The walls of Raphael loom upward in the fading light of the afternoon.

It was lucky really, that they had made it before sunset.  Though Magnus had seen little antagonism over the past several months, he was all too familiar with the sort of attention that being a lone minotaur, or indeed, bing a minotaur in a small group could garner.  It was precisely the reason that Magnus had waited for Rudyard to make his way back to Raphael, a city that Magnus knew at least a little, a place where he had made a living as a rough hand and guard for a time.  Magnus would wager that if they had attempted to enter after the fall of darkness, he would have no chance of being allowed in the city by the guard, regardless of how well known Rudyard was.

Though Magnus had enjoyed his time with the others, he was looking forward to having a little more direction over his own work.  Accepting lesser risks, even if it meant smaller payoffs.

Overhead, a thick layer of clouds blanketed the sky.  Light grey and thick, they had come along with an immediate respite from the midsummer heat, dropping the temperature noticeably along with the faint rustle of wind.  Magnus could smell the rain coming.  All in all, their timing on getting to the city couldn't have been any better.

"State your purpose!"  A helmeted man at the rampart of the gate calls as the two approach, Rudyard driving his cart and Magnus leading his mule Gus.

"Returning from a supply run to the forts!"  Rudyard calls back.  "Just like every month."  He adds under his breath.

The guards eyes linger overlong on Magnus, pausing for an extended silence before he finally answers back.  "The Archbishop has set a curfew.  None but the watch are to be out after dark.  Make sure you don't break it."

"Curfew?"  Rudyard mutters, mostly to himself.  The cart begins to rumble forward again, heading towards the open gates of Raphael.

OOC: it's 1800 on the 6th of August.  The trip from the fort back to Raphael has been about 10 days.  You don't have a house here in the city, so until you are able to rent a place, you'll have to go looking for for an inn.

No small part of Magnus had wanted to stay at the Fort for a few more weeks. He had wanted to make sure that Giles got back on his feet, he had wanted to help with repairs, but Rudyard was due in Raphael and it would be another month at least before he would come around again, and that was barring any more attacks from the south.

He had wanted to get his armor situation handled, and he had been putting it off for far too long. He remembered the sick feeling when he had kicked himself for not doing it before their trip to the ruins, and now he had no excuse not to finally resolve the matter. He also was due to report to the Armsmans Guild lest they presume him dead.

And so, ten more days on the road, although these ones were a casual stroll compared to the mountains and the jungles. Relatively open, well maintained and safe they seemed to cover ground at speed after all the hot laborious trudging he had done recently.

It was not until they actually sighted Raphael that Magnus felt the familiar pit in his stomach. Any city, especially such a large city, had always been imposing since he was a child. His parents had long ago learned hard lessons about crowds and the "protection" of the law, and Magnus had experienced his own close calls. Make no mistake, he was no safer behind those walls than he was across the border, and at least they had the decency to come at you from the front.

He was not the only oddity to risk the big cities, Goblins, Orcs and Sea Elves among others could be found in the crowds, and while he had heard second hand news of other Minotaurs in Megalos City and a few other places in the Empire, he had never actually met one, if that was any indication of how common they were.

Most folks did not know what to make of him, which he understood to a point. It was not until they called for the Guard or stooped for a stone that he began to get defensive, so to speak.

"Got it" Magnus nodded in affirmation to the news about the curfew. That was the first order of business then, as he would not last long after sunset.

He started close at hand and turned to Rudyard. "I don't suppose you have a spare patch of floor where I can throw down a blanket? I can pay...It's always kind of rough finding an inn. Even just for the night." If the man he had just spent ten days with would not put up with him, he was going to have to get on things quick.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:22, Sat 23 May 2020.

"Ah.."  Rudyard stops, looking at Magnus.  Clearly he had not been expecting the question of Magnus sleeping at his residence, and as soon as that first tepid word was out of his mouth, Magnus was fairly sure the answer was no.

"Sorry."  Rudyard sighs, confirming Magnus's suspicions.  "I would, but I'm already two weeks later than I'm supposed to be, an I'm sure I'll catch hell from the missus like it's my fault.  I can't imagine me suggesting you spend the night would go over well...  No offense."  Rudyard looks down, holding off from looking Magnus in the face for a moment.

