[City Gates] The Cedar Door - Post Upon Entrance

[Wildcard]

THE CEDAR DOOR -City Gates- Above a great mountain cleft valley running along the bubbling riverbed stands an immense arching gateway. It is nestled atop ancient rune carved pillars of stone buried into mounds of rock and the purity of snow. The remains of this cold gathering place rise like broken tusks, barely reaching over three feet while the adorned cedar entrance curves far overhead evoking the remanence of some massive door frame, all constructed from a single carven piece. They call it the Door... Along it's painted base are binded effigies and iconic memories of those lost to the harshness of the weather or ravaged by the greed of their fellow being. Standing underneath, the traveler is now at the cusp of the great city of Frigid River; they can see deep down along the main street, following the stone and smoke to the central promenade yonder. Behind them rises the stables and raw girdle of a welcoming and rustic Inn not twenty paces past the gated walls. The inviting entrance dawns coursing slopes and symmetrical curves to reflect it's strong and protective hearth with a stamina that but hints at the warm, close knit community beckoning just beyond...

Post Here Upon Entrance - OPEN

[Azdra]

TS: The First Brightening of Cryxatum, Spring, Era XV
Location:The Ceder Gates
Time: Midmorning

Azdra approached quietly, dressed in her plain green dress, her lace boots, and her thick wool cloak lined with fur. A small bag was clutched across her shoulders. Other cities had guards posted that had required paperwork to enter, but she wasn't certain that Frigid River was big enough to merit such things. People passed through, but she didn't pay much attention to them. She was studying the structures of the city more than anything else. It fascinated her that the creatures who lived here built such things. She supposed they weren't designed to survive the snow and wind and cold of winter, but they lived here even in the summer when the forest was overrun with food and plenty.

If someone stopped her, she'd quietly talk with them, but they'd find she had no visa, no identification, and only a basic grasp of common. They'd also discover paperwork, the written word, or the fact such communication could exist would confuse her. The shingles on buildings meant nothing, nor did road signs. In that way, she was but a child here, using her nose and her eyes to determine what was bought and sold. And if any thieves tried to steal from her or even pick the pocket in her cloak, they'd find nothing but bits of fur... for she was equally ignorant of coin.

But that was the point, wasn't it? She came here to learn.

[Jacques de Lamont]

Timestamp: Evening of the First Brightening of Cryxatum, Spring, Era XV PF.

Cold. Wet and cold. Miserable, wet, and cold. And all the while, the small voice puttered around in the nethers of his mind, weaving enticing tales of youth, of power, of the love he left and the children he had yet to see. He could be with them, forever, could protect them and see to it that they never came in harms way, never had to endure pain, the fear of hatred, the rage that washes over a dracon backed in a corner, waiting to die and unwilling to do so... Blood, pus, and other effusions of strange and terrible creatures coating the scales, which to this day felt stained upon his claws, his neck, his eyelids... Lin'sea and Eion could live without that, Jacques was sure. They would have a good life. But no matter how many times the voice of his worse half told him these things, he knew, simply knew, that the way he was he could not give them peace, give them solace, or give them a haven. He was a monster, with rage, fire, and a chimaera in his belly. They might not even survive a night in his company.

He'd had these conversations before. And now, sitting on the side of a mountain he looked down on the snow-covered rooftops, the belltowers, the forts and the spires of churches in the distance. It had been a long time since he'd been in contact with other people. An era or two, it seemed... He doubted his rusted bladed gauntlets would be any sort of help in any sort of confrontation he might have, but there was one voice he needed to drown out and couldn't do alone, not anymore. It came from his stomach, and it growled.

What once looked like a small mound of snow stood up and unfurled its wings scattering the accumulated snow from the furs covering his body with a few shakes. It was not going to be a pleasant glide, though it was getting nicer by the day. Still cold, though... Always cold. Mouth clenched shut, Jacques wrapped his snout with strips of furs, then proceeded to wrap the rest of his head, the only opening being a small slit for the eyes. Much of the glide would have to be done with the eyes closed, or they would freeze. Sneaking peeks would be fine, he figured, but would still sting like knives. Being fully wrapped, the old dracon checked his belongings. Satisfied, he slung the pack over his shoulders to rest on his chest, took one final look back into the range he had called home for such a long time, and jumped forward with a snap of his wings.

