Open Greeting Caravans-Finding old friends and new- Balian Martel

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

55th Day Summer 517 AV Main Gate/Zhongjie Bazar Counting the days in anticipation of a certain caravan from Syliras, Salara had begun lingering about the main gates of Riverfall. There was only so much one could do before lingering became loitering, especially while enduring the furtively longing eyes of every other Akalak she passed. She wasn’t accustomed to being a focus of attention and it near made her skin twitch. For practice and experiment she had tried several ways to draw less notice while walking the stone-tiered streets acting domicile to demure, pleasant or scowling, bold to fierce. She’d tested reactions wearing a simple gown, best dress or entirely cloaked; and it seemed appraising eyes were attracted to every theme or attitude she wore. But then she began noticing something else....survival of the fittest. It wasn't just about looking at her. Occasionally an Akalak man would actually strike a pose as she walked by to display his best attribute. Besides physical enticements she recognized subtle exhibitions such as scholarly thought, humor, and ingenuity. Some of the Akalak’s efforts were actually quite creative like the botanist with his flower. One fellow actually flustered her by holding open a door and allowing her to pass through first. But the ones that really worried her were the timid ones at whom she would smile politely and they promptly fled. Some left so fast near panic that it was difficult for her to fight the instinct not to give chase and attack. Dear gods and goddesses, what would she do with one if she caught him? Really, how could such formidable warrior-trained men be so... backward? Resigned to the inevitability of being an attraction regardless of what she wore she settled on a blouse, breeches and boots. It was probably a good thing that her feline form was solely at Fallon’s disposal to keep their true relationship private – anonymity between the two women; and this woman not associated with the cougar – her own form. It was a bit of protection of a sort. If she shifted then, according to what she'd heard, all these blue bruits would be certain she was Kelvic and there would be even more wanting looks and awkward efforts of See Me. She did notice they seemed to respect the whip she’d wrapped loosely about her waist cocked across her hips and the blades strapped to each thigh. It seemed to make some of them bolder. Today she chose to wander the Zhongjie Bazaar. Either Akalak attentions were divided between scoping out females and acquiring the latest goods or the very same wares drew her own attention so that she didn’t feel so looked upon. She felt a little homesick taking in the crowded colorful tents man’d by colorful people, all encased between harsh stonewalls, overshadowed by the first tier above. It had its charms and was certainly artistically, if unnaturally, beautiful; but this surely was nothing like Zeltiva, she thought, missing the quiet solitude of the naturally beautiful backwater town. It surely would be nice to see a familiar face. Salara figured the first thing any caravan would need would be goods to replenish essentials and maybe even special treats to celebrate for the young-at-heart who’d gone long miles without such pleasures. So her head was on a constant turn hoping to see anyone she knew. It hadn’t been determined how the caravan would split by the time they had set sail; so she really had no idea whom to expect. She didn’t have the heart to hope her shipwright might have changed his mind and come here instead. Maybe she would bump into the seamstress, Margaret and her grandson? Surely she’d run across a fellow scout or two? Browsing the stands, allowing herself to be enticed by the wares more than the vendors who might like to acquire her, she looks through weapons and lends a critical eye towards the styles of clothing that she might adopt to pull off jobs for Fallon. At some point she hoped to be able to blend in with different levels of society so she listens to the local dialects, practicing different lilts and phrases under her breath repetitiously. Other languages were still beyond her ability; but for the common tongue it seemed her keen hearing was particularly useful in identifying the nuances of their accents. It wasn’t surprising then to walk past a conversation at a nearby produce stand and recognize the longed for Zeltivan accent and a familiar voice, “Yes, it’s been a long haul from Syliras and these supplies are for our people so they can get settled in more easily. Yes, there are women in the caravan and they are freewomen who can speak for them-selves,” ended patiently as if he’d been asked such often. Fildred. Her old squad captain, having been put in charge of getting folk to Riverfall, was bargaining with a tall Akalak over several bushel baskets of fresh vegetables and fruits. There were several caravan men at his back. Watching until their bargaining finishes she recognizes a couple of the old guards and some new faces as well. Her leader turns about to see her as his business face cracks into a grin as bright as hers. “Salara! It’s good to see you made it too!” Their hand clasping slips into a warm hug. The question in her eyes is answered with a head shake - the shipwright and his family had not traveled with them. He continues, “You remember Bertam and Lycant?” Waving his hand at two of the guards she’d worked with; they both reach out for a hand shake with welcome smiles. “Let me introduce you to the others. Fellows, this is Salara Kel’Halavath. She was one of the guards from Zeltiva to Syliras. She helped get us out of more tight spots than she got us into along the way, eh? I’d take it a personal favor if you’d include her in watching out for our people.”