"You shouldn't be too bad off though."  Rudyard points up along the main road.  "The Red Lion is pretty accommodating to travelers.  It's not the best place by any stretch, but it'll have room for Gus and it doesn't do enough business to turn you down.  The White Heart is on the way, probably less likely to have a room, and William can be a bastard at times, but no sense in passing it by.  You'll be fine."

Rudyard waves at Magnus, turning his cart over towards the left, and away from the main road.

 

Alone, really alone, for the first time in months.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had made the acquaintance of the others. Finn, Giles, Gustav, Rondald and Terri, and of course Judoc. When he had been introduced first hand to the wonder and terror magic, and seen "behind the curtain" at how awesome and yet how fragile a real Mage could be. Grizzled sailor with wife in tow, and a swordsman from the south who had been forced to learn quickly that these uncouth northerners still wore steel instead of silk.

The memory of it made him smile in a nostalgic, lonely kind of way.

The problems he faced now were like old friends in themselves. Find a place to sleep, avoid the curfew and the patrols, handle your business and get the hell out.

There were a few rough strategies he had developed over time. The first was to find something, anything, to get through the night and to start fresh in the morning.

The second was to find his end goal, in this case the Angel Armory, and to work outward from there. This kept his wanderings to a smaller section of the city. Ideally he could lie low, eat, sleep and go about his business while limiting his exposure on the street to a few minutes at a time.

With the rain coming, and the light fading, he was inclined to go with the former.

If The White Heart was on the way, and close by, that would work. If that failed the Red Lion would be his alternative.

Magnus took a few moments to slide his coin pouch around to the front left side where he could protectively cover it with his shield, and then with a deep resigned breath, he made his way down the street where Rudyard had pointed.

Shifting his things on his waist, Magnus presses on down the street, looking for some sign of the two inns he had been recommended.  The wide thoroughfare guides first past a large marketplace, already closing for the day, though some of the merchants still linger, removing their wares and goods to a cart, or else closing the fronts of their stores.  Magnus receives a few apprehensive looks, though he has enough experience not to pay them any mind.  If they were going to make trouble for him, they would be casting far more than stares.

The cobbles pass by underneath Magnus's feet, and the street seems to climb ever so slightly as the buildings become larger and more well cared for.  At the end of the market a large street circle encompasses a massive cathedral, decked with stained glass and sculptures that climb several stories into the air.  Magnus follows the main street, which edges off towards the right.

Here the street is thick with established businesses, the buildings abutting each other or else close enough to only leave a narrow alley between.  Magnus even notices a squat building of white stone that bears the sign of Angel Armory, though the door is closed with no evidence of activity within.  Only a stone's throw farther on, Magnus notices another large sign of cut wood, painted white with the words White Heart.

OOC:  If you intend to ask for a room, roll a normal reaction, with all your negative modifiers.

Magnus approached the door of the White Heart, briefly looked up at the sign board, and then gently opened the front door.

He left a faint trail of droplet as he entered, and looked about as he approached the proprietor. "Evenin'" he greeted them with a smile and a nod. "I was hopin' to get a room?" he asked, leaving the option open to simple be on his way rather than cause a fuss.

Magnus ties up Gus on the street before entering the main door of the large inn.

The main room of the inn is set up like a large tavern, with a recessed floor a few steps on spread with tables.  To Magnus's right is the bar right is the bar, several seats long with a handful of bottles resting on a backwall along with a large barrel which is tapped at the bottom.  Magnus is somewhat unhappy to see that the room is packed.  Nearly every table has at least one patron, with a few sporting four or five men engaged in a loud, boisterous conversation that meld together into a single, indiscernible hum.  Even the bar seems crowded, with each of the six seats taken.  A serving girl swirls past tables, a large tray with a handful of drinks balanced on one hand.  Behind the bar a greying man with a close shaved beard takes a particular interest in Magnus as he walks in.

The bar seemed as good of a place as any to start.

