Post by Ira on Mar 20, 2022 20:48:10 GMT
"Alright! Everybody off! We have arrived in the beautiful City of Sevenscore Thousand Spires! Praach herself!"
Enoy sat quietly below decks, her head resting low as she ran her fingers over a small book of raised dots. Despite the faceless black mask she wore, Enoy was not blind. Through the mask she perceived the world, but where she was from they were taught to 'see,' fight, and live without light. Therefore she had dedicated herself to learning both how to reach the markings of her native language, the common tongue, and her Cult's own tactile script. Unfortunately, Enoy was deaf. She did not hear the sailor as he announced their arrival, but she had been monitoring the feeling of movement and the vibrations of the other passengers as they drifted around the boat. Sensing it was time to move, the masked priestess snapped her book shut and made her way above deck.
The vibrant colors and movements of the festival filled Enoy's senses as she emerged into the daylight. Winged hussars could be seen flying above the city, occasionally swooping down to scare and enthrall the citizens. A fascinating display, and perhaps a testament to this city's power and strength. In a moment, Enoy pondered whether or not she should simply leave the city through the southern gates. If this place had wealth as it appeared to and a well trained guard, then her services would not be required. Prepared they were for a cataclysm and it was not Enoy's calling to minister to a prepared populace.
Stepping down the gangplank and moving towards the riverside, she kept her head up and watched closely the citizens as they moved and spoke to one another. She caught a few words here and there, mostly everyone spoke about the festival and how wonderful it was. 'Noon's Thirst?' Enoy thought, 'Is that what they call this? What a strange name, noontime doesn't thirst.' Smiling beneath her mask, Enoy almost set about her way when she noticed an older gentleman shouting at the foreigners disembarking. He had the look about him of an old, grizzled sailor with a ratty beard and pipe to match. "You best go pay homage to the spirit of the river greer!" Enoy thought he said, "Or that dark maiden will crawl up beneath your bed tonight and eat you!"
Laughing, Enoy located the river and started following it through town. The way he enunciated words was strange, but the sailor repeated his shout enough times that Enoy got the jist of it. So to the river she went, she didn't want to be eaten in the middle of the night! A short gasp escaped her as she walked. Suddenly, an intense ringing echoed through her head. While she could not hear true sounds, her fellow cult members had told her such 'sounds' were tricks of the mind and to be ignored. Damned if it didn't hurt and damned if it didn't happen at inconvenient times though! Taking a second to allow for the noise to fade, Enoy gathered her thoughts and continued through the city along the riverside.
The walk was uneventful for Enoy, the hustle and bustle of the city was of little interest to her. People set up flags, stalls, and various goods for residents of Praach and foreigners alike. Enoy's mission was sacred and, unfortunately for her, superseded festivities. Although, Enoy would be lying if she said it didn't make her a little sad that she couldn't participate. Thankfully, much of the jubilations did not extend outside of the city walls. The party was indoors, so to speak. Having walked for quite some time and not encountered any river spirits, Enoy decided that she would seek rest at the next available opportunity. It was not a sin to rest.
Spying a man ahead of her tended a garden, Enoy decided to take her chances and ask him if there was a place that afforded free rest to religious travelers. Enoy had been sent here with only the clothes on her back, the mask on her face, and the will to continue her mission. Her study book she had stolen, but knowledge was not a sin. Surely the gods could forgive her this once. The man was a safe guess as well for someone who might have knowledge of what she desired. Tending a small garden, the older gentleman was graced with stark white hair and robes denoting a scholar of some kind. 'Perhaps he tutors writing?' Enoy wondered, 'No not likely, he looks like he's tending herbs. An apothecary of a sort, perhaps?'
