[Event] Maria Satterthwite Memorial Cemetery

by **Echelon** on June 2nd, 2012, 12:48 am

1st, Summer of 512AV

For nearly two long seasons workers, through weather heart ache and storms have worked meticulously upon the hill overlooking Zeltiva. From their effort has sprung a beacon visible from anywhere in the city. A large stone construct, resembling an elegantly carved gazebo, large enough to house hundreds of men and women. Aesthetically perched, along side a my collection of other beauties crafted by these same men and women within the cemetery.

In that past the cemetery had gone mostly uncelebrated, and widely unrecognized by the citizens and transients of Zeltiva. Rarely visited by those that have not lost loved ones who now slumber upon the giant hill.

On the first of summer Maria Satterthwite had planned for that all to change. As one of the sites invested in by her 512 Storm Reconstruction project Maria has publicly called every citizen in Zeltiva, from any walk of life, to attend a ceremony to bless it's completion. Courier ran man around the city, bringing letters to those more prestigious, criers yelling the announcement in the street, and Maria even stepping out from her hall to invite the populace to walk with her to the cemetery once the day had finally come.

For those that walked with the esteemed Lord of Counsel there was a route to be found through the place once considered to be cold and dark. One that reveals a new look to this place for the dead. Large stone constructs cropped groups of families barrier together, small trees have begun to grow to populate the hill, and larger trees have been used in conjunction with new walls to create private grottoes of graves, snuggled close together. Upon the one sheer cliff pristine stone stairs have worked their way into the mountain side, offering easy access to each section of the already expansive graveyard. And, each stone surface has been ornately carved by master carvers, displaying both the visage of Dira's embrace, her jackals, and more predominately the trident of Zeltiva.

As the long trek upward continued a more natural side of the once shunned cemetery sprung forth. Gardens, intimate and close, glowing with passionate vivid colours. There seemed a peculiar life to this once dead place. Yet, no irony was felt in this contradiction. Instead, the colored evoked a certain understanding in all who graced the hill that day. Zeltiva's dead were Zeltiva's life, a lesson which would only become more clear as the mid afternoon sunk lower, inviting more intimate colors to their journey upward.

Their goal was just as imposing, yet brilliant as the trip up had been. To a center piece of volunteers stood strong and proud above them all the official Maria Monument. The stonework gazebo which stood open on all sides, large sloping archways holding the gargantuan ceiling nearly forty feet in the air. The crest of the site was vividly reminiscent of pre valterrian style, but the inside was clearly modern. Though the exterior of the beautiful building was a light stone, common around Zeltiva, and the foundation of the ancient cities, the inside was pure imported marble. Black as night, and infused with strokes of creamy brown and feather white highlights, like lightening across the smooth stone.

The place was sacred, and the contradiction between the light of the outside and the darkness within only gave more life to this sensation as one passed under one of the wide archways into the inter sanctum of the giant gazebo. Plain, and without visible creases the stonework ran from ceiling to floor, meeting in the most impressive pond in Zeltiva. The pond defined only by a smooth a steep slope absorbing the mid area of the room, the sink consuming half of the giant floor. The only uneven aspect of the stonework upon the base of the shallow pond's black base, a whole on what would be uphill, where the building not solidly even, and one what would be downhill allowing a small flow of water circulate through deep within the water. The jet could not, or would not disrupt the surface, leaving it as if some layer of glass. Inside the pond, was nothing, no plants, no life. This too would soon change.

Maria stepped forward and gingerly took the hand of a women amongst the rest of the volunteers. She like only a handful of the other attendance wore a sheening velvet robe, clung tightly to her petite frame. The fabric was a gorgeous marine blue, and under it a series of smooth articles of a silkin nature, all dyed stark white, and standing in vivid contrast to the dark marble work now beneath them.

Maria walked this young women, no older than twenty to the edge of the pond, where she turned to face those that had followed her in her procession. And, in step, the women beside Maria turned as well, revealing her pale blonde hair, scarce and worn. A soft skin, with a shockingly dull tone, and most prominently lifeless eyes. Well preserved as she might be, the more educated of the people would recognize this girl as a nuit. She looked afraid, and abashed by standing before the people, and exposing her face such. But Maria simply held her cold hand and forces her chin to raise slightly before speaking. For better or worse, she had dedicated herself to this cause. Maria was not one to let any of her causes go, no matter the challenge.

With a deep breath, and a look about the large crowd of people huddled in a full circle around her, and the pond she began her well rehearsed speech.

"Welcome, all of you, citizens and visitors to the Maria Satterthwite Memorial Cemetery. And, thank you for coming to see the product of our citizen's work."

Her voice echoed quite loudly throughout the gazebo, coming down on those that had managed to work their way within the construct with surprising clarity, and a deep resonance.

"One season ago, marked today, the cataclysm stuck our home with little warning. And ever since that day we have all been living in fear, anger and mourning. Through whatever power we chose to believe in, however, as a people we have managed to survive, and continue on through all of the challenged the storm and it's aftermath brought upon us. And, from the flooded streets we have risen again. The universities Astronomy tower, our docks, and now yet another important building of Zeltiva.

Like all of you I struggled when I heard of the storm, to find some strength. It wasn't a single bell after i began this struggle before I found myself in this place, before my father's grave."

Truth seeped through her words, and she had to fight the urge to look away from the crowd. The season had not been easy for Maria, nor had it for anyone else, and she like many others lost those she cared for.

