Glass Dock Arch

Made of the sand from the beach by the port, the tradition of throwing sand against the glass arch is a sign of good luck. It is blown into your eyes or mouth, bad fortune in the town is in the future. Merchant getting sand in their eyes have been known to rent a room for a week, not selling, or simply leaving the town in fear of a bad trade.
Sailors getting sand in their mouth is a sign of a hard, hungry voyage. Extra expensive food is packed and a large buffet on the morning before setting out is done to offset the balance, while fearful sailors will skip the trip altogether.

Parent Location

Ahilmark Whi

"I held my breath that dusky evening, sand slowly seeping through my clenched fist.
I stood before the famed glass arch that beckoned merchants into the port town. My apprentice sighed, impatient and loud, annoyed by what the young boy referred to as a pointless tradition.
But it has never failed me before. We were meant to arrive before the sun rose over the ocean, but every chance bad luck had rained on us, it has. Rockfalls before the mountains sent us into dangerous territory that I risked, terrifying eyes watching our small caravan as the sun set sent us back, lost cargo dropped when a brave monster scared our Olt Darimir back to the last town.
We were able to reign in the Olt, but its saddle and merchandise it carried trailed along the road for the monsters to feast upon. Bad roads and sudden snow storms cost us time and money, but I stayed persistent and we've made it here.
My apprentice tells me Suda's sending me signs, its been to long since I've got to Roots and avoiding the knowing godsears. But he's a child, he doesn't have my forty-seven years on the road.
There's some things you have to do to make a living and avoid the boring life of a sedimentary village worker. I keep the memories of watching my parents struggle in our tiny village when my faith in my ways start to waver, and its all riding on this fistful of sand. I unclench my hands and look at the sand. Starting to clump from the sweat of my palms, the white sand glimmers as the sun shines for one more moment as it dims behind the ocean's horizon.
I toss the sand at the arch, tears watering quickly as its blown back in my eyes."

-Tales from an old village man