Solo Signs and Stars

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Considered one of the most mysterious cities in Mizahar, Alvadas is called The City of Illusions. It is the home of Ionu and the notorious Inverted. This city sits on one of the main crossroads through The Region of Kalea.

Signs and Stars

Postby Naia Whitewater on January 17th, 2016, 9:26 am

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Speech | 35th of Winter, 515 AV | Thoughts
Naia preferred to work at night, or early evening, as was the case.

People were merrier, surprisingly quieter, and Syna’s harsh sun gave way to the cool glow Leth. The stars were out, too, burning brightly across the dimming night sky. It made her miss the sea, not the closed bay of the docks or sheltered coasts, but boundless, wide, open oceans. When she was a child the isolation of the Northern Oceans was terrifying, and she dreamed of a day when she was in the Suvan Sea, when one Svefra could not travel for too long without meeting a sister. Things changed.

She halted her descend of The Mischeif’s riggings, and let her sights search the sky for constellations in the cooler winter breeze. She only knew of one that she had not rattled off some random name herself, but her memory was thin. It was one belonging to the northern stars, from her strained thoughts. Was something seen in winter, or spring? Was it the marker for North or South? Her tongue wet her lips as her gaze fell Northwards, the early evening meant that a sliver of Syna’s light was still brightening the skies, and though she was falling fast, the difficulty in the viewing of the stars was enough to make the woman impatient for night.

All the major work of the day was done, she reasoned, and she was the last sailor to remain on the nets, and so she hung, waiting, watching as more and more shapes and lights came into view overhead, and as the dock to her flank too began to lighten and liven with its night patrons. Soon enough she could see shapes within the million planets and stars that dotted the skies, her sights running over crooked lines, uneven rings, and a crude collection she was sure herself as child would have insisted was the form of an Otani.

“Liar Naia,” sung a voice, unmistakably not Klaus, just another deckhand eager to insert himself into a joke he has no right belonging to, “Are we secure?” The Svefra didn’t dignify the man with a verbal response, and instead continued the short venture down, a brisk nod in the man’s general direction when she finally hit deck. She didn’t recognise him, he couldn’t be anyone important. Though, she still considered herself to be new.

So she brushed her shoulders and rubbed her raw hands, taking stock of her new callouses, making every effort to obviously ignore the fellow until he left, a lazy stroll then having the woman as she wound her way into the much cleaner, more pristine parts of the ship’s upper decks. It was one of her better days, she thought. Her hair wasn’t in the worst shape, she sported none of Syna’s red fury, and soon found herself quite confident enough to approach a much better dressed, almost scholarly sailor, or so she deduced from his back, the man standing stiff by a lantern with his nose in a map that was not of any city she had ever seen.

Was it rude to intrude upon a man who huddled over a map by candlelight? Probably. He sat in a common area of an empty deck, however, and therefore, such was fair game. “What chart is that?” The rising of the man’s eyebrows, and the severe crease that then furrowed his brow told her that she’d perhaps crossed a line with her words. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she tried to keep her voice smooth, quite awfully failing to imitate the smooth manners of some of the Alvad born deckhands.

She invited herself for a closer look, just close enough to cause discomfort, too far to read the fine lettering, and saw that the lines that she’d mistaken for streets and roads instead linked spots and dots, and many more were lines that seemed to… mark the three dimensional shape? Was it perhaps a map that marked the topography? Her mouth hung open as her hazed mine tripped over the information, knowing quite well her internal little guess was quite utterly wrong, and thanking Zulrav her thoughts did not leap from her mouth.

“It’s a star chart,” the man’s words were slow and weighted, and it was quite obvious that he spoke readily down to her. Compulsions to let out little white lies to fumble others were something she long decided couldn’t help, and so she ran with them.
“Of course it is,” she frowned. She’d studied astronomy as child, brushed up upon it only briefly since then, but she knew enough to act as though the it was the man who misunderstood her question. “When? Now” she hummed, a short glance to the sky above, “Winter, spring? The stars change in accordance to season, do they not?”

The Svefra was surprised to see the bitter look of the man melt to something more welcoming, and although it meant that conversation would soon be more forthright, her pride received no bolster, other than that drawn from a successful little lie told. “Not just season, but they also vary somewhat by location. But no, no, it seems as though they’re a rough sketch of stars in mid summer, noted in the city of Riverfall,” he gleamed, but no apology came, and Naia felt somewhat validated in her immorality, though taking note of the correction that was given to her. Her pod seemed to have always remained in a comparatively localized area, it would make sense no one bothered to tell her that sometimes travelling great distance could bring new stars, or shift the ones seen. Still, a rather vital little concept remained unmentioned - why did they shift, travel across the night sky as they did?

