The orc eyes the coppers hungrily as the fall into his open palm. "Much thanks. I wish you well. Now, I should be moving on. Like I said, collecting the dead's a competitive business. See ya 'round! Maybe I'll meetcha at the bar later!" He motions to the two brown-robed collectors, who mount the wagon, readying the reigns of the emaciated grey horse that had been out of sight until now. The orc heaves himself onto the driver's seat next to them, grabs the reigns, and sets off down the street in the opposite direction of the bar, according to his vague directions.

Several figures walking on the street part to let the rickety wagon past. Looking outside the alley, you get a better glimpse of the urban locale.

All of the buildings are in various states of disrepair and neglect. Some appear to have entire sections reduced to the rubble that litters the narrow, winding street. Houses seem to be stacked on top of each other, ready to collapse. Maybe it's just a trick of the eyes, but you think you can see some of the structures swaying like trees in nonexistent wind.

The people of the street come in all shapes and sizes, but all look like they could use a bath. Passers by give you dirty looks, but otherwise continue on their business. Most appear to be human, dressed in plain common clothes. You spot a few folks wearing similar brown robes to the two other collectors accompanying the orc. You spot a gnome here and there, hurrying to or from somewhere.

Perched on a rooftop, overlooking the streets, are two creatures resembling humanoid vultures, armed with halberds.

A fearsome fellow in black armor walks past, escorting a peeved goblin whose eyes dart in every direction, as though looking for an escape from whatever fate the armored man was bringing him to. His hands are tied behind his back by rope which connects to a leash held by the armored man. The armored man's helmet is fashioned in the distinct likeness of a tusked beast's visage, and toped with scythe-like horns. The pauldrons are similarly spiked.

A hammering sound draws your attention to a particularly odd-looking figure pounding a large peg into a house's wooden framework with a mallet. Not unlike Shrieba or the goggled smith, his frame is tall and slender. His clothing stands out from the drab rags worn by the folk on the streets: a long, maroon, clean robe of padded fabric which resembles those sturdy quilts you've seen in marketplaces. His shockingly white hair is styled in a shape resembling an elongated onion. His wrinkled skin is a stony grey. As he turns his head to grab another iron peg from a nearby box, you can make out two pairs of curled horns protruding from his forehead. The most odd thing about this figure, however, is that his slippered feet do not touch the ground. Rather, they hang is the air a few inches off it.

"I hope so, and thanks again." Gavyn says as the orc leaves, surprised to find him quite polite in his own way.
"Charming place this, don't you think?" Gavyn says to the others as they make their way towards the bar, glancing up at the vultures overhead. 
"What do you say, maybe ask this hovering man over there if he's spotted our missing persons." He suggests to the others with a amile and a shrug.

"I suppose we could ask if he's seen Raceland, Emma, or Lord Olwin," Mikaela responds to Gavyn.  "Then find the Smoldering Corpse tavern if he doesn't have any leads."  She starts to walk over towards this person.  

"Sounds like a good idea to me. Perhaps we should hire a guide as soon as possible - we are caught in an unfamiliar land; we do not want to be uninformed for long." Aruzhal says.

He ambles toward the floating figure. "Excuse me. Could you, perhaps, sire, point us toward the Smouldering Corpse Tavern? And have you seen anyone looking like..." He gives a description of the three missing persons given by Lady Kindernis.

The white-haired figure's eyes dart briefly in your direction, then back to the post he was hammering, then turns towards Aruzhal. He opens his long, drooping mouth as if to speak...

But no words come out. Rather, a series of symbols drift out in single file from between his lips, floating up into the air above his head, each taking a specific position.

As the symbols all take their positions, he points his long, bony finger down the street. Following his finger with your gaze, you can see he's pointing at an intersection of two streets about two blocks away.

In response to Aruzhal's second question, it opens its mouth again. This time, a single symbol flutters out, much larger than the previous ones, stacking itself above the first set of symbols.

?

Aruzhal stares at the glyphs. Though his time trapped in the ice has slowed his speech, it seems to have given him time to think. And so he points in the same direction as the figure, having given the puzzling speech some thought. He looks toward his companions.

”That way. Turn left at Trumpet Street, I believe. He has not seen our missing persons.”

He turns toward the figure. “Thank you.”

Mikaela looks at the symbols floating in the air, looking confused. "What did he just do? Is that supposed to mean something? Hats and whales will set us on fire?"  She steps back a bit, trying to understand what this man is doing. "Ok, so the last means he doesn't know anything about our missing persons, right?" 

Gavyn smiles widely, amazed by this creatures intriguing manner of communicating, such wonders traveling the planes had to offer him. "I think he started off with giving us directions to the Smouldering Corpse tavern." Gavyn says with a chuckle at Mikaela's interpretation, laying a friendly hand on her shoulder. "Let's head there now, I'm thirsty as hell."

Puzzled with the strange creature, Ilithienne approaches it and watches carefully. 

