Chapter Text
A Friend in Need
Kuhl looked around the Yawning Portal taproom for his companions. The place was massive, noisy, and crowded. Not a good combination for finding people. The noise of the place had washed over him from the moment he’d entered, accompanied by the smell of fried food and ale. Occupants of the crowded sturdy tables all strove to hear each other over the collective din, creating a cacophony of boisterous groups. Tankards clinked as drinks were filled at the bar and delivered with plates of food by the scurrying wait staff.
Because of the size of the tap room, the oversized bar of polished wood tucked in a corner of the far wall seemed small in comparison. Near the bar, in a fireplace designed to look like the head of a goblinoid creature, logs burned, setting its wide-open maw ablaze with a flickering orange glow.
But it was the well at the center of the floor, the namesake of the place, that drew the attention. A thick, waist high wall of mortared stones surrounded a gaping circular hole in the middle of the tap room. At a width of 40 feet, and reportedly having a dry and sandy bottom, it really wasn’t much of a well. But the low wall around it, and the hanging hoist rigged over it, made the term fit. At least descriptively.
A clatter sounded as a nearby barmaid dropped a thankfully empty platter. No one even looked up to give her an admonishing stare or even a look of sympathy. She glanced towards the dark haired, burly, mustached, proprietor behind the bar, then breathed a sigh discovering he was too busy to notice. It was so noisy, Kuhl wondered why the bard on the corner stage even bothered to play and sing. Yet play he did - on a battered lute with only three strings while sitting on a high stool, brown hair a tangled mop and purple cloak a puddle near his feet. The half-elf could hear none of his music over the noise of the crowd, but a few near the stage seemed to be listening and some coins glittered from where they’d been thrown on his cloak in appreciation.
“Do you think they are on one of the upper levels?” Aleina asked.
The aasimar craned her neck, searching the second and third floor balconies overlooking the well. Their friends, however, would have to be right next to a railing to spy them up there. He noticed a dark skinned woman in a headdress and robe of white standing with her hands on the railing on the second floor. She gazed down over the common room with watchful eyes and gave Kuhl and Aleina a thoughtful look, then looked away. He’d seen her before when they’d eaten breakfast here. She, like them, was a current guest of the Yawning Portal.
The half-elf had just resolved to climb the stairs to search the upper balconies more closely when Aleina touched his arm.
“There they are. On the other side of the well,” she said, pointing. “Near the fireplace.”
Kuhl caught a glimpse of Sky’s fur. Between the crowd and the low wall of the well, his group had been mostly obscured. Together he and the aasimar wove their way through the tables.
“Well, Kuhl,” the aasimar yelled in his ear. “We made it to Waterdeep.”
The half-elf nodded.
“How many times is she going to say that?” Dawnbringer, his sentient sword said in his head. “We’ve been in the city for over a day now. You even have rooms reserved on the third floor of this very establishment. And yet she keeps saying you finally made it to Waterdeep, like you just arrived.”
Kuhl smiled.
“I think she is still trying to convince herself she is actually here,” he thought back. “You have to understand, our caravan was on the way here when we were abducted to the Underdark. It was a bit of a detour.”
“Well, I for one am glad of that detour,” the sword mentally said. “Otherwise, I’d still be in that tomb.”
They made it to their table and the warmth of the nearby fire was welcome. It was not long after Green Grass and a bit of a chill still persisted in the evening. Normally the journey between the High Forest and Waterdeep would have taken much longer, but their traveling companions of Arclath and Amarune gave them access to a series of teleportation circles that shortened the journey considerably.
“Kuhl, Aleina,” Jhelnae called out when she caught sight of them.
The half-drow and Sky, their tabaxi cat-woman companion, waved them over — even though they were already on their way. Jhelnae scooted to make room and Aleina squeezed in between the half-drow and the halfling, Fargas. Kuhl took the empty spot between the orc, Ront, and the alchemist, Surash.
Kuhl followed the halfling’s gesture and spotted the dark‑haired couple deep in conversation with a man sporting an impressively waxed mustache beneath a floppy hat. Amarune had begun work on a series of almanacs chronicling the wild places of Faerûn, her research already carrying her into the High Forest where she had first met the companions. More journeys lay ahead — through swamps, mountains, and grasslands, with plans for Chult’s jungles, the northern glaciers, and even the Underdark. Arclath, her nobly born lover, followed faithfully wherever her exploratory research led.
