{Quick disclaimer: this chapter and several following it contain fictional gambling and casinos- this isn't meant to encourage or promote gambling in any way, that's just how the original story was written by Dynasty, and was just part of the heist and blending in. With that out of the way, enjoy :D}
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Following Cyren's directions, the party headed down from the stone tower, their cloaks billowing in the wind. Walking along the pier, Aralynn breathed in the salty spray of the sea, the briny mist sprinkling and resting gently on her face, relieving Aralynn from some of the heat of the hot, sweaty, sunny day. Her chestplate and combat gear made the sweltering heat feel so much worse.
Soon, the party came to a halt in front of the boarding plank of a massive red barge. 'The Eleventh Hour' was inscribed upon its helm in what seemed to be flaking gold. In front of the plank stood a singular dragonkin man, dressed head to toe in what seemed to be a black and red casino uniform that seemed to seamlessly integrate with his red scales.
He stood a good head taller than Amon, who was the tallest among the party. The dragonkin man looked them up and down. "Ferry's 10 gold pieces. We have exchange between gold and tokens aboard." His voice was low and gravely, as if he had just woken up in the morning and had decided to chug a gallon of sand.
Aralynn and the rest of the party quietly handed over ten gold pieces each before stepping past the dragonkin and onto the barge. It was a true barge, not a dressed-up riverboat: the entire front was flat and open-topped, with only the barest of railings to keep anyone from tumbling into the water. Overhead, unlit lanterns dangled from lengths of fireproof twine, swaying gently in the breeze.
"There's the exchange. Cyren said, what… 40 gold coins, 40 tokens each?" Grango gestured to a stall on the side of the barge, one of the only ones that had a roof on top with a big sign on top showing a smiling cartoon character exchanging gold coins with tokens.
"Yeah," Hadarai said. "We should probably exchange our gold while we have the chance."
Once the party had swapped out their coins, they found seats and waited. The barge, with its scattered tables and benches, felt more like an open-air café than a proper ferry.
The party didn't have to wait long as after a little while, the dragonkin by the plank came on board, retracting the gangplank as he stepped on board. He puffed out his chest and bellowed to cut above the chatter and so that everyone on board could hear. "The Eleventh Hour is about to undock. Destination: The Devil's Hand Casino. Please enjoy your trip with us. If you have any questions regarding the trip, I am your helmsman, so please feel free to ask me any and all questions. Thank you for choosing The Eleventh Hour, and please sit back and relax. We will be there shortly."
The dragonkin made his way behind the passenger platform, stepping up and taking his place at the helm. Around him, sailors in matching uniforms bustled about the deck, performing final checks and securing equipment in preparation for departure.
At last, the crew released the lashings that held the barge to the dock, raised the anchor, and gave the vessel a solid push off.
With a soft rumble, the barge eased out of the harbor and began its slow journey toward the Devil's Hand. The movement was so gentle that, if not for the rippling water on either side, Aralynn might have forgotten they were on a boat at all.
"Much as I hate to admit it, it's a real nice ship," Hadarai muttered to Grango underneath his breath. "Wouldn't mind one of these for myself."
"That it is." Grango nodded.
Perona, Amon, and Aralynn leaned back, observing the ship's passengers. A good portion of the passengers hid their faces with masks, hoods, and scarves, but the majority were unmasked. There were patrons of all manner of races and backgrounds.
As the barge was nearing the Devil's Hand, Aralynn noted how there was no port for them to dock at. Instead, they were heading straight towards an unlit tunnel.
Then, the helmsman's voice boomed out. "We will be reaching our destination in just about a minute. This is an important part of the voyage, and light is needed. As such, please keep your heads down for just a moment."
Aralynn reluctantly ducked her head though her eyes stayed alert. The dragonkin quickly scanned the length of the barge, making sure everyone had their heads down safely, before puffing out his chest once more.
This time, instead of the dragonkin shouting, Aralynn could see that the scales near his throat- no, perhaps his throat itself started to glow with a brilliant orange heat.
Then he opened his mouth.
A great jet of flame burst forth, racing along the fireproof twine overhead and igniting each lantern in rapid succession. Waves of heat rolled past them, rippling the air.
"Thank you for your cooperation," the dragonkin called out. "You may raise your heads now. When we arrive, please disembark to the port side- the left side- of the ship. May the dice ever favor your luck, and I hope you enjoy your time at the Devil's Hand Casino. Once again, thank you for traveling with the Eleventh Hour."
A round of applause and scattered cheers followed. The dragonkin stepped back, satisfied.
As the barge drifted into the yawning mouth of the tunnel, the newly lit lanterns cast a warm, flickering glow that danced along the rock walls. The tunnel seemed natural- formed by an ancient cave system, or at least, it gave that impression. Still, the light felt too gentle, almost inviting, like a trick of the dark, luring them into a false sense of security.
At last, the barge reached a break in the tunnel- a section of the cavern wall had been hollowed out to form an underground port. The place buzzed with activity: dockworkers hauled crates of food and supplies toward lifts leading up into the casino floors, while sentient automatons draped in black robes patrolled the docks, halberds gleaming, scanning for threats.
Beyond them, the casino's gates stood open. Aralynn could just make out a security checkpoint- and past that, a blur of lights, cheers, and the chiming rhythm of games in motion.
As the Eleventh Hour approached, dockhands scrambled into position, catching ropes tossed down by the sailors. Within moments, the barge was moored and gangplanks extended.
With a cheer, the passengers surged off the deck, eager for the night that lay ahead.
Aralynn looked at the faces of her companions. "Alright," she said. "Let's go."