Death's End IC II

[3SecondCultist]

Arran, Ben, Calia, Lirian: The gates of Onyx stand before you. After several long weeks on the road from Valeria, the warm glow of the city stands as a welcome contrast. As promised, Nisus did not accompany you south, electing to head back up to Aquinal, although he did promise that he would come down and join you after he had finished with the guild. By the time you had been reequipped for your journey, the elf had already gone. However, you were sent off by a sizeable group that included Marius, Nyssae and Kamose, all of whom expressed their gratitude for helping them and wished you their best. Of course, the gratitude of others can only go so far on the long and winding road. Their gifts are hardly fair recompense for their absence. However, Nisus made it quite clear that you were not to tell anyone else of the Starstone or the Firstborn unless absolutely necessary, and most of them had their own duties to return to, leaving the four of you alone. Your trip south has led you past the snows of the Pillars, down into the Arvan reaches and across the border into Collea - not an insurmountable path, but there have been a few incidents along the way. In particular, the barrows of Duskwreath slowed you down, as a wave of the living dead assaulted an Arvan village while you were passing through. With the help of some Tiernan priests, the undead were repelled, even though it took more effort than expected. Nonetheless, you find yourself at your destination not much later than you had planned.

Under the shadows of the great eastern wall, the imperial highway actually looks fairly small. That being said, both features are dwarfed by the absolutely immense crowd that surrounds the fortifications. A small satellite city of tents seems to have sprung up outside the gates, presumably for those without the money or favor with the praetors to find lodgings for the Festival. The endless throng of boots, hooves, and wagon wheels has turned much of the ground to little more than mud, even as the first of the winter frosts has begun to harden it to a crust. Although the icy vales of Valeria are behind you, winter has long fingers. The gate is not far, and by the looks of it the guard aren't interested in keeping away those with coin to pay the entrance fee.

Elara: A small pigeon flies overhead, nearly hitting you with its droppings. The fecal matter makes a little plop sound as it lands squarely in a puddle in front of you. But it is only one of the burgeoning sounds of Onyx: a living landscape of mortal cries of all shapes and sizes. This city is alive, and even more vibrant than the last time you were here. The upcoming Festival of Lights seems to have brought countless extra mouths to the Republic's doorstep. Down here in the south, there isn't much snow, but the winds that come down from the mountains taste of ice and iron. That does not seem to have stopped the masses who crowd the various gates of the city. And you find yourself in the middle of it all, in the packed district of West Harth. The majority of the festivities and celebrations are centered around Old Town, but this area of the city is hardly unaffected. Nearly all of the inns are fully booked for weeks, and quite a few of the shops have been temporarily closed down, replaced by special street vendors selling festival paraphernalia. Even though you've just gotten here, you can already see the Cato masks and sparkler wands making an appearance. Three of the hawkers have already approached you, one of them making it painfully obvious that he is interested in more than your coin. But at the end of the street, you see your destination: the worn facade of the Painted House. The creaky door and flickering lantern that hangs above it conjure up fond memories of the last time you were here. And there, standing in the doorway, is Merrelis. "I was wondering when you would show up! Your message said early afternoon, and here you are strolling in at sunset. But that's you all over, isn't it?" Her smile catches the last of the light, and her captivating eyes invite you in.

Myr: From your place in the back of the wagon, you can see the great tide of impoverished souls that linger outside of the gates. Many of them look unfed and unwashed, although your gaze lingers on the washed out robes of the clerics as they bring sustenance to the less fortunate. It seems as though some of the teachings of the Twelve are not exclusive to Nenda. As you watch, the text of the letter floats to the forefront of your mind: "Vasher is incredibly valuable to the enemy... High Command wants him dead before the Festival is over." The dark words linger, like a guest who has overstayed their welcome. Up in front, the teamster gives you a subtle wave, the signal to hide beneath the textile fabrics before you reach the checkpoint. The man's services have been useful thus far, although his asking price is certainly high enough for getting you into the city undetected. You run through the arrangement one more time: once inside, the smuggler has promised to drop you off somewhere that you won't draw any attention to yourself. He did not ask for your name, and refused you when you asked for his. 'Better this way', he told you. But once you're inside, it will be up to you to make contact. The horses whinny nervously as the wagon rolls up for inspection, but the voices you hear are calm. By the sounds of it, the guards seem more bored than worried about intruders. They joke and cajole with the smuggler, and he tosses them a silver coin as you head on. Nobody has come to check out the back compartment. A shadow passes overhead, a moment of solemn silence, and then you are hit by a wall of noise. You have arrived.

[esorscher]

As they near the gate to East Harth, Arran slows Windfarben. The two have been through much together, and in the time spent traveling their bond has grown stronger, so much so that Arran now feels somewhat empty when they are forced to be separated. The corpse of Senn is no longer borne by the horse, destroyed after it rose up against them (almost comically, without arms and legs) in Duskwreath. Rather, Windfarben is bedecked in a jersey similar to Arran's own under armor, providing some limited protection against arrows, and shoed with enchanted horseshoes that keep the horse levitating about 4" off the ground.

He has yet to receive a response from his family, but hopefully one finds him soon enough. He wrote a letter to his mother upon their return to Fiorne, explaining all that had happened since he'd left them after his desertion from the Tiernan army, and without mentioning the details told them of his strange experiences in the Vault of the Firstborn.

