Location [Entrance] The Rolling Waves

[Arvan]

Arvan stood silent in the top of he hill. The narrow street, scratching the earth, longed to a city beside the sea. Rubbing his left blind eye, and glancing on the horizon, he could smell the salty air coming from the east. Zeltiva, lie before his eye on the awakening of a dawn.

"Am I suppose to be there?" he ask the wind that blow his cloak playfully.

He didn't get answer. But that is why he was heading through every places. To find out the answer. Slowly he start pacing descend to the gateless city.

[Jemona Ravencass]

All the cities in the world, and so very little time... (Winter 7th, 512AV) The scent of salt rushed into her nose as she finally clambered over the last of the forest pathway, and she blinked a few times before stopping suddenly. Jemona ran as fast as her four legs could carry her at the thin pass between two rocks; the city of Zeltiva was at last in sight and the sea, in all its untameable energy, stretched out before her; she had never seen anything like it in her life. It was so big! In all the stories she had been read, it had never really occurred to her how vast the thing was, all that water… It went on as far as the eye could see and, under this grey sky, looked awfully threatening. No, she decided, she would not be going swimming anytime soon. As she ran, she pricked her ears up, trying to take in as much new-ness as she possibly could. Everything here was strange and foreign; even the rocks seemed unusual – bleached by salt and covered in something green and slimy. The birds here didn’t call but screeched, and it hurt a little to hear: she knew what she would be having for dinner later if she could manage to catch one. The path beneath her paws was sandy and she could already feel it stick to her fur; the air even tasted of salt! Was everything here rock flavoured? On the other side of the rock passage, a winding path led down into the city and she slowed a little at the thought of the hundreds of strangers waiting down there. It had been a long time since she had seen anyone and the thought made her tingle, half with nerves, and half with excitement. She wasn’t particularly scared of the people themselves; as far as she was aware there was no reason to be. What she was anxious about was getting news of her Master. There was no certainty of good news - bad news was equally likely if not more so - but she prayed with every whisker that he would be here, somehow, waiting. Or even if had just left her a message; anything to let her know he was safe. She padded the ground for a moment, trying to get her bearings and raise up some confidence before she slowly wandered down in the direction of the main street. It felt a lot sturdier to be in her cat form at this moment: four shaky legs was definitely better than two. As she walked towards the city, her pack slung haphazardly over her back, she wondered what awaited her in this strange, salty city by the sea.

[Cadicus]

5th Winter, 512AV Trailing behind Red and Thohorn, watching with critical eye their bouncing step and their straight backs, Cadicus took even steps next to Maritus. In his grand Ethaefal form, his skin shimmered slightly beneath Syna's rays, but Cadicus payed no notice to the signs of his former faith and former goddess. His group was ever excited, as they were whenever they came across a new city. Zeltiva was known for its knowledge and its shipwrights, or so those in Sylira said: Cadicus scoffed. Every city was much of a muchness. Every city had different people and places and feelings, but beneath everything lay a selfishness. They banded together not out of love, but out of greed and necessity. A city was nothing new. And yet Thohorn and Red searched ever for their names and their purposes. Cadicus knew they would not find them in Zeltiva. Just as they had not found them in all the other cities they came to. Cadicus, who had left his faith and his trust behind long ago, knew that there was nothing to be found anywhere. Everything that we had on this world was inside of us already. There was no one to rely on for anything but themselves. Gripping Maritus' yvas, he watched Soladis run ahead through the pass. Sighing, Cadicus shook his head, and briefly glanced at the sun. Disgusted by what he saw, he took his eyes to the horizon, and walked into yet another city: Zeltiva.

