Thaehavos' Gate

[Eléyr Fásamár]

The Thaehavos' Gate looms in front of you, one of the points of entry to the famed city of artists. The Occen lake laid gleaming a silvery sheen on its surface within sight not far away from where you are standing.

On top of the wall, small shadows busy about, representing the many soldiers that bear the responsibility of opening or securing the gate, and also the task of showering any unwanted visitors with arrows and burning warm tar.

As you approach the doors of the gate you notice two guards, standing on each side of the gate, their eyes fixed on the road leading to Bardavos, scanning the horizon for travellers approaching their city. The guard on the left was a tall and lanky male, his eyes locked in an anxious expression. The guard on the right wore an oversized helmet which shadowed the facial features. However, you notice that the guard on the right had a lithe and seemingly feminine figure.

As you come closer to the gate, the guard on the left barked out:

"Halt! None can pass this gate without the approval of our commander!"

[Ryldor Gadriel]

"Bardavos… finally," thought Ryldor as the city walls came into view. He reached down and gave yet another appreciative pat on Shadow's shoulder. "Once again you've proven yourself." He dropped to the ground, turned to his right and looked out at Occen's Lake. He let Shadow nibble on a carroot and said, "It's a view worthy of a poem my friend, but I'll spare you my pathetic efforts at one."

He waited for his Rusik to finish the snack and then he looked down and took stock of his appearance. A rare frown followed. His dark pants and green vest were wrinkled and covered in dust. He ran his hand across his face and found it too was caked with remnants of the road. He debated changing but decided against it. Instead he took a moment to shake off his clothes, wipe his face and retie his ponytail. "It'll have to do I guess." He climbed back aboard and made his way to the gate.

Two guards were clearly visible, though the moving shadows suggested many more had eyes on him. "Luckily, I'm harmless," he thought. The guard on the left was your typical male guard, but the form of the one on the right was promising. He spoke to both, but kept his eyes to the right, trying to get some glimpse of the person's features.

"Well my good man, I'm sure your commander will have no problem with a tradesman such as myself entering. You may call me Ryldor." He turned deliberately to the one on the right, "And you are?"

[Azhira Styralias]

Gate Guard

The guard took a step towards the approaching stranger. The sword sheathed at his hip clinked against his chainmail shirt. The tall halberd gripped tightly in his right hand moves steadily back and forth as he walks. With a furrowed brow, the guard's gray eyes study the newcomer under bushy pale brown eyebrows. His mouth twitches anxiously under a thick moustache and a field of whiskers growing under his chin.

"Well Tradesman Ryldor, this gate is restricted to special persons needing entering," the guard replied in a husky, deep voice. "I'll need to know your business in Bardavos this day and how long you plan to stay. The commander will have the final say on if you can enter."

The guard stood tall and recited his pronouncement with ease and nary a pause. The guard sniffed and cast a glance beyond the man in front of him for a moment while awaiting a response.

[Ryldor Gadriel]

Ryldor turned his attention back to the other guard, disappointed not to get any response from the feminine one. "Perhaps I look worse than I thought. I'll have to rectify that as soon as possible."

"I deeply apologize my good sir," Ryldor said with a quick bow. "Had I known of any restrictions I would certainly have chosen another gate." "If only to escape greater scrutiny," he thought. "I'm here to find interesting things for trade. Your craftsmen are, obviously, amongst the best ever, and I'd hope to take some of their wares with me and maybe set up a regular route. Good business for all concerned." Ryldor leaned in a little and lowered his voice. "Plus I'm a… bit of a craftsman myself. At least, I was." He leaned back away and rubbed his right shoulder "Old wound in battle. Never healed right. Anyway I'd love to see what your finest are up to. Shouldn't take more than a couple of weeks."

His blue eyes flittered back and forth between he guards, still hoping to catch a glimpse of the face of the lithe figure on the right. "May I now pass?"

[Azhira Styralias]

Gate Guard

The guard nodded at Ryldor's explanation and glanced back at his companion still standing at the gate. He waved a hand and made a motion at the gate. The second, slimmer guard nodded in understanding and proceeded to open the gate and move through.

"We are checking with the commander of the watch if we are to allow you in," the guard said. "It shall be a moment."

