The Gilded Gates (Jygust 30th MT) Roque Entrance Thread

[Gutter Rat]

The Gilded Gates

The city gates lack any sort of truly fortified strength. Made up of ornately sculpted metal and climbing, flowery vines, they are clearly made more for ornament than for true protection. The safety of the city is, instead, left in the hands of the armored guards that patrol its streets, and stand at its gates. Five stand outside the quiet gates, no matter what time of day. They are always and uniformly dressed in blindingly polished metal armor bearing Roque's crest. They are silent as they watch visitors pass them by.

Up ahead one can see the city's plateaux rise slowly over the cliffs that touch the enchanting Mer de la Luna to the right. There is no sign of the harbour, save those imposing ships that are large enough to be noticed from here. Obviously the docks are well within the protection of the city walls.

From time to time a salty breeze carries the tolling of a bell, reminding the inhabitants of Roque of their duty to the One god, Dominicus. Other typical sounds of the Mer are drowned out by the busy city life, which starts at these very gates.

Just within the gates, protected from sun and rain by a matching overhang, sit two men at an obviously repaired wooden desk. From the looks of it this sturdy and expensive wood has seen quite some action. Quills and sheets of parchment sit in front of them. Another guard stands beside them, quietly watching any newcomers who approach. A sign above the desk - lettered in gold calligraphy - reads "Information" in Elvish, with its Common Tongue translation beneath it in smaller, less ornate script

A few steps beyond the gates houses are being built -or perhaps rebuilt- on blackened ground. People are working without complaints to get the buildings ready for use as soon as they can. Their faces stern and sober, they contradict the happy tales of the Eternal Summer City.

[Shea Artrien]

Shea Artrien paused before the ornate gateway, taking in the sights and sounds around him. He inhaled deeply, noting too, the slight charred wood smell blended with the inevitable smells of fruits and vegtables sitting in the midday sun.

Mingled in, of course, were the standard odors of trash and waste that accompanied any civilized area...and what else? Ah, yes, just barely there but noticable, the salty-sweet call of the Mer de la Luna, floating softly by on the wind.

Shifting his bag on his hip and adjusting the crossbody strap of the satchel, the dark-haired man squinted over at the well used desk situated below the "Information" sign. With a slight shrug, he strode towards the men stationed there, noting the posture of the guard beside them.

"Good day, gentlemen. This is, I believe, where one would make themselves known to the census-takers of fair Roque?"

[Gutter Rat]

"Aye, that it is." replied the Roque on the left, pulling the quill free of the inkwell and removing a small sheaf of parchment from a stack beside him, the other Roque doing much the same except he prepared to write in a ledger and asked the questions.

"Name, occupation, place of origin, and reason for visit, please..."

[Shea Artrien]

Shea gave a small smile and then rattled off his reply, counting them off by raising a finger with each answer.

"Shea Artrien."

"Sailor."

"Fisherville...you know, that small grouping of fisherman's homes and shops a few miles west of here. Its not really even large enough to be called a proper village."

With his fourth finger raised he stated, "Finally, I seek work aboard an outgoing ship, and if possible, perhaps an apprenticeship with an able navigator."

Shea ended with a shrug and then caught his breath and raised his thumb, closing his other fingers into his palm, "Oh, I almost forgot. I'm hoping, of course, to sample some of that wonderful wine that Roque d'Ancourt is so famous for, and perhaps chase a few wenches around a taproom..."

The dark-haired sailor grinned, raising an eyebrow, "...so, can I be on my way?"

[Gutter Rat]

"Mmmm..." the ledger-writer hummed as he wrote, the pass-writer scribbling along almost in unison. "Well then, Mister Artrien, you may want to check in at one of the inns - the Cliff is probably best for you, considering what you want. And yeah, I know fisherville pretty well - my wife's prolly kin to ya." He chuckled and finished his writing, pointing in the direction of the Cliff Inn.

"Good luck and all with the sailor work - as Lou says, always seems to be somone up at the Cliff looking for a strong back and arms. Might also check along the docks but...uhh...avoid the Dragonfly and the Drunken Whore - those places are out to help you spend money...not make it...and the ladies on those boats are more for chasin' round a bedroom more than a taproom, if you catch my drift." The pass-writer held up the slip of paper for Shae to take. "Your pass - keep it on you at all times and enjoy your stay - you'll find that the main city is a whole lot bigger than the collection of huts you hail from." Both guards laughed, but it was Lou who stopped laughing first, his face going from mirthful to stern in half a flicker as his quill pointed to a large structure visible over the wall.

