the Castle Ward has the smallest resident population of all the wards.
Shopping, shopping, shopping galore! Or eating, eating, eating! Or drinking, drinking, drinking! Or lavish accommodations, or fine art, or legendary parties! The Market in the Castle Ward is the largest market square in the city, but the Trades Ward is like a market town in itself — and is easily thrice the Market’s size. This ward bustles day and night with activity, both on the street and on balcony walkways that run the length of blocks and are sometimes layered five stories high. Shop signs appear to leap out from buildings, whose sides are plastered with advertisements all vying for the attention of the eye. Glove shops, shoe shops, jewelry stores, perfumeries, flower shops, cake shops, taverns, cafés, tea shops, inns, row houses, boarding schools, offices, dance academies, grocers, pottery stores, armor vendors — as long as it’s not illegal, you can find it in the Trades Ward. But if you are looking for something illegal, the Trades Ward is likely the place to get that too. Do not do so too loudly, though. The City Watch has a heavy presence in this ward, in the form of both open patrols and officers working out of uniform. As befits a place of so much business, many guilds have their halls in this ward.
It is called the Southern Ward, not the South Ward. The name derives not merely from its southerly location in the city, but from the southerners who settled in this district as the city grew. Today, the ward still hosts most of the traveling merchants who visit the city, and is made up of many enclaves, blocks, and streets primarily occupied by citizens who trace their ancestry to other realms.One can indulge in the finest halfling food here, enjoy the best singers of Calishite music, and examine the most stunning works of dwarven crafting — but the first challenge is finding where these treats are housed. The Southern Ward has long been a district of laborers catering to travelers, so its folk have adopted the architectural custom of building homes and businesses above stables or around inn yards, near to where wagon trains are housed. Residents of the Southern Ward take pride in their legacy as overland travelers and hardworking folk, so it should be no surprise that the ward’s mascot is the mule. On their competition flags, a pugnacious mule in rampant pose stands on a field of red and white — colors said to represent the blood and tears the people of the Southern Ward have shed during their labors.
The Dock Ward was long considered the most dangerous district in the city, but the Field Ward has since taken that title. Aside from the Field Ward, this is the area where most of Waterdeep’s poor reside. It is home to some of the least literate people in the city. Most of its taverns are inhabited by habitual drinkers, and far too many inns charge by the hour. But all must concede this: the residents of the Dock Ward often work the hardest while living under the harshest conditions. Warehouses, poorhouses, and tenements dominate much of the area. Streets are steep throughout, and few have space alongside for pedestrians. Wandering through the ward can be a bewildering journey without a guide. Except in the immediate vicinity of the piers, shop signs and advertising of any kind are rare, and warehouses and other businesses often have no sign at all. You either know where you are going and have reason to be there — or you are lost, and a likely mark for pickpockets or worse.Streetlamps don’t fare well in the Dock Ward. Their candles, oils, and glass are too regularly stolen or smashed. The Guild of Chandlers and Lamplighters makes a halfhearted attempt to repair the streetlamps at the start of each season, but for most of the year, locals are forced to carry their own light when traveling these streets at night.
The City of the Dead is no drab cemetery. It is a great park of grassy hills, tended flower beds, artfully placed clusters of trees and bushes, beautiful sculptures, astounding architecture, and gravel paths that wend intriguingly through it all. Long ago, Waterdavians largely abandoned the practice of burying their dead, instead entombing them in mausoleums. For centuries, the major mausoleums here have each been connected to an extradimensional space where the dead are taken, mourned, and interred.Those who can afford it memorialize the departed with sculptures, making the City of the Dead an open-air museum that features some of the most stunning, haunting, mournful, and downright eerie statues ever crafted in marble or bronze. Nobles and wealthy merchants have competed to erect the grandest markers for their dead, leading to a wide variety of styles and concepts created by artists at the height of their skills.
