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Renown
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Post by saintronan on Jan 8, 2023 12:09:14 GMT -5
Kalibad, Zeinev Winter Solstice, Age of Progress 15250Upon the western coast of Zeinev, numerous small settlements pepper the great nation. Many rise and fall over the years as families move, factions clash, and armies sweep across the besotted shoreline. None wish to stay overly long for the risk of the Sultan's eye, and his tax, rest heavy on their future prospects. For competing with the Golden Port to the east is a daunting task for any. All have shirked the responsibility of the Adatian's charge. All but one. Perched over a natural bay, Kalibad rests. Roads paved of ancient stone and gem cut between just as aged earthen buildings. Each structure covered in the most vivid of cobalt dyes to starkly counter the rigid black of obsidian tiled streets. Between each set stone, a sprinkling of enchanted gems cut in the shapes of fire beetles and spire viper eyes keep the path clean and illuminated through both day and night. The city attempts to emulate the cerulean beauty of the sea and midday sky as well it's shrouded mirrors of the night. Few metalworks adorn the city above beyond brass and silver signs on street and shop alike.
At its westernmost point lie the stoneports. Being the oldest portion of the city saw to their crafting as overly narrow, leading to smaller ships having access to positions much closer to the shore and larger vessels docking at the ends of the stone arms. Letter of introduction and charge of vessel had found its way to Maude as inconspicuously as always. Veiled messenger, no names or greetings, handing off of paperwork and pantomimed directions towards the stoneport. The winds of open sea and fresh fish were more appreciated after the sweltering that Bura had ingrained upon the scout. Days within the dunes, fighting and killing strangers on the sands for hints of some divine rock had never sounded like the most pleasant of ventures. The sukhbir had been agreeable as always but every other piece of the puzzle had seen about discomforting him as much as the creeping sands he'd be cleaning out of his crevices for days to come.
All that without even mentioning the inane and unending commentary about every rock on the road or weave of passing traveler's garb from the bald-headed archeologist, Ferrow. Being now far and away from the present danger of blades and flames had done wonders for his nerves. Though, the scout assumed the ever-present drawl as he rambled about this and that was doing more for them than the actual traveling. This was the most Maude had ever seen of him. Never had he heard so much from the man. They had never truly been friendly between one another but danger has a funny way of forcing bonds of familiarity between people. Maude wanted none of it. Hard enough being under heel alone. To take on the baggage of another in similar circumstance was to invite an early end.
They, as a pair, were meant to board vessel headed for the capitol to then connect to another intended for the glades. After which it would leave for the Frost Gale where they would part ways and the scout would carry the thread onward to the Arid Mesa. He prayed for clear waters and quiet company as they found their charge, made introductions and took to those promising ocean winds in the lower decks of the brigantine The Sea-Dog's Bane.
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Moonglade
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Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Jan 8, 2023 19:28:36 GMT -5
Prayers should have gone solely for calm waters, for quiet company was never in the plans of the gods for the vessel and it would've been time wasted wishing for such. Either from the crew itself or from the other travelers, the Sea-Dog's Bane was a loud one: orders shouted there, another particularly loud family or merchants was raging about and haggling prices, and some odd, lone drunk was apparently teaching obscenities to a raven.
The raven clearly didn't belong to the drunk, but rather to the lady that was talking to someone before boarding the ship. It was clear, because the feathers that adorned her cloak, lining the hood and her shoulders, were also black, raven feathers. The fine, zeinavian silks and jewels were replaced by her usual black attire that made her so easily distinguishable as the Witch of Moonglade. The man she was talking to was also dressed in black, from head to toe, and just like the lady, the black feather pin sticked to his chest marked him as one of the Black Quills. The tall, broad shouldered Edgar was a common sight by her side, often regarded as her body guard and with enough of a resting bitch face to ward off bad intentions and mild bravery. As such, it was an odd decision to he biding him farewell on such an ominous hour, about to board the ship alone. Truth be told, Edgar had a message to deliver and a much more direct route to follow right after, hopefully arriving at their destination before her to wait there with the other Black Quills.
That is, if all went according the plan.
Edgar pulled his brown hood over his head and took off, quickly vanishing among the crowd that gathered around the ship, either by sheer luck or by his own means of stealth, she wouldn't be sure. Kamille had turned to board the ship, suddenly feeling the absence of her familiar, even if she still heard him cawing at the distance. After presenting her boarding ticket, Kamille felt a rush of excitement she thought she wouldn't be feeling regarding this quest: this was progress, or at least it felt like it. And even though she shot a longing look towards the coast of Zeinav, more specifically to where she knew the Villa of Lost Souls to be located, she still boarded the ship in this mixture of bittersweet accomplishment.
The raven Mischief soon had tired of his companion, that was slurring and repeating his words way too much. Instead, the corvid took flight to land on another traveler's shoulder, just like that - uninvited, without the slightest hint of shame or worry, cawing at his ear in a manner that bordered a bully.
"CAAWWW! Hello! I am Mischief!"
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