The guard looked up at the tip of his halberd and back down. His gloved hand moved up to wipe some sweat beginning to bead down his brow. He frowned and sighed deeply, suddenly feeling nauseous and light headed. He dug in his halberd in the ground and leaned against it while shuffling his left foot.

Then, the guard fell to one knee and collapsed to the ground. His halberd fell forwards and his helm rolled off his bald head and stopped against a nearby rock. The man groaned once before closing his eyes. His chest heaved up and down showing he was still alive, but now unconscious.

[Ryldor Gadriel]

The elf's eyes followed the slender guard as the figure walked away, presumably to get permission for entry. Praying for powers he didn't posses, Ryldor mentally commanded, "Turn around," but it was to no avail. He continued watching the door, paying little attention to the other guard's comments.

His gaze upon the door was so intent that he missed the beginning of the difficulties the guard started experiencing. By the time Ryldor turned back around, the guard was already falling towards the ground. He asked, "Are you okay?" even though it was clear the guard wasn't. Ryldor quickly looked around trying to find… something, anything that might be responsible, an archer perhaps.

Finding nothing he closed his eyes and cursed silently, "Feff!!! I'm going to get blamed for this. I just know it." He turned and yelled toward to the gate, "A little assistance please!" Without waiting for a response, he dropped to one knee near the guard and tried to figure out what was wrong.

[Azhira Styralias]

Gate Guard

The second gate guard poked her head through the open gate and gave her fallen companion a blank stare. She then glanced at the man kneeling over him and suddenly came marching over to the elf. Her oversized helm pitched forwards covering her eyes. She growled and tossed the helm off her head with her left hand sending the helm spinning under a bush.

"Curse Burris and his drinking!" the woman guard exclaimed as she knelt next to Ryldor. "He's fallen ill again."

Without looking up, the lady guard took hold of her comrade's shoulders and shook him gently. Her chainmail shirt rattled and swayed and her eophran brown colored hair, now uncovered, fell loosely over her shoulders and face. She stopped and gripped his cheeks with a thumb and forefinger and squeezed. After no response, she sighed heavily and sat back on her heels. Her round face was etched with worry and her small mouth formed a frown. She brought up a hand and tossed back her hair to reveal more of her face. As she did so, the tops of her ears could be seen having gently angled points. She looked pleadingly at the stranger with dark green eyes.

"Yer name be Ryldor, correct?" the woman asked. "Mind helping me drag Burris to the gates? He needs a healer quick."

[Ryldor Gadriel]

Ryldor ran his hand through his dark hair and continued his futile examination of the fallen guard, all the while thinking, "What the feff am I doing? I don't know what I'm looking for." He was just about to give up when he heard the sound of the helm sliding across the ground.

He turned toward the gate, his eyes catching a glimpse of her legs first. In what he hoped wasn't an all too obvious leer, he slowly moved his gaze upward, eagerly awaiting his first glimpse of her face. He took in her countenance and her green eyes and was mostly pleased, except for her worried expression. Ryldor always preferred his women happy and smiling and the frown she wore detracted from her appeal.

As he watched her unsuccessful attempt to shake the life back into Burris, Ryldor once again ran his hands over his dusty, wrinkled clothes, trying to remove any evidence of his long journey. "This still isn't helping," he thought, as his appearance did not improve. "I should have changed. I'd be presentable and he'd have passed out before my arrival." He shook his head at the uselessness of his ruminations. "Might as well make the best of it… Hey, she's an elf." He looked up when she spoke.

"I am Ryldor, though I'll gladly answer you whatever you call me, my dear," he said with a big smile. He moved to the opposite side of Burris and said, "Shall we?"

[Azhira Styralias]

The half-elf guard seemingly ignored Ryldor's comment, although her gaze did linger upon the man for a bit longer than she wanted. She set her halberd down on the ground along with the blade sheathed at her hip. The chainmail shirt she wore was a bit too large for her and she struggled to tighten her belt so the shirt wouldn't hang loose as she bent down.

She then proceeded to lift the unconscious guard's legs. Her strength was considerable given her small size, as she cupped her hands under the man's boot heels and lifted.

