OmegaRai
Member
Fotia Capital: Hot Gates
The massive walls loomed over the villagers and those who headed for the entrance of Fotia. There were beasts being rode with various belongings of the travelers strapped to their backs. Beasts of burden. These dragons were simple and used like cattle. These were known as Qli. There were many entrances to Fotia. One gate on each of its five sides, separated by the volcanoes. Those coming from Vrondi made their way to the southwest gates. Where armored Fotian guards stood ready. For anything.
ThranKaur visibly sneered at the lesser dragons, feeling a spark of annoyance at these… animals who share his kind’s name to act the way they did, and at the children that did this to them. However, it really wasn’t his place to judge. He had been gone for a long time, and this was no longer his world. Hey may debate themselves as much as they wanted.
Approaching the SouthWest Gate, still dressed in his ragged garb hat cleverly concealed his true nature, he looks up at the ‘large’ gate, before looking towards one of the guards. The light from the volcano nearby illuminated his armour in a… pleasing way, the orange light making the metal shine as if alight.
After waiting a while for the pack animals and others ahead of him to pass through, the Dragon in disguise heads towards the entrance to the city. Might as well see what they have done with the place.
As the heavy old soul stepped on the sand to cross the paths to the Fotian gates he would see the lively grass fields that were farms and homes to people that lived outside the gates. The smell of fresh baked foods and the sounds of playing children and working men. The road led straight into the Fotian gates.
However as they went they were stopped and checked one by one by the guards at the gates. The checks were simple. Citizenship or no entry. It was soon the turn of the robed man. The guards standing next to the entry gates kept their weapons in their sheathes. It was clear they were prepared and capable given their size and red armor that resembled dragon scales.
“Citizenship badge.” The one heavy voiced and dark skinned Fotian spoke to the man. His horns were chipped from what seemed to be from battles. His armor however was clean.
ThranKaur raised his eyebrows as he met the man’s eyes. He… had not considered this. A badge of citizenship? Perhaps this nation was not the same as the one he had previously visited after all. As the man continued to stare, he shuffled slightly and masked his scales. No good getting found out here before he wanted to be known.
“I came here to inquire about how one gets a badge.” He relies, voice smooth and deep. “No one I ask seems to know how to get one, and I’m not sure if that’s just great misfortune on my part or planned.” Of course, this was all Keeal shit, but it wasn’t exactly like he was too worried about being found. Perhaps he would have been, a few centuries ago when his kind’s mightiest were struck down as he wasted away in that prison. But now? He doubted anyone alive had met a being such as himself.
“Eh? This isn’t where you ask questions.” The guard said with dismissive tone. The other guard across from him gave an amused smile. “Likely some trash that wants to get in and beg till their pockets are full.” He chuckled and this prompted the other to do so too. Their combined laughter making a loud hoarse sound.
“I tell you what. You pay me a fair fee and I let you in.” His index finger and thumb rubbed together slowly with the sound of his gauntlets metals clanging together. “For as long as he can last before being caught. Rags like that? It’ll be clear he’s a jobless, homeless beggar. Wahahaha!” They roared with laughter again. “A citizenship badge is too rich for your blood, and judging by your blood you’re not even Tyro.” They let others pass as they flashed their citizenship badges before stepping in.
Ah yes, it occurred to ThranKaur that currency may be some sort of constant throughout this land. Perhaps it was fortunate, then, that he had kept the small pouch the bandit leader had dropped at his feet the moment he began to beg for his life. A quick inspection had told him the bag was filled with those shiny coins, although he wasn’t sure how much they were worth. So with that in mind, he just put the whole bag in the man’s hand, nodded, and walked on.
The city was.. Misty. The ground constantly warm. The combination of geysers and humidity sprayed light moisture on most of those who walked about the city. People did not wear much. Bare feet were common and a single robe, tied to let the majority of the body breathe, was too. Red was a common trait among these Tyro. This along with bronze skin that glistened on well shaped exteriors. Most Fotians lived an active life and kept a honed body through out the majority of their lives here.
People walked past the ragged man. The elevation of the city blocks led up to the side of a volcano where the castle was erected for the royals of Fotia. The lower the elevation the warmer and poorer it was. But none seemed to be struggling too hard. The streets were busy with people selling, trading, or just making their way. A few strange looks were given to the old man as he walked by however. The children playing on the streets, playing gladiator, did not seem to notice.
ThranKaur took a moment to just soak in the warmth and humidity of the place, his old scales having dearly missed such a temperature on that misty, miserable hellhole. After he was done getting that out of his system (and more weird looks), he looked around himself.
He wasn’t all that hungry, and as much fun as it would be to cause a scene he could probably hold off for the while. But he had come here to see what this new world had to offer, and that large structure built into the volcano certainly seemed interesting. So with that in mind, he began to make his way in the general direction of the palace, observing the rather odd buildings as he went.
As he went along he would find the people to grow fewer, the buildings nicer, and more armored guards walking the streets. No longer did children play freely. No more constant chatter from common people. Instead the silence of these elevated buildings brought a coolness with it and a silence. The ground was not as warm, and the mist was weak here. In the distance, the incredibly faint roar of a crowd is heard.
Further up was the gates that led to the path heading to the royal buildings, and then further up the castle. The sound of lava flowing from above could be heard. Red wyverns being rode far above around the volcano’s tip could be heard screeching and roaring. The golden gates was guarded by four heavily armored soldiers who held muskets to their sides and blades as well. They were standing at constant alert.
ThranKaur turned towards where he sound of the crowd came from, his keen ears able to clearly define the sounds of hundreds of descended, crying and shouting about… something. Curiosity piqued, the old dragon turned began making his way towards the sound, the nearby guards only glancing towards him before resuming their position.
It didn’t take long to see where all the excitement was coming from. A titanic wall rose out of the city grounds, adorned with carvings of his people being slaughtered by these Tyro. Pleasant. From the inside of the wall came the sound of cheering, and all around the outside were shouts as merchants peddled both their wares (which seemed far more geared towards violence than the frontal markets) and ‘exclusive entry’. Looking around, ThranKaur entered the mind of the nearest person who looked like what they were talking about, and was greeted by the image of what was inside of the wall.
What he would see would be a Colosseum crowded with young descendants eager to see something exciting. Then he would see the bloodied sand, crimson stained. Then he would see a blade plunge into a Dragon's sides multiple times. All while the beast itself eviscerated a number of foes. Eventually the beast would die and victory would be given to the survivors. . . This was the Fotian Arena.
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