Adv Log Session 41: Gathering Info in Dwarfchat

General Summary

Velisday, Leafturn 34, afternoon


Eykit


Eykit finished his drink, then went to room 68 to check it out. It was on the third floor, which was the top floor, at the end of the hall, almost the farthest room from the stairway.


Opening the door, he surveyed the room from the hallway. It wasn’t large, slightly large enough for the double bed. A chamber pot sat in one corner; a convenience considering that it was something of a long hike down the hall, three flights of stairs, and out the back door to the row of privies. And then back again. If his bladder woke him up, at least he didn’t have to go on an extended excursion just to relieve himself.


A small, narrow window sat high on the wall above the bed, furnishing the room with a bit of light from the afternoon sky. A small side table at the head of the bed had an oil lamp sitting on it, currently unlit, and a pair of chests sat side by side at the foot of the bed for any gear the guests might have.


Eykit didn’t have much gear; he was traveling light. He walked into the room, checked the bed for vermin, found none, and gave the room a last quick examination. He found nothing alarming or surprising, and he nodded to himself and locked the door upon leaving. He still had some time before nightfall, and he had some things to do.




He came back down into the main dining hall, and it was just as noisy and busy as when he’d left. He threaded his way through all of the people, most of which were much taller than he was. Some of them didn’t even bother looking down and seeing him. If he didn’t find that so convenient, he’d be annoyed by it.


He went to the bar; there were no stools open, so he just grabbed the edge of the bar and chinned himself up so he could see the bartender. “Hey,” Eykit said, “I got some questions for you.”


The Dwarf looked over at him as he filled a mug with a reddish ale. He nodded for Eykit to go on.


“Is there a mage guild in town that sells magic trinkets and alchemy? And I’ve got some knives I want to have someone take a look at to make sure they are in good shape. And I need to visit a jeweler as well. Shops that you trust.”


“Hold up,” said the bartender. He placed the two drinks in front of two people, got their money, then turned to the Goblin who was hanging off the end of his bar. Judging from the slight swaying motion he could see, the little green guy was kicking his legs back and forth as he hung there.


“Okay, yes, the city has all those things. There are four mage guilds in town. Two sell enchanted items. That would be The Delver’s Guild and Iron Mountain. Of the two, Delvers’ Guild has the better selection and reputation. Iron Mountain has a smaller enchantment department, with a narrower range of items.”


“And where can these esteemed places be found?”


“Upper Dwarfchat, in the Walled City district. Not too far from the central market square.”


“Okay. I’ll need directions.”


The Dwarf nodded his bushy haired head. “You’ve got some weapons, you said?”


“Tools. Knives.”


“We have three weapon smiths in town. Daylin’s Fine Cutlery in Lower Dwarfchat, Hargorim’s War Supplies in Upper Dwarfchat, and Ashjaw’s Weaponry. Galnir Ashjaw’s place is the best, though. Also up in the Walled City District. Next door to Iron Mountain, as it happens. Now, you also needed a jeweler, right?”


“Yep.” Eykit levered himself up, supporting his weight by his arms, which were now straight, and locked at the elbows, so his waist was about level with the countertop.


The Dwarf looked up at him. “We’ve got a few jewelers in town as well.” He named them, giving Eykit some basic directions to them that would at least get the Goblin in the right area. As for an alchemist, there is Scadrel’s Alchemy Shop, in the Walled City.”


“Thanks!” Eykit said, and dropped from the counter.


He would head to the mage guild first. He needed to replace his Bless amulet; it had shattered, expending its magic by manipulating probability, and likely saving Eykit’s life in the process. He felt naked without its comforting weight hanging on his neck. He’d gone almost all of his life without one, and now, after what seemed to be only a few eightdays, he found himself reliant on its properties. Things just worked better when he wore it.


The Delver’s Guild was in Upper Dwarfchat, near the market square. Eykit made his way through Lower Dwarfchat, almost retracing his steps when he’d come to the caravanserai from the wharves. He found himself on First Street, tall warehouses on both sides of the thoroughfare. There was a lot of wagon and animal traffic, mainly pack horses and mules. He saw a pair of young Humans, likely almost adult, sweeping the manure into baskets. It was actually the third such team he’d seen since leaving the Silver Blossom Caravanserai; the dung was cleaned up almost as soon as it was dropped.


But oh, did he like being back inside the city limits! He took a deep breath, sucking in the myriad smells of the city, both stinky and savory. He had missed it. He felt much more comfortable inside civilization. Those Elves could have their jungles and woods, he thought. I’ll take wood planks and stone blocks any day. Streets and wagons and people oh my!


Dwarfchat was different than Port Karn. Smaller, with a different mix of people, and cleaner. He noticed a few nightsoil dumping pits, clearly marked in multiple languages “liquids” and “solids”. He also noticed no broken windows, no graffiti, and almost no litter. The one scrap of cloth he saw tumbling along the street, blown by the wind, was snatched up by a Civil Patroller, who squinted up the street in the direction from whence the scrap came, probably trying to determine who’d dropped it. He didn’t see anything that could be considered “guild colors” that Port Karn sported. He saw a distinct lack of any signs of a thieves’ guild at all, in fact. He did see a heavy Civil Patrol presence, though. He got the distinct impression that the local constabulary really took an active role in keeping the place orderly.


That also explained the public stocks on many of the street corners, most filled with people, many of whom were splattered with drying vegetable matter. It was the one area he’d seen in town that seemed at all “messy”. He didn’t see any blood, though, so at least no one was throwing any rocks. Not yet, anyway. There were market carts, stocked with fruits and vegetables, conveniently placed by the corners as well. The quality of the produce was…substandard.


Better thrown than eaten, I guess, he thought. He noticed that most of the people in the stocks were not Dwarves; and judging from their clothing styles, not residents of Dwarfchat. Makes sense. Tourists and visitors wouldn’t necessarily know the local rules and laws. So of course they would bear the brunt of law enforcement.


The ground sloped upward leading up to the cliff face, where the majority of Dwarfchat was located. First Street got fairly wooded as it left Lower Dwarfchat, and ahead of him he could see the Switchback Road, filled with wagons and teams of pack animals making their way both up and down it. Through a break in the tree cover he could see a large mechanism that traveled up the cliff face near the closest of the two waterfalls. It was a great lift, moving slowly upwards on a track, apparently raised using a series of animal powered wheels on the edge of the clifftop. His sharp Goblin ears could hear a clicking noise as it moved upward; presumably some sort of ratchet and pawl system to prevent the lift car from falling.


Soon Eykit reached the split in the road. To the left, the road continued on as the Switchback Road, climbing its way back and forth up the cliff face. The other led to The Lift. There was a sign, with arrows and a label for each direction. It also listed the price of The Lift: $15 per person, or $50 for a wagon and team.


“Fifteen!” he said aloud, shocked at the price. That was almost all of a full day’s labor! Just to go up or down in a cart! A round trip, up and back, would be almost two day’s labor. No matter how good the view was, it wasn’t worth it.


He glanced up the cliff, seeing the people, animals, and wagons slowing making their way up to Upper Dwarfchat. There has got to be an easier way, he thought.


He looked around, seeing a coppiced yew tree by the side of the road. A dozen straight trunks grew from its base, and he chose one to cut off. It was about two inches in diameter, and six feet long. He cut off the top half, and formed it into a suitable walking stick. He smoothed the cuts, and stripped off the bark with quick, deft motions of his knife. Then he rolled it in the dirt to “age” it. It wouldn’t do to have look like a recent cutting. He appraised it critically, making sure it would fit his story.


With a smirking grin, he tested it out, trying on a few limps to get the one most suitable for his purposes. This will do nicely, he thought.


He limped his way towards The Lift. As he got there, he could see the Lift slowly making its way upward; it was nearing the top. There was a small building at the lower landing, next to a lightweight gate. A Dwarves man in a uniform took money from people wanting to ride The Lift, giving them a paper ticket to show they paid. They were let in through the gate, to join a few others waiting for the next trip.


Eykit put on his most pathetic face, grunting a little with each limping step, and he made his laborious way up to the person giving out the tickets. The waterfall thundered into the lake not too far below him, and the air was filled with tiny droplets of water. It was a warm day, so Eykit didn’t mind the cooling mist.


Eykit took a few panting breaths, as if it had taken effort just to get as far as he did. “Hello, good sir. There is no way my leg will make it up that road,” he gestured with his free hand at the Switchback Road. “I will need to use your device there.”


“Fifteen marks,” the ticketmaster said.


“See, that’s the problem,” Eykit replied. “I am not a rich man. I don’t have that much money. I have very little, actually, as Dwarfchat is a rather expensive place to live.” Eykit let just a little bit of a tear well up in his eyes. “And I need to visit my daughter and her husband, who are up there.” He gestured towards the top of the cliff. “Can you help me, sir?”


The Goblin’s plight tugged at the old Dwarf’s heart strings. He pursed his lips behind his beard, thinking. “I can’t let you ride for free. But I can let you ride for only five marks.”

Eykit smiled gratefully. “Sounds fair,” he said, and made a show of extracting the money from different locations on his person. “Here you go. Thank you. My leg thanks you too.”


The old Dwarf nodded his head in the direction of the waiting platform, and Eykit went through the gate. He waited for the Lift to debark its passengers at the top, and for some people to get on to come down. The ratcheting noises started up again, and the Lift car came slowly downward.




The lift car itself was basically an open cage, with a roof to shed rain, and railings to prevent the shedding of passengers. It was made primarily of metal, with some wooden trim and a wooden floor. The railings were an open grillwork of metal, with wooden handrails, polished smooth by years of use.


