Nyermersys - {SC} Queprur's Gate

[Gararion]

Queprur’s Gate is located on the western side of the Southern City of Nyermersys. Near the portal, the Wind Tower looms over the smaller structures of the city below, the stone of its walls a cloudy grey and the scattered narrow windows creating a slightly ominous appearance for the structure.

A single man stands before this gate clad in light leather armor and a dark blue tunic. A short sword hangs comfortably in its belt sheath like it had most of the man’s obviously long life. The wrinkles appearing around his eyes and mouth had been there for a while now, already past his mid forties Gerald’s appearance held little of his former youth. His beard was accompanied by similarly graying hair tied back loosely and he stared out with a sullen gaze holding experience and wisdom but no trace of the alertness reflected in his attentive posture. As you approach he turns to watch cautiously, “G’day. What brings you to the City of Death?” Gerald demands in a husky voice.

[Tiras The White Rose]

A lone figure commences to appear on the distance , it was Tiras , the infamous "White Rose", after a disastrous passage by the city , where he barely escaped with his life .

It wasn´t an usual sight anyone travelling by foot on this roads , but Tiras had no other choice , Rotten luck! Tiras began to say to himself , How could i known that girl was the guards captain daughter?
The only thing i could grab was this puch with some coins , barely 100 sans ...

As Tiras continued to lament his luck , a city appeared on the horizon , and a making of a smile appeared on his face , removing the dust of his clothes he walked with a renewed confidence and arriving at the gate a guard asked “G’day. What brings you to the City of Death?” .

With a innocent smile Tiras answered , “Businness good man , i hope to make some coin , by using my skills” .
Tiras continued to smile ,waiting the guards response

[Leida Kereborn]

The sun was by no means blinding today, but Leida still keeps her beaten leather tricorner cap firmly on her head, a thick mass of red hair tucked to near invisibility beneath it.  Her Rusik horse trods King's Road slowly, hoofs clip-clopping along mismatched stones as Leida flops down onto his neck with a groan.  Shatan grumbles, deep in his equine throat, and Leida pats him affectionately.

"I know, love, I know," she says gently.  "I'm hungry too.  Haven't seen anyone or anything in days.  Can't very well steal our meals, or at least our gold, without some patronage!"

Shatan whickers, a brief shake of his mane removing Leida's weight from his neck and shoulders.  She flicks him behind the ear, hearing every mocking scold in that noise. 

"Look," she nudges Shatan in Northwest.  Over the horizon looms Nyermersys, the great City of Death.  "There's food and wine to be had there, my friend."  They soon arrive at the gate and Leida dismounts, standing significantly below eye-level than she had been before.

"G'day.  What brings you to the City of Death?" the guard grumbles down at her. 

It has been some time since she has been in Nyermersys, but she has not forgotten manners.  Eyeing the guard carefully, perhaps sizing him up, she flourishes a bow with her cap, red locks tumbling down.  "Good day yourself, sir.  I am but a traveler, passing through the gates of fair Nyermersys."

[Gararion]

Gerald eyes up Tiras as he states his reason fro entering.  "And what skills would that be?  We don't need any..." he begins to say as another person approaches and cuts in.   Turning his attention upon the newcomer, Gerald grants her a stern stare. 

"Whoa Miss.  You can wait your turn just like all those who have passed before you.  This young man here had my attention first and I think it rather intrusive what you just did."  Saying nothing more, he turns his attention back to Tiras. 

"Now...where were we? =  Ah, yes, that's right.  What skills would that be sir?"

[Tiras The White Rose]

Damn , this guard is clever than it looks , usually most of them don´t care what my business are .
Ah well , ill just have to make something up ....

Finishing his thought , Tiras blinked his eye to the young woman who just arrived and answered the guard :

Well sir , since the young lady seems to be on a hurry , lets make this quick as possible .

I am many things , from a merchant to a bodyguard , you can say i am a jack of all trades , if the money is right and of course not illegal , i can do it.

I suppose this answers your question , no ?

Not waiting for the guards answer , he turned to the young woman looking up and
down at her , with a humorous smile he continued :

But enought about me , i am more interested on you dear lady , i am curious what are you going to answer on the kind guards question on what are your skills ...

Tiras knew that was rather insulting , but just couldn´t help himself when a pretty face is present .

[Leida Kereborn]

Leida stands up gracefully, all the poise that agility and umbrage can give her tiny form manifesting in one straight-backed nod and an arch look at the guard.  She says nothing, turning to Shatan with a little "hmph!" to groom his mane, as if this state of his hair was all that mattered in the world. 