"Let's get him to the gate," the woman said. She lifted her head and blew the hair away from her face. "He's in trouble if the commander hears of this...you won't tell a soul about this, will you stranger? Ryldor?"

[Ryldor Gadriel]

Ryldor put his hands under the unconscious guard's shoulders and lifted him… barely. The elf spent most of his time avoiding exercise and hard work and physical exertion of any kind. He was certainly weaker than the half elf and Burris, though thin, was far more than he was used to carrying. Ryldor could only raise Burris a couple of inches, leaving the guard's hands dragging through the dirt. The second Burris was off the ground and the mage took a step, Ryldor knew that he was in trouble.

His knees buckled, his arms trembled and beads of sweat formed on his brow. Then he took his second step and it got worse, but for her sake he tried to maintain a brave face. For a moment, he considered using magic, but figured it would best if she, and the rest of the guards, knew nothing about that.

He realized he hadn't answered her query. Through gritted teeth and between grunts he said, "I guess I might be able to keep this to myself. But I wouldn't do so for a stranger. Maybe for a friend." He grunted again and carried on with renewed effort. "Of course, friends know each other's names."

[Azhira Styralias]

Sarya

"I am Sarya," the half-elf replied as she set down the man's legs. The two of them had dragged the unconscious Burris down the path to the gate just on the other side of a large row of hedges. The guard's body was sufficiently hidden from view from passersby and from anyone poking their head out of the gate.

The woman stood and wrung her hands nervously. She frowned and stared at Burris some more deciding what to do. Finally, she gave the man Ryldor a look of concern. She started to say something but decided against it for now and went to retrieve her weapon. With an effort, she picked up the halberd and strapped the sword to her hip. The weight of the weapons gave her a slumped look, but that was partly because of the unspoken burden she now carried. She came back to face Ryldor again.

"Thank you for the aid, stranger, but I can handle things from here," Sarya nodded towards the gates. "You'd better get inside before more guards arrive. It's best if I do the explaining without you or suspicions might arise. Please, though, say nothing of this. Burris has a troubled history with the guards and the only reason he is one is because of his father, the current baron of Bardavos. It's rumored...well...I can't say..."

Sarya looked away before continuing. "Ok...meet me tonight at the Sleeping Dragon Tavern. They'll know you're involved no matter what happens now...and I would hate to see you get hurt. Meet me there at the seventh bell. Alone."

[Ryldor Gadriel]

As soon as Burris was on the ground, Ryldor's hands went to his knees and he hunched over, panting and groaning, sweat still pouring off his brow. The distance had only been peds, but his arms ached like it had been leagues. He tried to say something witty and charming, but failed. She seemed nervous... "Worried about Burris I guess." He tried to speak again, but before he could catch his breath, she was walking away. He started to call after her, but realized she was just retrieving her weapon and that she'd probably return.

Ryldor managed to stand straight up (more or less), wiped the perspiration from his face, and took a few deeps breaths, hoping to halt the panting. He knew his overall appearance was still not good, but he hoped that when she returned he just looked bad, not terrible.

Sarya spoke quickly upon her return. He listened to her pleas with great interest, thinking how lucky he would be to have a favor or two owed to him by the city guards, especially one of them the son of a noble. "This would almost like have the baron himself in debt to me. That could be most useful."

Two specific words snapped him out of his reverie: "get" and "hurt". "Why exactly would I be getting hurt?" he pondered silently, a look of curiosity forming on his face. "Well I guess I'll find out soon."

"Seven bells at the Sleeping Dragon. I'll be there, " he said with great determination. He beckoned for Shadow, the trained russik hurrying over. Ryldor paused a second and altered his tone, making it more fun and flirty. "I eagerly await our next encounter, hopefully under more pleasant circumstances," he said with a wink. With that he turned and led Shadow towards the gates.

[Silmarwen Elanessë]

      Just then a girl approached the same gate looking around in silent awe, thinking to herself, "The traveling was worth just seeing this place! Now if I could just find someone to help me find. . .       She shook her head. "Don't be anxious or hasty. It'll only bring trouble."      She was walking towards the gate where she saw two frightfully stern looking guards and decided to wait until she ventured forward. She was about to start off again as she felt movement in the pack she held on her back.
     
