Location [Syliras Entrance] The Main Gates

[Elmoch]

15th Spring, 511, Noon.

It was a bright day of a new season, and Elmoch had finally arrived at what he believed to be the most interesting place in the region at the moment. He was carrying everything he had on his own, and it certainly was quite heavy and tiresome, but he really wasn't standing out much among the large amount of distinctive individuals visiting the city from distant lands. After finally getting in the line for crossing the gates, he would still have to wait for the few travelers who also awaited for inspection to enter the city. The inertia bored him, so he took the time to study the new environment that now surrounded him.

"Those guards must be boiling in those armors," he thought whilst laughing to himself after wandering a bit with his eyes. Indeed, the day was unusually warm, but he was still quite comfortable in his light clothing. As the line seemed to move, he was pretty distracted, but curiously his legs moved almost automatically. He actually got pretty surprised when confronted by the guard, as if he had moved from a place to the other without even noticing it.

The guard looked at the poorly dressed man carrying a face which Elmoch interpreted as a mixed expression, somewhere standing in between disgust and boredom. "Well, his job surely isn't something I would enjoy."

"State your business here" said the guard a few moments later, as if he was expecting Elmoch to do something unusual.

"Business...?" questioned Elmoch. He knew that just telling the truth about his purposes there would, unfortunately, be too much suspicious. He just decided to lie this time, even if against his nature. "Well, I'm here to visit an old brother of mine." The guard couldn't know everyone in such a large city, so this would probably work.

The guard seemed like he was going to make further questions about it, but then shrugged. "Alright, what was your name again?"

"Elmoch," replied him with a smile on his face, for his lie had worked.

"Elmoch what?" questioned the guard, seeking a surname, or perhaps just willing to bother the suspicious-looking man.

"It's just Elmoch, may I go in now?"

The guard then nodded and let the odd-looking man through. "Stay out of trouble," said him as a warning while the next man on the line impatiently approached for inspection. Unfortunately for Elmoch the chance to ask about directions for an inn for him to stay in had been lost, as that would possibly lead the guard to question his lie. "Better safe than sorry" thought him as he distanced himself from the gates, and at the same time admiring the urban scenery with his blue eyes.

[Kandace]

Many people were out in the city, on business or just out for a walk. It seemed no one noticed a young woman, probably just old enough to be out in the world on her own, walk through the gates. Her hair was black and straight, going no further than her shoulders, and her eyes were green, hidden behind long lashes.

The newcomer stopped just inside of city limits, casting her gaze on every detail of the place. The buildings, the children playing and the adults talking seriously, they were all new sights to her, for she had never been to the city before.

She went to take her first step and a man in armor stopped her. “Who are you?” She sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

“My name is Kandace,” she answered obediently, not hesitating. The sun was beating down on her shoulders and head, and she was distracted by all the noise and scents that filled the air. Fresh bread, children laughing, she couldn’t keep her focus.

“What is your business coming here, Kandace?”

“Passing through,” she told him, a bit more curtly than she intended, making the man look at her in suspicion.

“What is your race?”

Was this man so nosy to all newcomers? “Kelvic.” She showed him her sharp canines and her vertically slit green eyes. With a nod, he let Kandace through without another inquiry.

Kandace had set out for Syliras after her mother told her it was her own time to set off alone, to find a master or mistress of her own. Walking down the street, she set off. Whether just passing through or staying, she doesn’t even know yet.

