Versian City Gates (Post Here First)

[Nimh]

Originally, Vers, the tiny Arcane village situated deep in the corner of Sherian, was safely nestled between the rolling grass of the Sherian foothills and the sand beaches of the province's eastern coast. The city's walls seemed to have been built with the sole intention of keeping the rest of Telath out, creating their own little universe amongst the contrasting mountain ranges and seas. Vers had been built securely in the hold of its natural barriers, happily surviving in a world without time while the Empire swirled on without them. The walls weren't entirely imposing, but had the character of the sturdiness of many eras, aged into a grander state by the maturity of time and the changing of seasons. Often, particularly during the warm months, the grassy plains extended straight to the Versian walls, brushing up against the rough granite stone that marked out the rough boundary of the town. Small wildflowers popped their heads through the loose strands of grass as they reached for the sunlight above, shivering as gentle breezes blew through their petals. A few insects often enjoyed surprising visitors to the city's gates, finding their ways into folded clothing or uncovered skin. The few sporadic trees that broke up the green monotony were aged and yellowed, as if they had seen the very first foundations of Vers being built and still remained as sentinels to a time gone past.

The Planar Shift, a mysterious Arcane phenomena that had rushed the mageocracy of a town from one hilltop to another meters away and a good distance more inland, hadn't caused great structural damage to the curving, winding gray stone wall, but did succeed in confusing a few travellers to Vers' actual location. The present guards manning the twenty-five foot high structure were kept on high alert for a lost traveller. Their eyes remained ever fixed on the horizon, intent upon catching whatever pilgrim who wandered before the moss-covered walls' shadow, whether in sight of the new location of the Versian gates or wandering in its previous location. The wall itself varied in thickness, but was never thinner than ten feet. The stones were old, worn and covered in spots with scraggly ivy. At specific points, the stone boundary had strong towers and heavy doors built into it, lending places of defense for the small smattering of mostly-human guards manning the walls in their forest-green uniforms. Almost all Versian militia carried spears and short-swords, but a quarterstaff was not an unusual choice either. A few crossbow-tips glittered in the sunlight from atop the wall itself, warning away any possible stranger from encroaching on Versian land. Of course, the true strength of the Versian City Guard didn't rely on the obvious presentation of their weapons, but rather their deep-rooted Arcana, enabling them to turn away undesirables on many an occasion. Few knew the true arsenals of potential damage the Versian Guards wielded, but, if any possibility of danger reared its ugly head, it was certain to be extinguished without a moment's delay.

Depending on the time of the brightening, either Waldoff or Drinnie the talkative Gnome manned the front gates, ready to accept Visas and strangers into the Versian fold. For a long time, Waldoff had been the sole greeter; Drinnie had never been one for gate duty. Although the gnome would never admit it, his fear was rooted mainly in his self-consciousness of his tiny size. Drinnie had known full-well that he didn't cut the most indimidating figure on the skyline. Many a troublemaker would ignore the warnings spouted by the tiny creature, despite his well-versed knowledge of Arcana and his more than eager temperment. His adversion to gate duty had changed, however, early one winter. Drinnie had arrived for work atop a roughly humanoid assemblage of stone, earning him a place of respect both in the minds of his co-workers and his own self-esteem, giving the tiny creature the confidence he desperately needed to perform his job well. The created walking hunk of rock was in no way specifically detailed; it had little in the way of facial features, and the spear at its side was simply an extension of its arm carved from the same chunk of stone. Regardless of its shortcomings, Drinnie was very proud of his makeshift golem-creation, and the results had served their purpose, earning him the right to handle the Versian gates with efficiency.

