Location [Syliras Entrance] The Main Gates

[Ben Traven]

68th Summer,510

Ben approached the gates slowly watching people going in and out of the city,Ben admired the stonework of the city gates. Ben was in a terrible state from several days of travelling. Outside the gates was really crowded so Ben decided to wait a little for the amount of people to go down a little he didn't like crowds they trample on the robe and make it dirty for once Ben had his hood down the sunny whether didn't help at all in the sense for personal hygiene From where Ben was standing he could see the smoke from the forge at the iron works.

Ben go closer to the gate and a knight stopped him

"What is your business in Syliras?

"i thinking of staying here indefinitely and if possible get a job "

"Try travellers row for apartments and it is very cost effective"

Ben walked into the city going towards travellers row to see if he could rent a room.

[Damselian]

58th day of Summer, 510

Damselian rode toward the gates of Syliras on the back of his Kavinka Paintedmount, eager to enter the city and find shelter indoors. He was exhausted from a long day's travel, and the oppressive sunshine beating down on him didn't help any. He adjusted his cloak nervously as he neared the guardsmen, tightening the garment around his body before tossing the hood back onto his shoulders. As his face came into view, the Syliran knight on either side of the door moved forwards with urgency.

They stopped him yards from the gateway, scrutinizing the traveler with a great deal of suspicion. His rich blue skin was considered rare and beautiful, even among his own people. The humans standing before Damselian didn't seem to know what to make of the warrior. From the bright cobalt flesh to the tattoos covering his face, Dams was a strange and impressive figure to see.

"What's your business here?" one of the guardsmen asked, giving him a disapproving scowl.

"I've come to meet a friend, and to find work to support myself over the next season. Is there a problem, friend?" he asked, quirking a brow slightly.

The guards seemed to stiffen with the word 'problem', considering him for a few seconds before one of the men shook his head.

"No, no problem. Just mind your blade, warrior, and don't cause any trouble. We'll remember you by that face, so don't give us reason to come looking for you."

Damselian nodded, offering a polite "Good day!" to the two men before tightening his grip on the reins, and gesturing for his horse to move onward. He passed between the gates without consequence, and made his way toward The Rearing Stallion. It was time to enjoy a good ale in the fine shelter of the city.

[Kitty]

12 Day of Summer 510 AV

Kitty’s eyes bulged as he passed the gate. There were so many people. It was suffocating. Everywhere he looked people. He felt as if the entire world must be within these walls. The good smells he smelt from outside of the city mingled with the smell of human refuse, and the smell of people. One person sweating was an unpleasant smell, but it could be ignored. Here there were hundreds upon hundreds. Everywhere he turned people. Every breath he took smelled of people. It was nauseating. He didn’t understand how people could deal with it. They must get used to it eventually, maybe they couldn’t even smell it, he had heard that human’s noses were not very sensitive.

“Move!” He heard the yell and his ears flinched, or would have had they been able too. He spun around, his body moving in a quick fluid motion, his cloak flapping around him. It gave those looking in his direction a little more of an eye full then they were probably expecting, since he didn’t have anything on under it. When he turned he came face to face with a horse. The first thing that popped into his head was food. Then slowly he came to wonder how a horse had talked. He had never heard them talk before. “Move you dim witted son of a bitch!”

Kitty’s eyes flicked up to see a pudgy man sitting on a cart. The horses were attached to the cart, and the voice had obviously come from him. He stepped out of the way, his mind looking for the words to apologize, but as he thought, he felt his hair bristle. “How dare he!? Calling my mother a dog!” His yellow eyes intensified and his lips peeled back. A low guttural growl escaped as he barred his teeth at the man. He wanted to strike, he wanted to kill for this insult, but he wouldn’t. His life wasn’t in danger, and his mother had told him that he wasn’t allowed to eat human. This kill would be for no more reason then pride, and pride wasn’t something that mattered in survival.

The pudgy man wasn’t looking at Kitty, but his horses were. They started to edge away from the look on his face and when the snarl came from his throat they lurched forward, which unbalanced the cart driver. He yelped and grabbed onto his reigns, then continued on his way like nothing happened.

Kitty tried to suppress his wish to run. He wasn’t frightened by all of the people, it just wasn’t right. These people had to be living on top of each other. It was suffocating. Yet these thoughts disappeared in an instant. He hadn’t noticed it in his anger, but when he stepped out of the carts way, he had moved toward a good smell. This close it overpowered all other thought. It was time to get what he had come here for. Once he got the food he could get out of this place and forget that he ever ventured into such an unsavory location.

