Cacophonous chatter and every form of sound imaginable on the spectrum threaten to blend into a constant, inscrutable drone, but Ambika cannot afford to allow such a blessing to wash over her. She must keep her senses sharp amidst the sea of traffic - after all, there is no greater tragedy than near misses, especially when in search for someone. Progress was horribly slow, and she could neither stand still nor try to gain distance without worsening the already annoying gridlock. Well, if she had the ability to jump 10 feet high and get onto a high wall or something along those lines, that might have been a solution, but alas, she hadn't the tools to do so, and she was far enough from any walls she could hug anyway so they remained fanciful thoughts.

Trying to discern what was up ahead did not net Ambika anything particularly useful either - it so happened that the group right in front consisted of people generally taller than her, though she could faintly smell the pungent stench of horses. Her eyes narrowed. Constant physical contact with people was already bad enough, but given her current trajectory, there was a fair chance she would have to come in contact with animals as well. Ambika silently prayed that there would be no spooked animals, especially not in her vicinity.

SPOILER: Click to show

Quest Name: Gridlocked
Participants: Two or more
Location: Sol City
Post Requirements: 5 posts per person, 200 words per post
Reward: +1 Renown
Description: Sol City becomes chaos this time of year, with people from all over flocking to enjoy the summer festival. Merchants come to sell their goods, while Bardic Virtuosos come to sing and dance for entertainment. However, because of how much attention this attraction brings, the city streets can often times become gridlocked. You find yourself caught up in a messy gridlock somewhere in Sol city. Wagons, carts, horses, and other livestock remain stalled while hundreds of people push and weave their way through the crowd… some sort of occurrence or disruption causing the street to become jammed. Find your way out while navigating the unknown chaos that may pop up.

Pushing his way through the crowd where he could or darting between gaps like an acrobat Baelareal passed through the crowd like a seasoned professional. Aslong as you avoided the major throughways and key junctions you could dodge the worst of the gridlocked city. Usually he would avoid these parts of the city at this time of the year. He was so close though, only a few Solars away from getting his sword and this was the best chance he was going to get.
His hand darted out here and there with deft dexterous movements.

The secret was not to rob to overtly rich, they would notice if someone farted on their pouch let alone tried to skin a Solar or two. There was no one from the poorer district in sight that he could see, usually discernible from their clothing and on occasion smell. He had lifted a new cloak first thing this morning so that he would blend into the crowd. Confident that he had enough now he did not want to tempt the gods of fate. He ducked into a side alley and dumped the pilfered cloak pulling his green worn patched one back on. If anyone had saw the pick pocket they wouldn’t be looking someone dressed so poorly. Exiting the alley at the other end he groaned inwardly when he saw how densely packed it was, but he wouldn’t risk going back out the way he came in.

As he pressed through the crowd as best he could trying to ignore the smell his senses were ambushed by what was probably horse breeders or stablehands or something of that ilk. The smell of horse and sweat was everywhere in-front of him. It was at moment he felt thin air against his shoulder, which up until that point he had had been using to push through. Stumbling forwards he waved his arm to right his balance. He hadn’t see the smaller person in front of him and he almost lost his balance.

Looking to avoid further chaos, Ambika grabbed the young man's right arm, pulling him towards her and put herself in front of the stumbling young man to support him and forcibly halt his momentum. She had little love for the sticky-fingered sort, but having done her fair share of unilateral acquisitions back in her youth, she could scarcely pass judgment on the fellow without seeming like an elderly hypocrite. So she consigned whatever negative first impressions her cranky old mind had conjured to the depths of her consciousness and simply said, "Be careful, young man. And please don't come after my things." She then walked away without waiting for a response.

Heading further along, the odious stench of horses intensified, tinged with the smell of... blood? The meandering flow of crowds further stilled, suggesting that an incident is happening or has already happened not far ahead. Ambika squeezed through the swelling crowd, making use of her old, raspy voice to compel others into letting her through. Soon, she arrived at the front of the crowd, but her view was largely blocked by police officers with shields surrounding whatever was beyond and obscuring her view. Still though, she was able to make out an overturned wagon and catch a glimpse of a pair of dead brown houses with what appeared to be man-made injuries.

