Game Session Notes: 3-2-19 City of Trenfield

The Floating Island makes a single large loop around Terra.  Every so often, it covers some of the major continents in its roundabout journey.  One of these continents is the northern tip of Panecta, the home of Alwyn.  It has been three months’ time since you arrived on the island, and are now above the northern tip of Panecta.  

You sail your way through the air across the waters toward Alwyn.  You do not know what to expect.  As you draw nearer to the coastline, you can see dozens and dozens of airships in the air--merchant ships, passenger travel ships, transport ships, and no small amount of Rhen Autarchy occupying military airships.  Three of these heavily armed and armored vessels descend from their posts and approach you…

 

Thorin uses the automatons to try to signal to the ships, talking with them while the rest of us get ready. Ragnar gets in his finest Iron Falcon Armory clothes, Ruby dresses up like Eliza and gets Mutiger a helmet so he can pretend to be a “red orc”. Hikaru hides in a barrel in the hold.

After some tense discussions with the soldiers and paladins who board to speak with us, they leave, satisfied. Mutiger keeps an eye on them while they go, intimidating them. We approach the areoport of Trenfield.

The Port City of Trenfield, like it’s cousins in the west, east, and south, is a large, bustling aeroport and sea port city.  It is nestled in a large lodgepole pine tree forest along the cliffside coastline.  The logging industry is booming here, and has a large stake in things in the city.  Many airships sit to port, while many sailing ships also sit to port.  Low, wooden buildings built with log exteriors dot the entirety of the landscape here.  The people here are mostly human, with some dwarves from the Elingrad Kingdoms intermingling.  The streets are crawling with banners, flags, and soldiers of the Rhen Autarchy.  It looks to you like the initial invasion, as far as you can tell, was a success.  Propaganda is everywhere…

 

The group now has the opportunity to explore the city of Trenfield.  Before they can do so, however, they must go to the customs building and register all weapons that they carry.  They are then free to explore the stores, shops, inns, blacksmiths, gunsmiths, apothecaries, the local cathedral to Tarj, gambling houses, fun houses, etc.  

 

Hikaru makes his way back to the ship, not wanting to register his weapons at all. Eliza heads to the building with the others, and sets her pistol on the counter to register it. She tries to be as kindly and friendly as possible. Next in line, Ragnar walks up. First thing he does is slams down his rifle, the size of a small cannon with a box magazine. He slams down his two revolvers, and then embeds his axe from Mutiger in the counter.

He puts his hands on the counter and he leans forward. “Let’s get one thing straight… registering weapons… when you’re a weapon maker... is asinine.”

The customs official scoots a few feet away from him nervously. “Very well, very well…” He hefts up the cannon and looks it over. Tagging it and the others, he stands up and puts his hands on the table, looking at Ragnar. “Understand you are a weapon dealer in Alwyn, but also of the Holy Domains of Lenova. There are laws to follow. If you break them… you will be in deep trouble. I hope we are on an understanding.”

“Oh I’m sure you’ve already seized all my weapons that were already here...” he grumbles.

“Maybe, maybe not. I do not know personally.”

“Where do I find these… rules?”

The official turns around, fishing around in a box and pulls out a stack of papers at least 3 inches thick.

Ragnar reaches across the counter and grabs them from him, “The Iron Falcon thanks you for getin’ in my way.” He turns and walks away.

Mutiger now approaches, looking behind him for one of his friends. Eliza looks at him nervously, and Thorin whispers, “Maybe he needs some help with… this.” She comes up to assist. “Pardon me, not to take more of your time, sir. This is Mutiger, high chief and red orc of the Crimson Hand in western Elingrad. Does he need to register his weapon as an emissary? He is only passing through.”

“Yes, all persons must register all weapons. It is the law.”

She looks over at Mutiger and nods her head slightly. “Well, his… sword is likely much too large to set on the counter. Can he hold it while it is tagged?”

“Very well.” The man says. Mutiger removes it, holding the blade very tightly. He glares at the man.