[Elliha]

6th Winter, 512 AV Finally. The city of Zeltiva unfolded before Elliha's eyes. In the aftermath he realized choosing the land route might have not been the best idea, he had underestimated the time and the efforts it would take to reach this place. 'Take the land route' they said. 'Ships are not worth the money' they said... But that was irrelevant now, he was here and that was all that mattered. Zeltiva was known for its ships and its knowledge, Elliha was interested in the latter. If he wanted to do some research on magic and gods there was probably no better place than the University of Zeltiva. And maybe not the worst place to start a new life. He thought while slowly moving down the large street. The weather sure is different Elliha had never thought about the snow and freezing winds of Avanthal too much. He grew up there and was used to it, only when he left and entered the warmer regions of Mizahar he realized that he disliked warm weather. Altough it was winter there was no snow in Zeltiva, only the moutains around the city showed a white crown of snow around their top. "They call this winter..." he muttered to himself. The Sun was slowly setting and Elliha had to hurry and find an Inn, or he would have to spend the night on the streets. Again. He definitley had enough of sleeping on the ground. All he wanted right now, was a clean and warm bed.

[Everett]

Timestamp: 50th of Winter, 512 AV Everett did not come to the city by boat, as so many often do, though he did enter at the docks. No, instead the ghost simply walked across the water. One might have thought this strange, though Everett did not seem to think anything of it. He should have, however, considering the fact that he thought he was still a Nuit. But his mind was not quite there, and had his mind been right, he would have in fact realized he was a ghost and then still found the act of walking on water little more than a novel idea. As it was, he thought nothing of it at all. His mind was only on one thing. His body was rapidly deteriorating, or at least, he assumed it was. He couldn't even feel his legs! He wasn't even certain he had legs to walk with, anymore, to be honest. But more importantly, he could not even muster the strength to pluck a flower from the ground. Walking on water was hardly worth even thinking about when his body was literally falling apart around him. He needed a new one, and there would be bodies in Zeltiva, somewhere. Were he in a better state of mind, he might have appreciated the view of his home city, but not that day. He walked across the water with purpose, stepped onto the docks, and ventured in. The search for a body was on.

[Shalir]

58th Winter, 512 AV The swaying. The constant rocking, back and forth, back and forth. For a Svefra, the movement of the sea signaled comfort. For Shalir, it represented only sickness and a new found appreciation for the Isur dwelling beneath the earth. How many bells had it been? Shalir pondered the question for but a moment before he convulsed, spitting bile off the deck of the ship. The first 32 years of his life had been spent primarily beneath the stones of the Kitreans in Sultros. Occasionally he would venture to the surface, but these were few and special occasions. Now, he surrounded himself with the constant glimmering and rolling of the sea. Another convulsion came, but there was no more to expel. The Isur slumped closed his eyes, rubbing his face for long moments, wishing the view to transform from sea to land upon the opening of his eyes. He remembered Sultros fondly, and allowed himself a small chuckle as he basked in the irony of the moment. His departure from his home was not fully running away, but neither was it viewed fondly by Shalir’s family. The arguments between Shalir and his parents over what he was to do with his life had numbered one too many. Isur are a people of intense passion. His father, Himlir, was a revered Captain of “The Hammer”, the elite fighting force of the Isur. His mother, Shayil, was a renowned blacksmith. Both urged their only son to follow in their footsteps, yet in his heart he wished for a different path. Since he was a child, Shalir could remember gazing fondly at the towers of the citadel, marveling at the bridges of Sultros. They were beautiful feats of Isur ingenuity. Yet, they paled in comparison to the great towers of Izurith City and the Pre-Valeterrian architecture, or so he was told. As a child he dreamed of building towers, shaping piles of clay into crude structures, made magnificent in his mind. As he grew up, he continued to design buildings, towers, and bridges. He developed a similar passion for art, and spent many hours drafting ideas in his room. Yet, this passion was not encouraged by his parents, and conflict erupted with increasing frequency as Shalir neared adulthood. All of the arguments ended at the beginning of Winter. Shalir announced he was going to travel to Zeltiva to pursue academics and study the rare Pre-Valeterrian architecture that existed in the city. The resigned look of disappointment upon his father’s face still haunted him. If only he had made the decision years before. It would not have removed the disappointment in his father’s eyes, but at least he could have admired his son’s determination. Removing his hands from his face, the bright burst of light was soon replaced by the dark blue of the sea. Yet, as his eyes adjusted farther, Shalir could make land out in the distance, and the silhouette of buildings standing like arms thrust out to welcome him. Zeltiva at last! Within a few chimes they were docked at the port of the great city. Throwing all he had upon his back, he made his way down the dock, pausing a moment when his feet finally felt the resilience of stone and dirt beneath his feet. “At last,” Shalir sighed, “my journey has truly begun.”

