Q'barra is mostly a dangerous frontier nation recognized by the Treaty of Thronehold.
Originally founded by Duke Ven ir'Kesslan, a Cyran refugee, the few civilized settlements continue to struggle against tribes of lizardfolk, Valenar warbands, Lhazaar raiders and Kobold marauders from the Endworld Mountains not to mention disease riddled swamp lands, dire and horrid lizards and dinosaurs.
Q'barra is a land for the brave and the tenacious.
Lying on the eastern front of the Endworld Mountains and the long expanse of The Dragonreach it is easy to see why Q'barra remained untouched by civilized settlements for so long. The steamy jungles and sprawling swamplands that encompasses most of the landscape is a perfect habitat for dire and horrid animals as well as dinosaurs. The small shard of land is not completely inhospitable, however, as a small strip of fertile land lies in the southeast and other open expanses peel away from the jungle in places around the country.
One of the most notable outposts of civilization in this dangerous wilderness is the city-state of Daal-Aryn, a relatively new settlement founded by a hierocratic sect of Dol Arrah. The Sovereign of Sun and Sacrifice, Dol Arrah is the light, not only of the sun, but also of the good aspects of the mortal soul. The patron of paladins, diplomats and all who seek justice, as well as explorers who bring light to dark and forgotten places, Dol Arrah oversees all those who fight with wisdom as well as weapons.
Unlike most other followers of the Host, those that belong to the hierocratic sect known as the Lanterns of the Everlasting Aurora, also known colloquially as the Lantern Lights or the Illuminated, set the worship of their patron deity as preeminent over all other members of the common pantheon of Khorvaire. Their zealousness for their patron has been compared to that of adherents of the Silver Flame.
The Lanterns were originally a minor sect with the majority of their adherents to be found in the nation of Cyre, but their numbers swelled considerably when it appeared as if a prophecy of the sect was fulfilled by the Mourning, and its wake sent Cyran refugees flooding to the group's leadership. Their ranks swelled, the Lanterns led a great pilgrimage into the jungles of Q'barra to settle and reinforce one of their furthest strongholds.
The followers of this sect, which include the militant arm known as the Lions of Eternal Sun, the sages of the Illumined Scribes, and the spies of the Hidden Source, founded Daal-Aryn upon the bones of an ancient settlement which the sages of the Illumined Scribes believe to have been an ancient colony of the Dhakaani Empire. The city straddles the waters of the Crimson River, which divides bteh fetid morass of the Basura Swamp from the sweltering climes of the Q'barra Jungle.
This ancient Dhakaani settlement was rebuilt and reinforced, and forms the inner city of Daal-Aryn, which lies on the northern shore of the Crimson River. The remainder of the city state has grown up around this holy city of the Lanterns, which remains a site of pilgrimage for the sect's adherents from other regions of Khorvaire.
The streets of Daal-Aryn are presently abuzz with fevered preparations for the yearly ceremony known as the Night of the Hopeful Judgment. During this ill-omened time, all twelve moons of Eberron are obscured in the night sky, casting the city-state into an unparalleled darkness. The ceremony is held to commemorate the defeat of the forces of evil and the night by the Radiant Maiden Dol Arrah, the Eternal Light and Font of Life. The faithful of the Lanterns believe that the forces of the Dark Six are set free during this witching hour, and that only by the might of the Everlasting Sun can the faithful be delivered from the certain doom that awaits all who are not guided by the Source of all Light.
It is a great curiosity that this twelvefold eclipse is unobserved outside the confines of this isolated city-state.
Vinexa was waiting at the city gates to enter for the upcoming festival. She'd been traveling for a while and her money was running short. She knew that festivals often led to people getting drunk and drunks were often far more open with their coin pouches, especially for a pretty, scantily clad, woman. She was also rather hungry and knew that she could feed much more easily without detection at such a place.
Vinesxa’s only concern was this was a city with lots of clergy and clergy did not appreciate her kind very often, largely likening them to the demons they were named after. The zealots, in particular, were a threat if they found out what she had been born as and wouldn't hesitate to lynch her or worse. Still, that threat was everywhere and Vinexa had long since become accustomed to knowing when to move on.
Today Vinexa was dressed more modestly, at least by her standards, wearing a tight fitting pale green silk blouse that hugged her breasts and flowed over her torso to above her midriff leaving it bear. The blouse covered her arms to mid forearm and with fabric on the outside of her arms that would flutter as she moved. A loose, billowing, knee length skirt that matched her blouse and would flare about her legs when she twirled with a pair of soft leather boots that reached only to her calves. She carried a pack on her back, no visible weapons, Something about her made her a bit hard to see by those around her, a kind of perpetual haze, so many of them lost track of her presence or were only vaguely aware that she was there at all.
Vinexa waited her turn, occasionally moving to avoid someone who came to close to her unawares, and otherwise keeping to herself for now. She hoped she could get past the guards with little trouble, sometimes it was a challenge when one realized she was hazy and demanded that she stop it. She couldn't turn the effect off completely and took a lot of fast talking to avoid trouble when it came up. Given the large crowds she suspected it wouldn't be so difficult to get through the gate as it might otherwise be, the guards were going to be tired of questioning everybody long before they got to her.
Vinexa was waiting at the city gates to enter for the upcoming festival. She'd been traveling for a while and her money was running short. She knew that festivals often led to people getting drunk and drunks were often far more open with their coin pouches, especially for a pretty, scantily clad, woman. She was also rather hungry and knew that she could feed much more easily without detection at such a place.
Vinesxa’s only concern was this was a city with lots of clergy and clergy did not appreciate her kind very often, largely likening them to the demons they were named after. The zealots, in particular, were a threat if they found out what she had been born as and wouldn't hesitate to lynch her or worse. Still, that threat was everywhere and Vinexa had long since become accustomed to knowing when to move on.
