G and Phan, disguised as an elderly dark elf couple, were escorted into the small prison fortress. Phan discreetly slipped a silver coin to one of the hobgoblin guards as they were led into a large room. It was apparent that the room was once a dwarven meeting hall that had been repurposed into a prison. Several large iron cages with cross-slat worked metal and rough doors for prisoners lined one side of the room. All of the cells were empty except for one, which had a table and several hobgoblins crowded inside, sitting and one watching from the open doorway.

The dim light from flickering torches cast deep shadows on the walls, adding to the ominous atmosphere. The wooden table in the center of the cell was made of sturdy oak, its surface marked with countless scratches and dents. Thick, heavy legs and iron brackets reinforced its joints to prevent wobbling. Stools were haphazardly placed around it.

G mused, "So much for the idea of a murderous prison of dark elves."

The hobgoblin guards were imposing, with sharp teeth and bulging muscles, attesting to their strength and battle prowess. They wore spiked leather armor and carried weapons, ready to defend against potential threats. Tocai's analysis revealed that they were all level 5 or 6 warriors.

The cell itself had slat ribbing, with iron beams spaced to allow air and light to filter through. The walls were thick and sturdy, lined with iron bars to prevent escape. The rough-hewn stone floor was cool and damp to the touch.

Several drink bottles sat on the table, some empty and others partially full. The crude labels had worn away, leaving faint traces of their former branding. As they approached the card game, they smelled the murky brown liquid inside the bottle, releasing a pungent, almost overpowering odor of liquor, making G's nose wrinkle in disgust. He wondered how hobgoblins could stomach such a foul brew. He firmly reminded himself not to create a flame in here unless he wanted to test the theories of combustive alchemy.

Kargan's large, calloused hands deftly shuffled the deck, the familiar flick of cards a comforting rhythm amidst the clamor of the guard's banter. Each laugh and jibe from his old comrades echoed in the dim, torch-lit cell, a stark contrast to the solemn atmosphere that usually pervaded the thick stone walls. He glanced around, the scarred oak table rough beneath his hands.

As he laid down the cards, a subtle sensation tugged at the edge of his consciousness—a familiar magical pulse that spoke of an old, binding contract. His heart skipped a beat, not from the game's stakes, but from the realization that G was near. It had to be him; the contract they had sealed could tell the other of their proximity. Kargan's eyes flickered momentarily to the doorway, his instincts sharpening.

He's here, disguised no doubt, Kargan mused to himself, a spark of strategy kindling in his mind. He had been demoted, ridiculed, and confined, yet here was his chance, perhaps his only one, to tilt the scales back in his favor. G's clever, but he's walking into a viper's nest. How do I play this right?

The door creaked open, and there it was—the opportunity he had sensed. An elderly dark elf couple, seemingly out of their depth, wandered in. The guards snapped to attention, their previous merriment replaced by wary alertness. Kargan's gaze sharpened as he studied the old man's posture, the subtle stiffness not quite fitting the feeble disguise.

The great game of dark pathway's politics continues, he thought with a wry chuckle internally, his face remaining composed and unreadable. The guards might be his friends, but they knew nothing of the deeper currents flowing through the shadows of their world. To them, the appearance of vulnerable elders was a curiosity, perhaps a minor annoyance. They couldn't possibly fathom the layers of deception being woven.

Alright, let's make this interesting, Kargan decided, turning his attention back to the card game, but his mind was racing through years of playing the great game of politics and trying to find an advantage. He needed to keep the guards entertained, distracted, yet subtly guide G through this hazardous reunion. The hobgoblins in this room were some of his most loyal, and if he intended to ever get his commission back, he needed to make sure nobody here died. His voice was steady as he teased Grom, the tension at the table now a tool in his hands. "You sure about that, Grom? You know I don't take kindly to losing."

