Southern Entrance to Paxia [POST HERE FIRST]

[Striker]

Battered and broken, the once resplendent Winged Gates of Paxia were now shadows of their former selves, accurately reflecting the decrepit spirit of the ransacked city left for ruin. Whereas some city gates dilapidated from the touches of neglect and time, the majestic Winged Gates had been ravaged by the warmongering orcs during their infernal crusade, one that had nearly erased Paxia from the pages of history. Masterful sculptures fashioned in the likeness of falcons had once perched atop the gates, but now they too joined the amalgamation of granite, rubble, and debris which littered the perimeter where the Winged Gates had once stood.

Approaching Paxia, the southern road from the Ariumite Highlands opened wide enough to fit two carriages abreast. The remnants of the city walls and fortifications, piled half a giant’s height high, flanked the pathway and conveniently formed a bottleneck for arrivers to be ushered through. Where sentries of the prominent Falcon Legion had once patrolled as beacons of faith and courage, however, there now stood a single soldier garbed in apparel more befitting of a peasant than a veteran of that sorely depleted militia. The guard, a middle-aged human, sported shortly cropped black hair lined with streaks of gray that he seemed not to have remembered before the orcish invasion, and his ebony tunic, underlying a barely distinguishable violet-hued cape, was blemished with hues of various sorts –including traces of both dust and blood. His long sword, standard of the reputable Falcon Legion, was the only armament attached to his waist, but most notable of all was the touch of weariness in his hazel orbs, a weariness that had descended upon every Paxian in these dark times.

Beyond Paxia’s makeshift gates lingered the former crossroads which branched off into various sectors of the desolate realm. Although the city had once been easily navigational, the tattered and skeletal remains of burned, charred, and shattered buildings made it difficult to discern what had previously been. To the west, however, loomed the grand specter of the Grand Arena of Champions, a now vacant vicinity rumored to be the final resting place of thousands of orcs and city defenders alike. Whatever tales of heroics had transpired within those coliseum walls, though, would forever be lost in the endless vortex of time.

Ironically, the eastern walls of Paxia, which had once served as the residential district for the impoverished and unfortunate, now housed the sole survivors of the war. The demarcating lines of class, most commonly in forms of wealth, were no longer distinguishable amidst the hundreds of tents and recently constructed havens hastily erected to accommodate the populace. The sight would not be completely disheartening for onlookers, though, as a few genuine ‘buildings’ could be perceived. These structures, edifices of hope in comparison to the humble tents that encompassed, were those that were normally sought to provide assistance of many different calibers.

“Who are you and what do you want?” the guard, Jasper Burrows, would bluntly inquire to each individual of the diminished queue of visitors to decimated Paxia (which had certainly seen longer lines before!). Albeit tired, his brown eyes narrowed dubiously as he extended a large hand –noticeably callused- and demanded a form of identification.

OOC: Self-Modding is permissible

[Adamnen]

OOC: Is it just me or did my post in the old entrance thread disappear?

IC:

Adamnen's eyes widened. This city... its a mess!

These ruined walls... not what he'd pictured when he heard he'd be moving to Paxia. The gates, in their sorry state, offered a rather poor first impression to the approaching Katta. His enthusiasm that he'd kept up all day, it was draining away like water down a bottomless pit. Resolve taking over, Adamnen kept walking along the main road. There were two guards.

I could at least use directions, he thought. This in mind, he approached the lone guard. He lifted a claw above usual eye level to catch his attention.

"Serale," Adamnen said, looking up at the guard, "I seek entrance, and directions... here..." He withdrew from a pocket his deed, displaying the address. "I'm told its a hovel on some back alley."

[Striker]

The guard’s eyes steeled at the sight of the approaching katta, softening noticeably only when realizing that the newcomer was not of green skin and titanic proportions. As the sole guardian of the remnants of the Winged Gates, it was his responsibility to insure the security of the sparse few inside –though, why anyone would ransack the ruins of Paxia was beyond his imagination as there was very little left. His hands instinctively relinquished their battle-ready positions by the fine long sword strapped to his belt, and his head dipped apologetically to the katta.