“So,” Jhelnae said, glancing at Aleina after Kuhl and the aasimar had settled onto their seats. “How did it go? Did you get the treasure transferred to your family?”
“I did,” Aleina said with a nod. “And my uncle thanked you, Kuhl — and you too, Sky — for contributing your shares. Thank you so much.”
The tabaxi’s ears flicked at her name, pulling her from staring at the gaping well at the center of the taproom.
“What?” Sky asked.
“I said my Uncle Norold thanks you,” Aleina repeated, raising her voice over the din of the common room.
“Oh.” Sky shrugged, tail lashing once, before her attention drifted back to the pit.
Bored with talk of the small fortune she had willingly given away, the tabaxi went back to studying the well.
“So, you finally got your family the money they need,” Jhelnae said. “Why do you seem more tense than relieved?”
“Because she is poor now,” Fargas said, raising his tankard. “All of you are. But not us.”
He clinked mugs with Ront and Surash, and the three drank together.
Kuhl's brow furrowed as his gaze darted to Surash. The orc and the halfling still had their shares from the Underdark — both had chosen not to give theirs to Aleina’s family. But the alchemist? He had joined them later — after the Underdark, after the hoard in Sloobludop, after the tomb of Brysis of Khaem, after the gems from Blingdenstone.
Fargas noticed his look.
“Surash has received a sudden influx of coin from the investments of his partners,” the halfling said. “You all are looking at the owners of a new venture. Surash’s Enchanted Enhancement.”
“I’ve spent most of that coin buying the needed ingredients for our potion,” Surash said. “So not really awash in coin.”
“But,” Fargas chimed in with a grin. “We’re going to make a fortune selling that potion. So, awash in coin you soon shall be.”
“Surash’s Enchanted Enhancement?” Aleina ventured, brow furrowing. “Wait—your male potency potion? You actually perfected it?”
“The Potency Potion,” the halfling mused, rolling the words on his tongue. “Trickster’s Toes, that’s not a bad name either. We should keep it in mind.”
“I did,” the sallow‑skinned young alchemist replied, turning to Aleina. “The secret ingredient turned out to be the dried bigwig mushroom Sky brought from the Underdark. Its magic fades soon after harvesting, but a trace of potency lingers. Combined with the proper alchemical reagents…”
He trailed off with a meaningful look.
Fargas sighed and shook his head.
“The secret to your formula won’t stay secret long if you keep blurting it out,” he said. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“So the key ingredient for your fortune‑making potion,” Kuhl said, “Lies beneath Gracklstugh? In the Underdark?”
“We’ll hire adventurers,” Fargas replied with a dismissive wave. “I see four, short on coin, sitting right at this table.”
Ront snorted at that, clinking tankards with the halfling.
“Whatever,” Jhelnae said. “You’d miss us too much if we went back to the Underdark. Just like last time.”
She gave Ront a pointed look.
“I didn’t miss you,” the orc muttered. “I was bored. Not the same thing.”
“Sure,” Jhelnae countered. “Bored because you missed us.”
Ront gave another derisive snort and drank, though Kuhl suspected there was truth in her words. From what little he’d pried out of the orc, Ront hadn’t slipped easily back into clan life and had soon sought the companions again.
“And only a minuscule portion of the mushroom is required,” Surash went on, still in his scholarly tone. “With the sample Sky gathered, we can brew a hundred doses. Enough for my partners and me to turn a tidy profit.”
“So shouldn’t Sky get a share?” Aleina asked. “She did provide the ingredient, after all.”
“Why?” Fargas cut in. “So she can hand it to you, and you can funnel it to your family? I don’t think so.”
“Fine, whatever,” the aasimar muttered.
Meanwhile, the tabaxi in question seemed oblivious to the debate, her gaze fixed on the gaping well at the center of the room.
“But we’ve strayed off subject,” Jhelnae said, turning back to Aleina. “As Fargas reminds me, you got the money to your family. But you don’t look happy about it.”
Aleina let out a weary sigh.
