Near the docks in Waterdeep, at the southern edge of the Castle Ward where it meets the Docks Ward, there sits the Yawning Portal. Once the site of the long-vanished tower of Halaster Blackcloak, the Yawning Portal's singular feature is the massive, forty-foot across well that descends some one hundred and forty feet into the first level of Undermountain.
Other than this, the Yawning Portal is a dingy wooden tavern/inn frequented by adventurers and those who're interested in such. The rooms are usually let to adventurers, and similar folk.
Provender
• ales, stouts & ciders on tap: 3 cp/tankard • wines & liquers: 1sp/tallglass • hard liquors: 1-3sp per handglass • bowl of pottage: 2 cp • stew & bread: 4 cp • roast, greens & bread: 1sp
Services
• well ascent or descent: 1gp • healing from priest: 20 gp per spell • adventuring kit: 10 gp • potion of healing: 50 gp • private dining chamber: 2 sp per hour • rooms: 3 sp per single bed, 5 sp per double bed, 1gp per suite
Staff
• Durnan, proprietor (hm) • Mhaere Dryndilstann: proprietor's wife and cleric of Tymora (hf) • Tamsil Dryndilstann: proprietor's daughter (hf) • Luranla Dreer: barmaid and former street rat (hf) • Marruada Belaskurth: barkeep & head of kitchens (hf) • Jarandur Tallstand: head cook & retired mercenary (hm) • Parth Melander: cook (hm) • Tarlgarth Vathar: stablemaster (hm) • Chambermaids: Netha Darra, Hendra Stornshar, Pheldelopae Eleintwind, Yamra Stelkyn • Clerics of Tymora: Adama Miiralin (hm), Orbrin Baerent (hm), paid a retainer by Durnan to be on-hand to aid adventurers.
It costs 1gp to head down the well, and another to get hauled back up (which folk can signal for with the bell-rope that hangs down the side of the bell). Block and tackle is used to lower and raise folk - this doing is invariably cause for great commotion in the tavern, as the locals cheer on those who are descending with wagers to their neighbors and by a rousing tavern-wide rendition of "Down the Well", a bit of pub song that the locals love.
Down the Well, a Song Chorus: Down, down, down the well! Strappen up and sharp thy blade! Down, down, down the well! Oh strapping lad or venturer maid! Down, down, down the well! And back again, once Durnan's paid!
Torches line the top of the well, providing light for the first fifty feet or so down the well before a plunge into the darkness of Undermountain. The faint light can be seen at the top of the well from the room at the bottom of it.
While a lowering into the depths is cause for celebration, there is a heart-stopping moment when the bell rings from below, signaling that someone - or something - wishes to be let up. Because there's no way of knowing exactly who or what is down there, everyone waits with bated breath, peering over the edge to see exactly what rises up out of the darkness.
It's almost never a monster of some sort, of course, and even when it is, Durnan the owner, simply kicks the stops off the block-and-tackle to let it plunge back into the depths. More than one monster has scrambled up the rope faster than anticipated before, however, or particularly capable creatures might come crawling up the sides of the well. And everyone still talks about the time the beholder come floating up out of the well!
But you have not come to go down the well.
Volo has made it clear that he is looking for people to help him in an endeavor. Through acquaintances or gossip it has come to your ears and a meeting has been set up.
It is early evening and the summer heat has been lessened by the sea breeze that comes with the setting sun. As you enter the tavern you are assaulted by the sound of conversation and laughter.
A quick description of your character here and how he got the invite for the meet. Some of you may be familiar with the Yawning Portal and may know some of the staff. Don't hesitate to play that.
Volo is not here but a few tables stand empty near the well and a few chairs at the bar.
A group of young men and women are talking excitedly in a corner, probably getting ready to enter the Dungeon.
Duncan is a young human, dark curly hair, tanned skin, and what some might consider handsome. He's from a relatively small town a couple days ride from Waterdeep, though has spent his last few years training at the Battle Master academy. He just graduated top of his class, and the instructor with whom he was the closest told him to head to Waterdeep, and look this Volo guy up. He's never been in a city this big, nor a tavern this big, so while he is here looking for work, this is his first night 'out on the town' as it were, and he does intend to enjoy himself. Work can always come later.
Heading up to the bar, he sees Durnan, who definitely has the air of former adventurer, Duncan sets his glaive off to the side, takes a seat at the bar and says "Friend! It's my first night in town and I've heard too much 'a th' Portal to not stop in. Two pints 'n a stew if you would." He then sets a silver piece on the counter and when his order comes says with a grin "So... what're the odds of somethin' fun happenin' tonight?"
Rubin is an average-height human with black hair and fair skin. He wears clothing of black and grays and has a hand crossbow clipped to his belt. A brace of crossbow bolts are within easy reach of his hands at all times. Two short swords are sheathed at his hips as well. A bit out of place, the symbol of the dwarven god Moradin hangs around his neck on an thick chain.
Moving into the Yawning Portal's tap room, he makes his way to his customary seat. Rubin spends a decent amount of time in this tavern, as he seeks word of his mother from those who venture into the depths.
"How are you today?" He asks Luranla as she comes over to bring him his usual ale, stew, and bread. "Are those guys actually heading down?" He asks, nodding to the group in the corner. As she answers he looks around, trying to see if Volo had made it yet. "Have you seen Volo today yet? He asked me to come here for some work he has needing to be done..."
