Open [The Saique] Ghosts in the Harbor

Kynier is sent to investigate the mysterious slab.

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

[The Saique] Ghosts in the Harbor

Postby Kynier on June 13th, 2018, 4:31 pm

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Timestamp: 6th of Summer 518
Today it was harder than normal. The warmer air amplified the already pungent stench of feces in the abandoned shop. And the traces of sweat on his brow acted a magnet to the loose hanging webs, making it more difficult to brush them off. Days like today Kynier really wanted to clean the place out. Maybe not that many people stumbled in like he had last season. It was fairly well hidden within the labyrinth of streets. It was entirely selfish, he realized. The only one that it probably bothered was him. The Sunberthan rat that took residence here didn’t seem to mind.

The bookshelf slid open to reveal the hidden passage. Doler stepped out into the shop a couple steps to Kynier’s surprise. With the exception of when he first met the wizard, Doler would only lean out through the hidden doorway to dispense tasks or receive reports. So something serious was on the agenda today, or old “bashful” was growing accustomed to his spy. Judging from the wizard’s expression, there was an important task to perform. Peaking his interest was the wizard’s body language. It seemed collected when normally on edge.

“The Saique. You’ve heard of it?” Kynier sighed inwardly. He should’ve expected this one. Since the mysterious boat with no crew arrived it’s been on everyone’s lips for the past few days. Kynier nodded. “You have to go aboard and look at the item I’ve heard about in the cargo. See it. Tell me what it is written on it. Images portrayed on its surface. Remember everything you can about it, and come back immediately.” Not waiting for any acknowledgement the wizard returned to his hidden chambers and sealed the passage.

“Remember everything about it. Hope he doesn’t expect me to lick it for taste.” Kynier left the Majestic and was glad to breathe fresher air. It was still early, only the 9th Bell. While the nocturnal residents had all retired the rest of the citizens would all be out beginning their day. Though Baroque’s Bay was northeast, Kynier went in the opposite direction to the Seaside Market. It would be better to make an illustration than to try and remember all the details. He could also make note of things that may be slip his mind later. After acquiring ten sheets of parchment, a quill, and a vial of ink Kynier made his way northeast. Baroque Bay tended to host a more ruffian style of citizens. Sailors were bustling about to fill their holds or unload them. Many of the imports were fresh merchandise that would be first seen by the wealthier class of Sunberth who would slowly peck away at the quality until it was reduced to market for the commoners. As for the exports, Kynier assumed drugs. Apart from death and misery it was the only thing in mass quantity that the city could easily make a profit off of.

Maneuvering through the docks was more challenging than expected. Kynier didn’t know exactly where his destination was, and trying to wade through the mass of sailors felt like trying to endure a rock fall. Eventually he tapered off to the edge of the harbor where there was less activity. Kynier looked over the masses at the multitude of ships, not knowing which one he was looking for. A direction was needed. Kynier skimmed the harbor perimeter for an urchin or beggar. Nearing the 12th Bell he found an old man sitting at the edge of an alley who looked to have endured hard times. The man was gaunt and so filthy Kynier couldn’t guess what his natural skin tone was.

As Kynier approached the old man looked up at him. A dagger appeared in the man’s hand suddenly which he to try and warn him off. “Come closer if you want a dirt nap boy,” he said with a dry, wheezy voice. Kynier stopped where he was, looking at the man with a bit of approval. He may be an old man, but he demonstrated that he had earned to right to get old.

“Is the harbor your usual haunt?” Kynier asked, squatting down to be eye level. The old man looked at him curiously, dagger still pointing. After a moment he nodded his head slowly. Kynier took out two silver mizzas to show the old man. New life emerged in the bloodshot eyes at the sight of silver as he instinctually held out his other hand for the coins. “What’s your name?”

“Wayd, sir,” his voice now deprived of the edge it had a moment ago. Kynier savored the feeling of transition from threat to savior for an instant.

“Then, Wayd, you could tell me where the Saique is docked.” The old man shook his head violently, unkempt hair flopping each way as he did. “Tell where the ship is Wayd, or,” Kynier’s voice was gentle as he closed his fist around the silver, “you don’t get any silver from me today.” Wayd seem to suffer an internal turmoil. Looking this way and that as he contemplated his options. Kynier waited patiently for his decision.

“That’s a bad ship,” Wayd said, seemingly on the verge of an emotional outburst. “Bringing back bad things from times past. Should just burn it and let the sea take the ash.” Then he locked eyes with Kynier. Something about that ship scared the veteran. He could see it in his eyes. “It docked at Byron’s Bank. Hasn’t moved an inch since it arrived.” Kynier gave the man the two silvers.

