Location [Syliras Entrance] The Main Gates

[Aron Kulk]

1st Fall 515 AV.

The morning is cold and a bit dark. Well, its 5am, so it should be ok. After a rather weird night of sleep in a cave, the fire is out and the hungry stomach wakes up. Instead of eating now, I decide to reach Syliras first, settle, then eat.

It sure is a big city...
Three hours have passed, and thanks to some merchants that told me I was going in the opposite direction, I can now see the doors of Syliras. As I approach, a guard makes me stop.

Halt, state your name and reason for coming to Syliras.

"I am Aron, and I came to Syliras in order to make a living from my work, and to try to find my family. May I pass?"

After going back to his companion, he came back shortly.
You may pass, but here, take a map and the city rules.

After taking the scrolls, I say them bye and enter the city of my dreams.

[Kalla Whitevine]

10th of Fall, 515 A.V. Kallalyn had hopped off the caravan she had been traveling with, which took much shorter of a time than she had imagined it to, before moving her way into the crowd, clutching her bag strap with one hand and holding her small, potted mint plant close to her chest with her other arm. It was already clear that Syliras was a vastly different place in comparison to Ravok. She looked up to where the archers were on the walls and to the guards stopping people, speaking to them, then letting them in or ushering them away. A frown crossed the Vantha's lips as she watched a couple turn back around to leave, one of them coughing into a rag. It seemed the city didn't much care for ill people. As she watched the two pass by, some silver began to swirl in her mostly violet eyes. If it weren't for the fact there were quite a few between her and them, she would probably go over to offer her help. It broke her heart to not be able to. But she would make up for it. Surely a city that booted out the ill still had need of medical help. When it was her turn up at the gate, she gave a bright smile to both the guards who didn't look half as pleased. "Name and why you are here," one of them asked while the other was carefully looking her over for any sign of sickness bt keeping a safe distance for the moment. "Kallalyn Whitevine and I'm only here to see your lovely city and perhaps help some of the injured, if you could need some help with that. I'm sure a city of brave guards could need to be patched up every now and then," she replied, carefully weaving her words into a sort of compliment. The guard she was speaking to only raised a brow before nodding once. "Do you need any direction?," he asked, his voice sounding at least a little bit less gruff. Or so Kalla thought, which had her look to his eyes scrutinizingly. She sighed after a moment as that didn't bring any clarity before nodding herself. "If there is a place I might be able to stay, that would be great to know." At her reply, the guard easily responded with directions to Traveler's Row and the White Swan Inn, mentioning which one was cheaper. Of course Kalla listened more to where Traveler's Row was as she wasn't yet sure how long she would be staying here. With the directions, she gave a small bow and friendly smile to both the guards before continuing on her way, looking around at anything and everything she could as she walked further into the city.

[Selene Livingstone]

5th of Fall 515 AV.

Well, this sure took longer than she expected.

The day she left Riverfall she believed it would have taken her 45 days to reach Syliras. 50, she accounted, in the worst case scenario. How naive. 50 days slowly turned into two seasons. Two seasons.
And not two uneventful, boring seasons, but two seasons so packed with events than when she started to realised she was finally approaching Syliras Selene's sleep was often halted by the restless wandering of her mind. At night she could hear her hearth - pumping steady, fast and almost annoyingly whenever the surrounding noises where harmoniously quite. Now she could not only see Syliras (she had a first glimpse of the city the day before), but she could actually walk in it. As she set foot on the cold stones she could hardly believe it.

"I can't believe we made it" she murmured almost inaudibly "Can you?". The horse, to who she was talking to, bumped his head against her harms and flipped his ears. His clogs stumped twice on rocks as a voice reached through the early night from the city's gate:

"Who is there? State your name and your business.

"My name is Selene Livinstone, I come from Riverfall. I am here to visit the city."

A brief silence followed in response. The screeky sound of old wood and rusty joints alerted that someone was coming. Lightened by his own torch a short, stocky guard appeared in her sight. His left eye, slightish bigger than the right one, was wide open and glued on her movements. He squared her from tip to toes and sustained his glare for a while longer on the horse. He grunted - or listlessly attempted to say something. He then turned and gestured her, over his shoulder, to move along and carry on into the city.

Stepping forward Apogeo and Selene bumped into each other. She leaned on him, surrounding his neck with her harm. It was the end of a really long journey and they both needed a good night sleep. Or a good week.

[Xen]

“ Halt, and state your business,” The Male Knight spoke with a clear, strong voice to stop the stranger that had approached him and his companion at their post. The other knight simply stood in silence, observing the stranger his fellow knight spoke to and had stopped in front of the gate. “ I seek refuge and a new beginning, ” Xen, the stranger, responds in a near monotonous tone to the knight. The first knight, who spoke for his comrade and himself, looks at his comrade and then back to Xen. The other knight simply nods, as though he´d come to an understanding of something, and then looks forward.

