The Harbor [Post here first]

[Panna Cotta]

The magical wagon came rolling by without a horse. Its presence terrified even the sailors. Talking to a golem that could barely pass as a human was one thing (but even that needed some getting used to), but seeing a horseless carriage was another. The "perishable cargo" were loaded into one wagon, and Corum was requested to ride on a separate wagon-golem. Off they went into the Citadel, one horseless wagon after another.

Nuits were always welcome in Sahova, as they were the ones who had the most potential to become permanent residents of the island. Elsewhere, the undead are feared and hated. In Sahova, they were no longer outcasts or deviants. They were even safe from the followers of Dira, those who seek to pull them back into the cycle of life and rebirth. The undead was the "in" crowd in Sahova. Corum would not find it hard to fit in, so to speak. The only thing that mattered now was how he will carry out his business in the land of the dead.

The wagon-convoy headed straight into the Citadel, which from afar looked like a castle that grew from the earth: a mushroom sprouting in a dead twig. It was simply magnificent, unlike any other. Magical. Majestic. With just one look at the twin walls and the towering structures, Corum knew that this was the place to be for a Nuit. So far he had heard that the island was a place where many of his kind lived, maybe he had already chanced upon rumors of the undead's wickedness - after all, Sahova imported bodies. Now was his chance to see for himself what lies beyond the walls.

OOCI suppose you're off to the Vestibule, now?

[Alma]

91 day of Fall, 510AV, mid-day.

Alma looked at the sea before him. The waves tumbled over each other, and crashed against the side of the boat. I wonder what the place will be like? he thought to himself. All of the rumors I've heard about this place... It should be nice not worrying about being killed by everyone around me.

Alma looked to the sailors behind him, manning the deck and making sure everything was in place. They seemed to be on edge; like something was wrong. Alma had been waiting to come to Sahova for years now, hoping that he would finally be accepted somewhere. He turned back around to face the sea, seeing the island coming into view. The sun was behind a collection of clouds, making the atmosphere eerie.

The boat finally arrived at the Port. Port Silence, he heard one of the sailors call it. And Alma realized why it was named so: The port was silent. Completely silent.
A Golem rolled down the pier. As it spoke, Alma listened to its voice, and how monotone it was. When it asked if any passengers would like to be escorted to the Citadel, Alma calmly walked into the golem's view.
"I wish to be escorted," he said in a high-pitched voice.

[Panna Cotta]

Many Nuits outside of Sahova who have heard about the Citadel romanticize its nature. Could it be that somewhere, far away from the coasts of Sylira, lies an island specially for the undead? Such claims fall short of what Sahova really is. But if anyone who wished to visit the island came uninformed, their misconceptions are usually corrected within a day - if ever they last that long in the island.

Sahova is more than just a sanctuary for undead creatures. It is a land where time had frozen, where the biggest congregation of wizards live together -not necessarily in harmony - to pursue the endless goal of taking over the world in the name of the empire of Alahea. This important fact usually takes a backseat in the consciousness of most of the Sahovan Nuit wizards: Five centuries is far too much a time to prepare for war.

Or is it?

Alma was requested to ride an animated wagon. He was Nuit, and therefore he had better chances of surviving in the barren island of Sahova. He was a wizard in his own right, earning him the choice to stay as a mage within the Citadel. In a disconnected way, Sahova was home.

The scenery was not too special to take in, the surroundings were almost as quiet as the harbor. Plant life was scarce, almost no visible animals. The wagon rolled forward, allowing Alma to meet the first wall of the Citadel. It was a testimony to what Sahova has endured: weather, war, time. Explosion marks and small craters dent the outer wall, but it was evident that these had little to no effect against the fortified walls.

The visible parts of the Citadel towered among the mountain peaks of the terrain, as if it had sprouted from the ground. Most agree that it's almost like the Citadel grew out the earth itself. Few are in the know that the visible Citadel is but the tip of the iceberg. The rest of Sahova is built deep within the bowels of the earth.

There was time - a lot of time - for Alma to learn more about the Citadel. The tall double doors to the Vestibule were only a few steps away. There is no turning back.

OOCYou may post at the Vestibule PM me if you want something specially arranged.

