Upon the high-crested waves, somewhere that a sailor sails in all the Seven Seas, rises a glowing-golden green-and-brown land of music, mystery, and mythical fortune, which is a small unknown island continent known to its inhabitants as The Point. This is also the name of the narrow, curved strait which divides the island's port from the waters of the smoothly raging sea around it, and around its fellow islands, a semi-circular cluster called the Wreath or the Garland.
While this island has a mysterious feeling of magic in the earth and trees, and the mountains practically sing with old history, there is also a buzz of technology in the air. Like the strings of an instrument, the science of the arcane is methodically plucked with beautiful purpose, and has been mathematically inscribed in notebooks of fine papyrus and leather, bound in hardy kelp, and lovingly inscripted on ores of the fiery mountains, and carven wood, and sea-stones. Great electrical surges are passed through the wires under the grasses, leaves, and soft soil and firm clay of certain parts of the map, contributing elemental qualities of heat and cold and more into creature-homes both domestic and wild, and into the public infrastructure. The great, tall stone libraries in which the books and arcane workings rest are also home to looking-glasses, clever devices of mirrors and crystals and light, which reflect images in a hazy but clear projection above their device's surface. Much of the rest of the world does not have these things; but the residents of the Point do not much care. The rest of the world does not much know about them, and will come to discover such things in their own time. The elderwomen and future-seers had formed the laws of the land, and the continent is in the current of an upright society with its feet in the ground and its hands held firmly in each others', eyes on the trees and the rocks and the seeds, the wild and frightful, the soft and small, the growing things and the things which had been and the things which must and will be. Thus, they are well situated in the moment of what is, ever mindful of what was before and will be after.
Now, the celebration at hand is a seasonal time of joy, gratitude, and relishing in fresh produce, respectful of the hard work of the citizens and the seasonal boon of the well-loved plants and the ocean. Kelp and reed baskets filled with nuts and seeds, wooden boxes full of cloth and fruit, and sweet honey and sour pickle preserves are in pots and glasses on shelves and tables and tree branches at the center of Morda Village. The benches and swings in the Gathering Circle are stacked with flowers and woven with vines, and filled with laughing children and adults alike, and wine, milk, and tea are poured from icy-cold-and-steaming carafes made of shimmering silver.
All is happy and well; it is a celebration of what has been made by work and what has been allowed by nature, and all those creatures who have lived and thrived.
Eat, drink, make merry, rest in the cool shade and warm sun, delight in a pleasante frolic amongst the fields, and be welcome to much friendship amongst the food and drink. You may not map what we have made here, but you may make what you will of yourself while you sup with our people and flourish in our land. Enjoy the salty sea breeze and see our majestic wonders. For a short while, be part of our community! Like the petals upon a flower, everything has its season.
Please refer to our guides if you wish to travel. No wandering past the limits. We wish you well...
Signed, Community Elders of the Point Isle of the Garland
The characters who would arrive have been sent for by homing beacon, in a way - that is, seashells who have been modified, in the Workshops, to repel those of a certain intention, and to attract those of a certain intention. It is a mostly-unused technology, yet, so it seems like the perfect time to test the brainwave-emitted emotional-register technology that the micro-technologists have been practicing. Inscriptions that are invisible to the eye are smoothly programmed in the Silver of the Three, with the symbol of Activation embedded in the gems on the inside. From an onlookers point of view - a harmless and slightly glittering shell; upon closer examination, a slightly less than ordinary shell which murmurs a quiet message and relays a flickering light, portraying a written form of the letter, when picked up.
Using the same matter-transportimg feature as that with which the shells were distributed, those who found the shell on land are teleported to the wooden decks of the port on Point, while those nearby on the sea are directed by convection currents. All visitors are met by a Guide.
I, Haiyzel Kanahri, here end my day's log, this evening the 19th of June, and will set out to continue my work as a member of the community in the morning. Having arrived on the island a week before the celebration by chance, I was mystified and voluntarily agreed to help with the preparations. I have learned much since then, but it seems like something has yet to be learned about this place, some great deep secret. It troubles me, although I don't know why that is so. When the guests begin to arrive, I will greet them and we will make merry... and I will try to learn of this place's customs for yet another day.