"Youth awaits you, child of Lamont. A small home, a farmstead, a hunter's cabin... no one would know the difference." The voice spoke over the rushing of the wind, but it would have to get used to being ignored, especially now that there would be others around. People dislike dracons enough without them being crazy as well.

In the darkness of his mind, he felt the numbness in his wings, the icy jolts along his body where the wind found its way through to the scales and attempted to freeze his core. He tried to imagine the view, knowing he had to land somewhere near the main gate or at least get to the road. Bank slightly to the right.... Straighten out... For a second, he opened his eyes to inspect his trajectory. Good, and heading directly for the road. He closed his eyes again, to sink into his own world while he waited for the sound of trees shooting below him that would signal having to actually pay attention. It took its time... two minutes at least and he could hear the hiss of flying over a small copse of taller trees. He opened his eyes, banked to the left, and prepared to land.

It was rising slowly, gliding parallel to the road so as to have a soft place to land in the snow. The jolt of fear ran through him, as usual, and as the ground reached about three feet below him, he swung his legs forward, turning his massive body, and tightened his wings to catch the wind. Even before his fur-wrapped feet touched the snow, he knew he'd not done it right again. The claws caught, his body flipped, and in a dazzling explosion of snow, a large dracon faceplanted his landing not a hundred yards away from the gates to this city.

He grumbled in a muffled fashion as he dragged himself onto the road, snow falling off his body in sheets of white, sifting through his pack looking for his visa which he found still dry. Onward he moved, looking forward to a hot bowl of soup, some bread, cheese, and perhaps a whole chicken. The sky was the limit, figuratively, and Diana help whoever got in the way of his well-desired supping.

[Jade Alanon]

5th Brightening of Cryaxatum, Season of Spring

There was a surge of relief as Jade and Nymira caught sight of the large construct known as the Door that led the way into Frigid River. The sisters had been traveling for a while and were looking forward to resting when they got the chance, though this trip to Frigid River was not for pleasure nor was it for hunting, no there was a different reason for it. Jade had gotten word of the capture of a hard criminal, the criminal she knew as Jerack. He wasn't being executed, which she was disappointed about. No, she wasn't disappointed because she had vowed that she herself would murder the man in cold blood and she stuck to it.

She traveled to Frigid River with the express intention to see Jerack one last time before he was imprisoned, however she had no delusions that it would hold him long, only death could keep Jerack out of Jade's life and she would see to that. Jerack was such an odd and sore subject for the young woman, Jerack had been her best friend as a child, the demon of her nightmares, and the biggest liar she had ever met. She had been told that he was her half-brother and she didn't believe it, no blood of her blood could do what he had done with her. He had gone after her family and killed them and he had gone after her lover, never would he be anything more in her eyes then a cowardly monster.

Nymira was silent as the two made their way across the riverbed towards the large construct. There was no guard to take her visa, no foolish questions and no need to explain Nymira or show off her weapons. As usual, Aganadara remained hidden within it's pouch at her side, her staff being the only visible staff. Jade saw the rustic Inn nearby and decided that she would enter the Inn and rest before facing the demonic bastard Jerack.

[Elmaryia Grey Leonard]

1st Brightening of Cryaxatum, Season of Spring

After leaving Arkamat Elmaryia Leonard decided to do some more exploring of the empire and she had heard that Frigid River was beautiful. After parting from Valanthia and sending word to Straylor. The imperial consul instructed her coach to drive to Frigid River, and after she presented her visa the young woman entered the gates of the city.

[Kella Greeran]

TS: 1st of Aperitus, Morning, Spring, Era XV

Gods she hated this place. The memories, the altitude, the populace that didn't tip for beans. Yoska's last great prank and her father's punishment for visiting her generally loathed grandfather. The young gypsy had to die up here and the old man had to live up here. It was ironic the more she articulated it, but then she had a gallows sense of humor. Occasionally, more melancholy than her Shadow-horse, Atalias, preferred.