"We should try and find a cheap residence somewhere," Arran says as they approach the gate. "We ought to establish a base of operations for ourselves as we search for information about You Know What. Also," he pauses, not sure how to broach the subject, "If we can find a benefactor, we should. I'd like to know more about the political structure of this area, as well as local and national issues. Also, I'm keen on these praetorships I've heard about--who are the current Praetors, and how did they get to be where they are? Who nominated them, are there factions within the Praetor council, that sort of thing. And, how is the war going? These are just a few of my questions, but I know myself well enough to know that I won't get far asking around. My talents are more suited elsewhere," he shrugs as he pulls out a small bag of gold, jingling it in his hands as Windfarben approaches the gatekeeper.

[Sen isSaqqara]

Lirian replies to Arran's statemtnets quickly. She had been enjoying taking in the sight of the city, but the last few weeks have hardened her a bit, and made her more practical.
That you are, and what thanks do I get for it, I might ask? notes the ever-present voice in her head. Finding out that it belongs to Frost was but one of the many little changes that this journey has brought. Most of her more inane comments are now saved for him, as she doesn't really trust some of her companions anymore. They work well as a team, sure, but she wouldn't put money on their chances against a Detect Good spell.

She collects her thoughts, focusing on the present. Frost sighs audibly from her backpack, annoyed at her lack of response, and settles back against her notes. They are getting rather extensive, documenting her conversations with Nisus, some of their adventures, and some of her thoughts about new applications of magic. The memory at the Starstone cavern gave her quite a few new ideas about how magic could be applied, and she's taken to harnessing her not inconsiderable intelligence in designing new devices and trinkets while they travel. She still needs to do more research, though...
"I likely won't be much use in looking for acommodations. I was hoping to head straight for the Library, in all honesty. May as well get started on my research. Shall we chose a place to meet up later, and head out separately? We could get more done that way."

[Ajadea]

Walking beside the horse is a full-figured human woman. Clad in silvery chainmail and a gray cloak, she looks almost like an elven ranger from the north, but her features and coppery skin mark her clearly as of Siaran descent. Her dark brown-red hair is pulled up into a messy approximation of a bun, clearly done by someone with no mirror, no time, and no real inclination towards hairdressing in any case.

After that fiasco in Duskwreath, Calia can't help but breath a content sigh as the city walls come into view. The Festival of Lights was always exciting. The streets flooded with people, the masks and sparkling wands and banners hanging from windows. The Academy hadn't worked out, it was true, but returning to Onyx somehow almost felt like coming home.

At Arran's political musings, Caila laughs. She seems far more at ease since they have crossed the Collean border, smiling easily and working to make conversation with all three of her traveling companions. She has spent much of the trip developing her magic, reading over the book of spell theory she had taken from the Guild library back in Fiorne and trying to apply it to expand her limited repertoire. After what they had seen, knowing what they might face, it seemed only prudent. "We've been walking for weeks and these questions only come to your mind now? I could have answered half of those before now." She shakes her head. "No matter. The other praetors choose candidates from the people who live in that district to replace whoever is stepping down that year. They have leadership experience already, so they know what to look for. Our elections run in cycles, so there's always a mix of old blood and new on the council. Any citizen who is of age can vote on which candidate they think will do best in office, and the one with the most votes becomes the new praetor of that city."

Her face falls slightly. "I don't know who the praetors are right now, I'm afraid. They only hold office for five years, and there's a lot of them, so it's not generally worth the time to memorize the names of any praetor other than the one of your city in any case." She brushes a wayward strand of hair out of her face and turns her attentions back to the road. "We should head into the city. You might get better answers for your questions if you can get a source with information less than two years old. As far as accommodations go... I doubt there's a spare room in all of East Harth. Might have better luck on the west side, but it'll still be tricky. And you two," she adds, pointing at Arran and Ben, "I know up in Valeria, you can get away with looking at orcs and goblins like they're beasts, but those sorts of actions are not acceptable here or anywhere else in the Republic for that matter. They're no less people than either of you, and you'd do well to remember that."

[PersonMan]

Elara has to adjust to the lack of heat as she approaches Onyx. Despite knowing better, she hadn't been able to shake the expectation of the same dry warmth filling the air as when she'd last been in the city. Once she's able to turn her attention away from the weather, the wanderer is quickly reminded of the other parts of Onyx she remembers. The massive walls, the crowds, the noise...after weeks in the mountains and on the roads, Elara is happy to be surrounded by people again. The upcoming festival just makes things better; more things to enjoy, so more to do while stays in the city and tries to make sense of that odd dream she'd had. Between the library, the festival things, potentially meeting new people and convincing Merrelis that it was a good time to take a break from her merchant things to enjoy herself, Elara thinks that she'll have at least a few weeks before she runs out of things to do. Potentially longer, if she paints some festival scenes.

Peeling off the hawkers with quick steps and even quicker words ("No thank you. Ah, maybe they want one? Sorry, I'm already late. In a hurry, can't right now. Isn't that lady over there more your type?"), Elara finally approaches her destination, seeing Merrelis standing in the doorway. A smile coming to her face, she hastens to reach the Painted House, remembering her message. Maybe the merchant had been delayed as well, and had only arrived recently?

"I was wondering when you would show up! Your message said early afternoon, and here you are strolling in at sunset. But that's you all over, isn't it?"

