City of the Pillars

After their discussion, Alexis left Voah and Ekero with free reign over the steading and took the rather lengthy trip to the city proper alongside Tarmen.
If she had been in a more chipper mood, she might have jokingly wondered if the house would be still standing when they returned, given Ekero’s penchant for explosives and Voah’s curiosity.

However, with war on the horizon chances were that the steading would be ravaged anyway. So what difference did it really make?

The mercenary quietly sighed. She knew thinking fatalistically did not help things in the slightest, but it was getting increasingly difficult not to. Even so, there was still plenty of grim determination to keep her going.

When they finally arrived at the outskirts of the even further expanded Lowood, it was approaching late afternoon. They left their horses at a stall and continued on foot, hoods drawn up and hiding their faces from immediate recognition.

They found themselves in good company.
Right away, the city felt… off. For starters, it was much to quiet.

Last Alexis had been here, Ostiarium had been buzzing with activity, growing and reaching to make room for all the new faces that had come to make a new life here. There had been a certain kind of pioneering spirit in the air, a chaotic energy of creativity.

It was all but gone now. The streets were still full of people, but there was no chatter, no rowdiness, no laughter.

The people that crossed their path kept their head down, only ever raising their gaze to cautiously look around, hastily scurrying wherever they needed to go.

And then Tarmen and Alexis first caught sight of them. A procession of maybe about a dozen people, shattering the silence loudly praising the pillars, alternating with subdued cries of pain as they shredded their own flesh with flagellum and whip. Loudly they demanded that everyone repent their sin, and wherever they went, passers-by’s would sink to their knees and pray for forgiveness.

That was if they didn’t swiftly dart into the dark alleys, nooks and crannies before the pious flagellants caught sight of them.

Tarmen and Alexis opted for the latter, avoiding encounters such as this like the plague. And there was more of those to avoid than they cared to acknowledge.
As they drew nearer to the center, there was chanting carried in the cold night wind, no doubt coming from the shrine. However gone was the warm and gentle voice of Friar Balvaris who once would have led such service to the gods. It was replaced by a sharp and demanding undertone, speaking of absolute authority.

So this was life in the iron grip of the inquisition. Alexis decided there and then, if she somehow, miraculously lived to see the end of the war, she‘d give this traveling the Golden Diamond idea of Izil‘s some serious reconsideration. Or the Fang. Or anything really. Because this was not a life she wished to live.

With those dark thoughts in mind, her gaze was wandering the downtrodden streets of a place that long ceased to feel like home.
It caught on a rather familiar building, and the Garrahn unconsciously slowed down.

Catching Tarmen’s questioning look, she pointed out the rather shabby building that housed a tavern well known to both of them.

“You know what? Let’s just check. It’s a long shot, but it also isn’t exactly a detour. I’d just bite my ass if we went to brave the keep only to learn that he is out for a drink…”

With that she walked towards the Drunken Hare.