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.

The guardsmen faulters seeing official enough seals and Leon's ring and being overwhelmed somewhat as the other guardsmen were asking who was going to have to take all this gear up to the Watch headquarters to sort them. "Oh. Forgive me Sir..." He doesn't raise his voice, hoping the his Captain will not even notice that he stood in your way. Instead he follows you out a few steps into the city and asks."Sir do you need a carriage through low-town? It can be a bit rough at night."

Sadur and Jasper were also through the gate by this point, only Xarakas was being held, and expected to remove and hand over the offending purple attire. This particular rule was a shame, but the treatment of his kind was probably quite tame compared to what he has seen. His deformaties are minor compared to some, but plenty even that he will need to use his skills more than others.

A guardsman explains that the Mayor did not take audiences this late at night and would expect you all in the morning.

Inside the gates, the city was spread out from a wide central road that runs forward into the misty eve. There are torches here and there, but the light rain is uncomfortable and the darkness now hides the large fort and stonewalls of the interior, or the manor homes on the steep hillside. With a bit of squinting the party can see a line of storefronts along the road ahead and other less visible buildings stacked in thick rows behind them to either side. There was not a lot activity on the street at this time, and most were bunkering down, but ahead in the distance a fainting glowing shape hovers sationary, calling the travelers forward.

The young guardsman's thoughts turn slowly but he gets there and nods with a snap of his heeled boots. "Costable Henries, sir. Wait here out of the rain, please." He rushed off toward a nearby stable and had a young boy hitch a small buggy. Not exactly the carriage, technically, but a roofed area where Leon could sit out of the rain, to his destination.

The rain will soak you all to the bone if you aren't covered, but you are inside the city. The relative stillness of the air leaves the rain to fall in straight lines and as long as you have something to protect you head and shoulders you should not be too worse for wear. As you begin to walk a small passenger cart pulled but a mule pulls up to Leon. The buggy can hold one other person out of the rain, but if all of your new companions were to jump on, it will strain the horse and anger the driver, though it would still be better for them.

However the means, the four new travelers made their way down the mostly straight central road. Hound dogs howl and cats yowl, and the city sits quiet and still in the downpour. Passing storefronts and alleyways leading outward to warehouses areas, industrial parks, and ramshackle neighborhoods. The lights in the builds were sparse, and some buildings even looked as though there have been barred-closed.

Somewhere along the way, the dirt road gives way to stonework tracked roads that rise, making travel much easier and channeling away the excess water. Here the buildings are much grander, as part of the older city center, and while still, some buildings seem
unmaintained, the artistry of carpenters, smiths, and masons are on display. Many finely-crafted amenities are in use, from railings to statues to lamposts that remain lit even now.

Approaching the first real intersection, the adventurers reach their destination. Sitting directly in the crook of the road's fork, the Heart-of-Hearth Inn stands, a three-story building with a front-facing covered balcony, with a glowing sign that flickers with the illusion of firelight. The sounds within the Inn should dispel any fears of this being a ghost-town. The ruckus is a combination of shouting, cheering, dragging chairs, and mugs striking tables.

As the first of you reaches the Entrance the door bursts open, with a half-orc carrying a drunken human man by the scuff of his tunic, and tossing him off the front porch into the gutter with a splash. "Go home Pecker! You good for nothing... Oh! Oh hey! Are you new in Averndale?" The Half-orc smiles and stands aside, holding the door open. "Welcome Travelers" Waving you in from the cold drizzly weather.

Inside is a madhouse, with a little music behind it.

The Bouncer ushers you in and points over behind the bar in order to answer Leon and Xarakas. There, a rotund human man with a magnificent mustache stands behind the bar, idly cleaning the bar as he listens intently to a group of patrons. This building was made by artists, with the interior decor matched exquisitely to the grand exterior. At the far end of the large central room was an unused stage, with extra chairs stacked upon it. It has not been in use for some time. Currently, the music is being made somewhere else, which is not obvious from here.

At the bar, the workers gathered around telling a tale about their scariest moment in the mines, finishing just as the adventurers' approached. "... an' we swear. We ain't never go back down into that Tunnel 3, ever again! Them spirits are ghosts of everyone who got killed, what when my Pappy was young." The miners nod in agreement, as the Bartender eyes them with a friendly but skeptical look. "I swear! Some of the boys are leaving gifts to appease their souls. Hopefully, the weirdness will stop if they ain't disturbed..." For the Bartender's part, he wasn't sure what to say back to the half-drunk men, but with someone else approaching he takes the opportunity to 'leave it at that', and turns to inspect the newcomers.

"Oh new faces? Welcome! Welcome to the Heart-of-Hearth. " His voice booming with Pride as he motions around them to the room. "What can Marconi do for you?"

Elsewhere in the room, Jasper and Sadur have taken a seat and a teenage boy arrives to take their order just as soon as they had settled. Jasper might know this as one-of-the-two Macroni boys, a pair of young rapscallions and scoundrels who were always getting into mischief around town when they were younger. The twins, Jacob and Jayton, were about fourteen now, and the fact that the second brother is not visible means you should keep your purse hidden away. "Hey are you Adventurers? That is super cool! You two want ale or mead, maybe try some 'Shine?" With an excited smile, the boy stops talking and waits to see what the Mage and Half-orc wanted.

"A pleasure Mister Barcharvi, the name is Rudolf Marconi" The bartender flourishes with a hand to add flair to his introduction. "... Rooms? It’s good that you came when you did! We’re running a deal! You will receive an upgraded room when you pay for a week in advance, what do ya say?" Marconi reaches back and taps a sign behind him on the wall above an arraignment of fancy liquor bottles and wooden casks.

The sign reads: "Market day is Tomorrow, but most would be here for the Harvest festival at the end of the week. Should be a grand time. Please! Take off your cloaks off and relax, and tell me or 'the boys' if you should need a thing."

"Oh 'Shine? Only the best, Mister! Big feller like you is going to love it." The boy winks to Sadur, and nods to the men confirming their order. "A minstrel? Naw mister, my little sister is playing her usual up on the second floor, but we haven't had a proper entertainer in a year or so."The teen steps off to see about those drinks, leaving the party to recollect back at the table together as they wished.

In the crowd, there were mostly humans and a couple of halflings as well as a dwarf who is sitting with the group of miners at the bar. They all seem to be laborers or farmers, as well as a few of the caravan drivers who were having a drink before they would head off to a bunkhouse. Soon enough drinks and food are brought to the table.

Marconi's eyes lit up as he watched Xarakas perform his magick, and lowers his voice to regain the Bard's attention. "Easy with the magick, friend. Folks are superstitious 'round here." He looks to the miners who had gone back to their table by now. Marconi shifts back to the topic. "Your name... I have heard it before... "