Today Vinexa was dressed more modestly, at least by her standards, wearing a tight fitting pale green silk blouse that hugged her breasts and flowed over her torso to above her midriff leaving it bear. The blouse covered her arms to mid forearm and with fabric on the outside of her arms that would flutter as she moved. A loose, billowing, knee length skirt that matched her blouse and would flare about her legs when she twirled with a pair of soft leather boots that reached only to her calves. She carried a pack on her back, no visible weapons, Something about her made her a bit hard to see by those around her, a kind of perpetual haze, so many of them lost track of her presence or were only vaguely aware that she was there at all.
Vinexa waited her turn, occasionally moving to avoid someone who came to close to her unawares, and otherwise keeping to herself for now. She hoped she could get past the guards with little trouble, sometimes it was a challenge when one realized she was hazy and demanded that she stop it. She couldn't turn the effect off completely and took a lot of fast talking to avoid trouble when it came up. Given the large crowds she suspected it wouldn't be so...
The outer walls of Daal-Aryn rise suddenly out of the surrounding wetlands. This barrier surrounds the secondary, outer city which grew up, somewhat haphazardly, around the original quarter of the city -- the so called Holy City which was believed to have been built atop an ancient Dhakaani ruin. In contrast to the glittering marble sheathing of the fortifications which surround the Inner City, the outer walls walls are stained with smoot, smog, and dirt, and built of rough, black stone. They are surmounted with a wooden palisade. The main gates consist of a tower and drawbridge which joins the jungle floor to the far side of a stinking moat. At the head of the drawbridge stand to knights of the Lions of the Everlasting Sun, their gleaming white armor and decorative leonine helms and wings present a striking contrast with their natural and artificial surroundings. A long line of travelers que to enter the gates into the western portion of the Outer City.
Sieghart’s mobile elemental weapon came to stop near Daal-Aryn’s gates, wheels and elemental chamber still casting off electrical sparks and the smell of burning ozone. He had ridden since nearly sunup with barely a break, and Q’barra’s rough, unpaved paths hadn’t been kind to his joints. It had been a long ride from New Cyre in Breland, nearly a month away, and with nothing but smoked sausages, jerky, dried fruit and oats in his stomach since the last city where he'd stopped, he was eager for some properly-prepared food. It was still a ways from Newthrone, but it wouldn’t hurt to spend a night or two on the town.
As he disembarked his bike, Sieghart pulled the goggles off of his face and slipped his facemask down to his neck. Riding through the coutryside, dust, pebbles and flying bugs were always a concern. A little protective covering was a necessity. He was dressed as much for combat as for travel, with a blackened alloy chestpiece, vambraces, and knee- and shin-guards, all shaped and custom-fit for his use, atop his sturdy, durable, mostly-black clothes and worn and weathered military boots. The holster at his hip held an ergonomically-crafted Cannith war wand, and the bandolier about his chest was empty. On top of it all, he wore a gray overcoat which nearly reached his ankles. Much of his equipment was either in the saddlebags on his bike or, in the case of his weapons and tools, stored in the magical space inside of the crossbody bag strapped across his torso. Sieghart’s armor, his sturdy, muscular build, and strange technomagical mount made him an impossible-to-miss presence at the city gates.
“Keep close, now.” he whispered to Fenrir, the vehicle that served as his faithful mount and companion. He gave the bike a pat and waited in the line to enter through the gates, hoping that what stares or unwanted attention he couldn’t dismiss with a polite word would be warded away by a stern glare.
Sieghart’s mobile elemental weapon came to stop near Daal-Aryn’s gates, wheels and elemental chamber still casting off electrical sparks and the smell of burning ozone. He had ridden since nearly sunup with barely a break, and Q’barra’s rough, unpaved paths hadn’t been kind to his joints. It had been a long ride from New Cyre in Breland, nearly a month away, and with nothing but smoked sausages, jerky, dried fruit and oats in his stomach since the last city where he'd stopped, he was eager for some properly-prepared food. It was still a ways from Newthrone, but it wouldn’t hurt to spend a night or two on the town.
As he disembarked his bike, Sieghart pulled the goggles off of his face and slipped his facemask down to his neck. Riding through the coutryside, dust, pebbles and flying bugs were always a concern. A little protective covering was a necessity. He was dressed as much for combat as for travel, with a blackened alloy chestpiece, vambraces, and knee- and shin-guards, all shaped and custom-fit for his use, atop his sturdy, durable, mostly-black clothes and worn and weathered military boots. The holster at his hip held an ergonomically-crafted Cannith war wand, and the bandolier about his chest was empty. On top of it all, he wore a gray overcoat which nearly reached his ankles. Much of his equipment was either in the saddlebags on his bike or, in the case of his weapons and tools, stored in the magical space inside of the crossbody bag strapped across his torso. Sieghart’s armor, his sturdy, muscular build, and strange technomagical mount made him an impossible-to-miss presence at the city gates.
“Keep close, now.” he whispered to Fenrir, the vehicle that served as his faithful mount and companion. He gave the bike a pat and waited in the line to enter through the gates, hoping that what stares or unwanted attention he couldn’t dismiss with a polite word would be warded away by a stern glare.
The a pair of knights belonging to the militant arm of Dol Arrah's faithful among the Lantern Bearers, an order of crusaders known as the Lions of the Everlasting Sun, watch over the long line of travelers queued to enter the gates of the Outer City. Each of the warriors is armored in elaborate plate mail made of a gleaming white alloy, and which is further embossed with elaborate decorations made of gold. Their helmets are fashioned to resemble roaring lions. A set of ornamental angelic wings protrudes from the back of each knight. Both warriors bear large broadswords and shields, the latter which they bear up in a defensive posture as they guard the road into the city.
