Chapter 1 - Escape from the Underdark (http://"http://www.efupw.com/old_forums/viewtopic.php?t=2005&start=0")
Chapter 2 - Escaped from the Underdark: Archipelago (http://"http://www.efupw.com/forums/showthread.php?t=19806")
Chapter 3 - Escape from Undeath: Mistlocke (http://"http://www.efupw.com/forums/showthread.php?t=55963")
Chapter 4 - Escape from Uncertainty: Revelations (http://"https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=63722.0")
And now the story of EFU breaks from its tales of the End & Apocalypse to turn to a different time and place, slumbering sleepers confronting a whole new region of the realms.
A recent surge of travellers through the Rings have descended upon Ring 99.....
The 99th Ring of the City shakes and thunders with the voice of the Herald. But this eve, he does not announce the arrival of a dispense of the King's table... but the first of the royal taxes...
A tithe of blood and revelry is to be taken from all in the Ring, as the Tourney of Awakening is called.
The Five Houses of the Peerage convene, and as is their duty invested by the distant King, aim to compete for the prize...
...the right to claim the mysterious 99th Banner, the mystical artifact conferring stewardship of the Ring to whomever holds it.
A grand melee is called to ring in the week of Tourney, and Jagga Brissthbene emerges from the bloodied arena, soaring high on his victory.
And so the games begin...
On the heels of a long day of violence, bloodshed and scandal that ran through the streets of the Peerage unchecked, the Royal Archivist made a sending late in the evening.Quote City Sending by The Royal Archivist : Hark, Retainers and Peers of the ward. Gather yourselves before the old gates of the Peerage with steel away prepared to engage in a forgotten art of conversation. There will be a reckoning for the deeds done this day.
An elderly and singularly displeased figure stood just inside the gates of the Peerage in the dark of night, rain dampening not just the cloaks but the spirits of all in attendance as the Royal Archivist addressed the the crowd .Quote"Today many of you have forgotten who you are, you have forgotten yourselves in the preening for stature between the houses. I do not fault you for this, it is one of the oldest traditions to the Peerage, but you have forgotten today why the houses stand over this ward and from where you draw you claim to nobility. It is not so you can send this ward into open war and stain it red with the blood of one another's houses. It is not so that you can send the streets into the chaos of unending war and strife in ever greater displays of violence. You have disrupted the natural order of this ward, the charge of all five houses."
The Royal Archivist rose a crooked and aging finger in the rain and wagged it at the the gathered crowd of the Peerage in a somewhat absurd display of admonishment.
"The houses stand to maintain this ward. Have you forgotten the tradition of challenge and duel? The prestige your houses strive for by besting one another in public displays befitting your houses? Do not answer, I know the answer. You have. Now we must lower ourselves, to replace once proud and old traditions with something lesser....laws. This Ward will have order to it! No more will the Peerage be stricken by war and bloodshed across our streets! Forbidden, these debase acts of violence between the houses through the streets of our Ward except by rite of challenge from this day henceforth!
This shall be known as the First Law of the Peerage, the platform from which all other laws will stand. You five houses will now decide how it shall be enforced and how all laws to follow shall be. I have done my duty, now you all /will/ do yours for our King."
At the end of the Royal Archivist's address to the Peerage, a scroll detailing this First Law was tacked to the wall of a guard tower and he departed to leave the houses to bicker and argue over how the laws of the ward aught to be.
Whilst the Peerage's tourney events continue unabated, all has not been well in Ticker Square.
Today a swarm of oversized insects broke through the cobblestones of the Square itself, bursting out to attack all they could encounter. It was only thanks to a group of valiant defenders enduring the corrosive liquids spat at them and the sharpened mandibles lunged at them that the Square was held. The insects eventually were driven back into the depths.
Oddly, after the chaos subsided, witnesses spoke of strange details: the insects dragging the fallen back with them into the depths, along with anything else they could put their mandibles upon; an oddly shaped and differently coloured insect seemingly scurrying about, observing the whole situation from behind the rest of the chitinous hordes.
Whilst many took shelter after the onslaught in the Open Door, a few hardy souls ventured elsewhere in search of the creatures. Eventually they returned victorious, with a dead example of the odd observer insect, along with a few rescued fallen from the Square battle.
With the residents of Ticker Square growing afraid of potential further attacks, eyes have turned expectantly to the secretive Stonebuilder's Guild in order to repair the damage and to bolster the defences of their home. It is said that after some odd ritual involving some Ringrunners of Ticker's Square that the Stonebuilder's have stated that once again their ranks will open to new artisans and defenders: but only when the portents of the stone say it is the right time...
The Tourney of Awakening has ended, and the Peers have their victor...
Destrier's panted and lances shattered, as the five houses pitted riders 'gainst one another in the tilt of the Joust; and the House Orza won itself no small prestige in claiming victory there... however...
Having triumphed in the preliminary games, and by the venomous blade of Errilam the Viper of Velstra, Lord Norbert's house now holds the sacred and ancient Banner of the King.
Though much mystery surrounds the particular nature of this artifact, what is known is that the Houses all covet it; for the halls in which it flies are blessed with fortune, and the favor of their distant monarch.
And so with the close of Tourney, so too lift the bonds of peace (however tenuous they may've been!) between the five prime families of the Peeage Ward.
The Banner hangs high in Velstra Vale...
...And flies boldly in the mind's eye of those who'd aim to steal it...
A great wedding was held recently at the Velstra Vale.
Errilam the Viper, victor of the King's Tournament, was allowed to take the hand of the lovely Emily Winespill, bastard daughter of Lord Norbert Velstra, in marriage.
Things began peacefully, with much feasting, merriment, and indulgence. The lords and ladies of the Ward were all in attendance. Just as the ceremony concluded, however, the "gift" from Kristoff Orza was unwrapped. A host of serpents came slithering out, stinging and biting at the groom. Soon after, reality itself wobbled over the slain reptiles, and terrible creatures of rot and disease spilled forth- creatures that were quick to kidnap the bride and abscond with her.
The groom lead a coalition of retainers from Sunpurse and Velstra, along with some members of the "Ordo Arcanum", through the opened seam, where they traversed a realm of boils and pustules. There they fought and defeated a hooded mage who spoke of the great powers held within the Banner of the Peers, and how the House of Velstra was quick to misuse them for pointless purposes.
While the bride was rescued, and seems hale and hearty, many accusations are now hurled across the Peerage Ward. Was this the work of the envious armies of Orza? The scheming sorcerers of Nephezar? Some outside party yet unknown? Few have any good answers, and all parties are quick to deny involvement.
All the while, the Banner billows high within the Vale...
Inviting.
Chaos has afflicted Ring 99.
It started simply, with a gathering of clouds over the Ring and a strange sensation filling the air. This was followed quickly by more oddities - individuals in all populated areas of the Ring reported sudden onsets of darkness and silence, before their senses returned to them.
This simplicity did not last long, as loud, mindboggling sound of tears in the fabric of the City's reality began to form. Grasping shadowy forms spewed forth seeking any of the living they could find.
Though the tide was initially beat back, a larger threat soon loomed. Darkness began to spill forth over the walls and through the gate to Ring 100 and perhaps even further afield through the Rings. Gigantic and monstrous warpings of reality soon followed in the wake of the tide.
Eventually the combined might of the forces of Ring 99 beat back the shadowy threat. Yet something has changed now. Nothing quite feels the same and many report feeling like they are being watched by someone or something.
Reports quickly began to surface of one, two, or even more shadowy duplicates of friends and relatives forming amongst the dwellers of Ring 99. Some act like those they have mimicked. Others seem to act as a mockery to all their originals stand for. Regardless, while many seem to be violent, the majority are at a minimum hedonistic - as if seeking to quench an endless thirst for experiences.
Into this chaos have stepped forth the Arbiters of the Hundred Scrolls. Nearly silent within their Cube for a long time now, the disruption and chaos inflicted by this planar and duplicate invasion has broken their meditation. Those residents of Ring 99 old enough to remember their last period of activity speak in hushed whispers about their deeds and likely activities. A mixture of fear and hope fills the heart of many, for while the Hundred Scrolls seemingly encourage its Arbiters to deal with things many would consider threats... they have a habit of viewing other, supposedly minor, matters with an equally baleful eye.
Strange lights and ethereal music filled the rings last night. Now, all of Ring 99 is abuzz with rumor that a retainer of House Velstra has made a pact with the Laughing God. The details vary: some say one of their retainers stole the face of a more beautiful woman; others speak of a Nephezaar servant having undergone a strange transformation to suit Lord Norbert`s predilections.
Velstra is no stranger to scandal and gossip, of course. The dignified Lords and Ladies of the Peerage cluck their tongues, and dandies at the Groat laugh in their cups. Still, there are whispers that Changeling mischief has wormed its way into the Vale. Servants speak of fretful nobles pleading for their children, or at least the heirs, to avoid the Endless Feast...
It began in the early dawn of the day: multiple Doorkeeper Whispers made by the erratic and newly sworn-in Retainer of House Velstra, Sylyn Nine-Fingers demanding a duel with the equally erratic former Retainer of House Orza, Siobhan Diomasaigh, who was currently well known to be seeking shelter within House Nephezar's Refuge. Those Whispers were met with reply by the challenged and both parties met upon the Peerage Ward bridge.
In confusing circumstances involving a large group of on-lookers from Ticker Square and Retainers from Houses Orza, Velstra and Nephezar, rumours state that the two madwomen whispered and yelled at one another for hours in the rain, until they parted, seemingly having decided not to fight.
As many were preparing to depart, it seemed that Siobhan had not had her fill of chaos for one day, and chose this moment to heavily insult her betrothed, Adrian Winespill. Whether united in genuine outrage or feigned, the Velstran Retainers jumped at his demands to subdue his future bride, who was swiftly brought low - alongside an onlooker and a few Orzan Retainers who decided to protect their traitor, for reasons unknown.
It is said that his bride was dragged by him personally to the gallows of the Ward, perhaps to be hung, or at the least tortured with some sort of impromptu "trial". This was soon disrupted however by the arrival of Lord Norbert Velstra, who, in disgruntled fashion, berated his bastard son for seeking a way out of the betrothal he had begged his father for and summarily ordered that the wedding he had bestowed the two was to occur immediately.
The wedding was held swiftly and surprisingly uneventfully, given the name of the Lord of Revelry was invoked by the foul and obese priestess presiding over it. Yet those present report that the bride and groom were unhappily wed, whispering venomously at one another from the start to the very end of the ceremony.
Additionally, a public declaration was forthcoming from Lord Norbert that: Siobhan would join House Velstra as Siobhan Winespill, that she would cease wearing Orzan colours and that she would no longer seek shelter within House Nephezar.
What further chaos will come from such a union is unknown, but is eagerly anticipated by the gossip mongers of both Ticker Square and the Peerage Ward...
Over the past weeks, whispers of some manner of strange creature being released into the City were rampant, as well the involvement of the Ordo Arcanum; some speak of foul pacts with beasts from unknown planes, others speak of foolish errors these so called experts made within their ritual summonings, though none but those that were present truly know the specifics, tongues wag all the same.
Though the rumours swiftly died down, and in particular recently the creature seemed to have disappeared, they seem to have begun to be heard once more. The creature, it is said, is some manner of cat-like being from parts unknown, imprisoned by parties unknown for crimes equally so. More specifically, the rumours speak of how the creature appeared to a representative of the Guild of Merchants and posed a simply bargain.
Planar secrets, artifacts and goods from the far corners of the multiverse, in return for the Guild's protection and resources as it completes its research into the City.
The thoughts on the matter are split, though few at this time know the Master's own minds on the situation, the people of Ticker are equally wary of such a deal, outright hostile to the prospect, whilst others find themselves drawn to the chance at profit-making enterprises such as has never been seen within the City, nor the Ticker Square markets at any point in the past.
What is certain, the deal will occupy much of the Guild's time in the coming days, and the outcome will have great impact , for good or ill, upon the Ward for much time to come.
Ticker Square is abuzz surrounding the offer of the mysterious Ib'javi the Unbound and the rift between the Guildmasters made evident by it; to many less savvy of the Tickers and the newly Awoken who assumed the organisation to be a front united, rumours of their politicking and of a proxy struggle called by the Rumour Mill "the Groat Wars" comes as a great shock, with conflicts that had been long simmering under the surface come forth.
As to the nature of Ib'javi, there is little consensus; a small but vocal minority insist it is a creature of evil incarnate which dines upon the newborn and seeks to enslave the City with insidious enchantments, though the majority dismiss this as nonsense, stating the Guildmasters would not even be considering the offer if such were the case. Equally few, however, are those who believe it to be an honest and forthright being with the best interests of mortals at heart; claims that it is a Changeling queen, a ruler of some fiery Seam, or a Wizard whose magicks have twisted its form are common, with fantastical stories of the woe it may inflict or the wonders it might bring on every tongue.
Known vocal opponents of the deal include Ted Shopkeepson and the controversial Tristan Caerfal, though many view their arguments as overly moralistic; they have yet to strike a chord with the pragmatic mercantile mindset of the Square who fear no divine judgment and do not wish to be preached to. Another who stands against it is Beodda Aethwin of the Blooded Shields, whose public letter has fared a little better, though his sudden and mysterious elevation to Guild Member is whispered about often, with many guessing which of the Masters' pockets he lies in and some dismissing him outright as a puppet..
Though it is common knowledge that at least one of the Guildmasters is strongly in favour of accepting Ib'javi's offer, that side has been quiet so far. The gossip-hungry population has fallen back on rumours and hearsay; some guess that Guildmaster Tchammorar of the Adamantine Vault would want to accept the offer, with those arguing it pointing at the Kobold slaves already in his employ, and the Minotaur who supposedly protects the bank, to show he is no stranger to profiting from less savoury elements. Others say that Laura Bucklebeak and her Blackstone Mercenaries must be in favour of the deal, calling it the justification for the rivalry between her and Ted Shopkeepson in the first place. There has been no statement from anyone thus far though; in the silence, the name Ib'javi is slowly but surely sullied by its detractors with none come to its defense.
And through it all, the eager reporters of the Rumour Mill can be seen flitting here and there, interviewing the citizenry or joining the secretive meetings of the Guild Members, eager to stoke the flames...
It has been a busy (and bloody) few days in Ring 99; across both the Peerage and Ticker Square spreads salacious gossip of honour, greed and murder.
In the Peerage, Velstra has stood ascendant for months now, the Banner of the King flying proudly in their courtyard. Errilam the Viper, their most feared retainer, has grown fat and contended in a life of luxury, unrivaled by any of the other Houses. All of this may be set to change, however, after a series of brutal raids performed by House Orza. Some speak of underhanded assassinations, others of open warfare upon the streets of the Peerage; one tale that has gained a lot of traction is of Kristoff Orza himself decapitating a Velstran presented to him. However, all that is known for certain when the dust settled is that Orza seemed to be the victors of the day, their name which had once been crowed mockingly through whispers by the Velstrans feared once more. Whether this was mere blind violence, or the beginning of a plan from the upstart House to secure the Banner for themselves is yet to be seen...
In Ticker Square, meanwhile, the Groat Wars rage on. With renewed purpose, the supporters of Ib'javi the Unbound have flooded the markets with posters in defense of free trade and a Ticker Square free from outside involvement; the Arbiters of the Hundred Scrolls are discussed often, with many citizens of the Square indignant at the idea of these foreign zealots meddling in their affairs. Despite this, a strong undercurrent of resentment still brews; although there are few big names beyond Beodda of the Blooded Shields standing actively against Ib'javi, there are many producing posters and sendings decrying the creature and calling out to stop the deal.
More exciting to the gossipers are the whispers of foul murder done against a local Priest who was known to speak out often about Ib'javi. Precisely why he was killed is unknown, though many believe it obvious that the ruthless supporters of the deal are undergoing a campaign to silence their rivals. Others still tell convoluted tales of an Orzan spy sent to the Square to spread discord, blaming the entirety of it on the interference of the Peerage.
Of most interest to the adventuring populous, however, are the posters proclaiming a grand tournament hosted by a number of Guild Members in support of Ib'javi. The winner, it is said, will receive a grand prize crafted by the creature itself; however, this is not all they fight for. Whoever victors in these blood sports will also receive a front page interview with the Rumour Mill, and be given a chance to influence the ever-burning decision of whether the Planar being should be allowed in Ticker Square immensely...
With the vote regarding the fate of Ib'javi the Unbound mere days away, Ticker Square is abuzz with trepidation. Rumours speak of tense rivalries between Guildmasters Webber and Tchammorar, of other Masters changing their allegiances at the last moment and of Guildmembers and outsiders alike busily working away at propaganda and skulduggery to secure their desired outcome.
The consequences of the Ticker Tournament, held last week, are still echoing; the champion Wilbert Thornspike spoke high words of praise for Ib'javi and for the freedom of Ticker Square trading for all to see on the front page of the Rumour Mill, and is rumoured now to be in the employ of Mr. Blacks himself, a well-known advocate of the Unbound and the host of the tournament. While some call the whole thing obviously rigged, this and the interview with Ib'javi that stood alongside it seem to have dispelled some of the concern regarding the creature.
While those within the Guild opposing Ib'javi seem to have fallen silent, gossip of their backroom dealings is plentiful; where precisely word first came out nobody is quite sure, but it seems common knowledge that Uld's convictions have changed after a meeting with a number of them. What has followed this absence of vocal opposition from the establishment of Ticker Square is a series of anonymous and defamatory posters and publications; images of Ticker Square in thrall to the feline creature are common sights on publication boards, and a grotesquely named "Tumour Mill" paper in the same style as its more reputable cousin is passed around, replete with vicious accusations of foul play from those who support Ib'javi, accusations that have even found their way into the Rumour Mill itself.
All of this, alongside the somewhat labyrinthine voting system employed by the Guildmasters, means none yet are certain on the outcome. Whether free trade or common decency shall win the day, there is still more to be seen; and more to be done by those few cunning enough to act in the last few decisive moments...
The matter of the vote is settled at last, in a spectacle that was, to many, the first time the Guildmasters had been seen together; all, that is, but Webber, whose seat was absent and whose daughter instead stood beside it. Though it caused some stir among the citizenry, to the seasoned merchants this all seemed expected, with some of the more outrageous rumours claiming that the intensely private and elusive Guildmaster has not left the workshop beneath her shop since the Square broke for independence.
The Chamber of Commerced where the debate and vote would take place housed not just the more prestigious merchants and historical Guilds of the Square, but also its citizenry, Peers and even creatures from stranger shores come to witness the discussion. From the Guildmasters, fiery words were spoken by Oscar Tchammorar, who put forth a philosophy of bare greed to the cheers of a number of the richer merchants and the fearful silence of many of the public, who instead favoured Valentina Webber's well-orated words of caution. Following that was Ib'javi, and then the Guildmembers.
Stepping up to speak were not just the new and influential merchants who had been so active in the debate on Ib'javi, but also the more established traders and the leaders of the petty Guilds; even the rag-shod 'Chief Beggar' of the Worshipful Guild of Alms Askers took the stage to give their opinion and cast their vote. Though a small coalition of traders in the more magical or curious stood up against it, many put this down to a fear that Ib'javi would act as competition. Standing in favour of Ib'javi were a number of the Guilds, including the much feared Solomon Krown of the Butchers.
With the final vote tallied, it became clear that the once controversial notion of allowing the supposed Demon to trade in Ticker Square was no longer quite so alien thanks to the persistence of its proponents. Still, though, it was not quite enough to force a clear victory, and with the last call finished the vote sat upon a tie. It seemed as if both sides would have to disperse in an effort to sway a thus-far unaffiliated Guildmember when from the crowd emerged a man dressed all in black who refused to speak and left as soon as his vote was cast; a vote that ensured Ib'javi's trade with Ticker Square, a man later revealed to be the Head Accountant of the selfsame Guild, whispered bitterly to be in the pocket of the Adamantine Vault.
With the matter at last complete, the Tickers look forward with trepidation to the first arrival of the curious merchant, and wonder what crafts she will bring...
...The alleyways beyond the Peerage and the pond shifted and twisted giving birth to a forsaken district of the 99... The Mongrelwoods...
Away from the King's watch, into the shadowy streets, thick vegetation has grown giving a natural wilderness of its own. Stray dogs run wild. Gutter cats hunts, and the Mongrelmen, deformed humans stuck between man and beast live in the abandoned houses living a solitary life.
On behalf of Silas, the owner of the Open door, a group of courageous adventurers traveled into the Mongrelwoods in the search for the missing children - there - a sinister truth of the Ring 99 was learn - that the families of noble and common-folks alike abandoned their children in these woods should they bore any deformities or malformation that might mark them as a Changeling - an old legend speaking that if such children were gifted to the woods, their bloodline would be kept pure of the Changeling curse.
While the path to the shifting alleyways of the Mongrelwoods are hidden to most, some say that this venture is only a sign that they open up oncemore to the people of Ring 99 bringing this wilderness district back within reach of the common men of Ring 99 ... For the better or worst, as powerful and vicious shapechangers are said to dwell in the depth of the woods, and their return would surely signal more dangers for the Ring.
It has been a tumultuous few weeks in Ticker Square. Magnus the Manslayer, now with a 35,000 groat bounty to his name, bought low the beloved Laura Bucklebeak and Wilbert Thornspike. Meanwhile throngs of brave, avaricious, and immensely stupid adventurers – including the once beloved Captain Adamantine – have thrown their lives to fate at the Feast and lost. But with the loss of so many long-standing Pillars of Ticker Square, new opportunities present themselves...
Today, the sharp, youthful voice of Oscar Tchammorar rang out through Ring Ninety Nine--
QuoteCity Sending by Guildmaster Oscar Tchammorar : Ahem! With the unfortunate retirement of Laura Buckbeak? Bucklebeak! And the sad, sad fate of Antoine o` Hara, known to you all as Captain Adamantine [He pauses, sounding almost sad...] Both the Ticker Square Apothecary, and Hall, are now vacant. I encourage the ambitious, enterprising, and daring among us to join the Merchant's Guild and claim these properties.
City Sending by Guildmaster Oscar Tchammorar : For that matter, the owners of ALL properties under Merchant Guild protection shall submit to the Guildmasters a report of your activities and verification you are still alive, and not simply using our beautiful square as some warehouse. Fail to do so within ONE WEEK and you shall lose protection of the Guild.
City Sending by Guildmaster Oscar Tchammorar : And lastly, I ask that Stone Builders be -extra vigilant- in the matter of removing riffraff and miscreants, from these properties. That shall be all.
A dark and terrible night in Ring 99, with the curse of Tchun set on. It started with a chill wind and a panic spread through the people even before anything stirred; but before long, a series of ominous whispers from the insidious Doctor Mench, long known and feared as the right hand of Magnus the Manslayer, who had been defeated in a duel mere days before. Having seemingly taken over a Doorkeeper's headquarters, she spoke of the terrible ailment that afflicted the Ring, and announced triumphantly and madly that she had defeated death itself and now came to bring salvation to all.
What followed was a night of terror; the sleeping dead marched upon the Peerage Ward from the Ponds while the beasts and outcasts fled and hid, even climbing out of the Druthers to assail the brave band that held the tide. Horrors stitched together by the doctor and sinister shadows routed and slew many of the defenders, but many of the Peerage's finest warriors, and even the distant Arbiters, stood their ground and saw an end to the invasion.
With the creatures finished, those who yet stood sought to bring the Mad Doctor to justice; marching upon the Manslayer's old manor, there they were met with his headless corpse made animate, Mench's last defender, and fell into a final struggle in which, even with the Doctor unconscious, her abomination fought on, taking the combined might of all those present to defeat.
Though she was finally defeated, it seemed the madness of Tchun persisted; as they dragged her to the Peerage Ward to be hanged, it is said that Errilam the Viper was overcome with infernal bloodlust and in cold blood butchered a Squire of Glitt, before sending a mocking letter to the House gloating about how much he enjoyed the murder. Many have lost any faith whatsoever in the Knight and whisper that he has lost himself to Tchun's sleeping madness just as the Mad Doctor did, though few are brave enough to say them to his face...
Resentment toward the Stonebuilders had been stewing in Ticker Square for quite some time. With the robbery of merchants in broad daylight, and the rampages of Magnus the Manslayer and other Orza Enforcers, the competence of the strong men of Ticker Square had long been in question. The five guildmasters of Ticker Square made known their own thoughts on the matter:
QuoteCity Sending by Guildmaster Oscar Tchammorar : Quite honestly the protection Ticker Square has received over the past few months has been -disgraceful.- Merchants are robbed in the streets, one to the point he is even afraid to open his sad little shop. Geriatric nobles cloying at relevancy send their thugs at our merchants pretending to go to war. It has been irksome. Your pretty coins are safe in my Vault, but where would I be without your valued patronage? I am simply thrilled to announce the Ticker Square Guarding Contract shall is now up for review.
City Sending by Guildmaster Silas Sparrowbroth :Thank you... Oscar. The Merchants Guild will be making a FORMAL announcement in the Chamber of Commerce atop our Guildhall. It will be in fifteen minutes. Ticker Square is invited to hear us out.
A tense meeting was held. In one month's time the five guild masters would put the question of who stands guard at Ticker Square to vote. They touched briefly on what it would take to earn their vote (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=693882.msg709531#new), and a public forum erupted. The Butchers and Stone Builders emerged as the main contenders for the contract. Solomon Krowne, a former lieutenant of Orza, made the bold claim only his Butchers could could stop the tide of Peerage influence and grizzly perversions of Ruul Velstra. But the Stonebuilders told a different story, one of overlooked victories at the dispensary, kindness toward the awakened, and common heroism in the face of the Nephezar's coterie of inbreds.
How these Guilds expect to earn the favor of all five Guildmasters remains to be seen. Oscar Tchammorar of the Adamantine Vault has created a competition of who can collect the most debt on his behalf, from Ticker and Peer alike. The Daughter of Walda Webber suggested her mother has an interest in the beautification of the citizen and its culture, and that the salvage of Prestigious relics would be much welcome...
The surprise of the evening was the arrival of the elven brightmage Amonkas Inaran. The wizard boasted of the victories and martial prowess of Ticker's elven population, most notably their recent defense of the Adamantine Vault against a planar invasion. This comes at a time where the Temple of the Lady of the Moon, the cornerstone of elvish culture in the ward, was tasked by the Guild with recovering the golden prosthesis of one Adrian Winespill. Some do whisper that elves only care for their own, and this is merely a gambit to avert conflict with the Peerage. It is unknown how the elves of Ticker shall organize themselves, but the prowess of the fair folk is not in question...
An open brawl erupted in Ticker Square last eve following some business on behalf of the Cheese Baron Khur Uld, who is said to have for some reason confronted a group of Stonebuilders. Tempers rose, with insults flung on both sides, until at the Baron's insistence the Butchers intervened and chaos broke out. In the aftermath, the Stonebuilders are widely believed to have emerged triumphant, knocking down both Uld's guards and their rivals the Butchers before retreating to their headquarters.
The Builders stand triumphant for now, though with a Guildmaster now set against them, many in the Square whisper of an inevitable comeuppance; Khur Uld is a Dwarf not known for mercy or rising above petty slights, and already the Baron's thugs are seen roaming the Square more frequently, jeering and threatening the Stonebuilder enforcers who guard it. Most believe more violence in the coming days is all but a certainty.
It has been two weeks since the announcement of the reevaluation of the Ticker Guarding Contract. Much to everyone's surprise, and delight or disappointment depending on who you ask, the competition between Guilds has been shockingly civil and with few street-brawls. But it has been an eventful two weeks, with much weighing on the minds of the minds' of Guild masters and Tickerfolk:
- Despite inferior numbers the Butchers have demonstrated remarkable ferocity and resourcefulness. The minions of Solomon Krowne have twice humiliated the Peerage. First they forced Ruul Velstra to withdraw his grizzly bounty upon dwarf, elf, and gnome body-parts by ransoming an heirloom of the House. Following that they were said to have saved a number of elves from the clutches of Velstra and Nephezar after an ill-fated brawl. Such victories, coupled by their dogged pursuit of debtors to the Adamantine Vault, have won them the favor of Guildmasters Uld and Tchammorar.
- The Stonebuilders have won fewer victories than the Butchers for certain, but have begun to show some signs of reformation and professionalism thanks to the efforts of Manus Opalstone. Many builders eager to flex muscles for groats have been expelled from their ranks. Most notable was the mason Arto, popular among the common folk of Ticker, and renown for his feud with Doctor Soppira Hinkley. The mason was later killed under questionable circumstances when the halfling apothecary hired the Butcher Santiago Lopez for protection. The Stonebuilders were said to have been fair and measured in bringing them to justice. The Builders' seem to have the favor of Walda Webber for their efforts in preserving the City's history and culture.
- There was much excitement surrounded the declaration that the elves of Ticker would form a company and guard the square. Sadly, such a thing has not come to pass and there are few hints they ever plan to organize. It is said the elves have entered into a three-way war with House Velstra and Nephezar over the fate of the wizard warrens. For now it seems the Temple of the Lady of the Moon is more concerned with appeasing Guildmaster Tchammorar than the contract.
The opinions of Silas Sparrowbroth, owner of the Opener Door, remain a mystery. Pleasant but tight-lipped he has declared for neither Guild yet. Some say he shall base his evaluation on their performance in the upcoming Ticker Tournament (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=694019.0). But will such frivolities really prove the Butchers or Stonebuilders more suitable as protectors?
Though there were many conflicting narratives about what came to pass in recent days, what is known for certain is this: that Ruul Velstra managed to obtain the Ritual Stone of the Court Wizard Tower from deeper within the Rings, and that he intended to use it for some ritual involving the condemned and haunted Oldspyre in the Peerage Ward.
What occured when he started his ritual however, is well known to all.
