Location [Syliras Entrance] The Main Gates

[Harundar Veilborn]

22nd of Winter 514 AV Dirt, grime, and dust. Harundar had become very familiar with these materials, having been leveled with them several times during his recent journey. He breathed deep, trying to slow his panting to a minimum as he saw the gates where only a small distance away. Haru shouldered his pack and sniffled a bit, sneezing immediately afterwards because of the dust. Haru urged himself to tread forward just a bit longer. He had realized quite quickly that most outsiders assumed that Isurians have godly strength, which, of course, was a stereotype that didn't really apply to Harundar, a skinny gadget maker. His Isurian arm was still rather mighty in comparison to a non-Isurian's, but that was it. Harundar had come to seriously dislike hiking on foot. But he bore with it, knowing that it was probably only for a small while longer. He approached the gate and gave a half-hearted gesture of greeting to the two Sylirian guards. They approached and stopped him in his tracks as they walked around him and inspected him. "You don't seem to have much. What is your purpose for coming here?" one guard asked. Haru cleared his throat. "I'm here to fulfill my father's wish of become a expert gadgeteer and blacksmith." The guard raised his eyebrow while the other held his hands out, signaling Haru to hand over his bag. Harundar did so, with some hesitation. "I believe staying in Sultros, among some of the most professional blacksmiths, would have been better..." the guard said. "Well... yes... but... I've heard Syliras has a greater library." Haru responded. The second guard had finished searching through his pack and was now nodding toward the first guard. "I see" the interrogator said. "Now, do you have any sicknesses we should be aware of, or anything that could in any shape or form harm the people of Syliras?" Harundar thought of the Animations he was planning to create. "No sir." "Fair enough, you may pass" came the response. Harundar strode forward on sore legs through the first pair of gates, and after a small wait, the second pair of gates. He stood inside Syliras, looking around for a moment. "Well... what now?"

[Kelinard Seliria]

Time Stamp - 23rd of Winter 514 AV Kelinard quietly walked over to the gate. Noting the waiting people in line. Being inspected. He joined the line, Whistling to himself happily. He grinned quietly at a small drawing he had created of a deer, beside it was notes on Kelinard had saw the deer doing while he drew the drawing. To make sure if he was curious on what the deer had done in the future he wouldn't forget. As he walked up to the guard he nodded happily towards them in greetings. He quietly showed his bag, opening it to show there was no dangerous contents within. The guard had told him he was allowed to pass Kelinard grinned happily, nodded appreciatively to the guards and continued to walk inside. As Kelinard walked through the gate, staring up at the portcullis, noting its sharp details. He began to pull out a secondary note. On it was a note towards his new home. He was curious on whether he would stumble into any squires in training and whether he would be allowed to note their training. Kelinard grinned happily and began walking deep into city. Curious on what he may find in this city. A new adventure perhaps?

[hex ghost]

The dark wizard Hex Ghost entered the misty village. There were no lights this late at night, save for one brave knight shrouded in a glowing hue.

The knight was Kelindard. As Kelindard walked and approached the gate, Hex Ghost said his name. Kelinard glanced over, unsure of what to make of the man in brown robes. The mysterious dark Hex Ghost wizard looked at him with cunning eyes, and blasted the knight with his gaze.

He lifted his staff, and down came a black light, from the abyss. Hex Ghost laughed, and his image shuddered and disappeared. Kelsidard was now cursed.

You lose 10 charisma, 10 strength, 10 intellect, 10 dexterity and 15 vitality. Your movement speed is hindered. Your maximum capacity has been reduced.

This is a *strong* curse. It cannot be lifted through ordinary means. You will need 1000 gold and travel time of 5 days.

[Nightmare]

Intervention
Please disregard the previous post. It's a blantant disregard for basicly everything that Mizahar stands for and is very unwelcome. Not to mention that Syliras is not some "Misty village"

He or She needs to change his name to something appropriate, post a CS and read basicly all the rules regard on how to post and play.

This is not Dungeons and Dragons. Please read the terms of service as well as the creative manifesto or go find another place more suited to what you envision is ideal for roleplaying.
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[Sekai]

Vani | Common | Ancient Language

1st of Winter, 514AV

Sekai trudged through the gates of Syliras, while sighing in relief. She remembered leaving Nyka, although for some odd reason unknown to herself, the past three season were just a blur. A hazy memory just beneath the surface of her conscious thoughts.

Turning her attention to the guards at the front gates, Sekai sighed once more, this time with a bit of trepidation. She was slightly worried about being questioned, as her terrible luck was evident back in Nyka, but it seemed the guards let her on her way, after she explained that she needed a job, and continued in the direction that she was told to go for the Employment Office.