OOC: Continued at The Rearing Stallion

[Kitty]

12 of Summer 510 AV

He pushed his way through the crowd until he found the gate again. He didn’t like this place. It had bad smells to go with the good and people wouldn’t even let him have food. What really ate at him is it was obvious the man had more food then he needed. He moved through the gate, finding the guard who had given him his cloak. He tossed it on the man, who was paying more attention to those going in then those coming out. The cloak landed on him, and once again people spread out of his way. He didn’t care that they looked now. They were all mean people who wouldn’t let him have food. He didn’t really understand why they stared at him anyway. With how warm it was, the fake fur seemed unnecessary.

He walked straight down the road until he found a small treed area. He walked into them, away from prying eyes. A flash of light occurred and Kitty had returned to his real self. He was a black jaguar once again. If those people wouldn’t give him food, he would find his own. He stalked off away from Syliras knowing that he wouldn’t be annoyed for long. Once he found a game trail he would get something to eat and forget all about it.

[Gravon]

58th day of Summer, 510

With the Syliran gates in sight, Gravon slowed his jog to a walk as he came up behind a wagon. He had unfortunately lost his horse a mile back while riding with his brother and had decided to travel the rest of the way on foot to meet up with him later. It wasn't a pleasant run, however, as his legs burned uncomfortably and he was carrying at least forty or fifty pounds of equipment, which didn't really bother him until only a few moments ago. The aching made it easier to forget his frustration too as he focused on the burn and was finally catching his breath when the ironwood gates of Syliras grew as he neared. Gravon sighed in relief, taking note of the two guards.

Just then a wave of paranoia flooded his senses, making him reach up to pull his hood forward over his face instinctively, as he drew on the need to hide his Isurian features. With a hint of shame, he realized what he was doing and pulled his hood off to reveal his distinctive brow and long dark green hair to draw away what suspicious he may have gained. Despite his open gesture, the two guards at the gate found themselves taken aback as they immediately took notice to Gravon's wide build, which in itself was enough to rival a bull. Intimidation swept over their duty for a moment, only to be replaced by pride as one of the guard's lifted his hand for the Isurian to stop.

"What do you seek in Syliras?" The guard asked, a hint of forced courage in his voice. Gravon's eyes narrowed as he listened.
"Employment and refuge." He replied after a moment of silence.
"Mind if I ask for the specific nature of your visit?"
"Yes, I do."

When it was apparent Gravon wasn't going to tell him, the guard let out a sigh and stepped back at a distance to move out of his way.

"Right then; you are entitled to your privacy, but any nefarious crap will be dealt with harshly. Enter at your own discretion." Gravon let out a scoffed grunt at the threat, but didn't respond, merely stepping past the two guards without looking back. The main guard's eye twitched at the gesture, yet he stopped himself from commenting when he noticed the large weapon peeking out from under the man's cloak. The bastard was armed to the teeth and looked like he could kill a man by simply growling at him.

[Samuel Blackwell]

77th day of Summer, 510 AV

A thin silhouette in the evening light strode across the courtyard. It was the figure of a lean boyish looking girl who had on her not but a small backpack, a courier's tube and an oversized book-shaped object, wider than her own frame, wrapped in dusty linen cloth.

With aching legs and a dry throat Samuel was making her way to the gate when she saw the two guards standing out front. It wasn't that she didn't expect guards at the entrance to the city so much as her usually prejudice towards authority figures shoved it's way to the front of her mind. For an instant that felt like an eternity her stomach froze over, her eyes swelled with tears and her brow knitted. Steeling herself, and regaining her composure, she stepped up her pace a bit, much to her legs' chagrin.

The guard hailed Sam as she drew near. "Hold, aren't you a bit young to be travelling alone? What business do you have in Syliras little one?" Sam stopped averting her eyes uncomfortably. "I am a courier. Here to make a delivery and perhaps look for more work and a place to live." The guard's eyebrow rose slightly, "Of coarse you are but should a boy of your age really be travelling alone?" Normally Sam didn't mind those who mistook her for a boy but the trip was long and grueling, she was irritable and impatient. She drew down her hood revealing a head of fine, curly, auburn hair. She now met the guards stare with her own, "I am not a boy - and I have seen enough seasons to make the travel here." Sam paused and shifted her tone to a more cordial one. "Now if you don't mind, good Gate Master, I have a delivery to make."

