conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: lenpelletier: First post reserved for information
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: lenpelletier: Amid the bustle of Waterdeep, within the Castle Ward where barristers,  nobles, and emissaries battle with word and contract, stands an inn not  quite like any other: The Yawning Portal. The place is 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 - the entrance to Undermountain. A rope-and-pulley mechanism  is used to lower adventurers into the well and hoist them out. Balconies  on the tavern’s second and third floors overlook the well, with those  floors accessed by way of wooden stairs that rise up from the taproom.  Guests sitting at the tables on the balconies have an excellent view of  the well and the action below.
  
  And, it is on the second of these balconies where you find yourselves on this sweltering summer evening.
  
  You 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.
  
  What has brought you here tonight is the Battle of the Bards  competition. It wasn't easy, but you've secured a berth in the Sword  Coast's biggest music contest. Tonight is your first performance in the  contest, and the house is packed. Success means moving up the ranks,  failure means elimination.
  You see your competition a few tables over. One band hailing from  Skullport calls themselves "Beauty," and they are rumoured to play for  The Xanathar to soothe the temperamental beholder's cruel heart. Krentz  is their lead singer, who perhaps was once human. His bald pate is  covered in stylized eye tattoos, but he himself has no eyes.
  
  The other band, "Black Wyrm," is an up-and-coming band that seems to get  all the best gigs. They are all dressed in black, carry the finest  instruments, and have impeccable hair. Rumour has it that Zhentarim gold  has paved the way for their success. Yagra Stonefist, the band's  half-orc manager, looms behind them, an ice-cold stare directed at  Krentz's many eyes.
  
  Bonnie the serving maid comes by with a round of ale for the table and big smile for you all.
  
  "I wasn't supposed to tell you, but these are courtesy of Durnan. Liquid courage he called it!"
  
  If you glance over at Durnan, he is conspicuously busy with polishing pewter mugs behind the bar.
  
  "Good luck today!" She says cheerfully, giving Prince a wink on her way back into the busy bar.
  
  The camera in our scene now slowly pans around the table from one  character to another. What are each of your characters doing as you wait  for your turn to take the stage?
  
   PRINCE 
  
   
  
  Prince's mouth quirks into a playful moue and he blows Bonnie a kiss as  she leaves. Arrayed in brocade and silk even more flamboyant than his  usual, the bard dips a beringed finger into his glass of wine and draws a  wet fingertip across his lips.
  
  "What'll it be today, Mama?" Prince asks in a smoky drawl, turning  kohl-rimmed eyes towards Xelia. "Something soulful, like Diamonds &amp;  Pearls, maybe? Or fun and danceable, like Raspberry Beret?"
  
   ALASTRIONA 
  
   
  
  Alastriona watches Bonnie depart, studying the barmaid's movement  between the tables. She returns her attention the newly-delivered ale,  picks up the tankard, and immediately drains the contents. Her impassive  expression is only briefly interrupted by the loud eyes-wide BRAAP of a  burp before returning to her typical look of stoic reservation.
  
  In stark contrast to Prince's dazzling display of silk, Alastriona wears  a muted black leathers with bits of chain mail dangling from  underneath, and a full chain mail centre-split skirt falls past her  knees to end at the thick black boots with metal buckles. A long  diaphanous gray shawl covers her head like a cowl and drapes across her  shoulders, barely concealing the symbol of a skeletal hand holding a  pair of scales. Her skin pale and ashen, she nonetheless has health in  her robust body. Kohl lines her amethyst eyes and full lips, matching  her dark hair tied loosely in a bun.
  
  Despite matching nothing of Prince's flamboyant style, Alastriona has  always accompanied the group's music with her bass lyre, which she wears  strapped around her chest due to the larger size and weight. At  Prince's question, she looks towards Xelia for direction, relying on the  older one for guidance and mentorship.
  
   BUTLER 
  
   
  
  Butler raises his flagon in a salute in Durnans general direction before  downing his ale and going back to quietly strumming at his dulcimer.  ”Looking at this crowd something lively they can sing along would  probably do well, maybe steer clear of the more soulful stuff tonight”  he chips in to Princes question.
  
   XELIA 
  
   
  
  "My dear boys, let me finish my drink and we'll see just what's in store  for us." Xelia smiles and takes another languid sip, leaving the  tankards for everyone else as she studies the patrons and competition  over the lip of her wine goblet. Her bearing leaves no question as to  her place in Waterdhavian society. Her dress is simple but dignified,  customized to her exact specifications and in a blueish-grey color that  somehow amplifies the reddish tones in her fur. It is similar to one she  wore when she was a young girl, as depicted in a famous portrait that  hangs in her foyer. She smiles sadly for a moment, remembering the girl  she was, before marriage and duty became her only way of life. Is it too  late for her? Is it folly to follow her dreams now? No. It's never too  late. I'm alive, and I'm just in time.
  
  She idly takes the hand of the dark-haired girl, squeezing it before turning her attention back to the crowd.
  
   STITCHES 
  
   
  
  With deft movements of his beak, Stitches preened an errant blue feather  on his shoulder. The kenku stood barely more than 5 feet tall, and  seated he seemed downright small. He was dressed in his usual leathers,  his tools and trinkets stowed carefully in pockets and secret folds, far  from prying eyes or greedy fingers.
  
  He clapped his beak in  appreciation as he took the ale from Bonnie, then downed a few eager  gulps before letting loose with a bellowing belch, a perfect imitation  of Alastriona's own.
  
  His head cocked a bit to the side as the  others bantered, before Prince's voice drifted melodiously out of his  feathered throat. "Something soulful, like Diamonds &amp; Pearls,  maybe?" Stitches put his hands together and mimed leaning his head on  them like a pillow, then made the sound of a saw cutting a log.
  
  He followed it with a snatch of Butler's words. "Something lively they can sing along" and pounded the table for emphasis.