[indent]81st of Winter, 516 AV
[justify]The docks had been eerily quiet for days. No ships had come in, nor had any gone out. The animals that haunted the waters were silent, and no one had drowned in nearly a season. It may have raised the brow of someone on edge in the land of the undead, but all this was unsuspicious to the sailors of the Sahovan docks.
In fact, they rather enjoyed being able to hear the steady creaking of the golems' great stone bones, and the clicking and whirring of the mechanics of the Citadel. Many of them had grown up with these sounds, and so it was a reminder of home, or rather, as close as they could get. As it was so comforting, several of the sailors had fallen asleep, or taken up games of cards, giving their trust to the golems.
One man in particular, though, was not so trusting. Though he couldn't know what exactly would come of the silence and stillness of the docks, he did know that something would come of it.
Bull, as he had been called, was a hulk of man. He may not have seemed intimidating to anyone who passed through, with a wiry beard of hair and aging spots splattering his skin, but all who knew him knew also the damage he could do with just a broken bottle and a butter knife. Bull was not a man to let his guard down, and especially not on nights like these.
He rocked back and forth on his feet, a calm façade to what was ultimately a ready stance. He was passively whistling an old tune even he could not place as he made his way to the end of one of the docks. He stopped there to look up at the stars which were slowly but surely appearing through the sky's dark outline. One star in particular caught his eye; it was faint, but through the distance he could tell that it held not only white, but blues and purples in its shine.
Bull altered his tune, taking the music down another avenue where it changed keys and whispered of things to come and to fall. It was more minor, and it passed the time peacefully as the stars grew stronger and stronger. By the time Leth was high, his favorite star of the night was still resting on the horizon where it had started, still growing. Its color grew more vibrant, wider, and stronger. Piece by piece, it began to fill the night sky. Bull's tune faded, replaced by a hasty call in Fratava to his shipmate.
"Aye, does that look like its getting bigger to you?"
Whatever the response was was interrupted by the insistant, monotone beeping of golems all along the docks.
The sound was impossible to ignore. Men playing cards dropped them onto the ground. Sleeping men jumped to their feet, shoes and hats flying off in their hurry. Bull paid attention to none of it. He was busy listening carefully to the cacophony and trying to detect what the golems were saying. Finally, he was able to make out among the mess of noise that there was only ever one tone, and he could see on the worried faces of his companions that they had come to the same conclusion.
One beep. Intruders.
[justify]The docks had been eerily quiet for days. No ships had come in, nor had any gone out. The animals that haunted the waters were silent, and no one had drowned in nearly a season. It may have raised the brow of someone on edge in the land of the undead, but all this was unsuspicious to the sailors of the Sahovan docks.
In fact, they rather enjoyed being able to hear the steady creaking of the golems' great stone bones, and the clicking and whirring of the mechanics of the Citadel. Many of them had grown up with these sounds, and so it was a reminder of home, or rather, as close as they could get. As it was so comforting, several of the sailors had fallen asleep, or taken up games of cards, giving their trust to the golems.
One man in particular, though, was not so trusting. Though he couldn't know what exactly would come of the silence and stillness of the docks, he did know that something would come of it.
Bull, as he had been called, was a hulk of man. He may not have seemed intimidating to anyone who passed through, with a wiry beard of hair and aging spots splattering his skin, but all who knew him knew also the damage he could do with just a broken bottle and a butter knife. Bull was not a man to let his guard down, and especially not on nights like these.
He rocked back and forth on his feet, a calm façade to what was ultimately a ready stance. He was passively whistling an old tune even he could not place as he made his way to the end of one of the docks. He stopped there to look up at the stars which were slowly but surely appearing through the sky's dark outline. One star in particular caught his eye; it was faint, but through the distance he could tell that it held not only white, but blues and purples in its shine.
Bull altered his tune, taking the music down another avenue where it changed keys and whispered of things to come and to fall. It was more minor, and it passed the time peacefully as the stars grew stronger and stronger. By the time Leth was high, his favorite star of the night was still resting on the horizon where it had started, still growing. Its color grew more vibrant, wider, and stronger. Piece by piece, it began to fill the night sky. Bull's tune faded, replaced by a hasty call in Fratava to his shipmate.
"Aye, does that look like its getting bigger to you?"
Whatever the response was was interrupted by the insistant, monotone beeping of golems all along the docks.
The sound was impossible to ignore. Men playing cards dropped them onto the ground. Sleeping men jumped to their feet, shoes and hats flying off in their hurry. Bull paid attention to none of it. He was busy listening carefully to the cacophony and trying to detect what the golems were saying. Finally, he was able to make out among the mess of noise that there was only ever one tone, and he could see on the worried faces of his companions that they had come to the same conclusion.
One beep. Intruders.
