Public Market for the Weik

[Sola Wessiri]

Vossport, Weik​

It was Market Day in Vossport. The monthly event drew in people and wares from all over Weik to the planet's Capital. The docks were full of wind-ships and crews that both brought goods to the city, and were waiting to bring other goods back to their own home ports.

The Trades Guild Masters that goverened the planet also held their monthly meetings high atop the Guild Hall.

Excitement was in the air, moreso than usual. For as of late rumours of Weik being visited by people from other planets started to spread among the populace. Such occurrances had not been known to of happened for hundreds of years. Yet it has happened before. Skeletons of pioneering spacecraft haunted some of the landscape, long since scavenged for valuable parts, hull plating and electrical components.

Pirates and other criminals were eager to see who'd get to the ships first, while the Paladins such as Sola Wessiri patrolled the streets looking for trouble. They were the police force for Vossport, among other things. They kept crime low and as always, were on the look out for Lucites such as Varlo . The dark cultists loved to cause chaos and terror and it was days like these that gave them the utmost opportunity to do so.

No two market days were ever the same. Sola hoped that today's would fall into the category of the good ones.

 

[Rayia Si]

The cool water of the bay lapped gently at Rayia's face as she lay there in the surf. She allowed the waves to break over her, content to listen to their steadfast rhythm. It was calming, especially as she realized the sand beneath her wouldn't suddenly shift beneath her and give way. A smoky trail of crimson washed away from her hands and mouth as she lay there quietly. The last thing she remembered was the walls of the crate pressing in on her as the storm tossed the ship about. Rayia's eyes snapped open as she pushed herself to her knees and knelt in the shallow water. She could see the glittering path of the coast just in front of her, where the sun reflected off the sand to form a shimmering, dazzling pattern of dancing light. Behind her, the remains of the ship lay on the rocks like a carcass as the waves sapped its strength, slowly grinding it deeper against the reefs.

"Is it usually so dangerous, riding a wind-ship? And the storms? I wonder why they all haven't died like that." She murmured softly to herself, surveying the carnage as she approached. Rayia was checking for survivors but so far, what she could see were pieces of sailors strewn over the rocks and flotsam. It was fairly evident that somehow not one of them had survived. After she had secured her mother's missive and paid her respects by closing the eyes of the sailors, at least those she could find, Rayia focused her attention on her whereabouts. Plucking her waterlogged bag from the wreckage, Rayia rifled through it to see if she could salvage anything. Fortunately, some of her supplies had survived the journey. This was after all a new continent, to be without supplies would be problematic to say the least. 'I wonder if the others here know about the crash. It was very loud. Certainly, they can't have missed it.' Rayia thought to herself spotting what appeared to be a large stone wall in the distance and more wind-ships anchored within the shallows of the bay there. Her mother had told her of the cities on the other continents, but Raiya had always wondered how such large cities could be moved to follow the hunts with the change of seasons. It seemed awfully inconvenient. 'Still though, it does seem safer than our tents.' Rayia thought to herself as she started to wade through the water in that direction.

The thought immediately brought the thoughts of home. Rayia's feline ears perked, as she imagined her mother's cry of outrage at her leaving. She had written a note, but a hollow pit in Rayia's stomach still felt as if she had abandoned her duty to her tribe to go adventuring in the wilderness. Tradition demanded that Rayia stay to fight her siblings for control of the "throne", but Rayia was not interested in that. She felt much more interested in the unknown waiting just around the corner. Besides, it wasn't as if she was entirely shirking responsibility...merely circumventing the succession duel. There was a missive from her mother to a member of the Trades Guild that needed to be delivered, and with the ship captain dead, Rayia found herself in the unique position of being the only one to be able to deliver the message.

Sola Wessiri Varlo

 

[Sola Wessiri]

The crash of the wind-ship that Rayia Si was one was indeed heard. The dock tower bell echoed and bounced along the city's walls. Just how the Captain had lost control was anyone's guess. The rudder must've been damaged by large rocks just below the surface of the water. But that was just a guess.

