Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24685738-20170804175219/@comment-5543592-20170805000516

Taeris nodded, and pulled one of his ebony swords free, then held it up to signal for the century he'd been assigned to follow him to the right.

"Oh yes, I'll show you all the sights, princess.  And sights their are in Wayrest.  The Chironasium, the Bank of Wayrest, the Cloudy Dregs inn.  Quite the scene."

Fordola, Phantom, Eva, and others encountered the crowded streets of Taneth.



People pushed roughly passed each other in the narrow streets, everyone colliding and bumping into one another as they headed for their destinations. Criers stood on boxes to shout about the crowd, harking their own wares or those of stores. They passed by cock fights in alleys, and rings of people surrounding impropmtu duels on the sides of the street. It was Hel Anseilak, the day where the Hoonding's chosen people communed with the Spirit Sword, also known as the Shehai, and the only way that was done was through usage of the blade. The ebony blades for which much of Taneth's arms economy was based off of were being priced to foriegners, the sellers hoping to entice them with the legendary quality such blades had, and how usually only masters in the Way of the Sword could obtain them.

The crowds thinned as the group reached closure to the palace, and the main street steeper, as they were forced to climb the hill Taneth was built on. On their way up they passed the Hall of Virtues, Taneth's tallest feature. They could hear the hard thwacks of practice swords striking wood, flesh, and metal alike through the thin walls of the pagoda, and the occassional shout of an instructor. A thick crowd at formed in the large square below the tower, to watch displays of swordsmanship on the towers many balconies, and to see the students practice in the open main floor.

Finally, they arrived at the palace gate, which blocked off the winding, private road which led up to the palace itself. A group of royal guards blocked their way, each standing ramrod straight against the low eight-foot wall that ran the length of the palace grounds, three guards to either side of the gate. They wore elegant lamellar armors made from Orichalcum that had been laquerred red, and coifed helmets with strips of maroon cloth that concealed their faces.

One stepped forward, hand stroking the ebony scimitar that rested on his hip.

"This is the royal palace." He informed them boredly, his barely visible eyes looking disinterestedly to the side, although every inch of this man bespoke of dangerous intensity. "Visitors are not permitted without invitation."