Through your various connections with each other, you have all decided to converge in the Yawning Portal this evening for drinks and conversation with friends. Some of you are frustrated with the doldrums of life, and the constant spring drizzle isn’t helping much. You each have made your way through the muddy, puddle-ridden streets to the Castle Ward.
Here you find the the Yawning Portal, a famous inn and tavern. Many want-to-be Adventurers are drawn to the establishment for its well known 40 foot diameter pit that descends into the Undermountain, a place renown for treasures and monsters alike. A place where too many adventures have been lost as well.
Outside, the drizzle has turned to a downpour complete with streaks of lightening and rattling thunder. The place 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 The gaping maw of an entrance to the sprawling dungeon under Waterdeep. A rope-and-pulley mechanism is positioned over the hole and is used to lower adventurers into the well and hoist them out.
The common room is full of people. A man stands behind the long, smooth wooden bar filling pints of ale which a young, attractive barmaid with dark hair takes and starts off toward a table with a blonde elf speaking to another. A female half orc and a red-bearded dwarf arm wrestled at another table, while a raucous card game with on-lookers takes up a three of four tables near the back corner. Dozens of bystanders are cheering a young man in a dirty wizard’s robe who is descending into the entrance to the dungeons by the rope and pully system. A beautiful dark skinned woman wearing fine, but plain linen robes writes in a book as she speaks with a pair of Halflings who are in line to descend after the mage. Plenty of other fill the table and stand in small clusters. A young man in his late twenties or early thirties is just setting up for a performance near one of the fireplaces crackling with a small fire.
The odors of smoke, tobacco, mutton stew, ale, and the natural smell of several dozen people in a warm room hit your senses as you enter. To your ears, laughter, curses, casual chatter, cheers and the tuning of a lute are heard.
((Let’s start with entering the Yawning Portal. Be sure to give us a good visual description of your characters)).
Daron steps through the threshold of the Yawning Portal, his clothes dripping wet and his silver-blond hair somewhat plastered to his skull from the rain. He walks deeper into the building, wearing a thin black robe with wide sleeves with an open front over a high collared white tunic that goes down to just below his knees, split at the sides from the waist down. And underneath that, wide black trousers.
In his hand, a quarterstaff which he uses as a sort of walking stick to seem less imposing. He looks around for a moment, his hand running through his hair when he sees Leol standing near the massive well at the centre and nods at him before walking over to the bar. "There's going to be a couple of us coming here soon," he says to the barkeep, "five drinks on me." He then walks over to an empty table near Leol.
"You just gonna stand there looking obvious or you gonna take a seat, friend?"
At the well, the dark-skinned woman with high cheekbones and linen robes hands her assistant a sheet of paper. Her assistant, a tall, lanky lad with a gobs of spiraling, unruly curls of dark hair, stands on a chair and introduces the two Halflings to the crowd nearby.
”Put your hands together for Proven adventurers and brothers, Tic and Toc Springwheel!” A round of applause erupts from the tavern patrons nearby. “Fighters of gangs, thugs, and thieves, Tic and Toc have made light work of many denizens of the Undermountain. Thrice defeating carrion crawlers from the hellish depths!!” The kid seems to have a knack for generating enthusiasm among the crowd, and the two Halflings dressed in sturdy leather armor and sporting short swords glowing with arcane energy stand a little taller with his words of inspiration. Several in the crowd yell encouragement as well, while a few shake their heads in disbelief. “And these two fought bravely against the Spector of Nicolas Appert, sending his ghostly presence to its final resting place.” Again the crowd cheers loudly. “They even brought back Appert’s recipe for canning peeled Windsor beans with savory, which you can order tonight at the Yawning Portal!” A peel of laughter escapes the crowd as the two Halflings climb onto a platform. Without further ado, the young lad nods and a beefy female dwarf who lowers them down into the opening. The crowd disperse back to their tables and the general din of excited chattering continues.
"If memory serves me right," he says as he leans back on the chair, "Kip, a bard; Grykham, a bouncer; and Priscilla, a... uh, a friend of mine, should be coming through. At least that's what we agreed on."
