Messages

Another reply is forwarded ahead of the other and finds its way nestled beneath, surely, the piles upon piles of correspondences the Legate must deal with on a daily. Eventually, it is unearthed, though perhaps one spell too late.

Balstan,

I have had a change of heart. It seems the more cowed and senior members of the Lily have been either unconvinced by my candor and tenor or have been demanded to make a statement. I have arranged for two meetings of my fellows on the morrow and if these meetings do not go as I planned, then I will more than likely continue my work within the League of Gold.

It seems in the end your estimations were right, and I should have known. I let my passion get the hold of me and I was blinded by dreams when realities are what 'shape dreams', as I was told by one of your contemporaries, Qari Alriyh.

If Rosie Gunmper and her weakling democrats want to mewl over how best to offer charity - a very simple and easy thing to do and yet accomplishes little - then I will find good company that is of like mind and sees the larger picture. They want to give every one their own slice of a dwindling pie, and yet have no intentions of teaching them how to bake their own. This metaphor can be written many ways and I'm sure you get my meaning.

I will seek you out.

Yours truly,
Leo

Esteemed partisan ibn Ghalish,

There is talk of expanding our Asterabadian ways in exciting new possibilities. Are you on good terms with Rosie? She has sat as official over the League for some time, and myself and some willful compatriots of mine were pondering whether you would accept being a candidate for leadership of the Lily were we to call a vote, as is our way?

Of course, you and I both know that this effort will be curtailed, as progress always is. Still, you have always been one for stirring the pot and perhaps it might amuse you for a time to participate.

We have not met yet, but I should very much like to share words with you over a cup of coffee, or a poison of your desire. Would you like to meet at the Soot Lamp some time?

Yours truly,
Leo Tzimiskes

Rosie,

We have not spoken since I joined the resurgent Lily, though it seems some one has over some thing. It pains me to see that even the great Gunmper, who once upon a time allowed a traitor to Ephia's Well into the League of White, can speak ever so eloquently of what the League of White shall and shall not support.

We are for democracy, are we not? Perhaps if all you have want to do is curtail progress and the will of the people you so wish to uphold and raise from poverty and destitution, we should be holding an election not for Legate, but for a new official.

I'm sure there's a precedent somewhere, for that, and I have no doubt that were I to raise a few thousand dinar that could have gone for extortion (a Voice), the White-dominated lower leadership of the Banda Rossa would be very inclined to oversee such an election.

Perhaps we could meet to discuss the details, my friend?

Yours truly,
Leo Tzimiskes

Salutations, my new friends; N. Blackvale and Magistrate Alzorbo,

I pray this letter has found you both hale. You maneuver very quickly and as circumstances mold into the new, I should wish to brandy words and perhaps share cups of coffee at the Soot Lamp some time.

We'll find one another soon, no doubt. I hope all is well.

Yours truly,
Leo Tzimiskes

Another letter soon finds its way to this address, but as the author may already know, they will not be received any time soon.

Dear Friend,

Perhaps I have betrayed my own admis through a fault of my own, for I can certainly mold words together like water, and yet struggle to think on my feet. An idealist, and yet distracted still by the cynic in me.

I have broken your trust by no intention of doing so. My sister is catching on, and so I confessed that you informed me Calpurnio does not exist and omitted the rest. She still hasn't seen the letter, nor knows I carry it on my person.

Better again, I have signed my last letter with my false name, a name you suggested I take up. But today, I do struggle to find purpose behind it. I do not understand what it is your business entails, nor why it involves my clan, shattered as it is and barely clinging to its namesake.

It is all coming apart, and there are times in the night when I see only red. Take that as you will, but I have never felt a hangover worse.

I know you are still in Ephia's Well. Your words once cryptic have found clarity in my mind through silence, and that is why I have strayed unwittingly from our pact. If this letter finds you, I implore you, find pen and paper returned to me with your due counsel for I sorely miss it. The wolves draw near, their hunger unyielding.

