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"Spire Ahoy! Spire Ahoy!"
The cry goes up from the spotter atop the tower on the lead caravan wagon.
Looking toward where he points, you can see the black impossibly tall needle of rock that marks Ptolus, jutting above the horizon. The grass plain stretches before the wagons of the merchant caravan, but you know that over that horizon awaits your destination.
The caravan master, Batrass, rides back and forth amongst the massive wooden wagons pulled by tame giant lizards.
"We will make the South Gate by Duskfall", he shouts. "We stop at Tent City where everyone gets off. Make sure you have your papers and coin ready!"
You reckon you have around three hours utill Ptolus is reached.
The caravan travels slowly toward the vast city walls. Plumes of smoke from a thousand chimneys drift lazily upward. Even from this distance, a myriad aromas from the city assault yor senses. As you start to get a better look at your destination, you spy a large grouping of tents near one of the South gates. This you presume, must be the aforementioned Tent City. Large groups of people can clearly be seen forming lines to enter through the gate into Polus.
"Home sweet twisted home!" Num-Rah hears and senses being watched. He knows that the eyes belong to flamboyant human female, quick to laugh and even quicker to draw her blade. She reminds him of his twin sister, Niamha, and Num-Rah finds himself surprised when he realizes that he will miss the bawdy jokes of that little witch when they part company after reaching Ptolus. Of course, none of those thoughts show on his face.
With a lurch, the lead wagon comes to a halt, forcing the rest of the caravan to stop one by one.
"Everyone out" resounds from several sources as guards usher passengers awa from the wagons.
A city guard walks slowly down the hill leading up to the city walls. He wears a uniform of a blue tunic worn over chainmail armor, with thick blue wrappings tied around his helmet. The guard carries a
shield bearing the device of Ptolus: a golden hawk on a blue field. A battleaxe is worn over his left shoulder.
"Form two lines" he calls, "One for business, one for pleasure." He points toward a gate consisting of iron-bound wooden double doors
each about ten feet wide. "Make your way toward the Market Gate. Make sure you have your papers and fee ready. Come on, look lively! I don't have all day!"
Ulven stretches and yawns as he drops off the caravan. "Cursed rolling carts! Never could stay awake on such bouncing beasts!" He looks toward the city and shades his eyes to look upon the Spire. "Come Ancestors! Let us find a tale!" he shouts aloud, claps the nearest startled traveler on the back and walks toward the lines, his greataxe slapping time against his back. As he reaches the line, he begins to sing a jaunty traveling song. He gets in line near the giant cat-man and the small dark woman.
"Well, since I've already been paid I guess it'll be the pleasure line,"she winks at the stern guard.
Looking over her shoulder she sees the large Litoran and the barbarian and smiles. "So looks like you boys have good sense after all. C'mon, I'll show you all the good stuff."
She joins the pleasure line, blowing the grim guard a kiss.
"Well, since I've already been paid I guess it'll be the pleasure line,"she winks at the stern guard.
Looking over her shoulder she sees the large Litoran and the barbarian and smiles. "So looks like you boys have good sense after all. C'mon, I'll show you all the good stuff."
She joins the pleasure line, blowing the grim guard a kiss.
Ulven grins at the guard as he passes. "Sorry, friend. I'm with the lady there. Oh the buxom lass is a lovely lass with a light heart and a heavy..." Ulven sings in a lusty tone as he passes into line.
As the line moves through the gate, guards check Imperial Identification papers on each new entree and collect a 3cp toll. You notice several proclomation posters that have been pasted to the inside of the narrow tunnel that passes through the South wall of the city... One in particular catches your eyes.
'Wanted Dead or Alive - Shilukar, Dark Elf Thief and Mage - xtremely Dangerous - 1000 Gold Imperial Reward from House Abanar.'
As you pass through and enter the city proper you all stop and stare at the site that you behold. A street, Penny Street, stretches away before you slight incline. It's cobbles are slick with a recent rain shower. from here you can get your first good look at The Spire. It reaches three thousand feet into the sky,a pinnacle of dark grey rock that grows darker as it rises; the top is pitch black. It is a wholly
unnatural creation and you feel this with certainty as you gaze upon it
—the Spire is simply too impossibly tall,too incredibly thin.
The South Market district of the city stretches out before you...
