The Harbor [Post here first]

[Ebrahim]

5th of Fall, 513

It was finally over.

After weeks on this wretched boat Ebrahim’s journey was finally coming to an end. The island had come into view later yesterday evening, but the sun was setting fast and no amount of pestering had mananged to convince the frightened fool to approach the island of the dead in the dark. Ebrahim had stood watch all night, gazing in silence at the great black mass of land that was soon to become his home, Sahova. Land of the Nuits and greatest magical research facility in all the known world. With the end of his journey just beyond his reach Ebrahim could do nothing but stand there and laugh, a wheezing breathless laugh that seemed to float over the gently rocking boat and into the nightmares of the crew within.

When dawn finally arrived and the sun broke across the horizon Ebrahim awoke the captain, forcing him to get his crew up and ready in order to finish the journey to the island. Quickly jumping to his command, the captain made ready for the island – shaking ever so slightly at the memory of those cold wet hands and the black bulbous tongue that one belonged to his friend.

As the boat turned and headed into port Ebrahim sat silently on the bow of the ship, dreaming listlessly of shedding this rotting shell in favor of a more aesthetically please model. The humidity of the sea and the unexpected heat had forced the body the Nuit started with to rot off halfway through his journey. Forced to find a new body quickly, Ebrahim was compelled to take the body of the old sailor he now possessed. The man had died in his sleep a week previously and, at the request of the captain, Ebrahim had used his meager knowledge of embalming to preserve it. In retrospect, he was glad that he had fulfilled the request.

Caught up in fantasy and his own musings, Ebrahim neglected to notice the pace with which the traveled; the crew highly motivated to get rid of the thing that possessed the body of their old crew mate. Fear had made them move faster and their hands more steady as they recalled the horrors of the night and that breathless wheezing laugh. Moving quicker than his appearance suggested Ebrahim quickly disembarked from the boat heading; taking a path directly for the Citadel. Even as he did so, the Pulsars behind him let out a sigh of relief; a sound that did not escape the ears of Ebrahim.

All through his journey Ebrahim had been the subject of furtive glances and quite prayers to some god to save them. It had been endearing at first, but as the weeks passed the behavior had come to be annoying and then infuriating. Matters merely got worse when Ebrahim was forced to take the body of the twisted, saggy, sore covered and wrinkly old man these men had known as a friend. Ebrahim had tried to be as unobtrusive as possible but they had not relented and now that he no longer needed them, it was time to pay them back.

Stopping straight in his path, Ebrahim turned and returned to the boat. “Gentlemen, excuse my manners. In my haste to finish my journey I forgot to thank you properly for your services.” The Nuit smiled and one of the men fainted. Decomposition does terrible things to a body and the image of their dead friend’s rotting flesh smiling at them was more than they could take. “It’s . . . it’s no matter at all sir. Happy to be of help.” The captain babbled, fear and revulsion laced in his voice. “Hahahaha,” Ebrahim laughed again in the breathless wheezy manner and the living drew back a half step anxiously, “Of course it is! Without you I would have been stranded. Please, let me demonstrate my thanks!” Ebrahim proffered his hand to the men, forcing them to take it and shake the dead flesh. One by one the Nuit moved through the crew, forcing each and every one of them to grasp his hand and look into the dead eyes animated by a dark life. Each man was given a smile and a little chuckle, Ebrahim reveling in the torment he heaped upon the men.

Goodbyes said and business concluded, Ebrahim finally turned his back on these pathetic men and made his way up the docks towards his new life, but he couldn’t help but smile to himself at the sound of a 10 grown men puking.

[Morvale Barrows]

1st Of Fall 513 AV

This was a really shyke'y predicament to be in he thought.

Morvale had heard rumors of it through the Zeltivian University but never imagined it to be as barren and stripped of life as those trifling mages had claimed. But when the mixed blood got there the place was not only quiet it was dead silent nothing could be heard and it was a heart sinking feeling. His specialization was in speed and reflex but even then he felt uneasy. An idea was clawing away in his mind to abandon ship and jump off the starboard bow and just doggy paddle his way back to Zeltiva, perhaps being eaten by sharks would be a better fate then whatever was waiting for him in that crypt they had the audacity to call the citadel . Come ukalas or high water even if he made it he'd be greater by the wave guard and hung from there gallows, delightful really. He could get his arse killed no matter what he did, thankfully though he had a small sliver of hope to become something here.

As he stepped off the boat he proceeded to that damnable building, he had to at least establish himself and as fast as he could.

