Location The Kenash City Gates

[Kreig Messer]

5th of Fall, 11th Bell 6th chime.

For a short journey, it was quite the long one. The Caravan, including the diplomatic envoy that Kreig, his patron and the group of knights they were assigned to had to contend with constant danger. It was surprising how a well-armed caravan could attract danger within. Yukman and dangerous wild animals and the occasional internal struggle were stressful and harrowing, homesickness had proved prevalent for some of the travelers with Kreig himself included in that lot. As Kreig rode on his horse, nearing closer and closer to the city with every distracted step, he couldn't help but think of the old training grounds he'd spend his time at and the orphanage.

" Kreig, best keep attention.....We're near" Kreig had to frown at that as he raised his head. Kenash..... it was alien to him as Syliras was in the beginning, except Kenash wasn't quite as big on the whole justice deal as Syliras was. From what he'd been told; Kenash is a city of business built of the back of slaves, many exotic items come from Kenash and in turn many of them go through it as well, in a way slightly similar to the Syndicates of Sunberth have quite the rule over the city, being that the majority of these families have been around during the city’s founding days and in fact some ARE the founders of it ‘Founders…. More like overseers seeing that their living possessions see the progress of the inanimate ones being built’ Kreig had no love for slavery, but he was used to seeing it back and Sunberth and so part of him assumed that was the reason he was taken along with his patron; they wouldn’t worry about him being impulsive and try to set the slaves free or make some horrid outcry at the thought.

Kreig snorted as he looked around, His patron and the knights of their party had shined their armor for a great amount of time this morning and some of the diplomatic envoy were wearing fine clothing according to fashions prevalent to Syliras, Kreig himself had been ordered to dress in his officers uniforms, which was a mixture of chainmail and some snappy clothing.

‘Dress to impress’ Came the answer from one of the delegation as he asked why he had to wear the clothing, hating to dress formal for whatever reason. A more detailed answer came from his Patron. “ Kenash is a society centered on wealth Kreig, they’re society is based on gaining that wealth and showing the power that it brings them. Fine clothing and armor shows them that the Knighthood and by extention Syliras are high on ladder of wealth. Though that won’t stop them from showing disdain to us, Kenash has no love for outsiders I’v heard and have a bit of a superiority complex”

Kreig sighed, he hoped that after meeting the snobs that run the city he’d just be allowed to train and do what he wished, he looked down at his sword which was tucked nicely into its sheath A string was tied around the crossguard of the hilt and the sheath as a sort of ‘peace-tie’ to show the knights know of Kenash’s laws and as a confirmation that they will respect it.

‘Lucky for me my fists aren’t so peaceful’ He chuckled then frowned as the city gates came into clear view ‘Time to get this over with, I suppose’



x

[Athaera]

53rd of Fall, 514 AV

Athaera approached the gates of a city she'd visited once before. This visit, of course, would be much shorter. They were pretty, but not near as extravagant or protective as the gates around Stormhold. There was a fence, instead of a wall, but in a way, it was much nicer than Syliras. Trees adorned the outskirts and inner landscape. The sky was pinkish and bluish, with the occasional yellow criss-crossing the clouds. Shae was calm, as she'd been the whole trip. She had fairly good endurance, which was extremely convenient. Athaera walked up to the gates, brushing her hair out of her eyes before walking inside. Shae snorted, as if sensing civilization. Athaera wasn't entirely sure of her capabilities. To her, animals were food, not friends. But maybe the mixed breed was capable of some thought. "Can you understand me? Huh?" Athaera knew the horse couldn't answer, but it made her snicker anyway.

[Colyn Mercer]

12th Bell - 1st of Summer, AV 515 - Kenash City Gates

It was hot, humid and Colyn swore he could taste the sweat of the man he trudged behind on the long, tiresome trek to Kenash. Wagons rolled on ahead of them, their wheels creaking and squeaking with each yard they covered as horses snorted in protest of their heavy burdens while their drivers, with a crack of the whip, ordered them on regardless. Any exposed skin was coated in a fine layer of glistening sweat, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand did little but spread the sweat around as flies and mosquitoes encircled their meals overhead.

