Volo is highly regarded in historical circles in Waterdeep, his friendship with the transdimensional traveling archmage Elminster certainly helps with the veracity of his works
Well this is a lucky day indeed! I must admit I've been trying to find my moment to strike up a conversation with you. Your treatise on the interplay between pitch and tone in the Celestial language and the resultant effect on the fabric of the weave was absolutely fascinating.
BUT I DIGRESS! Tell me more about this forgotten historical relic, you have piqued my interest.
“There’ll be plenty more dates to be had with a face like yours pretty boy” slapping Sig playfully on the back with his eyes fixated on Obaya before shaking his head to snap himself out of the stare.
Leaning to Sig nudging him with his elbow “A pocket pull of platinum never hurt anyone’s chances either eh ?”
Threestrings smiles and hands over a small pouch. It is stitched closed but feels like it contains three gemstones of some description.
Volo on the other hand regales Jhee-Khar with the tale of the fall of Illefarn, an elven kingdom of the North. An alabaster throne belonging to Syglaeth Audark, the last coronal of Illefarn, disappeared from the capital city of Aelinthaldaar, where the Mad Mage built his tower and today stands Waterdeep. It’s said that a group of dwarves feared the destruction of such a miraculous work of stonecraft and stole the throne right out from under the elves’ slender noses. Where the dwarves hid it for so long, who knows? But should you find it in Undermountain, it would please the elves of the North to know it survives.
Sigh laughs dryly. “You’re quite right my friend. A handful of platinum will hopefully make up for being a few days late. Names Sig by the way” he offers his meaty hand in greeting.
“Names Eoan , pleased you meet ya!” Taking Sigs Hand in both of his and shaking energetically before spinning on his heels and pointing at Volo, overhearing the story “ That is rare , to please one of those miserable sods. Had an ..acquaintance ... from the north . She never cracked a smile at anything. This place must be a real adventure if it’ll get em grinning!”
Volo laughs, a great guffawing sound raising from his belly. “Oh yes my friends it’ll put smiles on the faces of the iciest if wenches. Let me buy the next round so that you are sufficiently lubricated for your adventure below!”
A round of ale is presented to the five of you before you’re given time to collect your things. You stand on the lip of the well ready to descend into the dark below via the rope winch when the young noble Esvele Roznar stops you with a gesture. “My brother Kressando was last seen heading to Skullport, that was several weeks ago. No one has seen or heard from him since. Could you please let me know if you discover what happened to him?”
“Oh thank you!” She tells you her brother is Kressando, a 22-year-old man with fair skin and dark curly hair, trained in the arts of stealth and thievery. She also tells you that Kressando wears a platinum signet ring bearing the Rosznar family crest (a diving white falcon on a field of blue) and an inscription of the family motto (“Fly high and stoop swift”).
Was there anything in particular your brother was delving into the pit in search of? Anyone in Skullport you know that he would have tried to make contact with?
“I believe he was trying to make contact with the Xanathar Guild, against our families wishes, in Skullport. I do not know what kind of business it would have been but I doubt it would have been legal. Despite that he is my brother and I wouldn’t wish harm to befall him”
We shall do our best my dear. The reputation of this place precedes it as I'm sure you well know, but we shall try.
So, a treasure hunt and a rescue mission all in one. Is anyone else excited? My name is Jhee-Kharr. I will watch your backs, I only ask you do the same. We will have a better chance if we bring all our skills to bear together.
Pleasantries exchanged you take a firm hold of the top and are winched into the darkness. The descent takes about a minute and you notice that if you really had to you could probably climb your way back out but it wouldn’t be quick or easy. At the bottom of the Yawning Portal entry well is a dark, 40-foot-square room, those of you with dark vision can make out the walls as a different shade of grey. Sig spends a moment casting Light onto his axe, illuminating the space in a cold white light. A search of the sand yields some discarded gear (two iron spikes, an empty wineskin, a tinderbox, and a pair of pants sized for an adult human) and there are 60 shields arrayed along the walls.
Jhee-Kharr makes a quick note in his journal of the message and the translation Leowin provided, then follows along the same passage, eyes peeled for anything that might be of interest/danger
Volo is highly regarded in historical circles in Waterdeep, his friendship with the transdimensional traveling archmage Elminster certainly helps with the veracity of his works
I’m guessing by your tone I don’t have much of a choice do I? Tell you what, keep my tankard full and there’ll be no fuss from me
Well this is a lucky day indeed! I must admit I've been trying to find my moment to strike up a conversation with you. Your treatise on the interplay between pitch and tone in the Celestial language and the resultant effect on the fabric of the weave was absolutely fascinating.
