Miro nods. "Cities hold a market for our acquired loot, plus information for those delicate enough to pluck it from the right tongues." The halfling grins at the barbarian and dwarf.
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”As you say, I’m not really too keen in facing the beast.” she turns to the others and asks ”What should we do with this one? She is heard enough, and it seems if we release her, she’ll try to get back to the cult.”.
Catcher pick up the dagger they found with the ogre and hand it over to Miro ”Can you use it? I mean, more than a dagger for you, why don’t you call it Sting?”
"Easy. Strip her and toss her clothes down the ravine. And give her a dagger. Time she gets her clothes we'll be long gone. Sides, plenty o other cultists got away. They'll recognize us if they see us again. Let's get movin."
Gromff doesn't want to kill her now that she is helpless but he isn't going to make it easy for her either. He strips her down to outerwear, waking her in the process, and walks her to the cliff. He then tosses her clothes down the most navigable part, though still difficult, and drops a dagger at her feet. "Try to survive or die. Yer choice. Ye take a step towards that wagon and the elf'll put an arrow through yer eye like she did the big, ugly ogre. That or the big one will take yer head clean off. Sent the drake running with one shot."
Miro shakes his head at the offer of the dagger. "While it seems a noble weapon, I fear the grip was made for a hand much larger than mine. Thank you, though." He smiles up at the wizard.
He nods at Gromff's merciful suggestion regarding the cultist, preparing to leave, as well.
The near-naked cultist begins climbing down the rocky descent to retrieve her clothes, casting hateful upward glances at Gromff who watches momentarily to make sure she isn't up to any trouble. The little skiff she is wearing gets caught on a scraggly wayward root and rips off of her lithe body, leaving her naked as she climbs further down. An echoed curse can be heard as she reaches up for it, but it hangs inches beyond her grasp, waving lazily in the breeze. Aside from her strikingly attractive figure, you notice a simple stylized green dragon head and wing tattoo that covers part of her upper back and left shoulder.
After a laugh at her expense, the party finishes cleaning up camp and departs eastward in hopes of finding the main road. After an easy half-hour of travel through the pine woods you emerge onto grassland with sparse trees with red and yellow leaves. A short squat obelisk-shaped object made of brick and mortar comes into view adjacent to what must be the road. On closer examination it is about 5' high and shows the number "180" on a plaque of bronze.
Trying to mostly stay off the road to avoid trouble, the next two and a half days pass without incident. You pass rolling hills of green grass, yellow fields of wheat, the odd road branching off to one side or the other, streams and rivers, wood and stone bridges, myriad villages and farmsteads, the occasional ruined keep or guard tower, and mile markers at 5-mile increments. The rocky mountains seem to have been left well behind you, at least for now.
Halfway through your third day of travel you crest a hill and take in a welcome sight. The view is quite beautiful from this vantage point. You see the road you're on snake off in the distance and enter a large settlement nestled at the joining of two rivers that glisten in the autumn sunlight. Tall white and tan sails can be seen scattered over the waters, likely fishing vessels or pleasure barges. Several farms and crop fields flank the road between your position and what is surely Sweetwaters, and there is nothing to indicate danger or military in the vicinity. You appear to have an open path to the city.
"Only 180 miles to Mylosis, according to that sign post. That's what, about a week on a good road like this? Let's be careful as we proceed, we're deep in hellish territory!" The halfling sounds excited instead of frightened, but he feels he owes his insight to his companions nevertheless.
Miro sighs in relief as they top the rise and spy the large settlement, grateful for the lack of obvious hostility and danger.
Gromff stands on the hill overlooking the town, hands on his hips and a stern look on his face as if he was judging the town. He could barely see the masts of the ships on the river let alone anyone actually in the city but he stared anyway. As if making a decision he spins while grabbing a hat out of the Slorn Skin pouch. "This is good enough. Alright halfling, let's see what ye can do," he says tossing him the hat. "Go see if its safe for us. Ye got the best chance a gettin through without drawin attention and that's the fastest way to Archdale. Anyone else want to go?"
"If the point is to avoid drawing attention, I should also stay". No kidding? "We will give you a couple hours, Miro, if you're up to the task. If you're not back by then we're going after you."
Miro puts the hat on his head, then starts to fiddle with his clothing and hair as a change takes place over him. His features start to get more weathered, wrinkles appearing at the eyes and the corners of the mouth. The hair changes from it's light color to a medium brown streaked with gray. His vibrant eyes dim, becoming a dull mud brown color. The hat itself changes, looking like a beat up farmer's hat used to keep the sun out of the eyes while his clothes look more worn and ratty.
"How do I look?"
"Like ye live there. Also one more thing," he says getting out the ink and paper left on the pouch from the previous owner. A small size quill was hard to write with but he managed to make it readable. He then hands the small list to Miro as well as a hefty amount of coin. "If ye can find those items I can make all our stuff masterwork without having to have them reforged."