Joining the knights is one of the Auroric Evangelists of the Great Temple of the Everlasting Sun -- the immense cathedral of Dol Arrah that stands in the very center of the Holy City, and whose glistening spires of glass can be seen from miles away in the surrounding jungle and marsh. The anchorite is garbed in a gleaming robe of golden fabric -- the material is highly reflective, almost painful to look at. The human hierocratic priest also wears a golden laurel which sits atop his blonde curls. His wide, bright blue eyes scan the road, taking the mien of the assembled travelers, most arriving for the celebration of the holy day known as the Night of Hopeful Judgment.
He speaks the words which draw upon the holy book of the Lanterns known as the Incandescent Mysteries.
"Welcome, weary travelers, pilgrims from lands near and far, you are welcomed by the light of the Lanterns of the Everlasting Sun, our Most Gracious and Beneficent Queen of the Sovereign Host of Heaven. By Her Light were our predecessors saved from the devastation of the Mourning, and brought to a refuge on the boarders of ancient Galifar, and by Her Light you have been led to the lintel of the Holy City of Her Limitless Illumination. The Lanterns of the Eternal Sun welcome all who seek Her Light and Her Grace, and to pray earnestly for their deliverance on the Night of Hopeful Judgment. Soon, the twelve moons of Eberron will be obscured in the heavens, and the hour of judgment will descend upon the us. Only those who earnestly seek the Light of Her Holy Countenance will be delivered upon the Hopeful Dawn that follows the Moonless Night."
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Giridonyth stands in line with one of his "handlers" from House Tharashk having extricated a promise to roam freely in the new settlement once inside the gates. The Wyrmling in disguise gapes openly at the new sights while pointing and exclaiming at anything that sparks even a momentary interest.
"Whoa! Lookit that guy! Is he a mercenary? What's that thingy next to him? Is it like a metal horse? It reminds me of the Lightning Rail from the book. I wanna ride it!" After quickly receiving a cuff to the head after pulling on his handler's sleeve too much, Giri grumbles a bit, tugs his slightly oversized hat lower and starts idly playing with his ball while he stands in line.
Giri listens blankly to the priest whilst staring at the gold laurels upon his head. He obediently holds his hands in prayer like he was told to whenever priests start talking to be polite, though he doesn't really retain much of what they say afterwards.
Giridonyth stands in line with one of his "handlers" from House Tharashk having extricated a promise to roam freely in the new settlement once inside the gates. The Wyrmling in disguise gapes openly at the new sights while pointing and exclaiming at anything that sparks even a momentary interest.
"Whoa! Lookit that guy! Is he a mercenary? What's that thingy next to him? Is it like a metal horse? It reminds me of the Lightning Rail from the book. I wanna ride it!" After quickly receiving a cuff to the head after pulling on his handler's sleeve too much, Giri grumbles a bit, tugs his slightly oversized hat lower and starts idly playing with his ball while he stands in line.
The Auroric Evangelist begins to preach again,
"Come, come, come ye weary travelers, oh you that are weary and desire rest, come and hear the blessed words of the Maiden of the Sun, the Great Mother, the Eternal Light. Come and seek Her Light and Her Protection, that by Her Ever Availing Grace, you shall come safely to the hours of the Hopeful Dawn. As She sheltered our forefathers from the doom of war, so shall She shelter your souls from the terrors of the Moonless Night. When the twelve moons hide their faces from the Eberron, the Dragon of the Earth, then the terrors of Khyber, the Dragon Below, will be unleashed and walk freely within the darkness. Only those who are protected by Her Grace will be shielded from their predations. The servants of the Khyber will seize the souls of the sinful and those of weak faith, and bear them down into the depths of the World Below, forever lost to the Light of the Eternal Sun. Pray earnestly, my children, pray earnestly and pray often, recite the holy words of the Mysteries, and trust in Her Light, that you may be delivered from this terrible judgment on the Night without Moons."
The patient hunter was one who got its prey. Hours, days, weeks. Those who are strong-willed enough to wait their chosen target often took down their chosen prey. This was what the Gix taught, and what every Gix came to know. Tyrant had thought he personified this patience, this willingness to wait for what he needed.
This, however, this frustrated him.
Despite being surrounded by those much smaller than him, the humans in line gave him a wide berth. He had looked into their eyes, every one of them who had dared to stare at him in challenge, and thus received a small area all his own. Tyrant had noticed the ones in white armor, whom he had overheard be called the Lions, took particular note of any thing that seemed to cause a disturbance in the line. The kobold had huffed at that. Lions? They looked more like songbirds.
Once had had become comfortable in his space, Tyrant stood still with his arms crossed. Waiting. For what? Soft skins showing up at the outpost. Making him wait without reason. Although he looked stoic, one claw was slowly scratching the rough, grating leather of the bulette armor he wore, and his other strummed the string of the longbow he had slung over his shoulder, the only weapon he carried. No one seemed willing to challenge him, thus causing commotion, and thus those Lions deemed his extra attention unwarranted. A shame.
A booming voice catches the ears, and Tyrant shifts to look. Beneficent Queen. Galifar. Her Limitless Illumination. Eternal Sun. Words, lost to the oversized kobold. They meant nothing to him, and it did not interest him, until...
Eberron, the Dragon of the Earth. Khyber, the Dragon Below. This poorly camouflaged human was yelling about the Progenitor Dragons. The Molto Warren had worshiped Eberron before Tyrant's birth as a winged kobold. His tail twitched in excitement. The change to worshiping Siberys, The Dragon Above, had been swift and was completed long before he came of age. Thus, Khyber was a known enemy even more after the religious shift than it was before.
