The Eladrin rolls his eyes. You hit on him once, ONCE, while fall-down drunk and he'll never let you forget! Still... good one. He blows a sarcastic kiss in response. Truly a pristine show of approval on his part! 

It is currently around lunch time. You have about 6 hours until sunset. "Floon is a handsome human male in his early thirties with wavy red-blond hair. He was dressed in princely garb when I last saw him. Two nights ago, before he disappeared, he and I were drinking and merrymaking at the Skewered Dragon, a tavern in the Dock Ward. You should possibly start their search there."

And he hands you 10gp each up front as agreed.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

"Well now..." Casz stands and stretches. "I'm going to step out now. I will be waiting out front for you all."

As he turns away, winking at a lovely young lady by the front door, he wonders who'll be the poor bastard to tell Durnan they were stepping out early today. The sweet lass blushes as he passes. He almost wants invite her along. Alas, he'll nigh have time to enjoy her company, so tis better not to. 

Sterling nodded his thanks as he accepted the coin. "We play here in the evenings regularly, although of course, not while we're on the job. We'll look for you here as soon as we find out what happened... and have dealt with it."

The young bard suppressed any signs of a smile. He sincerely hoped the man's friend was okay, but at the same time, he was pleased to finally have a real job to bring in some real coin. Stoic-faced, he walked over to Durnan and caught his attention before flipping him a gold piece.

"We've found a job," he explained, "so we'll likely be gone for a few days. We'd appreciate it if you could keep our rooms though, we'll make good on it on our return. And--"

He turned to look at the damage the recent fight had caused. "--as another 'thank you' for doing so, let me get to work here before we leave."

"I'll be outside in a few minutes!" he called to his companions as he headed over to the few pieces of wrecked furniture and, with a sigh, began mending.

"But thank you, Sir Geddarm!" Oriace accepts the coins gratefully, "A token of faith in our service. This is much appreciated." He nods enthusiastically to Sterling's suggestion to meet their benefactor again in this establishment as soon as they find out something. 'We only need to find out where the guy is? Not bring him back, right? Kidnappers might ask for a ransom.' Oriace says telepathically to Sterling, who should be well used to Oriace using this trick by now. 

Quote from cyreon >>

'We only need to find out where the guy is? Not bring him back, right? Kidnappers might ask for a ransom.' 

Sterling hesitated as it took a second for him to realize it was Oriace's telepathy, not a voice. Taking a break from his mending, he began using his magic to whisper back near his companion's ear.

"Well..." he started, feeling a bit uncertain in his response, and taking a moment to measure his words, "that's true, we only agreed to find him. But if he's captured, I'd think freeing him would be the appropriate response, right? Or if he's dead, I'd feel obligated to bring back the body. Either way, just reporting on the location--unless he fled to another realm with his mistress and a love child--seems like he'd just ask us to do the extra bit anyway, so I figure we might as well "presume the client's needs," as it were. It'd let us ask for extra coin if nothing else, surely?"

Durnan is appreciative of your mending. "I will keep the rooms for 5 days. If you aren't back by then, business is business. If it wasn't for your help in the fight and now, I would have made it payment up front. As it stands, you can pay on return."

You head off towards the Dock Ward and on your way, as you turn a corner, you find yourselves on a street that has been cordoned off by the City Watch. Lying on the cobblestones are a half-dozen corpses, seemingly the victims of some terrible skirmish. Watch officers have disarmed and arrested three blood-drenched humans and are in the midst of questioning witnesses. One of the officers sees you. “Get on,” she says. “Nothing to see here.”

Casz, being the way he is (take that how you will), gives her one of his signature looks. Curling his lips into a delicate, compassionate smile, he says, "Of course, M'lady. But please, please, might you tell us what has happened here?" He plies his lower lip into a trademark pout, completely shameless.