Raiko is a smartly dressed human, possibly around his mid-twenties, although it’s difficult to narrow it down further. Tall, dark-skinned, with not a lock of their chin-length dark hair out of place, and strong rather than handsome features, it’s their force of presence and easygoing smile, the kind that lights up one's face like a sunburst, that catches the eye first when they enter the tavern. Their cloak, made out of some sort of hideously expensive imported material, is nevertheless slightly mud-splattered and threadbare, fluttering behind them and partially concealing the longsword they wear at their hips.
Raiko’s been to the Yawning Portal at least once before their temporary exile, descending down the well as a lark with their friends, but more recently, they’d been arriving at the Portal more frequently with the intention of helping out when the place got rowdy. It's hardly likely that anyone remembers them from their halcyon days of misadventure, but certainly, recent patrons would have found Raiko to be a soft touch compared to the usual lot that keeps an eye on the busy tavern. It'd be difficult to object to the paladin's presence here tonight, certainly, even if he was here on personal business rather than official.
“Durnan!” They greet the tavern owner with an apparently genuinely delighted smile, as if seeing an old friend for the first time in a long while. “Business going as well as ever, I see. Did the Tymorans send over their man yet, or do they need to be prodded and reminded again? You must remember that I’m always happy to lend a hand, but I’m afraid I may be slightly busier tonight.”They shrug, mournfully looking at the full tankards. “You know how it is, I’m sure. Save some of the good stuff for me for later, when I’m in a position to enjoy it?”
Jorah was a kobold, leaning on the tall side of his kin, he was blessed with a natural set of dark crimson scales, and amber draconic eyes. He carried a few scars on his body, but from the way he moved about, it was clear that they were lessons well learned. Still, donning a hooded jacket, as well as a utility belt strapped across his chest and waist, he looks more accustomed to his line of work then most koblods, if nothing else, he is clearly more prepared.
Jorah had slipped into the tavern just behind some of the larger clientele, keeping his furred hood up and quickly moving to position himself into the corner of the tavern. It wasn't his first time coming to the Yawning Portal, but having recently gotten his hands on an invite for potential glory by means of the one named Volo, he couldn't pass up the chance. He was sure the passed out sucker he had liberated it off of, wouldn't miss it. Still, he had spent some added time, listening in at a few other taverns and market places. It seemed to check out, and didn't hold much chance of being a trap.
Sitting up in a chair in the corner, he opens up his bag and takes out a book, making and effort to open it in his lap, and begin reading through it. It was one of his more preferred books, as it was big enough to hide his face, but also small enough to carry around easily. The story inside was also interesting, and made him laugh from amusement from time to time.
Davik pauses (almost imperceptibly) as he enters the Yawning Portal. Just long enough for him to check around the door-frame for any new secret symbols, carved or stamped there. He sees nothing new tonight.
He’s been in the city a month now, maybe two, and makes a point of frequenting some of the more interesting establishments on a regular basis. The Yawning Portal often proves to be more interesting than most. Good for picking up work, good for winding down if there’s none.
As he enters, he smiles broadly at the room in general - the sights, the sounds, the smells - taking it all in again.
If anyone notices this Elf enter the room, the first thing they would notice is his long mane of green hair, like fresh grass blowing in the wind. And skin, the peach-colour that accompanies the very start of a spring sunset. Any onlookers might be forgiven for thinking he was a dancer by the way he moves around the room, but the leather armour, and the whip and blades at his sides, tell a different story.
He makes a point of taking a long circuit around the main room... moving confidently like a panther. He smiles or nods at anyone who looks his way (whether he recognises them or not). At one point he fires a vulgar insult at a table near the back, but instead of a fight breaking out, the the table erupts into laughter and cheers, raising tankards and throwing back some choice words of their own. He moves on.
As always, he’s looking for something to catch his interests: a nice weapon, an interesting face, a musical instrument, a game of chance. He’s clocked a few likely people to mingle with later.
He walks past the bar and pauses “Duncan? Isn’t it? I need to speak with you. Don’t leave here before we speak! Okay?...”. He flashes a charming smile and pats him on the shoulder, but moves off before the man can respond.
He moves on, directly now, towards the person that caught his eye first...
He stands a little way from Jade and leans against a table or a post or something. He looks the man all the way up and all the way down before speaking: “I’m sorry, but you’re now only the second most beautiful person in here...”. If the man looks over, he has a cheeky grin that says that he’s just teasing and doesn’t believe it. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before”. He clearly recognises a dancer’s poise. Does he see an instrument? “You’re a performer? Me too! In a way... ...how do you fancy we liven this place up a little?”.
Davik pulls a small wooden flute out of his breast pocket, and plays a clear, bright, note (followed by a professional trill, to show he means business...). If there’s music already playing he stamps the beat out clearly with his heel (or creates his own), but then adds a second faster rhythm with his other heel... He holds the rhythm, and plays another long note: an invitation? A challenge?
Davik lets the note go... and smiles and laughs. His face is one of pure, honest (childlike?) enjoyment regardless. The song ends anyway at that point, and Davik turns to applaud the entertainers generously, as they take up another tune. Then he turns back to the handsome man: the smile and intrigue still on his face.