[Valour Skyglow]

Valour Skyglow
55th day Summer, 517

Well- she now had to create a life for herself within the mesmerising city of Riverfall. Valour was definitely quite anxious about her overall predicament considering she had no connections, was not too sure of the average demeanour of Riverfall's folk, stood at the ripe age of fifteen and had never decided to live any place other than her original homeland, Avanthal. The latter was new; the experience, the city and the people. Valour knew that she would pick up a routine quickly, however that didn't fail to stop her bubbling apprehension.

Valour was currently scrutinising the map, thankfully she felt the cities destinations plant a seed in her mind that grew instantly. Her liking for the concept and design made the process of memorisation all the more simplistic. The expanse of territory the building's covered was definitely a sizeable one and so she would enjoy exploring the different portions. However, being a Vantha, she would be considered interesting and utterly diverse in comparison to the blue giants- something that stirred a feeling of dislike in the pit of her stomach. While Valour had grown accustomed to being around a large group of people, it had been those who she had grown up alongside. In contrast, she was quite reserved and timid in the presence of multiple beings who she had not been familiarised with.

Valour's current obligation was to sort out housing and a job that would provide her with stable income. However, instead of making her way to the Labor Aid Office, she found herself making the walk to the enclosed Zhonje Bazaar. It was where she had wanted to gather a few starting items, and her legs had seemed to naturally guide her there. It was quite ironic that she had planned on finding a job to be her first priority, though instead ended up going to a market place where her pockets would lighten in weight.


As she reached the entrance, her eyes widened as she noted the countless numbers of vendors. Most were Akalak, though she spotted a few humans. A wave of relief tumbled over her body; she didn't feel like too much of an outsider upon catching a glimpse of humans. Nevertheless, she was still a Vantha, and so bore physical traits that regular humans did not. Valour proceeded to pull the hoodie a tad bit more over her braided hair, as though attempting to assure herself it would not flit off to reveal the faintly glimmering blue streaks embedded within the thick strands. The last thing she needed was a staring contest between her odd features and an average citizen of Riverfall. While her awkward posture stressed her worry, so did the faded yellow of her eyes. Upon entering the Bazaar, they had transitioned from their usual purple to a pale yellow. The hoodie that remained draped over her forehead, while concealed a decent amount of hair, was unable to offer a shield for her eyes. Valour had told herself that every race was different, and so there was no need to fret over a simple, unique trait.

Shaking herself out of the pessimistic mentality, Valour glanced about in scrutiny. She observed the appealing tents; they were all bright colors that attracted her attention. Everywhere there was chatter, exchange of goods and overall voices discussing different matters. Valour had been standing rather still for the past few minutes as she took in her surroundings, before proceeding into a slow walk, her gaze wandering over each individual stand. She had reached the near center of the Bazaar, and slowed to a stop. She felt a few gazes brushing over her in short-lived curiosity, though it didn't come as much of a shock considering her appearance. For the moment, she remained poised near the middle of the land that pertained to the vendors, her meager size of 5'6 noticeable by anyone who took the time to observe.

"What do I do?" She inquired, a sigh caressing her lips as the yellow pigmentation of her eyes deepened. The scene was quite baffling to her, considering she had never stepped foot in a market-place that had a large accumulation of people exchanging words and goods.

For now, Valour was turning about herself, scouring the stands for her wanted items. Considering the multitude of bodies blocking her view, locating the stand that specialized in selling her required goods was not an easy task. If anybody took notice of her, they would probably immediately assume she was lost- maybe even an Akalak child due to both height and obscurity of her facade.

[Balian Martell]

By mid day the majority of the caravan had already been processed by the hulking guards at the city gate, and where now in the process of settling in. Balian, one of the younger guards, had been chosen along with a few others to accompany the Caravan Guard Captain, Fildred, to the local bazaar for some much needed fresh supplies. Tired as he was, the city marveled him. It seemed to grow out of the cliff, and it flowed with its surroundings. Where Syliras stood as symbol of the will of man in defiance of the elements, Riverfall seemed to embrace them, and incorporate stone and water so naturally that he was left wondering if they had been built by hands at all.

Then of course were the natives. The Akalak. He had heard stories of this race; a warrior culture of men, with skin as blue as sky or as dark as night. Of course, the stories are never enough. Balian tried not to stare at the large men, covered in leather clothing, most a head or two taller than him and a good deal more muscled. Each member of this species that the group had encountered seemed also to be in possession of some sort of weapon; swords, knives, daggers, poles… it seemed that the warrior description was well earned. A few of these men returned the glances, for in that moment Balian himself could be given that title as well; leather armour donned, sword at his hip, daggers at his back, and his bow and quiver on his back, he would fit the description. If only they knew he thought, chuckling to himself. With the exception of his bow, the weapons were mostly for show.