Nope.

"Ahh, sorry," Elara brings up one hand to rub the back of her head. "Y'know how it is. I don't normally have a set time I plan to arrive by," she explains, smile returning as Merrelis' own lips form one. Her eyes, of course, are what draw Elara's gaze to them after a brief moment, their multicolored beauty bringing about another surge of memories from the last time she looked into them so deeply. Of candlelight flickering in the black in the center of those colored rings, a reflection of the only dim light in the room.

Stepping forwards, Elara slings her arms around Merrelis, slowing only to make sure that she didn't jab her with one of the miscellaneous staves or wands on her belt. "So, how're things going?" She asks, stepping back after a moment. It wasn't quite the greeting she wanted to give her friend, but she was aware that Merrelis would prefer she not be too open with her displays of affection in public. Besides, Elara was curious about what had been going on in Onyx recently, and answering questions was difficult when your lips were pressed against the pair which had asked them.

There would be all kinds of time for that later, though. For now it was time to just enjoy Merrelis' company in a more platonic way.

[3SecondCultist]

Arran, Ben, Calia, Lirian: As the four of you get closer to the entrance, you find your progress severely hampered by the crowds. Here and there, the state-sanctioned merchants cry for their wares, and dozens of famished faces swarm around them. Tanners, coopers, scribes, smiths, weavers, accountants stand beside vagrants, wanderers, and paid companions - and there is little to distinguish one from the next. There are simply too many people here to count. Thankfully, you manage to find your way to the wall, where you are stopped by a team of guards. All in all, there must be at least fifty that patrol the area around the open gates, although many of them are busy with other travelers who want to get into the city. A dwarf and hobgoblin guard, noticing your approach, move to intercept you. "Look here, Gorbash. Judging by the gear and the floating horse, I would say that these fine adventurers were hoping to stay in Old Town! Anyhow, what is your business in Onyx? I presume you're here for the Festival of Lights? If that's the case, then you'll want to head to the Heroes' Plaza. It's true that a lot of the local ceremonies are in and around West Harth, but the big to-do will be starting tonight outside the Senate Hall." He stops when he sees Lirian, his mocking smile transforming into something more akin to confusion. Eventually he shakes his head slightly, returning to the world of the present. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a unit of five well-equipped soldiers not ten feet from you. Two of them wear fine steel, while the other three are clad in boiled leathers. Most of them carry bows and blades, but the last one wield what looks like a wand. They don't wear the Onyx tabards, and the regular guards seem to give them plenty of space. "Hey, are you listening? The fee to enter the city at the time of festival is two gold marks apiece. There are others waiting to get in, so hurry up!"

Elara: "Things are going quite well, actually. A trading caravan from Nenda arrived in the city not two days ago. Rare, that they got past the border unmolested." As she leads you into the considerably warmer common room, Merrelis takes a moment to smile back at you. It's clear that she is happy to see you, but an grateful glance is enough to tell you that she is glad you're waiting until the two of you are alone before greeting her properly. Merrelis' face seems to fall into shadow for a moment, but the merchant girl's spirits do not stay down for long. "Come on in! You remember Naberys, the innkeeper? She got me a room basically for free, provided I would help her out with that her husband's debts." The elderly gnome woman behind the bar waves at you once, before going back to chatting with a pair of elves lounging near the bar. The Painted House is absolutely packed - as you head through the spaces, you find yourself hard pressed not to step on anyone's toes. A few of the servers you recognize from last time, although it looks like Naberys has hired even more help for the increased business. Merrelis points to the stairs that lead to the rooms, as if to ask silently what you want to do with all of the supplies you brought with you.

[Togo]

Myr shifts a little in the back of the wagon. So this was Onyx? The crown of Collea? He'd long dreamed of what it might feel like to stride through the mighty gates., but his mental image hadn't included being stuffed in the back of a wagon, peering out through a crack in the leather lashings that held the canvas cover down against rain, dust and curious guardsmen.

With a slient sign, he runs through the muscle clenching exercises that supposedly warded off cramp. Right foot, right calf, right thigh, switch. Left foot, left calf, left thigh, rest. Myr tries hard to ignore the feeling of his own possessions, gathered in a large bundle, pressing into his side as the wagon rattles onward. Out of the corner of his eye, through the swaying gap in canvas, what is surely another spectacular wonder of Onyx slinks past unobserved.

[esorscher]

Arran hands over 10 gold to pay for himself and his companions, with a little extra for the delay. "Sorry for holding you up," Arran says to the guard. "Old Town, eh?" He looks over at the paid companions. "Why is that the place for us?"

[Sen isSaqqara]

Lirian stops halfway from pulling out gold of her own, instead moving back a step and looking over towards the oddly-armored people. She tries to spot any iconography or symbols that could reveal their allegiance or position.

[Ajadea]

"Of course we're here for the Festival!" Calia begins to not-so-subtly herd the others through before they can take up any more of the guards' time. "My apologies. My friends haven't ever been to Onyx before, I expect they're a little overwhelmed," she says, making her best attempt to push them on through the gates. "Old Town's got everything," she explains to Arran rapidly as they move. "All of the best. And the most expensive. It's the heart of Onyx. We should go. You really need to see it at least once. And that's where the Library is too, Lirian." The streets are thick with people, so many that she is being almost pushed up against Windfarben's side.

