Location The Southern Trading Post (City Entrance)

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

16th of Summer 513AV The winds were mourning, the sad flow they carried were that of widowed betrothed, widowed to what was the question one asked with their inquisitive stupidity, the morning was bleak with brethren tears as they felt the seas vigorously sway amongst the sweetened taste of drowning death. As if death had been injected into the world, the path beneath settled to a laid posture to whomever walked upon, it seemed that the earth sighed as it found peace not long after the ideal of death had been injected into its earthly veins, the interconnecting roots that withered with time. From the wildlands came a figure and the coupled guards of Ravok, trimmed to a 'exquisite' visage stood upright, signaling out, questioning as was their duty, the spiteful rays of the sun shone dimly from afar dependant on which way they faced, armoured to intimidate, to kill if they saw fit as any other guard did if they fell to corruption. ``Yes, Yes... Those I've already questioned, and haven't signalled out as threats may enter`` said the disgruntled guard standing upon the right sided quarter next to his aging partner, the older man had truly seen better day in his prime and needed retirement, truly. As another mournful caress of wind came through, the muscle structure figure of Senghor fell under the velvet throw, gist to many moans that hummed wholly within his hollow ear, seated into his golden brown eyes as they enviously envisioned the rhythmically attuned beings of two individuals. As he walked, his defined calves tightened unknowingly, naturally under the cover of his black pants, his footwear imprinted its eternal mark into the earth as his black shirt hugged greedily at his upper body, his large chest confined his ever beating heart, courageous and pumping the blood his ever mysterious ancestry. Lazily strapped around and over his neck and diagonally moving downwards towards and behind his left arm was the mildly heavy turquoise duffel bag, the bottom of the bag comfortably laid cupped by his palm as the hand let it stand upright somewhat. As his left palm to hold his belongings, the other hand was occupied with his longsword, the blade reflectively held the light as he approached, flatly laying over his shoulder muscles with the tip facing where he came, his desert skin befallen to the wild slightly yet retaining its sinful, seductive texture. As he neared the threshold of Ravok, his eyes were sullen to boredom because of the authority ahead yet finding himself in the back of the crowd seemed to make him, angry. He scowled slightly as he looked at the diversity his eyes captured, vast races under the observing globes his harvested from his parents. "Excuse me..." he kindly murmured, lowly enough to be heard, yet his kind words were somewhat laced with the misunderstood rage that followed every tightly in his dark pilgrimage. As his taller figure shuffled through the tightly body cradled by the motherly hand of disorder. As the ebony skin male kept walking, it seemed a pair of piercing wholenut eyes followed his sluggish movement through the crowd before calling forth, aged and pillared with experience. ``You there... Benshira.`` said the armour guard with his grey beard, pointing out somewhat rudely at Senghor. "Benshira?..." the male murmured to himself as he gazed up to see the guard signalling him out. 'Old confused bastard...' swore the subconscious mind of Senghor as the people ahead of him opened way, he'd had this probably before it seemed due to his skin color, and 'nomadic' features yet we would let that bother him now. His stride was lofty at the moment before he reached the old guard, he obviously towered over the aged man before as the corners of his lips curved downwards into a agitated frown. Senghor saw something in the man, as the man saw something in him... ``You look... Vaguely familiar...`` lingered the tired voice of the old man before he looked over the Vilhjalmr. Senghor kept his thoughts to himself at that moment before the old man proceeded to speak, short of breath after each long winded sentence. ``I believe that your purpose here, is... Your own? You're obviously carrying that weapon for protection... And what trouble you cause in the city, will be because it came to you?...`` rehearsed the rhetorical questions of the man, Senghor merely looked down before replying. "Yes..." he spoke with a unease whilst the old man grasp the pommel of his sword, placing the tip of the blade between his feet as both his palms clasped around the blade in thought. ``Aye... Familiar indeed.`` he replied with a distance yet uncaught memory, slowly he looked up at the male before him, letting his wrinkles move sadly down his face. ``You... May enter.`` he said towards the Vilhjalmr before sliding his foot in a arch towards the side, he faced his young, muddled accomplice shortly for nodding at Senghor. A somewhat thankful snort left Senghor's throat as he shook his head and strode into the city of Ravok, he didn't, nor would he dare and question the events that'd happened, he just didn't wish too...