“When you transfer the money, you get a free sending spell with it,” she said. “My uncle was overjoyed… but he also reminded me it takes a lot of coin to keep a patriar family afloat in Baldur’s Gate.”
Jhelnae blinked.
“You mean to tell me that after everything you went through to send him that money,” she said. “He made you feel guilty? And pushed you to send more?”
“Let’s just change the subject,” Aleina said quickly. “How did the conversation with your parents go?”
“Next topic,” Jhelnae said flatly.
“What?” Aleina brow creasing in surprise. “Why? What happened?”
Now it was the half-drow’s turn to sigh.
“It started out well enough,” she said. “They were very happy to hear from me. Even if it was by sending spell. But soon enough my mother and I got into it.”
“You are in Waterdeep?” Jhelnae changed her voice to the shriller, higher pitched tone she always used when quoting her mother. “Good! You can help the priestesses there re-found the Promenade of the Dark Maiden.”
She changed her voice back to normal.
“I kept paying for more sending spells, trying to get in the last word.”
“But…” Fargas said. “In a sending, the recipient always gets a reply. So, you never would be able to get the last word.”
“I know that,” Jhelnae said with another sigh, a deep one. “Now.”
“But you let them know you were alive and safe,” Aleina offered in comfort. “So, that is good.”
“Alive,” the half-drow sighed. “Safe. And free to do whatever I want. As long as whatever I want is to devote my life in service to Eilistraee.”
The talk of family and mothers made Kuhl reflect on his recent meeting with his estranged mother in the Feywild—and the aunt who had raised him in Evereska. When he could afford it, he resolved to send each of them a message via sending spell. But could such a spell reach across planes, all the way to the Feywild?
“The solution to all these problems is right in front of us,” Sky said, presenting the well at the center of the common room with a gesture. “Aleina needs more treasure for her family and Jhelnae’s mom wants her to help with some temple thing called the Promenade. Which, according to what she told me earlier, is somewhere under the city. If we get ourselves lowered into Undermountain, we can do both!”
“No!”
Heads shook in unison, Kuhl’s own joining the chorus. Jhelnae voiced the common sentiment.
“By all that dances!” she exclaimed. “For the last time, Sky, we didn’t work so hard to escape the Underdark only to dive straight into a place called Undermountain.”
“It’s also known as the Dungeon of the Mad Mage,” the tabaxi said. “Who knows what clever traps he’s set, what monstrous denizens he’s gathered, or what terrible curses he’s laid.”
“Okay,” Aleina said, shaking her head. “Absolutely none of that sounds remotely enticing. If we get desperate for money, I’ll work as a barmaid here first. Selune’s Tears — they could definitely use the help. Seriously, what does it even take to order a drink around here?”
“If you’re looking to make coin quickly,” Arclath said as he approached, wearing a self‑assured smirk. “You might try Masked Dancing. I hear the tips are — ow!”
An elbow from Amarune cut him off.
“Everyone squeeze closer,” Jhelnae said. “We can make room for two more.”
But Amarune was already shaking her head.
“No need,” she said with a smile touched by regret. “I’ve met with Volo, so now it’s off to the palace for a few days with my aunt Laeral. She’d never forgive me if I came to Waterdeep and left without visiting.”
“Then to Chult by boat,” Arclath added dryly. “Because who wouldn’t want to write about seasickness, sweating through our clothes, and getting drained by giant mosquitoes — assuming we’re not eaten by a ravenous dinosaur first.”
“Isn’t he a rare gem of a catch?” Amarune asked, raising a brow but with a half‑smile. “Can I leave him with you lot? Or better yet, why don’t you all come along? Then his endless complaints can be spread among more ears than just mine.”
“Nope,” Sky said. “Born and raised in a jungle. No need to slog through another one. But if you ever want to write about the secrets of Undermountain…”
Amarune glanced around the table.
“Haven’t I already had this conversation?” she asked.
“We all have,” Jhelnae said. “Sky doesn’t know the meaning of the word no.”
“Speak not of me leaving your side,” Arclath said with a theatrical hand over his heart. “For as charming as these companions are, not even three of them could make up for the absence of my Amarune.”
“Well, that’s not insulting,” Jhelnae muttered, rolling her eyes.
“But very sweetly said,” Aleina added with a smile. “Some at this table could learn a thing or two from Lord Delcastle.”