"Just be sure to mind your P's and Q's in there, boy...that there is Roque's newest 'taproom'..." he said, indicating the Broken Blade arena. "If you're not careful, might have some 'ladies' chasing you around in there...with beards and axes."

With that warning and a call of "Next!" over Shae's shoulder, Shae was free to enter the city.

OOC: You are now free to start/join threads in the city. Enjoy your stay in Roque d'Ancourt.

[Guest]

Nydar stands at the gate, casually flipping a banner coin in his hand. He glances around at the sights, taking in the ornate gateway and well equipped guards. Nydar hastily forces his face into a look of casual boredom, trying to seem self-assured and sophisticated, forcing himself to ignore his own worries. He's never traveled outside of King's Court before.

Casually he pockets the coin and takes out his personal mirror to check his hair, slightly readjusting a few loose strands. As he continues his self-inspection, he hears a call of "Next!" and looks up, slightly startled.

Seeing that he's at the head of the line, Nydar walks up to the ledger-writer.

"Hello good man, what can I do for you this fine day?"

[Shea Artrien]

"Cliff's Inn, eh?" Shea followed the motion of the quill towards the structure, nodding. Hmmmm. Now just to decide if you're just sending me there so you'll get a kickback of ale and free dinners...

"Looks decent enough, I suppose. Hmmm? Stay away from the Dragonfly and Drunken Whore. Got it." the dark-haired sailor continued with a chuckle, "Sounds like a tavern joke, eh? A dragonfly and a drunken whore walk into a bar..."

Shea trailed off as his comment was ignored and the scriber handed over the pass. He gave a short nod and an bemused smile as the two soldiers laughed at his humble beginings. Laugh all you you will, gentlemen. Mine is to be a life of adventure, while yours is set to be content to deal with the schleps you think me to be.

What he actually said, however, was, "I'll try to mind my simple ways sir...and aye, I'll do my best to be wary of "ladies" bearing axes and chin hair."

The dark-haired sailor opened his belt pouch and stepped a few yards to the side as the sentries called for their next victim. Securing his pass inside the leather bag alongside his favorite deck of cards, Shea gave the next man in line a glance.

My, aren't we a bit of a peacock, eh? Lets just see if you're up to handling the guardsmen at the gate, friend. Shea thought as he adjusted his satchel and straightened his scabbard on his hip.

[Gutter Rat]

Both men were looking at their respective papers when Nydar finally chose to observe the world around him and, as the Roque's luck would have it, interact with said world.

“Name...”, said the ledger-writer, dropping down a line.
“Occupation...” said the other man, grabbing a fresh pass and placing it upon the desk.
“Place of origin...”, followed the ledger-writer.
“...and reason for visit.”, concluded the pass-writer, both men looking up in unison, smirks on their faces from the little game. Theirs was a boring job and sometimes one just had to shake things up a bit to keep them fresh.

[Guest]

Nydar watched as the two men spoke back and forth, and cracked a wide grin. "Oh well done fellows, well done." he said with a chuckle. He'd have to find a friend he could do that with, it really was quite clever.

"You remind me of these twin girls I know, well let's just say that talking wasn't the only thing they did together with precise synchronization... you know what I mean." Nydar said, with a lascivious wink. "Anyways, I'm Nydar Dolikan, wanderer and story-teller, from King's Court. I'm hear looking to hear new stories see new places." Nydar pointedly refrained from mentioning his other reason for being here, namely his forced exile from King's Court.

[Shea Artrien]

Heh. I think I like him...he reminds me of...well, me.

"New stories, you say? I just happen to have some new stories..." Shea smiled and wandered back towards the gatekeepers and the man calling himself Nydar Dolikan.

"It just may happen that I may have had occasion to partake of the twinned-synchronization you mentioned, or at the very least, a reasonable facsimile, and that, in and of itself, deserves a taleteller's efforts to be sure."

The dark-haired sailor's smile widened to a grin. "Forgive the intrusion, sir, but since I myself am also here in search of new places to see, why should we both wander about this wonderous boon of civilization alone, without the aid of good conversation, eh?"