“The Fish!! That’s where I’ve seen you. I knew I knew you from somewhere. I’m Davik by the way” he offers his hand “What brings you this way tonight? I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before”.
”Volo?... I’ve heard of him, but never met him. He’s coming here tonight you say? To meet you? Then maybe I should leave you be? I don’t mean to cramp your style”. Still smiling. It’s a little disarming. But seems entirely genuine. Is he teasing?
”I’ve heard rumours that there may be business going down here tonight. The two things aren’t connected are they? If there’s coin or a fight to be had, I’m in!”, he says with a wink, his hand dropping briefly to the ornate guard of his duelling rapier.
He steps back a little, and makes to leave, so as not to outstay his welcome. But lingers a second longer in case there might be more to this chance meeting.
Davik gladly accepts the seat beside his new acquaintance. "Can I get you another?" he says, indicating Even's glass. He'll order himself a cider...
He pulls his hair back in to a rough ponytail using a leather thong, as he sits down. "Ha! Sell-sword..." he weighs up the truth of the word "yes... I guess that works".
"What about you? A dancer, that much can be seen. But not taken by my tune?" His smile is still broad, but his eyes squint a little, as if he's now trying to work out a puzzle, "Ballet??" he offers..."I got it didn't I? Why so surprised? I'm not entirely uncultured...". That charming glint again.
Davik is quite taken by the puzzle that is the handsome man. For the time being he seems to have forgotten the others he intended to mingle with this evening. He will gladly joust back and forth with Even for a while. At least until this Volo shows...
A diminutive figure in the vestments of Lathander, The Morning Lord, moves amongst the patrons of the bar. The clash of his vibrant green skin against the rough cloth of his robe died in an ombre of purple, red, pink, orange, and yellow in a semblance of a sunrise draws the eye as does the symbol proudly displayed on his chest. It is a simple wooden disk painted in a light rosy pink. His yellow eyes reflect a smile and concern for the well being of those known to him. Many have encountered the diminutive Ser Knewt as he calls himself or just Knewt to his friends. Knewt has dwelt within the city for sometime and is usually found at the Spires of the Morning, the temple of Lathander in the city. He was answering an inquiry to meet a Volo here at the Portal. He makes his way unobtrusively a corner of the room close to the bar to await sign of Volo.
He walks past the bar and pauses “Duncan? Isn’t it? I need to speak with you. Don’t leave here before we speak! Okay?...”. He flashes a charming smile and pats him on the shoulder, but moves off before the man can respond.
Surprised to hear someone know him by name, Duncan watches as the elf joins the table with the other dainty man, finishes his soup and one beer, takes the second and heads over to the table to sit down, setting his glass on the table. Looking to the others says "Seems you know me, but I don think we've met..." Though he's a bit suspicious he also knows that Waterdeep is a big city, and these types of encounters seem less unusual than he might expect, so going with the flow, and willing to see where the night takes him, takes a big sip from his glass and says "So tell me. What is it you wanted 't talk about?"
Davik stands and greets Duncan warmly. He introduces himself and his new friend, Even, and they all sit down together...
“Ha! News of a new fighter travels quickly around the city I guess!” He says with good humour, “Especially through the Docks ward!... In truth” he concedes, “I only had a name... but it’s your glaive that has caused the most stir. A bold choice of weapon. There are already a few that would try their luck against such a weapon in The Pits. I’d gladly make your introductions there sometime, if that kind of sport interests you. Think of it as... spirited practice!”, he says with a smile.
Raiko accepts a glass of plain water from the barkeep, a look of mild distaste fluttering across their face for the briefest moment before their radiant smile was superimposed seamlessly over everything. "Thank you ever so much, really. Looks like you'll be busy soon, so I'll leave you to it." They raise their glass as if in a toast, and took a sip of the disappointingly flavorless liquid as they settled almost unconsciously into parade rest.
It's - well, it's as busy as usual, really. Provincials had a habit at marveling at the variety of sights the cosmopolitan city brought to their doorstep, particularly when they first arrive, but Raiko was born in the City of Splendors, and while they had to confess to temporary feelings of shock and awe upon their return, they quickly found their old complacency once again amongst the glittering miracles of Waterdeep. Once they might have counted themself amongst the carousers in the street, but these days —
Well, you could admire the flowers of the garden, without counting yourself among them. They flicked the corner of their cloak away from a growing puddle of something on the floor, and almost absentmindedly caught a man's dropped wallet and tossed it back to him with the slightest tilt of their head and a smile, which didn't fade even when it was met with a cold, perhaps slightly nervous stare. A smile was the antithesis of a threat, of course, but the awareness that the law's eye was on them tended to unnerve all but those of flawless integrity, and how many of those could you find, even, or perhaps particularly, in the city? It wasn't their job, really, they'd specifically asked for tonight off duty, but they'd gotten into the habit, and as it turns out good habits were as difficult to break as bad ones, which was just as well.
A certain word bobbed out of the currents, straining to be heard, and lead their gaze towards two breathtakingly handsome men, engaged in conversation. Unconsciously, they raised a rand to rub the bridge of their aquiline nose. Vanity, of course, is a sin. Quite.
