The Harbor [Post here first]

[Retic Ulis]

Retic Ulis

4 Spring 514AV
15th Bell, 30th Chime

It'd been an easy ride. Relatively, of course -- it was nothing quite so awful as the many seasons he'd spent at sea from the desert to the city Zeltiva. But that didn't mean it hadn't been an awful trip in its own right.

Retic wasn't sure what the ship was hauling as cargo, and he hadn't cared to ask. It was, after all, easy enough to tell from the smell. Or perhaps that was simply the stench of sailors who spent far too long without bathing. Either way, it was a mystery he didn't particularly feel the need to delve deeper into.

The island, though, was another story altogether. Retic's spidery hand drummed on the railing of the ship, occasionally scratching at his bearded chin, as he gazed out across the island. It wasn't much to look at, that was for certain. The sickly-looking water lapped at a stony shore, draped in a fog dense enough to make the island seem like a ghost figure. From what he could tell from where he stood, some gnarled and misshapen trees dotted the land and, up the ways a bit, Retic thought he could almost pick out the outline of the citadel.

All in all, it wasn't nearly as majestic as he'd built it up to be in his mind. What a poor representation, he sighed to himself. This was what they wanted the first impression to be? No imposing statues or pointed stone gates or anything spectacular or shiny. Just a mildewed dock. Not very impressive.

But there was that feeling. That inescapable oppressive sensation of power and danger and death and the end. The quietude sure helped the sensation along, and the only signs of activity Retic had seen were the crew mates milling about in the dock below as they loaded crates of something or other from the ship to a nearby building of some sort. Guess it really is a dead island. In more ways than one.

A handful of chimes passed before the all of the cargo was unloaded and Retic figured it was about time for him to make his way down to solid land.

A group of sailors were sharing a prayer as he passed. Another raggedy man, visibly anxious, leaned against the side of the ship, stroking a bronze pendant. Everyone seemed grim... Except the captain, who was raucously barking instructions in his gritty sea-man's voice. Occasionally his words would slur together.

In this setting, Retic had the distinct feeling that he did not belong. He was not a sailor and he was not yet dead. He wasn't quite sure where to go from here, and he didn't love nature so much as to patiently sit out in these ugly elements until something happened. Was he supposed to just take off towards the citadel? Should he wait for kind of greeting party? He supposed the sailors had to interact with some kind of ambassador to receive their payment for the supplies.

Retic began to step away from the crew, eager to do something, but was halted by a strong arm on his shoulder. The Maledictor's muscles tensed as he twisted around, finding a stout but short man with a bad sunburn on his face. Ret's eyebrows rose in question at the same time the man spoke.

"Hoy, friend," began Sunburn, swiftly pulling his meaty palm away as if the touch had shocked him. "Wouldn't wander aways too far if'n I was you." The man's gaze flashed up in the direction of the citadel for a tick before returning. "It'd weigh terrible on the cap'n if you got yerself in a blunder."

"I... see." Retic toyed with the pommel of his dagger, his own dark eyes following after the man's. He hated being nervous, but this place elicited an unpleasant buzzing in his gut, and he couldn't tell whether he was excited to the point of illness or if he was simply that uncomfortable. He had no doubts that the citadel held just as much hidden knowledge as he'd been hoping. But, if the rumors were true, was discovery here worth the risk? "So what are we to do now?"

"Well, there's s'posed to be some ol' clankin' kind of thing makes its way to us. Petchin' heathen, made of metal but it talks. Called a golem, they say. Never says much itself, though. Ah! There it is now."

There it was indeed.

[Kalina]

[googlefont=Junge]*

14th Day of Spring, 514AV

Ten days of travel and the ocelot Kelvic's stomach was still laying misery upon her, and the choppy waters of the open sea had played havoc on her mind, as well as her lower torso. Now that Kalina had reached land though, she had a chance to take a look at the area, and she didn't want to leave the ship. It was quiet. But, somewhere in the back of her mind, she had been expecting that form the stories she had heard from the sailors aboard the ship these past few days; none of them were keen to arrive in this new port. The port of Silence they called it. Eerie for one such as Kali, who, being a predominantly social animal, thoroughly enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the other cities she had been to in her short life.