Sola ran through the streets towards the docks as soon as the bells started. She weaved and dodged other Weikians effortlessly, her instincts and connection through the Force guiding her steps. It took but just minutes for her to arrive at her destination. The dockhands and others were already pointing towards the shipwreck.

With the tide down, accessing the sandy beach was easier. Sola jumped down to it from the dock, landing in a crouch before rising once more to start her journey towards the only sign of survival that she could see; Rayia.

From a distance, Sola shouted towards her. "Hello there! What news do you bring?! Are there other survivors?!"

 

[Calder Calistarius]

Rayia Si Sola Wessiri

The forge was running hotter than usual today. Cal made sure to that. As Hiram, Cal’s father attended the Guilds Trade Master meeting, he knew it was up to him to push goods. Cal moved in rhythm as he pulled up and pushed down on the large fan as the embers glowed bright orange, the metal in the middle of the smelter bubbling as the impurities rose to the top. Part of the business, and Cal knew, was the ‘showman’ side to the stall. They made the goods back in the Spine Mountains, here... they made handful, but did so to draw in potential clientele. Cal wiped his brow as he unbuckled the upper shoulder guards, removed them and put the neatly on the shelf in the back that held his other weapons. His upper torso glistened with a small layer of sweat as he once again, wiped m sweat from his eyes and moved stray hairs, slicking then backwards. He, definitely — smirking inwardly, fit the image of blacksmith. He had his fathers build.



Cal carefully removed the cup that held the molten liquid metal as he moved it to a sword mould and poured the liquid in, a satisfying hissing heard as it hit the channel, filling the mould. The combined colors of orange, yellow and white that seed to form off of a new item never got old, no matter how many times Cal may have done it. To Cal, this was life — this was his breath, this was his cadence. The times spent in the forge with his father; the lessons and memories made; the example of his mother taking care of them here; he had been shaped, he had been purified and tested within the forge as well — he felt honored that the land had chosen him to his family. It was ready... he took the pair of pliers and grabbed the sword by its handle and moved it to the well of circulating water, which ensured its frigidity... the water had to be cold — that was the secret; fire and ice had to be one when forging.



The hammer hit.



Again... and again.



The hypnotic rhythm and pace in which Cal hit the hammer, shaping its edge and curves was relentless, it was unyielding — it was like Weik. He pushed the sword into the forges embers as he began to pump the fan, the stray sparks fly as the coals continued to super heat, causing the metal to gain its heavenly colored glow again... and like clockwork Cal was back at shaping the sword again, never once losing his focus or concentration. As the sword took shape, Cal plunged it into the well of water once again, as the water sizzled and bubbles, Cal now speaking with a man whom inquired about a sword. A deep base voice now breaking free from his lips, seasoned with a slight accent from the Spine Mountains ( think Scottish ). “Aye — that be Calistarius Steel; y’wont find better steel than that. If it’s a blade you be wantin’, may I recommend one of the all purpose knives me Father an’ ‘me craft. The edge is true, and it’s long enough should any trouble arise, it’ll do what’s necessary.” He paused as he showed the man other wares. “We also have axes, made with wooden handles from the Spine Eldar trees, ain’t no better wood one could ask for.” The man beamed with appreciation as he continued to browse, and he took his leave eventually after bartering with Cal for a huntsman blade. With his usual despairing words, Cal bid him farewell and safe travels. “Go carefully Batai, may the land bless you and yours.” Just like that, Cal went back about his business, now honing the edge on his grinding stone.

 

[Rayia Si]

A trail of footprints followed after Rayia as she walked from the water onto the sand's golden edge. Truth be told, they likely wouldn't last long swallowed up by the sea and all traces of someone having left the wreck lost to the tides. They'd last long enough to see her story through. As Rayia trudged on towards the city, she felt the dancing rays of the sun steadily warming her. She was absolutely soaked, and the chilly breeze caused her to shiver and her hair and fur to bristle, damp as it was.

Rayia paused as a rivulet of water ran down her back, the frigid touch of the sea calling to her. She shuddered, and continued walking. 'If I never swim again, that would be too early.' She thought to herself, before suddenly being startled out of her thoughts by the dolorous chiming of a bell. Her ears shot up at the unexpected sound, and Rayia's muscles tensed as she glanced at the sky. 'Thunder? Again?' She asked quietly of herself before realizing that the note held a too melodious tone to be the crackle of a storm. Besides, the sky remained clear. Remaining wary of the new sound, Rayia continued to walk towards the city with perhaps a tad more urgency to her steps.

