This is the IC thread for the Kurchil’s Reboot. If you were going to use double parenthesis put it in the
OOC thread.
Day 1 – Dawn
Aetharbor
Like flies on rancid meat, the port was teeming with merchants and thieves. If she looked closely enough Asithi could tell them apart. But if she let the scene drift out of focus it became clear they were all just greedy people flocking to the money. Asithi took a moment to enjoy watching these people filling different roles to the same end. That’s all any of it was, playing a role. When she narrowed her attention to the individuals they made for more interesting specimens. A merchant’s wife
generously offering wine to a ship’s captain; as if she wanted his company, not is business. A beggar’s limp worsened as people glanced his way. A child made cute eyes at a wealthy woman while their sibling cut her purse.
Perhaps the guard that grabbed them was interested in defending the law, or perhaps he thought the woman would reward him. Asithi wondered briefly at what it was that made some people choose to be just. It was a choice, after all, just like any other. Did the guard weigh his options carefully? Did he assign value to justice? Or did he know that he needed a niche to fill, and guard was as good as any other? Was there an attraction to Justice? She a strange lady who had never caught Asithi’s fancy. Asithi could describe her. Armored in the brightest metals, shimmering in the dawn, she strode looking for those that broke promises to each other and to society. She was swift in her punishment, but never extreme. Her eyes carefully searched the crowd, discerning intent in faces, watching for dishonesty. Yet for all that Asithi’s description of Justice could never by itself motivate her to action. Only that strange creature dancing in the distance named Curiosity had done that. Now it leapt side to side, as the interesting little mouse had, as it danced across the waters to the south, towards Arclow.
Seawall
The sun rising over Seawall found Will Bayler pulling himself onto the planks of the dock. A few people noticed him and came over, but when they saw he seemed able enough they moved on. It was a small comfort to think they might have helped if he had needed it, but he should have thought someone could stop to help him up quicly. When he pulled himself all of the way up, however, he realized the rising sun wasn’t all that illuminated him. The dock was on fire, only a couple feet away from him. He briefly considered jumping back into the water, but he was too entranced to move. It was an odd sight to see flames dancing on water. The mesmerizing scintillations that normally drew a person’s gaze into the flames were only amplified by the way the light bounced around in the water. He found his thumb gently rubbing against his piece of leather as he stood entranced by the flames.
Meyath Deefan was similarly greeted by flames in the early morning. Her ship was kept at bay from its port by the flames dancing along the wood. All the passengers were staring at the blaze while the captain and his men argued briefly about what to do. They decided the risk for pirates still being around was too great, and so the passengers and most important supplies were loaded into two small dinghies to be sent ashore while the ship and most of its crew fled to a safer port, to return to collect the dinghies and the landing crew later. Meyath clutched her small piece of wood as they were rowed ashore. When she was finally able to walk out onto the beach she turned to view the flames again and saw a man on the near side of the burning dock, outlined by the flames hungrily consuming the end of the wooden structure.
Iseaya
Varkhal Damhöln held in his hand something of importance. The weight of the feeling bore down on him. This small twisted piece of metal held at least as much history as his familial trinket. He marveled at the fact that he had run in to so much history so early in his adventures. Surely this was confirmation that he had chosen well, travelling the world. The small piece of metal in his hands seemed to appreciate the sunrise. The oranges and reds of the dawn played beautifully off of the bronze metal and bright red adornment. He gave it one final, lingering look before passing it back to its rightful owner.
Sofia Sala took in the port city while Varkhal was absorbed in her shield piece. She saw it slowly waking up, people beginning to move about its streets. She could feel its breath on the nape of her neck, the air brimming with wonderful scents. Fresh baked bread called from one street, only to be overwhelmed moments later by the smell of spices being cooked into meat wafting from another. She could hear the whisper of people greeting each other in the morning grow slowly louder. This place had life in it, and was sure to provide her with an adventure. She was roused from her contemplation of the chances this port held by the man who had become interested in her artefact returning it. When she looked back out the city a different realization came to mind; the moon would only be visible a short while longer. She quickly searched about for it, and found its full shape still floating proudly in the sky, another promise for adventure.
Spirarbor
Cara Penrose enjoyed the sunrise. Living in Spirarbor you either had to love it or hate it. Some had tight shutters and blinds to avoid what they called a gaudy and unnecessary lightshow. Others came outside and looked across the sea. As the sun peeked over the horizon the lighthouse exploded in color. The sky was illuminated in impossible colors. Cara had heard it theorized that there were colors in that explosion which could not otherwise be seen. It was impossible to describe the sight, and even after seeing it a multitude of times Cara sometimes felt she must have imagined it. She couldn’t even describe it to herself. Sometimes it felt like she tasted the colors, other times she could smell them. Most often she could hear them, and the colormusic played by the lighthouse was beautiful. The surreal moment passed, however, as it did every morning. The world seemed gray and tuneless for a moment before it reverted to its normal state. Savoring the fleeting memory of impossible sensations, Cara turned to look to the north, picturing Aetharbor lying past the forests, and the mountains further beyond. For a brief moment she was able to mix memory and imagination, and she watched the mountains light up under harmonious colors beyond sight. Then that memory too was gone, and she couldn't grasp even the faintest recollection of those surreal experiences, leaving her with images of majestic mountains colored with hope.
Maps