[Raccoon]

Winter 78, 512

Raccoon stirred, the noise carrying down the caravan. After his most recent engagement involving a wagon wheel, a bog, and a lost hammer, he went to rest in one of the wagons, curling up in his natural furry self, losing himself in the rocking motion. However, he now awoke, hearing shouts of some joy, yet some confusion. Growling lightly at the disturbance, he stretched out before flashing into human form, where he then got himself into his thick fur winter clothes he had brought for this journey.

As he pulled his last boot on, he ducked his head out from under the wagon covering before stepping down onto the rocky ground, blinking his eyes until they adjusted to the light. Then he saw the leader of this food caravan standing in a group gesturing fiercely at the city. The city ... they were finally here. Zeltiva, the port city of the world, where he could flourish as a shipwright, and to maybe bond with someone, a deep seated need he'd been feeling for awhile, for the first time in awhile after that little boy.

He shook himself from these thoughts, and walked up to the group. Most of them knew him as the furry fixer boy, which he didn't mind in the slightest. It was a fair assessment of Raccoon. The leader waved everyone back to their wagon after a brief meeting, and they obliged. Raccoon sat on the front bench next to the driver, intrigued with this city, hoping to catch the sights as they entered.

[Lilly Konrad]

Winter 85AV
Lilly came running across the Mirahil pass.

As she ran, the moss on the mountains started to disappear.
When she came by a tree, she instantly used her magic to set the tree on fire.
Seeing the flaming tree made her giggle and jump in joy. When she had enough fun, Lilly then walked into Zeltiva leaving the tree behind.

[Cirrus]

Cirrus [Timestamp: 1st of Spring 513] Cirrus was having a good day. He had somehow weathered the Syliran winter while staying on the move, which he supposed was mildly heroic in itself. Finding water had been easy, and chakrams were a fairly efficient way of catching game when you knew how to use them, and had a target big enough to hit. Leading his horse over the rise, he found the town he had been directed to from filthy, crowded Syliras. Zeltiva. A handsome smile curled across his face and he began his descent through the melting snow and into the town. He'd be there by nightfall. Excellent.

[Lenell Belleste]

4th of Spring, 513

"Thank you." Lenell said to the sailor who held out a hand to help her settle her feet upon the dock. He smiled gently. She turned around, and began making her way to the shore, cane in hand.

Old lessons in appearing as graceful as she could manage ran through her mind. There is a string in the middle of my head, supporting me. My body hangs gently down from it. Walk slowly, but as if I am a fine pleasure boat with nowhere urgent to go, not a broken down old horse. Don't slouch. Don't look at my feet. Those things had been easy, old habits to follow on the Syliras streets she'd known so well, every dip, crack and loose stone. But those streets were now far away, and she could not resist glancing downward frequently to make sure her deformed left foot was not about to hit an unfamiliar obstacle that would leave her very ungracefully tumbling to the ground.

The road fronting the dock was busy with workmen on serious errands, not so apt to see a girl with a cane coming their way and to part for her. "Excuse me," she said often. The sound of her own voice repeating those words had begun to annoy her when she caught sight of an empty space ahead and made for it quickly.

She took a deep breath when she reached the break in traffic and stopped to raise her head and take in the sights of the town she had longed dreamed of making her home. She smiled.

"Hello, Zeltiva," she said. "I've made it. I'm here."