Completed The Circumnaviation of Mizahar

[Una Tanta]

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TO GRADERI know that the font I used for Inartan writing is difficult to read, it is directly from the wiki (rewritten how she understands it) so it isn't directly important. I used the font to reflect her writing and how it differs between location, author, and writing utensil.

"An account of the circumnavigation of Mizahar" Unas heart trilled at the thought. Her world was massive, she had traveled from Wind Reach to Avanthal and back again, she had seen half the world she reckoned. But here was the rest, fit nicely into the thick weathered bindings of a journal. Though she knew better than to expect much, as the journals in Avanthal had been less than helpful. She couldn't help but wonder what the author had written of Wind Reach and Avanthal.

The text that lay before Una was as yellowed with age as the bark of the oldest trees that rose crooked and wily on the cliff sides. Many of the tombs that sat erect and dusty were written in Nari, a language shrouded in a past she had let slip deep beneath the waves of her consciousness. However, a few common slips stood out among what was otherwise the thin and lanky letters of Nari,

As she pulled a text from the shelves, its cool leather had turned hot and crumbly with time. She could feel the tangible draw of water from her hand into the book as if her skin was life it had not drunk since its inception. Bracing the weakening binding along her forearm she opened it to a random page.

Vani was a round and pregnant language, each letter thick and imprecise. Even their common books held the same characteristic technique. The common that lay in her hands was emaciated, like the bones of whales without the blubber. Almost illegible in its hunger Una squinted at the tiny letter and bit her lip with worry.

"I can't believe they're so different. Can I read this?" She speculated as she moved to the large wooden tables with the book balanced precariously on her arm. Char was written with the fingers, several at a time, making it a bold and complex form that required dexterity only over one self. Learning to write with an implement had been challenging but as she picked up the thin Inartan quill she regretted not taking one of the fat and voluptious Vantha quills with her. The seaweed paper she had made earlier in the season sat like a massive pillar to her right.

A thick translucent paper, it settled uneasily on itself making a clinking noise akin to the tremble of glass against each other. The paper had immediately infatuated Val and she had had to bring him to the water numerous times to collect and make more.

Unpracticed, Unas paper was much darker and thicker than well made seaweed paper should be and she knew writing on it would be difficult. THe black ink she had bought was plentiful since the volcanic activity of 512. Made from the ash of the mountain it was a very smooth black compared to the obsidian based ink she had used as a child that clumped around her fingers as she wrote.

As she touched the wetted quill to the surface of the paper she watched with dismay as it trickled off, refusing to sink into the impermeable surface. Una leaned back in her chair thinking deeply on the incident. She hadn't touched magic since Avanthal and had squarely focused on writing, so focused was she she hadn't noticed the gossip and rumours spreading like growing tentacles over the city inspired by her first visit.

Yet now, despite her preperation the moment she sat down to work she was unable. Squid and obsidian ink settled into the seaweed fine, she had never suspected the more watery and light ash wouldn't. Rising from her chair Una paced the room. What is it about the squid and obsidian that makes it settle? Can I change the ink to match? Even as she pondered it her frown deepened, I would still need to leave and come back later with a new recipe... The idea of leaving when she had spent such time preparing was so disheartening that she took a very heavy and unusually ungraceful seat.

Taking the wetted quill tip back across the paper Una watched more carefully. Slowly the water dripped from the nib and collected in a small orb atop the green paper before slowly sliding odd the top of the hill. Convex, the paper was thicker in the middle than the edges with a slight bend that was caused when the paper was flattened with enough pressure and over a rounded surface.

But if I create a well for it to stay in, like a lake or a river. Then it can dry in the shape of the letter? Una pondered this for a moment. Its base was water and water dried much faster than the oil she was used to so it should dry in a reasonable amount of time. Like the puddles on a road dried up faster than the ocean it would depend on how deep the well was. She realized proudly as she walked herself through each step mentally.

Gently wedging her nail into the paper she created a small shallow line. Her nail was curved and she quickly realized as she used the tip, using her nail for the entire process could be much more difficult than the pad of her finger for writing Char.

Picking the thin Inartan quill up awkwardly Una pressed the tip to the edge of the well and watched the thin ink slide into the well until it created a small dome poking up from the paper. Raising it from the paper she grinned. It stayed in place, exactly as it was meant to.

