Lion's Arch

Lion's Arch is unlike any city I had ever been to.  A mecca of historians, researchers, and travellers.  Merchants and armorers litter the cobblestones, forges prepared and adding to the humidity of the small ocean port.  The people are different.  Soldiers and townspeople alike relatively uncaring as to why we are here or where we came from.  Some people scoff at me when I ask directions or history of the town. "An Ascalonian asking a Krytan for help? Thats a first" among the most common reply.  Some are friendly enough, but for the most part, no one seems to care.  

I long to explore the beaches and enjoy the sun, but outside the gates the land is hostile.  Creatures I only heard of in tales over the spit exist here, and many dangers are around every corner.  Leaving the citadel is to the risk of the person, and no one will help you when outside but those you leave with. 

The Ascalonians have set up camp under Captain Greywind, who awaited for us in the courtyard.  The camp is to the north, right by the ocean, and has been cleared and protected by those who went ahead of the Prince.  No one has news of Ascalon, or of Adelbern, but I am sure word of Ruriks death must have reached him by now.  He will blame himself for banishing his own son, but he will blame the Krytans unfoundedly for not stopping the events that lead to his death, even though the Krytans were nowhere near the Shiverpeaks.  While exploring, I found something that made me smile. A statue of dwayna, as perfect and complete as the ones I prayed to in Ascalon.  I felt a little at home at last.
Everything is different here.  The food is primarily fresh fish from the ocean, and no one has heard of Moa nuggets.  Though they believe it would be a counter of a Caromi Tengu shank, but I know the Caromi to be fierce fighters in their own rights, and believe their meat to be to tough and gamey compared to that of a Moa.  They have wildcats that prowl naturally, and from what I hear, they are the mirror image fo the Melandru's Stalkers from where I was born. Before. 

Krytan ale is of no measure towards the stout dwarven I beame accustomed to.  It is lighter, with citrus.  Golden as the sun compared to the dwarven ale which much matched the sun-charred shade of the Krytan people themselves. 

I am to take on duties of the White Mantle.  When I am ready, I am to report to them nearby at D'alessio Seaboard.  Before I do that though, I must find better armour to take on these more savage enemies.  No one in Lions Arch has the skill surprisingly, but i'm told at a small outpost nearby there is a talented armourer who can create what I am looking for.  I choose to take the afternoon in idleness. Lounging in the sun, preparing.  I found the armoursmith, and he was every bit as skilled as I was told.  I sit with my refugees, we toast to the Prince. They toast to me.  I suppose without both the prince and I they would not have made it.  The price was grave. I miss the prince more than ever, and if I were ever forced to admit it, I would have to say I continue to busy myself to forget him.