"That is when I realized a strength that had been lost to us all. My father's words came to me, and wisely reminded me of where Zeltiva comes from. A proud city, which did not even completely bow to the Valterrian itself. Zeltiva's spirit can not be broken, for we have stood too long against adversity, and maintained our wits and brawn none the less. It is this, our history that gives Zeltiva strength. A strength that we can not ever forget, and I fear that if it were not for the unforgiving storm we might have."

His brow creased slightly as she took a breath, her eyes drifting over the faces before her, before she finally launched back into her speech.

"This cemetery has been here our whole lives, sat upon this hill where we can look ever day, but shamefully have not. And so, I set out to change this, to bring the strength of Zeltiva forward into the light it deserves.

Deserves because our fore bearers set the foundation of ever luxury we have, gave the very life to our bodies, and just the same shaped the body of our city. Walk through the old quarter, look upon the walls, really look, and feel Zeltiva's ancestors walking with you. Remember that without these fallen, we would have nothing, and challenges such as the storm would utterly destroy us."

Her own words troubled her, and the energy of the crowd even more so. It disturbed her the focus she had gathered, though it is exactly what she wished. She had to pause, and let her fluster pass by, let her heart which had grown quite rapid calm.

"In addition to this awareness I request that you all look upon this women before you. She is only one of a small remaining group of Zeltiva who has never forgotten our past. And, has never forgotten our fore bearers importance. They have struggled for centuries in this forgotten place, tending to our death both before and after burial. They wield magics that most of us can not conceive of, yet they use this power to help us all, before and after death. As ungrateful as we have been.

And still, we can not thank them because they have had no name, no face. Now, however, I hope we will all make amends for this disservice. I will give a name to this group, one that all shall recognize, and these robes that none shall emulate.

Blue velvet and white silk shall be worn only by the esteemed Envoyers."

Still looking incredibly uneasy the nuit beside Marias awkwardly leaned into her and requested something as a whisper, which Maria nodded in agreement too. Quickly the women freed her hand from Maria's and brought it to the thick marine velvet cowl upon her robe, pulling it up, the letting a thin veil of white fall over her face, to shield it from sight.

Maria gave an encourage smile to the women, then laced her fingers together, looking back to the congregation, to finish her speech.

"Stay here, and celebrate our past. Celebrate our collective accomplishment, and let us put last season's losses behind us.

Purchase koi for the sacred pond, and as you let the animal free into it think upon that which you have physically lost. Loved ones, objects, relationships, and let them slip from your minds and hearts as well. Let go of that which troubled you, and realize that all that we lost has still given us strength. Do not squander Zeltiva's strength on regret, sorrow, or anger.

Purchase seeds to plant within the planters distributed about the cemetery, let strong life grow from your sacrifice to your community.

And, purchase candles to light the darkness as the sun sets, rim the pond with them, set them upon floats to float upon the surface, find graves to illuminate, and with each wick lit say a prayer for one of Zeltiva's ancestors. If you do now know any look around, read from the stones you find in this cemetery, new or old, and speak their name. Let their memory be heard.

Remain until night has fallen and we shall all witness what strength can come of our remembrance."

With that she smiled to them all, and walked to the koi vendor to purchase the first koi, pure white, without a single sullied scale.

ooc :

Price list

Small Koi, Multi Colored	3GM
Common Koi, Multi Colored	5GM
Large Koi, Multi Colored	8GM
Small Koi, Solid Colored	10GM
Common Koi, Solid Color	20GM
Large Koi, Solid Color	30GM

Small Candle	1GM
Normal Candle	2GM
Large Candle	3GM

Seeds, flower assortment	5GM
Seed, bush	10GM
Seed, climbing plants	10GM
Seed, tree	30GM

Special

Floating Base, Small	10GM
Floating Base, Normal	15GM
Floating Base, Large	20GM
Large Koi, Solid White	50GM

Thread Reward

Name	Donation	SP	XP	Lores

Adventurer's Loot

A Gift
Experience is its own reward.

Tock's Loot :

Ira's Loot :

Montaine's Loot :

Nai'Shee's Loot :

Leigo's Loot :

Wrenmae's Loot :

(Well done. This achieved the feel I was going for, and exceeded in several cases. Thank you for all who helped out.) - if you have ANY questions or concerns about this grading, please PM me.

by **Minerva Agatha Zipporah** on June 2nd, 2012, 3:09 am

Minerva had already been dealing with her own tragedy all day, so she was already in quite an emotional state long before Maria's speech. She left the house late in the day, needing some fresh air and a chance to clear her mind. She planned to just wander the city, her nose in a book on Animation as she continued her studies to try to fix her poor baby.

She was wandering along at a slow pace, paying no attention whatsoever to where she was going, when the crowd started to form in the streets. She didn't even notice them. As the large group of people followed after Maria up towards the cemetery, Minerva got swept up in their wake. Shoulder to shoulder with people she didn't even realize were there, she was herded along, up the hill, and into the new monument without realizing where she was. Even when the woman started giving her speech, she didn't look up at first, until a man behind her elbowed her in the back. She turned and cast a glare at him, and he scowled at her and gestured to the front. Not having a clue what the man was bothering her for, she looked up to see the woman who seemed to have everyone else's attention.

Minerva had no idea who she was.

She'd only been in Zeltiva for just under two months. She didn't pay attention to politics, and was quite horrible at remembering people's names. So even if anyone had mentioned the name 'Maria' to her here and there, it had just slipped in one ear and out the other. So she looked around, wondering why everyone was giving this one woman all their attention.

"Who's she?" she asked a woman next to her.

The only response she got was an annoyed, "Shh!"