It was a few moments later that Rayia saw someone approaching her from the city, leaping down from where the wind-ships were tied. As the stranger stopped a distance away, Rayia's feline eyes plucked details about the woman in front of her. She was wearing leather armor, and carrying weapons. A headband worn, depicted some symbol that while Rayia didn't know what it meant, was evidently important. Judging by her stance, she was also a warrior of some sort. Rayia was nonetheless happy to see a friendly face and raised an arm in a short wave. "Yes, I am glad to see you. We were caught in a terrible storm and lost control...I think? I have searched the wreck but did not find any other survivors. Perhaps they were flung from the wreck as I was and recovered enough to wander?" She posed. It was certainly a possibility, as Rayia did not know the number of crew manning the boat and had thus had no measure to tell if all of them had died. Then there was also the matter of explaining her position there. Rayia briefly deliberated whether or not to reveal her own name to the woman. She seemed trustworthy enough, and so Rayia settled on a compromise of sorts. "My name is Ria, stranger. I have a message for one of your Trades Members regarding trading."

Sola Wessiri Calder Calistarius

 

[Sola Wessiri]

"The storms can be rough and unpredictable. But come, let's get you dry and checked for injuries." Sola gestured for Rayia Si to follow before turning to go back the way that she had come.

She had only been on a wind-ship a few times, mostly for battles to outflank their opponents and cut off their retreat. Their trips weren't that long, nor did they happen during storms. Yet she could imagine what it would have been like to be tossed about on the waves like driftwood.

"I am Sola Wessiri, Paladin of Vossport. I will take you to the Guild Hall to deliver your message once you are tended to."

As they walked, more Paladins rushed past them, jogging at a steady pace along the sand towards the wreck. No weapons were drawn, none needed to be at the moment. Right now their main goal was to search for survivours.

"I know a blacksmith in town whose shop is always quite hot. You'll dry off there in no time. Where do you hail from?" Sola had been sensing that tensions were rising between the different continents. It was a feeling deep in her gut that war was coming, and one that she couldn't shake. Such a thing had bothered her for a while, most especially that she couldn't figure it out. But maybe the newcomer would shed some light on it a bit. If she was lucky.

Calder Calistarius

 

[Sola Wessiri]

"The storms can be rough and unpredictable. But come, let's get you dry and checked for injuries." Sola gestured for Rayia Si to follow before turning to go back the way that she had come.

She had only been on a wind-ship a few times, mostly for battles to outflank their opponents and cut off their retreat. Their trips weren't that long, nor did they happen during storms. Yet she could imagine what it would have been like to be tossed about on the waves like driftwood.

"I am Sola Wessiri, Paladin of Vossport. I will take you to the Guild Hall to deliver your message once you are tended to."

As they walked, more Paladins rushed past them, jogging at a steady pace along the sand towards the wreck. No weapons were drawn, none needed to be at the moment. Right now their main goal was to search for survivours.

"I know a blacksmith in town whose shop is always quite hot. You'll dry off there in no time. Where do you hail from?" Sola had been sensing that tensions were rising between the different continents. It was a feeling deep in her gut that war was coming, and one that she couldn't shake. Such a thing had bothered her for a while, most especially that she couldn't figure it out. But maybe the newcomer would shed some light on it a bit. If she was lucky.

Calder Calistarius

 

[Rayia Si]

Rayia nodded as the woman gestured her to follow, and fell into step quietly nearby. It would seem that her initial impression of Sola was correct. Her mannerisms were befitting of a guard. At the mention of checking for injuries, Rayia sniffed the air and glanced herself over. The sweet, iron scent of blood hung in the air, though it had been diluted when the water had washed it away. Remembering the blood that stained her mouth and hands, Rayia wondered if it was hers. She couldn't find any cuts or scrapes to indicate such, but then again, matters of medicine were never her strong suit. Rayia nodded politely as Sola informed her that she would take her to the Guild Hall to deliver the message once Rayia had been treated.

