3 Tarsakh 1492, Waterdeep – Per my agreement with the proprietor, Durnan, any would-be adventurers who entered the taproom but seemed too inexperienced to brave the depths of Undermountain were invited to join my table, and by the time my set drew to a close, there were six such individuals seated around the table, waiting for the meal and drink I promised in exchange for their entertainment of my proposal. I bid my bandmates farewell—erstwhile, I should say, for I think I shall not need return to busking at the Yawning Portal again!—and then joined the motley crew before me.

3 Tarsakh 1492, Waterdeep – While I await the evening hours before my viol and I begin to ply our trade, my restless mind compels me to put my pen to use and describe one of the few adventures I have had in my nearly-thirty years. Only recently had I amiably parted ways from my aunt and mentor—Kara Graybrook, a bard of some renown in faraway Impiltur—and I had been traveling on my own for some months, meandering aimlessly while I sought my purpose. While visiting the northern city of Mirabar, I heard word that a dragon had recently claimed a mountaintop lair near Pinebrook, a village at the headwaters of the River Mirar.

3 Tarsakh 1492, Waterdeep – My name is Shadriel Silverwillow, a humble bard with a grand vision: to witness the exploits of a group of adventurers and record their deeds for the sake of history, for many similar stories are known only through third-hand accounts and rumors, and so rarely told by direct witness. To that end, many tendays ago, I returned to the place of my birth, the legendary shining jewel of the Sword Coast: Waterdeep, the city where many great heroes have found adventure and fame. Once inside the gates, I set my sights on a destination which embodies that daring spirit, the Yawning Portal Tavern.