[Adora]

50th of Fall, 513 AV The restless voyage was nearing it's end, as the ship on which Adora was on approached the Harbor, the entry place into Sahova. Admidst the busy bustling of the sailors, one girl watched with silent intensity at the intimidating walls of probably the greatest magicial research on the face of Mizahar. Sahova, isle of the Nuit, many ancient and powerful secrets hidden away often for good reason. This was the place that Adora had chosen to come to, after leaving behind her home, after becoming what she was now. This was her new home. Home, it felt odd to call such an uninviting location home, but where else would Adora have gone to? All of her family were either dead or missing, and if the Nuit had remained in Zeltiva, it was almost certain that the blame for Claire and Marcus's deaths would have been thrown on the Nuit that was their sister and niece. This was going to be a new beginning for the wizard; she will continue to live here, advancing in the arcane arts. "Live..." The single word slipped airily out of Adora's mouth, hanging dryly in the air. Live? For the gods' sake she was not alive but dead! As if the thought infuriated the young Nuit, she slowly rose from the spot on the deck where she was sitting, rising to look upon the form of bleak rocky land and grim stone walls getting closer and closer as the ship sailed on towards the port. Finally, the ship arrived on the dock. A looming silence was upon the port, sailors working quickly and quietly to finish their business as soon as posssible and leave the accursed island swiftly. Adora disembarked from the ship, not saying a word to any of the living on the boat. No need to say farewell to people who you separated yourself from for weeks on end. And they would not say farewell to the mysterious Nuit who had the body of an adolescent girl. A sigh of relief was the more favoured response when the Nuit left. Not turning back to take one last look at the vessel that had brought her here, Adora began down the path to the citadel. Whatever awaited her inside its dark halls, the young wizard and Nuit felt she would be ready for whatever came at her. That first thought was destined to die and fade miserably.

[Pandaemus]

6th Day of Fall, 513A.V.
The Harbor, Early Morning.

A still morning. Nothing on the foggy island moved, to Pandaemus eyes. It was like the unnatural air of the Nuits seeped into everything about the place. The water did not move, save the ripples made by the docked ship, and there were no crates or boxes on the pier. Only the dull brown boards of the dock. Somewhat in the distance a line of grey buildings loomed through thick fog. It seemed a terrible place void of kindness or happiness. Pandaemus was frozen on the deck of the ship.

The sailors patiently waited for him to dismount before unloading their vile wares. The fresh corpses of a dozen dead men and women lay behind Pandaemus, waiting for their turn to disembark. He feared the island to say the least. It was unknown, and the rumors held terrors as well.

"Come on, Nuit. Get off." The captain of the ship, a weathered man from Zeltiva, spoke quietly. He was gruff and stoney, though the island had even he on edge. The look he gave Pandaemus reminded him of what he was more than the words directed at him. It was the emotionless eyes of one gazing on the dead. To the Captain, he was not even a man anymore. This thought, although disheartening, gave him the strength he needed to disembark. If he was indeed not alive, then he need not fear death. It was a concept he was still adjusting to.

His staff head slithered about itself as he stepped off the ship and onto the creaking planks of the dock. He walked to the edge of the dock, where it met the frozen dirt of the harbor's main pathway. The crew were silent and diligent as they set the bodies out in a row behind the nuit. He smiled a forced thing, no longer feeling the need for such emotional expression, at the thought that he was like those corpses, only upright.

"Now what, Captain?" He asked politely of the unnerved sailor next to him.

"Now? We wait for the golem to come out and pay me. And I suppose you keep going, though I've never been farther onto the island than this." He confided in Pandaemus. There was relief in those words, as if the Captain took comfort in that fact. Pandaemus shrugged it off and waited in the fog.

[Dmitri Seyral]

6th of Fall, 513 AV

At long last, he was about to set foot on Sahovan soil, which sounded far more dramatic in his mind than the usual distant and objective thoughts he experienced. His thin lips turned its corners into something that could easily pass off as a smile, no matter how creepy it looked on Dmitri. He was feeling great pleasure already, merely by the prospect of being surrounded by great minds that weren't as clouded and easily tainted as many of the other races' fell victim to.

He had spent the majority of his time on this ship reading in his cabin, having bought a few books filled with amateuristicly written tales of grandeur and epic tales of adventure and heroism. The few times he did come out of his cabin was to take in the rare scent of the salty sea, which he only experienced once he arrived in Zeltiva, before he embarked upon his journey to Sahova from there on out. But now that they were about to arrive, it was a different story. No longer did the scent of the ocean even present itself to him, not now his mind and heart were racing with anything and everything revolving Sahova. He was finally there, about to become one with the cradle of immortality. Everything he desired was here, unified on this island!

As he closed the book and walked up the stairs towards the main deck, adorned by a rare sheepish smile on his face, he saw the island before him, in all its magnificent serenity. Some might call the island omnious or even evil, but he saw no reason why to feel that way. Even disregarding his biasedness, what laid before him was simply a commune on a selfmade and maintained island. One that prosperred and evolved into a bastian of arcane knowledge. What was there not to be amazed by? Once they arrived, he simply waited on the sideline, taking in all that he could about The Harbor before disembarking.

It was only then that he noticed he had shared a ride with a kinsman...

[Pandaemus]

The Nuit must have been on the ship when Pandaemus arrived, for he did not see him the entire voyage. The stranger stood next to him, unnaturally still as only a corpse could be, and Pandaemus was eerily perturbed by him. This was the first unit he had seen in his life, besides his master… and myself, he thought with a sinking feeling.