He looks up when the dark skinned woman starts to speak, then turns his attention momentarily to the boy, watching the spectacle of the two halflings as he raises his eyebrows somewaht impressed. He watches as they walk over to the well and descend, his eyes lingering on the portal. "Do you really think it's as dangerous as they it is down there?" He asks Leol.
Grykham Bloodaxe pushed through the door of the Yawning Portal. He stamped his feet and shook the rain off his dark cloak.
The dwarf stood 4 feet 4 inches in height and was broad in the shoulders. He wore a dark cloak, dark clothing and high boots. A dark brown belt was around his waist and from it hung a hammer. On his back he had a shield. The muffled jingle of chain mail could be heard as he moved.
His long black hair was wet despite having worn a cloak in the heavy rain. Water run down 2 braids in his full beard that fell to the middle of his chest. If one looked closely you would see streaks of gray in that beard. A scowl was on his face as his dark eyes swept the room.
He spotted a couple familiar faces and pushed his way through the crowd and joined them at the table. Seeing the tankard on the table waiting for him he muttered to Leol and Daron. "It better be ale and not some sissy wine." Grabbing the drink he gave it a smell and the scowl almost left his face. "I thank you for the drink." He drinks deeply and then actually smiles as he places the empty tankard down. "They have the best ale in Waterdeep and that's saying something."
He eyed the portal a little longer, before looking away and momentarily glancing about the tavern before looking back at his elvish friend. "Probably to keep the money flowing in this place,"he says,"and if they're smart they'll take a cut of whatever loot is found inside that place."
Upon hearing footsteps approaching from behind him, towards the entrance, Daron half turns in his seat to see Grykham approaching and taking a seat at their table. "As if I'd buy wine knowing you'd be coming," he says with a grin as he takes his own cup, "it's almost like you're trying to insult me."
"If I was trying to insult you there would be no mistake about it. Forgive me, I have had a trying few... years I guess. I'm thinking of leaving town, or just heading down that blasted hole myself. I need a change, something better to do with my time, a change of luck."
Daron looks between Grykham and Leol, a slight furrow to his brows as he takes a sip from his mug. He grunts. "I didn't know you two knew each other," he says, "but yes, I think it prudent that they'd at least have some form of protection from letting things run out. Probably the adventurers themselves?"
He then turns his attention to Grykham, waving off his apology. "Shorty? Priscilla I assume... she said she'd be coming," he shrugs as he takes another sip, then turns to the barkeep and shouts over the crowd, "another round for my friend, please!"
Sodden with the rain Priscilla slipped inside after tailing a fellow for a good hour in this mess. Her cloak and hood were so soaked through that her curly raven locks hung damp and dripping from the rain. A purple head scarf came off as well as her cloak as she hung them up to dry. Next in Halfling fashion came off her boots letting her dainty yet slightly furry feet to bask in the warmth of the taverns ambient heat. The slip of a halfling lass stood in simple rustic clothes of subdued neutral tones save a pop of crimson and purple here and there. Most notable of these was her waist scarf of lilac with green vines ending in red flowers embroidered on it.
Other things to note was her purple handled short sword, two purple wrapped dagger handles and a short bow with purple fletched arrows all rested on her person. The sword on her left hip, with a dagger sheath sharing the scabbard, a dagger on her right hip and the bow resting on a quiver dangling from her back over the left shoulder. She shook out her hair from side ti side before flipping it back letting the water hit the door before she grabbed her boots and walked over to the fireplace to get them dry and warm. As she did she spotted Gyrk and giggled before she uttered in her bar voice.
"PICKLE!!!" She leans in and gives the grumpy dwarf a hug making sure both hands wear clutching her boots, no need for the surly dwarf to think she'd gone and slipped his coin purse off him again, once was enough." How goes it, did you finally get enough gold to move up in the world? Or are you just as sour and surly as ever?" She giggled a bit more before she looked up and seeing a very familiar face and then a face she cared to avoid. She waved as best could with her boot in her hand as she then ducked behind Gryk.