From the deck of the ship, the Kelvic stared at the island, though as of yet she made no effort to move from the ship. The Captain had told her, soon after the sailors had found and caught her, and they had brought her to him, that once they arrived in the next port, they would deposit her with the few crates being deposited on the island, before they continued on to the next port. Kalina knew that the ship was not going back to Zeltiva, and she knew that she had to disembark the ship... but, once again, she was frightened, and this time there was no Amelia, Clyde or Master to walk her into the unknown. The ship was docked in the right most peer, one of three, and it was the only one docked. Sailors were heaving the cargo off of the ship. The tall buildings past the peer were well maintained but seemed abandoned, as if they had been for a number of years. They looked ominously and the child could serdar that she felt eyes watching her and the sailors.

The grey-haired girl flinched as she felt a knee collide - not painfully, but forcefully - with her back. She glanced up to see the sailor who had first caught her gazing down at her with a grim expression. "End of the line, lil' miss," the man's voice was gruff, just like the rugged stubble littering his chin and cheeks, but Kalina was not frightened of the man; he had fed her and given her somewhere warm to sleep for the past couple of days. He'd ever taught her how to soothe her churning stomach. His normally bright eyes appeared duller than what the young girl had grown used to and her own brow furrowed. It took her a moment of staring but finally she pin-pointed the emotion as worry, maybe even pity. Even at the man's request, however, the Kelvic still did not move, loathe to leave the ship.

Sighing, the sailor uncrossed his arms and clapped a large, dirty hand on Kalina's shoulder. Then he began to push her, steering her along the deck and down the plank that was serving as a rickety bridge between the dock and the ship. "Makes no sense if ya ask me," the man muttered to himself; Kalina had to strain in order to hear was he was saying, "Dangerous, almos'... leaving a little girl here to fen' fer herself. The Gods guided her teh the ship fer a reason, and now we jus' have teh leave her 'ere..." He shook his head as they reached the end of the dock and both put their feet on solid land for the first time in ten days. He let her go with one final shove, and Kalina stumbled forward a few steps, "But Capt'n's orders were clear, gotta do the job." The girl didn't understand what the man was talking about, but she couldn't ask, as he had turned and was waking away already.

Chimes pass and Kalina continued to stand there, motionless and silent, just like the island behind her, as she watched the last if the crates be unloaded and the sailors climb aboard. The rope securing the boat to the dock was removed and, within a few most chimes, it was beyond her sight, leaving her alone on the eerie island she didn't even know the name of.

*

[Volanaro]

36 Spring, 514

Vibrant eyes of thundercloud moved about in the Nuit's gaze as he emerged from the ship that brought him to Sahova's harbour. How long had it been since he had set foot in the island? Centuries, to be sure. Time flowed in the Nuit's thought much like the waves of the ocean, crashing upon the shores of the mind, then retreating back into the obscure, all-encompassing depths from whence they came. To Volanaro, it was forgotten, a memory long lost in the ever-expanding depths of the past that the boy cared not to remember. He had seen the formation of a new world but was unconcerned with it to the point that it was now forgotten. What was the purpose in remembering? If it mattered, it remained. This was why Volanaro retained his knowledge of the magicks, he retained the location of his home that was Sunberth. And he retained his mental faculties.

All else was gone. His name, his identity, his life's story. Buried deep within the cesspool that time had created, Volanaro was driven not by his desire to know, but his desire to amuse himself. Magic, mortals, and the world itself was but a toy to spur the amusement of an immortal being. Toys that were, by their very nature, volatile and dangerous, but if Volanaro was too dense to learn to use them, surely he did not deserve them. The thoughts cast through the Nuit's mind as he pushed himself forward, silent in his ascension towards the citadel as he struggled to remember exactly what it was that needed to be done. The direction that he needed to go was unknown to him, but he did not care. Rather than press his mind for long-forgotten shades of the past, he would make his own path and blaze forward anew.

