[Post here first!] Southern Border Crossing

Arella approached the guard tower, lowering her hood as she drew close. Without hesitation, she pulled back her cloak and unfastened the tie on her sack in case they wanted to search her. All she wanted was to get through the border and to safety. Upon being asked her business, she answered honestly, saying that she was seeking an audience with the princess. Being that her only weapon was a very visible knife and she didn't look capable of physically hurting anyone, there shouldn't have been any cause for concern.

(I deceded to take over Imud Habrua's character. If the original owner returns I will hand it back over to him/her.)

Imud Habrua cracked the whip over the team of mules head’s. The steeds hee-hawed but picked up their pace a little from the plodding walk they had been in before. There were 4 mules needed for the heavy load Imud carried in his wagon. He had been gone, exploring the continent, for a while and did not come back empty handed. From west to east, north to south, Imud had scoured the lands for the best metals, gems, and magical ingredients for alchemy. The only item Imud had trouble finding were dragon parts. Scales, teeth, bones and blood of a dragon were some of the most powerful items to work with. Sadly, they were also the hardest to find. The draconic leftovers Imud had found were confined in a small locked chest.

Stopping at the boarder of Medan Imud got out of the cart and pulled back the tarp that covered his ware. The pile shone with bars of metal and boxes of gems. “Come look, my friend!” Imud said to the guard who was in charge of inspecting the passing travelers. “I carry only the finest materials. If you have use of an enchanted weapon or piece of armor, my friend, please come visit my humble forge in Stonevale.” Mud hoped the guard would examine his wares, it was his favorite topic of conversation. “But dare not come to me without ample coin or ample need of my services. I give only the best and work only with the best.” Imud narrowed his eyes as he said this. “Imud Habrua is back.”

"Whoa," one of the guards said as Toshiro passed. As many odd things as they saw, this man's sword seemed particularly interesting. Strangely ornate and appearing to be a long, thin saber, the spearman of Medan was intrigued.
"What is that, is that a sword?"

"Medan has been growing, but I personally have not seen one of these magnificent works of art and arms," he said in admiration of the beauty that was the blade Toshiro drew. Strange markings, etchings of a foreign language, were imprinted near what appeared to be a collar of brass partitioning the blade from the hilt and its rounded guard. But at an even closer glimpse, the artistic workings of the hilt and scabbard paled in comparison to the work of the smith. The seemingly razor sharp blade seemed to have a wave-like grain to it, visible in the right angle of the sun. Furthermore, a single and more pronounced wave pattern separated what appeared to be two different shades of steel, the bulk of the blade seeming slightly more metallic than the edge.
"How does the blade look like that? I have a sword too, but the steel looks nothing like that."

"Ah, that's really interesting."
"You can carry on through, I was just curious is all," he said with a nod.

A dark shape passed through the clouds, a shadow among the clouds that briefly cast the surrounding area in shadow as it passed over the border.

Jimmie Eclair walks up to the gates, trying to play it cool. He's doing his best to pretend that he is an ordinary traveler, and is not carrying a whole kilo of fairy dust in his backpack. He waves to the guard.

"Hello there! I'd like to enter Medan!" 

He speaks with a heavy Gaulish accent, but is understandable enough.

They're not going to search me. They don't search everyone going through. That would be silly.

As Averyn approached the tower he slowed in his pace and kept his head lowered as to avoid eye contact; knowing his weapons would make him a target of heavy scrutiny. He comes closer to the guard post, intentions to avoid trouble, and continue his search.

Nothing of old Medan remained, save for the watchtower, which was being completely refurbished, and a wall--four thousand rigid, sharpened logs that formed a broad palisade that blocked the passage end to end, save for a single gate in the center. Troops in very large numbers could be seen though cracks and knots and heard behind the wall, their the smokes of their numerous fires rising into the clear sky. While it wasn't easy to see what was going on behind the wall, some project of serious caliber had begun.

The gate, it seemed, was closed.