Location [Syliras Entrance] The Main Gates

[Taell Shambroft]

Winter 5th 512AV
It was dawn when the ragged figure of the young man stumbled into view. Limping as if his life depended on it, he made his way to the gatekeeper in a rush of frantic, fearful movements.

He was dressed in rags that smelled of blood and vomit, in fact blood stained the front of his tunic badly. Bruises adorned his neck and wrists, and one could easily assume he had twisted his ankle badly. He coughed and sputtered as the guards hastily approached him.

"Shelter.. from.. " He passed out, eyes rolling back in his head, body going limp from exhaustion and perhaps, relief.

Looking over his exhausted body it was possible to ascertain a few things: first, the man was young- between the ages of 17 and 20. He was uncommonly tall, somewhere in the range of six foot five. HIs build was muscular, but slender from lack of nourishment. He was all but naked with the holes and rips that his clothes held, it was astonishing that he had made it this far. Even his shoes were full of holes, suggesting he had travelled a long way. Contrary to his appearance, he had a decent sized stash of money on him (100 GM starting) in the only bit of cloth without blood or vomit present on it.

A closer view of the bruises around his neck and arms would reveal they were rope burns- there were burns around his ankles as well. Upon his neck there was a brand of the letters T-A-E-L-L sloppily done and puffy with infection. Bruises also painted his body a monstrous blend of greens yellows and browns- it was apparent he needed some form of medical attention.

[Ullr]

7th of Winter, 512 AV Taking in the last breath of crisp, sweet winter air she'd breathe for some time, Ullr braced herself for the toxic city fumes ahead. She was returning from a hunting trip to the surrounding wood, where she could escape Syliras' humdrum day-to-day living and the dizzying terror of being in such a tightly packed space. The game was... Decent. Or rather, she wasn't quite herself, and failed to catch anything tasty or satisfying. As she approached the ominous city gates that signified the beginning of yet another prison sentence, Ullr drew her cloak tightly about her. It was a bit chilly even to the mountain lion, and if one factored in the wind chill, it could be considered near freezing. A knot of dread settled in her stomach as she neared the guards. They smelled of city-stench and fearlessness. Not a pleasant combination to her cultured nose. The guards seemed more... On edge... Than usual, Ullr noted. Something had thrown them off their stride, unsettled them. They were friskier than she was accustomed to as well, and had to fight back the urge to snarl when one attempted a not-so-chivalrous examination of her goods. She had nothing of account to bring back to the city, only the supplies she left with those days ago, and consequently his ruse failed to pull the wool over her eyes. The looming doors offered her a small refuge from the derogatory guard knight. On her way into the city, she overheard several conversations detailing a young man's gruesome collapse at the gates. Interesting.

[Richard Burke]

Richard some how found himself back at the gates. It was almost sun down, and it was starting to get cold. He often would go on walks through the farmland that bordered the city walls, and on warmer days he would linger for as long as he could in the rolling farmlands. Today was slightly brisk, and a chill drizzle had moved in. The large gate house loomed over Richard, and the Knights were as sharp as ever. They stopped Richard, but to talk, not inspect. Richard was a scholar after all.

Richard listened politely as the guards shared the latest gossip, and imparted advice to him. Occasianly Richard would work the courage up to say something, never anything important or life changing, but always educated, and polite.

Richard made his way to the Squire Barracks, he was probally already late for training anyway.

[C'Arya Tomva]

C'Arya, beads of dew dotting her fur, slowly loped up to the gates. As she approached the guard, with a swirl of glowing mist, she Shifted from a muscular tiger to a young woman, wearing nothing more than a backpack, now loose around her ankle. She opened the pack and dressed quickly, then addressed the guard. She blurted out a few questions, where was the inn, do you have any advice, and other such questions. The guard looked puzzled but gruffly answered and opened the gate letting her pass into the city beyond.

[Caran Daralis]

40th of Winter, 512 AV

It had been a long journey. Her joints creaked with every step she took towards the gates, and the cold of winter was doing nothing to help. Tugging her cloak closer to her lean frame, she set her jaw and forced herself to continue on. Boots crunching on the hoarfrost that still coated the grass in the early morning, it wasn't long until the sun was shining overhead. Soon the grass became slick with water, and her boots squelched in the mud.

It had been a long journey, but soon it would be at an end. Soon, she would be within the walls of Syliras. The rays of the sun soaked through her cloak and warmed her travel-wary body, and she gave a sigh of relief as the main gates grew closer and closer in her field of vision. After several minutes of walking and cursing her aching limbs, she stood just outside of the gate. So much for that last job. Caran's mouth twisted with distaste at the memory of her latest job, the scar across her eyebrow gave a throb of phantom pain. Though the coin had been good, it had been barely enough to bring her to where she was now; if she was lucky it'd be enough to get her lodging for a few weeks. The pack on her back was woefully light, and the jingle of what few mizas she had left were a small comfort.

" Sir, can you point me in the direction of some cheap lodgings?" she inquired of one of the guards stationed at the main gate, his armor gleaming in the looming sun. His instructions were given with practiced ease; visitors weren't an uncommon sight in Syliras. Murmuring her thanks, she moved past him and into the city proper.

It had been a long journey, but now it was at an end. For now.

[Aramil]

Season of winter, day 52, AV 512

He wandered slowly up to the gates, completely veiled in his cloak, save his face. He looked at the guards wearily and explained his need to enter.

"I have ventured long and hard from my homeland, with little to eat or drink. Along the way I've aquired enough coin to get myself by in a fairly large city. I ask to be granted way into Syliras."

The guards nodded to him, giving directions to the Inn called Traveler's Row as they moved aside.

