OOC > Welcome to The Long Road: Dragon Heist. We are finally ready to begin.

It is winter in Waterdeep, just at the beginning of Nightal (December). It is late evening (10 pm), and snow is swirling outside, adding to the small drifts already sitting in corners and alleys. The season’s early dark keeps most everyone indoors, only the City Watch patrol the streets in the open. Magical streetlamps on the thoroughfares, and and more mundane lights in the side streets keep the way lit, with the youths from the Guild of Chandlers and Lamplighters about, making sure their charges stay lit. Sometimes a carriage will rumble past, or a small knot of people will scurry by. But Waterdeep is buttoned up for the cold winter night.

It is a different story in the famous Yawning Portal tavern and inn.

As the door opens to let in some new guests, snow swirling in with them, a raucous cheer rises from the capacity crowd clustered around the enormous well in the center of the common room. You have arrived on an auspicious night at the Portal. It looks like a group of adventurers is braving the depths! One is already dangling over the yawning hole, and as you watch, he waves to the crowd as the winch spins and drops him out of sight.

Hildigrim leads the way, eyes taking in every detail. The red bulk of Pascal fills the door behind him, and while he occasions a little interest from the regulars, when Jorin and Drusk follow, stamping snow off their boots, their visible weapons draw nary a glance. This is a place where adventure is not unknown.

Just inside the door, the wall is covered in papers with drawings of people on them, invariably marked with notes like “Do NOT serve” and “Owes 15 dragons.” Ahead, is the bar, with many patrons lined up, most facing the center of the room, alternately cheering or taking bets on the survival of these hardy adventurers. The place is well filled, but a barmaid finds her way to you.

“Hi there! I’m Molly, where would you like to sit? There’s room at the back by the privy, but you’ll be sharing, or you can find space to stand for a bit. Once these four,” she winces as a thunderous cheer goes up. The second adventurer has stepped up, and the winch is reeling the bucket back up from the depths. “Once they are down the hole, some of the crowd will thin out.”

The well dominates the room, forty feet across, but there are a dozen round tables scattered about, several booths, and a row of stools at a bench. Two fireplaces warm the room, with comfortable (occupied) chairs pulled up in front. A stairwell in the back leads up to two tiers of balconies, where more people lounge against the railing, or sit on stools. You imagine there are well over a hundred people in the place, of all sorts. Men, women, elves, half-orcs, halflings, gnomes, one or two goliaths and you think you might see a firbolg in the upper galleries.

“Oh, look, there’s a table right here might fit the four of you, since you’re really just three and a Half, and this one can probably make you some room,” she nods at the big body that is Pascal.

Several patrons have just stood up and moved towards the well, shouting something about wagers, leaving their table with just one occupant, a generic looking human man.

“Better move quick, dears!” Molly prods you.

Ilena, from the back of the room, you can't see much of what's going on at the front of the place. People have come and gone all night. There's a lot of activity near the winch, as the third and fourth adventurers are getting ready to climb up.

One man near you pokes his buddy, saying, "Five dragons says the mage doesn't make it back!"

OOC > Here's a map. It's quite crowded, moving is almost always through difficult terrain, so half speed. That's only really important for combat though, so I'm sure it won't come up. :)

Drusk does his best "fullback blocking for the ball carrier" as he plows through the crowd towards the table. He is not trying to hurt anyone, and is smiling, but he isn't holding back either.

After shaking off the snow, Jorin pauses a moment, closes his eyes, and takes a big breath, "Ah, yes, now this smells like a proper tavern!"  As they make their way to the table, he calls out to Molly, "Thank you, a round of ales and whatever the special is for the night, if you do not mind."

OoC - Look at that map!  Which table are we heading towards, the one with IIena?

Nope, the one directly NE of you, with one guy at it. Good view of the hole. 