Just as he thought he was about to go down he was yanked to the side and his body braced, that was lucky. Going down in this kind of crowd could be dangerous, he had seen people trampled to death before and really did not fancy it for himself. Taking a second to gather himself he just caught the remark about coming after he things and he quickly replied ”Thanks for that but I’m not sure what you mean, I just slipped” but the older woman was already manoeuvring the crowd like a boss.

Darting into the space she had just created he followed close behind as the crowd intensified, Baelarael was careful to make sure his hands never strayed near the woman incase she got the wrong idea. He could see over her head and most of the others in the crowd, something was happening ahead. Being squashed together like this was not pleasant and the smell of body odour was far from refreshing, however the smell of horse was intensifying and the coppery tang of blood on the air was also unmissable.

From a brief moment he almost panicked when he saw the police, eyes darting about for an escape route his whole body tense as for a split second he thought they where there for him. Common sense took back over and he quickly steadied himself and tried to get a better look at the situation. Those horses had been cut up pretty bad from the look of it and with the wagon on its side it was hard for him to see what was in it or if it had been looted.

Moving around to the side of the old woman his eyes darted around the crowd, no one would be getting through here anytime soon and if they didn’t do something further back along the street the press of the crowd would soon start crushing those at the front. He noticed a tavern just off to the side and thought he could dart inside and get clear of eye crowd, they might even have a back door to get past the police cordon. Feeling like he owed eye old woman from helping him stay upright he called over to her ”Over there” pointing towards the tavern ”Don't fancy getting crushed out here”.

He then started moving towards the tavern squeezing between the crowd and the police.

A tavern, huh. Ambika looked warily in the direction the young man pointed at and sized up its exterior as she slowly inched her way towards the location. The building itself is nothing exquisite, built in an architectural style that was designed for durability and stability rather than aesthetics. The discoloured walls suggest that it has weathered years' worth of environmental damage, and the relatively fresh, vibrant coats of paint on its signboards suggest that if nothing else, its occupants have a mind to attract some form of business.

Walking through the opened double-door archway into the tavern, Ambika was about to scan around for an empty table when she was accosted by one of the tavern's waitresses.

"Hey granny, you're a bard, aren't you?" The cheeky waitress flicked her head at the instrument case on Ambika's back. "Our next group of musicians were supposed to already be here about 30 minutes ago, y'see, and well... Lenny and the others have done a pretty good job with their encores, but their fatigue is showing and the crowd's getting a wee bit anxious, y'know? So how about you lend us your tunes, granny?"
"Did nobody teach you how to properly ask for help, young woman?" Ambika glared at the waitress, her voice cold as steel.

"Pretty please?" The waitress put on the biggest smile she could, and realizing it wasn't going to work, threw in an offer without outwardly betraying her annoyance. "Food and drink on the house? Any tips from the customers are all yours, my friend."

"Very well," Ambika relented. She could have argued further, but tempering one's greed is a vital survival skill in many ways.

And so Ambika got on stage, removed her instrument case from her back and took out her trusty lute to perform a lovely variety of tunes from around the world, making sure to keep an eye out for the young man she saw earlier as she played.

Baelarael looked over his shoulder and saw her following feeling somewhat relieved, he would have felt a bit guilty if she had been crushed or something after she had helped him. He didn’t pay much attention to the tavern he had only ever been in one a handful of times, they required Solars for service and Baelarael had been on a lifelong breakup with the currency.

He stopped at the archway and held his hand out for the older woman to enter first, his aim was see her in and slink out the back and dodge the mess left behind in the street. As the woman passed him a waitress started asking for the woman to play for food and drink and this instantly perked his ears. As he gave the waitress an appraising look he nodded towards the older woman and said ”Im with her” nodding towards the bard giving the waitress a cheeky smile, “She’ll let you know when she wants her food but I’ll take mine now as you surely meant food and drink for us both!”