“Which way is Byron’s Bank, Wayd?” The old man had already tested a coin between the few teeth he had before pointing down towards the east. Kynier took out two more silvers and gave them to Wayd. With a perplexed look the old man studied the additional coin.

“What’s this for, sir?”

“That’s for more information, Wayd. I want you to watch the harbor. Know everything you can about it. I don’t know what questions I’ll have the next time you see me. But I’ll have more silver. And that silver will be yours if you know the answers to those questions.” Kynier stood up as the old man nodded his head energetically. Without any more exchange he turned to follow old Wayd’s direction.

A mile or so down the harbor he finally saw it. A ship smaller than those around it, with scarlet sails. It was a barre spot in the harbor in regards to activity. Hard working sailors gave it a wide berth. Kynier stood in the resulting clearing to examine the ship. Sea vessels were one of many things he knew little about. And this one looked unimpressive even to him. Kynier walked up the gangway onto the deck. The gentle rocking of the ship was a little disorienting. It was the first ship he’d actually been on and wasn’t sure how to get to the cargo hold. Taking a few chimes Kynier walked around the deck to note everything he could about the ship. Based on the surrounding ships in the harbor he categorized it as small. Everything else about it seemed normal, he supposed. With a final look around done Kynier walked over to the hatch on the deck that led into the ships bowels. He flipped it open and descended into the mystery.


Ledger Changes :
  • 10 Parchment Sheets: -20 sm
  • Quill: -5 cm
  • Vial of Ink: -1 gm
  • Old Man Wayd: -4 sm


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[The Saique] Ghosts in the Harbor

Postby Aer'wyn Grisghul on June 19th, 2018, 7:44 pm

Vel had woken up that morning, opening his own eyes by himself for a change. Long time had he waited for the privilege and now that he had tasted freedom again, he wasn't about to give it up. A man that only walks once in a blue moon will spend his whole day walking. Unlike the detested counterpart, Vel was quick out of bed. Not a second of the sun did he deem waste worthy, not a breath of rank Sunberth air was unbreathable to him. Before dressing in his usual armour of studded leather, the Akalak looked at the stump that ended his left arm. Memories flooded his mind of how many times it had changed shape, been manipulated and defiled by magic. Today was not that day.

Regardless of beliefs, however, Vel wasn't a fool. Sunberthians, like sharks, smelled blood and weakness and he was not about to make that weakness apparent. Therefore he hid his stump beneath his cape and fastened the great bastard blade across his shoulders. The akalak was a warrior and certainly did he look like one from afar. By that fact alone he counted on few sharks messing with him.

But what was a man to do in an effort to cease the day? As for Vel, first on the agenda was a drink or he certainly wasn't going to get much of that once the tables turn again and Aer'wyn brushes of any sign of the darker brother's existence. Yes, a drink was necessary.

And in pursuit of precisely such a drink, Vel made his way down to the Drunken Fish. An establishment as fine as any other in Sunberth. After all the city was a slum and judging which bar was worse would have been a waste of time. A drink is a drink.

"Ya 'eard em chattin' about some boat over 'er, blue fella?" hiccuped Father Manowar as he pored the Akalak a pint. A visibly disgruntled expression accompanied the slurring which was either the result of last night's hangover or early morning drinking. One could never really tell with the porky boozer.

"Pardon?" asked Vel, struggling to make out what Manowar was saying. His eyes followed a meaty finger to the far end of the inn where some more of less distinct Sunberthians drowned their daily sorrows and partook in seemingly friendly banter. Then again no one ever really knew. Moods shifted in this city with unpredictable quickness.

"Been sayin' some boat got left on Byron's Bank. Some weird thing's onboard. Real weird. A'ived with no crew, they say. Pulled into the dock by some ghost or somethin'."

Vel shook his head, trying his best to ignore the drunkard's nonsensical babbling. As if he had any interest in odd boats. As the hoppy bitterness of alcohol caressed his tastebuds in a prolonged moment of relief from the world, Manowar carried on. "C'mon. Big blue bastard like you. Bet 'ya lookin' for trouble all the time."

The relentless nattering in his ear did somewhat ruin the experience. Though Vel wasn't about to snap. The number one rule of staying alive in the city was to keep one's wit about them and not cause trouble where it wasn't needed. And so, the Akalak thanked the pint and left the establishment, leaving the coin on the counter. But instead of heading out for some less reckless endeavour, Byron's Bay was exactly where his feet had lead him. Perhaps there was a spark of curiosity in that cynical brain.

