The Dark Dragons IC

[Henry the 57th]

When one sets out to the almost legendary Azmar, City of Glory and home to a living god, most people expect to find a long, winding, dusty road beset with monsters, grim-faced soldiers, and cringing slaves. What very few expect is to find greenery. But, in truth, the well-traveled stone paved main road winds its way through some of the most fertile farmland in all of Adrastria. The going is far easier than the more superstitious might have expected, with countless small farming villages along the lush green fields offering affordable taverns and relaxed guards. Traveling through gently swaying fields of emerald corn and golden wheat with narry a slavering beast or whip in sight, once would almost be tempted to think that this place might not be so bad after all.

The closer one approaches the great city, the more that lie is revealed. At first, there is merely what looks to be a dark cloud in the distance. Then a traveler begins to feel the temperature dropping as the sun vanishes behind the grey overcast. The closer ones goes, the darker the clouds grow and the colder the air becomes. The truth doesn't become apparent until a periodic graze haze fills the air - a veritable rain of ashes. Thankfully, they fade into the background when at last Azmar becomes visible.

The entire city is built on and around the slopes of a single enormous mountain, divided by a a solid wall of glassy black stone at the base. On the outside is a truly bewildering sprawl of shacks, huts, tents, stalls, and ramshackle buildings built with a hodgepodge of wood and stone, or even bones and tanned hides. The populace there is as diverse as the buildings themselves, humans and orcs and elves and even hell-blooded mingling freely and plying petty trades under the seemingly haphazard watch of random patrols of soldiers in stylized dragon armor. Within the walls themselves, everything changes at once. Here, all the buildings are uniformly grey and black stone, set in ordered ranks and growing continuously larger and more opulent the closer they climb to the mountain's peak. Red-skinned men and women with curling horns, black hair, and glowing pupils predominate, all lesser races scurrying from their path on the slightest cue. Gilded statues and icons of Masria, Our Lady of Cinders and one of the Twelve, are omnipresent here, looking down at her worshipers with gleaming gemstone eyes. Further up still a continuous haze of smoke drifts lazily from the very top of the mountain up onto the now omnipresent black clouds that choke the sky overhead. Lesser creatures bearing the divine dragon's image can be faintly perceived perched near the very rim of the smoking mountain - or perhaps they are simply statues.

But for the moment, the few people that have found their way to the City of Glory today are otherwise occupied. Deep into the masses of ramshackle buildings making up the outer city, the newcomers find themselves, for one reason or another, in one of a hundred tiny, inconsequential alehouses catering to the poor and wretched. It isn't much - merely a large hide tent with a few stump chairs cloistered around worn wooden tables. An older tiefling, streaks of grey staining his black hair and missing a chunk of his left horn, stands watch over his precious few barrels of cheap alcohol with a large knfie displayed prominently on his leg. Three men, all human, are seating around one table, muttering to themselves and seemingly playing with wooden dice. A lone elf downs a tankard of ale further back, noticeably cringing away from the newcomers. Lastly, another two men are slumped over onto a table, heads buried in hands.

[Syless]

She wasn't exactly sure what brought her here. To this bar. To this part of town. To this wretched city as a whole. But through her wanderings... things seemed to draw her here. She looked at the various despondent people in the tavern... not much she can do to heal a broken spirit. She lowers the hood from her worn woolen green cloak and takes seat, calling over her duergar friend and bodyguard. "Urthrim... do you think there's much work to be done here? If not here... then perhaps deeper in? In one of the high tiefling houses?"

She casts a gaze over the whole of the tavern. She could probably sell a few potions here, at least. Might have to haggle down, but then again, if demand is high enough... "Of course, if you want to have some drinks and see if you can make some work..." She didn't like it, but an engineered brawl tends to end with need for a doctor.

[MinotaurWarblad]

Kole steps into the alehouse with hesitation and looks around for a moment, then sighs and takes a seat furthest away from other people. He mutters while pulling out a flask, but the baritone rumble of his voice carries farther than he realizes in tighter quarters (tighter than outside anyway).
”Another house in swill-ville. Ugh. I gotta open a new distillery once the bloody bastards are gone...”

[Janwin]

The whole way into the city, Urthrim has been looking more and more uncomfortable, though he tries his best to hide his discomfort. Every time a patrol goes by, he finds one reason or another to not show his face to them--maybe interest in a scurrying rat, having to bend down to tie his shoe, or even just happening to be facing the other way when they walk by.

Never-the-less, he felt he owed the elf a debt, and so he continued into the city and eventually to found himself in a run-down bar.