The thoughts of his home saddened Tyrant, but it lasted for a moment before he began actively listening to this human's speech on the dangers of Khyber and its ilk.
Guiscard knuckles his back as he walks up to the gate, his finely tailored but travel worn robes scraping the ground as he shuffles forward.
"Discrimination is what it is. They don't make those railcars with non-human physiologies in mind." he grumbles.
Nevertheless, on reaching the gate his spirits begin to brighten. His timing coinciding with the twelvefold eclipse is a nice surprise, and the libraries of the city were something he'd not had to pillage yet.
His mood sours again slightly as he notes the priests peddling their wares at the gates, taking advantage of the next best thing to a captive audience to spout their drivel.
He did not look forward to having to deal with an even larger gaggle of them just to get a look at the books he'd come to look over.
Vinexa had to admit that the city was rather large, much more so than any she'd been to before at least, and certainly dwarfed her home village. As the mass continued it's slow and inexorable movement towards the gates Vinexa's ears twitched as a loud noise accompanied by sparks and the feeling of an imminent lightning strike from the ozone that came with it drew her attention as it pulled up behind her. Vinexa resisted the urge to hiss at the man who got off of the strange contraption and instead resolved to ignore him as the line moved closer to the gates.
Several others entered the line behind her, a couple of them commenting on the strange contraption, one complaining that the technology was racist since it was meant for human, and one who just remained silent. Vinexa heard the preaching up ahead and rolled her eyes as she got closer to the gate. Someone was certainly up on his holy soap box preaching to the masses and she tried to figure out how to avoid him. If anyone were to cause her problems it would be him and she anted to avoid trouble for now.
When she finally reached the gates Vinexa tried to figure out what she needed to do to get through any inspections, and to avoid that preacher. She also began to make mental notes about how she could get away if she needed to. It wouldn't be the first time she was caught out when she tried to enter a city and after the first time she was far more cautious about her escape plan. She never wanted to get chased for the better part of a week ever again!
Vinexa had to admit that the city was rather large, much more so than any she'd been to before at least, and certainly dwarfed her home village. As the mass continued it's slow and inexorable movement towards the gates Vinexa's ears twitched as a loud noise accompanied by sparks and the feeling of an imminent lightning strike from the ozone that came with it drew her attention as it pulled up behind her. Vinexa resisted the urge to hiss at the man who got off of the strange contraption and instead resolved to ignore him as the line moved closer to the gates.
Several others entered the line behind her, a couple of them commenting on the strange contraption, one complaining that the technology was racist since it was meant for human, and one who just remained silent. Vinexa heard the preaching up ahead and rolled her eyes as she got closer to the gate. Someone was certainly up on his holy soap box preaching to the masses and she tried to figure out how to avoid him. If anyone were to cause her problems it would be him and she anted to avoid trouble for now.
When she finally reached the gates Vinexa tried to figure out what she needed to do to get through any inspections, and to avoid that preacher. She also began to make mental notes about how she could get away if she needed to. It wouldn't be the first time she was caught out when she tried to enter a city and after the first time she was far more cautious about her escape plan. She never wanted to get chased for the better part of a week ever again!
A simply but well dressed woman stands off slightly to the side of the loquacious, golden-haired priest.
Her auburn hair is twisted into two buns, each curling like the horns of a ram. She wears a slightly puffy dress of white linen with ornamental filigree decorating its trim below a leather smock which has clearly been in a place of real work.
Her hazel eyes are wide and alert, and he veritably hisses at Vinexa, along with several other travelers, as they approach the gates of the city.
"Psst! Psst! Psss! Hey there everyone -- my name is Aria Tannenbaum, and I am the purveyor of a safe and trustworthy place of lodging within the Outer City. There are almost no rooms available anywhere because of the festival, and certainly few safe options outside of the Holy City, which is presently full to bursting, and not taking any additional pilgrims in at the moment. Anyone who has need of lodging during the Moonless Night should come with me -- I have another three dozen beds available, but they're going to go quickly, so speak up if you don't know where you're staying! I'll take you right over, right now, and you won't have to worry about finding your way around the dangerous streets of the Outer City."
Giri pulls his handler's sleeve again and points to Aria whom grunts their accent. The two promptly stand by to await others following Aria once they reach the end of the line.
"Dangerous streets? Sounds like fun! Though not yet." Giri yawns and jams his hands in his pockets.
"Hrm. That seems simpler than dealing with these damnable crowds. Just be aware that if you try to cheat me I have ways of making you regret it."
When the auburn haired woman started to speak to people Vinexa found something about her suspicious. Nothing she said outright screamed she was lying but Vinexa was always cautious when things seemed too good to be true. The woman's offer was far too convenient and Vinexa eyed the woman suspiciously as she spoke and tried to decide if she should trust this Aria person or not.
Tyrant was tempted to return to the wetlands. He didn't want to share space with these pilgrims for too long when he had planned on getting what was needed and getting out. However, he smelled the air. The moat stunk to high hell, sure, but it had been a long time since he had a chance to bath in something other than the swamp.
Although he never trusted when someone touted their wares as both safe and trustworthy, Tyrant nonetheless stepped into Aria's line. After all, if someone tried to shake him down, he'd have to show them what for. Without realizing it, he was grinning, showing off a set of razor sharp teeth.
Sieghart could only curse his luck for arriving on the night of a festival. Certainly, it would be difficult to find reasonably-priced lodging for the night. As the evangelist continued to preach towards the incoming crowd, Sieghart at least went through the motions of prayer. He was not typically one for religious observation. He attended services and feasts of the Sovereign Host about as often as any other Cyran, but this was more a matter of community than one of faith.