[Aren]

Syliras, Main Gate: 2nd of Winter, 514 AV - Ninth Bell As the large Akalak slipped off the cart, the vehicle's wooden structure creaked in relief. With a wave, Aren bid his most recent traveling companions farewell, and wearily took his first trudging steps towards Syliras' imposing gates. The knights standing guard over the edifice eyed him with suspicion. Syliras was a cosmopolitan enough place for them to have seen Akalaks before, and they knew something was off about this particular specimen. He was... a tad on the scrawny side, relatively speaking. "Halt," One of the guards demanded in a commanding tone of voice. His gaze and his stance additionally suggested that this man took his job seriously, and he would brook no challenge to his authority. Today, or any other day. "You sick? There's something off about you 'lak," The other guard chimed in, picking up on his partner's concerns. "Now, now, gentlemen..." Aren's hand automatically raised in a friendly, submissive gesture, "I assure you I'm not sick, unless you count an incredible desire to not be starving some time this month as a sickness." He tried to smile, to assure the irascible looking guardsmen that his statement was meant to be humorous, even if it happened to be true. The guardsman, for their part, only looked at each other and shrugged. Realizing that though they may have never seen a starving Akalak before, it reasoned that some must exist somewhere. With a curt nod they indicated that he could pass. Tired and hungry as he was, Aren's only reply was to mirror the gesture.

[Jeremy Casing]

Syliras, Main Gate. 31st Winter, 514AV.

It was fortuitous that Jeremy decided to enter the city of Syliras in his human form and not to do so by wing. He realised quickly that the city itself completely existed within the fortress, and this horrified him. How could he carry out his mission as a Phylonurist if there was no sun, no breeze to sustain plants? He stared up at the towering walls, frowning in disapproval. In fact, he was so busy mentally damning Syliras that he did not hear the guards speak to him until one poked him harshly in the arm.

"Are you deaf? I said what business do you have in Syliras?" Jeremy blinked up to the guard, then shook himself as if to throw out an answer.

"Travelling. I've come from Riverfall." The Kelvic knew well enough to not mention his mission as Caiyha's witch. City folk did not appreciate their city being criticised or stipulated for the unnatural and unbalanced places they were. "I wish to see the sights of Syliras." He added blandly, golden eyes still focused on the giant wall behind the guards. The two armed men shared a look, both having clearly noticed the apathy that dampened Jeremy's words.

"Fair enough. Enjoy Syliras. Just don't break any laws and you'll have a laughing good time." The guards sniggered at this; it seemed impossible to even consider that Jeremy's dour expression had ever cracked into anything more than a smile. The Kelvic nodded and his neutral expression remained unchanged as he entered the city.

[Treachery]

3rd of Winter, 514A.V. The Zith hadn't expected it to be this big. Staring up at what lay beyond the outside walls of the col- Sorry, of the city, Treachery couldn't believe his eyes. Syliras was huge, a gigantic structure of stone and metal destroying the horizon. Now sufficiantly impressed and nervous, the Zith resumed his steady pace onwards towards the gate. The sun dipped low on the horizon shedding orange hues across the landscape as two humans clad in metal chatted away. They talked with all the confidence of those who knew how far their words travelled. However, approaching slowly leading his pack laden horse behind him, Treachery could make out every word. Shifting his wings under the cloak draped over himself, his ears although raw from the winter wind still functioned as any other Zith's did. A brief sift through and subsequent translation of what was being said concluded that it was of no use to him; least he need know that the mate of one of the pair was preparing a soft fruit pie for her on her return.Eventually one of them noted his approach, both then shifting into a less relaxed stance in a casual but formal manner. =More he approached the more they seemed to squint at him until he heard one whisper to the other 'Is that a zith?'. Treachery's face immediately broke into a dangerous smirk at the observation, a smirk that only grew wider and more toothy as the guards faces grew more worried. Coming to stop just in front of the two, the Zith could smell the sweet scent of adrenaline lingering on them both. The smirk vanished how ever when the one to his left took a more assertive grip on his weapon reminding the Zith that although tolerated here, unlike other cities, he would do best not to push his boundaries. “Hello, routine check. Would you please care to state your name and business here?” The braver one asked being backed up with by her counterpart's weary gaze and sword fumbling hand. Eyeing one before returning his gaze back to the other the zith answered their questions without trouble. “People I meet call me Treachery, I like so I keep as name. I look for home, peace, place to protect. Hope to find here.” A look of doubt was exchanged between the humans before they parted, a bob of the head towards the open gates signalling him free to go. Taking the opportunity he was stopped by a firm hand moments before taking his second step. Annoyed the red eyes bore into the female blocking his path, ready to tear her apart for her rudeness. “If you truly are looking to protect this city, you could consider join the knighthood. The recruitment office is fairly easy to get directions to. Consider it and welcome to Syliras, Mr. 'Treachery'.” Now free to go, the Zith entered the city pondering the woman's words on whether to look into this 'knighthood' that protected the city. Behind him the sword fumbler, once sure he was out of the human hearing range, began stating his outright disagreement at what she had done. A grin crossed the Zith's face once again as his sadistic side coupled with his curiosity made the decision for him.