Shea wiped a hand quickly on his breeches and then offered it in greeting to Nydar. "Well met. Shea Artrien, at your service."

[Guest]

Nydar grinned at the dark haired sailor who had stayed to talk to him. Back home he had always liked hanging out with the common folk, and this Shea seemed like a fun-loving sort.

"Well met indeed. As soon as these fellows are through with my paperwork perhaps we can go and exchange stories and drinks somewhere?"

[Gutter Rat]

"Wandering about and listening to stories is fine if you are a chronicler or a child." the ledger-writer said as the other man handed Nydar his completed pass. "But Roque's sun does not shine upon beggars and vagrants. Collect all of the stories you want, but I would also recommend you collecting a job of some type, as the guards do check passes regularly and begin to memorize them - and faces - after a time, and will find you work at the Broken Blade before long if you are not careful..."

With that, the silent pass-writer pointed toward the gates and gave a nod. "You have a good day, sirs, and welcome to Roque d'Ancourt." the ledger-writer said before shouting "Next!"

OOC: You are fre to join/start threads in the city now.

[Damon Ryot]

Not too shabby, I must say. Damon thought as he slowly approached the finely crafted gates of Roque. This was the very city where his father had been born and raised as a child; only to have left and never returned. He himself had not been to the city ever before, he had done little traveling in general but a few things had been pieced together from what the old man had told him. From what he could deduce, little had really changed.

The guards clad in heavy armour did strike a note of familiarity within him; order and discipline were the foremost. He quickly moved past them so as not to raise alarm on his very first day.
No need for trouble now.

The strong currents brought an even more familiar sound to his ears. The toiling of the bells from somewhere within the city to announce a very important occasion.
Dominicus. Was his singular thought which he quickly cast aside.
With straightforward determination he moved onwards, only a little faster now. He heard a distinct voice, an authority of some sort; being notably loud. He spotted the owner of that high-octave, a man shouting for the next person to proceed in line. This was evidently where they checked people in. Before that you couldn't enter, obviously. Not exactly what he'd expected.

You thought they were going to just let you slip by. Who knows what someone may be up to these days.
He restrained himself from further thoughts, and as casually as he could walked up to the men. He took a measuring glance of the soldier and then addressed himself to the one clearly in charge; he seemed the only one able to spell his name after all.

"Good day, sir." He acknowledged him with a slight bow, slightly comical perhaps in his heavy traveler’s cloak. He made sure to keep his hands in the open, attempting to maintain a neutral face and tone of voice.

"We have to register ourselves here before we enter the city, no?"

[Uli Orange]

Roque looked surprisingly vibrant and awe inspiring to Uli. Whatever illness had once clouded Roque’s proud natural beauty appeared to have been chased back to its birthing place in the swamps. Well outfitted guards were scattered around the well groomed entrance to Roque, daydreaming and occasionally searching for a lady who, with only a look, could brighten their morningtide.

Sitting just inside the entrance at a large table were two guards who were dutifully busy shuffling their parchment. A sign above showed in ornate lettering, bordering on calligraphy in extravagance, that the table was the “information” table. Roque was apparently a friendly city towards visitors, even if the hospitality was mostly intended for those who came to trade in Roque, as it was in many big cities. In his common travelling gear, Uli decided to pass on seeking information from the guards lest they grow frustrated with catering to a commoner. The major questions in Uli’s mind were not the sort that he felt comfortable asking a guard anyhow. His first few days would need to be his most productive because he would still be unknown amongst the citizens and shadows of Roque.

As he stood just outside the gate, Uli rubbed the base of his chin and tilted his head slightly to the side, a mannerism he had often been told was cute by his female companions. Gazing upward, he felt his insides blossoming in joy at the pleasantness of Roque. Uli floated on beneath the wall of flowers waving in the breeze, smiling as he made his way towards the treasures of Roque that were now visible inside of the walls. As he passed the information table, Uli gave a polite nod to the man at the table who watched his progress while the other man was engaged with another visitor.

ooc: I know I’m supposed to stop at the information table, but a sign saying “information” seems like it would lead others to make the same mistake as Uli from time to time.

[Haikan]

OOC: sorry for the delay, I'm here now and ready to roll.