From afar, the vessel which Manowar referred to could not have been more obvious in spite of it's unremarkable exterior. A simple merchant boat with little ornament to show for. Still an eerie aura surrounded it as none of the people buzzing around the dock would go near. None but one. And he certainly didn't look like a ghost.

Puzzled, Vel waited some time for the man to establish his presence on board before following. He didn't want to seem suspicious after all even though his curiosity got the better of him. Surprised to find no man on deck but an open hatch, Vel peeked in for nothing more than a quick look. In doing so his foot accidentally knocked over a small, empty wooden crate that tumbled noisily down the stairs and into the ship's lower deck. If he had even the slightest chance of keeping his presence concealed, he had just royally messed it up.
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[The Saique] Ghosts in the Harbor

Postby Kynier on June 20th, 2018, 8:27 pm

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Descending into the lower deck was full of strange experiences. The rocking of the ship was less noticeable, if only slightly, than on deck. But the air was more foul, stale and warm. A few windows in the bulkhead allowed light to flow in. Kynier looked across the span of constantly soaked wood and empty hammocks. Walking around, he examined all the barrels and crates for signs of tampering. As he did, Kynier gently pulled on their lids to determine if they had been sealed or not. All of the ones he examined were empty. They were completely devoid of anything. No food scraps or any other trace of cargo.

When a crate crashed on the floor behind him Kynier jumped a little. The fight of flight instincts when straight for the prior as he turned and drew his short sword. There was no one else in the ship with him that he could see. He moved around a few support beams to investigate the areas he couldn’t initially see. There was no one there either. Once his gaze fell on the ladder to the open hatch he sighed and set his weapon back in its sheath. If whoever it was had any menacing intentions they would’ve acted by now, or have left already.

“If you’re still there,” he called up to the deck from his position, “you may as well come down.” His tone was that of disinterest. By now anyone with legitimate interest in the mysterious ship had probably already come by. Leaving the stragglers like himself to make observations without a crowd. It seemed that he wasn’t going to be examining the cargo hold alone anymore.

Without waiting for whoever it was, Kynier turned his back on the ladder and made his way towards the cargo bay. Past the small section for the crew to sleep the floor opened up into a large space. Kynier noted the ceiling comprised of two large doors that, when opened, led to the main deck. On the floor below them lay a single slab of stone. Kynier could see the inside of the ship rock to and fro with the waves, yet the stone appeared to have been fixed in place. Kynier sat down and took out a sheet of parchment, his quill, and ink. He started drawing out what it was that he saw before him on the parchment. The closed cargo doors and the nearly empty hold below. It was very rudimentary in his approach, lacking finer detail.

Inside the hold he noted no signs of conflict as well. Though the ship didn’t appear new, it was so clean that it may as well have been. There were no signs of damage internally or externally. But someone had sailed the ship into the harbor before vanishing.

“A very interesting mystery. But how can a crew disappear from a ship?”

Kynier couldn’t even start to contemplate that. With a look over his shoulder he checked for the one that caused the clamor from earlier. “Are you here for the mystery?” he asked aloud to his follower, should they have come below deck. Kynier hoped that they had, otherwise, they were there for him. And he didn’t particularly feel like burning down a boat from the inside today.


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[The Saique] Ghosts in the Harbor

Postby Aer'wyn Grisghul on June 20th, 2018, 9:50 pm

Vel grimaced and clenched his teeth as every crash the crate made on it's way down, created against his ears in the mellow creaking of the boat. The sound of metal against scabbard did not bode well, but once the voice came he was satisfied that the stranger had no intention in fighting.

"I bare you no ill will mate." he called below deck as he began his clumsy struggle down the ladder. Climbing with one hand wasn't exactly his strong point but soon enough his feet touched the deck floor. "You can put that sword away. I'm not here for a fight. Just curious to see what all the talk's off that's all."

He too soon found himself in in the maze of roughly finished wood and hammocks and much like the man before him his eyes searched the darkness for trouble. Albeit he didn't really know what to look for. At this moment Vel wished that he had cared to get a little more information for the innkeeper. Just for his own peace of mind he kept his hand on the hilt of his sword even if he wasn't all that sure if cold metal could do anything against ghosts should one jump out at him from one of the empty barrels. Then again there was enough certainty in him that the stories were just that, stories; that he really wasn't expecting to meet any ghosts.

"Looks like just any old boat to me" he murmured. A part of him was hoping for a little more excitement. " The porky bastard promised was probably just trying to scare me and.... oh my...."

