Coming September 10th : 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***

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CRISPY DM PRESENTS: 

WATERDEEP: DRAGON HEIST

Starring: Astrid Holmes, Azrael Zifandiel, Danitriel Moonshard, Fatcat, Leon Luvon, Lythril of the Green, and Pheral Shadowbranch

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. Fat Cat, or FC for short, has a quest for them - one that entangles the character in a bitter conflict between two nefarious organizations. If the adventurers complete his quest, FC rewards them handsomely. Yet, a much greater prize lies hidden somewhere in the City of Splendors, waiting to be claimed!

Our story begins in The Yawning Portal, a famous inn and tavern located in the Castle Ward district of Waterdeep.

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

As you wait for Fatcat, The Yawning Portal has many familiar faces you all recognize and know. You've been to this tavern before, and tonight was a special night for two reasons, one, your friend Fatcat requested to meet you here, and tonight's dinner special was the quipper and chips with the Shadowdark ale. Yummy. As you eat and wait for Fatcat, you take this opportunity to introduce yourselves - for you all know Fatcat, but you may not be acquainted with one another.

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: Fatcat has reserved a table for you all that is clearly marked in the back corner of the tavern. Take a moment and introduce your character before he arrives. 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.

Pheral enters the Yawning Portal and checks to see if her old friend Threestrings is present tonight. Assuming he is she will approach him and wait for his current performance to end. When it does she waves him over to the bar Evening Threestrings. I'm in town on business and was hoping you could give me a little heads up on what i might be getting into with FC.

Pheral is wearing dark brown leather armor over a long sleeve white shirt. Her pants are dark and slightly stained by saltwater with tall, dark boots. She wears a large belt crossing her from shoulder to waist with a pair of swords sheathed to it at the waist. Her had is slightly over sized and wide brimmed with half of it sewn up to the side and matches the dark color of her other leather parts. She has a slightly sun faded red sir-coat draped over her shoulders.

PROLOGUE, THE YAWNING PORTAL - THE GROUP ARRIVES

PHERAL: Threestrings performance finishes with a modest applause, he spots you and trots over to you by the bar. He leans on it in a goofy manner, slinging his lute over his shoulder.

"Is it me, or is the torchlight especially bringing out the color of your eyes tonight?" He says, winking, overplaying his charm, keeping his voice to a whisper. "Hello, beautiful. Business, eh? I've heard a rumor that FC's good friend has been missing. And if I may be so bold: It could be..a case of..mistaken identity. This whole Zhentariam and Xanathar business? It's not good for business!" 

PHERAL GAINS THE ACHIEVEMENT: "I Used Time Travel To Post First!"

Pheral feigns embarrassment at the flattery. oh my, but you do say the nicest things. Must be an awful good friend to call out to me in the manner he did. Are our musically inclined friends joining in the revelry? or are we letting the Zhentariam and The Xanathar to settle their own business ? Pheral orders a couple of drinks for Threestrings and herself.

The rot on the branches was a mystery, it must be some sort of fungus... Lythril thought and sighed, trimming the rot away carefully.

"Ahem, excuse me miss? How are you today?" A voice called from below the ladder. Lythril looked down upon a broad, handsome man, in an expensive suit.

"Oh hello! Well, I have branches poking my boobs and a stranger looking at my booty. What do you need?"

"I have a message for you" the man replied waving a wax sealed envelope.

Sighing again, she made her way down the ladder. She brushed her hands and removed her green embroidered gloves. The man handed her the letter, she broke the red seal and began reading.

Lady Lythril,

You are cordially invited to dine with myself and some associates.

The location, dress, and conversation will be casual.

I humbly await your presence at

The Yawning Portal

Tomorrow Evening

Your Friend,

FatCat

"Are you being one of these 'associates'...? Eh, where did that handsome thing go to?"

Lythril was able to find the tavern easily! She only got lost once.

The place was busy and she was still a little uncomfortable in crowds of strangers. She wore her newest leathers and had decided to get them dyed later, still not sure which color would be best. Strolling to the bar, she ordered a beer and continued to look for Mr. FC. It didn't take long to find the table marked "Reserved for Private Party - management". "This must be the place, I hope so anyway." Lythril settled herself and her warhammer. She noticed a few glances and smiled yeah, they like my long shafted beauty. And Nuncle always said, wear protection if you be goin to a party.

