RP:Christening the New Harbor

Part of the Rynvale New Dawn Arc

LOCATION: Rynvale, The Renovated Harbor (rp’d location)

As you pass by the guards at their posts at the massive, sturdy gates to the Harbor of Rynvale, your nose is immediately bombarded by all the scents of the Harbor, especially the scent of the sea, in all its salty magnificence. The hollering of sailors fills your ears, shouted orders drowning out the hustle and bustle of merchants all going about their business on the waterfront, attempting to lure someone into buying their precious wares. Out in the distance, you can see many ships, some in pristine condition, others lacking, and a few that are still in the stages of construction. Sailors run all about the decks of those ships; cleaning, dropping anchor, and generally following orders. Just beyond the ships, a massive stone wall rings the outer waters, with a double-wide portcullis that acts as a passage for incoming and outgoing boats. Anyone sailing must have a proper license to even enter the Harbor without raising an alarm from the Navy, as well as the rest of the city. You can barely make out Archer towers scattered about the fortified gray stone wall, their signal fires yet to be lit. As a few sailors stumble past you, obviously drunk, you happen to notice a square building beside you. It is connected to yet another building, twice the first's size, via means of an upper level causeway; the Dockmaster and Officers' building being the first, and the Navy's barracks being the larger building. You begin to feel very safe in this stone-fortified Harbor, especially with such a heavy presence from the naval officers marching this way and that on errands.

Drael || Atop the Great Wall stands the Commander of The Navy of Rynvale, his body held at rigid attention--a small smile held at his otherwise stoic face. To either side of Drael, stand his Captains, and elite naval guards, and further down the line are trumpeters and drummers of the Navy. What begins as a slow rumble of the taut-leather skin drums, grows into a thundering noise that is sure enough to vibrate deep within your chest--the drummers all in unison with each other. The trumpeters begin their blaring, heralding the beginning of the ceremony of The Fires. Drael spreads his arms wide, as his face shifts back to that cool demeanor of undeniable authority, watching all the people down below at the waterfront, crowded together to watch. He begins with, "With the retaking of Rynvale, some may have believed the island would never rise once more to power. That it would be forever weak; that Rynvale would perish." His head swivels side to side, purposefully taking in the mountainous wall that he stands atop, "Let this be a demonstration of our ability. Of our unyielding defiance against those that wish to see us perish. Against those that wish the death to the liberated city that is Rynvale, and its representatives and defenders of the Light." A torch is lit by means of magics, and handed over to the Commander. Taking the metal torch bracket within his taut fist, Drael makes a dramatic show of this lighting of the signal flare before him. All goes silent. The drummers. The trumpeters. The silence is enough to overwhelm, as Drael slowly lights the signal flares. In accordance to this, the multitude of signal fires lining the Great Wall spring to life, casting the Harbor into an orange tint of extravagant lights. A cranking is heard, metallic in origin, and a ruckus in itself, announces the lifting of the double-wide portcullis. "With this, Port Rynvale's sea fortifications are complete. Let us worry no longer!" He hollers over the noise of the portcullis. 'BOOM!' a noise echoes loud over all other things, as a few newly-completed ships of the Royal Fleet of Rynvale fire off their cannons over the high walls. Hooting and hollering rise up all about from the crewmen, shouting in excitement at the completion. Drael is quick to slip from the ranks of his men, to return once more through the inner-workings of the wall, to stand with the Governor of Rynvale and all those present for the celebration.

