WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

[abraxasmods]

WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

Welcome to The Free Cities! The portal exits outside the capital city of Cadens. The first impression of the city is its sheer size. It sprawls out across the landscape like a great hulking beast at rest. The wall that encircles it barely contains it, the buildings of Cadens practically bulging against its restraint.

The air here seems thicker somehow, tinged with a scent that’s acrid and smoky. Smog hangs high over the city, belched out by smokestacks that tower over the industrial district. The desert stretches out behind it, dotted with towers and dust clouds that disappear into the horizon. Multiple gates lead inside and each is staffed by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms that wave a steady stream of people through without appearing to pay much attention. People are coming and going almost all of the time, to and from the outposts and areas of activity around the city proper. It’s difficult to tell just what’s out there beyond the impression of tall metal structures and a great deal of labor. Wagons carrying travelers to Libertas and Aquila roll out from the Travel Post outside the city wall.

Anyone who can sense magic will notice a much lower concentration here. No one will be stopped or questioned at the gate, even if the soldiers seem to take note of the fugitives from Thorne.

The activity and sheer number of citizens can be overwhelming. It’s crowded and loud and feels constantly in motion with everyone talking and yelling over each other. It’s easy to get swept up in the ever-moving throng or find oneself ducking into the mouth of a narrow alley just to breathe.

Anyone who’s willing to make their way to the northern part of the city and Portham Hall will find Prime Minister Marlo Reiner available to receive them.

Comments

[cointosser]

[Hmm. Jaskier takes him in. He does look a bit familiar, though he's quite sure they've never spoken before. Well. Fine. If he came all the way out here to give a clap, Jaskier can give the boy a bit of credit.

He does, at least, bite himself back from asking, so where are your friends, then? To be fair, Jaskier's aren't here, either. He's only curious if they may have the same friends, considering Thorne was... well, one had time to acquaint himself with much of the population there. For good or for worse.]

Ah, yes. What to do next. [Jaskier adjusts one of the strings of his lute, wondering, for a moment, if he's looking for advice. Because Jaskier has absolutely no blasted idea what to do next, either, beyond making money --

The string twangs.] Excuse me? [He looks up. Oh, Mal. You're trying. Except Jaskier never takes it well when someone tells him how to do his, you know, career which he dedicated his entire life to.] I'm sorry, are you a master bard? Should I be offering you a coin for your sage advice? I am the bard Jaskier, known throughout the entirety of the Continent, and I am a solo act.

[That is to say: he's considered it. But one must make one's way alone first, to prove he's worth anything.]

[inthemeadow]

[ Sorry Jaskier, but if he wanted advice, he'd go straight to Sam and not some easily offended performer. ]

I mean, if you're offering coin... [ He's kidding, but Jaskier doesn't seem to appreciate his humor. ]

You might be known to everyone where you're from, but nobody here knows who you are, and how many years did it take to build up your reputation? [ Hopefully they wouldn't be stuck in this world long enough for Jaskier to start up a new fanclub for himself. ]

I can see why you'd be a solo act, though. I don't think you'd let anyone else get a word in edgeways. [ Somebody tell him he's wrong. ]

[cointosser]

[Ah. He's not new to his audience attempting to start shit with him. It happens. It's part of the game. But he does find it funny that one of the escapees from Thorne would try the same, as if he didn't have bigger fish to fry.]

Ah, ah, my dim, bald friend. [Mal's not been particularly dim (or bald) so far, he's just being mean because he's a petty bitch.] I'm afraid you're wrong, there. Well, on a technicality. I was barely in Thorne for a season and nearly the entire castle knows my name. Forgive me for not being popular enough for you in a city I've hardly rested my laurels in. In your overarching wisdom and lack of understanding for sarcasm, I dare say you could do it even better. You know, next time you have a bit of extra coin -- since I'm sure one of your size and looks must be exquisitely talented -- perhaps you could put your overly large ape hands on a lute and try performing yourself.

[It may not be so surprising that being told he talks too much is something Jaskier breezes easily past; in his mind, that's everyone else's problem, not his.] I'll even come and have a listen and give you a bit of free constructive criticism afterwards! Though, gods, I can bet you'd barely need it, talent that you are.

[inthemeadow]

[ Mal never said he was smart, but he can't believe this guy is choosing his hair to insult. It reminds him of the insults the boys used to come up with at the orphanage. He half-expects Jaskier to call him stinky next. ]

It's a military haircut. [ He's not sure if Jaskier hears him point that out, that he didn't choose to cut those curls he had as a young boy, just like he had no choice to join the army either. And then he says nothing else for a while because Jaskier is proving his point by going on a defensive tirade, and Mal really regrets trying to help. (And he was honestly trying to help Jaskier or he wouldn't have clapped for him in the first place.)

There's a pause where maybe Jaskier might be thinking Mal is too stunned to speak - or too dim to come up with a response - until he eventually says: ] You're done? I was expecting more. [ Another minute at least, but before Jaskier can cut him off - ]

I'm sorry for bruising your ego. [ Believe it or not, that was meant to be an apology but it came out wrong, like a lot of what has been said during this exchange. ] And I'd shake your hand before I leave but I might bruise that too with how giant and apely my fingers are.

[ He turns to leave - unless Jaskier wants to stop him. ]

[cointosser]

[To be fair, Jaskier is not above pointing out that someone is stinky, either.

Jaskier flicks his eyes away with a harrumph. Yes, his point has been made.] I'm rather done, I think.

[And what bloody military would do that to a poor man's head? Actually, it doesn't surprise him to learn he is the military sort. Gods know they love to heckle as much as the most common of men, especially when an ounce of power goes to one's head. Chivalry can only carry a man so far, and often it carries them straight off a cliff into a pitfall of being a dick.

Usually.]

It wasn't bruised, it was prodded. Though, whether that apology is heartfelt or not, I'll accept it. [Because clearly it matters to be in his good graces, right? Or because maybe he feels a hint of regret in that the man apologize at all. Most wouldn't bother, even in jest.

Look, life's hard out here in the boonies.

Jaskier does stop him, plucking his lute as he spins to move in front of him. It's not like him, even if he did craft the atmosphere here, to allow his audience to leave in a sullen mood.]

Oh, don't sulk. Your hands are perfectly wonderful. [From what he can see. He offers his own, should Mal want to take it.] I may as well apologize, too. Just this once. I've been under a spot of pressure lately.