Earlier that day...

Danitriel had just finished snacking on a hand pie from one of the ever-present Waterdhavian pie carts when a street urchin, a wee ginger lass in a dirty green smock and dark red leggings, shoved a piece of parchment into Dani's hand as she ran through the street. Danitriel blinked a couple of times and slinked into a nearby alley before reading the parchment.

Miss Moonshard,

It pleases me to invite you to the Yawning Portal tonight at Seven bells in the evening. A table has been reserved for a party that may bring us all great profit.

Best regards,

Fat Cat.

Now...

Danitriel, dressed to the nines in vibrant sapphire silk and black leather, strode into the Yawning Portal. Spotting the barmaid Bonnie, Dani walked up to her. "Bonnie, my sweet! Apparently I have a reservation to sit with our well-groomed feline friend. Be a dear and let me know where to go?" With a chuckle, the barmaid did just that, taking Danitriel's order of a tankard of Circe's Pleasure stout ale as she did so. Danitriel kissed the barmaid on both cheeks before sauntering off to the indicated table.

When she reached the table Danitriel gave Fat Cat an exaggerated bow before sliding into a seat. "Well met."

Azrael had been tending to the Shrine his order had built almost three years ago at the far eastern edge of town, in the north-ward, by The Cliffwatch just off of Saerdoon Street. Their Holy Building was little more than a large shack, with a pretty shrine to the Dragon-god, Bahamut sitting just off the walk-path. He had came to Waterdeep following a calling he had received through a vision several years after having become a true Acoltye of his sect. Here was where he had lived the last few years, waiting for his next sign. He was patient. His faith in his patron was absolute and unshakable, and so he waited, dutifully tending the grounds. In turn, he received shelter and a very modest living.

Three Years Later:

Azrael had just finished his priestly duties, the Shrine to Bahamut was kept impeccably clean, though his order had very little luck recruiting more to his cause and faith. A woman approached him, at first he thought she was there to ask of, or perhaps mock his beliefs. Instead, she met him curtly, curtsying stiffly before handing him a simple envelope with his name  written on it.

Esteemed Mr. Azrael

It has been my duty to notice your hall is lacking, and that your order cannot seem to grow beyond the few you already posses.

I have an offer for you, if you will take it, that may help us both achieve our desired ends. 

If you should decide you wish to partake, then I implore you to meet me at the Yawning Portal in Two-Days time, at the time indicated below.

I look forward to our mutually beneficial transaction.

Fat Cat.

Azrael took little time in considering, this was the sign he had been waiting for all these years. He immediately set out for his preparations, stopping by the market to gather a few needed supplies, before heading back to his temple, packing everything meticulously in his bag, every necessity he could think of, he brought with him. He then pulled his holy symbol from his neck, laying it on the table, able to stand on it's own, served as both his Arcane Focus, and his Holy Symbol a portable shrine to Bahamut hanging from his neck. Setting out candles of incense, lighting them, getting to his knee's and he would pray: Thank you Bahamut, for your providence. Long have I patiently awaited this day, and as I knew you would, you have set the hand of my fate in motion. I will not fail you, and I promise I will do my best to emulate your greatness, so that others may see the truth of your justice. I pray only that your will be done in all things. Religious intensity 4

He awoke the next day, once again proselytizing himself, praying once more before heading out, after all, he had a long walk to his favorite Tavern in the city.

Present Time:

Azrael entered the Tavern. ducking slightly to avoid the door's top as he entered, quarterstaff in hand. Several of the regulars that knew him, gasping, throwing their hands up in mock guilt. Azrael raised both his arms, saying Fear not, I assure you all, I am not here to tell you that ale is the sinners path, lo, instead I am here to partake of it myself! This had been a common joke once everyone had gotten used to the massive Dragonborn whenever he would arrive in his Acolytes Attire. Leading to a few feigned relieved sighs, and a few guffaws and chuckles before everyone more or less went back about their business.