Pandaemus gazed over at the Nuit in awkward silence, trying to think of something to say, but finding nothing. What did the dead speak about? If he could not talk to one of their kind, one of his kind, then how could he expect to survive on this dreary island. No, he was not a slave anymore. He was a nuit, made by an accomplished mage and trained in his ways. Perhaps not very trained, but he could survive on Sahova. He would because he had been cheated out of life. So what was left to him but to become someone in his undeath.

He forced himself to attempt to embrace the cold, lifeless thing that he was. Turning slowly to the other Nuit, a tall being of a chillingly cold exterior and a weathered hood to hide his face. Well, Pandaemus also hid his, but perhaps for a different reason. He had not wanted to scare the sailors into tipping him overboard. In life he could swim fine, in death he found his very walk sluggish.

“Good day…friend.” He asked, his voice an awkward raspy echo of what it used to be. It startled him how much he had changed in just a few weeks of this new existence. After the initial words were out of his mouth, his fear shrunk some. Now he was almost eager for conversation with someone who would not look at him with disgust. He had at least made himself say something. It was no huge accomplishment. but for a boy who had seen another undead besides the man who raised him and somehow landed on Sahova, it was something. Small steps.

[Dmitri Seyral]

6th of Fall, 513 AV

He did not mean to come off as rude or uncaring of the Nuit who he had unknowingly shared the ship with, but as he stepped off the ship's deck and set his very first steps on the island that would help him define his impact on the world, he could not help but be enthralled. His cold, lucid eyes took in all that they could; The architecture of the buildings, the silence and peaceful atmosphere, the neatly kept cobbleheaded streets, even the scent of the ocean had to make way for the fragrance of Sahovan land.

It wasn't until the Nuit spoke to him that he suddenly became aware of his immediate surroundings again. The noise of the humans shouting and working held such a strong contrast with the serenity of Sahova that Dmitri couldn't help but feel annoyed as he gave the Zeltivan sailors a rigid stare before turning to the kind Nuit next to him. His choice of words and seemingly timid tone, made Dmitri chuckle hearthily as he reached out to the Nuit with a hand cold to the touch but with warm sentiments.

"Good day, friend. Is this your first time in Sahova as well?"

OOCSuggesting to continue this in a separate thread as to not clutter The Harbor. Will contact you through PM. ^^

[Morfen]

20th of Fall, 513 AV
The ship slowly approached harbor. Nuits body was quite fresh and the new layer of make-up hided his usual undeath marks. Some days ago he even saw an beautiful boy whose body who'd be perfect for Morfen, but...it wasn't the time or place for this type of murder.

When the ship stopped in the port cities, Nuit stepped out one of the first. Sailing vessels captain all the way somehow stared suspiciously at his passengers because ... yes, he seemed a bit strange. The man can't be blamed for it. Very few could say that the boy, for now, perfect skin and alluring appearance is one of the dead parasites.

He inhaled Sahovas air rich with magic, Morf felt his chest thrive on new hope. He wanted to meet wizards-trainers, to gain respect among other tribal brothers ... and to get funding for this study. But before it all he has to do one more thing, he needs to obtain permission for studing here.

[Mirage]

Ashkalar

You may not post in Sahova without a CS. I will continue to delete each and every single post you make, or put an intervention on them. You are not allowed to Roleplay in this forum without a CS, and because of all the trouble you have been causing me you cannot Roleplay in Sahova until your CS is then approved by me. I have sent you two messages now, neither one of them you have bothered to look at. I repeat, you cannot post in Sahova until you read EVERYTHING about this site that is important, including starting packages and character sheet info, and then you HAVE TO HAVE YOUR CS APPROVED BY ME BEFORE YOU WILL BE ALLOWED TO POST. If you continue to post despite these warnings I will be taking this to a Founder/Site Admin.

Mirage

[Felicia Gamora]

1st of Winter, 513 AV Guilt and a sliver of regret passed through her whole body as the island that had only been known to her through the telling of stories came into view. Stealing from her family to follow the advice of a strange may not have been the smartest idea, nor the most honorable decision of her life. Decisions made and actions taken could not be undone at this point. Felicia had come much too far to turn back now. No story that had been told could even come close to exactly pass on the eerie feeling that assaults a person when they near this dead island. A chill went up Felicia's spine while no noise came from the port, unlike any other she had ever seen. Everyone on the boat was fairly quite with the only noises being the shuffling of the sailors while they guided the boat into the docks. Whatever it was about the eeriness of the island, everyone on the boat felt it and they were all silent. Felicia stood on the port side of the ship, staring over the railings into the water, glancing occasionally at the port to see what progress they had made. With the first step off the boat, memories of home flooded through Felicia's mind. The old farm, old family, old stories. All of this ceased to exist with the second step. Those were distant memories of a past life, one that she would be unable to resume now. She must become as cold as the nuit that ran this territory. From here on out, magic must be her only goal, the only thing she strived to improve upon. Everything and everyone else must come second. And with the third step, the adventure began.