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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Branding Opportunity" data-source="post: 2286798" data-attributes="member: 31812">As your group passes through Javan Gate a sense of foreboding fills your hearts, as if you had just heard about the death of a loved one.  Something is amiss in Istivin, but it is hard to pinpoint exactly how you all know this.  Perhaps it is the distant coldness in people's eyes, maybe that the shadows seem darker and longer here, sounds seems harsher and more shrill, people hold themselves as if there is no joy in their life.You have all seen first hand what a war can do to people, how one can loose hope, become bitter and callous to the pain of others, but here is something different, something even more sinister.  It is a cold detachment with something darker lurking behind it: rage.You cross into Gate Square and immediately see the dozens of beggars huddled around small fires against the cold of the early spring morning.  Upon seeing your group they leap to their feet, shuffling toward you.  Many have lost limbs, eyes or ears, most likely in the war.  They push towards you, surrounding you quickly and hold out thin arms for anything you can spare.A particularly thin, blind old man clutches at the hem of Anastasia's clothing, "Spare a copper for a blind, old man, milady?"</blockquote>