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!uGYNBMPzOs 12/05/11(Mon)02:41 No.17111226You spend the rest of the voyage discussing etiquette and customs with Finain. Not entertaining talk to say the least, but productive. Added to that, you suspect it is helping ease the dwarfs nerves, and salve the emotional scars now dangerously close to being torn open.
-----CQ-----
Your arrival in Suthpon is an... occasion, to say the least. AS the Wrath approaches the coast, a sextet of battered, sturdy looking cutters row up to escort the ship in. Each one long and low, rams-head rams affixed to their bow. Each one is painted in browns and earthy greens and vibrant blues, the work masterful. Every scar and patch is embellished and made to stand out on the cutters, as if taunting any foes to attempt to break them at a place that has already survived one strike. Just behind the rams, and on level with the banks of oars, sits an eye, glaring red, brow furrowed in rage.
Once the Wrath, though dwarfing these cutters easily, though somehow looking less intimidating than its escorts, reaches its dock, the true ceremony begins. It is to a blast of horns, and the thunder of drums, a low, triumphant, militant march, that the gangplank strikes the land. You stride forth, fully armored and armed, Gaius and Blackbird before you, Collin and Sansa behind you, one to each corner, all garbed as you. Lining the topaz and jade road through the trading city on the surface to the City Below, are dwarven guards. Each of them clad in Kextraeita plate, gleaming an impossible silver in the light, where the plate is not dyed a rich, deep chestnut. Each guard has a long braided beard hanging down from his helm, and a shaven head. Each wields a Baradich, held perfectly straight and perpendicular to the earth in his right hand, a chestnut and blood red crescent shield strapped to his left forearm. >comt'd |