Harbor Gates (Chyril 27th)

[Grey Wolf]

Even with only Stu to help the line move it moved and with a grumbling she-gnome at his heels, Mikkel reached the gates and the rat-like guard sitting at a rickety table. Stu looked up tiredly and with a sigh uttered the same words for the hundredth time. “Name, occupation, point of origin and reason of visit? Please bear in mind that drugs and dangerous magickal objects are illegal in Citadel so if you have those you need to hand them over.”

[Mikkel]

"My name is Mikkel," he said. "I was a farmer in Dort... But I... I don't really know what my occupation is now. I'm looking for work and seeking residence."

"Oh, and I don't have anything magical on me. Or any drugs, either."

[Grey Wolf]

Stu was simply too tired to even try and molest Mikkel, and with both Krys and Duncan away, there was no reason for him to do it other than to amuse himself, and tired and amusing did not go hand in hand. “No useful skills then, since we hardly have any farms here in the city. You better learn to do something or you’ll starve in this city. There ain’t nobody who is gonna give you stuff for free here.” He sighed and checked the notes he made regarding the young man, before looking up. “You are free to enter. I suggest you follow this street to the marketplace and then turn right and seek the Burpin’ Dragon. Old Bill will let you have a room cheap and the food ain’t half bad either. Or if you are not willing to spend what little you have there, go to the Ha’Penny Mermaid though bastards there are likely to fleece you just as fast as you would empty your pockets. Your choice.”

[Mikkel]

"My thanks, sir," Mikkel said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. This was it. He could enter the city now... He took a deep breath and started to move forward, but stopped short.

He turned around and looked way down at the gnomish woman who'd had the unfortunate luck to be in line behind him.

"I'm terribly sorry about stepping on you all those times," he said. "I've never been a man of grace."

Feeling somewhat better about himseld, Mikkel took another deep breath and walked in through the gates to the Citadel.

[Grey Wolf]

The woman was read to give her identity to the guard, when Mikkel turned, the stout lady waving a hand at the young farmer’s son. “Just be careful in the future. Remember that just cause you are so tall others may not be, and yet can have talents you do not have.” She realized how harsh her words may have sounded and added with a smile. “I am sorry if I sounded harsh, but all this waiting is not doing any good to my feet. And I get cranky when my feet hurt.” She turned back to Stu and replied to his previous questions. “Janiya Tarant. I am a seamstress from Nipponar. Visiting my son who is part of our Embassy staff.”

[Zenith Persimus]

Zenith, drawn and green from a less than perfect boat ride, practically fell onto the earth before her. She extended a long white arm, the thin silver thread on her bracer catching the sun, and gripped the railing alongside teh dock. Taking a few deep and deliberate breaths before slowly stumbling forward, her eyes running across the great heights of the Citadel and an odd feeling gripping her chest. Her father had told her so much about this place, about the majestic grandeur of the tall buildings and about the handsome uniformed guards that lined the streets. He said it was the most beautiful place in the world, this homeland of his, but what he had described was nothing like what Zenith saw now.

Guards lined the streets, yes, but not in uniformed splendor. They wore mismatched uniforms, some faded and some stained, and most of them looked like they hadnt fought in a decade. Sitting at a booth, eating an especially greasy looking turkey leg, was an especially fat man with an air of self-importance that made Zenith feel sick to her stomach. Watching him, for a good five minutes, she observed his behavior and his lack of caring.

Why would they have such an uncaring man in such an important position?

She went and stood in line before the booth with the least amount of people and took a moment to set her pack down on the cobblestoned streets. Pushing aside her cooking wear she pulled out a small packet of paper - the papers identifying her father as a former resident of the Citadel- Although she had no knowledge of reading and very little of human her mother had assured her that that was what they meant.... And who was she to question Selom? For this had been the birthplace of the Persimus family, and although Zenith had been born in Kislovan she hoped they would make her passage through these walls a little easier.

Pulling a hand through her thick black hair she took out the leather thong that had tied it back. Pulling her fingers through a couple of the stray knots, feeling that terrible tug against the thin skin of her scalp as she did so, she then tied the thong back in. The banner of black once more restrained to fall down the thin arch of her back, cascading down in straight raven tendrils until they grazed the soft swell of her buttocks. As usual she was wearing her black leather pants and a thin cotton shirt of pure white, her face was pure and devoid of all womanly trickeries some used to enhance their facial features, and the closest thing she had to jewelry was the Wolven on her back and the black and silver bracers that were (almost always) tied to her forearms. She wore the plainest clothes she could find, but they only served to accent the slender nature of her figure.