Drinnie could still remember that morning even now, and never ceased to relate the tale to a listening ear, and sometimes even to the more reluctant ears. Rallus, the stuffy, pompous Elf who often managed to hold the motely Gate Guard crew together, had been on the portcullis winch when Drinnie first arrived with his masterpiece. Needless to say, once Rallus caught sight of the Gnomish guard's head up over the golem’s shoulder, the Elf was in as much shock as Drinnie had ever seen on a mortal face. No one had expected such creativity and ingenuity out of a creature everyone thought talked more than he actually thought. The success of Drinnie's golem had, however, forever eerned the respect of his peers and solidified his place amongst the elite of the Versian Guard. At times, even Rallus admitted a bit of envy over Drinnie's fine work, but the Elf would be loathe to admit it and more often denied then fact than admired the stone mechanism from afar.

”Good, innit?” Drinnie had said, filled with pride as he showed off the golem's range of movement to any who were moving around the Guardhouse. ”I finally managed to activate it this afternoon. Seems to be nuthin' wrong wid' it." A few of the more skeptical guards originally accused Drinnie of stealing it from some master teacher at the Imaden, but time had shown that only the Gnome's sense of humor and personality could have created such a quirky creature. The golem was far from perfect, but it did have its benefits, one being the expediency of travel for the short-legged gnome. It hadn't turned into a rampaging monster, and, although some would refuse to admit such a thing, the golem had helped everyone in one way or another in their daily tasks along the wall. And so far, nothing much had gone wrong with it at all. A good sign, all considering.

With the watch cycling between Drinnie and Waldoff posted outside, and Statler or Rallus working the crank, new arrivals could always expect to be given admittance to the town fairly promptly; assuming that was, their credentials passed muster. And so came the standard question to all who arrived at the gates, heralded or unheralded; "Righto, you'll be wantin' in, yes? Out with the Visa, then."

OOC: All New PCs: Please note that the city of Vers has shifted from its original position and will not be in the expected place according to maps or memory from before Autumn of Era IX, Post-Fractum. Please RP accordingly.

You may storytell and assume passage through the gates if you are not Faery. PM a GM if your PC is a member of aforementioned race.

Collectively written by Kenaz, Spectre, Tatercake and Charybdis.

[Anvael Andares]

Timestamp: Summer of Era XI in the Age of the Darkening
The First Brightening of Optia

The elf that approached the gates of Vers was pale, to an extent that was rarely seen in those of the lightborn kind, and slender. He was almost as tall as a grown man, but his face possessed a delicate softness that betrayed his real age. There were still a couple of patterns until he could call himself an adult. Big, intensely violet eyes under snow white lashes looked ahead, took in every detail. A smile graced the young man’s features. Vers with its old, ivy covered walls, the city of mages, looked like a place he could be comfortable in.

He had almost studied arcana when he had been in Zinn’Sunn, but then he had found out that they needed an aedile in Medonia. Of course he had jumped at the opportunity. Moranor and Tiyribi were not the only ones that had an interest in politics – although they were of course far more skilled – and did not sneak around in the graveyard after dark and hunted cats that were possessed by demons. After a few months the job had gotten boring though, and he had decided to move on. He still missed his old house though. It had once belonged to a governor … and the governor’s ghost had still haunted it when he had moved in …

A gnome! A tiny, very, very talkative gnome! Anvael’s eyes instantly widened as he looked at the strange creature. “My … my visa?” he asked and removed the desired document from a small leather pouch at his belt. “Of … course … here it is …” He breathed a sigh of relief as the gnome handed it back, nodded to him and moved into the city …

[king JJ]

Is This A Game Or Just Posts

[M'jyrea]

M'jyrea approached the walls of the city of Vers slowly, reluctant to leave the beautiful plains which surrounded her. She had been walking idly through the lush green plains enjoying the fragrant breeze and warm sun as she traveled. She hadn't expected to reach the city so soon, especially because she hadn't really been looking for it all that hard as she had wandered the country side.
As M'jyrea got closer to the gates she began to grow nervous. She wasn't a very confident person and always seemed to break out into a nervous sweat whenever the prospect of speaking to a person of authority arose. How she was ever going to get up the courage to find an Arcana instructor if she couldn't even feel confident about talking to the guard at the gate she had no idea.
Reaching into the pocket she had sown onto the side of her plain green dress, she clutched at her imperial visa. Oh please say the guard will let me in! she thought to her self frantically. When she reached the gates, she was so nervous that she hardly noticed the stone golem outside of the gates. Speaking to the ground and holding out her visa she mumbled "Please, I would like to go into the city. Here's my visa, if you need to see it." The Gnome at the gate seemed friendly enough as he took her visa and looked at it but M'jyrea was still slightly nervous. When he handed her back the visa, she stuffed it quickly into her pocket, smiled shyly at the guard and head into the city unsure of exactly what she was looking for.

ooc: sorry for repeating the post...I've been busy.