He tags it real fast, then shoos him away, staring at the large orc. Mutiger glares at him the entire time and then he walks away.

Ragnar is setting on a bench outside, trying to read through this nonsense… BS he was given. It was written in legal jargon and very difficult to read. As he’s grumbling his way through it, Thorin walks up and gives him a slap on the back. “Ya enjoying your book?”

“I’m about ready to shoot the damn thing.”

He pulls out his tinker gloves, “You wanna burn it instead?”

“Nah, I wanna stick it to the wall and put a hole in it!”

“You can blow it apart into confeeeetti…”

“Nah, I mean THEIR wall.” He points to the building, and Thorin nods understandably.

All your weapons are now registered in the city of Trenfield. Upon entering the city, you see metal signs stamped on large pilasters on every single street corner. They say the following:

Welcome to the City of Trenfield!

Rules and Regulations

1. All patrons of the City of Trenfield must stay on designated roadways and walkways, and use designated transportation, unless prior authorization and licensing is acquired for use of private transportation.
2. All weapons of war, ranged or close combat weapons, must be registered at the customs office and peace-bonded.  No exceptions!
3. All firearms must be unloaded and safely stored away in a satchel, box, or other container on the individual carrier’s person, and be locked.  Ammunition must be stored in a separate box or container and locked.
4. There shall be no displaying or brandishing of weapons of any kind in any fashion in public for any reason.  The only exception is self-defense, upon which after diffusing the threatening situation, all individuals involved shall be brought in for questioning, and their weapons confiscated.
5. There is a city-wide curfew of 7:00 pm.  All individuals must be indoors at that time, all schools must close at that time, and all businesses must be closed by 15 minutes by that time.
6. All disreputable, and otherwise suspicious person shall be taken in for questioning.
7. All persons and individuals must pay homage to the Great, Wise Tarj in the local Cathedral once per day.  
8. All persons and individuals must attend church services every Sunday.  No exceptions.
9. For the Glory of the Rhen Autarchy, all individuals and persons must join in singing the jubilant National Anthem of the Autarchy at noon.
10. Thrice per day, all individuals and persons must pay a levy of no less than 5 sp at the local monument of the Führer.  A more generous levy is always welcome!
11. Persons and individuals shall not gather together in groups of no more than four at a time.

Enjoy your stay!

As soon as we see these, Ragnar flags down one of the guards and holds up his cannon. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”

“Carry it… non-threateningly?” He shrugs.

“If anyone tries to take it, I will be ready to unpack it.” He grumbles to Mutiger as the officer walks away.

Mutiger mumbles under his breath, “I don’t even know what the national anthem is…”

Ragnar, “That makes two of us.”

Thorin, “No kidding... how does anyone expect anyone to get around this place? Paying homage at the cathedral… paying them 15 sp a day… how do they expect us to DO anything? And these cerfews… this is ridiculous. I wonder if I could make some nickel pieces and pass them off as silver…”

The first thing Ragnar wants to do is check out his shop and nearby warehouse. Mutiger seems ready to follow him.

Suddenly, we see a figure approaching us. She has a large greatsword at her back and a cloak on, with a hood covering her face. The greatsword rivals Mutiger’s greatsword.

Mutiger eyes the weapon appreciatively.

Immediately, as the figure arrives close to where we are at, she veers left. She only looked like she was approaching you. As she goes around the building and out of eyesight, she goes to one of the residential homes and climbs up to the roof.

Mutiger follows, impressed with the weapon she’s carrying. He rounds the corner, and sees nobody there… she’s gone now. He looks around the alleyway and shrugs, going back to the group.

“Don’t worry now, we’ll see em again I’m sure.” Ragnar says to Mutiger.

“Do you want to go with them, Thorin? Or explore elsewhere? Do you have business?” Eliza says to Thorin.

He thinks. “Is there any places here where Mr. Luther would have had business?”

She gets a pained look on her face, thinking back on her scrying with Balgor. “No, not him directly… I believe he’s still stationed at his office in Cyron. But I know he did some business with Rufus Littlefield, the owner of the logging company. We can try there for information.”