"Urthrim... do you think there's much work to be done here? If not here... then perhaps deeper in? In one of the high tiefling houses?"

He takes a seat at the table and glances around the tavern carefully measuring each individual present for their potential threat.

"Work? Aye. I'd wager there be plenty o' work 'ere. Th' better question be whether any o' tha' work be what ye want t' do. I'm sure ye can find all manner of highborn lookin' t' collect a debt or three from th' populace. Ye can probably find a slaver lookin' fer product. I doubt tha' be th' kind o' work y' want, though, lass."

He glances around the room again, contemplatively.

"Tha' all bein' said, I suspect there's plenty o' work for one wit' yer talents 'ere. In a big city, all sorts o' injury 'appen. Workers get hurt, farmers get kicked by mules, and th' like.
Problem is tha' those lowly enough t' need yer 'elp probably can't pay ye well...or at all."

"Of course, if you want to have some drinks and see if you can make some work..."

He laughs at her words, quite amused at the suggestion.

"Tha's certainly one way to sell yer talents. I think we can go without th' attention of the city guards fer now, though. How about we 'ave a drink, observe the city fer a bit, and come up with a bett'r plan fer survivin'?"

With that, he gestures to the barkeep and orders two ales.

[Shadowflick]

The Sweetest of Sugar would not stop a single dose of posion. Thinks the half-orc to himself. Iron makes his way past the ramshackle homes and tents that dot the area, making his way to the most reasonable location to begin his venture into the city. The Tavern. He keeps his bag close, his ore smashing Hammer still on his back. He was a laborer, no one should bat an eye at his approach. He pulls the curtain open to the tavern open and finds several interesting characters within the room. From Dwarves to other orcs, he survey's everyone with his ruby eye. He makes his way to one of the tables, not too far away from the Elven alchemist and her dwarven bodyguard.

He calls to the Tiefling looking over the ale

"Hey! How much for a flagon of some ale? I've had to walk a long way, and I think I could use a good drink to mark the end of it!"

[Syless]

He laughs at her words, quite amused at the suggestion.

"Tha's certainly one way to sell yer talents. I think we can go without th' attention of the city guards fer now, though. How about we 'ave a drink, observe the city fer a bit, and come up with a bett'r plan fer survivin'?"

With that, he gestures to the barkeep and orders two ales.

Leviel nods, running a hand through her wispy hair. "You have a point. I'd just rather keep to my expertise, rather than be expected to use concoctions to harm." She takes stock of new arrivals- two orcs. One a laborer- isn't he a bit far from the mines? The other... rather rude, insulting the quality of a bar he's in. She wouldn't be surprised if he gets an extra addition to any drinks he orders, if the bartender heard that.

When Urthrim orders the drinks, she holds up her hand briefly. "None for me. Though if those are both for yourself, please, enjoy."

[Kvard51]

Lev Siggurdson was drunk. Not staggering, not sloppy, but drunk nevertheless. In fact, he had been drunk for the better part of three days. Taking another pull on his bottle of red, his thoughts shied away from thinking about the last time he was sober. That was when it started, and he was trying to avoid that. So Lev began singing a drinking song to do just that...

"No liquid cosmetic to lovers athletic
Or bodies pathetic can give such a bloom
As the sweet by the powers in the garden of flowers
Ever gave their own bowers such a darling perfume
And this liquid so rare if you willingly share
To be taking your hair when it's frizzled and dead
Oh the sod has the merit to yield the true spirit
So strong it will shake all the hairs from your head"

He shook his head as the darkness deepened. He didn't think it had gotten that late. He wasn't sure if he would make it to Azmar before full dark... But it's always full dark in Azmar, ain't it?...

And there it was again. The thing he had been working so assidiously to avoid thinking about. He had slipped away from his master based on nothing more than a feeling that he should travel this way and a feeble hope that he could salvage what little pride he had left. Surely he was being looked for by now. After all, he was Herald to that great, bloody wyrm...

As the glassy, ebon walls of the city came into view, Lev realized the narkness was not nightfall, but simply the wretched haze of smoke and cinder that lay like a blanket over Azmar, suffocating the life out of the city until it felt like a gargantuan, undead behemoth lying in wait for something living to sup on. And I'm headed right into it...

A few twists and turns later find him stumbling into a ragged tent of an alehouse. He flips his empty bottle into the street and walks through the flap, hoping it all is just a bad case of dyspepsia...

[Henry the 57th]

He calls to the Tiefling looking over the ale

"Hey! How much for a flagon of some ale? I've had to walk a long way, and I think I could use a good drink to mark the end of it!"