Yours truly,
Dimitris Alexandros

Madame Rosseau,

It brings a kind of tingle upon my stomach to call you Madame, a stark removal of habit and familiarity with many in Ephia's Well. I do not ever recall the former Peers speaking in such accents, and so I will presume you've come far from the days of a stray and have found curt employment with the Red Band. No doubt, I may not recall the history of places I had never knew existed as a boy, but I do recall the way you stood firm next to Domhnall while he was Legate.

Though if you would entertain my stubbornness, and to prove more so the fact, there is one correction in your analysis I would urge you to reconsider. I may be a partisan, indeed, for I have grown a great and nourished love for our League of White, for the Lily; but one thing I am not is a populist. Nothing I will do shall ever be popular with Baz'eel nor our Majordomo, and besides such things I do not mean to dictate policy based upon what is popular, but what is necessary for our dreams to come alive.

The people will sing a song, and that song will be one of passion for freedom. I shall write the lyrics, and I hope you will soon come to enjoy them. With that caveat noticed, I will seek you out. Until then, Balestriere.

Yours truly,
Leo Tzimiskes

Legate Balstan Gloamingdaith,

Perhaps it is you they should be calling the Unifier, for you understand something few Legates ever have, and why I liken you to John Syter. You understand that behind that Golden Toga, behind that Legate's title, you are and always shall be a fellow citizen, a fellow Ephian.

You've delved into many questions of my character in this letter and of my family. Perhaps I should have known that it was your affluence that drew these eyes to my every step. Life has lost its privy, and I thought this only the subject of fame, and yet I am no one special.

A strange thing that speaking one's mind is so congratulated, as if I am the first, and stranger yet that I am being elevated to a status beyond humble ken in this air, and what is in the air; exactly as you described it. Opportunism at every corner. It seems the League of Gold was not the only path hungering for a cause worthy of its banner. So too does the Lily thirst for water, and as they say, water is dinar.

Is it so oblivious of me to err on the side of pondering morality, and to coin such terms as Dinarcracy? You must admit, it has an endearing ring to it if teetering on a bout of cynicism. However, I do think it important to take some things in stride, and to have a rapport for comical genius. I must make up for my lack of wisdom, as you, and my lack of scholarly clause to lean upon.

As for my sister, it is true that she and I are of the same lineage, that Zoe Tzimiska. As a potential new friend has advised me, there may come a time where I shall lose her for ever, and though I wished to retort at her in kind, I thought it inappropriate between strangers. So I will entertain you with one instead. Not for eleven years has she been my sister, and now my fears have come true and I wallow in the consequence. Now I must decide if I will fight for her, or if I will succumb to temptation and lose myself again in drink and mizzar.

Now in an amusing twist of our correspondence, you ask me of slight in the law and what I think of it. I am no lawyer, nor have I studied the law. The Penal Code, as I understand it, is a naked caricature of what once was. Even Baz'eel, in its longevity, bears more resemblance to what the Orentid dynasty had established as cordial procedure in Ephia's Well. But as you call it, 'intuitive moral sense', and philosophical at that besides the jurisprudence of it all, I will again entertain it for I have come to enjoy what direction our friendship - as I hope we might be or be come of friends - has taken. Both men should be taken at fault for disorderly actions while drunk, and the second man is indeed correct when he says this was ill luck; but luck has no place in the law, I have come to understand. A child was grievously injured. So the first man would receive a simple fine for his conduct, while the second man would receive the same punishment and then serious assault. Though it is difficult to discern the tenor of your words that mean, through 'grievous' harm one might think it was serious enough to warrant consideration. Grievous wounds then might lead to death, and then it would not be serious, but capital. A trial would take place and there would be substantial evidence certainly to convict, and the man would be sentenced to death.

I do not overthink things, my friend.

Yours truly,
Leo Tzimiskes

Between Eamon and Dio I had the most fun with Alejandro and he felt very human. Really awesome staple bard PC that brought the setting to life and very easy to RP with on a number of PCs tried and true. Good luck on the next!

