Location [Entrance] The Rolling Waves

[Khesas]

85th of Summer, 513 AV

Khesas looked at the quickly approaching shore of Zeltiva with a mixture anticipation and apprehensiveness. Though he looked forward towards finally setting foot on land once more to continue on with his journey, now that he actually saw the city, he wasn't so sure what to expect. In his idle imaginings, he thought it be a lot like Ahnatep in layout and design, though he realized now in retrospect, that had been a foolish expectation.

Of course, how could he have expected for mere humans to do anything that could rival what an Eypharian could construct, and at that he chuckled silently to himself, bringing a brief levity to the usual dark cloud of his thoughts of late. His departure from Ahnatep had been rather forced after all, and the days on the see long, seeing him missing home more than he thought he would've. At least he only had to wait so long, or at least, that was what he kept telling himself.

* * * * *

Barely bells later, the vessel found shore, and Khesas found himself at last on solid land once more, albeit on unsteady legs at first, so unused were they to the stability of non-swaying footing. Not that he should have to get used to it for long, he thought as he embarked into the city of Zeltiva.

[Alex Cromwell]

Season of Summer, Day 50, 513AV

Alex climbed the mountain pass, making sure that his footing was secure. Last time her was here, he kept falling off the rocks. It didn't help that last time it had been raining. However, today it was bright and sunny, so he had almost no trouble reaching the Mirahil pass. His backpack was secure, his weapons jangled at his side, and as he crested the final hill, he saw the city below him.

It had been a year since he had been here. Last time he was looking for the man who had killed his mother, and he found him now. Alex contemplated making a life in Zeltiva, but he couldn't think about that now. He still needed to understand why he was so different. The University could help him.

[Malus Tidalwave]

Day 59, summer year 513


The bay felt cluttered to Malus. Mountians on either side and a number of ships inbetween; this was a far cry from the open ocean that he was so used to. It made him feel uneasy, not being able to see the horizon. Nothing a little wine cant fix he thought to himself.

Emptying the contents of his wine skin, Malus took a look at his surroundings. After all, this was the first time he had ever been to Zeltiva. The mid morning sun had just broken over the mountains, casting a soft yet radiant glow about the area. The sea birds glided among the thermals, crying out to each other as they followed both merchant and fishing vessels alike. Directly ahead lay the famous port of Zeltiva, greatest navel power in Mizahar. Well, second greatest. They weren't Svefra after all.

Smiling to himself, Malus steered the little casinor towards the docks, weaving among the many other ships, some much larger then theirs. He was anticipating all the fun he could have, and all the trouble he could start. Yes, this should be fun indeed.

[Johann Ambrosius]

Day 15, Summer, 513 AV

So he had arrived. The salt in the sea air burned at his cracked lips, but he had finally made it. His legs and his bowels were still taking time to find themselves, but he had reached his destination. He looked beyond the docks to the city proper and unlike the place he had come from, the landmarks didn't shift and move. Places he had commited to memory from his youth, a City he swore to return to to find his true life, begin his journey after the gestation with his father and the painful birthing that saw the death of a Wizard and a great journey back. It was just a shame his Uncle could not share the sights with him.

"Yes, great shame about your Uncle lad," the burly seaman that had facilitated the end of his journey to this place began tentatively, "It's really hard to pick up strays, especially when I run such a tight ship, but your story struck me to my core."

Johann cast an eye about the man.

"My story was it?" he said dryly, "Or was it perhaps, the rest of my dead uncle's belongings?"

A silence hung between them.

"Well, It was you who offered them to me lad! You did!!" the gruff sailor sputtered, his good sense of charity wounded by Johann's insight.

"I'm just being a pain! I wanted you to humour me good man. His belongings are yours. I'll not need them where I'm going and it's more than worth what you've done for me getting here. Now, about those directions...."

The sailor obliged the young man in his request for the University. The two concluded their business and began to part ways.

[Jimmy Salomon]

Summer 1 513 AV
Jimmy went around the city, trying to find a job

[Savannah Farstar]

Day 85 of Summer, 513 AV

It had taken Savannah nearly two whole years of wandering, but she had finally reached the port city of Zeltiva. She wasn't sure why she had gone here but this town seemed as good as any to start her search. Besides, Savannah had always wanted to see the open sea. As she makes her way into the city, the sight of ships sailing to and from the ports captivates her. It so alien to her that she is completely distracted. She can barely pull her attention back to where she was going, narrowly avoiding a passerby.

Unsure of where to go or how to even talk to people anymore, Savannah wanders about for the better part of the day. Finally as the sun sets she locates The World's End Grotto, and purchases a room to stay in until she can find more permanent lodgings. She plans to stay for quite a while. The next morning she'll go out and figure out what to do.