Mutiger motions for everyone to pause. He reaches in a pouch. He pulls out a stone. He looks at it, and then puts it back. Then he pulls out another, and puts it back. “I… do not remember how these work.”

Eliza looks at him, “What are they? Where’d you get them?”

He smiles. “From Balgor.” He pulls another out. “I think I.. give this to you? And I talk to through this one.”

Eliza puts the stone to her ear like a seashell. “I don’t hear anything.”

He pulls out another. “Can you hear me now?” She hears him loud and clear through the stone. Her eyes widen in surprise.

Mutiger grins broadly.

She gets really excited, and puts it in her purse. “How many do you have?”

He looks in his pouch, then at the one in his hand, trying to think. “Six?”

“Do… do we all want to take one?” She looks over at Ragnar and Thorin.

“Balgor said something about… pairs… I don’t know what group has anything to do about it…” And then he grins.

Ragnar shrugs. “Well, I’m with Mutiger, and Thorin’s with Eliza. No sense everyone havin’ a stone.” Mutiger hands one to Ragnar anyway.

Ragnar takes it, shakes it, looks at it, puts it up to his ear, and into his bag.

Suddenly, black cracks appear in the air in front of us. Ragnar looks at them and backs away. “I know what those are… Everyone.. get away, now.”

Eliza backs away, afraid. “What is it??”

He mutters under his breath as he walks away hurriedly. “Magic! Broken.. here…” *cough cough* He tries to keep his voice down.

Eliza turns to walk quickly toward the logging company with Thorin.

Ragnar and Mutiger are going toward Ragnar’s shop. Both locations are north of where we are, so we travel together for a while on the main thoroughfare, Main Street. Then we split up, going our separate ways.

Meanwhile… someone continues to follow us. Sneaking across the rooftops, she carefully runs after.  She noticed something about them back there… these people talked through strange looking stones, and strange black energy formed. “These people are very curious…”

At the corner of the fork in the road, the strange woman stops in the church. She almost gags but composes herself. She tries to keep an eye on both parties, ascending the stairs to the upper level. Staring out a window, she stays, watching their actions. Two going to a closed down warehouse, and two to the logging company. She mutters, “What is your business here…”

Ragnar and Mutiger approach the warehouse. It is locked tight and closed down. Some attempts were made to break in to the warehouse, but failed. “It’s a good thing they didn’t get in… otherwise we’d be standin’ in a crater.” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a key. Now in the Iron Falcon Armory and Metal Shop, they head in.

The shady figure tries to follow after the other two heading to the logging company, not all too quietly. Thorin turns around to see what the racket is, seeing someone running toward them. He pulls out his omnistaff and holds it up in front of him. Eliza grips her parasol tightly.

The figure stops, “Are you here for nefarious reasons? State your business, or I’ll cut off your head… if it were but a bit higher off the ground.” She glares at us. Eliza and Thorin are quiet a moment, before he breaks the silence. “We are only here on business, nothing more.” “You best be… How do I know that is your intention? Can you prove it?”

Eliza pipes up, “You are the one rushing at us, with aggressive intent. We are here for business, like my associated stated. We have a connection with Rufus from a long time ago, and are only checking in. Miss..?” She stares.

The warrior bristles. “That is privileged information… but I suppose I will tell you this. I am Selrin. And I am the guardian of this business. If you are here to do any harm, I will bring you to justice.” She turns to start walking away.  

Eliza scoffs in a haughty manner. “Will you not accompany us? What kind of guard are you, to not stay and monitor our intentions?”

Selrin pauses. “I said I was a guardian, not a guardsman.” She continues onward.

“Semantics. Eliza huffs and turns to walk away. She and Thorin continue to the entrance. We knock and the door opens inward. A young woman answers, “Yes? May I help you? Do you have an appointment?”

“We would like to make one to meet with Littlefield. For… now.” Eliza smiles.

“Let me check our schedule, she motions for us to follow. We head down a hall and then into a lobby. The secretary goes behind the desk and through a ledger she says, “Yes we have time now, actually, you can come see him.”