As the line moved forward she reached down and slung the pack - filled to the brim with survival necessities- over her thin shoulder before adjusting the weight of the long bow on her back. The sea of people before her was overwhealming - startling really - and she had no idea where to begin to look. There were humans and Adhiel, Achadhiel and Dwarves.... All the forms of people she had only ever dreamed of seeing stood before her, but they all blended together like the waves on the sea. Even the buildings seem to blur before her violet-blue eyes, and in a wave of nervousness, Zenith began to gnaw on her lower lip. The tips of her white teeth brushing against her thick lip - so bright of pink in contrast- and her eyes rushing across the crowds of people that were weaving into the city.

This place was not even close to the way Maximilian had described it

[Areana Coufot]

Aranea had just stepped off the ship and was still standing on the slip when a gust of wind caused her white shawl to flap wildly in front of her face. Momentarily losing sight of the walkway in front of her, she halted and hissed quietly: “By the sands of the Great Desert!” Struggling to gain her composure – an unusual position to find herself in – Aranea tightened her grip on her luggage, smoothed down her shawl and dark blue kirtle, and stepped forward again, glad that she had tied her hair back. No doubt, she would now be trying to yank her long dark hair out of her mouth and eyes!

Aranea stepped off the slip and stood for a moment, drinking in her first look at Citadel. She felt her breath quicken in anticipation, excitement and – if she were honest – fear. On the ship, she had tried to remain focused on the first two emotions but it was difficult with her mother’s echoing cries: “You’ll be selling yourself to the highest bidder. That is not what we do!” Pushing aside thoughts of her mother, Aranea headed for the gates. A travelling salesman on the ship had warned her to keep her belongings close at hand, as the Citadel gates had descended into a maelstrom of peddlers, beggars, thieves and lurkers.

[Grey Wolf]

Somehow two women found themselves side by side, the slow plodding march of the people wishing to enter the city quickened after a good ten burns by the fat Sergeant. Not even bothering to wipe the grease from his fingers, he did dab his lips with a napkin and then took a seat at the free table and helped the line move a bit faster. It was a good ten burns more before Zenith and Areana arrived to the front of the line, both the Sergeant and Stu calling a loud NEXT and allowing them to step forward and offer replies to two very different sets of question.

Zenith found herself before Stu, the little rat-face guard staring at her, taking a good look of the longbow upon her back, before asking politely. “I need you name, occupation, point of origin and reason for visit, miss. Please report any contraband you might have.” Areana found herself waiting a good dozen flicker or so as the fat guard picked a piece of meat from his teeth, and even when he spoke he mumbled around a finger that still kept digging for stray bits of food. “So you want to come live in Citadel, eh? Think you are up to city life? Or here to see the sights and then go tell folks back home about it?”

OOC: Feel free to chat for a bit before replying to the guards’ questions

[Zenith Persimus]

Time passed by slowly.

It was not that time was literally moving slow, but more that Zenith's excitement to finally fulfill her fathers greatest wish for her was making this period of waiting seem excruciatingly long. Every word seemed to drone on before her, and every person seemed to take an eternity chatting with the guards. She felt remotely sick to her stomach, perhaps the leftovers of the boat ride, although Zenith chose to attribute that sickness to excitement.

Turning her head back, the thick banner of black hair brushing against her shoulder, she caught a young woman who looked strangely similar to herself.... It was weird, for two women who shared almost identical basic features and racial times one would have a hard time finding two women who were less alike. Yes- they both had black hair and light eyes, Achadhiel features and they were virtually identical in height... But the other woman looked like a woman, not like a girl caught in a permanent stage of pubescence. Areanas weight had contributed to much more beautiful curves, curves that came from being healthy and beautiful and not from being so depleted of body fat that her skin stretched across her skeleton pitifully- offering sharp curves that were no more pleasing to the eye than the sight of a starving cat or a dead horse. Areana had long hair that was well kept, purposely styled in an appealing manner, to accent the gentle curve of her womanly face. Whereas Zenith's hair was thrown back in a thong with distaste and only made her face seem even more masculine than it already was.

For that moment Zenith felt like she should just turn away and hide.

But as it was, the corner of her lips flickered upwards slightly - as close to a smile as Zenith usually got - although the softness of her face and the glittering of her violet- blue eyes did exude a warmth that was welcoming. She turned her head to the side, looking at the woman, and then turned back towards the line. Once more she shifted her eyes in the womans direction, running words through her head while trying not to look as nervous as she felt. She then cleared her throat softly and turned her head again, this time deliberately and openly, towards the woman beside her.