Vel's voice trailed of as his boots stepped beside Kynier and the stone slab came into view. That he was not expecting. His eyes narrowed as he took a moment to just stare at it. There was clearly something nefarious going on, something that reeked of magic which alone made him want to turn around on his heel and walk away just as fast as he came. The way it hovered in stillness was an omen of bad luck to the Akalak. As his eyes tried to focus on whatever was carved into it's grey surface, his head spun, unable to read. It wasn't just another language, he was sure of it. As a man who in his 40s tried to learn the language of the Drykas he could discern the difference between foreign words and words that have been hexed as to not be readable. Suffice to say Vel was far more than disillusioned with his choice to come to explore this place.

As the stranger made his inquiry, Vel shrugged. "I suppose so. Are you here for the same purpose? I see you haven't pricked me with that needle yet so I guess you must be." he nodded to the short sword at Kynier's side.

Vel's hand fell from the sword hilt as he circled the odd stone. Seeing it up close did little to decipher the shapes and squiggles upon it. "I heard there'd be ghosts here and instead I find a rock. Ain't that a bit of a disappointment. And since I seem to be the only guy in Sunberth who didn't know about this place 'til mere moments ago, maybe you'd like to fill me in on what the petch I'm looking at. I'd be quite obliged."
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[The Saique] Ghosts in the Harbor

Postby Kynier on June 21st, 2018, 1:25 am

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As he finished the cargo doors and began laying in the curve of the bulkhead onto the parchment, the stranger stepped up right next to him. Kynier paused to look up, having to lean back a bit to see the Akalak’s face. He arched an eyebrow at the fellow. Only a handful of his breed roamed the streets from what Kynier had seen. This guy was a tribute to his race with his height and build. Though his facial features were softened by a more charming structure. Not that that would matter once he loosened that extra-long blade he had strapped over his shoulder. Kynier attempted to multitask, drawing the scene before him while watching the large creature.

The curve of the bulkhead was uneven in his sketch. Kynier grumbled a bit as he tried to wipe the ink off before it dried. Licking his thumb and scrapping turned the line into a smudge. This wasn’t going to turn out how he wanted in the least. He tried to salvage it by increasing the smudge to make it look more intentional. Until it was done he would have no idea if it would just look terrible or less terrible. Then the Akalak answered his question.

“My… employer… doesn’t enjoy leaving his home. But wanted to know more about this. My talent is very limited, but thought a drawing would suit his curiosity better than words.” Kynier watched the fellow circle the slab, noting his movement. There was more grace than one would expect from a man of his size. Most humans of greater bulk would be stomping around. Not this one. The boards only creaked lightly as he made his circles around the oddity. What really caught Kynier’s attention was the Akalak’s arm. He was actively concealing it. Half closing his eyes Kynier began meditation and focused on his breathing. With both conscious and subconscious focused on the same task, the rest of his body entered a state of relaxation. The Akalak had made a full circle by the time he found his djed. When the man’s back was turned Kynier uttered the Auristic incantation to himself.

Focusing on the stranger Kynier saw something unusual. Auras were generally a single color as they emanated from their source. The Akalak generated two. Both auras moved around each other almost aggressively. The darker shade seemed to have dominion over the lighter as they swirled around. Kynier had never seen such dichotomy from someone’s soul. After than he focused his Sight more on the concealed arm. Slowly the clothing concealing it turned opaque to reveal… a scared stub. A one handed Akalak with an unusual soul. Kynier felt the fatigue creeping up on him and his head began to throb painfully. Closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose, he ceased powering his Sight.

While blinking a few times to ban the fatigue from his eyes, the Akalak inquired to why the ship and slab were supposed to be so interesting. Kynier lowered his gaze to the parchment and worked on drawing out the floorboards. “At the beginning of summer, this ship docked in the harbor. No one recalls the crew disembarking from the ship. But when the ship was boarded as part of a raid they discovered no one on board. There wasn’t any mention of any valuables on board either. Just that stone.” Kynier finished outlining the floor and began drawing the dimensions of the slab in its center, looking up to be sure of its shape. “The harbor masters tried to weigh anchor and move the ship from Byron’s Bank. However, it wouldn’t move an inch. Same goes for the stone. No one has been able to move it either. Word is that it is a replica of something that caused trouble in Sunberth years ago. But I’m not familiar with those tales.”