[Aubrey]

12th Spring, 511 AV, early morning

The rumbling of the wooden wheels on the cobbled street shook her up quite a bit. It was difficult to keep writing with all this movement, but she just had to put her thoughts on paper. A few lines, letters written with a sharp new quill and decked with voluptuous scrolls were the first words that were ready to gather and create the first verse. A poem about the road, traveling and the steady life on the move was about to be born, not the first of its kind in this book and probably not the last. Drops of ink fell back into the seemingly endless void of the black color as the quill once again disrupted the wavy surface and pinched deep inside the dark liquid, only to be taken out quickly and carried to the blank space on the paper. A disgusting black streak made its way all over the page as the wagon abruptly stopped moving and Aubrey’s hand wasn’t ready to halt but kept moving.
“Great.”, she mumbled angrily while looking at the now ruined page of the formerly immaculate collection of white pages with swirly words dancing across them.
The young woman was curious. Should they have already arrived? Only now did she notice the noises outside. The horses were snorting and someone was demanding inspection of the animals the group was bringing along. Aubrey knew one of the voices, it was Guerdo, the chubby animal trainer and informal leader of the group. He had a very distinctive voice, deep and monotonous, similar to a bear grumbling and very soothing. Nothing seemed to ever bother him as his tone never changed no matter if he was angry, sad or euphoric it was always the same deep sound. Guerdo was a good man and like a father to Aubrey. Of course her perception of a father was someone who did anything for her when and where she wanted him to, unlike her real father who would actually lecture her and raise her according to certain standards. Guero would always let Aubrey get away with everything. She knew exactly how to play him, much more like one of her so called lovers than a father, but she didn’t mind.
Energetic she closed the book and threw it on her bed where it would rest between all the pillows and opened the side window of her little caravan. Almost knocking over one of the gate guards who was just passing by her window this very moment, Aubrey stuck her head out of the window. The bright sunlight tickled her nose and let her black hair shine in all its different shades of emerald and turquoise. Blinking and shielding her eyes from the sun the young woman was trying to look for what was going on outside. “Well, hello young Lady”, called the surprised guard at Aubrey’s sudden appearance. The guard asked for other passengers in the woman’s trailer and she told him she was alone. The man went on to inspect the other vehicles and especially the cages with animals in them. Aubrey was used to the procedure and glimpsed at a woman passing by. She was obviously an already known citizen of the city and got in without any problems. The actress went to her caravan front and opened the door to let the sun fill the rest of her living space with warm gleaming light. The wooden beams of her vehicle were connected to the trailer in front of her and she balanced along them with tapping dance steps and a little jump in the end to Melia’s green caravan. The air was cool and fresh and breezes of wind tried to tangle up the young woman’s hair. Aubrey took a deep breath and tried to smell what made this city different from the others but couldn’t make it out. She was unsure if this would finally be the place that would allow her to become famous, but it seemed that fame and stage lights were not carried by the winds of this place. Maybe the arrival of her group would change that.
Melia already noticed Aubrey coming as she was sitting on in the coachman’s seat of her caravan.
“Finally awake?”, she asked her friend without turning her head.
“I was just writing something.”, Aubrey replied and sat herself down next to Melia.
“You know, I’m not sure if this city full of knights is really a good place for people like us.”
“People like us?”, Aubrey asked raising her eyebrow. “You mean like circus folks and artists? I heard they’re producing Mizas here. I’m sure some of it will wander in our pockets.”
“Yeah, exactly that. You better be careful, what you do here. From what I heard their laws are strict.”
Aubrey wasn’t really listening anymore, because the caravan group finally got approval to enter the city. Quickly moving back to her own trailer Aubrey watched the fascinating city gate and walls passing by as she drove through them, excited as to what she would find within them…

[Cenric Stolvind]

23rd, Spring, 511 AV, Noon.

"Damn them..." Cenric muttered to himself, obviously frustrated with the entire situation. A farmer had come to sell his cattle, and the guards having to check each one to make sure they were free of illness before letting the man go by. Cenric berated himself for deciding to leave the city for a few hours to get some fresh air away from all the chaos of the city. It had been an excellent break before he would go back to looking for a job.

He had been doing odd jobs for almost four years now, hardly scrapping by. Hopefully he would find a job as a lock smith or something that fit his talents soon. Cenric was hesitant about using his true skills in a city such as Sylrias, where the law did actually hold weight. Never though would he regret leaving Sunberth. At least here he could live a somewhat safe life and find a way to get by.