     Taking it off she carried it over to a shadowy ledge where no one would see her as she opened the pack. When she did out popped the head of her pet Fley who immediately looked around the area. "No, Fley stay in there. I'm not even sure if your allowed here!"      Instead of obeying, Fley jumped out bringing with her a jumble of papers flying out of the pack. And the twinging of lyre strings rose also from the pack. Silmarwen grabbed them quickly before sitting down with her dog next to her.

      She stacked the papers neatly and set them next to her, taking out her lyre. She looked at the white cocked head of her dog who looked at her expectantly. "Come on Fley, this is no time to play. . . but then it is a lovely day, and no one's around. I guess I could."      And as she started gently running her fingers over her beloved instrument Fley lay down folding her paws and looked on through half closed eyes filled with bliss.

      Then without looking down at her papers Silmarwen started reciting. "Where wild river, falling hill, wind and rain at last are stilled, beneath the shadows of time and age will rise a dawn of beauty un-caged, and there we shall find peace."      The dog looked almost asleep now, with it's head on it's paws, but when Silmarwen suddenly stopped She jerked her head up and nudged her arm. Silmarwen looked down at her and said, "Well, it's not that good, it's one of my first. And I feel almost disrespectful, if you get my meaning. Just coming here, where so many great things have happened. . . "      

      While Silmarwen was talking Fley's attention was drawn to the fact that Silmarwen's papers were blowing silently away one by one. She nudged Silmarwen again and when she turned around she saw with a start, what was happening. The papers started blowing away faster in the wind and telling her dog to stay where she was (and hoping that she would obey for once) she started running after them in an urgent rush.
     
     The hood  of her long cloak blew around in her face as she gathered up her papers one by one and she noticed how rugged a shape her boots were in. She sighed and went on stacking her papers filled with writings and notes. Catching glimpses of poems set to song she paused and read to herself. She followed one paper so close the the gate that she didn't notice the guards standing right in front of her and she narrowly missed bumping into them. She grabbed the paper and stepped back shocked and afraid.

     "I'm looking for the Circle of Dreams in the City of - "      but she was too frightened by the intimidating eyes of the guards. Oh, why was it that she could talk to her animal friends just fine, but when it came to people all her talking ability froze? She took a deep breath even though it was only one word that she had to say. "Bardavos."      she finished in a whisper, closing her eyes.

[Kelodin the Outcast]

Friend, you would do well to move, muttered Kelodin as a bulky Thegrim blocked his way. The dwarf grudgingly bowed aside, and the tall, white-robed stranger approached the gates. He glanced around at the always-interesting group of pilgrims traveling to the city of bards. Tempting targets, all he thought. One girl, in particular seemed particularly tempting.

A bumbling, mumbling girl was lost, and apparently alone. She appeared to be speaking, and she also appeared to be ignored. She did concern Kelodin- at least not yet. For Kelodin was hungry, Kelodin needed money, but most importantly, Kelodin needed a way in.

"Excuse me, ma'am! But you seem to have dropped this!" Kelodin handed the girl a paper, and grinned a grin that could be described only one way. It was the grin of a man who had seen much pain, the grin of a man with morals flexible at best, but it was also the grin of an exceedingly good liar.
So the only way one could, and the only way one should, define the grin is- charming.

[Silmarwen Elanessë]

      Silmarwen turned to see a stranger holding out one of her flying papers. Anything was better than the grim faced guards in front of her. She pulled her long brown hair behind one ear revealing a somewhat pointed ear. She received the paper noticing the strangers exceedingly charming smile, yet quickly looked away nodding her thanks. She turned around to face the guards once more but was growing more and more uncomfortable as she noticed that the stranger was still behind her, and she guessed still smiling.

      This made it altogether more hard to face her previous dilemma; how to find the Circle of Dreams, and more importantly to get inside the gates away from this strange man. "If you could just give me some directions, please, I seem to have lost my way and I don't know how to find my way through the city. . ."       By now Fley had walked over to her dragging Silmarwen's pack along, and as she reached down to pick it up she was distracted by the man who had just given her her paper. Not knowing what he wanted of her, and fearing his somewhat (to her at least) ominous presence, she tried to ignore him as best she could. This, however,  did not work. He came around to her side and stood next to her as she waited for a response from the guard.

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