Without waiting for a reply he took a seat at the side table next to the stage and throwing a sheepish look towards the bard gently lifted up the empty case and sat it to the side out her way. His stomach was rumbling and the hunger was starting to be a distraction, if he got a hot meal and the gods forbid an ale out of this it would indeed be a fortuitous day.

As the bard began to play he sat on the stool with his back against the wall and kept an eye out for his food hoping the old woman wouldn’t say anything.

The next group of musicians finally arrived another 30 minutes later, freeing Ambika from her impromptu job. She stood up from her stage seat and gestured a bow towards her audience, earning her a round of generous applause. She packed her lute back into her instrument case and removed herself from the stage with a trained dexterity and made a beeline for the counter, as she noticed the tavern was crowded enough that the staff were struggling to keep up with the demand - hence the comment about "the crowd getting a wee bit anxious" - it would be wise for her to phone in on her free food and drink as soon as possible to avoid spending too much time here.

With that done, Ambika began going around the tables, collecting tips and fishing information about the incident outside, as well as inquiring about possible sightings of her long lost son, showing a detailed sketch of his likeness. Of her son there was no fruitful information; of the incident outside though, the rumours are that the upturned wagon was delivering supplies to an up-and-coming performance troupe, and that someone or some group has been going around sabotaging various arts-related entities to get a leg up, it seems. Ambika thanked the patrons, and headed towards the young man's table, taking her seat next to him with her back also against the wall.

And just in time too, as the cheeky waitress from before brought over two plates of omurice with meat sausages and a salad. However, her smile had a hint of malice to it.

"Hey granny, is this boyo really with ye? He reeks of an out-of-place scoun-"

"He is," Ambika interrupted the waitress before the latter could finish her sentence. "Now, could we please have our food?"

"Ye, ye, here's our signature dish, the sausage omurice, on the house," the waitress' arms trembled for an instant as she placed the two plates in front of Ambika and the young man and walked away, muttering, _{"Ugh. Grannies."}

Ambika paid the waitress no mind and began her meal.

He sat and listed as the the old woman played tune after tune on some kind of instrument. The waitress looked over at him a few times and he resigned himself to the fact he might not actually be getting that good. She had brought plates of some kind of sausage out to tables near him and either it was just the hunger or the food here was spectacular because it smelled amazing. His mouth was watering and he could almost taste the sausage when all of a sudden another group headed towards her stage and the bard packed up.

Baelarael decided now would be the time to sneak out but he was curious as the old woman passed from table to table showing them something. Curiosity stalled his getting up and then all of a sudden she was headed back his way. So was the waitress. She had food. Two plates. His lack of patience almost cost him a meal his stomach began its protesting again with the grumbling getting louder and louder.

He held his breath when the waitress asked if he was really with her and when she said yes he flashed her a grateful look. Baelarael ate the food with zero manners shoveling it into his mouth like someone who didn’t know where next meal was coming from. ”What was that?” he asked pointing to the music case, he had never saw or heard the anything like that before. The music he was used to was drunken bombs and sailors shanties sang in the streets. Wolfing down the last few morsels he nodded his head to the paper she had been showing everyone ”And what’s that?”

"This," Ambika lowered her utensils and flicked her head at her instrument case, "is a lute. You make sounds by plucking the strings on one hand, and change the pitch by pressing down the strings with the other. Never really liked music, but my husband would sing along with his awful excuse of a tenor, and immersing myself in playing was the only way to endure those sessions," she rambled with an annoyed look on her face, though a hint of longing could be seen in her eyes.

"And this, is a drawing of my son. Haven't seen him in 9 years." Ambika looked at the sketch intently. "Where I'm from, we reject not those who come, and we chase not those who leave. But he is the only one I have left." Her expression was somber, a far cry from the sharp, piercing exterior she normally carries herself with.

At that moment, as though demonstrating their knack for impeccable timing in the worst way, the cheeky waitress came to the table with the cheeriest smile she could muster.
"So, what y'two gonna drink, eh?" 

Ambika's expression steeled immediately. "A glass of fruit punch sangria, please."