Minvera frowned and turned to leave. Except she saw the entire place was crowded with people. There wasn't enough room to get by, and people were already casting her annoyed glares and shushing her before she even tried to get by.

She sighed, crossed her arms, and slipped her book under her arm. If she wasn't getting out of here any time soon, she supposed she might as well pay attention.

...

By the time she started listening, the woman was talking about the city rising again. Minerva knew all about that; she'd been helping with the rebuilding nearly every day. But she was a bit lost in the rest of what the woman said next. Minerva hadn't been born in this city. She didn't know the strength and pride it held. She had seen some of it, and was starting to grow attached to it, but she didn't know it. She didn't know this 'history' that gave Zeltiva strength. She hadn't know that this was a cemetery before this very moment.

So at first she was simply not moved by the speech. She respected Zeltiva. She was glad it was her current home. But while she was becoming more a part of the city each and every day, she was still an outsider. So the ceremony to honor these 'Envoyers', while it certainly seemed sweet and all, didn't stir any emotion in her. At first.

The first emotion that did spark within her at the woman's speech was anger. What right did she have to say 'none shall emulate' the clothes these people wore? Blue velvet and white silk were banned to everyone else? Not that Minerva gave one damn about fashion, but it didn't seem to her that any one woman in the city should have the right to make such a declaration that bound everyone else. Back home in Sunberth no one would have stood for this. They'd likely enough have tossed this woman off the hill for trying to declare her will upon them.

But everyone around Minerva seemed touched and moved by it, so she shrugged it off, keeping her feelings to herself.

Her anger deepened when the woman started asking people to buy fish and seeds. She rolled her eyes and made an annoyed sound. This city had just gotten over a famine. People hadn't been able to eat. And this rich lady was importing fancy schmancy fish for decoration? Unless they were going to be dinner, Minerva wasn't about to pony up her own mizahs for them. She was flat broke, and could barely afford to feed herself and fund her own projects right now, to say nothing for giving money to buy fish. Besides which, the fish were already there! People were walking up and paying for them just to drop them in the pond? What the hell? If this rich lady had brought the fish here, she must have already paid for them to be imported. So why should the hard working folk of this city have to pay for them again?

Her scowl just kept getting darker.

Then the woman said the words, "Do not squander Zeltiva's strength on regret, sorrow, or anger," and Minerva lowered her gaze and looked off to the side. Fine, she wouldn't let her anger get to her. If this made people feel better, let them. She'd rather contribute something more meaningful than fish. Something more solid. Something real. Like this building. This was a proper contribution. The people who had built it deserved praise. It was fine architecture, and it would stand for a long time. Unlike these fish, who would end up fried for supper next time famine struck.

Minerva would rather build something like this herself, than waste her time and money on fish.

Long moments passed until the woman said the words that finally really struck Minerva. "...say a prayer for one of Zeltiva's ancestors. If you do now know any look around, read from the stones you find in this cemetery, new or old, and speak their name. Let their memory be heard." Minerva slowly lifted her chin, staring at the woman with a blank expression. Her brown eyes started to shimmer, and her jaw set tight.

This...

This wasn't fair!

She wanted to walk up to the woman right now and punch her in the face. Let their memory be heard... what about the memory of people that weren't buried here? What about her loss!? She had lost her Granddad four years ago, and never gotten the chance to mourn him. He hadn't been buried in a marked grave. He'd died while Minerva was in a feverish coma, and when she'd woke he'd simply been gone. A sickness had passed through her neighborhood in Sunberth, and dozens had died. No one had bothered to mark where each was buried; there were even rumors that Jebediah the gravekeeper just buried corpses on top of each other. If that was true, her Granddad didn't even have his own private grave!

She hadn't been given the chance to visit his grave. She hadn't even known where in the graveyard he'd been buried, and her worthless drunk Da hadn't told her. When she'd gone looking for her beloved Granddad that day, her Da had just said, "'E's dead. Go make dinner." And that had been that.

And this... this woman... She wanted to have people light little floaty candles on the water to honor the memory of people here? They already HAD their honor! They had graves with their names on them, and loved ones to visit and care for them, and now they had these stupid, fancy-robed Envoyers to tend to them. Well what did her Granddad have!? Nothing!

And putting a stupid fish in the pond or lighting a damn candle wasn't going to change that. No one here knew him. They didn't know his name. They didn't care about his memory.

Tears burned down her face and she glared at the rich lady's back as she walked off through the crowd. The damn fish could drown for all she cared!

Minerva shoved her way through the crowd and out of the gazebo, not giving a damn about the annoyed protests that followed her. She was sobbing, and didn't want anyone to see her like this. She felt suffocated among so many people. She couldn't breathe! She pushed past everyone until she was outside, and ran around the far back side of the building, hiding from them all.

Once out of sight, and far enough that her cries couldn't be heard, she stepped up behind one of the stone constructs that dotted the hill far from the gazebo. She screamed her loneliness into the night and punched at the dark stone, pounding it again and again until her skin split and her blood stained the structure. Then she collapsed to her knees, leaning her forehead against the cold stone. Everyone else was still off in their fancy place buying fish, and no one would notice her here alone. None of them would remember her Granddad's name.

As her sobs faded, she ran her fingers along the stone wall before her. It was well made; her Granddad would have appreciated the construction. She got up and stepped around it, running her bleeding hand along it. It didn't seem to be anything special. Just a wall, dividing one section of the cemetery from another. But it was solid. Functional. Not wasteful and lavish with fish and candles.

Minerva wiped her nose on her sleeve and stared at the wall. Then she set her jaw, and pulled out a chisel and mallet from her belt.

