*
The streets of Wayfarer's Port were intricately cobblestoned in articulate designs and patterns. Garn was amazed at the amount of work that must have been put into the task, Wayfarer's Port was a big city. He was forced to conclude that the work must still be going on near the city's borders and that there was a constant crew of people working through the night to keep the streets in the good condition that they were in. Nowhere could Garn see any potholes or contusions in the road around them, a sure sign that the city was well kept.
The mage and Hal weaved their way through the crowded city streets, following the scent of the sea. A task not so easily accomplished in a place so teeming with life. All around were odors and sights to besiege their senses. Everything from salesmen bartering their wares to travelling bands of minstrels performing at every other intersection. It was overwhelming to say the least.
Garn was able to take it all in stride for the most part. He had been to cities larger than Wayfarer's Port before and intended to see ones even larger than that if he had anything to say about it. Still, even he had to admit to a slight feeling of claustrophobia. Especially after being so long in the solitude of the Vineyard Grove.
Hal was very uncomfortable with the whole situation. He claimed to never having seen so many people at one time before in his whole life. All kinds of people too, not just humans. Off to the side Garn saw a group of elves striding by, having a quiet conversation amongst themselves. Down the street was a being considerably larger than even Hal was, and uglier than sin with a large nose, brutish yellow teeth and bulging round eyes. He was brandishing a huge wooden cudgel, that could have easily passed for a tree trunk, up in the air threateningly. Hal sighed in relief when Garn pulled on his sleeve and steered him away from the potentially ugly scene.
Finally, in the distance, they could see the tops of the masts for ocean going vessels and the like. Garn nodded as if he'd expected nothing else and continued to pull Hal along, swearing ferociously under his breath as he did so. Hal, still feeling very uncertain, followed along meekly.
They were slowed by what seemed to be an impenetrable wall of people, all facing in the opposite direction. There was a great deal of shouting going on and people waving their fists in the air energetically. Garn, not in the mood to fool around or head in another direction, tried to muscle his way through the crowd and was promptly tossed back and away by a fairly burly individual. Upon taking a good look at the frail mage, the burly man turned very white in the face and began to stammer out an apology. But when Hal stood toe to toe with him and glared menacingly, the man gave up any sort of attempt at complacency and promptly fled, dropping his change purse in his haste.
Garn crawled forward on hands and knees and greedily grabbed up the purse. Upon opening it he was disappointed to see that it was meagerly filled with nothing but copper and perhaps a few silvers. But, Garn shrugged and added it to the pouch at his waist before accepting Hal's assistance in standing. The mage then found himself right back where he'd started. Looking at the backs of people taller than him.
"Damn it, what's going on here?" Garn growled. "We've got to get by these people today!"
Hal stretched up to his full height and easily saw over the whole of the crowd. "Umm... There's some sort of fight going on. I think the people are betting on them."
Garn smoothed out his dark colored robes with a huff and pulled his hood up over his long hair until it rested comfortably on his forehead. "Wonderful," he muttered sarcastically. "A street fight." Seeing a brief opening on the left side of the crowd, Garn yanked on Hal's arm and quickly dragged the big man towards it. "Don't you people have anything better to do with your time and money?" he shouted at the crowd's collective back as they passed.
As they barely squeezed through the opening Garn was surprised beyond words to see a look of thought on Hal's face. "Garn," he began slowly. "Were those men that were fighting back there... were they like … gladites?"
Garn stumbled in mid-stride and just barely kept himself from falling. He turned to Hal with a look of faint surprise in his eyes that Hal was apparently unable to decipher from the grim look on the rest of his face. "What?" he asked gruffly.
The big man's gaze shifted to the ground and he began to walk forward again. "Never mind," Hal mumbled softly as he shifted his loaded down weapons belt.
Garn kept in stride with Hal and refused to let the subject go. "No, you were asking me something. Now I've never been known to waste a once in a lifetime opportunity frivolously. So, what was it you were asking me? 'Were those men... ?' "
Hal's scraggly hair drooped down over his face, not quite hiding the deep red flush. "Gladites." he repeated softly.
Garn let the word cycle through his extensive vocabulary until he found what he assumed was the correct match. "Do you mean 'gladiators' ?"
Hal blinked and looked up at the mage. "Yeah, that's it."
The mage shook his head with a soft chuckle. "No, Hal. Those were just two individuals who've had too much to drink and were consequently beating on each other for no good reason. The people around were just being opportunistic and placing wages on the outcome." They continued walking through the thinning crowd. "Gladiators are a bit different," Garn elaborated.
Hal's face, as always read like an open book with really big letters, and Garn was able to tell that he was feeling foolish. The mage didn't suppose that it mattered. It's not as if he's unused to the sensation, Garn thought with a thin grin.
Finally reaching the Ports, Garn was astonished to see the direct contrast in the appearance of the docked ships with the rest of the city. Where the city was well kept, clean and crowded. The ships were shoddy, in disrepair and, for the most part, barren of life. Hal found this to be quite disconcerting though Garn was rather unsurprised. With it being so near to winter, it was considered a bad time to be at sea for fear of sudden storms. Consequently, the few ships that were available were eagerly awaiting their winter's repair time and were lacking in passengers.
"We're going to cross the Inner Sea in one of those things?" Hal asked concernedly.
Garn nodded. "Yep."
Hal sighed wearily, his shoulders drooping noticeably. "Great," he muttered.