The sun was cresting the top of the sky, gracing the salty brine below with its warm glow and radiant light, sparkles racing across the crest of each new wave, lapping against the oaken hull of the mighty ship crossing the waters in journey to that strange land known only as Farpoint to the folk of the mainland. The S.S Artemis, named after that legendary explorer who founded the land, continued across the waters, soon to arrive at its destination of the homely port. The boat was somewhat old, a veteran of the sapphire seas but it was still running strong and proud, the figurehead of a mermaid looking out toward their destination, its oaken boughs creaking gently as it made travel across the deep.

The boat carried few individuals. Getting aboard was no simple matter without the Crowns to pay for it. Either that or pulling a favor with the salty dog of a captain, a man once convicted falsely of piracy and with something of a soft side for sob stories and those with the mettle and vigor to beat him in a drinking contest. Travel and emigration to Farpoint was strictly regulated on demand of Lord Titarion. Those aboard the ship would be able to see one another clearly as the ship rocked back and forth, cargo resting in the hold as they would soon arrive. For now, they were left to their thoughts and devices as the island could be seen, just appearing on the horizon like a gorgeous emerald buried in the dirt.

Rhyke was not a man to drop a sad story or intimidate a sailor, nor was he rich or well known throughout the land… He was, however, a man who could hold his drink far better than most dwarves. His master had trained him to keep his wits about him even while under the influence of herbs and various concoctions, so a drinking contest for a trip out of hell seemed like a good deal. Especially if all he had to lose was a cheap iron sword.

Rhyke sat on the bow of the ship with his she wolf Ciss at his side. She was curled up much like a dog would be on the swaying deck of this ship. Rhyke had made himself comfortable against her flank, rubbing her softly as he watched the water pass slowly by. Most men probably did not wish to brave a wolf large enough to eat a man with little less than a bite, however plenty had in the past. Rhyke simply hoped no one would bother him so long as he didn’t bother anyone else.

It wasn’t long before land became visible. ‘Rhyke! Rhyke! I smell birds!’ Rhyke opened an eye as Ciss perked up, eager to get off of this small thing and go hunt with Rhyke. “Easy now, Don’t get too excited, we don’t know what this land has to offer. Not to mention that getting you out of whatever city we land in means you cannot bite anyone like you did last time…” Rhyke stood up as he spoke, though to anyone else it would come off as growls and strange body gestures. ‘That man tried to attack you with one of those short claws! He is lucky I only took his arm. If it weren't for that hard stuff on his chest I would have had his throat.’ she growled. “It is called a dagger, Sis. He was not going to harm me, you know I can handle myself.” Ciss would just give him a big eyed look, like a sister would a brother. ‘I don't want you to be hurt like…’

Rhyke comforted her, pushing the thought of his elder to the back of his mind. He died living what he taught, and deserved a far better death than the one he had been given… Rhyke planned to do as he had done, though he planned to do it well away from the kingdom of man. Perhaps here there would be a place for him to live in peace.

"Land ho!" A crewman situated in the crows nest shouted down, jolting the various sailors into action. The boat was coming in to port now, lines being cast off and tied up on the moor heads. The ship settled alongside the wooden dock and a long gangplank was set up alongside the ship, being held in place by ropes. The captain and his men were off first and before long, the passengers began to queue up to leave the ship proper.

Something anyone onboard could spot quickly was their entrance was not met with silence. No, a group of men clad in armour were standing at ship side to await their arrival. One in particular was holding a scroll and ink, ticking off names of the people onboard one by one. No doubt these men in armour were the foot soldiers of Titarion, the island's lord. If this level of security was needed for a simple boarding at the dock, one could only begin to imagine how tight his grip was.

When it came Rhyke's turn to be met by the soldiers, the one marking curled his lip slightly at the beast at his side, before announcing simply.
"Name?"