[Persuasion: 18]

As Caszimir engages the officer with his charming demeanor, Oriace discreetly moves closer to the crime scene, his eyes scanning the area for any clues. He listens intently to snippets of conversation as he passes by, catching fragments of what the officers are saying to each other [Investigation: 12+2 bardic inspiration / Perception: 4].

With a sense of urgency, Oriace approaches a group of bystanders, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity [Performance: 26]. "Excuse me," he says softly, "I couldn't help but notice the commotion. Can anyone tell me what happened here?" His eyes flicker back to the crime scene, taking in as much detail as he can without drawing unwanted attention. Hopefully, meanwhile, Caszimir, with his practiced charm, keeps the officer engaged, allowing Oriace the time he needs to gather information unnoticed.

There are in total a dozen guards, and they have noticed the interest the group is having. To Casz:. "Just one group of criminals fighting another. These three survivors will be done for murder so you don't need to worry about them anymore"

A passerby to Oriace: "I take it you don't come to the docks much. This sorta thing been happening more and more lately. Zhents and Xanathars coming to blows." they spit on the ground "A criminal is a criminal. They are all the same"

Quote from Swiftgale >>

"A criminal is a criminal. They are all the same"

Sterling nodded at the last bit... he was inclined to agree with the sentiment, after all. The bard leaned in toward the passerby, "Excuse me, would you know the direction to the Skewered Dragon?"

"It is on Net Street, opposite the alley from Fillet Lane. Most direct route would be past this skirmish, but they might have it blocked for a while. You could continue down, take Zastrow Street and then the third right onto Fillet Lane, taking the alley on your left through to the Skewered Dragon. But it isn't the inn I would pick personally. I am sure you will see why when you get there" 

Quote from Swiftgale >>

"But it isn't the inn I would pick personally. I am sure you will see why when you get there" 

"Mmm. I'm sure," replied Sterling dryly as he glanced back over the bodies in the street. If Geddarm and Blagmaar were slumming about in neighborhoods such as this, it was likely the friend was simply murdered by some hooligan, his body hidden somewhere in a back alley. The bard was seriously beginning to think Oriace's use of "Sir" for their client was rather unwarranted, despite appearances.

He waved to his companions. "I have the location," he said, not too loudly as to not attract attention, before he started to head down to Zastrow Street toward the tavern.

For my own reference:
* Volothamp Geddarm -- our client: chronicler, wizard and celebrity in a floppy hat and scarf w/ a mustache
* Floon Blagmaar -- the friend we're searching for: handsome man, early 30s, wavy red-blonde hair, last seen in princely garb

Oriace joins Sterling and reports to the group, "Zentharim and Xanathos' thugs seem to have stirred up trouble around here," he says. "And it looks like it's becoming a regular thing. If he was taken, he might be with either group. But if it was a real kidnapping, someone would've demanded payment by now. Seems to me like there's more to this. I agree, we should feel out the place where he's been seen last."

Curtain has been quiet for a while, ever since the troll had appeared. He'd been halfway out the door when he'd noticed the others had stayed to fight, and when he got back to them the fight had already been over. When that Geddarm fellow had offered them the job, he'd just nodded along to the others acceptance.

He finally seems to be getting back to his senses, as he answers Sterling with his own: "I'm sure", as he begins to lead them. 

"Yeah, time's a wasting."

Casz, who's drifted into a daydream, stirs to give a half-hearted, "Huh? Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Tall, densely packed tenements leave most of the neighbourhood in shadow at ground level. Most of the streetlamps have had their glass smashed and their candles stolen, and the smells of salt air and excrement linger as you pass by rows of run-down buildings. One nearby shop stands out from the others, on the corner of Zastrow Street and Fillet Lane. It has a deep purple façade, and in its window hangs a stuffed beholder. Above the door hangs a sign whose elaborate letters spell out “Old Xoblob Shop.”

If you enter:

 If you choose to ignore the shop and keep going:

Wagner enters the shop, saying to the others, "I have to know what a Xoblob is."

"If I may be so bold, my good man, what, pray tell, is a Xoblob?"