[esorscher]

Arran nods his assent. "Sounds good to me. Where's the best spot to find a cheap apartment for rent?" he asks Calia.

[PersonMan]

Elara doesn't really notice the cold, for reasons known only to her, Merrelis, and a few people in a small war-torn village on the other side of the continent, but enjoys the warmth of the common room as they enter it, the familiar room a welcome sight. While the cottage she could summon was a fairly nice place to stay while traveling, it grew dull after about two nights. After over a dozen, a proper inn was a blessing from the heavens. Especially one with Merrelis in it, with beds she knew were comfortable and servers she knew were competent. Of course, her thoughts of the place are quickly replaced by attentive listening as the aforementioned friend begins to speak. A caravan from Nenda? Elara makes a note of it, to perhaps ask to tag along with them at the end of her stay in Onyx. She'd been wanting to go somewhere new, and the Neo-Imperials were better than the Tiernans, if only barely.

Brought back to the present, Elara waves in response to Naberys' own gesture, smiling as she remembers the old gnome's subtle reminder that the walls of the inn weren't soundproof. Glancing over to Merrelis, trying to keep her look relatively inconspicuous, she wonders if the innkeeper had told her about it. Probably not - it'd have been very embarrassing for the merchant to realize that she and Elara had been loud enough to be heard in another room and wouldn't bring anything in exchange. It isn't long before the mage's attention goes back to her companion's present state, though. Despite being somewhat caught up in her thoughts, the wanderer had noticed the brief darkness in Merrelis' expression, but decided to ignore it once it disappeared. There'd be time later, for now it was best to just keep her mind off of whatever was causing her troubles.

"That sounds like a good deal. Let's head up there, I've got a bit of stuff I wouldn't mind tossing on a table," Elara says. While she doesn't make it too obvious, there are more reasons for her to want to go up to the room for at least a short time. Ones which Merrelis might pick up on, having spent quite a bit of time with the mage. "Oh, and there are these wonderful mountain scenes I painted while up in the Pillars. Absolutely wonderful, you have to see them," as always, the mage's tone quickly fills with excitement as she talks about her painting, the passion she has for depicting beauty clear in every word.

[3SecondCultist]

Elara: When you bring up the paintings, Merrelis suppresses a giggle. "Sorry, I just love it when you get so invested in your art! I'm sure the landscapes are lovely, and I'll be glad to have a look at them." It doesn't take a genius to figure out that she isn't just talking about the paintings. From the top of the stairs, the hallway of the Painted House's second floor seems quite crooked. Floorboards and nails stick out here and there, a continual safety hazard to be sure. But you've had worse accommodations on your journeys, and likely will again. Grabbing you by the wrist, Merrelis leads you to the fourth door on the left and throws open the door. You know the room well. It is quite tidy and spacious, complete with the requisite furnishings of a dresser, washing basin and a small desk in the corner. Merrelis' seems to have occupied the latter, as the wooden surface is covered in stacks of files. A finely crafted ledger stands out from all the rest - you've seen it before. It used to belong to her father when he was running the business, and now it seems to have been passed down to her. Its burnished gold bindings reflect the glimmers of light from the sizeable window across from you. You feel a faint chill come across you, as you realize that Merrelis must have opened it up a crack. The view of West Harth isn't much, just a multitude of similar rooftops punctuated by the odd courtyard or tower. In a way though, all of these thousands of souls living in a single community dwarfs even the great peaks of the north. Behind you, Merrelis makes a small noise in your general direction, someplace between a sigh and a cough. She sits at the edge of the bed, waiting for you to come and give her a proper hello.

Myr: The creaking and rumbling of the wheels on stone continues unabated for a few more minutes before gradually slowing to a stop. Wherever you are, the sun no longer shines through the canvas roof and the sounds of the city seem muffled. The low voice of the driver is clear enough, though. "Alright, you can get out anytime." The back flap opens up, revealing the man's features and the alley behind him. By the looks of it, this part of the city seems very quiet. The lane is barely wide enough to fit the wagon, uneven cobble running every which way. Two and three story houses flank the road, although most of the windows are closed or boarded up. At the end of the alley, a larger thoroughfare is bathed in the sun's fading light. Out there, you can see a steady stream of pedestrians, but nobody seems all that interested in investigating your situation. Great banners of red cloth sway in the breeze: the open palm sigil of the Onyx Republic stands proud for all to see. Beside you, the driver does his best to smile. "We're still in East Harth, in case you were wondering. I'll stash the wagon with a friend for a few days, just to make sure it isn't seen for a little while. We should go our separate ways now - easier to avoid suspicion." He holds out his callused palm in anticipation of his payment: 25 gold coins, the second such deposit you've given him for his service. His eyes are hard, his stare is long, and you can't help but notice the undoubtedly sharp knife at his belt.

[Togo]

Myr rolls out of the end of the cart and gets gingerly to his feet, rolling his neck and swinging his arms to get the kinks out. He glances around and then drags his pack out of the wagon. His eyes narrow as he looks at the open palm, and then drags out from the wagon a length of black iron chain ending is a wickedly spiked ball. He folds the sinister weapon between his black gloved hands, swings his pack into place, and covers both with a tattered cloth around his shoulders. Finally he extracts a long pole wrapped in rags.

Maybe that would be best. He says gruffly. He takes out a thin pouch and extracts a few coins. With a dark look, he passes them over.