"Well Lady? You seem to know this place. I am but a humble man from a cold land who has never seen such a place as this, and I think the fanged one's nose seems to wrinkle in an unquiet manner, so I would wager that he has no knowledge of this land either. Where shall such as we find a heavy mug, tales to be told and warm company on cold nights? My ancestor's songs seek companionship with my own epic tale and I think you might know the proper place to see adventure in this warren of stone and people."
"Well this is the South Market, it's a little expensive, but yu can usually get good stuff here, and it's a good placei if you need to find stuff that fits," she says looking at Num-Rah.
"I know where you wanna go, we're going to Delver's Square. You want drink, rooms excitement? That's the place."
Linking an arm with each of her unusual companions,(in his case showing Num-Rah how), she leads on.
As you move through the South Market district, on your way towards Mid Town and Delvers Square you notice that you can smell the
rain, probably because it either just finished raining or is just about to rain. The odors of damp clothes and people, moldy wood, wet
straw, rain-slicked stone, and burning wood and coal mix together to create a unique aroma. This smell mingles with the odors of cooking food, domestic animals, garbage, and sewage.
After the smell, it’s the noise you notice. People aren’t shy about shouting to their neighbors out their windows, or calling down the street from their doors it seems. Tolling bells and sounding horns signal various religious rituals from the distant Temple District,
and entertainers sing, play instruments, and tell jokes in the street. Street orators attempt to inform and persuade those who will stop to listen, while bellringers shout out the news of the day for those
too busy or too ignorant to read one of the many broadsheets for sale.
Ptolus is crowded with buildings—you don’t see many trees or grassy areas except in a few glimpsed city squares or parks. The buildings are not tall, although a few towers and three- and even four-story structures rise above their lower neighbors. Although the structures seem to vary from street to street, the typical Ptolus building has two stories. The bottom one is built of grey stones and mortar with
wooden beams and slats. The top story is made of wood and generally has the same dimensions as the bottom story; some buildings are a bit wider on the top floor, creating an overhang of two or even three feet.
Roofs are nearly all slanted with gabled ends. They are covered with wooden shingles and patches of dark green fungus, due to the damp climate. Every building has at least one stone chimney.
All the buildings seem to abut each other on at least one side, and usually two. One side of a structure typically runs along a very
narrow alleyway—often no more than three or four feet across. Most such alleys are full of trash, empty crates or barrels, and other clutter.
The streets are narrow and slick with rain. Most measure about ten feet across, while major thoroughfares are fifteen or even twenty feet
across.
All around you can see people rushing home from work, merchants closing their shops, and middle- and upper-class children on their way
home from school, books and wax tablets tucked under their arms.
Vendors selling goods—particularly food—are common on almost every street .
As you look west, the city rises. To the east, it falls until it reaches the cliffs. You note that no matter where you are in the city, you can look up and see the Spire, unless it’s raining so hard that the sky is just a swath of grey. The Spire dominates the sky above Ptolus. It rises approximately three thousand feet above Midtown.
Even putting aside the Spire, though, the skies
are not empty. You spy a hot air balloons and mages under the
effects of a fly spell, adventurers mounted on flying
carpets and even a griffon in flight.
"Änother woman?! Excellent! My tale will abound with beautiful yet deadly maidens who look death in the eye and laugh lustily!" Ulven seems unusually buoyed by the sights and sounds of the city as well as his companionship. "We must find this Delver's Square and make it our own! They did know that they lacked until they hear us coming. Let us fulfill them!"
Avoiding the tide of pedestrians, the children still playing in the street at this late hour and the constantly yapping dogs you all eventually find yourselves in the vicinity of Delvers Square.
Comprising the square itself and the area surrounding it in about a five- or six-block radius, Delver’s Square lies near the center of Midtown, just off Center Street between Tavern Row and Lower God Row. A fourteen-foot statue of a man stands in the center of the square before a round fountain.
Aside from hosting a number of businesses, most of which cater to adventurers, Delver’s Square also contains the main entrance to the Undercity Market: a wide staircase right behind the statue.
Businesses in the actual Delver’s Square itself include The Bull and
Bear Armory, Danbury’s, Ebbert’s Outfitters, The Ghostly Minstrel, Myraeth’s Oddities, Potter’s Hostel, and Rastor’s Weapons.
The Delver’s Square neighborhood also includes the nearby infamous Tavern Row, a street of many bars, inns, and restaurants.
Even at this late hour in the day, the Square is crowded with people going about their business.