[Carly Jr'ana]

Time Stamp: Early Morning, Brightening 22,
Third Cycle of Imperos, Summer of Era II of the Celestine Mandate,
Era XI Post Fractum in the Age of the Darkening, the Mageocracy of Julos the Mad
Paradigm: Carly arrives in Vers

Approaching the city gates of Vers for the second time in one Era, the little blue elf whistled happily to herself as she trailed her feet through the lush grass plains of Sherian. Last time she had come here she had spent a very small amount of time within the city walls, a cycle at best. This time she came to stay, and it showed in her posture and dress. Remembering back to her adventures in the province last spring she couldn't help but giggle at it in her childish manner, it seemed so long ago and yet she still had so much to do.

Her business's would provide her ample moneys to stay within a tavern in the meantime until she could set up another business and buy a house somewhere. Perhaps she would set up one of those costly fish farms just off the coast, doubtful in the short-term. Most likely she would hunt down whoever ran that postal service and negotiate a contract to cart letters from place to place. Waving happily at the men atop the walls as she approached the city she wondered who ran the Ikos training within Vers, for many cycles now she had felt the need to continue her Ikos training and Vers seemed the place to do it now that Eunesia was shut off to the public.

As she took the last few steps up towards the gate the thelyri withdrew the sea weed wrapped visa from her pocket and carefully unwrapped it, presenting it to the guard with the best smile she could muster.
"I'm here to train at the Imaden, and set up shop."
Drinnie, the gnome, smiled down at the little girl from atop his golem and to his mistake treated her like a child.
"That's good little girl, going to become a big strong initiate are you?"
Carly, who now took her visa back from the gnome, glared upwards at the little wart atop that disgusting moving junk pile of a golem and hurumphed. Pushing her backpack further up and back, and pulling down on her dress so that it did not ride up at the same time she proceeded through the gates.
"I'm an apprentice you midgit."

[Willibald O'Dande]

25th brightening of Aperitus Summer of Era II of the Celestine Mandate, Era XI Post Fractum in the Age of the Darkening, the Mageocracy of Julos the Mad.

After the events in Ieffreon Willibald O’Dande had been on the move travelling across the empire as fast as his cether sized legs could carry him. He needed answers and Vers was the next place on his adventure, the place he hoped would bring him to a sense of closure. He was driven by a need to know, the funny little man that had dug up a grave stone in Arconis had been put aside for the duration of this quest. His constant companion the gnome Flopsy had left him in Abestat saying

Come and find me when the old Willi is back

Willi was leaner and harder than ever before in his life the funny tartan clothes were gone replaced by sober brown and dun colours, he had hacked his hair short and there were deep bags under his green eyes. The book he had bought was dog eared and limp from study but the more he read the less he understood .The dice had not seen the light of day and were still hidden in his shirt.

He shrugged as the gnome guard on the golem as so many before him asked for papers and his purpose, his papers were proffered and his business was research.

Willi marched into the city and looked around for an inn and a friendly face, he had some questions to ask.

[Steve Lionhart Gil'dae]

Ooc: Trip cancelled. Sorry about the vast empty space

[Hsin]

~Middle of Junctior, Era XI~
~~++====++~~

He approached the low walls and sturdy gate alone save for the dusk-grey alicat circling in the heavens above. Only a satchel slung over his thin shoulders bore witness to his worldly possessions, and save for the rich clothing he wore many would dismiss the Kemite as merely another vagrant. In the bag was simply a change of clothing for two days, enough for the rest of his possessions to drift in. Hsin Zhou had no intension of rousing suspicions, especially so soon after the events in Medonia. Without a word to another visitor, the Kemite entered the queue already gathering at the gates. One white-gloved hand pulled a well-worn visa from a pocket sewn into the interior of his coat.