[Iaron]

Day 86, Summer, 513 AV Iaron stood atop the apex of the narrow path, calculating every bend in the slope below as other travelers passed him by. He mostly ignored them, enjoying the mountain view, until he heard the loud snort of a beast behind coming up the path behind him. The thick, knotted staff in his hand dug into the ground for support as he got out of the horse's way, and clambered onto one of the many pale boulders that lined the road. The steed gave him a thankful snort as he lugged a heavily laden cart onward. The ex-shepard reciprocated with a slight smile, and a wave to the horse's master. He turned again to the slope before him. A hard afternoon wind blew into his face, forcing his beard to cocoon around his neck and funnel the new smells of the docks to his nose. "This strange, wonderful place is your home for now," Iaron assured himself as he clambered back down.

[Niall Hammerfist]

89th of Summmer 513 av Niall Hammerfist lay in a stinking pile, moving in and out of consciousness as passersby tried to ignore his presence. A true test of any traveler to ignore one so dismal in a condition. He had laid there for what seemed like hours. The sun had begun to dip closer and closer to the hills in the west, as he clutched desperately to his life. His lips had grown cracked from lack of water, and the heat of the dog days of Summer were making his legs cramp. He had run out of water miles from the city and he had not trusted any of the other travelers upon the road to ask for some. He swore to Izurdin that he would try to turn over a new leaf and work on his trust issues. Just as soon as he had some water in his arid mouth. The promise was empty, Niall knew, just as Izurdin knew. Though it brought him comfort believing that his God could hear his thoughts. His breathing was labored, yet he could still hear as carts and people moved past him on the road into Zeltiva. The occasional curious person had approached too closely only to receive a low growl from Nialls gravelly throat. They would not get what little he had. He felt painfully desperate, though stubborn as always. The sun seemed to beat down on him making the heat feel even more oppressive than usual. Niall grit his teeth against the world, as if his defiant facial expression would somehow hold death at bay. Somewhere in Nialls Ears he heard the sound of heavy soled boots approaching from the city. With some effort he cracked a bleary eye and looked toward where the noise was coming from. Some pilgrims were pointing to him while they conversed with what seemed like a couple of Guardsman. They nodded to the pilgrim and started their way toward him. Niall tried to reach where his sword lay beneath his crumpled form, though his arms protested cruelly. In the end all he managed to do was flop his arm over his chest. He tried to see their faces as they looked down on him, talking to one another. "Well Zhev that breaks our record. Its been three weeks since we found the last one like this. We'll have to reset the counter back at the gate house." One of them said casually. Somewhere in the back of Niall's muddled brain his ego flared proudly. How dare they make him into a statistic! Niall could not tell which was talking. It did not matter. He didn't want any help, he would crawl into the city if he had to, but he would not be carried. "Get away from me!" Niall's hoarse voice croaked out. "I'll-" Niall's words turned into a mumble as he glared up at the guardsman. His face softened as they stood over him, though it wasn't their looks of concern that made Niall's eyes widen in an attempt to clear his vision. But, rather the third man who had appeared between them. It had been years since he had seen his father. Sulos looked full of life, though he had been dead for at least a year and a half, and he'd been injured about a year before that. His father smiled at him kindly and a cool breeze seemed to follow that smile. "Dad!" Niall whispered. He reached out his hand with all the strength he had left in him and closed his eyes not wanting the illusion to end. Tears dripped down his face, salty and painful against his desiccated cheeks. He nearly gasped when a kindly hand took his and lifted him to his feet. It was as if his father was there carrying him. Helping him home. He felt he could rest now. He could give up. Father would bring him home. There would be warm soup, and cold crystal clear water. Maybe he would have a horn of some of that Apple Scrumpy that Izula would make. The Guards looked at each other worriedly as they carried their very heavy, and deliriously mumbling pilgrim to get some much needed medical attention.

[Dra-Vundas]

Day 01 - Autumn 513 AV The waves and the winds were kind to Rolker this day. His arrival was timely for the first day of Autumn of 513 AV. The small Casinor calmly contoured itself alongside the dock, a five foot six man hopped off the boat almost prematurely. Anchor dropped and rope tied down to the dock the fire plug of a man eyed the city with eyes of ice. The days ahead would either prove fruitful or disastrous, but either way a story was about to begin. Perhaps not as grand as the politics assaulting Zeltiva in these dark days, but a story worth telling none the less. With purpose and a bit of optimism Rolker strode into the city proper, backpack hanging a simple sign. "All wrestling challengers accepted, five silver entry fee, one gold paid to you if you win."

[Vernadel]

Vernadel 90th, Summer, 513AV The city was rather quiet as Vernadel, exhausted from her long days of flying and swimming, reached Zeltiva. The sun had set about a bell or so ago and there were not that many people milling about. She spotted the tall white tower that she knew from the map she had was near the University and made her way over to it, dragging her tortoise shell sack in one hand. Sure enough, there was a group of similar looking buildings, each labeled neatly. The Living Quarters were easy to find, then, and she gratefully pushed through the doors and welcomed the sight she would call home for the next season.