As Sieghart approached the gate, he fished his travel papers from one of the inner pockets of his coat. Strictly-speaking, they should’ve served as validation enough anywhere included the Treaty of Thronehold, and he could only hope that any inspection of his person or possessions spared Fenrir from any indignity. He cocked an eyebrow at Aria’s offer. This couldn’t possibly be true, could it? Surely, with so many revelers and worshipers arriving for the festival, every empty bed in the city was already filled twice over. Sieghart closely observed the woman’s words and mannerisms, looking for any inconsistencies or anything to help discern whether or not she was hiding something.
When the auburn haired woman started to speak to people Vinexa found something about her suspicious. Nothing she said outright screamed she was lying but Vinexa was always cautious when things seemed too good to be true. The woman's offer was far too convenient and Vinexa eyed the woman suspiciously as she spoke and tried to decide if she should trust this Aria person or not.
[dice=Sense Motive]1d20+11
After considering Aria's offer, then looking at the preacher, Vinexa shifted over to Aria's line of people. Worse comes to worse she felt certain she was capable of dealing with the woman if she had to and since it would get her past the guards and priest it was the lesser of two evils.
Sieghart could only curse his luck for arriving on the night of a festival. Certainly, it would be difficult to find reasonably-priced lodging for the night. As the evangelist continued to preach towards the incoming crowd, Sieghart at least went through the motions of prayer. He was not typically one for religious observation. He attended services and feasts of the Sovereign Host about as often as any other Cyran, but this was more a matter of community than one of faith.
As Sieghart approached the gate, he fished his travel papers from one of the inner pockets of his coat. Strictly-speaking, they should’ve served as validation enough anywhere included the Treaty of Thronehold, and he could only hope that any inspection of his person or possessions spared Fenrir from any indignity. He cocked an eyebrow at Aria’s offer. This couldn’t possibly be true, could it? Surely, with so many revelers and worshipers arriving for the festival, every empty bed in the city was already filled twice over. Sieghart closely observed the woman’s words and mannerisms, looking for any inconsistencies or anything to help discern whether or not she was hiding something.
[dice= Sense Motive]1d20+8
After considering Aria's offer, then looking at the preacher, Vinexa shifted over to Aria's line of people. Worse comes to worse she felt certain she was capable of dealing with the woman if she had to and since it would get her past the guards and priest it was the lesser of two evils.
Mistress Tannenbaum nods affable at the assembled travelers. "Very good then, I will take you directly to my establishment." She rolls her eyes noticeably as the blonde haired priest continues with his diatribe. "There's nothing truly to worry about, at least nothing like the boogeyman these tiresome prostelytes describe - long forgotten horrors from the Khyber and all that - no, this festival comes and goes at regular intervals, and only the self induced tremors of the craven faithful trouble any inhabitants of the city. Nevertheless, the streets of the district nearest the Scarlet Gate, known as the Dims, are dangerous when the light of the moon's are obscured, and it is necessary to have safe lodging during those hours. It would be easy enough to trip and injure oneself in the dark, narrow and pock marked alleyways of the Dims."
Aria continues,
"The western portion of the outer city of Daal-Aryn is known as the Dims, and is made up of the narrow, ill paved streets which remain from the ruins of the purported Dhakaani settlement which predated the masse arrival of religious pilgrims from Cyre. The center of the Dims is an ancient fortress, a ruin from the days of Dhakaani settlement. Near this fortress, which is known colloquially as the gloomhold, are the ruins of an ancient armory, one which many believe to have held the secrets of mysterious black powder, a weapon of the ancient goblins which is unknown in the present day."
"Its narrow streets are labyrinthine, and will easily mislead the unwary. Furthermore, roaming bands of goblins, who are drawn to the remnants of their ancient realm, as well as emissaries from the Church of the Silver Flame, who find the activities of the Lantern Bearers to be quite alarming."
Giri raises his hand while picking his nose with the other.
"How come they haven't gotten rid of the goblins? Wait wait wait. I got one!" Giri snaps his fingers.
"A paladin and a priest walk into a bar. They bonk their heads and a goblin laughs and laughs and laughs."
"I concur with the boy. Why haven't the creatures been exterminated if there are 'roving bands' of them as you claim?"
Giri raises his hand while picking his nose with the other.
"How come they haven't gotten rid of the goblins? Wait wait wait. I got one!" Giri snaps his fingers.
"A paladin and a priest walk into a bar. They bonk their heads and a goblin laughs and laughs and laughs."
Aria replies with a tone of reproach "it may be all very well and good to think that way in the more settled kingdoms of Khorvaire, but you forget that we are on the edge of civilization in Q'barra. If you tried to just get rid of all the goblinoids and lidzardfolk and other enemies of mankind, well, that's not a matter of a single life time, and certainly not the purview of this one city state. In any event, what greater right do you have to life and freedom in these jungles than they do - I told you they are drawn by the remnants of their ancient colony, so isn't it they that have just as much right to be here as any others? I'll warn you, I do not tolerate blood between man and man or man and goblin under my roof. Stay far from my door if you believe you will be unable to stay your hand." Her expression is a challenge.
Giri opens his mouth to retort and receives a clap on the head by his handler.
"Goblins are people, got it."
"Oh! But what if they start it first?"
Giri opens his mouth to retort and receives a clap on the head by his handler.
"Goblins are people, got it."
"Oh! But what if they start it first?"
"The Dhakaani clans that inhabit the Dims are different only in number and armament from the evangelists of the Lantern Bearers that settled the gleaming thoroughfares of the Holy City. They are dangerous to their foes and allied for their own concerns - excavating and reclaiming remnants of their ancient civilization. I see no reason to judge them differently than the priests and holy warriors of Dol Arrah."
