Kamard
First Post
You exit the feast hall your erstwhile party had met in, squinting at the mid-day sun which glares off the bronze-shod roofs of the many buildings of great Gavar. The pale greenstone streets bustle with activity, as hundreds of merchants and peddlers strive to be louder than their neighbour in selling wares. Beggars of many races lie huddled against the walls, some crying plaintively to gods to deliver them from their pain, others offering their services as a guide, while most simply lie with a cup and wish for an end of their damnation.
The feast hall lays huddled against the outer wall of the city, near one of the gates leading to the coast. Above it lie shops and apartments, and below in the basement is still another shop, this one selling various foodstuffs which no doubt the tavern above purchases. Two men kneel on the stairs heading down here, playing a dice game with several strangely shaped dice.
To your left along the street are many shops both in and out of permanent buildings. You see several pairs of black-clad Archonites, the city-guards, patrolling back and forth, sternly and silently dissuading pickpockets with a truncheon to the heads of the suspicious. This way leads down towards the ramshackle South Docks, and the smells of a thousand spices wend their way east from this downtown.
Almost directly ahead of you is a road which crosses the filthy, stagnant Moat and heads through the Sothern Gate into the Inner City of the nobility. You see a noble, wearing a feature-masking gray mask and swaddled in several layers of sumptuous silks and other clothes, leisurely riding a sedan chair carried by two monstrous ogres, tattooed with several of the noble's household devices. While slavery is legal in Gavar of the Green Towers, these ogres are not slaves- simply well paid retainers. Behind them strides a human, armoured in chain and armed with a cruelly serrated sword. He wears an orange hood, signifying him as a member of the Brotherhood of Lazhos- professional mercenaries. No doubt this man is the noble's bodyguard. But they are slowly winding their way into the Inner City, and if any of you wish to speak to these men, soon they will be on the other side of the great gates, through which commoners such as yourself cannot go without ivory plackards declaring your intents.
To your right, Southway travels north toward the Back Gate, the roads of which head towards Crossroads and other less savoury places. More importantly, in the corner where Southway and Iron Street intersect lies the entrance to Helmdos' underground mansion.
A wee bit of travel later, constantly heckled by street preachers, beggars, and vendors, you reach Helmdos' front door, a set of rough stone stairs leading beneath the blacksmith's shop where he got his start. The dark skinned dwarf guard at the front gate recognizes some of you as being guests, and opens the door.
Within the welcome chamber sits Ms. Cavrandale, Helmdos' butler and cook, as he was not married. She greets you each by name, and shakes your hands warmly. Though aged and careworn, she seems a tough old dwarven lady and wise to the ways of the merchants.
"He was taken because of his dealings, to be sure," she says. "You've got a full run of the house, though you can't take any belongings with you- and I'll be happy to answer any questions you might have. Helmdos' has been gone a week and more, and his nephews from Narrap (she says this word with a bit of distaste) will be coming to round up his belongings in three days time, unless someone can prove he isn't dead. Far as I'm concerned, I'm sure the poor dear's at the bottom of the bay with a blade in his belly. But I hope its not the case, of course."
She then sits back down and waits to see what your reactions are.
The feast hall lays huddled against the outer wall of the city, near one of the gates leading to the coast. Above it lie shops and apartments, and below in the basement is still another shop, this one selling various foodstuffs which no doubt the tavern above purchases. Two men kneel on the stairs heading down here, playing a dice game with several strangely shaped dice.
To your left along the street are many shops both in and out of permanent buildings. You see several pairs of black-clad Archonites, the city-guards, patrolling back and forth, sternly and silently dissuading pickpockets with a truncheon to the heads of the suspicious. This way leads down towards the ramshackle South Docks, and the smells of a thousand spices wend their way east from this downtown.
Almost directly ahead of you is a road which crosses the filthy, stagnant Moat and heads through the Sothern Gate into the Inner City of the nobility. You see a noble, wearing a feature-masking gray mask and swaddled in several layers of sumptuous silks and other clothes, leisurely riding a sedan chair carried by two monstrous ogres, tattooed with several of the noble's household devices. While slavery is legal in Gavar of the Green Towers, these ogres are not slaves- simply well paid retainers. Behind them strides a human, armoured in chain and armed with a cruelly serrated sword. He wears an orange hood, signifying him as a member of the Brotherhood of Lazhos- professional mercenaries. No doubt this man is the noble's bodyguard. But they are slowly winding their way into the Inner City, and if any of you wish to speak to these men, soon they will be on the other side of the great gates, through which commoners such as yourself cannot go without ivory plackards declaring your intents.
To your right, Southway travels north toward the Back Gate, the roads of which head towards Crossroads and other less savoury places. More importantly, in the corner where Southway and Iron Street intersect lies the entrance to Helmdos' underground mansion.
A wee bit of travel later, constantly heckled by street preachers, beggars, and vendors, you reach Helmdos' front door, a set of rough stone stairs leading beneath the blacksmith's shop where he got his start. The dark skinned dwarf guard at the front gate recognizes some of you as being guests, and opens the door.
Within the welcome chamber sits Ms. Cavrandale, Helmdos' butler and cook, as he was not married. She greets you each by name, and shakes your hands warmly. Though aged and careworn, she seems a tough old dwarven lady and wise to the ways of the merchants.
"He was taken because of his dealings, to be sure," she says. "You've got a full run of the house, though you can't take any belongings with you- and I'll be happy to answer any questions you might have. Helmdos' has been gone a week and more, and his nephews from Narrap (she says this word with a bit of distaste) will be coming to round up his belongings in three days time, unless someone can prove he isn't dead. Far as I'm concerned, I'm sure the poor dear's at the bottom of the bay with a blade in his belly. But I hope its not the case, of course."
She then sits back down and waits to see what your reactions are.