Magnus approaches the man, and he feels the all too familiar sensation of conversations dying down, of watchful eyes pressing on the back of his neck.  Magnus's request is simple, leaving plenty of room for refusal without leading to a confrontation.  It is possibly a good thing.

The grey haired man shakes his head, with the trace of a smirk lighting on his lips.  "Nothing left."  The man says simply, leaning an arm on an open space at the bar.  The man has a muscled forearm, and though his skin is free of many of the signs of aging, his eyes are deep set with sallow, dark pools hovering below.  He gives Magnus the impression of a younger man aged well past his days.  "Even the common's full up.  You should try the Red Lion.  Five blocks on.  They're more like to take you."

"Fair enough, appreciate it." Magnus turned and began to make his way back outside. It had taken him longer to hitch Gus than it had to get rejected, but he was not surprised. Maybe it was full? There were plenty of people in there. Or maybe it wasn't...

Either way, he would not be sleeping at the White Heart. As much as he was hoping to be close to Angel Armory, at least he still had a chance. Both Rudyard and William had practically guaranteed that the Red Lion would take him. But why he wondered? Was it that desperate for paying customers? Or was there some other reason?

He would find out soon enough. He moved to unhitch Gus and get a move on before it got any later.

Magnus turns and retreats from the room, pulling the loop of Gus's lead rope from his tie and leading him on down the main thoroughfare of Raphael.

Though the distance is not far in comparison to what he has already walked, It seems to Magnus to be the slowest part of his day.  The city slowly turns, first the houses shrink in size, then their upkeep seems to degrade, so that here and there Magnus sees cracks in their walls and overhangs that are sagging with rotted wood.  The street too, seems to turn with disrepair.  The cobbles seem to spread farther as the cart ruts sink deeper into the stone.  Here and there fragments of rock are broken and turned upward in the lane.  Though it is difficult to tell how close the sun is setting due to the clouds, the light seems to be quickly ebbing from the sky...

The red lion is not difficult to find, for it too has a sign that hangs out into the street, though this one has no words, just a carving of a lion's head and mane pained red.  Magnus hangs Gus's lead rope on a post, just in case he is unlucky here as well, and makes his way into the inn.

The inside seems much less cozy than the White Heart.  The main room is smaller, and the air is stale, with a few tables that sit empty in the middle of the floor.  The meager light in the room ebbs in from a few small windows and is supplemented by a small oil lamp that hangs near a desk on the far side of the room.  At the desk sits an older man, his skin wrinkled and spotted with brownish pittings that rise over his forehead and across his bald scalp, what little scraggle he does have across his face is faded to the palest white.

"What can I do for you?"  The man asks as Magnus approaches.

OOC:  Another reaction roll please.

Magnus felt the floor creak ominously as he stepped up onto the landing, the old brittle wood barely tolerating his armored bulk. As he dipped his head inside and saw the state of the accommodations he suddenly felt tired, this was definitely more akin to what he was accustomed to, and given the lack of any patrons, his hopes were buoyed a bit that he might actually be able to get a room.

His steps felt thunderous as he made his way towards the older man, and he lowered his broad shaggy head a fraction. "Good evening. I was hoping to get a room?" he tried again. If this fell through he would be in real trouble, the local watch would probably not take kindly to vagrancy, and the locals in general would probably notice a lone traveler out in a rough neighborhood.

Experience suggested that he not to get his hopes up.

18:37, Today: Magnus rolled 4 using 3d6-4.  Reaction Roll: The Red Lion (Hideous -4).
This message was last edited by the player at 02:19, Sat 30 May 2020.

As Magnus steps forwards into the dim light of the oil lamp, the man at the counter reacts visibly, shuddering backwards for a moment before stepping back up to the desk.  He looks for all purposes like he is going to throw Magnus out of the room, though he hesitates, his eyes sizing up the minotaur...

"You'll have to have your own room."  The man starts, "No one's going to want to sleep in the commons with you.  And I'll need a deposit."  The man's eyes float up in his eyes for a moment like he is making mental calculations, before he looks at Magnus full in the eyes.  "So ninety.  A night."