The old tiefling looks mildly surprised by the presence of so many newcomers all at once, but very quickly resumes his prior grim, stoic expression. "Two copper pieces per drink," he says in a noticeably scratchy voice. "One after your first three."

Meanwhile, across the rest of the crude bar, the three men gambling seem to be ignoring the newcomers, while the elf woman sitting by herself is staring into a now-empty wooden tankard, studiously avoiding eye contact with these strangers. But the two slumped over the table... well, it might have been nothing, but it looks for a moment as if one peeked up at them.

[MinotaurWarblad]

Passing his eyes over everyone else like they weren’t there, Kole slowly put his flask away, then kneaded the wispy hairs of his beard between his fingers.

[Syless]

Leviel goes up to the bartender herself, bearing a question. If people have the funds to gamble, they have money to buy. "Mind if I peddle some medicine in here? All legitimate, I promise."

[Henry the 57th]

The tiefling eyes Leviel skeptically for a moment, then pulls her in close to whisper in her ear. "Make any of my customers too sick to drink, and I'll take payment in blood." With that, he releases her and gives a terse nod.

[Syless]

Leviel nods. "I promise. I'm a doctor, not a snake oil salesman."

She grabs her case of potions and sets it up on a table, and speaks up as an announcement. "Attention all gamblers, drinkers, and otherwise despondents! I've traveled a long way, and I have potions to sell! Cure wounds, stop poison, melt your enemies! More available on request!"

[Shadowflick]

Iron nods "A Fair Price for a fair drink" he says, putting down two coppers. It had been a long time since he had been able to enjoy an actual drink. Out of a barrel. Usually, his drink came out of puddles if they had any flavor to them.

He turns to the alchemist nearby, hawking her salves to the people. He raises a hand "And how much would one of your poultices be miss? If there also three copper I'd have my doubts!" he says with a joyful chuckle.

[Janwin]

As Leviel sets up her case, Urthrim collects two ales from the bartender and wanders over to the elf woman avoiding all eye contact. He offers her an ale. "Care fer a drink, lass? An' mebbe a drinkin' partner?"

He lowers his voice to her then. "Starin' inta yer drink is th' best way t' attract attention, lass. Pretendin' nothin' be wrong makes y' look normal. So 'ave a drink wit' me and we'll pretend yer na wishin' ta be anywhere else right now."

[Shadowflick]

Iron takes his drink with a smile. He sips on it wincing from the bitterness. Ale like this is not something he's too used to...but by drinking it he may keep a low profile. Hopefully "Hmm! Many thanks, my friend!"

[MinotaurWarblad]

Kole winces when he sees the other half-orc sip on the ale.
Waving at him, he says, ”That’s not the kind of thing you want to taste. It’s for getting drunk, grab a couple and hock ‘em both back at once if you’re up’fer it, elsewise you should prolly look for a pint of something different. Not that it’s my business, sorry, but I thought you’d be interested in knowing.”

[Henry the 57th]

Leviel nods. "I promise. I'm a doctor, not a snake oil salesman."

She grabs her case of potions and sets it up on a table, and speaks up as an announcement. "Attention all gamblers, drinkers, and otherwise despondents! I've traveled a long way, and I have potions to sell! Cure wounds, stop poison, melt your enemies! More available on request!"

One of the men gambling with the other two actually does take a look at Leviel.

"Yeah? You got one that makes ya lucky, do ya?" says the middle-aged, pox-scarred man, looking right at her. "Or maybe just one fer cheatin'?" His companions snicker a bit.

As Leviel sets up her case, Urthrim collects two ales from the bartender and wanders over to the elf woman avoiding all eye contact. He offers her an ale. "Care fer a drink, lass? An' mebbe a drinkin' partner?"

He lowers his voice to her then. "Starin' inta yer drink is th' best way t' attract attention, lass. Pretendin' nothin' be wrong makes y' look normal. So 'ave a drink wit' me and we'll pretend yer na wishin' ta be anywhere else right now."

"Uh..." the elf woman eyes Urthrim more than a little skeptically. "Thanks for the offer, Mr..."

[Kvard51]

Stopping just inside the tent, Lev allows his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Pays to be careful so as to not stumble over some drunk and cause a fight... He glances over the occupants, dismissing most as the usual collection of riff-raff and ne'er-do-wells My loyal subjects!, but his eyes arrest the few who seem out of place. the elf woman and the dwarf who seems to be sampling her wares. The brooding half-orc sitting alone. And his "cousin" sitting a couple of tables away from the first pair. Finally, they come to rest on the person he is most happy to see. The barman...