Kynier looked at the parchment after reaching a finishing point. It was a rough sketch from an amateur, but it served its purpose in portraying the scene. Standing up, Kynier moved closer to the stone and procured a second sheet of parchment. The stone itself was not very large. The gray granite had words etched into its surface, yet as Kynier tried to read them he felt his eyes cross a little and the words blurred in his mind. The lack of focus made him stagger when the ship pitched. So he set a hand on the stone and ran it across the surface. It was smooth, lacking any pores. He felt the crevices of the words but still couldn’t form them in his mind. And his fingers felt a slight tingle from touching it. Taking a step back he stared at it curiously.

“An engraved stone that cannot be read. Not exactly an intriguing tale. Though it is much more pleasant than dealing with an actual ghost. Believe me. Had one trespass into my home recently.” Kynier looked over at the Akalak again. “So what brings you to Sunberth? There isn’t exactly much in the way of noble fighting here. Just petty squabbles for survival and control.”



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[The Saique] Ghosts in the Harbor

Postby Aer'wyn Grisghul on June 21st, 2018, 9:56 pm

As Vel listened to the odd fellow's musings he found himself wondering what sort of an employer this was. Then again it did not surprise him to head he didn't like to leave the house. It was Sunberth. Nobody did. Nobody but daredevils, the fateless and Akalaks.

But as the stranger began to stare at him, Vel stared back, narrowing his eyes, unafraid to meet the gaze head on. Something about the way he stared at him made him uncomfortable. Not one to stir up trouble for no reason however, Vel placed the good hand on his hip and tilted his head. "Draw a picture, why don't you. Might last you longer." he jested cynically, sincerely hoping he wasn't about the become the subject of a drawing. And once the stranger blinked a little and gave the impression that simply looking at the Akalak gave him a headache, Vel in turn muttered. "Geez. Am I really so unsightly? Hasn't mama taught you not to stare? It's rude."

Vel was simply disgruntled by the strangeness in Kynier's manner. Back in Endryhas he was used to children sometimes staring, deeming the blue hue of his skin and the musculature of his physique something to gawk at. But that he didn't mind from the people whom, as a race, he respected. Far less did he care for Sunberthians. Perhaps this prejudice was the reason for his unease.

Still, coming around full circle the Akalak listened to the tale. The mere suggestion of a ship with no crew was laughable to him. Yet he was presented with the proof that odd things took place aboard with the very stone he now watched being drawn in ink and parchment. Only a fool would disbelieve his own eyes, no matter how much he wanted to do so.

"So you can't read it either? I'm glad to hear my eyes aren't the only ones faltering." smirked Vel and tilted his head once more with amusement at the mention of ghosts. As cynical as always he held the genuine belief that the man jested with him too. But then came the question beckoning him to spill forward his life story as if he was some naive, unwashed fool who rolled up in Sunberth yesterday.

"There's no honour in sitting idly on one's ass either." said Vel dismissively.

He wasn't about to recite the long tales of his almost 58 years of existence to a total stranger. Especially seeing as the memories still hurt. He hated Sunberth as much as the next guy but knew that there as no way back to Endrykas for him. Even is he could somehow reunite with the dear friends who looked after him and put him back on his feet, Aer'wyn was sure to ruin everything for him one more as he always did. To say the dark brother had given up on ever living anything even remotely close to an ordinary existence - a wive, children and a house with a garden - was un understatement. It was better this way. He believed so in the deepest, darkest corners of his mind.

"I've lived here for some time. Though as you can imagine my origin lies in Riverfall. We all have our ghosts though. You should know something about it, ghost hunter." he winker, referring back to Kynier's earlier statement. " What of you? You got a name, or something to call you by? "
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[The Saique] Ghosts in the Harbor

Postby Kynier on June 22nd, 2018, 3:20 am

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On his second sheet of parchment he made a rectangle in the middle. On the left and right sides he drew out a thinner rectangle. Then above and below the center he made a square. Each of these he etched out carefully, trying to keep their dimensions in alignment. Rather than dedicating a piece of parchment per side of the slab he was going to try to depict all of them on one. As it was now, was a perfect replica to what everyone saw. But Doler had told him to come here and see what he could. Before he could begin clearing his mind the Akalak put forth some questions. Kynier knelt down to look at the granite surface from different angles.

“Yes, though those ghosts can haunt us in many forms. In the memories of lost dreams, the absence of loved ones,” He glanced up at the Akalak, “even the scars on our bodies,” he turned back to the slab. For a brief instant he tried to remember what his lost dreams had been. There was something he had wanted back in Nyka, yet as he reached for the memory it slipped away from him. It was irrelevant now. “And I’m no ghost hunter. I neither seek the ghosts of my past nor the lingering dead.” The next thing he said was in Tukant, though it was poorly spoken. “My name is Kynier Haltara. What is yours?” Vellisius. The name was stronger than what Kynier would associate with those facial features.