/ in ADHIEL /

I hate lines. She said, simply, for she had not thought of anything more exciting to say. She then shook her head and nibbled on her lip, her white teeth peeking out as she ran them over the soft pink plumpness of her lower lip. So... uhm... Where are you from?

The line moved up slowly, and as she had neared the halfway point a fat guard with a greasy face and oily fingers plopped down in the chair. Zenith wrinkled her nose slightly as she peeked around the side of the man standing before her. For a country that was supposed to be so great in her father's opinion, she hoped against all hope that these guards were not a representation of everything the imperial guard had come to be in the five years since her father had been here last.

[Areana Coufot]

Aranea stood patiently in the line, watching the people around her carefully. She groaned internally when she caught sight of the Sergeant at the front who was managing the Harbour Gates. In her opinion, he was slowing down the line, and she wondered at the efficiency of the city authorities, who had allowed such an incompetent creature to control the crowds.

Deciding that there was nothing she could do but be patient, she began to muse on what she would do once she was in Citadel. She needed to find somewhere to stay for a start. While her parents had been very unimpressed with her plans to move to the city, they had not wanted her to suffer once she was here. Amidst his exasperated mutterings, her father had thrown out the details of some distant relative of his living in the East. He had been rather mute on the subject of how exactly he was related to this person, or why he had not mentioned her before, but Aranea had been grateful for the information.

Her mind awhirl with plans and ideas, Aranea barely took notice of the oddly attractive woman who was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her in the line. It took a moment for Aranea to register that the woman had been addressing her. Even when she turned her full attention to Zenith, she stood silently for a few moments, taking in her narrow figure, her Achadhiel features, her simple clothes and the bow on her back. The dark-haired scout, trained to keep her eyes open, did not fail to notice the woman’s apparent nervousness, such as the nibbling of her lower lip.

Finally, aware that the scrutiny could make the young woman nervous, Aranea smiled slightly, the corners of her mouth rising sharply but not severely, and replied quietly in Adhiel: “I have just arrived from Kislovan. I must say, I am glad to have my feet back on the ground.” She paused as she shuffled forward, and then added: “And where do you call home?”

[Zenith Persimus]

The chances that both of the women, so similar in appearance, had called the same place home was small. Zenith had traveled much of Kislovan with her mother, for the best of the herbs were never convenient to find, and as a healer Selom had needed to keep well stocked. So when the woman finally spoke (after much staring and a very critical eye that made Zenith squirm slightly inside) she raised her small black eyebrows, and the corner of her lips quiver slightly with amusement. She reached over her back and shifted the bow slightly once more, all the standing was making it bear down uncomfortably on her shoulder, before she spoke back to Areana.

/In Adhiel/

It certainly is a small world! I am coming from Kislovan as well, funny how we never ran into each other on the boat. Taking a few steps forward as the line shifted again she turned her head towards Areana and extended her hand. The dagger visible in the black bracer that ran up her forearm and the small lines of muscle obvious in the tenseness of her biceps. Zenith Persimus she said softly, using the greeting her father had told her was typical of those who came from the Citadel My mother, grandfather and I occupied a small acreage on the north of Kislovan. We were pretty isolated except for those who knew where we were, my mom and grandfather were healers. She said, nodding her head softly and taking another step forward. The stink from the guards greasy hands was starting to fill her nostrils and she wrinkled her nose in distaste, before looking again at Areana. So have you got a job here? Somewhere to stay?

Zenith was usually not much for small talk, much preferring to keep her silence in the corners. Occasionally her lilting voice could be heard singing, but usually she was more occupied cleaning the leather of her boots, her pants, her bracers or her armor. The one thing her father had instilled in her as a child was the importance of keeping your things in good shape, nothing worse then cracked leather on your armor, it wont protect very well if it is already compromised. So in all honesty, it wasnt really surprising that Zenith and Areana did not notice each other earlier. Zenith had spent almost all of her time training in the forests near her home, and when Selom took her out to the south of the island Zenith was absorbed in learning the herbal lore of healing.

For some reason she had never felt the need for a friend, but whether that was a good thing or bad she would never know.

[Areana Coufot]

Aranea returned Zenith's greeting after introducing herself: Aranea Coufot. Glancing ahead at the line, mildly annoyed that it was moving so slowly, Aranea turned her attention back to Zenith saying: No I have yet to find somewhere to stay. My father has a relative somewhere in Citadel. I was thinking of finding her and perhaps staying with her temporarily. She paused as she thought about her future plans. As for employment, well, I have nothing set up but I have some ideas.

