Location [Syliras Entrance] The Main Gates

[Jischa]

59th of Fall, 510 What remained of the caravan finally rolled to a halt outside of the castle gates, three wagons and several tethered horses bearing seasoned riders. Not much of an entourage, most of those who'd started this journey together had split off some time prior, traveling along the Suvan Sea's northern border to distant Kalea. Jischa had joined it in Nyka, having traveled there to the Great Infirmary from Mura some weeks prior on an errand for the Opal Order. In no great hurry to return to the island, she'd instead sent back word that her errand completed, she was going to head further south into Sylira, more specifically to the stronghold of Syliras. "Hey, h-hey!" The voice from behind where Jischa sat was familiar, but not endearingly so, the wizard traveling with his cageful of mice had complained nearly non-stop along the journey, and while the trip had been, for the most part, uneventful, it wasn't one Jischa was prepared to undertake again anytime soon. "Easy with that, there are important vials in there, it's not a bag of dirt!" Again the voice, high with indignation now, and this time Jischa turned to look, faintly bemused and in better spirits now that the journey itself was over. She covered her mouth with the fingers of one hand, holding back a laugh. The wagon behind hers, more of a cart really, had been loaded with the travelers' personal luggage, and as she watched the unloading process, more of a dump it over the side into the dirt process really, she'd been reminded of how glad she was of having traveled light. A hand reached up for hers, and she took it, her pack in her free hand as she lightly swung down from her perch. She flashed a smile at the man, more of a boy than anything else if his bright eyes and vaguely bashful expression were anything to go by, then pressed a silver coin into his palm. "Could you take these to the.." She paused, retrieving a deeply creased note from a hidden pocket of her cloak. "The Golden Dragon, please? I've a few errands to run before I head there." He nodded, accepting her backpack and a waterskin that she cautioned him to be mindful of, giving yet another smile to reinforce his compliance with the request. He set off through the open gates quickly, and she followed in his wake, pausing only to thank the caravan driver for the safe passage, her hand resting on his forearm for little more than a moment as she smiled up at him, pleased by the surprised expression that crossed his features. "Thank you Rak'keli," the silent appreciation for the gift of Healing flitted through her mind almost subconciously, the feeling of easing the driver's tensions after such a long journey giving her a warm, self-satisfied glow. Drawing her cloak more securely about her shoulders, she'd passed through the gates with little more than a nod of acknowledgement from the guards, heading into the bowels of the formidable city of Syliras.

[Talin]

59th of Fall, 510 A.V.

When they said Syliras was almost one giant castle and that the majority of the city laid within the walls Talin had expected the man to be exagerating a great deal. After all how could a castle be large enough for an entire city, especially one of the size Syliras was reputed to have, fit within the walls of a castle. Yet as he neared those large gates cute into the walls of the castle he couldn't help but stop for a moment and stare in awe. He had never thought something like this was possible. Though as he thought about it he supposed it could have been built with the help of magic. Despite himself the image of a mage screaming as a stone mason about something or another poped into his mind. He couldn't help but grin and shake his head at the thought.

Having come from a much colder region then the slight chill that Syliras' climate gave, Talin wore no cloak this afternoon. His clothing consisted of a sleeveless gray tunic and matching trousers. Unlike one would expect of someone that had been on the road for as long as he had, he did not wear traveling boots, instead his feet were adorned with close fitted sandles with straps covering nearly his entire foot.

Pulling on the straps of the pack horse he began to slowly walk forward again, his green eyes keeping their gaze facing directly in front of him. That however did not stop him from noticing how those around him stopped for a moment to stare at him as he passed, his height and size being as out of place here as an Akalak in a Zithian house warming party. This time he did burst out laughing though due to his muteness not a single sound could be heard coming from his mouth save the time exellations of breath as he laughed silently. This only caused those around him to continue to stare, however by now that was far from his mind, his hands moving in rapid gestures, telling his companion of the comical thought he had had.

[Islena]

The slight wisp of a woman that followed about twenty paces behind the pack horse was easily swallowed up by the crowd as it surged towards the gates. The top of her head was barely visible past the shoulders of those around her as she glided along, completely nonplussed by the aggression of those who strove to pass her.

