"Halt! Who goes there!" came the cry as we approached the walls. They were fairly impressive fortifcations, stone based and topped with timber pallisade, beyond which steeply sloping rooves could be seen. We saw plenty of evidence of the Orcs we had seen in the mountains as we walked towards town, the landscape being dotted with burned farm steads and the occasional smashed cart.

The cry was in thickly accented Tilean, though I was willing to bet it wasn't the mother tongue of the guard up on the wall. The guards were all but invisible behind the walls, visible only as the bobbing tips of pikes and the occasional flash of color. The Border Princes were a home to the flotsam and jestsam from every human culture and even this close to mountains the architecture and speech was distinct from Tilea.

"We are travelers from Tilea!" I called back, aiming my cupped hands in the general direction of the guards voice. I became uncomfortabley aware that there were probably a number of crossbows pointed at us. There was a long silence broken only by the caw of distant ravens. Quite suddenly a bell tolled, startling a flock of crows from a steeple somewhere deeper into the settlment. I tensed, imagining this to be an alarm, but it must have simply been telling the time because it faded slowly in the crips alpine air. I was about to call again when the heavy oak gate began to swing open, revealing a knot of men in a mismatch of armor and colorful clothing that I thought might have been Imperial in origin. The curuious faces of villagers could be seen behind them, held back by other men with stern expressions and long pole arms.

"Welcome to Zinoca," a man called in thickly accented Tilean "You'd best come inside before the greenskins get you."