The sailor willingly departed with the parchment piece, then, and Naia let out a hum. It was an older piece, and holding it towards the lamp showed that some lines were much more faded than others, some of varying colours, and the Svefra supposed that it would make sense that the composition of the piece could spanned years. If one failed to complete mapping it before the stars changed too drastically, it would follow that a year would need to come and pass before it may be completed, “You didn’t make this?”
“No, no,” the man was almost too quick to answer, and soon he gestured to a faded signature, “A most serendipitous purchase.”

Interest was lost in a heartbeat, for a chart of no immediate use was not worth dwelling on. “Seems so,” the Svefra was quick to return the piece, and give the man a vague nod and wave goodnight, hesitating on the steps to a lower deck as she considered her nightly plans.
Last edited by Naia Whitewater on January 18th, 2016, 12:42 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Signs and Stars

Postby Naia Whitewater on January 17th, 2016, 11:28 am

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Speech | 35th of Winter, 515 AV | Thoughts
The Svefra made her way down three steps before she changed her mind.

The rushed decision to halt her thoughts and depart from the man and his presently useless map just as quickly overturned, it seemed, and just as Naia had bid a quick farewell, she was once more at the man's side, and her gaze raked over the chart. Had the woman a shred of guilt or shame, she probably wouldn’t have made such blatant use of the fellow. "Sorry," she breathed, ignoring the confusion that flashed over the sailor's expression, "I remembered that I didn't have any further duties for the night," it was a simple and harmless excuse, and so she kept it.

"I'm not sure if we can vouch for the quality. We'll have to see for ourselves when summer comes," the man's tone then fell sour, though the fact that the man did not question her return, or her interest, was well enough. "If the weather holdes at the due time."
"I'm sure it will, midsummer will last for dozens of days, the stars don't move that fast," her quip was short, and not entirely certain, and soon enough the chart was once more firmly in her hands, and she searched the constellations for any that struck a chord of memory. Although it had been seasons since she'd paid extended thought to the stars, and the forms that seemed to be alive within then, it did not mean she had not noticed them from time to time. Perhaps she could find the name of the constellation that was on the tip of her tongue in the map? Though given here seemed to only be handful of collections marked, she found the thought unlikely.

A sudden ringing of laughter from the cabins below, and she reminded that she was part of something far bigger than herself, far bigger than anything she had ever been part of before. There was a huff, and a further comment from the man regarding noise and thought, but she paid neither much mind, gaze slipping to the conical lines, and dwelling on the central point, and its given strange symbol. "I confess my knowledge of astronomy isn’t formal," Naia wet her lips, and lifted her only to ensure the man was paying her due attention, and soon laid out the map upon the thick wood railings, and made a gesture towards the lines and points. "I understand the concept, I mean. To map the stars- the stars can't just be..." she struggled for the proper wording.

“Projected,” the scholar finished her sentence, and seemed to quite gleefully take the position of lecturer. “What we see when we look up- it is all encompassing. It is difficult to put a three dimensional map into a sheet of parchment.” There was a short pause and an expectant look followed, and Naia held back spite as she gave the man a nod, motioning him to continue.
"Yes, but the name for it-"
“Azimuthal projection, girl,” a short, and rather thick finger then jabbed the center of the map, accentuating his words, before he gave a moment’s pause, as though waiting for Naia's expression to be of satisfaction. “The zenith is in the center, directly above the observer, and the degree of accuracy lessens as you get further from the middle.”

His words made a deeper kind of common sense to her, and she marveled at the map for another moment, reconciling what words she was hearing, and what sense they made with her own, though exceptionally limited, knowledge of astronomy. Although her learning had been informal, and much more of the ‘this collection of stars points us north’ style than azimuthal measurement and star charting, Rylan had slipped had done what he could to prompt her into deeper study, but the young Svefra's head was always in the clouds. Maybe he was expecting her to become a navigator one day, maybe she still would. The Mischief took on navigators, didn't they? Would they accept an apprentice? Or rather, an apprentice of her age?

"I remember, now, thank you." her words were sweet, breathless, Laviku, It’s been seasons since I’ve looked at a star chat. Or... years? It hasn't been years, has it?"