"If this is your land, then you defend it," Tyrant claimed loudly. "It is your right as its owner. If they attack you for that land, and cannot defeat you to take it, then that is a lack of respect. It shouldn't be tolerated. If they start fights that they think they can win, but prove unable to, then their lesson should come fast and bloody." The oversized kobold basically spat it out, speaking as if his view of the world was right regardless of other opinions, and met eyes with those who had said similar things before he spoke. They would be remembered.
"If this is your land, then you defend it," Tyrant claimed loudly. "It is your right as its owner. If they attack you for that land, and cannot defeat you to take it, then that is a lack of respect. It shouldn't be tolerated. If they start fights that they think they can win, but prove unable to, then their lesson should come fast and bloody." The oversized kobold basically spat it out, speaking as if his view of the world was right regardless of other opinions, and met eyes with those who had said similar things before he spoke. They would be remembered.
Aria rolls her eyes as she turns to guide her new guests through the Dims to the house of lodging known as Tannenbaum's Chalice. "Just like the priests..." Aria mutters as she points out the beginning of the winding trail through the narrow streets.
After listening to the oversized kobold not seem to get the point of Aria's words Vinexa came to the conclusion he wasn't that bright. Finally deciding to butt in Vinexa looked up at the big kobold, craning her neck back so she could see his face, and said, "I think what she is trying to say is that any goblins under her roof will be on their best behavior. They won't start a fight with you so you won't need to fight them back. I am sure she isn't saying don't defend yourself if attacked," Vinxa looked to Aria for confirmation then back to Tyrant, "you just can't start anything."
Having said all that she had to say Vinexa twirled away from Tyrant with a graceful swirl of her skirts. She grasped the hand of one of the others with them, spun around them gracefully, then leapt into the air to spin in a circle before landing lightly on her feet. "There is enough trouble in this world without borrowing more Mr Lizard," she couldn't help adding as she looked at Tyrant again, "lighten up a bit and enjoy yourself."
The blond-haired priest continues to bellow on, as the inn keeper collects her new charges,
"Lo, the Light of the Everlasting Sun is fading, and the terrors of the Moonless Night descend upon the coils of the Dragon Between. Lo, the Dragon Below gathers its forces to spew forth indescribable abominations into the darkness that will soon descend upon us all. Only those who trust in Her Light will be delivered unto the Hopeful Dawn. Thus sayeth the holy words of the Incandescent Mysteries."
Guiscard sighs at the continued droning on of the priest.
"It's times like these I desperately wish I'd bothered to learn a Silence spell." says, loudly enough that hopefully the priest can hear him.
“Right, right. Terrors of the Moonless Night and all that.” Sieghart muttered to himself as he followed behind Aria, Fenrir in tow. He wasn’t about to rock the boat, but after a long day on the road, he was eager to get some real food in his stomach. Hell, even if Tannenbaum’s Chalice did have the last beds in the city, so long as he didn’t have to worry about getting rained on or his throat torn out in his sleep, it would practically be paradise. “Say, Ms. Tannenbaum, if you don’t mind, what’s the stabling situation like at this place? I’ll need to put my partner here up for the night.” He gestured towards the two-wheeled steel mount following at his heels. “He’s not the type to start a fight either, so you won’t have to worry about him making trouble.”
"Bad dragon is bad." Giri adds helpfully to the priest's sermon.
"I will do no such thing," Tyrant responded to Vinexia, watching her movements but being puzzled by them more than anything. "If there will be trouble, I will act accordingly, and I am ready for it. I suggest everyone does the same."
“Right, right. Terrors of the Moonless Night and all that.” Sieghart muttered to himself as he followed behind Aria, Fenrir in tow. He wasn’t about to rock the boat, but after a long day on the road, he was eager to get some real food in his stomach. Hell, even if Tannenbaum’s Chalice did have the last beds in the city, so long as he didn’t have to worry about getting rained on or his throat torn out in his sleep, it would practically be paradise. “Say, Ms. Tannenbaum, if you don’t mind, what’s the stabling situation like at this place? I’ll need to put my partner here up for the night.” He gestured towards the two-wheeled steel mount following at his heels. “He’s not the type to start a fight either, so you won’t have to worry about him making trouble.”
Aria directs her new charges with a broad gesture of invitation to enter through the Scarlet Gate -- the primary route of entrance into the Outer or Lower City of Daal-Aryn. The name of the gate is derived from the slick color of the paint which covers its stonework, which is a bright scarlet that resembles freshly spilled blood. There are several traditions explaining this peculiar decoration, which is employed on none of the other gates. One has it that the color dissuades a specific predator from the Q'barran Jungle from attacking the gates. Another holds that it is a part of a ritual enacted by some of the Illuminated Scribes of the Lantern Bearers, and which both protects the gates, as well as somehow exerts the power of the worshippers of Dol Arrah upon those who pass below the serrated bars of its several portcullises. Yet another links it to some kind of Dhakaani tradition which was adopted by later settlers. None can say the truth.
The Dims, the western portion of the Lower City in which is located the brewery and inn known as Tannenbaum's Chalice, is made up of a labyrinth of narrow, dark, pock-marked streets. It is perhaps the least well-maintained and restored quarter of the city. What are generally adjudged to be the remnants of ancient Dhakaani architecture are more in evidence throughout the Dims than in the other sectors of the city, which have been renovated in a distinctly Cyran architectural style by the pilgrims of the Lanterns.
The center of the Dims is an ancient fortress known as Gloomhold or Gloamingholt or Guttermeet, or similar names. It is presumed to have been an ancient acropolis of strongpoint of the Dhakaani settlement that preceded the present-day city, but its original goblinoid name, whatever it might have been, has been lost to time and memory. Positioned near to the Gloomhold is an ancient armory that rumors associate with some kind of combustible powder developed by the goblinoid races, but whose means of manufacture have since been lost.
