Rising from the shores of its deep harbor to ring the great mountain standing tall out of the Sea of Swords is Waterdeep, the City of Splendors and the Crown of the North. To all of Faerun, this great metropolis stands as the pinnacle of what a great city might be, in wealth, influence, and stability. Here, the citizens work, the nobles sneer, and the great masked lords plot and scheme, all while merchants dance between them to collect their coins and continue profiting as best they can. Waterdeep's shops and merchants offer goods of every sort from every corner of Toril, and even the rarest of items can be procured, given sufficient coin and patience.

It's early spring in Waterdeep, and that means it's cold and damp. It's common for fog to settle at night and last through the day. The best place to beat the chill is in a tavern.

The Castle Ward of Waterdeep is the home of one of the world's most famous tavern and inn, the Yawning Portal. It is housed in 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-foot-diameter open well that descends 140 feet 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. The upper floors of the Yawning Portal contain comfortable nicely appointed rooms for guests.

You all sit around a sturdy wooden table lit by a brightly burning candle and littered with plates cleared of food and half-drained tankards. The sounds of gamblers yelling and drunken adventurers singing bawdy songs nearly drown out the off-key strumming of a young bard three tables over.

You each see a friendly face in tonight's crowd. Pick one of the NPCs from the appendix below as a friendly acquaintance and send me a private message informing me of your choice.

While none of you are familiar with each other, you're all eating together for a reason. You were each summoned to this tavern to hear a proposal from the legendary adventurer, Volothamp Geddarm, or as he's commonly known, Volo. While you wait for him, you get to know each other.

Everyone introduce themselves and let us know a little about yourself.

Ho there! 

I be Dewey Krotchboddum, of the renowned Krotchboddum clan.  I sail the world on a quest for a legendary weapon to combat the glowing eye, the laser light of doom that has cursed my people for time immemorial.  I have traveled here in search of the legendary weapon to eradicate the red light of doom.  That ******* light.  Every time I think I've captured it, suddenly it leaps onto a nearby wall.  I will ******* destroy that ******* light if its the last thing I do, as sworn on behalf of my Paladin oath to by my sacred sun god Tezca.         

I'm also like... a "cat."  (imagine proverbial air quotes but done with furry paws).

So while y'all are talking and introducing yo’selves I will be licking my furry balls while making strangely intense  eye-contact with one of you. 

"Call me... Randy." says a man in a voluminous patchwork robe. His voice is nearly flat and emotionless, but underneath there is an undertone of extreme nervousness.

Randy is the size of a tall human or average elf, and seems almost emaciated. Although his face is hidden by the darkness of his hood, faint lines of red can be seen shining through. His hands are very pale white with angry red veins covering them. The veins appear to glow and pulse. In his hands Randy manipulates a crystal orb. He seems detached, as though he were in shock.

Suddenly, Dewey erupts into a fit of coughing as he licks his nuts. His neck begins to swell and he spasms forward as if choking. Opening his mouth wide, his sharp white teeth gleam as his paws grip the side of the table. 

A matted wad of hair tumbles from Dewey’s mouth onto the table.  It is tinged with phlegm and smells of mildew and cat testicles. 

“Sorry. Hair ball.” Dewey says showing no shame or embarrassment, as he returns to licking his furry nuts. 

Suddenly, a large book slams down onto the table, followed by a large goliath.  Without pause, he speaks.

"Salutations and good morrow, wayfarers. I am Kevin.  Nothing is small about me: neither my size, my thirst for knowledge, nor my ability to druid! I seek to gather with a group of compatriots in my endless quest. Would ye entertain such a request?  Answer! Answer NOW!!"

Kevin slams his fist on the table. Then he turns to order a drink.

 A petite girl with honey colored curls and sharp eyes watches the goliath boast before moving to sit across from him. "Size, thirst, abilty-" she pauses momentarily, tilting her head, "all well and good, but how are you at shielding? I could use a new shield". 

“I hate to interrupt, your foreplay,” Dewey says and begins to absently pick his teeth with his claw, “Frankly I don’t care which of you wears the other, but I believe your book may have smashed my hairball. Not that I mind, but I would recommend you clean it before the leather is stained on your fancy tome.  As for adventure, no need to even request, for I could not refuse such a call to arms and still call my self an illustrious Krotchboddum.”

Randy's hood turns to face Kevin. "OK," Randy says in a flat tone.

"Alright. We have crotches and shields then and I've spells and an uncommon patience for fools. only one question, how much are we getting paid?" Sol asks, brow raised and all pretense of feminine flattery gone.

Dewey’s whiskers twitch in disdain at the mention of gold. 

“If it is riches that you seek then you should probe the deep hole, for legend has it fortune is to be had in its moist depths. But I!  I go down for Justice!” 

Randy plaintively moans, "I'll go down all you want, just please don't let them take me up again." He hugs himself and starts to gently rock. A faint sobbing can be heard from his cowl.

You all sit and talk, slightly straining to hear each other over the general din of the room. Then all the noise is eclipsed by a shout:

"Ya pig! Like killin ' me mates, does ya?"

Then a seven-foot-tall half-orc is hit by a wild, swinging punch from a male human whose shaved head is covered with eye-shaped tattoos. Four other humans stand behind him, ready to jump Into the fray. The half-orc cracks her knuckles, roars, and leaps at the tattooed figure - but before you can see if blood is drawn, a crowd of spectators clusters around the brawl.

What do you do?

Out of character: my personality trait is “a tavern brawl is a good way to get to know a city” so...

”5 to one is cowards odds!”  Dewey brandishing his claws. “So how’s a five gold piece bet, I can stomp more of these tattooed piss bags than you?”  

Randy looks in the direction of the raucous. "Oh," he says.

Sol sips at her drink, rising to find the barmaid, "what's all this about, you know?".

"This is quite the conundrum. If my new erstwhile companions do see fit to protect the human male, I see no reason to abstain."

Sol: You look around for your friend Bonnie, and give her a questioning look while pointing to the brawl. She nonchalantly shrugs her shoulders and goes back to cleaning the table she's standing over. Brawls like this must be somewhat commonplace.

Kevin and Randy: You two watch from your seats, waiting to see what the others will do.

Dewey: Without waiting for the rest of your newfound friends, you jump up, flash some gold, and heads towards the fight.

Everyone who wants in on this brawl roll initiative.

(Instructions On Using the In Forum Dice Roller)