The Harbor [Post here first]

[Panna Cotta]

Rhyshaltze.

[Madeline]

20th of Summer 510 Av

Madeline hated Sahova. It was an ugly, jagged and uneven. After 11 days of riding a boat she was not very pleased to see it. If it were up to her she would never come to the dismal island, but circumstances prompted her to. She pulled out her mirror and examined her face or rather the face of the girl she inhabited. Perfect of course, since she had only recently taken the body. She was only here in Sahova for a short time to learn a few more things from the Nuit wizards.

She was a novice compared to most and needed to become stronger to make sure she maintained her beauty. Obtaining bodies and avoiding those who wished to kill Nuits was difficult at her current power level. She hoped to get an apprenticeship and learn some from them more magic and then leave and continue her life.

The boat reached the port and Madeline gathered her few supplies and waited for the Communication golem to come. She didn’t much like golems either. Most lacked the proper symmetry she liked. She was aware that humanoid golems were very difficult to make and that was one of the things she wished to learn.

To make perfect golem to be her bodyguard would help greatly in her body preservation. She knew this would take a long time and she doubted she stay long enough to reach that level but she still liked to play with the idea in her head.

The golem asked her for her name purpose and what supplies she carried with her.

“I am Madeline and I’m here to learn magic and take up an apprenticeship with a Nuit wizard. I only carry the regular toiletries a small dagger and a book with magic notes.” She unpacked her supplies so it could see them. She packed her belongings back up as the Golem let her pass.
She really did hate this place she thought as she headed into the city.

[Amireh]

13th Summer, 510AV Dawn. How desolate. The first rays of the sun graced the deck of the shoddy vessel with glory befitting the crew. The old, worn planks that kept the boat afloat were the only credit to their safe arrival at Sahova. Not even the veteran captain, a merchant to the core, found courage in his soul on their journey, perhaps too involved with the state of their particular cargo. No matter, the clear weather kept the waters stable and for that Amireh was thankful. She watched as the tower citadel came ever closer, the volcanic, hellish world that was Sahova ever clearer with each passing moment. Despite the inhabitants, the girl found she wanted nothing more than to be free of these men, these sailors, so scared stiff were they to silence. The journey was spent in a stupor of concentration and lax focus, with stories that foretold of the 'evil' undead that called the vicious isle their home. Morons. Simpletons that did not understand magic often floundered at the sight of it, scarred to stiff to be useful. Nevertheless they did their job. And that was good enough for her. Her boots clattered against the pier with a motivated cant. The various items she kept on her form all shifted with her steps, the soft, subtle sway of her hips making for a unique rhythm of jostling. Quite the sight herself, Amierh did not look the part of the common mage. She sported a dress fine enough to be beyond her station, the top of which held no material and displayed as much cleavage as possible while still somehow remaining decent. Decent enough, anyway. The material of the attire clung to her body as if it was holding on for dear life, designed to accentuate the more curvaceous features and simultaneously allowing for freedom of movement, the bottom draping down the front and backsides with almost no covering for her legs. Scandalous, but who among the dock workers would care? Golems, lifeless automatons, there would be no pleasing the eye here. With an unladylike grunt, Amireh readjusted the large, over-bearing back over her shoulders and trekked forward, not so much as offering her transportation a single goodbye. Clear, crystalline eyes of green scanned the docks as she approached. Only three piers? How charming. Already she was bored. Even the magical constructs, glorious as they might have been, held little interest for the woman. After all, most were plain, without decoration. What was there to look at?

[Panna Cotta]

Amireh

Kova III. The ship had known Sahova before its current crew ever laid eyes on the ghastly island. It was the exact same ship which, almost a year ago, had brought adventurers into the island but left Sahova with only three passengers, one of them an infamous golem. It mysteriously arrived alone, on its own, in Zeltiva, with no trace of its passengers nor the crew. Nobody knew what happened, but then, knowing the ship's route, nobody really dared to know. Because ships are truly expensive to create, and Kova III was in perfect albeit aged condition, the Sailor's Guild took the ship, repainted it and sold it to somebody else. The new owner did not bother changing the name, though, for whatever sentimental reason he may have.