Eykit rode it up as it clattered its way to the top. The view was nice, and Eykit looked out over the lake and Lower Dwarfchat. He could see the Dossit Float, tied up at harbor, and waved, knowing that none of them could see him. But he did it anyway.


In the far distance, to the east, he could see a smudge of smoke, likely the leftovers from the fire in the jungle. Huh, he thought, I’d have expected that to be gone by now. He stared at it a while longer, then shrugged, turning to examine his companions on the ride up.


There were seven people, all Dwarves, all wearing nice clothing. Most had their beards colored, or had colorful beads braided into them, marking them as locals. Two of them were Dwarven women, assuming that Dwarven men didn’t wear skirts. Although maybe, he considered, skirts and dresses were worn by Dwarfchat men, as well. After all, where else did the term ‘to get dressed’ come from? The two women’s beards were braided, and had colorful ribbons tied in bows at the tips. The men’s beards, while colorful or beaded, didn’t include bows. That seemed to be a feminizing thing here, although it was likely that not all of the Dwarven womenfolk used bows and ribbons.


Judging from what he could tell, one of the women had three husbands with her, the other only two. From their conversation, which he couldn’t help but overhear, they were out for a day on the town, so it was likely that there were no other husbands left at home. The seven talked about some musical performance they were headed to, but Eykit stopped listening as it didn’t hold his attention.


He was more interested in Upper Dwarfchat, which was coming into view as the Lift reached the top. He limped his way off of the cart, after waiting to let the Dwarves leave first. Then he took his time, “laboriously” making his way off of the Lift to the embarkation platform, and thence into Upper Dwarfchat.


The upper lift station sat at the cliff’s edge, not to far from the the river that cascaded over the edge. The roar of the water filled his ears, and there was a little spray, but not as much as there was at the lower station.


He was on a road that skirted the top of the cliff. He could see houses facing the lake, and most had large windows to take advantage of the view. They all looked very well-appointed. If only there weren’t so many Civil Patrollers around!


The road turned ninety degrees, following the river. He could see a bridge that lead over to the other side of the river, where he saw a tall stone wall. Beyond the first bridge, there was another bridge that lead into a section of Upper Dwarfchat that was outside the walls, like the section he was in currently.


The buildings in Upper Dwarfchat were a bit different than those in Lower Dwarfchat. The building he was seeing in the upper sections seemed to be connected together, or built shoulder to shoulder. There were few, if any, alleyways. No convenient places to duck into when running from the constables. Lower Dwarfchat made more concessions to wagon traffic, and there was plenty or room around many of the buildings down there.


Shops seemed to get their goods delivered from in front, from the street. There was likely no “loading doors” around back, unless there was an alleyway that ran behind the buildings. He hadn’t seen an alley like that yet, but he assumed that they must exist.


He’d never been in a Dwarven city before, below ground or above it. At least some buildings had decorative window sills and trim, which could potentially provide handholds if necessary. The stone work was skillfully done, with most buildings having a very smooth finish to them. He limped over to one of the first nonresidential buildings he came across as he made his way up the river frontage street. It was a tailor shop, and made of closely fitted light grey stone. The mortar joints were tiny; and the blocks were set so their front faces were flat. No bricks stuck out farther than the others.


Looking around, he noticed that most of the buildings featured such stonework. Good thing they had those sills….Climbing, should it be necessary, at least was possible. He scowled. He preferred cities with sloppier stonework, that provided hand and foot holds.


Eykit also noticed that many buildings had ramps that went from one floor to the next; he didn’t see any stairways. The reason for this he saw almost immediately: a Dwarf was pushing a wheelbarrow filled with goods up from the ground floor to the second floor.


As he passed a side street, he could hear the joyful cries of children. Looking down the street, he could see several tiny Dwarven children riding a low slung cart or wagon down one of the ramps, only to grab the flat sled-like cart and charge back up the slope, where the next child would ride it down. Eykit grinned. He was an adult, but it still looked like fun. He could see himself joining the kids, taking a turn riding down the ramp.


But he had important things to do; he couldn’t spend his afternoon riding a beggar’s cart down any ramps, despite how fun it looked.


He went over the gracefully arching stone bridge. The piers were set fairly closely; it looked like the bridge also acted as a kind of fence to keep boats from falling over the waterfall. He’d seen metal bars set between them as well as he approached the bridge, and although it would be possible to squeeze between them, it also acted as a way for people to be saved from going over.


The bridge farther upstream had no such “decorations”. It was a slim arch of stone, with no piers at all in the water. It was a nice piece of engineering, considering that the bridge looked quite old.


As he crossed the bridge, he could see a side street heading into the unwalled section on this side of the river, which he couldn’t really see because of the trees between it and him. Vegetation grew pretty thickly along the banks of the river. He could see a dark-bearded Dwarf with a fishing pole sitting on a fallen log upstream, casting his line into the river. Sunlight glinted off of the tail of a fish that overhung his bucket, so at least the man had his supper.




There were two gate guards, one standing on each side. They eyed him, but let him pass without comment.

He found himself on 1st Street. Odd, he thought, I could have sworn First Street was in Lower Dwarfchat…. Then he realized the difference in spelling. Now that must be confusing!


He followed the street until he got to the market square, as he’d been instructed. There were several streets that radiated off of the square, and he couldn’t determine which way to go to get to the Delvers’ Guild. Rather than wander around until he found it, he asked for directions. The helpful resident pointed at a street, telling him to go there and he couldn’t miss it.


The Delvers’ Guild building was on the corner, and clearly marked with a sign with both their name, and the sign of a pick crossed with a staff with must have been a glowing tip, judging by the iconography. Outwardly, the building was otherwise nondescript, looking like the ones it was next to. It was decorated with geometric designs, like all of the other buildings. It seemed to be the Dwarven aesthetic.




Eykit walked into a small room. There was a desk, and a few chairs lined up against the outside wall. A Dwarf, his beard filled with strings of glass beads that reflected the lamplight, sat behind the desk. A door, closed, led further into the building.


“Hello,” the man said, smiling behind his beard. The glass beads clinked softly as his beard moved.


“Hello,” Eykit replled. “I’m looking for a Bless amulet. Is that something you have?”


“A Bless amulet? Let me go check.” He stood up, and went to the door. He turned back the Eykit, saying, “I’ll be back in a sec.” He unlocked it with a key that hung from a chain around his neck. He went in, closing the door behind him. Eykit could hear a click of metal on metal. It sounded like a lock.


About five minutes or so later, he came back out, holding a small collection of amulets which hung from one hand. He closed and locked the door, tucking the key back under his collar.


The collection of items turned out to be three amulets. “How strong of a Bless did you want?”


Bless amulets came in three strengths. A minor Blessing might move an arrow aimed at one’s heart to an arm. A regular Blessing would send it through one’s hat. A strong Blessing would move the arrow such that it struck a foe sneaking up from behind. Of course, the cost was commensurate with the strength of the enchantment.


“A minor Bless amulet costs a hundred marks,” the Dwarf said. “The next level Bless costs 16,500 marks, and the great Bless amulet is 165,000 marks.”


Eykit turned a very pale shade of green. “Do I look like I’m made of money?”


“I didn’t want to presume.”


“Thank you for that. I enjoy the respect. But I’ll take the cheap one.”


The Dwarf handed the Goblin the chosen amulet. He shrugged. “I didn’t expect to actually sell the higher level ones, but you never know.” He put the other two into a pocket.


Eykit tried to bargain, but the Dwarf was firm on the price. Eykit paid the hundred marks.


“Is there anything you want?” He caught himself. “I mean, anything else you would like to pay for?” He smiled. “There are a lot of things I want, but can’t afford. And I work here. I get the employee discount!”


Eykit thought about how he could steal something from this place. The security at the mage guild was pretty strong, even without any magical protections. And it didn’t help that there were all of those Civil Patrollers roaming around. All of that, plus the fact that the mage guild representative handed him the amulet before he’d even paid for it, told him that should he steal something, he’d likely be turned into a newt, or something worse, within hours.


“I don’t know. Is there anything else I might like? What do you have that’s interesting? Even if you have to explain it to me. Sell me on your cool shit.”


“Hmmm.” The Dwarf thought about it, looking Eykit over. “Do you like to fly?”


“The only time I’ve ever flown was when someone actually threw me. And that was not fun. So I have no idea.”


“Because we have a ring of levitation. Useful for when someone tries to drop you off a roof. We also have a Traveler’s Cloak.”


“What is a ‘Traveler’s Cloak’?”


“It’s very useful. Keeps you warm, dry, and will wake you if something gets close. It will also tell you what the weather will be in the next day or so.”


“And how much is it?”


“A lot. A bit shy of 83,000 marks.”


“Ugh. All the good stuff is too expensive.”


“Yeah, I know. It’s not as bad as it used to be, though. Over the years, mages have developed tools and techniques that have made enchantments more effective.” He pointed at the amulet hanging from Eykit’s hand. “Like that. Back in the bad old days, that right there would have cost over 3,000 marks. So, some magics are fairly cheap.”


He shuffled some papers around on his desk, tidying them up. “Most of our business is in ‘cheap magics’, actually. The market is vastly larger. Not just the nobility. Normal people can get things like Water Purifier rings, or Cook Pots, or Rings of You Smell Nice.”


“Huh. How much for a Ring of You Smell Nice?”


“A hundred marks. They are actually called ‘Rings of Scent’, but I like my name better. What do you want to smell like?”


“I have a choice?”


“Well, each ring is limited to one scent. We have several in sandalwood, cedar, or fresh earth, but only a few in some various floral scents, like lavender or rose. Women tend to snap them up almost as soon as we produce them. Men, not so much. I guess we just like to smell like, well, men.”