In a whisper "Why is the law meeting with us Pickel? I thought this was a job, not an interrogation!" Was what came out as she seriously kept out of Loels' view until Grykham answered.
Grykham scowls at the halfling knowing that this is exactly the response she is trying to get out of him yet still unable to stop himself from delivering.
"Call me that again and I'll bring you to the city guard myself and Leol will be the least of your troubles. We are on neutral ground tonight. Sit and have a drink. Daron has even been buying. "
Gryk happily accepts the second tankard of ale that Daron orders for him.
A young woman balancing a platter plied with food on her shoulder with one hand and grasping the handles of three tankards of ale in the other rushes by. She delivers the fare to a table of several men and a woman with shaved heads and tattoos. The men leer with toothy grins at the young woman before she hurries toward your table.
”Hello! My name is Molly. Did I hear ye wanted another round? How about some warm food to fight off the chill this evening?” Molly is a lovely girl with a lilting accent of the countryside who wears her dark hair in two high buns on either side of her head. She proceeds to recite a few things off the menu. “Mutton stew, stuffed eggs, bread and cheese, peeled beans?”
She nods toward the dwarf with a smile and the looks toward the men at the table anticipating an order. While waiting for the remainder to make their decision, her head jerks to the side as if she heard something over the din. She looks across the crowd for a moment but returns her attention to the table, the smile of one who constantly works with the public once again on her face.
Waterdeep
A 'City of Splendors', Waterdeep is a crossroad where all manner of peoples and ideas mingle and converge. The deep harbor welcoming ships from far and wide are primarily responsible for the bustling markets full of just about anything one could hope for if willing to part with the right coinage. Spring has arrived to Waterdeep. After a long, cold winter, the snow has melted, the young green leaves on the trees planted throughout the nicer sections of town brilliant against the rain soaked trunks and grey sky and buildings. Despite the drizzle, the mild temperatures have brought hundreds of people to the street eager to escape their winter confines. The harbor is once again clear of choking winter ice and a dozen ships seem to be accessing the harbor a day.
The city is broken up in to many districts or wards. And while visitors may easily get lost and confused, most locals know their way around several wards with ease, if not the entire city. While the wards may have a overall characterization, any and all can be found there, regardless of economic status.
The Sea Ward is in the northwest of the city and is home to many established nobles and those whose fortunes are one the rise. The rich and the powerful (or those who wish you to think such of them, and can afford the rent) reside or run their businesses here. When the warlords and pirates of early Waters Deep gained enough gold, they built fortresses on what used to be fields of grass tousled by sea wind. You can still see the remains of some of those old castles incorporated into the palatial homes of the noble families that dwell in the Sea Ward. Blue and gold are the Sea Ward’s colors in competitions, and the ward’s mascot is the sea lion — a fanciful combination of fish and feline. Several ornate temples to the gods are also found in Seaward's wide, clean streets.
To the west of fashionable Seaward is North Ward, a respectable area occupied by upper middle class residences and noble villas. Townhomes are even more common here and the Northward is home to several nice inns, merchant shops, and typical industries and services of moderate price. Though it has taverns and shops to suit a variety of tastes, the tenor of the area tends toward reserved and polite. Most streets are lined with row houses inhabited by the families of prosperous people of business, investing, and civic service. They are each wealthy enough to employ a servant or two, or they endeavor to appear as such. The ward comes quietly to life just after dawn. Just as birdsong fills the air, servants begin hustling about on errands. These aren’t the live-in staff used by noble houses, but people hired to come and work for a day. Most of them come from less affluent parts of the city, arriving with the tools of their trade and outfitted in their customary garb: launderers and cooks in white, chimney sweeps and housecleaners in black, valets and child-minders in gray, gardeners in green, and tutors in blue.