"Pardon...My apologies...Excuse me..."

Islena neither sped up nor slowed down for those trying to rush by her. She kept the same steady pace as she almost floated along, the hem of her skirt barely disturbing the dust that caked the road as it trailed on her wake. Crisp blue gaze was focused unwaveringly on the pack animal that plodded along ahead of her, though she made no effort to catch up. Pale hands moved to swipe equally pale locks from her face. She sighed. They were getting close to the gate.

Only than did her pace quicken, easily slipping between the bodies that surrounded her. Islena gave the pack horse a wide birth, but resumed her stately pace a couple meters in front of the very large man. As the shadows of the gate enveloped the two, the woman stopped as a guard beckoned her over.

"State your reasons for entering Syliras" Came the bored drawl, the man not even bothering to raise his gaze to her face.

"Business." Was the simple, quiet reply. A lazy "move along" gesture was all the permission the pair needed. Man, woman, and plodding pack horse joined the throng and were swept into the city.

[Iris Dove]

Iris was just following all the other people. She didn't know where she was, she didn't know much of anything outside of her various master's homes. She just hoped to find someone who could tell her where she was, and perhaps where she should go from here. She wasn't expecting to stumble upon an entire city, or maybe she was, the people inside the gates were rather loud after all, and could be heard from a ways from here. Feeling somewhat nervous, wondering if the gatekeepers would find a reason to stop her, she moved behind a long line of other people waiting to get into the city, when she got to the front, the guards gave her a cursory glance, and let her through. When she stumbled into the city, she was surprised by all of the people. She'd never seen so many in one place before. Let alone so many people of different races. She walked through the area- simply admiring all the people. Their height and weight in relation to hers. The color of their eyes and hair, their dress. It all fascinated and amazed her. Having grown strangely tired, she looked around for a place to rest. But couldn't find any place to lie down. So she tried to head back to the gate, so she could go lie out in a field or wherever else she could find. But she found she could not escape the masses. She was caught in the crowd, looking for anyone who may help her find her way back out. Certainly, this place was not for her.

[Gwendolen Lawrence]

74th of Fall, 510 A.V.

Wandering for hours, maybe even days, Gwendolen made her way to the gate. The place was filled with laughter, as well as grief over lost allies upon their travels. Soon it would be her turn to be placed against the guards for questions, and hopefully permission to enter the city. After an hour of waiting in the line, it was her turn. She bowed down to the guards.
-"Greetings, tra-" The guards, obviously struck by surprise upon having a traveler bow down were silent, searching for a word for her formality.
-"Raise your head, traveler. There's no need to bow for us. You should save it for those situations where it may be needed." The guard finished his sentence with a laugh, but was quick to return to his former tone.
-"Now, wouldn't mind to pull down the cloak, and introduce yourself, lass?" The Kelvic woman pulled down her shroud, letting it rest on her ears, yet concealing them.
-"I'm Gwendolen, a mere trader. You shouldn't have to much of a problem with me in the city." The guard nodded, making a gesture against her to walk into the city. The woman shrouded her head once again, and ventured forth.

[Mant Liknessa]

79th of Fall 510 At that day Mant, with his hands clenching the reins to his horse which he, with poor skills and extreme care, had dragged with him loaded with his tent, arrived at the Gate. He had his eyes brooding at it. For he had arrived there out of a wish to learn more of the arcane arts, and a just human wish to seek something to occupy him with which could match his acquired abilities. His beard waved in the brisk autumn wind, and he felt the veins, going through his naked, bald head and ears, pumping the heat of his body. They were trying to create a firewall of human strength against the chillness of autumn. He went to the guards with the horse dragging after him, walking carefully between the people who surrounded it, and stood himself in line. After a while, he reached the counter, and just stood and looked at the guard sitting there until he became aware of him. He grunted and looked up. "Going to stay all day there?" He asked with an annoyed voice. "No, I want to go in," Mant replied. The guard yawned and said: "Very well. Reasons for going there?" "Job seeking." The guard nodded and simply said: "Same as near everyone else. Go in, and don't make any trouble." Mant nodded and walked into the city with the horse dragging after him, staying aware of anything which might try to pickpocket him or mug him.