The black beast looked normal enough for being a costly seeming creature, save it wore blinders to dim its sight, even as they rose from the lonely wilderness.

They rode in a quiet communion, until Kella finally fell into the shadow of the door.

Well, we're here. A rather flat announcement followed by an equally gray, Huzzah.
At least feign pleasure, Kella, since I had to carry your ass all the way here. Make me feel like I didn't work in vain.
The woman grinned, despite herself.
You're right. It will be cathartic to see Grandpa. Work out some of that Vagaran guilt I have over not maintaining strong tribal ties. And…
Kella's thoughts wound into nothingness as she stared at the "V" of space between Atalias's ears.
And what?

They were passing through now, Kella flipping her visa open to whomever cared to look.
And it will be healthy to say a proper Serale to Yoska.
An improvement, you're never healthy about anything. The animal seemed to whinny a chuckle.
You gotta start good habits somewhere. An untamed little smile crooked her mouth. But it doesn't mean I won't end them in the same place.

[Korgar Kinslammer]

Timestamp:First Cycle in the Month of Cryxatum, Season of Spring, Era XV

The snow dissolved beneath his feet, crushed by the tremendous weight of the two-hundred and fifty pound dwarf. Although his iron-like muscles and obstinate resolve were compacted in short frame, the young Zerdargian radiated toughness on every level. Hardened by the road and tested in combat, the trek to Frigid River had not been completely devastating for the seasoned adventurer. For some, the village’s climate would have withered their bones to ice, but not for Korgar Kinslammer.

The dwarves of Zerdargia were more durable than steel.

Puffing out his enormous chest as he reached the gates, the dwarf unfastened the clasps of his tattered traveling cloak. The mantle’s folds naturally fell backwards, revealing a heavy crossbow attached to his belt that was inferably linked to the quiver of arrows strung across his back. Over the quiver, however, he wore a pair of battleaxes crossed in the shape of an ‘X’. His equipment was far from flashy; however, it worked and that was all that mattered.

He’d recently returned from an expedition to the Enamorian Midlands, one that had pitted him against the vilest beast he’d ever seen before: an ogre. High Peak’s Crager beast was comparable by all accounts, but there was something about the ogre’s maliciousness that had terrified the dwarf’s very core. In any case, he’d survived that ordeal, and with that one under his belt, it was time to tackle another.

That was the life of Korgar Kinslammer.

Humming in a baritone voice, the dwarf continued past the gates, occasionally inquiring directions from the random citizenry he passed by. His destination was the Court.

[Ebramsom de Lylles]

Cryxatum 10th brightening

Ebramsom arrived at the City of Frigid River glade that he could wear something other then furs. He was wearing simpler clothing, but had desided to wear his ring on this brightening.

He was nicely dressed in a white shirt and brown pants with a brown cloack over his shoulders. Blond hair framed his face and green eyes danced as the youth came upon the Cedar door.

The youth passed to look it over and then enter Frigid river to see what would happen.

[Duncan Sythe]

Mid-Cryxatum, Season of Spring

To say the figure that appeared unbothered by his surroundings would be...entirely true. Kyle Linvail was entirely unaffected by the weather in his Imperial greys with uniform and heavy fur cloak. The Imperial sword belt hung at his hip and his bearded face appeared both worn and non-threatening in his Eras of ages. He was a middle aged man entirely resigned his his fate. Indeed Kyle Linvail's best qualities to Duncan Sythe as a fake persona relied on him appearing utterly...normal. Your average middle aged, overworked Imperial Military officer.


Thus a visa was shown at the gate, nods were given and a man passed through.

Kyle Linvail had vanished five minutes later, he would never be seen to leave Frigid River.