"Righto, you'll be wantin' in, yes? Out with the Visa, then. What’s your business here in Vers?" asked Drinnie with a smile as he sized up the human standing tall above him. It looked like simply another merchant, or perhaps a rich would-be mage come to make use of the city’s wonderful universities.

Hsin handed him the visa with his left hand. ”I’m here to pay a visit to the Imaden School.”

”Aye, as long as you don’t start any trouble,” muttered Drinnie as he handed the visa back ”Goodbye, and have a nice day.”

The young man tucked the visa back in his jacket and entered the city.

[Vylle Fyrrialt]

Timestamp: Summer Era XI Post-Fractum, Reign of Emperor Julos the Mad

Remy Bordoir was the man in charge of Sherian Post while Vylle Fyrrialt, the proprietor of the provincial post system, was in Lauryl dealing with his responsibilities as the Exchequer of that province. Thus, it was left to Remy Bordoir, a recent Jaedaxian emigrant to Taralon, to manage Sherian Post in Vylle's stead. He was paid handsomely for it, and as Sherian Post made money, so did Monsieur Bordoir.

Recently, a need had arisen for Sherian Post to open an administrative centre in Vers. Most of the managers and administrators of the post network were in the two renovated guild halls Vylle leased, and there were also several managers working in the office space above the Narim post office. When Sherian Post had first been started an era ago, when it only served Taralon and Narim, a Versian office had been uneconomical. The low population of Vers combined with the high cost of running an office meant that it was not worth the investment, and in fact would have cost more money than it made. Now, however, Sherian Post had dozens of routes in the Sherian countryside, beyond the cities, serving the millions of people who lived in hamlets and boroughs in the Narimite Valley, the Black River valley, and along the southern coast. There were no post offices along those routes, but there were large amounts of couriers that frequently stopped to collect and deliver mail in each village.

There was now sufficient need to open a Post Office in Vers, where Versians could drop off their letters to the rest of the province, as well as an office above the office, like the one in Narim, where the nearby routes could be administered.

With Vylle still in Lauryl, it fell to Remy to do the job.

So he rode, on his Jaedaxian longhaired horse, from Taralon to Vers. At the gates he produced his Visa, and replied to the gnomish gate guard, not pronouncing his 'h's and throatily pronouncing his 'r's, "I am 'ere to conduct ze businezz of my employaire, Vylle Fyrrialt. 'E wishez t'open a post offize 'ere."

The gnome waved him through, and Remy made for the Aedile's office.

[Rygan Nebarska]

Timestamp: Mid-Junctior

After wandering for a considerable amount of time after Eunesia flushed out its foreigners and its poor oweing to an economic crisis that left it unable to support them, Rygan had finally arrived at his next destination, his next adventure.

He strode through the lush plains toward the agaed stone walls of Vers. The emerald grass waved gently in the breeze, creating an interesting difference in shades of green between it and his very dark, almost to the point of black, forest green cloak, the hood of which draped behind his head, he enjoyed the wind in his hair and did not wish to wear it at the moment.

As he approached the city, he had noticed the old road still belying the former location of the city and the Planar Shift, an odd and interesting phenominon in Rygan's mind, that had occured in the ninth era. However, Rygan, having accurate directions and being able to see the city walls, followed the newer road to the current location of Vers.

When he reached the gates, he was greeted by a little gnome atop a man-sized stone golem, with an arm crafted into a spear, an impressive creation in Rygan's mind, after all, no matter how crude it looked, it worked, an impressive feat for anyone.

