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It is a brisk day, as Winter makes way for the Spring and the warm sun peeks out from behind the clouds to warm your face. You and the others made plans to meet up at the Yawning Portal Inn & Tavern, so here you find yourself standing before the place, known to cater to adventuring types. You reach for the door, a carriage passing behind you on the street, and feel the wooden handle in your hand before giving a tug.
The sounds of raucous laughter and the smell of spilt ale come wafting through the door. Durnan, the barkeep and owner, nods a greeting as he looks your way then moves to fill a patron's drink. Bonnie, the barmaid, comes passing by, Find yourself a seat, anywhere ya'd like!
On the stage at the far end of the common room, sits a bard playing a lute with only three strings. He is of middling skill, but no one seems to care...
The most obvious thing of note is the gaping hole in the center of the room, with a winch of sorts that descends into darkness below...
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Bhoors smiles, "Home sweet home. Or closest I have been." He spreads his arms grin widening. Happy to be back in Waterdeep again. He pushes his way through the door and inhales deep. He nods returning the greetings and orders an ale. He makes his way over to the bard. "I see you’re a player. You want a break. I can see if I can pump the crowd for you or can you play a mid-temp Moonshea Jig in C."
Bhoors moves to the front of the stage. He spins the lute in his hand and raises it and winks a woman near the stage. He starts to play a gentle but lively jig and he turns nodding a few times giving a signal to Threestrings. They play a few times through the basic chord change and then Bhoors starts to embellish. He nods and turns back to the front of the stage. Every once in a while he slaps the body of the lute to mark the rhythm. He looks out over the gathered folk and smiles. He opens his mouth lets out the start to what seems to be a the makings of a rousing tune.
"There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill."
He thumps his lute to mark the end of the verse. He smiles hearing the connection he seems to have with Threestrings. I guess they boy can play.
"The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he runs his bow,
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle."
"The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes."
He again thumps his lute and both his singing and playing seem to shift with growing intensity. He dances a bit along with the music. He turns and nods to Threestrings and he plays the base progression and lets the other bard do some flourishing. He stumps his foot and thumps his lute and spins back to the audience.
"They also keep a hornéd cow
as proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green."
"And O! the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
And these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons."
His smile fades a little. He looks back at Threestrings who is playing amazingly well. Maybe I shouldn't have encouraged him. He moves past a table and grabs a pair spoons. Nodding to Threestrings to care the lute part for a bit. When he returns to the stage he puts his lute behind him stilling hanging from a strap and uses the spoons to set a bit of a rhythym the tinny click of the spoons when they hit his thigh and had add a touch of percussion to the mix. Tck tida litck dida litck. He sets the spoons on the table near a patron tapping his hands and pulls the lute back around and thumps it and starts to play again.
"The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced,
and the little dog chased his tail."
He glares but shakes his head grinning at the patrons awful attempt at playing the spoons. The song has continued to build and build growing in intensity and a raucous joy. He hops from the stage to a chair and onto the table of a group of patrons that seems to be really into the song.
"The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air."
"Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
"The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun'll be rising soon!""
He jumps with a heave stomp from the table and lands among some folk dancing and turns in step with them.
"So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
"It's after three!" he said."
"They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
and bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon."
He nods back to Threestrings and as he plays he adds a layer of flourish as he plays.
"Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor."
"With a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings broke!" He marked the ping and pang with a thump on his lute and the side of his head.
the cow jumped over the Moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon."
"The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
as the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her suprise
they all went back to bed."
The music continues and he and Threestrings trade licks a bit and finally end in a strumming rush and a percussive hop. He claps Threestrings on the shoulder leans in and thanks him. He turns with a grin and wave to those in the audience seemed into it. He points to Threestrings sharing the limelight. A light fade in his mood as if sharing the spotlight while classy he would have preferred to graciously thank a lesser bard not begrudgingly give it to a guy who just shred the lute with only 3 strings. "Cheers all." He moves over to where the barmaid set his drink and he takes a pull and looks for around for the inevitable signs of interesting characters.
Bhoors smirks at the gnome's question. "Never much thought of it. Its on the end of a cow. I just steer clear when it raises." He thinks a moment. "Seriously you don't what to be there you know when it drops. Its good to be back north. There are beasts in Chult that if you stood to close could burry a man."
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The performance ends with Threestrings breaking a string! He looks sheepish and grins at Bhoors as the crowd laughs jovially! He gets up, giving a mock bow to the crowd, and gestures toward Bhoors.
The crowd roars in response! For the rest of the night, various patrons are buying Bhoors drinks, and coming up to remark about his skill.