As the cards flew and the stakes rose, Kargan's plan crystallized. This night, he would use this game to shield G under the guise of an elder that he appeared to be, all the while weaving a safety net of joviality and routine. By the time Grom slammed his hand down, challenging him to up the stakes, Kargan was ready. His counter-challenge about the laundry was more than a bid for humor; it was a signal, a subtle nod to G that he was playing along, creating a spectacle to keep every eye fixed away from the true gambit at play.

"If I win this hand, you're washing my clothes in clean spring water, scented with lavender, like they do for the queen," Kargan declared, a grin spreading across his face. The room's laughter was loud, the guards' attention wholly caught in the moment's hilarity. No hobgoblin warrior would ever be seen washing clothes.

The room erupted as the other guards whooped and hollered, their excitement fueling the charged atmosphere. Grom, his jaw set firmly, nodded in determination, his eyes narrowed on his old commander. As the final cards were laid down with deliberate suspense, Kargan's victory was swift, leaving Grom muttering curses under his breath as he tossed his cards in defeat.

The chamber resonated with boisterous laughter and ribald jests as the hobgoblin guards, with Grom's gruff acceptance of his loss. Kargan leaned back in his stool, taking a swig from his jug of liquor.

G peered around the room, his elderly eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint.

"Ah, the thrill of a good wager!" he exclaimed, his voice rich with feigned frailty. "In my prime, I was unrivaled at the card table—could bluff my way to victory against any opponent."

The hobgoblin guards seated around the table, initially wary of the seemingly feeble dark elf, exchanged uncertain glances. Despite their intoxication, something about this elder didn't sit right.

Nevertheless, as G casually withdrew a clinking handful of silver coins, avarice swiftly overshadowed their suspicion. Their eyes widened with covetous gleam as all prior caution dissipated in the face of potential gain. Kargan chuckled to himself and nodded at the empty stool across from him. G made a big show of almost tripping as he slowly made his way to the stool, assuming a more hunched appearance. Phan moved to stand behind him.

Tocai projected to G, "What are you doing, G? This wasn't the plan; in and out."

"It's okay, Tocai. I've got this," said G.

Kargan looked at G and asked, "Do you know how to play Hydra's Heads, old one?" There was a hint of reverence in his voice.

"No, I've never heard of it, but I'm sure I can learn quickly enough," said G, placing his large handful of silver on the table. "Explain it to me as we go along."

Kargan nodded, and the hobgoblins around the table grinned and looked at each other. Kargan proceeded to explain the rules of the game with the cards face up. When the real game started, G was cheating from the beginning. Tocai was giving him odds on the cards and had already identified the markings and smudges on the back of each card by the third hand. G could have won every single round after that, even with the confusing rules that changed in Kargan's favor at one point. He slowly lost his silver over the next two hours as he worked on learning about the jail and the names of the guards. It turned out that Kargan's old mercenary group or part of it, was running the prison. G found out as much as he could as he lost the last of his seventy-two silver, which he had worked hard to spread out as best he could between the guards. The guards themselves never seemed to suspect his disguise, and if anything, the one not in the game looked unhappy that he had no seat at the table and taking the silver from the old elf.

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Tocai said, "Your travel spells are about to expire. " At the same time, bells started ringing in the distance.

The hobgoblins looked at each other and started gathering things up. As the cards were cleared, G slowly rose from the table, his thoughts already far beyond the game. "Well, that was entertaining," he mused, straightening his robes. "But it seems we've wandered off our path." His gaze briefly met Kargan's, their understanding unspoken yet clear—he was sure Kargan had recognized him partway through the game. Their silent exchange was abruptly interrupted by the crashing sound of the prison door swinging open and a soldier's voice piercing the tension. "Call to arms!" the soldier bellowed. "There's a magical beast loose in Muck Town!"

The guards quickly stood, though one wobbled slightly, still under the influence of the evening's drink. This was the guard to whom G had found it hard to deliberately lose to, G had strategically folded his hand on clear winning rounds to maintain his unassuming disguise. Now sobered by the call to arms, their laughter ceased, replaced by the sharp focus of duty.

