"It's easier to believe that he's a dragon than YOU are an entertainer," Solomon said with a half-hearted chuckle.

"As I told the guard, a safe, warm, dry place to spend the night is first..." Solomon said.

Much of his anger having dissipated with the kick, Skraag scoots back from Temnir's grab and strikes an arrogant posture. He listens to the man's rant. It was nothing that he had not heard before, so he lets him finish and answers calmly. Not really caring too much if he changes the fellows mind. After all, he is only human, not Dragon!

"Infinite Wisdom takes infinite time oh wise one. A hoard will come, as Wisdom, with time. As will strength to my wings. One day I will fly and I forgive you your jealousy of my wings and dragon-ness. I am young and far, far from my full power." , Skraag answers as he has a few times before to challengers.

Kuldar kept quiet at the guard gate, coming off as rough and ornery a Dwarf as any had seen- mostly it was just the frustration of their travel, but he was also gaining a quickly growing dislike for this town in general- or at least those that ran it.

The back and forth between Temnir and Skraag did conjure a bit of a chuckle from Kuldar, which was quickly hidden(poorly, on purpose) if Temnir happened to look his way. "So ye be a Hatchling then? That would explain the size..." He lets out another stifled laugh, before shaking his head and turning to the others. "Well one of the first things a Bard is taught is how to adapt to a new locale, why don't I see what information I can scrounge up?"

18:56, Today: Kuldar Balak rolled 30,23 using d20+12,d20+9. Diplomacy(Gather Info), Kn: Local.
Gather Info: Looking for basically anything out of the ordinary, or stuff that might point towards our foes.

Kn: Local: Looking for the least infested Inn that isn't tailored toward the rich, assuming that part of town is even publicly accessible(not sure if commoners are banned from the swanky part of town or not)

Kuldar sets off on his search for a half decent inn and any information that may present itself along the way, leaving the rest of the group still huddled under the awning of the side of the cobbler. The alley behind them is dark but from the groups initial survey, rather dry and absent of any padfoots or beggars. With any luck, Kuldar would come back with the good news that this would not be where they had to sleep tonight. As the time moves on while the Dwarf and his mount were absent, the group finds seats on various barrels and crates outside the shop and sets about scanning the crowd to get an idea of the populace of Burova. It is not a very pleasant sight. The men, women, and children on this part of the city look like the group feels and likely are always so by the way they shuffle around almost lifeless. More than a small percentage of the lower city population seems to be dressed in rags rather than proper clothes with the children wearing sacks with holes cut in them and planks tied onto their feet with string for shoes. It is during this time of sad observation that the group feels as if they are being watched. Apparently whoever was watching them notices because moments later, a voice sounds out from the alley behind them they believed was free of intruders.

(OOC: Introducing Inori Korosu! Give him a moment to make his post :P Also, I'm typing this on my phone so I'll have your search results to you in PM when I get home Kuldar.)
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:36, Wed 28 Nov 2012.

A gruff and aged voice that sounds like it has seen many trials as well as a tinge of amusement sounds behind the party, "Allistar Hilton, eh? Last I saw of you, that wasn't the name you were going by, Temnir Liyaan, and you most certainly never had the knack for entertaining. Quite the opposite actually." Leaning up against the wall of the alley a mere couple of feet from Temnir is a man dressed in a concealing black cloak as well as a cloth across his mouth in a similar fashion to the one that Temnir wears but in dark red. His clothes underneath the road likewise have a dark red tinge to them but are less bright than, say, Skraag's coloring. The skin that shows on his face is, remarkably, even more pale than Temnir's, one might even call it semi-translucent. The main thing that stands out about him though are his eyes; the irises are blood red. At the man's belt hang two long serrated blades, like that of an elongated saw, but that seems to be the only weaponry visible on him. The arm not currently assisting him in leaning against the wall has its hand firmly set on the hilt of the corresponding blade though he makes no movement to brandish it.

Solomon draws forth his tetsubo and steps between Inori and Temnir.  "Enemies of Temnir are enemies of mine; and friends of Temnir, are even bigger enemies of mine.  What business do you have with us stranger?"

The hood of Solomon's muddied red cloak hid the upper half of his face and helped shield him from the rain.  Until, he had the chance to warm himself in front of a fire and dry his toes he was going to be crabby.

Skraag steps up beside Solomon and comments to the stranger, "I'd leave that blade where it is stranger. That is, unless you want to fried on the spot."