Quietly, Threestrings excuses himself, looking through his coin purse as if trying to calculate if he has enough to replace even the one string... (Bhoors knows that a typical lute has 15 strings. Threestrings seemed to use the lute like a mountain dulcimer, just winging it...)
Bhoors laughs easy and has a seeming perpetual smirk. He enjoys the company. He is a shameless flirt but the observant catch that while he is a natural flirt there is a dimming of his eyes during such moments.
While rubbing elbows and enjoying drinks one patron a human clearly in an over eager mid-life crisis buys Bhoors a drink but clearly wants several near by to know he is spending money. He flashes the coin in a showy way and treats Bonnie diminutively trying to force an air of importance. Bhoors shakes his hand firmly and laughs at the mans jokes. Even makes an attempt at playing wingman for the guy, though in a negative compliment sort of way that sounds nice but leaves a haning unflatering afterthought. In once such moment Bhoors relieves the man of some coins. As he moves on to socialize with others he claps the man on the shoulder still laughing at the last thing discussed he takes a few steps away and bumps another patron who in turn bumps the middle age mark. Hopefully he will remember getting bumped into rather than just suspecting me.
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Bhoors manages to get away with a meager sum off the drunkard, and is even able to slip the man's empty pouch back into the drunk's pocket later, distracted as he is.
Upon his offering to Threestrings, the quiet bard thanks Bhoors for a night that he will remember for a long, long time. Then his face grows serious, If you need anything, you ask. Okay?
Then he is gone into the streets, disappearing as a carriage passes between you...
Bonnie tosses a wink Bhoors' way, Aye, one Moonshae Stout comin' up! It'll take a lot more than the likes o' them ta grind me down!
"The real me? Here I thought I was an original. I am meeting some folk here as well. I doubt you will find any other blue haired half elves."
A tiefling woman sits with her legs up on one of the tables, totally relaxing as she whistles along with the tune of the song sung by the bards here. She takes a sip of her drink and happily gulps it down as the song finishes, giving a warm round of applause along with other patrons of the bar.
As she makes her way over, she plays with the hilt of the longsword that seems almost too big for a smaller woman like herself, but if one paid attention, they'd notice a slight blue glow to it as she rhythmically taps her fingers along it.
"Ah! You!" she exclaims, walking up to the half-elf and gnome. "I have to say, I've not seen such a wonderful performance since....um...well, I'm not sure when! Maybe that speaks to something? No idea!"
She's grinning, and pulls some of her hair that fell into her eyes back behind one of her horns. She then looks at Reuleaux with a confused look. "Ah! Are you his apprentice or something? I will say you definitely have the whole blue theme going on here!"
Bhoors aprentice, "Sounds like a responsibility. Not sure that's in the cards for me. I am glad you liked the music. I'm Bhoors this is Reuleaux."
”I, errr....great...?” the tiefling scratched her head at the gnome’s explanation, barely able to keep up. ”So, what I got from that is you’re into some kinda visual thingymajig...right?”
“I’m Damine! Nice to meet you! I’m a bit new to Waterdeep, but guess my name’s somewhat out there since this Volo guy asked for me to meet him here. Either of you know if he’s here? You seem like well-connected guys!”
Bhoors smirks. "Well connected enough." He chuckles, "I am here to meet Volo as well."
Bhoors shrugs funny and a small squirrel peaks out from his shirt his nose jittering. Bhoors grins, "This is Nibbles, he will be much happier with the rise in temperature with the coming of spring. He's from Chult." He pets the squirrel and his face turns somewhat whistful. "Met a lot of good friends there."
"Dinos can be scary. I was on a Dino racing team well one time. We won in fact." He smiles. "We had a dwarf on the team that crossed the line first."
A small, but energetic figure all but kicks the door open to the tavern. You hear what could have been considered a sweet, almost melodic voice were it not for the heavy accent that came with it.
Oi! Durnan! I'll have the regular as usual, but this time don't ye be tryin' ta' feed me that hogwash ye did las' time! I told ye already, I can tell the difference tween the proper mead and ale and the pig piss ye give ta' most yer customers.
At first, she may seem irritated, but one glance to the nigh 4 foot tall halfling woman you quickly notice a large grin on her face as she keeps walking. After that, most notice the large, worn, feathered hat on her head that seems a bit too big for her. She has several daggers strapped to her along her legs and one strapped to her left shoulder. At her waist sits an elegant and ornate rapier with what seems to be an inlay on the blade in a wave pattern.
Goo'day folks, hopin' ye all are gettin' what ye pay for haha!