Looking up at the sun which had just started to reach the highest point, Cenric smiled. It had been worth it to get out of that place for a time. After a few more minutes, then line had begun to move again. The minutes passed by as the guards went through their routine questioning and giving directions to people who had never been to the city.

After a good deal of time, Cenric stood before the two guards. Their armor glinted in the sun as they peered out from under their helms. Both seemed to give Cenric a quick glance over before the one on the right spoke with such precision and strength that he commanded the attention of any he spoke too. "What is your business in Sylrias?"

"I'm heading back to my apartment, my name is Cenric Stolvind." Cenric said, almost sad that he was heading back to the confines of the city walls. Even so, he kept a smile on his face, thankful that he at least could go find some food to eat when he returned home.

With a curt nod, the guards let him pass.

[Alec Skywolf]

The Season of Spring, 90th Day, 511 AV. Evening.

Crickets began their chirping. A low wind rustled the small patches of grass on the ground. A small mouse skittered from grass clump to grass clump. The mouse dug a little here and there. Finally the small mouse found a seed and greedily began the eat it. Suddenly, a grey and brown blur fell from the sky. With a thud it landed on the mouse and tumbled into the dust. The dust cleared to reveal a satisfied looking Horned Owl as it laid on its back, the last of a mouse tail sliding down it's beak.

If Alec had been disappointed with his sloppy capture he did not show it in the least. He was far to engrossed in the utter satisfaction of food in his aching belly. After a moment's reverence he looked to his surroundings and saw a line of people waiting. Alec righted himself and fluffed his feathers in a vain attempt to clean off some of the dust. He then returned his gaze to the line of people.

'How peculiar,' the owl thought to himself 'What curious behaviour these Sylirans have.' Then his bright yellow eyes spotted the guards at the end. The only experiences Alec had with men in armour were bad ones. For a moment his mind traveled back to his past. His beak turned to the lock of silver hair that had been tied to a leather collar around his neck. The beautiful silver hairs were a comforting scent in the midst of all of the confusion and bussle he could hear, see, and smell in this city.

An abrupt movement caught his shining yellow eyes. A pigeon flew in through the gate. Though Alec's belly was not aching in light of the recent dinner, it couldn't resist the urge to give the pigeon a good chase. With that Alec's instincts lead him soaring through the gates and into the city.

[Eldon Sunkiss]

Day 55 of Summer, AV 511 What journey worth taken was easy or simple? What adventure that truly meant anything was pointless? Eldon and Edalene had come a long way, and Eldon had gorged himself on more than his desired share of adventure for one season, or at least he was convinced in that moment that he didn't want anything else to do with it. His ass hurt, Vanah probably aged two whole years after carrying Eldon for some forty or so days. The Strider's hooves beat rhythmically on the stone ground, an odd sound that Eldon had never heard. Syliras. Sama'el had told him often of the place, but his imagination proved inaccurate as he gazed at the city within walls of stone. It was like some horrendous monstrosity looming over him, gazing down at him with vicious hungry eyes, yet he felt a breath of relief flow through him as well. He could start over now. Edalene, he fulfilled his promise to her, and though it was difficult for him to say it, he was reluctant to part from her. He always found her charming, adorable, but they had watched over each other, learned from each other, trained and cared for each other. For roughly forty days they didn't even have the option to separate. Now? Eldon wasn't so sure. He just knew that he was craving a lake to bathe in. The mounted Drykas moved slowly through the gates, the Knights paid him little attention as he passed through. A man on a horse probably wasn't uncommon, despite his assumptions of horses not particularly running free in this place. Nevertheless, they would manage or move on. Eldon, for starters, needed money, a place to stay, and find somebody that could describe this stone city to him. He was so very lost, confused, but ready to adapt.

