Sample Role-play at the Tolkeen Front GatesThe following scenes run by Staff serve to illustrate the atmosphere and workings of the gates security on any given day.
Tolkeen City Gates
A vast expanse of gravel-strewn tarmac stretches before the enormous gateway system here, set into the city wall. It spans at least twenty feet upwards and is made from a combination of tall, petrified-looking tree trunks, huge slabs of rock and concrete, long strips of iron, and enough gray-brown hardened resin to shellack it all together. The wall itself is built in much the same way, only it looks much thicker. With the way the ends of the thirty-foot trunks are shaped into points, the appearance of the walled city resembles somewhat a garrison from eons past. That is, except for the luminous red symbols have been meticulously carved into the surface every few dozen feet.
The gates are composed of two doors that seem able to slide open and closed, on rollers and grooves. Four lane dividers, manned by a team of armored soldiers and a huge mech, regulate the incoming and outgoing vehicle traffic, while yet another lane processes those traveling on foot. From midnight to dawn, the gates are closed, with only the sentry towers and patrolling guards to whom one may plead their case.
It is not unusual to see the flat paved area occupied and bustling with caravans pulled aside for inspection, gatherings of beings preparing for a long journey, and even the opportunistic hawkers from the outerlying suburbs. A wide, well worn road crosses the south end of the area, running parallel with the city walls.
Some way down the gravel road, only partially illuminated by the crescent moon that watches over the sky this night, a figure approaches. Two really, one larger than the other. As the distance becomes less, or as artificial magnification may reveal, the figures become more distinguished. It appears to be a man leading a horse. The crunching of gravel underfoot resonates in the relatively silent night air. He seems to be making his way towards the front gate and the sentry who keeps watch there.
Perilously close to midnight in this region of the world. Victory Day is almost over, and the city gates are shutting down for the night. A few stragglers from the villages or suburb communities outside the wall are heading out towards the main road, but there are no more visitors attempting to gain entrance to the city at this late time. The heavy rolling gates are about halfway closed, with a group of similarly armored figures making some last minute checks of the area outside. One of them strictly orders a cart-pushing panhandler away down the large expanse of paved ground leading from the gate to the road.
The man nods to those he passes on the road, regardless of weather they return the gesture or not. He holds the reins of his horse loosely in his right hand as he leads it. The creature is large, seemingly built for speed and war. It possessed armour barding in addition to the burden of the man's supplies. Perhaps that is why he is afoot. His eyes pass over the authoritative looking figures as he slows upon reaching the entrance. "Good evening...", he calls out, to no single person in particular.
It's not hard to miss the clip-clopping of the steed's hooves on the paved surfaces. The guards observe the man's approach, though most of them continue with their sweeps after a moment. The nearest one to the fellow turns fully to meet him, and readily responds through the armor's intercom. "Evening, sir." After that short greeting, the guard waits to hear the man's needs.
The man pats his steed's neck as the beast comes to a halt, then turns his gaze to the guard who has approached him. "Am I too late to gain admittance to the city?", he asks, and inclines his head, noting the closing gate.
The guard's own helmeted head inclines, viewpoint raising to take in the quiver of arrows peeping over the stranger's shoulder. "You're cutting it pretty tight," the tinny voice cuts in again, but grudgingly the individual makes a waving 'come on' gesture, and turns slightly to escort the horse and master over towards the gates. "Where're you hailing from?" He raises his arm higher, signalling to the squad near the entrance.
Daniel nods his head as he leads his horse onwards. "Thank you." He watches the man as he signals his compatriots then says, "Most recently, the New Lazlo area, though I tend to move around quite a bit." He watches as the last of the departing people and carts roll past. "Some kind of celebration?", he asks.
The helmet gives another nod. Of course, it would be nice if the guy would take off the face-masking piece of armor, but maybe the Tolkeen city guard are an unfriendly lot. "Today was the day we took Tolkeen back from the Staters," the voice grunts. "Five years ago, I mean." As they near the gates, the soldier turns even more impersonal, if that's possible. He turns, unhooking a datapad from his belt. "I'll need to get some information from you here before you proceed further, sir. What is your full name?"
