Vhalar 6, 717
Mid-day
Mid-day
Foster’s Landing was a canary in a coal mine. The white cobbled streets of the harbor town were kept in exquisite condition compared to the primitive roads of the countryside. The architects of the port system were ingenious, no doubt inspired by the freedom of thought that resulted only to the emancipated men whom lived there. The dangerous Immortals, their religions, and their cults could not produce workers and engineers as Etzos’ freemen.
With the help of the good ol’ workers of the Landing, they built a manmade canal system where men could distribute barrels and boxes using smaller boats. Floats came down from the Southride River and were able to snake directly into the deep waters of the harbor itself. In effect, this would decrease the load on the workingmen significantly.
Labor saving systems and tools were blessings that no Immortal would care to bestow upon the common man. The Immortals gave men special powers, dangerous missions, dramatic motives, and intellectual ideology, but none of them helped the workingman’s toil. Nay! This burden had fallen upon the good peoples of this great culture of freedom. Etzos was arguably one of the only social system that could sustain such accomplishments for the betterment of humanity.
Today a huge group of immigrants were on board of a shining vessel named the Y'am Negan Eus. The sails were clean and new, trimmed with fresh green paint. A few at a time, the groups of people would descend from the ship into the smaller boats and canoes as they paddled through the canals and into the staging area of the garrison. There they would be vetted to make sure only the proper types of people made it through the lines.
Of course, this method was only so effective. Only the dumbest of rock-brains would go through the vetting process claiming Immortals or other nefarious motives. The barbarous mustachio stood in full colbalt chain, with visored helm at the edge of one of these canals that overlooked the group of newcomers.
“How many of those people do you think will last?” Gangui growled with crossed arms, clearly unimpressed so far.
Brandon the Bard, his new found friend for Nalod’s Dockside Pub was with him, “Would you look at that one?” he said shifting in his stance, “Looks like she is having some trouble getting through…”
Ellen fidgeted uncomfortably under the leer of the large men looming over her. They seemed jumped down her throat the moment her feet hit dry land, “Is this a Moseke symbol?” The dirty one with crumbs in his beard asked with suspicious eyes.
“This… gift from mother!” she chirped defensively with a thick Xanthean accent, clutching the small bauble hanging around her neck. She glared up at the dirty man petulantly, growing more restless by the moment.
The leather bound fist of the guard shot out clasping the pendant, roughly ripping it from her neck, “This will do good with the war effort, we’ll smelt it down with the rest, no Immortal worshipers her darling! Toss her with the rejects,”
Gangui, who was standing on the other side of the canal, looked at Brandon, “What a bunch of lazy bastards, they didn’t even question her!” He exclaimed, “I mean, her heart could have been in the right place, but she is just dumb or something,”
“I do not worship!” she snapped at the man. She obviously had the courage to protest the guards words. Ellen bristled with indignation, her wings ruffling and lip jutting out.
The guards weren’t having it though. The rules were clear: religious artifacts were to be confiscated and the followers thrown back on the ship to Ne’Hear. Brandon elbowed the barbarian, “You see, my friend, them up in the Tower can’t give any complex commands to these guardsmen. It’s gotta be simple or they fuck up. It all makes sense, no matter how sad it may-- Gangui?”
Before the bard could finish, the warrior was walking towards the mud-blood Avriel. Jumping in the canal (which was only waist deep at best), the large iron man walked directly towards the task force responsible for vetting the immigrants.
Ellen balked as a shadow passed over, “The fuck you want, bub?” the bearded guard snapped, “Can’t you see we’re busy?”