The journey to Kenash had been a long one, the rush from the spur of the moment decision to leave the city he grew up in behind for greener pastures had quickly dissipated, leaving him alone on a cramped caravan with several strangers he had no desire to converse with. It didn't stop them from talking loudly amongst themselves, forcing Colyn to hear Kenash spoken about in every light possible. Some said their stay would be a matter of days or bells, the slavery and decadence amongst the closed-off wealthy had made them feel as welcome as fox in a chicken coop. Others though spoke of luxury not afforded to them in their home city and opportunities that their children would never have.

All spoke of the brand required for any man or women to be free in this city; otherwise they were liable to slap you in chains for good. Slavery, it was such a foreign concept to the Syliran but he was prepared to deal with whatever moral quandaries came his war as he longed for new sights, a new city altogether. Colyn stepped through the gates alongside the stuffy caravan he had been confined within for days on end and felt a sense of relief to have finally reached the swamp city.

A home, a job and a brand - This was going to an interesting new life.

[Chione]

1st of Summer, 515 AV

Kenash was far more humid than Chione had expected. Bugs were everywhere and at one point she thought she could smell rotting flesh. However, it was a refreshing (if mildly putrid) change from the scorching heat of Eyktol; the bugs and odor were easily dispelled by one high hand waving them away from her head and the other high hand held over her nose.

There were other travellers, of course. They all had their own forms of transportation: Foot, horse and wagon. The Eypharian had the good fortune of being picked up by a man who didn't want to see her suffer in the heat as much as she had been.

The city gates weren't very impressive, but they were functional. There was no guard and their entrance was unhindered. It appeared as thought the gates were to keep out animals instead of unwanted visitors.

Chione fiddled with the hem of her shirt anxiously. It was the first time she'd ever been away from home, and she wasn't sure what awaited her inside. But hey, no time like the present to find out.

High Arumenic | Common

[Rayala]

7th of Summer, 515 A.V. Rayala shifted on the wooden bench of the wagon, looking around at the others who were with the caravan as well. As they had moved closer to Kenash, she couldn't help but notice it was getting more humid, something the others noticed as well. At least she guessed they had, as some had tied their hair up, shifted uncomfortably, or tried to keep as much distance between them and everyone else. So long as it wasn't just her cursing the weather. Mithan's little gray-brown head peeked out of her bag, flicking his tongue to smell the air. This gained a dirty look from the old woman sitting across from her. Though that seemed the usual on this trip; she and the woman had been exchanging looks the whole time. "If you're worried 'bout him eatin' you, don't. You're too dry," Raya whispered, glaring at the woman. The woman only gave an insulted look and turned to look towards the city gates. It's petching hot and if that lady says something again, I swear..., she thought to herself, casually easing Mithan's head back in her bag, murmuring an apology to the snake. The poor thing had to live off what she had grabbed before leaving Zeltiva, so she could only imagine how hungry he was. On the plus side, the plantations they had gone through to get towards the gates made her believe that both she and her snake would be fed well. She had never seen so much food in Sunberth, not even in Zeltiva. What did the people do with it all? Eat in excess, purge it, then eat again? That was the only thing that made sense to her, really. But whatever was the norm for it, she certainly couldn't argue. No, quite the opposite, she would enjoy the best she could. Once she had a job, at least. The entire trip to Kenash, she had been listening to the conversations around her. Some wondered what was waiting in the swampy city, some speaking about dynasties, others about how they planned to get some good slaves. Nothing was really that important to her, at least for now. The most important thing she did know was that she would have to get a brand on her hand, but that wasn't too different from tattoos. Actually, that brand could serve as her mark for Kenash instead of her trying to figure out what symbol could portray her stay here. The woman smiled, settling back into her seat at that thought. It took a while, but soon the gates were in sight. They were far from impressive, but still more than Sunberth had had. The lack of guards set her at ease, probably the opposite of how most would feel. No guards meant the place couldn't be having too many laws, rules, and other things to restrict her. Minus needing a brand, so far she believed she might like it here. Rayala eyed the gates some moments before shrugging to herself and moving to the back of the wagon, quickly hopping off to run towards the gates. She couldn't sit with those people any longer, especially the old witch. It was cramped and hot and she had been one tick away from taking off her corset and boots. She paused under the gates, a corner of her mouth quirked up as she shifted her backpack to her back, careful because of Mithan. "Let's see your first home, Markus. Better be good," she whispered to the sky, a hint of sadness in her eyes for a moment before she stepped through the gates.

