The road to Vrux.

[DarkMaster]

There is a large table where most of your group could sit. The table is not too far from the central bar.

For all in the Bar: You notice three men with musical Instruments walking up on the stage located at the western end of the Inn. From their facial features and their copper skin tone, you can easily identified them as native of the southern colonies
OCC None of you know exactly where they are located geographically but you all heard of their people. A lot of mid to upper class Axyrian uses them as slave. They are often seen in the northern part of the city, doing job for their masters.

The three men don't say a word and start to play folklor music from their country. They are pretty good and the ambiance in the Inn dramatically improves with some people singing and dancing. One group becomes particularly noisy, they all seem to come from the sourthern colonies and seems particularly happy to here song from their land.

OCC I will wait for Storminator to continue in the bar.

 

[DarkMaster]

Ivar, starts to walk towards the city. He husle a bit, he would not like to be stuck outside during a winter night.
OCC:Winter in Axyr is not too bad temperature rarely goes below 5C during the day, but it is not uncommon to go below the freezing mark during the night. Snow is rare though, while not impossible.

You walk for about 200 meters when you notice two armed men getting out of the bushes. They both wear a very used leather armor, they are probably both very young but already looks quite old(missing teeths, balding and wrinkled skin and a bit overweight).

One of them tell you "Gentlemen, we noticed you getting out of this army convoy. What kind of business could you have with the military? He then addresses his friend Hey Rimmar, did you notice his sword and his horse, we could get a lot at the market for them. turning towards you again So you will tell us or we kill you?

 

[Jarval]

"Oh bravo, gentlemen, bravo!" Ivar says sarcastically, drawing his sword. "Let me give you a little guidance on banditry. Don't. Try. To. Rob. Armed. Men. Now, if you'll let me past, I have business in the city."

Ivar's voice is level, and a little disinterested as he says this. He holds his sword with a practiced grip, and unconsciously moves into a fighting stance. Holding the speaker's gaze evenly, he waits for their reply.


(OoC: Trying to intimidate the two men into letting me past (Intimidate +8). Readying an action to cast burning hands should they try to attack me.)

 

[DarkMaster]

The two man seems quite impressed, they both lower their weapon and walk back always facing you. As soon as they are a bit farther away they start running, feeling that their life was not worth a nice sword and horse.

As Ivar is looking them run away, he wonders why they asked about his business with the army

OCC Intimidate roll 9+8 = 17 total for the bandit 15 and 2

 

[DarkMaster]

OCC Jarval, I forgot about Ivar's horse. Let's assume that either you were mounted or walking with the horse on your side up to you. I will edit the above post.

 

[Jarval]

"Well, they were full of hot air, weren't they?" Ivar says. Mounting Asim, he shakes the reins to get the horse moving, and starts again for the city at a brisk trot.

I guess they were just looking for a few coins to line their pockets. Still, strange that they should chose to pick on someone like me. Even stranger when they'd just seen me get out of an army cart. He thinks as he rides, pulling his cloak close around him to ward off the chill night air.

 

[Galethorn]

After taking a look around the tavern, Eolan beckons his fellow sailors as he moves towards the vacant table.

<OOC: what do I see in the bar, other than the two musicians?>

 

[DarkMaster]

Eolan take a good look around. You can see the three musician playing on stage a small crowd of people in front of them singning and dancing. There are two cloaked humanoids in the back of the Inn. Their cloak is placed such that you cannot notice their facial features. You notice an halfling talking and drinking with what looks like a fancy dressed soldier. His armor seems stripped from all military symbol and ranks. The soldier is just starting a conversation with a strange man. The man bear a scared along his left eye, he looks like he have been through a lot already. The men while not really big seem to have a huge presence.

At the entrance an elderly women with fancy red robe just came in. She slowly get in and head for the bar. The rest of the people do not seem very interesting.

 

[DarkMaster]

After an hour riding Asim. You notice a few hundred meter in front of you the collossal doors of the capitals. You look at the wall of the capital, these walls were made by the best dwarven stonecutter of the empire. Their design is fairly simple but extremely durable. You remember your grandfather saying that they build these walls when he was a young children and that his father always questioned why the taxpayer had to pay for those useless wall. The elders are still saying that the city is protected by great magic and that since the walls are build no member of any ruling class is mentioning its existence.

The doors are 15 meters high and are both handcrafted with a map of the empire. Ivar salutes the two guards at the entrance and enter the Northern section of the city.

 

[Storminator]

OOC: Sorry about the delay, I'll be more prompt now that the convention is over.

IC: Mal flips a gold coin in the air, sheathing Remorse during the distraction of flying gold. He spots the halfling servant waving him to a table and heads over, "a drink, little one," Mal says, no disrespect in the diminutive. Mal tosses the Gobelet to the halfling.

He turns to the formerly decorated soldier: "my thanks for the table, sir. Mind if I sit against the wall?" Mal sits down gracefully, and surveys the room. Sailors, southerners, hooded ones in the corner... Mal marks any that he thinks might carry a grievance into the streets. He turns back to his companion, "can I get you another of the 'Fish's fine ale?" Mal pointedly glances over the missing heraldry, "you seem to have fallen on hard times recently."