The Southern Gate [POST HERE FIRST]

Noah would not be caught during his infiltration into Isra.

The guards at the southern gate would smell it before seeing it. The scent of bananas, as strong as if they were standing right next to a pile of them in the market. If they looked intently in the distance and perhaps squinted their eyes, they might just be able to make out the caravan. A long line of wagons, pulled by horses, donkeys, oxen, and even a few far more exotic animals was slowly but steadily approaching the southern gate.

As it got closer, the guards would be able to make out that several hundred people were accompanying the wagons. It was a strange group, composed of people from all races, humans, elves, dwarves, and even some orcs. Once it got even closer, the guards would realize the wagons weren’t holding people, no, they were holding bananas. There must be tens of thousands, perhaps even more than that in the fifty wagons approaching.

At the head of the group, riding on an elephant, was a gorilla. He sat in a carriage of sorts that was secured to the elephant's back, shaded from the sun by a number of banana leaves woven together to form an awning. The gorilla was dressed in plain robes of brown and wore a necklace around his neck that had a golden banana shaped pendant attached. In one hand, he carried a staff, topped with a single banana that appeared to be made of solid gold. On his head, he wore what could best be described as a crown of bananas, crafted entirely out of what appeared to be the genuine artifact.

The elephant and line of wagons behind it slowed to a stop as it reached the gate, the gorilla nimbly sliding down the side of the elephant so he was standing face to face with the guards.

The guard spends a moment in consideration of this latest arrival, the visor of his helmet hiding the look of incredulity on his face.

"The gate is open," he says, gesturing.

And the gate is indeed open. Makhaya the Prophet would be free to enter the city at his leisure.

Keph chewed on the edge of his thumbnail... how had he gotten here? He was pretty sure he had approached the city from the North... then somewhere along the lines he took a road to the right... there was that merchant that was trying to sell him some delicious salted meats that did smell nice - which he sadly couldn't afford- and now he's on this side?

He began spinning in place, arm stretched out, finger pointing forward... yup! No idea at all! He really had to start paying more attention to what he was doing. He must've gotten distracted at least one dozen times just on the path to approaching the city. Oh well, he supposed hit didn't really matter, at least he had finally reached somewhere with more than a handful of people!

His stomach grumbled again! He doubted this was a very good place to prepare food; he also doubted there was a many good places to prepare food within the city but he couldn't stop himself from wandering in - his feet were moving on their own! Ah well, he could surely find somewhere secluded enough to prepare a meal. 

He marched passed the large gates, giving the guards an exaggerated, poorly done salute as a way of greeting them, before marching passed into the city itself.

As the armored men approach, the gate guards are somewhat confused. Isra doesn’t have armies anymore, and after a few moments of murmuring, they conclude that none of them have ever seen that lightning insignia, or that sort of armor.

It’s plausible that this is a new unit or one that was operating abroad and they haven’t yet been informed that they've been disbanded. Maybe they came via Port Silverion, as do a significant portion of those who pass through the Southern Gate. It’s also entirely plausible they are the enemy, flying Isran colors to move unimpeded.

The herald’s announcement, however, sets off many metaphorical bells. The title ‘Knight-General’ has never been bestowed, they’ve never heard of Fort Adamant, and Doug says that decennial means ten years. (Doug is good with maths.) The guards don’t sit down together and deconstruct all of these items, but the armored men are egregious enough to instill wariness in each one.

The gate’s Captain is sharp, though. Having come down beforehand, he addresses the herald. “Aye. Please hold. We need to inform Command.” In a more reasonable speaking voice, man to man, he adds, “You’re unscheduled, ‘treets are clogged.”

Within the gate, a lower officer is informing command by way of a magic mirror. The gate itself stands open, as it does during the day. The usual foot traffic walks close to the other side, giving the soldiers lots of room.

The Captain holds one hand in the other behind his back and nods. This is going well so far, and soon, it won’t be his problem. Then Asora approaches.

He meets her gaze, nods at her respectfully, but says nothing; he has nothing to say. She must have heard what he just said, and it’s his thought that it’s not worth repeating.

The Captain opens his mouth as if to speak but is mercifully interrupted by someone behind him shouting.

“She’s to be escorted to The Citadel at once!”

The Captain smiles on the inside and gestures to Asora, suggesting that she proceed. Inside the gate, a few unlucky sods have been tasked with the job. They stand in formation, prepared.

Arcturus hastens to the gate, robes all a mess as he ran, muttering to himself.

"Is it." The officer looks at the man, trying to decide where he falls on the wise/crazy spectrum.

Supposing it doesn't matter to him anyway, he turns and points down the road. It's one of Isra's largest boulevards and leads straight from the gate to the Central Plaza. "The Citadel is that way, you'll know it when you see it."

After a moment of consideration, he continues, "I'll let them you're coming."