And so the night passed.
The four companions reached the outskirts of Perhata by noon. Their journey back had been uneventful, and if it hadn't been for the cold winds blowing down from the north, it might have been almost pleasant.
Though the citizens of Perhata referred to their home as a "city," in truth it was more like a ramshackle village. The docks were old and badly in need of repair or complete replacement. The outer buildings were unpainted shacks, their wood worn and weathered, the structures so rickety they looked as if a strong rainfall might batter them to the ground. The buildings in the center of Perhata were somewhat sturdier, though hardly more attractive: square gray-stone buildings of one or two stories. Even the baron's "palace" was of similarly plain construction, though it stood three stories high and was surrounded by a stone wall topped with rusty iron spikes to discourage unwanted visitors. The streets of central Perhata were paved, though their brick surface was often cracked and warped. The streets in the rest of the city were nothing but dirt and mud-given the city's proximity to the sea, more of the latter than the former. A cold breeze wafted in off the Lhazaar, filling the air with the salty tang of seawater. From any point in the city one could hear the cries of gulls, the shouts of sailors, and the lap of waves breaking against the pier.
The companions had a pair of rooms at a dockside inn called the King Prawn. The establishment's grandiose name belied the rather modest accommodations it offered, but it was the best they could afford, which meant they probably wouldn't contract a fatal disease by staying there. As they walked down the street toward the inn, they passed men and women of various races-humans, half-elves, and gnomes being the most common. Most were dressed warmly and huddled within cloaks of thick cloth or fur with the hoods up. With everyone garbed thus, it appeared the street was filled with shady characters of dubious intent which, given Perhata's reputation as a place where any type of business could be conducted without questions asked, seemed only appropriate.
Diran and the others entered the King Prawn and stepped into the common room. Sailors, traders, and low-level merchants sat drinking and playing games of chance, speaking to one another in low tones so no one else might overhear the plans they made. Cast-off bones and dropped bits of food covered the bare earth floor, all marinating in a stew of spilled ale and other less savory liquids. Despite the chill outside, the logs in the fireplace remained unlit, and the cold air smelled of sweat, desperation, and dark intent.
The four companions made their way through the crowd as they headed for the stairs, intending to go up to their rooms and divest themselves of their packs before coming back down to eat. But just as they were about to mount the stairs, someone in the crowd called out, "Hey, half-orc!"
Ghaji sighed. Normally he enjoyed dealing with the idiots who taunted him about his half-blood status, but he was tired and hungry and didn't have the patience for it right now.
He turned around. "Yes?"
A gnome stood up on his chair. He was smaller than Hinto, which made him short even for one of his people. He wore brown boots, brown pants, a white shirt, and a black leather vest. His bald head was adorned with an octopus tattoo, the tentacles reaching down across both of cheeks. From the way he wobbled unsteadily on his chair, it was clear the man was drunk.
"I got a question for you!"
Everyone in the common room grew silent as they waited to see what the gnome was going to say. Ghaji figured that more than a few of them were hoping to see the little man torn apart by an enraged half-breed beast-man.
"Since you're a half-orc, are your manly bits half-sized?"
Delighted with his display of wit, the inebriated gnome barked out a laugh and looked around the room to see what reaction his joke had gotten. A few of the men and women in the room laughed along with the little man, but most kept their gazes fixed on Ghaji, anticipating his violent reaction.
Ghaji turned to Diran. "What is it with gnomes and size jokes?"
"A racial inferiority complex would be my guess," the priest said.
"You're probably right." Ghaji considered drawing his axe and setting it aflame to scare the gnome, but he decided against it. It wouldn't be the wisest move to advertise he possessed such a rare weapon, especially not in a place like this. Since "borrowing" the axe from a guard on the prison island of Dreadhold several months ago, Ghaji had been forced more than once to prevent someone from trying to "borrow" it from him.
Instead, he reached down, undid his belt buckle, and allowed his pants to drop around his ankles. The crowd let out gasps of surprise and more than a few murmurs of appreciation. The gnome's eyes goggled as he took in Ghaji's "manly bits."
"As you can see," Ghaji said, "I received the best of both worlds."
A moment passed, and then the patrons in the common room broke into applause-and no one applauded louder than the gnome with the octopus tattoo.
Diran and Ghaji reached their room first, and Tresslar and Hinto continued down the hall to theirs. As Ghaji opened the door to the room, Diran said, "If I were you, I'd prepare myself to be visited by any number of ladies tonight… and perhaps even a few gentlemen."
Ghaji was about to tell Diran that he wasn't any funnier than the gnome, but before he could do so, a feminine voice came from within the room.
"He's already got a visitor, though I'm not sure too many people would call me a lady."
Ghaji and Diran stepped into the room and saw a slender elf-woman sitting atop one of their straw-filled sleeping pallets. Her chestnut-colored hair was braided in colorful beaded strands, as was the custom in the Principalities. She wore a white shirt with long billowy sleeves, tight black pants, knee-high black boots, and a wide black belt with an iron buckle. Hanging from the belt was a leather pouch that Ghaji knew was filled with any number of surprises.
"Yvka!" Ghaji broke into a broad grin upon seeing the elf-woman. The sight of an orc-even a half-orc-baring his teeth normally would've sent a shiver of fear through even the most seasoned of warriors, but Yvka returned the grin, hopped lightly to her feet, and ran over to embrace Ghaji. Despite the elf-woman's thin frame, she nearly knocked Ghaji off his feet as she threw herself into his arms. They kissed, and when they were done, they kissed again.
Diran cleared his throat. "I'll just go on down and have something to eat while you two finish saying hello."
Diran, Tresslar, and Hinto sat at a table in the common room, their meal long finished. They were drinking ale and talking when Ghaji and Yvka at last came downstairs. There was a scattering of laughter and raised mugs from the other patrons when they saw Ghaji, and the half-orc waved good-naturedly as he led Yvka over to his friends' table.
"What was that all about?" the elf-woman asked as they sat.
"There was this drunken gnome," Hinto began, but Ghaji shot him a dark look and the halfling mumbled, "Never mind" and turned his attention back to his ale.
"It's good to see you again, my dear," Tresslar said. "It's been far too long."
Ykva smiled. "I'm afraid the life of an entertainer is an uncertain one. It seems I'm always moving from one town to another in search of my next job."
Hinto put down his mug and wiped a smear of foam off his upper lip. "What are you talking about? I thought you worked for-"
The halfling cried out in pain as Ghaji's boot connected solidly with his shin.
"Hinto, while I may, upon occasion, perform certain tasks not related to entertaining, I'd appreciate it if you could avoid speaking of them aloud."