Haelion stood calmly at the bow of the ship, gazing out to the first hints of land before him.
The salty sea spray filled the air as the Windprowler cut its way through the dark blue waters easily, as today was blessed with fair sailing weather.
Hailing from a nation that prided itself on understanding and controlling the very element Haelion couldn’t be more at ease.
In fact he considered himself fortunate to be chosen by the Grand Augur, His Holiness had bestowed upon him this important task and for it to be concluded swiftly and successfully.
The cool metal of his mask blinked in the sun, their engravings and decorations drawing the attention from a curious fellow on the other side of the ship.
As Haelion watched him approach from the corner of his eye he noted the heavy fabric the person was wearing, they were of a deep rich crimson of such a quality that it almost appeared as if they had been dipped in blood.
Other than that he wore more obvious leather armour and a heavy red hood covered his hairless head.
Haelion recognized the facial markings of the Creshinni easily enough. The tattoos of Traghar if he was not mistaken. The Cities were always at odds with one another, so much so that they marked their Citizens as they grew up, gifting them Full allegiance when they turned 14 the unofficial age of adulthood and where the most powerful cult got its name from. The 14.
Haelion nodded as he turned himself towards the man, offering him the small inclination of his head as a courteous greeting.
“Wrohatan Seksho.”* He spoke greeting him in Kresh, watching the man’s face light up with surprise, before Haelion watched him bow more revered, with the left arm over the chest bending forwards.
“Kyskennia Gealid, Varso.”* The man offered in return, before attempting to speak the more common Mejori tongue.
“I fear my Mejorii is not as particularly eloquent as your commandment of our Kresh.” He started.
Haelion laughed heartily responding easily.
“Well enough to be understood and appreciated, though I must confess my commandment of that language of a similar range as yours, yet it shall have to do if we are to converse with the other emissary.”
“I take it then you have not seen the person in question as of yet? That is good, neither have I. Perhaps they distrust our nature and keep the emissary hidden away so as to ensure their arrival.”
Haelion shook his head.
“I doubt there be malice behind the secrecy, for all we know their particular emissary has a bad case of seasickness. But where are my manners, allow me to introduce myself:
I am Haelion Magnameara, Fyrst Mece of his holiness Grand Augur Aldegisl of Uiscean.”
Sendor inclined his head in greeting before introducing himself aswell.
“Well met, Lord Magnameara, I am Sendor Xercysq, 8th of the 14th of Traghar and the chosen emissary for Creshinibon.” He offered watching the Uisge intently.
“What exactly does the Grand Augur expect we’ll find?” He asked the warrior, noticing the intricate armour and the mystical imagery set into it. Well, the Uisge were known for their prowess with such things. These ‘Waterfairies’ were particularly gifted when it came to crafting proper armour and kept their craft and lore pretty much to themselves, turning their goods into highly desirable commodities and luxuries.
Sendor watched the man lift a gloved and gauntleted hand bringing it to his face and chin in particular in thought.
“Well, he’s not certain, but he did sense something significant. But I suppose such things could easily be said and be considered meaningless when one discovers a completely unknown place. Since all of the discoveries would be considered significant.” Haelion reasoned.

* Shadows Guard you.
* May Death be Oblivious.