I need to disappear for a while. I need an area of mercenaries, cheap hostels, doss houses. Places where no questions are asked. Which way?

[PersonMan]

Elara's reply to Merrelis' words on the stairs is silenced by the energy she shows in bringing them to the room once they reach the hall. The wanderer hadn't missed the second meaning in her words, and the excitement she displayed in rushing down the twisting hall gives her a clear display of how much the merchant had been looking forward to her visit. For a brief moment Elara feels a pang of regret about not having come earlier in the day. Surely it would have been worth it to give up the sightseeing and relaxed pace on the road to Onyx she already knew to arrive at the inn a few hours earlier. But these thoughts only last for a short time, the mage's focus turning from her thoughts to the outside world as they enter their room.

A smile coming to her lips as she recognizes the place, Elara lets her gaze go over the furniture, then out the window. Walking over to the desk, she sets down her messenger bag. Pulling out an assortment of wands, odd artifacts, tools and a single bag from her belt with practiced ease, Elara sets it all down on the floor next to her messenger bag - except for the smaller bag, which is gently placed atop it. Leaning forwards onto the desk's chair, she looks out the window, captivated for a moment by the view before a noise from behind her brings her back from her reverie. Remembering that as good, if not better, of a view is waiting behind her, Elara deftly unties the knot of her cloak and sets it on the back of the chair.

A flash of deja vu to the last time they'd been in this room strikes her, and Elara barely resists the urge to make the same comment about being well-practiced in quickly discarding her equipment for more than one reason. She can't remember how many times she's said it; it was simply a perfect double-entrede easily placed into one of her stories or a fitting comment for when the situation grew more...intimate. As it had with Merrelis.

"Ah, I'm sorry, my so very fair maiden, I fear I allowed myself to be distracted for a moment by the city's splendor," Elara says, easily going into the melodramatic tone she occasionally enjoyed using. "But fear not! I will not rest before you feel that my efforts to greet you after such a long absence are to your liking," she continues, crossing the room with wide strides before breaking out into a grin. Bending for the final few steps, Elara lets herself half-fall forwards, catching herself with her hands on the bed and nuzzling Merrelis' nose with her own. Her own blue, black-lined eyes stare into the merchant's multicolored ones for a moment, simply taking in the beauty that had captivated her time and time again.

Knowing that she can't get away with teasing her for too long, Elara moves further forwards, breathing in the scent of the heterochromic beauty's skin before her lips brush against hers. "Hello~" she whispers, letting Merrelis feel each movement of her mouth as she forms the word. A bit of fun with the idea of a proper greeting taken literally - the last bit the mage expects to get in before her partner decides that she's had enough of it. Shifting again, to kiss Merrelis properly, Elara rids herself of the worry that she's taking too long for her seemingly impatient friend by giving her exactly what she wants.

[Ajadea]

"Not Old Town!" Calia says with a laugh. It was not as if they could not afford a few days in the White Veil, but if they were planning on making this stay an extended one, it might be more prudent to go to a cheaper place as Arran had suggested. She gives it a moment's consideration. "I know a place or two in West Harth that'd work. Clean, not too fancy, not too expensive. We should probably see about getting some rooms first, before they're all gone!" She takes the lead, walking briskly and with purpose, following the road signs to West Harth. It seemed to make sense to look at the Janos Crown first, she decides. It had a less colorful reputation than the alternative.

[Sen isSaqqara]

"Sounds good. The sooner we're settled in, the sooner I can start my research."

[esorscher]

Arran nods, and follows Calia to their destination, taking in the sights as he walks.

[3SecondCultist]

Arran, Ben, Calia, Lirian: "Best of luck!" The dwarf lets out another laugh as he leads his partner to get to others in the queue. Several of the five unmarked warriors give you a bit of a stare as you pass them on your way into the city proper - the man with the twin wands seems to stare particularly at Lirian and Windfarben - but they do not approach. As all of you head through the great gates and into Onyx, the sun is situated directly on the horizon in front of you. It almost looks as if the city is on fire. The central courtyard is awash in red, as dozens of the immense banners fly in the cool evening's breeze. East Harth is hardly quiet even at this time of night, as the vendors that border the main streets are even more numerous. A soft bubbling permeates the square, as a carved fountain marks a break in the crowd. Here and there, you catch sight of other travelers such as yourselves, although sometimes it is hard to tell them apart from the jubilant throng that are the citizens. Some of them are mounted, and others are on foot. There seems to be a very large stable on the other side of the square. Although, judging by the line of guards and the fortifications, it may well be a barracks as well. Most of the people around you are heading somewhere, out to buy or sell to the merchants. However, you catch sight of a large wooden platform that has been erected in the middle of the street, on the other side of the fountain. An orange pavilion squats at one end, and an elf in resplendent robes of silver and gold stands waiting for the noise to calm. When he does speak, it is with an air of practiced melodrama. "Ladies and gentlemen, gracious members of all races, welcome to the Festival! I hope that our vendors have proved worth your while. As you know, here in Onyx we begin the Festival of Lights with a little bit of audience participation. For the next twenty-four hours, we will be hosting various contests of skill, strength, and magic! Anyone who wants to enter the lists may do so, provided they pay the fee. Different locations throughout Onyx will be hosting different contests, so make sure that you know where it is you're going. To start, we will be putting on a classic: the wrestle! Two opponents in the ring, no weapons. The last one standing moves on to the next round, with a final cash prize of 1000 imperial gold marks! Those with any questions or interested in the contest may approach the booth at any time. May the Twelve bless you all!" Before the elf even finishes talking, turmoil envelops the crowd below his feet. Scores of burly humans, dwarves, and hobgoblins tussle to be the first to sign up - and there are more than a few females among their midst.

