Calm Sea Village, RY 767, 23rd of Ascending Fire, Half an Hour after Sunrise:
It was a beautiful morning, and it was looking like it was going to be a beautiful day. There had been a light rain in the hours before dawn, and the morning sun glistened in golden drops on the huge leaves of the banana orchards. Roosters were crowing and strutting their wawy about on the thatched rooftops of Calm Sea Village, and people were waking up and going about their morning routines. The fishermen had all woken up hours ago, and the sails of their double-canoes were visible as white triangles out on the sapphire horizon.
The Season of Fire was a relaxed time on Whitestone Island. It was a time of harvesting, as elsewhere in Creation, a time when the growth brought about by the rains of the Season of Water and the calm weather of the Season of Earth bore fruit. Women with knives would be out soon, cutting down bunches of bananas for frying or baking into chips for later in the year. Children would be climbing trees and jumping up and down on branches to make breadnuts fall into nets held by their elders below, and yelling at monkeys to scare them away from avocados and papayas. Beach farmers would be reeling in mats overgrown with seaweed for the harvest, or rowing out in canoes to pull up lines hung from wooden bouys earlier in the year to harvest the shelfish that had grown on them for great stews and soups. By the time the heat of the afternoon rose up and tamped down the village's enthusiasm for work, the beaches south of the village would be full of tired people and excited children playing in the surf, or fishing, or wading with spears in search of dinner. The evening would be warm and dark and full of singing and dancing and drinking.
Of course, Huelo, who had just been woken by a particularly enthusiastic rooster right outside his window after staying up far too late breaking up a dispute between two drunken fishermen over a minor collision, was having trouble enjoying the season just at the moment.
In The Mountains Northeast of Thousand Lilies Village, RY 767, 23rd of Ascending Fire, At Sunrise
It was a beautiful morning, and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. The sun was just cresting over the Eastern horizon, illuminating several puffy white clouds in fantastic shades of pink and orange against the darkness of the vertical cliff face rising up ahead. It had rained an hour or so before, and the jungle was full of glints of morning light caught in droplets of water. The jungle floor was starting to fill with fog, and soon that fog would rise up the mountainside in great steaming clouds full of sneaky little rainbows before dissipating in the sun.
Wahine and Seskan had spent the last hour marching through a thick jungle full of unpleasantly sturdy plants just the right height to smack you in sensitive bits of your anatomy when you walked into them in the dark. It had been drizzling lightly when they left Thousand Lilies Village, and an hour stomping through the jungle carrying large backpacks full of wood and laquer had left them sopping wet and covered in mosquito bites. Even Cloudhopper Haku, who had made this trek a thousand times and was trying to impress an attractive woman with his ruggedness and stoic mastery of the jungle, had seemed affected by something of a sour mood.
It was gone now, though. He sat on a high bluff overlooking the sunrise and the river and more jungle far below, fastening straps and double-checking to make sure that Seskan had unfolded and properly donned his glider. Wahine had seen Haku grinning like this a few times before and even at a similar angle, for she was belted tightly to him and facing forward so that she had to turn her head to look backwards.
Finally, the warrior seemed satisfied that Seskan at least could not blame Alial Darumi's old glider for it if he got himself killed, and he stood back with a grin.
"Alright, we're all strapped in, the sun is up, and the warm air is starting to rise. You two ready to jump off this cliff?"
On the Deck of the Guild Ship Blue Lily, RY 767, 23rd of Ascending Fire, Half an Hour after Sunrise:
It was a beautiful morning. A good stiff breeze from the southeast filled the sails, the light clouds before sunrise had cleared enough for a good view of the stars, and the crew seemed in high spirits after last night's music and singing and dancing on the deck. Even Menreiki, who had been belowdecks battling seasickness, finally seemed to have gotten his sea legs and had come topside to sign and dance and entertain the crew.
Captain Phi Ho stood at the helm, the warm breeze ruffling his whiskers. He growled in pleasure. Sailing was his joy, but sailing into uncharted waters...that was his true passion. The cabin boy, a nephew he had agreed to train in his trade, was taking notes. The boy had a good head on his shoulders, he'd been recording Phi Ho's observations of the stars. Menreiki's strange protege claimed there was an island out here somewhere, an island she had seen in her dreams, and Captain Phi Ho was determined to be the first to put it on a map. Flying Tiger Island, he'd call it. Or perhaps Tiger's Landing...
Ah, there she was now. The Maiden, as the crew and her fans called her, climbed her way up from belowdecks, and the breeze tousled her raven hair. Phi Ho smiled. She rose early every morning, sometimes before dawn. Curling Willow, who bunked in the cabin next door and had very good ears, claimed that she suffered from nightmares, for he occasionally heard her wake with a startled noise and heard the sleep-addled Menreiki thump across the passenger cabin to comfort her. Upon learning of this Captain Phi Ho, gentleman that he was, had ordered the cook to have an early breakfast prepared every morning just in case the Maiden wanted one. He gave the cabin boy a brief nod and a shove, and the boy darted off to gather up the boiled egg and the cheese and tray of dried fruit and bowl of sweet porridge that had been readied against this eventuality about an hour before.
Menreiki, artist that he was, always slept in until at least eleven.
"Good morning, Milady," the Captain purred, and his deep voice rumbled across the deck. "I hope you slept well?"
OOC: There will be an opening post for Pakari and the Bearer of Bones in the next day or two. Still waiting on a character sheet for Lyndon, but I'ma start you two off without him.