The guard didn't do or say anything for a moment. He was one-half taken aback and one-half suspicious. He reached out motioning with his weapon, causing Sam to flinch, "What is it you have there in your hands little courier?" Her patience gave way again, "I have a delivery to make that may soon be a 'late' delivery to make." The guard was now obviously disinterested and annoyed with Sam. "Very well. I see no reason to hold you longer, you may pass. The best value lodgings are in the Traveler's Row. Keep your nose clean and try to treat guards with more respect we're here to keep you safe after all. Be on your way now."

The eyebrows on her fair face still knitted in frustration, Sam obeyed the guard and entered the gate. She felt a little guilty lying about the book in her arms but she didn't want the guard to hold her any longer. She knew if either of the guards had seen the book they would find her many times more suspicious. After all how many young woman wander around alone with enormous books about Theives' Guilds?

[Elhaym]

63rd Day of Summer, 510 AV

The artist called Pain's solemn face transformed into a crooked smile as she saw the gates ahead of her. It had been a while since she'd been here. The smile quickly dissipated, as she recalled her reason for leaving in the first place. In short, she had had taken a severe beating unprovoked from a man in a pub, and after her recovery, returned the favor tenfold with the broken leg of a chair. The man was a lowlife, and she was under the assumption no one would investigate the assault with any vigor, but she hadn't taken the chance of having the Syliran Knight's take her into custody, or a pack of thugs pay her back for their friend's humiliation.

It was too late to turn back now. One of the guards could clearly see her, and if she turned around now, it would be obvious she had something to hide. Without missing a step, Pain pushed onward. She had only a small pack of supplies on her back, and her satchel containing her art supplies, so hopefully she wouldn't be stopped.

"You there, hold for a moment." One of the guards said in a flat monotone as she neared the gate. Pain flinched, and turned to meet his gaze. She wore common black sandals, with a pair of loose, billowy black pants that halted mid-calf, and a simple sleeveless white blouse. Aside from the cloth bandages wrapped around her feet and hands, she looked nothing out of the ordinary.

"Sir." she said, more of a question than an address. The weight of her pack suddenly seemed oppressive, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot as the guard looked her over.

"You've been gone for a while, lass. I've kept my eye out for you."

Pain's eyes bulged. "Oh gods, i'm a wanted criminal? He was a sleazebag who beat up women in bars!" she thought, chewing on her lower lip as she noted the guard's face taking on a scowl.

"You know, it's bad form for an artist to treat a paying customer with such disrespect. Last I recall, you weren't exactly making a king's ransom with your works, young lady. I was willing to pay decent coin for that portrait of my son! Now, here you are, all these months later. You know, my wife was furious." The guard barked, clearly recalling the raging fury of his partner.

"I... uhh..." Pain's head spun, finally remembering she had indeed made an appointment to draw someone's son, an appointment her sudden departure had caused her to miss. "I'm so sorry Sir, it was an emergency, and..."

"Ah, don't worry about it young lady. I had some winged fellow with an odd tail do it in your stead, which I must say, he did a fine job. A fine job indeed. You know, you should seek him out. If I recall, his works were much more detailed than anything you showed me, and..."

Pain let her head fall and let out a dejected sigh. "Great, just what I needed to hear."

After listening to the lecture in both her lack of responsibility and inadequate art skills, Pain walked through the gates and into the city. She'd have to see about getting a place to stay for a while.

[Paltra Immuran]

510 AV, Summer, 79th Day--The Syliras Gates

The sun was bright, hanging high in the sky with a delicate blaze of warmth. The smile upon one of the travelers to the great city of Syliras, the Capital City, was nearly a mirror to that warmth. A friendly man, honest, kind, perhaps even trustworthy if you were in a bind. That’s what it looked like. And though his clothes suggested a past that was less than wealthy, he was certainly no beggar. Nay, not with the way that he walked, the cleanliness of his clothing. And could anyone but someone with a bright future ahead of them smile with such a confidence and self-assuredness?

Absolutely.