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The waxiness of the paper kept it from leaching out at the lower levels. However, unexpected pockets and pores inside the paper made the line slightly more bulbous than it actually was and lay beneath the top layer of paper. This made the letters as pregnant as Una was used to in Avanthal and she grinned proudly as if it were she that had planned for such things.

The waxy layer a top the expanding liquid gave it a faintly green tinge that she wasn't fond of but she surmissed that it would likely protect the ink from fading with age. Perhaps in time, when I can make the paper thinner and flatter I could add a transparent layer atop the writing, keeping it pressed between layers would limit fading and damage...I mustn't get too ahead of myself. Una reminded herself quickly, if she did she could quickly fall into a day of daydreaming as opposed to actually working.

Spending so long in the shadow of grief of Cys' memory it was a feeling so remote and unprecedented since childhood she almost dropped the quill in surprise. The tug of nostalgia soon followed and she thrust herself back into the act of writing to keep it at bay.

What can I use to make the gouges that will work for copying an entire text? She wondered as she stared at the end of the wooden quills handle. Tick, tock. Back and forth went the end of the pen. Nails will break and its hard to get the right lines... . Removing her shelled dome she looked through the shells for a turret. The long spindling shell of the creature who hid inside it was hidden amongst the others like a spinning wheel pin prick that caught the unexpected.

If I only use the tip, the spirals wont affect the lines and its long enough to hold on its own... However, as she went to pull it from its sisterhood of shells she hesitated. She was loathe to pull a shell from the gifted crown. Fingering the tip for a moment as her desire for the shell and her desire to keep her childhood present intact dueled ponderously.

Closing her eyes she gritted her teeth against herself, ready to pull the shell from its place and refusing the think any longer of the ramifications. Unas finger passed over the end of the quill as she moved, its end biting into the white flesh. Ouch! She thought jubilantly as she flipped the pen in her hand. It was sharp and it was the same utensil, so she would get twice the practice holding the awkward little thing.

Opening the hefty journal Una skimmed the first line carefully, "Kenabelle Wright" She whispered, reading the authors name aloud. Words always sounded more honest and beautiful spoken, a habit she had picked up in her younger days. However, in this moment she spoke it slowly, sounding it out and allowing her mouth to stretch and widen several times struggling to pronounce her name. The writing was thin and slanted forcing the young woman to squint several times as she moved onto the body of the text.

As she read the preface Una was both startled and disappointed by the contents, "In many cases Wrights book is the sole source of information regarding Mizahars Northern and Western shores." Having only known of these shores it appalled her that all she was to read about was her own home, and even further appalled that her home was so removed from that which was known about Mizahar.

Avanthal had been so perfectly isolated that most of its library treasures had been written by a Vantha of some generation or another. She had grown used to the idea of being the center of the world, the center of literature. The idea that they were a mere unrecognized speck that few knew or regarded made her tremble. Where am I? she wondered anxiously, reading further as quickly as her mind could decipher the slanted letters before them.

Laying down her quill Una drew her knees toward her and leaned over the table skimming the contents of the novel. Heavy with maps of coastlines and city sketches Una ran her fingers over the dry parchment picking out the familiar title, "Avanthal". Having no notion of the grandeur of Mizahar as she gazed at the distance between Avanthal and Wind Reach the largest most harrowing journey of her life she was perplexe. Mizahar reached out from the Northen point for leagues in every direction.

Roaming the map, absorbing the unfamiliar names, murmuring each past her lips. "Zeltiva...Syliras...Ravok...Charbo-...Charbosi?" On the furthest side of Mizahar from her current location short black strokes had carved out Charbosi in the middle of the water. How could I have no known? Her parents were from Charbosi and had moved to the Suvan with a large group of other Charoda. This was where she had been born. Though she had no recollection of her time before Wind Reach she had been told the story once or twice.

A new respect and image dawned on Una as she realized the distance and length at which her parents had gone. What dangers had they faced? What marvels had they partaken? Why? She realized...the path was many times longer than her own journey, a journey she would never have made if not to escape from something. Why would they leave their friends and family? Why would they travel so far? The length at which they had gone to isolate themselves from everyone startled her. Why...Why have they never spoken of it...They told me so many stories, why never THIS?