The group of guards had been at the Bazaar for only a short while, yet they had made progress in attaining the goods they needed. The travelers had made requests, which they now attempted to gather. Mostly it was replenishing rations, new cloth for clothing, and other such items, and it was quick work. As they did their business, Balian attempted to learn of these people, observing their manners, how they approached their trade, what ever customs they seemed to have. While he saw many things, he wasn’t quite able to understanding them all. One in particular that he found rather odd was their almost obsessive interest in the women of the caravan. He made it a point to ask the captain of it. “Women are very valuable in their culture,” Fildred explained, “hierarchies are based on how many children then have, so they place a lot of importance on women.” The guard captain seemed a slight frazzled, which made sense considering how many times he had to answer questions on the topic.

They were nearing the end of their errand, with Fildred ending his bartering with a shopkeeper. Balian at this point had lost interest in the transaction, and had returned to observing the area. It was true, he did not see many woman. The majority of the Bazaar’s occupants were the Akalaks themselves, with some human men mixed into. Women were definitely scarce, having really only spotted two, one who had just entered, whose coverings hid any defining feature and another who walked confidently in this sea of men. Already he could see the native men attempt to attract her attention, some even went so far as to pose! Balian scratche at the small beard that had grown over the months of traveling, wondering at the oddity of it before letting his eyes wonder.

““… introduce you to the others.” the captain’s words drew Balian out of his thoughts. The woman he had spied earlier had approached the captain, and based on his tone it would seem that they knew each other. As if answering his question, Fildred continued, introducing the woman to the group. Salara Kelhala…something he missed the end of her last name, but he didn’t think it would be too problematic. She her cloths were plain, but of good quality it seemed. And she was armed, a whip and some blades, indicating that she could hold her own in a fight. That it may be possible that they are more for show, just like him didn’t cross his mind. Overall, she was an attractive woman.

The captain seemed to trust her, and when it was Balian’s turn introduce himself, reached his hand over, offering her a hand shake.

“Balian Martell, good to meet you.” He said kindly and with a wry smile.

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

Timpany Dodson watched the comings and goings in the Zhongjie Bazaar closely for two things, an opportunity to score a fat purse and the Kuvay'Nas. With the recent influx of newcomers traveling by caravans and ships along with many strange occurrences going on lately, it seemed the Kuvay’Nas was having a hard time keeping up with everything. It all worked out to his benefit if he paid attention and took a little extra care. Although a Kuvan, he was barely able to meet the mandates for common living but had found picking valuables from among unsuspecting newcomers helped. Sure some had spent their last copper bits to get here but just as many still toted around plenty of Mizas and most all were unfamiliar with the customs and culture of Riverfall. He’d found that if he were very sly, he could pick a pocket and be gone before anyone even noticed. The key was selecting the proper victim and the perfect time. Today his wandering eyes kept passing over and returning to a slim figure timidly wandering about the warren. He casually strolled past several times searching subtly for the bulge and folds in clothing that might conceal weapons or an improperly guarded purse. Although hooded, he got the distinct impression of a female alone – maybe young. He didn’t see any weapons and he was nearly certain her coins were in a side pocket of her coat where her hands would occasionally stray. She wasn’t attracting much attention from the Akalak, which was certainly a bonus as the blue men could be very protective even if they weren’t acquainted with the females that walked here. She seemed naïve and unfamiliar with the market place and would be distracted in searching for items to purchase. Following at a discrete distance he hoped she would meander closer to the edges but instead she kept near the center of the market. Not quite as easy an escape plan but it was busy today with so many comings and goings so brushing by someone wouldn’t be unexpected. He’d come prepared – non-descript, carrying a book in one hand and his other held a small bag weighted with sand and draped with a short cloak. Not outstanding in any way. A nobody that looked like nearly half of the human nobodies in the city. ~~<~<@ Salara greeted each man Captain Fildred introduced to her with a welcoming smile and firm handshake. A couple of the men newly met were Zeltivan but had migrated to Syliras sooner than the caravan she had traveled with her friends. Her kind of people, it was refreshing to hear their homey accents amongst the rumble of Akalak lingo. She asked them to fill her in on Syliras, so called ‘Jewel of Sylira, Symbol of Hope’ closing its doors. It had apparently been a shock to the populace of the city as well as those at the gate before whom faces it had been slammed. All manner of folk would continue migrating in so she might expect more acquaintances later. Even in the safety of their company she was ever watchful of the comings and goings on around the square and had noticed an oddity that bothered her. Trying very unsuccessfully to not stand out, a young lady wandered alone about the market in a country-mouse-in-the-city kind of way, as if she’d never been to one before. Flashing back to her thieving days in Ravok after the death of her owner, Salara’s critical eye for opportunity had quickly pegged the girl as an easy take. Wasn’t any of her business of course, but everyone deserved to have someone looking out for them. Afterall, in a place chock full of men it was only right for the women to look out for one another. Lifting her hand to pluck lightly at the scarf loosely tied about her throat, she all but hides a wince of pain as the fabric pulls against stained bandages hidden beneath. She needed to get to the Sanctuary for a dressing change soon. Only five days past Kavala, Fallon, and Senesha had helped pull a bird from her gullet after ‘minor’ surgery in the park. Without their help she would have died. Yes indeed, paying it forward for others looking out for her was at the top of her mind more so lately. Clearing her throat as gently as possible she steps in to say hello to, ‘Balian Martell’ he offers. “So good to meet you too, Balian.” Her head tilts as her smile grows knowingly. “I’ve been trying to learn the dialects of the people I meet. Do I hear Riverfall in your words? As a native, perhaps you should be welcoming me instead?" He had pretty eyes that brightened his smile. "Our trip to Syliras was tough, but I came to Riverfall by ship. Very tame in comparison. Did you have any trouble traveling by caravan?” Her eyes casually move across the crowd again to see the young lady had wandered closer to them at the market’s center and was looking into a booth. There was a man reading a book standing nearby that looked familiar. Come to think about it, it was because she’d seen him near the girl often this afternoon. Odd, the day was balmy as it had been the last few days, but this fellow carried a heavy cloak or coat draped over his arm. Recognizing a scenario, amber eyes widening in alarm. Salara reaches out to touch Balian’s arm directing his attention, “I think that girl is about to be…” The book slips from the man’s hand landing open faced with fluttering pages at the young girl’s feet. As she looks down, Salara watches the man brush against her with his cloaked arm as he apologizes and bends to recover his book. Whether the girl felt him switch her money purse with the sand bag or not, he walks calmly but more directly than previous toward the exit as if he suddenly had a place to be. “…robbed,” trying not to growl past her sore throat, she bristles taking a step forward to intervene. The pickpocket was headed toward the gate, which would bring him passing near where they stood.