Rayia's eyes wandered briefly around the city as a troop bearing the same symbol that Rayia had seen adorning Sola's headband marched past them down the wreck. She studied their armor and weapons, keen to glean as much information as she could. At the very least the common symbol and weapons confirmed the troop to be some sort of militia. Meanwhile, the city was a feast for Rayia's eyes. Strong stone structures supporting each other as they were built very close together, billowing cloaks of fine silk flapping over the market stalls. Clusters of people pressed close together as they trundled through passageways of brick and mud. So many people sequestered in such a sedentary place. It was fascinating, and strange and boring to Rayia all at the same time.

Rayia's ears tilted happily and she gave a genuine fanged grin as Sola mentioned that she knew of a place where Rayia could dry off. She was already sure that the water would leave her fur tangled and messy. She would have to strain out her tail and hair to get it to fully dry. When Sola asked where she had come from, Rayia seemed to ponder this a moment, before pointing back out towards the sea and saying. "I come from Zuvrum. My family lives on the plains and we make our living tracking down beasts to sell their hides, scales and bones. They are good materials for craftsmen, I hear. Lately, though there is some strife with the payment for our work." There, not a lie, but perhaps an obfuscation of the truth. Rayia did live on the plains and had assisted multiple times in her tribe's hunts. Still, Rayia disliked lying to Sola and promised herself that she would eventually explain her true reasons for boarding the wind-ship if the woman proved trust-worthy. But at the moment, explanation of her history would only be awkward. Besides, the less people knew that she was the daughter of the Feral Queen the safer they were and the less chance of that information falling into her mother's hands. Or at least, that's what Rayia told herself internally.

Sola Wessiri Calder Calistarius

 

[Sola Wessiri]

Sola led Rayia Si through the busy market, knowing it's details like the back of her hand. She had patrolled there far too many times for her to count, but thankfully it wasn't her duty on every given day. Yet today she considered herself lucky for there wasn't much in the way of trouble. Or so it seemed.

"Let us hope that the Guild Masters can have that resolved for you soon. I hear that it might be another harsh winter this season. So we must all be sure that there are enough stores for everyone." She thought of Rayia's journey on the Rimesea. It would have taken some time for her to cross, which could be beneficial for Sola's next inquiry. "Did you come across any pirate fleets or wind-ships on your way across?" The Pirate Warlords had been quiet as of late, which didn't necessarily mean that it was a good thing. A lull in their raids usually meant that they were up to something. Perhaps it was part of that sinking feeling that she had been feeling lately; one that only seemed to lead her to believe that war was coming. It was all just a matter of when and how.

It wasn't long before they approached Calder Calistarius ' make-shift forge. Sola entered first to be sure that her Paladin brother was there, before gesturing for Rayia to enter. "Greetings my brother. It's good to see you in Vossport. My blades could use a bit of sharpening. Do you mind?" She knew that he wouldn't, but had to ask anyways out of respect. She pulled out her daggers from her boots and her hatchet that was clipped to her back, placing them on the table between them.

 

[Calder Calistarius]

Rayia Si Sola Wessiri


Cal sensed a familiar presence approach — looking up, giving Sola a warm nodd as he continued his current task. The sound of steel and hammer meeting rang as his upper torso and muscles contracted and expanded. He picked the blade up and plunged it into the ice bucket with a satisfying sizzle, his eyes now singling in on the outsider, they narrowed slightly. Grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat off forehead and upper torso, he never seemed to break eye contact or the seaward silence. Cal had no ill intent towards outside folk, but, due to his solitary upbringing and his Weikien heritage he couldn’t help but immediately become hesitant. He spoke as he nodded. “Wayfarer — Calder Calistarius, most call me Cal.” He sat the towel down, turning his attention to the blades and axe that was set before him. He picked one up as he felt the blade on his finger tips and chided at Sola. “What have you been using them on? Rock walls? By the magick — metal don’t grow on trees ya know Sola...” He couldn’t help but allow a ornery smile tug at his lips as he nodded and plunged them into the coals to heat. He moved to a shelf as he looked at the bars of miscellaneous steel and removed a rather dull and faded steel. Hiram, his father years prior and made a blend of steels that they used specifically in the making, shaping and honing of Paladin weapons. Cal put the steel bar within a smelting cup and stuck it within the furnace. He turned his attention back to the two women, as he threw his hands up and let them drop slightly. “ Now, what can I help you ladies with?...”

