Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: Sunset
Weather: While the season is broaching on winter the temperature is unseasonably warm out, feeling more like a mid-spring day than well past harvest time. It rained earlier in the day, so the air is thick with humidity. With the sun setting the temperature is dropping but still well in the 60's Fahrenheit. Clouds still hang in the sky and are rolling quickly with the steady winds kicking up.
General Ambiance: A grey overtone to the colors around makes it seem sickenly dreary thanks to the weather and tensions are running high with all you pass due to the war between humans and Orcs.
Location: Hamlet of Salarn in the region of Gorlf just south of the Orc Settlement of Yzewz
Setting: The Hamlet of Salarn is reasonably sized with multiple roads cutting through it. Main points of interest include -
- Crossed Swords Inn And Tavern - Center of Town - 2 Story Building - The heart of the city, stable attached to the north side of the Tavern.
- The Graveyard - Northwest Outskirts of Town - Multiple Graves have been dug up.
- Deymins Tower - Northeast Outskirts of Town - 3 Story Cylindrical Stone Tower - Where the Necromancer is holding up and protected by his undead.
- Constable & Cells - South Center of Town - The towns Constable is here as well as the jail and all things militia.
- The Temple - North Center Of Town - Single Story Large Building With Two Story Tower - several militia posted outside.
- Streets are moderately crowded with people.
- Plenty of shops - General Store, Apothecary, Armorer, Blacksmith, Jeweler, Market Trade - All scattered through out the city between the cottages.
And So We Begin
The sun was setting and streams of orange and crimson broke the horizon, casting ominous shadows throughout the hamlet of Salarn. The town was surrounded by makeshift barricades constructed of spiked tree trunks. It was not much but it was enough to slow an attack and raise the growing militia. The only entrance to the Salarn laid at the south and was guarded by several of the militia who would stop and question any they thought looked suspicious. Trust was not a luxury they could afford right then.
Standing on the porch of the Law Building was an older man, picking his teeth and nodding every so often at the passersby. He did not appear to have much in the way weapon or armor but his clothing was finer than most. The constable known as Marcus to those in Salarn, whom was in charge of the local militia, was flanked on each side by two commonly dressed men with pole arms. His features seemed plagued with the on goings of the town; the raids were anything but a secret in this part of the region and word traveled fast.
To the north, at the Crossed Swords Tavern & Inn, the mood was very different than throughout the rest of Salarn. Inside the people were jovial and enjoying themselves, trading tales of the last Orc Raid. Even though they had lost many, many an Orc had been slaughtered and the advance had been stopped. They rose their pints of ale to the fallen and laughed as the smell of burning corpses would waft into the town from time to time; the bodies of the Orc being set aflame in a pit to the far east of the village.
The people sang songs and standing on the bar that ran the length of one of the walls inside of the tavern stood a jovial gnome who cracked jokes and let the ale flow to all the patrons. A bright smile remained plastered on his face as he served those that came into the tavern for drink or rest. Nothing seemed to be able to bring this little man down and his personality was larger than life; heart of a dragon he did have.
“Let them come, we will smite them and bring them down to my size! And then I will drink another pint! To Salarn!” the gnome yelled out as he beat his chest. The patrons rose their pints and cheered, smacking their hands on the tables and bar tops.
“To Femnal the Great!” the patrons yelled in response and the gnome laughed.
“To me!” Femnal laughed as he downed a pint.
At the bar smirking to himself was an older man who was thick, never having missed a meal, with a far too wide brimmed hat. Femnal jumped down and took a seat next to the man patting him on the shoulder. The man chuckled as he watched Femnal, hushed words spoken between them that was drowned out by the cheers and ruckus of the patrons.
“I see, I will let you know if I see anything Cremwise,” Femnal said with a broad smile on his lips before heading back behind the bar and tending to the people once again. Cremwise nodded and turned around, placing his back to the bartop and watching the festivities with much interest; taking note of those that would enter the tavern.
Location: Arriving At Salarn
Interacting With: Ash & Militia Outside of Salarn
Interacting With: Ash & Militia Outside of Salarn
It had been a long and arduous journey, days out on the merchants roads, passing by those that had enough of the turmoil in Salarn and were heading away from the war. Others were in a hurry to make their way to the hamlet in hopes of making a quick gold piece selling their wares.
Kyra paid them no mind and few dared approach her, not because of her appearance, she seemed harmless enough due to stature and build; the young dire wolf that padded along beside her though was another story. Any that would try to come near her seemed to be met with bared teeth and a warning growl. Kyra could only shrug to those that would come close as she ran her fingers through his thick fur.
"Ash, do you think you are being a bit too protective?" Kyra said in a soft bird like voice as she knelt down and scratched the top of his head. Ash looked at her before turning his head and growling at yet another that came to close to his Alpha. Kyra just rolled her eyes and rose, continuing her way towards Salarn.
As the sun began to set the town came into view and a relieved sigh came from the platinum headed ranger, pulling the hood of her mantle back. She was looking forward to a meal that did not consist of dried anything and a bed of feathers down instead of a trees limb this evening.
"What business do you have here?" one of the militia asked as she approached the entrance to Salarn, Ash stepping between her and the poorly equipped man.
"I come on behalf of the Woodland Elves to see what is happening with the Orcs to the North," Kyra stated flatly.
"You are not an elf," he said in a ranger proud voice.
"Really? I didn't know," she quipped quickly. "I thought my ears would surely get pointy eventually."
The man narrowed his eyes and Kyra shook her head slightly, she wondered if he had hit every branch on the stupid tree as he fell. Taking a deep breath she explained that word had reached the Woodland Elves that goblins would be trying to create an alliance with the Orcs in this skirmish and she was sent to find out of such rumors were true.
"Oh, I.. I don't know. You would need to speak with Marcus, you can find him at his office just north of the entrance," the man said. Kyra nodded and began to make her way within the city walls. "But your dog has to stay here."
Ash growled at the man, his fur rising slightly. Kyra shrugged as she kept walking. "If you think you can stop him, go ahead," she said in a snarky tone and Ash took off to come up beside her. The militia just stood there watching as Kyra and Ash wandered into Salarn.
"Yeah, well, just keep him on a short leash!" the man called , trying to retain some kind of imaginary dignity.