“I guess some of us just smell good naturally.”


“If you say so.” He didn’t seem convinced, but he moved on. “Need to light campfires easily?”



“Not really.” There were several people he hung out with that could do that. Besides, needing to light a campfire meant that he was camping, and he’d like to avoid that going forward.


“We’ve got a pair of Glasses of Orc Sight. Want to be able to see like an Orc?”


Eykit shook his head.


The Dwarf tried again. “What are some things you would like to do?”


“Well, I’m traveling with some friends. You might be able to fix something for me and one of the problems I’m having is with my mail.” He hopped up and down, the mail rings jingling and tinkling. “It’s a bit loud.”


“Yeah, I did hear you jingling when you walked in.”


“Yes, everyone does. And it’s annoying.”


The Dwarf scratched his chin, trying to remember what he saw in the stock room. “Yeah, we have something that could take care of that for you.”


“Well, what is it, and how stupid does it look?”


“It’s a ring.”


“Oh, okay, not too stupid.”


“It’s got a stone in it.”


“That should be fine. I just don’t like looking dumb.”


The Dwarf grinned. “Smart man! But it would look good on your finger. All for the low, low price of six thousand eight hundred marks.”


“Uh, pardon?” Eykit said, his eyes bugging out.


“Yeah, that’s magic for you.” The Dwarf shrugged. Like all of the good magics, this one was expensive.


Eykit, resigned, simply said, “I guess I’ll just jingle my way out of here.”


“Well, if you change your mind, it’s a Ring of Hush.”


“Okay, thanks.” And Eykit jingled his way out the door.


The sun was behind the mountains as Eykit walked out of the Delvers’ Guild door and onto Market Street. He looked around, seeing a bakery, and a tailor shop, and what appeared to be a mason’s office. There was a small stack of stone blocks near the door. Each one looked like it weighed 25 kg at least. Down the street he also saw a butcher.


He set off walking back towards the market square. He still needed to go to the weapon shop to get his knives looked at. When he got to the market square he asked a passersby where Ashjaw’s Weaponry was located.


The Dwarf, his beard sporting bands of various blue shades, pointed down the street at a shop two buildings down. “Right over there,” he said with a smile. His blue eyes matched one of the shades in his beard.


“Thanks,” Eykit replied, and saw that he could see the sign hanging from the wall above the doorway that said “Ashjaw’s Weapons”. He went inside, the bell on the door jingling louder than his mail shirt.


The room wasn’t very large, most of the space was taken up by a counter than ran the length of the room, except for one end, which allowed access past the counter. Behind the counter was a bit more space, mostly room for the barrels of spears and polearms, and the weapon racks set up against the back wall. The racks held various kinds of weapons, ranging from knives to swords, axes and war picks. There were two proprietors, both Dwarven. One was sweeping the floor, the other was leaning on the counter, facing the door.


“Oh, hello!” the Dwarf leaning on the counter said, as Eykit walked in. He seemed pleased to have a customer.


“Hello,” Eykit said, pulling out his rondel daggers, “I wanted to have my rondels sharpened and looked at.” He placed the pair of matching daggers on the countertop. There were good weapons, made of hardened steel, with matching handles. They each had a green tourmaline in the pommel.


The Dwarf looked at them lying in front of him. “That’s a nice pair of matching rondels,” he said appreciatively. He picked one up, flexing the various parts of it, and checking the edge. Then he did the same for the other one.


“Yes, thank you,” Eykit said, while the man was checking over his blades.


“These knives are in pretty good shape. You take care of them. I’m impressed.” He held up one of the knives, fiddling with rondel by the blade. “This is a bit loose; I can tighten that up for you. I can give them a good sharpening. Although I must say that you keep them pretty sharp already. I’ll give the edge a good polish though, and made it better.” He sighted down the blade, turning is slightly to catch the reflections of the light. “Do you want the blades mirror-polished, or do you prefer the current matte finish?”


“Oh, you can them as-is. I’m more interested in their utility more than their fancy look.”


“Okay. I was thinking you might like to use them as a mirror.”


Eykit pointed at his face. “Have you seen this mug?”


“Yeah, what’s wrong with it? You’re a Goblin, but other than that….” He cocked his head to the side, examining Eykit’s face. “You’re not really ugly for a Goblin.


Eykit was taken aback. He wasn’t used to having someone compliment him like that. He took it for the compliment that it was, and smiled.


The Dwarf grinned too. “Your distinct lack of facial hair is a problem, but hey, not everyone can sport a luxurious, beautiful beard!” He brought the conversation back around to business. “Anyway, I can get these fixed up for you for twelve marks. They are a beautiful pair of matching daggers.”


Something caught Eykit’s eye, hanging on the wall behind the two Dwarves. It was an arming sword with a nice pointed tip. But that wasn’t what had attracted his attention. It was the blade itself. It was black, except for the edge, which gleamed silvery bright.


He pointed at the blackened sword. “That’s cool,” he said.


The proprietor turned and looked. “Oh that? Yeah, it helps prevent rust.”


“That’s super cool.” Eykit could use something that didn’t rust, but more importantly, would be harder to see in the dark. No pesky accidental reflections off of a metallic blade.


“You like that sword? It’s a very nice weapon.”


“Not the sword. The dark blade. What is that? It that something that is added on, or is it part of the metal?”


“It’s part of the metal. Do want it done to your daggers?”


“Do they have to be completely remade?”


“Oh, not at all. It’s just a treatment. We’ll just disassemble the pieces, treat the blade, and put it all back together again.”


“How much?”


“Forty five marks.”


“Really? That’s a nice number. I’d like it better if it was a little lower.”


“Oh?” Eykit saw a little glint in the man’s eyes.


“Well, since you are doing the other work on it as well, it just makes sense to give me a bit of a price break. While it is a cool effect, I don’t need it.”


“Fine, I can do it for you for forty. Plus the twelve for sharpening and maintenance.”


“Done. And how long will it take?”


“I can get them done for you by midday tomorrow.”


“Okay, cool. Sounds great.”


“Alright then.” He scribbled some notes onto a sheet of paper, looked at Eykit, then scratched them out. He’d started writing in Khuzdûl by sheer habit, but started again in Imperial. He described the two daggers, and what was to be done with them, including the price and when they should be ready. Then he signed his name and spun the paper around for Eykit to peruse and sign.


He took the paper, and left. It was starting to get late in the day. It was time to make his way back to the Silver Blossom. Besides, he was getting hungry. At least this time, it was down, so he didn’t need to take the Lift. Downhill wasn’t so bad, even via the Switchback Road.


There were, of course, wagons, people, and animals making their way both up and down the Switchback Road. At each turn of the road, there was a large open space where the wagons could turn to continue up or down the road.


Eykit was amused to see that as a wagon approached a U-turn to the right, it actually made a left turn, looping around to face the new direction. It just seemed easier and more elegant to turn in that fashion. The denizens of Dwarfchat had carved sections out of the cliffside to accommodate the turn radii of wagons.


The road itself was barely wide enough to handle wagons going in both directions at once. Each time wagons passed each other, there was some tricky maneuvering to keep the outside wagon from falling over the edge. But it seemed that the teamsters were good at their jobs, and they managed.


He thought about riding a cart or wagon going down, bumming a ride from one of the teamsters. But they were actually going slower than he was while walking. But the slope of the cliff was steep, but not completely vertical. He was able to cut the corners a bit, dropping down from one switchback to another, hopping and sliding down from rock to rock. He was able to cut about a third of the distance off of the trip back down to First Street.


He got back to the Silver Blossom Caravanserai before dark.

Taid


The Mountainstream Inn had no room, and Taid still needed a place to stay. He asked the tavern keeper, Malram Quartzshine, if there was another inn anywhere in Upper Dwarfchat.

“Yes, there is. Can’t say it’s as good as ours, though!” Malram said, grinning.


“Of course it isn’t,” Taid agreed, “but there is no room at this inn, so I am forced by circumstance to fall back on a secondary plan. So what is the name of this inferior establishment, and where can I find it?”


“It’s called the Cellar Keg, and it’s just down the street and to the right. It’s an inn with an attached tavern.”


“Well, I should hope so, with a name like ‘Cellar Keg’!”


“Absolutely. The Cellar is the inn, the Keg is the tavern.”


“Why, thank you, kind ser,” Taid said, sketching a bow. And out the door he went. He went down the street until it dead-ended at a cross street, and turned to the right. It wasn’t more than about twenty meters before he saw the Cellar Keg up ahead of him.


It didn’t look as fancy as the Mountainstream Inn, but it still looked like a nice establishment. It was a three story building, in an L shape, with a small building attached to it, forming the building into the shape of a stubby T. There was a door that led into each establishment, and he went into the one under the sign that read ‘Cellar’.


The room inside was dim, and not overly large. A pair of oil lamps provided the meager light. The lack of bright lighting indicated to Taid that most likely the primary patrons were Dwarves. There was plenty of light for him to see; Dwarves had some of the best night and low-light vision of all of the races.


The Dwarf who must have been the innkeeper stood quietly behind a counter, waiting for Taid to approach. He was tall for a Dwarf, fully 135cm tall. His hair and beard were were of various natural shades, with reddish hair in the center, and blending outward through auburn to brown to a dark brown that was almost black. Taid couldn’t be sure if it was as natural as it seemed, or just part of the colorful fashion here in Dwarfchat. On top of his head was a flat cap of maroon colored wool. It went with his coat, which was a brown with reddish undertones, and fastened with brass buttons down the front.


“Hi,” Taid said, walking up to the counter. “I’ve heard you might have a room for the night.”


“We do. We still have a stateroom open for twenty five marks, or you can share a room with somebody else for five.”