[Katelyn Marks]

80th, Summer, 515 AV

It had been a long journey. When the first call rang out, Katelyn was relieved. Of course the squire was elated by the trip, but 40 days on the road was harder than she ever could have imagined. Even for someone like herself who rode nearly every day, and for long periods. It was her first time away from Syliras--the Outpost included--and the squire had seen and learned so much already. She had dreamed of that day of departure all her life, and it had been a surreal experience. Like she was watching someone else's life.

Her patron smiled at her from atop his warhorse, seeming to know exactly what she was thinking. A collective excitement spread through their caravan, and she heard several happy quacks from the freeborn women in the ornate carriage several horses ahead. It had been an entertaining group she had shared the experience with to say the least. Kate had heard plenty of stories by now of Kenash, yet still couldn't quite picture the riches and splendor. Even after seeing the women they were escorting, with their expensive dresses and ridiculous beautification rituals. They had to look their best even if all they would be doing that day was bouncing and jostling down the road in their fancy little vehicle.

When they came upon the gate, she was confused. It was a simple thing of flimsy metal, with matching walls. Beautiful of course, but with zero to no protective value. It seemed careless to Katelyn, but the city had been here for generations. They were doing something right--she just couldn't figure out what. Then there was the issue of no guards. It made the squire's head reel, and when she turned to Ser Moore in disbelief he shrugged and shook his head. "You'll give yourself a headache trying to figure this city out. Don't even try." Katelyn's lips twitched but she nodded, feigning seriousness. "I started to realize that about 700 miles ago."

[Hirem]

63rd of Summer, 515 AV

At last, the end was in sight.

"Alright, get a move on!" came the thundering bellow, followed shortly by the explosive crack of the whip. At the mere suggestion of its cruel lash, the hobbled men and women in the caravan bolted straight up and began hustling down the road. Packed in between them, crammed shoulder-to-shoulder with his comrades in misery, limped the giant Benshira. Breathing heavy, the man was only able to catch a small glimpse of the open gates before another whip crack brought his head down, a perfect expression of deference. Keep your head up, your eyes forward, and you risk the lash. Master prefers eyes are on the road below, makes sure we're not planning something if we can't see anything. He knew little of the vaunted city that was to be their destination, but could guess that the open gate meant they were close.

His flesh bruised from many days of open travel on the road, the Benshira could only barely feel the impact of his numb feet against the ground. His chest felt heavy and seized up with every new step, his bones aching from head to toe. If he had but a moment to think, he would take this chance to reflect on the situation he found himself in now, and the twisted irony of his whole depressing life. My life took a turn into misery the day I fancied myself in a slave's shoes... now, I have found myself stepping into that nightmare in reality. It might have made him weep, but there were no tears left in the Benshira's body. Only pain, fear, and a muted submission to all that was unjust in the world. Even his name had been stripped clean from him, the dignity of having an identity now far above his station.

Once, long ago, he was named Hirem, from the tents of Alachi, of the sons of Rapa.

But in Kenash? He was only a slave.

"Pick your feet up!" The slaver cried, and the Benshira winced. There was nothing to do but follow the command.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

Spring 1, 516 AV

"The people of Kenash seem to have a death wish", the Ravokian remarked as the gate finally came into view. He was not impressed. He had thought that he would find a city that was not unlike his home, where powerful families ruled, a miniature Ravok that was surrounded by swamps rather than being located in the middle of a lake, but this was very obviously not the case.

"Why is that, Sir?" the Kenashern merchant that had travelled with Valerius‘ for the better part of the journey asked. The remark seemed strange to him for he could see nothing wrong with the city in front of him. It was the same it had always been, his home, despite its imperfections.

"There are no guards", the Ravokian answered. "That’s careless. Why would you allow anybody to walk into your city?" The merchant didn’t have an answer to that, and Valerius did not elaborate, but quietly considered this surprising new piece of information.

The great families of Ravok, the Lazarins, the Larks and of course the Nitrozians would never have been as foolish. A large, fortified tower guarded the docks of Ravok. Those that dared to try and enter the city without presenting themselves to the guards first were immediately shot dead by the archers that manned the tower. The servants of Rhysol were present everywhere. If that were not the case, Ravok would long have been eradicated by its enemies.

What kind of protection did Kenash have?

Since he did not have to identify himself to the guards and state the reason for his visit, the Ravokian tucked his papers back into his pocket, and let his cloak glide over the slender rapier that hung at his belt.