Renard was more interested in the ragged state of the people than this new person who had approached them.  How could there be so many people with so little to call their own?  Before he joins the rest of them in the alley he digs a spare robe from his pack and brings it to a beggarly-looking woman who has two small children shivering in their rags beside her, "Here, you need this more than I."  When he turned around everyone's attention was on some black-cloaked fellow.  He quickly pushes a gold coin into the woman's hand and then hurries to join his group.  He had plenty of gold and it was a challenge to keep himself from handing out more but the last thing he wanted was to start a mob or a riot or something like that, so he pushed the idea out of his mind.  There was one thought he couldn't shake, however, Can St. Cuthbert truly be so unable to care for his followers?

Inori's hand lingers above his weapon. There is a softness to his touch, his hand fitting comfortably on the hilt, for comfort more than anything else. His eyes dart to the approaching, muscular figure. He makes no movements. No twitches.

Slightly muffled by the cloth, he exhales slightly. His tone is less abrasive than before. Each word appears precisely placed.

"I do not claim myself to have earned the title of friendship from Temnir, nor would I label myself 'foe.' I watch. I wait. My curiosity has been piqued."

At this he gestures to the group, pointing with his chin. Garb from across the world.  Mercenaries? No, the robed one appears too kind. Appearance. Appearance. If not unified in orders, perhaps unified in goals.

When his gaze meets Skraag the muscles in his eyes, almost imperceptibly tighten. "I claim no power for myself here. Threats are not necessary." His eyes soften and he tilts his head back slightly.

Skraag flexes his little wings and relaxes a bit, although still tired and muddy from the road. He comments, mainly to the other in his group, "It is good to see someone respect a Dragons might, even if it in a small package."

Temnir had spun around, the dagger hidden within his cloak now in his hand, to confront the man. It seems he had been nervous something like this would happen and had made preparations against it. When his eyes meet the stranger's, the fight almost goes out of them completely as he takes an involuntary step back. "You," the word escapes his throat as if ripped from it as his eyes widen. "W-What are you doing here?" For someone who had faced down the undead and certain death on multiple occasions in the past months, the shakiness in his speech seemed to surprise even Temnir, who looked back and forth between his companions and the stranger.

Inori's lips curl into a smile beneath his mask, as they were apt to do when he knew no one could see his face. Only then.

"Business, Temnir. Not with you. Nor with dragons."

His neck leans forward directly towards Temnir, pivoting his head slightly down to the left. His gleaming eyes lock onto Temnir's.

"What's wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Kuldar's time on the streets had been...enlightening to say the least, he felt he had seen more of this town then any Dwarf would need in a lifetime. He eventually found the others, so drained from the experience he barely noticed the new face- er, mask that was among them. "The state of this place..." He mumbles to himself as he approaches, before looking up and acknowledging everyone. "I found an Inn that likely won't give us any new diseases, though I suggest we have someone on watch during the night...what's this then?" He gestures to Inori now noticing the look he and Temnir were sharing.

"Is this going to be a problem Temnir?  I'm tired of standing in the rain."

Solomon turned and headed to the end of the allyway.  He looked around at the city and shook his head.  "The god that watches over this city does so with blind eyes.  I'm already starting to miss the land of light and golden sands.  Pelor bless us." he says, whispering the last part.

Inori snickers lightly.

"There is no God in this city. Only a name, backed by diplomats who have gone too few nights hungry and too many nights in comfort."

He shoots a glance to Temnir.

"If problems are to be had it's with them."

"No, Solomon, I don't believe so," he says, eyes squinting slightly. The more Inori talks, the more Temnir seems to take account of himself and break out of his fear and move into his suspicion. "You seem as if you know something we do not. I can't imagine what business you have bothering me after all these years and, frankly, I don't give a damn. From what I know of the circumstances of your departure, your old affiliates are no longer around, so that's not your cause, so why don't you quit speaking in riddles and tell us he true nature of your business in Burova or leave us in peace and forget you ever saw us." Temnir tucks the dagger back into his robes, anticipating that he won't be a threat to the group or at least hoping that's the case and the show of confidence would position Inori against such trains of thought.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:30, Mon 03 Dec 2012.

Inori moves away from the wall, taking a step towards Temnir. His hands are off to his sides, clearly away from his weapons. He reaches out to touch Temnir on the shoulder and whisper in his ear.

His head twists from one side to the other, but his eyes do more of this work.