Elara: Merrelis responds to your movements, lips pressed up to yours as her arms slip around your waist. You can feel the young woman breathe life into the kiss, elongating it past a mere greeting into something decidedly more lascivious. You can feel her body as it pulls you closer into an embrace. The touch of her fingers on your skin is almost ephemeral, as though she were little more than a ghost. She moves to stroke your cheek and your hair, gently weaving through the brown locks before settling on the small of your back. And then, she traces the pattern of the membranous wings beneath your clothing. But after a few blissful moments, Merrelis breaks off the kiss to rest her forehead on yours. Those eyes stare back at you with a spirit of longing contentedness. "That was certainly to my liking. The gods only know how happy I am to see you again, Elara. When... when you left to go up north, I didn't realize how much I missed you. I wanted you to stay then, and I want you to stay now. But we're adults, and we have responsibilities beyond us. When I took over the business I made a promise, and I fully intend to uphold it. I have business with a new client from Siara tonight, a big defense contractor. If I can get him to sign for the Republic, my wages will multiply. We're supposed to meet for dinner tonight: he's taking me out to see some of the opening ceremonies in Heroes' Plaza." Merrelis allows a bit of light into her features, but you can see that the girl is more than a little wistful at the circumstances. When she looks at you now, the longing has nearly swallowed her up. "I'm so sorry I didn't say anything right away. I... I just wanted us to have a moment like it was before. I promise I will be back for you later tonight. But can you wait for a few more hours?"

Myr: The wagon driver watches warily as you pull out your gear, and counts the coins to see if they're all accounted for. After a moment, he seems to ease up. "Sorry, you never know with you traveling types. One time, I met a mercenary who liked to kill captives just for the fun of it. Didn't matter whether or not the contract specified 'dead' or 'alive'. I think he just took pleasure in watching the lights go out. Needless to say that he's out of work now." He chuckles to himself, a thoroughly ugly sound. It seems as though the payment has loosened the man's tongue a little bit. "But if those are the types you're looking for, I suppose I can help with that. Your best bet would be to head north, to Forger's Row. There's a hobgoblin named Jax who runs a shop up there, it's called the Narrow Anvil. He's got plenty of connections to the Onyx underbelly, lots of shady types like to deal with him. He's even got the city guard looking away. Whatever you do though, try to be polite. These organized criminals, they do like their manners." With a nod, the smuggler moves to start packing the wagon back up. He gives you one last wave before he climbs back up into his seat and flicks the whip. The wagon begins to roll down the alleyway and out of view.

[PersonMan]

Elara lets Merrelis lead her movements, the hours of travel beginning to weigh on her now that she's stopped moving. It's nothing much - she's had to deal with far more in the past - but it's enough to answer the question of whether she should take a leading role or simply let the merchant do so. With a vague notion of doing differently as things progressed, Elara simply lets Merrelis guide her, reciprocating and reveling in the beauty of her touch, the soft feelings of her fingers on her back and the heat of her breath. Were she a poet, the mage may have been distracted briefly by suddenly inspired prose, but without a brush at hand to even begin to try and capture the moment, Elara simply allows herself to soak it in. As Merrelis brings the kiss to an end, the traveler looks at her with a gaze far more lively than before (except, perhaps, when she spoke of her paintings), joy in her unusual eyes. As the merchant speaks, Elara listens, gaze never moving from the eyes of her companion, following their every movement, taking in the beauty of their color. Her own eyes lose a bit of their shining joy as Merrelis explains her situation.

"You," she corrects partway through. "You have responsibilities beyond you. I don't have anyone relying on me the way you do," Elara says. As Merrelis continues, explaining her meeting with a man from the west that evening, she nods slowly. That explained the momentary sadness earlier, as well as this bit about responsibility. The apology more or less slips over her - by Elara's reckoning, there wasn't really a need to apologize. They'd both gotten a few moments of beautiful bliss from her hiding her appointment, after all, and the wanderer trusted her friend to not lie to her without good reason. All was well, in the end. On the other hand, being told she had to wait a few hours after such a passionate kiss gave her reason to be a bit mean to Merrelis.

"Well," Elara begins, smiling, "I understand. I know you have your responsibilities, so I won't do some things. I won't say that you can expect me to await your return with bated breath. I won't say that once you do return, you can give up any plans of sleeping for the night. I won't say that it's best to do things you won't need your voice for tomorrow..." her smile turning into a mischievous grin, she gives Merrelis a brief peck on the lips before withdrawing from her, standing once again. Gently, she leads the merchant up with her, her hands on the other's less calloused palms. "Go to the dinner, work your merchant magic, then come here and tell me your stories. I'll tell you mine and we'll have more of those moments like before. Especially the ones where you show me how loud you can get," Elara finishes, bringing her arms up around Merrelis' shoulders in a much more platonic embrace than before.