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Una moved on, flipping pages flippantly to gather the general idea of the text before beginning the long and arduous process of transcribing it. Simply practicing her letters had quickly grown boring and she hoped that this would be a more engaging form of practice. The crisp tattered edges slid across her fingers making her shiver, the dryness making her fingers recoil slightly.

This edition has been checked carefully against Captain Wright's original manuscripts. It corrects certain spelling and textual errors that had crept into previous editions of this work. Additionally, the monographs Vani Grammar and A Denvali Lexicography by Bethany Edgetower, A.M., which originally appeared as appendices to Wright's work, have been published as a separate volume by the University, and so do not appear here. We appreciate the aid of the Wright Memorial Library, who generously loaned us Wright's original galley; Captain Charm Wright, who shared with us some of Wright's earlier manuscript drafts; and the Sailors' Guild, for contributing to the funding of this printing. Edgar Workstone, Editor Zeltiva, 486 AV ~From Mizahar Wiki

Narrative? Unas face pinched with concentration as she tried to conjure the implications of the word. In Vani the word narrate was synonymous with narrative and story. In Char narrative could not be used as a noun only as a verb, to narrate. Thus, perfectly confused she drew a piece of parchment toward her. It was a cheap form, rough and heavily textured making her nib skip over the surface, her scrawl form worsening.

Moving on she continued to scrawl down words she didn't understand; circumnavigation, post-valterrian, literature, textual errors, monographs, lexicography, Denvali, appendices. Una stared miserably at the mounting list of words she didn't understand and began to wonder if the feat she had chosen was simply too large.

Rising from her seat Una thumbed the seaweed sheets, perhaps there is a translation book here...or perhaps there is one in Avanthal...she pondered and moved, stretching her legs, she searched for the necessary book. Fingers brushing the weathered spines of books ill cared for in the hot climate. Pulling a thin journal from the captivities of the wooden stand that can an indecipherable Vani word scribbled on the side she thumbed through it before realizing it was a book on Vani leatherworking and placing it back on the shelf.

Several more hours of searching yielded little and soon she was back at her post religiously copying out each word she didn't understand. I will write to Jack...perhaps...I can convince him to send me something... She was loathe to send him any form of communication after what she'd done to him she wasn't sure he would open her letter let alone send her what she desired.

This Journal was transcribed carefully from the Edgar Whitstone Edition in Wind Reach, Transcribed from the original copy in Zeltiva. The guide to Vani Grammar and Denvali written by her associate Betheny Edgetowr, A.M. are not included in this transcription. Transcribed and Translated by Una Tanta, Wind Reach, Spring 514 AV

She copied the names carefully letter by letter. The Inartan scrawl was difficult to read but Una could make assumptions based on the words that surrounded it. Names were more difficult and though she carefully traced each letter into the waxy surface of the Seaweed she managed to misspell Kenabelles' associate.

She wrote out her own name with a flash of pride, carefully rounding the U and a of her first name with the classic Char spiral. Those that knew Char culture couldn't possibly mistake the spiral that was the quill replicate of the finger nail swirling upon the page as they drew their hands away from the rounded edges.

Chapter One Who can say where a story really begins or ends? Everything that happens is inextricably interlaced with what has happened before it, and perhaps only the gods can assign a true point of beginning. ~From Mizahar Wiki

Nodding along with the first sentence Una grinned to herself. This Kenabelle woman was very clever for a mere Sailor. For Una, the most difficult part of a tale was where to begin and end for full effect. If one began too early one lost the interest of their audience too late and it became incomprehensible and devoid of context.

Sailors were always met with mixed feelings among the Charoda. Some viewed them as unnatural monstrosities, the way they spread across a world they knew nothing of others were more temperate and simply viewed them as another creature with which they shared the sea.

On the other hand, Una, always the romantic, viewed them as honourary Charodai. Despite the danger they sometimes posed to the woman and her kind Una gave them the benefit of the doubt, as she usually did. Attributing it to ignorance or folly. True sailors, like Kenabelle, didn't troll the reefs destroying them in the search for food they used the ocean as a home and a lover. Not a garden to be tended and harvested.