Dipping the quill into the ink again he was nearly prepared to continue his next sketch. Kynier held up the feathery end of the quill to his lips, as though in thought. In actuality he was just trying to conceal his lips. Letting his eyelids droop he worked to still his mind in meditation. Traces of djed had not yet returned to whence they came from within. As he conjured his power forth he carefully whispered the Auristic incantation behind the quill feather. As his Sight began to open Kynier allowed the quill to drop from his lips.

An aura began to emanate from the stone. The translucent shade of brown gave the stone a murky appearance as it filled out from its source. Kynier stood up and stepped back as the aura continued to drift outward from the small slab on the floor. His eyes wide and shifting from side to side as he tried to comprehend what he saw. The aura was of equal size to the Akalak’s a few chimes ago. Inanimate objects never produce and aura of that size! Kynier focused his Sight upon the aura wondering what he might experience. He hoped to pierce through the veil and see what lay etched on its surface. Immediately he was overwhelmed. Not from what he saw but what he felt. A cold shiver ran up his spine as the sensation of lying on hard wood spread across his back.

Internally he felt powerful emotions that he had trouble deciphering. It made his body ache in a way he had not felt since he was a child. That day. When he stared at his father’s corpse. That was the closest memory he had to match this feeling. Every inch of his skin shuddered as he felt his heart and breath fluttered. It was suffering, so terribly. The spectrum was vast and try as he might Kynier could only discern fragments of the emotion. Loneliness, anguish, and despair. He could not realize it but he was physically shuddering as he gazed at it. Its soul.

The ship pitched again and Kynier fell to a knee. To catch himself a hand had fallen on the top of the stone. As his fingers brushed against the smooth surface Kynier felt a similar sensation across his chest. The sensations of sorrow decreased in magnitude as his hand lay on the slab’s surface. New emotions stirred so rapidly Kynier couldn’t grasp them. His eyes began to dilate to their maximum extent as he desperately tried to see through the aura. With the full extent of his will the muddy aura began to part in his Sight. As the engraving became legible Kynier felt as though something stabbed him in the eyes.

Crying out in pain he staggered backwards and covered his eyes as djed ceased its flow to his Sight. At some point his trembling hands had dropped the quill and parchment. The emotions he experience still lingered under his skin. Kynier closed his eyes and tried to calm himself with meditation.


“A magical artifact. That opens many possibilities to what may have happened.”

Kynier had forgotten about Vel and tried to answer the voice. “Ghum oght ata wonyu.” He heard the words but they were not what he had said. In his confusion he opened his eyes again and the Akalak was standing there. “Huw palan dhonu vok qlavu?” Kynier placed a hand on his throat though he only felt the physical contact, not the feeling of his own flesh on his flesh. “Mishter pyff loahta?” Kynier didn’t understand what was happening. Staring wide eyed at Vel he tried to say… something! “Busnahga kenterie.”

Hashimer’s cackling laughter echoed through his mind. Which only added to his growing terror.


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[The Saique] Ghosts in the Harbor

Postby Regime on June 22nd, 2018, 3:08 pm

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The absence of silence within infinite shrieking was truly a wonderful thing. A sea of perpetual misery singing a requiem for the two men standing before the slab.

Kynier would feel slow, sluggish, as if he wee falling apart on his feet, and it was with good reason. The Aurist had just learned a valuable lesson in never staring into the sun of a foreign immense aura. The sudden backlash of djed that shined from the Slab through Kynier sight quickly traversed through his nervous system in much the same way a Flux users willed djed into their muscles.

However, for Kynier this forced him into a rather serious fit of overgiving. He would quickly notice; or rather not notice, that he could feel absolutely nothing. Not the feeling of his clothes against his skin, the sensation of his tongue within his own mouth, nor the feeling of a quill between his fingers. The inquisitive spy had paid a price for his curious nature, but with great risks came rewards.

Kynier and Aer'wyn would hear the countless alien voices invading the forefront of their minds. That Endless screaming. This noise would last only for thirty ticks of a chime, but only Kynier would be able to hear the only coherent voices within that deafening cacophony having a conversation.

“No end to the conflict. Only years of loss and futility..."

"Not futility... but perseverance. We've never yielded an inch. ”

“Then you must have a plan?"

"No, WE have a plan.”

