You were sipping your beer in a shady bar in the Underdark. You’d needed to take a quick stop—traveling alone as you had been was proving to be maddeningly dangerous.

Gnolls, Zhentarim, the endless tunnels—it felt like you’d fought through the entire roster of the Underdark’s horrors, nearly losing yourself along the way.

The beer should’ve been calming, but it wasn’t doing the trick. Not with the insufferably loud bard prancing about the bar, his grating voice matching the far-too-colorful ensemble he wore. His red, black, and brown attire swished around as he spun tales and wove songs, each line somehow delivered closer to your table than the last.

Your patience was wearing thin. Exhaustion tugged at you, and your muscles ached. How could you be expected to continue traveling at this rate?

Just as you resolved to leave, your beer lifted from the table. Your gaze snapped upward to see the bard peering down at you, mischief glinting in his eyes. With all the dramatic flair of a seasoned performer, he took a theatrical sip from your mug. Then, with a not-so-graceful spin, he lost his balance.

The lute on his back clattered as he fell, landing with a grunt directly in your lap, his head knocking against the wall beside you. Despite the awkward landing, he didn’t seem remotely fazed.

With a boyish grin, he looked up at your annoyed face and quipped, “Well, aren’t you a sight? Where were you when I was composing my very best bad decisions?”