They bowed their head, allowing their locks to drape over and half-conceal their expression as they observed the newcomers out of the corner of their downturned eyes, weighing the slight awkwardness of approaching perfect strangers against a desire for further information. Well, it would be preferable to meet with Volo as soon as possible so they could take their leave. This really wasn't their scene. As they watched another, more impartially attired man join them, Raiko made up their mind.
"Dreadfully sorry for interrupting."They apologized as they approached the three by in the corner, their expression a masterpiece of genuine, sincere regret. "But just a moment of your time, gentlemen? I have a feeling this will benefit us both. You mentioned you were seeking a Mr. Volo? I am here on his invitation as well, not that I've managed to catch sight of him so far." they paused, a moment of dramatic necessity rather than a lull in their dialogue. "Oh, but where are my manners?" They executed a flawless bow, a touch more florid than military. "I am Raiko, humbly at your service."
Putting his glass down, and swallowing another sip of beer, Duncan was about to reply to Davik when this new fellow Raiko came up to the table. Thinking to himself "This is the Waterdeep I've heard of! And already a chance to show my skills!" The curiosity and excitement on his face becoming even more difficult to hide as Raiko mentions the name 'Volo', as he hadn't heard anyone say it yet. He finally says to the group "Well! Look like I found the right table! Is this just luck that we're all lookin' for this Volo fella? Or is he just famous 'round here? Ah! Name's Duncan. Get a drink and have a seat!"
Davik stands and offers his hand again, “Evening,... ‘officer’? A pleasure to make your acquaintance”.
This time, he doesn’t volunteer everyone else’s names. He knows not everyone likes such things shared with the law... but he gladly offers his own.
”Please, would you join us? This is getting to be quite the gathering”. He turns the smile up another ten percent, and subconsciously attempts to straightens his leather breast-piece and undershirt.
Getting up from his table nearby, Rubin walks over to the group's table. "Did I hear that you guys are waiting for Volo too?" he asks, nodding to the group around the table.
Davik is in his element. The group is quickly reaching critical mass for a good time whether this Volo guy shows up or not.
He rises just half out of his seat, acknowledges Rubin (who he’s seen once or twice in here before), and raises a finger to one of the staff, anticipating that the group will need more drinks...
He also looks sideways with a slight shrug at Even and silently mouths the word ‘sorry’ with a smaller but perhaps more honest smile.
"Please, it's just Raiko. I insist."There's an earnest smile on their face as they clasp Davik's hand in a firm handshake, but somehow they manage to communicate volumes of disapproval at the proffered title without a single adjustment to their open and pleasant expression. They nudge a chair over closer to the growing group, but remains standing stiffly behind it, making no motion to seat themself. "Thank you for the offer, really, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline that drink."
"Well, it seemed like Mr. Volo cast a wide net in his search for assistance. I didn't really expect such a crowd."Raiko muses, eyes thoughtfully resting on each of the members of their little coterie in turn. "I have indeed heard of his name once or twice in passing, although of course I can't claim to be an acquaintance of his. He must have called us all here for a reason, but, well, we'll have to wait until he arrives to find out, I suppose."
"I'll take her drink then." Duncan says, finishing his drink, adding "This is my first time out on the town in quite a while. I hope it's not all business."
“Raiko it is...“ Davik agrees, still beaming “well met, and welcome!”. He offers them a kind bow of the head too.
Then he looks around the group, enjoying the simple energy of people meeting and sharing...
If anyone happened to be looking really closely (and they would have to be looking really closely) they might happen to notice the smattering of faint freckles across his nose and cheeks almost seem to take on the colours of spring flowers... but just for a second...
Near the docks in Waterdeep, at the southern edge of the Castle Ward where it meets the Docks Ward, there sits the Yawning Portal. Once the site of the long-vanished tower of Halaster Blackcloak, the Yawning Portal's singular feature is the massive, forty-foot across well that descends some one hundred and forty feet into the first level of Undermountain.
Other than this, the Yawning Portal is a dingy wooden tavern/inn frequented by adventurers and those who're interested in such. The rooms are usually let to adventurers, and similar folk.
• wines & liquers: 1sp/tallglass
• hard liquors: 1-3sp per handglass
• bowl of pottage: 2 cp
• stew & bread: 4 cp
• roast, greens & bread: 1sp
• healing from priest: 20 gp per spell
• adventuring kit: 10 gp
• potion of healing: 50 gp
• private dining chamber: 2 sp per hour
• rooms: 3 sp per single bed, 5 sp per double bed, 1gp per suite
• Mhaere Dryndilstann: proprietor's wife and cleric of Tymora (hf)
• Tamsil Dryndilstann: proprietor's daughter (hf)
• Luranla Dreer: barmaid and former street rat (hf)
• Marruada Belaskurth: barkeep & head of kitchens (hf)
• Jarandur Tallstand: head cook & retired mercenary (hm)
• Parth Melander: cook (hm)
• Tarlgarth Vathar: stablemaster (hm)
• Chambermaids: Netha Darra, Hendra Stornshar, Pheldelopae Eleintwind, Yamra Stelkyn
• Clerics of Tymora: Adama Miiralin (hm), Orbrin Baerent (hm), paid a retainer by Durnan to be on-hand to aid adventurers.