"That is interesting..." she speaks slowly taking a look at the creature. "Has anyone have ever heard of such race?" - she looks at the others. "You may be right..." she speaks softly looking at dragonborn.

"What are you?" she asks taking a step back.

"We are no longer on the Prime Material Plane," Kallista says to Ilithienne. "Who knows what other kinds of races we will meet. No need to fear the unknown."

Looking at the other group members Mikaela nods. "If that was directions then I guess let's be on our way."  She turns to the floating man. "Thank you for your help."

Then she starts heading down the street towards the intersection. "Left at trumpet street?" She mumbles. "Guess there was a picture of a trumpet."

"In this wonderfully weird place I wouldn't be surprised if the signs were talking." Gavyn says with a chuckle, following the freckled paladin after giving their levitating guide a courteous bow.

The tall figure gives Aruzhal and Mikaela a short bow, then spits out some more symbols in response to Ilithienne's question:

With that, it turns away and resumes hammering pegs into the wooden framework of the unfinished house.

As you walk through the streets, you get stares from all sides. Suspicion? No. Annoyance? No. Amusement. From the uncanny grey-skinned, black-eyed, spiky-haired humanoids to the relatively ordinary elves, dwarves, and humans. Sneers and snickers. Some stare at you as though waiting for you to do something ridiculous, while others seem to size you up like fresh meat.

Ragged children run to and fro, playing with sticks and hoops. Kallista notices one looks almost like a tiefling, only he there is no sign of horns. Concerned-looking adults watch from the sidelines, presumably making sure nothing snatches up the little ones.

A short crone with expansive amounts of matted grey hair and beady black eyes runs a little stall in front of a thatch hut with residential complexes on either side. Behind her shop counter is a large bubbling cauldron of some sort of soup, which she ladles into small earthen bowls with her striped, monkey-like tail.

"StYGian sTEW! STYGian sTEW! CoME and Get IT! Only a COPPER a boWL! Made with GENuine crITTers from the GREY WASTES THEMselves!!! You won't find a chEAper way to get a sOLId MEAL in for the dAy!" She shrieks in an accent reminiscent of Shrieba's.

"Tout for hire! Tout for hire! Tours! Tips! Directions! Recommendations! INFORMATION! All for a handful of coppers!"

A human woman in faded blue robes calls out, striding about the streets pompously, proclaiming her services.

The intersection, it turns out, is more like a four-way fork in the road, resembling a river delta. One street intersects parallel to the street you're on, while a third street intersects diagonally through both of them. "Horn Street", reads one of the signs on the crooked, crudely painted wooden signpost, pointing down the parallel street. The other sign reads "Bard Street", and points down the street cutting diagonally across. You apparently had been walking on "Gutter Lane".

At the intersection, Mikaela looks at the signs, after not even trying to puzzle out the creature's message before the left.  "So no trumpet street. Now what? 

Gavyn is quite tempted both get a bowl of delicious Stygian soup and talk a bit to the touting woman in the blue robes but decides it would have to wait, he was really thirsty after all.
"I agree it looked very much like a trumpet but considering what we have to choose from do you think he simply meant Horn street, as in the musical instrument horn, not unlike a trumpet I believe, I happen to know one or two things about musical instruments." Gavyn says to the freckled paladin with an amused smile. 

"Yes, yes, Horn not Trumpet,"  Mikaela says to Gavyn, realizing she should have made the connection.  "To the left?" She begins to head in that direction.

“A doozy indeed…” Aruzhal muses as he walks.

Following his comrades, he turns onto Horn Street.

"COME SEE 'IM! COME SEE THE BURNING MAN!" The man's voice can be heard from several blocks away. "HE BURNS AND BURNS, AND YET HE BURNS ON! COME TO THE SMOLDERING CORPSE BAR TO SEE THE BURNING MAN!" The speaker's tone is that of a vendor enthusiastically advertising their wares. After traversing a few more blocks, you are able to see the speaker: a squat, balding, middle-aged halfling standing atop two stacked crates, dressed in cheap purple garments. He waves one hand in the air, gesturing wildly in tandem with his words. The other hand holds up a conical device to his mouth, amplifying his voice. "COME SEE THE HIVE'S GREATEST MYSTERY: THE BURNING MAN THAT KEEPS ON BURNING! HE'S ON FIRE!!!"

Behind the halfling is a stout, square building at the corner of the street, topped with a spiked dome. The front door is positioned on the building's corner facing out onto the intersection of streets. Above the door is a wooden round painted with an illustration of a pitcher, a shot glass, and a bottle. All sorts of ordinary and strange folk bustle in and out of the entrance.

"COME SEE THE BURNING MAN!"

"With what I've already seen I would be surprised if a burning man would turn out to be the greatest mystery of the Hive. As long as they also have what the signs implies I'm more than happy to watch this man smoulder away though." Gavyn says with a shrug and walks into the tavern, heading straight for the bar.

Mikaela follows after Gavyn, heading inside. "Don't forget we are looking for Raceland, Emma, and Lord Olwin."