Kuhl opened his mouth to protest that neither he nor any of his male companions were romantically linked to the women of their group, and thus ought to be exempt from thinking up sweet words. Then he thought better of it and shut his mouth.
“Wise choice,” the noble said, giving the half-elf a conspiratorial wink, seeming to read his thoughts.
If any warning went off in the halfling’s head, however, he ignored it.
“Of course he says sweet things to her,” Fargas said. “She is sleeping with him. And by that I don’t mean using him for a convenient pillow the way you do when you say it, Aleina.”
“Just because you’re not having sex with them,” the aasimar said. “Doesn’t mean you can’t pay an occasional compliment to your companions.”
“Oh yeah,” the halfling said. “When was the last time you paid me a compliment?”
“Or me?” Ront rumbled.
Aleina’s brow furrowed in thought for a time, then she threw up her hands.
“Oh, I’m sure I have at some point,” she said.
“That’s what I thought,” Fargas said.
“Regardless,” Arclath said. “The lady is right. You should be giving your fair companions some sweet words. Courtliness demands it. But as this is our leave taking, do you have my order ready?”
“Of course,” the halfling said, holding up three fingers towards Surash. “Three vials. Make sure you tell your noble friends all about it.”
“Oh, I will,” the noble said, receiving the vials from the alchemist. “Provided it does everything you promise.”
“It will,” Fargas said, he looked at Amarune. “And feel free to mention it in your almanac.”
“You want me to write about your potion in my almanac?” the dark eyed woman said. “An almanac about the wild places of Faerun.”
“You can subtly insert it,” the halfling said. “In the little text asides that add flavor. Like, for example, ‘I awoke very satisfied in the steamy jungles of Chult - made more steamy and more satisfying last night by my companion, Lord Delcastle, imbibing a dose of Surash’s Potion of Potency’, something like that.”
“Yeah,” Jhelnae said, shaking her head. “So subtle.”
‘With that,” Amarune said. “I think we’ll be going.”
“And who can blame you?” Aleina said. She rose to give Amarune a hug, then embraced Arclath as well. The others followed suit—even Ront.
“Take care of each other,” Arclath said with a final wave. “Not that you need reminding.”
The couple headed for the stairs to fetch their things. Their farewells drew enough notice that their red‑haired server, Bonnie, smiled as she introduced herself, then took orders for a round of Shadowdark ale and some fried quippers with chips.
“So, Ront,” Jhelnae said once Bonnie had gone. “What in the Nine Hells was that about?”
“What was what about?” the orc asked, brows knitting.
“We escaped the Underdark together. Fought side by side. Yet when it came to goodbyes, I practically had to wrench a hug out of you. But Arclath and Amarune? You just jump up and give one?”
“Good point,” Aleina added.
“The way I remember it,” Ront said with a huff. “You hadn’t bathed in over a ten‑day at the time. And he’s a paying customer. Fargas says feigned friendship keeps clients happy. He did pay, right?”
This last was directed at the halfling.
“He did,” Fargas said with a grin. “But I just got an idea. What we really need are female testimonials. So — what do you say, ladies? Free vial, in exchange for feedback after a future partner tries it.”
“Eww, no,” Aleina said, nose wrinkling. “Gross, Fargas. Just gross.”
But Jhelnae gave him a speculative look. “Does it really work?”
“Satisfaction guaranteed,” Surash said promptly.
“Don’t encourage them, Jhelnae,” Aleina warned.
“Guaranteed how?” the half‑drow pressed.
Surash hesitated.
“Guaranteed by…,” he started. “Well, by our promise to give you another vial to try again, I suppose.”
Jhelnae sighed.
“A promise to try again and do better?” she said with a slight shake of her head. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. No thanks.”
Both Fargas and Surash slumped, looking as if she’d rejected them instead of their potion.
“Sorry for the interruption,” a gruff voice rumbled. “But is this handsome hunk spoken for, or can I buy him a drink at the bar?”
Kuhl turned to find a towering half‑orc looming over their table — nearly seven feet tall, skin a dusky gray, wavy dark hair in disarray, long ears poking through, and tusks just peeking over her lip.
Jhelnae and Aleina shared a mischievous smirk.