It costs 1gp to head down the well, and another to get hauled back up (which folk can signal for with the bell-rope that hangs down the side of the bell). Block and tackle is used to lower and raise folk - this doing is invariably cause for great commotion in the tavern, as the locals cheer on those who are descending with wagers to their neighbors and by a rousing tavern-wide rendition of "Down the Well", a bit of pub song that the locals love.
Down the Well, a Song
Chorus:
Down, down, down the well!
Strappen up and sharp thy blade!
Down, down, down the well!
Oh strapping lad or venturer maid!
Down, down, down the well!
And back again, once Durnan's paid!
Torches line the top of the well, providing light for the first fifty feet or so down the well before a plunge into the darkness of Undermountain. The faint light can be seen at the top of the well from the room at the bottom of it.
While a lowering into the depths is cause for celebration, there is a heart-stopping moment when the bell rings from below, signaling that someone - or something - wishes to be let up. Because there's no way of knowing exactly who or what is down there, everyone waits with bated breath, peering over the edge to see exactly what rises up out of the darkness.
It's almost never a monster of some sort, of course, and even when it is, Durnan the owner, simply kicks the stops off the block-and-tackle to let it plunge back into the depths. More than one monster has scrambled up the rope faster than anticipated before, however, or particularly capable creatures might come crawling up the sides of the well. And everyone still talks about the time the beholder come floating up out of the well!
But you have not come to go down the well.
Volo has made it clear that he is looking for people to help him in an endeavor. Through acquaintances or gossip it has come to your ears and a meeting has been set up.
It is early evening and the summer heat has been lessened by the sea breeze that comes with the setting sun. As you enter the tavern you are assaulted by the sound of conversation and laughter.
A quick description of your character here and how he got the invite for the meet. Some of you may be familiar with the Yawning Portal and may know some of the staff. Don't hesitate to play that.
Volo is not here but a few tables stand empty near the well and a few chairs at the bar.
A group of young men and women are talking excitedly in a corner, probably getting ready to enter the Dungeon.
Duncan is a young human, dark curly hair, tanned skin, and what some might consider handsome. He's from a relatively small town a couple days ride from Waterdeep, though has spent his last few years training at the Battle Master academy. He just graduated top of his class, and the instructor with whom he was the closest told him to head to Waterdeep, and look this Volo guy up. He's never been in a city this big, nor a tavern this big, so while he is here looking for work, this is his first night 'out on the town' as it were, and he does intend to enjoy himself. Work can always come later.
Heading up to the bar, he sees Durnan, who definitely has the air of former adventurer, Duncan sets his glaive off to the side, takes a seat at the bar and says "Friend! It's my first night in town and I've heard too much 'a th' Portal to not stop in. Two pints 'n a stew if you would." He then sets a silver piece on the counter and when his order comes says with a grin "So... what're the odds of somethin' fun happenin' tonight?"
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
Rubin.
Rubin is an average-height human with black hair and fair skin. He wears clothing of black and grays and has a hand crossbow clipped to his belt. A brace of crossbow bolts are within easy reach of his hands at all times. Two short swords are sheathed at his hips as well. A bit out of place, the symbol of the dwarven god Moradin hangs around his neck on an thick chain.
Moving into the Yawning Portal's tap room, he makes his way to his customary seat. Rubin spends a decent amount of time in this tavern, as he seeks word of his mother from those who venture into the depths.
"How are you today?" He asks Luranla as she comes over to bring him his usual ale, stew, and bread. "Are those guys actually heading down?" He asks, nodding to the group in the corner. As she answers he looks around, trying to see if Volo had made it yet. "Have you seen Volo today yet? He asked me to come here for some work he has needing to be done..."
Raiko is a smartly dressed human, possibly around his mid-twenties, although it’s difficult to narrow it down further. Tall, dark-skinned, with not a lock of their chin-length dark hair out of place, and strong rather than handsome features, it’s their force of presence and easygoing smile, the kind that lights up one's face like a sunburst, that catches the eye first when they enter the tavern. Their cloak, made out of some sort of hideously expensive imported material, is nevertheless slightly mud-splattered and threadbare, fluttering behind them and partially concealing the longsword they wear at their hips.
Raiko’s been to the Yawning Portal at least once before their temporary exile, descending down the well as a lark with their friends, but more recently, they’d been arriving at the Portal more frequently with the intention of helping out when the place got rowdy. It's hardly likely that anyone remembers them from their halcyon days of misadventure, but certainly, recent patrons would have found Raiko to be a soft touch compared to the usual lot that keeps an eye on the busy tavern. It'd be difficult to object to the paladin's presence here tonight, certainly, even if he was here on personal business rather than official.
“Durnan!” They greet the tavern owner with an apparently genuinely delighted smile, as if seeing an old friend for the first time in a long while. “Business going as well as ever, I see. Did the Tymorans send over their man yet, or do they need to be prodded and reminded again? You must remember that I’m always happy to lend a hand, but I’m afraid I may be slightly busier tonight.” They shrug, mournfully looking at the full tankards. “You know how it is, I’m sure. Save some of the good stuff for me for later, when I’m in a position to enjoy it?”