[Connor O'Riley]

5th of Cryxatum, Season of Spring

After leaving his boat at the nearest port city Connor decided to visit Frigid River for no apparent reason. He walked up to the gates and saluted the guards and showed them his visa. He then showed them his longknife and he was waved through. He now wished he had brought a cloak from that city. He now shivering walked to the nearest clothing store to get a cheap cloak.

[Luit]

Timestamp: Morning, The Tenth of Cryxatum in the Season of Spring, Era XIV Post Fractum

Luit approached the city gates with a rather quick step, seeking to get inside as soon as possible. He was here due to the call for help he had read about in the Herald, and he wanted to start working towards a solution as soon as possible. Not having time for the usual exchange of pleasentries, Luit quickly greeted the guards and showed his visa to them. With all his papers checking out, Luit proceeded through the gate and towards the town center.

[Atlus Wunderhof]

End of Cryxatum, Era I, XV PF

If there was one thing a Giant was used to was rejection. This is something that had been taught to Atlus even as a young child by his elders. If it were not for thier size, it was for thier appetite. If not for that is was the gods awful idea that all Giants are barbari and hostile.

With a sigh Atlus thought to him self, "Here I go again"

The land was beautiful and reminded him of his homeland during the winter. Crisp air, beautiful mountainous scenery, who could ask for more? It was all almost worth the unexcuseable way he was denied entrance to a city he only wished to help.

Tired and achy Atlus slumped his way into Frigid River...

[S'Lon]

Imperos 8, Summer, Era XV

It had been a fast trip from the forests of the Dolwood, a trip made possible by the elven windstepper that he paused underneath the archway and surveyed the town that lay beyond. He'd heard of this place from Zo, but this was his first venture this far North.

He shifted in the saddle then continued on. He had somewhere new to explore, new contacts to be made and he hoped a new Ranger Hall.

[Nevemiél]

TS: Fifth Brightening, Ioannes, Summer, Era XV (pf)

Nevemiél paused on a tall cliff overlooking infamous Frigid River; drawing a sharp, chill breath, he watched as immense pillars of sunlight breached the stormy clouds to cast their tremulous, golden illumination across the scattered buildings of the city. Hawks cried in fierce pride hovering above, borne aloft treacherous mountain currents. Amidst the wild wind-swept tundra and the lingering drifts of snow defying the advent of summer, the thiefling's nose quivered strangely. He savored the imminent taste on his lips, wafting on a queer breeze from the city.

Peril, rogue work, shadow-laid plots, twisted cunning. He savored it all. He had come and travelled far for it. Slowly, Nevemiél smiled one of his true smiles, a smile like a single glitter of light dancing on the razor-honed edge of a knife. He shifted his burden as he briskly recovered the road he was travelling and descended all the way down to Frigid River.

[Invier]

Timestamp: Early Morning, Fourth Brightening of Ioannes, Summer, Era XV

The wheels of the caravan rolled on ponderously towards the great Door. It moved slowly since the slurry made the path treacherous and the Caravan Master didn’t want to lose the goods this close to their destination. As he warmed his hands with his breath he thought of the months they have been travelling with the precious cargo, moving as far as they possibly could so that they might fetch the best value they could for the goods. It was a long, brutal, journey and they had lost more than a few of the slaves to the harsh conditions.

The slave handler rode around the wagons with the cages on them, she too was glad to be close to the city and looking forward to the pay and dreaming of spending it before riding out again. The merchandise had been well behaved. She was an expert in breaking the spirit of people so much so that now it was mostly rote for her. The only one who had given her any trouble was the weird half elf and even he cracked eventually. Although she still didn’t like the way he looked at her, something about his face and those reddish eyes disturbed her to her very core.

Deep in the cage surrounded by the smell of other bodies a pitiful figure waited, he seemed calm even in these conditions. The whip marks on his back gave him no trouble and although his eyes were closed in contemplation the rest of the slaves tried to give him as wide a berth as possible. As the wagon went over a particularly rough bump that jostled them all, Invier opened his eyes and gazed over to the city where he was to be sold. As he ran his fingers though his once long dark hair and looked down on his now emaciated body he started thinking of a way to ensure he was sold to someone who would be of use to him…