The Field Ward lies to the north of both the Seaward and Northward and lies between the inner and outer walls of the city. The area grew without much plan or regulation and therefore is a messy tangle of muddy streets and tenuous tenements. The residents of the Field Ward are some of the poorest in the city. It is not an official ward, and as a result the Watch doesn't patrol the area, leaving many crimes here uninvestigated. The City Guard is present due to its duty to guard the walls of the city, but rarely gets involved in "minor" problems of the area. . It has no sewer system and isn’t served by the Dungsweepers’ Guild — a fact that will be quite evident to your nose. The Guild of Butchers operates several slaughterhouses, smokehouses, and leather-making facilities in the area — noisome operations that have been pushed out of the city proper.
The Castle Ward is the heart and mind of Waterdeep, if not its soul. It houses the city’s military forces, courts, government, and the Market — the largest market square of any city in the North. It encompasses the City Navy’s docks in the Great Harbor and all of Mount Waterdeep, and it is home to six walking statues, numerous temples, and many other landmarks.Castle Waterdeep stands above the city on a great bluff that extends out from the mountain, its towers soaring hundreds of feet into the sky. It surprises many to learn that this isn’t where Waterdeep’s rulers reside, nor from where the city is governed.
The castle was and is a redoubt of last defense should the city be attacked, but for well over a century, the ruler of Waterdeep has occupied the Palace of Waterdeep — also known as Piergeiron’s Palace, and still called that by elderly and long-lived citizens (including many elves). Though not quite as large as the castle, the palace is far more comfortable and lavishly decorated, with many halls used by government officials, guildmasters, and nobles for meetings and court proceedings. Many other buildings in the ward are given over to city business, including several courts for magisters and the barracks of the City Guard. So many of the ward’s structures are offices and meeting halls for business owners, solicitors, publishers, and the like that the Castle Ward has the smallest resident population of all the wards.
Shopping, shopping, shopping galore! Or eating, eating, eating! Or drinking, drinking, drinking! Or lavish accommodations, or fine art, or legendary parties! The Market in the Castle Ward is the largest market square in the city, but the Trades Ward is like a market town in itself — and is easily thrice the Market’s size. This ward bustles day and night with activity, both on the street and on balcony walkways that run the length of blocks and are sometimes layered five stories high. Shop signs appear to leap out from buildings, whose sides are plastered with advertisements all vying for the attention of the eye. Glove shops, shoe shops, jewelry stores, perfumeries, flower shops, cake shops, taverns, cafés, tea shops, inns, row houses, boarding schools, offices, dance academies, grocers, pottery stores, armor vendors — as long as it’s not illegal, you can find it in the Trades Ward. But if you are looking for something illegal, the Trades Ward is likely the place to get that too. Do not do so too loudly, though. The City Watch has a heavy presence in this ward, in the form of both open patrols and officers working out of uniform. As befits a place of so much business, many guilds have their halls in this ward.
It is called the Southern Ward, not the South Ward. The name derives not merely from its southerly location in the city, but from the southerners who settled in this district as the city grew. Today, the ward still hosts most of the traveling merchants who visit the city, and is made up of many enclaves, blocks, and streets primarily occupied by citizens who trace their ancestry to other realms.One can indulge in the finest halfling food here, enjoy the best singers of Calishite music, and examine the most stunning works of dwarven crafting — but the first challenge is finding where these treats are housed. The Southern Ward has long been a district of laborers catering to travelers, so its folk have adopted the architectural custom of building homes and businesses above stables or around inn yards, near to where wagon trains are housed. Residents of the Southern Ward take pride in their legacy as overland travelers and hardworking folk, so it should be no surprise that the ward’s mascot is the mule. On their competition flags, a pugnacious mule in rampant pose stands on a field of red and white — colors said to represent the blood and tears the people of the Southern Ward have shed during their labors.
