Into the Yawning Portal

A Letter from Chult

The lock clicks as the shopkeep withdraws his key from the modest storefront and strikes down the road toward The Castle Ward. Not five steps from the carver’s shop, loud footfalls and panting catch his ears. “Arthur!” he gasps. “Glad I caught you!”

A portly, balding man slows as he approaches. Arthur recognized him as Bran Bates, a contact of his at The Fine Carvers Guild. “The guild got a request. It’s not normally something we would handle, but I thought it might be lucrative if your latest venture and investments pay off.”

He hands off a wax-sealed letter, the seal already broken. It explained how an emissary from Chult is paying top dollar for any magic or arcane goods, trinkets, or armaments. Arthur quickly scanned the letter and pocketed it. The two exchange a few more pleasantries before Arthur is able to break away and continue on his walk.

The Taproom

The taproom door swung open aggressively and thudded against the wall as an odd trio entered: a halfling wearing a scowl and a sort of mechanic’s garb, a clockwork warforged with eyes wide with wonder, and a clockwork dog with a fishbowl as the head. The halfling heads off in search of a table, and on the way finds a shady individual who offers him odds on the success and failure of would-be adventurers.

The warforged sees a dazzlingly dressed individual on a short stage orating a fantastical history of Waterdeep and The Yawning Portal. “Red Ear, look! A historian!” exclaimed BUD33.

He looks down to his side, noticing the vacancy, before shrugging and moving quickly before the performer and sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Again the door opens as Arthur enters. Just as the door would close behind him, another enters quietly, following behind Arthur as he makes his way to the bar. As Arthur flags down the barman, his pursuer saddles up next to him and speaks first. “Two of your smaller tankards for us.”

The ghost of recognition passes over Arthur’s face. “Hi Arthur, not sure if you remember me. It’s been a while. It’s Reggo.”

Arthur was quick to recognize him, and the two of them talked of their past and what each of them had been up to in the years since. Reggo had fallen on hard times, and so had the people of Montez. He ventured to Waterdeep in search of some prosperity to aid him and his townspeople. Arthur had been able to carve out a small niche as a shopkeeper in Waterdeep. He had been preparing for some time now to delve into the well of The Yawning Portal in hopes of finding prosperity of his own.

As the two of them talked, the performer on the stage finished his presentation with a deep bow. “Now, if that wasn’t enough for you,” he winks at BUD33, who had been enraptured the whole story, “please feel free to purchase any of my published works!”

BUD33 was quick to his feet and purchased five books, now the proud owner of all of the “Volo’s Guide To…” encyclopedias. He tossed down a small pile of gold and snatched up the new volumes eagerly. As this transaction is taking place, Reggo takes a break in his conversation to make his way to the table as well. He moves around the outside of the room, avoiding both seller and customer. As the small pile of gold is moved to Volo’s side of the table, Reggo is quick to palm a few pieces as he brushes past the table before returning to the bar.

BUD33 runs to Red Ear to share all he’s learned so far, Red Ear hardly turning to acknowledge the onslaught of lore. As they chat, a large figure sitting nearby and watching them intently stands and begins to approach them. A goliath with grey skin and monk’s robes makes his way over. He began communicating with BUD33 and Red Ear by pulling out a small magical trinket that was able to produce a few short phrases. He soon began signing with his hands once the trinket was of no further use. BUD33 was quick to pick up his meaning and soon was able to communicate without issue. Karis Blackmist Cloudblood had seen them around the city in recent days and finally plucked up the courage to talk to them. He presented them a scrap of paper with a strange schematic on it, expressing he was hoping to learn the nature of what the mechanism could have been. To his dismay, the two of them did not know what it could be.

The Well

After a short while, Red Ear wandered over to the center well in the taproom, followed by BUD33 and Karis. The well opened wide in the center of the room with crumbling stone and mortar. The walls of the well are covered with old shields, hardly a blank space visible. Off to the side is a large wooden winch that dangles a small platform to ascend and descend. All three chat idly about what dwells in the depths and how it might be a good way to make some quick gold should they return with treasures from within.

Arthur and Reggo approach the opening and investigate as well. Reggo passively comments that he’s been spending some time here trying to make some money providing beneficial wards to those who descend. Earlier in the week, he had shared his skills with a brutal-looking group he had not seen ascend back up.

As the two groups moved around the edge of the well, they migrated closer together. Volo, spying five sturdy individuals all near the mouth of the well, pranced over. “Ahh! A daring group of chance adventurers going to brave the depths of Undermountain?”