It began with a fantastical display of wizardry enveloping Oldspyre as Ruul seemingly attempted to create his own wizard tower within the Peerage Ward. Whatever once haunted Oldspyre has been exterminated and the building would certainly be fit for habitation if what had followed had not occured. For it is said that soon after the cleansing of Oldspyre that Ruul lost control of his ritual and instead of creating a new tower, he somehow instead managed to summon the old one... tearing a hole in the fabric of reality between the two Rings in doing so...
Through these rifts in reality also came strange beings of faint form that hungered for the living, proceeding to attack all the gaping onloookers to Ruul's folly - all the while, high above them, the broken and shattered form of Isiratuu Tower floated above them, raining rubble down onto the Peerage Ward. It is said that through the rift, all of Ring 99 could hear the screams of agony and fear of the residents of Ring 93, as they clearly suffered the brunt of the invasion of the strange creatures.
Out of this chaos appeared a strange magical projection, that of a giant head. Condemning Ruul for his wreckless destruction of the City, the projection announced itself as one of the King's Architects and proceeded to imprison Ruul within a magical sphere, cursing him to remain in place until the damage he had wrought to Ring 93 was completely repaired. In an incredible display of power it then proceeded to close the rift that had opened and reformed the fragmented and shattered floating remnants of the Court Wizard's Tower into a staff that subsequently disappeared...
Though the damage to Ring 99 was repaired, the departure of the projection and news from Ringrunners made clear that Ring 93 has been severely damaged and continues to be plagued by the rift that is slowly consuming it and all nearby living beings. It is unclear as to how, or even if, the destruction there could be repaired or ended.
One final mystery was resolved later the same day however, with the Royal Herald announcing that the Court Wizard's Tower, now know by its old name of Warrenwatch, would be placed as a grand prize at the end of a Certamen Tourney to occur in the future - for the King long ago decreed that there must be a Court Wizard, and therefore there would be one.
Many wizards, initially frightened and turning to hiding after the destruction wrought by their colleague, Ruul Velstra, have subsequently re-emerged - their greed ignited by the possibilities of the staff of Warrenwatch. Some frenzied rumours spread speculation suggesting that it is not just a staff of great power, but perhaps a key to somewhere, or something... perhaps to another plane, perhaps to a great treasure, or perhaps to another version of the Tower itself. Whatever the truth, only the new Court Wizard will be able to say...
A brawl between Butchers and Stonebuilders has errupted into Ticker Square. The merchant Maldon Kirkland, and several Butchers, were seen marching on the Adventurer's Mart with the intent to evict Ted Shopkeepson. Ted had been tasked by the Merchant's Guild of doing -anything- significant enough to make the Front Page of the Rumor Mill, but failed to deliver. All were expecting his quiet eviction on Saturday. But Maldon and Butchers came Thursday.
A brawl errupted in Ticker square when "Sorcerer Lyon" and Stonebuilders loyal to Ted stormed the shop, retreated, and were pursued by the boystrous Alexander Tallstag and Rivirsh Amblerblade.
The cause of the brawl remains unclear. Some say it was because Maldon failed to present documents indicating Klink had allowed him to evict Ted early. Others report the temperamental Stonebuilder known as "Sorcerer Lyon" ignored the document, or simply was unable to read. There are whispers the eviction notice was a cheap forgery, or some stunt by Klink to cause confusion in the name of the news.
"Dumb oafs might be good for laying bricks, but if you can't read and mess up orders you have no business at guard duty." - Gawking shopper
"Ted made all the right moves. He was good to those Stonebuilders, even paid his way into the Guild, and what did it get him? Lord Norbert and Lady Sunpurse wouldn't do that..." - Anonymous Tickersman
"That Tallstag boy is a menace! Gave my son a whole box of cigars. And matches to light them! Is this what Krowne's men stand for?" - Fretful mother
After a series of brazen assaults on merchants of Ticker Square, the Guildmasters had declared they would be looking for a new mercenary company to guard Ticker Square. Interested mercenary companies were given one month to impress the guildmasters and secure the contract. The Butchers' and Stonebuilders' guilds emerged as the frontrunners of the race, with the Elves of the Luminous Order a distant third.
The hour of the vote now soon approaches (https://www.timeanddate.com/countdown/generic?iso=20190709T23&p0=179&font=cursive). It seems so far Guildmasters Tchammaror and Uld are for the Butchers. Walda Webber has been quite silent through the entire affair, her daughter Valentine offering polite thank yous now and again to the Stonebuilders for their efforts to beautify and preserve the square and City. Sparrowbroth appears undecided. Stonebuilders proved their prowess in the Ticker Tournament, and the Butchers managed to recover a rare vintage he coveted. Klink, similary, has kept her mouth shut. Perhaps she is impressed by neither, or simply holding her tongue until the final day...
The sudden expulsion of Manus Opalstone hangs heavily over the Stonebuilders, however. Despite his interest in masonry over mercenary work the dwarf garnered a reputation for being level-headed and fairminded during his tenure as assistant foreman. His loyalties came into question after aiding the Arbiters against the elven seer Teniluae Saefril. The spirit of the masons seems to have broken since, and not recovered...
The Guildmasters have met and a vote was cast. Solomon Krown and his Butcher's Guild shall now serve as defenders of Ticker Square:
- Baron Kur Uld voted for the Butchers for ending Ruul Velstra's strange bounty on dwarf-beards. Uld took the time to emphasize anyone caught consorting with the Rat Queen, a grave threat to the Baron's cheese stores, would be forever banished from Ticker Square unless they return with her severed tail.
- In upset the flustered daughter of Walda Webber, for whom the Stonebuilders have done extraordinary work, cast her vote for the Butchers instead. This was only after offering the masons a sizeable grant of her own money. The usual cheery Valentina Webber fainted into her chair soon after.
- A bored and slouched Oscar Tchammorar said "Butchers" in the middle of a yawn.
- Klink held an impromptu vote of Tickerfolk to decide who her's went to.
- A smiling Silas Sparrowbroth thought both guilds did very well, then abstained as his vote did not matter.
Grinning Wolfishly, Solomon Krown and his men departed the guildhall to celebrate for one night before beginning their duties. It is said Krown simply spent the evening brooding, smoking a cigar and sharpening his cleaver. The usual jovial Foreman Burnside, nervous and sweating, trudged with the Stonebuilders to their guildhall in silence. A number of prominent Stonebuilders, known more as thugs and adventurers than masons, seem to have left the guild entirely. Some worry what will become of so many now unemployed strong men...
***
Shortly after the vote Manus Opalstone lead a march Pauper Ponds to capture the Rat Queen and take control of the Old Manor. There was a great brawl joined by Tickerfolk, Pondsfolk, Elves, and Arbiters. Now, the cursed manor sits in the hands of the former Stonebuilder and Arbiter Duncan Lovejoy is dead at the hands of the Rat Queen. Rumors and accusations begin to fly about who fought on behalf of whom...
Flyers begin to appear in the open door... (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=694345.0)
Word quickly spreads that the long awaited, or feared, Tourney of the Peerage has come about again. This time with a twist. It seems that the mysterious Architects have somehow beseeched the Royal Court and seen fit to punish the Peerage for the mess made by Ruul Velstra with regards to Ring 93 and his failed ritual. Or at least, that is how many residents of Ring 99 are interpreting matters.
Regardless, it seems now that not only is the Grand Tourney of Ring 99 now open to all within the Ring, but also it seems so too is the Banner of the Peerage up for grabs. With House Velstra's rise from complete joke to now-weakening powerhouse coinciding almost entirely with the late Sir Errilam Winespill's grand victory in the most recently held Tourney, greedy eyes from all walks of life look forward to obtaining the Banner for their own purposes and desires.
Yet, perhaps the one spanner in the works is the identity of the strange new host for the Tourney. An unfriendly, drunken fop of a gnome whose last event held in Ring 99 was the disaster of the Certamen Tourney - where a battle to declare the Court Wizard of Ring 93 ended up being won by an elf with no magical powers. The Gods, and perhaps the King, alone know what sort of farce the upcoming event might descend to at this rate...
Tensions in Ticker Square are rising as the remnants of the Stonebuilder's Guild troubles Ticker Town with protests and blockades. After the recent speech (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=694807.msg712442#new) from Foreman Burnside, the struggling guild has been busy. Rumours spread of Stonebuilders seeking work throughout Ring 99, in all sorts of places, from all sorts of people. Meanwhile, those tired of trying to quench their thirst at dry wells have turned to wallowing and bloody-mindedness. They despair for how their lives have turned out, or lay blame on Merchant, Butcher, or other figures around Ticker who helped decide on the contract.
Today, Stonebuilders led by Alharim Khora blockaded the Merchants Guildhall with boulders and rubble. For now, the Butchers seem reluctant to get involved, and the Merchants Guild is far from caving to the Stonebuilders. A few Rumour Mill reporters question Stonebuilders about what the guild actually wants, hearing only a litany of mumbled complaints and desires for assistance. Few of the working men and women can articulate clear demands. Nevertheless, the wretched mood among the Builders shows no sign of abating, and all sides are only hardening in their stances.
The Grand Tourney has finished leaving all with an unsurprising result - except for the manner in which it was obtained. Old House Sunpurse holds the Banner of the Peerage once more, as they have many times in the past. Yet it is doubtful that it has ever been claimed through such means as this tourney.
The Least Fool lived up to his reputation however, with the gnome delivering farcical scenes throughout the entirety of the tourney.
First to come was the sight of the Shootout, ostentibly meant to be a display of skill and talent in archery. It instead devolved into a display of magical supplies and talents as various spellcasters of all types proceeded to outdo archers who had been pulling bowstrings their entire lives. From the rubble of this display however emerged a victor, one Sastan Highsworn, an elf who surprisingly declared that his victory would go towards House Sunpurse. Rumours abound that the likely source of this is the fact that a group of elves have taken to squatting in the Sunpurse Manor of Ring 98...
Following this came the Brawl, an event that saw some thirty odd contestants squeezed into a small section of land and told to fight one another. Chaos inevitably ensued, with some unexpected results as otherwise strong contenders for the victory were mobbed and swarmed down into the sand. Yet, in the end, a victor emerged who had managed to avoid such a swarming - one Sargon Zuadaram-Sin, Retainer of House Orza, who obviously declared for his House. Sadly the Retainer did not live many more days after his victory, likely assassinated in a fit of pique by competitors attempting to prevent his futher participation in the tourney.
Finally, on the first day of the tourney came the Joust, an event that should've been a martial spectacle... became instead a farce. As the Least Fool screamed at those who complained however - he had been sent, not a knight. As such the display involved: a love story between an elven runner and a hairdresser of Ticker Square; Sargon Zuadaram-Sin carrying his steed into battle; a wizard reciting poetry as they flailed ineptly with their lance - until, at long last, a victor was declared by the Fool. Lance Huxley, Retainer of House Sunpurse, who declared for the same, was named champion of the Joust for striking a final blow via throwing his lance at the competition.
So ended the first day of competition with House Sunpurse on two victories to House Orza's one.
The second day commenced with the Melee, whereby the audience was greeted with the sight of teams of warriors facing off four at a time... while being painted garish colours for the Least Fool's amusement. Through the many twists and turns of this event, where strong contenders such as the Devils of Ticker Square and House Orza eventually felled each other, the ones to rise from the ashes were none other than a team from House Sunpurse - Retainers Lance Huxley, Antoine Durand and Veradith Durothal together proclaimed their victory for their House, though there was some initial confusion, thanks to Retainer Durand's womanising, that perhaps he had declared instead for House Glitt...
Afterwards came the Magebrawl, where many demonstrated skill, luck and talent, while others displayed a distinct lack of all three. From the amazing come-from-behind victory in the initial round of House Glitt's broken old janitor-wizard, through many displays of overdressed ponces slipping about in puddles of grease, the battles of the arcane raged. A rivalry was even sparked between the Inquisitor of Ring 97 and a wizard of House Sunpurse - one that was fated to end a few days later when the Inquisitor beat the man to death with his bare hands. Eventually a victor was declared, one Vai`cairn of the semi-stable seam of Teohoto became victor through his effective use of the elements. Strangely however, even he declared for House Sunpurse, leading many to ponder exactly how much planning the House had put into possible outcomes for this tourney.
Finally came the Duels. Though the Banner had already been won by House Sunpurse by this point, even the Least Fool took them seriously. There were many brave deaths this day, from contestants who either refused to yield or were not swift enough to do so. By the end of it, two contestants faced off - Genovalio de Rossa of House Glitt, who had cut down a number of friends and acquaintences who had refused to yield in a fight... against Janne the Ogre of House Orza, who had mercilessly slain all opponents except for a very, very lucky Lance Huxley who narrowly avoided being smeared into paste. In the end however, it was the mighty Janne who triumphed in the final duel, proclaiming his victory for his House - House Glitt being forced to drag their lifeless champion off to the Shrine of Waters to beg for mercy from the Gods.
In the end the overall result was House Sunpurse with four events and House Orza with two. The Reeve of Sunpurse has subsequently been seen in public talking proudly of the three victories of House Sunpurse... conspicuously not mentioning the event won for them by an elf. What House Sunpurse will do with the Banner remains to be seen, and though there were many twists, turns and a variety of possible outcomes (after all, this was the first Tourney where non-Peers could've declared their victory for organisations other than the Peers) for this Grand Tournament of Ring 99, tradition triumphed in the end.
When the next tourney shall occur and whether the Least Fool shall still be in charge of it however is anyone's guess.
Rumors spread of the coming of a large group of escaped slaves clad in rags and broken chains who escaped from a large and dangerous settlement of Lizardfolk located distantly on the Canal of Ring 97.
According to some, the Lizardfolk will doubtless soon be coming to look for their former slaves and whatever they may have escaped with....
Rumors speak of the coming of an armada of Lizardfolk that has docked in the long-abandoned Old Harbor of Ring 97. From the largest of the Sauriod Travel Barges disembarked the richly robed and bespectacled Emissary Ks'k.
Ks'k sought audience with the notables and grandees of Ring 99, and in turn large numbers of important representatives from Ticker Square, the Peerage, and Pauper Ponds came for a meeting.
Quote from: The EmissaryGreetings, warmbloods! Greetings, respected denizens of Ring 99! I bring to you the most cordial salutations of Master Szka'zul, servant of our Sublime Empress, and reprentative of her will in these lands.
He bids me deliver to you a message, which I will do so now.
We understand our custom of enslavement is odious to you, but I assure you - many of your customs are equally deplorable to my kind!
Master Szka'zul is anxious that further bloodshed be avoided, and he bids me travel here so that a peace can be realized....
He requires, above all else, the return of these gemstone fragments.
The return of the slaves would also be welcome.
He bids me offer the cold hand of friendship if you will accept this arrangement.
But also a warning...
You people are not united, and few in number.
Regrettably, if the slaves and shards are not returned....
... my Master will find it necessary to unleash....
Warlord Yozkhiss.
His legions will burn and devastate your Ring.
Thankfully, today it is I - Emissary Kz'k that comes! With all good will.
Now, I ask you.... what is your response?
And some of the responses...
Quote from: Mairead GlittUm, uh, House Glitt will, um, do whatever we can to make you go away.
Quote from: Grace d'OttavianiWe cannot tolerate the return of slaves.. but to return what was stolen of you in exchange for preventing war.. that seems reasonable.
Quote from: Druss Ironstone of the ArbitersThe Cube has weathered worse than the ire o' a pack of lizards who refuse to accept their time has passed.
Quote from: Claudian SadalfusIs the blood of Dorvant and his heroes cowed by lizardmen? Let us see these monsters dead.
Quote from: Guildmaster Oscar Tchammorar of Ticker SquareMy best minds have several times reviewed and calculated the impacts of your fallen race's temporary rule. Vain unproductive construction projects, unnecessary cruelty and practices of enslavement, rigid unmoving hierarchies.
Your small brained species led to nothing but dissipation and waste, and your demands are as laughable as your threats are empty. The wealth of your age was produced by the men and beasts you enslaved, and still today you are nothing without the slaves who have fled you.
It is becoming that your treasures have fled into our lands, the Ring of 99, and there they will stay.
The Guildmasters of the Merchants Guild will richly reward the one who delivers the gemstones into the possession of the Adamantine Vault, by raising them to become a fellow Guildmaster.
Baron Uld is said to have inquired as to how much the Lizardfolk would offer for the gemstone-shards. Then announcing:
Quote from: Barond UldFREE CHEESE FOR LIFE, for whoever assembles these gems for me! Hear that? Beat that, Peers!
Quote from: Outis of the PondsYou made a mistake in coming here, I am sorry to say.
You could have just been a myth, a whisper from a bunch of bedraggled new folk spouting half-truths. I doubt anyone would have listened, that is frequent enough here.
The free folk at this end of the Rings did not know you existed, but now we do. We know, now, that newly awakened are falling into your nets, becoming slaves, even as we speak.
And for those of us who matter - not these gilded lillies and groat hoarders - I assure you, this will not just be a matter of your lost treasures, or escaped slaves.
The war may start here, but it will end on top of your ziggurats. We will not rest until your community renounces it slavery, or is dispersed to the four winds.
Quote from: Reeve Jodfry a'ValarI wish to offer you my assurances, Emissary, that -- should your people find it necessary to breach our Ring...
We of the House Sunpurse, and the Peerage Ward, will ensure to make all the traditional arrangements.
Courtesy is key, and we value our history highly...
...And I think we have a mantel that would just fit you.
After negotiations, the Emissary announced that he would remain in his barge for seven more days to receive stolen gemstone. After which point, the Warlord would come.
What will happen to the gemstone fragments of the Eye of the Serpent?
How will the disunited residents of Ring 99 face the coming of that most ancient of old enemies?
In recent days it is known that the Commons and Ponds were disturbed by the shocking presence of a huge, baleful, and enraged Spider Demon from the darkest webbed pits of the lower hells.
According to rumor, the demon was summoned by the master artificer Eowadra Te`fer in an act of vengeance against the feared Inquisitor Xvim who was responsible for the killing of the Elf Priest Sastan.
The battle raged for a time across Rings 99 and 98, until - at last - Inquisitor Xvim was able to kill the elf-artificer with a spell and... after long, grueling battle.... the Spider Demon was eventually dispatched by a huge crowd of adventurers from Ring 99.
Among people of the Peerage, there is some talk of the latest Inquisitor; and many speak approvingly of his aggressive chastisement of the changelings of the Ponds who have lately been responsible for the killing of several well respected retainers of the Noble Houses. Many say that too many changelings have grown over bold with their forbidden practices and that the tolerance of such is certain to bring the displeasure of the King.
Among Ticker, opinion is more mixed; with some declaring that the summoning of the Demon only proves the untrustworthy ways of the changelings and those who choose to dwell in the disreputable Paupers' Ponds. Others, however, say that the Inquisitor has been too zealous; and that with a Lizardfolk invasion perhaps mere days away it is more important that the Ponds and communities of Ring 99 broker some kind of peace.
In Paupers Ponds itself, word spreads among those who dwell by the campfire of a reward for any who would succeed in slaying the feared Inquisitor and cast his body to sink among the reeds....
What began as a summons to speak of peace ended in bitterness, and death. The Merchants Guild of Ticker Square assembled to lay down a plan of defense against the looming threat of the Sibilant Remnant, only for violence to slip in and make the proceedings it's own.
Amidst the pouring rains, the Butchers guild and their ofttimes benefactor Maldon Kirkland pursued an alleged traitor from the halls. As they stood over the broken and bleeding Beodda Aethwin, they proclaimed that he had been guilty of treason -- that he had conspired to secret away a shard of the Sibilant's precious gemstone somewhere deep in the rings, where Solomon Krown and his Butchers could not reach. Before they could finish their sentencing, a crowd began to form - and a host of objectors led by Stonebuilder Buck Wambles let their own accusations fly -- that Solomon and Kirkland are allied with dark powers, and that they are servants of Devils and Knaves and a dozen other damnable things.
In a violent clash between Stonebuilder and Butcher, the infamous devil-blood Verata Bosque struck a keening blow and buried her axe deep into the long-time servant of the people -- and Wambles fell, his neck severed near end to end, never again to rise.
The Stonebuilders have taken their dead and murmur promise of revenge. The Butchers relish their victory, as drunk on bloodshed as kinder men might be on wine. Banished from the square, the hero Beodda licks his wounds -- the Stonebuilder's sacrifice having bought him time to flee. Fiendish powers grip tight Ticker's heart and soul... and all the Ring wonders what new terrors tomorrow may bring.
Accounts spread of a terrible battle against the Lizardfolk of Szk'zul in the Old Harbor of the Grand Canal on Ring 97.
It is said that the Ironbuckle Mercenary Company, specialists in siege weaponry, were hired to prevent the Lizardfolk Armada from landing on the docks.
It is said that a large contingent of Ticker-folk, Pondsmen, independent mercenaries and adventurers, and a handful of scattered Peers bravely fought as the Lizard armies swept in to claim the docks.
The battle raged on, but all the while the vast majority of the soldiers and retainers of the Peerage... did not come. With their offers of alliance and cooperation against the Lizardfolk spurned, the proud peers instead decided to host a grand feast in Velstra Vale.
As men and women died on the docks, the Peers made merry.
As the siege weapons were taken, the Peers partied.
And as the Old Docks were completely overrun... the Peers enjoyed the catchy tunes of a tambourine and clapped along.
In the end, utterly outnumbered and outmatched, the defenders of the docks were forced to retreat into the Muckboy's Ward and driven nearly to the Ponds.
Desperate the save their home, the Muckboys had placed a large supply of alchemical explosives along the unsteady wall of the breach leading from the Old Canal into their ward. It is said that there was a final act of sacrifice in which CEYRIOS ALWENWYLD blew the bombs, collapsing the breach... and preventing the Lizardfolk advance.
The Lizardfolk armies have been temporarily halted, although there can be no doubt that with a little time they will dig out the breach and continue their steady advance towards Ring 99.
According to rumor, the Bloodbeard Gang - working directly on behalf of Baron Uld - disrupted the uneasy peace of Ticker Square and committed an act of brazen and shocking robbery..... breaking the door down Mr. Krown`s butchery itself and making off with a large, sealed safebox.
Mr Krown, away at the time for a meeting, has been seen stalking through the square in a rage. Violence has, however, been averted after a series of sendings from Guildmistress Webber herself. But there can be no doubt that Butcher Krown will neither forgive nor forget.
Meanwhile - there is the soft, distant booming sounds of explosive charges..... as the Lizardfolk Army blasts away the last of the rubble impeding their progress... delaying their campaign of conquest.
There can be no doubt that Ring 98 and Ring 99 will face the advance of the Armies of Szka`zul all too soon.
// Shooting for around 3:00 PM EST Saturday 9/28 //
Not since the age of heroes has Ring 99 since as much violence and epic battle as has occurred this day.
The piles of the dead lizardfolk are heaped ten high, the acrid stench of their burning corpses fills the Commons. Tales of the battle and the great heroism of those who did battle fills the reverent and awe-struck people of Ticker and Peerage both; the folk of each ward more accustomed to tales of back-alley knifings or brutal accounts of single combat duels. Only in crumpled and damaged tales of heroism and the old fantastical stories are writ the legends of such immense and exhausting epic battle.
It is said -
That the Lizardfolk, led by the Warlord Yozkhiss himself, claimed the Ponds after terrible and terrific battle - but its residents simply hid away.
It is said -
That the Stonebuilders blocked the gate from the Ponds to the Commons with huge mounds of stones, forcing the Lizardfolk to go around through the Mongrelwoods and the gate of the peers or risk significant delay.
It is said -
That an emissary of the Lizardfolk sought permission from the people of the Peerage to pass through their lands and around into the Commons. But that the lesser envoy was simply murdered, and the general scene descended into wild battle.
It is said -
That the Lizardfolk pushed through the Peerage, forced the Peers back to their gate, and managed to send the bulk of their forces into the Commons from that direction.
It is said -
That after terrible battle, the Commons were claimed, and scaled feet trod upon Royal Plaza once more.
It is said -
That Warlord Yozkhiss entered into the Open Door, and faced with the threat of complete destruction, Guildmaster Uld - despite the howling protests of the tavern's defenders - turned over the shards to the titanic lizard.
It is said -
That the huge Warlord took the stones and withdrew to the Canals, pursued all the while. With renewed energy the defenders of Ticker and a fresh battalion of Peers led by Maximillian Orza followed the juggernaut of a Lizardfolk; a terrible and running battle from the Commons to the docks of the Old Harbor.
At the last moment, moments before being cut down from ten thousand wounds, the huge Warlord flung the sack of shard-fragments to a waiting Lizardfolk vessel. There the tiny Emissary Ks'k collected the shard and watched with cold reptilian eyes as the Warlord was cut down and its head removed.
The little emissary offers a bow to the frustrated people of 99 on the shore, and gave orders for his vessel to depart home - to return to the Ziggurats of Szka`zul.
Tensions continue to run high between the Wards, and the people of Ring 99 are exhausted with horrific battle and one further tale of how one final gemstone shard was collected from the dead dwarves-smith Vargot and spirited away to the Peerage.
Meanwhile, a solitary female figure is found nailing a sign to a stake (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=695349.msg713954#msg713954) within the Commons itself....
It is an uneasy time in Ticker Square. Over the past few months, with the introduction of Ib'javi the Unbound and the Butcher's acquisition of the guard contract, tensions have been high between the various powers and brawls have broken out often between the Butchers, the Builders and Uld's private mercenaries, the Bloodbeards, including most recently two attacks on the same day, both centred around a representative of the Unbound. Worse still, rumours of Knave involvement is common on many lips; many accusing either the Butchers or the Bloodbeards of being in league with them and assisting them in open robbery and murder in the streets of the Square, most notably of the ex-Knave Maldon Kirkland.
Public opinion on the Butchers is low; many see them as having done little but protect their own power since becoming guards of the Square, and the brazen assault upon their headquarters by the Bloodbeards in recent days proving to many their incapability of even protecting themselves. Though some support them for their hardline stance against the Peerage, many more question them and the Guildmasters' decision to give them the contract; only the intimidating presence of their men stationed around the Square quiets the whispers.
The Stonebuilders are not doing much better, however; with many of their number leaving the Guild without stable pay and more still engaged in acts of protest, they are a shell of their former selves; and of those who remain, their loyalty to Ticker Square is doubted by many. Their harbouring of the divisive Beodda Aethwin and the more recent brazen acts of violence in the streets against the representative of Ib'javi has left them with a few supporters, but many more who once viewed them as a staple of the Square now discussing them as anarchists and vandals.
Behind all this, the Guildmasters are silent; after Webber's unpopular support of Uld's surrender of the gem fragments, nothing more has been heard from her, and Tchammorar stirs not from behind the heavy doors of his vault. The people feel unprotected, vulnerable and ignored while the political feuds erupt into bloodshed around them.
It is an uneasy time in Ticker Square indeed; and an unstable one.
Ticker Square is abuzz with rumours after last night when the Wakefield Detective Agency, hired and aided by a group of Planar Prospectors, returned one of Belacq's travelling companions from imprisonment within the Seams. Zelia N'dare, known to the Square's older residents as a deadly warrior and matchless planar explorer, has only been back a day and already caused quite a stir.
The Stonebuilders have been given a new contract renovating the Prospecting Hall; as she recovers within, a steady stream of visitors have been seen coming and going, including Valentina Webber herself. Supposedly she has called back every Prospector in preparation for a meeting in a few days time, a meeting whose topic has become the subject of much gossip across all of Ring 99. While many think she is looking for a new crew to continue her jaunts, others suggest she intends to reform the Guild into an active presence in the Square; though those who knew her and her reputation from before her disappearance laugh at the idea of the fearsome planar pirate entering into politics.
What will come to pass is uncertain; but for a volatile Ticker Square, the addition of yet one more unstable element is keenly felt. To all, it is plainly obvious; change is upon the wind.
A time of relative calm is giving way to new beginnings in the Rings.
Rumors abound...
...Of Necromancers and black magic, of the name Blacksmile being whispered darkly in places of ill repute.
...Of Knaves, pinching purses and pursuing their shadowy aims, preying upon the good folk of the 99th.
...Of Changelings, moving throughout the City in great numbers, engaged in strange rites in hidden places under the light of the moon.
...Of a Lord who again stakes a claim upon the cursed Manor of Pauper's Ponds
...Of the House Sunpurse, issuing decree and dictat, dividing up the Rings to serve at a feast of bluebloods.
...Of Prospectors and Seams, and the riches to be found in planes beyond our own.
...Of Runners in the Rings, who stumble upon realms untouched for centuries.. disturbing halls long quiet, raising up dust that long lay still.
Awakening things, that ought been left slumbering.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
From the lowly beggar of Ticker to the Noble of the Peerage, rumors are heard that the Ponds have grown increasingly active with all manner of dwellers and visitors. Strange stories drift from the muck ridden Ponds...
A small group of clear eyed, Arbiters searching for something or someone was seen patrolling the grounds. Their patrol was interrupted by a tense meeting with the local Pondsmen and Groundskeeper, questioning their purpose to approving nods from men and women warming their hands over trash fires. Whatever their purpose it wasn't clear for a sudden duel broke out between one Visimar Stormchild and a dwarven Arbiter Dovan Ashenforge. The duel did not last long, some heated words followed.
Broken rumors swirl as to the nature of the duel, some claim Visimar was reclaiming some fell object taken by the Arbiters from one of his retainers or lovers, other claim it was over some slight said against Meredith Winespill, yet others say much more certainly, that the duel was over some twisted love triangle between Visimar Stormchild, Dovan Ashenforge and the local Groundskeeper, the object of his desire a number of personal love letters he did not wish seen by his dearest Meredith Winespill.