Azrael spotted the marked table easily, as he towered over most in the tavern, and made his way there, his sinuous tail dragging behind him below his robes. As he sat down on the much thicker bench that was made to accommodate his size, and weight, though he was not fat in any sense of the word. Those already gathered would see:

Azrael stood, what to most beings, is a hulking seven feet, eight inches, towering over most humanoids, and only dwarfed by some. His appearance is striking for an Acolyte. His body looking physically well-toned in spite of wearing the attire of a caster. His bold Blue-Sapphire scales stand out in a crowd faintly gleaming in the tavern light, and his frosted-sky-blue eyes are piercing and powerful, possessing the black slitted-pupils common among Dragonkin. His tail, dragging listfully behind him whenever he walked, never making a sound. His robes are eloquent and vibrant shades of Royal-Blue, flowing around him. The trim, a brilliant Gold-Thread, of which inlay in a whirlpool of four threads towards the center as if it were the eye of a storm, where they form a circle around what appears to be a Platinum Dragon, suspended in midair. The dragons' head would appear to be looking directly at whomever it was facing. Six leathered Angellic wings spreading out in the cardinal directions. Upon his neck, hanging from a simple, but strong chain, you would see his Holy-Symbol, Marking him as a Follower of Bahamut, encircling a vibrantly swirling Violet-Orb that was his Arcane-focus, ultimately fusing them both into a single entity. Most would feel a mixture of intimidation, and benevolence exuding from the aura of his presence. And there always seemed to be a charge in the air around him. Ultimately, you would sense from him absolute, steadfast conviction in his beliefs, and the raw confidence that comes with it.

After having adjusted himself to be comfortable, he would offer those gathered already a hearty greeting, his hand crossing over his chest as he closed his eyes and bowed to the assembled. Greetings all, we are all here on this auspicious day for what I assume to be a common cause, even if our reasons for being here are not the same! My name is Azrael Zifandiel, Acolyte of the Dragon god Bahamut, if that was not already obvious. He would rise from his bow, placing his hands on the table, and ordering the special from the Barmaid closest, waiting for them to arrive once the order was taken. Regardless, I hope you are all blessed today in the light of Bahamut, and I have prayed that we all find success, regardless of our reasons for being here. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances.

As soon as green hues fell upon the hooded figure ghosting in the trees as he trained with his fellow monks, Leon knew what was happening, and his suspicions were only confirmed when the messenger handed him a sealed letter.

“Leon Luvon, you have been summoned.”

It’s voice was ominous and the half-elf was at first hesitant in taking the letter from their hand, but as soon as he did and before Leon could try and meet it’s gaze, it was gone, like it was never really there. Leon slid the letter in his pocket and turned back to his worried friends and assured them all was well, just a message for him and him alone, but it needed immediate attention. Luckily there was no further questioning as he heading back into the monastery, his legs taking him straight to his room as his hand was quick to grab the letter from his pocket and break open the seal.

Leon,

We have business to attended to, I do hope your monastery understands.

I and a couple other associates will be gathering at the Yawning Portal tomorrow evening; you do remember where that is right?

Good.

Fat Cat

The signature was all it took for him to start packing away his things.

–

As the half-elf entered the Yawning Portal entrance, his eyes started scanning for any familiar faces, or Fat Cat himself. Although he didn't see anyone he particularity knew, he did see the table that was marked for him and the other 'associates' FC had invited. He didn't waste a moment longer and headed straight for the table.

Leon was oddly glad to see some have already gathered there (sitting there alone would be awkward, at least for him, anyways), and greeted them all with a bow.

"Good evening, my name is Leon Luvon. I apologize for the inconvenience, as I assume you've all acquainted yourselves with one another, but what is your names?"

Arriving seeming last, but actually first, for she was a daily resident of the Yawning Portal, Astrid landed in the center of the table from somewhere on high.  Startling you all, a ball of bright pink fur bounces in the middle of your drinks, and in the middle of the air after the first bounce, head, arms, and legs uncurl from the mass of a bright pink stained animal fur coat.  Landing on her feet with a flash and flourish, she bows low (appearing to become the ball again), before popping back up with a grin the size of a dinner plate on her face.  "Ta-daaaaa!"  Rapidly running around the table, from one visitor to the next, she shakes each of your hands, exclaiming with impossible glee "Glad ta meetcha!"

Once the introductions are made, Astrid returns back to the center of the table again, this time grabbing a thimble flagon of ale and downs it in one tiny gulp.  Letting out a high pitched burp sounding more like a goose honking, she slams the cup down on the table, and saunters over to Azrael's seat.  Hopping down onto his lap, she smiles and looks up to him and purrs "How 'bout you, preacher man?  What brings a fine man of the cloth to an unwashed masses kinda place link the Portal?"