Jorah was a kobold, leaning on the tall side of his kin, he was blessed with a natural set of dark crimson scales, and amber draconic eyes. He carried a few scars on his body, but from the way he moved about, it was clear that they were lessons well learned. Still, donning a hooded jacket, as well as a utility belt strapped across his chest and waist, he looks more accustomed to his line of work then most koblods, if nothing else, he is clearly more prepared.
Jorah had slipped into the tavern just behind some of the larger clientele, keeping his furred hood up and quickly moving to position himself into the corner of the tavern. It wasn't his first time coming to the Yawning Portal, but having recently gotten his hands on an invite for potential glory by means of the one named Volo, he couldn't pass up the chance. He was sure the passed out sucker he had liberated it off of, wouldn't miss it. Still, he had spent some added time, listening in at a few other taverns and market places. It seemed to check out, and didn't hold much chance of being a trap.
Sitting up in a chair in the corner, he opens up his bag and takes out a book, making and effort to open it in his lap, and begin reading through it. It was one of his more preferred books, as it was big enough to hide his face, but also small enough to carry around easily. The story inside was also interesting, and made him laugh from amusement from time to time.
Davik pauses (almost imperceptibly) as he enters the Yawning Portal. Just long enough for him to check around the door-frame for any new secret symbols, carved or stamped there. He sees nothing new tonight.
He’s been in the city a month now, maybe two, and makes a point of frequenting some of the more interesting establishments on a regular basis. The Yawning Portal often proves to be more interesting than most. Good for picking up work, good for winding down if there’s none.
As he enters, he smiles broadly at the room in general - the sights, the sounds, the smells - taking it all in again.
If anyone notices this Elf enter the room, the first thing they would notice is his long mane of green hair, like fresh grass blowing in the wind. And skin, the peach-colour that accompanies the very start of a spring sunset. Any onlookers might be forgiven for thinking he was a dancer by the way he moves around the room, but the leather armour, and the whip and blades at his sides, tell a different story.
He makes a point of taking a long circuit around the main room... moving confidently like a panther. He smiles or nods at anyone who looks his way (whether he recognises them or not). At one point he fires a vulgar insult at a table near the back, but instead of a fight breaking out, the the table erupts into laughter and cheers, raising tankards and throwing back some choice words of their own. He moves on.
As always, he’s looking for something to catch his interests: a nice weapon, an interesting face, a musical instrument, a game of chance. He’s clocked a few likely people to mingle with later.
He walks past the bar and pauses “Duncan? Isn’t it? I need to speak with you. Don’t leave here before we speak! Okay?...”. He flashes a charming smile and pats him on the shoulder, but moves off before the man can respond.
He moves on, directly now, towards the person that caught his eye first...
He stands a little way from Jade and leans against a table or a post or something. He looks the man all the way up and all the way down before speaking: “I’m sorry, but you’re now only the second most beautiful person in here...”. If the man looks over, he has a cheeky grin that says that he’s just teasing and doesn’t believe it. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before”. He clearly recognises a dancer’s poise. Does he see an instrument? “You’re a performer? Me too! In a way... ...how do you fancy we liven this place up a little?”.
Davik pulls a small wooden flute out of his breast pocket, and plays a clear, bright, note (followed by a professional trill, to show he means business...). If there’s music already playing he stamps the beat out clearly with his heel (or creates his own), but then adds a second faster rhythm with his other heel... He holds the rhythm, and plays another long note: an invitation? A challenge?
GILLAIN OF ATHKATLA - Human Paladin - Into the Mists PHILLIP THE GRUNG - Grung Eldritch Knight - Tomb of Annihilation
ROBWIN WINDROBE - High Elf Wizard - Dragon of Icespire Peak EVE DARKSHORE - Tiefling Warlock - Rime of the Frost Maiden
ASH OF THE FIRE - Tabaxi Rogue - Ghosts of Marshswamp LIA STARBORN - Aasimar Bard - Out of the Abyss
Davik lets the note go... and smiles and laughs. His face is one of pure, honest (childlike?) enjoyment regardless. The song ends anyway at that point, and Davik turns to applaud the entertainers generously, as they take up another tune. Then he turns back to the handsome man: the smile and intrigue still on his face.
“The Fish!! That’s where I’ve seen you. I knew I knew you from somewhere. I’m Davik by the way” he offers his hand “What brings you this way tonight? I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before”.
”Volo?... I’ve heard of him, but never met him. He’s coming here tonight you say? To meet you? Then maybe I should leave you be? I don’t mean to cramp your style”. Still smiling. It’s a little disarming. But seems entirely genuine. Is he teasing?
”I’ve heard rumours that there may be business going down here tonight. The two things aren’t connected are they? If there’s coin or a fight to be had, I’m in!”, he says with a wink, his hand dropping briefly to the ornate guard of his duelling rapier.
He steps back a little, and makes to leave, so as not to outstay his welcome. But lingers a second longer in case there might be more to this chance meeting.
GILLAIN OF ATHKATLA - Human Paladin - Into the Mists PHILLIP THE GRUNG - Grung Eldritch Knight - Tomb of Annihilation
ROBWIN WINDROBE - High Elf Wizard - Dragon of Icespire Peak EVE DARKSHORE - Tiefling Warlock - Rime of the Frost Maiden
ASH OF THE FIRE - Tabaxi Rogue - Ghosts of Marshswamp LIA STARBORN - Aasimar Bard - Out of the Abyss
Davik gladly accepts the seat beside his new acquaintance. "Can I get you another?" he says, indicating Even's glass. He'll order himself a cider...