"Ahh, barkeep. My good fellow, would you meet me at yon table with a flagon of mulled wine? Not too heavy on the spice and not too light on the wine." Flourishing two silver pieces, he points to a table near the other "out-of-placers" and makes his way toward it, bowing to the elf as he passes her booth.

[Syless]

Leviel wags her finger at the laborer half-orc. "Of course not. These are the result of real skill and power- costly, but who knows, they may save your life!"

She turns to the drunken gambler. "I'm afraid luck is beyond me, and if someone's cheating, well... the cure for that isn't something I keep on hand. Bad for business."

[Janwin]

"Urthrim, lass. An' yer name?"

He sets one of the flagons in front of her and takes a seat at the table. While he talks with her, he keeps a watchful eye on his elven companion.

[Shadowflick]

Iron smiles to Kole, lifting his mug graciously "Aye, but it's better than dirty water, and It is good manners to be thankful to your host."

The half-orc then moves ot regard the alchemist "Well, I might be interested in trying one of these potions. Have any samples?"

[MinotaurWarblad]

Kole shrugs. ”It’s good at what it does, not denying that.”
He’ll stand and make his way to the one passing out the drinks. “Do you make your ale out back or get it delivered? I really wasn’t meaning any disrespect. I’m hoping to open up a place when the landlords will let me, but I don’t mind sending folk here to enjoy if they have trouble finding a good hangout.”

[Henry the 57th]

Stopping just inside the tent, Lev allows his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Pays to be careful so as to not stumble over some drunk and cause a fight... He glances over the occupants, dismissing most as the usual collection of riff-raff and ne'er-do-wells My loyal subjects!, but his eyes arrest the few who seem out of place. the elf woman and the dwarf who seems to be sampling her wares. The brooding half-orc sitting alone. And his "cousin" sitting a couple of tables away from the first pair. Finally, they come to rest on the person he is most happy to see. The barman...

"Ahh, barkeep. My good fellow, would you meet me at yon table with a flagon of mulled wine? Not too heavy on the spice and not too light on the wine." Flourishing two silver pieces, he points to a table near the other "out-of-placers" and makes his way toward it, bowing to the elf as he passes her booth.

The old tiefling snorts. "Wine? What do you think this is, boy? Ain't got anything that fancy. You want ale, or you want beer?" He pats the barrels behind him meaningfully.

The elf, seemingly only paying attention to the man seated with her, ignores the newcomer altogether.

Leviel wags her finger at the laborer half-orc. "Of course not. These are the result of real skill and power- costly, but who knows, they may save your life!"

She turns to the drunken gambler. "I'm afraid luck is beyond me, and if someone's cheating, well... the cure for that isn't something I keep on hand. Bad for business."

"Well if you can't do luck how about a cure for my back?" the same man asks, apparently a little more earnestly this time. "Cause damned if spending days hunched over in a mind don't make it sore."

"She's a cheat, Al," one of the man's companions warns him, though he just shakes his head and looks back at Leviel.

"Urthrim, lass. An' yer name?"

He sets one of the flagons in front of her and takes a seat at the table. While he talks with her, he keeps a watchful eye on his elven companion.

"...Sylvia," the elf woman admits after a moment, taking a wary sip of her flagon and returning Urthrim's gaze. "My name's Sylvia. You... aren't from around here, are you?" She looks around at the latest additions to the crude tavern. "None of you are, I don't think. I'd... recognize you." She says that with a faint hint of a blush, looking down into her drink with a pensive expression. "I recognize most men around here."

Kole shrugs. ”It’s good at what it does, not denying that.”
He’ll stand and make his way to the one passing out the drinks. “Do you make your ale out back or get it delivered? I really wasn’t meaning any disrespect. I’m hoping to open up a place when the landlords will let me, but I don’t mind sending folk here to enjoy if they have trouble finding a good hangout.”

"I get it delivered from a friend of mine in a village a few miles down the road," the bartender admits easily enough. "You can't keep too much stock lying around this dump unless you like being robbed blind." He snorts. "Let me guess: you're new here."

[MinotaurWarblad]

In response to the barkeep, Kole holds out a pair of coppers, “Ah, I gotcha, that makes sense. Yeah, I’m new as a babe to this region. Thanks for the tip. I’ll purchase an ale now, to refill my flask before I leave. Might check out that village you mention in the future if I’m lucky, see if I can’t learn any brewin’ tricks while I’m there.”

[Janwin]

"Good t' meet ye, Sylvia." He accentuates the statement with a small toast and drinks from his flagon.

"An' aye, I be new t' this city. Dunno any o' these oth'r people. Well, other than th' elf."