[Victor Lark]

Summer 4, 511

The evening sun cast a long spread of darkness over the beaten grass long before it turned into a justifiable road, making the citadel loom like a grey-black mountain over the slouching individual at the shadow's peak. It was so large. It had seemed closer. Victor gazed up at it, his impossibly heavy eyelids twitching with the effort. In the light he seemed tired and sunken, but when he stepped into the shade, he became truly gaunt. His filthy clothes clung to his thin, sweating body; his hair and wispy beard shone greasily. One of his bony shoulders hung lower than the other, burdened by the weight of a small wooden trunk, which contained everything he owned.

His chin tipped towards the ground and he trudged on. In less than half a bell, he and the guard had taken notice of each other. Or at least he could see them stir in the giant doorway. He had not seen himself in days, but he did not want to draw attention by stopping. So he composed himself on the way there. The young man looked down, then shook his head to try and shake his brain into something useful. When he looked up again, he was smiling. His eyes were a little bit brighter.

“Your name,” said the gruff old man when the Ravokian stopped before him. His well-used armor still clinked softly as he repositioned himself.

He answered as if it were the answer to a riddle. “Victor Lark.”

“Your business?”

He shrugged. “Not business. Pleasure.” When he received a dissatisfied glare, he added, “I’m a tourist. Passing through.”

“Do you bring any disease?”

“What?” A breathy chuckle escaped him, a mask for his fatigue. He looked down at himself. “Not that I— er, no.”

The guard was not impressed. “We must inspect your...” he glanced at the trunk, “...luggage.” Victor gladly surrendered it to the other one, who rummaged through it hastily but thoroughly. He stopped briefly at the dagger, recently scrubbed to a shine, and at the half-empty bottle of wine. When he decided it was clean, he silently closed it and gave it back.

“Clear,” he said, his voice lighter than his friend’s, “Welcome to Syliras.”

[Nil'kayn]

Timestamp: Afternoon, 89th Day of Spring, 511 AV Kayn stood at the base of the large gate, his head tilted backwards hands on hips, his Greatsword over his shoulder, a wistful whistle escaped his lips. He tilted his head downwards looking at the guard standing before him in full armour, he looked to be about 50, but he still had the spirit of youth about him. "I believe this is the city of Syliras? Is there anything I need to do to gain entry, Ser?" The man peered up at the Akalak a suspicious look on his face. "State your name and business in Syliras." Kayn looked at him "Nilkayn is my name, but call me Kayn. My business in Syliras..." He stroked his chin, a pondering look on his face. "Well, looking for work I guess." The man kept his squinted eyes pointed at Kayn's forehead drilling a hole with his stare. "Do you have any illness or disease?" Kayn looked down at himself, "None that I know of." The man kept his gaze on the Akalak, "We must inspect your possessions." The mans eyes strayed to the Bastard Sword on the Akalak's shoulder. Kayn paused, but handed his pack over for inspection as well as his weapons. The guard rummaged through, pausing at each item of interest, but finally handing back to the Akalak. "Alright, you can go in, but keep the peace and the laws." The Akalak smiled, "Wouldn't dream of it." He says that almost, as if he believes that. Shut up, Nil The guard was unimpressed, he simply motioned Kayn to pass. Kayn walked by, but just as he passed by he said under his breath, "Who forgot to put honey in his porridge." The guard glared after him as the Akalak strode off into the city.

[Asara Willow]

Late afternoon, 75th day of Spring

As Asara approached the main gates she felt a growing sense of excitement. Her pale gold eyes gleamed from the shadow of her hood as she scanned the view before her, one gloved hand gripping the reigns of her proud Zavian horse, Zafkil. She felt intimidated by the view, and quietly regretted the decision to come to Syliras instead of a smaller settlement for her first sojourn into Human territory.

"This is a true test isn't it, Zafkil?" Asara whispered to her steed, who only winnied in response. A small smile curved the tiny female's lips, a smile invisible behind her hood's shadow. As she moved a flash of fair skin was revealed; it was a flesh so pale it was almost silver and translucent enough to show a few dark veins. Other than that, Asara's identity was still a secret. "Fingers for luck, yes?."