The smell of blood was still strong in his nostrils despite the ten day journey from Sunberth, the Nuit twirling the dagger he had won oh so many decades ago in his left hand as he ascended towards the citadel proper, a bright grin materialized upon his features, eagerness present in his mind.

[Ssarisiphaniss]

Ssari had a uncomfortable trip, and a long one, She had hidden beside a body, In a casket and underneath a arm. She had been aroused from the sounds of a voice, She didn't make it out. But she could hear the captain of the ship speak next "We've come to Sahova to trade bodies.." she no longer listened, It wasn't important. She tucked herself into the body and waited, As soon as she knew she was alone she would clamber out of the casket and slither away, hopefully unnoticed.. Though they would get a sense something was there... She couldn't help to nibble... Sahova, That is what he said... A new land? A new experience, and hopefully some purpose.

[Sorcha]

35th of Summer, 514 AV There was an eerie calm that settled over the Kova III as the island of Sahova came into view. The people that had been bustling around and talking, few as there were, now went about their tasks in a slow silence as if they might wake a sleeping beast. Sorcha’s black eyes stared at the island in the distance drinking it in while her three right arms pay in the fur of her faithful companion, Jasper, an inganu deepwoods dog that she had purchased when she was still living in Ravok. His fur was as black as her hair and she preferred it that way, he was a moving shadow at her side at all times and there was no doubt in her mind that he was the closest thing she had to family. “There, there Jasper…” she murmured under her breath as the dog shifted uncomfortably while the weight of the island loomed invisibly over them as if it was warning them to turn back now before their lives were changed forever. “…it’s to late for that.” The Eypharian told the island in a firm tone. She had been told this was the best place to hone her craft and that was what she planned to do. In a graceful swoop the tall woman swooped down to her companion and placed a soft kiss on the top of his furry head in the only true affection she showed anything. “Listen to me Jasper…” she spoke as she pat him with two hands and cupped his face in another pair of hands, his pink tongue lolled out as he panted with his heightened nerves. “…this is where we’re going to live now, okay? I promise it’ll be just fine…” She kissed his head again and stood up in silence watching the crew move and the island get closer. I hope we’re going to be just fine. Moments later the charter pulled against the dock, bumping it slightly and jostling the people onboard. Crew members instantly went to tying down the vestal before helping the couple of passengers off so that they could go about their business on the island. Once off the dock Sorcha looked around for a long moment trying to familiarize herself with her surroundings, holding her pack of her limited belongings in one hand she deftly ran another through her hair untangling the impossibly long strands from each other. No one greeted them and when she looked about it seemed as if the few patrons on the boat who were not crew had already disappeared so the tall Eypharian took a deep breath and patted Jasper’s head “Alright boy let’s go this way, should be a better direction then most.” With that said she made her way towards the only road she saw and she started her way along it with her pet at her side.

[Yato]

Timestamp: 5th of Summer, 514 AV Apparently sailors are not keen on morbid humor, as after Yato's first and last few attempts to lighten the mood around him by joking around...In his own special way, he decided against proceeding with it lest he wanted to join the fishes swimming around the volatile waters. As the Kova III continued on its silent route towards the island of Sahova, everyone and their pet goldfish ignored Yato's presence. Something that wouldn't make him lose any sleep, not that he slept, but it did make the trip to Sahova dreadfully boring. It was a journey he hungered so long for, but he must admit it started off quite badly. What with the captain nearly disproving of his attendance on his ship, simply by joking out loud, wondering whether sailors tasted like fish or not. Silly, it was clearly a joke, he even smiled kindly. Granted, he did his best to make it as insane and creepy as possible, to add funsies to the joke, which might not have been the best idea. At long last, they arrived at Sahova, Yato was quick to be booted out of the ship and sent on his 'Merry Petching Way' as the captain so kindly put it. To which the Nuit responded, after being safe and sound on the Docks, by waving his hands around and mumbling inwards and finishing off with some 'cursing' handblast gestures and asking them to give his regards to the sea serpents. The captain was dumbfounded for a split second, right up to the moment his men had to keep him back from rushing the Nuit with cutlass drawn. Laughing hard, Yato went on his way, merry as a child at a candystore, towards the Sahovan Citadel. The Nuit had no idea what would happen, all he knew was based on a few books and tomes read over the years. One thing was for sure, Sahovans were known to have a short fuse and mistakes quick to blow up in your face!

