A nearby guard at the gate lets out a small chuckle at the mention of blending in. His hand resting on the gate, ready to open and close at your beckon. You faintly make out Edwin moving into the bustling streets with his security team, shaking many hands along the way from passersby.

For this brief moment, Woodsedge looks in chaotic harmony; While children with bags and books run through the cobbled streets, horse drawn carriages with supplies follow single file on the road. While the ground itself has no markings, people instinctively stay on the sides while letting carts and large groups go through the middle of the streets. At crossings people don't seem to slow down, but do spin their heads frantic to avoid collisions. From some of the quaint multi-storied houses, singing and humming fills the air as housewife's begin their day.

The sun is rising and light covers the city, it's people alive and active. In the faint distance, from the South, the familiar sound of mallets hitting wood and construction grows. The South District finds itself more in need of constant repair, rather than any improvements like other districts would see. Carts of disheveled looking workers ride their way along town, collecting these poor workers and delivering them to the South District for another day.

  
Together you meet at the gate of Edwin's small mansion. The guard gives you a slight nod and a short handwave. The bustling, cobbled road stretches on as you follow it to the South District Gate.

Colorful robes and garments slowly turn to rags as you come closer and closer to the shambled district. Smiles fade into worn and torn faces of labour. Nobles with plumed hats find themselves replaced by crooked-backed workers hauling materials as you stand before the South District Gate.

One of the guards at the gate looks over to your group and gives a nod with a slight beckoning motion. He focuses his attention to the workers moving in and out of the large gate afterwards. His eyes darting left and right through the masses.

  
The city still retains it's booming noise. The petty arguments, the cheers and the rabble of conversation. Through and over the gate itself flows the harsh noise of construction. Men screaming cardinal directions while entwined with rope, large stacks of lumber carefully placed on carts by many arduous hands. Beyond the scrapping, the hollering and creaking wood ring out whistling tones. Here and there, workmen with slightly different colored scarfs and packed work-belts blow whistles as they command workers with large and exaggerated directions.

You find yourself at the side of the road, by the South District Gate. Out of the way of work vehicles and swearing workers who march on.

  
  Vitor "Seems we've reached our destination by the smell of it... chuckle Odour like the backside of a sickly swine."

Turning to his crew Vitor subdues the tail of his cloak with a lack of familiarity and stills it against breezes and billows.

"Remember be swift. Be concise. As always per our method and contract."

Waiting a moment for his words to sink in he continues~.

"This here's for Intel only. Once we've a reasonable amount on the Liberty's Edge and any other useful information we rally to a meeting point."

Noticing the beckoning guard Vitor motions towards him with subtlety, trying to hide the man's acknowledgement.

"Songbird, Vylrene. I gather it'd be best if thee spoke with the guard and see if the man has any leads, for certain your ways are more persuasive if not - delicate than mine."

Now wearing a smirk, sadly an ugly smirk by birth. Vitor looks at Kal and speaks to him directly with a nod.

"What say ye and me mingle with the worker folk? I gather we need not use deception as much to be mistaken for workers ourselves... Oh and as for our meeting point."

Vitor scans the area for a landmark.

 
Kál has been following the group from the rear, and to look at seems quite out of place and slightly uncomfortable. He also attempts to dress himself with the cloak gifted by Murdik, by loosely tying it around his neck but keeping it off of his shoulders. You see that everytime it slips down and covers his shoulders that he moves it back off, getting a little frustrated the more it happens. You also notice that every time someone makes full eye contact with him, Kál lowers his head in a slight bow each time. After a few moments of this and receiving strange looks from the recipients you see Kál seems a bit confused verging on upset.

Catching up with the group, Kál scratches his head, looking concerned and says:
"Is it not accustom to acknowledge passersby in this place? I find that concerning, it's like everyone is too busy to be kind."

Kál stops to listen to the group and acknowledges Vitor's plan;
"Yes, I think that's a good idea. We shoudl see what we can gather from the current mood of the people here and see if that could help us any in our pursuits."

Kál turns to Vaelron, smiles and then says;
"As much as I can appreciate your energetic ways, I don't think this is the time or place for that, friend. Do you think you can blend and maybe be a little less..." He gestures to Vaelron's outfit, and pauses for a moment, and awkwardly meets the Bards gaze before continuing. "...Colourful?"