Whatever the cause of the duel, it did not last long. After but a few moments of recovery the Arbiters set upon a visiting man with steel and spell. With little explanation the whole of the Ponds burst into a running battle onto the narrow walkways of the Willow Ways with unclear divisions of loyalty. Spellfire erupting from the fingertips of one Arbiter as bloodied axe swung from another. More than a few men were heard to have been sent careening into the murky water to either side, so packed were the walkways with the bodies of those thirsty for a bit of bloodshed.
The strange and violent night came to an end with few outside the Ponds having a clear understanding of what just had transpired that night, but leaving many a tongue wagging and speculating.
...The Peerage Ward is electric with hearsay and gossip, worried looks and murmured threats. Something is happening, between the Great Houses. The proclamations of one Visimar Stormchild have not gone unnoticed.
The man raised up by House Sunpurse, it seems, now dons a Velstran doublet. The question of his holdings -- the Manor of Lord Desmond Sunpurse -- and how it shall be answered, are on the minds of socialites near and far.
...somewhere in the gloom of a dusty crypt, a thin man mutters a hateful prayer.
But the spite of those unmentionable is irrelevant, as commisserations are in order. The union of Stormchild and Velstra is nigh at hand! Cups are raised, in spite of uncertain tomorrows!
The feud between the Houses of Velstra and Sunpurse has cost each dearly.
Merredith Velstra, legitimized in death, has been struck down by assassins before her marriage to the ambitious Visimar Stormchild could be officiated.
In revenge for her slaying, her betrothed as ended the like of Steward Melkoth of the House of Sunpurse, an elderly sorcerer who was as much decorated and loathed in the Peerage Ward.
So far, the bloodletting has teetered on the brink of war, without tipping over the edge. As the aggrieved and grieving lick their wounds and tend their funerary rites, the other Great Houses and Powers of Ring 99 look upon two hamstrung giants... and in the gloom of mourning, it becomes difficult to tell if neighbors brandish knives.
It was a quiet morning when, from nowhere, a colossal explosion shook the City. Visible from everywhere in 99, some particularly violent aberration of the Rifts broke through beneath the ground and rose high into the sky, before coming tumbling down once more. A band had already assembled to witness the event and defend against whatever new threat might come from that unstable place; and when it finally crashed back to earth they were confronted with a titan of fire and steel that went on a rampage. The motley crew was quickly broken and scattered to the winds, unable to stop the beast, yet they held it long enough for the powerful magic that animated it to dissipate; just as quickly, there was nothing left but corpses and burning debris.
As the survivors collected themselves and returned, unpraised and unrewarded for their heroism, a series of whispers rang out seemingly related to the event. First was a warning from veteran Arbiter Alexei Harlowe, accusing a strange device called the Needle of causing the chaos and warning the city's adventurers to not meddle in such things. The second was from Oscar Tchammorar; in it, he warned against meddling in the seams, and named Zelia N'dare, leader of the Prospectors, directly.
In return, there is nothing but stony silence from the Prospectors; though travelers come back reporting suspicious news, that already at the site of the explosion, a team of labourers working under the Guild's surveillance can be seen digging...
At last, the fruit of the Prospector's labours can be seen. Gathering in Prospect Hall for an announcement, the Needle was declared operational and a group of brave or curious citizens made their way to the Rifts to join the prospectors on their maiden voyage, which to the surprise of many went smoothly.
The news is the talk of Tickertown; merchants dealing in more curious wares speak excitedly of the guaranteed link to the seams and the Guild has experienced a minor boom, with more come to try their luck in the chaotic seams. It is not all positive, however, with both the Arbiters and Oscar Tchammorar speaking out against the foolishness of tearing open seams, a response that has struck a cord with many of the Square's terrestrially-bound citizens.
Though the announcement has had little effect on the lives of most of Ring 99, it is clear that the Guild of Planar Prospectors is emboldened; they look toward a future of bright opportunities and fortunes, the calls for caution unheeded...
Seams appear more often than not, leading to strange places, some unheard of before...
The breaches in reality mostly seem to lead to dire dangers to the Rings, and to little else...
Although some adventurers look forward to such opportunities, common folks, and reasonable folks, fear that the day will come when some outworldy outbreak will not be stopped by whatever defenders happen to be there on time...
To most, it is only a matter of time before some foolish wizard calls irresponsable deaths upon many....
Year ?-?-? DR - On what will come to be known as "The Coming of The March"
The thin stream of pilgrims from the inner rings has broken the floodgates of the 99th on this day. Early in the morning, a ramshackle barge of rotting planks made landfall in the old harbour of the 97th. Stepping unsteadily onto the shores, a man in rusted armor and a cloak of silvery-white proudly boasted of his comrades speed -- but no sooner could these poor fellows spread their libations, than another vessel dared the mouth of the harbor -- and another, and another, and another. A panoply of ships, some proud but most humble and ill-cobbled, rushed into the harbor like a stream of occupied driftwood. Men who looked to have been hard on campaign, rough and disheveled formed the multitudes, all bearing some scrap or shift of white cloth to mark their allegiance.
Here and there among the masses could be seen silver specks, tall and broad-shouldered men in armor bearing the tell-tale sigil of the long forgotten House of Moonspear. As the midday sun burned high over the Rings, two more seaworthy ships cut a smooth line through the flotilla - bearing billowing sails of azure, they were moored in the harbor.
And from the curious throng that had by then gathered on the shores, Prince Trystan Moonspear deigned to welcome a treasured few into his counsel.
There were bold proclamations,
There were daring thrusts into the heart of the Sibilant,
There was tragedy, and the flapping of putrid wings,
All these things the Prince and his March brought with them, when they came to Ring 99.
Year ?-?-? DR - The Shattering of the Sibilant Empire.
Late in the night, a whisper echoed out over ring 99. A declaration of war, a signal of the end. And promptly, Ticker Square dissolved into riot and panic. Commoners burst into stores, taking non perishables and bashing down windows.
And above, far above, a cry pierced the night sky. The dreaded Emerald Wyrm. The gates of 99 burst forth, as the sibilant empire marched on Ticker square. The great wyrm of the empire swept down upon ticker, as the multitudes of the empire's forces broke down Tickers few defenses. Ticker burned, white hot. Men and women died, and the butchers marched, or fled. Great siege weapons were unleashed upon the beast, to no avail. Ticker, to all appearances, had fallen. Hope was gone, and now was to be the time of occupation. Just as all hope was lost, for the city, a last whisper escaped. Paps Stone's voice echoed: "Prince Trystan! We are about to be overrun! For the love of the gods, SEND THE SILVER MARCH! Help us!"
And in response, came three blasts of a silvered horn.
Without hesitation. Without fear. Without thought to history, between himself and Ticker, the Silver March came in force, at this call. And so, too, upon hearing this call, rallied the surviving men and women of Ticker Square. And in a sea of white cloaks and shining blades, the empire was driven off Ticker, and in doing so, its defenses weakened. And so, as the lizardfolk fled, Prince Trystan Moonspear gathered to him his companions. His allies. Ticker square and the peerage. A vast army, to strike at the very heart of the Empire itself. And so, this army set off, on Muckboy raft and broken ship, to face the might of the sibilant empire. The battle was long, and fearsome. Names beyond counting were lost in the timeless muck of the swamps, but ever did the party push on, until finally, they broke their way through to the great Emerald Wyrm itself. Its decomposing wings blotting out the sky, and empowered by the sacrifice of many slaves, it descended in fire and blood upon the company, and the company was decimated. However, Maxwell Moonspear and Prince Trystan Moonspear strode forth, and met the beast head on.
And so too, did their company fall upon the beast. Tearing, and ripping. And as their numbers winnowed, so too did the beasts strength. Until, finally, with a last thunderous collapse, it lay dead. However, in the battle, the Prince was gravely wounded, and could not continue safely. And a select few remained, to march inside the ziggurat before them, to face Master Szka`zul, the Second Scale himself. Led by Ser Vladislav Orza and Maxwell Moonspear, they stepped forth into the ziggurat that would become their grave, and met the guards of Master Szka`zul himself in battle. One by one, the remaining host fell, or retreated. They broke their way through the mighty defenses, breaking spell and trap alike, until they met Master Szka`zul, the Second Scale. And upon him, they were broken. What few who did not flee, killed. The knight himself tossesd carelessly over the ledge, by the master. Who then strode above, definitely, to pursue those who fled.
However, as he ascended the steps of his ziggurat, he met not those fleeing him but the Prince himself. Limping, and wounded, pulling himself up the stairs. Contempt clear in his eyes for those fleeing, he limped up, to face the Second Scale.
His blade in his shattered hand, nearly limp at his side, his gaze fell upon the creature. And he spoke:
"Your Empire crumbled long ago. It is time this revolt was put to an end."
And, as he spoke a misty white wreath formed over his head and with a voice like that of the heavens he commanded:
"Kneel."
".. Kneel, before your king."
Caught by some force far beyond him, the master of the empire kneeled before the prince and bowed his head. And the prince spoke- "I have crossed ninety-nine rings, in search of men with faith in me."
And, with a harsh motion of his hand, he callously opened the lizard's neck with his blade. The body fell, and tumbled down the structure before him. As he watched, he spoke
"It seems I must cross a hundred."
And he departed. And so, the Sibilant empire.... has fallen.
And Ticker Square, so diminished by the battle, begins to rebuild.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
With the Butchers decimated and in shambles, the people panicky and anxious, and small protests and riots breaking out nearly every day, Ticker Square has increasingly been forced to rely upon the dozens upon dozens of mercenary companies that call the settlement home for protection. These mercenary companies, as varied in morals and scruples as they are in colors, partake in a series of complex contracts with various businesses and establishments in Ticker Square, which results in various territories coming under their influence and control. Almost overnight, the ward has seen its defenders transformed from a civilian guard-force to a heavily divided military-industrial apparatus. This state of affairs commenters have taken to calling the Blade Boom, and the forges have never been busier.
The unspoken truth just barely grazing the lips of these mercenary companies is that in the end there can only be one to "protect" Ticker Square. So they sharpen their knives, and prepare for the battles and negotiations to come. Some partake in the Great Ring Race in hopes of earning a place among the Guildmasters, while others plot instead the downfall of their rivals... making dark bargains with old and new foes alike.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
QuoteThere was destiny, first. Then there was courage. Then came the dark. And now there is Nothing.
Prince Trystan Moonspear crossed ninety-nine rings in the hope to find worthy men, worthy subjects, to fill his new kingdom, but after his Pyrrhic victory upon the invading forces of the Sibilant Empire he decided that the courage of all within the inner rings was not enough. Danebluff, Wakefield, Silver - such names to forever live on in infamy as the titles of cowards, living testimonies of the decay of the kingdom. The Prince rallied what remained of his Silver March and went on to finally break down the broken gate of the one-hundredth ring, only to uncover the stark truth that there was but the precipice of the abyss: beyond the gate there was roiling black and fading world - a shadowy principality of the feared Nothing and somewhere amidst the fade an empty throne void of a ruler, with subjects, beautiful in all their lacking, desperate for a worthy man to take it. Who could deny such a plea for help? And so the promised king became the Prince in Shadow, demanding those that came to attend his coronation to kneel and those that didn't were made to, one way or the other. Now prince Trystan sits atop his lightless seat, playing with a dark crown in his hands.. longing for the other.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
There are whispers throughout the Peerage Ward of a new Lord; they say the well-known wizard Aethelwine Silver has, through some technicality, been bequeathed the title of a long-gone bloodline of the Peerage. Calling himself Lord Aethelwine Sothilde now, the news has garnered some interest from the masses. However, to many of the ward's higher classes the landless and retainerless wizard's title is little more than a technicality, and quiet jests about the pauper-lord can be heard even in the Square...
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
Yet more rumors spread within the Ward of the Peers, that Bernard Glitt has risen from his drunken stupor... and with sobriety of body and clarity of mind has begun to rebuild his destitute house, with his young daughter at his side and his noble retainers at the ready... the Ward is afire with talk of the Old House Glitt, and some hearts quail to see them rise anew.
The drunken buffoonery of yesterday has given way to the brash heroics of today... and who can say what tomorrow will bring?
In the Ticker Square, there are similar upsets. The infernalist Mede has disappeared, finding a gruesome death in a forgotten place -- and now his partner-turned-rival Luke Danebluff sits on a Guildmaster's chair. The Square is in uproar, as commerce from the Inner Rings and promise of golden bounty are the talk of the day... but what sleight of hand has the new Guildmaster concocted, that a man who has scarce run a single Ring should be the beneficiary of far-away Baz'eel?
All this and more... as somewhere beyond the horizons, a black cloud forms.. a looming thunderhead which speaks of designs too foul to speak aloud.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
A confrontation in the Peerage's bare and sparsely used trading plaza was subject to a strange scene today when a number of Retainers confronted the notorious mad mage Cynthia Catsby over her affection for slaadi & other matters relating to the possession of Warrenwatch. Finding her guilty of treasonous words in describing His Majesty the King, the Retainers laid her low. In a fit of pique, the Mage set to croaking forth some manner of powerful conjurative spell....
Seeking to prevent it, the Retainers attacked young Mage with sword and hacked her to pieces, but not before the spell was cast. Perhaps her death at the moment of incantation made it all the more powerful... or perhaps not.
Regardless, the consequences were nothing short of disastrous. Dozens of Seams appeared throughout the Peerage and a veritable army of enraged, croaking Slaaki emerged - seeking vengeance. The Slaadi slew dozens of residents of the Peerage and did considerable damage before sufficient forces were mustered against them and Ruul Velstra himself was able to close his former-Apprentice's portals.
With many dead, and the acrid stench of burning slaadi-pyres still filling the Ward, the mood is one of great tension and hostility....
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
A dark day, for the peerage. Tales of Marcille Riley butchered in the streets by one of the newly emerged "Recondite". Tales of outraged retainers, demanding blood. Tales of men garbed in black, dragging the corpse off after...
The Recondite are, as always, quiet. But now... the Peerage seeths with cries for vengeance.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
Violence in the peerage. What began with a single death has escalated into something much greater. Whispers in the streets as retainers sharpen their blades and make ready. Patrols are reinforced, and steely eyed men assigned to watch the night.
It is said that the estate of the Marquis de Savary was bombed, and a large bounty offered on the Recondite. It is said a retainer was slain in the streets of the peerage the very next day, and the hatred became loathing. A sense of dread settles over the peerage like the miasma of death, and patrols once undertaken alone are done in sets of three.
One thing becomes increasingly clear to the retainers of the peerage: The first one to exact vengeance upon these recondite shall find their name much celebrated.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
It has been a long and bloody day in Ring 99, and many are uncertain how to feel. What is known for certain is that Ib'javi, a fiendish merchant allowed to trade in Ticker Square, has been slain by the very Guildmasters of that place.
It began with a ritual in the Rifts, which drew the attention of great crowds of people. A coterie of sinister wizards under the direction of Guildmaster Danebluff began their incantations, offering up fiendish instruments and infernal incantations to tear a seam to Ib'javi's Bronze Palace. Citizens looked on in fascinated horror as the magic did its work, and a group of Ring 99's bravest and best marched through the portal opened to wage war upon her very home.
Before the dust had settled, however, the fiend had sent her own soldiers in retaliation. What began was a brutal fight across two fronts, with citizens of the Square and the Ward alike fighting to protect 99 from the vengeful wrath of Ib'javi while those few sent to kill her struggled epically through her labyrinthine forges. War was waged for hours, against devilish mercenaries, the weapons of war she made her fortune from, and even through strange pact the spirits of her mortal servants who once haunted the City and fragments of her own power come to life.
In the Rifts, line after line was broken under the brunt of her assault. The battle drew on for many hours, with many lying broken in the streets, yet Retainers, Stonebuilders, Prospectors, Ringrunners and mercenaries alike returned time and time again, drawing new lines of battle, refusing to allow her forces ingress into the Ring. New challenges and weapons of Ib'javi's devising kept coming, however, testing the survivors sorely; and at the end of many struggles the battle seemed all but lost. Ib'javi had gained control of the Rifts, turning the magic of that place to her service and tearing further seams for her soldiers to pour through. A scant few stood against her newly replenished forces, the last line between her vengeance and the City.
It was during this fated last stand, however, rumoured to be held by two lone soles against her forces, that the tide turned. A great scream came from the simulacra watching over the battlefield, and her mercenaries retreated as quickly as they arrived, vanishing into the seams without a trace. Without her soldiers, the rest of her creations broke quickly; and from the Bronze Palace emerged two broken, bloodied and triumphant heroes, in time to wipe out the rest of her forces. The dust settled; Ib'javi the Unbound, ally and enemy to Ticker Square, was dead by their hand.
In the aftermath, rumours of events in the Bronze Palace spread quickly; of a terrible trap laid at the entrance to her home which slew many of the attackers, already weary from their push through her Forges below. Of a much-diminished group battling through the rest of her domain and slaying her favoured servants one by one. Only three, from the eleven that left, stood before Ib'javi in her Throne Room; the Guildmaster Luke Danebluff, and the Ringrunners Eupraxia Pherenikoulou and William Thorne.
What happened next is of some debate. While the most popular story is of a great duel, where Danebluff slew her just as her dying words annihilated him, another circulates of a fateful bolt, fired before she could even finish talking. All that is known for certain is that from out the portal Danebluff did not join the other two; and, when the last of her forces were swept away, Ib'javi was dead.
99 is not certain what to make of this situation. Oscar Tchammorar congratulated and rewarded those who protected the Square, though many whisper of the hypocrisy in his well-known support for Ib'javi in the first place, and others even more conspiratorial claim the whole thing was nothing more than a plot to remove two rivals, both Ib'javi and Danebluff. The rest of Ticker Square is as divided on the matter as they were at her arrival, with many wondering what business they have attacking a supposed ally, while others are simply glad her influence is ended. In the Peerage, the news is met with approval at her death, yet the general consensus agrees it is yet further proof of the insane politics of the Square and of the damage caused by putting groat above honour.
Across the Rings, life carries on.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
A long and terrible day draws to a close in Ticker Square. A tale spreads of horror in the streets. Of the Needle, the great device of the prospectors, erupting in violet light. Of a great seam opening over Ticker Square- a huge maw to some unknowable place. A great eye peering through and watching the bloodshed as planar hordes spilled forth upon the square. Of the prospectors barring their doors and refusing to shut down the needle as the great calamity transpired. And of Angvald Khauzat-Gaur, a warden of the Stonebuilders, stepping forth to lead a mob to smash the Needle to pieces.
Angry eyes and accusations turn upon the prospectors, and many call for blood. The prospectors call mercenaries to themselves as the smoke rises in Ticker Square. And the square itself sets about the now familiar and grim task of rebuilding... Tension in its bones.
QuoteMadame DuRange.. the name is laden with meaning and history throughout the rings; legend has it that she managed to reach the King's Keep in Ring 1, but turned back at its very gates, drawn by something even more magnetizing than the King's allure somewhere far beyond the outer rings where the Nothing has stolen swathes of the city. More regular rumors mark her as little more than a trouble making troubadour, a herald for chaotic events to come, as trouble inevitably seems to follow in the wake of her little circus troupe that travels the rings. Now she once again intends to return to Ring 99 (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=698116.msg72306), causing great anxiety and general misère among the vestigial remnants of both the small and greater houses of the Peerage Ward.. for the last time she left Ring 99 in a hurry, freedom was won for Ticker Square not soon after...
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
A peaceful day torn asunder by the Outriders of the Copper Torc- the scouts of a great looming horde.
Tales of a massive shockwave tearing through the 99th ring. The open door leaning and groaning in protest against the sound. Terrified screams from Ticker Square. The great hall of the Merchant's Guild buckled, and cracks... The very stone from which its foundation is hewn splitting in half. The Merchant's Guildhall, the great symbol of Ticker Independence... fell. And where it once stood a massive maw stood. A screaming horde pouring forth upon Ticker Square. And so began the Ticker Square's darkest day, in the memory of most.
A bloodthirsty mob of barbarians looting, burning, killing. Their great beasts breaking even the greatest defenses. But Ticker Square's own defenses stepped forth, and the Torc Outriders were slain to a man, driven away. One party confronting the leader of the Outriders, Hathus, above while another below cut off all reinforcements. Many were lost, but finally, Ticker stood once again independant. A few names began to become known, in Ticker:
-Silver Hat Artus von Watchorn - The tip of the spear of the defenses in Ticker Square, many citizens now know him as the first face they saw driving away the Torc.
-Guildmember Dorian Raventree - The shield of Ticker Square- a recent figure in the square, it is said he brought the people of the Square hope with his sermons, in its darkest hour.
-Boundryman Jeffry Guillelmus - An impossibility... of the many boundrymen sent in, somehow one survived. It is said this boundryman has been given a massive raise, and become influential in his company.
In the aftermath, however, Ticker did not fare the tragedy well. The Merchant's Guild, long time governing body of ticker square, could not survive the loss of the hall and its secretary. It is said a massive argument broke out, between them, and without the calming presence of Secretary Bhesk... the guildmasters were unable to work together. And so- they have begun to carve up Ticker Square. Any who wish to own property now must obtain permission, not of the guild, but of a single guildmaster. The mercenary companies wear massive grins, as contracts grow more plentiful.
It is said Webber, however, has gone totally silent... and her daughter has controversially fled to the peerage. Sheltering in the vale of House Velstra, instead of the square. Cries of traitor followed her, and Webber's Wonders is found most morning plastered with graffiti.
In all this aftermath however, an undercurrent of terror. Ticker's great defenses shattered... not by the Torc's army, but by its forward outriders. Many whisper that to fight, now, is hopeless, and the square is lost. Other, more level heads say only that if Ticker's defenses wont do... new ones must be found.
It is a new day, for Ticker Square. And what lies ahead, for the square, awaits to be decided....
Rumours over the last few days speak of strange occurences in the Swamps of Ring 95. Strange trolls are said to have started appearing, quite recently, more vigorous and harder to slay than the norm... how or why these creatures are appearing, none seem to know; various researchers and gentleman scholars are said to have hired mercenary bands to discover the truth of this new phenomenon.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
A grim portent of dark days to come took place in the main thoroughfare of Ticker's Square. Following a popular vote, the electorate of the Square determined that they would welcome the Arbiters of the Hundred Scrolls into their city - a faustian pact, perhaps, as the price was paid in agreement to adhere to the Arbiters' zealous and uncompromising doctrine of religious confirmity rather than a sum of groat.
On a gloomy, rainy evening, the Arbiters made their appearance under the leadership of Monitor Alexei Harlowe. Marching through the Open Door with dour determination, the Arbiters erected a gallows in full view of the trading plaza as their first act as so-called protectors of Ticker's Square. Promptly shutting down any 'heretical' commerce taking place (including the hawking of divine potion bottles), the Arbiters gathered a crowd of concerned onlookers as they set about arresting the alchemist Augy Baxter and his apprentice, Boris. Amidst much cacophony and high tension, an allegation was made that apprentice Boris had been conspiring with the hated Copper Torcs to smuggle high quality Ticker potions into their warchest.
One brave Silver Hat by the name of Dorian Raventree was the lone voice bold enough to stand against this tyranny, and challenged the Arbiters. He paid for his valour with the brutal humiliation of a beating, brought to heel and trapped beneath the heavy brass chausses of an arbiter standing on his back as he was forced to watch the execution. Several other Silver Hats came to the defence of their comrade, and a small riot broke out - though it too in turn was quelled by the iron fist of the Arbiters, and perhaps in no small part by the inaction of the silent majority who watched in quiet distress.
Boris is dead, and Augy is crippled from the savage beatings and lashings he received at the hands of the Arbiters. They now stand as grim-faced sentinels over Ticker's Square, quick to reprimand 'heretical' traders and upbraid those who mis-speak against their presence.
For certain, the Arbiters have demonstrated their immense strength of arms, and many Tickers sleep more soundly knowing they are so well defended from the enemies outside their precious Square... Alas, that they are in bed with what may well be another foe.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
A clerk of Baron Uld breaks the silent night with a loud and boisterous announcement. A grand quest has been called and any and all have been called to action for the search for a holy set of tomes known only as "The Whey of the Curd". It is announced that the Baron shall reward handsomely in treasures anyone who brings him the collected works. During the announcement it was said that the tomes may be pivotal to feeding Ticker during and past the conflicts ahead, some kind of vague "problem" with the supply of cheese is hinted to but not revealed in full to which these tomes are the answer.
The announcement, it is rumored, was also interrupted by the loud protests of one Kanna Vauntz. In response to this Cheese Thugs were dispatched to shut her up for good. By all reports the mission was a great success, the thugs barely breaking a sweat in bloodying the incompetent detractor of the Baron Uld. Or so say the Baron's loyal dwarves.
//OOC: The tomes are in the game world and can be found and assembled without DM aid.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
The End of the Blade Boom, and the Fall of Ticker SquareTimekeeping is illegal. Years ago... less than a generation, more than a tenseason, a number of Guildmasters came together. Under the yoke of excessive tax, and distant, apathetic lords... Ticker labored not for their own good, but for that of distant rulers. Gold was gathered, seals broken, and a dream forged....
Today, that dream has ended.
The week began with a ground shattering betrayal. As the vast army of the Copper Torc arrived, Lord Euric Freward's right hand man stepped forth... Solomon Krown. The former leader of the Butchers of Ticker Square, revealed in full copper armor, with total knowledge of the squares defenses. Several battles took forth over the coming week, leading to the day....
The day began, as so many others of recent, with a demanding call from Guildmistress Priscilla Klink. Worries that the Torc were on the move, and calls to the allies Ticker had managed to gather- only the Arbiters, and Third Company. A warmeeting was held, and decisions were made. The Third Company would take to the field, and take on the majority of the forces in 104. The Arbiters would strike towards the copper torc's stables, and kill their horses. The adventurers of Ticker Square would divide into two forces- The Defenders, and the Attackers. The defenders chose to hold in 101, and the attackers chose to attack the Queen of the Kasseax, to forever deprive the Torc of more insect beasts.
The defense began excellently. Brave men, shoulder to shoulder, held against an endless tide of Copper Torc. A wall of Ticker Flesh upon which Lord Freward's horde was to break. The attack, likewise, went well, the egg hatchery of the Torc burned effortlessly, without a single loss. Tides began to turn, with the first betrayal. A notice sent to the torc, a letter telling them of the plans. The arbiters walked into a trap, and found themselves surrounded by alchemist's fire, failing their mission. At this time, in almost perfect concert, a second- darker- betrayal unraveled. The Knaves of 99, contracted by the Copper Torc, struck out against Guildmistress Priscilla Klink. A blade in her gut, she died on the floor of the open door. And from her body was taken the contract that assured payment to the Third Company. Sneaking past the entire defensive line, the Knaves managed to reach the camp of the Copper Torc, and deliver their dark payload.
Above, the defensive line began to shatter. Pulling back and losing men at a rate they could not recover from, the defenses of Ticker began to fail. Below, the Assault fought onwards, Ticker's best and strongest men. They came to the queen... and at great cost, and the loss of many lives, they slayed it. As they made their way back, a sending echoed out:
QuoteLord Euric Freward
Your defiance has been admirable. I commend your warrior-spirit. I shall have need of it in the days to come, sons and daughters of the 99th Ring.
[A rustle of paper...] But now it comes to end. I hold here in my hand the contract for command of the Baz'eel Third Company. I order you to stand down, and bring your swords upon any who continue to resist the Copper Torc.
As the assault returned, they came to a defense broken. An army, missing. And, with all hope lost, another sending came in reply:
QuoteSilas Sparrowbroth
So... It is. Klink dead, the defense broken. Only the Assault... [a choked swollow] Freward. We... We surrender.
Lord Freward. We accept you, as our rightful lord. Ticker Square... is yours.
And, with those words ended the dream that had begun so long ago. With those words ended an independant Ticker Square. The Torc streamed into Ticker Square, a new occupying force, a new order. And Lord Freward came forth, and spoke chiding words, like one would speak to a child. And, as the Peerage came before him, to offer lordship, a position as a peer- his reply:
"Show me the man who has conquered a hundred rings, and I shall name him peer."
and refused. Leaving Ticker, independent once more.... but now occupied by a great army. An army too vast to feed, men too used to raiding to settle down. Uneasy voices begin to echo that such a situation cannot remain stable. However, for now...
It is done.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
The Peerage Musters
-- New political developments among the High Society of the Peerage, as the political arena shifts and circumstances change to reflect recent events, and the persuasive efforts of retainers... --
-- Following a barely-defeated steadings raid from the Copper Torcs, fuelled by the desperation induced by starvation, House Velstra finds itself flung headfirst into the battleline alongside the Nephezarim. --
-- Lord Norbert - or, in this case more specifically his spokesman, the estate butler Thomas - has declared that his house shall formally answer the Nephezarim call-to-arms, though this was scant more than a formality after Nicholas led the defence of the gatelands. --
-- With the wedding on the horizon, Velstra finds its attentions divided between war and peace in a curious dichotomy of attitudes. Meanwhile, House Orza begrudgingly admits the necessity of fighting the Torcs after the raid on the farmlands, and likewise commits to aid. --
-- The only hold-out, still, remains Houses Glitt and Sunpurse - in Glitt's case, more due to the fact that they simply have nothing in the way of soldiery to spare from defending the Highlands against a curiously growing threat of savage monster-men and insidious Dwarves. --
-- Sunpurse, on the other hand, decries Nephezar as having 'snookered' the rest of the Peerage, forcing them to join in a war that Nephezar provoked by attacking and burning the Torc granary. The Reeve remains incensed at Lord Adaion's actions, though his retainers have their own views. --
-- Finally, House Nephezar continues its curious preparations for some manner of Grand Ritual. Retainers of the holy house have been seen stockpiling numerous conjurative foci and summoning reagents for purposes unclear. --
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
The signing of the Clocktower Accord, and the refounding of a united 99th ring.As Ticker Square first met the Torc, Valentina Webber left to the scorn of all.