[Noaru]

Summer 53, 514 A.V.

In the quietude of the harbor, stillness reigned.

This was all Noaru knew wthin the perpetual fog of this place. He levitates over the water; his form and movement as silent as the world around him. There had to be a fatal error in Fates plan, as many questions began to manifest within Noaru’s mind—why was he brought to such a place? Noaru could not feel a flow of life here: which was the presence of pensive trees and their leaves—the calmness of the earth and the breathing of the wind. The absence of all these things meant that despondency and solitude had graced this place. All things around him seemed to stand still, reminiscent to the dark forest Noaru once occupied long ago.

He levitates through the midnight fog until he hears the creaking of wood. When he emerges from the fog after following this sound, an old wooden pier greets him. Its frame was decrepit yet somehow remained able to lie in the bleak waters below its standing pillars. Noaru’s eyes follow the length of the pier until his gaze meets with the island standing before him. This was Sahova: a cold, open hand and Noaru stood on the edge of one of its many lengthy, bony fingers. The steely instincts within tells him to tread carefully, as the light was thin and the darkness thick here.

A feeling akin to homesickness presents itself to Noaru. This place was similar, highly so, to his ancient forest home. This entire place needed dead trees and tall stones, resembling pillars, to occupy the land and it would become like his old, desolate home. Yet as Noaru allowed his ancient soul to immerse in nostalgia, cautiousness remained.


“ This place, graced with the familiarity of old home, cannot become a place of my permanent refuge. ”


Noaru levitates as his words fade and sink into the fog around him. He would need to venture deeper into Sahova, grasp a better understanding of this place and depart as he’s always done with every city he’s been to.

[Keene Ward]

The eleventh day of fall, 514 AV.

Silence.

Even the lapping of the waves against the side of the ship seemed muted by the oppressive aura of Djed hanging in the air. During the journey, the deckhands had sang occasionally to pass the time and fill the surprising quiet of the sea, but that morning they shuffled about on edge, taking care to perpetuate the silence as if breaking it would bring down some god driven vengeance. Keene, naturally soft-shoed, stood out on the deck, his grey-green eyes focused on the ever growing mass of the island before them. It wasn't nearly as ominous as he'd been led to believe from the accounts he'd read in his books. The island did hold a sense of foreboding, though Keene attributed that to his prior knowledge regarding the residents and their occupations. The geography of the island was not the barren, inhospitable land he'd been visualizing. There were copses of trees scattered about the rocky, steep face of the land before him. In the distance could be seen the city, embedded in the side of a mountain. It hit the skyline with an appealing aesthetic, something Keene found to be a pleasant foreshadowing of what would hopefully be time well spent on Sahova.

They neared the docks, if that was what they could even have been called. Keene had been raised in the port city of Zeltiva, and though he had taken little interest in the affairs of the sailors, the word "docks" had always been associated with the hustle and bustle of sea-worn men and women with the scent of both the ocean and fishrot heavy in the air. Here, however, there were no figures at all on the wooden planks that constituted three, simple piers. The smell too was different. There was the salty taste of brine in the air, but the scents of life were absent. Unsurprising from an island primarily inhabited by the undead. The deckhands went about whatever it was they were meant to do in order to ensure a safe docking. Keene moved to a more inconspicuous place on the deck to avoid getting in their way. They remained quiet, whispering to each other when absolutely necessary. Five other passengers emerged from below deck, none of them interested in Keene, nor he in them. As the gangplank was lowered, the captain held up his hand, stopping the five from leaving the ship.