"And what can I get our little boyo here?" The waitress turned to face the young man.

So that was a lure, Baelarael had heard of them of course just never seen one played. The music she had created with it had been pleasing to the ear, he had never had much opportunity to sit and relax and just enjoy listening to and appreciating such artistry. The music he was used to was lewd sailors songs and soldiers cadence with the occasional talented barmaid who could chant a tune. He kept shovelling food in as the woman explained how the lute worked, then all of a sudden it was gone and his hunger sated. It had been one of the best meals he had eaten in a long time!

As she explained that it was her son and she was searching for him, a pang of longing stirred within him and the pain of loneliness stabbed at his heart. When he had been younger he dreamed of the day his knightly father would ride in on horse back and save him from the loveless solitude of the orphanage. When he got older he hoped his parents would return from being lost at sea and save home. When he was a teenager he knew no one would come and no one would care and he hoped that they had died in a ditch forgotten by the world.

He sat up and gazed intently at the picture, taking in the details and combing his memory for anyone they could be a possible match, he even tried to imagine them older or disfigured or anything. There was not one iota of recognition sadly. ”I don’t recognise him sorry. If he had spent any time in poor districts I would know him”

He could sense the woman’s pain and sadness and it picked at the scabs of his old wounds. ”I’ll have an ale please” he said flashing the waitress another smile, but his heart wasn’t in it this time. He wasn’t sure what the old woman had asked for but it sounded expensive or something maybe he should have asked for one of them instead he thought. ”I’m Baelarael” he said with a nod of his head ”What happened to your son? If you don’t mind me asking”

"Baelarael." Ambika took a moment to acknowledge the young man's name, looking straight in his eyes. "The name's Ambika Shanti Phairot."

"As for my son, I do not know what happened. Though I suppose... He may have grown tired of a regular life. He is turning 32 this year." Ambika did not wish to elaborate on the details. Baelarael may be a willing listener, but she did not feel it was appropriate for her to unload on young man when they had just met today, much less considering the unfortunately real possibility her son was already gone. "His name is Kishan Raj Phairot."

The tavern crowds seemed to be getting increasingly raucous as emotions ran ever higher with unfulfilled orders and the ever-present flow of alcoholic air, the soothing music in the background doing little to sate the patrons' bloodlust. It was probably a matter of time before a tavern brawl broke out.

"We should probably leave once we've had our drinks," Ambika nudged in the direction of an especially well-adorned group of adventurers. While they had only been there for a mere 10 minutes, their gear and postures suggested that they were more-or-less a privileged bunch with high expectations for service and their expressions were visibly strained.

Luckily for the two, the cheeky waitress had just arrived with the drinks.

"One exquisitely-blended fruit punch sangria for the granny," the waitress took out one wineglass with a pinkish orange liquid from her serving plate and placed it in front of Ambika, "and one ale for the boyo," placing a hearty mug of frothing ale in front of Baelarael.

"Enjoy!" The waitress then quickly paced away to deal with the other patrons.

She had an exotic sounding name, most of the people Baelarael knew only had one name, they had no family, no history and no legacy. Her son was a lot older than him and wouldn’t have moved in the same circles if he had indeed came to Sol City. He flashed a quick glance around the room, temper that had been fraying from the crush outside seemed to have followed people into the tavern.

As Ambika subtly pointed out a rather stuck up looking group who would most likely be at the centre of some kind of trouble tonight, the waitress brought over the drinks. ”Thanks” he said flashing the waitress yet another smile as he reached over for his ale. ”Agreed, there is a hint of trouble in the air tonight” nodding towards the door outside ”whoever cut up those horses outside are still about”. As he looked through the window he could see the crowds where still packed ”I think we should ask the waitress about a back door. Don’t fancy going back out into that crowd”.

Lifting the ale he took a hearty swallow and wiped the froth from his mouth with the back of his hand letting out a content sigh. Free food and a drink, this had indeed been a great day!

There was no guarantee it would be less crowded by the back door, but Ambika saw no reason to argue with Baelarael's suggestion, so she promptly tried to catch a tavern staff's attention. Unfortunately for the both of them however, it was already too late.

