RP:You've Got Lumber
- Location: Larket
- Summary: The lumber ordered from Port Rynvale arried by way of Air Ship on this day.
It was the low thrumming pulse of sound overhead and to the west, that would alert those gathered expectantly below of the arrival of the still fascinating , and for some of the superstitiously inclined, disturbing ship that flew. Larket might be a land bound territory, but even its inhabitants were well enough aware that massive ships with sails were meant for water, and not for passage through the clouds. The reactions of some who lay in wait might reveal as much. Aboard the vessel above, the pale visage of the Forsaken elf who captained the ship leaned over the side as he approached the black spire that normally indicated the location of his anchor. Such would not be the case tonight. “We’re takin’ er in low!” came the bark to the skeleton crew that had been permitted to sail with him; every available foot of space was otherwise occupied by the first load of redwood logs that were being delivered to Larket. A wary gaze drifted over the lone Rynvalian High Born mage who had been offered as part of the workforce for this run. If he had heard correctly, magic was to be made available to assist in the actual process of unloading, at least in part. The gangway that would be unfurled between the deck and the earth below, would at the least provide a singular guide for the controlled roll of lumber that would have to be done to avoid crushing those who attended below. Slowly, carefully, the hovering vessel reduced its altitude, making its approach well below accustomed levels. Something about the energies used to power the mysterious craft, caused the winds to kick up, swirling dust from the nearby construction zone into the air. “ Dropping anchor!! All clear below!!..” the cry of the captain ricocheted out into the night.
Rhocielle :The Rynvale mage carefully made his way to the railing that otherwise protected both crew and passengers from a deathly fall when cruising the skies above. From his vantage point, and that of the crew, the soil looked smooth, pristine, unmarred by the ravages of both man and nature. That would not last long. As the gangway dugged securely into the earth beneath and the first of the logs were rolled cautiously to be unloaded, the mage rose both hands in a achingly slow fashion. This act would required the utmost care. Steadily pillars of hardened soil rose on either side of the heavy plank as if barriers to prevent even a single log from rolling dangerously into the awaiting ground crew. Dull thunk could be heard as the first trunk collided with the earthen barriers. Narrowing his gaze slightly, the elementalist called upon a second set of pillars to rise from the ground; and another, and another, each significantly shorter than the previous. When all was completed, the wooden plank was flanked by a series of oscillating pillars that rose up to the hull of the ship. In a voice that belied his supreme concentration, he alerted the captain, "Your men can begin unloading the rest!..." In repeating fashion, one fist opened fully while another closed, commanding the pillars to rise and fall in similar fashion. Carefully they weaned each log down alternating barriers until reaching the unloading crew at the foot of the plank.
Parsithius :: It is not Moriarty, who leads the knights of Parsithius' personal troop whilst clad in black platemail that is trimmed in blood red who stands to greet the laborers and workmen that carry the load of redwood to Larket; it is the King Consort himself. Amidst armor of silver hue and shining in the air as if some otherworldly sentinel, along locks of gold that distend in the wind and lie suspended in the air for moments while azure eyes narrow to more keenly pierce the night's hazy fog and scrutinize the voyagers that bear passage of resources from Rynvale to Larket. Bearing his mighty halberd in one hand, which is shoved into the dirt at his side in some formidable presence, the royal male barks an order to the man at his left, who, in turn, whirls and cups his mouth with a hand to pierce an authoritive yell, "High-ho!" Immediately, from idle waiting, comes some hundreds of workers, swarming the side with calloused hands and greased shirts, aiming to aid in the transport and delivery of these goods. The Knight himself however, aims to ascends the steps of the tower and board the ship -the captain in his direct line of sights. The Larket bystanders, on the contrary, are abuzz in conversation and gossip, pointing and making perfectly evident the topic of their hushed speak; the flying ship itself. "Hail," the Larket king greets, his immense halberd at his side by means of his gauntleted hand, "You are sent from Governer Arien, I presume?"
Arien:: The Forsaken elf, momentarily distracted from his careful maneuvering of the vessel in maintaining its steady hover, watched with some partially contained sense of awe the display of magics presented by the mage. He’d been wondering with more than half a thought about how the male had intended to get the logs to earth without the unleashing of an avalanche of timber. He was a good captain, but even he would have found it nearly impossible to keep the vessel in a hover a mere few feet off the ground. As it were, the airship was indeed anchored about halfway down the black spire, some loose attempt at a tie off managed around one of the guiding rails that funneled travelers up the stairs to the loading decks above. “You heard the elf men! Get those logs moving!.. just feed em into the mage’s contraption there, and Larket will take care of the rest..” he called out. Almost as if in response to his command, though obviously not so, the bodies of the workers of the city below were seen funneling into their own positions to catch and drag the descending raw wood away from gangplank, making way for the inevitable next that would come rolling down. It was the sudden jolt of the side of the ship into the tower’s side, and momentary shudder of the vessel, that brought the captain to awareness of his duties again. That, and the sudden and unexpected arrival of the King Consort of Larket upon his decks. The elf sketched a hasty bow. “ My apologies yer majesty. Aye.. I sail for Vhys..but I believe tis a load from the governess of Rynvale that we carry.”
