Thunder and Fog

[TetNak]

Thunder and Fog

What heavenly place is this? The songs of birds and music of the breeze plays in harmony here. Where trees blossom with beautiful flowers and the beach is covered with white sand. If only newborn eyes and ears could catch their first glimpse of life here, perhaps they would be blessed for an eternity.

But so many lives are not started upon these lands, and to those lives have taken on a entirely different meaning and purpose.

The southern tip of Yeor, and island secluded from any other worlds or nations, growing and living autonomous of outside influence or contact. Never has a ship breached the great reef that surrounds the island, bringing only death and failure to such exploits.

The sun is at its zenith and the wind slams into the rocky cliffs that can be seen in the distance to the west. Cliffs that overlook the lightly traveled sea and the souls that will be buried amongst it forever. Travelers would head into the heart of Yeor by heading directly north. Past great forests and plains, and eventually round a massive lake that sits almost directly in the middle of the island.

But the here and now is what is special to every second of every life of every creature. For slowly all are dying, even the seemingly immortal elves. Waves crash and seabirds cry, and even as they do a ship comes to dock upon the island's southern shore.

The dock is small, only allowing one small ship to come upon shore at a time. The dock only consists of ropes, hooks, and a gangplank all moved at the necessary time to lasso and secure an incoming ship. Several young men, no more than fifteen years old, work to ready the dock. Some carry ropes, others carry hooks, while a lone figure stands in the background watching it all occur.

As the ship turns parallel to the shore, several anchors are dropped from the ship, and ropes, attached to small hooks, are thrown aboard. Both sides of the ropes are tied down into rings imbedded into large boulders upon land, and portions of the deck aboard ship.

A sailor calls down to the ground, "All square!" As he does so, those men carrying the hooks rush into the water, wading into the shallow near the ship. But is soon becomes clear that the water with engulf their heads, and surely lead to an untimely demise. Yet, this is not to be. The lone figure that does not deal in manual labor seems to deal in other arts.

The blue-robed figure lifts an arm, calling out strange words, and issuing obvious commands that are carried out by his servant, apparently nature herself. The men in the water suddenly "climb" out of the water and start to walk upon it! Quickly they place the hook around large rings on the hull of the ship, each turning and making for shore. Each man, one by one, plummets back into the sea as they return, but quickly resurface as they gain their feet on the floor of the ocean only four to five feet below. There is a moment in time of silence, of clarity, and of power. From the ocean's floor, like lumbering giants, come huge anchors. The anchors seemingly guide themselves to these hooks, and once attached fall back into the sea.

The gangplank has already been prepared. A group of men wade into the water again, but easily hoist the gangplank onto the ship's lip, which only stands eight or so feet off the water's surface. Sailors aboard quickly fasten the gangplank down with several levers, making it safe to debark or embark upon the ship. Only then is the docking complete.

Continued

[TetNak]

Several sailors are first to disembark, testing the gangplank sturdiness and combined job of docking the ship. All goes well as the sailors move down the gangplank without issue, calling back the "okay" to the ship. Each sailor goes to other duties upon shore in regards to the ship.

Moving down the gangplank is the captain, which is custom to the Shipwrights. The figure moves gracefully on plank, where the sailors, though skilled, walked carefully and with caution. His flowing blue robes finally touch upon the ground as he moves toward the "wizard" clad in blue. They each bow to one another, and speak quickly, both turning toward the ship and the three other figures making their way down the gangplank.

Defying the ocean, the first of these figures is a Dwarf. His resolution must be superb, for Dwarves are not known for their seamanship. Obviously, he is not sailor, for his garb would sink him to the bottom of the ocean's great floor. A suit of chain and arms of war would prevent him from doing any duty required upon the ocean's treacherous surface, and below he would join many others in welcoming the sea as their last home.

Next comes an elvish maiden, wearing the greens of the forest. She too walks carefully, and it could be said that her face is strained with fear or anxiety, or both. The Elf looks more than happy to step foot upon the shore, her feet and the bow upon her back once again on the land she has long protected.

Another Elf follows, though he wears the blue garments of the Shipwrights. Accustomed to the sea, he moves down the gangplank without issue. He is a stark contrast to the maiden before him, tall and a bluish sea-weathered hue to his skin. His kind are known as Sea Elves, whereas, the maiden is surely a Wood Elf or one of its many deviations.

There is relative calm now, no sailors hustle about, as their job is mainly complete. The only movement are those that have congregated here, and another figure the moves up from behind ... and apparently from the image in the distance.

There stands a huge tower, built of black stone and marble. It is called the Tower of Farsight, one of the three towers of the Magi upon Yeor. It has been made home to the Sorcerer Ptlethaleous for many years.