It was a beautiful morning, and it was looking like it was going to be a beautiful day. There had been a light rain in the hours before dawn, and the morning sun glistened in golden drops on the huge leaves of the banana orchards. Roosters were crowing and strutting their wawy about on the thatched rooftops of Calm Sea Village, and people were waking up and going about their morning routines. The fishermen had all woken up hours ago, and the sails of their double-canoes were visible as white triangles out on the sapphire horizon.
The Season of Fire was a relaxed time on Whitestone Island. It was a time of harvesting, as elsewhere in Creation, a time when the growth brought about by the rains of the Season of Water and the calm weather of the Season of Earth bore fruit. Women with knives would be out soon, cutting down bunches of bananas for frying or baking into chips for later in the year. Children would be climbing trees and jumping up and down on branches to make breadnuts fall into nets held by their elders below, and yelling at monkeys to scare them away from avocados and papayas. Beach farmers would be reeling in mats overgrown with seaweed for the harvest, or rowing out in canoes to pull up lines hung from wooden bouys earlier in the year to harvest the shelfish that had grown on them for great stews and soups. By the time the heat of the afternoon rose up and tamped down the village's enthusiasm for work, the beaches south of the village would be full of tired people and excited children playing in the surf, or fishing, or wading with spears in search of dinner. The evening would be warm and dark and full of singing and dancing and drinking.
Of course, Huelo, who had just been woken by a particularly enthusiastic rooster right outside his window after staying up far too late breaking up a dispute between two drunken fishermen over a minor collision, was having trouble enjoying the season just at the moment.
In The Mountains Northeast of Thousand Lilies Village, RY 767, 23rd of Ascending Fire, At Sunrise
It was a beautiful morning, and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. The sun was just cresting over the Eastern horizon, illuminating several puffy white clouds in fantastic shades of pink and orange against the darkness of the vertical cliff face rising up ahead. It had rained an hour or so before, and the jungle was full of glints of morning light caught in droplets of water. The jungle floor was starting to fill with fog, and soon that fog would rise up the mountainside in great steaming clouds full of sneaky little rainbows before dissipating in the sun.
Wahine and Seskan had spent the last hour marching through a thick jungle full of unpleasantly sturdy plants just the right height to smack you in sensitive bits of your anatomy when you walked into them in the dark. It had been drizzling lightly when they left Thousand Lilies Village, and an hour stomping through the jungle carrying large backpacks full of wood and laquer had left them sopping wet and covered in mosquito bites. Even Cloudhopper Haku, who had made this trek a thousand times and was trying to impress an attractive woman with his ruggedness and stoic mastery of the jungle, had seemed affected by something of a sour mood.
It was gone now, though. He sat on a high bluff overlooking the sunrise and the river and more jungle far below, fastening straps and double-checking to make sure that Seskan had unfolded and properly donned his glider. Wahine had seen Haku grinning like this a few times before and even at a similar angle, for she was belted tightly to him and facing forward so that she had to turn her head to look backwards.
Finally, the warrior seemed satisfied that Seskan at least could not blame Alial Darumi's old glider for it if he got himself killed, and he stood back with a grin.
"Alright, we're all strapped in, the sun is up, and the warm air is starting to rise. You two ready to jump off this cliff?"
On the Deck of the Guild Ship Blue Lily, RY 767, 23rd of Ascending Fire, Half an Hour after Sunrise:
It was a beautiful morning. A good stiff breeze from the southeast filled the sails, the light clouds before sunrise had cleared enough for a good view of the stars, and the crew seemed in high spirits after last night's music and singing and dancing on the deck. Even Menreiki, who had been belowdecks battling seasickness, finally seemed to have gotten his sea legs and had come topside to sign and dance and entertain the crew.
Captain Phi Ho stood at the helm, the warm breeze ruffling his whiskers. He growled in pleasure. Sailing was his joy, but sailing into uncharted waters...that was his true passion. The cabin boy, a nephew he had agreed to train in his trade, was taking notes. The boy had a good head on his shoulders, he'd been recording Phi Ho's observations of the stars. Menreiki's strange protege claimed there was an island out here somewhere, an island she had seen in her dreams, and Captain Phi Ho was determined to be the first to put it on a map. Flying Tiger Island, he'd call it. Or perhaps Tiger's Landing...
Ah, there she was now. The Maiden, as the crew and her fans called her, climbed her way up from belowdecks, and the breeze tousled her raven hair. Phi Ho smiled. She rose early every morning, sometimes before dawn. Curling Willow, who bunked in the cabin next door and had very good ears, claimed that she suffered from nightmares, for he occasionally heard her wake with a startled noise and heard the sleep-addled Menreiki thump across the passenger cabin to comfort her. Upon learning of this Captain Phi Ho, gentleman that he was, had ordered the cook to have an early breakfast prepared every morning just in case the Maiden wanted one. He gave the cabin boy a brief nod and a shove, and the boy darted off to gather up the boiled egg and the cheese and tray of dried fruit and bowl of sweet porridge that had been readied against this eventuality about an hour before.
Menreiki, artist that he was, always slept in until at least eleven.
"Good morning, Milady," the Captain purred, and his deep voice rumbled across the deck. "I hope you slept well?"
OOC: There will be an opening post for Pakari and the Bearer of Bones in the next day or two. Still waiting on a character sheet for Lyndon, but I'ma start you two off without him.
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