"I'll take a look at some of the festival until you're done. How long do you think it'll take? Will you need to be leaving soon? The mage asks, voice low, stroking the merchant's shoulders as she speaks, gaze soft as she looks into the multicolored eyes of the one in her arms.

[esorscher]

Arran turns away from the crowd signing up to wrestle--such sport is not his forte, nor is he in need of the prize money. Instead, while Calia searches for suitable housing, he inquires as to the going rate for the variety of services the painted ladies offer.

[Togo]

North, Forger's Row.Myr gives a grudging nod, but his glower follows the cart as it leaves the alleyway, then fades into a smile. He steps behind a pile of rotting crates and discarded market refuse, and starts to strip. It's the work of moments to don a fresh white shirt, strip off the tattered cloth from his shoulders and wrap it around the iron flail. Both are buried deep in his pack as he pulls out a dark blue cloak and a lyre inexpertly varnished to a shiney yellow sheen. The rag bandages are carefully unwound from the pole to reveal the gleaming blade of a polearm. He pops a brightly knitted cover over the blade, a garish pattern showing the divinity Hallena, nude in a ship on a background of stylised waves, and then slips in the whole into the carrying strap next to his bow.

He pauses at the entrance to the alleyway, blinking in the light of the setting sun, and runs a finger down the strings of the lyre. A sour note or two, but close enough. He shoulders his heavy pack, and heads off south with a spring in his step, towards the glow of hanging lamps and the thickest of the crowds. The Festival of Lights! He grins with excitement.

He pauses at the first corner, looking for signs of guards and crowd control, and then at the passers-by. He presses on. After a few minutes he finds a suitable target - a couple, neatly turned out in festive atire rather than travelling clothes, but nothing too fancy. He approachs and gives a showy bow.

I am a traveller, just arrived, and I fear my chances of finding a hostelry before this throng seize all the beds and drink all the wine. Please kind sir, fair lady, could you bless me with a recommendation? Else I may be doomed indeed, for without a place to lay my head I may not be able to tempt the virtue of some lonely lass, and will instead be forced to drink well into the morning!

He gives another sweeping bow, shooting the lady a warming look as he straightens.

The places near the gates are already crowded, and if I wish anything better than tuppeny wine and small beer, I should not like to withstand the fee they might charge a late arrival. So, like the servant of the groom at a wedding feast, I seek to seize what scraps of accomodation I can before the hoarde descends and strips the table bare. You are clearly a lady of some taste and discernment, and you sir, are clearly a man to whom fortune is very, very kind. Accordingly, I throw myself upon your collective wisdom and mercy, least I find myself sleeping in a hayloft or with the dregs of the taproom floor.

[Sen isSaqqara]

Lirian watches Arran wander off, shaking her head and sighing. She's been doing that a lot lately.
"Since we seem to be splitting up now, shall we agree to meet back here in an hour or so? I trust you with finding rooms, Calia."

[esorscher]

Hearing Lirian's words, Arran doubles back "Oh, I'm not splitting off just yet. Just browsing."

[Ajadea]

Calia blinks at her companions, taking in the festival noise and cheer. "Oh no. It will take me an hour simply to get to the Janos Crown. I'm not going to spend all night walking back and forth across the city while you three enjoy the sights." She claps the catfolk on the shoulder. "I think we all deserve a little break, don't you?" There is only a shred of guilt in her mind as she puts out the suggestion. No, their task could wait until the morning. This opportunity would not come again soon, and a night of levity couldn't slow down their progress too much. "The big event's going to be over in Heroes' Plaza, but there'll be a bunch of smaller celebrations in West Harth if you do want to start heading over that way. I always liked those better, but I suppose there's something to be said for a grand spectacle."

[esorscher]

Arran shrugs, palms facing upward. "I'm up for some good revelry. Lead the way, Calia."

[gallagher]

The ideas of contests pierce Ben's imagination. Wrestling is not much my sport, but other skills challenges might be more to my liking.

Well we should definitely get a feel for the area while we are here, and I have a question I need to ask first of that elf announcing contests. Getting extra gold could be helpful to us while we are here, and I want to ask now in case we miss some deadline. I will be right back!

Ben walks over to the elf, and says says: Excuse me, I was wondering if you could let me know a bit more about the different contests you have going on? My lord master and his companions are curious about entering any contest applicable to their skills.

[3SecondCultist]

Arran, Ben, Calia, Lirian: It takes a couple more minutes for Ben to get all the way to the platform, as the tide of people is particularly strong there. However, the forest gnome's grace give him the advantage of being able to slip underfoot, and he makes it to the front of the line quicker than expected. Up near the center of the action, everything is heat and light and color, not unlike being at the front of a battle. The elf in the glittering robes is surrounded by a team of guards, who seem to be wearing special sigils on their breastplates. They stay to answer any questions that prospective competitors may ask, and one of them engages Ben when he approaches. "Well, there is an archery contest, two magical duels, and a truly epic game of hide and seek. As of right now, the wrestling is the only available contest though. If you're interested in other contest locations and times, please go to Heroes' Plaza to the General Information tent. Maybe you'll even run into the Master of Ceremonies... that would be quite a treat. Now move along, there are other contestants waiting!"