The wall was in a back corner. Far enough from the graves of the people born here. No one would notice here. That was fitting, she thought. This wasn't for them, anyway. This was for her. For her Granddad. For the grave he'd never truly gotten. She knelt in the corner and held the chisel against the stone, tapping on it with the mallet to chip it away. Her Granddad hadn't had his own grave marker, so she'd give him one here.

Zephram Zipporah
Died the 58th Day of Spring, 508 AV
He never saw Zeltiva.
But his Granddaughter remembers him.

After she was done, she kissed the freshly carved stone, wiping away her tears. Then she ran her tear-damp fingers across the letters of her Granddad's name. "I miss you, Granddad," she whispered.

At least someone did.

She rose, and put her tools back in her belt. She walked off into the night, looking around to take mental note of which part of the cemetery this was in. She had wandered so far into the back corners of the place that she was lost. It would be hard to find the marker she'd left again, even now that she knew where it was. But she knew it was there, and that was what mattered.

She headed home without bothering to look back at the gazebo and the people there. They could have their ceremony. She'd had hers.

OOCI'm not really expecting any SP or anything else for this. You said made it intimate and personal to my character, so that's what I focused on. I don't know if this will make you cry reading it, but I'm crying right now for writing it. So that's what's important. This was my ceremony.

by **Ira** on June 2nd, 2012, 5:20 am

Her original plan had been housing. Finding some sort of shelter where she could get rid of the lingering sea sickness and settle both her belongings and thoughts. Apparently the new city had different plans in mind for people seemed to be swarming towards one area. Their faces alight with equal mixtures of curiosity, nervousness and something more than bitterness. It seemed that warnings or not this city hadn’t fared much better than the rest. In her short wanderings Ira had noted the construction jobs, new pristine looking buildings when side-by-side to the older more used buildings. It was obvious the city and its people suffered. Usually she kept out of affairs that were not her own but this was a tad different for everyone had suffered the storm and everyone had still breathed had survived. In a manner of speaking.

Still her legs were weary and so was her mind, she did not have time for the peoples gathering of sorts but her legs had other plans for her as well for she hoisted her pack a little higher and followed the steady stream of people. Ira arrived in time to hear a woman preaching to her people. Speaking of both her loss and theirs. She could not honestly say anything the woman said struck a chord within her but she still moved forward to purchase a fish.

She watched blankly as people moved calmly past her, not touching and mumbling apologies as they did. It seemed the city was ready to forget the past and move forward. Most of them anyway. Staring into the large basin and watching all the people do what needed to be done to relieve the grief that clung to them she could not help a vague smile.

The loss of something was terrible. Children would forget, had forgotten for the most part. The younger the easier it was, something they could speak of without fear. A simple instance. The older woman and men, the elders, they could not. She could see it in the way even those her age seemed to hobble and then after long silent moments with a tiny fish they would walk away, straight and tall. The past nothing but a bitter memory and the future something they could hold tight to and mold to their liking and to their happiness.

It would be impossible to truly forget anything like the last season’s storm and no fish would change that but the mind could be healed and hope was always ready to be grasped at. Truly she did not feel a part of the ceremony, healing as though it may be. She was neither human nor any other race nor was she even a member of the city. The city that would so clearly give off a light and hope to, in some parody of lighting candles, light the entire city and its people once more.

Taking the small koi fish she had not even realized she purchased she moved farther away from the crowd, not regretting coming but unsure of what she should do. The woman had said let go. Let go of what? She had survived and that was enough for her.

A twinge of something tugged at her insides and it was not sea sickness this time. She wanted a bit of what these people had. The comfort they brought. She wanted the sadness they had, the sadness and spark of something that kept them going and ensured that when they released their gift they were free of the storms burdens and its pain. Ira stared at the fish, glaring at it slightly for a moment before sighing. Running a hand over her face she closed her eyes.

There are many things the storm took from her. It took her semblance of a family. It snatched her hope of being somewhere and being comfortable. The only thing it had given her was freedom. Freedom from the chains of a city that had nearly loved her and she it. But that city was make-believe and so were its people. Real life was like the one here. The one she could not touch. Hopeful people who thrived on growing and not a tightly controlled chaos.

She looked the small fish in the eye, raising the small jar it had been placed in so it was level with her. Its tiny eyes almost seemed sympathetic if not pitying. Yes, pity her. Pity her for what she couldn’t have, for what she almost had and for what she and the storm had successfully shattered into pieces.

Jerking up she practically ran over the pond and stared at the other fish, an odd feeling creeping into her throat. Give up her memories? Is that what the payment to stay here was? Or was it something she was missing? Not to give up the memories but to hold them as something precious. Hold them and remember the pain so she may grow from it. Cling to it but do not let it hold her down.

Death is death none could escape it.

Gritting her teeth she held the jar over the pond. Tilting it carefully and attempting to straighten out her thoughts that seemed to sway with the mood to the people gathered. She could not forget and could not release the feelings but she could grow from them. Perhaps. Allow them to make a new her in this new city.

Shaking her head lightly she swiftly tipped the jar upside down allowing the fish free and watching it flee towards its kin. Together they moved as one, filling the pond with each fish set free. The people here were free from whatever tormented them. Or so they could hope. It would not fix anything nor would it truly ease the hearts especially those who loved ones could not even be found but still…hope. It was such a funny thing. And maybe that’s all there was to this ceremony. To the fish and the seeds. It’s all there was left for any place or anyone.

Hope.

