(This thread must've slipped my notifications bar. Oops.)

With a pronounced sigh and an imperious glare thrown Dusty's way, Isoldus stood, ensured the guards were adequately stationed around the party's train, and accompanied the party in departing the train. Isoldus needed to remind himself - not all could share his extreme fixation on his mission, and it was best for the spirits of his allies to remain intact, even if Isoldus disagreed with wasting time or resources on drink and relaxation. 

"If you need bullets, you're free to allocate some of my gold for your weaponry," Isoldus offered - the dragonborn didn't understand firearms, nor did he have any intentions to, though he recognized their power. A sword remained sharp with proper maintenance and never failed to swing - machines had far too many working parts to be reliable when the gritty dust settled in. 

The dragonborn strode a pace ahead of the party, towering shoulders and plated armor reflecting the sunlight above. Isoldus's yellow eyes fanned around the stop to search for the first run-down tavern or potential lodging the group ventured upon. 

Dusty absolutely beams, apparently amused at his own persuasion and the fact that Isoldus seemed to bend their iron will in favour of at least a small amount of merriment, as they look for a tavern there is more of a spring in his step and a chuckle in his voice, as he hums a tune in step with the group.

As the group wanders through the town, Isoldus finds the tavern easily enough. Curiously, the architecture of this town appears to follow orcish designs, involving tall, sturdy towers, but here and there other designs poke through. This tavern is one such building, being only two stories tall and just about as wide as it is tall. It does, however, have a single tower sprouting from the top. A sign hangs down from the front, depicting a swirling whirlpool of sand, with the words "Dry Water Saloon" painted above it. Upon the roof, several vultures perch ominously, looking down at the group as they approach.

The doors swing cleanly open as the crew enters, revealing a rather gloomy interior. The saloon is packed with tables and chairs, with narrow paths meandering between them. A bar stretches along one wall, under a balcony that can be reached by a wooden staircase that hugs the north wall. Another balcony overhangs an entrance to the east. All the windows are fitted with thick shutters and crossbars. Lanterns hanging above the bar and resting on the tables bathe the room in dull orange light and cast shadows upon the walls, most of which are adorned with the heads of various twisted sand-beasts, fixed in a constant snarl, scream, or in one case a particularly repugnant grin.

Around half a dozen people sit here and there, some at the tables, most at the bar. In the corner there sits a woman dressed in a shabby duster and a tall hat, a large cigar hanging out of her mouth. She tunes a guitar, but does not yet play. Behind the bar there stands a decently well-dressed woman, and from behind you can hear the clinking of plates and the smell of something cooking. Most of the patrons have ordinary drinks in their glasses, but a few have an unusually dark, almost grayish substance, which they sip carefully, almost with reverence.

Isoldus's slit-pupiled glare challenged the vultures as the dragonborn approached the tavern, an irritated sigh barely contained behind his composed demeanor. Taverns - useless places, according to Isoldus. Nothing good came from them, though Isoldus felt some sort of relief at the size of the orcish architecture - a place where the towering Paladin didn't need to practically curl himself in a ball to avoid tripping other guests with a wayward tail or claw. 

"There's your tavern," Isoldus plainly stated, showing none of the party's enthusiasm. "Get this over and done with." 

Expression curved in his usual frown, Isoldus pushed into the tavern first, narrowed eyes sweeping for anything untoward. (Expending one use of Divine Sense to detect any fiends, undead, or celestial within 60' of Isoldus).

If nothing catches Isoldus's eye, the Paladin conceded with settling upon one of the stools at the corner of the bar, scaled neck resting against the wood of the tavern's wall so the Paladin could keep an eye on the people within. Especially his allies. If the bartender ever approached, Isoldus extended a palm with one gold, speaking in his low, rumbling voice. "This isn't for drinks, though I hope it wets your lips enough to tell me the news of the town. What goes on in the wastes? Anything of importance?"

She pockets the one-dollar coin and smiles sweetly at Isoldus' glowering face. "Well, son, that depends on what news you're lookin' for. Here in this town, it ain't great. Perhaps you've heard, but the mayor's mad. Don't you tell anyone I said that, though, I'm only being frank 'cause you look like the type that won't go gossipin' about. He's been bad for years, but it's just been getting worse and worse. He thinks he's back in Anth'Tkur, is what it seems to me. Only he's takin' it a bit too far. He's holdin' a Ton'On every week, sometimes multiple a week. They used to just do it once a month back in the old days. I suspect I'm already half deaf, I just don't yet realize it cause everyone else is too.