Though, Paltra intended not to give evidence to support that. He was a visitor here, hailing from one of the greatest opposites to this place there was. Sunberth, not the place to rear children, live, or even die nobly… that was another story though, he supposed, just as this was the start of his own true story. He smile widened, a corner twitching in anxiety and fear as he approached the imposing gates. Rust-colored eyes swept across the guardsmen there, some even evident on high, resting--yet alert at the same time--upon the stone wall. They were orderly, their armor glinting, weapons sharpened and ready for action. Stature, positioning, and even the number of them hinted at the intelligence behind the soft eyes of the beholder that these were no mere guardsmen, not like in Sunberth. These were Sylirian Knights, which Paltra had little knowledge of, aside from merely knowing that they were adversaries to all that would bring the defiling force of criminal intent to the city.

Paltra’s smile loosened, and the sword that hung idly at his side, newly bought with some money that he had ‘Borrowed’ back in Sunberth, concealed within it’s sheath. The Bow upon his back, along with twenty arrows, accompanied the sight. The Bow was un-strung of course, due mostly because he didn’t want to cause any more of a stir than he would likely already cause in his passage into the city. Though, he imagined that having a concealed dagger behind the sash wrapped around his mid-section would likely give cause to wonder the reasoning for so many weapons. It certainly would be excessive for self-defense, especially in a city such as this, where the guards were fabled to react in moments, not minutes. He let out a breath, his diaphragm tightening and his heart racing as he neared the gate, looking ever more massive and imposing with every step.

Easy now… no reason to get all worked up… He reminded himself, his shaking steadying as he cleared his mind slightly with a few slowed breaths…

As expected, a Knight stepped forward, taking a good look at Paltra, his hood drawn off now for a while. The gleaning vision of the warrior before Paltra caused him a great deal of panic, his heart quickening to a fierce tempo before Paltra reigned it to control. The Sunberth-born Rogue smiled to the Knight, looking him in the eye at the same time.

“Is there a problem, Sire?” The final word that came from his lips stuck to them like a parasite not wishing to leave it’s host. Such words of respect--especially for law figures--made him want to gag. Yet, at the same time, the slight emphasis placed upon the word was hardly of any noticeable quality. Or at least, the Knight seemed not to notice the words emphasis as it left Paltra.

“Why do you travel to Syliras, stranger?” The Knight asked, his grip upon the spear seeming almost as adamant as a god’s fist wrapped around Paltra’s throat.

“I travel here to start a new life, of course. I’ve heard so much about Syliras that I simply couldn’t help myself any longer to keep from the prospect of starting over.” Paltra smiled, a slight undercurrent of anxiousness becoming more evident in his voice.

The Knight nodded, clearly only humoring Paltra, as his eyes betrayed the fact that he thought Paltra was a liar.

“And what of the weapons?”

“Being outside of the cities is dangerous. I merely wished to be prepared for the worst, and hope for the best.” He spoke, not loosing a beat. For some reason, despite the drum-beat of Paltra’s heart in his chest, he had to admit that he was having fun with this, this game of words and lies.

“Is that so?… Then why do you quake and shake? It is not cold outside.” The Knight spoke, running Paltra’s veins cold with ice. He knew that if it came to a fight, he’d be a dead man. And he also knew that running wasn’t an option, he’d be picked out by an archer no doubt. He could try to run past them… Paltra annihilated that option in a heartbeat…

Calm yourself, this is not a problem, merely an inconvenience that may be worked to an advantageous position… Paltra reminded himself, smiling shyly at the Knight, almost portraying an air of innocence or perhaps shame.

“To tell you the truth… well, I hail from Sunberth. I’m not used to being out of the city. Heck, this is my first time out of the city, and I’ve come so far… and, well… I’m just not used to…” Paltra gestured to the castle and the Knights, and in that moment, knew that he’d secured his passage at the same instant that the Knight’s eyes lit up with realization.

“Ah, my apologies then. You must have been traveling for quite some time.” He nodded, a friendly smile, more likely to try to lighten the mood, and prevent him from further scaring the new-comer to Syliras. “We get many individuals here that are not used to seeing such ridged security. The Guards in other cities may not have the greatest of reputations, but I assure you, a Sylirian Knight is nothing but a friend to a law-abiding citizen. Do not worry, for here, the people and the Knights are on equal grounds.”

