Upon arriving in Antwell, and as per Ajax's suggestion, the party sets about finding the riverside docs. Naturally, they are easy enough to find; in towns such as these, docks are normally found quite close to the water, and Antwell is no exception. A number of barges, boats, and keels, battered by age and weather, are here. Rimli: (looking from the weather-worn vessels to the water to the vessels, frowning) Ah 'ells. Nae a cap'n in sight. Wha' rotten luck, then. Autumn: What do you mean? Rimli: (a little louder) Well, seems clear t' me tha' we best make th' best o' it by land, aye. We can just follow this 'ere river, aye, on land! (he moves off to follow the shoreline, although not very close to the water) Ajax: (eyeing Rimli) Uh-oh. He's gone daft again. (to the rest) Anybody see the Manticora? old man: (a grizzled old riverboat pilot, he turns away from his work on the dockside at the mention of the Manticora) Eh? Who seeks th' Manticora? (he looks around for the source of the inquiry) Ajax: Uh, I do-- down here. old man: (his eyes finally settle on Ajax, and when they do, they seem rather startled) Well now, little one.... (he hobbles over and kneels down) What would a little feller like you need with-- wait a minute.... (he takes a closer look) Procan's heaving breast! Ajax: P-pardon? old man: (rises to his feet with some difficulty) Why, I mistook ye for a child! Thought it funny, a child wearin' that get up. (he gestures vaguely at Ajax's attire) But you ain't a child at all... yer one o' them... whatchacalls... halflings, aintcha? Ajax: Why, yes I am. I-- old man: (spits) Don't care much fer yer kind. (he turns and walks back to his vessel) I reckon you oughtta leave. Ajax: (taken aback, and offended, he calls after him) I'll have you know that's exactly why I'm here-- to leave! old man: (calls back) Well then be about it, quick. Ajax: (turns back to the party) What an awful person! (he notices Rimli, still determinedly making his way east on foot) Tasencia: (sighs and walks briskly after him) Alenniel: Uh-oh... he's in trouble now. Tasencia: Rimli! Stop this foolishness. We will never get to Atirr on foot! Rimli: (halts and does a curt about-face) Maybe we won't, an' maybe we will. I aim t' find out, lass! young man: (watching this unusual exchange from the dock about twenty feet away) Excuse me, folks... did I hear you correctly? Are you in need of a boat to Atirr? Tasencia: That we are. We seek the Manticora, and Tarkus the Hand. Are you familiar with him? young man: Familiar with him? (he chuckles) Who isn't? Everyone knows the Manticora. Never had the chance to meet the man myself, you understand, but you'd probably find him in Atirr. Tasencia: (as the other party members draw near) So we have been told. Autumn: Can you take us there? young man: (rather overwhelmed by the motley crew of humans and demi- humans which now surrounds him) Uh... sure. I'm headed out to Atirr in a couple hours, in fact. Greythur: Excellent. How much? young man: (scratching the back of his head) Well, it's a pretty long trip-- Atirr's as far as most of us in Antwell ever go, y'know. Hmm... two gold each should be fine. Ajax: How refreshing. That old man over there was quite rude. young man: What, Bargheld? (he shrugs) I guess he doesn't need the money like I do. Rimli: (not at all liking the direction in which this discussion is going) 'Old on, now! I may be daft, but d' you lot intend on goin' downriver on that... that... thing? (he points accusingly at the young man's keelboat) young man: (looks insulted) Say what you like, dwur, but she's as good as you'll find, and so am I. Rimli: Bah! I'm tellin' ye, there's no way I'm gettin' on any gods- forsaken boat again! (he crosses his arms and glares at the party) Three hours later.... Rimli: (watching queasily as the prow of the keelboat cuts through the Trask and grumbling about Elves, humans, and anything else that comes to mind) Ajax: (trying to appear completely at ease, he turns to the young sailor) Hey, Bax... you sure this thing is riverworthy? I mean, what with the foul weather and all. Bax: Sure... I'd stake my life on it. Alenniel: (sotto voce) I think we all are.... Bax seems a decent enough fellow-- moreso than Bargheld, anyway. He's a strapping young Oeridian lad who, you learn soon enough, makes his living transporting goods and passengers to and fro along the Trask. Though friendlier than the old man, and far less grizzled, he is still clearly uncomfortable with the demihuman element. Not so much that he's not willing to take your money, but he definitely has some degree of difficulty relating to anyone but Greythur and Autumn. Nonetheless, he is a capable mariner, which makes for a swift and relatively uneventful trip. The keelboat is large enough to accomodate the six of you in only minor discomfort, and the brief but regular stops along the way give you a chance to stretch your legs and/or kiss solid earth, depending on your race and disposition. By coincidence or otherwise, you reach Atirr on New Year's Day. As expected, the city, like so many others across the continent, is decorated accordingly, and for the first time in the Great Kingdom you can perceive an actual sense of cheer and good tidings in the air which the chill, rainy climate cannot assuage. Bax secures the keelboat, bids you good day, and, gold in hand, sets about his business. Ajax: (looking about the festively-festooned fortifications of Atirr) Well, this is more like it. At least these people appreciate a decent holiday. Tasencia: Yes... although something still seems odd to me. Ajax: It's probably those things on everyone's faces-- they're called "smiles." C'mon, let's go. It's true. The folk of Atirr seem genuinely happy, and a number of cordial greetings are thrown your way as you enter into one of the city's many public squares, which is just as decked out as everything else. Everywhere, there is color, music, and gallows. Autumn: Gallows? (she takes a look around and notices that there are indeed several gallows, stocks, and other public devices of death and humiliation) I don't like the look of all that.... Greythur: Hmm.... (he approaches a street merchant) Excuse me. merchant: (offers him a scone) Scone, sir? Ajax: Mmm... scones.... Greythur: Er, no, no thanks. Not now. Pray forgive my ignorance, but I have noticed many gallows and... well, other things of that nature about. merchant: (squint-eyed in confusion, she cocks her head to one side) Well, can't very well have a proper Punishment Day without the gallows, sir. Just wouldn't be right, know what I mean? Greythur: Punishment Day? merchant: (more confused and surprised than ever, she opens her mouth to reply, but is interrupted by a bloody great ruckus in the center of the square) A small group of people, some dressed in official-looking uniforms of the city guard (accessorized with a variety of perennial flowers) and others dressed in rags, are ascending a short series of steps onto a broad wooden platform; the latter, some offering weak resistance, are being led or dragged up in chains. One ragged man is brought forward by a guard, while another guard sets a heavy block of wood before him. guard: (clearly a herald of some kind, he unrolls a scroll of parchment and speaks in a clear, officious voice) Good citizens, let it be known that this man, Corgan Ergax, has been found guilty of the grievous crime of theft, having confessed to stealing three sacks of grain from a well- respected merchant of the city-- Corgan: (desperately) But my family nee-- other guard: (cuts his impromptu remarks short with a backhand cuff to his face) guard: --now stands before you to receive his punishment! crowd: (cheers wildly) man in crowd: (to a stranger, proudly) That was _my_ grain he stole! other guard: (forces Corgan to his knees) another guard: (takes hold of the chains binding Corgan's hands and pulls them taut against the wooden block, until the prisoner's wrists are somewhere near the middle of it) axe-wielding guard: (true to his name, he steps up with a headsman's axe, raises it overhead, and, without any further ado, crudely amputates Corgan's hands) Corgan: AIEEE!!! (and so on and so on) crowd: (cheers wildly) Greythur: (staring, slack-jawed, at this horrific sight) merchant: (finishes applauding, then turns back to the priest) So do you want a scone or not?