Cauldron Festival

[Anastasia]

Which gates, the southern gates into the Commerce Quarter or the western gates into the New City?

[Corwin]

Let's say new city

[Anastasia]

Done.

The air is warm with a cool breeze. You appear in the shadow of a small grove not far from the gates into Balmuria proper. The roads are busy and well kept, cobblestone paths withstanding the passage of feet, wheels and hooves.

To the north are the gates into the city, busy as always. Traders and travelers come and go.

To the east you see men at work, slowly opening a new gate in the walls, while buildings are being constructed just beyond it.

[Ebiris]

"Always feels good to be back here, doesn't it?" Marie asks, having a stretch and breathing in that fresh nautical prime air!

[Anastasia]

"It is the Prime," Oraga says, "I smell mortals, mostly."

[Corwin]

"A new gate, huh?" Seira muses, admiring the view as she heads for the existing gate. "Never thought I'd see it happen, for all that it's obvious in retrospect."

[Corwin]

At Oraga's words, she wonders out loud, "How do mortals smell, anyway? Is it a different preference for soaps? That dragon said something too." Slightly worried, she asks, "Do I smell in a strange, divine way?"

[Anastasia]

"Mortals smell like fear, sweat, age and waste," Oraga says, "Of the earth and dust, of the sun and light. You smell like...you. You are. You smell of dragons and glory, the senses get confused and one experiences other sensations it could not otherwise.""

[Ebiris]

"Well, I don't like to be rude but you can smell toilets a lot more whenever you're in a prime city. I wouldn't know about smelling souls or concepts though," Marie says, starting to walk towards the city.

[Corwin]

A girl should preen being told stuff like that, and Seira doesn't disappoint!

Then she keeps pace with Marie because the competition isn't very steep, apparently.

[Anastasia]

THere's something of a line ahead if you want to head inside. You'll be waiting a bit.

Just a chance to circumvent the line or play it out, stand pat if you want the latter and I'll move things on more.

[Ebiris]

Marie seems content to join the line and strike up friendly conversation with others waiting to get in so she can get a flavour for the local gossip!

[Corwin]

Seira is content to wait in line herself, smelling subtly of lilies.

[Anastasia]

Ahead of you is a wagon, a family of farmers traveling. Sitting in the back is a young woman, perhaps 16 or 18. Somewhere around there. She smiles at you and says, "Oh, elves! Mamma always said elves are so pretty!" She herself is perhaps average - brown hair, a reasonable but blocky figure, a plain peasant dress, a bit too tall.

Behind you is a single warrior, in a heavy cloak and with the hilt of a heavy sword poking above his shoulders. He's dirty and travel stained, shaved bald and sweating nonetheless. He's a mass of solid muscle. Beneath is cloak you see heavy armor, blue-black and with a symbol of a skull with a parchment in its mouth. He looks the three of you over casually, but doesn't comment.

[Ebiris]

"You're pretty too!" Marie cheerfully returns the compliment. "It must be nice being tall, I always have trouble seeing over people. Humans have it lucky there! So are you all bringing produce in to the market?"