“Oh, thank you. I wasn’t sure if I was the only one who felt so… out of place… And it’s good to hear that the Sylirian Knights have such high stature, I’m honored to be coming to Syliras.” Paltra bowed his head slightly, honestly feeling at least slightly touched by the Knights words. He never thought of such things in that sense. He always figured that Knights and Guards were on another level than the common citizen such as himself. That was the way it had been in Sunberth it seemed… though it was hardly a fair estimation, since those at the bottom usually never saw a single beam of light throughout their lives…

The Knight smiled, “you may enter into Syliras now. Just remember not to draw arms in the castle, and abide by the law, and you shall be fine.”

“Thank you, thank you again.” Paltra smiled warmly, proceeding as the Knight allowed him to proceed through…

That wasn’t so bad… He thought, smiling more genuinely as he stepped into what would become his new life for as long as he wanted…

[Gareth]

510 AV, summer the 3rd.

Gareth approached the gates, his hood pulled well over his eyes. It was suspicious, he knew, a hooded man entering a city. But he had no idea who he was and wanted to at least remain inconspicuous until he found out. He stopped, as a Guard approached him. Damn, Guards aren't good. Please just let them be customs.

"State your business stranger."

Gareth smirked, as he spoke in the cool calm tones of an innocent man, too innocent perhaps.
"Nothing much, just visiting. Where can i stay the night?"
As the guard listed a few lodgings, Gareth mumbled his thanks, and strode through the gates.
Way too easy...

[Aarro]

510 AV, Summer, 79th Day

The sun had almost completely disappeared and the first torches of the night were beginning to dot the walls of the great Main Gate. Aarro felt more comfortable in the darkness. Although some knew that he was a Nuit at first glance, there were still others who thought him to be just a fragile old man. That fact in and of itself spoke to the need for Aarro to jump into a new body. Something which was long over due. His current body had grown soft and was rotting like an old apple...more and more by the day. And although the body still had a bit of strentgh left to it, the time for change had come.

"Master Rook, we should get into the city and find your son, I grow tired of this horse between my legs", Cobb said, shoving his thumb towards the Main Gate to the city.

Although Aarro had no need of rest, he knew Cobb did. And after all, he had to keep up apperances. He wouldn't want young Master Cobb here to discover his true intent.

"Agreed", Aarro said with exaggerated weariness in his voice, almost forgetting that he had given the fake name Rook.

This charade was becomming tiresome. It had been two weeks and a day since he had met Cobb on The Kabrin Road. Aarro's acting skills weren't very good, but they didn't have to be. Being that he appeared to be an old man, it wasn't difficult to take advantage of a young fool who thought himself too noble to leave an old, frail, feeble soul out on the dangerous road all alone.

It was a scam as old as anyone could remember, but it still worked. As soon as Aarro saw Cobb trotting his horse down the wooded road, he decided that he was looking at his next body. After a little begging and pleading, Cobb agreed to take the old man to Sylira. And of course Aarro sweetened the pot with promises of rewards, speaking of his rich son who lived within the great city walls.

The two men made their way up to the gate where two fearsome looking Sylrian Knights waited. Aarro and Cobb dismounted and led the tired horse to the gate. Aarro pulled his hood over his head, obscuring his features.

"What business do you have here?" One knight asked, his mouth missing more than a couple of teeth.

Aarro let Cobb do the talking, hoping to keep the attention off of himself.

"Our business", Cobb said,"is finding this old man's son and then perhaps some ale and a wench, if it please ya."

The knights looked at each other with a grin and then turned their eyes to Aarro. "And what of you old man? Ale and a wench for you too?" The toothless knight asked. A laugh spread between the three of them.

"No my lord, locating my son will be quite enough, thank you. I've had my fill of ale and wench." Aarro replied in a voice as thin as he could muster.

After a long few minutes, the knights had searched Cobb and his horse and patted Aarro down for weapons finding only a black onyx dagger. The knight with the most teeth was regarding him with curious eyes.

"Are you well, old man?" the knight asked.

"Fine, sir. Just weary from a long journey." Aarro said, repressing the nervousness in his voice the best he could.

Slapping Aarro on the back, the knight said, "See that you find your boy, old man. You look like you need two weeks rest."

Aarro, Cobb and the horse walked through the gates and into the city. Aarro was thankful the knights didn't lift the hood from his head and declare him a Nuit. A smile crept across old lips as he looked at Cobb walking next to him. So young, so healthy. This was going to be too easy.