Kenabelle appreciated the ocean in the same way Una and her people did. Though she couldn't help a spice of pride, her people knew the ocean better than any sailor could. Beneath the two dimensional surface that was the only part of the sea the sailors would know was a three dimensional world full of life and danger. That pang of pride was reflected in a pang of longing, that must be how the birds felt about her.

Drawing the slight quill between her fingers again Una moved to begin writing. "Where does a tale begin and end?" Una translated into Vani. The colloquial language use in common didn't reflect well in Vani so she endeavored to capture the mood without compromising the beauty of the written word.

"Everything that happens is..." She paused, "Inextricably?" She murmured to herself and turned to the dictionary she had placed beside her. "Impossible to separate..." and scrawled its translation on the seaweed. Each stroke was soft and short and brought up small curlings of seaweed that needed to be brushed away before she could place the nib of her pencil in the small groove leaking liquid in to the gap carefully.

She still struggled to tilt the pen appropriately as she wrote and she flicked it gently at the end of each letter. Una finished carving into the surface slowly and carefully. The long straight quill lent a sharpness to her letters that she innately disliked. Focused on the roundness she was familiar with receiving from finger or Vani writing.

"Perhaps...means maybe..." Una thought aloud, "But that doesn't make sense...maybe? The Gods know? Of course the Gods know." Shamelessly Una reduced the sentence to a definitive. Though she had intially chosen to copy to perfect her writing and try the new quill and paper she adored the book already and felt the compulsion to make an updated copy for herself, a copy with information integrated from other books. Perhaps she could even add her own experiences to it.

Where does a tale begin and end? Everything that happens is impossible to separate from each other, only the Gods can assign a true point of beginning.

But, when one has decided to accept the responsibility of chronicling certain events, one is obliged to start somewhere. This document represents my attempt to record the details of the voyage of the [[Seafarer]] and its circumnavigation of Mizahar, and so perhaps the best place to begin is with the decision that led to the ship's construction. By the mid-440s, the Zeltivan trading routes stretched as far as Novallas to the north, and around the southern coast of Eyktol to the shores of Syliras at the edge of the Suvan Sea. However, beyond these boundaries, the world was much less well-known. Visits had been made to the western shores of the Suvan Sea, and travelers from beyond occasionally arrived, but information regarding most parts beyond was sketchy at best, and no voyage had touched vast parts of the former realms of Suva since before the Valterrian. Curiosity about the remainder of the continent had been steadily increasing, and in the middle of 445, the Board of Regents of the University of Zeltiva authorized the College of Navigation to begin preparations for an expedition that would attempt to circumnavigate the entirety of Mizahar, map the coastline of the continent, and record as much information about the western regions as possible. ~From Mizahar Wiki

Each time a new location was remarked upon Una referenced the map, drawing a visual connection of between the name and the location. She couldn't fathom the ability of the Zeltivan trade routes and each city mentioned made her heart race euphorically. Though there were many words she couldn't understand but she sympathized with the general wonder Kenabelle had for the world and the water.

This Journal represents Kenabelle Wrights attempt to chronicle the voyage of the Seafarer and its circumnavigation of Mizahar. The Ship was constructed in Zeltiva. Around 440 AV, Zeltivan trade routes extended as far as Novallas to the north, Ekytol to the south and west to Syliras, at the edge of the Suvan Sea. Beyond these boundaries Zeltiva knew little of the western world that included Wind Reach and Avanthal. Information was sketchy and inconsistent, maps even less accurate. "Curiosity about the remainder of the continent had been steadily increasing, and in the middle of 445, the Board of Regents of the University of Zeltiva authorized the College of Navigation to begin preparations for an expedition that would attempt to circumnavigate the entirety of Mizahar, map the coastline of the continent, and record as much information about the western regions as possible." Copied directly from the original Zeltivan copy.

From there she took each city and word she didn't recognize and carefully withdrew a page from the large stack writing the title in large careful letters to be added to and filled in as she gathered more information. This was I can add to it as I gather more information...without having to rewrite sections... She thought as she stared at the long page which had taken her several chimes. Her hand was cramped and sore and needed several stretches before she could continue.

As she curled over the paper, hunched once more she stopped for a moment. Her back had begun to ache and her eyes strained in the dim light that had descended over the building. Perhaps taking a break would be a good idea..., she decided and rose to wander the book shelves again.

