[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/7ed60a5b-c81e-4b36-b999-6fbd57fe519a.png[/img][h2][color=olive][u]~Ernald Joyce~[/u][/color][/h2][/center]
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[i][sub]Early Spring, 315 P.F.[/sub][/i]
[b][sub]Paterdomus - Gates[/sub][/b]
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After several hours travel along the dusty old trail, Ernald and his mumbling companion soon found their gazes falling upon one of the holy city's many gates, the portcullis of which hung open in the distance like the gaping maw of some ancient and decrepit beast. Joyce found himself shuddering at the sight of it, though whether it was because of the size of the walls, the number of defenders at the gate, or the reaction of some evil planted deep within he could not say. In any case, the involuntary action had caused him to become keenly aware of the state of his clothes, which were mud stained and stiff from his ventures in Oldcross and the Maw. The whole getup had become extremely uncomfortable, and stunk to high hell, a sinister combination that made his flesh crawl. He would be glad when they finally crossed through the gate, initial discomfort aside, for it meant he could wash away the days worth of filth he'd acquired during his stay in the town...

Joyce found himself jostled from his thoughts as the cart creaked to a halt, one of the men-at-arms striding forth, spear in hand. Grunting, he looked at the old man curiously for a bit before shaking his head and moving over to the side in which Ernald sat. The scholar grimaced somewhat as the guardsman leaned in, the foul stench pouring from his mouth enough to make him gag, though he managed to keep the urge suppressed.

"State your name and business stranger," the man said, his voice akin to sandpaper being ground against glass.

[color=olive]"Ernald,"[/color] Joyce replied, ignoring the acidic tang currently fading in the back of his throat. [color=olive]"Ernald Joyce. I'm a scholar from the city of Marleon who's traveling from mining town to mining town, gathering stories of their struggles and lives. My most recent stop was in Oldcross some miles south, and the folk there were kind enough to give me a ride here on one of their daily shipments."[/color]

The guard cast a glance at the back of the cart, inspecting its lumpy and amorphous looking cargo briefly before turning his attention back to Ernald with a small nod.

"Aye, we've been expecting another shipment for a while now. Didn't think it'd ever arrive."

He coughed up a wad of phlegm before hurling it to the ground.

"Glad to see I was wrong."

The man stepped back, sending a wave of relief washing over Joyce, who was just grateful to be free of his stench.

"Let em through!" he shouted, a calloused hand cupped to the side of his mouth. The guards that had gathered to block their path forward stepped aside as the old man bade the ox that pulled their cart move, reigns cracking against the warm evening air. Letting out a heated breath, the beast trudged forward, pulling the pair through the gates and deeper into Paterdomus' crowded streets.