Once the screams faded away for Kynier, the speaking voices also went silent, leaving both men alone in the room with the slab laying there on the ground with a single word on it that only Kynier and Aer'wyn could read which stated a single word: Petricious.

Kynier :
Kynier will not regain his sense of touch for the next twenty days. He'll also have random bouts of shaking and tremors making writing incredibly difficult without focused concentration to steady his hand.
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[The Saique] Ghosts in the Harbor

Postby Aer'wyn Grisghul on June 24th, 2018, 6:16 pm

Vel's eyes narrowed. It was as if the man spoke of his past without even knowing it. His body and soul indeed bore many scars. The memories of the Drykas who saved his life, his friends back in Riverfall, his body parts. But there was no way Kynier could know of the deep, ugly scar that covered his left elbow. Or could he? Before the Akalak had even the slightest chance of growing any suspicion, the familiar language, albeit rather poorly spoken, hit his ears and the sound of it was something he missed so very much. A familiarity of decades ago.

"It's Vel." he replied, smiling. The words flowed from his mouth perfectly as if he had been speaking them every day since leaving Riverfall. Long, and drawn out and needlessly complex, as Tukanat was, Vel counted that at least this phrase the stranger would be familiar with. It seemed one of the first sentences learned by newcomers to the city of Akalaks.

As Kynier continued drawing, Vel walked over to the farther side of the ship and sat down, leaning his back against one of the walls. He didn't want to be so close to that odd stone any longer. The magic of it disturbed him a little, even though he wouldn't show it. But he was enticed by the relatively pleasant conversation even if it was only small talk. Sunberth was such a lonely place.

"How is it you know the language of my people, anyhow?" he asked, reverting back to the far more comfortable common. After all, unlike his lighter counterpart, Vel was a man of far fewer words. "At first glance I'd have guessed you to have been born in this wretched city... er... no offence of course. Not that there's anything wrong with you per say, fella. I guess I could never understand why anyone would choose to come to this city of the own accord, none the less stay. It stinks like the arses of striders. Shikesters roaming the streets. You must know what I mean."

The conversation was short lived however for the Akalak's musings were quickly cut short by the wave of unfortunate crashing against the ship's side, rocking it and sending both men flying on their arses. Vel would be unlucky enough to only catch his shoulder against one of the wooden beams. Kynier however, was far more unlucky.

For a moment however, Vel didn't care about his new found acquaintance for a wave of screams crashed down on him like a tsunami. Frightened and disoriented the Akalak pulled out the sword from his sheath, looking around for the source of those voices. But nothing was to be seen. They were still the only poor souls on the lower deck of the ship. And so magic was the only other answer.

Glancing back to the stone, he noticed it almost immediately. Like torch in the distance, the word beckoned for his attention and it was the only one he could truly focus his mind on. "Petricious." What was the meaning of this? Vel had examined the stone from top to bottom and only now was he seeing the word from such far a distance? For a moment he mistook Kynier's nonsensical, alien yelling for just another one of the cacophonous screams as he stood there, staring at the rock as if hypnotised.

"What is the meaning of this." he hissed. Though he gripped the sword tightly the tip of it pointed towards the ground suggesting he wasn't looking for a fight. It was far more of a nervous habit to pull the Akalak though a time of uncertainty. For a warrior the only means of security was his weapon.

But once no answer, nor shred of explanation, came from Kynier, his eyes finally fell onto the man and he realised those muddled, tangled up words weren't the delusions of his mind. Both distrust and pity surged though his veins. Pity for the fear he saw in the spy's eyes. "What?" he asked, hoping this was all just a bad dream for once. How he regretted coming aboard the ship. "I can't understand a word, Kynier. It's no longer Tukanat you're speaking."
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[The Saique] Ghosts in the Harbor

Postby Kynier on June 25th, 2018, 1:56 pm

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Voices. So many voices that cried out in pain and terror. The sheer volume of it made him wince and try to cover his ears. No sensation of his hands on his head came, nor did the screams become muffled. Kynier’s hands slipped off his head to his own surprise. His mind was attempting to process too many things at once and he felt utterly helpless in the current of unfinished thoughts he had. Then he heard a select number of voices that spoke over the screams. Desperately he clung to their words, making them his anchor in the madness he found himself in. Words of conflict, perseverance, futility, and plans. Many times Kynier had listened in to a fraction of a conversation and was slowly developing an ability to decipher the meaning from limited context. When the voices and the screams faded Kynier stared at the stone slab in the cargo hold. Petricious.

