An Evening in the Faded Raven
Lynn Gattes was in a low place when he arrived at The Faded Raven. His search for his long-lost companions in Barrowcrest had proven fruitless, a string of dead ends in a city of stone and wind. He had spoken to countless shopkeepers and followed whispers into every tavern, his charm and performance failing to enchant the truths he sought from the grim-faced locals. His final effort, a cautious exploration of the ruined Vampiric Venue, had revealed only a lingering scent of blood magic and the unsettling sight of corrupted armor, a temptation he was wise enough to resist.
The journey from the city had been a trial in itself. The ancient stone bridge spanned the Ghost Chasm, a canyon so deep that legends claimed it reached all the way to the Void. A constant, mist rose from its depths, carrying with it sorrowful whispers that chilled the soul more than any wind. To raise his own spirits, he had pushed into the tavern already playing a defiant song on his lute, only to be met with a dirty look from the house musician, the enigmatic and banjo-playing Bunny Bard. (A failed Charisma [Performance] check; the stage was already occupied). A professional recognizing another, Lynn respectfully yielded, strapping his lute over his shoulder and approaching the bar.
"I see that you made a little bit of a fool of yourself," the bartender, a weathered ex-adventurer with the weary eyes of a man who had seen too many Chaos Isles, remarked. Lynn attempted to parlay the moment into a negotiation for a room, but his eloquence was a nearly as numb as his fingers and a deeper, internal weariness. The bartender was unmoved.(A failed Charisma [Persuasion] check; this crowd was too grim for his usual flair).
As the Bunny Bard played, his fingers a blur across the banjo, Lynn began to nod in time with the music. Soon he was leaning on the bar, his mind lulled by the surprisingly complex melody, and the whole room, caught in the spell, joined in stomping along. The Bunny Bard, distracted by the unexpected intrusion of... something more than a mere performer... nearly broke a string but saved the chord with the skill of a master who had once owned an inn before it was mysteriously overrun by butterflies. For a moment, a shared respect passed between the two musicians, a silent acknowledgment of craft in a place that valued only survival.
Lynn Gattes knew he was on the right trail. A strange magic compelled him, a persistent echo of his friends in his mind that had grown louder these past weeks. Olanda's laugh in the morning, a sound of pure, unadulterated discovery. Gid's grumbling at night, a familiar litany of complaints about unoiled leather and dull blades. After so many long years, something was pulling the sundered companions back together.
He paid for a room and more drink than he normally would, the banjo music a soothing balm on his frayed nerves. He settled in to listen, content for the moment to be just another shadow in the corner of a room. He would find them. Whether in Gold Sands or the corrupted city of Sundrop, he would find them.
And together, they would make right whatever it was that had gone so wrong...