The two men sitting at the information desk simultaneously looked up at Damon and his whimsical greeting. The one to the left smirked, and dabbed his inkpen in his well, and prepared to write on a sheet of parchment. The man sitting on the right prepared to jot information down in a ledger and he looked somewhat amused as he responded to Damon's question.

“ O’ course you do. Would you kindly state your name, occupation, and reason for entering the city?” The man on the left looked up at Uli walking past, and he quickly pulled another sheaf of parchment from the stack that lay next to him.

“Hold on there boy, You can go ahead and state your business here as well.”

[Damon Ryot]

OOC: No problem

Not very tough questions. They didn't seem too keen on their jobs either, rather laughing behind people's backs, as he noticed them do when he greeted them. He had been taught that etiquette was important, especially when you were a stranger in a new city; guess these people didn't care too much whether he'd greeted them or not. Well, you couldn't take the boredom of the job away, no matter how irritating, sitting here till finally collapsing. Nonetheless,

"My name would be Damon Ryot." He said, taking careful articulation in his name in case they were as slow-witted as they sounded. Not that his tone bore any contempt, and so it was tried to be concealed in the minute movements of his figure and face.

He still wore the same impartial look, something someone might have mistaken for lack of higher brain functions or retardation. He knew this, didn't really care, after all he wouldn't probably see any of them again; after getting past them of course which he had to convince them of doing now.
"For what I do. Well I can basically do a lot of things I guess, sir." He had never really been adopted into a formal trade. He thought of the most sincere answer and got it almost immediately to follow up.

"Mainly I'm a businessman; here to buy and sell so as to say." He had a little knowledge of this buying and selling from his mother, though only basic, he thought he could get through this with it. "Also a man comfortable around trouble, so if the business isn't thriving, well I think I can handle some of this trouble around here."

They may not buy the businessman part; he had nothing to trade to begin with, but as for the other offer. He figured his size would speak for itself, as well as the dumb-witted look on his, flavoured only with a delicacy of his hometown's local vocalization.

"As for what I'm doing here; well like I said, a man's got to earn a living and my father told me that this city here would be a nice place to start with. He was from here, you see." Which they wouldn't probably see anyway.

Before he could attempt to continue, one of the men shouted at a man passing by the table as if oblivious to the sign spelling 'information, or 'stop idiot, here first'. He was told to promptly comply and approach the table to register.
Thought you were going to walk by like a ghost. He found this notion amusing, which showed prominently upon the highlighted features of his face.

[Uli Orange]

Uli slowed his stride and turned slowly to face the guards at the table. After a quick scan of the two guards, Uli had found the man that had called out to him. A stern look was on the guard’s face and he looked as if Uli had been making off with his firstborn.

“Hmph, don’t most information desks give information, not take it?” Uli posed rhetorically.

Once again, he was caught between two walls. He would need to explain himself to the guards in order to get past the wall in front of him, but the mentally constructed wall pushing him from behind demanded that he take a jab at the guard who seemed to think that everyone should know what their completely misnamed station was for. With a sarcastic sigh, Uli tossed his bag to the ground and stepped up to the table. The other visitor at the table had adopted a smirk at seeing Uli being called out. He would get his too.

“I’m Uli Orange and I’m here to grow things. Flowers namely. Y’all have gardens here don’t you, even though they’re probably all dead due to the heat that came after the Red Storms?” Uli said to his inquisitor. If the guard was as proud of Roque’s Arboretum as most Roque citizens, then the dead gardens comment would certainly offend him, which was, of course, what Uli intended.

Uli then gestured towards the young man next to him and said to the guard loud enough for all at the table to hear, “And you should direct this boy to a fine brothel, so that he will have something worth smiling about. And an Adhiel one at that. You wouldn’t want one of Roque’s hearty human lasses to crush his brittle bones.”

[Haikan]

Both men who tended the information desk ignored Uli’s impolite comments. As far as they were concerned, it was common knowledge that the information desk checks you in. After all, that’s how it is at the capital, and that’s how it is in the Summer City. The man engaged with Damon sighed as he scribbled in his ledger. He diligently recorded what the boy said until he mentioned that he was looking for trouble. Hearing this, he perked up and gave Damon a cautioning look. What did this goofy traveler mean by trouble? He leaned in close, and spoke quietly enough that only Damon and himself could hear.