The Dock Ward was long considered the most dangerous district in the city, but the Field Ward has since taken that title. Aside from the Field Ward, this is the area where most of Waterdeep’s poor reside. It is home to some of the least literate people in the city. Most of its taverns are inhabited by habitual drinkers, and far too many inns charge by the hour. But all must concede this: the residents of the Dock Ward often work the hardest while living under the harshest conditions. Warehouses, poorhouses, and tenements dominate much of the area. Streets are steep throughout, and few have space alongside for pedestrians. Wandering through the ward can be a bewildering journey without a guide. Except in the immediate vicinity of the piers, shop signs and advertising of any kind are rare, and warehouses and other businesses often have no sign at all. You either know where you are going and have reason to be there — or you are lost, and a likely mark for pickpockets or worse.Streetlamps don’t fare well in the Dock Ward. Their candles, oils, and glass are too regularly stolen or smashed. The Guild of Chandlers and Lamplighters makes a halfhearted attempt to repair the streetlamps at the start of each season, but for most of the year, locals are forced to carry their own light when traveling these streets at night.
The City of the Dead is no drab cemetery. It is a great park of grassy hills, tended flower beds, artfully placed clusters of trees and bushes, beautiful sculptures, astounding architecture, and gravel paths that wend intriguingly through it all. Long ago, Waterdavians largely abandoned the practice of burying their dead, instead entombing them in mausoleums. For centuries, the major mausoleums here have each been connected to an extradimensional space where the dead are taken, mourned, and interred.Those who can afford it memorialize the departed with sculptures, making the City of the Dead an open-air museum that features some of the most stunning, haunting, mournful, and downright eerie statues ever crafted in marble or bronze. Nobles and wealthy merchants have competed to erect the grandest markers for their dead, leading to a wide variety of styles and concepts created by artists at the height of their skills.
Ivolyn Brun, human wizard in Lost Mine of Phandelver
The Yawning Portal
Through your various connections with each other, you have all decided to converge in the Yawning Portal this evening for drinks and conversation with friends. Some of you are frustrated with the doldrums of life, and the constant spring drizzle isn’t helping much. You each have made your way through the muddy, puddle-ridden streets to the Castle Ward.
Here you find the the Yawning Portal, a famous inn and tavern. Many want-to-be Adventurers are drawn to the establishment for its well known 40 foot diameter pit that descends into the Undermountain, a place renown for treasures and monsters alike. A place where too many adventures have been lost as well.
Outside, the drizzle has turned to a downpour complete with streaks of lightening and rattling thunder. The place 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 The gaping maw of an entrance to the sprawling dungeon under Waterdeep. A rope-and-pulley mechanism is positioned over the hole and is used to lower adventurers into the well and hoist them out.
The common room is full of people. A man stands behind the long, smooth wooden bar filling pints of ale which a young, attractive barmaid with dark hair takes and starts off toward a table with a blonde elf speaking to another. A female half orc and a red-bearded dwarf arm wrestled at another table, while a raucous card game with on-lookers takes up a three of four tables near the back corner. Dozens of bystanders are cheering a young man in a dirty wizard’s robe who is descending into the entrance to the dungeons by the rope and pully system. A beautiful dark skinned woman wearing fine, but plain linen robes writes in a book as she speaks with a pair of Halflings who are in line to descend after the mage. Plenty of other fill the table and stand in small clusters. A young man in his late twenties or early thirties is just setting up for a performance near one of the fireplaces crackling with a small fire.
The odors of smoke, tobacco, mutton stew, ale, and the natural smell of several dozen people in a warm room hit your senses as you enter. To your ears, laughter, curses, casual chatter, cheers and the tuning of a lute are heard.
((Let’s start with entering the Yawning Portal. Be sure to give us a good visual description of your characters)).
Ivolyn Brun, human wizard in Lost Mine of Phandelver
Daron steps through the threshold of the Yawning Portal, his clothes dripping wet and his silver-blond hair somewhat plastered to his skull from the rain. He walks deeper into the building, wearing a thin black robe with wide sleeves with an open front over a high collared white tunic that goes down to just below his knees, split at the sides from the waist down. And underneath that, wide black trousers.