The five of them exchanged looks, most confused but one elated. “Yes! Of course!” BUD33 said emphatically.

Volo quickly begins painting a vivid picture of an ancient elven empire, a beautiful throne, and a reward for information of its location. Somewhere deep in Undermountain, Volo warns, Duergar covet and guard the throne like an ancestral seat, though they have no true claim. The five exchange looks and come to a silent agreement, all nodding. As Volo was turning on his heel to leave, Arthur quickly spoke up. “You wouldn’t want to pay our way down in trade for our story when we return, would you?”

Volo’s eyes sparkled, and he ran to his table to grab the gold he had. He pranced over to the tavern keeper to pay their way. Shortly after bellying up to the bar, Volo and the barkeeper got in a loud discussion bordering on an argument. “What do you mean I am short 5 gold? I’ve just sold five of my books!”

Arthur was quick to inform Volo that his fare would not be necessary. Volo was a bit confused at what this could mean, but withdrew a few gold pieces. The barman made his way to the winch and began lowering each of the five down. At the same time, Arthur walked right over the edge of the well and began walking down the wall to the bottom, much to the horror and delight of the tavern patrons. Before he descended, Reggo found a bookie and was able to get 20

The Sandy Pit

The party came to rest on the sandy floor at the bottom of the well. With the noise of the tavern now far out of earshot, Reggo suggested proper introductions, and each shared their skills and specialties before turning to study their surroundings. Pacing the well’s outline, Karis found a peephole. Arthur cast light on a ball bearing and rolled it through; the glow revealed a short corridor that bent quickly out of sight to the right.

Inspecting the shields on the wall, Reggo found elvish writing in old dried blood: Beyond the pillar forest, the Mad Mage waits. Casting spells behind magic gates.

The bottom of the well now well investigated, the group proceeded through the only doorway. The single exit opened onto a wide hall. Every ten feet, a relief of a different demon had been carved into the stone. Halfway along lay the skeleton of a kenku, one hand raised and pointing faintly toward the carving of a nalfeshnee.

The Sloped Chamber

A closer look revealed a door there, behind a narrow passageway, widened by pick and chisel. It opened into a slanted room that sloped down from the entrance into waist-deep, murky water. A sahuagin statue stood at the bottom, one arm missing and its head twisted a full half-turn around. When the party set the head right, they found the slumped remains of a candle. A grey ooze dropped onto the statue with a wet slop, but they were quick to strike, dispatching it back into the dark water. Arthur spotted a gem set into the ceiling and pulled it free, loosing a torrent of stinking refuse over himself and Reggo. A few castings of thaumaturgy set them clean again.

Back in the hall of carvings, they soon found another demon whose eyes had been hollowed out, revealing a second hidden room: a small square chamber with a far door. At its center stood a wooden armor stand with an ornate sword driven through the chest, a skeletal hand resting at its base. BUD33 was suspicious, but his curiosity won out, and he cast identify on the blade. It carried a curse: it could not be dropped, and if pried from its wielder’s grasp, it would teleport instantly back into their hand. The party agreed the hand on the floor had belonged to its last owner. Reggo confirmed no one wished to claim it, then drew out a strange pouch and brought it to the hilt. The sword was pulled in, and vanished.

The Room of Bone Spires

The party pressed on north and then west down narrower corridors. The passage opened onto a large square room with two alcoves carved out of two walls. Bones and refuse scattered the floor, and five pillars of bone stretched up to the high ceilings. Floating high in each alcove was a Grell. The bloated brain-like body hung in the air, beak shut tight, its long barbed tentacles dangling low. The party was quick to act before the Grell, and with spell and blade were able to slay these creatures, Karis taking a brutal strike from the Grell’s beak.

Sure that some parts of this monster would be usable, they began to harvest what they thought they could sell. Arthur took the beaks, and Reggo went to show BUD33 how to harvest the paralytic from their tentacles. “It’s easy, really. All you need to do is squeeze the venom sac over a vial, but be sure to avoid… blast.”

BUD33 had extracted a vial of paralytic with delicate ease and went to show Reggo. When he grabbed his shoulder to show him the results, Reggo fell back limply. “Ahh, a demonstration of its effectiveness?”

It was only a minute or so later before Reggo was back to himself, but he endured it all the while in silence as the party tossed out light-hearted japes.

Regrouping, they realized they had reached a dead end, and turned to the question of where to go next.