Rivers of Silver to Coasts of Gold

Nobody ran off from here. Darann is in there looking around still.

Darann mutters to himself,

Hmmm, off by one errors, those can be super tricky

He then turns to Waldo and says

The one that's missing wouldn't happen to be called Felix would he?

Dwarvenbanger leaves the old man's room to gather the dwarven elf troupe and head back to the mainland with them.

Darann follows out of the room shortly thereafter. As Darann leaves the room, there is a noticeable explosion sound.

Darann does not break stride, simply moving to a barrel to sit down and put his face in his hands for a bit.

Seeing Darann, clearly unable to contend with the recent plot twists any longer and needing a quiet minute to himself, Gunderson carefully pokes his head around the corner to the old man's room to see what happened. If it seems safe, he enters carefully to examine the room.

Peeking into the bed chamber, the old man is still laying in his bed. Aside from the old man's muttering, the dwarf also hears a gravely sound. It's coming from a scorch mark roughly a grown man in diameter, on the ceiling above the old man. A twirl of smoke disappears from the man's shriveled, bony index finger.

Taking a careful look around the room, Gunderson notices several other spots with similar scorch marks, faded by what looks like wind whippings or frosted away. The walls, ceiling and even the floor are actually subtly irregular as a result of these. He also notices the old man's bed has a leather strap on either side, clearly meant for restraining. Aside from the beds, there's nothing else in the room. Now that he's taking a clear, deliberate look, he notices the beds aren't even wood, but stone, with nothing really serving as mattress. The whole place is clearly made to be not flammable.

"There is also an old decrepit man in the other room, there," Gunderson says to Waldo, pointing to the old man's room. "He seems like he is senile, and occasionally casts fireballs at some imagined target."

Were we not going somewhere?

Darann stands in between Twelve and Gunderson. He puts a hand on their shoulders and says.

Well chaps, I'm not really sure what it was that happened here today. But I'm pretty sure no one got hurt that didn't deserve to get hurt and we made some good coin. So that makes it an okay day for me.

He then suddenly looks a bit confused, like he just remembered something, and continues.

Whatever happened to that Erlanger guy with his funny little robot? I haven't seen him around for a bit.

Darann slaps the others on the shoulder.

Well, let's go check out the performance of those guys we saved. See if it was worth our time aye!

He heads out the door and towards the place where the dwarves are supposed to perform their act

Twelve follows Darann out the door.

Everyone gathers in the tavern. The whole place is packed! There's even a red-haired beardless dwarf lady there! This city truly has anything imaginable!

After ordering drinks and some food, the party sits down at the last seats available: A table that's half taken already. With a few swings of the mug and a few chunks of the tavern's hearty food between the teeth, you notice someone going around the tavern to snuff out every light. A moment after he finishes, a single spotlight goes on on stage. One of the rescued dwarves is there, dressed up as an elf. There's the typical elf clothes, a wig of long, flowing blonde hair, the ears are pointy to the ridiculous. He's standing next to what looks like a very thin tree, with a brown bark and branches with golden leaves at the top. The fake elf puts one hand on the tree and starts twirling around it. At one point, you're afraid the skinny tree would snap under the bulky weight of a dwarf, no matter how elf-like he's dressed, but it's surprisingly sturdy as the dwarf twirls upwards, wraps his legs around it and leans back.

Two more spotlights flash on, one on either side of the tree. In each one, a hoop made to resemble a crescent moon descends. In each hoop, another dwarf in over-the-top elf getup sits, one leg on the hoop, one dangling from the edge. They start swinging and twirling around as the moons descent, while the fake elf on the tree continues his routine on there. When they all arrive on the ground, the trio starts twerking against the tree. A few cardboard forest animals are rolled in by stage hands, which the dwarves start dry-humping.

The act keeps going on like this for a while, before the three twirl on the tree together, which amazingly enough is still capable of carrying the combined weight. From the tree, two of the trio summersault back onto the moon rings and do a few last twirls on it as they raise back up into the ceilings.

The room is dark once more for a moment before three spotlights light up the three dwarves, still in elf getup. With a flourish, they each put an arm in front of them as they bow deeply, then raise their hands and thank the audience.

