The North PacificBoard

Captain Saiha squints into the blue horizon from the bridge of the cruiser Zeishi I. They were approaching the homeland of the Syca, a race spoken of with no light amount of fear by the inhabitants of Strangereal. An odd choice by the commander in his view. However, the die had been cast, and now, contact would commence.

As more ships pull into view, the foreign shores of the Syca rise over the horizon. Hazy from distance, they gradually reveal themselves when the cruiser pulls closer. A port comes into view, surrounded by it's attendant swarm of ships and small craft. Saiha tuns to his communications officer, and nods; "Tell the city ships that there is no sign of hostilities. I believe there are spaces already prepared for our ships."

"Yes sir." As the man relays his message, the ship banks, approaching the docks at quarter speed. The curious craft of the nation creep over the horizon, sides brightly colored, and decks lush with greenery. Gradually, they each pull into harbor, dropping anchor and preparing mooring lines. Crowds line the decks, hoping for a glance of the Syca, and the bleached flags flutter proudly at their masts. The fleet had come to berth yet again.