As Ticker Square was rid of their flames by her plans, Valentina Velstra returned a hero to Ticker Square.
The wedding proceeded with much festivity. It is said Beauxregard Winespill vomited on Saibhon Dumein, in front of the entire nobility, and many grand gifts were presented. The wedding was officiated by Archivist Alfonso Winneseph, and it is said, by all accounts, it was a tasteful and pleasant wedding... by the standards of House Velstra. And in its closing minutes, an announcement was made... Ticker Square would be retaken. The Torc, long starved by the efforts of House Velstra and House Nephezar, came to the field with what little they could muster. Men weakened by long starvation came out to meet the entire, united peerage ward- and after a long battle, they were crushed. A few names echo, amoung the many: Jouvander Don Vindascas, slayer of Solomon Krown. Muggbert Skudge, self-proclaimed hero of all. Dorian Raventree, the last Silver hat.
But in the end, as they gathered to face Freward- It was not their hands by which he died, but that of his trusted general, Solomon Krown. And Krown, in turn, died by a betrayal of his own. And, at long last, Ticker Stood- pacified.
And so the Guildmasters and Lords of the Peerage gathered, and a document was signed. The Clocktower Accord.
Of which Article One became quickly known to all:QuoteArticle 1
The former merchants guild and Guild Masters of Ticker Square shall now and forever cede all legal ownership of Ticker Square to the Lords of the Peers, under terms here outlined. All current organizations, ranks, deeds and titles given by the former governing body of Ticker Square are henceforth dissolved. All property not currently owned by a signatory guildmaster or the doorkeepers shall be ceded to the Guild of Lessors. At all times Ticker Square shall accept the legal authority of the King, and through him, those he declares to be Peer.
A parliament was formed, and Ticker Square set about the achingly familiar task of rebuilding. But this time... with the entire ring, behind them. Politics in Ticker Square begin to emerge. The Merchants, freed of the need to cooperate for governance, dissolve into competition and backstabbing. Under the hand of the peerage ward, might alone can no longer govern contract, and so scheming begins. Of the guilds, the two signatory guilds each begin to form a political coalition. Alike only in their methods.
The Weavers- Wizards, Socialites, and Diplomats, increasingly find themselves the voice of change within Ticker Square. With a deep disregard for tradition, and ties to the Velstra family, their supporters call them the way forward for the Square. Their detractors, however, label them manipulative, without scruples, and as having a total disregard for any of low wealth below their station.
The Accountants- Enforcers, Spies, and some say- assassins, ever more speak for a more static square. Pointing to the many changes of the past year, and the suffering- and more importantly lack of profits- it brought, the Accountant's Guild argues what is best for the square is a strict adherence to the traditions of the past. The rebellion of Ticker Square failed- they say- the time of change is past. Their supporters call them a pillar of stability within the square. Their detractors, however, accuse them of being a ever-present source of violence and tyranny within the square, with no regard for privacy.
These newly emerged guilds, barely in their infancy, waste little time turning to the accord with hungry eyes:
QuoteArticle 12
Should at any time a single Signatory Guild become so generally dominant and powerful within the Ticker Square so its collapse would result in a major cessation of economic activity, such guild may petition the Lords of the Peerage for the right of coterie. Should any one lord affirm coterie, all other signatory guilds shall be dismissed, and their votes given to the Signatory Guildmaster of the guild in coterie.
With hope of absolute economic dominance in the guilds, Ticker Settles into a peace... but a complex one. While the blades have been put away, it seems a different type of war begins, deep under the surface.
And, as the Parliament's door close for its first session, men mutter of a inky black storm in the distance.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
The aftermath of the Torc War...
-- New developments in the Peerage Ward, in the aftermath of the blood-letting and political upheaval of the Torc War... --
-- As the great hero-or-tyrant Euric Freward, the leader and sole unifier of the great Torc Horde, lies dead on the bloodsoaked cobbles of Ticker Square, much has changed. --
-- The great copper-clad Torc army has disintegrated into many factions. Though a vast number have fled for the outer rings, or taken to pushing deeper in small bands as little more than glorified ringrunners, some Torc clans remain in the near proximity of Ring 99, feuding amongst themselves for supremacy. --
-- House Velstra, having led the charge of the Peerage and their motley of mercenary allies against the invaders, enjoy a position of immense prestige and social dominance among the Great Houses following the Clocktower Accord. --
-- Sir Nicholas and his newly-wed spouse, Valentina Webber, stand at a curious crossroad of controversy and glory, as Nicholas has both married insultingly below his social station but also achieved a great military victory. --
-- Valentina, for her part, wields a natural charisma and innate charm that beguiles many of her new social equals. Conversely, traditionalists and hardline aristocrats bristle angrily against the ascension of a peasant household to the nobility. --
-- In particular, the Reeve of Sunpurse and Guiseppe Orza are by far the most vocal opponents of the new Lady Velstra; condemning the unorthodox marriage as an insult to the Ward's values and a blatant powergrab. --
-- Indeed, there has been much a-do in the household of Orza. In the wake of Solomon Krown's killing by Kristoff's knife Jouvander, rumours have escaped the castle of a ferocious late-night row between Kristoff and his father Grigori on the subject of Krown's demise, which Grigori seems less pleased about than his son had anticipated... --
-- The House Sunpurse enjoys the unexpected favour of the Royal Archives, who have bestowed much clemency and favour upon the Bannerhouse for their work in restoring several lost manuscripts to the sacred library. The Reeve Jodfry's denunciation of Nicholas Velstra's offensive seems to have proven valid, as many of the returning militia who marched to war returned to a bridge soaked in changeling blood and the corpses of monstrous goatmen littering the steadings and outskirts; a terrible raid, fended off only by the shrewd wisdom and strength of Sunpurse. --
-- Tensions between Sunpurse and Velstra are high following the Reeve's political insult, and House Velstra finds itself soaring on the crest of its triumph yet also politically isolated as a result of its success. The Nephezarim have been friendly enough, for now, since they had been the first to take the fight to the Copper Torcs - though time will tell if that alliance of mutual interest survives Velstra's economic dominance. --
-- House Glitt is deeply troubled of late - lacking any measure of strength to wield meaningfully at home, near all of the mighty thanes and highlanders of the House are committed to defending the pioneer outposts of 94. Hopefully, this strategy will pay dividends in the near future with the development of new mines and farmland - provided they can survive the ominous threat that lurks beneath the Silverspike... --
-- The situation remains tense and dynamic in the Peerage Ward. Most eyes are on Velstra, as they wait to see how the House will wield its newfound strength - and others are on House Sunpurse, and the Banner it holds, as whispers of a coming Tourney grace the lips of many a commoner... --
// Retainers who wish to make use of their prestige in an attempt to influence the agenda of their House may continue to do so by contacting DM Hound.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
With little reason or cause discernable, a seam to the Plane of Fire opened in the very heart of "Trash Island". Fires began to spread, and many efforts were put towards closing it-
But the seam remains.
And as the day ended, as all other seams blinked in and out of existence....
The seam of fire remains. Trash isle smoulders.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
Promises, promises. The City is rife with broken oaths and meaningless tokens of love and fealty...
What is one more, men might ask themselves, amidst a countless sum?
What is one more hallowed rite, untended?
Perhaps we have reached the end of death, the end of horror and the weeping of widows. Perhaps the City has seen the final tolling of the bells, the final observation of perhaps the the last of our Old King's esoteric demands. Or ...Perhaps it is His morbid design, that men's hopes should be denied.
Overhead in the 99th, the grey sky gives way to black thunderheads and rain, as a decrepit man in a crimson robe, attended by fussing lessers with ink-stained fingers, takes his first ponderous steps toward the Chamber of the Doorkeepers.
To announce to all the realm that the season of Tourney is again upon us.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
A large assembly of retainers begins to gather outside the Velstra Feast, in the small courtyard. In a rare public appearance, the portly Lord Norbert Velstra has made a showing - accompanied, as always, by his 'fair' maid and daughter, Joan Winespill...
... In no small part a subject of mockery, and oft abused by the socialites of the Ward for her less-than-comely features and unfortunate heritage.
In an unusual show of clemency, the gate guards do not challenge any nonhumans who enter the Peerage Ward at this time - though the socially astute might notice a certain sense of grim restraint in the plaintive lack of hostility. They've had a talking to, evidently...
Lord Norbert stands in amicable silence - apart from a whispered word to the Winespills attending him - as he waits for any stragglers and latecomers to arrive to hear his address.
Briefly distracted by a dalliance with a plate of food, delivered by a Winespill, Lord Norbert remembers why everyone is gathered in front of him, and prepares to begin his speech...
A large cadre of Nephezar Retainers draw arms in the Peerage Ward...
Nicodemus Nephezar: ARREST THIS TRAITOR!
Velstra and Glitt retainers move to defend the threatened Lord Norbert, whose chubby jowls drop open in horror...
The few Sunpurse retainers, ever traditionalists, begin laying hands on their own weapons. Bound to defend the honour of the ward against those who would defy tradition...
... But tradition, in this case, is threatened by Velstra. Nicodemus gives the order to charge, and a melee ensues!
A mayhem of violence in the Peerage Ward. Glitt and Velstra do battle with Nephezar and Sunpurse...
As the violence continues, the King's Banner begins to smoulder. With Lord Norbert escorted back into the Vale during the fighting, and Nicodemus nowhere to be seen...
-- The Royal Archivist emerges from the Archives... --
As the Royal Archivist implores a warning of kingly wrath, the bacchanalia of violence comes to a pause. The smouldering banner's white flames flicker out, testingly, as many battered and bruised retainers nurse their wounds on the floor of the impromptu battlefield.
As the dust settles, and the Archivist returns back to his demesne, after declaring a royal amnesty... Nephezar and Velstra retainers limp back to their lordly estates, glaring daggers at one another. A new feud in the ward, written in blood and wounded pride.
In a controversial new development, Lord Norbert Velstra has decreed that non-humans that once served the Weaver's Guild may now join House Velstra. In a show of religious outrage, Nicodemus Nephezar demanded Norbert's arrest, leading to the outbreak of violence.
// Any players who were a part of the Weavers within the past 2 weeks may contact me and request to join House Velstra. I am also accepting a VERY SMALL minority of requests to play newly-made non-human PCs in Velstra. Such PCs should be considered to have been administrative staff in the Weaver's Guild up until this point. Contact me on discord if you are interested. Spaces are few.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
A crowd gathers on the bridge of the Peerage as the scandalous and infamous Kastian of Sunpurse faces the Gawn of Glitt. The ward holds its breath for what may decide not only the future of the banner, but quite possibly the future of these two houses and the ward at large....
The bridge, stained with the blood of both combatants. Gawen has slain on the bridge. Glitt retainers begain to bray for blood, accusations of cheating, shouts of 'TICKER FILTH!' ring out...
Tensions rise as houses array themselves on one side of the bridge or the other, displaying their loyalties plainly. Men reach for their potions, anticipating more blood to be spilled....
-- The roaring, furious tenor of Lord Bernard Glitt decries the honour of the duel as illegitimate, and that his champion had rightfully won. Demanding the arrest of Kastian, and promising his demise for his supposed crime against the Ward's honour, the aggrieved lord enters the Spinning Groat... --
-- To get himself a hard drink. --
The cries of many a woman across the ward can be hard, shrieks of anguish for the loss of the noble Gawen of Glitt. A duel steeped in scandal that shall go down in the history of the ward. An act of honorable mercy repaid with death.
And as the ward retreats to tend to their wounds and celebrate their victories...
A discarded bloody greataxe remains on the bridge...
-- Lord Bernard Glitt, followed by a loyal retainer desperately pleading with him to stop, barges into the Sunpurse Manse... --
-- Peerage socialites quickly gossip about the frothing rage of the drunken Bernard Glitt in the foyer of the Sunpurse Manse, where he violently brandished a sword at Kastian and demanded he kneel and apologise for his 'crimes'... --
-- Having refused, he promised a knighthood and a fief to any man who brought him Kastian's head. A high prize indeed. --
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
The black storms above Ring 99 have swelled and grown fat on aether and wind, and the endless ink-dark rains they spill out onto the commons and beyond now fall sharp and angry. It has begun to hail, and the sun can scarce be seen behind the clouds now.
And then this morning, things take a turn for the eerie. A great hole in the heavens opens up, and what would be the eye of any natural storm now holds steady over the 99th. A vast, empty, dark hole into and endless nothing.. affixed in the skies above.
Children and sages both swear, to the lamentation of their fellows, that if they stare long enough into the black abyss above.. they can see shapes and ripples moving in the Dark.
The Tourney has drawn on long, and each day the terror above yawns a little wider.
Time is running out.
//https://tinylink.net/6xkr5 (https://tinylink.net/6xkr5)
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
In the wake of House Nephezar's resurgent triumph in the contest of the Banner Tourney, much has changed in the political landscape of the Peerage Ward.
The Ticker Parliament - ever an institution of dubious effectiveness, considered by many to be little more than a marionette show between Oscar Tchamorrar and House Velstra's proxy, the Weavers - has been dissolved by decree of House Nephezar. Few grumbles of dissent were heard from the powers-that-be; Oscar never much cared for the arrangement to begin with, and the other Lords of the Peerage only saw the Parliament as scant more than a charade for Velstra to disguise its dominance over Ticker Square.
A more controversial development was the dissolution of the Council of Peers. Although never actually a body that possessed genuine legal authority in the Ward, it had become something of a cultural keystone for the retainers of Ring 99; it represented a means by which they could emulate the high grandeur and respectable civility of their betters, and offer advisory decrees to their counterparts that were generally respected and obeyed more than they were shirked, despite the lack of any legal 'teeth' behind the body's declarations.
Regardless of the practical lack of meaning behind the Council's dissolution, hackles have nevertheless been raised among the other Houses - who watch the new Bannerhouse with skeptical paranoia as a resurgent wave of zealous piety underlines every public declaration made by the Nephezarim. House Velstra balances awkwardly on the precipice of a formal inquisition, as Nicodemus Nephezar's ominous accusations of "heresy" and "treason" against Lord Norbert Velstra for his induction of non-humans into his household still hang heavy in the air. The recently-knighted Dame Eleleth Einhardt has called for House Velstra to stand trial, though whether her words carry sufficient political gravitas to make such a thing happen remains to be seen.
Lord Adaion Nephezar's attention, however - as well as his treasury - seems to be directed elsewhere than internal politics at this time. Peerage gossips tell a tale of two dignitaries from House Nephezar and House Sunpurse being hosted in the estate of lesser House Greywood in the Burgage, where a transaction was negotiated for the purchase of a leasehold. At enormous expense to its coffers, House Nephezar has begun the reconstruction of the Grand Vestry, an ancient cathedral in the Burgage that was abandoned during the Merchant's Rebellion, when it was besieged by Silas Sparrowbroth's Sappers and looted by Oscar Tchamorrar's avaricious minions.
House Nephezar has announced a bounty on precious gemstones and minerals to all of Ring 99, willing to pay in hard groat for things of beauty and splendour that will restore the forgotten glory of the Grand Vestry.
Older members of Peerage high society stare glumly into their cups, as many of them still remember the days before the Merchant's Rebellion, when the 'True Faith' held sway in the Ward - and now they grimly resign themselves to its inevitable return under the royal auspices of Bannerhouse Nephezar...
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
An Old Faith, Renewed
After much labour and intensive work, the citizens of the Burgage can finally stop complaining about oxen droppings covering the streets and loud banging from stonemasons echoing through the night. The Grand Vestry, a religious structure long abandoned by the Peerage Ward after its sacking during the Merchant's Rebellion, has been restored at great expense by the work of House Nephezar. With its restoration comes a renewal of traditions that had also been forgotten, such as the Rite of Fealty and a lack of tolerance for religious outsiders...
Some resistance to the new movement remains, with the Lords of House Glitt and House Velstra having yet to formally commit to the Rite of Fealty. House Sunpurse has pledged their support and converted in nearly their entirety, as has House Nephezar. A handful of retainers and lesser vassals from House Orza have converted, though no official word on the matter has come from Lord Grigori or his advisors...
A new chapter has begun in the Peerage Ward - and it is underlined with the blood of the zealous.
The Lord & Lady
Associated Domains: Nobility, Law, Sun, Travel, War, Protection
Focus: The Peerage
Special Characteristics: Peerage Citizenship, Monotheistic
The faith of the Lord & Lady is the organised religion of the Peerage Ward, endorsed by the Royal Archives and (publically) practiced by all members of the nobility and their sworn vassals. The centre of the mythology revolves around the Lord Departed, who once ruled over the Peerage Ward but left to undertake a quest of errantry to vanquish a Great Evil, leaving his newborn child (often interpreted as a euphemism for the Peerage Ward) in the care of his Lady-in-Waiting - with a Promise made through the blood of their child that he would one day return to her. Several different interpretations of this myth exist, though all of them revolve around this core plot and character archetypes.
This broad religion is the parent faith of three component parts - the Lady-in-Waiting, the Lord Departed, and the ancient sun deity known as the Promise. As the primary foundation on which the social structure of the Peerage Ward rests, all citizens of the Ward are expected to profess devotion to this faith - to do otherwise is to invite suspicion, social rejection and potentially even accusations of heresy or dreaded Changeling witchcraft...
Followers of the Lord & Lady are expected to adhere to several commandments, which form the cornerstone of the faith:
1. To obey their sworn liege, and defend them and their honour unto death.
2. To be loyal to the King.
3. To attend Communion.
4. To be true to their word.
5. To condemn other faiths and Changelings.
Essential to correctly following the Lord & Lady is rejecting other religions as evil and sinister. Only the Lady-in-Waiting and the Lord Departed are bound by the sacred Promise, and so all other deities who seek worship and prayer are tricksters and charlatans who threaten the feudal order and the lawful oaths between a liege and their vassals. Whilst Peers are not expected to be violent towards the unfaithful, it is socially frowned upon to be seen in the company of heretics and making use of their magic or blessings is perceived as sinful and potentially even criminal.
Crucial to being seen as a 'proper' devotee of the Lord & Lady is regular attendance at Communion, a sacred ritual which sees the entirety of the Peerage Ward gather at the Grand Vestry to receive a sermon from a member of the ordained clergy. During this ritual, attendants will perform the Rite of Fealty, wherein an offering of blood is made before the altar as a renewal of oaths and promises - be it to friends, family, business partners or one's liege. As the left palm is commonly used as the cutting place for drawing blood during the Rite of Fealty, having a 'Fealty Scar' on one's left palm is generally regarded as a sign of piety and is an easy way of checking whether another person is a member of the faith. Attendance at Communion is almost always rewarded with prestige, and also serves as an opportunity for particularly noteworthy individuals who have achieved deeds of merit to be acknowledged and praised by the faithful community.
Players of this faith should generally be superstitious and pay close attention to the piety of other practitioners. A culture of 'competition' to be seen as the most devout is encouraged, and the sacredness of blood as a symbol for trustworthiness and unbreakable promises should be represented in roleplay. Members of House Nephezar and House Sunpurse are the most likely to have this religion feature heavily in their roleplay and faction portrayal, though players from other Houses will also have this religion feature in their roleplay - be they devout practitioners or otherwise.
Practitioners of the Lord & Lady faith have a small selection of religious gestures unique to their culture:
1. Placing three fingers over the heart when an oath is sworn indicates a pious intention to carry out this duty, and a belief that the oath has been witnessed by the Lord, the Lady and the Promise.
2. Tapping the underside of the wrist several times is considered a gesture to ward off evil and bad omens.
3. Pressing the forefinger and ring-finger of the right hand into the palm of the left - where the Fealty Scar usually sits - indicates a plea to the Lord & Lady for courage and strength. Often done before a dangerous undertaking or a battle.
NOTE: Practicing secretive heretical doctrines, unorthodox behaviours, and otherwise being subtly deviant/controversial is allowed if it is suitable for your concept. Understand that doing so is likely to have severe IC consequences if discovered, but is likely to be narratively interesting and fun. Conversely, if religion is not a major theme of your character, it is encouraged for you to practice the religion dutifully and normally if you are a Peerage member.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
Ever a nest of vipers, the culmination of intrigues within the Peerage Ward came to a violent and destructive head in the Battle for the Steadings. A distressing narrative of a traitor within the Ward opening the gate of the Gatelands to allow a huge marauding horde of vengeful Copper Torcs into the Steadings comes to light among the social circles of the aristocracy.
As the story goes, several of the Peerage Houses had been engaged in subterfuge and diplomacy entreating three rival Torc khanates locked in a civil war to determine which leader deserved to inherit the prestigious crown of the late Euric Freward. With one of these khans having defeated a rival in battle and absorbing the other tribes' warriors, their numbers became large enough to pose a distinct threat to the Peerage - above all, House Velstra, whom Khan Uirdan allegedly holds a fierce enmity against.
Despatching his once-rival and now-lieutenant, Khan Ulgu, to lead a fearsome warband into the Steadings, the Torcs took advantage of their swift movement and the Ward's unpreparedness to burn and slaughter their way through vast swathes of farmland. When the retainers of the Peerage finally arrived to give battle, they did so surrounded by the raging flames of torched farmhouses and smouldering wheatfields.
The fighting was fierce, and saw much death and chaos. Archivists who attended the site of the battlefield afterwards were unable to tabulate the dead, as the scorching heat of the fires had charred the bodies to the point where it was nigh impossible to distinguish between Torc or Peer. Condemning rumours tell of a tactical withdrawal from House Glitt during the battle, allegedly to seek out and secure the wellbeing of the third Torc clan that had aligned itself with them. Lord Bernard has yet to make any official statement, but has suffered from allegations of cowardice and selfishness for his House's questionable prioritisation of outsiders over their own kin. There is a small, rarely-voiced counternarrative exonerating Glitt as acting under orders from House Nephezar, but neither the aristocracy nor the enraged peasants of the Steadings seem inclined to accept this alibi. House Sunpurse was also conspiciously absent, shamed by detractors who sympathise with House Velstra that accuse Sunpurse of sacrificing the lives of Velstra's commonfolk for political advantage - a wholly unpious and selfish act in the eyes of the newly-established church...
In the end, only the arrival of Ser Nicholas Velstra and the entire retinue of Lionguard managed to stop the Torc assault from rampaging over the entire Steadings. Helped by heroes and mercenaries from Houses Orza, Velstra and Nephezar, Ser Nicholas rescued what little he could of his family's ancestral holdings and drove off the attackers.
Alas for him, that an enemy from within was waiting for an opportunity to strike in the unguarded Vale. Slipping into the Velstra estate whilst the Lionguard were absent, an unknown assailant laid a terrible hex upon Ser Nicholas' newly-wed wife, Valentina Webber of Ticker Square, and spirited away her soul. Now a lifeless, pale-eyed husk incapable of speech or thought, she lies comatose in a bed, trapped in a vegetative state. The Velstra family mourns her as if she had died - with the exception of Ruul, who has been absent for several days without explanation. Blackjack attempts to investigate the matter have been viciously rebuked by the House, who have been angered of late by the King's Militia.
Burgage taverns tell another, parallel narrative of a major scuffle within the barracks of the Blackjacks - an attempted coup or regime change, apparently put down by the Captain of the Militia with no small amount of difficulty. Meanwhile, in the Steadings, veteran of the battle Leopold Sobol has been engaged in talks with a merchant by the name of Evrart Ichalard in an attempt to secure much-needed supplies and relief aid for the suffering smallfolk - ever the last thing on the minds of the scheming lords who take them for granted.
Curious pamphlets have been appearing in the Steadings in the wake of the conflict, demanding justice for the fallen and forgotten who have seen no meaningful acknowledgement from the Peerage proper. Time alone will tell if such simmering animosity can seed the growth of something new in the ashes of the burnt fields...
With the rise of the Peerage any vestiges of democracy in Ticker have vanished. Now, once wealthy merchants are expected to scrape and bow before the Five Houses like everyone else.
Tonight there was a stir in Tickertown when a knight of House Flevas tried to requisition potions from a the Black Cauldron Brewer. The proprietor refused, resulting in a scuffle and destruction of his shop. The blackjacks were called in and, according to onlookers, inspector Fowler further fined the gnome for planar contraband. The issue was settled by the merchant Evrart Ichalard, and Thayan Athazar Szonech, who recouped his losses.
The people of Ticker Square remain suspicious of their new masters. The poorest grovel for a bit of noblesse oblige. But, the adventurers and working men much used to freedom have begun to wax poetic about the days of stonebuilders casting out the fops and dandies. A group of rabblerousers have even begun calling themselves 'Patriots'...
There has been an interesting development in the Peerage, which many are found to be commenting and speculating upon.
It seems that the Lords of the Peerage, along with the Royal Archivist, met in conference and surprised House Sunpurse with a solemn warning.
Young Phelan of House Sunpurse has been declared presumed dead.
And in his absence, it has been found necessary for the Lady Oriana of Sunpurse to put aside her feelings and choose an appropriate suitor to marry.
She has been warned that if she is unable to select a worthy husband, one will be found for her....
But all wonder: who shall it be?
There was a large brawl in the steadings between ticker square rowdies and several retainers. It began when the blackjacks arrested Merin Carrestol, a Tickertown alchemist, for the murder of Sunpurse retainer Evrart Ichalard. The blackjacks claimed that Merin sought revenge against Evrart after losing a great deal of coin in a dispute with House Flevas retainers. However, the pleading gnome and several onlookers pointed out that Evrart had actually given the alchemist thousands of groat to make up for his losses - so where was the motive?
To make matters worse one of the 'Ticker Patriots', William Parsons, confessed to the murder. And then Lady Bishop Eris Hale provided new information that neither man could possibly be the murderer, but that both had surely defiled Evrart's corpse. The befuddled executioner settled for taking both Parsons' and Merin's left hands. At that point several of the Ticker Patriots rushed the stage, trying to free their comrade from this miscarriage of justice. They were soundly beaten back.
No lives were lost today, but the smallfolk of Ticker and the steadings are beginning to talk. Any one of them, after all, might lose life and limb in the next of the great houses' convoluted conspiracies...
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
The loud, sonorous ringing of the Grand Vestry's bell marked the commencing of Communion, as hordes of peasants and artisans flocked to the building. For the lesser folk of the Peerage, such an event is essentially an excuse for a minor carnival - street vendors flog trinkets and baubles, others sell food (at a wretched premium under the looming shadow of possible famine) and more besides clamber onto scaffolding and peek into windows to watch the events inside.
Within, retainers and their liegelords listened a sermon by the Bishop Alathea, otherwise known as Eris Hale, and observed Finn Darker of House Velstra being ordained as the Bishop of the Promise - a surprising turn of events to many, with commentators baffled by Finn's selection by the council over several other more qualified candidates. Cynical observers noted that the appointment of Finn Darker took place shortly before Ser Nicholas Velstra pledged the Rite of Fealty and formally announced the conversion of House Velstra to the new faith.
Meanwhile in the rural community of the Steadings, the growing spectre of starvation and homelessness continues to eclipse the daily lives of the peasantry. Scuffles and brawls over food donated by the likes of Dougal Maclaren of House Glitt have become a semi-regular occurrence, and one man was even hanged at the gallows for stabbing a yeoman over a disputed bag of oats. Vagrants who lost their homes in the Copper Torc attack have been found begging in the streets of the Burgage, or worse - turning brigand and attacking travellers in the Weald. A handful of retainers and other well-to-do city dwellers surveyed the Steadings in an attempt to determine a solution to the challenges, but little meaningful progress was made.
The peasantry have been heard of late gossiping about the latest sighting of a 'Blue Faerie', who many claim to have seen frolicking on their croplands and urinating on their livestock. Several serfs swear by the Promise that the Blue Faerie is a blessing, and brings good fortune and bountiful harvests to those who are visited by it in the night. Supposedly, a small cadre of Orza retainers under Stelian Orza attempted to capture the strange creature, but were bamboozled by its capricious shenanigans.
In the wake of the visitations by strange fey, some farmers mutter under their breath when deep in their cups that the Willowmasks and Groundskeeper might well be able to help them heal their burnt fields and butchered animals. With Changeling witchcraft being strictly outlawed and deemed blasphemous by the faith, such controversial suggestions are almost never voiced in the presence of retainers or outsiders.
Old traditions die hard, and as conkers begin to fall in the Weald and the leaves turn orange, the first chill winds of autumn begin to sweep into Ring 99. The pitiful harvest of the Steadings has already been gathered, and many yeomen sit forlornly on tiny bales of wheat and barley, smoking their pipes as they bitterly watch the Great Houses' taxmen come to take their yearly tithe. Carved pumpkins sit in the windows of many a Steadings farmhouse, decorated with garlands and marked with ancient symbols. Much to the annoyance of the Nephezar priests, the peasantry still cleave to their pagan fear of Yevethax, the Tree of the Dead...
It is now autumn in Ring 99.
The Peerage ward is rife with rumor after a shocking revelation by Dame Eleleth of House Nephezar. The holy knight announced it was discovered that Lord Berneard Glitt has sired a mongrelpig child which was left in the grove of Balelful Stillborn. Nicodemus Nephezar himself was said to have obtained its afterbirth and used his magic to unveil a hideous beast stalking the Mongrelwoods. Fear of changeling taint within the honorable House, Nephezar and the True Faith have declared they shall hold an inquisition at the next council of peers to investigate these claims...
House Glitt has remained silent on the subject. The House has only recently risen from disgrace after Mairead Glitt dispelled the scheming steward Skudge. It is well known that Bernard's late wife, Meredith Glitt, did die in childbirth some ten years ago. And Bernard Glitt was a wretched drunk for many years after. The Lord released a single proclaimation on the subject, but has spent many of the days after brooding in his chambers.
