[Denval] Entrance Thread

[Landeril Shieldus]

Spring 64, 511 AV

The Isur Male glanced about as the ship came to port, his cloak thrown over his shoulders to give witness to the pale green shades of his arms. His dark emerald eyes began to spot each member of the crew. The First Mate, dropping anchor, and the cabin boy running about for the Captain. Truly, He would not miss life at sea.

With a grunt, the crew heaved down the gangplank, allowing the Isurian Male to walked down from it. His boots barely made a sound as they came into contact with the wood of the dock, the black leather scuffed and burned as any good Blacksmith boots should be. His black tunic was tucked within his trousers, leaving his sword belt free, with his twin blades, Immortalis and Shieldus at his hips, well within reach.

However, Landeril hadn't come to Denval for a fight. He was seeking a job, as a blacksmith. Traveling this far to study with the Blacksmiths of this town, and perhaps earn his own shop. That was his goal here. So, hefting his backpack, filled with his gear, things such as toiletries, and his flint and steel to make a fire, the Irusian set off to seek employment.

His steps would take him towards the center of town, amidst the people there, his dark green eyes ever cold and fierce as the steel he worked with. He could smell the smoke of a blacksmith nearby, perhaps he had truly found work with his old master, Galea, once more.

[Rhuryc]

80th Spring, 511AV Bah, ships. Rhuryc decided he did not not like ships. Well, no, they were already, but the constant, rocking motion of the water did little for his appetite. Man belonged on the ground. Firm. Unmoving. And unmoving. He did not feel like every other wind was going sail him off course and crash a vicarious, wooden construct on some unknown monster in the middle of nowhere. Right. Rhuryc did not like ships. So when he set his feet on the docks it was not surprisingly when he felt a wide sense of relief. His shoulders slouched, his eyes softened, and his mood noticeably improved. When the boarding plank was lowered he was one of the first off of the ship, his bags and other gear clanking about as he practically ran to the quay. With the captain payed before their voyage even began, Rhuryc held no qualms with separating himself as far away from the ship as he could in as little time possible. Once he deemed himself far enough away from the sea the man came to a sudden stop. His vision swept up and took in the sudden onset of serenity. How quaint. Almost mystical. Denval was small, most likely one of the smallest settlements he had ever seen, but there was something mystical about the place. With a clear sky and a rigid, shapely landscape, Rhuryc found himself dwarfed by the sudden onset of beauty. Everything was new. The architecture, the somewhat hushed awe of the terrain; even the sounds, the wind howling against the shore intermixed with the subtle shuffle of the natives, all of it assailing his senses in a fresh breath of new and wonderful. Huh. He set his pack down and allowed himself to soak up Denval and only then did he notice the small crowd of laughing children and curious onlookers. He smiled, sheepishly, and raised a hand in greeting. Did those folk speak Common? Maybe he would do more than just pass through.

[Alvena Celandine]

31st of Spring, 511 AV The days Alvina had spent anxiously waiting for the day she would see the shoreline of the small port left her constantly pacing up and down the boat's deck, developing a habit of biting her nails as she wondered if she would regret ever leaving her home in the first place. She spotted the small town the moment it popped into view on the horizon, and her negative emotions were immediately replaced with a new-found excitement at the first city she would know outside of Kalinor. The time it took for the boat to actually get to the dock felt like an eternity, but she enjoyed staring out on the rail, watching as her destination became more defined, slowly but surely. After being helped off the boat and onto the rocky land, Alvina exchanged a few words with the trader who had brought her here, who wished her luck and to stay out of trouble. Making her way up to the isolated town, it was only beginning to dawn on her that she had no idea what she was doing.