[Ragnar One Eye]

City Gate Dusk...90th day of Nov. 510

A league and half a head, the city gates beckon. The walls and towers,structured from uniform blocks of granite, gives the sense of a permanence that the constantly changing city beyond the walls could never match..Tugging the battle cloak up that has seen better days, he faces the full fighting force of the wind driven rain. Most men would bend to the on sought of a harsh pre-winter down pour, not he. He strides in the trained way of a Man that has seen many military campaigns not only as a soldier from the early age of 14, but for many years there after, years that ran into decades, when raised up as Commander.

The first flash of eerie silver red lighting, momentary silhouettes the man as it cascades across the onset of night. Then suddenly followed by the crackling and booming of the thunder that assaults the havens and land itself. Colors now of harsher silvers and reds, more violent, streak down again all round and seemingly on him. Then that one moment of hellish light that briefly shows the whole man. The square of his massive shoulders, the setting of his jaw and the eyes....now just the one eye...plucked out it is whispered, by his own hand, with the wicket dagger laced to the metal studded belt that rides easily on his hips...The eye, more gray then blue, like the harden steel of the blade he cares on his back. The broad sword,"Tear Maker" both given life on the day of naming by the birthing mother. The sword, like him....both well named.

On that day Sword and child, both infants, are joined. The two forged together forever as one by the living creed, "Be True unto thy Mission, Be true unto thy Men, and Lastly be true unto thy own self, may the Gods bring me death before dishonor"! For that is the way of the warrior race of the people from the mountains of the high north. They mine no gold or metal, sew no fields, harvest no crops. War and bringers of death, is the harvest they trade in. The finest and fiercest warrior to walk a pond the world and so very few can pay..So high the cost they have become almost a mysterious entity, a myth, spoken about in whispers of disbelief when men are in their cups.

For he was once called Great Ragnar! Not a mere common "Sell Sword" that clog the road's of the earth, after the ending of any war; despised, mistrusted and looked down on when their stock in trade is no longer needed or paid for. Now sadly forced to claim membership to that brotherhood..A wander on the road, homeless, with self imposed shame in his heart. But in truth not he...Not he, for inside he is much more... or was.

Great Ragnar, Commander of the One Hundred to the Queen of the "Mountains of the Moon".Her hand of rule stretching forth even to the far waters of the ice mountains and to the deepest south to "The trees that kiss the sun". All beneath the four winds ruled by She, "She Who's name shall not be spoken"..But that was long ago and to many leagues pass to remember...Now longer Great Ragnar of The Blood Guard Royal!

Now by his own hand and naming.... Ragnar-One-Eye!



The grumbling of his empty stomach, re-wakens him back to the present. How long has it been now since he’s eaten? Three days now? No four, four days since he was paid and left the service of the caravan that employed his strong right sword arm. Happily to see him take his leave. All the merchants and travelers recalling that day on the march when the leader of the caravan guard tried to take liberates with one of the younger woman of the train. So quick and violent was Ragnar's reaction, driving his ham size fist into the face of the man, knocking him flat on the ground. Blood and teeth cascading down from nose and mouth. As the fool looked up, with a blend of hate and rage; he made his finial mistake; by jumping up and grabbing the hilt of his sword. Before he could draw it out, Ragnar cleaved him almost fully in half. All stood in shock as the man slowly crumpled to the ground, the life light leaving his eyes.. From that day forth, all took a wide path around the warrior from the mountains of the far north..

At the Gate the Sargent of the guard stared down the road from the guard post. Then stepping out into the rain to get a better look. Peering down the road he see’s the man coming. The Sargent's many years of duty at the gate, tell him that real danger might be approaching and he’d be damn he’ll face this one alone. Grunting to himself, he barks out a command over his shoulder to within “Corporal! Corporal! You Damn lazy Cur! Call out the guard... the full guard ....NOW!!