We enter another room and see a portly looking man with a large moustache, with a flannel tie looking over some construction plans. He looks up as we enter. “Yes, yes how can I help you?”

We talk for a while, and he states he does remember Luther. “Skinny fellow? Bit of a dandy?” “That’s the one.” Eliza smiles back. He mentions his contract to help Luther build the museum with lumber from their company from over a year ago. He also mentions the museum was rebuilt, but with some government contracts. Not though him.

Thorin asks, “So where would we go to re-acquire the things that were cased by the government to claim them back? Businesses, items…”

“You go up to your building, you give them an affidavit, and they give you your keys. But they monitor your whole business. Lovely stuff. Lovely stuff.” He grumbles.

Thorin rolls his eyes. “Joy…”

Rufus ponders, “I wonder how old Ragnar is doing... He’s in charge of IFA over across the street, do you know? I haven’t seen him in many many months. “

Thorin smiles. “Actually, he’s with us… he’s over there right now, if you’re interested in seeing him.”

Rufus is very happy to hear that. “I’ll finish up my work here and stop by later. Thanks!”

 

As Ragnar opens the doors, a big piff of dust flies up in his face. Turning on the oil lamps in his shop, everything seems to be in order. It was left pretty much as it was when he departed.

“Seems like nobody’s been in here since I left… that’s good. If they did… that’d mean the failsafe failed. It’s not supposed to do that.”

First thing that he does is check and make sure all the hidden caches are still there, so there is stuff for us to sell to make money and continue our journey. Checking each one of the hidden caches, nothing seems changed.

The warehouse has been completely untouched. Someone has put in a good word for you and kept things safe. “Well, I guess we should try getting some coin comin in.” He walks up into the loft and unlocks and pushes over a trapdoor. A large cannon rolls out. “You think Rhen will be mad if I launch a leaflet bomb?” He looks down at Mutiger. Mutiger shrugs with a smile.

Ragnar pulls the lever and a cannon rises up out of the roof. 150-200 ft in the air, a bomb explodes open in the sky raining down papers all across the center of town. “OPEN FOR BUSINESS – IFA”

It blows over the city and leaflets come tumbling down. People are screaming in the streets, paladins and soldiers are running this way and that trying to find where it came from. Selrin picks one up, looks over to where it came from, then back at the pamphlet. She then moves on.

IFA is now open for business. Anyone with a proper head on their shoulders head that way, but so do the authorities. Ragnar is sitting there, a table set up, with 6 revolvers atop. He smiles as soldiers and a few paladins burst through the door. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS? THIS… INTTERUPTION?”

“I have to let people know I’m open for business. Sorry for the trouble.” He picks up some revolvers and tosses them over. Some drop them but the lead guy catches one. “Huh…” He says as he looks it over, very impressed with it.

“I’ve been gone a while, so…”

The soldier grumbles. “You will cease and desist from doing anything like that ever again. If—if we see you performing any other visceral acts of… disruption, we will have you detained.”

Mutiger looks over at Ragnar. “I have no idea mate.”  He smiles back. Then he leans back in his chair and folds his arms. “I’m open for business.”

Mutiger leans over and picks up a pamphlet, and hands it to the soldier.

He stares at Mutiger, then at the paper. “Right…. You’re open for business. And you will stay open for business. We will send a dignitary your way and from there, you will be searched, confirmed, and the state will seize all of your assets.

Ragnar blinks. “Wait… they will do what now?”

Mutiger picks up another pamphlet and points at the opening and closing times on the front, indicating when they should come by.

The paladin shakes his head. “Arrrgh…” He slams the revolver on a table and walks out with the paladins in tow.

Ragnar gets up and heads to where the gun was set down. “What an arsehole!” He picks up the revolver and starts polishing it again, setting it at the table.

Ragnar directs Mutiger to keep their caches well hidden. “Seize all the assets… no they’re not.”