Vel stood there with his weapon drawn. Kynier locked eyes with the man as he tried to speak, “Bib oh hee phe boypev?” His hand touched his lips, he thought. It was more of slap to his own face that caused his eyes to instinctually blink. For a moment Kynier stared at his hand. Why didn’t I feel that? The tips of his fingers came together and rubbed against one another. Nothing. Pressing them harder he could hear the fingertips scraping against each other. And still he felt nothing. His brow furrowed in thought. “Ah han peer…” He stopped mid nonsense and tried wagging his tongue around in his mouth. Kynier was certain he was doing it, and he was. His mouth was agape and his tongue lashed at the insides of his mouth and teeth with rapid movement. Yet he didn’t feel that either. Kynier next tried clicking his tongue. He could hear the sound as it rang through the unusual silence.

Looking down at his short sword he slowly moved his hand towards the hilt. The coordination of the movement was limited to sight alone and his hand brushed against the hilt as it moved past. The signature sensation of cold metal was never registered. With movements that seemed slow he grasped the sheath and the hilt with either hand and drew the blade. So slow did it occur that the metal hardly made whisper leaving its leather casing. It was weightless to him but still fell by slipping out of his grip. The sword clattered on the wooden floor. Kynier was breathing heavy as though he were greatly exerting himself. A sense of nausea rose from within as he looked down at the floor. With carefully guided movements he knelt down and reached for the hilt.

His hand slapped down causing it to clatter more. To see his actions occur so slowly was maddening to him. Fingers wrapped around the weapon with an awkward grip and he lifted it. Kynier pressed the palm of his other hand to the blunt side of the weapon with a calculating look in his eyes. Twisiting the blade around, he set a fingertip to the edge. Before he mentally commanded to cut himself he saw a trail of blood running down the cold iron blade. Turning his hand around Kynier could see the cut across his left fingers. Not a shred of pain had been registered.

My sense of touch is gone.

Breathing hard he eventually fumbled his blade back into its sheath, but not before poking a few holes in the skin of his hand and drawing more blood. “Ma henn…” Anger flashed through him suddenly as he exclaimed with a pah sort of sound. He closed his eyes and focused on trying to get his lips and tongue to move correctly. “My… h… th… th… f…” he gave his head a violent shake. “th… th… thss… thss… sss… sssanssss… sssennnsse… sense… aaooff… of… da… da… ta… ta... toush… toushhh… toushh…” Kynier groaned and opened his eyes. Hazel orbs filled with a sharp anger looked at Vel. The anger wasn’t directed at the Akalak, but was a product of circumstance.

“My…” Kynier said, each word a sharp and quick exclamation, “sense… of… toush… iss… gon.” Kynier took a deep breath. The ability to sound a little comprehensible again eased his mood a little. Kynier returned his gaze to the stone slab and the word that now lay upon it. “Pa… trish… us…” Kynier started to move again. It felt as though his mind were racing faster than his body could handle. Then he realized that his movements were sluggish. Kynier made himself mindful of where he placed each foot by visually watching where they settled. He was sure that he would have felt sick. The experience of utter numbness was greatly unsettling but probably nagged in a way he just couldn’t… feel.

As he repeated the word Patricious aloud like a madman Kynier worked on gathering the parchments, ink, and quill that littered the floor. It was a frustrating process to observe. That is what it seemed like he did. Observed his own movements. For several chimes he fumbled his fingers into grasping the small items. “Pa…trish… us… Patrish… us… Patrish… us” he mumbled. Standing up with unintended folds in the parchments, Kynier walked over and set it all down on the slab. Taking the parchment with each side drawn out he flattened it down to reduce the wrinkle. As he reached for his quill his hand began to tremor. He stopped and watched it continue on its own. Closing his hand into a fist did not have any effect on his rattling limb.

Kynier took a calming breath in order to not just scream. “Ve… Vel? Did… ya… heaooo… hea… hear… tha… voy… voysas?” Kynier took another calming breath, and another, and another. With both hands and painfully slow actions he settled the quill into a writing grip. Kynier looked at the closed vail of ink and cursed mentally. Then he looked at his left hand which was still oozing blood from multiple points. Kynier rolled the quill tip through one of the small pools on his skin. Then he set the tip on the parchment inside of the central rectangle he made to indicate the slab’s top surface. Focusing hard on his hand he guided the quill to draw “Petricious” on the parchment.

Normally it would have only taken a few ticks of a chime. Now he needed to pause when his hand shook harder than he could will it not too. It was getting harder to push his frustration aside long enough to steady his hand with each occurrence. Gradually, over the course of five chimes, he had the word written on his sketch.



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