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

[frontlinetitties]

And I'm fucking glad to hear it. It was never really my shtick, you know? I just got stuck with a bad hand. Anyone with eyes can see I'm too hot to be wasted on the life of a penitent.

[If only her mother - who was mysterious as hell, by the way - had chosen one of the other planets in the Dominicus system to crash-land and die on, if only she'd abandoned Gideon to some entirely different fate. The Second House maybe, where they would no doubt have seen she was nothing short of warrior material straight away and ascended her to the ranks of the Cohort as soon as she'd been old enough to hold a sword, or fuck it, even the Seventh. A bunch of cranks, the lot of them, but still an improvement on the death throes of the decaying cult into which she had been thrust.

To late for lamentations now, though. And here they are, both her and Harrow, worlds away from where they'd started. Even if she has no interest at all in the political bullshit and manoeuvring clearly at play here, it's hard not to believe that they've been given something, at last. A chance to live, and live differently. She'll take it. Even with the sun beating down on them and the crowds milling around them whilst they stand, strange and far-removed from the kind of life she'd had, it still feels like something worth reaching after.

Just...hard to get used to. That's all.

She isn't sure she quite understands how the saying he repeats to her tallies with the one she'd given, but she appreciates the vivid imagery and so files it away for future use. Maybe it'll make her sound clever. She's more impressed, in reality, with his offer. He barely knows her and Harrow, yet here he is, extending a hand, offering assistance. Whilst she isn't sure that Harrow wouldn't retain her Ninth ways and tell him a curt 'no thank you,' having always been the snippy, secretive type that one generally associates with religious fruitcakes, something in her softens to it anyway.

She has so rarely encountered anyone willing to offer her anything at all.]

But...thanks. [She says, a touch awkwardly.] Because fuck knows, we're probably gonna need it. This place is nothing like the one we came from.

[cointosser]

[He laughs. She has that effect on him. He meets plenty of women, of course, and they're all quite individual, but there's something about here that is very different. A woman like Calanthe, he imagines, who does not move under the yoke of men's decisions or misfortunes. And even better, that fully understands her own strength and her own beauty.]

Your face would absolutely be wasted under vestments, I agree.

[The sort that should be painted, if he was the type. Unfortunately for the world, he was only quite gifted in one of the arts. Or, rather, he'd put all his bloody time into being good at it.]

Is it? [Interest gathers behind his eyes, and perhaps it's enough interest that he begins deciding that this conversation is worth more than the few coins he may gather if he continues performing. Besides, he's got all day to do it. Not like he's established much else to do so far. Not until they have some swords.] How about I pack up and you tell me of it? This is all rather the same to me. Minus, of course, the giant monolith.

[frontlinetitties]

You're sure I'm not like, interrupting you or anything?

[She glances down toward his collection of coins, and thinks she kinda knows how it is. She'd always considered her life on the Ninth to be cold, and hard, and empty, and it was those things. There'd been no softness there in the bone-clawed grasp of the tomb, there'd been no comfort. But having to make her way in the world - buy her own food, purchase her own clothes, find her own bed and board - these are things she knows jack shit about. Doing whatever odd jobs she can find to keep her and Harrow fed isn't hard exactly, but it isn't smooth sailing either. She doesn't want to get in the way of that for him, and yet--]

Because if I'm not, then I wouldn't mind getting out of this scrum for a bit, y'know? Go somewhere a bit quieter.

[cointosser]

If you're being technical about it, you are. However, that's the glory of being a freelancer. I choose when I work.

[And besides, listening to others' stories is work. How else will he complete his ballad of the Dark Knight if he hasn't enough of her history? Those little details make all the difference. Her world, and the life she lived, sounds absolutely bizarre. He can't help but want to learn more.

He's learned to hook the fish that bites. So few, you know, are willing to spill their stories so easily.]

Please. I'd rather spend this time with you. [His smile is winning, even if he has a particular belief that his charms are a bit wasted upon her.] Ah. Quieter will be difficult, but I'm sure we can manage. Somewhere away from the markets, for sure.

[frontlinetitties]

[And perhaps the bright arc of his smile doesn't do for her what it might do for some other women, but it seems bright and - she thinks - genuine, which proves to be enough for her.]

Fair enough, I can't fault you for that. I mean, who wouldn't want to spend time with me?

[Besides almost everyone she's ever known, but never mind that. They were clearly a bunch of calcified morons. She glances about and feels a subtle sinking sensation on realising that yeeeaaah, they're pretty much surrounded by people from all angles, and imagining someplace quiet in this heaving, throbbing city is almost an impossibility. But maybe there's somewhere less crowded they can reconvene at, at the very least?]

I guess I could settle for moderately crowded, rather than so crowded I couldn't unsheathe my sword without accidently cutting someone in half.

[Which is a joke. Probably.]

[cointosser]

[He laughs, and yes, it's genuine.] For reasons like that! Believe me, your whole demeanor is a breath of fresh air in some aspects.

[Besides, they clearly both think they're rather amazing, so it works out. Even if this is a whole look-don't-touch situation, Jaskier is more than happy to appreciate Gideon's... everything.]

