Scene 1: Welcome to Averndale

You all managed to meet up together while looking for passage, and manage to broker arrangements with a Merchants’ Guild caravan; either to ride on top of a box-wagon or to travel under your own power.

The journey from the nearest large settlement is made just a little harder by the rolling hills. The road’s maintenance is a subtle indicator of the state of this region. The last leg of the journey was to cross the long road through the woods from the west, moving east through rolling hills. Some in the caravan might talk of Bandits, but the party ends their tenth day through the forest and comes out finally emerging into rolling meadows and fields of wheat.

After a full day's travel through rolling hills of farmlands, ranches, and areas of felled trees, the group comes into view of the City of Averndale, a walled fortress like a dark edifice, casting a long shadow over the city sprawl in the late evening sun. The wide valley stretching out around them had begun to narrow between the hills and rise into the eastern mountain range, which even from this distance can be seen snowcapped, on the clear Spring day.

The weather is more dramatic in this elevation, but in this season it goes from relatively warm days to moisture-ridden foggy nights where the temperature drops quickly. Experienced travel’s say it is best to stay dry and keep to their shelters at night. It will soon be the time for the Kingdom-wide Spring Festivals that take place, evident by the flower wreaths that are hung out by the cattle gates and upon barns, that are plain to see as you pass by. That will bring more locals into the city than normal. There is plenty of room as the news goes.

Averndale has suffered its setbacks over the years, its geographic isolation not least among the issues, but there was little choice but to try hard each day, toiling in one’s work. The Mills and Mining would be calling the day done, and the Cows and Sheep were coming in. The tall peaks to the East cause darkness in the valley to come quicker than you think. The temperature of the air has already begun to shift as the light bends about the edge of the treeline in the west, a rise of ridges penning in a locational dead end. Once a great Trade Route through the mountain pass into the Eastern lands, the way has been closed by royal decree for longer than many remember.

"Best have your cloaks ready." One of the drivers shouts back to the crew, as several in the caravan don more appropriate attire. Another man has been pointing at the clouds for the last couple of hours. He says it looks like rain and the mist might drop down into the valley before the wagon teams will reach the City gates. He strongly advises all travelers to stay on the road until they are inside the walls of Averndale.

As the shadowy side of the mountain sets loose a slow-rolling tide of fog down into the valley as it cools, some lanterns are set and the drivers push the pace. The air is heavy and chilling and without understanding it, one can feel the moisture draw out of the air and onto their skin. Off in the distance southward a wolf howls a lonely call, unanswered as the group travels on. They stuck to the road, so what is fine is fine, and even as the visibility was lessened the group reached the outskirts of the city. Outside the walls, this late in the day there is only the line of laborers passing through to the wooden gate of the palisade. Under the scrutinous eyes of the Watch, they are inspected as they come through, the long line moving at a snail's pace.

The merchant's caravan pulls alongside the line but is stopped at the gate as well and the leader of the Caravan walks forward to speak. They are a bit out of earshot, but the observant and streetwise might have noticed the passing of a coin pouch. The driver of your wagon leans back to speak to you Adventurers directly, he has a thick yokal accent though he was technically still speaking common tongue. "Come on youngerns. Go on, git. Rides over, so you boys best get yer things'n scoot. Now you fellers don't be messin' round here with the Watch. I'll tell you now. Wanna work in Averndale? Better play nice with Lawman. And that go double for the Mayor. Good Luck, yer gonna need it." The man laughs historically at his own joke.

You are directed to wait as the caravans move, the City Watch running the checkpoint at the gate inspecting everyone coming through. Without a sound, the grey skies begin to drizzle mist from above, and the slow wagons groan and rattle as they move from dirty road to stone, entering the city proper. "Oi, you lot there. Come on step up." One of the watchman tap at his shoulder with a slender, polished cudgel looking toward the group, waiting for you to present yourselves. Their black hats and uniforms give them away but this one looks familiar to Jasper. He looks as though he might not yet recognize him, someone he grew up with in town is now a member of the Watch. "By order of the Mayor all visitors to Averndale are required to give their name and reason for staying in the city. Who is first?" He glances suspiciously between the adventurers.

The guard doesn't recognize you by name, but nods in vague affirmation to the Wizard. "Ah yes..." He motions to the scribe who hides half behind the Watchman, scrawling the information the party gives. "You, Sadur you say? Is that all the name you have? You have an invitation? And you, Jasper, are you with this one? You have been in Averndale before, so you know the rules, yes?"

With a gloved hand, he invites the Adventurers out of the rain and under the cover provided by the large wooden gate. "All right you lot, I need you to declare any weapons or otherwise hazardous or harmful supplies, and any trade goods you may be carrying. Any with licenses for those personal items can show them now, or otherwise disarm and doff your armor, before entering this Peaceful City."

His demand is not aggressive, it is simply stated as fact. To enter the City of Averndale you must remove armor and turn over any and all weapons, or you do not get in at all.

The Watch-captain nods several times, mostly to himself, and lists the items turned over by the adventurers under their names. "Yes yes, the staff is fine... for now." Obviously the situation could change if Jasper acted a'fool, but it is seen more commonly as a tool.

Further info was taken from Sadur, along with the weapons. There was a quiet that went across the lesser guardsmen's work as they come to understand the nature of Sadur birth. The one poor guardsman who takes the Barbarian's greataxe nearly drops it, unprepared for its weight. The captain rolls his eyes at the foolish action of his man, but turns to the Half-orc to answer his question. "You can retrieve all possession when you leave the city. You'll not have a need for axes inside the walls."

It was dark out by now, the mists and shadows were gathering against the stark flicking lights of the torches, and as Xarakas enters the coverage of the gate there is an audible gasp. The appearance of the blue-skinned and horned Tiefling from the gathering mist and shadows from the torches, caused a few hands to move to their weapons, but the skittish guardsmen look to the Watch captain, whose eyes narrowed upon the bard. After a moment of tension, the Watch Captain motions for the guards to ease off. He steps forward to take the rapier and dagger while getting a closer look at Xarakas. "Xarakas is an exotic name... "

The scribe has stopped writing at this point, handing off the book hurriedly, and runs off into town. It was not a man fleeing in fear. It was a man needing to pass important information with all haste.

Leon, not liking to wait out in this dreadful weather, begins to leave a trail of excuses as he weaves his way to the front of the line and to the gate. "Excuse me…pardon me…A master of the healing arts sir… please move aside….Life and death matter… Yes of course I’ll be happy to look at it, find me at ………"

@GeneralET - As Leon comes to the gatehouse covering, he can see the Watch Captain sizing up the Tiefling, and stepping into his way when the Bard tries to pass. "The Mayor has decreed by tradition only Nobles may wear purple." It was of course ridiculous, and yet it was neither a joke nor an offense that the guard would ignore from someone 'Touched' like Xarakas. "... all visitors will comply with the lord's will or be removed from the city."

Several of the guardsmen were busy moving the various weaponry Sadur was turning over and helping him to find any other dangerous items, but they were aware of another person.

Stepping over to Leon, the Gaurdsman speaks gently. "Excuse me sir... but we will need to give your name as well and turn over any unauthorized equipment: arms and contraband please." He hasn't noticed you might not be the same quality as the rest of these adventurers.