Addressed to an estate in Baz'eel only disclosed to the courier delivering this quaint letter. Upon the envelope, 'T.L' is penned.

Dear Friend,

I half expected you to still be in Ephia's Well when I ordered my usual cup of coffee at the Sultan's Head. It seems that all those I kept company with thought differently of you, and now to day I have come to realize that there is not one person in this city who is not seeped in venom or angst, weary of defeat. Indeed, suspicion pervades every corner of this city, each one harboring whispers of grand conspiracies against each other.

In contemplation of our peculiar estrangement, I find myself reflecting upon the tenor of your words, so elegantly transcribed in the missive you so graciously penned for me and no one else, steeped in an air of ominous foreboding. Pray tell, has your sojourn concluded, or does this epistle chance upon you in some distant locale, if it finds you at all? Such inquiries, it seems, must await another moment.

In recent days, clarity has dawned upon me with startling lucidity. Basit, once a familiar face, has vanished into the ether, or perchance absconded to the realms of Kha'esh alongside the Prince of Qadira. Whispers reach my ears of a man with whom I exchanged words mere hours prior, now fallen victim to Namahedu's madness. Paranoia whispers its insidious secrets into my ear, though I strive to dismiss its murmurs as naught but folly. Surely, Basit yet breathes, engaged in some clandestine pursuit unbeknownst to us.

The Lilies flock for leadership and my beliefs have seemed to impress. But impressions only go so far, and in the coming weeks it will be action that mirrors that impression which shall decide my fate in the battlefield of Ephian politick. I am still deathly far from a Voice since the war-tax on citizenship was raised, but I am perhaps seeking restitution as a native son of Ephia's Well. Some ancient clause of blood, but then would I be able to call myself a democrat?

Mae Stern, in her candid assessment, labeled me a partisan, a designation that weighs heavily upon my conscience. Though I strive to articulate the depths of my distress, the eyes of others have become a constant presence, their gaze an ever-present specter haunting my every move. This pervasive paranoia, however unsettling, compels a stark honesty from within me; for in the shadow of scrutiny, even the slightest falsehood betrays the essence of my being. Thus, I resolve to remain steadfast in my convictions, resolute in my refusal to succumb to deceit, however tempting its allure may prove.

Until the fates decree our paths to cross once more,

Yours truly,
Dimitris Alexandros

It's currently 1 round/level with no benefits from spell foci or otherwise, and a bard-only spell. The push for more support focused bards starts somewhere or just plain old utility, and I think making some changes to their unique or early spells (compared to others, such as clarity, lesser dispel, etc) would be good. But mostly I would love for Amplify to last longer. Besides the mechanics, it's just cool as hell to take and a bard having great hearing (even if from magic) is peak.

"First I must know you are yourself, and not someone else's self."

And now the embers of our city's very soul flickers betwixt the darkness and the light. Its sadness casts a long shadow upon our home, and its tendrils pull and tug at our hearts. This is a crucible of strife and uncertainty, and now we find ourselves at a crossroads--a juncture where the echoes of yesterday clash with tomorrow's aspirations.

Each word etched upon these pages is a testament to our collective struggle, a beacon I had hoped that would beckon you from the ashes of complacency and reclaim our rightful place in the annals of history.

As the clamor of our discordant leagues rings through the air at every lull of the law, every ounce of progress be it of woe or pride to another and his, I remind you the weight of our responsibility. It is a flame of warning, extinguished too soon though the crows peck at my feet.

But to heed its call, we must first confront the darkness within ourselves and ensure that we are not mere caricatures of another's tempting game and that our love for Ephia's Well is true. I want us all to stand today not as pioneers of yesterday's dreams or architects of selfish ambition, but as stewards of a brighter tomorrow, forging a path guided by virtue, compassion, and boldness. The ideal Ephian.

