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As the sun rises over the docks of Port Avanthyr, the water is unusually placid. In stark contrast, the seaside of the harbor town is teeming with business. Vessels are being loaded and unloaded by burly dockworkers, and even the merchants are up and about on this day - for trade never seems to sleep in Port Avanthyr. The hustle and bustle of human enterprise is almost enough to make most miss the ship that is gliding into port.
A two-mast sloop, obviously meant for simple travel enters the human harbor silently. Its sail is beautifully adorned with gilded leaves on wines and a crescent moon in it's center. The boat itself is almost inhuman in its detail of craftsmanship. A short figure stands expressionless at the bow. As the boat reaches the end of the pier, and the crew deftly holds her in place the figure moves amidships. A small and intense farewell is said between the figure and one of the crew members, a gesture only visible to the town officials that has now taken affair at the arrival of the sloop, and are walking in a brisk pace towards it.
As the lithe figure steps out on the pier, the ship is already docking out and by the time the officials reach her, the boat is well on it's way again. They stop and pause to asses her: Dark green eyes, the color of emerald greet them. A pursed mouth, on the precipice of speaking out greet them with silence. Instead she looks about her and her locks of chestnut hair almost cover the slight reflection of sunlight on her skin. A hooded cloak of red is drawn around her neck like a shawl, and it makes the scales of her finely woven armor dance in the sunlight, free from the shadow it could bring. The size of her slender body is off-set by the large sword strapped to her back, and it is this juxtaposition that allows her to cleave a path through the men, not unlike the ship that is fast receding into the horizon.
A gruff laughter emits from the dockworkers as the town officials realize what has happened. The elven woman is leaving the pier in a steady pace, nodding to a few bystanders. At the last plank in the wooden bridge she pauses. Her gaze flows to the temple of the Bitch Queen on the hill overlooking the harbor.
As if by dramatic timing a short cough appears ahead of her. An armored figure armed only with a wooden board is approaching her with a determined look. She sees the man and shifts the stance of her feet to expect him. The soldier pauses in front her. He sighs and continues. “Welcome to Port Avanthyr... Before you can reach the city-state of Sundren I will need to ask you a few questions”. He pauses. Emerald eyes pierce him with a patient smile. Having waited for another response the soldier continues in a droning voice: “That means you need to tell me who you are, where you're from, what you're doing here, and declare anything you're carrying”. He keeps his eyes on the paper fastened to his wooden board. After what seems like an eternity he states: “For tax purposes. Your name?”.
The elf lets out a small sigh and speaks with a sombre tone: “My name is My'athvin”. The census officer raises an eyebrow. “Last name?” he utters passionless. My'athvins lips are pursed in a small smirk. “I'll put it down as Waters, then. And where are you hailing from?”.“The good ship Afir has brought me here from the Emerald isle”. The smirk has transformed itself into a smile, and it is obvious that the elf is enjoying the questions, as if it was a game. “Where's that?”, the soldier asks automatically as soon as she finishes her sentence. “It is Evermeet, the last true kingdom of elves. Know that it lies in the trackless sea, and is ruled over by the most graceful Amlaruil Moonflower, and protected by the power of the Daughter Of The Night Skies”. The soldier stares blankly at his parchment for a moment, then scribbles down a single word.
“And have you anything to declare?”. Disappointed by the humans' boorish manner My'athvin answers: “My sword, my bow and my armor. I carry a modicum of healing supplies and rations to last me 4 days. The soldier continues his questions as he write. “And what is your purpose here in Sundren?” He looks up momentarily.
“I am here to seek absolution for past errors. To seek the last remains of my fallen brothers-in-arms. And to walk free as a Mhaornathil in the blessing of the Luminous cloud”. Perplexed, the soldier finally turns his board and shows My'athvin five squares on his paper. She gives it a quick look, turns her eyes to the soldiers and speaks. “Religion”.
The census officer sighs relieved, and marks off the respective square. “Merchants are straight ahead and left, just beyond the fountain, can't miss it. Enjoy you stay in Sundren.”
The lithe elf walks on, into the city of Port Avanthyr; into the city-state of Sundren; unto the mainland for the second time in a century.
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