G turned to the soldier who had rushed to the card table to announce the alert, his voice tinged with concern. "Do you have a description of the creature?" He internalized his anxiety; the safety of the gnome children weighed heavily on him as the possibility of the beast roaming Muck Town loomed large.

The hobgoblin soldier shifted his gaze from G to Phan, and finally to Kargan, who nonchalantly grabbed an open bottle from the table and took a swig, unsure why these dark elves were even here, but he continued. "The creature is massive and can vanish at will," he explained, his tone grave. "It killed soldiers at the bridge and several goblins. It's elusive, but we've alerted the dark elves and the Queen. Hopefully, they will send magicians to aid in the hunt."

G nodded gravely as they stepped out of the cell, and the cell door clanked shut, locking Kargan inside. The soldier hastened after his comrades to pursue the invisible threat.

G turned to Tocai, his expression fraught with suspicion. "Tocai, what are the chances the Grurenderer you had me befriend has tracked us here?"

"It likely found another route from the forest," Tocai said, "It was too large for the stairwell."

As the footsteps of the departing guards echoed through the prison, G and Phan exchanged a knowing glance. Phan leaned closer, her voice barely a whisper, "I told you, they're hard to shake once they get a scent."

G felt a tugging, that now familiar druid or elf urge to help some plant or, in this case, some animal.

"You two should stay here with Kargan until the creature is brought down. It will be safer here than wandering the streets," said the guard Frargus, who had escorted G on his prison tour. He was the last one out the door, and he closed it as he left. There was a click of the large iron-bound door locking.

G looked at Phan, who pulled his arm and nodded at the door. "One moment," he said, standing a bit taller, losing his hunched older man look. He reached up and touched his brooch, removing his illusory disguise. Kargan was sitting there on his stool, just watching. He smiled when G dropped the disguise.

"Ah, I had a feeling that you were in there. That robe was a dead giveaway. The magic has a unique aura about it. Although it was quite convincing. Who is your friend?" asked Kargan.

"This is Phan. Are you ready to leave this place?" asked G from outside the cell where they had played cards.

"Yes," said Kargan as he stood up.

G looked around the room briefly. "Is there another key?"

"The guard has it, the tall one, Fadorec, the one who wandered off drunk to fight a magical beast," replied Kargan.

Well, that explained why they were all willing to just leave with no guards here, thought G.

Phan looked at G for a few moments, then produced a cylindrical magical device, positioning it precisely over the keyhole. G noticed a faint magical aura emanating from both the lock and the device. As Phan turned the cylinder, its dials spun rapidly until a sharp click echoed. She then pulled open the cell with a decisive tug.

"Alright, Gerkag is outside waiting for us. Well, hopefully, he still is," G said. He quickly recast his travel spells and activated his dark elf disguise by murmuring the activation phrase into the brooch.

Kargan wasted no time. He scooped his winnings from the table, wrapped them in a cloth, and secured the package with a string before tucking it into his vest. He then grabbed a cloak and a helmet from a shelf nearby, hastily putting them on to conceal his identity.

Phan unlocked the larger prison door and cautiously peeked outside. To their surprise, the door was unexpectedly unguarded—a stroke of luck they didn't question. As they moved swiftly across the large plaza in front of the prison, they spotted Gerkag leaning casually against a wall where they had left him.

"Ahh, Gerkag, damned fine to see you again, friend," said Kargan as he extended his hand. The two clasped wrists, a greeting of old comrades.

"Same here," Gerkag replied with a toothy smile as the bells still rang in the distance. "We should leave before they come back. How did you manage to get all the guards to clear out like that?"

"There's a magical beast loose in Muck Town. It's caused such a stir that a full Call to Arms has been issued—every mercenary in the district would have been mobilized to join the hunt," explained Kargan, his expression tightening with worry. "Even the wall captains would be involved, which shows just how serious they are taking this."