[Darren]

After what seemed an eternity on the trade ship, word spread around the cabin that they only a few days from Denval. Seeing land for once brightened the sour man's mood but hearing this made all the difference to his mood. The prospect of traveling on boat really didn't sit well with him throughout the whole trip, but even he had to admit that this was the best form of travel around. "Thank Morwen, I was beginning to think that Denval didn't exist" he muttered sarcastically as the boat made it's final adjustments. 13th of Summer, Year 511 The boat approached slowly as it approached the city. Though the stone quay would turn off most visitors to him it didn't matter. A stone quarry meant lots of rocks, lots of rocks usually meant land. "Sweet gravel and earth! How I miss you so!" he cried out as he was one of the first few to hop off the ship. Putting himself in a somewhat outstretched prone position he laid on the studry rock for the better part of a chime before deciding to stand. He pushed himself off up with his hands and only got to a half squat before a sudden shaking brought him back down to the ground. I'm having them... "land wobblies" he realized, remembering the term from a member of the crew. Straining to sit up, light comments rained down upon him as the crew finally caught up with him. Curse you... and curse that boat... he shook painfully as he tried another go at standing. Slightly recovered he managed to stagger back to the ship before using it as support. Muttering insincere curses under his breathe he wasn't in the best of moods as the welcoming group came forward. "Welcome to Denval!" He gave them a grisly smile as he wiped his mouth incase any remnants of puke remained on his face. "Thanks..."

[Luna Keln]

summer what ever day it is 511

Luna was on a small ship. Luna and her dog ske was next to her panting and was standing up on his back paws looking over the railing. Ske loved the sea and all that is around it. Luna smiled at him and pet his head softly. She loved him. She has had him for one year but it seems like for ever. Ske nudge her hand and whined. "I know we are almost to our new home boy." she said softly to the big husky.

Luna looked out to the land and smiled she was almost to her home. She left when she was young and thought she would never return again. But after thinking a lot she decided to get the courage up and return.She had told ske a lot about her old home. And how she lived before she met him and left for traveling and revenge. Yeah revenge is not good but she need to know that her parents where avenged.

She saw land coming closer and she had a huge grin on her face and was supper exited. She began to fidget and get all sweaty. As soon as they arived she ran off the boat wit ske right next to her.

[Galio Keln]

Season of Summer, Day 45, 511 AV

Galio stared at the approaching ground. He was tired of sitting on the boring trade ship. Not only that, but he was tired of the sea. He hated the ocean and couldn't stand being in open water for very long, the only reason he had come at all was because of his sister.
He shuddered as a cold chill shook his spine. While he wore his coat without a shirt to avoid destroying clothes every time he morphed it certainly was cold when he wasn't in his normal form. Pulling his coat tight he stared at the the city called Denval, he was suppose to meet Luna there.
The ship lurched as his thoughts turned back to his sister. He had told her he was going to meet her here didn't he? He couldn't remember how long ago it had been. The captain glanced at him, he had been kind enough to give let him come along for free, well as free labor. As the finished docking Galio stepped off the ship, already happy his life as a ship hand was over. At first he stumbled before regaining his balance.
"...Luna...Where are you?"
Glancing back at he ship he grimaced at the thought of leaving without finding Luna. Ridding his mind of the thought he looked around wondering where to look next.

[Vanos Strongarm]