“He’s not spoken for,” Aleina said sweetly. “So you’re free to ask. Well, Kuhl? She wants a drink — and if you’re a gentleman, you’ll pay.”
“I…” Kuhl began, caught between acceptance and refusal.
But the puzzled look that crossed the half‑orc’s face stopped him cold.
“Ah… well, I’m sure you’re quite pretty to someone,” she said, giving him a patronizing pat on the head. “But you’re not my type. The offer was for him.”
She pointed at Ront.
The orc grinned wide, tusks gleaming. “I don’t know… looks like you’ve got a lot of human in you. Think you can handle a bit of rough and tumble?”
“Look who’s talking, tiny.” The half‑orc’s glare was playful, her eyes bright with challenge. “Name’s Yagra Stonefist. And I’m more orc than you can handle.”
“Good enough for me,” Ront said, rising.
He only reached her chin, but neither seemed bothered as they strode to the bar.
Fargas rubbed his hands together.
“Perfect,” he said. “Who needs the endorsements of a waif‑thin aasimar and drow when we can get her to vouch for our product?”
“Pretty sure we were just insulted,” Jhelnae said, looking at Aleina.
“I’m more worried about poor Kuhl,” the aasimar said, her laugh showing she was not worried in the least. “I’m not sure whether to feel sorry for him or relieved. Is Ront even going to survive his date? But don’t worry. Some of those who still find you ‘quite pretty’ might be sitting at this table.”
“Might be?” the half-elf said, smiling and shaking his head. “You really know how to build someone’s ego back up, don’t you?”
“Why didn’t she want a drink with you?” Dawnbringer questioned in his mind. “You’re ruggedly built — stronger than Ront even, handsome too.”
“You heard her,” Kuhl inwardly shrugged. “Not her type.”
“I really liked her,” his sword insisted.
“Really liked her?” Kuhl thought, then understood. “This is about your wanting children for future potential bearers, isn't it?”
“Did you see the size of her?” the sword sent back. “Well built, formidable. She’ll be the mother of many great warriors.”
“Look!” Sky said as cheers erupted all around the taproom and from the balconies above. “Someone’s about to go down.”
Kuhl caught a glimpse of figures loading onto the platform at the well’s hoist before the crowd surged to its feet and blocked the view. He leapt up too and could see again.
“What’s happening?” Fargas asked.
“Stand on the bench,” Jhelnae said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kuhl saw Jhelnae, Aleina, and Surash already perched on the benches. Sky, long‑limbed and tall, had risen on tiptoe and saw just fine.
“I am on the bench,” the halfling grumbled.
“Sky’s right,” Kuhl said for his benefit. “An adventuring party, about to descend into Undermountain. There’s a big armored warrior with a greatsword, a dwarf with a fiery beard, a robed half‑elf—looks like a wizard—a cleric, another caster, and… a blue‑skinned woman with tattoos.” He hesitated. “Not in robes. Or armor.”
“By not in robes or armor,” Aleina said. “He means practically wearing nothing at all.”
“If she were a male, I’d say she was compensating,” Jhelnae added. “Look at the size of that sword on her back.”
It was massive — easily as big as her companion’s blade — though she herself was no larger than Jhelnae or Aleina.
“Wearing almost nothing?” Fargas said. “Boost me up, Kuhl. You know what, forget it.”
He hopped down and scurried forward through the crowd.
Wagers were flying, coins and handshakes exchanged. Kuhl’s mind went to poor Jimjar—lost soon after their escape from Velkynvelve. The little deep gnome would have thought he’d died and gone to a heavenly plane with the calling odds and frenzy of betting.
Then a song began — one voice at first, then more joining in as others recognized it:
Down, down, down the well!
Strap on tight and sharpen blade!
Down, down, down the well!
Oh strapping lad or venturer maid!
Down, down, down the well!
And back again, once Durnan’s paid!
The platform swung out over the gaping maw of the well. With a clatter of winches, the party was lowered into the depths. Conversation fell away, song fading into silence. No one spoke again until the platform rattled back up — empty.
“That should have been us,” Sky said, slumping back onto the bench.
While they’d been watching the descent, their food and ale had arrived. She snatched up a fried quipper and bit into it, chewing as though it were to blame.