The new figure is also a Dwarf, but for this distance his details are difficult to determine.

The Shipwright captain turns, waving to the three gathered, and casting a glance toward the approaching dwarf, "Mitus Waterdancer!"

Mitus grins, "Indeed. Beathor of the Wake," bowing afterward. Beathor and Mitus clasp hands shortly after they greet one another. Mitus the "wizard" looks over the group of elves and dwarves.

"I am glad you have all come. Ptlethaleous will wish to speak to you. The journey is only but a day to the tower. But introductions should come first ... I am Mitus Waterdancer, Shipwright of this dock, and of this area surrounding the tower ... who might you be?"

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[Bo]

Bohthin frowns even as he nods. He looks at the members of the group in turn and finally decides to speak. There is a bit of distrust in the dwarf's booming voice, but he does his best to put a confident foot forward. After all, he may be with this mixed group of adventurers for some time to come. He snorts at the thought, scraping the ground with his heel as he talks.

"I am Bohthin of the Nwat Cal," he begins. He strokes his white beard with thick and calloused fingers. A hardy chuckle escapes his lips before going on but the small frown never disappears. "I hail from far to the west and even further to the north. And... " another chuckle, "I listen to my elders." A nod. "Indeed I am old, but they are older still and have brought me through many battles." He unconsciously rubs his right brow where a deep scar puckers his skin. "And it is their charge that I travel here, by ship, in order to guide a party of elves north." He pauses and looks about. "Unless my eyes deceive me, I believe they are in the present company." Bohthin narrows his gaze and listens intently to what the others have to say. He is careful not to reveal too much, either by facial expression or body language. Sometimes he offers a grunt, but that is it.

[Vardaen]

The slender Sea Elf that exits down the gangplank of the ship stands just beside and to the rear of the ship's captain. With his long black hair falling in waves down over his shoulders he listens to the dwarf speak. He too wears the blue robes of the Shipwrights, and wears a small emblem on his left sleave denoting his rank among them as a 'Meteorological Adept'. The elf is young for his kind, but the seafoam green eyes hold oceans of knowledge behind them. During the voyage here it was through his skill that aided the captain avoid unpredictable weather and to help speed the ship's sails in calm weather.

With a soft tinkling voice, the sound of rain on a still puddle, he replys to the dwarf, "I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance Bohthin of Nwat Cal. I am the ships Adept, my skills and duties are plainly clear to you others I believe." He then gives a deep bow to the other Shipwright, "Aethalion Wavescrest, Meteorological Adept, at your service Mitus Waterdancer, and the service of my Captain, whatever those needs be." With a flourish of his hand he stands straight again. "I do not know of any trip that I am to take Master Bohthin, but my captain's will is my own. Are we to travel with them to see Ptlethaleous, my Captain?" He looks to the captain for an answer.

[Brynn]

A stride behind the sea elf, Nabrianna, the wood elf, grins politely as she reaches the group.

Waves of auburn and gold hair brush up against her shoulders. Straight bangs curl and fall just above her eyes. A simple silver circlet fits snug on her head, tucked behind her pointed-ears. Her complexion is lightly tan since enough shade from the woods covers her sun-exposure. This sunkissed face is triangular with green eyes, a pointed nose, and pink full lips.

Slender as she is, layers of clothing adorn her body. The dark green suede shirt includes an embelished corset. The sleeves fit tight and end at her wrists. Leather cording holds the sleeves together on the top of the arm. The cording ties the sleeves to the shoulder of the shirt. More cording binds the corset tightly around her torso with the chemise sticking up above her breasts, allowing for a not-so-low neckline. The corset is decorated with silver and gold braiding. At the corset's hem, the soft white chemise shows a few inches below. A recently sewn green suede pocket bulges out on the corset, a bit above her left hip. The pants she wears is a simple green soft leather. On her feet, she wears brown leather shoes.

After giving a quick bow to those in the group, "I am Nabrianna Shia Aerlin of Witches' Pass." the tantilizing feminine elven voice. She looks back at the boat and around her again, "A Druid sent by my Elders." nodding to Mitus, yet explaining to everyone her true profession, inspite her ranger's outfit. Ready to follow through with her mission.

[Brennor]

As the introductions proceed, a slight 'chinking' sound grows in the background. At first it is quite inaudible, but grows nearer with each passing second.

Finally, a few moments after the Elven Druid finishes speaking, the metallic sound stops.

A deep, growly, gravelly sound emanates from the direction of the tower, behind the group. There, is a small figure covered in a dun-colored robe. The hood is thrown back to reveal the visage of another of the Nwat Cal Dwarves.