"Ahh, we should get moving then," said Gerkag as he stood up, leading the way back toward the ramps and stairs that descended into Muck Town."

As they threaded their way through the dimly lit streets, G's voice was low but urgent. "Kargan, how did you end up in that prison, and where is Riclos?"

The shadows played across Kargan's face as he recounted the events, his tone heavy with regret. "It was a mess near the river. We were surrounded by hobgoblins and goblins. Riclos, thinking quickly, tried to twist the narrative in our favor. He convinced Ryan that he was your ally and I was the captive. Surprisingly, it worked."

G's eyes narrowed, processing every word. "But Riclos is alive?"

Kargan nodded grimly. "Yes, Riclos's quick thinking bought us some time, but not enough. Ryan opted to play it safe. He separated us, assigning me to the custody of hobgoblins who, surprisingly, have shown some loyalty to me. Meanwhile, Riclos was taken to the palace dungeons. Ryan is using him as bait, believing that it will lure you into a desperate rescue attempt. That bit of information I found out a few nights ago when the first crate of liquor arrived that I paid for."

They continued in silence, the weight of the situation settling over G. They paused at a ramp tucked behind a long building. Kargan pointed upward through a gap that led to the upper district. High above floated the astral ship, tethered to what seemed like a platform or large balcony.

"That's the palace where the Queen and her consort Ryan reside. They've hoisted the ship up there and hired the city's finest craftsmen to repair it. That's also where we'll find Riclos," Kargan explained.

"Well, if he's bait, then they'll keep him alive. We need to get you off these streets first," G said, checking the time remaining—a little over a day—on the enchanted timer on Tocai's quest. He sighed deeply, his next steps clear: reach the magic shops in the high district.

Below them, Gerkag pointed out a patrol of twelve hobgoblins crossing the plaza. "We'll head down and take the left-wall alley. It leads around to an old warehouse with a back door close to my place. If it's clear, we can make it to The Rotten Worm."

As they followed the tavernkeeper down into the depths of Muck Town, the air grew thick with the musty stench of decay. They emerged from a small side door in the warehouse where Gerkag had momentarily paused, nodding at two goblins near the entrance who were busy sorting heaps of refuse into piles. The dim, flickering light barely pierced the pervasive gloom of the interior, casting long shadows across the grimy walls. Despite their curious glance, the goblins paid no further attention to the group after Gerkag's acknowledgment, focusing instead on their task amid the clutter of their surroundings.

The narrow corridors of the warehouse were a labyrinth of stacked crates and ragged tarpaulins, leading into a warren-like expanse of goblin apartments. These makeshift dwellings were haphazardly constructed, a jumble of salvaged materials and detritus that spoke of their inhabitants' hard, desperate existence. The air was laden with the tang of spoiled meat and the sharp sting of old smoke. At one point, G thought he spotted the corpse of a goblin lying in a heap of garbage.

They moved cautiously through the city's underbelly near the market for a time, encountering a hobgoblin patrol. The patrol members were preoccupied, their attention captured by a soldier who periodically raised a glass gem to his eye, scanning the surrounding market with intense focus. The tension in the air was palpable, heightened by rumors of an invisible killer creature lurking nearby.

Eventually, they reached a side street where The Rotten Worm tavern nestled against the neighboring buildings. A lone troll lounged by the door, his large form nearly blocking the entrance. Above him, a small sign hung on its hinges, the tavern's name barely visible in the dim streetlight. The streets were eerily quiet, devoid of the usual bustling activity of goblins. The news of the beast and increased vigilance from hobgoblin patrols had effectively emptied the area, leaving the muddy, trash-strewn lanes silent.

The group remained vigilant as they approached the entrance, scanning for any potential threats. Just then, they noticed a faint shimmer in the air—a telltale sign of the grurenderer that had been following them.