“I don’t mind sharing.” He passed the innkeeper the five marks.


“I’ll show you to the room,” the innkeeper said.


The room was about four meters long by three wide, with double rows of hammocks down each side, three on the bottom, and three above, like bunk beds. The room could sleep a total of twelve people, but it seemed as if only eight of the bunks had been claimed, either by actually being in it or stowing gear on it. Taid would make the ninth person. They were all top hammocks. But there were step stools here and there in the room, so he’d have no trouble getting into it.


He tossed his pack onto the hammock, and followed the innkeeper back to the lobby. “Where can I get some supper?” Taid asked, as they got to the lobby.


“Through that door there,” the innkeeper said, indicating a door in the wall, “is the Keg, the tavern for this place. You can get food and drink in there.” He smiled, “And maybe some entertainment. There is often a minstrel playing.”


Taid found a seat at a table up against one wall. Dinner was spit roasted fowl, likely duck, from what Taid could tell, along with some boiled greens and peas, and some roasted potatoes. He had an ale to go along with it.


As he ate, he listened to the conversations around him, hoping to hear something about the disappearances.


He wasn’t disappointed; there was talk about the disappearances, usually also accompanied by rumors of a manticore. No one had actually seen it; the attacks came at night, and the most anyone has been able to get has been some witness reports of hearing flapping wings and screams. But by the time they could get to where they could have seen anything, whatever it was had been gone.


He also heard rumors about some muggings, although he didn’t get much more detail than that. The other rumor that he had heard about was that the Civil Patrollers were looking for some sort of contraband. And despite straining his ears, Taid wasn’t able to get anything more than that; the two people conversing didn’t go into specific detail, assuming they had it in the first place, and Taid couldn’t be sure they actually knew anything more.


But it got him thinking about what could be considered contraband here in Dwarfchat. Considering its position as a trading hub, they might have some laws about certain goods that were more lax than other places, just to receive a revenue stream via taxes. Unless the contraband was being smuggled, avoided those taxes….


What he didn’t hear was anything pertaining to necromancy, zombies, or the walking dead. So, Kallia wasn’t showing off her zombies. And he had no intentions of bringing up her name anywhere in this place.




Ralsday, Leafturn 35, 879 AFE

Elitheris


When Elitheris woke in the morning, she almost immediately started loading the various bits of the kill onto Wilbur. Much of the meat, about 25 kg, was still drying on the racks she and Almë had constructed, slowly becoming venison jerky. The rest—the head and antlers, the hide, the organ meats, and the 45 kg of muscle meat she didn’t need—was all loaded up onto the pack horse.


“Almé,” she said, “I’ll be back sometime later. I might hang around town a little after getting rid of this venison.”


“Okay, have fun,” Almë responded. “I’ll hang out here and play with the dogs.”


Elitheris gave Mr. Wiggles a good scratch. “Be good,” she told him, know he was a dog, and likely would just be his normal self.


She headed through the woods, towards the river. She knew that there was a road there, and she would take that into town. This early in the morning, there was no one else on the road, and she enjoyed the relative silence, a silence broken only by the clopping of hooves on the stone road. On her left were fields, harvested, and filled with stubble and the remains of vegetables. On her right was the river, flanked by trees and undergrowth that provided some shade from the morning sun.


She passed a little shrine, most likely erected by the local farmers as a way to bless their crops. It was a simple structure, small, and had a small stone altar in it. An unlit candle, its melted wax anchoring it to the stone, sat to one side of the small standing stone that acted as a focal point.


She acknowledged it, but didn’t stop.


She could see a sawmill along the river up ahead of her, a raft of unsawn logs floating next to it, kept from flowing with the current by a log fence. Beyond the sawmill was Lower Dwarfchat, a collection of mostly warehouses from what she could tell.


The lake was rather pretty, though, with the two waterfalls cascading into it.

There were some rather nice buildings built along the cliff’s edge, likely the homes of the wealthy who could afford the view. Several small craft, canoes and rowboats mostly, this early in the morning, flitted across the water of the lake. She could see that most of the people on the lake were fishing.


She got into town, and while the streets weren’t crowded yet, she was able to find someone to ask for directions to a butcher. She got directions. The butcher was located at the far western edge of Lower Dwarfchat, almost at the cliff face. Her informant, a Human resident of Lower Dwarfchat, pointed at a collection of rooftops that were visible, even from the eastern edge, due to the rise of the land as it approached the cliff. “It’s over there, in that group of buildings,” he said.


She thanked him, and moved on. The butcher, it turned out, was on First Street, just before the road disappeared into the forest, where, it turned out, it split into the Switchback Road and the road to the Lift.


The butcher shop had a corner lot. Elitheris tied Wilbur to the hitching post. A nicely painted sign said “Flint the Butcher” across the front of the building. Two large diamond-paned glass windows, one on each side of the door, showed various kinds of cured meats hanging from hooks, with more cured meats in stacks on a table under them.


The door tinkled when she walked in; there were some small wind chimes hanging from a hook at the top of the door. In front of her was a meat counter, with all kinds of meats laid out in rows on a bed of crushed ice. She could smell them, a mix of various kinds of animal mixed with the hint of blood.


A Dwarf stood behind the meat counter, his stocky body mostly covered with a bloodstained apron that used to be white, but years of butchery had stained it a dull pink. The man was bald, and had a thick mustache and beard, whose tips were dyed a bright red. Colorful facial hair seemed to be the local fashion. In one hand he held a cleaver.


“Ah, hello!” he said, in a deep voice. “What can I sell you?”


“Actually,” Elitheris replied, “the question is, what can I sell you?”


“Oh! That’s your horse.” He craned his neck, seeing Wilbur, and his cargo, through the window. The antlers got his attention. “Gods! That’s the largest rack I’ve seen in years!”


“Yes, he was very impressive, and I got a lucky kill. I’ve kept as much as I can handle and am looking to offload the rest. Would you be interested in buying the meat?”


Flint shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t really need any venison at the moment. Just got a pair of deer yesterday afternoon. I’ve got plenty of venison to last a while.”


Elitheris was disappointed, and it sounded in her voice. “I see. Do you know of anybody else that would be interested in buying this meat?”


Flint nodded, saying, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Gorim’s Fine Meats up in Upper Dwarfchat. You selling that hide and the antlers, as well?”


“I was planning on it.”


“I know of a good leatherworker who might get those off your hands.”


“Great!”


“Kremmik’s Cordwainers, in South Upper Dwarfchat. Go up the Switchback Road, and when you get the Cliffside Road, go left, then take the first right. When that road gets to a T intersection, his shop will be right there.”


“Thanks. And the butcher?”


“Gorim’s is in the Walled City, on 1st Street. If you get to the market square, you’ve gone too far.”


“First Street? But this is First Street.”


Flint looked rueful, and slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, I know. It’s confusing. Up there,” and he gestured with a thumb, “it’s spelled with a number. It’s silly, I know. Left hand, right hand, and never the twain shall meet.”


“Thanks again, but I’d better get this meat to market.”


“Sorry I couldn’t help you, ma’am.”


She left, and led Wilbur towards the cliff. She glanced at the Lift when she got to the sign, but the price was too steep, at fifty marks. She’d walk up the Switchback Road.


She ended up following a wagon as it made its way up the long road. The Switchback Road debouched onto Cliffside Road, and the wagon went right, towards the Walled City, which Elitheris could now see, rising up over the rooftops of the buildings set along the cliff side. She could also see the upper Lift station, with its six large wheels, each with an auroch walking in them.


She went left, towards the outskirts of the city. Just as she reached what seemed to be the city’s limit, there was another road going to the right, and curving back into the city. Mostly what she saw were residences, many of them tucked into woodsy areas, beyond which were farms, mostly harvested.


As Flint the Dwarf had said, when she got to a T-intersection, there was Kremmik’s shop. She could smell the mixtures of chemicals used for leather working, and the shop’s placement near the edge of town made more sense. However, the stink wasn’t strong enough to make her think that there was a lot of leather production here. The place, once she entered it, appeared to be more of a boutique place.


Inside, a Dwarf knelt at a stretching rack, scraping a hide and preparing it for use. He turned to see who it was, and stood when he saw Elitheris standing inside the doorway. He wiped his hands on a rag looped over his belt.


“Hi,” he said, and walked over to her. “Good day.”


“Good day yourself,” Elitheris said. “The butcher, Flint, in Lower Dwarfchat recommended you and said that you might be interested in that rack and hide.” She indicated Wilbur, outside, patiently carrying a load of venison, including the head, antlers, and rolled up hide.


Kremmik craned his neck to see Wilbur through the window. He saw the head and antlers, and the large, rolled bundle. “Wow,” he said, in awe. “Yeah. I could do something with that. Bring it in. Let’s take a look.” He smiled through his reddish beard. His beard seemed natural-colored, not dyed like some others she had seen on her walk up here.


She untied the hide, tucked it under an arm, then untied the head and antlers. She maneuvered it through the doorway; there was a bit of turning and rotating it to get the wide set of antlers through the doorway, but she managed without too much trouble.


Kremmik patted the counter that stuck out from the wall on one side of the room. Elitheris hefted the deer head by the antlers, and set it on the counter. It stared upward, resting on the stump of its neck. She untied the hide, held up one edge, and let it unroll. It was a very large hide, with only the single, small hole where her arrow pierced its side.


“You killed this?” Kremmik asked.


“I did.”


“That’s a very nice set of antlers on that boy, poor thing.” He grinned, his voice filled with mock sadness for the poor dead creature. He looked over the hide, and said, “Well, I’ll give you six hundred marks for the head. That will make a nice decoration, once I’m done with it. And another forty for the hide.”