[Dramiana Rosenthal]

The 5th Day of Winter 510 AV The girl was nothing to look at, mainly because she did not take to wearing makeup or fashionable clothing - choosing an introspective approach by keenly studying the craft for which she was cherished (be it only by her summons). Her hair was very long, like wisps of smoke, was jet black, and her pallor suggestive of a cadaver. Slender and frail of build, her teeth were wont to chatter. Her attire was languid and dark, just as she, and there were no breasts or hips well endowed like other women her age. She was small and fair, and any beauty upon her was hidden well beneath the bowers of brocade and organza. The only truly mesmerizing feature was the depths of her amethyst eyes, bequeathed by her supposedly long-dead mother. The female’s strikingly disturbing appearance was enough to hinder public interaction, though it did sometimes happen through the crude usage of hypnotism that accompanies novice magic. Every day, she found that she had to use it more and more in order to survive on her quest. Would today bring more forced interaction? Interrogation? Distrust? Scorn? These worries were dismissed soon enough with a good read. Pallid fingertips gently caressed the heavy papyrus of her open tome. Heart-pangs pricked her chest as heavy breath trilled over the cryptic text of her most cherished possession. It was so very simple in cipher that even someone as inexperienced as she could read it. For before her was a great grimoire which was attached by a silver fetter wrapped about the whole of her left side in ornate loops. Draping chains swung from her left shoulder, roundabout her left arm, wrist, and through her dainty fingers. They interwove about her waist and bent lowly down her dress until a gilded buckle attached it to her book. So enraptured by the seemingly blank pages oblivious to the world around her was she that only the call of the Communicator shouting at her three times was enough to drown out the placid sounds of rowing, or the gentle sound of waves hitting the tiny rowboat she had heard on the trip over. Engrossed in the text, Dra-Miana did not remember walking from the sailboat to the row boat, being lowered into the bay, travelling for over half an hour to the port in a small skiff, or even realizing her feet were on solid woodgrain. When she looked upward with wide, fully dilated amethyst eyes, her mouth went ajar as the golem welcomed her to the Port of Silence. What was embarrassing, however, was that she had been crying. “Mia Rosenthal,” she answered softly, but then repeated it more forcefully, closing her book and standing up straight in a struggle for composure. She knew this was all futile, for her Curse made only the most skilled know that, despite everything about her aura leading people to the assumption that she was lying, she was, in fact, perfectly truthful. The smell of rust stung her nostrils. “Personal matters relating to education, Porter. I’ve no cargo save for this book and its bond. I wish an audience with the Dead and, hopefully, with a spiritist.” She shook, causing the chains to rattle – not from fear, but from hunger. The young summoner’s black clothing whipped and curled in the wind along with her beautifully long, but wild hair.

[Lakuer Byer]

Season of Winter, Day 5, 510AV

Finally Lakuer had arrived at his destination. He had come to Sahova to learn and train in magic, and he knew this would be a good place to do so. Stepping off the boat his parents had sent him on, he was alone, and yet he was not afraid.

Looking with inquisitive eyes, he tried to take in everything at once, as there was so much to see. Though most just saw a pier, he saw the promise of knowledge and an opportunity to enhance himself.

Being greeted by a mechanical golem, he listened to its statement, and then responded "My name is Lakuer Byer, and i have come here to train in magic and to use your library and its texts. I simply have the normal traveling supplies, along with my scribe kit."

Saying this, he would pull out some of his various items used as a scribe, from his backpack, to show to the golem.

"I am also skilled as a scribe, and could perhaps work as one while i am here. I suppose i also need a escort to the Citadel."

[Panna Cotta]

It was Winter, but Morwen's chill barely reach the isle of the undead. The Harbor was silent as ever, eerily welcoming the new comers. Two Communicator Golems approached, one for the ship's captain and the other for the disembarking passengers. These barrel-shaped contraptions were but things gifted with life, one of Sahova's finest. Nowhere in the world were there creatures such as these. Then again, nowhere in the world was Animation as widely practiced as in Sahova.

The second Communicator Golem attended to the other Pulsers, the non-undead visitors of the island. It spoke first to Mia. "Welcome to Sahova. Please take the next wagon to the Citadel." Nearby, cargo was being unloaded to a horseless wagon. The same golem approached Lakuer, greeting him with pretty much the same words, same voice. It did not bother to judge them by their race, their face, or their gender. Sahova does not mind - if they *ever* die, regardless of race, face, and gender, they will be sent to Palsa Hydrasa.

