Journeywoman's Journeys, A Fantasy Age of Exploration Worldbuilding Quest (Updated Daily)

Orator Nayam looks at Anne-Seht's serious face and wide eyes and laughs.

"I'm fucking with you. You'd have to be a FOOL to personally call up something I can't put down." The older ducks around the corner of the building and slices straight through the line of supplicants waiting to enter the shrine's side entrance, ignoring the dirty looks she receives, and motions for Anne to follow.

WIthout hesitation Anne plunges through the line she'd recently been in and emerges on the other side to see Nayam motioning for her to follower her up the shrine's steps.

"Even when I was a dumb BITCH at your age I'd heard enough stories from Necromancers to know that I was never." she pauses to take another drink, "Never going to give an open ended Calling. Some things you don't do."

Anne follows Nayam up the steps and stops at the top next to where the tall Aramvolk woman has decided to lean up against a stone carving of Greatest Grandmother set into one of the support columns.

"Take a moment and look" Nayam instructs, raising a ringer from her crossed arms to vaguely point towards the road down to the harbour, "This. THIS. Is Gerra."

Anne stops and looks, really looks down the stairs and towards the sea. The wide street is filled with people and stalls, buildings or wood and stone two and three stories tall lining the main street. In the distance she can see the tall sails of the ships docked in Gerra's harbour, and the crowds moving around beneath them like insects, filled with a purpose which she cannot guess at.

"Things move. Things are ramshackle." Nayam waves vaguely towards the buildings lining the streets and the alleys and sidestreets that merge and diverge from the flow of the sapient river of people flowing between shrine and the port, "The dead are bad at urban planning. The city has burned nearly to the ground multiple times, but we're too CHEAP and too FUCKING stubborn to rebuild without spending as little as possible." She adopts a sardonic expression and points towards several of the nearer (and larger) buildings.

Anne looks closer at the building that Nayam's long boney fingers are pointing towards, and sees the stonework has been touched and cracked by flame at some point, but some had also been filled and decorated artistically. She turned to look at the shrine, and looked closer at one of the carvings closer to her, seeing where broken stone had been repaired with gold or silver so perfectly that some form of magic or alchemy must have been involved.

Nayam follows Anne's eyes and chuckles, "Don't get IDEAS. If you steal that, the Old Bitch up on top will curse you." she grins wickedly, "Or so they say."

"I once heard that thief took some silver eyes in the night and Saint Gretel climbed down from her spire and CHASED him into the sea, never to be seen again. But the eyes were back the next day." she chuckles darkly, "The old bitch's spirit climbed right back into her body the moment her tomb was desecrated."

Anne feels delightfully spooked, "I thought that Osteomancy and Necromancy were two separate things." she says, feeling clever.

Nayam grins, "Being rich allows you to travel down many roads that would be considered… Unnatural."

Anne is thinking of a witty rejoinder when she sees Tarn making his way through the crowd towards the shrine, his massive centauroid form putting him above the vast majority of the teeming throng of supplicants, merchants, locals, and travellers.

Anne waves at Tarn, and after a moment he sees her and waves back.

Nayan follows Anne's wave and gazes down at Tarn speculatively, chin raised slightly, "Fuckable." she says after a moment of consideration.

Anne sputters, shocked, "I-I think he's married."

"Not ALL marriages are the same my dear." says the older woman, giving Anne a wink, "But I gather you're busy." She stands up and hands Anne one of the electrum coins beloved of the Aramvolk, though a small one barely over a hundredtharc across, "For your trouble. One shiny coin. You should get yourself something tasty."

"Thank you so much!" Anne gushes, "I learned so much."

"It's fine." The older dark skinned woman taps a finger in the air towards Anne with a click of her tongue against the roof of her mouth, "Look me up if you're back in THE CITY and need to harass some poor dead bastard."

Anne waves goodbye and makes her way down the steps towards Tarn.

He raises an eyebrow, "Well, good to see that you're making friends Kid." he frowns, "I'd say maybe avoid Orators. They're often not the most stable people." he shrugs, "Well adjusted people don't get a career ripping the honoured dead from their deserved rest."

"Normal well adjusted people don't sign up for a years long expedition across the world."

Tarn snorts, "Different kind of badly adjusted, kid."

"I like Miss Nayam."

"You'll meet a lot of people once on this trip, it's probably for the best if you decide to like them. Much easier that way." He shrugs and looks around, "Anyway, I bet you're hungry, let's head out to the next stop and you can tell me how you wound up hanging out with an Orator while dropping a coin in a box."

"Well," Anne pauses, "wait, where are we headed? And uhhh, what are we eating?"

Tarn chuckles, "Oh you're still a growing kid really aren't you? Well, we're headed to the…"

EXAMPLE:

[ ] "...docks, there's this little place with excellent Harbourmaster's Coins"

Fish rounds are flattened balls of finely smushed fish meat taken from the body of a salmon-like fish, mixed with a selection of the many spices that the port of Gerra imports, cooked, covered in batter, and fried. Often two or three of these rounds will be placed onto a wooden stick so that these "coins" can be eaten on the move.

These little Gerran delicacies are called Harbourmaster's Coins due to their golden hue, generally coin like shape, and being the favoured treat of many a former Harbourmaster.

A favourite of Gerran sailors and travellers, Harbourmaster's Coins are often eaten with a thick dark savoury and spicy sauce made from squeezing and fermenting a local root according to an ancient tradition.