He examined the edges a bit more closely. “You did a good job skinning the animal too. The cuts are very precise, with little choppiness. Less to trim off. Good.”


Elitheris rolled it back up again, and set it by the stag’s head. “It’s a damn impressive set of antlers. Eighteen points. They don’t get much bigger than that. And, if you’ll notice, I did a fine job of severing the head to keep it intact as much as possible. I think you can give me a bit more for it.”


Kremmik thought about it. He saw so much potential in that head. And she had done a good job preparing the raw materials for him. “Fine,” he said, after a bit. “I can afford six hundred and fifty marks for the head, and forty five for the hide.”


“Done. That sounds fair.”


Kremmik counted out the coins, slid them into a small pouch, and handed the pouch to Elitheris. The pouch was made from an off-cut, and was simply made with a draw string opening. Kremmik could afford to hand them out to customers.


It was the first money that Elitheris had made in a while; she was pretty happy. The shopkeeper was happy, too. “This is going to look great on somebody’s wall! I can really do something with this!”


Elitheris had never really liked the aesthetic of dead animals on walls, so she didn’t say anything to quell Kremmik’s excitement. She just waved and left. She still had about a hundred pounds of venison, and a sack full of organ meats to sell.


She knew where the walled section of town was, although she couldn’t see it from where she was. But her sense of direction was pretty good, honed over decades living in the forests and jungles of the Altasirya Valley. It didn’t take her long to get to the river. The banks were wooded, but she could see, on the other bank, the wall that formed the edges of the Walled City district. To her right was a stone bridge, with what looked like ironwork fencing between the piers. Considering what wasn’t too far downstream of the bridge, she understood why. Wouldn’t do to have small boats and swimmers get swept down the waterfall.


There was another bridge to her left, an elegant, smooth arch of stone that didn’t have any intermediary piers. Only the anchor points at each end of the bridge. She could see several small craft flitting about on the river. The bridge to her right was closer, and went directly to a gate into the Walled City. She went that way.


As she passed the two guards at the gate, she nodded to them. They nodded back, staring at her openly. It wasn’t every day they saw an Elf. Elves just didn’t seem to come this way too often.


Inside the gate, the buildings were taller, and built shoulder to shoulder, corridors of stone with roads barely able to handle two wagons passing. There were a few trees here and there, but mostly the civil landscape ahead of her was a mixture of stone, mortar, plaster, and cement, in shades ranging from greys to browns, with the occasional desaturated red. The most colorful things she saw were signs, and the beards of the locals.


She started walking, and almost immediately saw a street sign mounted to a wall of a corner building. It said “1st Street”, and she knew that she was on the right path.


As she walked, she noticed a few things about Dwarfchat. One was that more glass was used in its windows than in Port Karn. Another was that there seemed to be a lot of city guard—they called them Civil Patrollers here—then she was used to seeing. Dwarfchat also had public stocks for wrongdoers at most intersections. And people were encouraged to throw fruit and vegetables at them, especially rotted ones. Most of the people in the stocks—and there were many—were non-Dwarves, likely nonresidents who didn’t know the local laws.


Which was a sobering thought. She’d have to be very careful; she had no idea what had gotten those people in trouble, and she didn’t really want to get to close to them, since every now and then a piece of fruit would be lobbed in their direction. Overall, Dwarfchat was a clean city, except around the stocks.


In fact, it also smelled better than Port Karn did. Port Karn’s aroma was a melange of humanoid sweat, fish, and sewage, overlaid with the smells of horses and manure. Dwarfchat, on the other hand, seemed to have a huge army of janitors who cleaned up the mess from horses almost as soon as it appeared, and the sewer system was better. This, Elitheris knew, was typical of Dwarves; water and sewer infrastructure was vital to the Undercities, and was a relatively early development in their culture. Surface cities, usually situated on or near rivers, didn’t need such sophistication. They could just dump their waste into the river, where it just flowed away.


She did notice an undercurrent of musty, earthy, sweaty smells, indicative of Dwarves. Dwarven towns were close and claustrophobic in many ways, and very densely packed. And while she noticed that Taid had a similar, not unpleasant earthy, musty smell, having so many Dwarves packed all together made it a little overwhelming. Soon she could smell nothing else, and desperately looked around for some flowers to smell, just to be sure her nose still worked properly.


As far as cities went, Dwarfchat was a pretty good one, even for an Elf with a wilderness fetish and a dislike for crowded urban areas. Elven towns rarely had more than about 500 residents. Port Karn had over 68,000. She had no idea how big Dwarfchat was in population, but its physical footprint was less than about a tenth of the land that Port Karn occupied. Its crowded streets and compressed building style implied that it had somewhere around 8,000 to 10,000 people, though.


She moved on. The streets were very crowded, but since a majority of the people in them were shorter than she was, it didn’t feel as bad as it could have to her. She didn’t feel the urge to run to an open space just to breathe.


Gorim’s Fine Meats was a small shop, smaller than Flint’s establishment. She almost walked by it, but saw the small sign at the last moment.


She tied up Wilbur outside of the butcher shop. She took the sack of organ meats in with her. Like the other butcher’s shop, this one was full of meats of all kinds. She could see beef, pork, at least two types of fowl, mutton, and possibly boar. She wasn’t sure about that one; there wasn’t enough of it to reconstruct its original shape. She tried to read the labels, but they were all in Khuzdûl runes.


“Hi there,” she said, walking up to the counter. A Dwarf stood behind it. He must have been on some sort of platform, because he seemed taller than she was.


“Hello,” the Dwarf said, “I’m Gorim. Welcome to my shop.”


“I have some venison. I was told you might be interested in buying the meat.”


Gorim nodded. “I could likely use some. What have you got?”


“About 45 kilos of meat, plus this bag of organs I saved when I dressed the kill last night.” She held the bag out for him to take a look at.


He opened it, and looked inside, seeing several recognizable organs. He also looked out the window at the horse, which had several more sacks hanging from it, bulging with something wet and reddish.


“Yes, I’ll take the venison.”


“How much are you offering for it?”


Gorim did some calculations in his head. “Well, the final price will be dependent upon how much you actually have. But if you do have the 45 kilos then I will give you 150 marks for it. And another twenty for the organ meats.”


It was a price in line with her experience. After all, it had been one of the main ways she had supported herself in the jungle during her time of self-imposed exile.


She had accomplished what she had set out to do, and it was about midday. The sun was out, it was warm, and she was hungry.


She asked a Human who was striding along trying to keep up with a much shorter Goblin, where a tavern was.


“The Keg is good. It’s in South Upper Dwarfchat.”


“Where is it?” Elitheris asked.


“Go back over the bridge,” he said, pointed down 1st Street, “and take a right. Then take the first left, then the first right. It’ll be at the end of the street. There will be a series of tables under some trees out in front.”


“Over the bridge, right, left, right. Outdoor tables under some trees.”


“Yup.”


“Got it. Thanks.”


She followed the instructions, and it lead exactly where the Human had said, although to get to the front door she had to walk around the building and its outdoor seating area, which was surrounded by an iron grillwork fence.


The Keg was indeed a tavern, but it was connected to an inn, called the Cellar. She entered the Keg. She found a table against a wall, and she placed herself so her back was against it.


She could see a door with a carved wooden sign above it that said “Cellar”. Presumably, that lead to the attached inn. There was a bar counter, and beyond that was a kitchen. The room she was in was furnished with square tables along the walls, and round tables towards the center of the room. They typically held four and six people, respectively.


It was around midday, and so there were a lot of people in the tavern, getting lunch. About half were Dwarves, although the other half were made up of all kinds of people: Humans, Hobbits, Goblins, and Orcs. She was the only Elf, and she didn’t see any Skyfolk. It was fairly loud, with everyone talking. In one corner was a fireplace, currently set with a low fire, more for ambiance than heat. Sitting on a stool, tuning a guitar, was a Human dressed in bright blue and green. He was clean shaven, with curly hair that hung down to his shoulders, kept in place by a hat with a large brim, the right side cocked and pinned. A long tail feather of the jungle toucan stuck out from the hat, a slash of bright red in the dim light of the tavern.


Ruby


Ruby woke, and put her arm out to cuddle with Norolind. He wasn’t there. Alarmed, she felt around for him, but he just wasn’t there. She was alone, and that terrified her. She didn’t like being alone, at all. Shaking, she got out of the bed and hurriedly dressed. She had to get to where people were, fast.


Norolind was back at camp, wherever that was, with Elitheris and Almë. She waited for a few moments for her heart rate to go down, composing herself. She missed the big dog; she was very unused to being without him. She didn’t always like him taking us so much space in her bed, but now that he wasn’t there, she found that she missed it.


Her stomach grumbled. She made her way to the tavern, where she planned to get some breakfasts.


She stopped in the doorway to the tavern, looking around. She saw the room filled with people, and she felt better immediately. She was looking for the dogs. She saw Maro, and Sweet Jon, sitting at a table against the wall. Sweet Jon was talking to Lucky Millerson, one of the teamsters. Looking around the room, she could see several other members of Pangolla’s Caravan, sitting in small groups here and there.


She went over to say hello to Maro, who licked her face in greeting. She gave him some good scratches until he rolled over, exposing his belly for a good rub. Ruby obliged him, looking up at Sweet Jon and saying, “Good morning.”


“Mind if I join you? I need some breakfast.”


“Sure. Have a seat.”


One of the personality traits that Ruby had noticed last night about Sweet Jon was that he seemed very simple. But when talking to him, she realized that he wasn’t as simple as he pretended to be. There was actually a very sharp mind hidden behind the friendly and open demeanor of the caravan guard.