It is Sunday, so we are all required to go to the church as the bells start chiming. Thorin heads in and sits along the back wall in a corner. Eliza joins him, feeling uncomfortable.

Hearing the noise, Mutiger turns to Ragnar. “The churches… are they full?”

“Oh yes, they will be full.”

Mutiger grabs an armful of pamphlets. Ragnar smiles and does the same. “I like how you think.”

They hurry off to the church to start passing out the papers to all the patrons.

One of the lesser acolytes comes up. “Um sir, Do you think---“ He is cut off as Mutiger hands him a pamphlet. “Um.. thank.. you?” Mutiger ignores him and continues handing out pamphlets. Ragnar stops and leans on the stack of pamphlets next to him. He looks at the acolyte. “Yes?”

“Do you think you can… pass those out after the church services are over?”

“And when will those start?”

“Um.. they are going on now?”

“Oh… you mean we’re late.”

“Y-yes. You can still join us if you wish?”

Ragnar grabs the whole stack of pamphlets, motions for Mutiger to follow, and they throw them into the air.

Then Ragnar heads out to customs, Mutiger in tow, to check himself out of town and back to the airship to wait until church is over.

Church services end normally, with no Alkahest chosen today. The bell tolls, and Ragnar and Mutiger head back into town when they hear it. Meeting outside, Eliza sees them. She seems speechless. She looks like she wants to be mad, she looks worried and frustrated, but she’s trying to hide a smile. All she can seem to do is pat them both on the shoulder, and head off into town.

Walking out on the town we see—aside from all of the pamphlets blowing around--people are hustling and bustling about their business, some with their heads down, eyes to their feet. Others seem excessively happy. Each of you walks confidently through the city, your very presence filling the space around you with poise.  You go about your business, exploring and being extra scrupulous and careful in following the inner city rules.  

Little--if at all--do you notice the eyes that are watching you...or the figures flitting in and out of the shadows in back alleys just outside your peripheral--there and then gone as fast as you look...or the shades in windows eyeing you.  But you’re just going about your business and making sure you explore this vast city!  ….Aren’t you?

They make their way to the Peaceful Dove Bar. “Hey Mutiger, think those drunkards at the bar get out much? Let’s go take them some pamphlets.” Ragnar smiles. Nearby a man is trying to sweep up the papers with a push broom.

Ragnar picks up a pamphlet off the ground, handing it to the fellow. Mutiger copies him. The man stares at them. “What in the world is with you guys?” He shakes his head, totally flabbergasted. Mutiger picks up another for the man. Ragnar smiles, “One for your friends.”

Mutiger grabs one last one, follows into the bar, and hands it to the bartender. Everyone at the bar now has a pamphlet. Some look excited, some set it down and grumble.

“Will you have a drink…? Or something?” the bartender says to them. Ragnar looks at Mutiger. “We’re not open today. We can drink. Just not much.” Mutiger nods.

Ragnar jumps up on the barstool. “Aye, I’ll have something with bubbles. Make it an ale.” The bartender passes it over. He looks up at Mutiger. “And what’ll you have?”

Mutiger tries to copy Ragnar exactly, tumbling off the barstool. He stands up and sets down hurriedly. “I’ll have… some.. bubbly… uh.. beer?” “Beer?” The bartender takes a huge tankard and starts filling it up with several beers. Mutiger stares at it, having never had alcohol before.

The two down the alcohol together. Mutiger smiles. “This drink. I like it. Another!”

In the meantime, Eliza and Thorin head toward the tailor and merchant store. It’s fall now, so there’s lots of warmer clothes here that are fashionable. Browsing by the shops, Eliza asks Thorin, “Anything you think we need, Thorin? For our ship, or when we go to Central?”

“Hm.. we might need to get stuff to get more fuel for the ship. Perhaps provisions? I think we have enough vegetables from the island.” She nods.

They go to the merchant and get some items ordered for the ship, then head back to check on Hikaru and send automations to pick up the supplies.

