My ships come in

[Dimnersti]

fourth brightening of Cryxatum, Summer Era II of the Celestine Mandate, Era XIV Post Fractum.

It had been over a month since Dimnersti had Purchased the three used caravels rigged for fishing in nexus. All things considered it was a relativly quick purchase, constructing them new would have cost a great deal more and taken much longer, the shipyards hurrying to get as much work done as possible before fall came and the ships were necisary for the seasonal migration.

The crew on the ships was minimal, they would likely have to train the rest of the crew picked up in paxia, of wich many of those left in the city would likely be more than happy to do, it was a job and a job meant food and other necesities, at the very least it meant something to do during the day that had a visible benefit, clean up while important was a very demoralizing thing for many, as you didn't see any visible progress till reconstruction began.

The docks still almost entirely in need of repair the ships were forced to anchor off shore a ways, sending a senior member of the crew ashore in order to seek out dimnersti, a relativly simple task given how few vystichi were within the city limits currently, and even among vystichi dim tended to stand out quite clearly.

[Striker]

With the recent inflow of wealth pouring into the Paxian economy, the shipping industry was steadily returning to a shadow of its former self – a pale, thin shadow. Ships of multiple calibers and sizes could be seen in the distance, their silhouettes and high-strung flags flapping behind for all to see. Many of these ships carried supplies from the Imperial Government, and others were returning to reestablish trade routes that had long been lost to the previous eras. Even the docks were flourishing with renewed life, with that same excitement that continued to drive the city wall builders now. Paxia was undergoing a major transformation now, and the hope that had been lost long ago was resurfacing again.

Dwarven construction crews milled over the docks, restoring shoddy planks and transferring supplies across the harbor at a tremendous pace. Since the onset of summer, the Zerdargians had come in abundance, bringing with them the knowledge and skills necessary to convert Paxia into the likes of something it had never been before: strong. The Merchant Guild, no longer the cornerstone of Paxian industry, was also without the leadership that it had known for the past several decades. New, bolder entrepreneurs were racing to dominate the Paxian marketplace, hoping to gain that foothold like the one formerly possessed by the likes of Angelo Gatsbury.

“Dimnersti’s docks”, so-called until he opted to name it differently, were situated on the western end of the harbor –the westernmost end. Whether or not Gandan the Aedile had purposely situated the dark elf on the outskirts of the docks because he despised the Vysstichi was subject to inquiry, but at the very least the location would enable the dark elf to dock his ships in private. In addition, on this particular morning the docks were flourishing with activity. Other ships were slowly pulling into the harbor, anchoring long enough for their supplies to be carried off by the city’s respective parties.

A short distance behind the dark elf’s allocated property were two warehouses –complements of the aedile’s office. Large enough to house any number of fish that the Vysstichi’s ships might catch, they would remain his so long as he continued to uphold his end of the bargain, one that stood until the end of the following era.

[Dimnersti]

it wasn't a suprising thing that the vystichi had heard the gossip of his ships arival and made his way to his docks even before a messenger had managed to find him. Much of his time was spent there anyways throwing himself into the simple labor required to clean and repair the docks and atached warehouses, though being at the oposite end from the military section of the docks meant the damage wasn't as great as it could have been.

The first step was to find whomever had been placed in charge of the skeleton crews that had sailed them here so he coudl sort out who was staying aboard, who was returning to nexas along the road, and wether he could at the least convince some to stay and properly train the paxian citezens he hoped to recruit. he had some experiance himself, so he could at least tell who had experiance and who did not, but when it came to the solid work, he still required someone with a history in the feild who could pass their knowledge on to the new crew.

[Striker]

Contrary to the cether’s belief, the Vysstichi’s docks were in relatively useable condition. The isolated port was large enough to house any single ship of exceptional dimension, and there was enough space such that cargo could be unloaded without interfering with the activities of the neighboring port. Perhaps it was for this reason, though, that this plot of land had been attached with such a lucrative price tag. This section of the Paxian harbor was both ideal for obscurity while at the same time fully operational for business of all assortments.

“Coming in!” came a heralding cry from above. From a short distance away, the silhouette of the magnificent ship emerged through a screen of morning fog, piercing through the ethereal gray like a ray of sunlight pervading the clouds. The ship’s white sails began their incremental descent, no longer needed to catch the northern zephyrs to propel it to the docks. Dozens of men moved hastily about the deck, securing ropes and fastening chords to the ship’s rails to secure the lines, and it was only a matter of minutes until the reasonably sized ship came to a graceful standstill at its port. A wide, makeshift bridge was fastened to an opening in the rail and secured to the harbor to facilitate movement from ship to shore.

The board that connected the sea to the port rattled as a portly man alighted to the docks. His face, beaten by the sunlight, was covered in a thick and curly black beard that would have made a dwarf jealous. And despite the touch of the cool sea breeze, beads of perspiration were mapped across his brow. He did not seem to care, though, and he set his hands upon his wide hips as he gaped about expectedly for his employer, a willowy dark elf. Tapping his foot impatiently, the man rested his hands about a red sash wrapped around his waist and separating his white, ruffled shirt from his tattered brown breeches.