"Oy! You hit me in the head, didn't you!?" A Sun Elven adventurer grabbed one of the waiters by the collar and pulled the latter's face towards them.

"Dude, could you not? We've been waiting here for nearly an hour and the longer you hold down that waiter, the longer it's gonna be until we get food," a nearby Fellblood patron tried to appeal to the Sun Elven adventurer's sense of pragmatism, which most certainly did not have the intended effect.

"And who are you to advise me?" The Sun Elven adventurer stomped over to the offending patron, one hand still dragging the waiter by the collar.

"Let the waiter go. You think you're the only one itching to-" The Fellblood patron's words were interrupted by a punch, which sent them recoiling backwards and bumping into a table, causing a wineglass on that table to topple and spill its contents.

"Oh, you asked for it!" The Fellblood patron charged at the Sun Elven adventurer, only to be sent flying by their fellow Lizardfolk adventurer redirecting their momentum... Straight towards the table Ambika and Baelarael were at.

Ambika quickly jumped away while bracing herself with her instrument case, but the Fellblood patron was of a large stature and was flying closer to her than Baelarael and she was caught in its trajectory, slamming her into the floor. The Fellblood patron swiftly jumped back up to rejoin the now ensuing tavern brawl, leaving Ambika lying on the floor in pain. She tried to get up, but her body was being horribly uncooperative following the sudden impact.

Damn he thought as the inevitable fight broke out, then out of nowhere a Fellblood came flying through the air towards them. He had tried to step into the trajectory bracing with whole body to take the blow on his shoulder but he wasn’t quick enough and the large man crashed into Ambika. As the Fellblood picked himself up and rejoined the fray Baelarael tensed his body as he too geared up to join in and clear a path to the door.

Then he noticed Ambika still on the ground and he bent over infront of her to shield her from anyone else. ”Are you ok, is anything broken?” he asked with genuine concern which he found surprising, he didn’t know the woman and had just met her but her plight and subsequent search stirred a feeling that he was struggling to understand.

He felt a movement behind him and he spun whilst crouched down and saw the Fellblood shuffling backwards towards them again as he was flinging punches and at tavern patrons. The Fellblood had some basic skill however Baelarael was a Master Pugilist birthed from the pits of the Military Academy. Shouting to draw his attention the Fellblood turned around and was met with a jarring left cross from followed by a swift and powerful right hook with the force travelling from his grounded stance up through his legs into his body and shoulders down into his fist. As the Fellblood staggered back and collapsed against the wall he turned back to Ambika, ”Can you move or do you need help?”

"Not feeling any broken bones, at least. Might need a few moments before I can get back up though. Thank you." Ambika took a few moments to take some deep breaths to help her blood circulate and gather the strength to get back up, inwardly cursing her old body for choosing such an inopportune moment to act up.

The tavern brawl devolved even further into chaos as weapons joined the fray and the tavern staff had long given up on trying to still the flames, instead doing their best to evacuate their patrons (and get their due payment).
Ambika closed her eyes and focused on listening for any pertinent clues to help them out of their situation.
_{"...backdoor... behind stage... yes... we've... police... soon..."} Quick footsteps closing in on Ambika broke her concentration, and she quickly swerved her head to the side to see its source. The Sun Elven adventurer who instigated the tavern brawl was rapidly stepping back, and Ambika did not trust them to avoid her, so she used Minor Trickery to send a mug on the floor rolling towards the Sun Elven adventurer's trajectory, which the latter proceeded to step on and fall forwards onto the ground.

With that, Ambika used the instrument case as support to help herself up and whispered clearly in Baelarael's ear as she headed towards the backstage.
"Back entrance behind the stage. The police are coming."
Reaching the backstage, the tavern staff were standing by the back entrance with a bunch of security personnel standing all around the backstage, keeping an eye on the overall situation. The remaining patrons seemed to either have companions in the brawl, or were unwilling to pay up so they could leave for one reason or another.

Ambika simply walked towards the back entrance with a confident, imposing stride and exited the tavern.