QuoteCity Sending by Bernard Glitt: It is true my family has suffered at the hands of changeling sorcery, much like others of the ward. My wife, and what was good of my son, both died in childbirth. Glitt has, and will always, stand tall for Ring 99. All of you know that. And you know not to listen to whatever venomous SHIT Skudge spews forth.
The Ward is split on the issue. Many remember the rowdy young lord with kindness and chalk the scandal up to some failed blackmail attempt by Steward Skudge. Others, weary of changelings and witchcraft, pine for the days when there was an Inquisitor to set such matters right.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
An intense row in the Velstra mansion sparked a sequence of events that almost led to war within the Peerage. Following a scathing shouting match between Nicholas and Ruul Velstra, the latter promptly teleported out of the mansion - fed up of dealing with his sibling's apparent wroth. Afterwards, Nicholas brazenly mustered the retinue of his Lionsguard and a handful of siege engines, before marching out to surround and besiege Castle Orza - to the surprise and horror of many onlookers.
The situation swiftly escalated, owing no small thanks to the savage personal rivalry between Kristoff and Nicholas that had been festering ever since Maximilien Orza's death at the hands of the latter in a duel. Tensions heightened to the point where a ballista behind the Velstra barricade shot the castle several times, causing some property damage and even a casualty to one of the arbalests on the roof. Just as the Lionsguard were preparing to bring up the battering ram, a reluctant Guiseppe Orza leaned over the machicolations to explain something to Nicholas.
The Red Lion had, it seemed, been informed by one of his courtiers of the conspiracy behind his wife's malaise - her soul had been stolen by Guiseppe Orza during the Battle for the Steadings. Promising to kill the Orzan warlock for his crime, the situation became more complicated when it became apparent that Guiseppe no longer had the soul of Valentina - because it had been released into the aether.
To the growing horror of Yashan Sarde and Ser Nicholas, Guiseppe revealed that Valentina's soul had been claimed by the Nothing. Kristoff, who knew nothing of this, shifted tact and instead negotiated a truce with Nicholas; in return for offering some of House Orza's best soldiery for an expedition into the Nothing, a ceasefire would be agreed for ten days. Rumours of this planned expedition, a joining of forces between the retainers of two Houses to rescue a lost soul from the shadowy grip of Trystan Moonspear, spread like wildfire in the Peerage Ward. Dubbed the 'Forlorn Hope', owing to the impossibility of their success, willing volunteers prepare themselves for the challenge of their lives - and perhaps the last...
// This event will take place on Saturday 14th November, evening GMT, approximately 1 or 2 hours from the time of this rumour's posting. This event contains permadeath threats.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
The Realm is in an uproar. The Steward of House Nephezar, Adaion, marched into Ticker Square to oversee the seizure of the Adamantine Vault. Rebuffed by the Guardians, he awaited the arrival of the infamous banker... who arrived in spectacular fashion.
The Steward was immolated in a brilliant flash of fire and light. A crimson-scaled dragon soared down from the skies, and flashed a rictus grin. In but moments, the drake shifted and shrank -- and standing atop the charred corpse of Adaion Nephezar was a familiar man. A ferocious man. The Man About Town, the one and only Oscar Tchammorar. The Dragon of the Vault, and the new Master of Ticker Square.
Still smelling of char and roast suckling pig, he addressed the crowd -- and declared the establishment of a free and independent republic in Ticker Square... a land of the truly free, where men can take as they please ... can claw over each other and murder and maim, so long as the groats continue to flow.
Shaken to the core by the loss of its abiding Steward, the Nephezar retreated to their refuge...
...and unlocked the shackles of their reclusive Lord.
What followed next even rumormongers in the Groat refuse to divulge. All that can be gleaned is that both Ticker and the High House are under new management... and the realm shall suffer for both.
[ :: Day ?? Year ?? :: ]
Determination.
It was writ on the faces of the Ward's bravest as they marched to liberate Ticker Square from the Dragon, Tchammorar. Under the banner of High House Nephezar, the shining host would leave as men and return as heroes, under the command of Dame Eleleth and her closest companions they set out for glory and for justice.
Death.
Was all that awaited our heroes in the Tyrant's Square. They slew the Dragon's slaves and servants, they battled bitterly with Tchammorar the Neoteric himself - in all his gaudy majesty. And then the beast tyrant did as his kind so often do when pressed...
He ascended into the skies and rained down fire and smoke, destroying his subjects and devastating his foes. Nothing remains of Ticker Square, no wares will ever change hands there again, no beggars will beg no blackjacks bark and no thrift or grift proceed. Nothing remains of the Dame and her band, either - for in dealing mortal blow to the Dragon they gave up their lives one and all.
And in it's death throes, Tchammorar avenged himself upon his slayers by descending - like a bleeding comet - down onto the Nephezar Refuge, where he was embraced by their Lord, and both were lost amidst the terrifying collision.
A smoking crater is all that remains of House Nephezar, and a ruinous mound of slag all that is left of Ticker. The free folk who once called the Square home have now become refugees, fleeing back to the Peerage Ward that they once spurned.
[ :: Day 1 Year 1 :: ]
Quote 'Th'feck do we do now, Duggie?' a coal-smeared dwarf asks the other. Duggie Grum, impetuous survivor, shrugs. 'Make cheese, I reckon.' Grimacing at his empty tankard, he muses. '...what goes with cheese..'
QuoteSomewhere damp and far away, a ruddy haired man adjusts an old half-jacket. It has faded over the years, once a smart jet black now all frayed and graying. He smooths his finger and calloused thumb down the collar and turns it out halfway - the orange inside is still as striking as ever. He smirks to himself in the mirror, runs his thumb along his chin. He looks like his father at that age; though a tad shorter.
Who wasn't shorter than the giant, though?
QuoteSomewhere quiet and undisturbed a suitor allows himself a rare smile of satisfaction.
Donning an old doublet, feeling out a new suit.
...fastening on two cuff-links encrusted with dark, red gemstones.
It would not be long. No, it would not be long now at all.
Quote Against the odds, against the heat of the evening and in spite of the flame, a cold wind picks up from the south.
It billows and turns, blowing inward... flowing Kingward.
An imaginative mind might wonder how far it goes.
In a flight of fancy, some imagine the King himself might shudder in that breeze.
Bitter, bitter cold. Cold to chill the bone. Cold to wake the dreaming, cold to rattle the teeth and clap shut the jaw.
QuoteThe chill wind billows through a hidden grove, stirring up songbirds and sending a shiver down a small boy's spine.
He glances askance at his tutor, and a thin hand tousles his dark hair reassuringly.
With an air of unease neither can shake, they resume their lessons
[ :: Day ?? Year 1 :: ]Time passes..
Refugees from the now utterly destroyed Square take what meagre belongings they have and begin making new lives in the Burgage and Weald. The Houses welcome some with open arms. Velstra and Orza swiftly find use for elven harpists, and half-orcan labourers. Long has it been since Velstran wine was paired with fine Cheeses!
The metaphor does not ring hollow in the weeks to follow the uneasy relocation...
A throng, hungry and desperate, has come to the Ward. Some work the fields, some cling to their own, while others sharpen spears and hew bows from yew.
The Nephezar do not emerge from their ruin. A disparate diaspora of retainers and former servants cling to their tattered belongings in the Ward, but they will not rise again.
They are a broken and diminished House. A fifth seat lay open now, on the Council. The Royal Banner is nowhere to be found. Ticker Square is gone... but there is a vacuum to be filled, and opportunity on the wind for the ambitious.
No longer is the 99th Ring host to two divided people. Now, it has become something else. A burgeoning new society. Old hierarchy, and new faces.Quote...it has been two weeks or more.
Manservant Duggie Grum scratches at a gaudy purple jacket. Gazes down at his old ale mug, now filled with Velstran Velvet.
It's itchy. He thinks, but he can live with that.
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
Rumors spread of changeling madness afoot.
Tales of strange chaos far off in the rings. A mad ringrunner attacking men in the ward, nearly blind from cataracts. The disturbance was swiftly put down... however. Something is wrong. Deeply so.
In the ponds, men who before walked with slouching backs now walk with purpose. Conversations around the fire grow ever quieter, with suspicious and hostile looks given to outsiders. Bug infested and rotten bread is shared more freely. The muggers of the ponds seem almost a touch thoughtful as they open their subjects bowels. And with the fall of Ticker, the number of men in the ponds begins to swell...
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
The Royal Archivist, custodian of the Peerage Ward for innumerable years, on behalf of the King...
Now lies dead upon the bridge, with his body impaled by death made steel. In the midst a fiery decree against the machinations of "the Harborman", the long term institution of the Ward had his life stricken from him by a shadow in the shape of a man.
In the wake of his death, the Archives themselves burned. Against the protestations of the scribe, Rosalia, the young Lord Morgan of House Flevas led a coterie of men into the blaze and stole away with a dusty tome - as did others. A Golem in all its fury unleashed stormed through the Ward until all the pages were returned, but none know what the intrepid may have learned.
In the wake of the carnage, Drayson Sparrowbroth made it known that henceforth the Spinning Groat Casino would "manage the paperwork" - harkening to its auld duties and his own much subdued position as Master of the Guild of Lessors.
The smell of burnt vellum and charred timbers fills the air, along with another scent -- that of Change on the wind.
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
A parade of exotic beasts and foreign men in crimson clothes arrived in the Peerage Ward this evening. At the head of the train was an elephant, gargantuan in size and bearing atop it's back a Howdah shaded with scarlet silks. Welcomed into the Ward by a crowd of men, and escorted by Orzan spears in great multitude, the parade came to a halt before the high estate of House Sunpurse.
Sitting upon the windowsill there was the Lady, Orianna, who was soon greeted by her Suitor on his howdah on high. One by one, the Suitor's servants - the Knaves of 99 - foisted up the prizes she dared all the world to bring her, and bit by bit her mourning frown gave way to a tearful smile.
Count Zarono Senuspur, the Suitor and the last claimaint to the House of Kings, accepted the hand of his longsuffering bride atop an elephants back.
Offering but a single ducat and his coat to the waiting Reeve, the Count - and new Lord of his House - vanished into the gloom of the old manor. His Dark Servants were dismissed one and all, and have dissolved into the populace of the Peerage. The Count's vizier, a thin and pale man of strange stock, pronounced that the Old House of Senuspur would now be reclaiming its seat as the premiere family of the Ward, and lead them in full revolt against "The Usurper King".
The Orzans under their new Lord, himself once a leading man in the orchestra of the Knaves, battered their shields in uproarious cheer. The Sunpurse dutifully applauded, welcoming their new master home.
The Houses Velstra and Glitt sent no emissaries, and rose no glass or tankard in salute.
The Lord has returned, but the Ward holds its peace uneasily...
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
The past day has been spent by many mulling what was a strange, dangerous scene at the first Council of Peers to be held since the marriage of Lady Oriana Sunpurse and Count Zarono Sensupur. All the Houses were in attendance, including minor houses seeking to curry favor in their quest to perhaps fill the seat of Nepehezar, with one of the Bishops of the Faith of the Lord and Lady, Eris Hale, presiding for Sunpurse.
Little of note had occurred beyond verbal sparring between the battle lines of Sunpurse and Orza against Glitt and Velstra, the latter of whom have raised their voices in opposition to the Count. Tension was writ through the room, then, just as it is writ through the ward at large, as a troupe of strange figures entered the Council chambers. They were lead by none other than Adela Nephezar, seeming in a daze amid powerful sorcerous magicks, in the company of two exiled Lords: Schwarzenkopf and Willows. In a moment of clarity, she uttered a grievous curse, accusing Sensupur of corrupting the faith of the Lord and Lady with false idols, damning them in the eyes of the Lord Departed and all who bore witness.
She then disappeared in a cry and flash of spellfire, leaving the scene to swiftly descend into bedlam. Chaos reigned, at least one man in the service of the Count was brought low, and as the dust cleared both of the Exiles lay slain upon the ground. Rumors seethe about the cowardice, or disloyalty, of many in the chamber who chose not to aid the defenders. Others, more quietly, speak of the actions of what may be the last living scion of House Nephezar as something resembling a savior of the ancient traditions against a usurper and tyrant. In any case, Adela Nephezar was nowhere to be found.
A manhunt followed, but all the steading homes and hidden places thusfar looked-in have not revealed the woman who once tended the Almshouse of in the Mongrelwoods, that of the Sobering Spirit. She is hunted even now by the retinue of the Count; though what shall come of this blow to his prestige remains to be seen. Dark talk spreads through the Steadings and the Weald of what may happen if the Count oversteps the limits of his newfound power. Meanwhile, even as the diplomats had met to discuss the situation, as Velstra and Glitt are quietly seen to stockpile the supplies and implements of war.
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
As the winter snows began to fall in full force across the Rings, the Count and a single Ruby were seen to depart their manse and walk among pale paths in the moonlight. In celebration of their return, it was decreed that a night of gladiatorial games would be held.. and that the victor in such a contest would be granted a single magnanimous favor from Senuspur himself.
Combatants grappled and spat and fought.
Lives were staked, and a champion declared.
No gold or riches or fame or title did the bold victor ask, however... instead it was knowledge they sought.
The Champion stood before their Count, and asked to hear - spoken aloud for the first time in living memory - the Name of the King.
And the good Count did oblige...
Quote[ :: Year 1 :: ]
The infamous Grand Harad, one of the King's personal prisoners recently jailbroken by a group of wayward and rebellious elves, has been known to have finally met final justice. His sentence of exeuction was meted out during one of his infamous bloodthirsty parties somewhere in an ancient prison deep beneath the undergrounds of Ring 99 by a motley collection of courageous retainers and brave ringrunners, helmed by the unlikely 'Hero Hare', Camedyr of the house of Haremarch. Harad's destruction was followed by an immediate, somewhat ironic, jailbreak of many of the ancient prison's long-locked away prisoners, giving rise to the belief that despite the tremendous achievement of ridding the King's domain of such an infamous outlaw, the consequences of such a death may end up doing far more damage to the City in the long run.
Eye witnesses of the event have been heard saying that it had been "one hell of a bash".
In the dark of night a gaggle of commoners and retainers made their way to Scarbeak steadings. Dubious and cranky to be in their smallclothes out in the cold. They found their cold, hard, fields to be soft and tilled. Already fresh crops were beginning to breach the soil. The serfs sang their praises to the King, but keener eyes see small figures dancing in the woods. Masked men watching.
It is rumored Madilyn and Camedyr of House Haremarch worked some hedge magic, and struck an accord with changelings. Some of the great houses look on with unease. In such times, of course, it is best to give such rumors the benefit of the doubt. For now, there is a shred of hope in the steadings.
QuoteCity sending by Gwenllian Haremarch
The chill of winter fades early, before it even arrived. The Mists swirl and the King's will finds prey. Till soil, you good folk of the steadings. Hunt the plentiful animals that wander now. Catpure the water, fresh from the night skies. Do so and know that the Cornu-Ceinach and House Flevas have brought such upon you with ritual, with sacrifice, and by taming masks of green, by keeping oath to the -King-.
Kneel and give your blessings to our King in his mists that swirl when they stir by your lands. Give your thanks to he who bestows his power to us. Bury your gems of red for they are worth nothing, and in their place may grow crops of endless bounty. Kneel, and give your praise to our King, Owain of Aberdenn, of lands long lost, lands long ago, lands forgotten. Return your gaze upon us great King, wrap us in the Mists you have claimed and controled, shroud us within them, and let our blades strike upon the menace that stirs.
QuoteCity Sending by Greenmask of Willowgrove
[The sing-song voice of a young man] Oh, speak not as if we were tamed by force of arms, little rabbit. The world changes and you and I with it. Eat, drink, and be merry. But you will remember this is our gift to you. Let our gifts and kindness beget your own in the days to come.
It has been one week since an early spring brought life and crops back to the steadings. The fears it might be changeling mischief subsided quickly, at least among the common-folk, given the prospect of food and safety.
One warm day, however, a Man in a Green Mask appeared at the edge of the steadings. Behind him stood an army of walking trees and Clifford Farrier, Groundskeeper of Ring 98. He identified himself as a student of the Lost Oaths, and rather politely requested the ear of the Great Houses. The changelings were met by
Camedyr of House Haremarch, and a number of retainers.
QuoteSeven days ago a bargain was struck with the Hare. The Duchess of Dawn and Duke of Dusk have brought bounty to your fields. Your people shall know full bellies and warm hearths this season.
Now we ask a favor in turn. For long generations we, who keep the secrets of this land, have known the hate of your King and your Count. For long generations this world has known sorrow. In return for your harvest we ask that one of your young be sent to us, be they a babe, a child, or grown but not gray. They shall learn what it is to fly, to swim, to put down roots, and more. In one year they will return unharmed. House Haremarch may choose as they see fit.
We shall collect our student in three days. May you walk beside us as friends, some day, and know your place in an ever-changing world.
As the druids made to leave they were interrupted by a drunken
Morgan Flevas, shouting curses, and hungry for revenge of some kind. The huntsman took a swing at the Greenmask, but was summarily beaten down by changeling and retainer alike.
With House Haremarch barred from the Peerage ward, the Great Houses' stance on the matter seems rather clear...
The Hour soon approaches when the changelings claim their tribute...
This will be 2/4 at 10pm EST. (https://www.timeanddate.com/countdown/easter?iso=20210204T22&p0=179&font=cursive)
(I am sorry for the delay. This was meant to be tomorow. I've had to change things around because of the snowstorm. If this is not good for anyone looking to participate let me know.)
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
A storm settled over ring 95 and outwards in the past eve, with the coming of night, the Count's Drill was moved into position at the walls of the Swampmuck lands. A column of Sunpurse Retainers led by by a bannerknight of the House were seen marching towards the old fortress at the entrance to the ring. Not long after, one badly wounded retainer returned seeking re-enforcements.
A band of Sunpurse and Orzan retainers, along with a few citizens of the Peerage itself marched out to the fortress camp. Where Ruby Vizu Nemari was engaged in a standoff with a ferocious lizardfolk warlord, whom had taken captives. The Lizardfolk demanded the drill be stopped, or dead would befall the Sunpurse hostages. In reply, the Ruby simply executed the hostage closest with a throwing knife and instructed the drill begin.
War raged over many hours, with man and woman fighting to hold the fortress position from hundreds of Lizardfolk. Finally concluding in victory, when the warlord was laid low.
The drill completed it's work, and the exterior walls of 95 crumbled to it's might. Progress continues, deeper into the rings.....
Under the full moon a procession, lead by House Haremarch, made its way through the steadings. It was the night the changelings would claim their tribute. At the forest's edge House Haremarch met with
Clifford Farrier, Groundskeeper of Pauper Ponds, and the trickster
Robin Threefaces. There the bargain would be complete: the fields of the steadings would bare harvest, and a single youngling would be sent away and learn of the Lost Oaths.
From the crowd an old farmer strode forth, his youngest daughter in hand, ready to give her over. But at the very last moment the man changed his mind. It is said House Haremarch and their toadies offered him goal, platitudes, and more but the man would not budge. Finally
Wallen Powell, a ring-runner, bandit, and local of the steadings stood up to take her place. He was soon joined by
Lord Artegal Haremarch. A gleeful and cackling Robin Threefaces transformed the hunter into a stag, and boy into a dog. And with that, the ceremony was over, the fair folk and their new charges vanishing into the Weald.
The Lords of the Peerage did not take kindly to rumors of witchcraft, strange ceremonies, and child-sacrifice. The bells of the ward were rung and the men of Orza, Velstra, and Sunpurse mustered in the steadings. The retainers were unprepared for the full might of House Haremarch and faltered. The rebellion was driven off only with the arrival of
Vsaja Sumari and the Count's Rubies.
The steadings are rife with both hope and fear. There the PROMISE of food but do the spirits of the Weald ask too steap a price? And the Great Houses will surely not forget this insult...
QuoteThose who fought against the Count are now exiled from the Peerage...
Camedyr Haremarch
Clifford Farrier
Arkavin Vaul
Edric Hill
Fenrik Geirsson
Gwenllian Haremarch
Laoise Moore
Lurg
Madilyn Haremarch
Meliara Duskwood
Old Mirta
Orazio Beecroft
Sammuel Shatterspear
Thorgred Bristlethane
Urgyr Lionheart
(Note: If your PC is on this list but did not fight the retainers, or fought the retainers and is not on this list, let me know)
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
A dark day for the Peerage. Farmhands and commoners made their way indoors, locking and barricading their homes for some unknown reason. As the sun settled in the west, a lone messenger was spotted on the Old Forest Road. Bearing the white flag of peace, the Ghyl approached and waited. It was met by a score of Peerage retainers and clingers on, and delivered its news. Too long have the peers stood idly by, allowing the steadings to go hungry whilst they rip what little food is grown away from the common folk.
This herald informed those gathered than any peerage man whom remained in the steadings at nightfall would be subject to a rule, or cut down. Defenders hurried to call for re-enforcements, Orzans and Sunpurses leading the defence and calling for barricades, men and ballistae to be set. As night covered the land, torches in the darkness could be seen. Peers manned the defences and waited.
Hundreds of Ghyl, began to invade, slowly at first with scouts and footmen. But as the night wore on, more and more Ghyl warriors joined the battle, pushing the defenders back to the bridge between the burgage and the steadings. A Ghyl, bigger than any have seen before took to the field, claiming himself "Ser Rodrik the Steelhorn" and the lands under the protection of House Ghyll.
A solemn Sunpurse Knight challenged the Ghyl to a duel to end the bloodshed. The Ghyl Knight accepted, and summarily dispatched the Knight with frightening ease. As the defenders decided to attack the warlord, dozens more of the best warriors of House Ghyll pushed forward, driving them back again. The ensuing battle was ferocious, with losses on both sides.
A skirmish attempt from Matteo Giovanni, and an Orzan Retainer Douglas Arran failed miserably, as they tried to assassinate the Ghyl Lord. Only succeeding in forcing him to the field once more, threatening to kill any man whom stood before him. Peerage residents began to retreat at the willing of Lord Giovanni and others. A few remaining to hold the Ghyl at bay. One notable figure, Senior Retainer Adhemar Dupont, died heroically trying to buy time for the others to flee.
The Steadings, now occupied by the invaders with their warriors manning checkpoints in and out. Signs erected and sharpen steel axes ensuring no retainers of any house are allowed to pass. No further food will come into the peerage from the Steadings. The commonfolk are seen to be moving freely, though it remains to be seen. Have they swapped one tyrant, for another?
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
As the Count's Drill continues its destructive passage through the Rings, many had been wondering how or even if the King and his Royal Court would respond to this provocation. For surely this could not have been the first time in the history of the City that someone had arisen to challenge the status quo in such a way?
Eventually, an answer was given.Quote from: City Whisper
The Royal Herald
Attention Miscreants and Traitors! In the name of his Royal Majesty, this announcement would have been made sooner, however we have had to put up with the Royal Castigator talking our ears off for the past several hours about minor changes he would make to the Royal Council's declaration.
The Royal Herald
Eventually, he was told to BE QUIET or be FED to the Royal Spaniels.
The Royal Herald
The Royal Council has decided that the best way to deal with the self-proclaimed threat of this 'Count' is the same way as one deals with all wild beasts foolish enough to attack their BETTERS. Firstly, you seal off potential escape routes.
The Royal Herald
You shall experience the consequences of this shortly. May his Royal Majesty reign forever more!
It is said that the consequences spoken of by the Royal Court arrived swiftly - Ring 100 suddenly filling with strange obelisks that burst forth from the ground, discharging magical energies that fried the flesh from the bones of the living. The City's Ring Walls themselves shifted and merged, crushing most locales within Ring 100 between the shifting stone. How many survivors managed to escape to other Rings, or the few regions that weren't destroyed, is unknown... however there cannot be too many of them.
Travellers now say that the known route from Ring 99 to Ring 101 is covered in the same deadly pillars that originally emerged. Yet, oddly, it seems as if passage is still possible between the Rings. Albeit with a much higher risk of death. Whether this was a mistake by the Royal Court and the King, or an intentional ploy, none are certain.
In end, all are more worried about what the next phase of any plan that could be deployed - given the lack of regard for the mere mortals eking out a living, shown by the titans as they fight amongst themselves.
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
The Drill has been stalled, the archaic mechanisms which send it barreling forth into the Rings have ceased their breakneck pace and come to a squealing halt somewhere within the foothills of the Silverspike. Hewing down the mighty pines, a War Camp has been erected to defend the machine from surprise attack. Curiously it seems that this change of pace is not by malfunction, but design. Crimson-cloaked shadows bound from the camp in the dead of night, bearing the words of the would-be conqueror of the City.
Though what parlance was shared with the Wizards of the Warrens and the Clan of Uld is not shared in detail, what is known is that in the following days there is a surge in activity throughout the 94th and 93rd. Towers spark and buzz with arcane light, hammers and droning prayers fill the Bulwark's labyrinthine underhalls... and travellers tell of queer folk of the Warrens ambling about the Outer Rings, keeping to themselves and hurriedly after some esoteric business of their Masters.
At home in the 99th, folk are not idle. It is well known that the Count and his closest retinue now straddle the world - spending their days more oft than not laboring at the siege. The predator, the sneering cat to all the Ward's hemmed in mice, is away... his attentions stolen more and more by his lifelong ambition.
Knives are sharpening , and for the first time since his advent... the Old Count seems to've shown his back.
Not a moment too soon, his enemies murmur ...one to another... each daring the others to leap first - and so expose their own.
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
A successful campaign was undertaken in the name of the holy Triune, under the august and brave leadership of the noble bishop Egbert of Velstra, against the heathen plains people of the Six Sacred Steppes who were said to worship the celestial bodies as divine gods. It is said a hundred crusaders went on this distant campaign to attempt to stymy a rising threat that could overtake the rest of the Rings, yet weeks later only a handful of bedraggled survivors managed to return: wearied, weathered, and worn by war. They returned with dire news regarding the oncoming tide of the Nothing, spreading terrible tales of vistas of Rings wholly overtaken by the black, of dark storms that ate away at the very walls themselves, and, too, of a great last stand against hundreds if not thousands of steppe warriors in a dark, narrow valley, situated on the edge of the City of Rings.
What was seen there and what was done there the rumors vary about, yet one thing quickly spread as undeniable truth: those who had come back from that valley, those who stood against the tide of a thousand steppe barbarians, their names would surely be forever remembered in the annals of history as heroes...
...the heroes of Obu Pass.
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
As the final stone is laid in place for the Eryngium Fortress, it slowly comes to life. Strange misty soldiers begin to patrol the walls, guard the gates and man the battlements. In matters of violence, for those few incidents that occur, they are relentless and focused... yet when at peace interactions with them are difficult. As if something is broken about them...
However, what their presences makes clear is simple: that a proper defence by the Royal Court against the threat posed by the Count has finally been mounted.
Over in the Drill Camp, soldiers, mercenaries and hired hands all make ready. For much time now has the Count been mustering forces and supplies for the push ahead. At long last, it seems that all is prepared for another offensive against the "Jailer" of the Rings, and to claim what the Count believes is rightfully his.
Standing in between these two forces however is the combined populaces of Rings 94 and 93. For the duration of the construction of the Fortress and the Count's mustering, there have been diplomats and representatives of all involved sent forth into the neighbouring Rings.
Time alone will tell how much, exactly, they have achieved in their goals - and what, exactly, is to be the fate of their peoples and their Rings when the fight between titans recommences...
[ :: Year 1 :: ]The Repaired Vestry now lies in ruins once more, despite the efforts of many Velstra and Sunpurse retainers now left dead among the cobbles of the Burgage, or the charred floor of the holy site. It is whispered that four men cut a path from the Steadings, torn down the guards there, and moved past the incompetent Blackjacks.
Though a few defenders attempted to stall them, Anastasia Orza among them, An explosion from within has bereft the faith of the Lord, Lady and Promise a place of holy offering. The pews that held those that came for sermon, were now lined with curled bodies of faithful too slow or frightened to escape the madness.
Beneath the destruction are those that pressed their forefingers and ring-finger to to their palm, for the last time. Courage would not save them alone, and enough strength was never found.--As the night grows colder, and a chill sets into the air. People in the peerage begin to head inside, with exception of a few traders and adventuring types.. All seems peaceful--
--Sounds of battle at the burgage--
--Screams and shouts in the burgage!--
--A group of armed man and creatures storm the vestry--
--An alarm begins to sound--
--A large group of retainers rush to the Vestry--
--more men rush outside, surrounding the church--
--A battle sounds from within, screams as commoners flee--
--Red figures rush from the Sunpurse manor--
-- Between a long chase and hard fought battles, the vestry is caught in flames, an explosion from inside pouring outward --
--Rubble blocks the door, trapping inside those who were too slow to make it out, though most are dead, slaughtered by the insurgents--
--A pale figure, robed and graceful in movements exits Sunpurse manor, a scowl on his features--
Quote from: "City Whisper by Grand Vizier Sardistan"[more than a hint of annoyance in his tone] It would seem, that despite the.. best efforts from of our wards soldiers and adventuring types. A group of wretched... miscreants have been allowed to break into our Grand Vestry.
Upon fleeing like the scurrying rats that their faith truly represents, these.. 'Malagorians' have inflicted some internal damage to a most holy place. In attempt to inflict chaos upon our peaceful domain.
Rubble will be cleared, glass will be refitted, and those lost in its defence, will surely be honoured at the next oath giving. But for now, House Sunpurse
Bring all four, and a great boon of the Count's personal trove will be granted, in addition. Happy hunting! demands justice.
Ahem, it seems the initial bounty did not broadcast. Ten thousand groats, per head of these terrorists.
Quote from: "City Whisper by Kolgrim Ashen-Eye"
The only truth the Triune preaches is it's weakness that be have made apparent. Rebuild the rubble and it shall be broken, don your heathen robes and they will be dyed red with blood. Do you not see the lesson that is taught? Abandon this Triune of useless gods now, whose only power is in coin.