"Well then, load up my pony with the goods you'd like me to get rid of, and I'll see to it you have what you need, Gromff. Anybody else have any requests?"
"Yeah, come back alive so we won't have to search after you."
GM Zedth, I don't know how you want to do opposed Disguise rolls, but normally the PC's don't know the result. My check will be +19 with the Hat and Miro's actual disguise skill.
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”I know it was hard for you, what you did with those cultists. Remember this: true courage is about not knowing when to take a life, but when to spare one. This was what you just did with Jillian. You should be proud of yourself!”
Catcher spends most of her time playing with Aerseni! Since she did not wanted any other near death experience, she wisely opt for not picking up a fight with Gromff, what turned Miro in her next target!
As always, she did no pay too much attention to what was happening around her. But that was a good thing too, she was scared of what had happened, of how easy was for that ogre to bring her down, and that she were saved only by Miro quick thinking. She was scared, but she was not going to tell the others that.
After listening to all suggestions, she says ”I think I should go too. I mean, I don’t really need a weapon, and any dagger will help me as much as the greatsword. Plus, I think I look like a farmer! In all, if that does not help” she walk to Gromff plucking some more hair from his head ”I can always turn myself in another human, elf, halfling or dwarf!”
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Gromff bats the offending hand away, "Would ye stop doing that? At least stop taking them from me beard. Its rude to dwarves."
Roland takes a second look at the town in the distance. He scratches his chin and thinks about it. "Well, if they had some mean commander like they had in Sujourn you could be in trouble. He could take you by force."
Then he raises his arms, as if he did not care about it. "Your call."
Miro starts moving toward the city with the young woman, leading his pony.
The party parks the wagon alongside the main road and watches the disguised Miro and young Catcher depart for the city gates. Before long the pair have gone out of sight and blended in with the other people waiting for entry.
Miro and Catcher,
After a bit of a walk you come to the Great River, and a sturdy stone bridge that crosses it. In your lives you have never seen such a river. It is not particularly fast-moving but it moves along steadily and powerfully. The brown waters must span half a mile or more. You take a moment and could imagine the difficulty in crossing without such a convenient bridge.
The end of this bridge places you on a small island which leads to another wooden bridge that links to land on which the city rests. The wood bridge ends at a natural landing, where the mass of commonfolk are waiting in queue. During your approach you begin to notice some similarities with Sojourn. This is a wood-walled city, but this wall seems to be more sturdy. The planked wooden walls stand about 12' high with lookout towers at 500' intervals. These towers are manned. Each tower sports a fluttering flag with similar heraldry to the town-guard tabards you saw in Sojourn, though with the color scheme reversed. (the city guard tabards from Sojourn showed red stylized flame on a field of black. These flags are the opposite.)
You count a dozen guards manning the gate, and another half a dozen in two towers that flank the entryway. They appear similarly armed to what you encountered before-- they wear chainmail, a helm, and are armed with spears and short swords. The tower guards appear to be holding heavy crossbows. Here at the gate's towers you see alongside the devil's flag what must be the flag of Sweetwaters, which shows a "Y" shape on a field of green with a jumping fish emblazoned over the Y. (the Y looks like two rivers joining; one blue and one brown, making the bottom of the Y dual-colored.)
Standing with you in queue are dozens of fishermen, farmers and travelers. You overhear talk the Magistrate who makes his home here. Others speak of good fishing of late, and how their pockets have been bulging because of the luck. A few people begin to argue-- one woman declares the old gods are worthless and its the devils they have to thank for the good fishing yield; another woman calls her a blasphemer and a witch. People on both sides of the issue call back and forth, starting something of a scene, but a handful of guards quiet the lot of them before it gets out of hand.
After waiting in line for nearly an hour, the two of you make it to the front of the queue. A guard looks you up and down, then says to you, "State your names, state your business." Another guard behind him sits at a desk with several lockboxes, and has a open book in front him. He looks to the two of you with quill in hand, awaiting your answer.
"Edwin Finglejumper, at your service, mate. This here is my helper Sabrina. We're here to enjoy the city and sell off some of the wares we have accumulated in our trade and travel."
"That'll be 1 silver for each of you. You will be searched for contraband."
They take your 2 silver pieces, take a cursory bored look through your pack, and wave you through the gates.
Blocking your way through the gates is the sudden appearance of a barbazu-bearded devil, adorned in black metal armor and a glowing fiery ranseur. His eight-foot tall frame is a hulking presence that demands respect without uttering a word. As he passes by the tendrils that make up his beard seem to reach out for you. He is flanked by two male figures. One is a dwarven warrior with a beard greased into a spikey style, wearing steel plate armor with an electric blue tinge. The other is a human that is some sort of alchemist decked out in vials and liquids, pouches and powders. The trio walk with purpose through the gate, and the crowd parts for them without any objections.
