Rivers of Silver to Coasts of Gold

Trekking along the rivers, the party passes by the occasional trading caravan and traveler, which are coming and going between Zigil-Dûm and Âhun-Kibil. Flat, narrow ships loaded with silver ingots, craftware, and similar can be seen passing down on one river, while horses pulling the same ships, filled with grain and meat, up the other. All in all, the trek is pretty uneventful and you arrive at the city gates of Âhun-Kibil by late afternoon.



The city is walled by a thick, sturdy gate, with soldiers manning battlements. Inside the gates, you see mostly military buildings: Barracks and holding cells flank the gate. In front of you, a maze of buildings spreads out. At the edge, a sign pops out of what seems to be a tavern or inn of sorts. The mountain air and the sea breeze come together to make a crisp, humid air. There's a certain silty smell all over the place. Merchant carts keep yelling to get out of their way as they keep pushing you around. You best not dally for too long.

As they enter the gate, Darann drops on his knees and kisses the ground.

Civilization at last!

He clamps on to the nearest person he sees and asks.

Dear man, could you point me to the closest Inn. If I have to sleep one more day on the ground I'll go mad!

Gunderson taps Darann on the shoulder, points towards the Silver Buckler right in front of them across the street, and starts walking towards the front door of said establishment.

Darann mumbles

Tyr be praised

and follows right behind Gunderson

The warm, dry air from the tavern's fireplace is in stark contrast with the chilly crispness from outside. The place is filled with people from all walks: from the richest of merchants to adventurers down on their luck, they're all here. Their indistinctive chatter drowns the lone bard's music out. Some dancing girls are entertaining guests. In another corner, patrons are gambling. Yet others have a massive feast in front of them, and all of them are under the watchful eye of the bartender. As you move further inside, you notice the floor sticks from all the spilled ale.

Erlanger makes his way to the bartender.

This is quite the festival, are we celebrating anything tonight?

After the bartender answers, Erlanger replies,

Well I’m celebrating the end of a cold, long journey. If you could see me up with a hot meal and a warm bed, I would be most grateful.

When he’s with his travel companions, Erlanger makes small talk about the mechanical animals they’ve seen and talking about the experiences they’ve shared so far.

Twelve stands just inside the doorway. If there is a 3Dragon game playing he will watch and check out the playing styles of the players, the price of the game and anything else he might need.

Rolled 6

Even though some things may seem like 3Dragon, they do appear often in other games as well. The players keep their cards close to themselves, and the ruckus of all the different conversations makes it impossible to hear what they're saying right now, so Twelve can't say for certain whether they are or are not playing 3Dragon. He can see that each player has a roughly equal pile of copper coins next to them, each pile roughly being 20 pieces.

After looking at one table after another, and without finding any sense in teh rules they are playing, Twelve watches his new comrades to see if they're going to sleep under a roof again.

Gunderson surveys the inn for a moment, taking in the cacophony of the jovial conversation, and particularly noting the poor bard in the corner with his little lute, that Gunderson isn't even able to hear over the commotion. Well, maybe these people can't hear that poor bard's lute. But they will sure hear Gunderson's bagpipes.

Gunderson slings the bagpipes over his shoulder and puts the mouthpiece to his lips. The bag begins to let out its familiar whine when it is inflated, but no one other than Gunderson likely notices.

Gunderson makes his way to the center of the inn, and squeezes the bag hard, emitting a sharp ear popping squeal from the bagpipes that lasts five whole seconds.

Surveying the room, and taking note that people have quieted down to look around at what is causing that terrible noise, Gunderson expertly turns the offensive squeal into the first note of a lively, well known song. The jeers and discomfort of the inn's occupants that Gunderson caused with his first long note quickly turn to smiles and joyousness, as the patrons sway and bang their mugs on their tables along with Gunderson's music.

Gunderson dances along with his own music, and, feeling the eyes of the inn's occupants on him now, jumps up onto a nearby table to continue his performance.

