Lost Trails 9: Yulash

[ewancummins]

YULASH


After crawling through the magical portal, the adventurers find no sign of the evil witch-woman that plagued Harrowdale.
No monsters, either, just a few mangy rats.


Making their way to the surface through a vertical shaft fitted with a ladder, they emerge in an alley near a rather shabby market.

Though it appears unlovely and decayed, Yulash is far from deserted; hackneys and coal carts and dung barrows rattle down the stone lanes, competing for street space with the throngs of evening shoppers and servants running errands. Men and women hurry along with little time wasted in conversation. Mailed swordsmen patrol the streets in squads of six; the leaders wear scarlet feathers on their pot-helms. Common folk give the soldiers a wide berth.

Locals speak with a guttural accent and strange diction that make initial inquiries about travel and accommodations a bit slow.

But soon, while asking about in a dim tavern they make the acquaintance of a horse-trader called Holman, who is fluent in the Sembian dialect.
The trader offers to sell the party a string of ‘excellent Dale-ponies’ at what he assures them is a fair price.
Holman also warns the party about the soldiery led by the Red Plumes.
“Don’t make them cross. The local situation’s gotten worse lately and Lord-Captain has ordered all troublemakers and curfew violators seized. You might end up shipped to Hillsfar and tossed in the fighting pits!”
He scowls, but then wipes his stubbly, weather-worn face with his hands and resumes a bland smile.

“Now, don’t think I’m talking against the city government. No, no, no I’m just giving you friendly advice, one foreigner to another.”

[alhoon]

The Red-Plumes of Yulash make Raen a bit concerned. As the friendly merchant talked to them, he offered to buy him a round -mostly to keep him talking- as he made a couple of polite inquires, in low tones.
"So, Holman, the situation has deteriorated enough for patrols of six mailed men to patrol together. I am sure that the local government has their reasons but... what is the current situation that demands as great force to patrol a city? That's not a battle ground from what I can see. Such squads could take a dozen or more rioters or criminals. Is it a show of force to keep the peace - I have confidence in the lord captain - or there's any great danger lurking around? "

[ewancummins]

The Red-Plumes of Yulash make Raen a bit concerned. As the friendly merchant talked to them, he offered to buy him a round -mostly to keep him talking- as he made a couple of polite inquires, in low tones.
"So, Holman, the situation has deteriorated enough for patrols of six mailed men to patrol together. I am sure that the local government has their reasons but... what is the current situation that demands as great force to patrol a city? That's not a battle ground from what I can see. Such squads could take a dozen or more rioters or criminals. Is it a show of force to keep the peace - I have confidence in the lord captain - or there's any great danger lurking around? "

Holman glances about warily, then pulls his stool closer to Raen.
In a low voice, "The Red Plumes come from Hillsfar. Hillsfar and Zhentil Keep have fought over this city, off and on, for generations. The fighting left Yulash in ruins more than once, I've heard, in the old times. But it always grows back. Trade routes...Anyhow, Hillsfar has ruled here for years without a major uprising, until this year. The previous Lord-Captain assassinated, riots, burnings by night, monsters in the undercity and masked cults. Many say Zhentil Keep or the Zhentarim stand behind the trouble."

[alhoon]

"And the people left to pick up the tab and rebuild from the ruins..." Raen whispered back in distaste.

[ewancummins]

"And the people left to pick up the tab and rebuild from the ruins..." Raen whispered back in distaste.

Holman shrugs.
''Seems there's always some who will prosper from a war, making coin enough to pull up again what was pulled down. Pity the poor folk, though... ''

[ewancummins]

AROUND THE TAVERN

While Raen converses with Holman the horse-dealer...


Four men play cards by a window facing the street; evidently taking advantage of the weak sunlight for illumination of the tabletop. In the middle of the table, two short stacks of coins gleam, silvery and brassy.


In a dim rear corner, a skinny brunette in green lolls on the lap of a fat man, whispering and giggling by turns.
The woman's human seat nosily slurps wine from a pewter goblet.


Along the bar, three young men dressed in rough, common garb shovel slop into their mouths with wooden spoons, in between taking pulls from leather flagons.

Servants move about the bar and among the tables.


And KATRIN...

VIEW CONTENT:

...feels something tugging at her bag. A quick sideways, downward glance shows dirty fingers withdrawing into the shabby, over-sized coat of a teenage boy standing near her, his eyes scanning the collection of glass bottles and ceramic mugs lined on the shelf behind and above the bar.
The crop-haired lad chews his lower lip. Though the tavern air is cool, sweat shines on his brow.

[Wolfglide of the Fraternity]

Klokulf addresses Holman. "I presume then, that no Zhents are tolerated here."

[ewancummins]

Klokulf addresses Holman. "I presume then, that no Zhents are tolerated here."

Holman replies,

''Hmmmm... Rightly speaking, a Zhent is anyone from Zhentil Keep. Can those folk come here? Yes. But they do get watched, and in wartime might be refused entry. The Zhentarim, the Black Network, is banned in Yulash. In wartime, or tense times like these, trade between Zhentil Keep and Yulash suffers. But it doesn't usually just stop. There's too much coin to be made on both ends and in the middle, you see. Goods going north to the black walls are listed as bound for 'Teshmouth' and nobody cares so long as the papers are signed and tariffs paid. "


Increased noise drifts in from the street, voices and footfalls.

Holman glances past Raen and Klokulf. looking to the windows.

"Must be close to Highsun. I expect there will be a big crowd for the execution."
He grimaces.

[Wolfglide of the Fraternity]

Holman glances past Raen and Klokulf. looking to the windows.

"Must be close to Highsun. I expect there will be a big crowd for the execution."
He grimaces.

"An execution, you say?" Klokulf's eyebrows heighten. "Of whom?"

[ewancummins]

Holman glances past Raen and Klokulf. looking to the windows.

"Must be close to Highsun. I expect there will be a big crowd for the execution."
He grimaces.

"An execution, you say?" Klokulf's eyebrows heighten. "Of whom?"

''A spy. The man was taken consorting with dark elves."

[alhoon]

Raen's eyes go wide.
"Dark elves? Oh, no... is this the reason of the countless soldiers out there? And why would anyone consort with the drow? It's not like they are trustworthy enough to pay one. Even if they do, at some point they will slit your throat and take the money back. "

[ewancummins]

Raen's eyes go wide.
"Dark elves? Oh, no... is this the reason of the countless soldiers out there? And why would anyone consort with the drow? It's not like they are trustworthy enough to pay one. Even if they do, at some point they will slit your throat and take the money back. "

Holman says,
''I don't know anything solid about them, but everything I have heard is as bad as you say, friend: nightblack raiders carrying captives down under the hollow hills, human huntsmen driven out of their minds by the sight of dark elf women dancing naked under the moon, masked assassins and bloody spider-altars...''

[ewancummins]

BENN

Whilst the others catch up on local news of discuss buying mounts, Benn notices something outside:
a colorful house-wagon

VIEW CONTENT:

--very like a Vistani vardo--

rolling down the street outside the tavern, with a swarthy, mustachioed man in a sheepskin jacket and green bandanna driving a team of roan mares at a walk.
The dark brown side-panel of the cabin on wheels prominently displays a giant blue eye surrounded by golden stars and phases of the silver moon. Arched above this image stenciled in large black letters:
THE ALL-SEEING EYE

[ewancummins]

SIR CLIVE
overhears two men chatting about a slave auction.

[ewancummins]

ALAIN
seems to have caught the attention of a middle-aged zaftig brunette working behind the bar, who winks at him and leans over the bartop lower than her counter-polishing task requires.