Why not street food? Thought this would be a fun one. Food is often representative of the area and conditions from which it emerges. In this case the food is seafood sourced from Gerra's vast fishing fleet, seasoned with some of the many trade goods they have access to, and then deep fried in batter for easy eating on the move, as befits a city whose inhabitants are also oft on them move. The addition of the sauce is representative of a local tradition that's well loved with other dishes.

The location in the city the food is sourced from will indicated where you'd like to look at before returning to the caravan to leave the city. Perhaps you'd like to go near the outerwalls to where the foresters and rangers eat their own signature dish? Or perhaps you'd like to swing by a merchant house where they feast on something a bit less portable? Feel free to have a little variety in destination and foodstuff!

(Write in 131 words)

I'm not much of a cook tbh, so please forgive any vagueness or oddness in the description. (It's also why I only gave one example >: P)

"There's a joke here I don't know how to make." Says Tarn, staring in wonder as Anne devours a second helping of Harbourmaster's coins. (Ones that she bought with with part of the electrum coin that she'd just received.)

The Centaur man instead shakes his head, "I will say that someone needs to teach you how to manage your money kid." he laughs, "But I will say that you certainly seem to like those."

"Hmmhh!" Anne replies, ripping the last 'coin' off the stick it was fried onto. She almost speaks but then remembers meals with the Matriarch and instead works her last bite thoroughly before swallowing heavily.

"Uhhmp," she takes in a deep breath, "All done."

"Well, alright then kid." The older man turns to leave, and Anne holds up a hand.

"I'm just going to buy one more-"

"Oh, fucking grandmother's bones, you really are still a kid aren't you?" He asks watching Anne purchase one more stick with three of the thick circular crispy golden 'coins' on it.

"I'm a growing young woman." Insists Anne, who knows full well that she's still two almost three tentharcs shorter than her Mother and much narrower in frame than the powerfully built Matriarch Annasavai.

"A growing young woman who is bad with her money." he sucks air through his teeth in mock annoyance, "I'm going to have to recalculate our food budget and just bring another pack animal of food just for you kid."

Anne stretches and flexes her muscles as she follows Tarn along the docks, final snack of the day in hand, "I need to be ready for anything, these beasts need their fresh meat!"

"Spirits of eld save me and my pocket book from the appetites of the young."

"You didn't have to hire me." Anne says smugly, raising her snack to take a first bite.

"No, no, I sort of had to." Tarn says with an exaggerated sigh and swing of his tail, "This is my punishment for my own youth." He looks over his shoulder to see Anne devouring the last of her food already, "Master Alloyo, oh please forgive me." he mutters to himself.

"Sooo…" Anne says all but skipping forwards to come alongside Tarn's torso, "We're not just here for the food are we…" she trails off as they pass another food vendor that appears to be selling

"I'd say that's well observed kid, we'r-" he turns to look at Anne as he heads into a large crowd of passers by and sees her eyes locking on yet another food stall, "Don't you dare!" he roars in a voice that is very nearly not playful.

"Fine!" Anne fumes, she'll simply find a way to sneak more food tonight, even if she has to hunt it herself. Surely one of her friends will help her.

Tarn laughs, "In all seriousness Anne, I would like you to focus if you could kid. He turns to follow the stream of people as the crowd the duo are passing through divides.

He leads Anne up a bridge that arches over the main branch of the Qwassilth. The large masted sailing ships that fill the harbour are prevented from sailing into the river by the bridge that runs from one bank to the other, divided halfway by a riverine island that appeared to house a number of docks that had ships on one side and barges on another.

He stops partway and uncrosses his arms to rest his rands on the railing that faces east towards the upriver Qwassilth, "The big chore that you're going to help me with now is to ensure our place on one of those barges." he nods towards the large flat shapes heading up and down the river.

Anne's eyes light up as she studies the riverine craft, "Oh! I know this, those are moving by-"


[ ] "-Osteomancy!"

The barge, like many others along the Qwassilth is moved against the natural flow of the river by resorting to Osteomancy, the practice of animating remains to tirelessly follow the orders of their masters.

Pulling the barge up river are the reanimated remains of large river mammals attached to the barge, the flesh of their swimming surfaces long ago replaced with wood or some other lightweight material.

Under the command of the specific kind of mage who combines the discipline of Osteomancy and Oarsmanship, the barges resolutely move goods of all kinds throughout the Federation's many rivers and tributaries.

[ ] "-Channelling."

While the powerful spirits that govern rivers are too powerful for all but the strongest Channeler to pacify, the lesser spirits of currents and waters can be convinced to move the opposite way for their own various prices.

While often a very fast way to move barges and other craft, these spirits are as changeable and mercurial as the waters they govern and travellers can find themselves abandoned, stranded, or dashed against the shore.

However the spirits of the Qwassilth and the channelers that call the area home have a long standing bond and this almost never happens. Almost.

For this vote, I'm looking for a method of travel that draws from existing traditions, is not yet mechanised (As we're only on the cusp of industrialization), and isn't flashy enough that you wonder why they don't do everything this way. (Well Tattoo Mages simply use their magic to turn off friction and the whole ass barge just shoops along was a thought I had that seems a bit too setting breaking. This setting being fairly low to medium magic.)

A write in should be somewhere around 100 words.