Bhoors smirks and regards the halfling, "Too busy dodging what folk say I deserve are you saying someone might attempt to cheat me." He fanes clutching at pearls.
She shrugs with a smirk.
Wouldn't nary be the city I kno' wit'out someone tryin' ta get ahead O' others. But ye don't need ta' worry bout' the drink. Best in the city I'd wager, normally at least. She pauses a moment eyeing Bhoors carefully, a grin still on her face. After a moment she looks around.
Well, I say, ye got A lot O' new customers 'ere Durnan. she says as she walks towards a table before suddenly veering off to take a seat perhaps a little too close to Bhoors.
So, I ain't seen you round' 'ere before. An' I like ta think o' meself as quite the regular here. Tell me, what port ye sailed 'ere from? If'n ya don't mind the pryin' Of a lass like me?
she toss a glance towards Reuleaux before giving him a smirk and a wink. The colored feathers on her cap bouncing as she did.
Bhoors makes room for the halfling. "Most recent? Baulder's Gate. Happy to be back in Waterdeep. I'm Bhoors. This is Reuleaux and Damine. Your a sailor, how bout you what winds blew you in."
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Oh, little me? Well can't say to many o' the handsome tall folk care to ask that often, She gives a wink before continuing. Well I've lived 'ere just about me whole life. Went out plenty O' times on a ship, but, for some reason, I always found me way back 'ere. Though I usually managed to keep trouble from followin' me most times. Or so I like ta' think anyway. Guess what matter'd ta' me was always havin' the freedom to leave if I ever wanted to.
There is a slight pause as She seems to heavily struggle with settling her hat properly with her hand opposite Bhoors before finally seeming happy with its sit. And then she starts to twirl what is a very familiar looking lute to bhoors in her hand.
So, ye a musician then? Travelin' Minstrell or somethin' O' the sorts? Thought I'd heard some music on me way here. Ye're not half bad ifn' ya don't mind me saying. Or was it ye wee little friend there what played it?
she points the lute towards nibbles for a moment before holding it back out too you with a smug grin on her face, then adds.
I play a bit meself, not that good yet, not good enough ta' travel with it at least, but it helps me relax a bit from time ta time. Though it can be a bit of a hassle to lug about most places. Tis a rather large string instrament ye see. Not quite as... oh, whats the word, compact as a lute or the like. The bow is also hard to keep safe.
she starts suddenly, as if just remembering something, blushing slightly.
Ah, but we're me manners, haven't even introduced myself yet 'ave I? Names Amelia, Amelia Zera Rose, ye can use whichever name ye like, tho most call me Amelia, an' none call me Miss Rose.
Bhoors smirks and playfully enjoys the banter, though it seems forced. Like he is familiar with the dance but that it is uncomfortable to him. He leans back to answer "Musician, traveller, certainly, Dinosaur racer, I even smuggled drugs out of Mulmaster." He holds up a finger noting the importance the caveat he offered, "For charity." Certainly there is a story there but you are sure that casting it as altruism is a stretch.
He looks impressed when he sees his lute in the halfling's hands but a line or too of tension mark his face at being so well picked. So its like that little one.
"I picked that up in Chult. Strange place to find a northern instrament but pawn shops bring in all kinds. I play the Bodhran and the fiddle as well but that there seems to fit me best. Oh you play. Sounds like a Cello." He rakishly plants the halfling's hat on his own head revealing she is not the only one who can filtch. There is a set to his shoulders that says he is pleased with himself but he remains good natured.
He looks at the gnome with a puzzled look. "Ah okay. Well vultures and magic blasts have their place. Perhaps in the levels of the Yawning Portal below us." He nods to the great pit that marks the tavern,s name.
Amelia chuckles Ye should get a hat yerself, it fits well. And ye do seem far more accomplished in the musical arts than I. she starts to reach for it, then shrugs, content to get it back later.
She takes a large swig out of her drink. So what charity was it for eh? she lets out another chuckle before waving away the question.
I shan't pry that much. But a cello isn't a bad guess, might as well be for a halfling! Tis a violin. Though tis one not sized for my folk. I got it from an old friend.
She then turns to look at Reu. So ye've played before then eh? She asks with a grin.
She takes a large swig out of her drink. So what charity was it for eh? she lets out another chuckle before waving away the question.
"Well it was Mulmaster so you know it was absolute chaos. I mean there are gangs there who have turned cannibal." He lets that 'fact' of story sink in. "I was with a group of folks who were hired to keep a dwarf safe. Turns out the dwarf was not all that on the up and up. We were dodging several gangs and needed safe passage through an area and safe passage meant serving as a mule. We agreed with the understanding that some of the funds would go to feed orphans."