"Wait."

The stillness was broken by the sound of wheels maneuvering across the barren planks of the docks. A peculiar automaton rolled its way over to the ship. Its design was anything but elegant, however Keene doubted its purpose required a pleasing aesthetic. The large cylindrical body carted itself up to the end of the gangplank; its semi-sculpted head staring blankly into the distance. "Welcome to Sahova."Identify yourselves and state the purpose of your visit." Its tone was metallic, static. Keene had never head such a dead sound before, as as the creature continued, he paid close attention to where the sound was coming from. "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." From what he could tell, the voice was coming from somewhere blow the head. The unnerving head proved to be too distracting to pinpoint the source.

The captain motioned the six travelers forward, Keene following behind the other five as the rear. They spoke their names and stated something beyond that, all things Keene was too disinterested in to pay much heed to. His eyes were focused on the anthropomorphic steel creature before him. His mother had imparted her knowledge of magic, but Keene had never seen anything like the golem in front of him. It was fascinating. It seemed to have a limited amount of responses as well as questions. Fulfilling the role of an ambassador of sorts, Keene doubted the thing could do anything more than speak its preordained inquires and replay responses. The golem's presence, however, seemed to put the deckhands on edge even more so then they'd been before. Keene glared at the two, clumsy looking cylinders that seemed to represent the creatures arms. There didn't appear to be any sort of weapon concealed within them; which meant the danger was somewhere else.

His eyes turned to peruse the empty docks, checking for motion or some sign of potential hostility. Nothing. Before he could make any more checks around the area, it was his turn to address the golem. The others had already filed down the gangplank and started their way up the sandy trail towards the city. "My name is Keene Ward." The unmoving face of the golem offered him no response. Uncertain what else he was supposed to say, Keene finished with, "I have come to Sahova for study." After which the two stood face to "face" for a few moments before Keene moved to head down towards the docks. The golem made a clinking noise, but offered no resistance to Keene's departure. Glancing back at the deck, Keene watched the captain order his crew to bring out the supplies to show to their metallic guest.

By the time his boots reached the rocky shore, the five figures had put enough distance between themselves and the docks for Keene to be quite alone. Once more he glanced around the few buildings around the dock, but he was unable to locate anything other than the stillness that pervaded the area. Shaking his head, Keene turned his attention towards the city. He had a bit of a walk ahead of him. Shouldering his pack into a more comfortable position, Keene took his first steps towards his new life.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

[Verin Rush]

5th Day of Winter, 514AV

The cold days of travel from Nyka to the dead island of Sahova had played havoc on the Black Sun hopeful’s stomach; the choppy waters of the open sea was something that Verin had never experienced, and he despised it. A part of it was psychosomatic, he knew – despite living in Ravok for the majority of his life, he could not stand large expanses of water, especially when he was aboard a flimsy contraption. As the ship finally arrived at port, Verin was glad to be free of it and, stepping from the ferry onto the docks, he took the opportunity to observe his new surroundings. It was quiet, but he had been expecting that form the information that he had received from his guide, Darin… not many of the sailors aboard the ship were keen to arrive in this new port either. The port of Silence they called it. Eerie for one such as Verin, who was a predominantly social being, thoroughly enjoyed hearing life around him.

From the deck of the docks, the ex-bartender stared inward, at the island. Beside him stood the kelvic slave that he was beginning to think of as his own. The collar had been removed, but Verin had requested of her that she remain in human form when they arrived on the island. From his limited knowledge, he understood that the denizens of Sahova were arcane researchers, and some had few limits as to where they would go in order to complete said research. Humans were not particularly valued by the Nuits, but kelvics could be deemed as experiments. He wouldn’t allow Redd to open herself to such uses, lest he return to Ravok with a slave that had depreciated so far in value that she was effectively worthless.