[C'arc Skyglow]

Winter, 512 AV, 56th Day

C'arc's body sorely ached from the tough, unforgiving stride of her Frostmarch, lovingly named Silverwings, and she longed to sleep on something other than her thin bedroll for once. Though the young girl had known what she was getting into when she took off from her home in Avanthal, and though she had learned to love the feel of the grass on her back as she lay, staring at the stars, a part of her still yearned for the comforting feeling of fire on her cheek and a soft pillow under her head. The girl sighed, petting the white mane of Silverwings, resting her head against him.

Soon, she lifted her heavy eyes, gleaming gray with weariness, and looked to the large gates she approached slowly. Finally, she had made it to Syrilas. Through all the dangers of the land, through long, hard nights, and through her inner turmoil of leaving her parents. She had made it.

She approached the gates, eyeing the guards suspiciously. Though C'arc knew they would most likely not say a word as she entered, she was still apprehensive about it, and decided to speak herself.

"Sir, is there any place close I could rest my horse? Would you kindly direct me?" The guard nodded, shimmering sunlight glinting off his helmet and gaunlent as he directed her to The Windmount Stables. C'arc smiled big, thanked him, and led Silverwings through the large gate, her eyes turning a bright, lively pink at the sight. She could hardly contain her energy as she made her way to the stables.

[Ayanna]

9th Day of Winter 512

Early Morning

Ayanna readjusted her pack that hung comfortably in between her shoulder blades as she looked up at the high walls of the city. Syliras. She had heard stories of this city, of it's noble knights and their dead god. She supposed here was as good a place to stay as any, perhaps better than some of the other cities she had seen.

Aya was recently off of a boat so she swayed slightly as she stood there, unaware that she was doing it. She had found an unlikely love for the sea, when it wasn't tossing her around like a very fragile rag doll of course. She found she liked to climb the mast and just sit up there, completely sure of her ability to not fall down and die. The smell of the ocean was something she had never experienced int eh underground city of Kalinor, and something she wondered if she could ever give up. Besides the sheer beauty of it, endless miles of blue.

Ayanna brought herself out of her thoughts as she neared the gate. Her hood was down and her hand twitched towards her mirror, but she didn't succumb to the urge to check her appearance. She wanted to pull her hood over her head and hide her face but that would create suspicion. She knew this city permitted Symenestras to enter, their Council of nine had one in it! So she didn't have to worry about being told she couldn't be here based solely on her race. However it didn't stop her from being afraid.

The two large hulking guards looked down on the fragile woman. They examined her, looking for any signs of sickness.

"What is your business here?" one asked her, his voice predictably deep. Aya looked up at him for a moment before adverting her eyes.

"I'm hoping to find work, or a sailor willing to take me back out to sea." she replied easily. The guards nodded.

The woman was not the first Symenestra they had seen so her appearance didn't shock them as it would others in the city. And she seemed to wish no harm, as well as being in good health.

"Can you tell me where a tavern is?" Ayanna inquired of the two, thinking on a traveling companion she had run into and knew would be in the city. The woman was most likely to be in a tavern of some sort. Best to start there.

The guards, after giving the woman a odd look gave her the directions to get to the Rearing Stallion. Ayanna made her way into the city, and hopefully to the tavern.

[Iskessah]

When Iskessah approached the gates, she suddenly because very nervous. The walls surrounding the city just put her in mind of one very large cage, and she couldn't help but be acutely aware of how much potential danger she was putting herself in. Still, she had been in potential danger for most of her life, and had been careful enough to survive. Though her heart was racing, she tried to keep her expression calm as the guards stopped and asked her business. She froze for a moment. She had to have business? She couldn't very well tell them her true purpose. But what excuse could she give? Coming up with a convincing and safe lie on the spot was probably beyond her capabilities, so she decided to remain as vague as possible. "I am...travelling," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully to minimize the risk of exposing her sibilant Dhani accents. As if making conversation, the guard asked, "Oh? Where are you from?" She almost said Ravok. Fortunately, she recalled almost immediately that Ravok and Syliras were sworn enemies, and if they didn't kill her on the spot, they'd at least have a lot more questions she couldn't afford to answer. Finally she simply said, "Taldera." Finding nothing particularly suspicious or threatening about her, the guards allowed her to pass through into the city.

[Min]

Min strode along in the midst of the thin crowd of foot traffic. With head held high, and from her rather substantial height, she looked about with interest, mingled perhaps with a tinge of bemused contempt. The city walls had been visible for some time now, off and on, through the trees. For the past little while, the approach to the eastern gate was mostly clear of anything that would give an enemy cover, or obstruct watchful eyes on the wall from seeing all that was going on below. She had been told already that the knights that kept order in the city, and protected its inhabitants, would of course be closely scrutinizing all those who sought entry. But inwardly she scoffed. Letting the riff raff of the world into your home seemed the hight of folly to her. Their 'tolerance' however suited her own purposes, for she was come here specifically on a mission and being granted entry to the city was the first step in that. As she passed the men on guard, she gave them an appraising look, assessing their weapons and armor. She was no real warrior herself, but like all of her race, combat was in her blood and she had had some training with weapons and fighting. So she had at least the capacity to judge another in terms of what they carried and how they went armed. The metal armor was foreign to her, and thus intriguing, as were the heavy swords. One could hardly clamber up into a tree and move silently upon an enemy with all that gear on. This wasn't a jungle though. The guards on duty gave her some hard stares in return but only asked her business, to which she replied, "I come here for a job. I come to live here." Her Common was not perfect and it was heavily accented, but it sufficed. They nodded at her and she passed through, both gates, and into the city itself, her feet turning to take her towards the welcome center.