Do not bend as cravens to their teachings, spit upon the rubble. Free yourself from it's chains that have kept you obedient, raise your voices and earn the strength that dwells within you
Mala'gor embodies strength, and his gaze is always upon you.. Now rise to greatness and earn the favor of the Gods! Begone with the weak, begone with the false, begone with the dying powers of the Triune! This the will of the Gods!
A reward is offered, a taunt is given. The Rings yet continue on as the comfort of religion is dashed for many. One more hardship, or perhaps one more freedom.
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
In the Rings, various changes begin to take place, as factions and individuals react to current events. Within the Burgage, Sunpurse Retainers dig through the ruins of the destroyed Grand Vestry, watched over silently by individuals wearing Ruby red. They seem to be seeking something...
Within Ring 93, Towertop patrons soon find themselves with additional guards. After the death of his apprentice and the airing of dirty laundry through Whispers, it seems clear that sides have begun to be taken in the Warrens.
The roads from Ring 94 through to Ring 99 soon find themselves bustling with an angry convoy of Glitt from the highlands, making their way to the Peerage Ward. There they set up camp wherever they can find space. Many are seen clashing with those from the Guild of Lessors, and more than a few of the Guildsmen find themselves taking a swim while the upset highlanders find themselves a new home.
Finally, within the camp of the Count's Drill, mercenaries, retainers and more begin to gear up and prepare for conflict. Eyes turn both north towards Ring 93, but then also north-west to focus in upon the Silverspike.
For the Uld have been active of late, yet their final choice remains to be seen...
---
In the Peerage Ward, the dynamics have once again drastically changed. Velstra, long reliant on the prestige afforded to them by multiple Bishops of the Grand Vestry, find themselves adrift, seeking purpose and new power.
Glitt, once a third rate force of rabble, is now a first rate force of rabble. Their highland kindred swell their numbers greatly, as does their martial prowess. Sadly, they have somewhat reverted to their more chaotic habits of their drunken era...
Sunpurse seems internally split, with many of the older retainers seeking a return of focus to control and rule of the Ward. Others, however, find themselves drawn more to the glitz and power of the Rubies and Count's Drill.
As for Orza, few feel they can understand them anymore. Yet perhaps there is merit in the musing of drunks, for a popular story in the Weeping Flagon of late is a short tale of three brothers. One focused upon playing with fire. One focused upon a distant horizon. And one torn between family loyalty and a long standing dream...
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
Diplomacy, though piled by many in the endeavor to preserve Rings 93 and 94 from the Count's advance forward, have reached their end - with most of the dwarves Uld and Wizards of the Wizard's Warden dead. For a moment, it seemed as though the parts to Alledha's Astrolabe were secured by the Wizards and the Dwarves, but due to the betrayal of one of the Wizards, communications broke down, and House Orza was quick to take advantage of this.
What happened next was seemingly the conclusion, regardless... the Weapon, dangerous enough, and tempting of its power and use, found its purpose fulfilled. Much to the abject horror of any that might have climbed the Steep hills of the Silverpeak... that might have carved their names towards the journey towards Ring 1... That might have took a deep breath of mountain air, and relaxed for a fleeting moment.
Such pleasures would be dashed forever more:-- As the morning sun rises on the City, the peoples of each Ring go about their daily business. The Peerage is bursting at the seams accommodating now not only the semi-integrated Ticker refugees, but now a new host of Ring 94's fleeing population. --
-- The Glitt have well and truly made their selves at home, regardless of the amusement or disgust of their new neighbours. --
-- And within Ring 94 itself, the Drill Camp is a hive of activity. Final preparations to depart the long standing supply camp appear to be well underway... --
-- Perhaps today will be the day that Ring 94 is finally breached... --
-- The Drill Camp is packed up. A force of guards begin to assemble to escort it through Ring 94. Today will be the day... --
-- The skies are clear and free of clouds, the weather fine and the wind cool. And in the Ring 99, amidst the Ward, there is so much shuttering of windows; mutterings and gossip. Children's toys are abandoned, and the daytime revellers have departed the Groat. No speeches are made, no grand utterances; eyes just cast furtive within, deeper - towards the Count Senuspur, his Excellency, and the day's heavy work. --
-- The Drill begins its long, long journey through the mountainous Ring 94, Rubies visible upon its upper deck, while Sunpurse Retainers, myriad mercenaries and other assorted individuals march alongside it. --
-- The Drill proceeds through the lands of Auld Findlay's Glenn, running roughshod over the now abandoned encampment. --
--The trundling wheels of the Drill roll along through the mud of the Spike. --
-- The Bulwark guardians stand outside their mountain a moment. Watching the passage of the Drill as it slowly approaches. They do not seem to be in fear, nor do they seem to be happy. They simply... watch. --
-- The Drill proceeds onwards... bypassing the Bulwark, and boring a hole through sheer cliffs, seeking Ring 93. The Uld simply watch on. --
-- The Uld turn from watching the Drill and return inside their Bulwark. They gather in number before Torvan. --
-- And there, Torvan begins a speech... --
Quote from: "Torvan Uld"My people. My children. Long have I watched over you all in this vigil we call the Bulwark. Our monument to our folly. The gravestone of Khoral'dunn. I had hoped that our youngest generation. The one without our sins. /My/ sins. Would be the one to save us all. To protect us from the harm of wizards, and the greedy. To give us further time to atone. Yet... they have instead chosen new sins.
We made the error once in our past to bend knee to the evil of the Sibilant for the 'greater good' of our people. This was a mistake, as it directly let to the end of our people.. Yet... the past repeats once more. Our time has come my people. Depart if you will, or join me in and end to it all. Our vigil is now over.
-- A tiny handful of Uld are seen departing the Bulwark, for parts unknown... the remainder gather in the central chamber. Torvan himself moves deeper within the mountainous cavern. Yet before the dwarves can complete their plans... --
-- THERE IS AN EARTH-SHATTERING CONCUSSION. The Silverspike IGNITES. --
-- THE VERY MOUNTAIN SHRIEKS AND SCREAMS. --
-- THE EARTH GIVES WAY. THE SKIES ROLL WITH THUNDER. A DOZEN BOLTS OF LIGHTNING STRIKE THE SILVER SPIKE, AND THEN THE MOUNTAIN ITSELF CRACKS IN TWAIN. --
-- Blazing DOOM surges forth beneath the mountain, and the Bulwark is washed away in a sea of LAVA. --
-- The Uld die horrifically, spontaneously combusting instantly. Their legacy ruined forever. --
Atop the deck of the Great Drill, men throw up their hands and duck low to avoid scorching rains of molten rock. All around and about the comitals there is death and horror in abundance. Rivers of fire come streaming down. --
-- And within the flame, the runes of the armoured form of Torvan blaze desperately in defence of the ancient dwarf. Yet they too fade in time, and the long since empty shell, a suit of Soul Forged armour, crumples in upon itself under the heat and force of the explosion. --
-- Prince Torvan Uld, last of the old Royal line of Khoral'dunn, is no more. And so too, do all others within Ring 94 perish. --
-- Black clouds of ash coat the skies for rings upon rings upon rings. All that has occurred in the foothils is obscured to the outside world. The Ring Doors burn hot and bright.. buckling.. Wizards of the Warrens ward their way, rendering suicidal passage into the inferno impossible. --
-- Adding to the destruction, there is a planar surge that begins amidst the fire of Ring 94... further explosions and destruction occurs throughout the ravaged ring. --
-- Thunderous explosions rock the 94th long into the midnight hour... Tolling out the bells in their own morbid way... Marking our passage into another day... --
The Night does not heal the wounds so permeant, the open grave becomes observed by the passing masses of the Rings... the elusive toll of Time continues without the challenge of Rings 94 and 93, though not as intended and not without cost, Count Zarono Senuspur is one step closer towards his conquest.-- The sky is blanketed, from the mid 80's to the 99th ring and beyond... Ash falls, choking and thick. --
-- Ring 94 smolders yet, after the passage of time, seems to be traversable once more... --
-- Where once the greatest fear for travel was bears... the flames, the unsealing of dangerous depths and powerful magics have made the Ring that much more dangerous... --
-- Travellers to and fro the now scorched 94th quickly spread rumours and hearsay...
The mountain is gone. A heaping wasteland of slag and magma lay between ringwalls now scalded and scorched. --
-- The land is roamed by horrors. Things from below the Silverspike thought only legend and myth by even the Bulwark. --
-- The mighty 'Wizard-Lords' of the Warrens are accounted for.. one having fled with secrets from beneath Alledha Amastecia's sanctuary, one having died in the concussive explosion.. and the third, the traitor and master of Towertop...why, he stands at the side of his Count, now pale of flesh and scalded near to cinders. The Great Drill is near ruined, a wreck tossed on seas of magma and planar wind. Only by the betrayer's hand has any timber survived. It rests atop a cooled floe of ash and lava, likely never to move again. --
-- The auld Glitt, the mountain clans.. have survived - they have gone home to the 99th. --
-- The Uld are gone. The Uld are here. Their spirits and husks assail the ruin of the entrenched comitals day and night, unending. If aught lives in the wastes.. it shan't for very much longer. --
-- Clad all in black, with skin dark like the obsidian of their home, the Khazuuk-Uld haunt the wasteland.. driving down men and subjecting them to the burbling molten rock. --
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
It has been a few days now since passage has re-opened through the ruined remains of Ring 94, and news from elsewhere in the City begins to filter through.
Rumours rapidly spread in the wake of Whispers claiming responsibility for the destruction of Ring 94. That, in Ring 93, battles were seen between Orzans, Malagori, Wizards and Uld in the streets. That they all disappeared into one Tower.
And that all of them returned alive - some perhaps beaten bloody, but clearly nobody died in the course of events within or without.
Coupled with the Whispers made claiming responsibility, and a relatively clear picture begins to emerge from the heat haze of the pyroclastic flow. Somehow, some way, those four groups were responsible for destroying a verdant paradise of a Ring. To what end, few can understand.
After all:
- The Orzans are supposedly allied with the Count.
- The Uld have killed all that remained of their kind.
- Towertop and perhaps other locations in the Warrens had already yielded.
Only the Malagori's actions make sense, for the insane acting insanely is par for the course.
There are inevitable flow on repercussions.
Within the Peerage Ward, both Glitt and Sunpurse reach an uneasy truce, united in a burning hatred for Orza. Glitt especially - for they have lost their claimed ancestral homeland to Orzan insanity. Fighting on the streets is a regular occurance between the two Houses.
What is new, however, is how regularly Glitt comes out ahead in these scuffles. For what they lack in discipline and skill, the influx of highlanders has certainly significantly swayed the numerical advantage that Orza once had. Orzans now no longer travel in small groups in the Ward. For to do otherwise is to be discovered in the morning, naked, beaten bloody and tied to scarecrow crosses upon the impromptu highlander farms in the Ward.
Orzan affiliated farms, businesses and organisations soon face significant issues - some because of Glitt highlanders rampaging through them and taking all their goods. Some, because of underhanded Velstran or Sunpurse activities against the latest villains of the Ward. Some simply just... disappear.
Castle Moonspear and House Orza finds itself under a strange siege of sorts. The Orzans had always found themselves outsiders in the Ward in many ways and they are still a power to be reckoned with. However, now they are being treated as pariahs. As monsters. More so than even Sunpurse under the Count.
For tales and claims about the Count and his Rubies are one thing amongst the populace and factions of the Ward.
The reality of destroying an entire Ring for no gain is another.
For who knows? Perhaps they would do the same again to Ring 99 given a chance, all for a laugh...
---
On religious matters as well, there are flow on effects. Those of the Triune, already rocked by the destruction of the Grand Vestry, find themselves struggling to deal with local backlash and the weakening of their structural power.
With some of Orza publically claiming that it was The Promise's will that Ring 94 be destroyed, those that even mention the third aspect of their religion find themselves facing the fists of the angry. Some begin instead to adopt a heretical form of the "Triune" that more resembles old Nephezar claims about the Lord Departed and Lady-in-Waiting.
Actual Promise worshippers find themselves even more out of luck. The luckiest end up beaten and left in the mud, begging for mercy. The unluckiest are burnt alive, with their attackers screaming it was what was "Promised" to them by their God.
Weaker Malagori converts in the Ponds also find themselves in strife when night falls - often found in the morning locked in rigid, dying, agony, clearly chewed upon by beasts and strange plants bursting forth from their chests and skulls. Those few that survive are quivering, broken, husks.
Change is afoot throughout all of the Rings...
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
A heartbeat stilled for eons has roared to wakefulness within the rime-ridden region of the Air Seam that was once the Frozen Tear; the rhythmic, massive heartbeats - t'CHUN, t'CHUN - crack more ice, shed more snow, helping to free a great evil from its glacial prison.
There the white has turned a deep claret hue; an uncomfortable shade for some, a sweet, attractive cerise for the crazed.
Slowly, insidiously, inevitably, he may touch all.
T̶̨̨̘̦͚̬̭̒̎̑͐̈̍H̶̡̬̲̞̻͑͆̿́͗̕͝Ę̵̫̱͓̞̩̗̘̭̗͙̊ ̶̼̲̙̖̘̦̆̂͊̓͒͂͛̍́̎͆̏̈́͝S̸̗̖̗̱̟͚̠̠̺̗͕͒̊ͅL̷͖͕͖̙̞̝̀͂̀́͂̀̽̏̀͘̚͜͝ͅȄ̶̞̲̪̈̅̓͑͌̆̍̄͗̈̚͝͝ͅḖ̵̗̝͇̜͍͖̗̩̫̯̱̪̘͇̞̈́́͝P̵̡̲̩̫̺̠͚̌̓Ȩ̷̡̬͓̟̪̹͖̹̤͕̹̩̬̳̒͒̂̈̋Ř̵̪͈̯̯͕̝̭͒ ̷̡͇̙͈͇̩̫̳̟̭̗͚̠̼̳̑̓̃̀̌̅̉H̴̛̜̦͈̳̹̫̓͌̐͌͛̈́͊̿̊́̓̕͘A̴̢̙̯̜̜͙̲̠̥̞̩̩̥͗͊͒͐̃̑S̴̢͔̫͍̺̝̞̜̯̰̜̬̤͕̱͒̏̃̈́͗́͊͘ ̷̢̢̞̻͓̦̣͉̜̟̹͎̑͗̾̅̈́̈͆̈͂́̋̔̄̚W̴̱̲͖͉̩̜̑̐͆͒̿O̵̢̟̩͈̞̭̥̖̼̭̹̪͍͖͂̆̔͌̊͗͂̉̈́̓̏̆̿̑͘Ķ̴̡̼̯̖̝̣̯̼̫̜̘͔̈́̈́̈́̍̐̑́͝͝E̷̩̻̿̾̄
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
A Red day...
A group of Four Blackjacks calling themselves the Redjacks have caused havoc in parts of little Ticker and the Peerage. First, the Weeping Flagon is utterly destroyed by the Redjacks: -- An earth-shattering set of screams from the Weeping Flagon --
-- The building burns and burns ... huge clouds of smoke rising up and away ... --
--High pitched screams come from the burning tavern- Briefly, before they are cut off.--
-- All the folk of the Peerage stop and stare... stare at the flames... and stare into screams. -
-- The tavern continues to burn, the liquor stores eventually all combusting, the wooden skeleton of the tavern gradually becoming naught but ash as the Ward does it's best to ignore it. --
Quote from: "City Whisper by Redjack McDimmock"Heh, well.. This is an announcement from REDJACK McDimmock. Yeahs, that's right. RED. JACK. We's no longer them Blackjacks. We's BETTER than them. Got a nice fancy scarf to prove it too! And this is the word around street from now on! We Redjacks are true loyalists to the Count..
M'lord Zarano Senuspur! You best think twice 'fore messing with us, 'cause we's affiliated now, HEH HEH. If yous want to join, yous just find me now.. I'll get you right and proper, HEHAH!!
Then, some manner of violence erupts from the Dusk's Cradle... as Lady Anastasia Orza describes, Redjacks are seen defacing the Lady in Waiting Shrine with urine and meats... the caretaker of the shrine mortally wounded trying to defend his post. Thelisa Sunspyre condemns the actions of the great houses, the actions of those that once more assault Ticker, even in its small form, and so do...-- There is a sudden scream as a lone shadow trembles atop Oldspyre Tower --
-- A pale and emaciated woman stands straddling a window ... --
-- The woman's cries echo downward from the highest point of the tower ... sobbing and weeping, they echo throughout the ward ... --
The words send into action a set of catastrophes further... Lady Valentina Velstra falls to her death from OldSpyre Tower, which she had climbed due to panic and depression of her life in the peerage, of her lost life in tickersquare, and her overwhelming guilt at all of them... That, and before she could climb back down from finding some small hope, A wizard of House Orza makes sure she can't reconsider...-- In cold blood, a magic missile pelts the Lady Valentina Velstra ... And she falls to the ground, murdered. --
-- Dead. --
-- The rumors are swift and relentless ... House Orza has murdered Valentina Velstra ... and few dare to stand against them. --
House Velstra, once more inflamed by anger at yet another loss sets to work an assault of Castle Orza and gathers a regiment of Retainers led by Ser Nicholas Velstra to seek due revenge:-- A great hustle and bustle in the Vale as one of the Feast's more reputable tables is upturned and hacked apart into some amalgam of a ram. --
-- Though his heart be hardened, 'twould seem the family Velstra doth not lightly endure the death of her own. However thin of blood. --
-- A cadre of Velstran retainers have dragged the 'Foretable' - first table of the Feast in the Vale - out onto a trundle cart. The table is, as a point of fact, a great siege ram with one shaved side.--
--It is poised outside of the side entrance to Castle Orza, thereafter A black and orange body goes careening off of Castle Moonspear... Viscera and sinew bathe the awaiting beseigement-
- Orzan crossbows plink from slatted windows all along the walls of the Castle Moonspear. Gleaming, barbed bolts primed for loosing...
Elsewhere... Gregovich, 'the Great One' grins gregariously as he and the ever-intoxicated Capo Piotr share a swig of good vodka...--Castle Orza boils like an anthive kicked, retainers bustle to and fro preparing various defensive implements. Heavy, sloshing cauldrons are heaved to their perches, and bundles of bolts are brought about. --
--Meanwhile, Ser Nicholas Velstra readies his own guard and sets them towards slamming the siege weaponry into Castle Orza--
-- Guiseppe Orza spits from his perch, attempting to spatter Nicholas Velstra, before he steps back and withdraws a satchel of salt and chalk and rarer reagents. --
--With a massive slam, do the Velstra Retainers buckle the Door at the North side of the Castle!--
--The roof of Castle Orza catches alight as potent magics are invoked. The air grows warm, scalding through the peerage warm as clouds are obliterated into steam and mist. --
As a battering ram is burnt asunder by hot oil defensive, and House Velstra turns back to return with yet another, the Royal Herald belittles the situation at hand...Quote from: "The Royal Herald"Go, quickly now. Far more important than your petty squabbles are the gifts given by we of the Royal Court to you, our wayward supplicants. Do you even comprehend the things you play at? Are you even aware of the folly of daring to rise above your station?
Notably, Ser Nicholas Velstra does not cease... and is heard to speak in a dismissive tone: "Does he make mockery of my plight!?"--Ser Nicholas Velstra yet again demands the ram forward, and so do they continue to ram and rupture the door--
-- The scent of Ozone, and scorched air falls upon the ward. Heat mirages shimmer in the space between and above Castle Orza and the Vale. --
-- The Castle shudders as the Ram impacts it yet again, a score of retainers propelling the makeshift siege engine through it's duty. --
--Another slam into the castle door, driven by the enraged Ser Nicholas Velstra--
--Atop Castle Orza, Guiseppe speaks the last word of his incantation, turning to step to the edge and peer down as a hellish pillar of fire begins it's descent from above. --
--As it descends, it is met... A vortex of wintery death mixes with it, and there is a great cacophony as it is nullified, a blast fo steam falling over all combatants. --
--Ruul Velstra makes his return to the Ward, the infernal guillotine of flame defeated by his hands... And returns to the Vale at his brother's side. -
-- It seems, for the moment, the Siege of Castle Orza is over. --
-- The ward gradually returns to 'normality', at least as much as it may, though tensions between the Houses simmer higher and higher, the boil of an all out war averted another day. --
The Tensions and Power Struggles of the Ward continues onward... cut by moments of reprieve
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
A great deal of death Follows some manner of dark Feast, in the following dead of night do a series of panicked actions take place, whispered on the winds by those who know.-- Rumors about of a scuffle on the outskirts of the Peerage. While scuffles are ordinary - this one seems to have been anything but. They describe a single figure, striking down a small band like lightning... --
-- A small confrontation outside the Sunpurse Manse. --
-- At the Behest of the Inquisitor Malik, a number of Orza guards scour the castle in search of some manner of bomb --
-- A number of Orza guards can be seen removed from their posts, still making a scrambled search --
Then, upon the following rise of the Promise, a series of misfortunes fall upon the head of the Velstra Retainer and Merchant Barnabas Fentleberry. Assaulted in his regular stall in the Burgage yet again...Quote from: "City Whisper by Glitt Retainer Warley Archencroft"
House Velstra...your Retainer Merchant was assaulted and kidnapped by the Redjack Beast Brick... In the catacombs he was dragged to. I call on all arms to seize Brick and his wizardly friend Jabbar.
-- Rumors quickly spread of some sort of ambush and terrible actions taking place within the catacombs... --
-- Crowds shriek as a brawl breaks out in the Burgage --
-- The fight which saw glowing light and vile shadows twist and crawl at each other in the burgage ends as quickly as it began --
A strange turn of events follows... This Wizard Jabbar was hunted down in the impending fight all the way to the Blind Eye. Meanwhile, Lady Sunspyre calls for action against a man seen controlling a number of shadows named Yic, who was assisting the Wizard during the fight. And during all this a marriage is announced...Quote from: "City Whisper by Lord Egbert Velstra"
Hark! The beast referred to as 'Brick' has submitted itself to House Velstra for punishment. A hefty wergild was exacted, as is proper. On account of its willingness to face justice, it was spared a far worse fate. I, Egbert Velstra, do so decree!
On to a more important note. I bid you, oLady Anastasia Orza - I ask for your hand in marriage. I have toiled endlessly to see an incredible ring crafted. So beautiful as to rival any gem the Count might boast in his vault. I go now, to the entrance of House Orza, to materialize my proposal. ne and all, to listen well. For I shall make a grand announcement.
Quote from: "City Whisper by Blackjack Brick"
Attention, idiots. Warley of House Glitt and Barnabas of House Velstra ignored the pardon granted by Lord Egbert Velstra and tried to murder me in the street. I beat them into the fucking dirt and took what was left of their money.
Quote from: "City Whisper by A Grey Butler"
As per the wishes of Viscount Charles Flevas, House Velstra shall be banned from entry into the Blind Eye, upon pain of expulsion and worse due to the uncouth actions of their retainer. A sum of 10,000 groat may be donated to repair the damages incurred, and re-open our hospitality.
Quote from: " City Whisper by Lord Egbert Velstra"
House Velstra cares not a whit for your sordid tavern. Now - more importantly - Lady Anastasia Orza has accepted my proposal!
All members of the Ward's commonwealth are encouraged to start acquiring wedding gifts. My servants will be laboring day and night to see a date for the wedding penned. And now, I shall allow my wife-to-be to speak.
Quote from: " City Whisper by Lady Anastasia Orza"
The blood and violence between Velstra and Orza has been long. It's true I long hated this man, my Eggy....but for reasons beyond my understanding I now see his charm, his wit and us unrivaled Velstran lineage.
I do not care what out two houses have to say, we shall be wed. We will have what we want. If you are wise you will be happy for us and we can know power unlike any house before us. This is a happy day for Velstra and Orza.
Quote from: "City Whisper by Velstra Retainer and Infamous/Famous Merchant Barnabas Fentleberry"
Let it be known, that on this most jubilant day that Bishop Egbert sent the blackjack thug know as Brick to rob me of my ring, a ring he could not afford for his most gracious lady, so now wears a stolen ring from my wares. Lord Norbert i beseech you and ask for Justice on this day.
Following Fentleberry's whisper... it was widely seen and reported that Lady Anastasia Orza took quite offence to the message how the ring was gathered...Quote from: "City Whisper by Reporter Deidre Valance"
This is Dee Valance with a lightning fast update! Barnabas Fentleberry was bludgeoned by Lady Anastasia Orza within Magus Naoli's shops for insulting the lady's engagement ring! He is now faced with two choices: apology or death! Time will tell which one the man takes!
Quote from: "City Whisper by Velstra Retainer and Infamous/Famous Merchant Barnabas Fentleberry"
I have been threatened to say this by the Lady Orza, that my last message was a simple mistake and my last sending was a grave error.
-- And so... the Merchant Barnabas' 'Wedding gift' costs him his life --
Quote from: " City Whisper by Reporter Deidre Valance"
Bloodshed in the Doorkeepers! [Sounds of battle behind her] Lady Orza has slain Mr. Fentleberry! Two Glitt are now laying into her!
We are bringing all of the latest news directly to you as we speak! Lady Orza has bested the Glitt archer and is now moving into the other man - Retainer Warley, an old friend of Mr. Fentleberry, who says 'Enough', but draws his rapier when she refuses to relent!
The other Glitt is now down! Lady Orza stands victorious over the bodies of those who sought to stop her! Mr. Fentleberry's broken and murdered corpse is right at my feet as we speak! Poor Mr. Fentleberry, taken from the ward far too soon. When asked if he had more to say...!
His last words were: 'Not really'
A large entourage now stands in the Doorkeepers, drawn here from my whispers probably! Lord Egbert has an announcement to make, so we'll yield the floor to him! Lord Egbert, please go ahead.
Quote from: "Lord Egbert Velstra"
Subjects of the Ward! What happened today is a tragedy. Alas, it could have been prevented. The merchant, Fentleberry, grew frenzied in the aftermath of his accostment by some hoodlum of a Blackjack -
In his pernicious anger, he named me a traitor among other things. He levied a thousandfold insults, against me and my wife-to-be both. As such, he was summarily executed. But take heart, good people. You might not be able to purchase the man's merchandise anymore -
But there shall be a FEAST in the vale of my namesake soon. His many baubles and trinkets shall be redistributed to the commonwealth. I, Egbert Velstra, do so decree!
This shall occur in an orderly fashion, with your betters getting the first pick. Make your way to the Vale. Good day!
There yet remains to be seen how the two houses will react completely to this arrangement... especially considering House Velstra was just besieging House Orza...
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
Betrayal and true colours bleed through old tattered uniforms of Orza Regalia, as new colours are lifted into the sky upon the setting of the Promise. The Wizard who slew the Lady, Morvoren Adair, finds her conscience, but finds it far too late to battle the crippling weight of the depression it brings. As well, Lord Egbert Velstra is stolen a bride, as Lady Anastasia Orza is beset and slain by her once close allies... A series of Whispers regale and lament the situation as appropriate:
-- A spire of malevolent energy rises upwards from the Inquisitor Tower in Ring 97, soaring high into the sky - blighting the entire City of Ring's skyline. --
Quote from: "City Whisper by Aatish Aldebrand"
Long have I walked a dark path, the tendrils of shadow and mischief surrounding me and my actions. Long have I endured the wicked and disgusting acts of those who think themselves noble, think themselves beyond our reach.....
Today I seek absolution for my sins and begin to correct my path as I reflect upon the deeds done within the night, within the shadow, within the veil of these Orzan colors....
The return of the true Lord is near and the corrupt of the Triune and that broken, twisted church that ruined our way of life.....know that your time draws ever more near to a swift end by the flames of Purity. Now, the Inquisitor shall speak.
Quote from: "City Whisper by Inquisitor Malik Adalya"
A gift I said. Egbert, tonight I have given you the perfect gift. I believe you shall be delighted when you learn of it. My true sovereign would only allow that I find the most suitable gift for a man of your own crimes.
Long live Ser Lyon Moonspear. [His voice bellows - relief and exhaustion in one.] May we walk forever the path of redemption, as we purge ourselves of the wickedness of the Orzan family.
Quote from: "City Whisper by the Man known as Yic"
I bring ill news. Lady Anastasia Orza's remains adorn the courthouse in ring ninety seven...
-- Meanwhile, a lone woman meanders into the Velstra Vale ... --
Quote from: "City Whisper by the Wizard Morvoren Adair"
Ser Nicholas Velstra, I will submit myself to you for you to carry out what you see fit for the murder of your wife. I have been so blind...
Quote from: "City Whisper[the voice gives no name] There is.... There is to be a hanging in the Steadings. The murderer of Ser Nicholas Velstra's wife faces justice.
As so it is that this hanging takes place as Ser Nicholas Velstra speaks boldly to the broken woman... Once the Wizard who Killed Lady Velstra. Now Morvoren Adair, ashamed and mislead. A recounting is witnessed by many:The Wizard Morvoren Adair:
[The noose begins to tighten around their neck as they are slowly raised]
Ser Nicholas Velstra:
And what of you, wretch? Will you abandon your wicked house in your last moments? Behold her! Behold the wretch as she hangs!
-- The Wizard Morvoren Adair is dropped with a sudden, loud snap of the rope --
Ser Nicholas Velstra:
This is what my wife experienced... when she fell from her tower.
-- Morvoren finally suffocates to death ... --
-- A slow, agonizing death. --
Ser Nicholas Velstra:
It is done. This woman came to me, begging for repentance. She has now repented. Hear me well, people of the City of Rings ... Murderers shall find no quarter from a true knight of the realm. Redjack. Clean up the body.