OOC :

by **Montaine** on June 2nd, 2012, 3:43 pm

No Goodbyes
Summer 1 512 AV

Montaine stood with his peers, Mory, Banden and himself all huddled behind Calbert’s voluminous mass and decked out in the finest attire they possessed, which amounted to very little. Banden slicked his hair back with saliva and flattened out his shirt while Mory shuffled uncomfortably on his feet throughout the speech. Calbert shot him a murderous glance. The boss himself was outfitted in the most expensive of silks he possessed in Zeltiva’s colours and wore a ridiculously brimmed hat that repeatedly threatened to prod and poke Banden’s eye. Fogle was not with them, instead standing alongside his parents amongst a plethora of the city’s upper echelons. Indeed Monty and his colleagues had only managed to get such a good position thanks to Calbert’s political finagling. He had wanted to remain with his father amongst the rabble, but the man had insisted he go with his crew.

As the speech concluded and the crowds began to disperse, paying their respects to those they had lost, the youngest and most inexperienced novice of the Zeltivan glassworks managed to extricate himself from his family’s clutches and squeeze past the mourners and bereaved and reach the shelter of Calbert’s hat. Fogle apologised profusely for his inability to get them closer to her ladyship and began to mumble incoherently until the boss waved him silent. He then waited until someone of suitable status was standing within earshot and began a spiel of his own.

‘Now boys, we lost a great man last season, a very great man and personal friend. Joseph was one of the best artists I’ve ever seen, truly, and one day I thought he might even take up the reigns of our fair business,’ he dabbed away a false tear with a silk handkerchief, Monty rolled his eyes, ‘Alas, he was lost to us and though it tears holes in our poor hearts to go on without him, we must. We must endeavour to hold him forever within ourselves and use his passions, and our memory of his passions, to spur us ever onwards to great heights of artisanship! Indeed, we must work all the more for our sorrows, and in this great place, our dear, sagacious leaders have put aside for us, we may leave a remembrance,’ with this the verbose, old fool took off his preposterous boater and held it to his chest, ‘A token, of our grief,’ he then held out the hat and shook it towards the crew, smiling at the Dean of Applied Skills.

Each glassworker in turn begrudgingly opened their bags, not even attempting to keep up the pretence of spontaneity Calbert was trying to portray, and dropped six gold mizas into the hat. Mory had complained vociferously at the size of the donation when the boss had explained it to them three nights ago, but after threat of further reduced pay subsequently rescinded his complaints. When each craftsman had given their tithe to the old man, he dropped his own six coins in and resumed his self important speech.

‘Thank you, my friends, my dear, dear friends. I know that Joseph would be ever grateful for the sacrifices you have made today, and I know that shall ease my weary heartache to know there is a little bit of him here, alive, in this solemn place,’ he smiled and moved off to procure a large koi of solid colour, waiting first for another of the city’s great paragons of society to pass by before loudly requesting his purchase. Banden turned to his colleagues.

‘Mory an’ I’re goin’ over to the ‘Ead for drinks, celebrate Joey’s life like ‘e’d ‘ave wanted it, you two comin’?’

Fogle’s eyes brightened at the offer of inclusion, something rarely presented to the boy, and eagerly accepted. Mory turned to Montaine and nodded inquisitively towards the exit.

‘I-I’m goin’ to stay for a bit, I have someone else I want to say bye to,’

The crew raised their collective eyebrows but none of them questioned him, instead leaving him to his farewells. Montaine looked into his satchel and grabbed the weightier pouch of coins he had brought along to the occasion, and walked over to the salesman. He carefully counted out fifty mizas and sombrely paid for his fish. It was a pristine, white koi, of hefty size. Monty carefully carried his prize to an isolated part of the shore, as isolated as one could be in a room packed with people, knelt down and peered in at the creature.

‘I don’t know if’n you’re dead, but I don’t know if you’re alive either, an’ I can’t stand it,’ he spoke softly, almost whispering, to the fish, ‘An’ I wish I could just move on. I did it for Joe, I don’ even mind he’s dead anymore. Can you believe it? I guess that makes me terrible, or maybe it’s still jus’ shock, I don’t know,’ he sighed, ‘He was a good fella, I liked him, an’ I know you didn’t know him all that much, petch, I don’ even know for sure if’n you said two words to one another, but I knew him and I was his friend an’ I don’t feel nothin’,’ he paused.

‘I miss you. I know you probably don’ realise how much you mean to me, I-’ he sniffed, he didn’t want to cry, not here, ‘I know I don’ mean nothin’ to you but, but you’re everythin’, everythin’ I could never have. You’re everythin’, everythin’ beyond that petchin’ harbour, the whole wide world outside these walls, you’re everythin’ I ain’t never got a chance to see, not yet, an’ I thought, maybe, one day you could show me it all,’ he rubbed his eye, he wouldn’t, not here, ‘An’ now I guess you might not even be around,’

A woman to his left let a small fish drop into the pool with a tiny splash, interrupting his thoughts. He glared at her and almost swore, but she moved away too quickly, tears staining her face. The fish flitted off to join its brothers and sisters. The many colours of the piscine memorials glimmered in their dance as the candles that floated above them illuminated the pool with an arcane firelight. Monty turned back to his koi.

‘Maybe it’s ‘cause of you I can’t feel nothin’ about Joey dyin’, I’m still waitin’ for you, waitin’ to know how I should feel, ‘cause if you’re alive I’ll be happier than anyone who’s lost someone has any right to be an’ if you’re not-’ he looked down at his knees, his breath hitching in his throat, ‘If’n you’re not then I won’t care about Joey dyin’ either, ‘cause as much as I liked him, you’re more important to me,’ his voice was so quiet now, ‘’Cause what’s a friend, or a co-worker in comparison to someone I care about like you? Someone I-’ he choked. He couldn’t say it, no matter if he wanted to or not.