Sahova had a tropical climate, the summers were warm and occasionally breezy. It was, however, anything but a welcoming island. There was nothing to greet (quite literally) the visitors except the Communicator golems that malfunctioned more often than not, tirelessly repeating the same words to every ship that docked in the lifeless port.

"Welcome to Sahova. Identify yourselves and state the purpose of your visit. If you are carrying cargo, provide a full description and unload a sample for evaluation. Any passengers wishing to be escorted to the Citadel must approach me and apply for permission."

The ship's crew went about their business and some of them disembarked the cargo, a few crew members climbed down the ship as well. Carts and carts of magical reagents and solutions - no bodies. It was an open secret among sailors that the Nuits of Sahova bought fresh corpses. Although the pay was good, the Kova III's captain was too much of an honest dealer to start peddling dead people. Truth be told, they were still very uncomfortable dealing with the golems in Port Silence and none of them entertained the prospect of meeting a Nuit Wizard.

One of the Patroller Golems had marked a wayward passenger advancing in the pier. A second Communicator Golem wheeled its way towards Amireh. It greeted the visitor with the same monotonous voice as the one that catered to the ship, cold and impersonal. This one, however, was suffering from what could be called a speech impediment, its voice droning as if it was almost out of life, "W-welcome to Sahova. Identify yourself... and s-s-sta-state the purpose of your v-visit. Any p-p-p-passengers p-p-passengers wishing to be escorted to the the the the the--" the stuttering golem repeated the word as if experiencing some form of technical or magical error, "--Citadel must approach me and apply for p-p-p-permission p-p-permission."

[Amireh]

The initial debarking held little interest for her. The sailors, as she deemed long ago on the journey, were not worth much of a mention. As she was want to do, though, the girl made it her business to ignore the initial request for permission. Surely, this would garner some kind of apprehension, a trip to the stocks maybe? What was life without a bit of a dare. Or trouble. What a queer little device. Amireh quirked a brow as she examined the malfunctioning marvel that approached her, taking her time to address the creature as she glanced from head-to-toe. Nothing exciting. With a sigh she folded her arms up beneath her breasts and stared into whatever-it-was this thing used for eyes and gave it a pleasant, if wholly false smile. Although there was a little lack of interest the woman could not help but feel a degree of appreciation. If these were the sorts of devices the wizards of Sahova constructed than she had surely come to the right place. That was, of course, if she could even get into the citadel. Somehow she felt as if she were already being tested. With the command of a profession grasp of sarcasm the woman parted her lips to speak, the sultry soprano containing a haughty, humored tone. "Ami-re-re-re-reh Vistas." Her eyes lit up as she mocked the poor golem. Fortunately, so far as she knew anyway, the construct did not feel much in the way of emotions. "And yes, I wish to be escorted to the citadel. Or whatever. Can I then, oh grandiose crier of greetings, approach your lovely little center?"

[Panna Cotta]

Amireh

[Callisto]

1st of Fall 510 AV

Ghastly, voracious men. That was all she could brood over during the span of time Callisto was effectively imprisoned on the ship. She had to mull it over, chime after chime, why had she decided, on a whim, to embark on such a preposterous journey toward the isle of the undead? She had met that Nuit at Unediable Interests, such a curious individual, so much like herself, and yet not. There was a difference, there were things to learn, things to uncover and behold in all it's glory. And Sahova seemed like the perfect place to begin, and why not? Indeed, the Ethaefal had heard the rumors plaguing the wind; of the nature of the Nuit wizards and the whispers of death befalling those that visit the Citadel. But if Callisto was afraid, it was nigh impossible to tell.

Perhaps she was just stupid, that was another factor to play as well. Then again, if death was her fate, then she was sure she would return to her beloved Syna, but of course, not without learning something in the meantime. Thus when the ship docked at the harbor, Callisto gathered her white sari-like shirt and skirt about her as she stepped onto the pier, flipping a strand of flamingly crimson hair behind her shoulder almost leisurely. The scenery wasn't gorgeous but it wasn't as if it bothered Callisto at all, she was quick as she approached the Communicator golem (an odd creature, to be sure) and spoke after it had announced itself.

