((OOC: DM Post))

The group bid their adieus to the General and his assistant, leaving the barracks and beginning the journey northwards towards the prison away from the center of festivities. As they traveled further from the center of town, the quality of the architecture steadily declined from the wide and well-maintained cobble streets and pristine buildings to muddy narrow passages and crumbling mud-brick walls. 

The populace gradually shifted from humans and elves to a higher quantity of tieflings, half-orcs, and other races generally assumed to be low-lives. If it weren’t for their kurjian ally leading the way promising that the prison was just ahead, many of the party may have thought they were being led towards a den of thieves. They wouldn’t be far from the truth, in any case.

“Watch it!” came a voice from up ahead, angrily calling out after a half-elf maid who was sprinting towards them. Behind her was a group of several less-than-pleasant-looking ruffians. A goliath with blue tattoos crossing his angered face led the charge of a rodent kurjian, a human, and another form whose face was covered with a mask. 

“Get back here and face your death, you cowardly snake-oil salesman!” came the angry bellow from the goliath. “That potion did absolutely nothing, and you know it!” The townsfolk in the street pressed themselves against the wall as the group barreled through the narrow streets. The half-elf didn’t slow down at the call, but instead ran directly into the party. Unable to push past them, she looked to be trapped between these newcomers and the ruffians behind her.