"It is true, but I seek to become master bladesmith myself, so that I can forge mighty dreadclaw for spirits to inhabit when the time comes. It is the way of my people that Whitemanes should learn to make blades and other weapons. Are blades are not as swords and knives of other races of this world. As you can see, they are in shape as our claws."
"Ah, I see your way, fanged one! I, too, seek to become a skald, a singer of the tales of the ancestors. First I must master my own tale, to add to the ranks of the Ancestors, so that I might live on after my death as one of the Honored Dead. Perhaps I will sing of your song, too, eh? So that you might live forever as well!"
Num-Rah sniffs the air again, noticing little brunette that shared caravan trip with him and the rest of his companions. "Did you got lost, little one?", he asks. "Apparently, you should watch the skies in this place."
~Adrianan Bows to you~ Thank you kind Sir. Yes, I am a stranger to this wonderful city.
As you are all pondering your next move or considering where to bed down for the night, a vile smell suddenly assaults your nostrils. As you lok for its source, you spy an old man, sitting against the wall of a bulding. He smiles up at you, revealing blackened teeth. Dark rings are evident around his bloodshot eyes. He reaches out to you with dark stained
fingers, his hand shaking severley.
"Spare a coin for a fellow delver?" His bad breath wafts in your face making your eyes water.
"I sense a scent of a strong male of my kind - not a Whitemane, but mighty one nonetheless. Who may that be, little witch? You are from around here, are you not?""Yep, that'd be Rastor. If you got a weapon to sell, or lookin' to buy one, hes the guy. Far as I know he doesn't make 'em though"
"Ahh... but perhaps he knows some great smith who will accept me as an apprentice. I shall ask."
As you are all pondering your next move or considering where to bed down for the night, a vile smell suddenly assaults your nostrils. As you lok for its source, you spy an old man, sitting against the wall of a bulding. He smiles up at you, revealing blackened teeth. Dark rings are evident around his bloodshot eyes. He reaches out to you with dark stained
fingers, his hand shaking severley."Spare a coin for a fellow delver?" His bad breath wafts in your face making your eyes water.
Num-Rah sniffs the air, trying to decipher unusual scent coming from the old men.
As you are all pondering your next move or considering where to bed down for the night, a vile smell suddenly assaults your nostrils. As you lok for its source, you spy an old man, sitting against the wall of a bulding. He smiles up at you, revealing blackened teeth. Dark rings are evident around his bloodshot eyes. He reaches out to you with dark stained
fingers, his hand shaking severley."Spare a coin for a fellow delver?" His bad breath wafts in your face making your eyes water.
~Adriana takes out a silver coin and hands it to the man~ Here you are. Spend it wisely.
As you are all pondering your next move or considering where to bed down for the night, a vile smell suddenly assaults your nostrils. As you lok for its source, you spy an old man, sitting against the wall of a bulding. He smiles up at you, revealing blackened teeth. Dark rings are evident around his bloodshot eyes. He reaches out to you with dark stained
fingers, his hand shaking severley."Spare a coin for a fellow delver?" His bad breath wafts in your face making your eyes water.
"By the Hoary B@lls of the Frost Giant Jarl! What has happened to you, man? It surely must be a story, eh? I tell you what, comrade! If you will tell me this story then I will purchase you a meal, a good ale and a bath. Come! Where is a decent alehouse?"
As you are all pondering your next move or considering where to bed down for the night, a vile smell suddenly assaults your nostrils. As you lok for its source, you spy an old man, sitting against the wall of a bulding. He smiles up at you, revealing blackened teeth. Dark rings are evident around his bloodshot eyes. He reaches out to you with dark stained
fingers, his hand shaking severley."Spare a coin for a fellow delver?" His bad breath wafts in your face making your eyes water.
Num-Rah sniffs the air, trying to decipher unusual scent coming from the old men.
Num-Rah
The wretch grasps the coin. Clasping it to his chest he lurches into a crouch. "Thankyou, thankyou. You dont know how much you have made a miserable man happy again...no, no. I would love to take a drink with you...but I have a wife and nine children to support! Must go!"
With that he darts down a nearbye alley, whistling a merry ditty.
Moments later you all hear a scream. Its close by, you think, due to its clearness and it sounds like a woman in distress. You cant makeout what she's shouting but it seems like she's in need of help. It appears that whatever commotion is occuring is down the narrow, gloomy alley into which the 'wealthy' tramp fled.