This one must have been underground not long ago, as some dirt still encrusts the facial features of this being. An odd glint is noticeable in the eyes, sunk between folds of skin. A brownish colored beard adorns the bottom half of the face of this creature, though whether it is brown by natural color or by the earth that has worked its way between the fibers of hair is anyone's guess.

He clears his throat and moves slightly. The movement causes his robe to part slightly, a glint flashing from some metal underneath. A mace hangs at his waist and a double-bitted axe is slung over his shoulders.

Finally some words escape the gravelly noise of the clearing of his throat. Surprisingly his voice is nowhere near as deep as the throat clearing would suggest.

"Greetings. I am Datu Earthcutter, and I am to accompany you to that tower." He points behind him as he speaks, a scale mail covered arm extending from within his robe to point at the tower from which he appeared.

[TetNak]

"May your Hourglass remain full and your Sextant show you the way," Mitus says, greeting Bohthin, Nabrianna, and Aethalion.

The Sea Elf, Mitus, turns now. His eyes linger upon the approaching dwarf, and by the expression that crosses his face, briefly, you could guess this arrival is unexpected.

"Are you?" he answers Datu, but starts short of speaking again. His eyes suddenly glaze over, and you could each swear you hear a voice whispering amongst the breeze pouring in from the coastline.

Color returns to Mitus' face, nodding after several moments. "Ptlethaleous expects you, where as I did not. Pardon my ignorance."

"We must travel to the Tower of Farsight. There you shall speak to the Magi, Ptlethaleous. Let us make haste."

Your company consists of Mitus Waterdancer, your Sea Elf guide, the strange Nwat Cal Dwarf, Datu Earthcutter, the Shipwright Mage, Aethalion, the Druid Nabrianna, and Bohthin, the second of the Nwat Cal Dwarves. Beathor of the Wake does not join the group, staying behind with his ship.

The party walks for nearly three hours, the tower quickly getting closer and closer. The expedition is not the easiest one, as the path tends to head uphill, but the ground is mostly flatland and everyone has no trouble passing over it.

Suddenly beautiful trees seem to be the norm, and rock formations of such splendor even to marvel the dwarven kingdoms. For the first time each of the group, save Mitus, behold the Tower of Farsight.

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Continued

[TetNak]

The Tower of Farsight, perhaps created by the Gods, or so there is a rumor. Certainly, no man, elf, or dwarf could have build something so. By any guess, the tower has over twenty levels, but is not fashioned such that of many other buildings of might.

The base is set into cliffs that are about half the size of the tower, and as the dwarven engineers would say, "to give it stability." The tower also truly does not have an overall shape, for it is not perfectly round or square, but its frame is quite obtuse and defies most reasoning of dwarven or any other sort of construction.

Each can tell that there /are/ somesort of mortal buildings that seem to attach to the base of the tower, but what they might be is unknown.

"We have arrived," Mitus comments, going to his knees almost immediately. The group wonders why he would do this, until you see a create appear from the grove set just before the entrance to the tower.

You are all amazed, stricken with emotions of doubt and disbelief.

What you see is a "Satyr" or perhaps what you have heard one to look like. These creatures are known only to Centaur legend. And even seeing a Centaur would have been exciting, as they dwell in hidden parts of Yeor and are not easily found or seen.

But a Satyr is amazing. A man, and yet not, he walks toward the group. Horns and legs of a goat, but other wise a man, the creature hunches over before you, leaning on a weather staff.

"Ahhh ..." he says, speaking through a strange accent and over a pointed grey beard. "I am Ptlethaleous. I am so very ... pleased you have come to speak with me."

He smiles, almost weakly, "I hope you are ready."

[Brennor]

Datu Earthcutter looks around at the rest of the gathered group and nods. The first to do so.

"Ready. Always ready."

As he shakes his head, some small specks of dirt are thrown from his beard.

[Vardaen]

Aethalion travels quietly along with the others during the trip for some time. Eventually he begins a simple conversation with everyone, just hoping to gain more information on where people are from, or if they have family. General small talk, and he will not push any issue that people don't want to talk about. To the dwarves he comments on fine armor and weapons, but eventually once people are talking he turns his attention to the Wood Elf Nabrianna. "A fine silver circlet you have there Nabrianna." With a gentle hand he reaches over and touches the circlet brushing his hand against her hair and ear. "It's beauty pales however against your features."

It so happens that the group arrives just then, and the Sea Elf turns his attention from the female Wood Elf to the Satry that has arrived. With a low bow at the waste, the Sightwight answers. "It is our honor Ptlethaleous to meet you. I can not speak for the others, but might I ask. Ready for what?"