Like the Communicator Golem, the large wagon they rode was imbued with life and basic sentience. It only had one thing to do: move to and fro the harbor and the Citadel. For many years, they have rolled cargo, passengers, and dead passengers to Sahova.

Mia and Lakuer's fate will be one of these three things soon.

[Miya]

5th of Winter, 510AV

Miya sighed deeply as she stepped off the ship. It was a long and a very boring journey from Zeltiva to here, and for what? Miya didn't really know the answer to that question... As the matter of a fact, she just decided, after having that chat with Iris, that she will be going to Sahova.

Many would think what she did was rather stupid, and even she, when she actually sat down and thought about it on the ship, found the decision completely dumb, but oh well, she was there now and no coming back was going to happen any time soon.

She stretched lightly, moving her hands above her head and almost falling on her back while doing so. Her hair was moving over her shoulders covered with white, fur coat. It was quite chilly cause of the winter, so she had to wear boots and the coat was reaching under her knees, which pissed Miya off. She, for some reason, liked to show her dresses off quite a bit.

Her first steps on the deck were slow and calm, but as soon as she noticed the look of "people" around her she bit on her bottom lip and thought if it would be better to go swim back to Zeltiva.
The only thing that Miya had about things who lived here were stories. She couldn't read, so it was quite hard for her to learn anything and the things she has heard are quite scary. People say that these things do not have an actual body and they tend to switch between, which of course, freaked Miya out.

Shivering at the thoughts she's been having, she decided to speed up a bit and move towards the first crowded place and get something or someone from around here to tell her where could she sleep and what could she do while she is here.

[Panna Cotta]

Sahova was not the place to be, even for wild animals. The Kelvic race had been known to be one of the most coveted test subjects next to humans - and that was excluding exotic beings. Miya found the Harbor too quiet, too silent. It was nothing like the wilds should be, and the uncomfortable feeling sank into the pit of her guts.

What had she gotten herself into?

Maybe it was her daredevil genes, or just plain stupid courage – brave, yes, but stupid nonetheless. Her immediate response to the unrelenting silence was to find a companion. Kelvics are still more animal than human in nature after all, and they mostly worked by following their instincts.

Miya did not expect the crowd that greeted her in Sahova, if it could be considered a crowd at all. The humans in the ship were odd, the golems were beyond odd. One of them greeted her, nonchalant and inhuman, “Welcome to Sahova. Please identify yourself and state the purpose of your visit.”

[Orion]

32nd Day of the Season of Winter, 510 AV


Orion could make out little of the pointless chatter that was sorrounding him; It was already a few bells since sunrise, the journey had been long, and today should have been the day when he would get a chance to set his foot upon the infamous island of Sahova. The atmosphere on the Saga Shooter was relaxed, a bit too relaxed for the Ethaefal's taste, so he found himself standing at the front of the ship, gazing into the distance. Mist, some clouds and occasional disturbances close to the surface of the water were all he could make out, so he made an assumption that the ship was still ways off from the island.

He had heard some pretty amazing stories while on board of the ship; Ghost stories, stories of vast power, tragic „accidents“ and many others, but nothing intrigued him more than the yammering of an old fart named Jim. He often narrated of the ways of the citadel and of all it's advantages, only on the last day of the voyage did Orion finally understand why were all his stories so spiced with awe and rethorics, he was a Vantha after all. They both were, to some extent.

Turning away from the horizon for a mere second was the only thing he regretted for the next few moments as he had missed the appearance of shores from the mist. Suddenly the whole crew went quiet, and the air became still. Even those who were here many times already had not yet accustomed to the grim appearance of the isle. From what Orion had heard during the journey, no one could blame them. Even he himself who never gave into fear too much found some creeping chill in his bones, it was both terrifying and intriguing, this newfound sense of fear he now hosted.

As Saga made port, a small, lousy looking, rough around the edges, golem appeared next to the ship, on one of the piers. One by one the people who spoke with the thing took turns, explaining their bussiness here, as well as their name, and the nature of their stay. He had long known what he was going to say, long before it was even his turn, it was after all hard to forget the new resolve he was given through the well aimed words of another Ethaefal he met not so long ago, Taith's words.