With the crowd cheering, Ilena's curiosity has gotten the best of her, and she wordlessly stands and tries to slink her way through the crowd to get a better view of the folks going into the well, leaving poor Volo mid story. She stuffs her journal into her belt and is wrapping a little piece of charcoal as she walks, trying her best to avoid being hit by stray elbows. If she can manage she'll lean over to have a peek down the well herself. 

(OOC: Posting an image for the benefit of the party, although right now she is wearing a thick winter cloak and heavy winter boots. Ilena is roughly 5'5" and is too skinny to the point that she looks a bit sickly and her robes and tattoos clearly mark her as a follower of Tyr. She looks and is young, and her eyes are constantly wide with wonder.) 

(Ilena is taller and older than Drusk, but harder to tell age with half-orcs.)

Hildigrim grumbles a little, trying to look through the forest of legs and long coats. After Molly suggests the boys grab the table being vacated, the halfling politely touches the maiden's calf and smiles up at her. "Molly, I heard a rumor that the famed author, Volo, is here at the Portal. Could you point me in his direction, please?"

Drusk moves bodies out of the way, and Jorin puts in an order as they arrive at the table. The one lone patron looks up, and smiles sort of nervously as you arrive. He does not stop you from taking seats. There is also an empty chair at a nearby table that you could snag.

As Hildi gets her attention, Molly looks down, then points to the back booth, "Isn't this Volo's lucky day! His blatherings are in demand tonight," she laughs and heads off to get the drinks.

Ilena manages to work her way through the crowd to the edge of the pit. The stone wall is about four feet tall, and descends into darkness. The wall is rough, and could be climbed without the help of the winch and rope, though it's unclear just how deep it goes.

Pascal will make his way over to Volo then! 

Ilena is peering over the edge of the well and watches to see how far she can track the next person descending, but after that her lips start to feel dry and she starts wondering where she left her drink.

Quote from abunny >>

Ilena is peering over the edge of the well and watches to see how far she can track the next person descending, but after that her lips start to feel dry and she starts wondering where she left her drink.

 (I read that at first as Ilena peeing on the person descending, which would have been a brash action.)

(She is not well versed in the ways of the world having lived in a monastery since she was a child, but that would be erratic behavior, even for her.)

Jorin shots down at the table and leave back, casting his eyes about the room. "This is a fine place." He says to no one in particular, as his companions seemingly leave him.  His gaze falls in the human sharing the table with him.  "My thanks for the company.  I am Jorin, of the Bodt.  What brings you here?"

Hildigrim attempts to peer around the room toward wherever Molly is pointing. He finally looks up to get clarification and finds the maiden has disappeared into the crowd. Sighing with disappointment, he looks toward Pascal and sees the lizardfolk pushing through the crowd heading in the direction indicated by the waitress. "Well, that will make it easier," the halfling says pleasantly. He decides to make a detour by the table Jorin is occupying and quickly tells the human he and Pascal are headed toward Volo's table. "Save us some seats," Hildigrim says with a delightful smile. He jumps onto an empty chair, locates Pascal and judges his trajectory, then jumps down to pursue his red-skinned beacon. Passing by the bar, Hildigrim spots the famed Durnan pouring drinks. The halfling casually blocks the side of his face as he scurries by. Better to be safe than sorry.

OOC > Splitting the party! Just kidding.

• Drusk and Jorin make their way to the open table, pulling out chairs and sitting down heavily. The one human there turns to see, and greets you a little nervously.
• Pascal heads towards the back of the place, where Molly pointed, and Hildi tells the boys to hold him a seat, and scampers off after the red lizard man.
• Ilena, after staring into the maw of darkness that is the Yawning Portal itself, looks about for where she left her drink.

Here's what happens...

At the well:

The second adventurer, a cleric by the looks of her, sinks rapidly into the hole with a short scream as the winch freewheels for a few seconds, but the operator slows it at the end. The third adventurer, the mage-type steps up, peering down. He's wearing a florid purple gown, with gold piping and fur trim. It's quite gaudy. The fourth adventurer, some sort of rogue, has a quick word with the mage, then vaults over the edge and begins to climb downwards on his own.