Back at the bar, the townsfolk start chanting as the two have a massive drinking contest. Ragnar decides to mess with them a little bit. He wants to find the biggest looking guy in there and challenge him to a drinking contest. The man stands up, burley and muscular in the shoulders and chest. He looks like a logger.

Ragnar pulls out one of his very nice, personal revolvers and sets it on the counter. “I wager my revolver.” The man smiles. “Revolver, eh? I’ll wager… a platinum.”

“Let’s up the wager a bit… whatever you pick.” Ragnar smiles.

“I only drink this in small bits, cause it’d knock all these guys out in two sips. Andersons…… A sparkling rum.”

“Bring it on.”

The bartender mumbles under his breath, “I don’t want any trouble… no cops comin’ to my establishment… please…” He passes some cups of rum to the fellows.

Ragnar takes the cup without looking up, drinks it down, sets the cup down gently. “Not bad.”

The other fellow finishes and slams the cup down on the table. “Another!”

The men surround the table, chanting and hooting and hollering.

Selrin hears the noise coming from the Peaceful Dove. She sees Ragnar and Mutiger inside, Mutiger watching his friend engaged in this contest, unsure of what’s really going on. Ragnar and his opponent continue to drink and drink and drink.

“WHAT’D I SAY?” The logger yells. “He can’t hold his liquour……………….” The man falls on the floor with a heavy thump. Ragnar looks at the guy on the floor, then back to the bartender. “I’ll finish off his drink for ye.” He downs the two back to back, then passes the platinum to the bartender. “I might be here a while.”

Selrin enters, sitting down next to Ragnar.

“Well you’re a big one.” He says.

She takes off her helmet—a woman with tan skin and a scar over her eye. “I’ll take you on.”

“Alright.” He says. His revolver is still sitting on the table.

Mutiger sees the same figure, a woman, who has a large greatsword made up of the strangest but finest looking steel you’ve ever seen. He gets really close to the sword, looking up and down at it, admiring the workmanship.

Selrin does a double-take. “You know what,” She pulls it out and sets it on the counter. “This is adamantine steel. This is my wager.”

Ragnar drops the grin. “Are you sure you want to wager that? I know how difficult that steel is to work. That’s worth a lot more than this revolver is.”

She crosses her legs, staring at him. “I want to play.”

“Well I only have my other revolver, and it’s the same as that one.”

Mutiger stares. “Play? We… will… win?” He looks at the adamantine sword and looks at Ragnar. He takes off his own sword, setting it on the table. He looks at Selrin. “This is more valuable.”

He looks at Ragnar. “You will win.”

Ragnar looks at the bartender. “You may not have any… but you don’t happen to have any, maybe in a real dusty bottle… some Dwarven Fire water do ya?”

The bartender stands up, nervously. “I’ll be right back.”

“Sounds like an interesting ale…” Selrin muses.

“This isn’t ale, lass.. this is old liquour. Like stickin your tongue in a forge.”

“While we’re waiting… has everyone seen the opening of his business?” She says to the crowd. Everyone cheers holding up a pamphlet. “You’ve been busy Mutiger.” Ragnar smiles. Mutiger picks up a pamphlet and hands it to Selrin.

She takes it, looking it over. “You know… I’ve been wondering if the owner of that business has been gone a long time. A year…? We shall see how well you hold your drink, then.”

The bartender returns with a large keg, and fills a mug. It’s steaming, the pungent smell filling the entire room.

“So… this is the infamous dwarven firewater. Not even the great Iron Hide could take it on, could he?”

“Sure? Sounds about right.” Ragnar shrugs.

“Well lets’ get to it then.” Selrin picks up the drink and drinks it in three gulps, setting it down. Mutiger’s eyes are still on his weapon. They have not strayed, even when passing the pamphlet to her.

The drink burns like crazy going down. Ragnar picks his glass up taking a small sip, savoring the flavor before drinking the rest and setting the cup back down.

Selrin comments, “You have a lot more tact, I say. That’s good.”