 

[Rayia Si]

Rayia nodded to Sola's words. "The tribe will most likely be preparing to move to the winter lodgings soon." The scent of tension hung in the air and frames of the people nearby, slowly boiling off them in a nervous sweat that reeked of wariness. Some of it Rayia attributed to her arrival. From what snippets of conversation she could catch before the citizens scurried away like mice, there was an easy familiarity between the townsfolk. Close knit bonds shattered by the presence of something foreign, namely her presence. The back of Rayia's neck bristled and she fought internally to keep her stress from rising. Rayia smothered the gnarled roots of boiling blood and bleeding anxiety and focused her attention on Sola's next query. "I honestly don't know. I think we may have passed some wind-ships by the shouts, but I spent most of my time down in the ship." She did not reveal the fact that the majority of her time aboard had been spent as a stowaway from within a crate, nor that her memory of the events surrounding the trip had somehow leaked from her head like a faulty sieve.

Rayia's ears rose with a questioning gesture as Sola beckoned her to follow into a stall. She didn't sense any hostility, and the ashy smell of embers burning, mixed with the sharp stinging scent of metal, and the stale sweat surrounding the occupant and tools left little doubt that this was a trade station. Her amber eyes seemed to flicker in the light of the furnace. But Rayia wasn't quite expecting such a flashy sight; the sparks danced through the air with their short, brilliant lifespans. The hiss of steam that crept up the spine as heated metal was plunged into cold water made Rayia shiver. Realizing that the fire would surely have her dry in no time, Rayia sidled to a position near the furnace as Sola withdrew weapons and asked the individual working the forge to inspect them. Rayia's ears bounced upwards once, a sign of approval, though her own amber eyes remained fixed on the man staring at her. The air between the two's unbroken eye contact felt solid and viscous, like it could be cut with a knife. What does he want? Why is he challenging me like that? Rayia felt her hackles raise even as she continued to stand by the furnace and unfurled her tail from around her waist. The gnarled roots of stress resurfaced, gnawing her up from inside. Rayia knew she had to stop it and dug her claws deep into her leather bracers. Working over the tough hide helped alleviate some of the pressure, and she rolled it between her fingers.

Rayia returned the nod politely, figuring that she must have stumbled over some unknown custom the strangers from this side of the sea had. "R-Ria." She said, having to remind herself of her alias. The comment that metal didn't grow on trees prompted an inaudible response. Some does. She thought about the trees that could be found in the plains on the continent of Zuvrum. Strange, knotted spires of a glass like crystal entwined like trunks. The leaves of these odd trees were long and narrow, curving slightly in the middle. And very, very, very sharp. ...Well, I guess that isn't metal though. What if you combined them? Rayia thought to herself and glancing towards Sola uncertainly as the man asked what they needed.

Sola Wessiri Calder Calistarius

 

[Sola Wessiri]

Sola gave Calder Calistarius a small smile as he chided at her. "Not rocks, no. But they have been put to good use." And by that of course she had meant in fighting. There was quite a bit going on, and with the Lucites in general. Her trip to Vossport was partly in checking in with the Trades Guild Masters and fill them in on what was happening. As well as her suspicions. It had been some time since there had been a war, which only meant that one was already in the works.

She placed a light hand on Rayia Si 's shoulder, letting Calder know that she was alright as far as outsiders go. There didn't appear to be a need to be suspicious of her. Curiosity surely, but not suspicion.

"I'll be seeing the Trades Guild Masters and bringing them more news. But also to see what they know in regards to current events. Valknor says that we must be prepared and to keep our eyes on the stars. He says that some of them will move." It made her almost feel spied upon. Such a thing unnerved her. Sola wasn't a fan of the unknown, which was why she was always out and about seeking knowledge on the various regions of Weik.