Naia turned to leave for good, then, wondering how long the upper deck would remain so lifeless. Her immediate inquiries and piques of curiosity were settled, she could have herself an early night, Gods knew how her body ached, but it seemed her mind was all too active to consider the thought. At best, she'd lay near catatonic for three bells before her mind finally gave in to sleep, and wake after a wanderlust slumber.

‘Or… you can go make a serendipitous purchase of your own.’

The woman rolled her shoulders at the thought that struck her, and she fixed her gaze on the starry sky above, making a mental catalog of every she’d bought since the season began. Two dresses, the clothes on her back and the boots on her feet. She’d decided against a cloak or a cutlass, decided that it wouldn’t be in good favour to purchase a weapon. She’d bought a blank book, too. Perhaps it was time enough to begin her journal? Her memory had been so thoroughly stirred, and knowing how easy it was for such things to leave her mind and never quite return, it was as great an excuse as any to begin placing her thought down.

It took all of a quarter bell for the Svefra to clamour through her possessions and perch herself upon the deck, her book, quill, and small vial of ink on hand, and she too huddled herself by an empty wooden barrel and a bright lantern on one of the lower, more vacant decks, writing her name in simple script on the first page, ignoring the fact that it sat both crookedly, and off center.

On the second page she began with the date, and prefaced what she decided the journal would soon become.


Personal Accounts and Witness,
as well as the journaling of navigation technique and skills, of Naia Whitewater upon ‘The Mischief’ trade vessel.


Her handwriting was somewhat sloppy, she noted, but legible none the less, and she hesitated as to whether or not she should add further introductions. She knew in reading over her work that her sentencing could have most certainly used better structure, better drafting perhaps, but the ink was drying and her patience thin. The question of purpose then stuck her, and she wondering to what end she was writing. Was she going to sell the book once she finished her narration, or keep it as a log of life? Surely if there was no intent to sell then such misses and slips were excusable, and her attention was drawn to Zintilla's stars, having sworn the corner of her eye caught the twinkling of falling star.
Last edited by Naia Whitewater on January 18th, 2016, 1:01 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Signs and Stars

Postby Naia Whitewater on January 17th, 2016, 2:24 pm

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Speech | 35th of Winter, 515 AV | Thoughts
If a star had truly fallen, then she’d missed it, and the next breath she took was with dismay, but directed her thoughts back to the paper, and considered if she should aim the journal to be of more of a reflective or a true diary. ‘I should write what I learn, so I don’t forget, or at least have a point of reference to further look it up.’

At the time of this writing, it is still a dozemn days before mid winter. The vessel remains docked at Alvadas, as it will remain until spring, before the voyage to Lhavit, and the countless trade stops in between, will once more take place.


The Svefra had accidentally blotted a word or two, and she refused to let herself count the days, or rather seasons, since she’d sat herself down to write. Her father, had he been buried, would have turned in his grave at her inability to keep such skills sharp. She wasn’t sure how to carry the script further, and found herself staring blankly at the night sky, searching her memory for the things she learned about the stars as a child, and what she could put to paper.

She remembered the night that Illan had died, the poor girl. She remember the charts and instruments that were strewn across the Lia’s tables, the dozens of maps, notes and references. She never gave astronomy the weight it deserved, and neither did she give its use in sea navigation. Such things were the next words written; a few short, much neater sentences about how little thought she had given things as a child. How that knowledge was now serving her, and how she now had to learn more.

Now, she decided, was to write all that she knew on astronomy, with special mention to the scholarly sailor, to give herself a basis for further study.

She began by drawing a crude half circle on the bottom of the page, and floundered briefly as she tried to consider how to give the image its desired 3D effect, before shortly giving up and scrawling the words Observer in the middle of the flat of the half circle, and zenith at the perpendicular top, hoping dearly she had not already forgotten the proper terms.

She took another look at the sky above her head, then, and for a moment was took in by the enormity of it all. She added another word to her child-like drawing, scrawling the term cross section next to it. Another, full circle was drawn in the much smaller place below, keeping her hand steady as she leaned hard against the journal, and into the wooden barrel, ensuring that at no point an unsteady hold on the book would cause her drawing to go awry, as though it wasn't rough enough. An asterisk was placed in the center, a note to the side once more explaining that this point held both the point of view, and the zenith.