“Let me see what I can do.” He tiredly replied. Tilting his head curiously, he accepted the parchment and his brown orbs flashed over it briefly before a single digit ascended to tap against his chin. Maintaining the thoughtful pose for a few seconds, a frown appeared across his face as he jabbed a finger into the distant horizon where the heart of Paxia to the North, heavily masticated by canon-fire and magic alike, stood in brokenness. The outlines of once magnificently designed buildings could be seen contrasting against the darkened skyline even amidst the high-piled rubble of lesser fortunate foundations.

“I’m sorry lad, but whatever’s left of your place is to the North. Most of the area was destroyed by those vile orcs, but if you’re intent on finding it then I suggest you begin there. Careful, though, as those parts aren’t completely devoid of dangers if you know what I mean.” Nodding apologetically, he handed the paper back to the katta.

[Adamnen]

Adamnen nodded. I don't know whether to wish the place is dust or hope it's still standing.

"My thanks," he said out of habit, "Serale, good day..."

He walked on down the road into Paxia, his tail flicking anxiously.

[Adelyn Weiss]

OOC: 2nd cycle of Immanis

Saddened by the state of Paxia, Adelyn tried desperately not to look too closely at the torn down walls and rubble, disregarding all memories and instead focusing on the need for reconstruction - setting herself at a distance from what it all meant.

Taking her visa out, Adelyn presented it to the guard and simply stated, "I am here to help rebuild and gather support for this idea." She walked hurriedly away to the place she knew Roland would be giving a speech momentarily.

[Striker]

Weary eyes from the sentry followed the movements of the approaching woman, and he gifted her with a nod –as much of a greeting as he could muster given his depressed state of being. From the grim look upon his face he was sympathetic that the woman had arrived, most likely in search of perished family or friends. It was the reason why most people came to the God-forsaken city after all. Jasper merely presumed her situation to be the same.

He was surprised, though, as she mentioned her aspirations to help rebuild the city, a response that awarded her a rare smile from the guard. “Is that so?” He rhetorically asked, glancing her over more thoroughly this time but not disrespectfully. Nodding approvingly, his mood seemed to brighten. “Head right along in then, ma’am, and good luck to you.”

[Tylag Moonstar]

Timestamp: 2nd Cycle of Immanis.

Tylag had come to stand with the Moonstar family as they proceeded to begin the reconstruction of Paxia. The human as he approahced couldn't believe the wreck of Paxia. he had heard of Josephine and Adelyn's stories and of other survivors, but seeing it for ones self was totally different.

I am amazed Josephine and Adelyn escaped this place there is very little left except rubble. The human thought to himself. As he approached the one guard who was left to check the entrance was different from when Tylag had entered Nexus. At that time there had be many soldiers guarding the walls and gates of Nexus.

Tylag was ready for the guards request and had his visa out ready for the guard. "My name is Tylag Moonstar. My family is coming to help rebuild Paxia and restore not only Paxia to her former greatness and restore hope to her people." Tylag responded to the guards question.

[Striker]

Jasper’s eyes widened incredulously as he examined the traveler’s visa, noting again the surname that accompanied it: Moonstar. Hadn’t one of those entered earlier in the brightening? Or had it been yesterday? Truthfully speaking, the human was having a difficult time remembering. Nevertheless, he merely shrugged and returned the Imperial Visa back to Tylag.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here, sir.” Jasper replied, and there was a rare trace of a smile that accompanied his words. Every time that someone arrived to the city declaring their desire to rebuild Paxia seemed to brighten Jasper’s mood, and it even seemed as if the skies had become that much brighter as well –to Jasper at least. Waving Tylag along appreciatively, the sentry merely sighed and perched atop a large piece of rubble that had served as his chair as of late.

How many more would come, he wondered with a smile.

[Tylag Moonstar]

"thanks" Tylag replied to the guard as the guard returned his visa to him and waved him through into the city. Putting his visa Tylag told the guard."you are doing a good thing here." And then Tylag hurried into the city to find his brother and the speech he is about to give.

[Medaerus]

OOC: Short post here.

2nd cycle of Immanis

IC:
Medaerus had traveled many candlemarks that day, waking up particularly early for this special day. Roland had informed him of his speech to the citizens of Paxia that he would give that day, and Medaerus did not want to miss it. The Moonstars would play an important role in the rebuilding of Paxia, the elf knew, and this speech would be the kick start of it all.

Approaching the gate and peering into the city, Medaerus's heart sank. He had heard much of the attack, but he had not visited the city since it was destroyed. The elf bowed his head in a moment of silence before presenting his visa to the guard, his eyes dull with sorrow.

