Horngann's eyes followed Sarkat's bounce as best htey could in his inebriated state. "Me pa'd have my beard in the fire if he saw me seein' that," he mumbled to himself, a darker red appearing between eyes abd mustaches, competing for space with  the well-established gin blossoms already there... "Right then! Right! I'll uh... I'll hold down the fort here, aye? AYE where'd that kobold lass go, I wanna teach her to shriek a good elvish song, haw!"<br/><br/><hr/><br/>And so with Kotch in the lead, our four would-be lobstermen step out into the Waterdhavian night. The door to The Underdark thumps closed behind them, leaving only the cobbled High Road in front of them, and the whispy clouds above.<br/><br/>Thankfully, the directions Horngann had given were simple enough that even a drunk dwarf could remember them -<em>"East on Telshambra street, douth down the Way of the Dragon, then east again on Net Street til yer there"</em>. Direct, but still a bit over a half-mile. The night is still warm and the city is busy, night vendors calling out their wares, lamplighters and City Watch going about their business, and numerous night-lifers traveling about in their finery.<br/><br/>A quintet of sailors bawling out<em>"Her Majesties Flimsy Fineries"</em>heralded your entry into the Dock Ward - as if the four of you couldn't tell from the crowded buildings and wooden shingles of the Ward. A pair of Watchmen stand boredly at their post on the corner of Net Street and the Dragon Way, but beside that, your stroll saw little sign of law enforcement along this street.<br/><br/>The Blushing Mermaid was impossible to miss. The festhall was really more of a compound or estate, several buildings arranged within a low wall; there were even a pair of guards at the open gated entrance, dressed in fanciful "merfolk" armor, with flimsy tridents in hand (and sturdy clubs at their belts). According to Horngann, your destination is just past this place...<br/><br/>"Oh, thank goodness,<em>normal</em>people!" came a relieved statement from a female stander-by (https://i.pinimg.com/736x/cd/52/6d/cd526d29bab1ac09a1e8ce9808a3208a.jpg). A pair of humans and a halfling - no wait, a child - approached the group; they'd all clad in broad straw hats, heavy wood-soled shies, and attire that suggests they visited red Larch's finest tailor (i,e., they look like bumpkins trying to not look like bumpkins.) "Momma that's not a people that's a<em>rabbit</em>!" the child protests, pointing a finger at kotch, to be quickly shushed by his apparent father (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/4b/55/b4/4b55b4ee1eafc86635ff7a1451cba42e.jpg), who steps ahead of wife and child. "Ah, uhm, excuse me if you have a moment? I'm afraid we're lost and could use some directions..."