Port Nuwa was a city of contrasts, a sprawling metropolis where the opulence of the wealthy clashed with the grit of the working class. The docks were a cacophony of sound—sailors shouting orders, merchants haggling over prices, and the rhythmic creak of ships swaying in the harbor. Beyond the port, the city stretched outward like a living organism, its streets a labyrinth of narrow alleys, bustling marketplaces, and towering pagodas that pierced the sky. The air was thick with the scent of salt, spices, and the faint tang of smoke from nearby forges.
Magnus stepped off the gangplank and onto the cobblestone streets, his travel-worn cloak fluttering in the breeze. He had spent the last few weeks surviving the wilderness, and the sight of civilization was both comforting and overwhelming. His boots clicked against the stones as he made his way through the crowd, his eyes scanning the city with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Port Nuwa was a melting pot of cultures, a place where people from all corners of the world came to trade, seek fortune, or disappear entirely.
His stomach growled, reminding him that a hot meal was long overdue. He spotted a small, dimly lit tavern near the docks, its sign creaking in the wind. "The Drunken Kraken," it read, the letters faded but still legible. Magnus pushed open the door and stepped inside, the warmth of the room enveloping him like a blanket.
The tavern was modest but lively, filled with the murmur of conversation and the clink of glasses. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Magnus found an empty table near the corner and sat down, his eyes scanning the room. The patrons were a mix of sailors, merchants, and travelers, their faces weathered by sun and sea.
A server approached, a young woman with a friendly smile. "What'll it be?" she asked, her voice cheerful.
"A bowl of spicy noodle soup and a cup of jasmine tea," Magnus replied, handing her 5 Ferrin Shards (⬩). She nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with his order.
As he ate, Magnus listened to the chatter around him. The tavern was a hub of information, and he quickly picked up on the topics of conversation—tales of distant lands, rumors of war, and whispers of the mysterious organization known as IRIS.
"IRIS?" Magnus muttered to himself, his interest piqued. He had heard of them before, a shadowy network of informants and spies renowned for their ability to gather and sell information. If anyone could tell him what awaited him in Rayhal, it was them.
Finishing his meal, Magnus approached the tavern keeper, a burly man with a thick beard and a no-nonsense demeanor. "I'm looking for IRIS," Magnus said, keeping his voice low. "Do you know where I can find them?"
The tavern keeper studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Aye, I know where they are. But be careful, lad. IRIS doesn't take kindly to strangers poking around."
He gave Magnus directions to a secluded area on the other side of the city, and Magnus set off, his mind racing with possibilities. The streets of Port Nuwa were a maze, but he eventually found the building, its facade plain and unassuming, blending seamlessly with the surrounding shops. A small sign above the door read "The Rusty Anchor." It looked like a run-down tavern, the kind of place frequented by those who preferred to stay out of sight.
The Meeting with IRIS
Magnus pushed open the door and stepped inside. The interior was even more unremarkable than the exterior—a dimly lit room with rough wooden tables, a bar at the far end, and a handful of patrons nursing drinks. The air smelled of stale ale and damp wood. A barkeep stood behind the counter, polishing a glass with a rag that had seen better days.
Magnus approached the bar and leaned in close. "I'm here for IRIS," he said quietly.
The barkeep didn't look up. "State your business."
"I need information about Rayhal," Magnus replied. "Specifically, the training grounds at Kharath and any challenges I might face."
The barkeep paused, then set down the glass and gave Magnus a long, appraising look. "Information about a whole continent will be quite costly," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "Don't waste our time if you can't afford it."
Magnus met his gaze evenly. "I can afford it."
The barkeep nodded, then gestured toward a door at the back of the room. It looked like extra storage space, unremarkable and easily overlooked. Magnus walked over and pushed it open, revealing a long flight of stairs leading down into the darkness. He descended cautiously, the air growing cooler with each step. At the bottom, he found another door, this one reinforced with Loom-forged steel.
When he pushed it open, he was met with an astonishing sight. The underground space was enormous, its walls lined with luxurious tapestries and its floors covered in plush carpets. The furniture was ornate, each piece giving off a faint wisp of visible Willpower, a testament to the craftsmanship and power of its creators. The room was lit by glowing orbs suspended in the air, their light soft but steady.
But what truly took Magnus's breath away was the energy in the room. It was palpable, a crushing weight that pressed down on him from all sides. He couldn't see or sense the sources of the energy, but their presence was undeniable—strong, ancient, and overwhelming. It was as if the very air was alive with power, and Magnus felt an instinctual urge to kneel, to submit to the force surrounding him.
He was broken out of his trance by a staff member, a man with a slightly weaker aura but still formidable. The man approached Magnus with a polite but detached expression. "What do you need?" he asked, his voice calm and measured.
"I need information about Rayhal," Magnus replied, forcing himself to stand tall despite the oppressive energy. "Specifically, the training grounds at Kharath and any challenges I might face."
The man nodded. "Very well. The price is 50 Argent Marks (◈)."
Magnus handed over the coins, the faint hum of weak Willpower emanating from the Marks as they changed hands. The man handed him a small scroll, then gestured toward the door. "You may leave now."
Exploring Port Nuwa
With the information from IRIS secured, Magnus spent the rest of the afternoon exploring Port Nuwa. The city was a treasure trove of sights and sounds, each corner offering something new. He wandered through the marketplaces, where vendors hawked everything from exotic spices to intricate Loom-forged devices and weapons. He stopped at a blacksmith's shop, admiring the craftsmanship of the weapons on display, and purchased a new dagger for 20 Ferrin Shards (⬩).
As the sun began to set, Magnus made his way back to the docks, his mind buzzing with anticipation. The Eternal Horizon loomed in the distance, its massive hull a testament to human ingenuity. He boarded the ship, paid the 1 Argent Mark (◈) fare, and found a spot on the deck to watch the city fade into the horizon.