[Aedh Gwrtheyrn]

50th, Winter, 514 A.V. Midday. With the chill of the day came visible tendrils of breath from both rider and mount as Aedh gently urged Eogan towards the towering gates of Syliras. He was want for riding time with his busy schedule and had found the crisp morning free to spend some quality time with Eogan. They had cantered along the road for nearly half the morning before Aedh found a suitable field to stretch the young palomino's legs. Eogan flipped his head as they began to cross onto the smooth stone of the bridge. The horse was in good spirits after a winter's morning of riding. For his part, Aedh was happy despite the chill. He relished his ventures outside the city, no matter how humble or uneventful. His nose was red from the cold and he had his cloak bundled tightly about him. Though he was armed with sword and armored with heavy Gwrtheyrn surcoat, he wore no further protection. As he approached, the sentry knights waved in greeting. Aedh pointedly let his cloak fall open so that they could see both his hands and sword clearly. A mop of cherry blond hair was slightly hidden under the cloak's cowl, though he pulled it back a bit so as to present his face. "Good day, Sirs. I am just back from a morning ride." He struggled to bring Eogan to a halt. The horse was young and eager, and the rider not so experienced as he'd like. One of the knights let his gloved hand fall to his hilt as he stepped forward to inspect the rider. He glanced briefly at the longsword at his waist and then in the saddlebags before peering up at Aedh's face. "Good day. Please be about your business." The Syliran warrior said, waving him on with one chainmail clad arm. Aedh thanked them both and nervously urged Eogan on. He always got antsy when passing under the portcullis. The horse made Aedh proud though, passing through the gates and into the city within without incident. Aedh sighed, it was a good morning to be here in Syliras!

[Orin Fenix]

27th, Winter 514 A.V.

Orin tried not to gawk, but the majestic sight of the main gates of Syliras towered above him, sparkling in the snow. They were much taller than the walls surrounding Mithryn Outpost, his previous home. They were also much more imposing. The fortress itself rose from the snow like a mountain, almost daring invaders and interlopers to attack, confident in its ability to protect its inhabitants. Orin gulped, and hugged his cloak closer to his body as a chill passed through him. He wished he was sure if his goosebumps came from the cold or from his sudden anxiety. It felt like his insides were twisting themselves in a knot, and if it hadn't been winter he may very well have bolted back to Mithryn, danger notwithstanding.

While he was glad that he had finally arrived, especially since his original trip was delayed greatly by a monster snowstorm that left him and his traveling companions holed up for days, he was no longer certain that he belonged in such a magnificent place. After all, what could a simpleton like him really bring to the splendor already here. Suddenly, his naive dreams of making a name for himself seemed very small indeed. How could he distinguish himself when it was clear from his clothing and his demeanor that he would never fit into this glittering world.

Squinting his eyes against the reflected snow glare, Orin hunched his shoulders, resigned to his situation. Please oh please let me just find a place to stay he thought to himself. He no longer cared if he work he loved. He would be happy with just a menial job scrubbing pots or running errands now. It would be better than being passed from family to family who had no idea what to do with him and who all had differing ideas on 'what was best for a young man.' Just having a private room would be a blessing! Usually he was forced to share with other children, who always got the preferential spots by the fire or under the covers because, after all, he was an orphan and shouldn't expect much. He remembered bitterly all the times that he was told to be thankful for the kindness of strangers, as if he asked them for their help. No, life in the castle could only be an improvement.

Realizing he was probably looking like a fool standing there in the snow, he shuffled forward. Spotting what looked like two knights, looking miserable in the cold and the snow, he made his way towards them. He would be pretty miserable if he were them too, forced to stand and watch. He wondered why they weren’t allowed a brazier or something similar to keep warm with. Or maybe they did and he just couldn’t see it. Pulling up to them, he waited uncertainly. Finally, one of the guards took pity on him and asked him for his name and reason for coming to Syliras.

“M’name’s Orin sir. Orin Fenix. And I’m here to live and find work sir. Formally from Mithryn Outpost.” Orin kept his eyes down the entire time, his cheeks warming as he thought about how silly he sounded. Orin was clearly not posing much of a threat and he thought the guard might be feeling a bit of sympathy for the awkward youth, because he pointed out a structure nearby and said gruffly “That’s the Welcome Center. I encourage you to stop there. They can help you get your bearings.” Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Orin mumbled “Thanks sir,” and turned resolutely towards the Welcome Center. Perhaps this would work out after all.