BUT I DIGRESS! Tell me more about this forgotten historical relic, you have piqued my interest.
“There’ll be plenty more dates to be had with a face like yours pretty boy” slapping Sig playfully on the back with his eyes fixated on Obaya before shaking his head to snap himself out of the stare.
Leaning to Sig nudging him with his elbow “A pocket pull of platinum never hurt anyone’s chances either eh ?”
Threestrings smiles and hands over a small pouch. It is stitched closed but feels like it contains three gemstones of some description.
Volo on the other hand regales Jhee-Khar with the tale of the fall of Illefarn, an elven kingdom of the North. An alabaster throne belonging to Syglaeth Audark, the last coronal of Illefarn, disappeared from the capital city of Aelinthaldaar, where the Mad Mage built his tower and today stands Waterdeep. It’s said that a group of dwarves feared the destruction of such a miraculous work of stonecraft and stole the throne right out from under the elves’ slender noses. Where the dwarves hid it for so long, who knows? But should you find it in Undermountain, it would please the elves of the North to know it survives.
Sigh laughs dryly. “You’re quite right my friend. A handful of platinum will hopefully make up for being a few days late. Names Sig by the way” he offers his meaty hand in greeting.
“Names Eoan , pleased you meet ya!” Taking Sigs Hand in both of his and shaking energetically before spinning on his heels and pointing at Volo, overhearing the story “ That is rare , to please one of those miserable sods. Had an ..acquaintance ... from the north . She never cracked a smile at anything. This place must be a real adventure if it’ll get em grinning!”
Volo laughs, a great guffawing sound raising from his belly. “Oh yes my friends it’ll put smiles on the faces of the iciest if wenches. Let me buy the next round so that you are sufficiently lubricated for your adventure below!”
A round of ale is presented to the five of you before you’re given time to collect your things. You stand on the lip of the well ready to descend into the dark below via the rope winch when the young noble Esvele Roznar stops you with a gesture. “My brother Kressando was last seen heading to Skullport, that was several weeks ago. No one has seen or heard from him since. Could you please let me know if you discover what happened to him?”
My boy, you assume we’ll make it back lol but sure, why not
“Oh thank you!”
She tells you her brother is Kressando, a 22-year-old man with fair skin and dark curly hair, trained in the arts of stealth and thievery. She also tells you that Kressando wears a platinum signet ring bearing the Rosznar family crest (a diving white falcon on a field of blue) and an inscription of the family motto (“Fly high and stoop swift”).
Was there anything in particular your brother was delving into the pit in search of? Anyone in Skullport you know that he would have tried to make contact with?
“I believe he was trying to make contact with the Xanathar Guild, against our families wishes, in Skullport. I do not know what kind of business it would have been but I doubt it would have been legal. Despite that he is my brother and I wouldn’t wish harm to befall him”
We shall do our best my dear. The reputation of this place precedes it as I'm sure you well know, but we shall try.
So, a treasure hunt and a rescue mission all in one. Is anyone else excited? My name is Jhee-Kharr. I will watch your backs, I only ask you do the same. We will have a better chance if we bring all our skills to bear together.
Pleasantries exchanged you take a firm hold of the top and are winched into the darkness.
The descent takes about a minute and you notice that if you really had to you could probably climb your way back out but it wouldn’t be quick or easy. At the bottom of the Yawning Portal entry well is a dark, 40-foot-square room, those of you with dark vision can make out the walls as a different shade of grey. Sig spends a moment casting Light onto his axe, illuminating the space in a cold white light.
A search of the sand yields some discarded gear (two iron spikes, an empty wineskin, a tinderbox, and a pair of pants sized for an adult human) and there are 60 shields arrayed along the walls.
Written in blood on the wall, concealed behind one of the shields, is the following message in Elvish:
Beyond the pillar forest, the Mad Mage waits.
Casting spells behind magic gates.
Leowin translates the sign for anyone who doesn't speak Elvish, before making towards the exit of the chamber at the south west corner.
"Shall we?"
Jhee-Kharr makes a quick note in his journal of the message and the translation Leowin provided, then follows along the same passage, eyes peeled for anything that might be of interest/danger
Perception - 19
Nothing to lose I guess, certain chance of death, count me in
Perception 15
Perception - 15