Their favourite watering hole.
With its familiar odours. Pleasant clientele, and choice musical acts...
Unfortunately it seemed that Bill, having missed nearly a weeks drinking time, decided he needed to do some serious catching up.
The heroes settled down to a night of drunken revelry.
Thankfully, the Slaughterhouse Sisters had completed their "Madrigal to a dead Orc" and had just left the premises. They had passed a local man just on the threshold of The Wharf and upon entering the drinking establishment he had made it quite plain that he considered himself lucky to have missed the aforementioned "Sisters".
Bill had wholeheartedly agreed with the fella's feelings about the Sisters and said so, loudly.
However behind him a rough and somewhat besmirched dwarf, unknown to the characters, took umbrage at Bills outburst. Declaring that the Sisters were a seminal force in the recent comeback of pure Jaccio stroke medieval style, four part harmony, swing, and more to the point, he liked them!
Bill had proclaimed that if the dwarf didn't shut his dirty great big beard hole, then he would be forced to "swing" at him! So the dwarf named, Dori Hedsplitter, circumvented the whole issue by punching Bill full in the face. Yes, ordinarily that would have been a bit of a tall order for a dwarf, but Bill had been right up in his grill and the dwarf was on his tippy toes!
Immediately Faroth, who was stood at the bar with two Jaccio guard, off duty, tried to calm things down.
Bill on the other hand decided it was time to sort the noisy dwarf out and punched him into the middle of next week.
At this point all hell let loose.
Bill, yelling at the top of his voice that this was just like his last birthday, absolutely brilliant, set about two local lads and the fella with whom he had just agreed with about the Slaughterhouse Sisters, while two guards passing by heard the noise and came in to investigate.
Faroth couldn't side step the guards but they couldn't hit him either. While Azzraela lept up onto the table to assist him, mainly because the large barbarian Gort had not launched himself into the fray, on account of an undigested pasty from dinner time.
Gwend set about a local, while Bill laid out another.
Still Gort worried about his guts.
While a local slept through these opening rounds.
Between Faroth and Azzraela one of the guard was knocked down and the other barbarian, Waldo, too.
Faroth managed to side step the final guard and decided enough, was in fact enough, Gort would be involved in this fight even if he didn't want to be. A blue bolt of lightening streaked across the bar, Gorts hair stood on end, he looked mildly cross, but little else happened.
It was at this moment that one of the locals slipped out, surreptitiously. I wonder why?
Gort, now decided it was time to, "Bash the Wizard", no not a euphemism, he actually tried to bash Faroth.
But while Faroth stood on the unconscious form of Waldo, Azzraela attacked Gort from behind... well he is an assassin.
Silently the local man crept away from the Wharf: he seemed to have something under his arm.
Finally all the adversaries were subdued, time to leave.
Grisbee was unimpressed.
Faroth continued to stand on Waldo's face.
Azzraela went through Gorts pockets.
Bill gave Grisbee 100 gold pieces and hugged him and told him it was the best birthday he had ever ever had and then realised it wasn't his birthday after all.
Happy the characters left the Wharf.
"So," said Faroth, "who has the casket?"
"What casket?" replied Bill.
"The one we were paid to give to Nevom, that casket!"
"Well that fella left the fight early," whispered Azzraela, pointing to the figure up ahead, "perhaps he has it!"
With a loud shout Bill launched himself down the ally, the dark shape quickly slipped into the shadows...
"Oh very well done Bill, excellent stealth skills as per usual!" Gwend looked up at the large Ogre with absolutely no trace of a smile at all.
"Thanks, " Bill smiled back, missing the sarcasm completely.