Daniel stops as required and faces the soldier. "Has it been that long?", the man asks, eyes glazing over slightly as though possessed of a thought. He shakes his head slightly to come out of his reverie. "But yes, of course. Your questions. Daniel.....", he says, pausing a moment. "Daniel Standingready."
"Daniel... beg pardon?" The guard looks up, gloved fingers poised above the keypad. Clearly suspicious of that pause, coupled with the odd-sounding surname. Or not so clearly, what with the visor of the helmet still down and polarized.
"Standingready.", Daniel states to the man. "I don't normally use my surname.....not much need. I haven't spent a lot of time in cities."
Another pause, then the guard just nods slightly again. "Fine. And your occupation is..?" Somewhere above and beyond the wall, a chopper can be heard, blades oscillating. A high-intensity beam of light suddenly flashes out over the wall, panning, then disappears again.
Daniel's head turns to follow the sound, then the panning light before eventually returning to his inquisitor. "I tend to live off the generosity of others, and try to lend a helping hand in return."
"This ain't a charity sort of town, Mister Standingready," is the curt response, even as the soldier continues tapping the given information into the pad. "New.. Lazlo.." he continues, having already procured that part of the survey. "Where are you from, then? And what brings you to Tolkeen?"
After your responses are given to their by rote questions, the armed-and-armored gate attendant taps his keypad with his stylus for a couple of moments, before asking patiently. "So.. you're sayin' that you don't know where you were born and raised. And you don't know where you've just been before comin' here... that right, sir?"
The grey-skinned lizard man hisses slightly in agitation, looking to gate attendant with his expressionless eyes. "Yesss. That isss exactly what I'm sssaying..." comes his reply. "I wasss adopted by a Merc-sss-enary group called the Black Legion. They were in the northern territoriesss."
"Ahhh-haa. Black Legion." The Militia attendant taps a few keys at this new information. Since his visor is tinted, the deadpan voice cannot be betrayed by his expression of amusement at your lissssp. "So. Which territories are those, Mister... Sho..Shosh-to-shin?"
Garinoth seems a bit nervous, or perhaps sad, as he takes a step backwards from the attendant. "What territoriesss are they in?" he asks back. "None. They are all dead asss far asss I know. We were in the..." and he trails off. Looking up at the sun and its relations and such, he gets an estimate of direction before continuing. "We were in the north sssomewhere."
He cocks his head, then looks beyond you towards the rest of the waiting line of city entrants. "Dead. Your company was attacked, you say? How far north? Was it on Tolkeen territory?" he asks intently.
Garinoth seems mildly annoyed, a hiss of breath escaping his mouth in his agitation. "Yess...we were attacked." He does not seem too happy to admit such information, and in all reality he is not. His head hangs slightly, and he continues in a more depressed tone. "I do not know where ex-sss-actly. It was a roving band of banditsss. They had sssome ssskel-bots with them."
There's a short pause as the guard deliberates over that. Then, he keys in a few notes on the datapad, while saying shortly, "All right. I'm going to let you through here, but I'm afraid I'm gonna have to report this in.. what with the Coalition bots. You might be contacted later." He pauses, while a ticker-tape sort of sound emits from a device on his belt, and a band (48-hour pass) is reeled out. "Just to answer a few more questions, you understand," he adds glibly, before tearing the colored band away and handing it over. "Declare your weapons.. checks just to your right.." he adds, going into robot mode again, as he moves onto the next person.
Garinoth blinks once as the attendant speaks, speaking as the 48-hour pass comes reeling out from its little spot. "There'sss not much to report. They were heading west of here." Taking the ribbon in one clawed hand, he steps forward and over to the weapons clearance booth. "I have a revolver, a rifle, and an energy pissstol..." he hisses quietly. It's pretty obvious. Not having any clothes on, too, means he has no place to hide anything else. So far as they can see...
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