Deuce Traveler
Adventurer
The caravan you have joined is set to leave Damascus, a situation you have mixed feelings about. On the one hand, Damascus is dirty, crime ridden and age-worn and though you travel with some cattle the smell can only get fresher once you leave these streets. On the other hand, Damascus has a certain character to it that you know you won't find elsewhere. The ancient Romans left their marks upon the roads of the city that are smoothed by the ages. The defensive walls must have been torn down several times because they are a mish-mash of materials and differing conditions. One long stretch of the western wall is said to have been built by Alexander the Great himself, though now that you dwell on such a fact you realize that he most likely commissioned the building of it if he had indeed been involved rather than been the actual builder.
The population is mixed ethnically, as the city has been a crossroads that has brought great wealth at times and great tragedy at others. Just a generation ago the city suffered greatly from the Plague and political turmoil. Now the city seems to have recovered somewhat as you would consider it bustling with moderate traffic. There are rumors of possible wars with numerous factions that surround Damascus, but the locals aren't terrified by the talk and are indeed the largest gossips. You have to give the people and the city credit. If there was ever a people and city that has suffered, yet survived to rise again it is Damascus. Perhaps that is why the legend of the phoenix holds such sway in this region.
Your thoughts are interrupted by the caravan master, Alfred Fayweather, who is giving commands to a few of his hired hands as they harness the wagons. The man has replaced his finer clothes that he wore while talking business at the market and is now dressed in a coarser fashion more suitable to the dusty trails that the caravan will traverse. Though trade flows freely through these lands, most people do not travel far from a city when in small groups. Here, as in Europe, wars and misrule have allowed banditry to flourish. A large number of odd and varying travelers, mostly fellow Britons, have decided to join with Fayweather's caravan. There is a knight and his squire in dust-covered but sturdy armor, a baker whose smirk and laugh betray a bawdy sense of humor, a woman approaching the elder years who wields a critical frown, and so on.
The population is mixed ethnically, as the city has been a crossroads that has brought great wealth at times and great tragedy at others. Just a generation ago the city suffered greatly from the Plague and political turmoil. Now the city seems to have recovered somewhat as you would consider it bustling with moderate traffic. There are rumors of possible wars with numerous factions that surround Damascus, but the locals aren't terrified by the talk and are indeed the largest gossips. You have to give the people and the city credit. If there was ever a people and city that has suffered, yet survived to rise again it is Damascus. Perhaps that is why the legend of the phoenix holds such sway in this region.
Your thoughts are interrupted by the caravan master, Alfred Fayweather, who is giving commands to a few of his hired hands as they harness the wagons. The man has replaced his finer clothes that he wore while talking business at the market and is now dressed in a coarser fashion more suitable to the dusty trails that the caravan will traverse. Though trade flows freely through these lands, most people do not travel far from a city when in small groups. Here, as in Europe, wars and misrule have allowed banditry to flourish. A large number of odd and varying travelers, mostly fellow Britons, have decided to join with Fayweather's caravan. There is a knight and his squire in dust-covered but sturdy armor, a baker whose smirk and laugh betray a bawdy sense of humor, a woman approaching the elder years who wields a critical frown, and so on.
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