Eleven long years have we languished in status quo, and each time this city has come close to the Promise of tomorrow it has been met by agents of malice, who have torn it down at each step for anarchy is King and it is anathema to Agree. We would rather act as Iakmes' hordes do, and no doubt they respect our leadership for they so warmly invited Legate Marcus Saenus, the 'Unifier' to their home only to show us in true spirit their barbaric treachery of eons past.

The time for apathy has passed. It has written many poems, but now it repeats itself in lieu of finer things. We are better than this. It is time to stand firm, to raise our Voiceless in unison, and demand accountability from those who hold sway over our destiny as a city-state, as a Republic!

Though it will come with adversity, we must not falter nor waver. We will draw strength from the resilience of our spirit and the conviction of our hearts. We will remember, indeed, that true progress is not measured by the height of our towers, the depths of our coffers or our empty, hollow words over the bellows in retort to our political rivals who are neighbors nonetheless, and Ephians all!

As we stand on the precipice of a new dawn, I ask you walk the streets beneath the dark cloud of Sabotage, visit the Almshouses and the Waiting Wheel, look closely upon the faces of those who suffer. Some of them are refugees, and I have spoken my intent on this; but the call was for worth to be given to them where now it is imagined by our state and assumed that they shall be the answer to our woes.

Others of them, native sons and daughters of Ephia's Well, languish as you adventurers and fortunate ones barter over gilded steel for the purpose of storytelling or one's own inflated pride. Then offer a single dinar, and sleep finely for the night believing you have let a man eat for an evening. But have you taught him how to earn his own dinar? Have you taught him to swing a sword? To craft fine linen, to tailor new clothes?

To do this, we must know ourselves. We must accept the Voice in our heads that battles our own actions. Burn it out, and go forth. Ensure that Voice is your own, untainted by the whispers of deceit or the allure of power. Be vigilant in your pursuit of truth and be unwavering in your commitment to justice.

So I implore you, my fellow Ephians, to join me in this noble endeavor. Cast aside those shadows of doubt and fear, embrace the light of a brighter tomorrow. Correspond with me at the Soot Lamp, and take part in the People's Assembly, where all Voices are heard. Here, amidst the echoes of our past, the seeds of our future take root in the sands, sprouting forth as the heralds of a new era. You too can foster revolution in your heart.

Yours truly,
Dimitris Alexandros
The Logothete

Leo Tzimiskes!

Legate Balstan Gloamingdaith,

Our discussion the other day gave me much to mull over and though I've yet to decide what league suits me best, I had one notion to add. A statement more so than anything.

Perhaps also living proof of my true meaning; if the deciding factor for what political affiliations to choose is mathematics and the odds of victory in a Primary, taking note of each associate aligned or maligned, then does this not show true how flawed the politick of Ephia's Well is?

If I am to pursue the jungle that is Ephian politics and policy, then I will do it as an artist would. You named the League of Lilies as idealists with little knack for practice, or at least such is how I interpreted your words.

Fret not, I am ever in your gratitude for the lesson, and should a Legate's seat ever grace my hind, I hope to work fruitfully with whomever sits beside me and show my fellows the courtesy of an august tenure endowed in undying love for our home, our Ephia's Well.

But it is not difficulty that bars my way forward, nor what I fear. Nor is it even near my compass. I have no interest, I have realized, in the path that bears the least resistance, the least tension. I want to feel alive again, and I want my home to feel alive again; so I will embark on the most arduous path, and perhaps some will call me masochist but the clique of the Lily I mean to shatter with my silver palm.

May you find everlasting peace and success in your endeavors. John Syter would be proud of the way you exemplify your care for the people, even the Voiceless as I am, and you have my thanks for allowing me the opportunity to contemplate my own future and not have it dictated by another with falsity upon their pale lip.

Yours truly,
Leo Tzimiskes

["Do not heed the prattling of coin-hungry mercenaries. They are the shield, while you are the sword."]

"Flame of warning, so long quenched. Never again shall it rage - where is the fire for us?"