Another title was then made in addition, at the bottom of the page, ‘Fields of view of the Night Sky.’ She let the ink dry, then, as she considered what the next few pages of her journal will contain. Her knowledge was limited to the basics, as much as she hated to admit the fact. That the stars could be projected out such that they could fit in a half sphere, the boundary being the horizon, that they moved dependent on season, that constellations we numerous and far reaching, and the new found knowledge that some parts of the maps were more accurate in their projections than others, were the farthest reached of her knowledge.

She vaguely knew of a single constellation, one that was unsurprisingly not contained within the map that the scholarly sailor had procured, but she none the less worked her mind in an attempt to recall it. Finally, her memory gave way, and she recalled that it was north that the constellation pointed, as though to Aventhal. With such a stroke of memory, she then decided that she would mention all and tie it to navigation at sea, however rudimentary.


The position of stars, and those visible, vary by season. The reason such knowledge of variables is crucial to sea navigation, especially at night, distance from coast, and in open seas, or the travel across more open waters.

Although I cannot recall what it was called, when I was a child, I recall one of the Svefra pointing out a collection of stars - a mam bear, I think the animal was - this creature’s head pointed north?, from memory, though I can't recall under what season this formation was most easily viewed. It was a crucial aid when the ship was in the norther oceans, for after the sun had set, the stars were all that were there to guide us.


Naia cringed at her own wording upon rereading her text, and blatantly ignoring the pressing fact that she was still making numerous small errors in her writing, and blamed the fact on fraying thought and haste.

The next few sentences were better thought out, somewhat quizzical, and much more legible. She took care with the looping of the longer letters, the motion of the quill and the assurance that excess ink was tapped from the nib of the pen before it found paper.


It should be noted that not all maps portray the truth of the night sky. Have you ever seen the vastness of the space from horizon to horizon? And then that between two stars in the center of the sky overhead? I was informed by a rather Scholarly Sailor tonight of this disparity. Azimuthal projection, so he called it. It was something I had never given thought to as a child, but after learning it I feel like a fool for not knowing.


Naia paused to let the ink dry, again, and the Svefra, for the first time since waking to the usual Alvad’s silliness that morning, decided to pay great attention to the illusion that The Mischief was sporting that day. The decks were rather boring, in the greater scale of things, but they were ornate wood of rich browns and reds, the masts thick and strong, and golden drapes in place of sails. Perhaps she should put quill to paper to keep log of the different appearances the ship took, though she feared such an act would fill her book little room for other events to spare.

In her moment’s respite, she realised she wasn’t at all near as alone as she’d thought she was, and drank in what was the joy in knowing that she’d successfully tuned the world out, faintly catching what she could have sworn to be someone's sweet voice, and a round of applause drifting afterwards. The festivities of the later evenings seemed to have already erupted on the upper deck, no anxiety or flocking zith to the city able to curb the crew’s enthusiasm.

“You can listen to people sing any day, especially when there is work they should be doing,” the short act of self discipline was enough to curb her distraction, and she read over her words with a sigh of satisfaction.
Last edited by Naia Whitewater on January 18th, 2016, 1:18 am, edited 1 time in total.
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OOC Note: Decided to kick into gear and bring Naia back, but it might take a month or so until I'm happy that I've cleared everything.
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Naia Whitewater
The Roaring Silence
 
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Signs and Stars

Postby Naia Whitewater on January 17th, 2016, 11:43 pm

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Speech | 35th of Winter, 515 AV | Thoughts
The feathered quill was soon used to bristle Naia’s cheek as she searched the sky for constellations, both official and of her own making, and she attempted to familiarise herself with the boundless sky above. Alvadas’ winter stars.

If memory was serving her well, then it was a somewhat common practice for those that did not know of the official names of star groups to simply form their own, though it was more of a game than in junction with serious learning. With so few books and those skilled enough to create detailed maps simply not in volume enough that the whole of Mizahar could exist under a fluid, standard basis, beyond each city having their own collection of recognised stars, it wouldn't surprise her if each city and peoples had their own versions of the same night sky.

And so, she began her own little monumental task of making a mind map of Mizahar’s night sky, pen ready to sketch, or at least attempt to, any forms that sprung to mind. What Naia did not anticipate, was that she had long lost much of her childhood imagination, and it took perhaps a half bell before she once more found the Otani assemblage, and put it on paper, spending a further few chimes in internal turmoil and she sought the most appropriate manner to log its location.

In the back of the book, scrawling across two pages, was a rather awfully drawn circle, and a noted zenith, the two pages following another crudely drawn half circle. Until her mind has the time and thought to either devise a better marking system, or find one of the ship’s illusives navigators or astronomers, this, she figured, was the best that she could manage.

