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<blockquote data-quote="Dichotomy" data-source="post: 4090339" data-attributes="member: 12941">[sblock=OOC]Until further notice, I am NPCing Kushnak.&nbsp; I'm not going to wait for m_n to post, so none of you should either.&nbsp; Not even checking the board for over a week is not acceptable.&nbsp; I will attempt to play Kushnak true to the character, while simultaneously not treading too much on the toes of actual players.&nbsp; If one of you has a desire to play Kushnak instead of having me do it, speak up.[/sblock]Kushnak takes in the city with a cool gaze, like a new challenge to be overcome.&nbsp; He clasps Eskard on the shoulder.&nbsp; &quot;People clumped together can find each other.&nbsp; Right boy?&quot; The half-orc turns to the lad.&nbsp; &quot;Answer the question.&quot;&quot;Well, ummm...&quot; the lad fumbles.&nbsp; &quot;I don't know a wizard named Eligos.&nbsp; But... if he's one of them prominent-like folks, I bet he won't be hard to find.&quot;&nbsp; The lad speaks faster as he attempts to make sure the party knows he's not worthless.&nbsp; &quot;I know right where to ask.&nbsp; It'll take no time at all!&quot;While the group has been focused on the boy, Nethezar has faded into the background, pulling up the hood of his cloak.&nbsp; You hear him mumbling a bit, and when you look again, the scholar cleric looks like a fat, old merchant.&nbsp; He has wrinkles and facial hair he never possessed before, and his plate armor has been replaced with frilly clothing.&quot;What?&quot; Nethezar asks, nonchalantly.&nbsp; &quot;A party of adventurers will attract attention.&nbsp; But an old merchant with enough coin to hire good bodyguards, and spare some for the gate guard, won't attract much notice... or disdain, for that matter.&quot;[sblock=OOC]I'm going to fast-forward to the gate.&nbsp; Interject if you wish.&nbsp; We can also go back and add further conversation before reaching the gate, if you'd like.&nbsp; I'm trying to move the pace along.[/sblock]After nearly an hour, you finally are at the gate.&nbsp; You've noticed that the peasant folk and simple merchants seem to pass through without trouble, however, just as portended, you receive a bit more scrutiny at the gate.&quot;Well what do we have here?&nbsp; Fancy folk here to spend their coin in the Free City,&quot; the guard calls from the gate.&nbsp; &quot;Well, what's your business here?&nbsp; And be prepared to turn out your pockets.&quot;Before anyone has the chance to speak up, Nethezar steps to the front of the group, still with the guise of an old merchant.&nbsp; &quot;Andrew McDowell's the name, kindsir,&quot; he says with a bow and flourish.&nbsp; He continues on with a pace and tambre that quickens at an alarming rate.&nbsp; &quot;And my business is my own... and that of good Lord Mackran of the higher wards districts.&nbsp; Milord does not take kindly to those that press.&nbsp; And press one might, if they knew not what they were doing.&nbsp; But Milord does, as do the good men at the gate, keeping the Free City safe.&nbsp; But we've got no contraband here.&nbsp; Taking goods out, exporting, is my business.&nbsp; My help here is the help of Milord, and he'd not want them accosted.&nbsp; You'llnotneedtocheckmycredentialsasLordMackran'supwiththefolksinchargeandthecaptain'sgiventheokayandwecanjustbeonourwayrightasrainandnofuss.&quot;As he finishes, the cleric slides a few gold coins into the guard's hand.&nbsp; The guard looks flabbergasted a moment, but quickly regains his composure.&nbsp; He ushers the party in without another thought.And while each of you know that Nethezar's words were complete falsehood, they almost made sense.And, as easy as that, you are within the Free City.The streets are cobble with well-worn stones and scored by deep wagon ruts.&nbsp; Throngs of people of all races, some bearing exotic raiment, crowd the streets, even at this hour.&nbsp; While merchants seem somewhat fewer than what one might expect during the day, it seems that night life is ready to start, and still not all the merchants have closed shop for the day.&nbsp; The air hangs heavy with the smell of civilization, the stench of sweat and refuse mixed with the aroma of food.</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Dichotomy, post: 4090339, member: 12941"] [sblock=OOC]Until further notice, I am NPCing Kushnak. I'm not going to wait for m_n to post, so none of you should either. Not even checking the board for over a week is not acceptable. I will attempt to play Kushnak true to the character, while simultaneously not treading too much on the toes of actual players. If one of you has a desire to play Kushnak instead of having me do it, speak up.[/sblock] Kushnak takes in the city with a cool gaze, like a new challenge to be overcome. He clasps Eskard on the shoulder. [color=steelblue]"People clumped together can find each other. Right boy?"[/color] The half-orc turns to the lad. [color=steelblue]"Answer the question."[/color] [b]"Well, ummm..."[/b] the lad fumbles. [b]"I don't know a wizard named Eligos. But... if he's one of them prominent-like folks, I bet he won't be hard to find."[/b] The lad speaks faster as he attempts to make sure the party knows he's not worthless. [b]"I know right where to ask. It'll take no time at all!"[/b] While the group has been focused on the boy, Nethezar has faded into the background, pulling up the hood of his cloak. You hear him mumbling a bit, and when you look again, the scholar cleric looks like a fat, old merchant. He has wrinkles and facial hair he never possessed before, and his plate armor has been replaced with frilly clothing. [color=orange]"What?"[/color] Nethezar asks, nonchalantly. [color=orange]"A party of adventurers will attract attention. But an old merchant with enough coin to hire good bodyguards, and spare some for the gate guard, won't attract much notice... or disdain, for that matter."[/color] [sblock=OOC]I'm going to fast-forward to the gate. Interject if you wish. We can also go back and add further conversation before reaching the gate, if you'd like. I'm trying to move the pace along.[/sblock] After nearly an hour, you finally are at the gate. You've noticed that the peasant folk and simple merchants seem to pass through without trouble, however, just as portended, you receive a bit more scrutiny at the gate. [color=green]"Well what do we have here? Fancy folk here to spend their coin in the Free City,"[/color] the guard calls from the gate. [color=green]"Well, what's your business here? And be prepared to turn out your pockets."[/color] Before anyone has the chance to speak up, Nethezar steps to the front of the group, still with the guise of an old merchant. [color=orange]"Andrew McDowell's the name, kindsir,"[/color] he says with a bow and flourish. He continues on with a pace and tambre that quickens at an alarming rate. [color=orange]"And my business is my own... and that of good Lord Mackran of the higher wards districts. Milord does not take kindly to those that press. And press one might, if they knew not what they were doing. But Milord does, as do the good men at the gate, keeping the Free City safe. But we've got no contraband here. Taking goods out, exporting, is my business. My help here is the help of Milord, and he'd not want them accosted. You'llnotneedtocheckmycredentialsasLordMackran'supwiththefolksinchargeandthecaptain'sgiventheokayandwecanjustbeonourwayrightasrainandnofuss."[/color] As he finishes, the cleric slides a few gold coins into the guard's hand. The guard looks flabbergasted a moment, but quickly regains his composure. He ushers the party in without another thought. And while each of you know that Nethezar's words were complete falsehood, they almost made sense. And, as easy as that, you are within the Free City. The streets are cobble with well-worn stones and scored by deep wagon ruts. Throngs of people of all races, some bearing exotic raiment, crowd the streets, even at this hour. While merchants seem somewhat fewer than what one might expect during the day, it seems that night life is ready to start, and still not all the merchants have closed shop for the day. The air hangs heavy with the smell of civilization, the stench of sweat and refuse mixed with the aroma of food. [/QUOTE]

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