Northgate
Three weeks before gameplay begins
It’s nearing the end of the day, as Astarael approaches the southern entrance of Northgate. She was excited at first, having finally made it here…until she spotted the first Painted Swan along the road. She pulls the hood of her cloak over her black hair, and does her best to mingle into the crowd traversing in both directions through the gate itself. The soldiers standing guard are pulling people aside and asking them questions.
Why are they here? Will they know to look for me?
They can’t possibly have heard about me yet, can they?
She holds her breath as she approaches. A soldier begins to come her way, but just as she thinks she’s in trouble, they pull the person in front of her out of the line. Somehow, she makes it through unnoticed. She wanders into the city a bit, getting as far from any Swan presence she can see, but stops when she notices some wanted posters on display. There are several young faces, but she’s relieved to not find her own among them. Perhaps she finally managed to outrun the news of her escape. For a little while, at least. No doubt word will reach here too, soon enough.
A cold breeze picks up, as the sun begins to set, and Astarael is reminded of just how under-dressed she is. Her threadbare cloak is hardly adequate to protect her against the freezing temperatures of the north. She looks around at the others passing by, taking note of how they are dressed- mostly in working clothes. Worn, but not nearly as ragged or as dirty as she looked these days. And bundled significantly warmer. Time to find some new clothes.
She wanders through the city a bit, and is fortuitous enough to stumble upon a seamstress’s shop, not too long before closing. It’s nice and empty at this time of day. She goes in, and picks out something suitable for the area- practical, in keeping with what she saw others wearing. The shopkeeper offers for her to change there, but as Astarael goes to do so, she catches sight of just how dirty her face is in a mirror on the wall. She puts on the new cloak, and asks the girl for some directions.
Astarael heads back out onto the street, and she stops in a small alleyway. She takes out the new clothing, and uses a loose stone and some dirt to rough up the items a bit. Best not to look like she has the money for brand new clothes. After that, she continues down the street, and into the bathhouse the shop keeper had given her directions to.
Freshly bathed, clothed for the weather, and with a few coins to spare, the next task on her list was to find somewhere to get a hot meal. Along the way, she passes by a group of children heading through a gate. Strange to see so many minors unaccompanied, and out so late! Wait, no, she was wrong…that one up front is a Halfling, and not a child. The children seem to be in good hands.
She wanders for a while, and scopes out a few places, before finding a tavern that looks to be free of the presence of any Painted Swans.
She sits down at a table, orders dinner and an ale. Seated nearby in the corner is a young man with unkempt ashen brown hair, and slightly pointed ears that belie some elven heritage. He seems to be covered in bruises in various stages of healing.
The barkeep comes by to bring Astarael her food, and the man near her catches their eye.
“You have some nerve, being back here! I’ll serve you, but don’t go starting any fights this time! Shouldn’t you be getting enough of that these days, anyways?”
Hmm, that explains the bruises. Best to give him a wide berth.
The night is cold, but Astarael has not yet found anywhere to stay. She wanders the streets to keep warm, keeping an eye out for suitable places to weather the night. She comes across the charred remains of a building, the piles of rubble suggesting it may have once been a tavern. It seems to have been this way for a long time. Odd, that no one has cleared it and rebuilt.
She walks on towards a poorer part of town. It was much more likely to find an abandoned apartment here- though she’d have to stay on her toes to avoid any thieves. She passes by another area of ruined buildings, this time, a whole block. This fire looks more recent.
How often do places burn down here?!?
She’s weary, and it looks like finding a place to hide out this late is going to be difficult. She turns down a street block, and finds herself in front of an odd building, looking rather like an overstuffed pillow. The Majestic.
It didn’t look so majestic to her.
Astarael continues on, down the street.
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