The Northern Border Fortress [POST HERE FIRST]

None the wiser a certain lookalike sister had been here previously, it was sheer coincidence Zodi had been dropped off (via airship of course) to the northern gate of Esdara. The weather had relented for now, and so the green-cloaked young man walked up the bridge unhindered. He'd been drawn here by the departure of both his triplets — heading to the same place. It so totally wasn't fair he was going to miss out on all the interesting things they were probably doing!

Zodiac stops at the gate, eyeing the structure — he'd been seeing many new things, recently. This was one of them. A sheltered village life did nothing for one's worldly experience.

"I'd like to enter!" he proclaims, "I'm searching for my siblings!"

Zodiac watches with mild awe (still particularly impressed by the structure) as the gate rattles upward and open. Scarcely hesitating, he strides on inward, offering an impossibly friendly smile to the officer and scribe. He adjusted his cloak.

"That's right," he confirms, "Their names are Bishop and Audrey — I don't think they would've given a last name." He scratches his head, seeming a little irritated by the fact, before remembering he had to introduce himself too, "My name's Zodiac. "

The Voyager slowly came into view as it approached the island, setting course for The Northern Boarder Fortress. Sails from three masts unfurled as they caught the wind being propelled across sky like a listless cloud, shimmered a faint golden hue in the morning sun as if a strange spell had been placed over them keeping the ship afloat. The ship was rather larger and lurched forward like a lumbering giant. Commotion could be heard from the upper decks as the captain issued his command.

“Hoist the sails!”

Men scurried and clambered about drawing on long twisted ropes as the sails were slowly drawn upward and tied off with expert hands, allowing the ship to merely coast towards the approaching structure, coming to a slow halt as it reached the landing before the gates. Large arms could be seen from the upper deck obviously used for the loading and unloading of cargo and the ship bobbed only faintly as if upon a gently wave lowering itself towards the ground at least enough for a ramp to be extended from its bowels extending towards the small ship. The ship itself flew no banner or colors a free enterprise though one may have been able to recognize the strange symbol some of them men bore the silhouette of a wilted rose, surrounded by falling petals on a crimson back-ground emblazoned on their sir-coats. The Trading Association, or more formally known as The Adventurer’s guild. A single man stepped from the vessel, black leather boots clicking loudly against the gangway the man adorned a coat and a white-laced shirt. The Comically-large ten-gallon hat was just the icing on the cake.
 

He approached the gate alone, wishing to inform the guards as to their intentions if they were not clear already. Though still- he presented the parchment to the first man who inquired. A ledger of all the names on board, as well as the goods that they carried with them. It was later learned that the ship had arrived with the intentions of doing trade within the capital however only a small group of eight me had actually intended to gain entry. A few horse-drawn wagons, stacked neatly with crated goods. Most filled with silks, and crafts from far unknown regions. Of course, it was just as likely that they might be turned away.

A rather peculiar sort traveled with them, Rowen. His name given along with the ledger though the man appeared to be quite somber and did not converse with any unless spoken to directly. Adorned in a white cloak which appeared to be quite weathered, frayed at the end and stained with dark splotches that was either dirt or blood. Lengths of cloth swayed gently upon the wind, revealing the thin frame beneath the man was covered entirely in bandages which coiled about his torso and limbs like tiny white snakes, tied off about his wrist and allowed to drop towards the awaiting ground. Within his right hand digits curled around the shaft of lance, Leaf-bladed tip bound in the same manner as his skin. Though perhaps most noteworthy was the bright crimson cloth which covered both eye, and helped to tame the wild mane of raven lochs which fell upon either shoulder in light waves. The man appeared to be no more than a vagabond. Though he had been tasked with escorting the small caravan upon their journey.