Rhyke put on his straw hat, shouldering his bow over his back and putting the few belongings he and Ciss had in the pack he carried. Most of his clothing was handmade with straw and furrs, though several wool parcels were sticking out of the bottom of his pack. He waited for everyone to get off of the boat as he usually had to deal with problems involving his companion. Ciss was well behaved, eyes gleaming as she was happy to finally be on solid ground again. Rhyke had to do all he could to tell her not to run. After walking over the plank, Rhyke would stand aside Ciss until he was addressed by the guard. He took note of what they were armed with and how old the men looked. He was used to men giving him trouble over Ciss or over his bow. Several times in the past he had been called a thief, however he claimed that a bow thief would not know how to make arrows.
“Rhyke.” He spoke his name just loud enough for it to be heard. “Rhyke Vulbit.”

The soldier looked him over a few times, his eyes clouding with suspicion, paying close attention to the animal he had with him. But, everything seemed to check out as he checked his scroll over and ticked off his name.
"Continue. Keep your mutt under control, please." The soldier let him pass to deal with the rest of the passengers still to disembark. But for Rhyke, he could finally explore Dove Port.

The history behind it was fairly well known. It was the first place colonized by humankind when they first landed on Farpoint, led by the famous Artemis Dove himself, hence it's naming of "Dove Port" after the famous explorer. The dock's planks spoke of age as they creaked under his boots before he entered the port town itself. It was a modestly built place, not overly populated and clearly fishermen reigned supreme here. A few modest cobblestone and wooden houses dotted the town itself, little of interest to a newcomer. A small marketplace had been erected in what looked like the main street of the town, various stalls set up and sellers hawking their wares. But what did grab his eye were a few important landmarks. The first was, fairly obviously, the bar and inn. "The Crusty Anchor" stood proudly, one of the older looking buildings in the port town, open windows and open doors to accept the weary and the thirsty. There was also the large white building that served as a church, a branch of worship to sweet Mother Mileius, the goddess of light and even here on Farpoint, she was spreading her care and devotion to her subjects and the needy. Finally, a short ways away from the town itself, and up a curling path of stone steps hewn roughly into the land, a tall and proud lighthouse stood at the edge of the port. Currently switched off in the light of the day, the light would guide in night time vessels to and from Farpoint, a beacon for the sailors and travellers alike.

Rhyke was relieved to find the guards were not going to give him grief fresh off the boat, however that almost changed as they called Ciss a mutt. There were very few human words she could pick up on without a tone of voice, mutt was one of them. She held back her growl, though only as long as she had too. As soon as they were on their way she loosed her growl. “I’ll show him mutt- and that tin he is wearing won’t save him.” She spoke to Rhyke over their bond, conveying a feeling of annoyance and slight anger. “There is no need to prove anything to these people. They will not understand us. Remember what you have learned.” He shot back with a soothing feel.

Rhyke made his way to the crusty anchor. If Ciss could not fit through the door or was forbidden from entry, he would take note of an open window to find a seat near so that he could keep an eye on Ciss. Dire wolves were very easy to provoke, and Ciss was a little fire head. Rhyke never let her stray far unless they were in a forest well away from any towns.

Rhyke would make his way into the Tavern, looking about as his paranoia started to gnaw at him.

The Crusty Anchor bore the rich rugged aroma like a good old fashioned ale house. And it was, actually. The place had been brewing their special seaweed crust ale for 4 years and were going strong to this very day. The bar was made of fairly old wood painted black and speaking of unique age. The windows provided the light and a few hanging lanterns clinked lightly above. The bar itself was attended to by a ruddy looking human in his 40s, a slight wispy beard and a tough face like it had been chiseled into rock. He was fastidiously polishing a glass behind the bar, standing beside a piece of slate which bore the prices in chalk.

Crown Ale - 7 Bronze Crowns
Crown Cider - 7 Bronze Crowns
Crown Mead - 7 Bronze Crowns
Seaweed broth brew - 12 Bronze Crowns

On the other side of the bar counter, another chunk of slate had been raised bearing the food prices.

Smoked salmon - 10 Bronze Crowns
Boiled fish stew with bread - 10 Bronze Crowns
Pottage stew with bread - 9 Bronze Crowns
Harvester’s lunch - 6 Bronze Crowns

The bar had a few wayward individuals lingering within, some at tables and two patrons at the bar enjoying a drink together, both hearty individuals. A dark skinned woman in red attire sat on her own at a table near the back.