Some paladins fill into the bar and see a drinking game going on between Ragnar and some tall woman. It’s going… and going, and going. The bartender keeps bringing in barrel after barrel. Several guys are also getting drinks from the firewater, getting incredibly drunk. A bar fight starts, with guys pushing and beating on each other.

One guy runs up to Mutiger, grabbing his horns. “LOOK AT THIS! What a cool helmet!” He drunkenly flops around, pulling on Mutiger’s head. The helmet tumbles off with large clatter.

The paladins don’t seem to be paying much attention, but they are now. He don’t look like anything they’ve ever seen before. “Stay this madness!” they draw their weapons.

Selrin looks at Ragnar. “Guess we’re done here! Thanks for the contest.” She grabs her sword.

Mutiger grabs his helmet stuffing it on his head and snatches his weapon, too.

“What in the name of the highest of high ones are you!?” They shout as they come toward him, peeling past people.

He looks over at Ragnar and Selrin. “Well…”

Ragnar looks at him, then at the paladin. “Well obviously you’ve never seen a red orc before. They’ve… got horns.”

They put their weapons away slowly. “Well you… and you… and you.” They point at the three of them. “Enough with your games. This is a peaceful establishment.” He picks up the ale, sniffs it, and dumps it on the floor. Tossing it on the counter, he grabs the bartender by the shirt. “Arrest this man, he’s been selling illegal booze!”

The bar grows quiet. Mutiger sits down with a mug, “Contest.” He looks at the paladin. “Between me and you.”

“A contest? For what? Orc?”

He takes his sword out again, slamming it on the table. “This, is what I wager.”

Selrin raises her eyebrows.

“If you turn it down, you lose your honor...” Ragnar mumbles to the paladin.

The paladin looks at him carefully. “Fine. We will continue this game. If you win, this man keeps his life. I win… you all come in for questioning, and this man is sent to prison.” He comes over to Mutiger. “We drink this… illegal drink. 3 rounds.”

The first drinks are gone. Mutiger is starting to feel the effects, with all the other alcohol from earlier still in him. But with the strong drink, the paladin seems affected more so. After the 2nd drink, Mutiger gets a second wind. He smiles. The paladin looks even more pale.  After the 3rd drink, Mutiger looks over. The paladin turns to a spittoon and retches. “I told you I had this… in.. the bag… What’da I tell ya, red orc!” He presses his finger into his chest. “That’s right… that’s right…” Mutiger takes a finger and pushes on him, and blows. The guy grumbles and falls back, unconscious.

The crowd goes wild cheering and whooping. The bartender comes over and pats you on the shoulder lightly, extremely grateful. “The next few you take are on the house, okay?”

Mutiger looks at him, not sure what that term means. Ragnar leans over, “It means he’s buyin you a few drinks. Enjoy em.”

Selrin comes over to Mutiger. “Very well done. What is your name?”

He looks up at her. “Mutiger.”

“Selrin.” She extends her hand for shaking. He takes her hand in a crushing grip. Hers is almost equally as strong. Mutiger grins. She nods to him and releases the handshake. Turning to his friend, she asks, “And your name good sir?”

Ragnar grins, leaning up in the chair. Extending his hand out, “I’m Ragnar. Owner and operator of the Iron Falcon Armory.”

“The one across from the logging company?”

“Yes, just opened my doors again. Been gone a while.”

“Well if you see anyone suspicious around the logging company let me know. I’ll take care of them.”

“Me and foreman Rufus have been lookin’ out for each other a long time.”

“Well that’s great then.” She excuses herself, taking her sword back in the sheath, and heads out.

It’s been a long day.  The city has offered all it can in terms of goods and services, and there’s high hopes in all your minds--despite the aggrandized, inflated, and downright overpowering and overwhelming rules--of the days ahead.  What you do not discover or see, however, are the eyes watching you...or the dark figures who seem to be congregated at a table in the far corner of the inn, looking in your direction, but...gone as soon as you look back.  Sometimes, what you don’t see is the worst:  the shadows overlooking you as you sleep at night, eyeing you.  But you’re just enjoying a nice relaxing night indoors in this vast city!

Aren’t you…?