Oooh, can you do that? I'm not saying I'd love to see, but --

[Perhaps the but says everything. And unfortunately he no longer has the funds to demand some sort of private room in a tavern somewhere, which -- you know, this whole not rich thing is really getting old already.]

Perhaps near the gates? There's traffic flow, but not so much communing. Though I'm not so sure the guards will be happy about your sword-waving.

[frontlinetitties]

[She's been called a lot of things - most of them not especially nice - but a breath of fresh air certainly isn't one of them. It's a nice change, to find herself properly appreciated rather than skirted around skittishly like something that can only be killed by a stake through the heart at midnight. It just makes her all the more willing to slope off with him somewhere, whether she's distracting him from the serious business of earning money or not.

She gives the question a moment of serious consideration, before nodding.]

I probably could. But maybe I shouldn't try it here, today, in the middle of the street and for no good reason. A training area or something would be a better place for that. Disappointing as it may be, I should probably keep the sword-waving to a minimum. Fuck only knows what would happen to my dark enchantress if I were thrown in jail. She's kinda relying on me to keep a roof over our heads at the moment.

[Which is an interesting turn of events, to say the least.]

[cointosser]

[Well, it was half a joke, but gods, he does miss watching those sorts of spectacles. Not that he'd have much coin to spend on them now. Unfortunately, she has a very fair point.]

This place could certainly use some sort of... of coliseum, maybe.

[She's being sensible about the sword-waving, at least. He hikes his lute onto his back, strap comfortably across his shoulder, as they make their way... well, somewhere. There's bound to be a quiet place in a pocket somewhere.]

Ah! A jobless enchantress, is she? [He snorts.] Are you one of those oddjobs sorts? No doubt you could help a few townspeople carry their goods across town.

[You know, with that whole. Physique.] I'm not judging, of course, but has she no... abilities?

[Since it felt like everyone he met in Thorne certainly had theirs.]

[frontlinetitties]

[She pushes after him through the press of the crowd, and somewhere on the edge of her senses there's that feeling again-- not quite panic, but a constriction in her chest, a wave of piercing discomfort at the utter difference of this place. All the sights, the sounds, the smells, the sheer number of people-- it's so much bigger and more all-encompassing than she ever could have imagined. She'll get used to it. One day. somehow. And for now she narrows down her awareness onto the sound of his voice, and that pushes back the encroaching otherness for a moment, allows the thrum of human noise to bleed off into the background.]

Oh, she has abilities. She's the best god-damned necromancer the Ninth House has ever produced, you should see what she can do with even the smallest bone fragments. Like, full-on constructs just from little splinters. Regenerating ash, all sorts. and she's good with like, science and shit. All those necromantic theorems, you have to be. She's also been running the Ninth House pretty much singlehanded since she was just a kid... but none of that really translates all that well here, you know? And on top of that she's still...adjusting, shall we say. This place is kinda overwhelming for me, and I hated Drearburh. Harrow loves all that dark, silent, creepy shit.

[Quite the opposite of the bright, noisy, bustle of Cadens. Gideon skirts around a rickety cart selling some kind of spherical fruit, narrowly avoids thwacking a man with her sheathed sword as she does so. Mutters a quick apology as she stalks after Jaskier.]

So for now, I'm doing odd jobs, yeah. It's not what I wanna be doing in the long run, but until Harrow and I have a game plan figured out, I'm just taking work where I can. Which...yeah. Has mostly been carrying heavy shit, or glaring at people and flexing in tavern doorways. I kinda feel like I’m getting type-cast here.

[Boring drudge work...even if the latter has at least a few perks.]

[cointosser]

[There's something to be said that, prior to his experiences in this plane, he may have shuddered a bit simply to hear the term necromancer. Now his eyes grow wide and interested, his stride broad and energetic to keep up with Gideon's much longer ones (though they are not quite as sure as he's used to, with Geralt) so she doesn't end up tripping over him.

What can she do with a bone fragment? Oh, mm, perhaps some things are best left to the imagination. Or for a place more secluded than a wide and busy street.

Oh. Nevermind. Gideon holds nothing back, apparently. Does this sorceress not fear others finding out what she can do? It's not that Hector is terribly afraid of bringing it up, but he shows a bit more hesitation than this.]

You know, I have a necromancer lover she might like to meet. [Showing off??? Never. Though he doesn't mention his name, yet -- Hector may like to stay a little undercover, so to speak.]

Ahh, so neither of you are used to the cities. That certainly explains... [Well, the deer-in-torchlight look. No offense meant.

In the slight disturbance, Jaskier grabs one of the oranges from the cart and tucks it in his pocket. Perhaps with the ease of a man who's been forced to steal before. (Look, it was a good opportunity.)] It does sound terribly boring if you're used to, ah, action. Not that I'm quite sure what Houses One through Nine offered you.

[That's sort of a joke.] My friend is the same. He's never been good at, er, not going about killing things. I did hear tales there's a bit of a bandit problem outside the gates. I daresay you may get a bounty or two if you don't mind a spot of murder.

[Said in a off-the-cuff way. The murder of bandits is hardly something to ruffle one's sleeves over.]