[Valour Skyglow]

Valour Skyglow

Valour had been scouring the stands, her cloak drawn protectively around her body. Though it wasn’t until a stranger bumped into her that the cloak drifted apart, causing her to swerve to the right. Her eyes landed on a book that flopped limply in front of her, the man who had dropped it uttering an emotionless apology. She had barely had time to stare at the dropped item before he had picked it up and moved on. Her hand instinctively drifted to her miza pocket, the result being due to the stories her mother and father had told her about pick-pocketers and their scheming methods.

A look of shock embedded itself within her features, eyes plunging into a deep yellow. The entire pouch seemed to have been replaced with a bag of sand. “I’ve been stolen from…” She whispered, soundlessly. Her head whipped to the direction the pick-pocketer had taken, and she only briefly saw him before he disappeared in the mass of people. She was a rookie with first impressions, however she would not allow her money to be taken on the first day she’d stepped foot in Riverfall. While she was worried for her mizas, she was – oddly enough – not angry. Her eyes still reflected a look of youthful innocence, though determination and the thrill of ‘the hunt’ glistened within her colored iris’s.

She looked around for possible help, though decided that if anyone had seen the cruel trick they would hopefully lend a hand. With that final thought, she whipped around and bolted for the direction the thief had taken. They had gone near the gate, and so she raced for the immense structures. The breeze knocked her hoodie off of her head, revealing blue-streaked hair. Her braid concealed only a tad bit of the odd coloration, though if anyone was watching her, they would probably notice the diverse pigment. Her eyes seemed to be constantly switching out yellow with purple and vice versa, another noticeable oddity.

She stumbled out of a mass of people, halting near the gate and beside Akalak and humans who she assumed acted as the guards of Riverfall. She didn’t have time to scrutinize each one, though her gaze flickered over them briefly before redirecting itself to the path the thief should have taken. Valour hadn’t managed to get a good look at his clothing, though she had managed to get a snippet of his face. Despite her partial blindness to the culprit’s appearance, she made sure to observe any suspicious looking persons face, or anyone who gave off an abnormal vibe.

Valour ended up putting two-and-two together, deciding that if he resorted to stealing, he must not be too wealthy. She assumed he was probably at a lower standing in society, possibly wearing baggy and ripped clothing, maybe a hat? She’d seen his face, though couldn’t recall any tattered hat. The conclusion lead her to avoid following those wealthier looking people and focusing on those who didn’t appear too well off. She felt as though he was near, though couldn’t place her finger on where he was. She furrowed her brows, clenching and unclenching her fists. An idiot viewing her state would be able to tell that she needed assistance, though there had been no sign of any.