  
"I'm sure the cloak will work fine enough, Kál, have some faith. Vaelron's on the job for good reason, he knows what he's doing. You and Vitor go on ahead and mingle, we'll go see what that guard wants."

Vylreene steps towards the guard at the gate and greets him.

"Any advice for us non-locals before we head out?"

She asks with a faint smile while clumsily trying to make a cloak + long coat combination work somehow.

  
  Vitor sees Vylreene strutting towards the guard in his line of sight and grabs her by the shoulder before she's completely out of arm's length.

"For lack of a landmark I say we meet up at this here spot again in 3 hours."

He hastily says as to not take up more time than needed ending it with a quick stalwart pat on the shoulder. Acknowledging Kál's confirmation with a knowing glance he starts out towards the bulk of populace nearby, a steady pace staying shoulder to shoulder with his partner.

  
The guard gives a polite wave as Vylreene greets him and asks her question.

No one openly, loudly supports the Liberty's Edge here. Many do in secret however. You woulden't have much luck just asking every random stranger or looking in every crevice. However, you can bet your bottom copper that in the back of seedy bars of the lower born, the topic is prime and well discussed.

I don't get to move around that much with a job like this, but I can tell you theres a good amount of rotten places where dregs gather in the South District. A tip I'll toss you is this; pretend to hate the upper class and get in good with the workers. Liberty's Edge is fueled by workers on the low ladder of society. If you were to find a recruiter or an agent, it would be among the workers.

He gives a half-hearted bow as he peer around again, resuming his day job.
Vaelron gives Vitor a little smile, being pleasantly amused by the nickname Songbird. For he has pleasant memories of a variety of species he had seen in the world. Vaelron caught himself almost zoning out again thinking about the colorful Pylarian Cloudswiffel yet remains focused on Vitor's words. He completely ignores what Kál says about the way he looks.

He looks at everyone, just taking in the info and nods at Vitor and the rest and walks with Vylreen.

He takes in what the guard has said and has an idea, but waits what the half-elven woman has to say.

 
Vaelron's chaotic persona can not deal with the times passing by inactively and summons his lute and walks into the district

He looks around to see what is happening

  
Over the gate itself flows the harsh noise of construction. Men screaming cardinal directions while entwined with rope, large stacks of lumber carefully placed on carts by many arduous hands. Beyond the scrapping, the hollering and creaking wood ring out whistling tones. Here and there, workmen with slightly different colored scarfs and packed work-belts blow whistles as they command workers with large and exaggerated directions.  
The bard takes in the view. The dirt and amount of sweat makes him shudder. He walks back and forth in small steps staying within earshot of the conversation  
In the loud, bustling streets by the gate, you are unable to pick up any conversation in particular. As you stare at legions of workers, some look back for a moment, yards away down the street.  
"Ugh, this ragged day 'as barely started and I'm already ready to drown in drink"
A small group of 4 rough looking workers next to you is huddled together as they pass a pipe around. The smell of heavy tobacco swirls around them as they grunt and stretch. One of the workers looks around briefly and grows a small smile on his face.
"I say, we scoot for the day. In dis' chaos, they won't even miss us!"

"*ya got guts Rem, but aye, I dun see the chief here today either.*" Says another, stocky man in thick, uncomfortable looking work clothes.
The men all start looking around. They slowly start taking off their Brown colored scarfs and put them deep in their pockets or pouches. One by one they slowly start to walk further into the South District with their head down.

  
  Noticing the workers taking their leave Vitor blocks their path, not physically but with verbal implication.

"Little early for the end of a workday, don't you agree? What do you think Kaden?" Vitor snarls from under his hood, with his obfuscated face turned to Kál. Clearly calling Kál by a different name.

Letting his words linger for no longer than a single breath he starts with his fib.

"The chief said the next one to bail early gets an indefinite leave without pay." He breaks rank with Kál, approaches the men and leans in close.

"Lest thee want little Tom eating porridge with sawdust and worms. Mayhap you can answer some questions of ours?"

Vitor now visibly enjoying the feigned predicament of the men, can't be helped and shows his row of imperfect teeth barely visible underneath his hooded guise arched into a grin.