In response to the gnome's words of, "Righto, you'll be wantin' in, yes? Out with the Visa, then.", Rygan produced his visa from within his cloak. Drinnie took a look at it, making sure everything matched, and said, "Al'ight, everythin's in order, you can go through," an unseen figure cranked up the portcullis, "If ye' don't mind me askin' what business do ye' have here in Vers?" Rygan smiled, this gnome was a friendly one, "I am here in response to Lord Ludstone's piece in the Herald, I figure my skills in Thaumaturgy could be useful." Drinnie smiled on his small face, "Well then, good luck to ye' then!", and waved him through the open gate.

[Lohrtar Silvermoon]

Afternoon of Thera, Brightening 16 of Imperos
Summer of Era II of the Celestine Mandate
Era 11 PF in the Age of the Darkening
Paradigm: Schism in the Church of the Faith

Ah, Vers. The istantly recognizable city gates that surrounded the city. Already the mass of arcana seemed to soothe him, as if it were a breeze of fresh air on a hot day. He was weary from travel, and tired and hungry. This had not seemed to go his way since he had left Ieffreon. In fact it had begun to go wrong a while before that. He had no money, and no possessions to speak of... For an Ikonomancer his luck had been terrible, he thought. In fact it was rather astounding that the wilderness had not gotten the best of him, and left him a rotting corpse for the wildlife to feast on. To Lohrtar this was not just a manner of luck. Rak had allowed him to life. He had spared him once more, so that he could fullfil his purpose. And that purpose was a quest of sorts, which would begin right here in Vers, and only the gods of Aetheria knew where it would end.

He did not look too presentable on this particular afternoon. He had let his beard grow for cycles, as he had been wandering around in the wilderness, wondering which way to go. He could barely keep his eyelids open, let alone maintain eye-contact with the guards, and his clothing was dirty and tattered. Indeed, Lohrtar was quite beside himself on this brightening. ”Serale”, muttered the Ikonomancer, who could easily pass for a beggar on this brightening. The little nodded with more energy than Lohrtar would have been able to muster, and smiled. ”Seems in order, what’s your purpose here in Vers?”, he asked. Lohrtar contemplated his reply. The truth was simple. He had come back to Vers, the city whence the art of Ikos had come from, so that he could seek out its creator: Deirdre Lorelei. Naturally, she was nowhere to be found in Vers, having been banned by the ungrateful city, and their unrational law against fae. There was no sense in this, especially now with Julos being overthrown. The next step on his grand path was to become a master of his art, something that was not so easily accomplished. It was certainly not for everyone. But Lohrtar was, at least in his own mind, the magical elite, if such existed. To himself, he seemed worthier than anyone of the title of master, even archmage. Therefore, his quest was to seek out the only person he considered worthy of making Lohrtar an accomplished mage. This was the only place such a quest could be started, as there had been no reports of seeing Lorelei anywhere outside of Vers, to Lohrtar’s knowledge. But she couldn’t have left without leaving a trail, could she?

Nevertheless, his business was his own, not something he would share with a nosy gnome anyhow. He forced a friendly smile upon his lips, and spoke: ”I’m here to study in peace, with like-minded individuals, here in the city of Vers.” It was vague, but good enough for the guard. ”Right right. Go on through mister”, said the gnome, and Lohrtar passed through the gates, to the marvel of a city that was Vers.

[Milo L'Evienne]

Optia, Summer of Era II, Era XI

A group of five riders approached the gates of Vers, but only after a slight detour amidst great debate. The sole rider not dressed in the uniform of an Imperial guard had yet to visit the unusual city, despite patterns spent in Sheria, so he couldn’t rightly say where the city had, or hadn’t been. A female elf though, the only elf amongst the guards, had insisted it should’ve been elsewhere and insisted that it was perhaps only a trick of the eye that it had moved. Put nothing past these mages, she’d pointed out, where an illusion like that could certainly confuse an attacking force. Whatever the case, as a result, the entourage appeared to take a rather serpentine approach to the city.

