The gates of Yartar are not too far from where the windmill is. Following the dirt road, which gradually gives way to cobblestone, then a paved street, Moira and Bartimus eventually arrive upon Yartar itself.



Throughout the city a soft wind blows, carrying with it the pungent smell of the riverfish mixds with the bitter tang of metal and the heavy scent of smoke. The sweat and toil of countless laborers is overlayed with the hot musk of various animals and the occasional sweetness of flowers and perfume. Unlike Triboar, Yartar's gates are clearly geared towards business - large arcs to allow for easy traffic, low walls made of thick granite layered with numerous tapestries and flags, each representing a different guild or noblehouse. Even the guards here are considerably spruced up, with heavy splint armor festooned with rich red capes and bright orange plumes upon their helmets. Bartimus waves at the nearest sentry as he approaches, receiving an acknowledging nod and something of a casual salute.

"Sir Bartimus, welcome back! Is the rest of your party...?" the sentry hedges, sounding worried;

"Oh gods no, they're fine," the dragonborn waves, "just cleaning up while I bring evidence to the Waterbaron. The giant has been..." Bartimus pauses, clearly remembering Moira and Ethgar's presence, "handled. These here are Moira and Ethgar - they assisted as with the battle at a timely moment, and bring important news from the West."

"...both of them?" the guard looks...particularly put off by Ethgar, noting his clear tattoos and rugged appearance, "if they're not citizens, they need to pay a to-"

The guard quietens as Bartimus places two silver pieces in his hands, then gestures for Moira and Ethgar to enter.

"Very well Sir. And have a good day. You two uh, Madam. Sir."

DMPC'd

Thoroughly uncomfortable with the walls and stone of the city, Ethgar nonetheless keeps his peace even with the brazen insult by the guard. The Uthgardt meets the sentry's stare head on, only looking away once Bartimus has paid their toll through.

When in the river, swim as the fish. For now, the skald will remain quiet and simply follow the lead of his acquaintances.

OOC: Moira, anything you want to do at the gate, or look out for as you go through the city? Bartimus will take the lead, but I don't want to skip straight to the Waterbaron. Do post if there's anything Moira is specifically looking out for or asking, or even questions at Bartimus himself.

Though the sights and sounds of Yartar rang vaguely familiar to Moira from the times she'd passed through many years prior, they weren't all good ones.  Her time out and about in the world brought with it many experiences.  Memories came to her easily with the smallest of inspirations for better or worse.  Her time in war meant there were often moments when the past would pounce upon her at the smallest provocations.  All it took was a passing scent that could spark up a recollection, a phrase or gesture that echoed an old wound and made it ache anew.

As Sir Bartimus spoke with the gate guards and paid their way, Moira didn't hear a word of it.  Her gaze, normally sharp and attentive, was glassed over at the sight of vibrant dressings and the tall, bright plummage on the soldiers' helmets.  A celebratory decoration in Yartar's case, certainly.  But for the Hin, her ears were filled only with a high pitched ringing, and her mind's eye with blood-red plumes atop helmets marching inevitably forward in long rows...



Moira blinked and, just like that, she was back in the present moment.

The Hin forced a stiff smile for the guard and quickly followed along on Sir Bartimus' heels, all the while with a palm raised to rub at the side of her neck in a habitual manner.  She tried to distract herself by keeping an eye about on her general surroundings but was more unsettled than she preferred to admit... part of her was glad Ethgar was there, both for the reassurance of his presence and the knowledge that he wouldn't be one to judge a moment of weakness like that.  "Y'lot... ah... y'worked here long?  Been hearin' word that th'Waterbaron prefers hirin' teams for th'heavy liftin' rather than havin' a full military standin' 'round.  Ain't been in these parts since well before Lady Ruthiol's charge, m'self." she aimed for small-talk with the Dragonborn as they went along.

Just a general Perception check, I think.  Moira's a bit distracted and wants to focus on the task at hand anyway, so just looking around as they go and seeing what overtly stands out to her works.  I'd rather wait for the rest of the group to be in attendance for anything more specific.

Perception
Moira Ruadh rolled 13 using 1d20+4
This message was last edited by the player at 07:51, Fri 01 Oct 2021.

"Just part of the Watch ma'am," the guard gives Moira a friendly nod, "mercenaries like Sir Bartimus here handle the monsters, we handle the people. Have a good day."

---

Indeed, as a city Yartar is very different from Triboar. While Triboar was clearly a military town, with organized sections, high walls and a large number of soldiers, Yartar is a sprawling merchant city. The streets are haphazard, with clear stratas between the wealthy and poor. It seems rumors of the port city's sudden rise to wealth are not unfounded - opulent buildings built of imported stone and tile stand next to ramshackle wooden offices that have clearly seen better days. Men and women in expensive carriages drive past dishelved looking street urchins, who gaze at everyone who passes with hungry eyes.

Perception 13: Something about the streets has Moira uneasy. Though her glances are casual, the rogue easily picks up a number of marks in Thieves Cant near the alleys and streets. Standard terroritory marks, mixed with other Cant that is clearly in some sort of code. The work of the local Thieves Guild certainly. But something seems off...

