Screeching, the wood'n'spike door opens. Thunder blasts trough the sky behind the travellers as they pass trough the gate. "Bad storm this night, almost like it predicts new trouble." The guard pushes his wide hat on his eyes and rolls himself a cigarette. "See you have ways to get around." He eyes Jacques robot Arabian and Stessana's humming grav-cycle. "Long way? Are you running from the war or came here because of it?"<br/>The guard points towards a big building overlooking the town's muddy square. A tankard cut from tinfoil hangs by it's door. Horses and something else make noise in the stable.