Amidst the eclectic gathering in this room, each patron with their own purpose, a chance meeting would give birth to an enthralling tale, and the one to unravel it was none other than the esteemed Durnan. The former adventurer had graced the manor with his presence, drawn in by the warmth of friendship that he and Old Nan shared, now proprietor of the famous Yawning Portal tavern in Waterdeep. But, Old Nan herself was nowhere to be found at the moment, and Durnan’s presence alone was enough to stir curiosity and anticipation among the guests.
With a knowing smile, he leaned back in a chair, acknowledging the familiar faces that greeted him. He had some business in the neighborhood, but whenever he found himself in the vicinity, he couldn’t resist paying a visit to his dear friend. Theirs was a friendship forged in the fires of countless shared stories and adventures, and Durnan was more than happy to regale the eager audience with a tale of his own, one that spoke of the yawning abyss beneath Waterdeep and the mysteries it held.
A fellow by the name of Thrain, a seasoned traveler himself, couldn’t contain his excitement.
“Durnan!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with admiration. “I’ve visited your tavern, the Yawning Portal, on several occasions. A fine establishment, I must say.”
Durnan nodded with a knowing smile.
“Aye, my establishment. It has seen its fair share of patrons over the years, seekers of adventure and treasure alike.
Durnan obliged, his voice taking on a storyteller’s cadence as he began to recount the tales of the Yawning Portal. As he spoke, the room seemed to come alive with the essence of it. Describing it as not just a tavern, he was presenting his place as one where adventurers, both novice and seasoned. The Yawning Portal offered a blend of excitement, danger, and companionship. Whether one seeks the thrill of facing the unknown, the chance to amass wealth and fame, or simply a warm meal and a tankard of ale, the Yawning Portal is the gateway to unforgettable experiences in the City of Waterdeep and beyond.
“But tell me, my friend, have you ventured beyond the well in my establishment, into the depths of the Undermountain?”
Located in the center of the taproom, the well was once the outer shell of Halaster’s mighty tower, which was demolished long ago. Its sheer walls are now made of mortared stones. They lead directly into the depths of the Undermountain, and through this portal adventurers descended into the unknown.
Next to this gaping orifice hangs a winch with a simple rope-and-pulley mechanism that Durnan uses to lower adventurers down the shaft and (sometimes) pull them up again. He controls the winch himself and will transport only one adventurer at a time. The trip takes 2 minutes, down and up. The rope is stained with old blood and long enough to reach all the way to the bottom of the 140-foot shaft. The walls of the well are crumbly but have abundant handholds and footholds. Durnan charges adventurers 1 gold piece each to descend the well, whether they opt to use the rope or not. The return trip costs a gold piece, as well, sent up a bucket in advance. He also readily accepts coin from patrons who want to place grisly bets on adventurers who dare explore Undermountain, and their odds of returning alive.
Thrain’s expression shifted from enthusiasm to a touch of hesitation.
“Well, no, not yet,” he admitted. “I’ve heard tales, of course, but the depths of the Undermountain can be treacherous, and I’ve always been more of a surface-dweller.”
Durnan leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with the spark of a storyteller ready to captivate an eager audience.
“Surface-dweller or not, my friend, you should know that the Undermountain holds secrets and perils beyond imagination. It’s a place where legends are born and adventurers find their destiny. Each level is a world unto itself, filled with its own challenges, treasures and mysteries. From the halls of the mad wizard Halaster Blackcloak to the depths of the ancient dwarven kingdom of Clan Melairkyn, the Undermountain is a realm of boundless adventure.”
Thrain listened with rapt attention, his imagination taking flight as Durnan’s words painted vivid images of perilous encounters, hidden relics, and ancient lore. It was as if he could hear the clatter of swords in the dark corridors, the echoes of laughter in the halls of long-forgotten kings, and the whispers of secrets buried deep within the earth.
Durnan continued, emphasizing the importance of preparation for those venturing into the Undermountain. He spoke of the need for skilled warriors, cunning rogues, wise spellcasters, and the unwavering resolve to face whatever horrors lay in wait. And, of course, he extolled the value of a trusted tavern like the Yawning Portal as a place to find like-minded personas and gather information before descending into the depths.
He described how patrons at the Yawning Portal could witness adventurers descending into the well, their fates uncertain. Some would return, bearing riches and tales of their conquests, while others would vanish into the depths, never to be seen again. It was a place where the brave and the foolhardy tested their mettle, and where legends were born. But it was certainly not for the faint of heart. Beneath its depths lurked creatures of darkness, ancient curses, and untold treasures waiting to be claimed. Its very name invoked both awe and trepidation among those who knew of its existence.
Bud suddenly his brow furrowed slightly as he glanced around the Common Room, his gaze searching for any sign of Old Nan. Again, not finding her in her usual spot, he turned to Thrain, his voice a mixture of concern and curiosity.
“Have you seen Old Nan today?” he inquired, his tone low but urgent.
Thrain shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his unease palpable.
“Not since this morning, when she was in the garden, tending to her herbs.”
Durnan nodded thoughtfully, a hint of worry crossing his weathered features. Thrain glanced around the Common Room, as if hoping to spot Old Nan among the guests.
“Should we go look for her? She’s not one to wander far.”
Durnan hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. His voice dropped to a low, almost conspiratorial tone.
“No need to worry just yet. Old Nan has her own way of doing things, and she’s capable of taking care of herself. You know, she has always been tied to this place in a way that few can understand. She’s seen it all, from the rise of great heroes to the fall of empires. But she too shares a connection that lies with the very heart of Waterdeep – the Undermountain.”
He leaned closer, as if sharing a well-guarded secret.
“There’s a part of her that still dwells within those depths, bound by a pact forged in her youth. You see, we ventured into the Undermountain together, seeking not just treasure but answers to ancient mysteries. We faced horrors beyond imagining – aberrations, malevolent spirits, and riddles that tested the limits of our intellect.
In the deepest chambers, we encountered something… otherworldly. An entity of great power and knowledge, older than time itself. It offered us a choice – stay and become part of it or return to the surface world with newfound wisdom.”
Thrain listened intently, his unease growing with every word. Durnan’s tale was unlike any he had heard before.
“Old Nan chose to return, but a part of her remained behind. I believe that sometimes, she hears it, the call of the Undermountain, and it grows too strong to resist. It tugs at her spirit, urging her to return to its depths. I must be a reminder of it. This isn’t the first occasion when she’s disappeared upon my arrival.”
Durnan nodded at Thrain, his gaze filled with understanding.
“Remember, lad, the world above and below holds its mysteries and wonders. Old Nan, she knows them well, perhaps better than any of us. There’s wisdom in her silence, and her absence may be but a fleeting journey of her own. Keep that in mind.”
With a final, reassuring pat on Thrain’s shoulder, Durnan made his way toward the manor’s exit.
“Until our paths cross again, my friend. And should you ever find yourself in need of stories or a drop of adventure, you know where to find me.”
As Durnan stepped out into the moonlit night, Thrain couldn’t help but feel a shiver of unease. The mystery of Old Nan’s connection to the Undermountain had deepened, and the manor itself seemed to hold more secrets than he had ever imagined. The cozy corner of the Common Room had become a place of wonder and trepidation, where tales of adventure and the unknown wove together with the enigmatic presence of their beloved hostess.