While his gaurds…two humans, an elf and a half elf, were garbed in Imperial livery and well armed, Milo looked an unlikely candidate for Imperial Consul to the Confederation of the Sherian. He’d never taken to the idea of titles, or being trailed about by a retinue of guards. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would consider him important enough to consider a target and so it wasn’t unlike him to try and give his gaurds the slip on occasion. No matter his marriage to the governor of the Sherian, no matter that he was in the employ of the empress, no matter what authority he now held, he was still the actor come politician, come lawyer, come consul. And so he looked it, dressed in dark brown riding breeches and boots, a dark blue shirt rolled up at the elbows…with a cigarillo case slipped in the front pocket, riding gloves and a battered leather hat atop his head. His hair was unbound and a thin cigarillo was clenched between his teeth. He was simply armed with a rather ornately designed falchion slung from his hip…dragons carved into the grip and down the blade. His guards, however, were better armed, and better still the human guard at his side…A large man with curly dark hair, weathered skin and bright blue eyes by the name of Erol.

While Milo didn’t care for the grand production, the mare he rode seemed to care a great deal for her new status. Where Milo might be confused for a commoner crashing a parade of Imperial guards, Lu looked right at home and seemed to consider herself the better of the pair. She was a flashy beast, tall and black with an arching neck and high stepping, animated gait.

Lucky for the group of riders, Waldoff was on gate duty that brightening. While Milo was of a disposition to find a welcome distraction in the nature of the gnome, his guards rarely shared his tendency to linger where not necessary. Visas were produced and Erol took the words from Milo’s mouth, and fancied them up some. ”His Imperial Excellency, Consul to the Confederation of the Sherian, the lord Earl Milo du’Galle Ducet L’Evienne.” Milo visibly frowned. Milo L’Evienne suite him fine, and preferable to the title he now wore trailed out behind him. As to the explanation of their visit, any questions were forestalled with an expression from Erol which implied, ‘It’s none of your bloody business.’ But in this matter, Milo spoke up. ”I’ve come to pay your beautiful city a long overdue visit, and to reacquaint myself with the illustrious lord Sidh.”

Things worked out and visas returned, the group passed through the gates on their way to the Versian City Council.

[Drake Stormbringer]

Gates. Lines. Heat. Why did these things always were present together,, and why was Drake present when they had their little reunions. Those were questions beyond the Giant's understanding, not that he capable for any lucid thought at the moment. Wiping his forehead with his big palm the big man quickly dried his hand against his pants, preffering his sweat to remain there than on his head, dripping, itching.

Gates. Lines. Heat. Time went by, probably not too much, but it seemed to be a lot. Drake concidered eating his way through line, it will get him in the city faster and will save him money on dinner, but there they were, social norms, Drake had to kill the one who invented them some day. Waiting as patiently and quietly as he could he used his height to see what was taking so long.

Gates. Heat. Finally, the line has ended, well for all Drake cared it was over, not even looking back at the other people standing in the line. "Serale, here's my Visa and I don't carry weapons" he said to the guard, fairly familiar with going into and out of cities in this long trip he was in. Waiting until the guard on duty let him enter he just stood, towering over the waiting masses, and then quickly entered the city of Vers.

No gates. No lines. Heat.

[Magus Syfer]

Mid Junctior, Summer of Era II, PF XI

Atop his faithful horse, Magus approached the gates of the fabled city of Vers. A follower of magic, he had heard wondrous tales of the city, and he was eager to feast his eyes on the sights it held. He had pushed his horse hard over the past few brightenings, eager to reach the city, cursing the length of the journey at each step. His pulse quickened at the thought of the festivities that awaited.

Nudging Moonshine onwards, he cantered towards the guards who held postings at the gate.

"Serale, my good fellows. I am Magus, and I hail from the far northern city of Demios. I heard news about exciting happenings of the arcane inclination happening in Vers, and would be keen to participate."

As the guards demanded him of his visa, Magus dutifully procured the document for inspection. After all that was duly processed, Magus waved them farewell, and proceeded onwards into the city.

[Icarus]

OOC: Edited due to anti-fae political problems... silly racists.