[Doros]

1st of Summer, 513 AV.

The trip was long and tiresome, and all he could see was a fortified tower before a lake. Could this truly be the right place, the lost city excluded from roads, despised and cursed by the outside world? So many people had such strong opinions of it, and yet most of the stories seemed like fantasy. How would people willingly live under the rule of an evil god?
The guards seemed bored at duty, waiting for the next inspection. An Isur was not much of a common sight in Sylira, and as soon as Doros approached they stared at each other for a few moments before finally addressing him. The words comforted him with the assurance that Doros had taken the right path.

"What is your business in Ravok, Isur?"

Doros dropped his heavy luggage on the floor, grunting in discomfort. The impact made a considerable thunk on the ground, drawing the curiosity of the soldiers. Strong as Doros was, carrying all of that had been extremely exhausting. He also removed his warhammer from his belt, showing it to the guards peacefully before throwing it on the top of the rest of his belongings. He then lifted his arms to show that he carried nothing else along. He had done it many times before in his travels, such inspections were very usual in the other cities.

One of the guards inspected his belongings, while the other stared at his movements and looked for possible hidden apparel. "Um...do you have...any more...weapons?" he questioned pausedly, as if trying to communicate with a child, clearly unsure of whether or not the Isur could understand his language well.

"No," Doros responded clearly. "This is all I have, check it all if you wish," he said in his cold accent, pointing to his belongings. The guard curiously opened the backpacks and rummaged through his luggage. It took him a couple chimes to assure himself that there was nothing irregular the Isur could be trying to illegally bring into the floating city. "It's all clear," he said out loud. The other guard nodded and turned to the Isur once more.

"Well, you are not a merchant, so what is your business here, Isur?"

The Isur looked up at the man, not once changing his dour expression since his arrival. "I want to work, that is all. I can offer my work to the city," he said calmly with his usual heavy expression, which along with the fact that he was not human seemed to draw the dissatisfaction of the guard, who then attempted to push Doros a little further.

"Well? And why didn't you choose Syliras then? Why come to Ravok?" he questioned with suspicion. Doros shrugged. He had been to Syliras, but he just could not remain comfortable for too long in a single place since leaving Sultros. When he was about to explain, the other guard interrupted. "Why bother? Just let the Isur in, he doesn't seem like a criminal, what harm would it do? He brought smithing equipment, he's probably really just looking for work." He paused for a moment before continuing, "someone may find him to be useful merchandise."

The last words sounded odd to the Isur, but he blamed it on his poor understanding of the Common language. The guard could only have meant that the Isur could probably craft useful merchandise. Soon enough the ferry arrived with a few passengers who sought to cross the lake into the external ring of the city. It took a chime for the Isur to move his belongings into the vessel. He was tired, and the guard told him it would still be a few bells to finally arrive at the floating city, but he could handle waiting just a little longer.

[Kyodaija]

75th Day of Spring 513 A.V

Kyodaija walked up to the crowds of merchant folk scuttling about attempting to do their dealings before entering the city of Ravok. He had not yet set foot in the magnificent city, but had been looking forward to the moment for some time.

He noted that the only way in seemed to be via the docks that had ferries leading across the lake to the great city.

His mouth began to water at the new prospects of violence that awaited him in this magnificently evil and underhanded place. He could practically smell the potential for violence in the air. This was only further solidified by the half dozen soldiers that seemed to be inspecting folks whom wished to enter the city.

Realizing that this was not yet the time for the violence to begin, he strolled over to the guards waiting for their business with a group of merchants to conclude.

As soon as they were done the lot of them turned to inspect Kyodaija. The obvious leader of the group scrutinized him for some time before asking his business in the place and requesting to inspect the contents of his pack as well as his weapons.

He accepted their scrutiny knowing it a necessary annoyance to gain the feast of blood inside the city. After some deliberation they deemed he was no huge threat and was told to keep his head down or get it chopped off.

Kyodaija ignored the threats and crossed the lake via the ferry.