In his hand, a quarterstaff which he uses as a sort of walking stick to seem less imposing. He looks around for a moment, his hand running through his hair when he sees Leol standing near the massive well at the centre and nods at him before walking over to the bar. "There's going to be a couple of us coming here soon," he says to the barkeep, "five drinks on me." He then walks over to an empty table near Leol.
"You just gonna stand there looking obvious or you gonna take a seat, friend?"
DM - GA's Baldur's Gate
At the well, the dark-skinned woman with high cheekbones and linen robes hands her assistant a sheet of paper. Her assistant, a tall, lanky lad with a gobs of spiraling, unruly curls of dark hair, stands on a chair and introduces the two Halflings to the crowd nearby.
”Put your hands together for Proven adventurers and brothers, Tic and Toc Springwheel!” A round of applause erupts from the tavern patrons nearby. “Fighters of gangs, thugs, and thieves, Tic and Toc have made light work of many denizens of the Undermountain. Thrice defeating carrion crawlers from the hellish depths!!” The kid seems to have a knack for generating enthusiasm among the crowd, and the two Halflings dressed in sturdy leather armor and sporting short swords glowing with arcane energy stand a little taller with his words of inspiration. Several in the crowd yell encouragement as well, while a few shake their heads in disbelief. “And these two fought bravely against the Spector of Nicolas Appert, sending his ghostly presence to its final resting place.” Again the crowd cheers loudly. “They even brought back Appert’s recipe for canning peeled Windsor beans with savory, which you can order tonight at the Yawning Portal!” A peel of laughter escapes the crowd as the two Halflings climb onto a platform. Without further ado, the young lad nods and a beefy female dwarf who lowers them down into the opening. The crowd disperse back to their tables and the general din of excited chattering continues.
Ivolyn Brun, human wizard in Lost Mine of Phandelver
"If memory serves me right," he says as he leans back on the chair, "Kip, a bard; Grykham, a bouncer; and Priscilla, a... uh, a friend of mine, should be coming through. At least that's what we agreed on."
He looks up when the dark skinned woman starts to speak, then turns his attention momentarily to the boy, watching the spectacle of the two halflings as he raises his eyebrows somewaht impressed. He watches as they walk over to the well and descend, his eyes lingering on the portal. "Do you really think it's as dangerous as they it is down there?" He asks Leol.
DM - GA's Baldur's Gate
Grykham Bloodaxe pushed through the door of the Yawning Portal. He stamped his feet and shook the rain off his dark cloak.
The dwarf stood 4 feet 4 inches in height and was broad in the shoulders. He wore a dark cloak, dark clothing and high boots. A dark brown belt was around his waist and from it hung a hammer. On his back he had a shield. The muffled jingle of chain mail could be heard as he moved.
His long black hair was wet despite having worn a cloak in the heavy rain. Water run down 2 braids in his full beard that fell to the middle of his chest. If one looked closely you would see streaks of gray in that beard. A scowl was on his face as his dark eyes swept the room.
He spotted a couple familiar faces and pushed his way through the crowd and joined them at the table. Seeing the tankard on the table waiting for him he muttered to Leol and Daron. "It better be ale and not some sissy wine." Grabbing the drink he gave it a smell and the scowl almost left his face. "I thank you for the drink." He drinks deeply and then actually smiles as he places the empty tankard down. "They have the best ale in Waterdeep and that's saying something."
He eyed the portal a little longer, before looking away and momentarily glancing about the tavern before looking back at his elvish friend. "Probably to keep the money flowing in this place," he says, "and if they're smart they'll take a cut of whatever loot is found inside that place."
Upon hearing footsteps approaching from behind him, towards the entrance, Daron half turns in his seat to see Grykham approaching and taking a seat at their table. "As if I'd buy wine knowing you'd be coming," he says with a grin as he takes his own cup, "it's almost like you're trying to insult me."