The man beside her answers eloquently, and she runs her eye over him, perhaps curious, perhaps sizing him up.  A smile curves her lips, though with significantly less humor than his own, and she does not turn fully from grooming Shatan.  "I am in no hurry, sir, and I need no charity from a poor wanderer such as yourself," she says smoothly, every hint of arrogance in her words.  Her fingers drift across her stallion's neck, as if to emphasize her possession of such a fine beast, and moreover, of the man's lack of it. 

"As for you, sir," she continues to the guard; her back has not become slack, nor has her eyebrow lowered, and she speaks in clipped tones, "I am visiting an old friend."  Nothing more, nothing less.  To get away from these men, from the traveler's roving eyes, keeps her response terse.  Shatan's companionable nuzzling is the only thing holding back an urge to move quickly away.

[Gararion]

    Gerald stares at Tiras as he obviously seems not concern about his entrance within the city.  "Well then, if you really must insist, enough of you till I let the others pass through.  Then I'm sure you'll be more then happy to discuss your entrance within the city with me."

    Turning his attention to Leida while he approaches her, smiling as it seems she has taken to the same impression of this wanderer.  "Well then.  I may as well say it now.  If you wish entrance within this city, you'd best leave that tone on he road behind you.  What is your name and how long do you figure your visit with us may last?"  The tone of his voice is the same as he began, husky.  As Gerald waits for the reply from Leida, he pays no attention to Tiras who stands beside him.

[Leida Kereborn]

Leida inclines her head, gathering her hair up in a loose twist and replacing it beneath her cap.  A wan smile widens across her lips.  "Yes, sir, of course, sir," she says, as obliging as is possible for someone trying to hide their irritation.  "I am Leida Kereborn, and I shan't stay long.  Perhaps a month, to visit with old acquaintances."

[Gararion]

    "Now that's a little better, though you could work on your sincerity a little more," Gerald says with a slight smile.  "Well, I see reason to stop you from seeing some friends.  Just be sure to pick yourself up a set of identification papers at the town hall if you plan on staying a month.  With that in mind, I'll let you pass while me and my friend here have a little talk," he says as he firmly slaps Tiras on the back.

    Gerald waits a moment till Leida is on her way and then turns to address Tiras once more.  "Now then, are you interested in entering the city or shall we wait for the next lass that comes through these her gates?"

[Tiras The White Rose]

Resting against the gate , Tiras waited with patience as the girl explained her reasons , with an ironic smile he taught :
Friends ... sure you are .
And i am the next on line for the throne ....

Still smilling on his thoughts , Tiras looked as the guard asked:
"Now then, are you interested in entering the city or shall we wait for the next lass that comes through these her gates?"
Raising his eyes , never loosing his coolness , Tiras answered :

No , while i do enjoy to rest my eyes on such beauty , if the next ones that come are cold as this one with a significant look , he pointed to Leida i prefer to enter the city , if you permit it

[Leida Kereborn]

"Thank you, sir."  Leida smiles primly and inclines her head, tugging along Shatan's reins as she walks past the men and into the city. 

[Kelancey the Green]

  As you coax Shatan through Queprur’s Gate, you pass a small group of people dressed in robes, who you surmise are a throng of supplicants to Eyasha.  They carry lit candles, intoning “Quiet Night” in low voices to themselves, and smile and meet your gaze as you look on.

  You are almost cut off by a distracted man mumbling under his breath, “…and if I don’t get there…sure to eat another two men…I’ll not pay for more lost,…” crossing a mere palmspan in front of Shatan’s snout.  He is paunchy, middle-aged, and ruddy in complexion, with yellow slippers that curl up at the toes and a tall pointed deep blue conundrum.  He gasps as he whips his head to look squarely into Shatan’s nostrils, then looks up at you, returning to reality from his daydream.  “Here, young woman!  See ya don’ bowl me over, or I’ll do you for it!  Where I hail from, lords and ladies bow down and make way for powerful mages such as myself!”  His pompousness is almost nauseating, certainly alienating, and he turns brusquely, ambling in the direction of the Black Market.

  Shortly after this encounter, a small, balding gnome woman leads a donkey, walking on foot, smiling contentedly to herself.  The saddlebags on her “steed” jingle and clink with the movements of delicate flasks and urns which poke out here and there.  She gives you a wave and flashes you a grin, then turns once more, apparently in the direction of the hospital.