“No offense boy, but here’s a friendly word for the wise: I wouldn’t recommend you to be causing too much trouble around here right off the bat. You said you’re a man o’ business, so do your business.” He pointed to one of the gloriously armored knights that guarded the gates. “I’d hate to see one o’ these fine folk here take time outta their day to bring you down just ‘cause you were getting involved with the wrong things.” He talked at an easy pace, to match the simple look on Damon’s face. “No hard feelin’s, you understand.” He then leaned back into his chair and flipped through some of his pages a bit, until he set his papers aside and folded his hands on the desk. The man who sat next to him rolled his eyes after hearing his spiel.

“So…” he continued, returning to a loud and professional voice. “…you said you need to make a living. Well there is plenty to do here for a living. If you want to do business, you could head down to the Merchant Quarter and try to get a market going. The Happenstance Bazaar is where you would go to sell any wares you might have. You could also go to the mercenary guild, if you got any talent for a fight. O’ course, there’s the Broken Blade Arena, but I hear there’s a good bit o’ trouble awaiting anyone who contends down there…” With that he offered Damon a knowing wink, and as he finished writing, he set the rest of his papers aside

The other tenant was focused on Uli. “Kid, you gotta register here like everybody else, don’t make a scene.” He said nonchalantly. He began writing, uncaring about his attacks at Damon. The nearby guards’ attention was caught by Uli’s shouting, and they watched from where they stood, hoping that they wouldn’t have to soil their weapons. Several armored guards clutched the hilt of their swords and a few even began to walk over to Uli. The weary tenant waved his hand at them, and they grumbled and returned to what they were previously doing. With that, the tenant continued, “I’m not one to take offense to these types of things, Uli. Still, you ought to be careful who you talk to like that. The wrong words to the wrong folks in a big city like this… Well a boy could end up with his throat cut.”

[Damon Ryot]

Damon noticed he'd made a mistake, probably a misunderstanding or not phrasing his words well, nonetheless he wasn't penalized for that.
Guess father's old trick worked, these guys think I'm some sort of idiot. He said. He was surprised they’d bought his act so readily.

He ignored Uli entirely, rather concentrating on what the man writing in the ledger was telling him, advising him that there was no need for him to cause trouble and so on; mainly warning him about possible hazards of such work. He wasn't into such work fortunately, though still scolded himself for talking more than required. He couldn't have helped it, new to city life, his mother had warned a dozen times to always be as careful as possible.

After the man finished his sermon, Damon gave him a polite nod of the head to acknowledge the information had sunk in. He thought of apologizing and sorting out his earlier remark, but decided against it. The man probably understood it, as he told there was work for a mercenary just as well in the city, but he wasn't here to fight.

"Thank you very much, sir." He said, not making an elegant bow this time. "I thank you for your help and the information you've shared. Don't worry, you won't catch me in trouble, just honest business, I mean."

With a wave of his hand, the young achadhiel was off, ready to start a new life in Roque. He heard the other young man being disciplined, he quite rude and loud for that matter, but he didn't care anymore, for hopefully he'd never see any of those faces again.

[Uli Orange]

OOC: I never shouted anything or acted unruly. I just made a sarcastic comment to the guards and then told a light hearted joke in attempt to make Damon’s young character blush, certainly nothing that warranted threats or attention from the guards. What’s done is done though I guess.

Uli could only raise an eyebrow in wonder as the guard in front of him leaned in to say, “I’m not one to take offense to these types of things, Uli. Still, you ought to be careful who you talk to like that. The wrong words to the wrong folks in a big city like this… Well a boy could end up with his throat cut.”

Uli could see the man clearly meant what he said, but in the circumstances Uli could not keep the corners of his mouth from turning up. The man next to Uli says he’s looking for trouble and is promptly given directions while Uli tells the guards a joke and gets a posse of guards sneaking up on his arse and a threat to go with it. His optimism for Roque was unfazed though, despite the odd behavior of its guards. No city should really be judged by such citizens. Guards and the like cease to be representative of the city when they surrender the fate of their neighbors to the will of someone whom even they don’t trust.

With his formal greeting to Roque over with, Uli scooped up his bag and strolled on into the Summer City. That night he would get his informal greeting to Roque at the most frighteningly hedonistic establishment he could find. Until then, there were chores that he needed to run in order to prepare for his stay.