The storm came crashing down with burning white flashes from the pitch black sky. It raged with heavy drops, a tremorous shower that soaked up the settlement. The tall fences barely held back the violent jungle banging in the gust against their steel frames. Branches and debris, which already gave in to the tormenting wind, caught at the legs of the landing pad. The lights flickered and the last transport was nearing. The skyport was already in lockdown and most of the deeper landing zones were shot close with most of the vessels chained down. A man in a sad, faded yellow raincoat ran through the gloomy mud and up to the landing pad after one of the lights got torn down. He held a blinking amber rod in each hand signalling the edge of the platform and providing assistance with wide gestures. During his circular motions he almost fell over when the wind changed direction, but he persisted and watched the murky clouds as his face was whipped by streams of water. Up there, high above him something, like a faint star, was moving closer slowly. It was a transporter, a class two corvette, which was swinging up there like it was a paper kite caught in the tempest.
Inside the cockpit of the Minokawa corvette sat two men, sweating under their helmets as the events unfolded. They said nothing. One was the pilot, named Kazo Ayiin and the other was Tarn Shadik. Took a good five minutes of navigation and wrestling with the joysticks for Kazo to get close enough to the platform to begin landing. The radio stopped shouting instructions long ago, and Kazo's eyes were fixed on the dancing dots beneath them. He blinked a few strong ones when the salty sweat got into his eyes. They were both illuminated only by the consoles of the craft, different kinds of oranges and blues, but the concentration on their faces was still visible. Kazo adjusted the thrusters once again. They yawed upwards sharply before he forced the vessel back into horizontal position. It was incredibly hard to land without an ion-sail: the most effective trial eliminating a lot of candidates in flight school. But it wasn't the first one for him. Somewhere near lightning struck into the forest flooding everything in majestic blaze, drawing the shiny outlines of the landscape around them as if Nature herself was showing off how much more there is than their struggles in a deadly storm.
Once they landed the two of them went inside, the ship with all its supplies remained on board, which meant a good three tons of pottery products, artworks, cutlery and various artisan supplies from the Silvercoast had to wait for the market. Kazo was not happy about it and argued with the officers at the entrance, but Tarn was happy to get inside and he continued along the underpass that joined the landing pad with the skyport. He clutched to his large leather bag hanging from his shoulder like it was his soul inside. At the entry checkpoint he was relieved that no search was conducted. The officer only asked him:
"Do you have any firearms on you, gis?"
Tarn shook his head as an answer, staring at the short man in uniform.
"In Virin, no ranged weapons are to be carried openly or concealed. You can read the rest of the rules at the Info-booth" he gestured towards the big hall he was about to enter.
"Thank you" said Tarn with shaking voice and a smile that was late enough to add to the awkwardness of his stance. "If I may; where can I find the Green Leaves Tavern?" He asked with a finger almost pointing at the officer for a second.
"It is the Green Leaves Inn, gis. It is an inn, not a tavern." he corrected him. "It is right outside the Skyport to the left.
Tarn hesitated whether to ask or not what the difference between an inn and a tavern is, but he just thanked it and turned away from the officer who then greeted the pilot of the ship he paid to come here.
Tarn entered one of the biggest skyports of Lemuria, it was a multi level complex of shops and other businesses with commercial and private vessels always moving in and out. "Welcome to Virin" said a large green post above him as he walked forward. Right now all the major screens were informing the people about the storm and that only a limited amount of ships will be permitted to take off. He passed near a beggar sitting at the foot of a pillar when he tried to avoid other officials to talk to him. There was just enough crowd to make him feel comfortable and he noticed how almost every store was open and the station itself (although it has seen better times) was well maintained. Or rather 'well restored' would be a more appropriate term. The segmented glass dome far above was only missing a few tiles and kept blinking under the lighting; the hanging plants from the platforms provided an appealing atmosphere, even if they hung together with cables at some parts; and most of the walls and the floors were either not damaged or repaired. He left the large station in a hurry that was not supposed to look like hurry at all and looked at the signs at the exit. Once more a huge wall of text reminded him of the most important rules around Virin:
"No guns inside the city limits. When going into the wilderness around the city, do not leave without armed professional company. Keep prohibited propaganda away."
The rest were basic rules, similar to other places, written in a smaller font and detailing the exact laws in a language that made the common man's head hurt. The screen next to this was occupied with a news channel talking about the rising tension between Valdria and the Akkadian Dominion as woman read something to the screen all the while showing footage of troops running to board a large vessel and airborne images of a sky fleet behind her. There was no sound on, but he also never cared about the politics too much to watch it till the end anyway. He finally found a sign, that led him outside into the rain again under the barely visible city lights and pointed him towards the Green Leaves Tavern, which was an Inn.