The golden retriever kicked his leg as Ruby found “the spot.” Sweet Jon said, “Morning yourself, ma’am.” He glanced at her staff, which, he’d noticed, wasn’t for helping her walk. “I hadn’t realized you were a mage.”


“Oh, yeah, I kind of am.”


“Where did you learn your magics?” Sweet Jon seemed interested. His experience with mages was mostly with minor, village mages, the kinds of mages who know some of the more common utility spells, like Alfric Wagonrider. He wondered what kinds of magic Ruby knew.


“I learned magic in Adayn.”


Sweet Jon drew back a bit, impressed. “Wow, you’re far afield. Sounds like you’ve done more traveling than we have.”


“Yeah, I like traveling.” She changed the subject. “How was your night?”

Sweet Jon and Maro, talking to Lucky Millerson, of Pangolla’s Caravan, in the tavern at Hyacinth’s Caravanserai


“Oh, my night was fine,” Sweet Jon replied.


“I slept like a rock,” Lucky said.


“Snored like a crosscut saw, too,” Sweet Jon laughed.


“Hey, my snoring provides a vital, rhythmic background noise.”


“You wish!”


A server, noticing that Ruby had joined the table, came over. She looked more girl than woman, but seemed professional enough. She’d likely been working for years, despite her youth. “We have porridge, or potatoes and bacon. We have a kettle on for tea, if you don’t want beer with breakfast.”


“I don’t eat meat, so can I get the potatoes, but with some eggs and vegetables instead of bacon?”


“I don’t see why not. I’ll ask the cook.”


“And some tea, please. That sounds nice.”


“Did you hear if anyone got kidnapped last night or anything like that?”


Sweet Jon shook his head. “Nah. We haven’t heard of any kidnappings. But it’s early yet; rumors take a little while to spread. No one from the caravans here disappeared, though.”


Lucky chimed in again, “Seven-Fingered Berd hasn’t been seen yet this morning.”


“Yeah, but did you see how much he had to drink last night? Niall had to carry him to his room and put him to bed. Like a green sack of potatoes. He’s probably still sleeping it off.”


“True. He almost kept up with Pashdug. He did pretty well for being half Pashdug’s size and a third of his weight.”


Sweet Jon and Lucky shared a laugh at their drunk companion’s expense.


“Oh shit!” Sweet Jon said. “I think our talk summoned him! There his is.” He nodded in the direction of the door to one of the wings of the inn. At the doorway, looking around blearily, was a Goblin. He rubbed his eyes with his left hand. Ruby noticed it only had two fingers; part of his hand was missing.


“So your friends are safe?” Ruby asked.


“Seems so,” Lucky said.


“That’s great.”


The server came by, placing a plate with some potatoes, eggs, and skillet-fried vegetables in front of the Hobbit. There was a generous piece of fire-toasted bread, with melted cheese on it as well. The plate was followed by a cup of aromatic tea. “Oh, can I get a small plate of kitchen scraps for the dog, here?”


The server nodded, smiling, and scampered off.


Ruby breathed in the steam, the floral scent filling her nose. She sipped. It was good tea, not too strong, not too bitter. And it seemed to be flavored with something earthy that she couldn’t identify. But it was good. She took a bite of the eggs and vegetables. Those were good too, and she ate with relish.


She took several bites, then asked, “So, what are your guys’ plans for the day?”


Sweet Jon shrugged. “We’re still waiting for the travel pass to move on from Dwarfchat. So, we’re going to be waiting around here, mostly.”


“When we get the permission papers,” Lucky said, “we want to get on the road as quickly as we can. But there is no need to get all the animals loaded and ready if the travel pass doesn’t come in today. Then we’d just have to unload them again, and tire them out for no reason. So whenever the pass comes, if it’s after midday we likely won’t go anywhere until the following day.”


“Logistics,” Sweet Jon said. “Everything takes longer than you think it will.”



“Especially when there are lots of animals involved,” Lucky added.


“I can only imagine,” Ruby said. She’d traveled with caravans before, but only as a fellow traveler, never as an actual member, with caravan duties.


Sweet Jon sighed. “And if we get it late in the day, Zyzekka will want to leave at first light, which means we get up hours before then to load up everything. Ugh.”


“Hey, you get to sleep until third or fourth bell. We teamsters are up at second bell.”


Sweet Jon smiled wryly. “Good point. Guess I should consider myself lucky.”


“Well, I wish you luck, and hope you get the pass today.” Ruby bit into the cheese toast. It crunched delightfully; the cheese was fresh and gooey.


She took a few more bites, letting the conversation lapse to a companionable silence, and looked around the room. It was fairly full; there were two decently large caravans staying at Hyacinth’s Caravanserai at the moment. She saw nothing out of the ordinary.


But she did see something through the window that caught her eye. Out in the open space, separated from the other wagons, were the three wagons that the hunters used. One held a panther, which paced around in circles in its cage. In a second was a large lizard, looking something like a crocodile, but with smaller jaws. It seemed to be sleeping, the sunlight making squares of light on its hide through the crisscrossed bars of the cage. The third wagon had a tarp over it.


“What are you doing with the animals?” Ruby asked Sweet Jon.


“Me? Nothing. That’s all the animal hunters’ affair. They are just traveling with us.”


“Are they selling them? Or are they making them do tricks, or something?”


Sweet Jon shrugged. “I think, from what I remember, the animal hunters mentioned that they’re planning on selling them.”


“Yeah, they never really said to whom though,” Lucky added, “or for what purpose.”


“And what’s in the cage with the tarp over it?” Ruby asked.


“I honestly don’t know,” Sweet Jon replied.


“Oh really? It looks kind of special.”


“Yeah, it could be. I honestly don’t know, and they haven’t mentioned anything. I think some people have asked, but the hunters just sort of smile, and shake their heads.”


“Wow, okay. No one looked under the tarp? Oh, I would definitely do that! I love animals like the dogs, and I would be so curious! I would really want to know what was in there.”


Sweet Jon looked uncomfortable. “Well, I can think of a couple of reasons they might have a tarp there. One is that they may not want people to see what’s underneath it, or what’s underneath it could be so dangerous that if it sees somebody else, it might hurt them. Or the tarp is simply there to keep whatever is in there quiet. Like putting a cover on a bird cage.”


“Could be a basilisk,” Lucky said. So the tarp is to keep it from turning people to stone.”


Sweet Jon looked at Lucky with a glare that reminded Ruby of one her master would give her when she did something dumb. “That’s a myth. They don’t turn you to stone. They just make your muscles lock up, as if you were stone.”


Lucky shuddered. “Huzz. Glad I didn’t peek. I like my joints nice and limber, thankyouverymuch.”


“I doubt it’s a basilisk. If it were, they’d be obliged to tell us, right? Those things are dangerous! My guess is that whatever is under there isn’t terribly dangerous, but they want to keep it a secret. Maybe to get a better price by letting rumor do some work for them.”


Ruby could tell that they honestly didn’t know what was under that tarp. But she finished her breakfast. She cuddled Maro for a bit, then took her leave. “I think I’ll go back to bed,” she said, taking both Sweet Jon and Lucky a bit by surprise.


“But you just woke up!” Sweet Jon said.


“Yeah, I know. I didn’t get enough sleep last night. So I think I’ll take a nap before second breakfast.” She actually didn’t really relish the thought of going back to her lonely room, but it was necessary.


“Unless you sleep through it, and it becomes lunch!” Lucky said. “On the road, Benji doesn’t get second breakfast, or elevenses. We make him pack a snack bag he can enjoy on the road.”


“You can bet he’s having all the Hobbit meals while we wait here, though!” Sweet Jon said, laughing. “You Hobbits look so small, but boy, can you eat!”


“We need to eat more to keep up with you tall folk and your long legs,” Ruby said, a smile on her face. She stood, giving Maro a last scratch behind the ears. “Maybe I’ll see you guys later. Good luck with your travel pass.”


“Oh, thank you very much,” Sweet Jon said. “I hope it comes through, because we’re just kind of sitting on our heels here, spending money. Should be the next couple days, though.”


Ruby made her way back up to her room. She closed the door, and opened the window. She was alone. She hated it. It had been a mistake to get a room by herself. She missed her dog terribly; he was a constant companion, but he wasn’t there. Her room was on the top floor, and she could see down into the courtyard below, with all of the wagons parked, the animals in various corrals, and the people moving about between them. The stables weren’t big enough for all of the animals that came through the caravanserai.


She cast the spell of shapeshifting, her Hobbit form shrinking and sprouting feathers. Within a few seconds, a falcon stood on the windowsill. She looked into the courtyard, trying to see if anyone was observing her. There were several people in the courtyard, doing various things with the wagons or the animals, and while they may have seen her there at the window, no one seemed to be paying any attention to her.

She hesitated. She was going to be up there, in the sky, alone. She shuddered, gathering her courage, forcing herself to do this thing. She spread her wings and flew off, heading out over the lake before starting to climb and gain altitude.



The city, both parts, lay below her like a map. From high above, she could see the warehouses near the wharf in Lower Dwarfchat, and the series of caravanserai mostly set around the outskirts. She could see what appeared to be two or three actually near the center of Lower Dwarfchat. They had likely been the first ones built when Lower Dwarfchat had been in its infancy.


A haze of spray from the waterfall obscured the cliffside, but Upper Dwarfchat could be seen easily. She could see that it was made up of four parts: the castle grounds, likely the noble in charge; the section surrounded by a wall, and two sections that seemed to be more recent in construction, and were a mix of residential and commercial buildings. She could also see the Lift, the car going down to pick up more passengers, mostly hidden in the spray of the falling water.


From her vantage point far above the city, she could see that Dwarfchat was surrounded by five villages, all encircled themselves by fields and logging camps.