After that brief occurrence you enter a bustling square of merchants and customers, soldiers and guards, street urchins and common folk. The architecture is definitively human, with most buildings you see being constructed of stone foundations and wooden walls. There are several streets and walkways exiting the vicinity, the most obvious one leading east toward a dock district. Long rows of piers, quays and docked vessels line the waterfront. Men load and unload crates, barrels, nets full of fish among other things to and from the ships. Opportunistic birds rest atop every building in sight, and many fly around trying to get a bite at the days newest catch.
You see signs that say "The Docks", "Dwarven District", "High Town", "Low Town", "Main Drag", and more, pointing in various directions. You notice a common theme in the city is the constant presence of river water flowing through stone-lined man-made channels. These are apparently used for an alternate means of transportation of goods and people throughout the city streets.
The city looks prosperous and mostly normal. The city guard has a more distinct presence than Sojourn, with groups of four patrolling seemingly around any given corner. Even more boisterous than the crowded fish market at the east docks and a farmers market deeper in town is some large circular building near the center of town. It is so far the largest structure you've seen in town, and maybe ever in your life. Arches and gargoyles decorate its outer walls like gems on a king's crown. You can see people of all walks of life lined up outside, trying to obtain entrance. You assume this must be some sort of stadium.
'Edwin' leads his horse through the city, curiosity pulling his towards the arena. With this many people here, the rest of the town must be half-deserted! He looks at 'Sabrina'. "Want to check out what's going on in there?" His middle-aged features look flushed and excited. It is clear he is enjoying this bit of subterfuge.
Miro nods sagely, having no idea what things Catcher is referring to. He walks up to someone near the back of the line. Assuming that he can't just get the info by listening to the banter around him.
"Hey there young fellow! I'm just a traveler around these parts, and noticed yon grand structure and the crowd filing into it. What's the big occasion?"
"Wow mister, you must be new here. Its the late season slave finals. There are several champions up to their 24th victory. On the 25th, they've earned their freedom and walk away a free man...or woman.
These are some of the best fights of the year! After the season ends the crowds aren't quite as big but there is still fun to be had for a few more weeks before winter sets in. Volunteer gladiators are accepted into beast battles, grand combats, monster melees, jousting, and other great entertainment. You can make good money...if you survive."
Miro nods at 'Sabrina's' questions, awaiting the commoner's response with a more subdued façade, although he is just as excited as the wizard.
”But what about today’s match. Who against who? And who has the best side with the crowd.” she asks excitedly.
"A dwarf battle-rager from Khaurak-Khozil named Gromk Hammerhand and a seven foot tall monster of a man, they call him the giant!"
Hearing the names spoken aloud, other folks in line take the opportunity to prop up their favorite champion, call out racial slurs against dwarves and humans, but all in good competitive fun.
While Miro and Catcher scout the town, Gromff helps set up camp and then starts digging through the wagon more thoroughly, making sure their weren't any dangerous items or markings on the weapons and tools that could lead someone to them. He also took a concise inventory and wrote it down using the little quill and paper from the pouch.
While digging through he happens upon some armor polish and a whetstone. The latter wouldn't do much good on a Morningstar but his armor could use a good buffing. Especially his shield which had taken a number of hits. He then takes his armor off one piece at time and scrubs them clean. This way he always had something protective on. For the most part he is quiet, sometimes mumbling to himself.
While Gromff deals with his shinnies, Roland keeps a sharp lookout.
Miro shares a disturbed look at the wizard at the mention of the names of the champions. Too intrigued to back away, he gets in line, waiting to enter the coliseum to see the name-similar combatants line up and fight. This felt...strange, to be sure.
The money collector at the front of the line calls out "That's it folks, no more common seating. Better luck tomorrow. For those of you with the coin, there are a few open seats left"
The majority of the line dissipates quickly, groaning and complaining about their misfortune. In a few minutes Miro and Catcher reach the front of the line. The lady says "5 gold for 2nd ring general seating, 25 gold for lower ring, 60 gold for front row. Lords and Ladies box is full." She shrewdly looks at Miro from head to toe, judging him with her eyes. She raises an eyebrow, assuming you don't have the funds.
Catcher and Miro,
You have now been in the city for 4 hours. The sun will be setting in about another hour.
Roland, Gromff, Tessandriel,
A little over an hour after your friends left for Sweetwaters you see a growing cloud of smoke rising from the fields east of the road. After getting high on the wagon for a better look you can see a farmhouse, a barn, and a field alight with growing flame. It is spreading across the field.
'Edwin' makes a show of grumbling as he pulls the coins out of his purse. With a growing sense of unease, he awaits his ticket, subtly nodding to 'Sabrina' to pay up.
