The first night of the job Gil took his cargo to the room he'd rented at the local inn. He'd been gathering some supplies for the road ahead before settling back in for dinner. Rations and water for himself and his two horses, purifying salts for any water he gathered, extra strings for his guitar, and finally a few boxes of rounds for his rifle and his pistol. The new talk about the local armory was the new rune imbued rounds, rounds that could spark like lightning, burn like fire, or give a man frostbite from the inside out. That last type, a bespectacled young man wondered aloud, might even be able to freeze steel armor and break it down with enough sustained fire. Gil enjoyed the rumors and news about such things but didn't care to comment himself. He was almost tempted to put in an order for some of these rune etched rounds, but decided against it. When he came back and had his debt paid he could buy as many as he liked. Magic rounds were a novelty, but Gil couldn't say whether they could turn the tide against a real mage or a priest of Merisak in a sanctioned holy war. He'd done some jobs delivering to a supply camp a few years back on the southeastern frontier, and had the unfortunate opportunity to witness a battle priest in action when a raid came down on the camp. If the howling winds and sudden burst of light from the sky didn't make the smart ones among the raiders turn tail, the waves of knights made of shining light and fire would catch them and turn them to ash before they could. The feeling of magic in the air was strange, like electricity swirling all the hair on his arms while making it stand on end, the air becomes thicker in a way like every step was harder to take, and his every instinct told him to run and hide.
No, Gil wasn't cut out to be a mage. The paths to either of the major schools were either pious devotion, or spending more than half your time in books trying to plumb the secrets of wherever magic comes from. Gil had better things to do, like work for a living. Besides, if he ever found something he couldn't kill with a well placed shot or a slice across the throat then he figures he'd already be a dead man walking.
By the time he made it back for dinner and packed up his supplies, a scuffle had broken out at the inn. A group of men playing cards in the corner had begun arguing. One accused a couple others of cheating, another was red faced and arguing back that he was no cheat, and another was ghostly pale muttering to the others. By the time it came to blows, some other patrons had to peel the players away from each other and toss them outside. When the shouting didn't stop, gunshots rang outside and everyone knew the conflict was settled. Gil almost couldn't finish his last couple spoons of stew, but after saying a small prayer for the poor bastards that got killed he found his appetite again and bought a bottle of whiskey to spend the night with.
Apparently some other patrons had similar ideas as they were whispering loud enough for him to hear between the tunes he was playing on his guitar. He couldn't quite figure it out, for all he knew the elves were posted up beside him and gossiping in their language. Of course some didn't take kindly to it and called out into the hall for them to shut up. A half hour and a few glasses later, a knock sounded on his door. Gil opened the door a crack to a rather large green skinned man with a handlebar mustache and large tusks jutting from his bottom jaw. An orc, if he wasn't mistaken.
"How can I help you, sir? Need a package delivered? I'm a courier, you see and I happen to have-"
"Stow it, round ear" The orc rudely interrupted Gil's sales pitch "That whisperin' in the hall, it gets louder when I pass by your door. Who've you got in there? I've no right to your private matters but you tell them to quit their yappin' a'fore I come in shut them up real close and personal!"
Gil blinked dumbly at the imposing wall of green flesh before him, clearly out of his mind.
"My tall, green friend I can assure you I am alone in this room. I hear the whispering as well as you, but the only company I keep tonight is my guitar and this here bottle of Verrin Amber. You're welcome to the rest if you'll allow me the indulgence to pour one further"
"Pah... open your door further, then we'll see"
Gil opened the door further, enough that the orc should be able to see the whole room lit by candlelight and the moon coming in through the window. With a grunt and a little scratching of his head the Orc's stiff posture relaxed like a landslide had just tumbled from his shoulders.
"My apologies, round ears. I'll take ya up on that offer for the bottle, but I won't take it from ya. I didn't come to stick ya up, merely to figure out that damn whispering. Come, join me downstairs, if for no reason than to block our ears of that racket"
Setting down his guitar and picking up his glass and bottle, Gil saw no reason not to oblige a sincere apology over a drink.