Dwarfchat, and its attendant townships that supported it, were on the eastern slopes of the Zirinibâr Mountains. To the west, the ground generally sloped upwards, in a series of hillocks, hills, and small mountains. As one got deeper into the mountains, the peaks got taller; some of the peaks in the mountain range topped more than 4 kilometers high.


And Ruby knew, from her instruction in Empire geography, that these peaks were small compared to some of the mountains in the Northern Expanse. But they were tall enough to have snow on the peaks all year long. The fence of white capped peaks were about 65 kilometers away, the terrain between her and the peaks was challenging, to say the least. The two rivers that formed the lake snaked off, disappearing around hills not too far to the west of Dwarfchat. And the whole expanse of mountainous terrain was covered in mixed deciduous and conifer forest, except for the logged out areas, but they were mostly localized in the northernmost of satellite towns.


Upper Dwarfchat sat upon the top of the cliff, although Ruby noticed that as the cliff got farther away from the city, it sort of smoothed out a bit, becoming less steep. She could see, moving under the forest canopy that overhung the roads to the west, a caravan on its way deeper into the mountains. She knew it wasn’t Pangolla’s, but one day it would be.


The local layout now familiar to her, she focused on what she was really after—the manors of the rich, one of which was likely Kallia’s.


She arced over towards Upper Dwarfchat, riding the thermals. She saw other birds below her, and something within her stirred—her breakfast no longer seemed to be enough, and one of those birds might be tasty.


She shoved that thought out of her head angrily; whomever had designed the spell had required an actual falcon as a model. Every now and then, the instincts of the original modeled bird emerged, despite the heavy suppression of most of it. The mage wanted the shape and basic neurological and myoskeletal instincts, not the dietary ones. The magic didn’t always discriminate between what the mage wanted and what the mage actually got. So sometimes she got stray falcon thoughts. It was a reminder not to stay in falcon form for too long, otherwise she might get stuck that way, as her Hobbit mind got subsumed by the falcon mind.


She could see the local baron’s castle, separated from the rest of Dwarfchat by a river. There were farmed fields around it, and a series of what must have been administration buildings. But the majority of Upper Dwarfchat sat between the two rivers, with the southernmost section across the second river.


Ruby knew from her experience as a courtier at the seat of the Empire that whoever that Baron was, must be pretty important. Dwarfchat was an important city, so it logically followed that the Baron must be pretty powerful, and not just locally. Dwarfchat was rich, and acted as the gateway from the surface world to the Undercities, at least in this geographic area. There were likely other “gatekeeper” towns, but she didn’t think there were any others for hundreds of miles.


Despite the cosmopolitan nature of the Empire, and the centuries of forced racial mixing, there were still groups who were rather isolationist. Dwarves and Aarakocra topped the list, the former because it was in their nature and their choice of living arrangements, and the latter because most people found it uncomfortable to breathe at the altitudes that the Skyfolk typically had their eyries.


Even Elves, the prototypical isolationists, were more integrated than Dwarves. Humans, Hobbits, Goblins, and even Orcs could live reasonably comfortably in a primarily Elven settlement. They may require more infrastructure than the Elves, since unlike Elves, they can’t just run around on slack lines to get around from building to building.


But few people liked living in caves, packed in like rats in a hole. That, however, was the Dwarven preference. Even Hobbits, whose traditional homes were holes in the ground, found Dwarven cities claustrophobic, dim, and uncomfortable. Hobbits required windows in their Hobbit holes.


It was one reason that she had been instructed, all those years ago, to pay particular attention to visiting Dwarven diplomats. What happened in the Dwarven Undercities was mysterious, so any revolts or revolutions would be able to fester rather easily down there, and be nearly invisible to the Empire as a whole. As far as anyone knew, the various Dwarven clans and cities were loyal to Empire. But there was always the chance that they weren’t….


But for the moment, that wasn’t Ruby’s problem. Her instructions had been to get Zorion Clemens, and transport him back to Central. This she had done, and was now on her own, at least for the time being. Until she got another assignment, which she knew would come sooner or later. She was an asset, and Central didn’t waste their assets.


Perhaps they thought that giving her a long leash would result in her finding a problem and solving it without Central getting involved. But she didn’t think that likely; there were a lot of threats that the Empire needed to stomp out before they became dangerous, so she knew that she’d likely get another assignment soon.


But for now, her focus was Kallia. Central’s orders, whenever they came, didn’t concern her at the moment. She was looking for manor houses, specifically ones that had a decent view to the east. Kallia’s letter that they had found at Herbert Vesten’s manor had said that she would pretend she could see Port Karn. While Port Karn was entirely too far over the horizon, Kallia had mentioned it as something of a joke.


But it also meant that it was likely that her manor wasn’t too far in the mountains; her quip about being able to see the area from her porch meant that there likely wasn’t a mountain between her and Port Karn. This limited the area she needed to search to only several hundred square kilometers.


She would have sighed, but bird lungs were one way, and she couldn’t. She had to start somewhere.


She flew over Upper Dwarfchat, looking primarily for large houses with a view to the east. There were several, both in the Walled City, and in South Upper Dwarfchat, set along the cliffside. But Dwarfchat was on a slope, climbing to the west, and even many of the larger houses in West Upper Dwarfchat could see to the east, over the walls and buildings of the Walled City. Arguably, they had “better” views, getting most of the city laid out underneath them.


She was looking for some kind of manor house, probably one with a courtyard, and maybe some extra buildings. Kallia sounded like she had some sort of gang or personal retainers, and she might even have some kind of barracks. And it was likely she didn’t live in Dwarfchat itself. Too dangerous, given her necromantic activities. She needed to find a manor house with some space around it; Kallia needed some privacy.


After she scouted the city, getting an idea of its basic layout, she headed northward, to check out whatever manors she could find.


In front of her, in the middle distance, she could see a town. It was Pinewood, although she wouldn’t know the name of it until later. Its primary industries seemed to be farming and logging; tilled fields and expanses of tree stumps made that determination rather simple. On a solitary hill to her right, overlooking the lake and the river, was a fortress.


A series of banners flew above the battlements, and she recognized the one at the top. It was the battle standard of the Tondene Imperial Army, and the soldiers she could see in the fortress’s courtyards wore the typical khaki and olive of the army uniforms. It must be the local garrison, she thought.


At the base of the walls were a series of trenches. She could barely see them, as they were covered in meadow grass and weeds. There was a space about sixty meters wide of cleared terrain around the fortress that the soldiers kept clear of trees.


As she watched, she could see several decacentis of soldiers moving out, marching down the road that wound around the hill. As she watched, they disappeared under the forest canopy. They were armed, and either going out on maneuvers or patrol.


She banked, and headed for the higher elevations, where the good views, and thus prime real estate, were more likely to be.

Taid


------------------------------------------------------

Notes (not fully written yet):