In the momentary silence that follows, the man's eyes stray upward to Magnus's horns, staring at the natural weapons of death as if second guessing his choice, though he does not add to or modify his offer.

OOC:  Ouch on the reaction roll.  The hotel price is ludicrous of course, and you are welcome to turn him down, though you aren't sure how much daylight you have left (the clouds make things difficult) nor do you know of another hotel.  You could 'camp' somewhere within the walls, or leave the city and camp outside, though you don't like fiddling with things like mandatory curfews (nobody has ever given you the benefit of the doubt) and you aren't sure what your reaction is going to get you if you try entering the city tomorrow by yourself.  If you do decide to stay here at the lion, make a roll vs. HT-2.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:55, Mon 01 June 2020.

Magnus felt what was left of his pride rear up. He had been out there, risking his life, day after day, serving alongside the legion, fighting Wazifi, and statues, bugs and an honest to God demon...and here he was about to fritter away what little he had to his name on a night in a dilapidated tenament.

He could buy a lot of things for ninety. A brand new axe ran nearly half that.

But was it worth an altercation with the guard? Was it worth being forced to wander the streets or getting turned away at the gate in the morning? No...no, it wasn't.

Magnus heaved a sigh as he reached into his pouch and looked down as he counted out the coin. He set it down without enthusiasm. "Which one?" was his reply.

With any luck he might be able to find something else in the morning, or more realistically the proprietor of Angel Armory would run him off with a pair of hot tongs and he could simply leave the city. He could think of worse things.

Magnus rolled 12 using 3d6.  HT -2. Failure by 2, unless you count Fit

Though Magnus counts the coin as he lays them on the table, the man behind the desk takes the time to count them out again, a clear sign of a lack of trust.

"Four."  The man says when he is finally satisfied, taking one of the pennies from the group and examining it more closely under his hand.  He takes a key hanging on the wall behind him and places it on the counter which Magnus takes, unable to offer up even a forced word of thanks.

Almost as an afterthought, Magnus asks on Gus.

The innkeeper hesitates for a moment, then looks at Magnus's horns again before he speaks.  "There's a stable round back.  I don't have a stable hand, so you'll have to clean the stall yourself."

Gritting his teeth, Magnus hopes this will be his last interaction with the man.

---

The next morning at the dawn, Magnus is already on his way out of the hotel, thunking the key back on the desk unceremoniously, not trusting himself to even attempt a conversation.  Despite the innkeeper's protests that he has to look at the room first, Magnus is well on his way out the door with Gus before the man would even have a chance to open the room up again.

Magnus is fuming.  Never in his life has he paid so much for such an inadequate accommodation.  It had been perhaps a few hours before the dawn when he had woken up, a stinging sensation on the soft flesh of one nostril wresting him from his sleep with a start.  He was still groggy, he couldn't seem to put it together until he saw a flick of black motion speed across his eye and felt the hair of his eyebrow bristle.  Then, it was clear.

His bed had fleas.

If it had not been for the curfew, Magnus would have left long before, for even as he had removed himself to the floor, his sleepiness was too far gone for him to catch any more sleep - and by now the fleas had managed to get all over him.  It was only due to the miracle of his own thick skin that he had likely gotten any sleep in the first place.

Magnus led Gus up the street, the thick rains from the night still lingering, splashing down heavy sheets of water that soaked Magnus's clothes and stuck Gus's hair fast to his skin.  At least the weather would mean he had fewer people to deal with.

As Magnus makes his way back into the better parts of town, he notices some of the shops opening their doors, and merchants sweeping the puddles of water out their doors and back into the street.  But as he approaches Angel Armory, Magnus notices the door is still closed, and the rain beats at the white stone and its windows.

OOC:  It is 0630 on the 7th of August.  I took some liberties to keep things moving, hope it wasn't too out of character for you.  Fit did count in your roll, as did the +3 from your tough skin (it was originally a HT-5) and the minor fail only ended in a little bit of lost sleep.  You are at -1 FP from the rotten conditions.  It's probably irrelevant though, so I haven't edited your sheet for it.