"My name is Callisto, I seek to earn my right to learn Projection at the Citadel. I only carry my Suvai with me," She unhooked it from her belt and lifted it up to show the creature, as if it would do much good. "May I be allowed entrance?"

[Nimvahlis]

32nd Day of Autumn, 510 AV Nightfall Choppy grey waters had delayed their entry. The Saga Shooter had forged ahead though, wishing for nothing more than the imparting of their cargo- ingots of various metals and an exceptionally strange man. Weather that had threatened to escalate into a storm spurred the sailors in their mission, lured with the promises of kelp ale and warm beds in Zeltiva. Despite their fears, the only major delay had come in the form of harsh winds outside of Port Silence. So at the first possible break in the inclement weather, the ship sailed into the mute harbor. Their captain stood at the railing, awaiting something. Several other sailors made a display of attendance, but most made busy elsewhere. That strange man stood there, silently watching the crew watching the dock. The wait was not long, a small ramshackle automaton came rolling out to address them. After waiting for the golem to rattle off its short monologue, the captain responded just as mechanically- this must be routine for the man. Metals and one passenger. His words repeated and echoed in the latter's mind as he watched the transaction. Then he had to debark. One of the deckhands began walking down the gangplank with several ingots for examination, and the captain jerked his thumb as the passenger. They did not mind his departure, not in the slightest. He had confined himself to his cabin during the day, only emerging from its confines when Leth rose. None of them had much of a conversation with him, simply depositing food outside his door at the appointed times. Truth be told, the crew was no more comfortable with him than Port Silence- routine did not always make for comfort. Neither was he talkative at night, preferring to stare at the moon as it made its circuit about the sky. What was more unnerving was his effect on the crew. Emotions had ran high several times during the usually somber trip, one sailor even breaking into tears. Bad weather, strange cargo, this run was as good as cursed. Nobody bid him farewell as he silently stepped down the gangplank. Wind buffeted him as he walked, and he clutched at his white robe as he cast a glance to the black sky above. Staring at the communicator with otherworldly eyes, he spoke in tranquil tones, "I have come to practice my arts and convene with a contact, and carry no arms. I am Nimvahlis."

[Panna Cotta]

Both Callisto and Nimvahlis were welcomed without any dodgy behavior from the golems. It seemed that the daughter of Syna and son of Leth were, at the moment, safe from the dangers of the reanimated junks piles that littered the coast.

They had taken the same journey and rode the same animated cart, and although separated by time and distance, perhaps they were fated to meet and meet again. The stars, the moon, and the sun will always smile upon them and wait for their return from their ignominy.

[Atrina]

Upon leaving the Zeltivan port, Atrina kept herself as far away from any sight of the sea or hint that she was on a boat. Much of this time was spent cowering at the stern of the below-decks, carefully clutching the few things that belonged to her. Her Diary in one hand, and a bag containing her money and writing tools. She thought about how she should have bought more supplies for drawing, or even a painting set to fulfill her desire to add even a small amount of color to the pictures to had been forming in her imagination. But at the moment, she was too afraid to even write inside Diary. The other passengers - few as they may be, besides merchants - looked at her sideways. Someone who cowered in psychological fear of water as she did was certainly an oddity. And when she wasn't cowering, she was involuntarily unconscious, only to wake again in fear. Finally the day came when the ship arrived at Sahova. She scrambled to the top deck and practically ran down the gangplank. She looked up to the sun, her eyes sparkling in Syna's light. It had taken ten days to make the trip, and she had arrived on a windy one, the forty-fifth of Fall. Slow on the uptake as ever, Atrina followed the line of people to a strange golem, carefully listening to what they said as they passed by. "I am Atrina. Everything I hold is everything I have brought with me." She raised her bag and Diary for emphasis and moved on.