[Grimkate Overearth]

25th of Immanis, In the Season of Spring
Era XIV Post Fractum, Era II of the Celestine Mandate

Primus Gaudeo had been a spectacular mistake. He was a fool to have thought that a clanless dwarf could make a life there. The Ironfists held an ironclad hold over the city, and would've doubtless made his life miserable all the way, though he'd been given the promise of a respectable position. He'd thought a few eras ago that a prolonged stay in Centripax would've been a mistake. Now he knew it was, and would probably never return.

But where to go from there? Time and again he'd pondered a return to Paxia, the city he'd fought for, whose citizens he'd led out of the gates and into relative safety as the Chief Constable's right hand in that invasion.

Alleria Prime also beckoned, where Grimkate had a good number of friends, and a lass to return to. Perhaps he would go there afterall, but first he had to settle things, and find out exactly what happened after his part in the battle of Paxia was done.

He returned the dubious look from the guard, and then held out his visa, which was ready in his hand to be given over. "Grimkate Overearth. I want to know what happened to the Chief after the invasion of Paxia."

The dwarf's Riparian Warhound behind him perked visibly at the mention of the word 'Chief'.

[Striker]

Medaerus

Jasper, a faithful guard of the once-esteemed Falcon Legion, rose from the massive rock on which he sat and met the approaching elf. Appraising the slender adventurer with a momentarily dubious glance, the human finally nodded after inspecting Medaerus’ visa.

“Welcome to Paxia.” He solemnly greeted. Jasper’s tone, as always, was filled with fatigue and weariness. “You’ll find the other townsfolk and such to the east in case you were wondering.” the guard suggested before handing the visa back to the elf and waving him in.


Grimkate

The sentry eyed the large war-hound skeptically, instinctively stepping backwards as if fearing that the unleashed animal would snap at him. He had seen such a creature before accompany several of the mercenaries that had come earlier in the pattern to clean up the orcs from Paxia, but frankly the large animals unnerved him. They reminded Jasper of many of the worgs that had come along with the orcs an era ago, brutal and fiendish beasts that had slain many of the sentry’s comrades.

“The Chief?” Jasper asked, reaching up to scratch at his grayed hair. It was clear from the unknowing expression upon his face that he was not entirely sure what the dwarf was talking about. A lot had happened during the invasion of Paxia, much of which was foreign to the lower echelon of the military –and in particularly the heavily battered Falcon Legion.

“Not sure I have an answer for you, but there are probably others in the city who do.” Jasper said apologetically before signaling that it was fine for the dwarf to move along if he desired to.

[Medaerus]

OOC: Nice to meet you, Striker

IC:
Medaerus barely took in the guard as he accepted his visa back. When he spoke, the elf was curious at his kind words and strange tone, but decided not to interragate further.

Nodding in thanks, he stepped through the gate and into the ruins of the town of Paxia.

[Grimkate Overearth]

"I was talking about the Chief Constable." Grimkate muttered as he started to walk into the city. "If you were a Falcon Legion man, you should at least know of him."

Heaving his heavy shoulders in a shrug, he continued into the city.

[Halftpint Naddas]

25th of Immanis, Spring, Era XIV Post Fractum, Era II of the Celestine Mandate

A small form approached Paxia from the south upon tiny, hairy feet. It was a halfling, a black-cloaked cether whom walked with a bulging backpack and a hunting knife resting on his hip. The hood was thrown up and the cether travelled alone towards the ruined city of Paxia. He had wandered for so long, given up so much, and in the end decided the only place to start over was the city that had to rebuild itself. Three cycles ago he began the trek, and it's purpose filled him with life again.

He stopped and drunk in the destroyed surroundings. A whistle sounded and he approached the lone guard of the city.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

Two dirty hands pulled back the hood of the cloak. Curly hair popped out of it and the hazel eyes of the halfling studied the guard. He pulled out his Imperial Visa and presented it to the guard.

"Name's Naddas, Halftpint R. Before my parents' passing," He lied, but it was a white lie, mainly he was sidestepping the recent awkward times he had. "I was an Assistant Aedile in Aelyria Prime. I was inquiring whether there was need for my services here during the rebuilding of Paxia." Were there? Truth was he didn't have anywhere else to go, but it would be nice to have a job.