He pulls his hair back in to a rough ponytail using a leather thong, as he sits down. "Ha! Sell-sword..." he weighs up the truth of the word "yes... I guess that works".
"What about you? A dancer, that much can be seen. But not taken by my tune?" His smile is still broad, but his eyes squint a little, as if he's now trying to work out a puzzle, "Ballet??" he offers..."I got it didn't I? Why so surprised? I'm not entirely uncultured...". That charming glint again.
Davik is quite taken by the puzzle that is the handsome man. For the time being he seems to have forgotten the others he intended to mingle with this evening. He will gladly joust back and forth with Even for a while. At least until this Volo shows...
GILLAIN OF ATHKATLA - Human Paladin - Into the Mists PHILLIP THE GRUNG - Grung Eldritch Knight - Tomb of Annihilation
ROBWIN WINDROBE - High Elf Wizard - Dragon of Icespire Peak EVE DARKSHORE - Tiefling Warlock - Rime of the Frost Maiden
ASH OF THE FIRE - Tabaxi Rogue - Ghosts of Marshswamp LIA STARBORN - Aasimar Bard - Out of the Abyss
A diminutive figure in the vestments of Lathander, The Morning Lord, moves amongst the patrons of the bar. The clash of his vibrant green skin against the rough cloth of his robe died in an ombre of purple, red, pink, orange, and yellow in a semblance of a sunrise draws the eye as does the symbol proudly displayed on his chest. It is a simple wooden disk painted in a light rosy pink. His yellow eyes reflect a smile and concern for the well being of those known to him. Many have encountered the diminutive Ser Knewt as he calls himself or just Knewt to his friends. Knewt has dwelt within the city for sometime and is usually found at the Spires of the Morning, the temple of Lathander in the city. He was answering an inquiry to meet a Volo here at the Portal. He makes his way unobtrusively a corner of the room close to the bar to await sign of Volo.
Surprised to hear someone know him by name, Duncan watches as the elf joins the table with the other dainty man, finishes his soup and one beer, takes the second and heads over to the table to sit down, setting his glass on the table. Looking to the others says "Seems you know me, but I don think we've met..." Though he's a bit suspicious he also knows that Waterdeep is a big city, and these types of encounters seem less unusual than he might expect, so going with the flow, and willing to see where the night takes him, takes a big sip from his glass and says "So tell me. What is it you wanted 't talk about?"
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
Davik stands and greets Duncan warmly. He introduces himself and his new friend, Even, and they all sit down together...
“Ha! News of a new fighter travels quickly around the city I guess!” He says with good humour, “Especially through the Docks ward!... In truth” he concedes, “I only had a name... but it’s your glaive that has caused the most stir. A bold choice of weapon. There are already a few that would try their luck against such a weapon in The Pits. I’d gladly make your introductions there sometime, if that kind of sport interests you. Think of it as... spirited practice!”, he says with a smile.
”But what brings you to Waterdeep?”
GILLAIN OF ATHKATLA - Human Paladin - Into the Mists PHILLIP THE GRUNG - Grung Eldritch Knight - Tomb of Annihilation
ROBWIN WINDROBE - High Elf Wizard - Dragon of Icespire Peak EVE DARKSHORE - Tiefling Warlock - Rime of the Frost Maiden
ASH OF THE FIRE - Tabaxi Rogue - Ghosts of Marshswamp LIA STARBORN - Aasimar Bard - Out of the Abyss
Raiko accepts a glass of plain water from the barkeep, a look of mild distaste fluttering across their face for the briefest moment before their radiant smile was superimposed seamlessly over everything. "Thank you ever so much, really. Looks like you'll be busy soon, so I'll leave you to it." They raise their glass as if in a toast, and took a sip of the disappointingly flavorless liquid as they settled almost unconsciously into parade rest.
It's - well, it's as busy as usual, really. Provincials had a habit at marveling at the variety of sights the cosmopolitan city brought to their doorstep, particularly when they first arrive, but Raiko was born in the City of Splendors, and while they had to confess to temporary feelings of shock and awe upon their return, they quickly found their old complacency once again amongst the glittering miracles of Waterdeep. Once they might have counted themself amongst the carousers in the street, but these days —
Well, you could admire the flowers of the garden, without counting yourself among them. They flicked the corner of their cloak away from a growing puddle of something on the floor, and almost absentmindedly caught a man's dropped wallet and tossed it back to him with the slightest tilt of their head and a smile, which didn't fade even when it was met with a cold, perhaps slightly nervous stare. A smile was the antithesis of a threat, of course, but the awareness that the law's eye was on them tended to unnerve all but those of flawless integrity, and how many of those could you find, even, or perhaps particularly, in the city? It wasn't their job, really, they'd specifically asked for tonight off duty, but they'd gotten into the habit, and as it turns out good habits were as difficult to break as bad ones, which was just as well.
A certain word bobbed out of the currents, straining to be heard, and lead their gaze towards two breathtakingly handsome men, engaged in conversation. Unconsciously, they raised a rand to rub the bridge of their aquiline nose. Vanity, of course, is a sin. Quite.
