I have been told that Hamlet Town is where a Bard can make some cash. I have found three taverns available for my skills. The first two are some low-key taverns called The Mare's Elk and The Flowing Hawk. There is also a rather raucous bar called The Fir's Butler. As they are all very close to each other, I'm going to talk to all of the keepers and see if I can Move from place to place each night. I will speak to Thelthondel Heasianea at the Fir's Butler, then Nirthalros Tyrthym at the Flowing Hawk, and finally Leptredin Maloroc at the Mare's Elk.   As you approach the Fir's Butler, you can't help but notice the lively energy that spills out onto the streets. The booming sounds of laughter, clinking mugs, and the faint tunes of a lute can be heard from within. The rough-hewn wooden sign above the door creaks gently in the wind, depicting a jovial-looking fir tree holding a tankard.   The door swings open with a hearty welcome from the patrons within, revealing a dimly lit interior filled with the warm, golden hue of flickering candlelight. The air is thick with the aroma of roasted meats, sweet mead, and the smoky scent of a crackling hearth.   As you step inside, the worn wooden floors groan beneath your feet, and the lively chatter of the patrons comes to a murmuring hush. All eyes turn to you, the newcomer, as you make your way toward the bar. The bartender and owner, Thelthondel Heasianea, a half elf with short, curly, sea green hair, and light brown eyes. He has short, pointed ears, is clean shaven and has light bronze skin with an athletic build.   Thelthondel, noticing your entrance, greets you with a warm smile and a nod of his head. "Welcome, traveler! What brings you to The Fir's Butler? You seem like a bard, with that air of mystery and magic about you. Are you passing through, or looking to make some coin with your talents?" He wipes down a mug with a cloth, setting it on the counter. He adds, "We won't let the Mordredian invaders get our spirits down".   You agree to play for the evening and get settled in as the bartender provides you with the occasional drink.   The following night you head over to the next tavern.   As you enter The Flowing Hawk, the atmosphere is noticeably different from The Fir's Butler. The tavern is quieter, with the soft murmur of hushed conversations and the gentle strumming of a harp in the background. The scent of burning candles and herbal smoke fills the air, and the warm, golden light casts long shadows on the walls. Nirthalros Tyrthym, the half elf owner of The Flowing Hawk, has short, well groomed, emerald, green hair, and blue eyes. He also has medium-length, slightly pointed ears, with a rough, stubbly beard. He has light white skin with a tall but skinny build. He is dressed in a fine tunic made of shimmering silk, adorned with intricate patterns and embroidery that hint at his noble background   Nirthalros, ever the gracious host, looks up from his ledger as you enter, his gaze sweeping over you with a practiced ease. His eyes linger on your instrument, a glint of curiosity sparking in their depths. "Ah, a bard," he says, his voice smooth and cultured. "I don't believe I've seen you here before. Welcome to The Flowing Hawk." Nirthalros' eyes never leave your instrument as you approach the bar, his fingers tapping a idle rhythm on the polished surface. He seems lost in thought, his mind a million miles away. It's only when you speak that he snaps out of his reverie, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Ah, I apologize," he says, his voice smooth and unruffled. "I was merely admiring your instrument."   You say, "I was wondering if you would allow me to play some tunes and maybe earn some coin tonight"?   Nirthalros' eyes light up at your proposition, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I think that can be arranged," he says, his voice smooth and mellifluous. "Our patrons here at The Flowing Hawk always appreciate a good tune, and I'm sure they would be more than happy to show their appreciation in coin.   Nirthalros gestures toward an empty corner of the tavern, the soft glow of candles and herbal smoke creating a cozy atmosphere. "Feel free to set up there," he says, his eyes following your every move as you unpack your instrument. The anticipation in the air is palpable, the patrons of The Flowing Hawk eager to hear the melodies you will weave. As you settle into the corner, the hushed conversations of the patrons fade away, replaced by an expectant silence. You feel the weight of their gazes upon you, the pressure of their anticipation building with every passing moment. You draw in a deep breath, the scent of burning candles and herbal smoke filling your lungs, and close your eyes   With a gentle sigh, you let your fingers dance over the metal strings of your instrument, the sound of the first note reverberating through the silent tavern like a clarion call. The melody weaves and flows, a tapestry of sound that tells a story of love and loss, of adventure and danger, of triumph and tragedy   You have a very pleasant and successful night at this tavern. The following evening you head to the Mare's Elk.   As you approach the Mare's Elk, you notice the warm, inviting glow of lanterns and candles spilling out onto the cobblestone streets. The tavern is smaller and cozier than the previous two, with a welcoming, community feel. The patrons are engaged in lively conversations, their laughter and cheer echoing out into the night. The wooden sign above the door, a pictogram of a rearing elk, creaks softly in the breeze. As you push open the heavy oak door, a wave of warmth and camaraderie washes over you. The air inside the tavern is thick with the aroma of roasted meats, sweet ale, and the faint scent of hay and horses.   The patrons of the Mare's Elk turn to greet you with friendly smiles and nods, their eyes filled with curiosity and interest. The tavern is alive with the sound of laughter, clinking mugs, and the sound of a drum. Leptredin Maloroc, the stout, ruddy-faced human owner of The Mare's Elk, looks up from the bar as you enter, his eyes twinkling with warmth and good humor. He has a rough, stubbly beard and thick bonde hair with Amber eyes. He wears a simple tunic, and his muscular arms are covered in tattoos of horses and other woodland creatures.   Leptredin wipes his hands on his apron and makes his way over to you, his gait steady and sure. "Well, hello there!" he booms, his voice rich and resonant. "I don't believe I've seen you here before. Welcome to The Mare's Elk. What brings you to our humble establishment?" As you explain your intentions, Leptredin's eyes light up with excitement. "A bard, seeking to entertain and earn some coin? Well, I can certainly use someone like you in here!" Leptredin exclaims, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "Our patrons here at The Mare's Elk love a good tune, and I'm sure they would be more than happy to show their appreciation in coin."   Leptredin claps you on the back, his expression warm and inviting. "Why don't you set up over there by the fireplace?" he suggests, gesturing towards a cozy corner of the tavern. "The acoustics are great, and the patrons love to gather round and listen." As you take your place near the fireplace, the warmth and crackling of the logs adding an intimate atmosphere to your performance, you can't help but feel a sense of excitement and belonging. The Mare's Elk, with its homey charm and genuine hospitality, seems like the perfect place to conclude your tavern tour. You spend the evening playing here and over the next several nights you move between these three taverns. By the end of the week, you manage to bring home 39 gold pieces total, and you managed to get your room and board covered each day as well.