He could smell dinner in that very boat with him.

[Raven Nightfoot]

34th of Summer, 513AV Ravok...The City of Evil, The Floating City...Raven had heard many, many rumours about the mysterious city especially from the overly superstitious citizens of Nyka. The more they spoke and tried to wean her off of her desire to see the city, the more curious she became and so, now fully intrigued and determined she had left Nyka and travelled in the direction of Ravok. The Southern Trading Post was the last stop before entering the city, it buzzed with activity as crowds of people went about their business, Raven however had no business to attend to, the lithe dark haired young woman made her way calmy through the groups of frantic people, the guards didn't waste much time on inspecting her as she most likely seemed harmless and soon enough she was on the ferry bound for Ravok. As the city approached, Raven couldn't help but look on in awe, the city was massive considering it was built in the middle of a lake, while Syliras was protectected by it's large stone walls that had taken years to build, Ravok's greatest defense from siege was the surrounding water, it was both simple and brilliant. She couldn't wait to see what the floating city had in store for her...

[Alenias]

Season of Summer, Day 10, 513 AV

Dirty and somewhat mangy looking, Alenias flew over the people and buildings that made up the Southern Trading Post in her blue jay form. Her little head jerked back and forth as her dark eyes scanned over the area. It had been a long time since she had seen so many people at once, and her last memories of this city were of many bad people.

She'd been surprised when her wanderings had brought her back to this shoreline. She remembered being quite happy to leave this place before, but she soon realized why she had come back. As much as she enjoyed flying with the birds, eating her fill of sweet berries and tasty nuts, the emptiness inside was still slowly eating away at her.

She needed to find someone to take care of her, like Aello and Treanas, and Ravok was the only place she knew where people were. She'd tried to think of a better option for two whole days, flitting back and forth through the trees on the shore, but in the end she couldn't think of any other option. She had found Aello and Treanas the city, so maybe there were still other good people there. Maybe she could go find Siriana.

Looking over the people riding boats into the city, Alenias remembered something she would need to do first though. First she would need to get some clothes again, she remembered both Aello and Treanas teaching her that. Maybe she'd find some once she got in the city, or maybe she could do the buying thing Aello had taught her, but that would take shinnies. She remembered hiding a bag of them before she left, maybe they were still there?

Finishing her crossing of the water Alenias entered into the sky above the old, familiar, and scary city of Ravok.

[Darius Cross]

Darius seemed relieved to be finally home after such a long time away, "that's the last time I'm going to lisnar, from now on i only accept jobs close to the city not halfway across sylira." darius thought as he approached the trading post. Naturally the guard wanted to check darius' possessions and equipment and asked him a bunch of questions before he could continue.

Once on the ferry darius realised how much he missed life on water and how much he missed the city itself and after the ferry had docked and darius had walked off it the all memories of the city came flooding back to him as if he had never left, "Home sweet home" thought darius as he walked away from the docks.

[Terryn]

Terryn laid by the city entrance in his animal form, watching the people go by. He tried to play up the cuteness factor so people would feed him scraps. After about an hour of almost getting stepped on by careless pedestrians Terryn slyly crawled away to a corner and shifted into his human self.

After getting dressed,Terryn smiled to himself as he saw an elderly man pass by. Terryn sickly limped towards the man, coughing up a storm. "Please sir," He began "can you spare a Miza?" Terryn had to hold back a chuckle as the foolish old man gave him the money. Living on the streets definitely had it's perks.

[Anbioable]

Liazo let a slight sigh slip out of his mouth, he had no idea what he had to do, but directions from his father stated he go to the sity of Ravok. Brushing a hand through his hair, Liazo slapped his face before turning the corner, and going into the trading tower. Liazo wrapped his wings around him, seeing all the flash on the people there urged him to attack, and eat, but he held back. Liazo was not like all Zith's, he knew how to control his urges of blood and human flesh. Liazo caught sight of the door leading towards the city, Liazo crossed his fingers and toes, hoping he wouldn't be stopped for questioning, Liazo had mostly stuck to the shadows, and held his breath whenever he had to brush by somebody.
"This is going to be the death of me," Liazo murmured as he kept walking with his crossed fingers and toes.