-- With a loud gasp of breath, the wizard Morvoren - the woman who is said to have helped lay flat all of Ring 94 finally dies. --
-- Her death is marked by scribes of the Peerage as long and suffering. A slow and agonizing suffocation ... her crime, the murder of a Lady of the Peerage --
Shortly after... -- A scream and unearthly howl from the catacombs! --
Quote from: "City Whisper"There is a ghost in the catacombs! The ghost of a wizard! She slew a Glitt retainer they charged in after screams were heard!
Quote from: "Redjack Ranulph McDimmock"
Sh-shit, I didn't... I didn't make it back in time..! Some half pint beat m'arse while I was headin' to a burial site for the poor wizard girl, and ran off with her corpse...! Son of a bitch!!
Elsewhere...-- Within the 97th Ring, against the battering storm, a new banner whips in the rain. --
-- Atop the former Courthouse waves a white standard. A crescent moon, pierced through with a silver spear. --
--Through the night among torrential rains, armed men in argent and azure can be spied slipping in and out of their new fortress. --
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
A changing of the guards takes place in a number of areas quite quickly... After rumored trial and association with Count Zarono Senuspur and House Sunpurse, the Redjacks lead by Ranulph McDimmock finally seem to win over Captain Aslo's post. While a small amount of fanfare took place, the Redjacks remain much the same as the Blackjacks prior... besides the new Count sympathetic liaison.
This lead to Brick, the Halforc Redjack, to be named second hand. However, this was shifty taken from him by contest of House Velstra Retainer Gerhard Stoutmantle upon the Bridge of the Peerage. There is some clamor about a Retainer facing down against a Redjack in such manner, however, none would deny that they had not /taxed/ enough people to make enemies.
This further lead to the events that took stage... the Orza Traitor and Moonspear servant Camila Vazquez made an announcement for a stage event, a song; a tale:
Quote from: City Whisper by Camila Vasquez
Startin' in ten minutes! King's Commons, Dispensary! I'll be playin' one song an' one song only! The ballad of Count Zarono Senuspur! Love 'em, or hate 'em... you won't find this one wantin'. Heheheh.
Word quickly spread of horrible undead and death gazes among the masses there... and more importantly, some one took great offence to these servants of Moonspear being so close to the Peerage...
Quote from: City Whipser by Lord Anders Orza
[Clears his throat] A reward from House Orza to the one that brings me the heads of those traitors. The /Moonspear/ ones, of course.
And so, shortly as the Moonspear guard turned their heels to return to their Hold in 97, slowly so, in the Pauper Ponds did the Former Redjack Brick strike, laying low the bard, taking her head and routing back to Castle Orza...
What happened next was unheard of. For his service, his task, Andres did offer a reward of his choice... Brick, or Korsugoth as he spoke to his name, was knighted as per request... the swift work, repaid in full. Ser Korsugoth, Axe of Orza, lived only a short time however...
Quote from: City Whisper by Ser Korsugoth, Axe of Orza
This is Ser Korsugoth of House Orza. On behalf of Count Senuspur and of my Lord Orza, I have a very important message for House Moonspear.
Fuck. You.
Everyone who has the spine to stop the Prince in Shadow from ending the world, meet met in Castle Orza.
A quick reply and series of words exchanged over the whispers shortly thereinQuote from: City Whisper by Inquisitor Malik Adalya
I denounce the Nothing. House Moonspear denounces the nothing with its total and utter self. There should be no confusion in this.
But who am I to speak on such? Listen, now, to the words of Ser Lyon, as is written for all to see in the Stones.
'I swear to save my Father who has been taken from me by the great abyss of the Nothing. In my quest to save him, I swear I shall stand against the horrors of the Nothing. If I must, alone.'
Tristan is corrupted of the mind. The one we kneel to, his Son, Ser Lyon, is not. Do not confound the two for their shared blood. We oppose the Nothing in totality. Do not besmirch our name otherwise. For in doing so, any of you who do, are liars yourselves.
Quote from: City Whisper by Ser Korsugoth, Axe of Orza
This is Ser Korsugoth. As I have declared before, those caught conspiring with House Moonspear will be hanged for treason against mankind.
The traitors we are already aware of have one hour to give themselves up at Sunpurse Mansion, to ask for the Count's mercy.
Quote from: City Whisper by Velstra Retainer Gerhard Stoutmantle
You believe yourself a knight for hounding and slaying a defenseless girl? I think not. You are a mockery to virtue and tradition, I denounce you 'Korsugoth' .. I denounce your honor and I denounce your fabricated title.
Renounce your 'knighthood' immediately or face me upon the bridge, refuse. And the Ward shall well know you are only capable of slaying the meek and running like the coward you are.
Shortly after this...-- A fight between House Orza, Sunpurse retainers, and House Velstra Retainers breaks out in the Peerage --
The Axe of Orza lead the charge, with retainers of House Sunpurse and Orza in tow, and a Ruby it is spoke, they saw to downing Retainer Gerhard Stoutmantle and battling down his allies in Velstra. The guard at the gate, the one watching for incident and correct conduct in the Peerage? Why, Retainer Arkady of Orza proclaimed: "Good job, Axe!"
Quote from: City Whisper by Ser Korsugoth, Axe of Orza
Gerhard Stoutmantle will be hanged for treason against mankind. House Velstra will be paid a generous weregild for their inconvenience. Expect it at the Steadings.
Ser Nicholas was not entertained, and interceded on the behalf of his retainer, in a strict and curt manner did he demand arrangements be made for his retainer's mistake, that might see his life spared...Quote from: City Whisper
The Orc-Blood Brick who was recently knighted wishes it known that he will spare Gerhard's life on the condition that the Moonspear traitors appear in the steadings for the debt they owe Gerhard.
House Moonspear did show, in force, and by arts of quick magics and fierce attack did they come, as House Velstra watched on, and House Sunpurse attempted to regroup. And so... did House Velstra gain back their Retainer, and Orza lose their Axe.
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
It spreads invisibly.
Insidiously.
Inexorably.
In the far reaches of the minds of men, bestial natures kept locked find themselves slowly coaxed to wake. Voracious, bloodthirsty appetites never once stirred are finally whet. Slowly, sordid savageries become more commonplace in the Rings as kin turns on kin and as ken infringes on lunacy. And in the shadow of such things, a heartbeat thrums louder still...
Note: Players not under the influence of Protection of Evil or Divine Grace may find their alignments slowly shifting from now on.
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
Ambitions mark the point of change within the rings. Each House or gathering seeking some hold upon the squandering resources available to them after the loss of the majesty of the Silverpeaks.
To Moonspear, the 97th, and the old of the inquisitor – their members still haunted by their betrayals and secrets that formed them, seeing them as Nothing Worshippers or traitors to most.
To Velstra, The Steadings and Farmlands, the Redwheat Manor, The Feast and their Hunter's Guild - Conflicts arise as always, from their reach for splendour and event.
To Glitt, the Shepperine Hills, a greater part of their corner of the Peerage - A constant battle to remain Honorable in the face of those that would undermine them.
To Orza, their Castle, Mongrelwoods advancements and horrible betrayals – Undermined by those that fled their colours, after turning upon the Count, and most visibly with the destruction of the Ring 94. Such rage for revenge fuels them.
To Sunpurse, Two Tasks, both great, both simple. Find Phelan, Repair the Drill – While control of the Redjacks is certain; while the Guild of Lessors hold power evident - the Banner House once more despite proclaiming the King as usurper - craves yet more.
Those dissidents of the Ponds continue their own efforts, despite all this. As the Land of the Weald is cut into three. As Ghyl and Changeling are crushed under foot, for advancement of the Peerage. Those of the Ponds secure what they can of their own ways.
The Sleeper is awoken, the land is of fire, law and order are upon their heads, famine and strife seems inevitable for those that might not take control of what little is to go around quickly. And now, a higher power has descended upon the ruined ring of 94 to proclaim judgement.All are found wanting.
Deva, light, fire, and justice rain from the clouds. The skies turn yellow with the glow of holy fervour. A pitched battle is fought among the grounds of the trial, to no avail, as the defendants scurry back all the way back to Ring 97. Lizardmen die painfully in its wake. Bandits and gangs pay for their crimes in blood. Moonspear locked its tower.
And eventually, upon the Bridge of the Muckboy's squat, a final stand is waged against the swords and arrows of holy reckoning. Though, defeated, the angels were clear with their judgment, and it is whispered or spoken by those claiming victory against the Heavenly Assembly...Quote"Your Defence fails, this was always known, but Justice was given and chance along with it. Your Punishment will so forth commence. KNOW THAT THIS DOES NOT ABSOLVE YOUR SIN! GUILTY, UPON ALL ACCOUNTS!"
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
By action of bargain, duress and frantic alliances, do a new House and set of Lords enter the Peerage. As retainers of Sunpurse clamor for support in finding the lost son Phelan for their Lady, do a series of sweeping actions seemingly coincide with the planning of their Lords.
While Dame Eris Hale berates Lord Anders - who is well above her station - and offers the expunging of exile upon the Moonspear Retainers and Oath breakers of Orza, Aatish Aldebrand and Malik Adalya, the knives of Orza sharpen in the once Castle Moonspear.
All this seems to drift into some fever dream, however, as a True Council of Peers is held...-- A thin train of folk waving a tattered white and blue banner trudge on through the Rings, toward the 99th. --
-- Steel flashes and a man is brought to his knees after a swift and bloody chase through the streets of the peerage. Rumor spreads quickly of a Velstran falling upon the planks of the Peerage bridge at the hands of several Orzan assailants. --
-- A night of blood and parlay in equal parts, to be sure. --
-- The Moonspear congregation makes its way to the Council chambers, there to await an audience... --
-- It's soon rumoured that Ser Lyon Moonspear has elected to wile the time by taking a seat -- the seat of Moonspear, as a point of fact. --
-- What Lord Orza will think of that, time will tell. --
-- The sitting Lords of the Peerage are assembled, and Lyon of Moonspear too. They await the Count's arrival... --
Within the Council Hall, do Ser Lyon Moonspear, Lord Norbert Velstra, Lord Bernard Glitt, Lords Anders and Kristoff Orza arrive. And eventually... seemingly out of nowhere, Does Count Zarono Senuspur arrive, and move to the armchair of House Sunpurse.A series (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=702915.msg737507#msg737507) of taunts and further erupt between the lording figures. Lord Norbert appears seemingly adrift and bemused at some party. Lord Bernard is unblinking and focused upon Ser Lyon, his eyes burning with an extreme enmity for the destruction caused in the wake of Moonspear. Lord Kristoff glances to his hated Oathbreakers - so close, yet so far out of reach - while Lord Anders struggles to maintain composure in front of the ever intimidating Count. -- The abrupt departure of the Orzans marks the winding down of the meeting. The House of Moonspear has given fealty to the Count and the Ward... and in the coming days shall return to a new seat in the 99th. --
Ser Lyon Moonspear is a resigned, yet passionate voice that does as he views he must for what he must. Count Zarono Senuspur stands in front of them all, peering down upon them as children, and gives, now Lord Lyon Moonspear, what he desires for an unknown price. The Fifth High House, Moonspear, moves into Dusk's Cradle, slowly. Its halls still echo with the voice of the caretaker slain by Redjacks not so long ago. The Statue of the Lady in Waiting remains, waiting.
Was it for them?
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
While House Velstra, tends to the Weald and Farms. While House Glitt tends to the Sheppernine. While House Orza battles the newly minted House Moonspear. While House Sunpurse contests fits of suiting? (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=702942.msg737572#msg737572) and While the animals of the Weald in 98 continue to seemingly vanish...
Other elements have been hard at work... for a long time now.-- a Disturbing and horrible series of echoes rocks Ring 99, from beneath... --
Quote from: City Whisper by the Autumnmask of Willowgrove
Deep in the Drips, in an unholy sepulcher, a hideous rite is about to be performed.
You who have pursued Lord Phelan Sunpurse are offered this opportunity, and shall likely not have another. They who halt this profane rite and claims the head of Yictanaghz Reynnri, his staff, and his black opals, shall be allowed to enter the Mist and speak with the wayward heir.
...if stop him, you can...
Quote from: City Whisper by Knave of 99, Copper FacedIt seems that the time is now. Retainers of the Ward, gloryseekers, and those who would call this ring home. The necromancer begins his plot; Blacksmile grins this eve, and a terrible dread occurs.. The Bonecollectors must be sieged, to see this come to an end.
Quote from: City Whisper by Dame Fleta Blacke'This is unacceptable...'
'I did not want to intervene but it seems that I must...'
'The Feast has run out of caviar. Fishermen! Water farmers! Who-ever brings me a quantity of fat salmon from the sheppernine rivers, swollen with healthy roe, shall be rewarded. Dame Fleta, vassal of Lord Norbert, has spoken.''
'Oh. And Master Ruul wants Yictanaghz magical stave. If you bring that as well you may have unique treasure from our deepest vaults. That is also important too, I suppose. Better than a night with a Changeling. I'll say that for sure...'
Quote from: City Whisper by Mattermead GoldGold, Mattermead the Gold. Triumvir of the Prismatic Council and Wizard-Lord of Ring 100 announcing that any rituals presently being undertaken are unregistered with the arcane authority of the Realm and are thereby deemed a threat to the City. The magus Yict...tendergrass... is advised...
... that as he was never assessed by the Prismatic Council he is at risk of becoming a Nobody... especially if this ritual is simply a matter of being up to no good! We will be accepting reports when they are made available, thank you all and good luck dealing with the renegade.
-- A terrible battle erupts in the drips below, horrible magics flung about as though simple tricks --
A voice rattles from oldbones and chattering black opals as the battle erupts, undaunted, amused, and chiding:Sons of the Usurper, Children of the Harbormaster. I come not to destroy you, or break the peace that the Harbormaster seeks. No, I come to offer you all rebirth from the oblivion that awaits you.
It should be obvious to all, but I will grant you a truth. The Thrones beyond the Pale are empty. Only do fickle and terrible servants await, and the torment that is the rotting beyond. The entropy that devours all that would let it, This Inert, seeks to undo us, as most of you have seen.
I would save us this horror, if you would let me. Gleam into the future where death remains with life. Let the Count continue his siege, let the King answer for his negligence. Endless nights have I slept, and it was always as it is now. We are humbled by one that can not and will not save us.
The battle continues until the point that the Lich and his servants have spent most of the invaders, though not without heavy damage to their inner sanctum, and the capture of Yict.-- A message from a distant voice rings out now... in some form of diplomacy --
Quote from: City Whisper by Ennugim Ishmenka
[A voice echoes] Sons and Daughters of the Usurper, though you throw barbs and spells in tantrum, I am a willing host. I come to set you free from the shackles of death. My ambassador was taken from me, return him, and the souls of those lost to foolishness will be once more.
Those that seek to avoid the Nothing, and the Pale Beyond, of Kingdoms of Broken and Empty Thrones, should find service, in the host of Bonecollects. We that shall remember all.
Quote from: City Whisper by Knave of 99, Copper Faced
I have your creature Yict. Harm my brother or my underlings and I will toss him into the Pale myself. Return them to me immediately without condition and I will consider giving the man a chance to scamper back. Do not and we will hound you to Ring 1 if we must...
-- A voice once more echoes, past the need of magics of doors: 'Bring him back, and so it shall be.' --
What happens next is whispered, a red and violent portal bleeding into the Groundskeeper's Cabin, the ambassador returned by those that sought to challenge the newly reborn Lich, only to free him for the lives of those still captured..., and Lady Sunspyre running rabid at those that would free her for such a price.
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
Ruby ash fills the old wizard keeps... --A caravan makes its way from further Kingward, towards the Peerage Ward. It is flanked by a Sunpurse Bannerknight.--
--The wagon leaves, amongst its passengers eager to aid the Count in his siege against the King, members of Orza, Glitt, and sundry adventurers...--
--There is an explosion in Tower top, and a magically enhanced voice shouts... 'GET MESTIL'S BREATHED ON, RUBY WITCH!' a clamour of fighting, and screaming, and more explosions...--
--Rumours fly on the back of messengers of a local wizard rebel in the Warrens bursting into Towertop and melting the Ruby there with acid, before fleeing, and finally being killed, by some local adventurers...--
Ruby blood fills the cobble streets...Quote from: "City Whisper by Jodfry a'Valar"
Why do you complacently kneel and scrape before men who, naught but a year ago, you named your most hated enemies? These Knaves make no secret as to what they are. Nor do their masters. You need not call them 'agents of the Sleeper' to have reason to put them to the sword.
These men of Moonspear risked all that they had, seeking to slay the foremost of the Count's rubies ... and now, with nothing more than a whimper, they become yet another dog-chasing, boot-licking slave-house enthralled to the whispers of a thing that should not be.
We have forgotten the lessons of the great rebellion against the old masters ... but fear not, City of Rings. I am, first and foremost, an instructor. And this is a lesson I am more than qualified to teach.
Quote from: "City Whisper by Dame Eris Hale"
The only two things you ever taught /me/, who wished nothing more than to be your devoted student, were fear and abuse. Shut that fetid privy you call a mouth, Jodfry, before I tell the entire City the truth of why you left us.
The Lady-Mother forgive me for even considering this. It would.... Reflect so poorly, it would expose that which must, by right and propriety be kept from the public...... No. I will not allow myself to be drawn in by your provocations. You can hurt us no longer. Die in darkness, and be forgotten.
Quote from: "City Whisper by Jodfry a'Valar"
Oh, Eris. You seem to believe yourself safe and secure, here at the height of your power - the culmination of your schemes of ruin and desolation brought to bear. You believe that I can not hurt you. You believe that, with even Moonspear knelt, any opposition is hopeless.
/You believe wrong./
Allow me to offer you one additional piece of instruction, my wayward student. Never make a threat you aren't prepared to back up...
-- Another day in the Peerage as rain pitters down ...--
--Dawn breaks, the sun rising slowly, dispelling the morning frosts...--
-- And from the Vaults of House Sunpurse ... the Count Senuspur lets out a blood-curdling scream... -
Quote from: "City Whisper by Jodfry a'Valar"
Do you remember what I told you about threats, Dame Eris? I follow through on mine. As this day unfolds, remember that.
Quote from: "City Whisper by Grand Vizier Sardistan"
All retainers of House Sunpurse and other loyalists to the Count Senuspur are to report to the Sunpurse manse immediately.
-- The Peerage Ward is all abuzz with rumours of the disappearance of Ruby Saraid Caermyn ... and the wroth and rage that followed. --
Ruby vengeance awaits to leap.
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
A wolf stalks the Peerage for a long time. A hunter hunted by almost all the Houses of the Peers; All the Lords of the Ward; The House Sunpurse in desperate effort and at the expense of many of the lives of its retainers. It seems after its relentless efforts, the beast is finally snared.:
-- A shriek from the ward as a wolf barrels through its gates --
Quote from: "City Whisper by Autumnmask of Willowgrove"
You know what you did, Sidonie. Don't test your luck again.
-- A tense exchange occurs on the bridge of the Peerage. --
-- Crookjaw, or Ser Cecil as he calls himself, stands against the overwhelming minions of the Count. Those fettered by distress, purpose, or apathy --
-- The information that House Sunpurse so desperately seeks, torn from him by horrible magics, but at a last moment, Dame Fleta Blacke severs the connection, and Ser Cecil's head --
Quote from: "City Whisper by Dame Fleta Blacke"
Grim, with tremouring breath. 'This is Dame Fleta. My actions are my own and by no means reflect the will of the Velstra Family. I accept complete and total responsibility for my actions. Let no man or woman in the household nor in their service be looked upon in my place, upon my honour be it.'
-- As chaos continues to embroil the Peerage Ward through the most recent events, in a somewhat nearby Ring, rubble is removed and massive wheels are repaired. While clearly not yet in condition to travel, it is simply a matter of time... --
-- As the events of the day begin to settle, things begin to become clear ... --
-- The former Reeve of Lord Desmond Sunpurse, Ser Cecil, revealed to be a traitor and changeling known as Crookjaw ... --
-- ... captured by the forces of Moonspear, Aatish and Malik, and brought before the Grand Vizier of House Sunpurse ... --
-- The Grand Vizier's nightmarish hand plunged into the man's still-living skull ... seeking some priceless information ...--
-- The state of shock that struck the Vizier as a woman of Moonspear, Symmone d'Troyes, plunged her spear through his heart ... and very nearly slew him, if not for the timely intervention of her fellow Retainers ... who brought her low and dragged her back to Moonspear ... --
-- The Vizier's shrouded form ushered back into the depths of the Mansion Sunpurse ... --
-- And a sort of calm returning once more to the Ward of the Peers ... --
House Montegelas, of which the majority aided critically in the return of Ennugim Ishmenka, has found a terrible end to three of its members. Its lineage torn from the realm of the living... with spiteful visages left in damp and dark halls. An agony is expressed in dark consequence and felt by those that would lynch such a loyal Household. :
Quote from: "City Whisper by Ruby Vsaja Sumari"
A very brief word. A comital servant may have pardoned the family Monteglas for traffic in dark magic..
Alas, that he has not forgiven my former knave and their master for his betrayal, nor the sheltering and animation of a condemned woman.
The line, to the last babe, is to be exterminated. A small wergild will be paid for the lessers, and a tidy sum for head of house. Happy hunting.
Quote from: "City Whisper by Lazzario Montegelas"
To the murderer of my innocent brother Angelo, whom shared no part in any of the 'crimes' listed.
I will be on the bridge in ten minutes, and we shall settle this as men. I have renounced my sister and confessed as misled.
Better to have at least a pedilum of honor then attacking innocent boys who did you no wrong.
-- A lion picks his wounded way through the ward, pecked and pricked by fleas. --
-- A quick drop is cut short by a sudden stop. Lazzario Monteglas living weight lurches, and then his dead body takes its place. The sound of his polished maille shaking on his corpse sounds all-too-eerily like the clinking of coins... --
-- No man it is said may serve two houses. Mayhaps even one is too many --
-- ...Though the masters of the realm are jealous with their slaves. --
-- A crimson flash. A sinister hiss. --
--The dead speak again, however briefly. A crushed throat let's slip a ghostly word... --
--'You will see soon enough... that my words were TRUE.' so says the shade of Lazzario... --
--And then his new kin are upon the crowd --
-- It seems the house of the dead, kept by the dead, values its retainers more than mortal lords. Ghosts and banshees reap through the assembled onlookers. --
-- The "natural" order is once again restored by strength of arms. It was always such an impostion and is always a profound conceit. The dead are silent as before. One of the great lies that secure soft sleeping is told anew. There is peace in the Peerage Ward. --
A dark feast illuminates a happy one. A name of Auld, of tradition, and of the Peerage before the Rise of Count Zarono Senuspur is shared on the lips of many. What will the return of such a figure bring to the House of excess, and lions amongst men?:
-- Much ado in the Velstra Vale, as a celebration is ongoing following the return—some whisper by foul necromancy—of a figure thought long-dead. Sunpurse, Orza, Moonspear, and others have made themselves known to gawk, and the Vale swells with not-so-quiet pride at its success. --
Quote from: "City Whisper by Dame Fleta Blacke"An obese wheeze, from a mild walk: "I say. This is Dame Fleta. Today I announce, by Lord Norbert's decree, a grand feast! A feast of the Feast! All are invited to celebrate the return of Lord Norbert's cherished son, Ser Adrian! A day of days. Monumental, a hero stands among us."]
Quote from: "City Whisper by Adrian Winespill"Sons and daughters of the Peerage. I know little of the troubles that have befallen our home during my... my long slumber...
But I promise you that I will do aught that I can to win a brighter future for us all, to lead us into a better, kinder day, free from the creeping fingers of evil that seem to surround us now.
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
Tchun, the sleeper awoken; the disaster of many - The Frozen demon-god of horrors unspoken in fear of its deadly madness and curse. - Has been bested by the crew of the Whipping Griffon. At the cost of many lives and the ship itself.
Nine final members yet remain, Yasmin Jharana
Helena Argyros
Gliern Rust
Silverpaw
Loria Venwood
Sverri
Egbert Velstra
Roch de Proux
Thorgrun Grimhammer
[hide=Echoes of the Acsent, described by those that survived can be heard on tales by night]
-- An eerie quiet in the rings... --
-- A host has gathered aboard the Whipping Griffon. --
-- Whether through choice or consequence, many have come to the side of the captain Zelia N'dare and her newfound replacement crew. --
-- A motley crew of princes, priests and paupers alike have come aboard the ship. Hot-blooded, but cold in the eye, it appears in the face of a looming existential threat, something bordering on begrudging appeasement seems to take rule. --
The engine is started:
-- There's a certain type of silence that comes before a storm. Ominous. Promising. That same type of sensation lingers in the air on board the Whipping Griffon moments before, out of seemingly nowhere.. --
-- ..she rises. --
-- First it is slow, accompanied by the sounds of groaning protest from the old, old wood of the ship. Things that are not meant to break begin to somewhat bend with the upwards momentum. --
-- The ship begins to rock side to side with a sudden weight. --
-- A sudden lurch of the ship causes people to lose their footing, sliding, bumping, falling backwards as Zelia suddenly turns the ship's nose too vertical, too fast. --
-- The Griffon is whipped into motion. Outside the battered hull, the fading, trailing shouts of a woman elated. A woman free once again, no longer bound to the confines of the City of Rings.. --
-- For a moment, there is only happiness and the sensation of freedom that Zelia N'dare seems affected by. And then, from one moment to the next, the world collapses. The ship screams, Zelia screams, everyone can't help but scream.. --
-- ..and there's a sudden jolt, collapse, an inversion of logic and gravity as an arc planar energy cuts the sky above Ring 99. Those still below can only look up and wonder as they see a fiery streak across the sky flash, then disappear. --
-- ..perhaps forever. --
-- The Whipping Griffon departs the City of Rings, only embers in its wake as it careens through the stream of seams. Guts roil as planar energies coalesce and convalesce and then dissipate. --
The Voyage Begun:
-- CRASH --
-- The sudden sound of heavy impact. And then those beside portholes catch a glimpse of the outside. Hail and storm and reddened sky. --
-- The air: thick, cloying, tantalizingly strange-sweet familiar. Heavy. Copper and iron and all things uncomfortably familiar to a great many: blood on the wind. Much of it. --
-- All of it. --
-- The heavy snowstorm that ravages outside the ship almost drowns out the screams in the far distance. Almost. --
-- For a few more minutes as the Griffon trundles on through the sky of the Frozen Tear, there is nothing but soft screaming and gentle, gentle hears slowly losing courage as the reality of what is to come settles in. --
-- An indeterminable amount of time passes. --
-- Then, abruptly, in between distant sounds of thunder, a ship's bell rings loudly, carrying across the current planar winds down belowdecks. --
-- Zelia signaling imminent arrival. Best get ready. For whatever may come. --
-- The Griffon stalls its approach. Within moments it comes to a sudden lurch, then a lull. Then a complete stop. --
-- A few moments later, the ship's bell rings again. Zelia calls for a rapid descent to ground.. --
Charges are set:
-- As you descend, the Tear shows a cruel sight of itself. The white of snow has stained a deep shade of bloodied pink. Here and there, the stark white is cruelly marred by something more alarming to the eye: yellowed bone. --
-- Zelia calls for attendance. Zelia's voice rings across the decks of the Whipping Griffon. --
-- Zelia: We're down a charge. There's three more caves, one already being ventured in by my contemporary. ahem 'So-called' contemporary. Let's keep up the pace. The ice crowds thicker with each frosty breath. --
--The bomb in Halls of Madness, is about to blow--
--BOOM, the charge detonates in the Halls of Madness--
--a Shriek echoes across the frozen tear, one inhuman, humungous and dreadful, few could miss the sound of a true draconic roar--
--Another huge roar, as the battle RAGES in the dragons lair--
--The charge is nearly set, yet something rumbles within the corpse once more---
--Buzzzzz as the charge within the depths of the dragon's lair, signals it's readiness--
--The charge readies to BLOW--
--The great bone dragon roars, and takes to the skies...--
--BOOM!--
An Option is given:-- Zelia: For those that wish to leave.. I'll cut you a way out of here. --
-- Zelia brings her phantasmagorical sabre to bear and holds it aloft. It shines brightly, the she slices the air beside her, rending a rift. Then she punches into it with the butt of her weapon. Planar defenestration. --
-- Zelia: Now's the chance to leave. No turning back after this. --
-- Zelia: No one is to leave? --
-- Zelia seems duly impressed... --
-- Wordlessly, the captain flicks her sword again. The portal seals itself shut, but where it once was, there is a noticeable waver in the air. --
The battle continues...:
-- Freezing, bedraggled, but not beaten yet, a retinue of brave heroes have assembled themselves at the base of an impossibly vertical glacier... --
-- ..you crane your neck high, following the length of the glacier with your gaze. Or you try to. Your neck cranes, your back cricks. --
-- A monumental monolith to madness. --
-- Impossible pure ice, gore-speckled and blood-flecked all the many, many miles high up... --
-- ..and somewhere, high up there. He waits. --
-- No longer the Sleeper. Awoken. For you. --
-- And so the arduous climb begins... --
-- You ascend the glacier and reach a selective and cracked plateau, jagged ice-pieces float on long frozen-over seas of blood, slowly shifting, sometimes still drifting. --
-- Zelia: Look out below! --
-- The Griffon flies low for a bombing run! --
-- More of the mad make themselves free from their ceaseless toil of chipping at each other and at the ice, heading straight for those still not enlightened. --
-- The ice cracks... --
The way treacherous and long:
--Yasmin signals, and the Griffon lowers to allow them to resupply...--
--The bone dragon launches to the sky, once more...--
-- Zelia brings the Griffon up high and brings cannonside round to face the Tear. --
-- Zelia brings the cannons round, noticing the danger amongst the trees. --
--Courage. Temerity. It goes by many names, and wears myriad cloaks - yet despite shifting form the thing is recognizable with a glance. There is an abundance of it in this bleak hour.--
--Cannonfire rains from above, blasting at the wretched fingers...--
--The Griffon descends, preparing for resupply...--
--The battered and bruised heroes emerge into the biting cold, getting pelted by foul tentacles... above them, a shadow circles...--
-- The Griffon takes to sky just as the shadow descends. A barrage of cannonfire is exchanged as Zelia passes.. --
--The dragon launches into the air, once more... pelting those below with bursts of ice...--
-- Zelia brings the ship down low.. --
-- Zelia can be seen attending to the ship. Her face is grim, but resolute, her starlight-colored eyes glaring in the red bask of the ochre, long-dried bloodied snow. --
-- Zelia rings the ship's main deck bell. It sounds lamenting, echoing off the ice.. One last, sonorous clarion call to battle as the heroes prepare their way to race their way to the summit to face against the Sleeper one, final, time... --
Meureisxa the Thrice-Crazed, ended finally:
--The path to the summit swarms with maddened beasts, and sundry - answer the grim call of the Awakened Sleeper... they crawl, and skitter and skip, preparing to defoul and decry those that rally against him.--
-- A rapid descent from the rope. --
-- Boots hit the snow hard. --
-- Crunching snow, crunching bone. It's time. --
-- Zelia brings the Griffon round, lifting it up high in the sky. --
-- A cry from the back. The forces arrayed against you are overwhelming in their entirety. Zelia's words ring loud in your ears... --
-- Now is not the time for doubt. --
-- And as if on cue, Zelia begins her accompanying bombardment. The Griffon lets fly a cannonade of shots, clearing a path forward and upwards.. --
--Bombardment rains down upon the rallied forces of the Sleeper!--
--The Griffon passes once more... fire raining down!--
--The greatly weakened maddened descend upon them, hungry and eager for their end...--
-- Zelia shouts down from the upper deck of the Griffon. She shouts, screams, pleads for an advance - 'My fuel's running low! It's now or never! Move. MOVE!' --
-- Another array of cannon shots, a barrage to clear a desperate path. Like ants, struggling in the snow. --
--Bombardments of the heroes are met with bombardments of their own, from the maddened cultists...--
-- But with enough ants, even giants may topple one day. --
-- The Griffon screams across the sky, in its wake pellets of fire. Ancient ice cracks, snow that has not seen sun in millennia finally mets.. --
-- Zelia suddenly pulls back, the Griffon pulling away protection. --
-- Eyes turn to the sky, full of fear, and rage. Abandoned? At the zenith of it all.. --
-- A shadow streaks across the ice that hangs overhead. Moments later, the shadow's twin appears. --
-- Shadows large than life race across the breadth of the monolithic glacier that is the Frozen Tear. They fly upwards, vertical along its height, then suddenly swerve, first one, then the other, turning around abruptly. --
-- The dragon approaches, splintered bones streaking down. And right behind it, Griffon, desperately steering the Griffon behind it. --
-- The dragon streaks past, snatching off with one of the bodies of the fallen in one single, swooping motion. Right behind it, the Griffon.. --
-- Zelia screams from the top of the deck to take cover! --
-- The Griffon pulls up, following the dragon. --
-- The glacier's edge is visible.. --
-- ..an ending is soon to come. --
-- One way or another. --
-- A hole seems punctured in the endless horde of the Sleeper. --
-- A shadow streaks. --
-- And in its wake, the Griffon.. --
-- The dragon's bones fracture. --
-- With that, the Sleeper's final guardian lies defeated. The path to his seat is open.. --
[/hide]
[hide=The Final Ascent, and the last voyage of Captain Zelia N'dare]
--You clamber up, sweat and blood saturating your very being... in the ice ahead, something immense looms...--
-- You ascend the plateau. --
-- Here, at the summit of the Frozen Tear, you can see it. You can see.. him. --
-- From this distance, from this dark, he is nothing more than a silhouette - perfect white against the rusty red of the aerosolized blood vapors that cling to the air here, leaving your eyelashes bloodied as you blink. --
-- Despite your location. --
--BLOOD.--
--FLESH.--
--BONE.--
-- T'CHUN, T'CHUN, T'CHUN. His heartbeat, here, is something that thump-thumps loudly in your ears, overpowering your own. --
-- Each flutter of a heartbeat of his makes your own chest pump in panicked reply. --
-- A calling. Heart to bloodied heart. --
-- t-CHUN, t-CHUN, t-CHUN. --
--A mirrored metronome. Blood, flesh, bone. T'CHUN. T'CHUN.--
-- Quietly, unlike before, the Griffon appears. A never-silent companion on your travel to this place, now suddenyl subdued. --
-- Zelia looks over the side, lowering a rope. --
-- Old familiar faces thought fallen rappel down the side.. --
A final conversation between the Captain and her motley crew takes place, forever etched into the minds of the Nine who yet live.:
Captain Zelia N'dare: Best time to tell you the last part of the plan. [She gives Yasmin a sad smile.] You know... I think you would've really made a better captain than me. Sadly, I think, this'll be the Griffon's last stop.