With ‘The Otani’ now semi-immortalised in ink, the deckhand began seeking another to add to her pathetically empty log of the Alvad sky, but found herself surprisingly rigid as to what she would dignify as a constellation. She could make easy notes of smaller collections, the things that almost aligned in straight lines, a few that looked as though they could be a broken vase. There was simply far too much sky to take in at once, Naia found herself dwelling on the brightest stars, and all too often missing those with softer glows, but more identifiable forms.

Eventually she decided to focus her efforts into the eastern sky, away from the lights of the docks, and kept her mind open as she reminded herself the shear size that a constellation could be - and soon she wondered if there was already a ‘biggest’ collection named and recognised. Her gaze snagged 6 bright stars, then, with two much dimmer in their midst, their form making a crooked cross of sorts, and a spark of childish took her, a small smile playing on her lips as she noted the group’s collection in her own draft map, in particularly looping handwriting entitling the collection as ‘Hot Crossed Bun.’

Her mood was lightened with her own play, and she let herself hear the music that drifted from the decks above, foot soon tapping softly along the rhythm.

Finding forms and shapes within the blanket of stars was easier, then, though the forms she began familiarising herself moved far closer to the sides of interpretive than the obvious. “I should focus on the brightest…” there was a slight incursion of cloud cover that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, drifting in from the north, and so her field of view shifted southward, and a zigzag of bright stars in the distant southeast horizon were added to her books. In a contrived attempt to not name the formation ‘zigzag,’ or the like, the little grouping received the name ‘Illan.’

She couldn’t quite grasp why the name of a dead sister she hated (disliked?) was one of the first to come to mind, but she supposed she should find comfort in knowing the girl was now in the stars, or at least the thought of it. Perhaps the zigzag was more like a wave, like the spilled blood of her dead, or the drowning of her child, “This is getting morbid.”

Naia couldn’t help but snap the book shut, and almost put away her ink, wiping the nib of her quill on the corners of her old flaxen pants as she considered halting the little venture. As morbid as it was, it was in a much better direction, she thought, zigzags could be waves, a crooked line a broken sword, or a belt or staff. She set her gaze on the offending constellation, all three crests and the two troughs, and much more easily saw a rolling wave.

She changed her mind on the title, then, and opened the book once more to change the girl’s name to the possessive form, and beneath the name of her sister, added ‘daughter.’ For all the babes born to Svefra mothers, whose lives were sacrificed to Laviku because they did not bear blue eyes, she thought a constellation, if only of her own making, a viable form of memorial.

The following bell was spent on more random searching, and the inventions of stories and tales. Illan’s daughter was an easy one. They were the waves that carried the infant out to sea, who pitied the child whose mother then screamed herself to death. A grim little reminder as to the dangers of infatuation with land dwellers, for the poor girl probably did not realise the identity of the child’s father until it was too late.

The Otani would prove to be somewhat more difficult. What cause would one of Laviku’s children have for dwelling in the stars? Perhaps it was something much more to do with the Konti, with Avalis’ divination. The grouping she’d named in honour of the modlings was simple enough, she thought. There was a vaguely rectangular torso, and three bright stars she decided was the head, a small scattering of dimmer stars below the torso which could be a writhing tangle of tentacles.

Naia had heard of the fortune telling of the stars before, in the same backwater manner as most people know of fortune telling. Edging between fraudulent and magical, was the connection between the stars and events on Mizahar real? Perhaps that could be the cause of the Otani in the stars, for they were beings that knew the past and saw the future. There was a God of the stars, wasn’t there? No, a Goddess. Or was she a goddess no more?- The story was lost on the Svefra, but it helped her little tale come all the more to life.
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OOC Note: Decided to kick into gear and bring Naia back, but it might take a month or so until I'm happy that I've cleared everything.
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Naia Whitewater
The Roaring Silence
 
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Signs and Stars

Postby Naia Whitewater on January 18th, 2016, 4:03 am

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Speech | 35th of Winter, 515 AV | Thoughts
Finally, a look of mock seriousness took Naia's expression as she searched through the sky for the crooked cross she'd spied, a light consideration to change it from its original 'hot crossed bun' to something less laughable, and soon enough she'd scribbled a note at the corner of the page, reading 'AKA the 'Crooked Cross'.' Although she was not willing to depart with her childish first thoughts, she also did not wish to run the risk of needing to one day admit to dedicating a constellation of her own spying to the Svefra infanticide and her favourite baked goods in the single leap of thought.

