The thorughfares of Lorica Vite

[Mecrinus]

The "streets" of Lorica Vite are wide, paved roads designed to allow troops to move freely through the area. They link the various barracks and the military HQs.

By far and away the most numerous sort of person around here is a soldier. Soldiers on parade, on route march, marching to guard duty, marching from guard duty, riding with despatches...

There are units on patrol here, with wizards usually, to enforce the law on drunken soldiers, and ensure the occasional citizen who comes here is well-protected and obeys the laws of the land.

[Mecrinus]

Somehow Mecrinus and Amar, strolling aimlessly, have managed to find their way into the sector of the military. Things seem to be quiet at the moment, wexcept for a drill sergeant treating what appears to be a collection of raw recruits to a discussion of their worth. HYe can be clearly heard from over fifty yards away.

[Amar]

She listens. Poor recruits...

He sounds like an old teacher of mine. Same style of shouting

They attract some odd looks from passing guards, but she doesn't notice it. Her axe draws more looks, but it's been peace-bound.

Never seen so much armour in one place...Looks like they've got a small army here.

[Mecrinus]

"I noticed that once before. The soldiers here patrol the place very well. I did here of one guy who caused havoc for a while not long after I arrived.

I don't know what they neec to guard against - except that there are portals in the surrounding forest from almost anywhere. They might be worried about something coming out of the portals."

He grinned at the comment about the drill sergeant.

"Heard worse."

[Amar]

You haven't heard swearing until you've heard about a dozen of clerics shout in Dwarven for being woken up at 3 in the morning, only 11 of which are Dwarves

She looks more closely around her.

I guess. I've seen the portals.

Heh, if the job-offer wasn't, I wonder if they'd hire women here.

[Mecrinus]

"That I don't know, never having heard a dozens screaming Dwarven clerics. Bjorn was bad enough.

You look as if you can handle your axe though, so if something comes up you might be able to earn money that way. Perhaps I could hire on as a wizard?

Maybe we should try at the Centre and see if that offer was for real."

[Amar]

It's the experience of a lifetime

Bjorn?

They near the end of the section.

Let's then. Better than speculating about it. Hmm, this way.

They start walking off in the direction of Caleria.

[Rûn]

*She smiles and leans against a wall, watching the soldiers walking to and fro. She's here for no particular reason... She's just bored.*

[Sungifu]

Softly singing to herself, the girl eventually makes it to the gates of Lorica Vite. The soldiers chuckle as they ask her for any weapons she might be carrying, and she blinks. Huh? One of them looks a little more serious, and asks her for her parentage and business in Eluria. She gives the whole story about her father and her mother and her aunt again, and tells them how she dropped through a flickering mud pool that brought her here then disappeared. The soldiers exchange a glance, but let her walk through. One beggar more or less, who cares. She gives them bright smiles and goes on her way. The business of the soldiers around her amuses her, and she hangs around the streets for a while.

[Sungifu]

Right foot, both feet, left foot, both feet. Slowly but surely she skips out of Lorica Vite, singing to herself. Where she goes next, no idea.

[Míriel Ithildin]

She walked through the thoroughfares, looking around her. There was an attitude of being impressed by all the bustling of the soldiers, and she looked quite innocuous as she wandered through the section, slowly forming a map of the place, and finding the place that the weaselly man was supposed to be in hiding.

[Megs]

The little woman sniffs, and the tiny tears grow cold before they even drip off her face. She huddles in the newspaper scrap she found and pokes the snapped toothstick she found in the tiny fire she made of half a match, some newspaper fragments, the splinter of a chopstick. She shivers and holds herself. She found a crevice, halfway up a wall, where somehow three or four bricks fell out, maybe during a storm, maybe something beat them out. It hardly matters. There is no way into the building from here, so she is safe from rats, but the crack goes deep enough that she can't be reached by bird beaks if she goes all the way to the end. It's sort of out of the wind, but not quite. She shivers. All around her in town she's seen people in warm houses, with a lot of food and a lot of clothes and a lot of good cheer. She rests her head on her knees and stares at the struggling flames. Why can't she just go home? She sticks out her hands and warms them, more or less, by the fire. Her palms get slightly warm but her fingers freeze. It got cold so suddenly here. She shivers. If only she could go home. She misses home. A human- or maybe an elf, it's so hard to distinguish those big-folk- looks into the crevice and she freezes up, but he doesn't seem to see her and walks on. They just don't pay any attention to the little things, these people. They usually don't see her. They didn't see her village when they decided to build a temple in their little grove. Not until they had decided and came to build, when the faeries put up a fight... If she were a bard she might describe the fighting as heroic and awe-inspiring. But she has a more of a sober look on matters. It was desparate and it was short. It was a one-sided slaughter. She misses home so much. The little woman beats her wings a few times to keep them warm. It's so cold.

[Ameena bin Qiyamah]

She wanders around Lorica Vite. With the soldiers being trained here it's the closest thing here that reminds her of Olympe, city of athletes and heroes. She leans against a building, watching a troop of guards pass by, smiling a bit at the memories. Always busy, even on the holy days. Especially on the holy days, the days dedicated to the god of Strength, when tournaments were organised in His name. Her tail beats softly against one leg thwapthwapthwapthwap. She starts singing softly to herself, an old song she learned while training at the city of sport.

[Megs]

Cold.... So, so cold... Her little arms and legs are blueish instead of greenish now, and her tiny pointed teeth are chattering. So cold... Cold is all she can think about... The fire has gone out a long time ago and it's so hard to move- so tired- so cold... She tries to beat her wings but they are stiff and it's so hard, so much effort... Someone at the wall. Someone warm? Food... Warmth... All these big people were going to... stand on her... break her wings... but- so cold... She yawns and crawls to the opening of her little cave. So hard... Far away... Cold so very cold so tired and so cold... With the greatest effort she drags herself to the edge and there her strength gives in and she tumbles down, down, down, as far down as maybe ten or fifteen inches, and lands on Ameena's shoulder, a limp little cold fairy.

[Ameena bin Qiyamah]

Frell...? She cups her hand under whatever landed on her shoulder so she can look at it before it falls to the ground, and turns her head to look at it. She blinks.

'Amie?'

She scoops the tiny creature into her hand, taking care not to hurt the wings, raising her fingers to keep out the wind which has picked up around here. It's getting colder now. She tightens the cloak around her, her other hand searching through her pocket for some kind of fabric the fairy can use for warmth.

'Mon amie, are you alright?'