With Volo:

Pascal, followed by Hildigrim, make their way to the back booth, where sits a gentleman with a floppy hat and a wide, upturned mustache. A satchel bursting with papers sits next to him on the bench. He has several books out on the table, and there are two cups there, as if someone else had been there just before. He looks up at you, his eyes widening delightedly at Pascal's approach. "Well, hello there! I am Volothamp Geddarm, wizard, chronicler, storyteller, at your service!"

As you approach, a thin, young woman (Ilena) steps up next to you.

At the table:

Molly brings four of Durnan's best ales, plus a small ewer of the night's special, and four small glasses. "That's five nibs for the ales, each, and this is from tonights cask broach, a Dwarven mead called 'The Hoary Host,' for five shards. So it'll be seven shards all told. Have you lost your friends?" Then she addresses the other man at the table, "Will you be needing a topper, Jalester?"

He responds, "Oh, no, Molly, thanks. I'll not be staying' much longer, I'm afraid. Always entertaining to see some bravos try their luck, but the crowd is a bit much for me."

When Jorin talks to him, he seems willing to chat. "The name is Jalester, friend. I'll admit to being a regular, though I spend most of my time people watching. Even in a city like Waterdeep, you can't find a more interesting crowd than at the Portal."

In the crowd:

Two tables north of Jorin and Drusk, at a table that Pascal, Hildi, and Ilena all pass on their way to Volo, all of you can't help but notice a tall, muscled female half-orc is waging an arm wrestling contest. She has just resoundingly defeated one hapless fellow, and is laughing about it and inviting the next fool in line to sit down and test her.

OOC > Here's a map, let me know if you have any questions.

Drusk (grabbing an ale): "Jail-ster? What do you do that causes you to watch people though prison bars?"

(Drusk notices the arm wrestling, then ignores it. These competitive types let their happiness wane or surge depending on the outcome, rather than experience joy in the competition itself.)

OOC > LOL.

"Prison bars?" Jalester is confused. "I, um... no, I suppose..?"

Jorin rubs his hands together at the sight of drink.

He lets out a gunshot laugh at the question of his friends and says, "I think I may have, yes. Thank you," he adds, and hands Molly a gold piece, "Keep the rest for yourself." He pulls an ale cup and one of the empty glasses over to himself and then looks back up at the barmaid, "Mind bringing us something to bite on too? I always enjoy a little bite with my drink. Maybe crusty bread? Oh, and if you have any back there, some meat drippings? Bread and drippings is a feast fit for god." He gives Jalester a wink and adds, "And gods we are, are we not?"

When Drusk questions his name, Jorin eyes him and says, "Aye, no Drusk, he pronounced it J-ah-lster.  I do not think he is of the jail.  So, Jalester, have you ever seen anything crawl back up out of that hole?"

Drusk: "Confusion won't do. Even if you are leaving soon, you should be in a good mood." Fills up his small glass with the mead and slides it over to Jalester. "You can have my portion. I'll stick with ale. I haven't acquired a taste for the dwarven drinks yet.

"Sorry about mishearing your name, Jay-Lester. Sometimes mishear things, when it isn't in my native Elvish tongue... With a name like Jay, are you a bird seller? Do you have any Norwegian Blue parrots?"

Jorin, Drusk, and Jalester

Molly takes the gold coin. "Aye, we've bread and some drippings, I'll fetch it." and off she goes.

Jalester raises an eyebrow at Drusk's claim of native Elvish, but takes it in stride. "No, I've not got to do with birds. I mostly do a little of this, and a little of that." Answering Jorin, he looks over at the hole, "It's not unheard of for something to come up the shaft, no, but between Durnan and the usual assemblage of hearties, it's not usually much trouble."