“No, it shouldn’t,” Jhelnae said. “There’s plenty to do in Waterdeep that doesn’t involve crawling underground.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Fargas said, reclaiming his fresh tankard as he sat.
“You’ll drink to anything,” Jhelnae shot back.
She lifted her own Shadowdark Ale, then set it aside again, distracted as a figure approached. He stroked his mustache, straightened his floppy hat, tightened his scarf, and presented himself with a flourish.
“Volothamp Geddarm — chronicler, wizard, raconteur, and celebrity — at your service,” he declared. “An honor to make your acquaintance.”
He looked well into his cups, ruddy‑faced with a glassy gaze and a swaying stance.
“You’re Amarune’s editor, right?” Kuhl asked, recalling the couple at his table earlier.
“Editor?” Volo scoffed. “Ghostwriter, more like. The poor girl has no feel for prose. I must rewrite every word. Still, I agreed to shepherd her little almanacs into print — as a favor to her grandsire. By which I mean he promised not to polymorph me into a toad if I did.”
On their journey from the High Forest, Kuhl had paged through Amarune’s notes. Her writing had seemed perfectly fine to him — but he wisely chose not to press the point.
“Who is her grand sire?” Sky asked.
“Elminster Aumar,” he said.
“The wizard in all those stories?” the tabaxi asked.
If there was one thing that could take Sky’s mind off of going into Undermountain, it was a new distraction. Learning their friend was related to a legendary spell caster seemed to do the trick.
“The very same,” Volothamp said.
The tabaxi patted the empty spot Ront had vacated, and the self-proclaimed celebrity sat.
“I know who you are,” Aleina said. “My family has several volumes of your guidebooks in our library. But they are a bit out of date. Like over a hundred years out of date. So shouldn’t you be a lot older?”
That was putting it mildly. By human reckoning, the man should have been long dead.
“It’s a long and complicated story,” the mustached man said. “Involving an imprisonment spell.”
“I’m guessing you got magically imprisoned over a hundred years ago,” Surash said. “And only recently freed?”
“I suppose that is a short and simple rendition of the relevant facts,” Volothamp said, nodding.
He’d brought his own tankard with him and took a drink.
“Arclath and Amarune said you were adventurers,” the mustached man said. “And they vouched for your good character. As I sat there drinking, I got the idea you might be interested, newly arrived as you are, in being hired for some freelance work.”
“Such as?” Jhelnae asked, not able to keep the suspicion out of her voice.
“The violence in our fair city these past ten days, has been terrible,” Volothamp said. “I haven’t seen so much blood since my last visit to Baldur’s Gate! But now I fear I have misplaced a friend amid this odious malevolence.”
Kuhl relaxed slightly. He had thought the offer was going to be as hired muscle. But the conversation didn’t seem to be going that route.
“My friend’s name is Floon Blagmaar,” the mustached man continued. “He’s got more beauty than brains, and I worry he took a bad way home a couple nights ago and was kidnapped - or worse. If you agree to track him down with all due haste, I can offer you ten dragons apiece now, and I can give you each ten times that when you find Floon. May I prevail upon you in my hour of need?”
“You’ll give us ten gold each for just promising to look for your friend?” Aleina asked, an eyebrow arching. “And a hundred gold each if we find him?”
“Yes,” Volothamp said.
“That’s a good deal,” Fargas said. “Very tempting. But my alchemist friend and I are setting up a business where we can make far more. We shouldn’t get distracted.”
The halfling gestured to Surash, who nodded solemnly.
Aleina, Jhelnae, and Kuhl shared a look. In truth they needed the coin, especially if they were going to stay in Waterdeep for any length of time. But this felt like taking advantage of a drunk braggart.
“We’ll do it,” Sky said suddenly, tail lashing, golden eyes sharp.
Knowing the tabaxi as he did, Kuhl knew her acceptance had nothing to do with the gold and everything to do about learning the truth behind a mystery. In her mind, Sky was already on the hunt.
“Excellent,” the man wearing the floppy hat said.
He stood and started counting out coins for Kuhl, Aleina, Jhelnae, and Sky.
“I last saw him two nights ago while we had drinks at Skewered Dragon in the Dock Ward,” he said. “I suggest you start there.”
Note song from: https://oakthorne.net/wiki/index.php/Yawning_Portal