Location [Entrance] The Rolling Waves

[Sebastian Stalinsa]

Season Fall, Day 10, Year 512 "Well, here we are boy." Said Jov the wizened caravan driver. Walking next to the lead horse Sebastian stared out across the city. His eyes flicking with interest from one raised mast to another, from smatterings of low cropped buildings to the compacted structure of what must be Zeltiva's famed university. "Doesn't seem like much of a city." He commented while loosening the scarf around his neck to cool down from the long hike through the pass. "Where are their walls? Their fields? Haven't been through a single cheek point, no patrols." The young man chuckled raising a callused hand to shade his eyes from the sun as they continued to take stock of the civilization before him. "All I see are boats and all I hear about is their university. How's it such a place hasn't been trampled by marauders and beasts." He joked with the tired humor of one who has travel long and slept little. "Ha, you have much too learn my young friend." Chided Jov from the wagon seat with an easy smile down towards Sebastian. "I have traveled far and wide and I can assure you that while every city of our beloved Mizahar is different they are not without charm. This place will do you good my boy." Sebastian's spirits lighten as the small caravan consisting of only two wagons entered the city. "I still say they're too many boats but, find me a good tavern and I can see the place growing on me." He said a sparkle coming to his eye and a smile to his face as a shapely young women hurried through the busy street, her gray green shawl slipping to expose a gleam of silken raven hair. "Well old man," He said as the wagons came to a stop outside a small shop with boarded shutters. "Thanks for the lift. Try not to die before I run into you again." The two shook, Jov's delicate boned hand like a fragile bird compared to Sebastian's thick callused fingers. You'd never guess such small hand's could kill, the young man thought his eyes bright and fixed on Jov the emotions coming from them mixed and complicated from their journey together. "You did the right thing Sebastian." Jov rasped dropping his voice and staring pointedly into the younger man's face. "You're father would be proud." "Eh, suppose you're right." Sebastian replied with a dismissive smile not sure whether he was happy or annoyed by the man's bias insight. The memories surrounding Broka made the stitches against his temple itch. "Take care old man." "Hey what about me Laddie!" Barked Mortimer as he dragged his giant girth from off the second wagon. "Same to you Mortimer." Sebastian call stranding over to the beefy man. "Now remember what I told you lad," He grunted grasping Sebastian wrist for wrist in a shake. "You've got a hard head but, by Nikali's tits learn to dodge or you won't be keeping it for much longer." This brought a deep chuckle from the young man and a thump of a fist against Mortimer's shoulder."Take care friend." He said again before giving Wicker the horse a goodby pat, his eyes now casting about the streets. The sun was setting. Heavy orange light knifed off the bay like razors of molten silver; not so different from how the sun set in Syliras. A comforting thought in the midst of an unknown city. Caught by the light Sebastian felt the remaining dark stains of travel melt from his heart and the excitement of new beginnings take hold. Stretching his shoulders he strolled away from the caravan his steps light, his face open and eager for whatever awaited him in this odd city.

[Alex Cromwell]

Season of Fall, Day 80, 512AV

It has been weeks of travel from his home in the wilds, but he finally made it. Zeltiva, the port city. The mountains were treacherous, and he nearly died twice when he slipped and almost fell into a chasm. But he survived and made it here. Now all he had to do was to find a place to get something to eat.

[Aled Verthi]

Time Stamp: 80th of Fall, 512AV The Rolling Waves; Aled's Arrival A wave shook the ship heavily, waking Aled from his sleep. He looked around the room while wiping the sleep from his eyes and noticed most of the others who'd found passage on the merchant ship were still asleep. He forced himself off of the ground and collected his sleeproll and made his way past the various crates, barrels, and sack of goods and to the upper decks. As he pushed the wooden door from below his senses were assaulted by the bright light and strong scent of the ocean. The sun was high in the sky signifying midday. Sleeping in the dark confines of the lower deck had taken it's toll on his sense of time, but it wasn't only him who was out of routine, everyone who wasn't part of the ships crew seemed to be affected by now. As he looked over the expanse of water he could see Zeltiva in the distance, slowly growing larger with each passing minute. Almost there. Two months had passed since he left Nyka to start his life anew. He'd thought of heading to another region far away but couldn't afford it. The best he could do was bribe the captain of a merchant ship to let him stow away in the lower decks during their trip to Zeltiva. The trip was brutal, the captain set anchor in whatever port he felt like along the way, the sleeping area he'd managed to find was tight, cramped, and cold, and not to mention none of the sailors liked his extra presence. Aled let out a sigh and watched as a few seagulls passed overhead, on their way back to shore. Almost there.

