| The Imperial City | |
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| Topic Started: Dec 21 2015, 02:15 PM (12 Views) | |
| Tak | Dec 21 2015, 02:15 PM Post #1 |
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Ah, finally! The end of your travels! You pass through a small village, almost missing the little inn, dinky farm, and lacking stable that constitute it, and as the massive stone walls of the great city rise before you the sound of bustling civilization breaks the peaceful countryside silence. Instantly the smells of the Cyrodiil capital smash you in the face! Fine Cyrodiilic Brandy, Imperial style seared slaughterfish, coquettish perfumes, and those beautiful plaster faced buildings! The scents of people, too, become distinct as you set foot on the bridge, which allows man and mer from all of Tamriel to enter at the city's west side. Foot traffic thickens, then, becoming those for entry and those for exit. Ahead of you, each race is represented by at least one creature; the Orcs, the Dunmer, the Breton, the cat-like Khajiit, and reptilian Argonian, the Nords, exotic Altmer, short Bosmer, Reguard, and, of course, the proud Imperial. A carriage passes out of the gates and by you, carrying a very pretty woman. A waft of her fruity musk mixed with the odor of horses flattens other scents for a moment. At the end of those boisterously populated lines are a number of officials, one man and one table, with a guardsmen at his side. Are you curious what they mean to ask, or nervous what they might find? As you reach the end of the line, you're called forward to the small wooden table. "Welcome to the Imperial City!" The fidgety, mustached census worker starts. "Name, please?" You give your answer, once glancing at the impressive guard, who is simply dripping in plates of armor. In this weather you almost feel sorry for the poor soul but he stands proud and seemingly unfazed. More questions quickly follow, each punctuated by your answer and the dictation taken down, in Cyrodiilic hand, on sheets of parchment. The moment your census information is complete, the guard steps close. "May I see your baggage?" You hand over your things for inspection, he stuffs an armored hand in amongst the assortment of items until he's satisfied, then, handing it back, he waves you through the passage. Inside and glad to be done with all foreseeable government business, the clamor of the great metropolitan pours over you. All around you visitors and residents comingle. A young chap of Redguard parentage approaches, brimming with energy! "Welcome to the Imperial City! If you're looking to do some shopping, head over to the Market District! Want to gamble? Place a wager in the Arena! Looking for peace or prayer? Then you want the Elven Gardens or the Temple District. Most of all, if you need a place to stay, there's always rooms for cheap at Luthor Broad's Boarding House, in the Elven Gardens District!" He stops to take a breath and hands you a small leaflet of paper. Looking at the slip, you realize that it depicts the city as a slightly detailed map; and that someone has taken the time to mark a dotted-line path from where you are now to the very building advertised. As the youth charges off to another newcomer, you look around, again, at your surroundings. A large street made of gray brick stretches on ahead and each side of that street is walled in with charming white stone buildings. Some establishments are marked with signs hung over the doors. So, here you go, then, traveller, whatever it is you've come for. This is the Imperial City of Cyrodiil; possibly the greatest city in all of Tamriel. |
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| Harper-Minstrel | Jan 27 2016, 05:23 PM Post #2 |
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Resident Demon House Plant
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After the census, the Guardsman, and the Redguard kid acting as a walking advertisement for a low-price inn, the city opened up to him. Not that it hadn't been open before, of course, but it was the first time he had been stopped at the gate for a census. The worker didn't seem pleased at his choice of name or the bare details he parted with when prodded with questions, but after a little while of being peeved the man had relented and the hunter had been let through. He tugged at his right arm, rolling the joint and grunting as he worked the 'stiffness' from the appendage. He stomped both boots securely onto his feet and glanced again at the small map the little fellow had given him, stepping to a touch of shade given by one of the looming buildings. Market quarter.. there. He wanted to speak with an alchemist, as he had been unable to find a few key plants for his practice out in the wilds. The season hadn't been kind to them this year.. if he couldn't find them, he was hoping one of the City herbalists had more luck. He checked his pockets - brace of potions here and there, his purse of coin (at least what he had brought) and a few other odds an ends such as a dagger. The sword on his back shifted as he did so, and he tightened the strap that ran along his chest, settling it more securely. He set off in the direction he had chosen, headed for the Market District. He wasn't given much more room than anyone else to move, but that he was armed afforded him both more attention from the guards and a bit more freedom to place his feet. He passed from the gate, into the city, and finally into the Market district without any issue. Nobody tried to palm his dagger, accost him, or insult him. The Imperial City was large, and the guards were vigilant and loyal. A novel experience, he mused as he walked past one of the steel-clad (and probably very hot) soldiers. The guard watched back as he passed, inclining their head (her, at a second glance - the plate didn't flatter her figure) and the hunter moved on. The Market District was.. suitably busy. Taking a deep breath, as if to plunge into a dive, Snare entered the flow of people, resolutely beginning to make his way toward first the stalls, then perhaps the stonework shops if he did not find what he needed. |
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7:23 PM Jul 10