Waving as she drew near, Enoy called out to the gentleman, speaking slowly and clearly. Her voice carried the tone and pitch changes of one who did not know what they sounded like. But Enoy had practiced for many years in order to be able to be understood by others through the spoken word, so it was with great pride that she spoke confidently in the common tongue. "Hello sir! Is there a rest place for religious travelers? I am in need of, uh whatever generosity that I can be provided." Her pause came as she noticed the single strange eye of the older man, but thankfully Enoy was able to catch herself in order to finish her thoughts. She stopped short of a small wood fence that encircled the area the old man worked in. Enoy knew an herb garden when she saw one, and she knew better than to enter and trample upon it.
The vibrant colors and movements of the festival filled Enoy's senses as she emerged into the daylight. Winged hussars could be seen flying above the city, occasionally swooping down to scare and enthrall the citizens. A fascinating display, and perhaps a testament to this city's power and strength. In a moment, Enoy pondered whether or not she should simply leave the city through the southern gates. If this place had wealth as it appeared to and a well trained guard, then her services would not be required. Prepared they were for a cataclysm and it was not Enoy's calling to minister to a prepared populace.
Stepping down the gangplank and moving towards the riverside, she kept her head up and watched closely the citizens as they moved and spoke to one another. She caught a few words here and there, mostly everyone spoke about the festival and how wonderful it was. 'Noon's Thirst?' Enoy thought, 'Is that what they call this? What a strange name, noontime doesn't thirst.' Smiling beneath her mask, Enoy almost set about her way when she noticed an older gentleman shouting at the foreigners disembarking. He had the look about him of an old, grizzled sailor with a ratty beard and pipe to match. "You best go pay homage to the spirit of the river greer!" Enoy thought he said, "Or that dark maiden will crawl up beneath your bed tonight and eat you!"
Laughing, Enoy located the river and started following it through town. The way he enunciated words was strange, but the sailor repeated his shout enough times that Enoy got the jist of it. So to the river she went, she didn't want to be eaten in the middle of the night! A short gasp escaped her as she walked. Suddenly, an intense ringing echoed through her head. While she could not hear true sounds, her fellow cult members had told her such 'sounds' were tricks of the mind and to be ignored. Damned if it didn't hurt and damned if it didn't happen at inconvenient times though! Taking a second to allow for the noise to fade, Enoy gathered her thoughts and continued through the city along the riverside.
The walk was uneventful for Enoy, the hustle and bustle of the city was of little interest to her. People set up flags, stalls, and various goods for residents of Praach and foreigners alike. Enoy's mission was sacred and, unfortunately for her, superseded festivities. Although, Enoy would be lying if she said it didn't make her a little sad that she couldn't participate. Thankfully, much of the jubilations did not extend outside of the city walls. The party was indoors, so to speak. Having walked for quite some time and not encountered any river spirits, Enoy decided that she would seek rest at the next available opportunity. It was not a sin to rest.
Spying a man ahead of her tended a garden, Enoy decided to take her chances and ask him if there was a place that afforded free rest to religious travelers. Enoy had been sent here with only the clothes on her back, the mask on her face, and the will to continue her mission. Her study book she had stolen, but knowledge was not a sin. Surely the gods could forgive her this once. The man was a safe guess as well for someone who might have knowledge of what she desired. Tending a small garden, the older gentleman was graced with stark white hair and robes denoting a scholar of some kind. 'Perhaps he tutors writing?' Enoy wondered, 'No not likely, he looks like he's tending herbs. An apothecary of a sort, perhaps?'
Waving as she drew near, Enoy called out to the gentleman, speaking slowly and clearly. Her voice carried the tone and pitch changes of one who did not know what they sounded like. But Enoy had practiced for many years in order to be able to be understood by others through the spoken word, so it was with great pride that she spoke confidently in the common tongue. "Hello sir! Is there a rest place for religious travelers? I am in need of, uh whatever generosity that I can be provided." Her pause came as she noticed the single strange eye of the older man, but thankfully Enoy was able to catch herself in order to finish her thoughts. She stopped short of a small wood fence that encircled the area the old man worked in. Enoy knew an herb garden when she saw one, and she knew better than to enter and trample upon it.