"Hell, maybe the chief magically turns his mood around and pays a double wage instead?" He says mockingly.

"What say ye? Ye hard working men..."

 
While not immediately sure if Vitor simply got his name wrong, or if this was some type of guise Kál chooses to trust Vitor and acknowledges his comment with a raise of the eyebrow and the slightest of nods.

He stays behind Vitor when he approaches the men, positioning himself behind the left shoulder, but still giving the man space.

Kál attempts to make himself look intimating, in the only way he knows how… by crossing his arms and scowling. He pipes in with:

”Yeah, and I for one wouldn’t want to be eating just the scraps, oblige us and maybe we’ll sweep this infraction under the sawdust.”

  
Trusting in their abilities, Vylreene does not join Vitor and Kál. Instead she keeps watch from a reasonable distance, ready to assist if needed.

"Love me a bit of street theater." She mumbles to herself as she leans against a signpost, making sloshing sounds with her waterskin.

 
Vaelron was walking back and forth, until he noticed the situation that had occurred back at the group.

He overheard Vylreene as he kept getting distracted by the waterskin.

"oh yes, as do I."

Vaelron said softly. Leaning in next to her, whilst his right hand was fondling the strings of the lute on his back.

"That hound of a man might be more suitable for some line of work in the theaters than he might ever know. Such talent."

  
The stocky man meets Vitor's gaze as the other 2 scrawny men ahead of him seem a bit startled. The last man, who seems to be the tallest in the group, makes a birdcall as he turns around to see Vitor and Kál get the attention of the group. While all the men wear some sort of toolbelt, The large man has hammer for pummeling rocks into the pavement, the 2 more lankier ones have carpentry hammers and the whistling, tall one has a woodsaw by his side.

The largest man of the group, almost face to face with Vitor while being a head shorter, scoffs for a moment. You notice an ever so slight pause before he speaks.

"Rem, we gots ourselves some concerned citizens over 'ere! Mouthy tourists by the smell of 'em, too!"
"Unless ya want me to build ya a path out of town, I don't think we gots anything to talk about."

The large man scans Vitor up and down. He narrows his eyes and clenches his fists by his sides. There is a slight quiver in his arms, but he fights it.

The tall man lets out a small chuckle as the stocky man emboldens the group with his attitude. The skinny men now behind the large man exchange glances and stay silent.

"Hah, obviously they seem a little lost and looking for answers in the only brutish way they know how. These lads don't seem like the run of the mill errand boys. I'm sure they have a wonderful reason to come to us."

The tall man says. He takes a few steps closer and gently pushes the stocky man back as he now stands before Vitor. With a slight grin he rests his hands on his hips.

"Alright, I'll give you a moment. What troubles you?"

In response to the birdcall, some heads have turned. While some shrug and continue with carrying tools or their own conversations. Plenty of eyes stay fixed on the tall man, Vitor and Kál. Some simply stare while others inch closer with curious but weary looks.

  
  Vitor stands still letting the scene unfold before him, remaining silent and still till the last head has turned and then lets out a few laughs.

"Nary I thought I'd stir up the whole fucking Ant Colony."

Taking in the sight almost with Glee for a moment. Vitor ruffles with a piece of parchment from underneath his cloak whilst walking to the tall man. Once in front he leans in close to him and in a low voice adresses him.

"Ye know, I think an acquaintance of mine would probably enjoy your theatrics. I don't. And neither does a certain Edwin Murdik, riling up your merry men won't sway us one way or the other..."

Once more Vitor smiles, more genuinely this time.

"You have the conduct of a bull in a pottery house, but the balls of one too." Finally, Vitor pushes the closed parchment containing the Symbol of the Liberty's Edge against his chest. "This insignia, tell me what you know. Discreetly... We could make it worth your while..."

 
Kál remains in his stance behind Vitor while the larger men talk. He takes notice of the clenched fist of the largest male, and decides to keep an eye out for any sign of danger in the gathering crowd.  
Underneath Vaelron's cloak, hands are unnoticeably dancing in old patterns of the ancient bardic arts. He hums a little melody in Fa sharp and asks Vylreen how she is liking the weather today...