The ship was docked in the right most peer, one of three, and it was the only one docked. Sailors were heaving the cargo off of the ship. The tall buildings past the peer were well maintained but seemed abandoned, as if they had been for a number of years. The Ravokian, used to a certain level of comfort, began to ponder over why the Sahovan inhabitants would allow their home to fall into such disrepair. Then, xenophobic to the end, Verin blamed the very nature of the Nuits; they were dead, their very existence was the embodiment o pr decay, thus why should they care about the island they inhabited. Verin's opinions of the unnatural beasts fell even lower.

“If you wouldn't mind, sir...” Verin looked around to see one of the sailors trying to move around him with a crate filled with materials. Wordlessly, he nudged Redd to make her aware too and then stepped to the side to allow the young lad pass. "I don't know how long we will be here, Redd, but I expect that, for the duration, you will hold yourself to a standard befitting the slave of a representative of Ravok." He almost said 'Black Sun', but held himself back... he wasn't an Agent yet...

The distinctive voice of Darin made the young blond turn once again, “If you are both ready, I shall escort you up to the Citadel and to your quarters.” Once again, Verin nodded wordlessly his agreement that he was ready. Once settled, he could begin to integrate himself into this society, this beginning his first quest given to him by The Defiler.

[Redd]

Date: Day 5, Winter, 514 AV

The trip was too short for Redd. She had hoped that there would be some kind of implication that would mean that they would have to spend more time in the wilderness. It didn’t matter that they were no longer within the Ravok area that she was more knowledgeable about, for she considered that just simply being outside of a city, as home. In the city, within four walls, she felt suffocated, alone. While being out in the wilderness, she felt a little bit free but not so much, for her life wasn’t her own and one could never truly be free when their life was not their own. She still felt as if she was collared, even though he had taken it off long ago. It was as if the collar was just invisible, adjusting whenever she shifted. The young wolf couldn’t help but stop and turn back to look at the dreadful boat and see within her mind's eye, the wilderness that laid beyond it and the water. It was as if the verbal collar was tightening around her neck and the weight of it was settling in something fierce. It might as well be as bad as having the actual collar around her neck or simply being in a cage like the creatures at the KRI.

In all honesty, Redd felt lonely within the city and although she love the wilderness, she still felt lonely there as well. At least to an extent, she had been free before she had been forced to go into the city of Ravok because of her injuries. A soft sigh settled upon her lips and had she been in wolf form, her ears and tail would have been lowered to show the depression that was settling in. Yes, she may have a new master, but that didn’t mean that it was permanent and that was beginning to make her feel alone. In mind and spirit. There is no such thing as home, the thought echoed inside of her head and she slowly shook her head. It was a thought that kept haunting her and although she knew it to be true, she had hoped that maybe, one day it wouldn’t be true. So far, nothing had proved that it wouldn’t be true and so, she simply just allowed her thoughts to carry her off as she followed Verin, her new master. She then felt a nudge and she glanced upwards, her one hazel hue viewing the man with a crate. She observed Verin moving to the side for the man and so she soon followed suit. The young wolf simply stepped to the side without a word and Verin began talking.

Hold herself to a standard befitting a slave of Ravok? What was that standard? She asked herself, for she certainly didn’t know. Redd had moved from one master to another and had her eye ripped out. It was as if they expected her to just simply know what the standard for being a slave was, as if she had lived as a slave her entire life. Her single eye simply followed the movements of the man with a crate, her hands lifting to simply slide into the pockets of her pants. The young wolf wanted to say something about it, to tell Verin that she didn’t know what that standard was, but for now she remained silent. From her experience, the humans preferred if she didn’t say a thing. It was less painful for her in the long run. Slowly she drew in a long breath, before she turned her gaze away from the stranger and followed Darin and Verin, wondering if there was even a point to owning her other than value.