Aranea wondered at the young woman's friendliness. Zenith did not strike her as someone who was outgoing and who made friends easily and she was interested in the dark-haired woman’s background – isolated upbringing, a family of healers and, judging by Zenith’s accessories, she was a warrior of some kind. There were similarities as well as differences that could make this an interesting friendship, if that was indeed what the woman’s intentions were. Aranea felt a stab of homesickness as she thought of all the loving family and friends that she had left behind.

Brushing aside thoughts of home, Aranea glanced ahead and was pleased to note that they were almost at the front of the line. She had much to do before the day was spent and standing around on the city outskirts, with everything (hopefully) within reach was taking its toll. While ordinarily patient, Aranea found that her excitement was almost overpowering and she so much wanted to step onto the streets of Citadel and explore. Perhaps Zenith had similar aspirations. Do you have somewhere to sleep this evening?

[Zenith Persimus]

It was true, Zenith was usually not this talkative... It was the boredom and loneliness combined with excitement that made her so. Besides, what sort of woman would she be if she turned away from a possible ally just outside of the city gates. Aranea could be useful, at the very least, and useful was far more than Zenith currently had. Her father had always told her to be careful choosing your enemies, and even more so choosing your friends. She still did not know what level this woman would fit into, but she hoped it was the latter.

When the woman spoke she shook her hand, her fingers gripping firmly - but not too firmly - on the others. She then turned her head and took another step forward. Only a few more burns to go she thought, as she eyed the last two beings before her. The greasy guard was even closer now, and the stench of the oil which was virtually embedded on his hands was making her stomach heave. She needed food, and relatively quickly, the crap they had served on the boat was pitiful at best.

She had thought Aranea had grown indifferent to the conversation, because of the lengthy wait in reply. So Zenith grew quiet, as was her custom, and watched in front of her. It was to her surprise when Aranea's voice once more filled her ears. She turned her head slightly, angling so that her violet-blue eyes were peeking out behind the haphazardly chopped off fringe of black around her cheekbones, and shrugged. The thin rope of muscle at the top of her shoulders tightening slightly with the movement, the Wolven sliding down to the crook of her shoulder causing Zenith to -once more - push it back up.

No, I have enough supplies with me I can camp out pretty much anywhere... But tonight I was probably just going to stop at an inn, im too tired to go looking for a suitable location today.

She shrugged again, and then heard the gruff voice of the guard as she shuffled off the person before her. Zenith raised an eyebrow at Aranea and smirked slightly, it wasn't quite a smile but the effect was the same, it was a 'wish me luck' sort of grin. And unbeknown to Zenith, she might really just need it. The man began rattling off words so quickly in Human that it left Zenith reeling, she raised her eyebrows inhaled deeply and slowly prepared her answer. Her every syllable was heavy with a Kislovan accent and filled with hesitation.

Apology. Been few years since last spoke human She said before setting the paper that declared her father a resident of the Citadel before the guard. Zenith Persimus. She said in answer to his first question, then struggled with the next word for a moment. The corners of her eyes wrinkling slightly with thought before she continued, this time with great hesitancy, sending a cautious look at Stu. Occupation.... job? She asked and then nodded No Occupation. Want to be in Imperial guard. She took another deep breath but reacted to the next questions much more calmly, having diffused some of the anxiety she felt at tackling a language she hadn't spoken since her father died - almost five years earlier. From Kislovan, but father was born here. He said this paper would make entry easy...... and my reason is join imperial guard. She stopped then and tilted her head at his last question, raising an eyebrow but making no other movement with her features. However, the blankness of her stare seemed to suggest she was not impressed with the question, and her violet blue eyes appeared to flare up with anger. No magic or drugs. She said firmly, for that was the one thing her father had always told her.

Just in case Im not with you when you cross into the Citadel, because they will be interested in some of your gear, the only contraband items are Drugs and malicious magic.
Simple enough

[Areana Coufot]

Aranea was about to reply to the woman's comment regarding tonight's accommodation, when they arrived at the front of the line. She was pleased that she was finally on the verge of entering into Citadel - a city she had dreamed of many times – although to be honest, Aranea was somewhat disappointed with her impressions of the place thus far.