Magnus felt worry creep into his mind as he suspected that the Angel Armory was still closed this late in the day. Perhaps the proprietor had been drawn away on business? Or come down with some illness? It would be just his luck.

The Minotaur sloshed through a deceptively deep puddle where a few cobblestones had been displaced and then approached to get a closer look. Idly he scratched at his scalp, not even certain if he was being bitten any more, but his mind wary all the same.

As he drew near, he wiped a dark, sodden lock of fur from his brow to clear his eyes and urged the miserable Gus along behind him as he went.

Magnus draws closer to the pale white building, wondering if there is some deeper reason as to why the smithy is still closed.  The large building has two windows at the front, low enough for Magnus to peer into the room beyond.

Though the glass is not perfect, it is easy enough to see within.  Near the back of the room, Magnus can see long tables set against the wall.  Here and there, small objects sit upon the tables.  Higher on the back wall, a large painting is hung, which seems to be a full body portrait of some sort, though Magnus cannot make out the small details.

As he glances in the window, Magnus can see the soft blur of motion out of the corner of his eye.  What appears to be man is moving about the back wall, his back turned as he stoops slightly to the level of the display tables.

Magnus was not certain is his eyes were playing tricks on him at first, but the longer he stared, the more confident he became that there was in fact somebody inside. He felt some hope kindle in his breast that the whole errand had not been for nothing and moved about to knock on the door.

He elected for a light wrap that would still be audble over the storm, and hoped that the shock of his appearance would not prohibit doing business. As he waited, he took shelter beneath the eave and moving his satchel around in front protectively, there he opened the flap and further sheltered the contents with his body as he made the thick envelope he had received from Major Brashear, and the parchment within was still close at hand.

Seeing someone within the store, Magnus raps politely on the door, careful not to startle... that is, at least, not until he walks inside.  Rather than the door opening however, Magnus hears a deep but soft voice call "come in!"  The minotaur thumbs his letter from Major Brashear to make sure it is close at hand before girding himself and stepping within the door.

Magnus had meant to start his speaking as soon as he had walked in the door but for a moment, he finds himself unable, for he is struck dumb for a moment by the combined effect of the work within.

It is not so much the number of items for there are only but few.  A pair of gauntlets sit on the display table, a brightly polished set of steel pauldrons some few feet away.  Above a wooden door on the back wall, a two handed sword hangs on pegs.  The only other item of note is the large painting that Magnus had seen from the window, a full suit of exotic armor that Magnus cannot claim to be familiar with.

No, it is not the quantity of items, but the particular suit of armor on the painting that jumps out at him from a distance.  It seems to be woven steel and wood, which bends to accommodate the limbs, though with stiff, flat pads to reinforce the places most vulnerable to injury.  The armor is impossibly intricate in design but seems marvelously simple in function even if it is a bit over elaborate - and Magnus cannot come to terms with whether the seeming ingenuity of it is because of an incredible painter, or if it was a real bit of armor that just worked that well.  It only drew Magnus's attention all the more that the helmet in the work of art had horns protruding from each side.  Horns nearly exactly like his own.

As Magnus stalls just beyond the doorway, the man at the back of the shop steps forward.  He is no Megalan for sure, though neither does he look like one of the Wazifis from the south, nor any of the tribes that Magnus has learned of from the Northern lands.  Instead, the man's face is slightly flattened, his cheekbones wide and proud with thin wisps of long black hair and a closely cropped beard that are flecked here and there with grey.  Though the man looks only middle aged, and his body appears strong at first glance, his face is pale, his eyes sunken and dark, and his body hunched precariously over a cane which he grasps with both hands.

"Welcome."  The man says in his soft, rich voice.  He steps forward, pushing the cane first as he hobbles forward in an ungainly walk.

"There are so few customers these days.  Though there is not much left.  Perhaps you are interested in Wyrm's Tongue?"  He gestures toward the two-handed sword hanging on the wall.

OOC:  Inspecting any of the pieces, and making an armory roll at a +5 bonus will reveal that all of the pieces are of exceptional quality.


Something close to the painting on the wall