I shan't pry that much. But a cello isn't a bad guess, might as well be for a halfling! Tis a violin. Though tis one not sized for my folk. I got it from an old friend.
"Makes sense though I imagine you could get a violin made in your size."
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Before anyone can respond, over the sounds of gamblers yelling you all hear 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 would you like to do?
Amelia pops her cap off Bhoors head and gives him a wink.
Well, scuse me, but seems ta' me that work calls.
She quickly and rather deftly disappears into the crowd in the room. Making her way towards the center of the commotion. Along the way, she helps ease some of the spectators burderns, taking advantage of the distraction. She is just unable to really help herself. Besides, they won't miss a bit of their pocket change.
Once she manages to work her way unnoticed to the inner part of the ring, she stops to get a better view of whats going on.
Getting lost in the conversation between the other three with her, Damine's curiosity is suddenly piqued when the shouting starts and a fight starts going down.
"Well, this isn't good! Can't have the poor barkeep losing customers to a brawl like this! I'll talk with you lot in a bit, I'll go and help settle this!" she then winks at the others and takes off, pushing through the crowd of spectators to get into the middle of the fight.
"Hey! Stop this right now!" she yells at the man covered with tattoos and the half-orc woman.
Bhoors looks over the situation and tries to get a sense of what might have lead up to this. If he had seen them gambling together previously or if one or more was a recently arrival that stumbled onto an enemy. "Any clues what's up there?"
Bhoors asks around hoping to find a feel for what the other patrons or Three-strings thinks is happening.
Bhoors being so busy failed to catch on to what Damine was upto. He hears her calling out over the other sound. Brave girl. He moves closer to get a better handle on things.
It is at this time a sharply dressed man walked into the bar. Tall with slicked back, black hair and a well trimmed goatee. He brushes a bit of dust off of his lavish fur-line cloak and then scans the room. He seems unaffected by the large crowd on the far side of the Portal. Simply walking up to the bar "Pardon me señor, a glass of your finest wine por favor." His gloved hand reaching to trace the sides of goatee making sure that not one hair was out of place. He carries himself with an air of confidence that borders very closely on the verge of superiority.
Those worldly enough to know, recognize his dress and accent is that of Amn.
Either way, he does both for the love of life and not for any form of payment often asking young women for a kiss as recompense. He has an affluent family that allows him to not be concerned for coin. Or at least he did. Why is he in Waterdeep you may wonder.
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The barkeep is keeping an eye on the altercation while he reaches behind the bar for a wine bottle. Pulling a glass from under the bar, Durnan pulls the cork with his teeth, pours and slides it to Marquez. A silver, the man says gruffly.
if you like the idea of us knowing one another from your travels, you would possibly recognize Marquez from an exciting sport from Amn known as bull fighting. Combining a very masculine form of dancing with an arena match facing... well a bull. Or perhaps you know him to also be quite the talented minstrel, as you've met him at the fountain square where he would play for the public from time to time.
Either way, he does both for the love of life and not for any form of payment often asking young women for a kiss as recompense. He has an affluent family that allows him to not be concerned for coin. Or at least he did. Why is he in Waterdeep you may wonder.
Marquez cringes slightly at the bartender’s lack of couth. Knowing this could easily be paid for by showing his ring, he chooses to pay the man anyway, by placing a silver piece on the bar.
Taking my up his glass, he moves closer to the action to see what is going on. After a few short moments, he begins walking around the rest of the tavern, seeming to take his in the decor.
Bhoors keeps any eye on the fight and Damine unaware of Marquez's arrival.
”If this isn’t stopped right this moment, I’m afraid things might get a bit ugly! she taps the hilt of her sword, ready to pull it out if need be.
Damine looks absolutely furious that they’d start a brawl in a lovely place like this. A flicker in her eyes as she stares down the man with the tattoos.
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Yagra looks up, a hand still around the neck of the bald man, who is still flat on his back, clearly in a daze. His ruffian friends hesitate for a few seconds...
Bhoors looks at Damine rather incredulously. Wow just gonna jump in like that okay.
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Damine laughs, noticing that the men are getting a bit nervous. "Come on, just get out of here and no one gets hurt!" She then looks down at the guy flat on his back, "Er...at least not any MORE hurt."
While the tiefling seems confident that the men will leave and the fight will be done with, she's absolutely ready for them to start attacking her and will retaliate if necessary. Reminds me of the good days when they'd all think I'm weak. Ha. Bet they didn't expect the snot to be kicked out of 'em.