[Ritz]

Time Stamp: 81st of Fall, 512

The wind was cold and the sun seemed strangely colder. Slowly treading through the mountains until she came within the Mirahil Pass. She stood there for a moment, blinked a few times hoping it was not just a figment of her imagination, before continuing to walk. A simple backpack slung over her shoulders. Her food supply was now down to only one week's worth left. And she had been eating as sparingly as she could. Traveling up to this point, she had heard of a city being nearby from passersby. And had decided to come take a look for herself. Ritz's feet were sore, and felt like they might have blisters on them, but she kept on walking. The cold was starting to get to her as she pulled the sleeves to her shirt tighter to her shoulders and shivered.

"If I was a wolf right now..perhaps I wouldn't be as cold." She thought to herself. But knew if she did that, then it just might seem odd to others if a wolf carried a backpack. Finding a little bit of humor in that thought, she paused her walking and bent forward laughing.

"Ridiculous! Ha! Hahahaha!" Though as soon as her laughing started, it stopped as she straightened up and the thoughtful expression came back to her ice blue eyes. Shaking her head as a half smile crept into her expression now.

"Ridiculous." She laughed a little again, but kept walking. By the time she was past the Mirahil Pass, her expression went from one of humor, to her usual quite and reserved one. Seeing the city of Zeltiva, she noted the architecture. Noticing a lot of people that seemed busy and going about their lives, she wanders around looking at any building in sight. Looking at the exteriors of them from a distance. Unsure where to go, she keeps walking, looking for a sign that indicated an Inn perhaps.

[Vincent Gorvald]

Timestamp: Day 11, Fall of 512

The waves lapped against the side of the ship, the deep blue of the ocean sea slowly giving way to the greener colour denoting the kelp farms beneath the surface and the rapid rising of the sea floor and the clear skies made for smooth sailing.
"Land-Ho" had been called nearly two hours earlier and Vincent was one of the first to make the upper decks and see the green shape of land upon the horizon. It was much closer now, and Vincent could start making out various shapes and different colours among the mass of green.
Vincent had certainly satisfied his wanderlust, almost 14 years it must be now. Vincent had sailed right around Mizahar, taking in the sights and smells, taking in the cultures of the foreign ports and different races.

The ship was a trader, bringing savory cargoes with rare and exotic spices, dried fruits from the far side of Mizahar plus many other strange and not-so-strange delicacies.

Vincent had learned a great deal in his time on board the "Sullivan," he had also made some friends he would value for life. They had seen much in their time together, experienced storms and pirates, had their fair share of death, misfortune and good times too. They had weathered it all though, and he was here at the end of the day to live on and prosper from the experience.

Vincent returned to his hammock below decks and pried loose the decking under where he slept to reveal his stash of personal belongings, his money and of course his fathers sword which had remained hidden for all these years. Vincent felt the supple leather of the hand grip, almost foreign now in his hands but at the same time it was just as it had been all those years before. An extension of his arm, his wrist was another elbow and the blade was his hand. It felt right.

Vincent strapped the sword belt around his waist and hung the scabbard at his hip, there was no harm in coming into town looking the part, having a longsword at his waist and looking like he knew how to use it was certainly the part he wished to portray. Vincent gathered up the rest of his belongings and fit them all into his rucksack before re-stowing it and returning to the upper deck to see if it was time to start furling the main sail.

Preparations for pulling into port were well underway and Vincent slipped into the well versed motions of sea life. Tying off this line, hauling on that rope, swinging from the rigging like a monkey as they furled the sheets and stowed them for their next use. Time flew as he settled into the routine and before he knew it they were along side, the captain was closely watching over the distribution and allocation of tasks for unloading the merchandise for sale in the port and the first mate was handing out the pay packets for the sailors to spend at their local establishment of choice.

Vincent certainly would miss this life.

[Ray]

34th of Winter The plank beneath him creaked as he stepped from the ship and onto the docks. A cruel wind whipped at the air, and he instinctively shrugged deeper into his coat. Should have stayed in Sunberth. The lawless city had been a bit a shock; the first time there he had done little but wait for debates to stop, but the second time he had been booted off to take care of himself. In a city of thieves and thugs, nothing to control the people but their own ambition and intellect. He couldn’t lie; the city was… well, it was Sunberth. Even now he could feel a pull, a pull to the absolute and total freedom that reigned there. He couldn’t help it; Sunberth, at its core, was chaos. Complete and total chaos. And he wanted it. He walked the length of the pier, and when it ended he had no debate over where he was going next.