It was Orion's turn to speak and he took a bit of time for him to propperly phrase what he was going to say in his head, but it was not like people here cared about the wait, they had eternity. The golem was now saying his tasteless line for the Syna knows what time, and just as he had ended it yet again, the Ethaefal spoke: „The name i go by these days is Orion, i seek knowledge and power, i offer time and all the strength i have or lack. What i carry is food and drawing material, along with paper, a lot of paper“ he ended his line while pulling out a randomly sketched out page in one hand and what seemed as an old piece of bread in the other, one could never been completely sure in the mist he had to look through.

He had said all he was going to say, and the rest was up to fate, or whatever decided the matters in Sahova.

[Xylia Nasrin]

Timestamp: 11 Winter 510AV
Thread Characters: Spoken with Vick about introducing our two characters here.

Looking out over the stormy seas, Xylia's hazel eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of land after over a week at sea. Putting her hand against her head she felt a bit of nausea take hold as the ship rose up on a large wave and settled back down.

It had been over a week since she had last seen Zeltiva. The city was strange to her and during the early hours of evening she had seen a man who looked so much like her dead brother that her heart had become mournful and embittered all over again. To push the pain away she had found the nearest tavern and began the journey of drinking herself into absolute oblivion. It was the only way to stop the pain and to make the memories of her loss retreat to the furthest corners of her mind.

Drinking was the last thing she should have done. Xylia still didn't remember how the fight started. Something about a man approaching her and trying to touch her arm. He might have been flirting or trying to annoy her, but it didn't really matter. She refused to let anyone touch her and the last thing she remembered was taking a swing at the man and feeling her cheek explode in pain. The next thing she remembered was waking up on this ship.

Luckily her bag was still around her shoulder. If anything she would have expected the man to steal from her, but apparently he had been satisfied with sticking her on a ship headed for Sahova--a place most living beings tried to avoid. For the first few days she had been so angry that she had given serious thoughts to jumping ship and finding her own way back to land. However, without knowing how long she had been unconscious, land could have been too far to swim.

As those around her chatted heartily and were loud and raucous, Xylia remained quiet and kept herself apart from the others. She wanted nothing to do with any of them. Yet as time went on she began to formulate a plan in her mind. The undead didn't scare her, yet she had the fearlessness of youth on her side. Her siblings had been murdered by those who possessed magic, so if she could learn magic then perhaps she could track down and dispose of their killers. It was not a brilliant idea, but to Xylia it made sense.

So as she stood on the railing of the boat she heard the first of the crew calling out that Sahova had been spotted. Turning her head Xylia's hazel eyes scanned the horizon until she saw the first signs of the island. After nearly fifteen days at sea it was a welcome sight, but as the boat moved closer the site became less and less welcome. The island was plain and lacked the physical traits needed to host a variety of prey. There would be no hunting for her meals it seemed, unless the island held treasures that could not be seen by the naked eye.

With her blonde hair pulled out of her face she picked up her bag and shouldered it as the ship made its way into port. It was eerily silent and even the inhabitants of the ship seemed to take the cue for silence from the island. The loud chatter began to cease until even the ship was silent and Xylia found her ears welcoming the respite. With the ability to hear things not heard in the normal human spectrum, she often found too much sound to be overbearing.

As the ship was moored Xylia reached up to the nearly healed bruise on her cheek. It still hurt to the touch but was nearly healed now. Her hazel eyes continued to search the land and the docks for any sign of life, but there was none. Lifting her nose slightly she allowed the air to fill her senses, smelling the salt of the sea and a sulfer in the air from the volcanic island. She tried to search out the smell of any other animal but there was nothing within range.

Finally with a deep breath she ignored the others and made her way off the ship and onto the harbor docks. In front of her she saw a very plain golem approach and simply watched it with steady eyes. She was not afraid, but with every passing second she kept feeling a sense that something was not right. Almost as if her world had gone off-balance. It had too much of something, or was lacking something. She couldn't pinpoint it, but it just didn't feel right.

"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."

"I am my cargo," she said plainly and with no emotion in her voice as she pulled her bag up a little higher on her shoulder for comfort. "I seek to learn magic. Nothing more." There was no emotion in her voice and no fear in her eyes, but the discomfort in her senses continued to grow until it was almost an itch on the back of her neck. All she needed from the golem was notice to proceed, nothing more. if she was refused, she'd just have to endure another fortnight of mindless chatter and nausea... something she was not readily looking forward to.