"As for the Wastes in general? Well, there seems to be stuff goin' on all over. Up north, Charybdis is as ravenous as ever, but that hasn't stopped old Blaine from trying to hunt on it anyways. At the very least he doesn't have the Ghost Train to deal with, since it's been silent lately. Off farther west, the old huntin' lodge is still as haunted as ever, and the old town to the south is probably the same, since the Baron had it destroyed. All in all, a pretty dismal scene, don't ya think?"

Upon entering the tavern Dusty takes a deep breath in and gasps out loud with a sense of refreshing comfort in his surroundings, beaming from ear to ear he beelines directly to the corner where the woman sits with a guitar,  "you there! in need of some accompaniment?" he shakes the harmonica he has in her direction energetically "OF COURSE you are! do you know the song 'Old Anth'Tkur blues'?"

Playing a trill of the melody to punctuate his question Dusty looks around the tavern, before addressing the woman again, "C'mon, if we get these poor folks spirits up a little there's likely some coin in it for the both of us, When was the last time you saw someone dance?"  (An attempt at persuasion If the woman seems resistant or argumentative 26)

Hugeo follows after the others. He used to appreciate taverns as they were a place where one can get booze, but that was no longer something that could matter for him. Now, it was just a crowded place where people would ponder his strange body. "I'm with the cap on this," the metallic voice says, "we're far from done, so there's no point wasting time here. Celebrate after a job's done."

The news of the mayor's fate didn't surprise Isoldus. Most weak minds surrendered when faced with as impossible odds as the wastes. Isoldus slowly nodded once in thanks for the information. "Dismal only to those without direction. Could you explain to me what a 'Ton'On' is, and while you are at it, the mayor's name?" Isoldus asked - regardless, it sounded best if the party left the town before the event, judging by the woman's description. "And is Charybdis a location, town, area, creature, or person?"

(Aw yeah, it's exposition time)

The bartender chuckles. "Wow, you really ain't from 'round here, huh? Suppose the sword's the tell. The Ton'On was something that went on every new moon in Anth'Tkur. They thought it was a great eye or somethin', and it protected them from evil, and whenever it closed they had to wake it up by making a whole lotta noise. Cue a night-long festival of screamin', hollerin', instrument playin' and assorted ruckus. Even some lightning bolts on the part of the Lahi'Gaur. The mayor goes by the name Dom'e Edig'Gaur. Or at least so he claims, I'm not so sure. Dom'e Bashi'Gaur, his father, was supposed to be one of the most mellow Lahi'Gaur, but Edig is anything but. And besides, last I heard Lahi'Gaur were supposed to be able to control the storm and the sky, and if the mayor could do that he could have used it to cure the last big drought we had. As for Charybdis, it's a great big whirlpool of sand up north of here. Pretty bog-standard for the Waste, really. Dangerous to traverse, but there's always a lot of sand-beasts swimming around it."

The lady shakes her head as Dusty approaches, holding out a hand for him to stop. "Yes, I know the song. Too well, since I've been in this town. I've heard it played all night every single week, on every single instrument imaginable, for the last month. As for dancin', I've seen people dancin' till their feet bleed and they fall over. I might be convinced to join you, but I'd rather save myself the beatin'." At this, she gestures around the room, where patrons are glaring at Dusty, some clutching their ears. Even the vultures in the rafters (because there are vultures in the rafters) seem unhappy with the sound. "I'd advise stopping if you don't want to find your harmonica shoved somewhere very personal."

Insight into what she means by the over playing/over dancing 'til their feet bleed and they fall over' feels wrong and possibly magical in origin. 23

Dusty very much stops his playing with a discordant hummmm before clearing his throat, taking a guarded look around the room and leaning in toward this woman to continue speaking more between them than aloud.

"hmmmm.. Well if those songs are making the rounds, 'Old Anth'Tkur Blues' is an Argent Pullv Original, you know of him? what's the general vibe and feeling toward song writes in this town? 