After about a minute of this, Gunderson jumps down from the table and begins making his way across the inn towards the other bard. As he makes his way across the room, he expertly transitions the song he is playing to a well known call-and-response piece. He plays the call, and allows the bard to pluck out the response on his lute. Before long, Gunderson has made his way up onto the stage with the bard, and they are playing seamlessly together, as if they had practiced this routine many times.

When the song finishes, Gunderson takes a bow in response to the applause of the patrons, and makes a show of clapping for, and pointing to, the other bard so that he can share in the applause of the patrons.

After soaking up the adoration for a little bit, Gunderson jumps back down from the little stage in the corner and makes his way to the bar.

While all this is happening, Darann is sitting at a table scrounging down on a pile of food, seemingly oblivious to what is happening around him.

"Well, I'll tell you what," Gunderson says. "My traveling companions and I were planning to spend the night here in Âhun-Kibil. But we have no room accommodations for the night. If you would provide the five of us with lodgings and food and drink, I would be happy to perform for you tonight in return.

What sort of a performance were you looking for? How long did you book this missing troupe to perform tonight? Four hours? Five? I do a lovely one-man show that I wrote all about my childhood. It clocks in at just under six hours. Oh, it's great! It's got music, and magic. You';ll laugh, you'll cry, you'll cry some more, and then four hours later it will still be going!"

Gunderson looks a bit crestfallen that the innkeeper is not interested in his full one man show. Gunderson reflects, for a moment, on the fact that no one yet has seemed interested in seeing him perform his one man show. Maybe he should cut the run time down a little bit?

No. Can't do that. Gunderson can't imagine what part he would cut. It's all brilliant.

"Aye," he says. "Alright. I will do a short set of just the bagpipes. You have yourself a deal."

Gunderson turns to find the others and let them know that he's procured room and board for the night, when something the bartender said suddenly registers to him.

"Wait, you say this group of girls is missing? Do they have a reputation for missing gigs like this?"

Erlanger shouts out from his seat,

They're probably still getting ready; just haven't picked out the right outfit. You know how broads are!

Having finished his food, Darann takes off his heavy metal boots. Looks like there'll be dancing to be done soon.

"Hm," Gunderson contemplated this information. "So, these are local girls, you say. And they seem to have gone missing? You say that nobody has seem these girls all day. How do you know they haven't been seen? Are there people you know who would normally have seen them today, but who haven't?"

Growing impatient, Darann shouts.

Enough with the chitchat Gunnie, get some tunes going! I'm in the mood for some dancing!

Twelve circles the room looking at reach of the games that are being played. He is shy and so has trouble finding a game he wants to play. He sits at a table of people quietly eating to eat his food. He spends most of the night there.

As Darann takes his boots off, the crowd around him clears immediately. Without seeing their faces, one would think they want him to have all the space he needs so he can dance to the fullest.

Twelve walks past a few gambling groups, closer than before. He sees some play 3 Dragon Ante, while others play Rabbit Racing. He gets dirty looks from various players. They generally don't seem to appreciate anyone walking right behind them while looking at their cards.

Bartender

"Whatcha mean, them being local? It's the first time they're here in Tazib. This morni... AGGGGHHUUAA" The bartender bursts out into another coughing fit. He covers his mouth with his rag. Green phlegm covers it, which he quickly rinses off. "mornin', they left saying they gonna find somewhere tranquil. They wanted to focus on their... thei... t... HHHHHHWWWW..." Coughing up another long, the bartender covers his taps with phlegm, which he quickly wipes off. "their performance or some such thing. I was assured they'd be back an hour ago by now. I asked guards to check, but none have seen them since noon."

Barkeep! That phlegm is pretty nasty stuff. You alright? Something I can get for ya?

Erlanger thinks about the bartender’s cold to determine a remedy.

Medicine check: 15