If he recognized her meaning of recognizing most men, he simply lets it pass without any notice.

"Well, as someone from 'ere, wha' would you say be a good way t' pass th' time in this city? Any interesting places t' visit or people t' talk to?"

[Shadowflick]

Iron frowns to the gentlemen heckler "It's a tad rude to call someone a cheat without giving them a chance to prove themselves, Sir."

He then turns his gaze back to Lev "Do you hav anything for pain? I work a lot with my hands, and well...they've been a bit sore for a while. Callused to."

Iron also gives a nod to the coming human. he looks like he's already had enough drinks...but Iron was no one to judge

[Kvard51]

"No wine?", Lev winces, thinking of the muddy brews found in a place like this. "Bring me a large ale, then. Anything to take the road dust from my tongue."

He nods back to the half-orc as he sits, waving his hand toward the empty bench on the other side. "Grab a seat, friend. Barkeep, make it two!"

[Henry the 57th]

In response to the barkeep, Kole holds out a pair of coppers, “Ah, I gotcha, that makes sense. Yeah, I’m new as a babe to this region. Thanks for the tip. I’ll purchase an ale now, to refill my flask before I leave. Might check out that village you mention in the future if I’m lucky, see if I can’t learn any brewin’ tricks while I’m there.”

"Well, if you're new," the barkeeper says, as he fills a worn wooden flagon with ale with practiced efficiency, "then you should know that uptown," he jerks his finger in the vague direction of the city walls, "has one of their high and mighty festivals coming up soon. Bunch of rich slave-driving bastards coming through here to pay tribute to Our Lady." Their is an obvious undertone of bitterness to his voice. "Just thought you should know."

"Good t' meet ye, Sylvia." He accentuates the statement with a small toast and drinks from his flagon.

"An' aye, I be new t' this city. Dunno any o' these oth'r people. Well, other than th' elf."

If he recognized her meaning of recognizing most men, he simply lets it pass without any notice.

"Well, as someone from 'ere, wha' would you say be a good way t' pass th' time in this city? Any interesting places t' visit or people t' talk to?"

"Honestly?" the elf woman seems to consider it. "Most people here work, either under a whip or for a few coins if they're lucky, then drink and smoke to try and forget their work for a few hours when they aren'tpraying to the mountain queen. There aren't that many things I'd recommend down here, nobody who's worth anything lives in this part. Inside the walls, though..." her tone changes just a little. "Well, up there you have nobles mansions, shops catering to them, and a whole heap of temples. If you want something a little more exciting, you can always try the Fleshworks. Just don't expect to come out the same. If at all." She chuckles morbidly.

Iron frowns to the gentlemen heckler "It's a tad rude to call someone a cheat without giving them a chance to prove themselves, Sir."

He then turns his gaze back to Lev "Do you hav anything for pain? I work a lot with my hands, and well...they've been a bit sore for a while. Callused to."

Iron also gives a nod to the coming human. he looks like he's already had enough drinks...but Iron was no one to judge

"Ain't nothin' but cheats what sell to us," the man snaps right back at Iron. "Ain't never seen an honest merchant in my life, don't think I'm startin' now. Take that old swindler," he points at the tiefling. "If you let 'im, he'll get ya piss drunk and have his mates rob ya blind 'fore you're even halfway home."

The barkeeper rolls his yellow eyes. "For the last time, Rel, I had nothing to do with what happened to you last month."

"And the dragon queen's a lizard," the man spits in the dirt. "I know a setup when I see one, you bastard. You're just damned lucky the boys keep wantin' to come back here."

"No wine?", Lev winces, thinking of the muddy brews found in a place like this. "Bring me a large ale, then. Anything to take the road dust from my tongue."

He nods back to the half-orc as he sits, waving his hand toward the empty bench on the other side. "Grab a seat, friend. Barkeep, make it two!"

"Not a problem," the old tiefling replies, expertly filling two more tankards virtually the moment the order is placed and setting them on the table with surprising gentleness. The ale, of course, is still bitter.

[MinotaurWarblad]

”This the same kind of ‘tribute’ the soldiers like to bring in from the villages? If so, I might need to steer clear... No sense getting grabbed on the spot and put on a block for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

[Janwin]

As he consider's Sylvia's words, he takes another drink from his flagon. "Na much of a shopper, an' I 'ave a feelin' these Fleshworks wouldna appeal t' me. I like knowin' I'll be livin' the night, an' th' way you describe it signifies anything but. 'Ow about work? Anyone lookin' fer folk wit' a good sword an' the know-how t' use it?"

He keeps a close eye on the man making accusations about the elf's honesty in case he decides to get violent about it.