Day 2: Flamerule 7th

She again looks past you as she leaves.  After she exits, you hear Fhai  comment under her breath. 

"This gets stranger and stranger.  This weird gangline?  No snub line?  Taking care of the dogs outside? The next dog yard is in Targos.  Did she leave them tied to a rock out there?"

Shratha seems less curious.  "Not our concern.  Let's get this done.  I don't care what she does with it once we get paid."

As promised, Fhai hands you a gold coin each.  You stick around for the return of Miss Harpell to help her get her sled to the gate, hoping for a reward that never comes. 

On the way back to the Fancy Compass, with a hard day's work under your belt, you stop at a tavern you noticed earlier, called "Kelvin's Comfort".

Kelvin's Comfort

As you enter, you are immediately harangued with a shouted chorus of “Close the door!” 

Elva barely fits under the roof of this log establishment, dug in several feet to the earth. Candles barely light the room. A double-sided hearth dominates the center of the room, so huge as to almost feel out of place unless one stops to consider the frigid environment.  

A boisterous party of six male dwarfs dominates the largest table in the tavern, making loud unabashed bets over who has bedded the most women, then specifically, the most humans.  One asks, “... And how about tieflings?” to which the group responds in disgusted groans.  

Other than that, the place seems quiet, currently.  A dwarf stands on a stool behind a bar, spit-cleaning glasses and placing them on a high shelf. He occasionally implements his beard as a scouring pad when the situation calls for it.  There are two humans sitting apart quietly at the bar, and another wrapped in a blanket sitting nearest the hearth, intermittently blowing his nose and sipping from a snifter.

"What can I get ‘ya?" The bartender bellows.  "The drink of choice here is me Firebrandy, cost you a. Same for ale.  I might have some wine somewhere.  Make it quick. I got work to do."  

Taking up a spot at the bar between the two humans, you order some ales and make conversation with the man to your left.  You didn't catch his name, but he gave you some interesting information - whether or not you can trust it, is another matter.  Inquiring about where to stay in Targos, he searches his memory.  

"A lot of the inns have closed down now, let me think... There's the Luskan Arms.  That would be your most affordable option.  For something a bit safer but a bit pricier, there's the Wolf's Pelt Inn, run by the same family for centuries."

He tells you he works odd jobs these days, but he mostly worked in the Ge'mines in Termalaine, back when his body could take the abuse.  "It's decent money, if you can stand hard work and dwarfs."  He doesn't know if they're hiring. 

On the cause of the darkness, his thoughts are that, "It’s the end of the world and we're at the center of it. This darkness is eventually going to spread over all of Toril.  When the whole world’s dark, all sorts of demons and nasties will come and wipe us all out. I hope you sorted things out right with your gods." 

He also advises you on economic matters.  "The economy has gotten strange.  Used to be everything here cost an arm and a leg.  Now services are the cheapest they’ve ever been, but goods cost even more -  twice as much or more in some cases. But no one really knows how to price things anymore, so it's best to haggle. It's just going to get worse now that caravans can’t get through. The people who are left are still keeping it together mostly, but just wait. That blizzard to the south has nothing on the shitstorm that’s gonna kick up in the towns.  All that money can’t just keep changing hands here without any new money coming in from the south.  Sooner or later, folks will realize you can't eat gold."  

Afterwards, as promised, you return to the Fancy Compass to meet Raaf.  

Raaf's apologetic, he won't be able to continue on with you to Bremen as planned as he lined up another performance in a tavern called... "Kelvin's Comfort - have you heard of it?"  But before you return to the tavern, there's one more thing he must show you.

Abel's Arcana

Without waiting for an answer, Raaf picks up the instrument and begins to strum it, masterfully.  With no adjustments, it is perfectly in tune.  The notes fill the room and echo in your ears.  The chords draw you in and you lose track of the present.  Your head pleasantly spins from the silken music, and you recall the most pleasant memories from your childhood.  They play in your minds, crystal-clear, for the first time in decades. 

Elva vividly remembers playing "Elva-ball" with your parents.  A  made-up game the family played in the all-too-brief moments when one or both parents weren't traveling with trade caravans to Mirabar.  

For Numchucki, it's a memory of a girl you met when your village briefly joined with another for summer fishing season.  You think of her name for the first time in decades, Atuqtuaq.  She was a little older than you, and much more... experienced.  You never saw her again after that summer.  

You're vaguely aware when Raaf stops playing and sets the instrument down, but you have no idea how much time actually passed while he was playing.  Eventually, your consciousness rejoins with the present.  As he sets the instrument back on its stand, it speaks...in a manner.  Muttering in a low growl -- its voice harsh and unpleasant, the opposite of the music it just produced -- it says something about buttering a biscuit, the rest is unintelligible.  After a moment, it goes quiet. 

"Still the same price?" Raaf asks.

"Still the same price."  The man responds, slurping fish from his greasy fingers. He seems to have been unaffected by the music.

"You won't consider coming down a little?  You know, there are only a handful of us trapped in the Dale who can even play this.  It's a menace to anyone not trained in the magic of the bard. "

"Still the same price." He repeats.  "How about your friends?  Buying or selling?"

You look on the cabinet housing the instrument Raaf just returned.  You see a wand, a pipe, and helmet -- all exquisitely crafted.  Leaning against the cabinet are a staff and a broom.  He briefly explains their magical properties but becomes annoyed at the obvious fact you won't be purchasing any of these expensive items here today -- or, quite possibly, ever.

On the walk back, Raaf suggests a few possibilities for inns.  You settle on his suggestion for The Hooked Knucklehead.  Raaf informs you they have a common room you can share with others for a silver per person.  

"Not much privacy though."

The Hooked Knucklehead

You're greeted by the innkeeper named Barton. The accommodations here seem meager. There are few private rooms but they lack hearths and seem bitterly cold. Most of the clientele sleep in the spacious com­mon room, near the large marble hearth.  The common room is spacious.  The sound of wind whistling through cracks in the walls, drowns out even the crackle of the fire.  Throughout the large room are a scattered guests at far-apart tables.  Several scrimshanders carve trout jawbones while they carry on quiet conversations.  Another group struggles to keep relatively calm as their card game grows raucous.  Others are already sleeping under or on tables, some are barricaded behind their belongings in corners.  Most though, are nearest the hearth.  You set up your canvas and blanket there as well, in the last remaining spot.  

Humans, two men and a women, banter near you.  Confident no one could gather much from their conversation, they make no effort to keep quiet.  Elva, however, recognizes the Thieves' Cant and decodes it to mean that  the "cargo" (a further description is indecipherable) is ready to be moved on the "boss's" order,  which could come any night now.  

Already planning on heading on to Targos in the morning, you decide you won't investigate further and drift off into uninterrupted sleep.