He was about to enter the city proper when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was the merchant, again. The man flinched a little as he noticed the cold look in the Ravokian’s eyes – Valerius did not like being touched - but still informed him, "You need to get marked within thirty days and find work or they will enslave you."

Valerius nodded curtly and turned away again. Marks then. Slavery. Probably a certain amount of oppression. He supposed the ever present threat of becoming somebody else’s possession was enough to keep most of the common citizens in check. They probably controlled where people went and had implemented a curfew as well. Some things were just like at home after all.

Maybe the people of Kenash were not all fools.

[Belinda]

26th, spring, 516av

The raven haired woman sauntered off the boat.. err ship she was on. The captain had corrected her numerous times it was a ship not a boat. Still it had served its purpose in getting her to Kenash. Dressed in black leather pants, corset and a white flowing linen top she looked about a moment or two before the booted feet gracefully made steps to land. She blew a kiss to the captain and sailors she left behind. It had taken her a week to get used to the movement of the ship and the svefra were not bad folk at all to deal with. It was a amicable journey.

Those hips walked in a figure eight sway that created a sultry appeal to those she passed. The lush expanse of blue black waves of hair that flowed back from her gave rise to a lovely face beset with steel grey eyes. The guards did a double take as she passed entering the city through the harbor and stopped at the information desk. Speaking quietly to a person at the desk in low soft tones she found out what she needed to know.

She made her way to register as a freeborn. Work was easy to get for someone like her. Peace was a rare commodity, but then Belinda made no excuses for her way of subsistence. Dancing. That came with a few duties but her daggers made sure that no meant no. The rapier in her hip made sure that men understood that no meant no. The few lucky would get the yes.

[Bronwen]

3rd of Spring
516

A sudden side to side lurch of the wagon sent Bronwen's head smacking into the wooden railing she slumbered against. She scowled, opening her eyes slowly. She was so tired. Weeks on the road, in a caravan, would do that to a city girl. She was sore, too. Sore in places she didn't know could get sore.

Sitting up slowly, she winced, lifting a hand to the would be knot forming on her scalp, the other scrubbing drool from the corner of her mouth. Blinking, her blue-silver eyes scanned the area.

The relatively small caravan lined across an uneven bridge, her wagon bringing up the tail end. Turning slightly, she called over her shoulder to the driver. A new driver, new company. The family she had ridden with had turned off the caravan's path some days ago. "Is this..." Her voice cracked. She cleared inactivity from her throat and tried again "Is this the bridge you were talking about?" The man nodded. Bron knew that was all she'd get out of the man. He wasn't very talkative. Unlike Bron.

Puffing her cheeks out in a slow sigh, letting her gaze slide over the landscape again. Wet. That was her first impression of the area. Wet and flat.

The wagon exited the bridge and pulled off the road, coming to a stop with a jolt. Bronwen slid off the edge, pulling her bag with her. Following a quick glance around from a standing view point, she turned back to the wagon bed and pulled a bow and quarterstaff from the corner. The bow was slung around her chest and shoulder, followed by the bag, and lastly, the staff slid through the straps.

"Up through atta way's tha gate" the driver called, from behind her. Bron twisted to glance back, then followed the drivers long, skeletal finger. "Bout's a 20 chime walk, if ya go fast" he added, nodding. "Thank you" Bron smiled, taking a step toward the man, hand thrust out for a departing gesture. The man clicked his tongue, jerked the reigns, and was back on the road before the step completed. The girl's brow lifted slowly, as she watched the advancing wagon through a fog of dust left in its wake.

"20 chimes, huh." she mumbled, turning her eyes upward to consider the time, noting that Syna's rays had long dipped into the west, casting the land into a dull grey hue. Pulling her staff from behind her, to double as a walking staff, she began the journey, her long strides paralleling the river, eyes downcast, mind clouded with worrying thoughts.

A crunching sound, beneath her heavy boots, reminded her of the surroundings. Dropping her gaze, she found the surface of her path had changed from grass to...shells? Lifting her gaze again, she followed a long line of some of the biggest trees the city girl had ever seen, to a large gate. "No guards?" She stared at the stone pillars, slid her gaze around the area, then back, before hesitantly walking forward. Stopping just before the gate, the girl threw one more unsure glance around, caught her bottom lip between her teeth, closed her eyes in a hopeful prayer, and slipped slowly through the gate and into the city of Kenash.