The spotlights go off once more, and a moment later, someone's lighting all lights in the tavern once more. The audience erupts into applause! There's excited whistling, folks standing up to clap even louder, and hoots and howls. There's even a few bloomers flying through the air and landing on the stage!

It seems during the whole performance, the tavern didn't get any emptier. Every seat's still taken, and then some. Even the beardless dwarf lady is still there.

As the performance starts, Darann is immediately amused. As time goes on he starts laughing ever more loudly. By the time the performance reaches the part where they start dry-humping the animals Darann is basically slapping his thighs and wiping tears out of his eyes, as he mutters.

Oooh dear lord ... it's funny 'cause it's true

As the performance comes to an end he turns to Twelve and Gunderson and says.

Well, at least that whole trip to that island wasn't for nothing hey lads, if we hadn't saved them fellows we would have missed all this!

Darann then spots the beardless lady and continues.

Hey, look at miss smooth chin over there. What's her deal?

The female dwarf seems more interested in the patrons of the tavern than she does the show. In particular she seems to pay attention to anyone about to take their first sip of whatever beer, mead or ale they happen to have in their hands. Given this is a bar, everyone has a drink, so she only watches long enough for the first sip then moves her gaze to another person. However, she does not appear to be drinking anything herself as she occasionally exchanges words with the bartender.

Twelve looks at the beardless dwarf, trying to figure out why she's checking everyone out. In his experience, it means the dwarf is scoping the bar's patrons, see who has anything of value on them and how easy it would be to get it.

Gunderson shrugs in response to Darann. "You could go ask her what her deal is. If you're interested," he says with a wink.

Me? ... approach some beardless lass? I think not!

Lads, me finks that lass wivout the beard is scoping for a thieving. Watch her, I think she's trying to see who's pissed an' who ain't.

You don't say ... really?

Darann looks at the dwarven lass trying to interpret her intent. He tries to not let her notice he is staring at her.

Code:

insight 16, deception 19

Twelve looks left and right at his colleagues and stands, carefully.

Fine. I'll do it.

He walks towards the woman, holding his tankard and slightly swaying with each step. He tries to stay in her eyeline the whole time but also making his way to a point behind her (hopefully the bar). Once he gets to her, he sloshes beer onto her legs and makes a cry of dismay, turns to face her and then gets immediately into her face. "And what are you doin', pretty beardless one?"

The woman, clearly sober as a judge, steps aside to avoid the spilled drink, but clearly takes extreme offense by the spilling of said drink.

Peepin' ye waste braw dram, ye dafty. Na yin spent thair trachle making that sae ye cuid slosh it a' ower th' flair.  If ye ken whit's guid fur ye, you'd best lick ilka drap o' that brew up 'n' tell me howfur magic it's. Mibbie then ah will forgive ye fur sullying mah heavy.

Ye spilled mah drink. Ham not going to clean up any no beards messes.

Twelve pokes them in their shoulder.

Intimidate 20

The woman glares at Twelve, her eyes burning with rage that clearly show that she is doing her absolute best not to start a bar brawl; an attempt that is rapidly approaching a stop in fail town.

Ah did na sic thing, ye shitey nyaff! Ah will hae ye ken that ah brewed ilka bit o' dram in this loaby. Ah poured mah sweat 'n' tears intae ilk drap. 'n' if ye plan oan wasting a single drap o' it, ah will shatter yer wallies sae ill that a' ye'll nae dae anythin' BIT drink ever again! Noo hae some bloody respect fur whit ye'r swallyin 'n' Finish. Yer. Dram.

She points down at the puddle insistently.

Ye made this ale? Lassie, let me tell you, me an ma boys were just taking abut how this grog was the best fa’ washing the road dus’ arfa out throats. Why don’t you come and meet me boys.

Twelve turns and walks directly to the team.

The woman's eyes narrow for a moment, but soften slightly at the compliment.

She says,

"Ah suppose it cannae hurt tae hear foremaist haun whit folk think o' mah life's wirk."

She then follows Twelve guardedly.