[Serenity Redbird]

Serenity slowly makes her way to the large tower and sees the guards. She is very shy and quiet and terrified. Hopefully things will be different here. She has been running for so long.

She looks up into the sky her grey eyes scanning everywhere for any immediate threats to her well being. She slowly made her way to the guard pulling her clock closer to her tiny frame. as she made her way to them she said " I am Serenity Redbird, I have come to your city in search of a new life for myself." After getting a few wierd looks and a few grumbled words she made her way through the gates and to the ferry that would take her to Ravok.

[Dafyd Snowsong]

Day 31, Summer of 513 AV Early Morning Southern Trading Post The early dawn cast its light over the Southern Trading Post, illuminating the dozens of Ravokian guards that watched over the hill tower and its precious docks. A caravan of three wagons made their way up to the base of the hill and stopped just short of a patrol. The caravan was flanked by ten well-armed and armored mercenaries, each one visibly weary and covered in dirt and the occasional splatter of dried blood. A handful of Ravokian guards descended on the group, glaring at the hirelings with suspicious eyes. One of the patrolmen stepped forward, approached the front cart and nodded to the middle-aged driver. “Thought we had been rid of you for good this time!” he exclaimed. “Ha! Often thought the same myself!” the merchant smiled and hopped off his seat. He grasped the guard’s outstretched arm in a friendly greeting. “What have you brought us today?” the guard circled the wagons, pulling up the tattered rags that covered the goods and peeking inside. “Some fine Vantha artwork. Would ‘a had more if not for them damned Zith!” the merchant spat. The guard nodded his understanding as he inspected the merchant’s wares, then came around to the rear cart. “What’s this? Got us a slave too?” the guard looked at a ragged figure that lay curled up in the back, snoring like a fool with a dark cloak wrapped around his body. “Nay, that’s a bard who paid his way from Avanthal. Good entertainment for the long season. Thought more than once of feeding him to the Zith, though,” the merchant moved to the guard’s side. “Is he still alive?” “Appears so,” the guard prodded the sleeping man. “Surprised the lad made it. Lost half my guard and near a quarter of my goods, but thank the gods the bard is unharmed!” The guard laughed and a pair of the nearby mercenaries snickered. The man huddled in the back continued to snore obliviously until the Ravokian scooped him up out of the wagon and plopped him on the ground. The man yelped, jumped to his feet, and starting rubbing his backside. He looked around accusingly at the surrounding men until he noticed the guard laughing like a buffoon. “You could not have interrupted at a worse time!” the bard complained. “I was just about to accept the warm embrace of a pair of Konti twins I had rescued from the fiendish ravishing of a hideous Zith hunter!” the bard closed his eyes and bowed his head solemnly, wrapping his arms around himself and swaying side to side. “I shall never forget you, Nira the gentle, with your many sweet kisses. And—” the bard paused. “Lia?... Lua?... Luana! Yes, Luana the supple… May we meet again in another dream.” “Enough of that,” the merchant shoved a pack and a lute into the bard’s arms. “We’ve made it to the Post. Get yourself to the tower so I can be done with you.” The bard, Dafyd Snowsong, swung his things around his back and turned toward the tower that sat on a little hill. It was a sobering sight, even though it was just a gateway to the city. Beyond it he could see the great lake Ravok shining brightly in the morning sun. The waters were completely still, giving the lake the image of a great mirror. Dafyd squinted against the light and looked to the horizon. He thought he could make out a shape in the distance, but it was hard to tell if it was just his imagination. He turned back to the merchant and bowed with an elegant flourish. “I am forever in your debt, Master Merchant. I will sing the story of our travels until all the world knows your bravery.” This elicited a few snickers from the mercenaries. Dafyd ignored them and turned back to the tower. It was a beacon of hope to his weary eyes and tired legs. It had taken the better part of a season to arrive from Avanthal, and at last his travelling was over. Dafyd knew very little of Ravok other than the compliments paid to its artistic beauty, but he was quite confident that getting to know the city would be a uniquely wholesome experience.