“ I see... well, stranger, ahead of you is Syliras, if you are not aware. I believe you will find that new beginning here, but do not cause trouble and take care of yourself, ” The knight´s voice held a respectful tone with his parting words carrying a bit of concern. He couldn´t become involved in the matters of people he didn´t know very well, especially, those he was just meeting. There were matters more important and rules he must abide to during duty, so, he could only do so much to make those he deemed trustworthy to enter Syliras feel welcomed. “ Thank you, kind soldier, ” Xen´s tone was not the same, yet, not entirely youthful either. However, the mighty gates of Syliras open for him, granting access to the city of peace within.

[Rosela]

Timestamp: 1st of Fall, 515AV

If Rosela ever saw another ship, it would be too soon. If she ever had to travel again, it would be too soon. The wagon hit a hard bump in the road, jolting an angry groan from Rosela. It was only partially out of pain; the rest was in response to the sudden, angry contortion in her child’s face. He lay in Hirem’s lap and immediately opened his mouth to let out a wail of displeasure. Ready to cry herself, Rosela clawed two hands through her limp hair. After 72 days of travel, nearly twice as long as the journey had meant to take, she was entirely done with this wriggling, blue thing that had crawled out of her. Why had she agreed to come with Hirem? Why had she left her comfortable life in Riverfall for this?

Unexpectedly, the wagon ground to a halt. Trying to hear past the baby’s cries, she leaned out the curtained window, seeing with some measure of relief the massive gates ahead. They were nearly there; she just had to hold out a little longer.

So suddenly it made her jump, an armored face appeared in her field of vision and she found herself more disturbed by the face within the helmet – the man was flesh-colored. After only a handful of years living among the Akalaks, Rosela didn’t realize how strange it was not to see one.

“State your name and business.”

His voice was strong and clear – not a trace of Tukant. He seemed entirely unfazed by the crying child and his blue tint as he surveyed the wagon's occupants. Slightly embarrassed at the noise, Rosela leaned over and took the squirming bundle, leaning him on her shoulder. The boy took hold of her collar in one tiny fist and his wails quieted to frustrated gurglings.

”Rosela the Clothier and one child.” She nodded at Hirem to make his own introduction. ”Immigrating from Riverfall, the three of us.”

A moment passed as the soldier considered the three of them, then he nodded. “Very well. Be sure to visit the Welcome Center inside the gates for information on staying in the city, and there are several inns in Travelers Row, to the left after entering the gates.” With no further pleasantries, he stepped back from the wagon and signaled ahead. The wagon began moving once more, and Rosela exchanged a look with Hirem.

This was it. They’d made it.

[Avae Lillywhite]

Fall 515 AV.

This was the beginning.

Avae felt it in her very bones, a change within and without, a tilt of the world. She felt it as sure as she felt her heart beat, and it felt as if she stood on the precipice of the very personification of her desire for life.
In less words, she stood at gates of Syliras, impressive to Avae not for infrastructure, but for meaning. To her, they stood for the future-her future.

"State your name, race, and business here in the city of Syliras."
There were two knights flanking the gates; human, as far as Avae could tell. Although the one on the left, the one who didn't speak, had eyes more blue than hers when she chose for them to be blue. The other, he was nondescript, and very solemn.

Unable to help herself, Avae grinned brilliantly, all white, straight teeth. "I am Avae Lillywhite, Vantha, and you two are the gatekeepers to the beginning of my destiny."

The blue-eyed knight quirked a brow, amused by Avae's enthusiastic melodrama. "Welcome," he said. "Enter at your own peril."

Avae's exceedingly bright smile dimmed. The knight laughed, satisfied at having gotten a reaction.
"I am only joking. Welcome to the city, Avae Lillywhite."

She took a deep breath, preparing herself to actually live the reality of the moment she had dreamed of so many times. Avae knew of the city, having religiously and viciously read anything and everything with Syliras as the subject she could get her hands on. She was ready.

"Thank you, Knight."

And with that Avae Lillywhite of Avanthal stepped into the city and became Avae Lillywhite of Syliras. She was new and improved, and ready to take life by the throat. The gates shut behind her, final.

[Clyde Sullins]

65 Fall 515

It had been a long time since Clyde had graced the gates of Syliras.

The last time he'd been back, he had done it as part of a group from Ravok. They'd been set on messing things up and bringing a bit of disorder to the city of peace and civility.

Before that his last time there had been as he walked out the gates, heading to Zeltiva and places beyond.

In the intervening time he'd learned new magics and expanded his understanding of others. He'd made fortunes, a name, and the blue staff that rested in his palm.

As he waited in line and neared the gates for his turn before the knights, he gave the doorway a closer look.

It was clear by looking at them that they were new, or at least newer than the surrounding castle. New and reinforced, built stronger than before. If nothing else it was nice to see that some things could change in the city, even if most stated ever in lock step.

When it was finally his turn to speak to the knights, and they asked him his business, Clyde simply let out a weary sigh, looked them in the eye, and with a small smile said “I am coming home.”

In a few short moments Clyde headed inside, returning to the city were he was born and raised.

[Marek]

Marek had woken up from his double room in Travelers Row. His tongue had a nice layer of fuzz on it. Tavern food always did that too him looking at himself in a polished piece of brass he began the process of making himself presentable. He first rinsed his mouth out and and began shaving. He tried to keep his face shaved at least one or two days a week when ever he went out or looked to make a deal. Either way today he shaved his face sculpting his scruffiness into a goatee and mustache. He took his brush and cleaned any debris from his cloths and boots and donned them. He might have been common but at least he looked presentable.

