Iron Heroes - Dark Harbor

[Dalamar]

It is a normal spring morning in Malador. A slight breeze brings in the scent of the sea and the normal sounds of a coastal city can be heard all around.

Damien MonTarr
There is a strong knock on the door, and without waiting for an answer, two men enter. Their red attair clearly identifies them as members of the town guard, though the younger of the two looks like a recent recruit, judging from his behavior.
"Are you sage Damien MonTarr?" the older of the two inquiries. "Your presence is requested at the Excise House." His tone clearly implies that, regardless of formalities used in the guard's speech, somebody wants to see you and won't be taking "no" for an answer.

Gregghor Bearbait
Your first day on the actual city proper, and already it feels somehow constraining. Maybe it's the narrow streets filled with people combined with your impressive figure, or perhaps the fact that there doesn't seem to be anything non-artificial. At least you can easily make your way through even the thicker parts of streets as people give way to you.
Except when suddenly there's a stern looking woman in armor looking straight at you and not giving way. "I'd like to see your license for carrying a weapon, sir," she says. Behind her are two people dressed similarly, though they don't have as much confidence the one that spoke to you.

Ghuntomas of Thorn
The streets of Malador are rather full right now, it seems. People are going around handling different matters. A group of five guards led by a competent-looking woman appears on the street and start moving among the people. At times, they stop some people, but after a brief exchange of words, said people are let back to mind their own business.
You notice a nomad-looking giant of a man on the same street, and it seems that the guards noticed him too. They start heading in his direction, though half-way there two of the guards leave the others and head in your direction. In fact, they're clearly headed straight to you.
"Umm, do you have a weapons license?" one of the two says when they get to you.


Other characters will have to wait a bit for their introduction. It'll take some posting to get the whole group together.

 

[Erekose13]

Ghuntomas stops and looks down at his weapons then back up at the guards. "I do not. Could 'ya tell me where I can get one?" he replies. Though he has just arrived in Malador he has heard of these licenses and that the city uses them as an excuse to force people to join their militia. Perhaps he should offer to join as he has heard that the required duties are rather lax.

 

[Einan]

Gregghor looks down upon the small woman, standing in his way and waves his hand dismissively, "Move aside, woman. I need no paper to carry this (pats his maul); my hands work just fine." Without waiting for an answer he begins to move past her.

 

[Ambrus]

Momentarily startled at the sudden intrusion into his small single room apartment Damien, dressed only in a pair of breaches, quickly rises from the small table to face the two guardsmen. Taking a deep breath to regain his composure the young man smiles reassuringly to the pair standing in the doorway. Damien half turns and reaches out with his right hand to take the tunic draped over the back of the chair in which he'd been sitting. With his back to the guards, the young man watches the distorted view of his left hand through the small knot in the fabric of reality that he holds cupped gently in his palm. The visual distortion begins to straighten itself out as Damien releases the ephemeral mana he'd instinctively gathered into his hand when the door opened suddenly. Once he can see his left palm clearly once more the arcanist breathes a sigh of relief, picks up the tunic and pulls it down over his head. "I am. You'll have to pardon my disheveled appearance; I wasn't expecting a summons this morning."

Damien then sits down in the chair and begins pulling on his boots. Looking up at the senior guardsman, Damien frowns gently and continues: "I'm sorry you fine gentlemen have been bothered with such a trivial matter as this; I'm hardly deserving of such a distinguished escort." Getting up, the young man retrieves his leather jerkin from the squat bed and pulls it on, to be followed shortly by his burgundy cloak. Smiling cordially once more, Damien takes the two steps to the door, holds out his right hand to the senior guard and politely inquires: "Might I know your names good sirs?" (Diplomacy +5) If the man takes his hand Damien will nod and offer his hand to the younger guardsmen in turn. "I'm Damien. Pleased to meet you both."

Turning back to his desk, Damien quickly collects his pens, inks and papers into his scroll case which he in turn tucks into his sea bag. Slinging the bag over his shoulder Damien turns and motions to the door behind the pair of guardsmen. Waiting for the two men to exit, the cloaked young man follows the pair out, pulls the door closed behind him, turns and locks it before following the guardsmen up the five short steps to the gravel and mud covered street. "So, do either of you gentlemen have an idea what's happening at the Excise House that would necessitate two of the city's finest to have to come retrieve a simple clerk? If they're running short on staff today they could have just sent a errand-boy for me." (Gather Information +5)

 

[Dalamar]

Ghuntomas of Thorn
"Uh, could you then come, that is, to talk with Belia over th-"
The guard hasn't time to finish his sentence when he notices that large man you noted earlier being pointed at with spears. Both of them dash through the crowd towards them.