They bowed their head, allowing their locks to drape over and half-conceal their expression as they observed the newcomers out of the corner of their downturned eyes, weighing the slight awkwardness of approaching perfect strangers against a desire for further information. Well, it would be preferable to meet with Volo as soon as possible so they could take their leave. This really wasn't their scene. As they watched another, more impartially attired man join them, Raiko made up their mind.
"Dreadfully sorry for interrupting." They apologized as they approached the three by in the corner, their expression a masterpiece of genuine, sincere regret. "But just a moment of your time, gentlemen? I have a feeling this will benefit us both. You mentioned you were seeking a Mr. Volo? I am here on his invitation as well, not that I've managed to catch sight of him so far." they paused, a moment of dramatic necessity rather than a lull in their dialogue. "Oh, but where are my manners?" They executed a flawless bow, a touch more florid than military. "I am Raiko, humbly at your service."
Putting his glass down, and swallowing another sip of beer, Duncan was about to reply to Davik when this new fellow Raiko came up to the table. Thinking to himself "This is the Waterdeep I've heard of! And already a chance to show my skills!" The curiosity and excitement on his face becoming even more difficult to hide as Raiko mentions the name 'Volo', as he hadn't heard anyone say it yet. He finally says to the group "Well! Look like I found the right table! Is this just luck that we're all lookin' for this Volo fella? Or is he just famous 'round here? Ah! Name's Duncan. Get a drink and have a seat!"
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
Davik stands and offers his hand again, “Evening,... ‘officer’? A pleasure to make your acquaintance”.
This time, he doesn’t volunteer everyone else’s names. He knows not everyone likes such things shared with the law... but he gladly offers his own.
”Please, would you join us? This is getting to be quite the gathering”. He turns the smile up another ten percent, and subconsciously attempts to straightens his leather breast-piece and undershirt.
GILLAIN OF ATHKATLA - Human Paladin - Into the Mists PHILLIP THE GRUNG - Grung Eldritch Knight - Tomb of Annihilation
ROBWIN WINDROBE - High Elf Wizard - Dragon of Icespire Peak EVE DARKSHORE - Tiefling Warlock - Rime of the Frost Maiden
ASH OF THE FIRE - Tabaxi Rogue - Ghosts of Marshswamp LIA STARBORN - Aasimar Bard - Out of the Abyss
Getting up from his table nearby, Rubin walks over to the group's table. "Did I hear that you guys are waiting for Volo too?" he asks, nodding to the group around the table.
Duncan just leans back in his seat, unable to believe his ears, saying "So is everyone here in the Portal lookin' for this Volo guy?!"
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
Davik is in his element. The group is quickly reaching critical mass for a good time whether this Volo guy shows up or not.
He rises just half out of his seat, acknowledges Rubin (who he’s seen once or twice in here before), and raises a finger to one of the staff, anticipating that the group will need more drinks...
He also looks sideways with a slight shrug at Even and silently mouths the word ‘sorry’ with a smaller but perhaps more honest smile.
GILLAIN OF ATHKATLA - Human Paladin - Into the Mists PHILLIP THE GRUNG - Grung Eldritch Knight - Tomb of Annihilation
ROBWIN WINDROBE - High Elf Wizard - Dragon of Icespire Peak EVE DARKSHORE - Tiefling Warlock - Rime of the Frost Maiden
ASH OF THE FIRE - Tabaxi Rogue - Ghosts of Marshswamp LIA STARBORN - Aasimar Bard - Out of the Abyss
"Please, it's just Raiko. I insist." There's an earnest smile on their face as they clasp Davik's hand in a firm handshake, but somehow they manage to communicate volumes of disapproval at the proffered title without a single adjustment to their open and pleasant expression. They nudge a chair over closer to the growing group, but remains standing stiffly behind it, making no motion to seat themself. "Thank you for the offer, really, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline that drink."
"Well, it seemed like Mr. Volo cast a wide net in his search for assistance. I didn't really expect such a crowd." Raiko muses, eyes thoughtfully resting on each of the members of their little coterie in turn. "I have indeed heard of his name once or twice in passing, although of course I can't claim to be an acquaintance of his. He must have called us all here for a reason, but, well, we'll have to wait until he arrives to find out, I suppose."
"I'll take her drink then." Duncan says, finishing his drink, adding "This is my first time out on the town in quite a while. I hope it's not all business."
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
“Raiko it is... “ Davik agrees, still beaming “well met, and welcome!”. He offers them a kind bow of the head too.
Then he looks around the group, enjoying the simple energy of people meeting and sharing...
If anyone happened to be looking really closely (and they would have to be looking really closely) they might happen to notice the smattering of faint freckles across his nose and cheeks almost seem to take on the colours of spring flowers... but just for a second...
GILLAIN OF ATHKATLA - Human Paladin - Into the Mists PHILLIP THE GRUNG - Grung Eldritch Knight - Tomb of Annihilation
ROBWIN WINDROBE - High Elf Wizard - Dragon of Icespire Peak EVE DARKSHORE - Tiefling Warlock - Rime of the Frost Maiden
ASH OF THE FIRE - Tabaxi Rogue - Ghosts of Marshswamp LIA STARBORN - Aasimar Bard - Out of the Abyss