[Gravel]

44th Day of Winter, 512 AV The pycon let out a sigh of great relief as he entered the Mirahil pass which would take him into Zeltiva proper. Roughly twenty of the past forty-four days had been unkind to him to say the least. His first mistake had been setting off from Syliras by himself. He blamed his impatience on having spent far too long in Syliras looking for a decent job, only to come up empty handed nearly thirty days later. This, combined with the fact that he wasn't carrying anything he considered to be valuable enough to warrant attack led him to the conclusion that he would be fine if he set off to Zeltiva alone. The first leg of his trip had gone along well enough, but thanks to a combination of a small snow storm and poor judgement, his trip stretched well past the thirty or so days it should have taken. Gravel shook his head, reminding himself that none of that mattered now that he had arrived at his destination. He uttered prayers of thanks to both Priskil and Aquiras for seeing him safely through his journey as he transitioned from the pass to the city itself.

[Rilian]

Winter 3rd, 512 It was not long before Rilian started feeling the pull again. No longer were his sharp, yellow eyes sweeping the landscape for his next meal (although he certainly wouldn't complain if he found it), now they sought something more exotic. A verdant Sylira rolled on below him, browning with the onset of winter. Rilian passed silently overhead, a silhouette symbolic of the end, an omen to all who saw him. He thought he was finished with the humans. The very idea of attaching himself to another brought indescribable pain arching through his chest and wings, threatening to send him plummeting. And yet without them—the humans—Rilian could see no joy in continuing on. He was far from young, far from able to simply bounce back and retake the spirit that was ripped from his being. But to exist alone, it was… well, boring to be quite frank. Rilian would not go to Ravok. Could not. And yet it was the only place he had ever known. But it was said, because Hunter had told him, that there were other places. Lesser places, he said, but that was fine. Rilian was a lesser creature, after all. These places were not like Ravok, they did not follow the lord Rhysol, but they were still humans. So Rilian searched, unable to fly backward. He searched without knowing what he was looking for. Ravok was a geometric sprawl floating in the middle of a vast body of water. Certainly, these other, lesser places had to be similar. And there it was. It was not what he imagined, but he knew what the place was as soon as he saw it. It was not as well partitioned as Ravok. The structures looked different, pushed together on a narrow strip of land between the water and the jutting mountain ridges. The shapes were unnatural, square, and angular, unlike anything seen in the infinite wilderness of Sylira. It was because humans were there. That was how they shaped the land. Flapping his wings once to break his rhythm, Rilian began his descent.

[Weylin Quickshot]

5th day of Winter, 512

Carefully Weylin Quickshot lead the nervous horse though Mirahil pass, stroking his nose reassuringly as they entered. She walked with a limp, but pressed on smothering a grunt when she stepped wrong. From a distance Weylin would of looked like a boy with his horse, but it was only upon close and careful inspection that it became clear that she was female. She gave the horse a tug on the reigns and lead him on.

"Come Averti," she whispered to the horse.

And then through the pass she travelled, into the light, staring down into the city . For a moment she hesitated, staring at the close, cramped stone buildings of the city, of the carved architect of both old and new. But there was one thing that stuck out for her the most, the great expanse of water that stretched out before her, the sea. When she was a child, Weylin had heard stories of the ocean, of its great vastness and the boats that filled it. Not that she ever liked the ideas of boats, she believed that people should stay to the land- she did however admire their courage.

Taking a deep breath she lead Averti on into the city before them.

[Lance Tycan]

Winter 30th, 512AV His sense for traveling brought him here despite the thought there was nothing left. Lance had nothing to live for anyways, why not petching risk it? Maybe learn some new shyke on the way through while he was at is. Of course, this was him speaking. Zelvita had drawn him because he heard that it was a place for opportunity and new discoveries. Though he was pessimistic, he did like to escape certain places and rarely did he, if ever, stay in one place for very long. That was just him. He grew bored of things easily and constantly had to keep his darkened mind awake. Much like a child with a toy, except the child grew out of it quickly and tossed it to the side. Lance looked at the black barn owl, Dystair, whom was perched on his shoulder half asleep, half awake. Her dark cinder colored head was somewhat tucked into her breast feathers and she was puffed up. The dark brown patches on her face slightly moved as she looked around her surroundings slowly becoming more weary as more sound entered her sensitive ears. Lance reached his hand up and stroked her back reassuringly and she affectionately came out of her half slumber and gently tugged a strand of his black hair gaining a chuckle and another stroke on her head before she resumed her previous position and Lance continued to lead the black stallion beside him as they passed into the city.