Novallas

Ekytol

Zeltiva

Zeltiva Trade Routes

Board of Regents

University of Zeltiva

College of Navigation Within Zeltiva

Syliras

Roaming the expansive shelves and the thin journals that lined the book cases Una felt a pang of homesickness for Avanthal. Having been chased out with so little warning she hadn't gotten the chance to really say goodbye. Though the library of Avanthal was much smaller and less expansive than Wind Reach, she missed the homey feel of the rug she had curled on top of so many times and knowing exactly where everything was. Here, she felt lost in the expanse of knowledge before her.

For days, the announcement was the talk of the city. I was fourteen at the time, and beginning to take an intense interest in the sea. Sailing ran in my family; my father, Edgar Wright, was a sailmaker by occupation, and my mother, Irina Wright (nee Rivers), was a shipwright with twenty years' service in the shipyards. Indeed, it was my mother who first brought the news of the forthcoming voyage home, breaking it to us as we sat down to our evening meal. ~From Mizahar Wiki

Like Una, the woman Kenabelle had a close relationship with her mother and Una felt a sense of kinship growing between her and the dead young woman on the page.

Gently dipping the proper nib in the slick black ink Una began filling in the letters. Her hand trembled and she bit her lip struggling not to get any outside of the gouges she had made. The ink trembled on the tip of her nib and she pressed it into the hole she watched it flood along the gouge like a riverbed filling with a night times storm.

It was bizarre to read about the only place she knew as home being considered a mystery and carefully spelled out the cities unfamiliar names. Each time she made a small gouge the soapy crumble of seaweed needed to be brushed away.

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"What kind of ship are they going to use?" I asked between bites of warm bread. "It's caravel-style, but larger even than the ones that they use on the run up to Syliras," mother said. "It's a triple-master, and they're planning on a crew of a hundred. Kind of excessive, I think, but they don't know how far the voyage will be." "Don't they have maps?" It was my sister, Charm, who was barely eight, but was keenly following the conversation. "Well, they do, but they're all from before the Valterrian," mother replied. "And, given that the maps of the eastern seaboard from back then hardly have anything to do with the way the coastline looks now, there's no telling how different things are now." "Especially since Suva was damaged even more than Alahea was during the Valterrian." I probably shouldn't have broken in, but I couldn't help myself. "There's not so much as a puddle on the old maps where the Suvan Sea is now." Mother gave me a stern look, but nodded in agreement. "That's right." Charm tilted her head, an oddly solemn expression on her face. "Someone should draw some maps." It wasn't a comment directed to anyone in particular, and she immediately went back to her supper.

Una followed each sentence carefully carving them into the waxy surface and filling it in with the dark ink. The conversation held little interest for her so she focused instead on her penmanship. Meticulously she twisted the end of the quill as she made each letter. It's sharp end left little to be thickened of thinned and stole style from her writing but as she finished another page, leaving it to dry she raised the previous page grinning.

The dark ink had filled the gouges and pooled like a small uneven hill along the surface giving the paper a gentle texture. The paper glowed slightly as sunlight hit it making it dazzle freckled green upon her face for a moment.

Common did not use conjugations as Vani did forcing her to read the sentence all the way through before she could draft a reflective Vani sentence. Fortunately, though her Common was rudimentary her Vani was excellent having spoke primarily to her husband in the language and spent so long in Avanthal.

In part that is what was so frustrating though, Vani language was much more specific making it difficult to understand the common and reflect it in a much more precise language. It was like taking the words of a simpleton and transcribing it to level of poetry.

Is that arrogance? Or respect of Vani language? She wondered to herself as she began transcribing.