He couldn’t say it.

There was definite moisture touching the corners of his eyes now. It was collecting in wells, trailing down his eyelashes and coursing down his cheeks in cascades. He couldn’t speak. He was struggling so badly to hold back. He couldn’t speak. So he simply tipped his offering in to the pool.

He couldn’t even say good bye.

OOC :

by **Nai'shee** on June 19th, 2012, 11:19 pm

Nai'shee came to the even pretty cheerful. She wore a serious expression and struggled to stay cold when she saw this place. She hasn't been here for years. How disrespectful of her... Or, perhaps, rational? However flashbacks kept coming, more and more of them, overpowering her. But she succeed to get rid of those, knowing that she wanted to hear Maria's speech. She was happy to hear it. She was proud of Zeltiva. She, alongside others, went trough that endless struggle of last season. She too suffered, much, but it was not what hurt her the most. She was glad to hear Maria was too, herself.

But Maria's words broke layers of her confidence. She thought of all of those people who lived trough what she just survived and even worse. Those who were here, on this exact place she was standing, during Valterrian. Those who kept determinedly rebuilding city every and each year up until now. Those who wrote books which were one of the most rare and valuable things here in Zeltiva. Those who built up The Docks and made the to what it is now. Those who led city trough many struggles like this one. She always thought all of that was... just there. She never exactly thought about people who might died while building something she always considered 'just the part of the city' up. She never thought of wizards who overgiven trying to study their art to finest so they could teach others. Or those who taught. Those who, like Maria, had to determine their people not to give up, to save them, to save the city. And all of those people, at one point stood just here, seeking for lead from the lost ones, their elders and friends, lovers and family.

If she were to say what she lost last season it wouldn't be any life. Many people did die, and some places she always greeted them in the morning on her way for shop or the docks now wore shady gray, only an nostalgic glance. Sometimes she reflexively tried to talk when she found herself at those points, but she could just smile at herself sadly. But what really died last season for her was Zeltiva. Zeltiva was and will always be her best friend, mentor and savior. Zeltiva, which led her trough all of the hard situations in her life, which gave her every piece of knowledge she's ever gained, which never failed to make her smile, became a sad, sad place. It wasn't just people that were missing. It wasn't just crushed Astronomy tower or damaged docks. The part of Zeltiva that died was something much grater. Community. She looked at those people back then, those very sad people who played survival game. Those people who only cared about themselves and who gladly accepted any food offered to them instead of sharing. Those people who didn't want to participate in saving lives when overgiven mages run away, those same people who couldn't help by at least carrying something for workers who built their own city back up. Her faith in Zeltiva was what was lost.

But somehow, few people that did think of others, that did not left hungry kid to die starving or those fifty generous mans who sacrificed their future, families and friends to join Syliran Knights for sake of others, their citizens who would have died, those people returned her faith. Maybe Zeltiva is a community after all. Maybe Zeltiva can manage crisis like this after all.

Nai'shee bit her lip looking at their leader, this strong woman who never failed to determine them during this whole crisis, who realized her mistake for not appearing in public, who realized a need of Zeltivans to be community, and she felt as if she was looking at Zeltiva itself, recovering, coming back from unmorality and cruelty she experienced during this unbearable period. Before last words were spoken she was able to smile in pride for her city and it's citizens. And she was able to forget.

She approached and bought one koi herself. She quickly carried it back to the pond, clumsily putting it into water. It shaken happily, trying to get rid of her. For a moment she held it and she didn't want to let go. She looked at the creature, excited to have it's life back, the creature trying to swim forth, wherever it would lead it. And she let it go.

She proceed to two normal candles and one large handle, along with floating bases. This time she carefully carried them to the water.

Setting the first candle she spoke, quietly, so probably only those paying attention would hear: "This is for those who died trying to make Zeltiva a better place, for all of those who sacrificed their own happiness for us, for all of the victims of Valterrian, The Storm and all the battles Zeltiva fought. For every unknown hero, you shall never be forgotten." She left the candle go, floating. The water was calm and it didn't swim away too much. And it never will. They will always remain represent of Zeltiva.

She lighted the second candle, carefully putting it down. This time she held it on it's place in water. She smiled. "This is for you", she mumbled, "who were a true Zeltivan." She didn't dare to stop smiling, even when tears tried to break out of her eyes. She never cried for her father. And she never will. She will be happy, for him. She knew that he would like her to forget about him and be happy. She desperately held to a floating basis, without strength to let go. But soon enough she did, watching it floating. It seemed like it was fading away, the candle became unreal and far, something buried deep in the past. Maybe even too deep.

Lighting the last candle she shook her head, removing her father from her mind. This was important. This time she spoke loudly and clearly, even nor nobody probably listened, since she wasn't the only one who directed her wishes upon fellow Zeltivans.. "This is for all of those who died in The Storm by trying to help Zeltiva and people around them. This is also for all of those loved ones you've all lost and who made Zeltiva what it is. And this is also for those fifty brave man who left her families, friends and homeland to join the Syliran Knights to save us all from certain death. Thank you."