After he was clean and dressed he stepped out of his double room and onto the streets and prepared for what came next. A city guard had approached him and began giving the typical run down. Who he was, what his purpose for being there was and typically giving him about a half dozen reasons why he hated being in a government where so much of ones life was dictated by the government.

After about ten minutes of borderline harassment Marek was finally on his way to work. He was going fishing.

[Edwyn Garetson]

Fall 1st 515 AV
Location: [Syliras Entrance] The Main Gates

It was a warm day, almost as if the world around him was reminiscing of the summer just past, and with the coming of Fall change would not be limited to just the weather. Traveller's would be piling in a desperate bid to find work and places to live before the cold winter set in. Mithryn Outpost would be bustling as the field's would soon be ready for the annual harvest, and for Edwyn himself he would soon be heading to the recruitment center.

The thrill of joining Knighthood lured many people, in fact Edwyn would not be surprised if he saw a great many of the younger travelers at the center along side him. For some it was the lure of position and power, after all being a Knight came with both the responsibilities and benefits of ruling Syliras, and yet he had different reasons. It was a mixture of things if he was to be truthful to himself, to honor and make his parent's proud, to be a part of something bigger than himself, and if he were to be brutally honest the stability and security he would have as a Knight.

Edwyn quickened his pace as thoughts of this coming season began to swirl round in his head. The constant press of the newly arrived traveler's and the thoughts created a sense of unease in his chest. He'd never been one for nervousness but the next few hours would determine the path he'd travel for the rest of his life, and even he was not immune to the weight of that kind of pressure.Straightening his posture Edwyn began to grin, it was time to face his future. Time to become a Knight.

[Keene Ward]

The seventieth day of Fall, 515 from A Sample of Stewardship

Progress was slow. Though they were but a hall bell's trot from the gates, it was several before their arch of stone hung over his head, the chill of the shade sinking into his stiff joints like some aching balm. Chatter filled the air, that of bandits and ghosts and wolves. It was incredibly mundane and just as equally loud. There has hardly room for his own thoughts, and the impressive sea of people before him was enough to set him on edge. With that many people, there was no telling what one might do or encounter. He could feel the hairs on his neck stand on end as he made slow, analytical sweeps of those before and around him. The city was nothing like he had imagined it, though whatever his presumptions had been had been washed away the moment he'd set eyes on it.

"Visitors?" The voice was authoritative, though not nearly as abrasive as it might could have been. Keene turned his pale grey gaze to meet the man's dark warm one. Armor again, and an immaculate mustache, made the man seem almost comical were it not for the sword that hung imposing from his belt.

"Yes, more or less. We plan to take the next ship to Alvadas; he's my protection." Barthum's tone was as respectful as it could get with the gruff rumble of his timbre.

The knight paused, eyeing Keene with a raised brow. "Just him? There's been an increase in bandits on the road-"

Barthum shrugged, "I'm a poor merchant. I could only afford this greenhorn, but we managed just fine."

Another pause, another suspicious stare. "I... see."

As they had passed under the portcullis, both Keene and Barthum had dismounted, taking the reigns in hand to guide their horses by foot, something that Keene far preferred. With feet back upon the ground, Keene stood about a head shorter than the knight, and he stared back at him with a stony impassivity. Whether the knight believed Keene to be amble security or not, it seemed there were more questions in order, to which Keene's horse snorted in reply to, the heat of its breath wrapping in an uncomfortable embrace around his neck.

"You look pale. Are you ill?" Keene shook his head. "Can you speak?"

"I can." There was no challenge in his tone, only the simplicity of reply. Barthum, growing only a hair more nervous than he had been before, interjected with a roll of his eyes.

"He's not much for conversation, Ser. It's probably why he came so cheap."

The knight offered a slight nod as another rummaged through their packs. "You said you were travelling to Alvadas?" Barthum moved to speak again, but the knight held up a hand, eyes hard and boring in to his pale person of interest. "Not you, merchant, the boy."

"I did not say I was travelling anywhere." The truth of the matter was met with an unamused frown.

"No, you didn't."

"I am escorting the merchant Barthum to the city of Alvadas. I do not plan to stay here." The noise, the people, even the rising stench of sweat and humanity: they were all things that Keene had no interest in. Whether Alvadas would be the same or different, Keene's mind had been made up the moment he'd passed through the gates. "Is that all?"

For a moment, it seemed as though the knight had something to say, but he was interrupted but a short shout from his partner who stated that the bags were clear. Before he could his attention back to the shorter, younger man, Barthum gave the man a shallow bow. "We'll be going then, Ser. I know my way to the stables and harbor."

With a final glare, the knight stepped out of their way. "Don't cause any trouble. We'll be watching." Whether a threat or a warning, Keene merely brushed past. He had no intention of upsetting whatever balance the city existed under. As far as he was concerned, Syliras held little more import than the trees under which they'd camped.