"I'd like to draw them," I said. "Or at least help the person who draws them." Cartography was already a serious interest of mine; I'd spent the previous summer mapping my uncle Joseph's farm, and poring over my father's collection of sailing maps. It was perhaps not the usual occupation for a girl of my age, but it was a subject that had seized upon me with nearly the force of an obsession. Mother half-smiled. "You never know, Kena. The timetable for the beginning of the expedition is four to five years -- you might well be an apprentice cartographer by then." I said something in agreement, but I wasn't really listening. I knew that the ocean was my future, and I knew that I would do everything I could to take some small part in this expedition. There was only one small obstacle. The University and the Sailors' Guild owned the city between them, and anyone who would be sent on a voyage of this scale would naturally be either a full member of the Sailors' Guild or a special representative of the University. My mother was a full member, but my father was only an associate, one certified in his shipyard trade, but not as a sailor. And I, young as I was, had no credentials at all. Most guild members began by working an apprenticeship at age eighteen or nineteen, sometimes as a deckhand or stevedore, but no mere apprentice would be permitted to sail past the end of the known world, and almost no apprenticeships lasted fewer than five years. I simply didn't have enough time. But dreams die hard, and some dreams won't die at all. ~From Mizahar Wiki

Una bit her lip as she read about the womans obsession. She had had no obsession as a child, nothing to be passionate about or pursue besides flippant games and playing with Coral. Then, she had married Cy and her life had become about him. Saving him, helping him, following him. She hadn't realized it till seeing his ghost, until he had TOLD her it was all about him. She hadn't even the sense of mind to realize it on her own.

Only now, was she pursuing what she was obsessed with. Knowledge. But so broad a topic, it pulled her in different directions. Frustrated her and caressed life from her. She could create inks, parchment, copy and write but each demanded its own focus and time. Time she didn't have. So she worked here struggling to make her writing as beautiful as the writing of those she read.

Though her and Kenabelle could have not had interests more distant words and books allowed her to bond and appreciate even those she would never have otherwise spoken to. It was what she loved about books. They transcended time, they transcended interests.

~Chapter Two~ My mother owned a small boat; she had built it herself several years earlier. It was a single-sail design, and two sailors could handle it with ease. A few weeks after the conversation at the dinner table, I asked mother if she would begin training me to sail. She seemed flattered, and readily agreed. She and father took me in the evenings, long summer evenings that seemed to last almost until the morning. They taught me to tack, to jibe, to work against the wind and to run with it, to manage the sails and maintain the rigging. I greedily sucked the information in, asking question after question until I thought my parents might lose patience and toss me over the side. Days and days passed, and summer slipped into autumn in this manner.

The tinge of jealousy that sucked at her heart was shockingly painful. She only faintly remembered when her parents had been happy. Before her father had bonded to...that...woman. Reading such love and affection left her nauseous. Glancing away from the page for a moment she focused on each letter.

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[b] Autumn in turn gave way to winter, and my fifteenth birthday passed. The days had grown shorter, and my parents were busier; our trips in the boat had become more and more infrequent. But I felt confident that I had a firm grasp on the basics of sailing -- confident enough to have concocted what in retrospect seems an overbold plan. I didn't think that my parents would be willing to let me take the boat on my own. But I wanted to show that I was a true sailor, that I had talent, and that I should be allowed to begin my apprenticeship early. It was the only way that I could think of to put myself in a position to become involved with the circumnavigation. ~From Mizahar Wiki

Vani was a much more dynamic language than common in her mind and it took her several moments to find the right words and appropriate signs. Several of the sailing words were far beyond her vocabulary, so she wrote out each as they appeared in common hoping they would be so specialized a word as to have no translation or alternate.

Sighing, Una leaned back gazing at the ceiling a moment stretching her fingers. Her mind was heavily taxed, so different were both the languages she found herself stalling, reading forward and backward before she could write again.

[b] I waited until everyone in the house was asleep, and then got out of bed. I left a note, telling my parents that I had gone to Sunberth, and to meet me there. Sunberth didn't have the best reputation, but it was hard for me to imagine that anything truly terrible would happen, especially if my parents had been apprised of the situation beforehand. From where I stand now, it sounds ridiculous, but it seemed perfectly logical to me at the time. I made my way down to the docks. The night patrolman recognized me, but didn’t think anything was amiss, because I was such a frequent visitor. I told him I had left something on the boat, and he smiled and nodded. Once he was out of sight again, I crept aboard, cast off the moorings, and raised the sail. The journey to the mouth of Mathews Bay was easy enough. It was early in the season, and the Bonesnapper had not yet come to replace summer’s prevailing westerly winds. Essentially, I was able to set the rigging, and then leave it alone so that I could work the helm. It was not yet mid-day by the time I sailed through the straits and out into the ocean itself. ~From Mizahar Wiki

Having no notion of how dangerous Sunberth truly was Una nodded along with her as she spoke. It was encouraged in Charodae culture to venture out by oneself away from ones parents and she read through each line passively, not truly understand how brave the young woman would be considered in her own culture.