Taid woke, hanging in his hammock at the Cellar Keg. Maggie would be done in another day. He was the only one who knew where the Mountainstream Inn was, and he hadn’t had a chance to talk with his companions yet. He had heard about some disappearances, and some Shard thefts, and something about a manticore. But they were all still just rumors. He knew that the Mountain Rangers, the Dwarven equivalent to the Rural Watch in Port Karn, were actively looking for the Manticore, but hadn’t found it yet. He wasn’t surprised; manticores were smart, and tried hard to keep their hiding places hidden.
He asked the tavern keep if there were any Mountain Rangers in town. It turned out that they had a small outpost in town, as a way to keep communications channels open with the people they were keeping safe. It’s located at the outskirts of town, a small building. He went in, and saw a Dwarf sharpening a knife at his desk.
He asked about the Manticore. They know that whatever the critter is, it has wings. It also is smart enough to actively avoid being seen. There had been a chance that it might have been a griffin, but those aren’t smart enough to avoid being seen committing their attacks. So they are pretty sure it’s a manticore. (Heh. But see below….)
He introduced himself, letting them know he was ex-Imperial Army. The guy asked if he wants to join the Mountain Rangers, as they are looking for recruits. Taid said no, he didn’t want to be locked into things. He was a traveling soul, hitting the road…. He did say he wanted to help out, however.
He headed to the Council Curia building, since he wanted to find out who was on the council, and if someone named Kallia was on it. On the way, he saw a street preacher, spouting out that Awakener stuff about opening your mind and crystals will get you there.
He arrived at the Council building, a sufficiently large structure to hold a group of squabbling politicos and their attendant courtiers. There aren’t any convenient lists of people, or sculpted busts of the council members. There was a receptionist, who greeted Taid when he came in. Taid asked how the council worked, finding out that the council is made up of the nobility, the guild masters, wealthy traders, and a few other people who have effectively bought their way onto the council. And they don’t willingly give out the info on who is on the council (although the information can be found out using other ways).
Taid is told some of the names: Harcan Underpeak, guildmaster of the Trading Guild; Sir Gorgo Goldensand, officer in charge of the Civil Patrol; Monash Rockycrag, guildmaster of the Masons. He also said that the Speaker of the Council, its “leader”, is Redorne Goldensand. The Baron, Dvalin Goldensand, only occasionally comes to the Council sessions. Hugarr Amplebeard, the head of the barbers’ guild, is also a member. As is Palen Snowpeak, who is the local commander of the Mountain Rangers. Edmont Alpinefield is the guildmaster for the Growers’ Guild. Sur-Themis Bronten Weaverson is the councilman representing the Imperial Army. Dargo Mastersmith is the head of the Smithing Guild.
Taid wanted to find out more about Baron Goldensand. He went back to the Mountainstream Inn to talk to Darmund about the baron. They’d been ruling it for ages. He is one of four husbands in the household. Married to Katvia. Taid understood how Dwarven family dynamics worked.
Almë was just chilling with the dogs, playing with them, and meditating, and not fighting anything. Just enjoying the day in the forest. He could hear the shouts of nearby field workers.
Eykit woke up at the Silver Blossom caravanserai. No scuttlebutt about any attacks the previous night. It was still early, but if something important had happened, Eykit figured he’d have heard something. He headed out towards the weapon smith. His knives would be ready before midday, so he started hoofing it. This time, he took the switchback road.
He got to the shop. The same proprietor was there, although the servant wasn’t sweeping this time; he was doing something with the weapons racked behind the counter. He brought out the pair of rondels. They were a beautiful shiny black. Eykit has his knives back. He could hear, through the door behind the counter, pounding of metal on metal. There is obviously some sort of workshop back there.
It was midday; everyone was caught up.
Elitheris was at the Keg, drinking beer. She ordered an appetizer sampler plate of Dwarven foods, included shelf mushroom chips, and stuffed mushrooms, spore bread (it’s blue), and various other fungoid foods that Dwarves like. $15 for the sampler; $4 for each drink.
Elves aren’t commonly seen in Dwarfchat; someone asked how she found herself there. “I travel and live in the forest. I headed in the direction I hadn't gone before, and I kind of wound up here. Killed a big stag and thought I'd bring it into town to sell.”
She asked about the stocks. What offenses make people get put in those. Spitting in public, littering, theft. She found out that the Civil Patrol is really cracking down due to the disappearances. Dozen people. Likely a manticore, because people have heard flapping wings. Elitheris then told them that she didn’t want to start any rumors, but on her way to Dwarfchat, she saw a dragon flying towards the mountains. (Rumor: started.) The response is basically “ohhhhh shit. Thank you for telling us, but that makes this whole thing about 10 times harder.” That person left to go tell the Mountain Rangers.
Ruby had flown all over the city outskirts area, seeing several manor houses. Many had very organized, formal gardens. Most had walls about 12’ high, some had broken glass mortared into the tops, some had metal spikes. Only half were manor houses, the other half looked more like a mine entrance at the side of mountainsides. So many of them are mostly underground.
She flew closer to a few of the larger manor houses. She landed on roofs, checking in the windows. Inside was a Dwarven child playing with a doll. The next one had a pair of people playing cards at a table, having fun.
Some of the manors have some guards, but not most. The third manor has a pair of guards at a gate house outside the manor. She checked the windows. At the back of the house, it’s a wall of windows; inside was a banquet table. In the adjacent kitchen, she could see two people working in there. Checking another window, she saw a study with books, and a Dwarf reading a book. The books are histories, military tactics and history, biographies, travelogues, journals, geography. Average normal books. In another room, she could see a map on the wall of a mountainous region, with dots on it connected by straight lines (undercities connected by causeways). At another window, she saw a person sitting at a desk, with a guard at the door.
Then she went to the inn she had flown over earlier. She found the Cellar Keg first, then she flew to the Mountainstream Inn. She sat on a tree branch for a while, watching the inn. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Or anyone she recognized.
She flew back to the caravanserai. Then she shapeshifted back into a Hobbit.
Eykit had his knives, and he walked out of the shop into the bright sunlight. Next stop was a jewel crafter. Down the block was Brightdigger’s Gems, where Eykit could get his diamonds faceted. Selling them raw would be about $500. $500 to facet them, increasing their value to upwards of $1000.
It was lunchtime. Eykit found his way to the Cellar Keg. He saw Elitheris at a side table, up against the wall. He nodded discreetly at her, but didn’t say anything.
Elitheris saw him walk in, and nodded in response, but kept quiet herself.
Eykit ordered an ale the size of his head. $6. He needed an extra large giant pour after the long walk up the switchback road. It took both hands to lift. He chatted up the bartender. He asked about any cute goblins. Bartender said that there was some yesterday, apparently some dancers. He also asked about the night time troubles.

Rukrurim Goldforge, Tavern keeper at the Cellar Keg
There was some discussion about music, since a lutist was arriving later to play. The bartender preferred crystal baschet and glass harmonicas.
The bartender also mentioned the manticore, and that it might not be a manticore, but a dragon! One had been seen a couple of days ago. Eykit then mentioned that he’d heard from someone that he trusted had seen a dragon. So now the bartender had the dragon story from two people. The rumors were spreading, and the people in town were starting to think that the dragon idea was more likely the cause of the disappearances.
Eykit ordered fowl for lunch to go with his ale. He ends up with a large turkey leg that tasted great.
Taid was sipping ale at the Mountainstream Inn.
Elitheris stuck her finger into the pouch holding the Shard cluster. She sent Almë the message “Still in town, but on my way back”. She didn’t know if he got the message or not; there was no feedback. Then she sent a message to Eykit, across the tavern. “Heading back to camp. Nod if you get this.” Eykit nodded, and Elitheris knew that at least Eykit got the message. So the Shard was working to send her thoughts. She sent a similar message to Taid, and one to Ruby. She also told Taid that she was at the Keg.
She sent another message to Taid: “At the Cellar Keg, Eykit is here too.”
Taid got up, paid his tab, and walked out, heading towards the Cellar Keg. He saw Elitheris walking the other way on the street. They nodded to each other, keeping up the fiction that they didn’t know each other. Elitheris went back to camp, where she found out that Almë had gotten her message, from 2 miles away.
<1:33:18>
Ruby got the message from Elitheris. She finished eating, then walked to the Cellar Keg. She saw Eykit, sucking down a huge ale and munching on a large turkey leg. She ignored him, walked up to the tavern keeper, and asked for a room at the inn. They had room in a shared room for $5 a night. But there were no single rooms. She was stuck with a hammock in a room with up to 11 other people.
She took a seat at the bar, next to Eykit. She ordered some food. Taid was there too, sitting at a table. “Howdy, stranger,” Eykit said around a mouthful of turkey.
It was midafternoon. The tavern keeper came back with some mushrooms and roasted veg. Both the turkey leg and the roasted veg tasted spectacular. The Cellar Keg had a really, really good cooking day.
There were no dogs in the tavern, to Ruby’s disappointment. She was stuck talking to people instead. She talked to the bartender, said she’d heard of the disappearances. Talk about it was a manticore, but news has it being a dragon instead. What kind of dragon? A great drake. Should she leave town? What are the guards doing about it? The disappearances seemed to be from the transient population, not the locals.
There are still muggings for Shards.
Disappearances started 3-4 eightdays ago.
Ruby also asked about local politics, and was told basic info about the Council Curia. She found out that the Civil Patrol has been bolstered by the undercities, so there are some Civil Patrollers that a “Foreigners” in Dwarfchat, who are less forgiving about minor offenses. She is also told that the prison is located in the walled section of town, and a second one is beneath the baron’s castle. She also asked how often prisoners who are arrested simply disappear, never to be seen again. While that happens on occasion, the justice system seems fairly non-corrupt. But sometimes, inconvenient people are never seen again.
<1:56:04>
Bartender mentions that he’s not really comfortable with the more authoritarian Civil Patrol. He prefers them being a bit more relaxed than they are now.
Elitheris got back to camp, and told her that he got the message, from about 2 miles away. She made some tea, and kicked back and relaxed. Mr. Wiggles was happy she was back. (I went back and looked at the relevant adventure log where Mr. Wiggles was introduced. Elitheris and Eykit were the ones showering him with affection when he showed up at camp, so it was either Erin or Elizabeth who gave him his name.)
It was late afternoon, and the sun was already behind the mountains to the west and Dwarfchat was in shadow. Eykit didn’t want to be out after dark. He walked back to the Silver Blossom caravanserai, wobbling a little after his big meal and bigger ale, taking his leave of Taid and Ruby. He hadn’t talked to them, still keeping up the fiction that they were all separate. He took the shortcut down the switchback road. On the way, he overheard the wagon teamsters talking about the rumor that it might not be a manticore, but a dragon.
Taid took over Eykit’s chair at the bar, to get some dinner. He asked the barkeep about the dragon. The barkeep kept his story consistent, and didn’t embellish it. “How big was this dragon?” Taid asked.
“It must have been pretty big, as they saw it high in the sky.”
“Could it have been responsible for plucking people out of the city?”
“Quite possibly. Larger creatures would be able to fly off with a victim even easier.”
Taid asked him who might know who disappeared and where they had been when it happened. The answer the barkeep gave was that the Civil Patrol should know.
Ruby had dinner too, listening to and watching the other customers. There wasn’t anything suspicious. Both Ruby and Taid were staying the night in the Cellar Keg, in the same room, in separate hammocks. There were also 8 other people in hammocks in the room as well.
There 12 other people in the tavern, of various races, except for Dwarves. They left, likely being residents.
Their basic assumptions was that there was a possibility that Kallia was behind all of the disappearances, and the flapping sounds were a diversion to throw people off her scent. Or, some of them were Kallia, and some were the manticore or dragon. But they knew from her letter that she had a wagon, and servants, and carried at least one victim to her estate via the wagon. And they were thinking that watching the roads for wagons (especially wagons with unconscious people in them) might be a good lead.
When Ruby had flown over the area, she saw a great many wagons going back and forth on the many roads that went from Dwarfchat to the surrounding towns, and up into the mountains towards the Undercities. In some cases, especially to the Undercities, entire caravans of wagons.
End of session happened before night fell. They hadn’t combined their information yet, so the only person who had any clue as to the lay of the land was Ruby. She’s also the only one who knew about the other towns (besides Kibil nala). Their plan, so far, was to watch the roads, likely as one group, not split up. If they were split up and one of them had some trouble, no one would know, and no one would be able to back them up.

Report Date

18 Mar 2024