[Leida Kereborn]

Leida eyes the the middle-aged man, pulling Shatan back by his reins with a quiet, "Whoa, love."  The stout man's accusations and mutterings send a defensive arm curling round Shatan's lowered head, petting him gently to keep his dancing hooves from trodding the little man out.

“Here, young woman!  See ya don’ bowl me over, or I’ll do you for it!  Where I hail from, lords and ladies bow down and make way for powerful mages such as myself!”   It is an idle threat, she knows, with the city guard so close by--and, more importantly, a dagger held at the ready along the inside of her wrist--but she still keeps a wary eye on the supposed mage as he scuttles off in the direction of the Black Market.  At least, it should be the Black Market, if the city hasn't changed its layout since her last visit. 

Half a moment later, a gnome woman hobbles past, her smile disarmingly kind as she hobbles off in another direction.  Her saddlebags jingle and clink temptingly, and for a minute, Leida stands in the middle of the thoroughfare staring after both her and the cantankerous mage.

"Well, Shatan," she says quietly, "I've got quiet a decision on my hands.  Shall I try my hand in the Market, where it is significantly less likely I'll come out unscathed, or follow the gnome woman, and see what riches await me on that end?  Bother indecision."  Her lips purse, and her face looks, for a second, significantly younger than it actually is. 

Shatan nudges her ear, whickering quietly and making general horse-like noises of disgruntlement.  She lenas over and eyes his feedbag, startlingly empty.  "All right, all right," she mutters, pushing his face away.  "We'll do things your way.  Town proper it is."  And with that, she leads him after the gnome woman and into the city proper.

[Kelancey the Green]

  You stride forth, Shatan following your lead, on your way toward the center of the Southern City.  Your sensitive eyes and ears soak up the myriad dance steps of this complicated ballet of a bright spring morning in Nyermersys.  A milk white-skinned elven male of aquiline features and expressive purple eyes strides alongside a broad, stocky dwarven female with dark brown hair tied in plaits and deepset eyes, both chattering at feverish speed but in low tones.  A copper-skinned man with long black hair flowing to his shoulders swims in his luxurious, multilayered, blue Uderza tunica, sauntering as if in no particular hurry to reach his destination.  A bow string whines quietly somewhere out of sight…

  [ZZZIIIP!]  A scant moment after hearing the arrow loosed, you hear the female gnome you saw earlier shriek with unthinking terror.  The arrow punctured one of the saddlebags her donkey is carrying, and brown fluid stains the bottom of the pouch.  Her donkey brays, bolting at break-neck pace in the direction of the Fountain Plaza.  The gnome tears after him, more to calm her animal and reclaim her belongings than to evade her assailant.

  You remark to yourself at the lack of any discernable response from the personal guards posted in front of inns and shops lining Thiefwalk.  One huge man, almost a troll in stature, whistles a ditty and picks his fingernails with his dagger.  A stooped woman covered in a gray shawl backs out of the road long enough for the dust to settle, then continues on her way toward Queprur’s Gate.

[Kelancey the Green]

  You spy the little gnome woman returning a long ways off, trudging towards you with her donkey plodding along.  Her free hand gesticulates madly, and, though you can’t hear what she’s saying, you can vividly imagine what words of wrath are spewing from her.  She takes her time guiding her steed back down Thiefwalk Lane, and as she draws nearer you can start to make out her wet hair slicked down at the sides, and a small dome of her balding scalp glistening with moisture in the sunlight. 

  Glancing over your shoulder toward the shrine of Eyasha, you see a late-arriving aspirant kicking up dust as he hastens to join the group who has just entered.  His color of robe is slightly different than the others who have already gone inside; perhaps he is a servant or a young attendant who lagged behind completing some morning chore.

  A brown stain in the road remains from the recent excitement, and a few leeches wriggle and shrivel in the dirt.  Shadows of overhanging rooftops still stretch out over the lane, with beams of light piercing between them occasionally.

Advanced search

[Members]

Members Total Members: 2849 Latest: abigailjordan Stats Total Posts: 214569 Total Topics: 8052 Online Today: 30 Online Ever: 216 (November 30, 2006, 09:08:03 AM) Users Online Users: 0 Guests: 27 Total: 27

[Artimidor]

	Powered by SMF 1.1.21 | SMF © 2005, Simple Machines TinyPortal v0.9.8 © Bloc
Theme based on Cerberus with Risen adjustments by Bloc and Krelia Modified By Artimidor for The Santharian Dream