Hearing Kaiylin speak of the children being half-elves. "i can understand why you would want to go to the city for you kids. The prejudices i faced when i was young was harsh but it did help me grow, but in the city there are others they will have the fortune to know they aren't the only ones of their kind."

Norvalor looks at Zavakk, giving him a soldiers salute. "I heard there was trouble brewing and the potential for war. I'm here lend my aid, and i'm here to visit my old friends from my former squadron." Smiling with a cheeky grin. "I'm also in need to a good drink, so i might join the Dwarf Cath at the Purple Wyrm for a cold one."

Hearing John saying things about elves and humans not being together. *whispering to John only* "I know you mean well but sometimes the relations between human and elves can be pure or the exact opposite. you're lucky that it seems that she had a good one with her elven partner. But i suggest you be more careful with this topic." Norvalor then walks away from John and goes back to playing with the children. 

Fen'r, back to leaning on his hammer. under his breath he begins to hum an old dwarven lullaby. looking toward the front again, Fen'r becomes curious about how many people are in front of his group.

Perception Roll:  14

At Zavakk's greeting Arutha straightened from his stretching and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Hello Good sir, I had heard that Lieutenant Omaha was looking for fighters and so I came to see if I could find a job in helping stop this Orcish hoard I have heard about. I've seen many a battle and figured I may be of value in this worthy venture!" He then fingered the hilts of his two longswords and wondered what the dragonborn would say in response.

John Starts to take down his tent and pack his gear. Seeing the others being greeted by Zavakk, john heads that way to meet up with them.  "So you must be Zavakk, I hear this town needs some extra mercs for hire" "the name is John by the way...John Cooper"

“Yes, what about the rumors,” Cenareon says rather self-importantly. “Those filthy orcs are at it again, Marshal.”

Zavakk, you notice, doesn’t take too kindly to the merchant for shining a lamp at him, even after applying his title so sweetly. The gold dragonborn chooses his next words carefully. The line through the Wyrm’s Gate leads to the homes of the commoners, and commoners, as you know, can distort facts faster than a message spell. Protecting people from their own fears has long been a concern of the police arm that is the Flaming Fist.

“There are always rumors,” Zavakk begins. “Goblins are restless. Orcs are restless. Drow are restless. Demons and devils are restless. Water is wet.” Zavakk turns his gaze towards you, saying, “The poets and merchants of light must remain vigilant, even when the stars are veiled. Justice must continue to prevail, no matter the cost.” He returns his gaze to Cenareon. “No matter the investment. No matter what form evil takes. We are all in it for the long haul. All Baldurians—commoner and patriar alike. The walls bring us together. As you can see.”

It is then that you notice the many scars down the sides of Zavakk’s neck, shoulders, upper arms, and hands. He knows prison. Or, at the very least, he endured imprisonment. Behind those marks, lashings intended to permanently wilt his willpower, you sense a strength his time there did not diminish, a deep well of courage his burnished draconic eyes proudly reflect back into the world.

"Many thanks, Cath," Kaiylin says.

Sometimes, the prospect of hope and a simple suggestion, when mixed together, can make for a great solution. "The Purple Wyrm, you said?"

Zavakk kindly gestures for a vendor to bring water and sweet bread.

An elderly man, well into his 60s, bows repeatedly and smiles amiably, pointing to all his cart offers. "Thank you."

Zavakk takes the man's wrinkled hand into his gold scaly hand and drops four gold coins into his palm, folding it closed. "No, thank you Baldurian. Help yourself, adventurers. Tell me, what news from the road."

A moment later, you hear Zavakk's deep, nasally voice clearly in your mind. The rumors are true, adventurers. Orcs are massing. Be mindful. The war machine is waking. Coin is moving. By sunrise, all the old alliances will have been dusted off, and the old rivalries as well.

I pray Omaha is expecting you.

"Well met, John Cooper," the gold dragonborn says, extending a hand in greeting.

He nods to Arutha. "I wish I could say I knew about the orcs, and that horde you speak of, but alas, very little has reached my ears. But Omaha, I do know. He frequents the Elfsong Tavern."

