@Davish: The coachman is more than happy to seek shelter from the unending rain as he gets inside and you look down at the City Guard, informing him that your driver is to be fed on your account and letting the coach man know to wait right here for you.

The guard stands at attention as you mention the highest tenets of the Law, to serve with honor and distinction and...

My men are well aware of Honor and Distinction. Of duty to this City...

The soldier turns towards the tents and gulps as he remains perfectly rigid and a figure walks out to meet you, the rain plinking off his armor:


This man seems to command respect from the soldiers here, that much is clear, as he looks behind you at the carriage with the symbol of the Cudgel emblazoned on its side and then at you, squarely in the eye.

"What I was not aware of was that His Holiness would be sending someone to my jurisdiction. I am always notified of this in advance. I am Sergeant Andlas of the 65th Division. Who are you and why are you here?""



@Einkil: The man listens to you keep talking and does a gesture with his hand, much like an opening mouth suddenly shutting up.

"How bloody difficult was it to answer that question, huh? Have fun doing whatever it is you're doing in there. Good riddance."

The guards simply point towards a long tunnel and do not follow you as you can hear the short man complain about the damn weather and why he has to be here dealing with idiots and what not, but his voice and that of the soldiers is quickly drowned by the ever falling rain as your nose is invaded with the smell of garbage and waste as you exit the tunnel and become drenched again, squinting in the rain as you are greeted by gigantic old broken buildings.

Any semblance of a road is piled by more garbage and detritus. You can see some people further ahead in the rain, but no one to greet you or hand you a map to find your way around. They say this place used to be Halmathan's largest district, so where to begin?



@Remiel: The smell isn't exactly the best, but...

You flex your knees a bit and take a sprint through the dirty puddles of The Mercy as your sight is fixed on the grey skies above and your body suffers a radical transformation. Your body reduces in size and your hair turns to dark brown feathers as a beak stretches your face as your eyes become keener and before you know it, flight.

Druids and other practitioners of The Craft can fly in Glenndale, but with Connor's Eyes floating above, everyone is a bit weary to fly too high. Who knows what those things can do, especially when Connor was very specific that using Magic of any kind in the City would face swift consequences, or something along those lines...

But here? Connor cares not for this place. No surprise then, that many who use the Art fled here when the Magic Ban was instated in the City, druids included. But even as you flap your wings and get drenched by the rain and catch the air currents to swoop around, this place is gigantic. The rain doesn't make it easier to see too far, as you fly past several buildings and take a passing glance at figures inside, behind badly boarded windows and let out a screech. If Calliope Fareyes is nearby, she certainly must've heard it and been able to recognize you and...

It's a sudden cold that washes over you. Not the current weather, though. Something else that nearly causes you to plummet as a faint female's voice can be heard laughing amidst the drenched ruins of The Mercy, a distant echo just as quickly gone before you realize you're about to hit the ground and take flight again, shaking the rain off your feather head and then catch a somewhat familiar sight below:



What is that woman doing here?

This happened a year ago and some odd months. Before Connor was even a thing.

That hulking woman showed up one day at Glenndale, away from the park section open to the public and decided to train with a mean looking axe on the trees.

Needless to say, this did not bode well with the druids as a few showed up and stopped her by words first before showing her one of the old parchments that dictate that no trees are to be logged down.

Who knows what went on in her mind that she shoved the young acolyte onto the ground and things would've escalated further, had Claudia herself not intervened and calmed her before leading her out of the woods. You were watching this whole ordeal, of course. But not in the guise of a man, ready to pounce on her if she turned really violent.

Did she decide to move here? She seems to have a small posse with her as she walks into a semi clean building within this filth.


@Laura: Why are there red markings on these buildings?

Who knows. This place may belong to the City, but only in name. It's a completely different place now, with its own customs. And so, you reach the Bitter Coffee and hand the beggars another shiny silver piece, lamenting that violence isn't welcome here. You could use some violence. Wooden dummies only go so far. Not very reactive.

The beggars are long gone and disappear amidst the soaked streets as you turn the knob and the door creaks as you take in your surroundings.

A somewhat big place. Bunch of tables with the chairs propped on top as three young men wearing aprons mop the floor and turn their attention to you as your hulking frame enters the tavern and they cautiously lay their mops against the table and place their hands in their pockets, staring at each other before a cough can be heard at the end of the room, behind the bar and you raise an eyebrow at a gnome:


As ugly as winter and just as old, this gnome serves herself a drink on a mug and puts out her smoke on a wet plate.

"Easy, guys. I don't think she's here for trouble... you aren;t here for trouble, are you dearie?""