By now you should be feeling that empty pit in your gut; whether it of wroth or of love, or of doubt and of question. It has been too long that bold word penned to paper found a home, too long your ears turned in perk to the question indeed.

Tell me you have not felt it, and I will concede my folly and accept that I am alone in this. I will brandish myself a liar and scutter back into the shadows where I belong, a footnote in history. But whom wishes to be so? A footnote in history?

Are we so complacent that we must conserve our true feelings and not let it soar as if the world will not end tomorrow, or the day after? That this is not in the most paramount and stark of ways an urgency to straighten our spines that wither before those who have told us no?

Fight for your place in this world. You have come far, and you have shed innocent blood in a foreign land not your own, but now it is yours. What have you done with this? Children laid slaughtered in once lavish corner, and you bickered over their bodies as if the swarm behind you has made you inhuman.

Exiled from your home and coddled by the brightest minds, and yet you heed the hubris of illusion and accept it as it is. A Nadiri speaks his truth, and meets the backhand of a Zenithar, a Rose thinks he has found his place, a Lost Hearth calling to him like a clarion cry and yet soon finds his hand held, his sword at bay for the 'greater good'.

"Do not heed the prattling of coin-hungry mercenaries. They are the shield, while you are the sword."

And what have you done with this sword placed in your hand, Aurelio the Lion? Will you defend your kingdom come when the day cometh, or shall you slip into the shadows, red drink in hand as it drips down your boyish chin, your lost and confused gaze scuttled into a euphoria that makes you no more than a drunk. I know this feeling too well, though bitter is the drink, heavier is the sword. Brandish it with pride.

Hziran 23, IY 7788. The day our troubles began.

Yours truly,
Dimitris Alexandros
The Logothete

['Get out of my city,']

"Get out of my city!"

Marcellus Saenus,

How long will you continue to test the patience of the people? Many of us did not cast our votes in your favor, nor could we have if we desired, for the notion of citizenship in Ephia's Well has been reduced to a mere satire, stripped of its rightful significance. We should stand as a Republic by the people, for the people!

The League of Purple is nothing more than a puppet, with Baz'eel pulling its strings. The true ruler of Ephia's Well is the Majordomo, and let it not be mistaken that our supposed elected officials are only there to maintain the status quo and underestimate our intelligence. They are mere fools, leading us blindly towards our city's demise, shackled by firm restraints, forced to witness the downfall of our home returning to dust.

So what are we to do? Civil war is not the answer; Enrico's rise only served to strengthen Baz'eel's grip on Ephia's Well, and Ibtihal's rebellion was doomed from the start, fueled by the poison whispered in her ear from the Layabout Ashfolk. Now, faced with the threat of war once more, we must question why the Maribids do not send their legions.

It is simple. They expect us all to die. Then when we are weakened, exhausted and battered, their legions shall come; they will end Iakmes, taking the glory for themselves as is fitting for the Royalists, and then they shall make their play. They will dismantle this fledgling idea of a Republic, this mockery of democracy and upon that day, hope shall flee.

We must act now, we must rally together and unite the only two leagues that mean to build upon the ideal Ephian Republic. The League of Gold seeks our autonomy already, and they have certainly accrued the finances to support such ambitions; the League of White has placed its focus upon the people, knowing full well they shall be the backbone of our city's future for it matters little who is in power, if the people are not content, they will become ravenous in their passion for freedom. And is Ephia's Well not the birthplace of freedom?

When will enough be enough? Your own words, 'Get out of my city,' shall come to haunt you. Your selfishness, cloaked in gilded armor, is reminiscent of an old man past his prime, clinging to a pointless museum of recent, disastrous history that is a mere blink in the annals to come.

The Heron will rise from the ashes and soar ever higher for the skies. It lingers for the Well is where the water flows, and why should Baz'eel sow a miracle that does not belong to them? Because their forefathers once held extravagant parties before even these walls were built, growing fat on the backs of their servants?

No more, my friends.

Yours truly,
Dimitris Alexandros
The Logothete