Once again, there were many words that left Una searching for a Vani word to compare, or to understand the word at all. Leaving long blanks on the seaweed paper as she progressed the paper looked more and more blank with less and less understood. Chewing her lip Una looked back over the text carefully before transcribing and translating what she could.

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I had never been on the ocean before; my training voyages were confined to the bay. I knew that the wind would pick up, but even so, its force surprised me. Quickly, I trimmed the sails, and began tacking northward, following the coast. Here in the open water, it was much harder work than anything I had done with my parents. Without a second person to assist with the rigging, I had scarcely a moment to rest. Trying to navigate and manage the sails at the same time seemed an impossible task, but I was stubborn enough that I wouldn’t let myself pay attention to the difficulty. To this day, I can’t tell how long the trip took. I slept in brief snatches, one or two hours at a time, when I was close enough to shore to drop the anchor. Every other moment was occupied with managing the vessel. The wind burned my cheeks, and the rigging cut my hands, but I continued like a girl possessed. Perhaps I was – the lure of the circumnavigation consumed me, and I felt powerless to resist. ~From Mizahar Wiki

Reading the next part was a frantic frenzy. So dizzying in its delightfulness and intensity she couldn't stop her eyes from roaming the page. Glancing back up at the top of the page she read it slower this time a grin broaching her lips and cheeks as she read. This. This is what the Vani language was meant for.

Lines to denote inflection and working through words for those with prefixes that denoted the rising and lowering of tone as was appropriate. She placed each of these slowly into her translation. The common here was simple and she easily wove it into the living form of Vani.

Though she understood the value of Common and the necessity of its simplicity it certainly felt like reading a dead and lifeless language compared to brilliance that was Char or Vani.

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Over the next several days Una worked her way through the book translating and transcribing Kenabelle's circumnavigation of Mizahar. Though the library held little detail about any other city she found it riddled with information on Wind Reach. The books stacked higher and higher on the side of her desk and her back assumed a scholarly hunch for most of the day as she worked.

Though Kenabelle had only briefly touched upon the shoulder of Wind Reach, too terrified to approach Una drew out the next page of Seaweed and began transcribing her own words in Vani. She had worked through the research, compiling and rearranging parts until she had phrased what she wished to write. Writing them on the scraps of Vals own parchment pieces, she worked through the beginning grinning softly to herself as she worked.

Working through the copious material they had on their own culture she outlined the Wind Eagles, the role of Endals, the basic geography of Wind Reach and its trading partners and the role of Yasi and Chiet. It moved about slowly, acquiring the texts and copying out the useful fragments took time but by the end there were several pages that outlined the basics of Inartan Culture.

Finally she placed her contribution into the center of the large stack. It was far larger than the previous book as the paper was far stronger and less flexible. The paper was sturdy and surprisingly strong and it occurred to her as she gazed at the map continuously it would probably make wonderful map parchment if the traveler didn't intend to roll it up. It would survive the harshest storms, water, and likely a decent fall or two.

As she left the library she had spent so much of her time in she gazed over her shoulder for a moment. The place that had once looked so stuffy and inconsiderate was now a haven in her eyes.

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[Raien Ironarm Pitrius]

XP Award!

Name: Una Tanta

XP Award:
Writing +3
Copying +4
Observation +1

Lore Award:
Difficulties in Reading Foreign Penmanship
Writing: Ash doesn't Settle Well Into Seaweed Paper
Writing: Creating a "Well" for Ink
Papermaking: Add a Transparent Layer?
A New Respect for One's Parents
Sailors: Honorary Charodae
Kenabelle: Lover of the Oceans
Kenabelle: A Skilled Writer
Writing: Updating a Classic
Feeling Lost in a Sea of Knowledge
Kenabelle: A Sense of Kinship?
An Obsession with Knowledge
Being Enthralled by the Circumnavigation


Ledger/Items:
+ The Circumnavigation of Mizahar, Una Tanta's Edition


Grader Comments:
Good job Una, I wish I could give better feedback. It really was a good read, though I'm tired. So, your going to have to settle with the grade itself.