To play the part.

casting Ghost sound around Vitor's contester his bootyhole: the wettest, loudest fart of the realms

  
The tall man lets Vitor come close and listens with a smirk. He let's out a small "Aha" when Murdiks name pops up. He stares at the insignia for a moment and meets Vitor's eyes again.

"So the Ox tells me that I am a bull, hehe. Alright. You got me invested. I value our mutual friend Edwin. So you are looking for the Liberty's Edge?
I'll keep it brief; You won't find them by just asking about honestly. Make people believe your goals align with them and they'll find you. Pretend to yap it up drunk at a pub or get chatty at the markets. You might be able to play off your forceful manners as just an exotic traveller act with a spot of luck."

The tall man regains his composure as he takes a brief step back. He raises his hand to the side of his face and touches his right eyebrow with 2 fingers. He then points the 2 fingers at Vitor.

"Remember what I just did and see if you see it more oft-"

  
A loud, sickening sound fills the air. Like a neglected horn attached to a pair of bellows, It rumbles for audible seconds. To describe the low roaring noise of air as "Flatulence" would make it still sound quaint. The unflattering and attention drawing noise from behind the tall man leaves him in total silence.
His eyes grow twice their size and a few sweat drops land on his shoes.

The crowd starts to slowly look confused with small bits of laughter in the way back coming in here and there between all the regular noise from the other builders and citizens. The stocky man looks at his boss for a moment and looks away. An embarrasing silence hangs in the air.

 
  A sharp wheeze like a toddler's lung collapsing shoots out from Vitor's nostrils. The sharp sound got stiffled quickly by a quick clearing of the throat and forced cough. "I... You... Thanks." Mimicing the man's gesture, Vitor gives a nod while raising a single brow in confusion. "You don't mind if I leave out that last part, do you?"

Walking away from the flatulant one, Vitor wheezes and chuckles to Kál under his breath. "Cheese Scoffer just about fuckin' shat himself, the Blighter had a good gab up to that point." After his say to Kál; Like sorcery, the largest grin imaginable spreads over his face as he walks off.

 
The tall man slowly backs up while keeping his dreadful stare. The crowd slowly disperses with small bits of laughter as they continue on their day.  
Vaelron beckons Vylrene to regroup and walks over to where Kal and Vitor are.

When Vaelron gets closer to the boys, he gives a little wave and nods towards Kál.

Man I almost feel a tad bad for that little hurricane... He whispers when he is close enough within earshot of the party.

I'm lucky I didn't target your butthole, Vitor. The bard says softly with chuckle. I can't say the idea didn't linger for a tiny moment, but maybe it's good to start fighting side by side one way or.....another Says Vaelron as he watches the poor soiled-one scurry away in shame.

 
  Like hearing nails on a chalkboard, Vitor's expression morphs into one of pain at the sound of Vaelron's voice. He lets him have his say. After which he remains staring ahead, foregoing eye contact.

"No doubt. In fact I'm positive. Ye mind couldn't help but linger on me arse. In fact I'm certain you'll lose sleep dreaming of it."

A pause occurs, followed by a subtle shake of his head as he finally turns to Vaelron. Vitor carries on. No hint of aggression or emotion only a briefing in a matter of fact manner.

"Under-stand-this. Songbird, don't expect a medal, pat on the back, loving kiss or a reach around whenever ye refrain to sabotage our mission. While we are here as one, I'll give blood and bones to make this mission a succes and risk my life to defend yours or the others in our troop. As per my training."

Vitor lets his words sit, with no rush he closes off his statement and says the following in Elvish;

"But this isn't a game Vaelron. In this world people can get killed, disfigured, maimed Vitor swipes away his hair showing the scars riddling the side of his face. or worse... Consider me not severing your dominant hand at our first conflict a reciprocation of my affection. Gods know my problem solving was oft simple in the past."

With a sigh and slight look of disappointment Vitor closes off his statement betraying a weariness with the ordeal.

"Just give it a rest Songbird."

  
  Vitor brings the crew up to speed of the words said by the Foreman. And displays the gesture connected to the Liberty's Edge. After the short communiqué Vitor turns to Kál and suggest to stop by all market stands in their path to the nearest Pub.  
Vaelron has a bit of a pained look on his face.