As Ben moves into the crowd, you notice another unit of guards heading down a street not far away. Their arms and armor are slightly different from those outside the gate, indicating that they come from a different place entirely. And yet their movements are precise, born of a military tradition. It's a bit too far to see them properly, but the scars and heavy armor give away the fact that these figures must be veterans of some kind. The very mirth around them seems to be stifled, as they leave trepidation in their wake. However, it is but a small ripple in a large pond, as entertainers sally out to parade before the masses. Judging by the state of their dress, more than a few of these folk are earning their wages in a way that is not normally found out in the open. There is a great deal of exposed skin, but not too much so that there is still plenty left to the imagination. Public decency laws are still in effect within Onyx, of course. Several of these courtesans - both men and women - have actually taken notice of your group, particularly Calia and Arran. But they do not approach: they are used to being sought out instead of the other way around. Every once in a while, a customer will step out of the masses with a payment and lead one of them away. Interestingly enough, each of these companions wears a small red pin on whatever small scraps of clothing that they currently have on. Although it is too far away to properly tell, it seems quite familiar to the state sigil flying on almost every single banner in the city.

Elara: "I'm afraid I need to leave five minutes ago. As it is, I'll probably end up being a bit late." Almost as if realizing this for the first time, Merrelis gives you a sheepish smile before scrambling to get her things. She throws on a wool cloak from the dresser, and begins to change into more formal shoes. As it is, her dress and jewelry seem appropriate enough for a business dinner while still being quite practical. Through the open window, you can see the first of the night stars above the skyline, and you can hear the cheers from the streets below. The first of the festival celebrations are likely in full swing already. Merrelis has moved over to the washbasin now, turning the small mirror in her direction to put on some finishing touches. It's nothing too elaborate, but it is clear that she wants to make a good impression on this new client. She smiles at you again through the silvered surface. "Thank you for being so understanding. And since you aren't saying anything, I won't say that I'm looking forward to all of those things immensely. I'll be gone for a few hours, and I should be back at around midnight at the latest. You can take your time with the festival, but can you be back by then?" Once she's done applying her make-up, Merrelis moves back over to you for 'inspection'. Of course, this means a staged smolder followed directly by an impish grin. She hesitates before kissing you, likely out of fear that you will be covered in her cosmetics, but obviously decides that she doesn't care as her lips find yours one more time. But like your offering, this kiss is little more than a peck as Merrelis ends it prematurely. When your eyes meet now, it is with a mixture of emotions. "Alright, I've got to go. Don't get into too much trouble without me!" Without another word, she starts to head for the door.

Myr: Your polearm manages to fool most of the people that you come across in the streets of East Harth, and yet you do get the odd glance, mostly from travelers who have seen their like before. Nobody approaches you about it, though. In fact, you can see that there are others who wear their weapons openly. There certainly appear to be enough of a guard presence to mitigate strangers bearing arms, and at the end of one street you catch sight of a unit of the infamous Home Guard. They carry no badges or outward signs of allegiance, but their presence is made obvious by the crowds parting for them. The Republic's special forces, they are trained in hidden war colleges across the province and sent to the front. This is hardly the first time you've faced down their kind, and will probably not be the last. And yet they pay you no mind; to them, you are undoubtedly just another foreigner who has strayed into Onyx looking for a good time. Eventually you make your way through the crowded spaces, and approach the well-clothed couple. Your theatrics seem to actually impress the woman, who returns your warm smile and seems to have an ear for your prose. The man - who you presume to be a paramour of some kind - gives you a much colder reception. "Go find yourself a hayloft, then! I'm sure the Onyx guard have room in their stables for the likes of you." As he turns away, the woman moves to grab his arm roughly. She chides him softly, before turning back to you with a look of dismay. From a pouch inside her coat, she hands you a small sack of coin. "I apologize for my husband, he can get like this sometimes. The Festival of Lights is really about doing good deeds and helping people, and I think that some people lose sight of that. These days, it's little more than a propaganda campaign for those in the Senate Hall. There is enough silver in there to pay for a good room and some fine food, at least until the celebrations are over. Be blessed by whatever god favors you." Strangely, she has chosen to ignore your actual question in favor of a largely unprompted act of charity. The woman shakes your hand vigorously and even steps in for a brief hug before turning to leave. After a moment, both of the figures are swallowed by the crowd.

[Sen isSaqqara]

"Well, see you guys around. I'm heading for the library. Meet at that inn you were talking of when you're done exploring the festival?" Lirian holds little interest for the festival, having spent many days in travel anticipating her visit to the Grand Library. There are several theories she wants to check up on, and hunches she wants to confirm. She's on a bit of a roll, and if she can pull this off, she's pretty sure she could make enough cash to live in an eternal festival for the rest of all eternity. Hells, forget the cash, she could hold the power of the gods themselves.
Are you really sure that this is a good idea? I mean, the Firstborn got themselves killed off after building stuff like this.
Oh relax, they got killed because of the Pale Fire awakening the incarnation of a god, not because of their technology. Think what we could do with such magitek! And it's completely within our grasp. When it comes down to it, it's really just application of a few basic magic principles...

[gallagher]

As Ben returns to his friends with the information he heard, he unclasps his Handy Haversack, fishing around for a piece of parchment and a pencil. When he gets back to Arran and Calia, he states: We can sign up for other contests, there is archery, magic, and a large game of hide and seek. We have to sign up for it at the Heroes Plaza, but the contest organizers over there seem to think that the Master of Ceremonies could be lingering there. I think I will check it out, will you two be staying together, or do either of you wish to also have a go at one of these contests?