[Gereth]

Gereth wound his cloak tighter around himself hauling his rabbits on a line over his shoulder along with his backpack. The fall days were starting to become cold so he had to make sure he had more than enough food to last a little while before it got too cold. He smiled at one of the traders making his way into the gate before him, taking a moment to take in the overweight man’s scent. He smelled like too much money and tobacco.

Trying to disguise the scent of wine on his breath from a morning hunt was simple enough. He chewed on a black root that had a minty slightly gummy flavor and scent. Still his drunken gait was problematic. He fixed his only slightly bleary yellow eyes on one of the knights at the gate, recognizing the man from the hunt before. “Great…” He thought despondently. The knight had made it a mission to catch the kelvic up to no good since he’d gotten his job as a gate guard. Still, it was better to play nice.

Gereth beamed brightly at the gate guards. “Morning, gentlemen!” he said in a clear voice. (with hardly any slur at all!) The guard grumbled and nodded. Gereth took that as a sign to not press the issue.

“Your pack, hunter.” The gruff older guard said.

The Coyote in him thought it might be fun to see just how no nonsense the armored knight was feeling but the drunk in him was crying desperately for a place to sit, grow roots, and drink himself stupid. He handed over the pack and the line of rabbits, three in all to the guard who looked them over and grunted an assent to the other knight who waved him through.

The kelvic nodded, bright eyes flashing as he managed his best smile and even overlooked the coin purse jingling right in front of him. He decided to stop off at home before beginning another day of hardly working and drinking. Master would have been proud.

“Master’s not here no more.” He reminded himself. The thought was a strange one, good and bad? He was more sad than glad certainly and loneliness had set in before all of the drinking had begun but still. Something felt new.

He liked that feeling. A small smile crossed his face. That one was genuine.

[Embellien]

Day 80
Fall
Year 510av

The journey from Sunberth had been a long one, but travelling as a panther had been... interesting.

Its easy to rip and to shred...

Anyway, in order to appear respectable, Embellien had changed into her human form. She was nervous approaching the gates. What if the guards thought her unhealthy, or strange?

She was quite tall, some peple may think her intimidating.

Approaching the gates, the guards looked her over. They debated amongst themselves for a few moments.

Then, to her surprise, she was allowed in. She thought people didn't like those who were unnaturally tall... but she must have looked okay. Bowing her head, she strolled quickly inside.

[Ivan]

winter 6, 510AV

Ivan walked through the tree line. In front of him was the city he had been questing for. this journey had been rather rough on the mountain dweller. Five days of walking the foot hills with his hammer resting on his shoulder- he had nothing with which to secure it to himself- had left him a bit worn. Then he’d had the terrible luck to happen upon a hungry wolf. It seemed to be cast from it’s pack just as he had, and he had readied himself to fight it. It had then some how turned into a man. The beast man- kelvic, they called themselves- asked of him to to halt his attack.

As he did so, the wolf gave him information in return. Several more of them had followed Ivan on his way, and had thus been a measure of protection. He hunted with them once his stores of travel food ran low, and traveled with them all the way to this area. For an hour or so he had been alone, slightly saddened by the parting of his company. It had been some six weeks sense he’d left his Isurian home. It was another two hours before he reached the main gates of the huge construction.

It’s walls of stone were mighty indeed, it seemed. The true size of it was astounding to him. The only place he’d expected to see such craft was the place from which he’d come. Being the only one to come near at the time, he watched the eyes of the knights follow him as he approached. It was understandable, at least. He was one lone man walking from the forest, a place full of danger and death. not to mention, his weapon was bare, and his left arm, a deep green and silver, was unclothed and held quite the sturdy shield. He stopped ten steps from the knights.

His voice was loud and deep, a voice used to being heard over the din of mining carts rolling and hammers striking the forge. “ Hail, Sir knight. Might i seek entry to your fair city?”

The knights looked at each other, then back to him. they motioned at Ivan to step forward, and he did so. Upon checking his pack, they asked of his business in the city. “ I simply seek to offer my services to those who would pay me...” and with that, he sling his pack over his shoulders, as well as his hammer. He walked through the gate with not a single other glance from the watchmen of it.