"These matters are not intended to be discussed in the streets. Let us retreat to this tavern your stout one spoke of. There we can speak in less hushed tones. As to my employers, where they have moved to is their own concern and not mine own. Just because we see them not, doesn't mean that none can."

Temnir nods slowly and, still reluctant to turn his back on the man, motions for him to go first before looking to Kuldar. "Lead the way to the inn."

The walk doesn't take long and the scenery doesn't change. Still the citizens of the capital city shy away from the group, still the filth and decay of the city is prevalent, a fact that doesn't exclude the inn they are led to by the bard though it seems to be in better shape than many of the other building around it, being one of the three standing buildings in a series of collapsed structures. There is a pole that seemed to at one point have the sign for the establishment hanging on it but all that's left now is two broken chains, likely the case of thieves or vandals; the group would hardly be surprised. Down the street, the docks are visible but also a more alarming feature; it seems the water has flooded a good portion of the city, water flooding the streets no more than a hundred feet down the road. Putting all other concerns other than getting out of the rain and resting their feet, the group enters Daruin's Last Resort.

Inside, they are neither greeted nor served but instead have to seat themselves in the empty common room and it is only after five minutes of uncomfortable silence that a thin and dirty man, hairline slightly receded, with a sickly look to him comes out. "Welcome esteemed customers. I'm Sven, the owner. Can I offer you rooms and...food?" he says in a way that just screams that he's dead inside and he was doing this simply out of habit. The pause before food was so that he could swallow the grumbling in his own stomach before it made itself known.

During the walk through town Renard grips his money pouch fiercely.  To an outside observer it might look like he was afraid of pickpockets but internally he was struggling not to spread gold to every dirt-stained, hopeless-gazed beggar they pass.  After a short time he stops looking at other people and simply watches the stones pass under his feet until they reach the inn.  Looking down toward the waterfront he can't help but consider how appropriate the establishment's name is, but lacking any other choices and wanting - needing - to get away from the suffering outside, he follows the others inside and finds a seat.  He is still deep in thought upon Sven's arrival and doesn't show any sign of hearing the frail man's offer.

Skraag is not too concerned about thieves. After all he is a Dragon and no one but fool would try and steal from a Dragon. That and the fact of his size makes it hard for someone to take anything without being really obvious about it.

Skraag is not impressed with this city, at least what he has seen so far. The people almost all look poor and miserable.

Inside the 'Inn' Skraag climbs up on the seat at the table, standing so he can see things and reach the tabletop easily. He pokes Solomon in the side when the sick looking man finally comes by and reluctantly offer food, "Can we trust anything we are served in this place?"

Inori motions a finger or two in the air, attempting to indicate he'd like a drink.

He turns to Skraag;

"As always trust must be earned. I doubt most things here will live up to a sane person's idea of trust. So perhaps, settling for it is better than trusting it. I haven't had too much trouble with it myself."

Kuldar takes the time to look over whatever swill they had available before choosing the hardest, cleanest drink he could spot. "So apparently the rich of this town put up a wall around their precious streets to stop any of the regular folk from dirtying it up- this means that the entire city is either High Town or the Slums." He spoke with a modicum of disgust, making it clear that he did not enjoy this city, or at least those who claimed responsible for it.

"Yeah, your strongest drink," said Solomon.  Where he came from,  there were rarely walls.  His people looked out for one another.  Food, water, and work were all shared among the tribe.

How long could or would the poor and starving suffer until they grow desperate enough to revolt against the nobles, who are doing nothing to ease their suffering?

"Could you stoke that fire?" he called out to Sven.

"It seems the living are as willing and able to cause death and misery as the undead," he said more wearily to his friends.

"Indeed they are," Temnir says dryly, all the while eyeing their guest. Refusing drink for himself, he waits until the others receive their drinks from Sven minutes later. Calling the drinks somewhat watered down would likely be an understatement but if the aim was to dull the senses and ease pain, then this was the right stuff. "So here we all are, in a common room free from prying ears, all eager to hear the reasons for your appearance," Temnir ends the sentence expectantly, waiting for Inori to bless them with his actual business in Burova.

In the warmth of the inn Renard was slowly working his way out of the tangle of thoughts running through his head.  He had not missed the presence of someone new and now he eyed the man surreptitiously.  The fact that the others seemed more or less at ease around him was enough for Renard, but he was eager to hear the man's story, especially if it gave him some insight as to what was going on in this city...