AbyssalAurora's Clan

Welcome to Direfleet

~25 | Female | +3 hours FR time~

ADOPT SHOP (closed until further notice due to lack of art capabilities on backup laptop):
http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/adopt/2032839


GENE WISHLIST

Butterfly x2 (Claret, Kuanyin)
Opal x1 (Lhusu)
Underbelly x1 (Ice Noc)
Plumage x3 (Muirmell, Yaregari, Gheshta)
Fans x1 (Numheda)
Bogsneak x1 (Yacare)

This place has existed long before you were born, and it will exist long after your last breath is drawn.

This place is secret. Even the names of its long-dead founders have passed into forgotten obscurity.

You're not supposed to know about this place, yet here you are.

Before you sways a sprawling expanse of ships, their combined area larger than some cities you've seen in your life. Ships of every kind of construction from every era are lashed together into one coherent mass, some featuring bridges stretched lazily between them. Eclectic mixes of architecture sit atop the diverse vessels, lending each district its own unique flavor and charm.

At its heart lies Nova Voxis, marked by the towering smokestack where the leaders sleep and the councils meet. Powerful beings rest here, but that doesn't seem to damper the spirits of those who reside here, as they flit between the arena when friendships are tested and the bars and hookah den when they are mended again. Not far away, smaller ships sedately glide in and out of Garwater Harbor, the focal point of the Oar's Rest district. Their cargo is often pillaged, sometimes bartered for, and always deeply appreciated. Many can be found watching the comings and goings from the various harborside restaurants and balconies of the inn where you will rest your head tonight. A clock tower chimes powerfully, and your eyes are drawn to the stately stone architecture of Orentory, standing in stark contrast to the wooden and worn structures you've seen so far. Weathered white and grey stone buildings seem ripped from the Sunbeam Ruins, and indeed, the hubs of learning lie behind those walls. There's a library built of centuries of stolen texts, and a museum populated with centuries of stolen artifacts. As you walk, you occasionally see messages scrawled on wooden boards, beckoning you to shop local and buy something crafted in Aeretide, whose open-air market is filled with vendors hawking hand-crafted merchandise. There are quiet corners in this peculiar city, too. A stroll through Glyph Park in Angelvein, with the smell of earth and livestock filling your nostrils, is enough to clear anyone's head, so long as you don't catch the eye of the groundskeeper for too long.

But there aren't any shrines here, you notice. Not one public sign of devotion to any god, not even a single knickknack for sale with one of their likenesses painted or carved into it. You learn quickly not to ask too much about it. Some look confused, some avert their eyes, and some look anywhere from bruised to wounded at the thought. Those latter ones are the Abyssal Aurorans. Once a proud and thriving clan from the Leviathan Trench, now refugees from an enemy they seem forbidden to speak of. Their figurehead is a divine creation herself, a sentry from the Tidelord's own doorstep in eras long past, cast down in an eternal quest to atone for her grievous and ancient sins. But she drew the attention of a similarly divine beast, a remnant of godly quarrels never quite settled and hell-bent on destroying its antithesis. Only here, adrift far east of mainland Sornieth, did they believe they could throw the enemy off their scent. This merger between Abyssal Aurora and Direfleet was certainly one of necessity, and so far, it's been peaceful enough. No sign that the enemy has picked up the trail again. Not everyone is wholly pleased with the influx of mainlanders, you hear, but Admiral Sengka earned her command squarely, and you'd be hard-pressed to find a dissenter who speaks in more than sheepish whispers about it. The Aurorans' biggest problems may have been nothing more than stubborn Maren punishing them for the crimes of a dragon long since purged from their ranks (Maren, attacking dragons? Ha!), but at least they do good work in the city, and enough have even taken to pirating that their approval rating seems to have risen to acceptable levels with most of the natives.

For now, Direfleet is calm. It carries on like it always has. Dragons of every element mingle happily, their powers seeded not by the gods themselves but by the chaotic, roiling auras ebbing and surging around the collected shards and pebbles of Pillar gathered in the belly of one of the flagships. Your time here may come to an end in a few short days, but life will go on here, so long as they can keep themselves off the radar. But Direfleet has always been good at that. You know you won't be taking your information out with you; you signed a contract with an enchanter before you were brought here, after all. But until your departure, it'll be nice to learn more about this strange little hidden world.