Timestamp: Glade 25, 122
For the first time this season, the sun broke through the thick blanket of clouds that had covered much of the continent for the last season and a half. This ray of sunshine grew and grew, banishing the clouds away as stiff winds formed and blew them to the south. And in the span of one morning, there were clear, blue skies over Drathera. The first day of clear skies was always considered a blessing in Ecith, and the citizens were all in a particularly good mood.
And with the empowered winds that blew the clouds away, ships that were sailing southward across the Crystal Sea would find themselves traveling at a much quicker clip, and many were coming. Fishing vessels were coming in, with or without their catches, merchant ships racing to hit land so they could dry out, and naval boats were escorting them all, heading in for there were about to be very few ships needing their protection.
The first day of the Hot Season was a holiday in Ecith, and work was about to cease for anyone. Today was a day of rest, of leisure, and enjoying the returning sun. For the ships coming in, Drathera jutted out from the continent long before the coast line did. It was shaped like a single fang of a dragon too large to possibly exist. As the ships grew closer, they would see the Emerald Ridge, a distant and green backdrop to the south of Drathera, a phrase that was often sung about, written about, spoken about when Ecith entered into an artist's mind. As the coast came into view, hundreds of ships, large and small could be seen heading toward Drathera.
As the details of the mountain became visible, it would reveal great, marble temples and structures built within the faces of the mountains, waterfalls pouring off of cliffs into pools below, and a few small dragons flying about. The port of Drathera was quickly approaching, despite not yet being close to the city. Unlike many ports, the docks of Ecith were not built from wood. Rather, they were a soft beige color, a cement formed by the local sands, sea shells, and ground bones of the many creatures and monster of Ecith. The port fanned out for miles away from the coast, was outfitted with walls, forts, gatehouses, and siege weapons. And while these structures were built from the same material as the docks themselves, they were dyed in deep, vibrant hues of blues, reds, greens, purples, golds, and blacks. Each structure housed a different design and yet they all seemed to flow together in a beautiful fashion.
The ships were all escorted through massive gates in the sea walls, and lead into the harbor. A few miles later, people could be seen moving around the mountain on external stairwells, others milling about the portion of the city built at the base of mountain. The Emerald Ridge was still hundreds of miles away, but it was a particularly clear day and it could be seen for what it truly was. It was no mountain, no. It was the jungle, whose trees grew so tall, their canopies were above the clouds. The city was built both on and into this massive mountain. There was one huge set of stairs that wrapped around the mountain like a serpentine tail.
Eventually the Whistling Squid sailed up to an available spot in the docks. Down on the dock were a number of impatient dockhands, ready to unload this ship and take the rest of the day off. Most of them were Orks, in the same colorings that seemed to be common in the artwork here. Men and women alike, intermingled, dressed in thin togas, dresses, and open robes, their bodies strong and adorned with a wide variety of tattoos. The gangplank was lowered, and two women were there, one in silvery robes, the other in jewelry and nothing else. They stood tall, proud, and were smiling as people disembarked.
The nude woman asked the name and citizenship of each person that disembarked with a friendly and warm demeanor, and wrote the answers upon a parchment she held against a stone tablet. At the sight of red curls, the woman in silver smiled, "Welcome to Ecith, Yeva Bleu. We've been looking forward to your arrival." She was a cerulean skinned Ork, her black hair in tight braids that hung past her waste, her tusks six inches long, and she stood almost three heads taller than Yeva. "I hope your journey was a pleasurable one. Your coming has been heralded by the arrival of the sun this year. This is a wonderful sign." There was no offer to Yeva, or any of the passengers, for their belongings to be carried. And for the Orks disembarking, none asked. Trunks were hefted onto shoulders, packs larger than Yeva carried with ease. The silvery woman gestured to her naked companion, "Full name and country of citizenship."