OOCSmall Koi: 10GM
2x Normal candles: 4GM
Large candle: 3GM
2xNormal floating base: 30GM
Large floating base: 20GM
In total: 67GM

I'll take it out of ledger when you grade it..

by **Leigo** on July 1st, 2012, 9:05 pm

Leigo was standing somewhere behind the crowd. Late as per usual, he remained one of the more curious ones. Not taking the time to marvel the newborn structure, boy did his best to try and push through the crowd. The grunts and sighs of people through which he trampled like a mad person soon faded into background. A lovely, melodic voice struck him in place. Hitting something inside him that had long been slumbering, the vocal chords of this woman kept telling him what had happened. They also told him what would happen. And for the first time in a while the boy could feel his eyes watering up. Someone pulling at his shoulders and tugging at his arms to get a better look of Maria got a nasty surprise. Leigo’s irritated boot came down fiercely at such an angle that it could cause nothing but agony to the foot below it. Perhaps he even heard himself cursed more than once, but that one grunt of pain, quickly subdued by neighboring listeners was enough to give the boy some ease. No one touches an Abranox! Ever! People around the city seemed to have forgotten that fact. Well he would remind them somehow. He would… even if he had to punch every face in the damned city to get it done.

The rage dissipated as quickly as it appeared upon boy’s tasting of salt. Lips wet yet stinging, he slowly trailed the fingers up his face, removing any signs of leakage. It was shameful to cry in public, his father would always say. It wasn’t right to be the weak one. Not someone of their family. Not men, not women, hell even their dog had that gruff stubbornness in his living days. Even his familiar was strong and despite the gap in their relationship, Leigo was perfectly aware of that. Currently he was the only weak one, but it felt right.

Noticing its companion’s weakness, Onuo chimed in, briefly. Dying is not the same as being dead, you know. Apparently not even the icicle could gaze at him like that. Mind in disarray, he couldn’t grasp at what the alien was saying. Alien… it was funny how he still referred to Onuo like that sometimes. In such conditions he didn’t surprise himself when he asked for clarity. What? It was all he could pronounce at the moment. As if expecting some sort of a broken down reply, Onuo kept being mechanical to the point of reaching comedy. We, Irylid, die on the surface of Fyrden every day. But as long as we still remember those who came before, they survive, if only in memory. Think about it. There must be some great figure of old you keep hearing about. That’s how they survived… through the persistence of memory. It’s no different for your family. Rebuild the house that burned in the storm, repopulate the family you hold so dear and never forget to remember your parents. It will take time and sweat and blood, but you’ll sire children and hire builders and acquire currency… not necessarily in that order… trailing off, Onuo gave a hint of laughter before the sound died out completely. He wasn’t strong, not yet. But he had Onuo and the familiar could be the strong one until things balanced out in Leigo’s head. The boy would have to remember that.

The commotion around him was growing. Somewhere amidst his introspection Maria had stopped talking. Whatever it was the people were rushing forward for, it must have been important. Letting himself get dragged along by the crowd, the boy would soon notice. Koi. His father talked of those fish sometimes. He would speak of them as immortal creatures that lived incredible lifespans before dying only once they were ready. All sailors knew some stories about these sea dwelling creatures, but somehow they always differed from tongue to tongue. Maybe they weren’t immortal, but they were close enough in Leigo’s mind.

It would settle his fury to see some flesh and bone finally binding his parents to their hometown. Getting his turn, the boy reached in his money sack to pull out thirty something mizas and lay them in front of the merchant. For a moment, the boy hesitated. Reluctant to spoil a close moment he just shared with Onuo, the boy began to wonder if his familiar would question this reckless spending. Giving himself space to breathe, the boy finally reached for the fish he wanted. Three small ones, pure in color – grabbing them without much notice to what their actual price was, he remained certain the coins in front of him covered it. Reaching the pond in a hastened manner, Leigo let them slide from his hands. First one his father, and the second his mother, he thought it a fitting end to throw the one that represented him last. That way, the three of them would have in life what his family never could’ve had in death. His father touched the water first, no doubt protecting Leina from harm. The wife fell in soon after, fate binding them once more. Finally the little fidgeting Leigo slid from his namesake’s hands and joined the cloud of koi that was slowly forming under the surface.

Turning away, he felt content somehow. He might have never had the chance to give them a proper burial, but this was something he could do. Pushing through the crowd, he headed for the coast. He needed to see just how extensive the damage from that fire was once more. Strangely he cared about that place much more than its current owner. And he needed to be alone… Onuo would understand. Somehow Leigo was certain he always understood even if he would never flat out admit it.

When Maria Satterthwite called… people came. When she spoke – it meant something.

ooc-36 GM – 3 small, solid colored koi and some extra coins.

by **Wrenmae** on July 6th, 2012, 10:10 pm

It was the somber call of waves upon the shore that led Wrenmae to the cemetery. With the population of Zeltiva, he thronged into a disorganized mob to hear what the Lady had to say. It was hard not to imagine the Blight working through him, reaching out and worsening the illnesses around him. There was no real feeling, but he imagined one. It felt like bat wings, leathery and crawling, staining the air and suffusing the souls around him. He winced at each cough or sneeze, caused by him or not.

The attitude of the assembly was a quiet respectful, people pausing over the cream colored gravestones to pay respects or murmur barely heard words. Had the dead experienced such assemblage before? Did they turn, beneath the ground, uncomfortable as their resting place was swarmed by the living and breathing? He imagined them down there, scratching at the first around them, scrambling for the warm flesh above. It was an uncomfortable image, and one he quickly distanced himself from.

She was speaking of change, of uniting, of healing and Zeltivan pride. The people seemed to breathe with her, their chests swelling and shrinking with the rhythm of her words. So different from Sunberth where a similar speech might be ignored altogether. No one trusted each other back there, only in the ability of man to profit off of man. There was no profit here.