Summer 68, 511. For his entire life, Vanos has been on solid ground. Ground that has never moved, never rocked back and forth and has never threatened to pull out from his feet. The ground was either hard packed dirt, bricks, or other Isurian made solid ground in which he never before had to question whether he was going to end up flat on his back while standing still. The dream – the fantasy – of seeing and experiencing solid ground once more was all that he thought about; it was all that he forced himself to think about as the boat rocked to the side once more. From the way that he got questioned about certain Isurian details by the passengers of the boat, it was like they had never seen an Isur before, and Vanos was more than happy to answer the questions that were being slung at him so fast he barely had time to catch his breath to phrase a response before he was asked about something else. They were endlessly patient as Vanos struggled with Common – a language that he has very little experience actually speaking to native speakers – as they were delighted with the responses that a “social” Isur could answer. The way that others had seen Vanos’ people was curious to him, for they saw them as cold, hard and anti-social people. They were universally short, strong but also respected for what they could craft with their bare hands. The two children that were on the boat on their way to Denval couldn’t believe that his bare hand could enter the intense fire of a forge, and Vanos was more than happy to show them how his fingers could dance inside the flame of the kitchen fire without burning or pain. But now, as Vanos leaned against the rail of the boat as he looked out to the water, he was once again watching what he had just eaten a couple hours ago ripple in the water at the side of the boat. While Vanos and Isurians were physically strong, he very much doubted that he’d ever make another trip on a boat again in his lifetime. While the social interaction with other, new people and new races that he had only read about was entertaining and fun, the motions of the boat and the sounds of the water crashing against the hull of the ship were not. When he was down under the deck, he couldn’t see the boat moving but the mere motion of it bobbing in the water was enough to make him sick. Being outside helped little as he tried to focus on something in the distance to keep him distracted from what exactly was happening to his body. If he kept his eyes on the water, he would become anxious at the thought of falling into the water and drowning. His body wouldn’t help him, even if he knew how to swim, as he was quite certain that he would sink to the bottom like a rock. Maybe he could visit the Charoda on his way to the bottom of the water and see their underwater coral city. In those fleeting and foolish minutes of anxiety, Vanos regretted the extra time and effort that he spent strengthening his body with extra size and muscle as, if he were to fall in the water, it would be his undoing. Vanos was trapped with his anxious thoughts so fully and deeply that he didn’t pay attention to the fact that they were practically at Denval – a city practically built into a rock cliff. It made Vanos think about how these architects and engineers would have gone about constructing this small gathering of people and turning it into what it is today, and he was constantly comparing what he saw to what he had grown up with back with his own people. While he didn’t fault the decisions he saw there, he knew that it would be a... learning experience in taking in other cultures and their grasp and knowledge of how things should be built and constructed. Vanos didn’t look at them as if they had constructed their city in an inferior manner, he was simply curious as to how they went about doing this without his own tried and true methods of construction. As the boat docked, Vanos gather his small belongings together as his stomach rumbled. He had forsaken the good meal that the ship’s cook prepared for him and now was craving more meat and more food to quell that weak, rumbling stomach. As he waited his turn in line to disembark from the boat, the first thing that caught his attention was the aroma of some inn or tavern that was cooking something that smelled absolutely delicious. When he looked for the source, it was almost as if it was perfectly placed once Vanos and the small group from the boat made their way from the quay, and with his stomach in charge Vanos hefted his bag over his shoulder made his way up the quay to hopefully fill his empty belly.

[Syllke Skyglow]

The smaller boat used to ferry the ship’s passengers to the unremarkable, unadorned stone pier rocked as a sailor jumped to the landing. Adroitly, he tied off the ropes that would hold it captive until the handful of people either struggled gracelessly the meter upwards, or managed the climb to the pier with a bit more aplomb. Syllke stood and waited patiently, his eyes already soaking in the road that wound up a steep hill into the town proper. The stiff breeze that always accompanied the larger ship as it traveled from Anvathal to Denval was not to be felt here in the sheltered harbor, and already he felt warmish. With his natural resistance to cold of any sort, Syllke had been able to wander about the merchant vessel with little more than his leather boots, trousers and shirt, for the most part, despite the far northern waters they traversed to get to Denval. For the Vantha, it was a journey south – one he had never made before. So the increasing temperatures, though muted on the sea, were a portent of the acclimatization he would have to undergo as he left his frozen homeland. Now, his legs unthinkingly accommodating the now familiar movement of the restless water under the keel of the little boat, Skylle wondered how rude it would be to remove his caribou leather shirt and pull one of his linen shirts on in its place. The sense of how much he did not know – about so much of the world, its climates, its people, their cultures – wasn’t alarming or depressing to the young Vantha man at all. Quite the contrary – he smiled a bit to himself thinking that undressing in public was probably as discouraged in Denval as it was in most parts of Anvathal. Of course, given his homeland’s climate, the occasions where one might feel the urge to do such a thing were severely limited.