Roland immediately picks up his weapon and tries to see what is there in the distance, aside from the fire. "We need to go help them! Do you see what's there, guys?"
To Catcher the vendor says,
"Cheapest? Cheapest of the premium seating I suppose. You're not sitting with the riff raff you know."
The woman hands Miro and Catcher a glossed porcelain chip about the size of a gold piece. It has a "2" on it with a green stripe. You are immediately ushered into the stadium's halls through an iron gate guarded by some burly armed men. After navigating the torch-lit halls inside you emerge on the 2nd ring of stadium seating. You have quite a good view from here. There is a huge third tier of seating above you that wraps around the entirety of the circular arena, filled to the brim with flag waving, cheering crowds. Below you is a ring-side first tier of seating with a less boisterous crowd, though the excitement is still prevalent.
The arena floor is a curious sight at first, with all its intersecting lines and runners, but you figure out that it is designed to be an ever-changing battlefield, sectioned off with collapsible walls. The fighting floor has obstacles such as pillars, pits, ramps, and an ovular pool to keep things interesting.
The first event starts things off with a bang. Three out of four visible portcullises lift and a dozen slaves in piecemeal armor bits and myriad weapons pour out onto the dirt arena floor. The crowd goes crazy cheering for the champions. A magically enhanced voice booms across the stadium..."Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! We have champions aplenty, monstrous monsters, fiendish devils and more! I won't keep you waiting any longer, so cast your eyes to the south gate. Behold! The beast for the first monster melee!"
The south gate is notably larger than the other three. (One gate at each point of the compass, along the arena's inner ring.) The portcullis rises. From the darkness a large green reptilian head pokes out into the light. Then another head does the same. Then another. The crowd gasps and cheers when the entirety of the dreaded hydra makes its presence known. A cacophony of discordant roars pierces the night. The six heads flail and writhe, jaws snapping hungrily in the direction of the slave gladiators.
The fight was a glorious one, but in the end the beast feasted on the flesh of the unfortunate slaves.
Several more events keep the mood active as the night goes on. An event called "storm the gates" showcased another group of slaves defending a hastily constructed wooden keep from an onslaught of orc warriors. After the orcs were slain, the slaves raised their weapons in victory and each earned their first victory tattoo.
Another event was multiple simultaneous one-on-one melees partitioned off from one another.
The final event was The Giant vs Hammerhand. Gromkk rode into the ring on the back of a gray-feathered griffon. The beast strolled nobly onto the arena floor from the north gate, with a heavily armored dwarven champion astride its back. Bearing a standard with a griffon, Gromkk roared with the rage of ten dwarves, but was immediately drowned out by the adoring crowd.
From the south gate a massive human riding a scarlet scaled giant lizard runs into the ring. His heavy armor and longspear glisten in the considerable amount of torchlight. An equal amount of cheering accompanies his arrival.
Without much further pomp or circumstance, the champions ride hard for one another. The beasts and riders alike clash with a vengeance. Steel clanged on steel, claw pierced flesh. A ferocious melee ensued. After nearly ten full minutes of combat, interspersed with brief rests for show and adulation, the battle-raging dwarf emerged victorious. The final blow was a flying head-butt that burst the giant human's cranium open like a gorey melon.
The crowd is shockingly loud in their approval. The applause doesn't stop for five full minutes.
Roland, Gromff and Tessandriel,
Gromff takes a break from polishing and inventorying to take a look at the fiery farm to the east of the road. In addition to the flaming fields, farmhouse and barn, you see a red-skinned devil, (a barbezu bearded devil) and two smaller figures flanking him. They are hundreds of feet north of your position and they're walking back toward the road from the burning field. Their course suggests they're heading back to town.
The previously stated goods have already been mentioned, but here is a clearer picture of the wagon loot:
-2 barrels salted beef
-2 crates of flour
-1 crate with 9 bottles of wine
-1 crate with 4 jugs of ale
-a cluster of piled weapons of various designs: 3 light maces, 4 daggers, 5 spears, 1 battle axe, 2 longswords, 1 rapier, 2 longspears, 2 shortbows, 100 arrows.
-100' of chain
-12 manacles
-3 coils of 50' rope
-a masterwork longsword
-a masterwork shortsword (small sized. A dagger, essentially)
-12 backpacks with basic gear like bedrolls, cookware, flint/steel, fishhooks, waterskins.
-10 cloaks, 4 cold-weather outfits
-tools (axes, hammers, nails, twine, saws, wood planks)
-2 folded up tents
Miro watches the proceedings with horror and a sick fascination, not understanding how the people can enjoy these terrible spectacles so much. Heat rises to his face, anger starting to mount. The city had seemed so peaceful and well-ordered, Miro had almost sympathized with the devils. No more!
The halfling inspects the final combatants closely, trying to see if it is mere coincidence that ties these champions to his fellow companions.