Wrenmae had followed the damages when he arrived in Zeltiva, surprised at how enterprising the group could be in reasserting their presence. Sunberth left many houses ruined, their occupants dead or too hopeless to rebuild. The streets were choked with the refuse of the passing, a sort of permanent dirt to cover the blood and bones already ground into the cobblestone. Here they seemed to care more, trusted each of their neighbors (or at least with a measure of trust) and seemed to move with the good of the city in their minds. It was different, so radically different.

Taking his coins out, Wrenmae felt the weight and sighed. How many of these gold rimmed mizas were earned with death? How many did he dig from the chest of an innocent soul? The blood on his hands was as tangible as it would have been freshly spilt. He did not know his crimes, only that they had been commited. The weight of gold weighed on his conscience. Could he pay for virtue with the dirty money of a monster? Perhaps. It wasn’t redemption, but it felt like a beginning.

He stepped up and bought two fish, two bright white Koi that flopped when they were taken from their prisons and given to the storyteller. With quick steps he jerked to the pond and laid them both in, an unceremonious splash drawing the eyes of the Zeltivans to him. Blushing furiously, happy to just get the fish away from him and his pestilence, Wrenmae looked down at the ground hard, stepping away. Death was left in every footstep.

The murmurs that followed him were ignored, he didn’t want to intrude on the private gossip of the sailors and the aristocracy. His soul felt a little lighter, less of the accursed gold weighing down his steps. Passing around the building and deeper into the area set aside for the dead he stopped when he heard a sound…the sound of a fist hitting stone. The crack was audible, loud enough to capture his curiosity from where it had come from. Tock, the woman who had hit him, clutched her fist against her chest with wordless agony, sobs wracking her thin frame. Unable to pull himself away from the private moment, Wrenmae shrank back against the shadows and made himself small.

“Perfect time for retribution!” His familiar said within him, “She’s injured, sobbing, and completely alone. I mean…really, how can you not take this opportunity?”

Wrenmae said nothing, enraptured as the girl bent down and carved something in the stone. Moonlight brushed against her red hair, a resplendent sheen bobbing as she worked. Rattled breath conveyed her inner turmoil, but why? What was so important out here? He waited till she left, his legs burning beneath him in his strange crouched hiding place behind several jagged stones. Only when he’d lost her figure in the gathering gloom did he pull himself through the grass to overlook her handiwork.

“Zephram Zipporah,” he murmured the name and traced his fingers along the newly carved letters. “In such a private place, where does your body really lie?” Wrenmae sat down in front of the stone, his hand still on the words, “In Sunberth? Do you lie in an unmarked grave?” Hundreds did, maybe thousands. For some reason though, Tock’s sorrow had touched him in a place he’d expected to only be private. His own father and family lay in similar graves perhaps…forgotten, lost. Taking out his second long dagger, Wrenmae placed it against the rock beneath the words Tock had written. It was his original intention to scrawl other names, other honors. But he paused, replacing the dagger where it had been. “I won’t join you to my family,” he said to the makeshift gravestone, brushing some stray rock dust away from the letters, “They were taken by my weakness and I don’t imagine your granddaughter has ever been weak in her life…has she?” No answer, only the wind. Fishing into his coin pouch, he took out a gold miza and buried it beneath the stone, tearing up grass and mud with his hands before placing it beneath and covering the hole. “My father always said to never go anywhere without a coin or two, just in case. I don’t know if the afterlife takes currency, but if they do…I want you to have this.” Standing, Wrenmae dusted off his hands, shoving them into his pocket. The night was close around him, but he was at ease out here. No one to sicken, no one to hurt. He could stop worrying…for once.

“Whatever I did to your granddaughter, I want you to know I’m sorry. If I could fix me, I could.” A beat of silence. “She says you’ve never seen Zeltiva. It’s beautiful. Would you like it if I brought you something from the city? From the docks?” He imagined an old face smiling. It may not have, but he liked the image. Talking to the dead felt safer to him. He couldn’t hurt the dead. “She’s a hard worker, and maybe she can thank you for that…so, since I doubt she’ll ever take penance from me, I want to do something for you. I dunno, maybe to clear my own conscience, maybe because I think it would be awfully lonely all the way out here.” Wrenmae sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll come back, but only at night. I don’t want her to catch me here…I don’t think she’d listen to what I have to say. But, between you and me, I know what it’s like to lose someone you love very much…someone who didn’t get to see what they wanted to see. My Da always told me about Alvadas, the illusions, the things he wanted to see, wanted to show us.” A swift kick to the dirt scuffed the ground, just a shadow among shadows now. “He never saw it. But he was a good man, always a good man.” Wrenmae slid his hand across the gravestone slowly, “I bet you were too. Rest easy Zephram.”

Turning without a word, he left the graveyard, weaving through stones and the dark shapes of others. He’d return to his dorm and sleep, not waking Nai’shee when he entered, simply falling upon the bed and looking up at the ceiling.

So, beneath all her fire and temper…a little girl who missed her grandfather silently mourned.

Tock. Tock…Zipporah.

by **Echelon** on October 26th, 2012, 6:42 pm

Adventurer's Loot

A Gift
Experience is its own reward.

Tock's Loot :

Ira's Loot :

Montaine's Loot :

Nai'Shee's Loot :

Leigo's Loot :

Wrenmae's Loot :

(Well done. This achieved the feel I was going for, and exceeded in several cases. Thank you for all who helped out.) - if you have ANY questions or concerns about this grading, please PM me.