In any event, he kept his shirt on and within a few moments, it was his turn to move forward and disembark. Foregoing the helpful hand of another of the sailors, he tossed his gear up onto the flat, grey stone, and with a hand on the rope hanging down from a wooden piling for just this purpose, he deftly pulled himself up and found himself setting foot for the first time in his life in a place that was not the land of his birth. A thrill rippled through his body, and his eyes shined with red undertones in the dark brown irises with the excitement he felt. A noisy gull stood squawking on one leg atop a nearby piling, and seemed to be laughing in pleasure at him. Syllke smiled and laughed back, quietly to himself, happy beyond measure.

With the briefest of looks about at the nothing that was the pier, and his eyes swiftly climbing up the narrow road to the town above, he said a friendly good bye to the sailors who had brought them to their destination – temporary or permanent, home coming or – like Syllke – a new comer to the long isolated settlement. With a friendly grin for the children who clustered about the quay, giggling and playing as they ogled the newcomers, the Vantha youth picked up his pack of belongings, sparse as they were. He was traveling light, quite on purpose. Slinging the pack over his shoulder, the young man set his feet on the stone flagged road that would take him to what he hoped and planned would be the first of an infinite number of places he would visit in his search for . . . life.

[Talen Stirling]

Talen walked slowly towards The Welcome from the Freight Docks. It had been a long night yesterday, and a long day today. The longsword at his hip felt heavy, as did the shield slung across his shoulder. Usually he would have dropped them off at home when duty was over, but today he couldn't be bothered. He wore a cotton scarf around his neck to keep out the wind and cold, it was a temperate day by Denvali standards, which meant it was fairly cold. Ever since what had happened the 28th, guard duty had been intensified. That, in itself wasn't a problem but while it was going on another guardsman figured he'd get sick and needed someone to take care of a couple of his shifts. Since he was one of the youngest, Talen ended up having a couple of extra night-time patrols the last week. Refusing to stop waking up early for morning training and altering his normal schedule, he was quite fatigued. His stubborn devotion might lessen his ability to act when the time came, but he refused to bow down to the challenge. He approached the doors to The Welcome hastily with a smile growing behind the cotton scarf around his neck, and in his hurry stumbled into a short, and very hard, figure. Continues here

[Faylon Kwanda]

31st of Summer, 511AV [He watched as the barge he sat back on was ferried from a ship docked outside of the harbour. Looking over the edge of the barge as it moved closer to the docks Faylon couldn’t yet see the rocky formations hidden below the surface of the water, the ones that ships feared crashing into and becoming moored by, but he watched regardless. Faylon didn’t really care for the ocean but he did enjoy the water, it was relaxing even when it was a bit choppy in his opinion.] [His Father didn’t know that he was coming home. He’d been gone for a little over two years now having left to study in Zeltiva and do a bit of exploring as well out in the Unforgiven. Now it was time to come home though and Faylon was excited to see the only man that he knew as family in the entire world. Thinking about his father brought a brief smile to his features and though their time together would likely be limited to a few bells every day it didn’t matter. He told himself he’d stay for the remainder of this season and the next but who knows.] [When the barge started to draw nearer to the docks Faylon would collect his things which were a Longsword and a Backpack with a few miscellaneous goods inside. He wore what looked like Studded Leather Armor covered by a Cloak made of a wolf hide that fell across his shoulders and down his back, something to help keep warm and dry on cold or rainy nights. As the barge came to the docks of Denval Faylon was standing.] [“Good to be home.”...he told himself while waiting for a few other passengers to unload before it was his turn. Walking off the barge he would set his feet down on the wood of the docks and begin to move out into the town. There were always friendly people around willing to help out newcomers and many were pointed in the direction of the Traveler’s Welcome but Faylon knew where he had to go. Politely greeting anyone who stopped to talk with him or welcome him to Denval he would thank them, maybe exchange some small talk, and then move on. He knew the way back to the home he had been raised in by heart and wouldn’t have any trouble finding it unless his father had moved, or worse died, in which case he would politely ask for directions.] OOCSorry this took me so long I definately had a slip of the mind.