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

[gynvael]

[ Yeah. He could. Geralt does not say that that’s what he’s done. Tried to do. He doesn’t really fucking know anymore, if he ever did. Somehow he’s got two people, three—maybe more—that he’s. Protecting. And it makes everything in this world that much more complicated.

Instead, he snorts. Is that what they call them over there? He isn’t from anywhere in particular, but he’s rarely ventured far from the northern realms. ] Perhaps that makes two of us.

[ Ice monsters. He tips his head. Jon might not be serious, but Geralt can give a serious answer. ]

You’ll need to be more specific.

[song_of_ice]

[It helps a little to have someone similar to him, not only in this, but in other ways. It was still difficult to shake the feeling that Geralt might come from House Targaryen or Lyse, but the evidence said otherwise. Perhaps there was a string that connected people across worlds? Guaranteeing paths would cross would needed?

It was all a bit heavy for Jon to consider, he was simply grateful to have a friend in this place. With everything so difficult to understand and sort out, there was at least someone he could trust to lend him aid, if he needed it.

Jon gave a small wave, trying to brush off the subjects.]

They're...legends, stories from my world. The Others. They come from the Far North and bring the Long Night, all awhile animating the dead and waging a war against the living.

[But that's not something he's dealing with here, at least.]

[gynvael]

[ There's a tilt to his head, like he's trying to figure Jon out or maybe trying to figure out why Jon sometimes looks at him that way, as if he's seeing something Geralt isn't aware of. He rolls the observation in his head for a second before letting it go.

Legends. Everything's a legend, if it's repeated enough times. ]

That sounds like a prophecy. I don't hunt stories. [ But he's not dismissing what Jon's telling him. Truth in stories and all that. Especially after what Ciri's told him of the Wild Hunt. The Long Night. The Time of the White Chill. Guess every sphere fears the end of days under darkness and frost. Makes him wonder if there's ever a prophecy where the world dies in the summer light. ] What are these Others, truthfully? To you?

[ Consider him intrigued, if only because Jon seems to wave it off almost as quickly as he brought it up. He doesn't think Jon would've done that if there isn't more to it. ]

[song_of_ice]

Prophecies sometimes turn out true. [Though he's not been hearing much of the Prince That Was Promised prophecy, not since Melisandre was sent away. His mind had been too focused on the reality, the absolute fact that this war was coming and it was largely possible they would lose.] People don't tell stories about the monsters of your world?

[He couldn't help but smirk, well aware of how this sounded. He dismissed it too, until he was forced to confront it at the Wall. He had to wonder if it was a relief to face simple monsters, not something like...whatever the Others were. They weren't snarks or grumperkins, but more dangerous. Like death walking.]

They're the final battle between life and death. [Again, an insane notion, but one that he knows is true and won't be shaken from that.] I saw their full force at Hardhome, a Freefolk village. Thousands of dead threw themselves from a cliff and got to their feet and charged at the men, women and children. Those killed were raised effortlessly, doubling the Night King's army. Nothing could stop them, nothing slowed them. They are death and bring death.

[gynvael]

They do. That's my problem.

[ Too many tales that don't mean anything, obscuring reality. And to Geralt, stripped of its language of prophecy and doom, what Jon describes simply sounds like reanimation on a vast scale. Not monsters, exactly, but magic. Something close to what Hector is capable of. It's necromancy but not in the way of raising the dead back into life. Rather, it's turning them into another beast altogether.

He hums, thoughtful. Witchers do not take contracts upon entire armies of the magically animated undead. That's past the scope of what he does. ] You'd need a mage or two to counteract magic that powerful.

[ However mages and druids might operate in Jon's world. It's all distant theory, anyhow. Jon's here, so walking corpses and Night Kings, much like Nilfgaard's marching army, will have to wait. They have more immediate concerns. ]

[song_of_ice]

Had a mage, but her magic required sacrifices that I can't accept. [He barely knew Shireen, but the idea of a child, any child, being harmed for the sake of some spell, it sickened him. Melisandre would have been useful in the war to come and she truly believed in what she was fighting, but there were some actions he couldn't forgive...especially if they might be the reason he returned.] We had three dragons, but one was lost.

[His fault, something else that didn't sit well with him. Now the enemy had one too and they were more outnumbered than before.] The further south they go, the more numbers they collect. [He rubbed his eyes, aging before Geralt's eyes. This had taxed on him for so long, he felt as old as Maester Aemon.]

It does me no good being here. The war is coming and I'm here. My family, my home...they're facing destruction and the mages brought me here.

[gynvael]

[ Understanding flickers over his expression. A certain type of mage. Geralt is not unfamiliar—and it's less this statement of sacrifice than the mention of dragons that brings visible surprise to his face. ] I wasn't aware dragons took to the fights of men.

[ At least in his world, they're rare and sentient creatures who keep to themselves. Hunted nearly to extinction for little more than fear and greed. Perhaps they're different in Jon's world. He does recall the one he saw circling over Jon's domain, back before. It's gone now, he's noticed, much in the same way Geralt's log cabin is gone.

His eyes linger on Jon for a moment. He's not unsympathetic. War is equally marching over the Continent. But then, isn't it always, someplace, somewhere? ] War's coming here, too.

[ That much, he knows. Maybe not now, maybe not in a year, maybe neither of them will even be here to witness it. But all this, the Singularity, the brewing tensions—he's seen the signs too often to ignore them. ]

[song_of_ice]

They must be different in your world. Dragons were raised and ridden by Targaryens and Ancient Valyrians. There was magic in their blood that made them bond with dragons. They were gone from the world for a long time, but three were recently hatched by the last Targaryen.

[It's not easy to talk about Daenerys. He doesn't say her name for the mere fact that it would sting his heart. He can only reference her in passing, mitigating some of the misery. But even still in these vague terms, he can't hide how much he admires the woman.]

Yours too? Magical?

[It felt odd to say it that way, but what else could he say? Magic was now a key component in the war to come.]