Ages Eternal [IC] (Legends Eternal) Magic's Crux, Cradle of the World, and NW Great Mount

Pawnige

Pawnige

“All the truth in the world is held in stories.”
It has been a long journey, traveling with the caravan headed to Begdor. The wind howls above you on this dark and cold night. Walking for miles, your feet ache as you trudge on. The sound of huge wagons, clanking with goods, dragged on by tame Bohaber is the only sound for everyone is quite now, it has been a tiresome journey, that everyone prays, is about to end.

To the Far North lies the thick and mysterious forest of Magic's Crux where the Dru'Dar make their home, To the west lies the rest of the cradle of the world and the great lake that touches it. Ahead of you is the Great Mount where the elder dragons dwell.

As you reach the crest of a gentle hill you see, carved into one of the smaller mountains surrounding the Great Mount itself, the city Begdor. Two colossal stone images of dwarves holding out their massive stone lanterns filled with blue flame stand to either side of the gate. The gate itself stands 100 feet tall and is made from mettle and wood, the face is carved with tales of the gods and creation. You have reached Begdor pride of the dwarves, home of Hrothgar Windforge the greatest smith in Idain and founder of the city.
 
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"And here I am thinking the journey had end." Was the word spoken for him knowledge-seeking man, Aladine. He came along with the caravan as the usual, to find what opportunity is there for him.

Aladine strayed from the caravan, carrying all his seemingly little belongings. His only weapon is but a broken blade stucked on a hilt, covered by rags. He carries this small bag-like pouch. And he tightens his scarf, appear to be not comfortable in the cold. Where is he going? He is plain curious of the words and tales carved to the great gate's face.
"Begdor, fascinating." He mumbles to himself as he nears, then made his first look on the city gate's face.
 
Near the back of caravan, a tall figure made a strange shape in the distance. Its face was hid by a mask of twisted pottery, its slow gait, silent. A seven fingered hand grasped the handles of two short truncheons, hidden away within a slowly bobbing scabbard. An uneasy grace followed this figure; an aura of time and the odor of unknown lands.

As they approached the gate, Seven Needles tightened his grip on the two maces. This is a bad idea. He thought. This city belongs to the dwarves. Surely I'm not safe here. Yet despite his better judgement, the Person of Lead continued unabated, and seemingly without hesitation. He was of little concern compared to Slua's will. They had sent him for a purpose, and for now, that purpose remained his only care.
 

As the caravan reaches the gate you can hear booming voices from the city, "Open the gates!, Another Caravans has arrived! Entering Begdor the caravan disperses, some head towards the living districts, others to the city center where the bustling markets are. The market place of Begdor is something special, Slavers and Singers, Traders and Tale-Tellers, Performers and Peddlers come from all over Idain to sell their wares.

Begdor its self is beautiful! Everything you see is unique, and yet fits with the rest around it. No two objects are the same, but they all feel as if they where made with the same passion and mindset.
You both find yourselves standing side-by-side with a moment of silence as everyone has left you standing in the entrance to the city. No one but a handful Dwarves, a few Quash, and two or three Dru'Dar go about their business maintaining and manning the gates.
 
Seven Needles glanced over to Aladine. A strange clacking noise came from within his pottery helmet, and he spoke. "You have dark skin. I've never seen that before." Seven Needles said, his accent a bizarre, inhuman sound. His free arm brushed the ground and picked up a pebble.
 
"Yes I have." Aladine replied kindly as he turned himself facing the figure (Seven Needles) instead of the gate. "Never seen a black, friend?" He politely asked and awaits an answer. Aladine doesn't seem to be suprised. Though it is because he is more distracted with Begdor itself.
 
"Never. What causes your complexion?" Seven Needles croaked. He picked up the pebble and turned it over and over. A murky scent drifted from within the creature's clay mask, and the large holes just barely showed the many sunken eyes of the Blessed. If one were to look closely at his hands, they would see that Seven Needles, suiting his name, had a seventh finger on each. The mutant digits were short and stubby, in sharp contrast to the spider-like hands they were attached to, and on them rested ornamental rings, suggesting that these extra fingers bore significance.
 
"It's how I was born." Replied once again Aladine. The figure's hand reminded Aladine of the entombed mummies in the many pyramids he once explored. Though this one right now is highly warning him of a race he isn't familiar with. "Say, you here in this city to glance its beauties?" He asked.
 
"Not at all. I'm a merchant. I came here to trade items of my own." Seven Needles replied. "Coming for just the view seems a rather simple goal for such a long journey."
 
"I'm Aladine. Nice to meet you, Seven Needles." Aladine introduced himself, before taking a pocket watch out of his pockets and took a glance. "Well, I'll get going into the city's centre of trade, gonna check me the lot of them items there." Aladine after returning the watch back to his pockets and made a quick glance of the walls, then heads for the city following the trail of the caravan.
 
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