Timestamp: 13 Spring 512 Location: The Sea Gates, Riverfall
It appeared as though Riverfall's port had fared better than Alvadas' own, considering it was protected by towering, time-worn rock and the awe-inspiring view of the waterfall and the stunning city itself. Thankful that his trip south had been without monsters, despite the harrowing wreckage along the way. Despite having been to the city before, the view was refreshing and somehow calming. The orderly, somewhat peaceful promise of the Akalak's city was somewhat attractive, especially in contrast to the chaos of the City of Illusions.
Still, he had no interest in staying long. Approaching the docks revealed that the djed storm had indeed still had an impact here on Riverfall. The port was hardly bustling or full, and as he unloaded his meager collection of cargo (a handful of letters and some small packages) into his rucksack, he made sure he had the mizas to pay his fare for … what … the day? Two days? He had no petching clue.
Following along the worn wood of the docks, Pash'nar found his way to the Portmaster's office. The tattooed sailor endured the introduction and the precursory handing out of rules, the explanation of how times had changed after the djed storm, and properly paid his fees, deciding he'd only be in town for two days or so. Apologizing for taking up the time of the tall, muscular blue man, the false Svefra revealed where he'd come from and what cargo he was carrying with him.
"All the way from Alvadas?" The Portmaster echoed with a bit of deep incredulity, arms the size of the navigator's head and then some folding across his broad chest to look down at the smaller, swarthy inked man in disbelief, "And what do you plan to do with all of this?"
"Well, I ain't sure." Pash admitted ruefully without hiding his chagrin, calloused hand straying to rub at the compass in the moon tattoo at the back of his neck in discomfort, "I ain't gonna be able to find ev'ryone on my own. Surely, some of 'em are dead an' not all of 'em live here anymore. I was hopin' to hand off this stuff to folks who know the city better an' can maybe find these folks who've been given letters'n'packges'n'words'nthings."
"Yes. That may be much more efficient, but do you honestly believe we can spare the manpower to find family members of individuals from other cities?"
The dark-haired man rolled his shoulders in a shrug, eyeing the rucksack full of heartfelt notes and small, useless packages. He remembered the looks of desperation from every person that had passed something to him, even when they had no coins to give in the exchange, "Nah. I know you ain't got the folks to spare, but maybe there's some honest folks 'round who wanna help. It'd give some folks somethin' to do 'stead of mopin' after th'storm an' bring some hope to folks missin' their families."
Like he cared. He hoped his words didn't sound too forced, for Pash'nar had little understanding of family save for a handful of friends and the fishermen that had rescued him over a century ago. He wasn't good at keeping strong relationships or holding onto friendships, afraid that he would lose them to inevitable death.
The Akalaks were long-lived, at least. Like the Konti. And a few other races. Their sense of family was much stronger than the ethaefal's. He hoped his appeal would strike a chord in the Portmaster who towered over him in every way, if only to save him the footwork of a fruitless effort.
"Ah. To bring hope to our residents here, maybe your idea is worth while. You may leave your packages here and I will see that they are distributed to the best of our abilities here in Riverfall, though I can't guarantee it will entirely be in a timely manner after the storm."
"Oh, aye. D'you have any details o'what happened here that I can bring back t'Alvadas with me? Y'know, to tell th'folks that'll be askin' after their kin an' all."
The Portmaster sighed and invited his unexpected sailor to have a seat in his office, which only seemed tiny in comparison to the blue man who occupied it. He gave a brief summary of all the djed storm had done to the beautiful cliff city, sharing the kind of first-hand account in a frank way that even Pash had not expected. It was generous of the man to share such details, but also disturbing to hear the echo of destruction even here in such a beautiful place.
It was with a heavy heart that the tattooed sailor left his packages behind to return to Alvadas with his news. He thanked the master of the port for his time and spent the day resting, gathering more supplies, and drinking the aches away. A couple of taverns proved to be good places to hear more from the locals, as well as spread word about Alvadas' experience with the djed storm, helping residents of Riverfall to know that the storm had reached far shores.
Eventually, he staggered his way back to his ship to sleep off the afternoon of drinking and tale-swapping, knowing he'd set sail to return to Alvadas the next day.
He didn't have any return letters, but at least he had news, news he could share with a few folks in the Underground and let it spread through Ionu's city like wildfire, bringing comfort to some and further worry to others. The djed storm had reached further than anyone had imagined, but Pash did hope his packages arrived in at least a few of the right hands over the next few days.
He'd actually feel like he accomplished something even if one person was brought a sliver of hope from his cargo, regardless of the mizas that lined his pockets from the journey. |