He speaks back in Elvish softly

"You should have told me how mad this world is in the fighting pits of Ostenso"

He lets out a sigh.

switching back to common-tongue
"It was at least a little relief to see a smile on your face."

Vaelron turns away from Vitor and Kàl and walks towards Vylrene.

"The soiled-one has a point. Simply asking around isn't going get us far. Tricking the Liberty's Edge into believing we are sympathizers would be a lot more efficient. I would be for that approach. What do you think? I can always sing a couple of old "Fuck those snobby Nobles" songs in a tavern to get on their side."

  
Vylreene remains silent for a few seconds before answering. With the most neutral of expressions on her face, It's unclear if she's pondering or just absent-minded.

"So long as none of us disregard all tact while approaching stall owners, I don't see the harm in taking both approaches. Stalls attract all manner of people, just like pubs do. Asking some questions shouldn't hurt, and you can feign being on whichever side you think fits the merchant best, including Liberty's Edge."

Her polite smile suddenly returns as she leans in to say something only Vaelron would hear.

"Listen, it might be best to focus on the job for now instead of attempting to mend something you never had with Vitor. Excuse the pun, but you've struck a chord with him, and not the pleasant kind. As the man said, give it a rest, at least for now."

Vylreene breaks off a piece of the honey bread she's been habitually snacking from ever since you've arrived here, and puts it in Vaelron's hand.

"Have a nibble, to ease your mind." She says while widening her smile.

She turns towards the rest and stands at the ready.

"Off we are then?"

  
Valeron's face shows relief and gives Vylrene a little nod.

He takes the honey bread and takes a bite.

"Pffank huu."

  
Looking to the South and letting your eyes follow the large main road which softly bends a little here and there, you can see a small market on a open square. It seems to be common in Woodsedge city planning to incorporate large circular town squares in the heart of it's districts. Along the road you see many small stores, a few inns and pubs. A small smithy along the road surrounded by random boards and wood as a fence to keep in the noise. Many paths that split from the main cobbled road turn into crude, random flat stone paths or simple well-trotted dirt paths. No buildings really go above ground floor and sometimes a first. The material used for the buildings is visibly more beaten up, roughly produced and sawed with imperfections.

But the shabby architecture doesn't dampen the mood too much for it's residents. Children chasing each other and playing simple games in the streets, being passed by groups of wood-carrying workcrews as joyful songs from women tending small communal farm patches and trees adorn all this hustle and bustle. Every so often a new crier can be heard spreading the news and local advertisements.

Before you stands the market square. Wooden stands with colourful, crude tapestry line your sight. Bright orange and yellow banners above what seems to be a produce stall, matched by a dark and grim grey one for one of the local smiths' weapon stall. Stalls with cooked foods, crafts, furniture and more then you can even see from just here are spread all over. You see stern men haggling for boxes of supplies with business savvy merchants and crowds of women lining the fabric stalls as gentle tunes of a few different musical instruments come from different corners of the busy gathering place.

Behind you is the main road back to the South gate. Some small stores, bars and inns are still within easy walking distance. Occasional wooden carts pulled by tired looking donkeys and horses are a common sight as you stand by the side of the road.

  
Kál accompanies the group towards the Market stalls.

He spends some time mingling with merchants and browsing their stalls, showing a false interest in their merchandise in the guise of listening out for any political chatter among the common folk.

He is also trying to identify anyone affiliated with the Liberty’s Edge group by looking out for persons wearing a badge like the one Edwin drew for him.

  
As Kál takes a moment to take in the sounds and rabble of the markets, most of it seems like everyday chatter. Arguments and discussions about prices, small back and forths of the coming weather and mothers trying to keep their young from running wild and getting lost.

But, something catches your eye for a brief moment. While you don't see any one wearing any insignia's you do spot a small carving at a small vegetable and fruit stand. Ever so minute and tiny, a small crest of 2 wings and a sword in the middle can be seen on a small selection of wooden boxes just a bit behind the counter. You see that there was a small rug covering these, but it had moved ever so slightly, revealing this little detail.

The man behind the stall seems in good spirits as he joyfully barters and packs selections of produce for his costumers. A fair complexion with a sturdy frame, topped by jet black, short hair and a small beard.

  
 
Page 8