The refugees that streamed in were a constant trickle; not the overwhelming tide of desperate survivors, but still very much adding up to a crowd. The city's gates were impressive and thick, despite the apparent lack of recent maintenance. Even on the other side of the city, the smell of the sea was evident in the air, clearing their sinuses and reminding them of the potential possibilities that lay within Varone itself. As it were, they first had to get [i]in[/i] the city, and from the looks of the guards pulling people out of the crowd, it might be easier said than done. Judging by Raddek's expression watching the crowd, it was clear he hadn't seen this sort of thing the last time he had come here. Images of his contingent marching to the walls flashed through his mind, being welcomed with open arms by the Grand Duchess, the ambitious woman having some agreement with the Order's Lord Commander. It seemed such a gorgeous city then. The backdrop was granted some manner of a tune as Lorcan burst out into song, and it was hard to gauge just what the group thought of their descriptions as he went. The serfs and travelers passing by stared; some even stopping to watch and listen, though he only received 2 copper commons for his trouble from a wander merchant that seemed well off on his own, chuckling at the performance. 

"Let's keep as low of a profile as we can," Raddek said to Emmaline, though he gave Lorcan a sideways glance. "If there's a reason to tell people about it, then sure. But right now, I don't know how it might help anyone." 

Reyvadin and Jaina had good points, though before Raddek could step forward he felt Migi slap his rump and talked about going someplace with a roof over their heads. Raddek flushed in surprise, not entirely sure how to take that, but he agreed with her sentiment wholeheartedly. As the big man moved, he spoke to Falfer. "Believe me, this is...or was, the most lavish city in seven hundred miles. But it's seen better days, definitely." 

The group began to move, gathering closer together so they weren't swept away by any of the other coalesced groups of victims and wanderers packed together between the gates. With their cloaks, they were able to move closer unmolested, but once there, it was inevitable they were to be seen passing by. With kettle helms to help guard the face from falling arrows and fine mail armor, the guards held billhooks like staves and lifted hoods off of those they thought suspicious. Most of the group moved without fear, but Faeril, Reyvadin, Raddek, and Lorcan were halted, a guardsman with his hand out blocking their entry. 

"Hold! Halt strangers. These are dangerous times." He declared, and two of his subordinates removed the hoods from their heads if they had them donned. "If you wish to enter the city, you will give us a gate tax of two silver lordlings for the new High Council. Your friends seem reasonable sorts, and though we see no taint on you, we have little tolerance for any more ruffians. Fork over two lordlings or be cast out!" 

The rest of the group within could stay near, just on the other side. Past the milling throng of people, the city of Varone was veritably romantic in design and formidable in structure, as most of the larger buildings were made of fine white stone, as were the bridges that bisected the various lagoons that paralleled the busy streets. The city itself looked vast, but even from a tall man's vantage point, they could get a glimpse of the wharves that rose above the lower built, southern portion of the 'island' they were on. An immaculate palace with only a few noticeable flaws rose into a towering spire at the center to the north west, reaching above the rest of the city like a great tree amongst the bushes, in someone like Lorcan's view. 

It seemed only a few of their group were allowed in at the moment, however. Would they pay, or would their comrades help them out? Glancing around, there were a dozen soldiers manning the gates from below, and who knew how many stalking the walls above just waiting to be called to action?