DM - GA's Baldur's Gate
"If I was trying to insult you there would be no mistake about it. Forgive me, I have had a trying few... years I guess. I'm thinking of leaving town, or just heading down that blasted hole myself. I need a change, something better to do with my time, a change of luck."
Gryk chuckles out the sound a deep grumble.
"Speaking of luck is that shorty coming too?"
Daron looks between Grykham and Leol, a slight furrow to his brows as he takes a sip from his mug. He grunts. "I didn't know you two knew each other," he says, "but yes, I think it prudent that they'd at least have some form of protection from letting things run out. Probably the adventurers themselves?"
He then turns his attention to Grykham, waving off his apology. "Shorty? Priscilla I assume... she said she'd be coming," he shrugs as he takes another sip, then turns to the barkeep and shouts over the crowd, "another round for my friend, please!"
DM - GA's Baldur's Gate
Sodden with the rain Priscilla slipped inside after tailing a fellow for a good hour in this mess. Her cloak and hood were so soaked through that her curly raven locks hung damp and dripping from the rain. A purple head scarf came off as well as her cloak as she hung them up to dry. Next in Halfling fashion came off her boots letting her dainty yet slightly furry feet to bask in the warmth of the taverns ambient heat. The slip of a halfling lass stood in simple rustic clothes of subdued neutral tones save a pop of crimson and purple here and there. Most notable of these was her waist scarf of lilac with green vines ending in red flowers embroidered on it.
Other things to note was her purple handled short sword, two purple wrapped dagger handles and a short bow with purple fletched arrows all rested on her person. The sword on her left hip, with a dagger sheath sharing the scabbard, a dagger on her right hip and the bow resting on a quiver dangling from her back over the left shoulder. She shook out her hair from side ti side before flipping it back letting the water hit the door before she grabbed her boots and walked over to the fireplace to get them dry and warm. As she did she spotted Gyrk and giggled before she uttered in her bar voice.
"PICKLE!!!" She leans in and gives the grumpy dwarf a hug making sure both hands wear clutching her boots, no need for the surly dwarf to think she'd gone and slipped his coin purse off him again, once was enough." How goes it, did you finally get enough gold to move up in the world? Or are you just as sour and surly as ever?" She giggled a bit more before she looked up and seeing a very familiar face and then a face she cared to avoid. She waved as best could with her boot in her hand as she then ducked behind Gryk.
In a whisper "Why is the law meeting with us Pickel? I thought this was a job, not an interrogation!" Was what came out as she seriously kept out of Loels' view until Grykham answered.
Grykham scowls at the halfling knowing that this is exactly the response she is trying to get out of him yet still unable to stop himself from delivering.
"Call me that again and I'll bring you to the city guard myself and Leol will be the least of your troubles. We are on neutral ground tonight. Sit and have a drink. Daron has even been buying. "
Gryk happily accepts the second tankard of ale that Daron orders for him.
A young woman balancing a platter plied with food on her shoulder with one hand and grasping the handles of three tankards of ale in the other rushes by. She delivers the fare to a table of several men and a woman with shaved heads and tattoos. The men leer with toothy grins at the young woman before she hurries toward your table.
”Hello! My name is Molly. Did I hear ye wanted another round? How about some warm food to fight off the chill this evening?” Molly is a lovely girl with a lilting accent of the countryside who wears her dark hair in two high buns on either side of her head. She proceeds to recite a few things off the menu. “Mutton stew, stuffed eggs, bread and cheese, peeled beans?”
Ivolyn Brun, human wizard in Lost Mine of Phandelver
"Aye laddie, I'll take food."
Grk responds to the question.
"And another ale if you will."
He sees the men at the other table and ignores them.
She nods toward the dwarf with a smile and the looks toward the men at the table anticipating an order. While waiting for the remainder to make their decision, her head jerks to the side as if she heard something over the din. She looks across the crowd for a moment but returns her attention to the table, the smile of one who constantly works with the public once again on her face.
Ivolyn Brun, human wizard in Lost Mine of Phandelver