All the dialect and the woman’s use of slang sent a frown curling over the dragonborn’s lips. Couldn’t they speak like a regular, civilized person? What was wrong with being simply direct? 

The Knight nevertheless absorbed the information, giving a nod of thanks to the woman in return. “Your information was useful. Thank you. One final question - what is the one change you would make to improve the lives of the civilians in your town? The population seems…muted,” Isoldus questioned with a broad gesture around the tavern with a clawed hand, disguising any amusement earned from Dusty’s predicament. 

Dusty:

"It's just noise, doesn't really matter who wrote it. We all pretend we're happy, cause the Mayor doesn't like it if we show how we really feel. He thinks he can clear away the smog with feigned happiness and noise."

Isoldus:

"A change... well, if I could make any change, I'd bring the gods back to the Waste. Without 'em, people like the Baron thrive, and he's the root of all this. He's the reason the Mayor's acting like this. But really I'd settle for taking the Mayor down. His festivals only risk the Baron's wrath, and do nothing to fix this place."

His demeanour noticeably deflating at this blow to the ego, Dusty leans closer, "songs are meant to enhance joy not simply distract from the misery, they can cradle sorrow without forcefully and falsely bloviating the spirit. Who and Where, is this mayor who would abuse music and dance in such a way?" he speaks with a hint of anger in his voice, not toward the woman but toward the general outlook of the situation

She points at the wall in the general direction of the north side of town, where the elevation rises. "Name's Dom'e Edig'Gaur. You'll find his house up that way, you can't miss it. Looks like he ripped it straight off the streets of Anth'Tkur."

"...And what would you suspect the people of this city would give for a problem like Dom'e to go away? hmmm, I'm in the market for a guitar myself" Dusty eyes up the woman's guitar as she continues tuning it "what is your name, by the way?"

Rasp's lips curled in a sneer at the mention of gods. "We don't care about ants - the gods don't care about us. Why do you think they left?" 

The dragonborn stood, brushed any settled dust from his armor, and thanked the woman with a bow. "It may be difficult in these trying times, though I encourage you to have hope. I will see what I am capable of. You have aided me greatly." 

Isoldus's golden gaze settled over Dusty. It seemed he had the same goal in mind regarding what to do with Dom'e, though it was fitting the Bard wished for treasures earned from ousting the mayor over anything else. "It seems to me the mayor must be dealt with."

(How many of us are still here? Only Plum and Yorkshire have posted recently.)

The woman shrugs at Dusty's question. "Couldn't tell ya. No one's done it yet, after all. Call me Ruby." She idly twirls one of her short red locks. "Ruby Red."

The bartender nods in response to Isoldus. "Right. Care to repay me by buying a drink?"

(I'm following, just didn't have anything I wished to say/do.) 

Hugeo, who has been sitting quietly next to Isoldus, listening, now voices his opinion: "What about our current job? Do you suggest we delay it, or that we shall return here later?" It doesn't really matter to him which of the options is chosen, but he wants to know what guides the self-proclaimed leader of this bunch. "I don't think that 'dealing with the mayor' will take just a few minutes."

Dusty stretches, and his demeanor changes from that of guarded secrecy to an irritated twitch, "well Ruby, I'd love to say it's been a pleasure but to be honest it's been depressing as all hell, this mayor sucks" turning toward the group he raises his voice "Hey Guys!, I changed my mind this place ******* sucks!" Now sounding more like a child complaining in frustration "we're doing something about this mayor because I'm not having the death of good music on my conscience, I'd rather have my ears cut off and fed to me than turn a blind eye to this disgrace, Isoldus can you buy me a drink, I'm fresh outta money" He pouts a little as he turns out his pockets to exaggerate the point.

(Sorry, I'm back now that the holiday craze is over.)

Winchester, having more than halfway dozed of previously, twitches and perks up. He slowly rises up, rubbing his palms across his face to shake off the weariness and wanders over to the bar. He blinks a couple of times, his eyes not quite ready to be back in business yet, then pins a coin on the counter with his index finger. His face shows a weary smile instead of the usual toothy, almost-manic grin. "Whatever the Lady may desire, and I'll be so bold and take the same." he requests, nodding back to Ruby.