The Ocean (Post here first)

"1, 2, 3! 1, 2, 3! 1, 2, 3!"

The steady cadence of the slaves was only interrupted by the groans and creaks of the wooden ship. The Ponician ship moved with great speed, cutting through the great blue ocean until it started to come upon the shores of The Divine Empire of Vessia. On top deck the slaves could hear "hold!" as the ship's captain ordered a halt. They sighed in relief after bringing the ship to a halt, and then began to savor their moment of rest.

Back on top, the captain pointed to a sandy shore. "That'll be our destination," he informed to the Ponician diplomat. The diplomat nodded in agreement and the captain issued orders to the oar-slaves in order to pull up along the shore. Those who savored their rest for to long were reminded of their servitude with a sharp lash of the slave-driver's whip.

A number of well-armed warriors checked their armor and weapons. They were adequately armed, only hear to protect the diplomat - nothing more. They each had their own spear, shield, and xiphos, wearing their own helmets, shinguards, and breast plates; they were mercenary warriors, drawn from the satraps of the Ponician Republic, sworn by coin to serve their Ponician overlords. Once proud men, from proud kingdoms and tribes, now obedient only to the Ponician gold and silver tucked into their pockets.

Once ashore, the Ponician diplomat hoped someone from the Empire would great him. If not, he would attempt to find someone who could point him in the direction of an embassy.

Bah, the diplomat scoffed in his mind, mentally snarling his nose at this soldier of The Divine Empire of Vessia. Who was this underling to speak to an ambassador in such a way? It didn't matter; not now, anyway, when they were outnumbered.

"I," the old man began, "am a diplomat of the great and glorious Republic of Ponicia, sent here as an ambassador to speak to your leaders. We seek trade and cooperation, as we have many goods collected from all over the world."

The diplomats mercenary guards stood upright, stern and alert. These men were hard-drilled and well-disciplined. Some of them had dark skin, others fair skin. Their eyes were all colors, and their hair all colors too. Some wore turbans, others bronze helmets, and some steel helms. Capes of various colors with various symbols and weapons made of many different metals. They were truly a collection of various peoples drawn from all over the world, all in the service of Ponicia.

The diplomat himself was an older man, but not frail; he still an able body. He had tanned skin, dark blue eyes, and curly white hair, once dark brown. His long beard reached below his chest. He had a stern, cold look on his face, the look of a veteran. Obviously, he had outlived his military service and now acted as some emissary, entrusted by the Ponician Shophet, Barcid.