Though it contains a diverse population of beggars, transients, and others, the major factions within the Dims are the Dhakaani clans that seek to investigate and, if possible, reclaim some measure of their ancient technology. It is widely believed that these groups have connections with the foreign nations of Darguun and Droam, and this belief leads the other locals to give the Dhakaani and their allies a wide berth, and treat them with suspicion. Nevertheless, they are the principle means of protection and, in some cases, exchange and manufacture within the district, especially for those whose credit or affiliations place them at odds with the Lanterns.
The other major faction of the district is safe house of the Church of the Silver Flame, whose members are alarmed by the increasing influence of the Lanterns within Q'barra. They see the worst excesses of the Shifter Inquisitions within the recent behavior and posturing of the Lantern Bearers, and hope to direct its members and the populace to a more balanced and moderate faith in the Silver Flame. Though they have gained some adherents among the downtrodden of the city, their mission has not yet borne as much evangelistic fruit as the church's hierarchy in Thrane had originally hoped -- yet they have got given up, and will continue to espouse their faith.
Tannenbaum's Chalice is a small complex which rests towards the central eastern side of the district, on the opposite side of the Gloomhold from the Scarlet Gates. It is two stories tall, and consists of two buildings joined by a second story bridge, as well as stables a small grounds divided from the rest of the district by a short wall of ancient rock salvaged from the ruins.
As the group arrive, Aria proudly points out her establishment.
"Well, friends, here we are, now who's hungry?"
"Famished, thank you. They did not serve a proper meal upon the rail, so I haven't eaten much of anything since lunch yesterday."
Giri's hand rockets up at the mention of food and he stands on his toes so he can be seen better.
"Oh me! Me too! I'm so hungry I could eat a horse! Can I get a lot of whatever you have that has meat?"
Giri's hand rockets up at the mention of food and he stands on his toes so he can be seen better.
"Oh me! Me too! I'm so hungry I could eat a horse! Can I get a lot of whatever you have that has meat?"
Aria smiles, "I think we can accommodate that request."
Tannenbaum's Chalice is built in an unmistakable Aundairian style that perhaps betrays the nationality of its mistress.
The majority of the structure is made up of interlinked logs of large size, as well as sections of wattle and daub. The entire structure is ornamented with elaborate, brightly colored carvings on its lintels, dormers, windowsills, and other structural elements.
The overall effect is of a fairy tale winter-land gingerbread house come to brilliant life within the grimy surroundings of the Dims.
A warm glow emanates from the front door as Aria leads the group inside. A full sized hog is roasting over the fire, emanating clouds of spicy fragrance as it rotates on a spit over the flames.
The interior of the common room is filled with plush chairs and hardwood tables, as well as a set of billiards, throwing darts, roulette tables, and a bowling lane, among other entertainments.
Upon the walls are mounted a variety of weaponry and hunting devices, as well as the taxidermized heads of natural and unnatural flora and fauna. Several large murals of open wilderness complete the upper registers of the large room.
In addition to the mitra catfolk Vinexa, the kobold Tyrant, the mou rabbitfolk Guiscard, the draconic tanninim Giridonyth, the white haired human Sieghart, and the drow Mithuth, there is a small party of additional travelers -- three dragonborn from nearby Ka'rhashan, just up the Crimson River from Daal-Aryn, a warforged, several half orc and human representatives of House Tharashk, identified by their Dragonmarked House sigils of their livery, several Dhakaani warriors, and a small band of corsairs from the Lhazaar Principalities.
Vinexa did her best to memorize the route from the gates to Tannenbaum's Chalice. It fell into her first rule, always have an escape route. She'd work on others as she could since the first subsection for rule one was "When Possible have more than one way out".
Once they arrived at their destination Vinexa looked at the establishment curiously. It reminded her of some of the structures she'd seen in her travels and she always found the style quaint. As she looked at it Vinexa heard Aria ask if they were hungry and Vinexa's stomach gave a rather loud rumble as she said, "Yes!"
Once they were inside Vinexa looked around at the interior. She noted all of the different people, some of them obvious groups, possibly factions, and saw a far greater variety than she had expected. There were various types of games and mounted animal heads on the walls. The place was quite eclectic and Vinexa found it growing on her already as she eagerly began to look for the food.
the mou rabbitfolk Guiscard
Giri receives a pat on the back as his handler goes to join his half-orc fellows of House Tharashk. In all his terrible, youthful splendor, the energy built up in Giri waiting in the lines unleashes itself as he sprints full speed from pointing at various things on the walls, to somewhat decent attempts at the various games, before finally ending at the Dragonborn travelers by the "human" boy abruptly pulling into an open seat if there is one available or standing nearby and calling to them.
"Hey, hey! Hi! I'm Giri! You have scales. Where are you from? Whatcha doing here? Wait wait wait, I'm hungry. I'll be right back!" Giri sprints to wherever the food is being served and comes back with a large plate stacked with victuals.
the mou rabbitfolk Guiscard
Giri receives a pat on the back as his handler goes to join his half-orc fellows of House Tharashk. In all his terrible, youthful splendor, the energy built up in Giri waiting in the lines unleashes itself as he sprints full speed from pointing at various things on the walls, to somewhat decent attempts at the various games, before finally ending at the Dragonborn travelers by the "human" boy abruptly pulling into an open seat if there is one available or standing nearby and calling to them.
"Hey, hey! Hi! I'm Giri! You have scales. Where are you from? Whatcha doing here? Wait wait wait, I'm hungry. I'll be right back!" Giri sprints to wherever the food is being served and comes back with a large plate stacked with victuals.