While this island has a mysterious feeling of magic in the earth and trees, and the mountains practically sing with old history, there is also a buzz of technology in the air. Like the strings of an instrument, the science of the arcane is methodically plucked with beautiful purpose, and has been mathematically inscribed in notebooks of fine papyrus and leather, bound in hardy kelp, and lovingly inscripted on ores of the fiery mountains, and carven wood, and sea-stones. Great electrical surges are passed through the wires under the grasses, leaves, and soft soil and firm clay of certain parts of the map, contributing elemental qualities of heat and cold and more into creature-homes both domestic and wild, and into the public infrastructure. The great, tall stone libraries in which the books and arcane workings rest are also home to looking-glasses, clever devices of mirrors and crystals and light, which reflect images in a hazy but clear projection above their device's surface. Much of the rest of the world does not have these things; but the residents of the Point do not much care. The rest of the world does not much know about them, and will come to discover such things in their own time. The elderwomen and future-seers had formed the laws of the land, and the continent is in the current of an upright society with its feet in the ground and its hands held firmly in each others', eyes on the trees and the rocks and the seeds, the wild and frightful, the soft and small, the growing things and the things which had been and the things which must and will be. Thus, they are well situated in the moment of what is, ever mindful of what was before and will be after.
Now, the celebration at hand is a seasonal time of joy, gratitude, and relishing in fresh produce, respectful of the hard work of the citizens and the seasonal boon of the well-loved plants and the ocean. Kelp and reed baskets filled with nuts and seeds, wooden boxes full of cloth and fruit, and sweet honey and sour pickle preserves are in pots and glasses on shelves and tables and tree branches at the center of Morda Village. The benches and swings in the Gathering Circle are stacked with flowers and woven with vines, and filled with laughing children and adults alike, and wine, milk, and tea are poured from icy-cold-and-steaming carafes made of shimmering silver.
All is happy and well; it is a celebration of what has been made by work and what has been allowed by nature, and all those creatures who have lived and thrived.
Eat, drink, make merry, rest in the cool shade and warm sun, delight in a pleasante frolic amongst the fields, and be welcome to much friendship amongst the food and drink. You may not map what we have made here, but you may make what you will of yourself while you sup with our people and flourish in our land. Enjoy the salty sea breeze and see our majestic wonders. For a short while, be part of our community! Like the petals upon a flower, everything has its season.
Please refer to our guides if you wish to travel. No wandering past the limits. We wish you well...
Signed, Community Elders of the Point Isle of the Garland
The characters who would arrive have been sent for by homing beacon, in a way - that is, seashells who have been modified, in the Workshops, to repel those of a certain intention, and to attract those of a certain intention. It is a mostly-unused technology, yet, so it seems like the perfect time to test the brainwave-emitted emotional-register technology that the micro-technologists have been practicing. Inscriptions that are invisible to the eye are smoothly programmed in the Silver of the Three, with the symbol of Activation embedded in the gems on the inside. From an onlookers point of view - a harmless and slightly glittering shell; upon closer examination, a slightly less than ordinary shell which murmurs a quiet message and relays a flickering light, portraying a written form of the letter, when picked up.
Using the same matter-transportimg feature as that with which the shells were distributed, those who found the shell on land are teleported to the wooden decks of the port on Point, while those nearby on the sea are directed by convection currents. All visitors are met by a Guide.
I, Haiyzel Kanahri, here end my day's log, this evening the 19th of June, and will set out to continue my work as a member of the community in the morning. Having arrived on the island a week before the celebration by chance, I was mystified and voluntarily agreed to help with the preparations. I have learned much since then, but it seems like something has yet to be learned about this place, some great deep secret. It troubles me, although I don't know why that is so. When the guests begin to arrive, I will greet them and we will make merry... and I will try to learn of this place's customs for yet another day.
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