"Norvalor," Kaiylin says, "I pray that you are right. I want nothing more than to be happy."

Fen'r notices the line moving at a slow pace. He can't see exactly what prevents the line from moving at a brisk pace, though he sees two Flaming Fist soldiers perform a painstaking routine. The younger Fist asks questions, while the older passes a rod of some sort up and down a visitor, one at a time. It's mind-numbing to watch the effort he puts into his task.

It's almost as if the Fists have taken extra security measures to ensure a stronger defense of the city.

Kelten, you hear, mumbles the name, "Obould. If the rumors are true, he is the most powerful and wisest orc the Sword Coast has ever seen." He stands, brushes his hands off and steps out of the line. "Fair well, friends. My patience has run thin." He salutes Zavakk then walks off.

Continuing his conversation with Zavakk, Arutha looks at the line and sighs. "Do you know of any way I can get inside this city to meet up with Omaha. Or is there something I can do for you to help pass the time. I am a man of action and all this waiting is wearing on me." He then looks at the ones he had been playing dice with and chuckled. "Honestly, I am pretty sure I am not the only one."

Cath sees Kelten leaving and calls to him "Safe travels friend.  May chance one day we meet again." Cath sighs inside, certain that man was a cleric or even a paladin.  But the opportunity to speak further with him is lost.  And yet he is still eager to get in the gates also.

Cath takes some of the food and water offered by Zavakk.  "With thanks Marshall.  I will seek out Omaha at the earliest chance.  Sounds like the type of work I'm interested in and looking for.  If you have any pull to get us through the gate quicker we would be obliged.  I have offered to escort this woman and her children" nodding to Kaiylin "to the Purple Wyrm where I intend to stay myself while in the city.  Once settled though I will seek out Omaha and offer what aid and service I can."

Zavakk addresses Arutha. "These new countermeasures were established a few months back. A necessary precaution. I do apologize, travelers. Baldur's Gate is a welcoming city, but a cautious one. Might I suggest you get to know your neighbors a bit more." The marshal claps him on the shoulder, watching everyone in the party enjoy their take of the cart the old man offers today. "Trouble comes to us all, in the time it takes to mark you a target."

OOC. You are welcome to strike up conversation with the following NPCs in line.

Lonz Arrya. The male human sells rugs.
Cenareon Bressh. The male human sells fine furniture.
Dundr & Blundr Grumblestones. The male dwarf brothers make and sell work boots.
Selithar Straks. The male half-elf papyrist spent a few weeks at Candlekeep.
Tarmin Highcastle. The male human acolyte of Tyr is headed for Justice Abbey Temple.
Inarravil Duindaenir. The female wood elf is an herbalist from the Cloakwood.
Zzendar Flom. The male human mercenary is looking for work.

Kelten waves back to Cath. "Safe travels, clan brother."

Cath makes his way over to Cenareon.  "Greetings, I couldn't help but hear you mention trouble with orcs.  What news do you have, what have you heard? "

“Hello, dwarf," Cenareon says. "News? Zavakk is a fool to ignore the rumors. My associates and I routinely hunt orcs down. You are welcome to join us. Your take is what you kill. I’ve arranged for a meeting with a sponsor later today. Brooding woman fancies herself a priestess of Myrkul. T’lar pays well, or I’d have set fire to the ossuary she wanders.”

"Myrkul eh?  Not sure that's the type I want to align myself with.  At least not at this point.  Where can I find you later if I am in need of the work?  I'd like to meet this Omaha first and see what he has to say."

After bidding the Dragonborn a farewell Arutha heads over to the two dwarven men that he could see selling boots. He examines them to see what the quality is before smiling. "You two make these boots? They seem to be of pretty good quality."

"The Emerald Vial. Finest wine bar in all the city. When you reach the gate to the Upper City, ask for me. The Watch knows who I am."

With the merchants and mercenaries taking up the bulk of everyone's attention, Gramdal will attempt to let the line move up without him. He'll fall back about six people in line on the sly and attempt to end up behind a knowledgable looking fellow in line.

((Need a stealth check or anything for this?))