Along the stone fortified pier, the governor stood huddled against the sudden stiff sea breeze that seemed to kick up upon the lighting of the signal fires. Perhaps some sign of the blessing of the gods upon their endeavors? In the moment she felt a sense of satisfaction. The seeming impossible had been accomplished, and the Royal fleet and the harbor which would see to its security and that of the merchant traders who ran the supply routs between the island and Cenril, were complete. Emerald gaze lifted to peer across the stillness of the harbor towards the massive portcullis that was swinging open ceremoniously to admit the flagship of the fleet from the waters without. How she wished the king and queen could be here to witness this moment, this first gem of High Born achievement, but she would report to them in person how the events of the night had unfolded. “ Congratulations Drael, it is a fine accomplishment, and clear evidence of what can be accomplished when we work with unified purpose. It will stand as a testament to our determination to see the island secure, I am sure,” she murmured as the male fell into place beside her. “See to it that the men enjoy their night..I will pay for their entertainments, but tomorrow, the real work begins.” Her smile was faint, as she reached out, sight unseen, to brush the furred digits of the wolf who lurked over her shoulder. It had been a long and eventful day, and past time that they all retired for the night.

Keturah , with Haerion in tow, had followed the Admiral to the wall. It was not until she had found the rest of the group gathered that the druidess coaxed the flightless fowl to the inner workings of the wall to listen from there. She had not quite seen such celebration before, and still held that childish joy behind her eyes. "Happy, yes?" This was muttered off handedly, perhaps to the penguin, though the lycaness would not admit such a thing. As Drael made his arrival again, the woman offered a quick bow. "Congratulations, Drael~. I am utmostly happy, no?" She paused, ruffling her curls. "I would actually be going to see to the patient. I'm worried. Good evening, everyone~." Her hand lifted in a last wave farewell, smile turned to the others, before the druidess would hurry on her way with Haerion waddling pathetically behind her.

Rhocielle flicked a canine ear to the celebratory explosions from the newly forged ship cannons. Clawed digits flexed and drew around lithe hand to reach for his paw like own. Weariness in his eyes was understatement. Soon after those that needed to speak had, he would motion elven female of his own plans to depart back to the villa.

Reece watches the ceremony from a place just slightly removed from the others, not having an official position in Rynvale himself. Mist clings stubbornly to his form, obscuring his feet as he considers what went into this moment. It was an impressive feat and he could only think that perhaps in the end, this would be the last true place of order. Ironic really, since it was also the last place of chaos prior to the now peaceful period. As the wind picks up at the official opening he turns, making his way quietly to his brothers and sisters of The Fold. A respectful nod is cast at Arien as she turns away after speaking to Drael. Stepping forward, Reece catches the man's attention, nodding severely. "You've done a good job. Perhaps you were meant for this role Drael," he said. As the sounds of carousing begin to rise in the general crowd he smiles. "Be well Commander, be well." A warm look is cast at Arien and Rho before he retreats again. He would watch for a little longer and then, most likely, disappear as he usually does, suddenly and silently, leaving his accompanying cloud of mist to disperse in the wind.

Drael comes to an abrupt halt near Arien, a fist rising to pound firmly to his breast, where his heart doth beat beneath--a salute of sorts. "You are very generous, Lady Arien." The formality of everything about him slips a bit, as he smiles off to Garvand, his First Mate who was close enough to hear the words. Before long, he turns his head back to acknowledge Reece, a slight bow of his head ensuing after his words, "Thank you, Sir." Self-consciously, perhaps, Drael tugs at the collar of his leather jerkin, before offering a grin to the audience no doubt staring wide-eyed at the Governor and her company. "Ya 'ear that lads?" The Commander yells, "Drinks on the Governor tonight!" His newfound slang replacing the formal accent that is, or rather was, his norm. After the procession of the Flagship, and all the other celebration, the men begin to slowly move towards the tavern, excited to fill their bellies with alcohol, and rest from the toils of the past month.

Slowly but surely, the bustle of the harbor settled into the silence of night and the revelry and party headed north towards the heart of the city. The Barrel would be wild this night. Arien smiled, almost ruefully, a sigh slipping past her lips as she found herself standing finally, almost alone, in the shadows of the stone pier with her mate. “ Come, wolf, it is past time we bring this day to its end. Tomorrow shall produce its own labors.” She murmured. Without waiting for his response, and certain he would follow, the governor would turn upon her heel, drawing cloak around her to begin the short beach side walk that would find them at their villa home once more.