The greasy man in front on her – who was rooting about in his mouth in a most disgusting manner – struck her as an uneducated, undisciplined and ill-mannered commoner who was too stupid to realise that his destiny was to forever remain in the lower dregs of society. Aranea had known many men like him who believed themselves to be important people, too important to waste in positions such as this. His mocking comments would have been accompanied by a smirk had he been able to make the necessary facial expression around his grubby finger which was still digging around in his mouth, even though Aranea had been standing before him in silence for a few moments, hoping that he would halt his repulsive probing.

Keeping her thoughts to herself, Aranea decided that her interests may best be served if she catered to his illusions of grandeur. Smiling, she replied in human: Well, I certainly intend to begin a new life in Citadel, and perhaps write home to tell my family of my experiences in this great city. She strove to retain an expression of wonder while keeping her voice devoid of sarcasm.

[Grey Wolf]

Where Sergeant seemed uninterested in the girl before him, Stu quickly scribbled down Zentih’s info and looked up, a spot on the paper before him left empty. “No occupation? Well, if you want to be Imperial Guard then you must have some skills. Shall I put you down as soldier then? Or a warrior?” He looked over the paper she produced, lips moving as he read it, obviously barely literate. “All Imperial citizens have the right to enter the city, so you do not really need this paper. Even foreigners are rarely turned back. Only criminals are de…de….arrested.” He handed the slip of paper back and awaited the reply to his question regarding the girl’s occupation.

Areana faced an entirely different man herself, the Sergeant wiping a finger against the front of his shirt and reaching for a quill. “Yes, yes, I understand the sentiment. We must look full of wonders to you country folk. I am sure you will be suitably amazed by the big city.” He looked up with half-veiled boredom in his eyes. “Name, occupation and point of origin. I don’t quite want to know, but eh…. Rules?”

[Zenith Persimus]

Zenith was abuzz with excitement and chancing one sideways glance at Aranea she then turned back as the man before her spoke again. Nervously she pulled the thick banner of her black hair over her shoulder. She then exhaled and shifted her weight onto her other foot, smirking slightly before continuing.

Uhm. Warrior? She said, hesitatingly, imagining that her abilities would be better served as a warrior then a soldier. Can you tell where I go to join?

[Areana Coufot]

Aranea nodded in what she hoped was an understanding way. Of course. Aranea Coufot. I have just arrived from Kislovan…. She hesitated… And I’m a scout. The dark-haired half-elf was somewhat uncertain about stating her occupation – she did not yet feel skilled enough to claim that she was a scout. Aranea wanted to be more powerful, more successful and, above all, more respected in her chosen profession. But if she did not claim that space, she would never achieve her dreams. So she injected authority into her voice and said again: I am a scout.

Aranea glanced briefly at Zenith, and caught the tail end of her question to the man in front of her. A warrior? So she had been correct. Perhaps that could suit her purposes well.

[Grey Wolf]

The Sergeant looked up at Areana smacking his lips with a bored expression on his face, and scribbled the information onto the paper slowly, obviously uninterested in the girl before him. “Alright. I have heard enough about you Anarea. You may enter the city and remember to behave. We have toilets and you are to use those and also remember that you can’t sleep in the streets. You have to stay at an inn. Okay? I am not speaking to fast for you?” He looked over the self-proclaimed scout’s shoulder and beckoned the next person forward.

“Alright, warrior then.” Stu scribbled the rest on the paper and turned in his chair to point out the ancient looking castle on top of the hill overlooking the city. “You should go up there. I am not sure who does recruiting for the Imperial Guard, but they do not come down into Inner and Outer Ring. Not since the riots.” He stopped and for a flicker looked as if he were about to say something more, but changed his mind seemingly. “Anyhow, find of them and they will direct you to whomever does recruitment. You sure you do not want to enlist in City Guard?”

OOC: You ladies are free to enter the city, though you should still finish the conversations here. Post about leaving the gate when you are ready to move away.

[Areana Coufot]

Aranea nodded along as he spoke, her mind already on other things. She needed to find somewhere to sleep for tonight - as well as some decent food. The search for her father's relative started tomorrow - while her father had an address, he had not been sure if she would still be living there. Then she needed to find a job. Aranea's mind was buzzing while she glanced askance at Zenith. Perhaps she should ask if she would care to accompany her into the city?

Once the fat man stopped his chattering, Aranea smiled her thanks and stepped away from him. She smoothed down her skirt, took a deep breath and proceeded to the entrance of the city. Clutching her bags, she stood before the gates, and peered into the city behind them. Citadel... at last.

[Turi]

Aereana - * to conversation, * to language [adhiel]
Zenith - * to conversation, * to language [human]
Trevyn - * to conversation, * to language [human]
Yelena - * to conversation, * to language [human]