Gregghor Bearbait
As you start moving past the woman, you suddenly find yourself with two spears pointed at you. "You didn't get permission to leave," one of the two spear-wielders says, though his eyes don't show quite the confidence that his words do. Having to crane one's nect to look somebody in the face tends to do that.
"So you don't have a license," the woman says, apparently unfazed by your reaction. "Are you a newcomer in Malador?"
Two other people with spears are coming your way from the other side of the street and will reach you in a moment.

Damien MonTarr
Throughout your initial chatting, neither of the two guards says anything, though the younger one clearly gets more relaxed.
As you present your hand for shaking, the younger one starts smiling. "Hi, my name's Da- Oof!" he is cut short by the senior' elbow hitting his side, accompanied with a short "We're on duty".
Nothing else happens as you start your way towards the Excise House.

Grendel
Thanks to a tip from [insert family member or friend in militia], you got in on something that one of the Excise House clerks, Tremance, is planning. Right now you're waiting in his office for him to arrive with some other people he's going to use as his pawns.
Just as you are musing this, a man walks into the room. By glance, he looks almost the opposite of you, physically speaking.

Damien MonTarr
When you ask about the reason for your summons, the younger of the two guards pipes up.
"Mr. Tremance didn't say anything, but I think it has to do with the abundance of unmatching manif- Ouch!"
Again he is cut off mid-sentence, this time because the older guard hits his leg with the butt of his spear. An apologetic smile shows on the younger one's face, directed both to you and his senior.
Tremance... You know he's a rather new addition to the clerks in the Excise House. From what you've heard, he's somebody with smarts and keen perception, and he advanced quickly from basic official that works in the main hall of the Excise Office to upstairs, both figuratively and literally.
What the guard was talking about was probably how the manifests sometimes don't exactly match up to the goods. Most of the time the errors were due to mislabeling, and the actual worth of the treasure hasn't been in error. It's a humane error, unavoidable when there are numerous expeditions returning from the Towers daily.

As you consider this, you notice that the three of you have arrived at the Excise House. You are lead straight through the main hall and up the stairs that lead to the offices upstairs where the paperwork and revenue is collated and collected. This is also where the errors on manifests get rectified. The officials working here get paid better to ensure their loyalty, as this is the place where stealing would be the easiest. You never personally got to work here, as that would have required a permanent job at the Excise House.
The guards lead you to a door that leads to one of the offices. "You can wait here untill Tremance arrives," the older of them says, and they then leave.
Entering the room, you see that that isn't empty. There is already someone here, someone who doesn't look the least to be a clerk.

Yay! Two characters in one place already!

 

[Old Fezziwig]

Grendel smiles, baring his teeth, his left front incisor on the top missing. "I don't suppose you have any idea what this is all about, do you?" He stretches and yawns.

 

[Einan]

Gregghor smiles. It's a singularly frightening smile considering he's missing teeth and the frivolity doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"If you don't remove those spears I will feed them to you."

Gregghor keeps his eyes on the two spearmen, but responds to the woman, "I am new to this place, yes. Will there be blood between us, woman?"

 

[Ambrus]

"You can wait here until Tremance arrives," the older of them says, and they then leave.

Damien claps the younger of the two on the back cordially as he turns to leave. "Nice meeting you. Talk to you later."

The young scribe looks around the second floor hallway briefly. Damien had been up here often enough when dropping off records or to confer with one of the senior clerks but had never had the luxury of time to really enjoy it. He himself could probably have had a position like Tremance's by now if he'd dedicated himself uniquely to his work here; he was certainly qualified and competent enough. He could have had this very office perhaps, a larger salary, even a bigger apartment... Damien sighed. He wasn't meant to be a simple clerk aspiring to a senior's position. Dwelling on what might have been was a waste of time. Walking into Tremance's office, Damien glances around and sees the burly seaman sitting casually in a chair next to the door.

Grendel smiles, baring his teeth, his left front incisor on the top missing. "I don't suppose you have any idea what this is all about, do you?" He stretches and yawns.

Recognizing the man as a haborside native by his accent, Damien tries to relax as he casually flips one side of his cloak over his shoulder and sits down next to the man while chuckling good naturedly. Adopting the same accent himself, Damien switches briefly to sea speech to swear lightly before continuing in common: "Heh. I wish. I was barely awake at my kip a few minutes ago when the city's finest almost broke my door down to drag me down here." Damien places his mariner's bag on the floor between them, yawns and rubs the sleep from his eyes. Offering the seaman his right hand the young man continues: "Name's Damien."

 

[Old Fezziwig]

Grendel raises an eyebrow briefly at Damien's adapting of the Harborside accent — he's a local or that's a damn good fake. He takes the hand and shakes it firmly. "Grendel. You a sailor?"

 

[Ambrus]

Damien leans back comfortably in his chair "I earned my sea legs working alongside my father and brothers in the boatyards when I was young. Two of my older brothers are harbor pilots. Shame I don't get out onto the water as much as I'd like nowadays. How about you? Are you a crewman or an officer?"