PHERAL: Bonnie brings the drinks over, and Threestrings leans in close once she leaves, his eyebrows bobbing up and down. "The Zhents and The Xanathar to settle their own business? Hardly. This is going to take more than that, i'm afraid. But, I have the feeling some friends will be arriving soon. Friends of FC. Friends you would do well to get acquainted with, my dear." He takes a moment to point to LYTHRIL who had just seated herself at the reserved table. "Like that young lady over there. I have the feeling more will arrive. This situation will take..a special touch."

AT THE TABLE: So far, LYTHRIL is at the table with a drink. Bonnie has cheerfully escorted DANITRIEL to the table as well. As she leaves, she whispers into your ear, "Looks like something big might be going on. Not sure what." She walks to help the next patron. It's a busy night! AZRAEL also joins the table. LEON joins the table as well, introducing himself. ASTRID, slams down on the table, apparently coming from up top somewhere, LOL.

AZRAEL: Jalester looks up at your. "My goodness, it's like you've grown an inch overnight! It's good to see you. You've finally received a sign? That's fantastic! I'm just glad we don't get to talk about it anymore!" He jokes. "I'll tell you this, if it's from Fatcat, this is a serious problem. Probably has something to do with the increase in violence with the Zhents and Xanathar. There's been fights inside nearly everyday. Durnan has been quite annoyed. They have a table for you inside. As for FC? Trust me. You'll want to be his friend." He points to it, where a couple others have already gathered.

TALK AMONG YOURSELVES, FC WILL BE ARRIVING SHORTLY. 

Danitriel took a long pull from her tankard of thick, frothy ale. Circe's Pleasure, a local Waterdhavian brew known for it's thick body and high alcohol content, was fairly popular with adventurers and indeed that's how Dani had learned of it, given that her family were liqueur distillers rather than ale brewers.

Looking around at the others she said "I'd say it's a busy night but I'm pretty sure the Yawning Portal is always like this. Hey, do you thnk anyone's ever gotten drunk enough to actually fall into the well?"

“Mayhaps the pink one?” Lythril chuckles nervously, “Hello all, I’m Lyhtril, singer, gardener, head basher.” She gives a little wave and takes a sip of her fruity drink finding pink fur in her teeth “peh “

Pheral let's out a sigh I suppose I should get this meet and greet over with. She looks over to the prepared table that has a couple people now sitting. FC's tastes are the same as always I see. Well, if all goes well I should be free tonight to catch up on more, personal,  matters.  Pheral gives Threestrings a quick kiss on the lips. Play us that song I love so much will you please?  Pheral takes her leave of her paramore and heads to the table.

PHERAL: "For you?" Threestrings swoons, "Anything." He whips his lute back around, and takes a huge swig of his drink. He accepts your kiss very willingly, and goes back to his goofy act, nearly tripping on a few patrons on his way back to his center seat, and starts playing the song that sets your heart afire. While his musical act leaves just a wee bit to be desired, he entertains the crowd and the drinks keep flowing, much to Durnan's delight.

PHERAL HAS JOINED THE MEETING TABLE.

Pheral takes a seat with the most wall to her back. She removes her not-pirate hat to reveal long fire red hair braided tightly that reaches her swordbelt. Good evening. I assume you are the friends FC mentioned would be here tonight? You may call me Pheral.

Astrid climbs up Azrael’s mountain of a chest, akin to climbing a sheer cliff wall made of skin, until she reaches pectoral level. Deftly reaching behind Azrael’s ears, she ‘magically’ plucks a single gold coin from thin air, then scampers back down his huge chest again. Stopping half way, she drops the gold coin into the shrine necklace that Azrael is wearing, looks up to his face, and winking coyly says “you dropped this, honey bunches...here, a donation to your god, Mr. B!”

She then makes her way down to his lap again, turns around and sits. 

Leon slides to sit next to the Dragonborn and waves over the barmaid and orders a simple cup of water, ignoring any reaction she gives as he turns back to the table, looking over and noting each individual. A slight chuckle rumbles from the back of his throat watching the small gnome woman climb all over the towering giant. 

”Would any of you know what this is all about? There’s quite a few of us... must be something big, no? Any ideas?”