Rhocielle :The elementalist, contrary to popular belief of mages and the force dealt against their creations, felt not impact nor strain against the barriers as they were struck repeatedly by descending logs. It was merely his task to make the pillars rise and fall, the hardened soil taking care of the rest. Despite this more or less relaxed state of concentration that the mage wielded in his task, the abrupt shift in the vessel gave him a momentary lapse in the integrity of his pillars. It was only through sheer force of will that only the last of the staircase-like piles cracked and eventually crumpled, but only after the log that it supported was taken away. Cursing underneath his breath to hastily reform the twin pillars, he eventually called back to the Forsaken Elf, "Steady, captain. The pillars, I can reform!... Any crushed workers, I cannot!..." His eyes never left the work they focused upon, hence the need to shout out to make sure the man would hear, no matter whom he was speaking to. Surely the King Consort would forgive the lack of greeting, had the High Elf known or could hear the conversation going on behind him. The priority was both the unloading the materials, and the safety of both ship crew and ground grew.
Parsithius does little more than nod toward the captain as his azure gaze slices over the wooden planks of the loaded resources, black ore that renders the ship able to float like the city of Armantium, and the various crewmen that did the moving. "Aye, all is well, then, carry on." The mage is taken note of, but with all deemed sorcerers and witches by the knight's rather narrow mind on the subject, he is suspicious and dismissed thereof nearly instantly; attention swivels back to the captain. The workers nearby, off-ship and belonging to Larket, are swift in their contraptions and planks beneath the logs, using the former to wheel the resources to specified locations just further northward, where construction thrives even at this hour of night. The golden hair of the king takes little more time to suspend in the air due to the chill of the landside breeze, before the 'click' of armored greaves signals his turn and imminent descent down the spire, "Carry on," he repeats.
Arien: And carry on they did. A tug on the fetlock of silvery hair that fell over the captain’s pale face, would be all the signal the King Consort would receive to his directive. A terrible accident barely avoided, all attention was focused now upon keeping the airship steady in place. “ Aye!” he barked over his shoulder to the mage. “Just you be keepin’ focus on your part of the deal mage..” Behind him now, on the deck, the skeleton crew worked efficiently, and exhaustively. While hundreds lay below to gather, a mere ten worked above to deliver. Soft grunts and gasps of laborers at work could be heard, broken occasionally by a shouted ‘Heave!!’ when a log needed to be lifted to make some minor adjustment to be fed into the mage’s offloading funnel. Workers found rhythm, much as sailors at work aboard sea bound vessel would do, a shanty of sorts rising eventually to ring through the night air. The passage of time, though heavy with labor, was swiftly efficient until the first load of lumber to Larket, was all but safely delivered.
Rhocielle :And focus he did, for as long as his duty continued. Keeping in time with the movements of lever and labor from the ship's crew, the pillars rose and fell in rhythmic occillations atuned to the shanty sung. As the last of the logs found Larket soil, both hands of the elemental maestro brought his own song to an end. Falling delicately to rest upon the railing of the ship for a respite, the last of the pillars slowly sank back into the earth once more. Releasing an air of weariness, he looked on to the working crews below. Turning back to the captain who still yet kept the floating vessel steady, he could not help but chide with a lopsided grin, "Next time, I negotiate the wages we're paid. Either we're paid double, or we get double the crew to help..."
Parsithius continued to watch until all the logs were completed, and would be redundant if he described it all again.
Arien:: The captain barked a laugh in the mage’s direction. “Next time? Did they not tell you mate? This is but the first of three runs tonight. You are lucky your labors are done. As for me, I and the Lady here will be ferrying two more crews, and mages, much like yourself to this place until the sun rises. Larket will have a full two thirds of her order before we feel the sunlight on our skin in the morn, and the rest, before the week is out-at least, tis what I’ve been told. Seems the rest has to be harvested direct form the forests like.” Pausing, the captain raised two fingers to his lips, a piercing whistle shattering the night. “ Raise the gang plank lads..we’re off back to the Duchy….” he called. Matching actions to words, he had already begun the process of detaching the tie anchor from tower railing, and the thrum of energy about the airship began its increased pulse once more. A few minutes later, all the still scurrying workers below would see, would be the retreating swath of sails soaring high and to the west, making trails it would seem, directly between the still rising twin moons. Her labor for the night, only just begun.
Related Pages:
- Larket
- Part of the Larket's Renovation Arc