History or Investigation check from Moira for more info. If you want to divert Bartimus to take a closer look you may. This lowers the DC but risks drawing attention.

The further Bartimus leads the three of you into the city though, the fewer old buildings one sees, and the cleaner and more elaborate the houses appear to be. Watchmen in polished armor can be seen, each patrol bearing the sigils of different nobility upon their shields. Clock towers and manors grow higher and fatter as if trying to outgrow each other in size and splendor.

When you finally arrive at the Waterbarons' manor, it is almost a disappointment. An ancient looking manor with high gilded fences and what looks like an enchanted water-fountain on the main path. At least six carriages of varying design, all gaudy, are lined up besides the gates. Guardsmen in elaborate cloaks and armor greet Bartimus as you approach, opening a smaller side gate to allow you through. From there, a maidservant leads you through the oaken doors into a side room, where you are to await the Waterbaron's summons.

The guest room isn't very large, a fact not helped by the rather excessive amount of decor added to the walls. Landscapes, vases and a ridiculously wide set of knightly armor squeeze together with a very plush, very red couch.

"...its all a bit over the top, if you ask me," Bartimus adds after the maidservant has left.

Under better circumstances the overall presence about Yartar would've been both a relief and an enticing one for someone like Moira.  The open markets and abundance of passer-through appealed to her sensibilities as a merchant, but in light of everything that had happened at Triboar, Red Larch, and Amphail, she could only see things through the view of a soldier.  Too few defenses, too much access... if the Fire Giants or the Orc army diverted toward Yartar, it would be a ready disaster.

"Just a moment." she prompted the Dragonborn to at least slow his stride as she traipsed off rather spontaneously.  A number of particular symbols etched along the corners had caught her eye and bothered her memory, but there was another matter at hand as well.  The Hin diverted off toward the end of an alley where a handful of urchins loitered and where a few such marks were set in the nearby walls, though she offered a warm smile and open-handed gesture lest they think she was about to run them off like so many others would.

"Waukeen smile on y'lot, loves." Moira offered a word of blessing for the younglings and, in what was likely a more substantial gesture to their tastes, motioned for their hands.  The first to accept her invitation had a silver coin pressed to their palm and so too did the rest were they to follow in suit.  Though as she did so, Moira tilted her wrist just so that the hilt of one of her concealed daggers strapped to the inside of her forearm was momentarily in view...

With that charitable effort done Moira returned to catch up with Sir Bartimus and fall back in pace once more.

Stealth to mask checking out the symbols
Moira Ruadh rolled 16 using 1d20+9

History/Investigation (Same modifier of 0)
Moira Ruadh rolled 6 using 1d20

Moira will give the Urchins 1 SP each (however many there are). 

---

The Waterbaron's manor and the surrounding neighborhood made Moira feel exhausted just by looking at it.  All the different heraldry of various noble houses, all the fancy wagons lined up indicating that their owners were surely at the manor as well... ugh.  All the same, she inwardly offered a word of thanks to Yondalla for the luck of meeting with Sir Bartimus; all that security would've made it an utter pain to try and get in purely on a walk-up, even with credentials from Triboar.  Hell, maybe even because of her credentials from Triboar, if there really was a genuine beef between the two cities.

"Perhaps, but it's what it is.  Gotta adapt t'what y'got handed." Moira passingly agreed with Sir Bartimus' sentiment as she withdrew a stout wand from within her sleeve.  If the road dust hadn't been bad enough, she was an absolute mess from the brief foray amid Mud Mephits; a quick flick of her cleaning wand purged away all the filth to leave her clean and laundered on the spot.  She waggled the wand Sir Bartimus' way as well in an offering gesture since he was surely even worse off given the amount of mud and blood he'd accrued in the battle.  Ready to be used if he accepted, but she wasn't about to use a magic item on someone without their permission first.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:49, Wed 06 Oct 2021.

The urchins (both girls, you notice) take the coin and scatter. As one of the leaves, she appears to trip on the cobblestone before catching herself. Turning back, she shoots Moira a sheepish grin, a four-fingered wave, then scoots off as well.


History 6: Moira recalls that the dominant gang and thus, leader of the local Thieves Guild in Yartar is an all-women group known as the Hand of Yartar. They supposedly specialized in information, bulgary and theft, though this knowledge is pretty out of date (almost a decade or so), so many things could have changed.

---

Bartimus mostly grunts in assent, fidgeting somewhat impatiently on the couch while the sack and its gruesome contents sit quietly on the carpet. Perhaps it is the words Moira said earlier, but its clear the dragonborn wants to get this over as soon as possible.

After about thirty minutes of waiting, the same maidservant returns.

"The Waterbaron will see you now."

The woman leads the three of you up a grand staircase, carved of fine wood and covered in fine carpeting. Down a long corridor lined with portraits of various past Waterbarons, each bearing an increasingly more expensive and elaborate frame. Past a small, half-open room that smells heavily of alcohol. And finally stopping before an set of gilded, wooden doors engraved with fascimiles of waves and mermaids.

The maidservant knocks, three times, then steps aside.

"Enter," a womans' voice commands.