With that she took the final steps to approach the guards, intending on asking for a place where she could board to last the winter while she worked for wages. She needed the money, after all. Hunting was never really her style these past weeks.

Approaching one of the sentries, Asara gave her best bow. "Excuse me... Do you know of a place I can rent out for at least... A complete season?"

"You should take that up with the Housing Authority." The guard said, eyeing Asara suspiciously. "State your race and uncover your face."

Asara narrowed her pale gold eyes and slowly lifted a hand to draw back her hood, revealing a beautiful face unmarked save for a small scar under her left eye. She flashed the guard a careful smile, making sure to expose her fangs. She heard someone nearby mutter a curse for having to stand near one of her race and winced, lowering her gaze a bit. "I am Symenestra... Is that answer enough...?"

The guard regarded the pale, undersized female before him, unable to discern her age but not really finding that a problem. For a Symenestra she was remarkably slender, frailer, than any other he had seen. She would probably not last very long. "Are you carrying any diseases? Is your horse?"

"We are as healthy as we know how to be..." Asara whispered quietly, keeping mention of her severe headaches to herself. She didn't know if they'd ban her due to a strange affliction, but she didn't want to wander the land in search of another, more lenient city.

"Then enter, but be aware of the law. We do not welcome harvesters, if that is the true nature of your visit. Be safe, Symenestra." With those words the guard nodded her through, and Asara immediately pulled up her hood and led Zafkil, who bore all her gear and portable housing, into the great guarded city.

[Dhalvasha]

1st of Summer, 511 AV

The company of wagons kicked up tired dust as they moaned to the main gate of Syliras. Humans were the chief composition of the traders, hard eyed men who had traveled from Cyphrus and the Sea of Grass. Surprise and danger had reforged their features in stone, grim slits and laughless smiles as they looked upon the gates of civilization. Not one among them desired to return, to push through the whispering waves of green or fight off the airborn Zith and Glassbeak packs. Still, joy had not yet circulated through their minds. Most were still there, back in a mire of nothingness and hardship.

To them, the guards were kinder, knowing the weary eyes of men who saw too much, lived with too much, and drank their loss like cheap ale.

It was the pale skin of a man among them that drew their attention, his red eyes and small frame highlighting the already apparent abnormalities. He dressed in black, a color only made darker by the contrast of his skin. Wearing his race like a pennant, Dhalvasha marked their suspicion and bowed low. His wiry frame nearly bent to the earth with the action, drawing slight and reluctant shivers from the guards. Symenstra were known more by reputation than fact, their Harvest a frightening tale of savagery and slavery. He would not blame them for their unease, the nature of the Harvest was abominable in the eyes of those not Symnestra. Death for new life, a simple trade and one few made willingly.

"Please," he began, his voice a purring mixture of hushed tone and breathy stillness, "Before we begin our processing, I am Dhalvasha and have no intention of bringing the traditions of my people past these gates."

Two guards shared a glance, pregnant with meaning, but nodded at him.

"What is your purpose in Syliras?" one asked at last, dust kicked up and around the pale human like a corona of plague.

"Medecine, Philtering, Herbalism, a study of medical arts," Dhal answered, his head still lowered, as though penitent, "May I ask where I can secure lodgings and employment?"

One guard grunted and the other sighed, pointing through the gates. "Housing Authority will get you sorted out, Employment office will tell you where you're needed. Be quick about it and don't loiter, your kind don't have the best reputation here."

"Of course, I will take that information to heart. My thanks for your assistance." Raising his head, the Symnestra looked at both of them placidly before continuing through the gate after the wagons.

As he passed, one of the guards shivered, waiting till he was outside of earshot before turning to his companion.

"A doctor? Can you imagine? Incentive enough to not get injured if you ask me." They laughed, but it was uneasy, in truth it was an unspoken unease that would remain long after Dhalvasha's passing, and continue with each new pale skinned creature admitted past the gates.