'Be it a damn bun or broken cross, I've no idea how either could be validated in their formation among the stars.'

She bit back a low chuckle as she considered a baker whose goods were so rich that even the Alvina were taken with, or tales of a faithful blind man’s grave marker being split, destroyed, or trodden on, and his marker soon being replaced in the stars above. Her gaze snagged another constellation, then, just south in the south, below that of the hot crossed bun, a formation that Naia thought could be seen to be weights of some sort. The weights, she thought, were in the form of two triangular configurations, on seated in the sky much higher than the other, a few scattered stars above which could be passed as the arm of a scale.

She titled her head, and the image she saw changed, instead seeing a stringed instrument amongst the same collection, and she wondered how many hundreds of times people had noted and renamed the very assortments that she had so far. “The Harp… The lyre?” for someone who partook in so much song and dance, the woman knew surprisingly little about music, and more so musical instruments.

She settled for simply ’The Stringed Instrument’ and took care in its writing into the page, the little east and south eastern corner of the map she’d drawn now filling up quite significantly, though this was of far greater cause of Naia’s poor sketching than an abundance of constellations. It wasn’t until she’d finished drawing the piece that she’d realised she made an error with the number of stars along the spine of the instrument, and a groan of frustration left her as she began the taxing task of trying to figure which of the stars didn’t belong. After several chimed of staring at the page, and then glaring at the sky, and the counting the number of stars in the book before forgetting again before she could find the constellation to check, she decided it was to Lhex that her attempts of accuracy went.

She decided that she had a star too many, and placed a thick and heavy cross through one of the stranglers, the ink bleeding down the page in an ever improving circumstance, and Naia shortly decided it was time to end her evening displeasure. She kept the book open, and wiped the end of the quill upon the edges of her old flaxen shirt, fastening the lid on the vial of ink as she surveyed her evening’s use of the night, and begrudgingly acknowledged that soon enough she would need to add the cost of writing materials to her weekly budget.

Her prior considerations to setting her sights on becoming a navigator struck her, and made a mental note to inquire on the possibility, piling her book and equipment in her hands as she made for her trunk in the cabins below deck, the slow crawl as she slid by visitors and entertainer alike thankfully doing little to lessen her resolve.

She hadn't done much to fit in upon the ship, to make herself useful and more to crew than another of dozen deckhands on board. For all her arrogance of being Svefra, of being one of the few who were born into the life of sea and trade, beyond simply choosing it as a career and lifestyle, she had done little to stand out, to better herself and complete work with little more than the average amount of effort. She hadn't treated the few other deckhands she considered friends to tales of her brothers and sisters, of the majesty of The White Isle, or her ventures in Abura, not a single mention of the story tellers and carvers in the frozen city of Avanthal. Neither had she listened to their tales, doing little more than enjoying the odd song or shanty that was sung or belted out.

Perhaps it was high time she made a change.
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Liar Naia
OOC Note: Decided to kick into gear and bring Naia back, but it might take a month or so until I'm happy that I've cleared everything.
User avatar
Naia Whitewater
The Roaring Silence
 
Posts: 228
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Joined roleplay: December 12th, 2013, 3:25 pm
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Signs and Stars

Postby Pulren Marsh on January 24th, 2016, 7:34 am

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A fine study on the stars ans their relation to Navigation. The only thing I would caution is that where Naia searched for the identity of the Goddess of Stars, she named Her in an earlier post. Otherwise a fantastic solo for the Challenge!


 
Naia Whitewater
XP
  • Climbing 1
  • Observation 5
  • Socialization 2
  • Astronomy 5
  • Rhetoric 1
  • Writing 4
  • Drawing 3
  • Sea Navigation 1
Lores
  • Lore:Sea Navigation: Using the Stars' Positions as Guides
  • Astronomy: Star Locations Change by Season and Location
  • Astronomy: Azimuthal Projection
  • Drawing: Displaying Height
  • Astronomy: Hot Crossed Bun AKA The Crooked Cross: An Eastern Constellation of Six
  • Astronomy: Illan: A Southeastern Zigzag
  • Astronomy: The Stringed Instrument: The Crooked Corss and Illan Combined into a larger Constellation



Your Grader,


Pulren Marsh
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Pulren Marsh
Your favorite Uncle
 
Posts: 768
Words: 503518
Joined roleplay: March 22nd, 2014, 3:33 am
Location: Syka
Race: Human
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