One of the half-orcs from Giri's house beam at his draconic fellow's appearance, and quickly introduces himself,
"Well met Giri, I am Tukhach Drol Hraga d'Velderan of Zarash'ak the city of stilts of the Shadow Marches, an emissary, like yourself, of House Tharashk. And these," Tukhach gestures individually towards and names each his associate, including their clan (not surprising, since members of House Tharashk rarely refer to themselves by the name of their Dragonmarked House, but rather identify themselves by clan affiliation), "are Brul Utris d'Velderan, Khukros Gras d'Velderan, Guugherg Goktan Grath d'Velderan, Hrirm Thriktuudhaurk d'Torrn, Delunvus Cidzu d'Aashta, and" he points out the lone human male among the envoys of the Dragonmarked House of the Shadow Marches, "Elihu Abraham Sterling d'd'Velderan, our chief procurator in the Hierocratic City State of Daal-Aryn -- he makes contact with potential employers and arranges our contracts. My other dragonborn associates are all highly trained duraak'ash and wayfinders. I tell you, Giri, we have had no shortage of work here, and I have arrived with my fellows on the request of Elihu because of their volume of contracts to be had in this city. And, pray tell, what brings you to these far shores, the opposite side of Khorvaire from our noble house's homelands in the Shadow Marches of the far west? We have come at the behest of Clan Velderan, but as I was not apprised of your arrival, I would guess that you represent the interests of another clan of our noble house?" Tukhach finishes with an inquiring expression, clearly eager to know more of reason behind Giri's presence in the Q'barra.
Tyrant takes stock of the people in the room. Sizing them up, especially the Dragonborn, and noting their weapons and armor, if any. If they decided to leave their effects in their room, Tyrant would simply deem them fools, not worth battling.
Regardless, there were other ways to win. After looking over the room's residents, Tyrant passed by the delicious smelling hog. Wasn't quite done yet. Almost. He headed towards the human entertainment set up. Some of it was strange and foreign to him. Weird tables covered in colored balls, other tables with spinning wheels and smaller balls, and long lanes meant to smash down columns with heavy balls.
The humans seemed to have an odd fascination with those.
Throwing darts, however, he understood perfectly. A game of skill the Gix back home had picked up in their travels. If there were a free board and darts, Tyrant would not hesitate to step up and practice his aim.
Vinexa did her best to memorize the route from the gates to Tannenbaum's Chalice. It fell into her first rule, always have an escape route. She'd work on others as she could since the first subsection for rule one was "When Possible have more than one way out".
Once they arrived at their destination Vinexa looked at the establishment curiously. It reminded her of some of the structures she'd seen in her travels and she always found the style quaint. As she looked at it Vinexa heard Aria ask if they were hungry and Vinexa's stomach gave a rather loud rumble as she said, "Yes!"
Once they were inside Vinexa looked around at the interior. She noted all of the different people, some of them obvious groups, possibly factions, and saw a far greater variety than she had expected. There were various types of games and mounted animal heads on the walls. The place was quite eclectic and Vinexa found it growing on her already as she eagerly began to look for the food.
Aria quickly gathers up her staff and begins to serve the travelers. She begins by calling out, "Navier, where are you my dear, we have a many guests to entertain this evening. Most have traveled a long distance to reach our door, and I think they would all appreciate some evening entertainment to take their minds from the cares of the road."
At her summons, a tall, dark haired man with a distinctive, aquiline nose appears at the summit of the stairs to the establishment's second level. He leisurely descends the carpeted stairs, his silver-buckled shoes barely making a sound. Navier smiles beatifically as he withdraws his mandolin from over his shoulder, the practiced gesture calling to mind the studied habit of a knight withdrawing his sword. What would seem to be the house's resident minstrel is dressed in an elegant jacket of golden fabric which covers a ruffled linen shirt decorated in a similar style to Aria's garments. His colorful stockings are a bright pink.
"I am only my mistress' to command," the man pronounces as he finishes his descent, "well, then, I wonder if any of you fine folk have heard the tale of the Great Battle of Haka'torvhak which took place during the Age of Demons?"
Guiscard grabs a plate and sets himself up within listening distance of the somewhat out of place table of Dragonmarked representatives. Pirates, warriors, all expected in such a seemingly lawless burg on the fringes of society. These people though...well, they might know some interesting gossip at least.
Tyrant takes stock of the people in the room. Sizing them up, especially the Dragonborn, and noting their weapons and armor, if any. If they decided to leave their effects in their room, Tyrant would simply deem them fools, not worth battling.
Regardless, there were other ways to win. After looking over the room's residents, Tyrant passed by the delicious smelling hog. Wasn't quite done yet. Almost. He headed towards the human entertainment set up. Some of it was strange and foreign to him. Weird tables covered in colored balls, other tables with spinning wheels and smaller balls, and long lanes meant to smash down columns with heavy balls.
The humans seemed to have an odd fascination with those.
Throwing darts, however, he understood perfectly. A game of skill the Gix back home had picked up in their travels. If there were a free board and darts, Tyrant would not hesitate to step up and practice his aim.
[dice=Darts]1d20+7
Noting Tyrant's dart throwing, one of the Lhazaar corsairs approaches, nods politely, and also picks up a dart. The man is dressed one of the distinctive tri-fold nautical hats of the Principalities known as a tricone. His coat is a brilliant sapphire paisley pattern, with a luxurious trim of silver filigree. His black handlebar mustache and gunslinger beard style complete a dashing profile.
"Well met traveler, I am Constant Reginald Rayburn, a sailor of the noble vessel Intrepid. You seem to have the mien of a worthy combatant at games of skill, and I would test my mettle against yours in this challenge. What say you?"