Yasmin Jharana: But—Oh. My ship...
Captain Zelia N'dare: Oh, it's not just the ship, my friends. [Zelia steps forward ; she smiles wide.Too wide, and she coughs up from her lungs, the smell of ozone and sulphur... a familiar smell, by now, perhaps.]
When you want a good bomb.
Yasmin Jharana: [She squints at Zelia, suddenly suspicious.] Don't tell me you -ate- a bomb, you daft bint...
Captain Zelia N'dare: You have to make one yourself. [She pats her stomach.] Sorry. Well, there's something to be said about planar traveling. You learn a trick or two. In any case...
Yasmin Jharana: ...And the rest of us? Here to be sacrificial lambs for your little bout of martyrdom?
Captain Zelia N'dare: Oh. Not at all. [She turns to Yasmin. She unsheathes her scimitar. She slashes it at the air. Then with a flourish, she extends the hilt out to Yasmin.]
From one captain to another.
Yasmin Jharana: [She eyes the hilt, deeply suspicious.]
Captain Zelia N'dare: ...don't worry. It'll allow you one portal out of here.
Yasmin Jharana: [And then, with great reluctance, she reaches out, grasping the blade's hilt... What's the catch?
Captain Zelia N'dare: Get rid of it after. It's more trouble than its worth. Trust me. Now. Arrangements have been made... you'll get your fair share of the Giffon's hold. If you survive, that is.
You keep him busy. You keep him *here*. I need to position myself. I'm going to race down the glacier, set off all the charges. He wasn't, but I have a feeling tha--
--One evil eye opens wide, and then its twin. The Griffon is apprehended in the gaze of the Sleeper, awakened at last. The Mad God perceives with pain, and its gaze carries an intensity beyond heat. Rigging and planks buckle and bend. The bloody air boils around the Griffon.--
Captain Zelia N'dare: Wha-- NO... NOO. [Zelia rushes out, grasping for her blade.. no longer there.She pauses, panics. Then jumps towards the rope. One final look at you as she swings up after the Griffon, burning down... Go. GO NO!
Yasmin Jharana: For ZELIA!
--The looming figure's lips are moving. It speaks. The Tear rumbles with its voice.--
--It pulls its attention from the vessel... down to YOU.--
--'DIE.'--
-- THE SLEEPER SEES YOU. --
-- As your lifesblood is shed in the presence of the Sleeper Awoken, Nightmares slip from that realm where they linger --
-- The Sleeper's nightmares are made manifest in his presence. --
-- The howling of the Crazed raises to fever pitch --
--T'CHUN CLAPS.--
--T'CHUN LAUGHS--
--THE MADGOD CLAPS ITS HANDS OVER THE CARNAGE--
--ENJOYING THE BLOODSHED.--
--Perhaps it is time to strike??--
-- There's a rumble amongst the ice. --
--T'chun is come. T'chun's fury is t'chun. T'chuning, t'chun FLEE t'chun, t'chun! T'chun, and they t'chun, when t'chun. Death t'chun, t'chun is t'chun!--
-- T'CHUN. --
-- T' C H U N --
-- A shadow rises to the south. --
--RISE... RISE... RISE--
--T--
--C--
--H--
--U--
--N--
-- T'chun loses balance.. --
--One hand, his left, is destroyed--
-- His frozen seat fractures, the hand left limp. --
-- It falls uselessly to the side. Ice cracks, breaks, then fractures. --
--The madgod howls like a hurricane! He rages like thunder! The heartbeat intensifies! There i -- th -- t'ch -- t'CHUN! T'CHUN T'CHUN T'CHUN T'CHUN T'CHUN T'CHUN T'CHUN
T'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHUNT'CHU
-- The second is carved through. His gaze falters. --
-- Yasmin holds Zelia's blade aloft.. --
--A screaming terror but leagues behind..--
-- From the side, the Griffon can be seen rising. The structure, the glacier, the monolith shudders, then shakes.. --
-- ..and the tinkling sound of ice and ice and more ice shattering, fracturing, disintegrating from the base up. Light from far, far below. --
--T'chun the t'chun, t'chun Griffon can t'chun, t'chun... t'chun.. lightning and t'chun...--
-- The oncoming rush of planar sickness.. --
-- As Yasmin raises the blade, she brings it down low sweeping and cutting the air. --
-- Slicing through blood, air, mayhem and time...! --
-- A cut to carve victory from defeat, a slash upon the face of horror...! --
-- A portal flashes open, rending reality.. --
-- As they rush through the portal, the sigh of the Griffon's final journey can be seen streaking. At the helm of an old, battered ship, beyond broken.. --
-- ...is Zelia. She watches the remaining cast of those who stepped up to the fight against T'chun flee for safety. A moment later, a white-hot explosion as the Griffon crashes screaming into T'chun, the Sleeper. --
-- THOOM. KRAKOOM! --
-- For a moment, the sight of a blinding sun. As they step through the portal, they appear elsewhere in the Air Seam. --
-- T'ch... --
-- The start of a dreaded word for a moment rocks the realms.. --
-- First the horizon brightens. Then it darkness, forever. The Frozen Tear can be seen catapulted off where it was set. The Griffon's explosion sees it crashing, falling, forever. --
-- But it has, this day, a different end ... a thunderous and concussive blast! --
-- For decades on men will swear in their cups that the explosion sounded just like: --
-- T'CHOOOOOOOOOM!!! --
-- In time, one day, the falling Tear will find its own trajectory. It will barrel through more barriers than can be contemplated by a mortal mind. Perhaps, one day, it will be named.. --
-- The Sleeper has returned to his sleep. --
-- All is well with the nights once again. --
-- ..for now. --
-- A precious sabre is thrown into the ether. It arcs, then begins an eternal descent. Perhaps, one day, it may hit something and find solid ground once again. --
-- But as one captain might think.. --
-- ..perhaps just better not. --
-- In time, much of the Sleeper's Sickness that has plagued the Rings will disappear. Nothing but the fading of a bad dream... --
Quote from: "City Whisper by Egbert Velstra"I have slain the Sleeper!
[/hide]
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
From deep within Ring 94, a scream erupts. Inhuman, more akin to a howl - one of great pain, and fury. A wet, sickening howl... and then a rumble. The crunching of machinery. The clanking of steel, and groaning of wood. Where once it laid dormant, broken and burned in the chaos of that doomed Ring, it roars into action. Inch by inch, it struggles forward, breaking free of slag and rubble that bound it...
The Drill moves. The Drill lives.
A deafening thud of steel on masonry. It grinds, and crushes, it bends and breaks. It progresses... forcing its way through the next great Wall that stands defiant in its path. A pillar of dust and Mist bursts skyward, blotting the night sky, choking the stars.
The Mist whirls and whips about it, it seems to almost try in feeble might to bar passage. Yet a howl erupts, once more, and the Mist retreats...
The Drill churns, and bites at the stone, shrugging off the tumbling masonry that drops upon it as it makes its slow journey forwards. Crushing buildings, and toppling empty towers as it comes to a halt in the Ring of 93. A stillness reigns, as atop the great beast of war, an ambitious man emerges. There, for a time, he watches. He contemplates. On a journey that begun generations past, on a journey that ends so far from here. On ambition, and birthright. On fools, and madmen. On Kings, and the common man. He contemplates.
And the Mists swirl in anger, and fear...
And you dream, as you wake. You dream of a boy. A weak, and twisted boy. Sickness contorting his body with every cough. A boy that should not be...
You dream of something else, of someone else. Unknowable, unfathomable, unseen. A forked tongue whispers in the ear of a young man.
You dream of a sea. Vast, and dark. Of waves made of faces, of cracking thunder, with the screams of the lost. The sick boy turns his back. You awake.
Though a word lingers in every mind, sharp and keen. 'Doubt'.
((Shouts by Halfbrood ))
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
Cooler winds and orange skies begin to fill the Rings 99, and 98; Tendrilled growths and horrible jack-o-lanterns seem to appear and vanish at whim. As skeletal figures of the Pallid Prince defend themselves against the Drill's advances, pouring from wicked portals all the way to ring 94.'
House Velstra is still shaken from the loss of Dame Fleta Blacke, who died trying to end a horrible Khazuurk-Uld kidnapping. However, due to her efforts, the former Spinning Groat has reopened as the Blacke Velvet. Ser Adrian Winespill, a knightly figure of the First King's Tournament of recent history, was also revived sending the House in a new direction. Recently a House Retainer was seen to purchase a rare Unicorn thought of as myth, though strangely, it has not been seen since.
House Glitt, primarily by lead of Squire Aoife, found themselves defending what they could of the Weald and Little Ticker from the less than honorable actions of the Redjacks. Objectively, the Golden Grinners lead by Baron Benedikt von Hundertwasser - a quixotic gnome given title by the King's want as mockery of the Count - worked alongside House Glitt in this, until some falling out. During this chaos the former Captain of the Blackjacks: Alo Ceso, returned from his retirement and sought to restoring peace, and taking bribes.... The Redjacks who remained loyal and their Captain, Ranulph McDimmock, sent a bomb to the Glitt Encampment in the Sheppernine, and dashed off to the alleys of Ring 97.
House Orza has finally gathered some revenge. The Traitor Malik Adalya was brought low during the Drill's advancement through Ring 93. Among the mists, Manfred Japes and those of Moonspear that found Malik wanting, struck him down. His head was placed upon a pike with an empty one near-by - still awaiting the last traitor. Now Knife Japes has lead the House to some success in hunting monsters (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=703294.msg738670#msg738670) of all sorts, and has delivered the House more towards old form. They seem content to hunt Pallid and advance the drill for their own want, with some claiming a time no longer dictated by Knights or the King, but by men of ability, worth and honor.
House Moonspear found itself cannibalized from within. Though together they gathered the egg of a Royal Wyvern, when Malik Adalya was struck down by his comrades, Aatish Aldebrand, self-professed sorceress of both Fire and Darkness, avenged him to a last of their house. As the pieces are picked up, and Nothing storms become more frequent, a shadowed from of the sorceress is spotted by many. Some whisper of a shining golden light being snuffed out in the King's Commons of 99, and the shattering of a mirror.
House Sunpurse continues its march forward. The Self-proclaimed - and unchallenged - Count Wizard and actually appointed Grand Chamberlain Tudur Crabbe establishing draconian laws upon Wizards, soothsayers, or fortune tellers, while commencing a great deal of campaigns against the Pallid defenders of Ring 92. Skulls are piled as the Encampment has gathered some sort of veil to defend against any further siege. Though they must cut deeper into the Pallid Prince's defences, or convince others to, before they might resume the Drill's advancement forward.
The Ponds, under Regent Thelisa Sunspyre, at a face value have begun appointments (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=703541.msg739456#msg739456) for its betterment. The Regent has established her vocal campaign not without bloodshed, however. Oceanous of the Waters, a leal servant of the King, and friend to the Pond's water spirit, was one of the casualties along the road. Though, less than formal activates have been occurring, as Elven servants of the Wealdath make use of the Groundskeeper lounge, strange glittering sights and laughter happen unexplained.
[ :: Year 1 :: ]
A horrible threat, or a giving parasite was destroyed below the weald in caverns auld. The root of the chaos, undeath and wealth of vegetation and food was culled. A Seed of Yevathax , so close, crushed beneath the boots of dozens and eventually a cavern collapse.Quote from: City Whisper by Moonspear Retainer Luc Devereux
The appointed time draws near. Make your preparations, see yourself supplied, steel your soul and drive from it all vestiges of fear or trepidation. Yevethax shall BURN tonight, by the Light of the Promsed Dawn.
-- An ominous orange hue fills most of the weald and parts of the surrounding Ring 98. Growths push their way from the ground and towards the sky as something stirs --
Quote from: City Whipser by Brinebeard
The Dead Tree's undead are assaulting the Ward! Hurry to the bridge!
-- The unearthly glow spreads even into the Peerage, seeping upwards from the disgusting druthers there --
Quote from: City Whisper by Odette Sterra
The forces gathered at the Bridge head to the Ponds now to enter the Weald through there. Any stragglers wishing to help find us along the way.
Quote from: City Whisper by Orza Knife Manfred Japes
Soldiers of Orza, man your posts. Any retainers who sent from their post are to make their way to the Weald to combat this threat. Cowards tonight, will be punished by me personally.
-- A large group of adventurers begin to dig through the once collapsed tunnel, towards the root of this vile orange glow --
-- Hundreds of carved, glowing eye sockets leer at the intruders as they manage their passage, mocking grins a-light for all to see. --
-- The massive group enter a harrowing chamber of caverns filled with the dead. Vines and tendrils try to keep them from pushing inward --
-- The scent of freshly rotting loam and fallen leaves... the fruits of a late and plentiful harvest fill nostrils, mixing with the reek of the bloody press. --
-- Pumpkin-faced corpses pull themselves from the walls, the floor, the ceiling... any earth that might bear fruit, and throw themselves forth into the grinder, defending the massive, tendril'd seed. --
-- As last screaming death throes fill the cavern, loose tendrils writhe and attempt to bury the would be heroes in the new grave... --
-- A horrible scream fills the air, as a cold wind draws in --
A blue hue almost immediately follows the demise of the massive growth. A cold chill bites at remaining farmlands and forests there. Some curse the loss of a potential safeguard against winter, but most know better.
Elsewhere, the Pallid further advance, with their portals seen even as far as Ring 95. While House Sunpurse convenes upon working around the threat, and House Orza has seen their Knife Manfred Japes named conqueror of Ring 92, the skeletal figures fear nothing from the frigid complications that might wear upon a living army.
[[ :: Year 1 :: ]]
As cold winds and snow spread throughout the Weald, and House Sunpurse deals with upheaval from the other Houses of the Ward. Their intentions to quell the Pallid threat move forward with an underground route secured, and a glowing shield upon their Drill. However, after the death of Grand Chamberlain Tudur Crabbe, the Grand Vizier Sardistan has begun some tirade against some insidious plot. A series of events proceed, first with the Exile of the woman and prior owner of Oldspyre, that slew the Grand Chamberlain:Quote from: A City Whisper by the busy Underbutler Regis Crimmons It comes to our attention that our beloved Grand Chamberlain and master Wizard Tudur Crabbe has met his end to some herald of the Nothing, Aatish Aldebrand.
He has unfortunately failed in his task of ending Aldebrand's endless sabotages of our ward that we have deduced to have been in order to make way for some apocalyptic event.
With this, and greater agreement of most /sane/ houses, she is exiled from our ward indefinitely. Let any that appeal this charge be called what they are: Worshippers of the Nothing.
A madman begins to drift trash, rubble and squatters towards the Old Harbor Canal. Eventually House Velstra and Orza begin to eye the old property with interest... however the Muckboys are quick to warn them that they will do what ever is necessary to keep the Peace of Ring 97... A concern in the Ward unravels after the flighty sightings of a discarded Reeve: Quote from: A Series of City Whispers by Grand Vizier SardistanPeople of the City of Rings!
A credible source has just revealed that there is a rotten conspiracy stewing at the very heart of our Peerage Ward...
A conspiracy that aims to drive a dagger through the soul of its own beloved hero, the Count Senuspur...
He who has fought and bled on our behalf innumerable times ...
We shall, in our mercy, allow those who are guilty in this conspiracy the chance to step forward. Take care, now: we know who you are already. The screeching and wailing and final death rattles of the pathetic Urska Felton, disloyal even to her own traitorous cause, told us all we needed to know.
If you do so, we shall be generous.
This conspiracy is all too real, and it threatens to unmake our grand project of dethroning the false king. Laugh at it at your peril, citizens of the Peerage. We shall root out the traitors like the insects that they are.
A list of objectives is passed around hushed locations in some hope of insurrection...Quote from: Further Proclamations by the Grand Vizier SardistanPeople of the City of Rings!
We tried, in our magninimity, to grant you chance for redemption and clemency... you have rebuked, at every turn, our offer - so generous and compassionate!
The time for mercy is at an end. You, Jodfry a'Valar, called 'the Reeve' - you and your traitorous companions shall be rooted out and destroyed without hesitation.
[shrilly] WE shall FIND and DESTROY all OF YOU.
A wizard is given station and protection... for a time. Soon after the Harbormen are called out for their lack of loyalties, and thus exiled as well.Quote from: City Whispers by the Grand Vizier Sardistan
Ahem. The House Sunpurse offers its protection to the one known as Hans... for services rendered in the rooting out of a villainous conspiracy that threatens to undermine the entire ward. Any ludicrous campaigns against him are hereby declared null and void.
Attention, people of the City of Rings ... !
It has come to the attention of the House Sunpurse that the Harbormen are complicit in the plot against our wise and preeminent Count Senuspur ...
These lowborn and traitorous dogs shall not hide for long from the wrath of the House Sunpurse...
Should they be seen within the premises of the Peerage, they are to be run through like the dogs they are.
Quote from: City Whisper by Ser Adrian Winespill
How terrible! This is all so terrible! Anyway, House Velstra's preparation to construct an orphanage in Swaddle Point Harbor continues marvelously. Find your nearest Velstra retainer and donate today to the 'Widows and Orphans of War' charity drive! Think of the children. Think of the future.
House Orza and Velstra are called out for their connections to the Harbour and otherwise lack of Fealty, and the exiled woman Aatish Aldebrand -- whom some whisper to be some Witch of the Nothing -- is called forth.Quote from: City Whisper by the Grand Vizier Sardistan
House Orza. House Velstra. You have ONE DAY to come before His Majesty, lying deep in contemplation within the Drill ... and renew your vows of fealty. Your rebuking of the dictates of your lawful liege is NOT ACCEPTABLE.
People of the City of Rings!
NONE of you are INNOCENT. I know well that each and every one of you can fall into treachery with but a WORD. Don't slip up. The House Sunpurse shall watch you vigilantly. Like hawks. Your treachery will not be allowed...
Aatish Adelbrand, you are summoned to the House Sunpurse at your earliest convenience.
Fear not, cloying hounds of the Peerage Ward ... this is merely an announcement of parley with an enemy of the state. But for very good reason. Very good reason indeed.
Concern is weighed... and rebuked
Quote from: City Whisper by Orza Knife Manfred Japes
Grand Vizier Sardistan, if you wish to speak with Aatish the Nothing-Cultist, then I implore you to send your men to find her - because she will not pass by the ward's gates unscathed.
Any Orza that finds Aatish, bring me her head. Untill such a time that Lord Orza himself decides she may pass by us unscathed, she will be hunted like the monster she is.
... Do not besmirch Lady Anastasia Orza's memory and let this witch walk freely.
Quote from: Calm Rebuking by the Grand Vizier Sardistan
Fear not, Orzan. This is merely one moving piece in many in my grand chess game which I am certain you fail to comprehend ... the conspirators shall be unmasked and each of them shall be put to the sword.
Ahem! Shadow-witch of Moonspear... you are SUMMONED to the House Sunpurse's illustrious halls to discuss matters of GREAT IMPORT...
Following in the wake of this, a proclaimed victory against Orza is spoken across the whispers. A Knife sent into the Inert and Death itself... however:Quote from: A City Whisper by Orza Knife Manfred Japes
Aatish, a pike has been set and polished. I put it right beside the withered head of your lover, Malik. Maybe I'll turn your head to face his though, so it's always looking at it rotting away? Haha, well, Japes aside... I have a message for the houses of the Ward.
/Cowards./[His voice set like a boisterous bully, followed by a compromising tut.] Fine, I'll kill her myself.
Ink Waxes from the Candle...
- Shadows assault Castle Orza! --
Quote from: City Whisper by Inumbrater Aatish Aldebrand
And the Lady gazed down upon her, wreathed in the shadow and the light, and she bade her devout to listen. They did, and their foes were obliterated in turn. The heretic fell, the traitors burned, and, and soon the Prince fell upon them all with his righteous blade.
Rest well in her arms, Knife Manfred Japes. Seek to repent beyond as you come upon his throne in the darkness. Only then shall you understand the avarice that you must cast aside.
Malik....my love, you are avenged.
Heretics, like waves of ignorance, crash upon the unmoving stone, broken time and time again. A storm brews above them and guides them, and yet they are ignorant and do not see the folly of their actions.
Until then, they gazed upon the cliffs and saw the herald of the Lady and her pure flames, and shared in her shame, her sorrow. They weep, as bade by the Lady herself, and found salvation.
Send no more fools Ser Adrian. Send no more hounds, Lord Orza. Seek only faith, and follow in the path that has been ignited for you. Dim no torch, for the Prince bears witness and bade you to cast out your wickedness.
As they gazed upon her glory, her redemption, they found only truth. They looked within their souls and discovered that only the wicked had endured the pyres of purity, only the most foul had fallen to her vengeance, and they contemplated their foolishness.
Even drowning in the wine you can clearly see who has endured the fate of my potency, Ser Adrian of Velstra. Demons, Necromancers, and murderous clowns. Dispatch of your wrong feelings and incorrect thoughts and seek the truth.
Quote from: City Whisper by Ser Adrian Winespill
I sent two retainers to find that foolish jester before he died. I don't know what Edeir thought he was doing, challenging you to battle, but if you killed that brave, stupid boy...
It's not scouts you'll be fighting. And it's the vengeance of this House that will come to find you.
Retainer Edeir Halflight, you absolute idiot, get up he- [An intake of breath, like he's seen a ghost.]
Quote from: City Whisper by Orza Knife Manfred Japes
... [A silence then a familiar voice.] ... Look to the mist ...
Quote from: City Whipser by Velstra Retainer deir Halflight
[A broken and shattered voice-- it is hard to tell whether this is man, or shell] Ser Adrian ... I am coming home.
A bleaker morning arrives...
--The sun slowly rises, rays of light battling with the lingering shadows of the night. Its rays seem weaker, this fateful morning, and the shadows seem to fight back with greater strength... but finally, dawn breaks and the sun reigns. Though here and there, a shadow lingers on, slipping away into a nook, hiding from its eternal foe...
--Somewhere, a pale faced gentleman frowns, surrounded by blood-red companions. They look upon an ancient table, and a dizzying map of the unknown. There, they plot.--
--Elsewhere, a debonair man in ancient, threadbare royal colours sit upon a throne of white-polished bone. Around him, clad in white gowns, he is attended well. There, they wait.--
--Nowhere, a great sea of black churns and roils. Upon it a lonesome ship sails, a single lantern lighting its way, the blue flame within it waging an eternal war against the shadow beyond. It flickers, ever so slightly, dimming by a near unmeasurable amount. There, it struggles.--
Traitors are slowly picked apart, one by one...
Quote from: Sanctions of the Grand Vizier Sardistan
People of the City of Rings!
We in the high seat have heard with great interest your supplications! We have heard your woes, and yes, we have listened. We should like to invite the Lady Nephezar to the Sunpurse Refuge, where of course she will be taken into our generous care.
Lady Nephezar, be wary. Even now conspirators plot against your life. You must hurry with all swiftness to the safety of our doorstep, lest some grave ill befall you - wrought by these treacherous cretins and their thirst for blood and violence.
Certain death awaits the New Court Wizard, an upstart none could claim faint of bravery. Though lost much for what amounted to bravado...Quote from: City Whisper by Hans Uradel IV
Grand Vizier I tire of your utter foolishness and probably conspiracy within none other than the Reeve as nothing else can explain your utter insanity and pointless proclamations. Face me on the bridge I iwll be a better grand vizier than you ever could be.
Quote from: City Whisper by the Grand Vizier Sardistan
You seem to misunderstand how this works, traitorous dog. I must thank you for revealing your true colors. Now please prepare to die.
For a moment, with Hans' traitorous death, I thought I might breath easily... but then I recalled that he had been the primary driver of our policy these last few weeks, and I begin to grow increasingly nervous. Why did none of you warn me of his nature..?
How many of you were working with him?
People of the City of Rings!
I have just received a piece of information most revelatory. The identities of another glut of traitors, so eager to follow Hans to their graves. Shall they spare me the trouble and kill themselves like he did? Or must I have them hunted down like the dogs they are?
Allow me to make something entirely and crystal clear. You shall not interrupt my vengeance. It shall be perpetual and everlasting. Not one of you rodents shall be allowed to take it from me.
[[ :: Year 1 :: ]]
The second showing of the The Cinquefoil Rose (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=703966.msg740571#msg740571) gathers a large crowd... the tales and tethering's of what exactly transpired left to the mouths of bards, poets and scribes to twist alike... but, some common things are known and seen by the masses... --The gathered might of the ninety-ninth, sworn of House and vagrant alike, attend the shadow of Jodfry a'Valar. He leads them before the burned ruin of the Manse of the Ponds.--
-- The sight of the manse is as it has always been ... --
-- Old ... crumbling ... burnt out and ruinous ... --
-- The air in the Ponds is markedly still ... --
A Ruby tests the revolve of the party, only to be turned away in kind... the Count has made no friends it would seem, despite the riches he might have heaped upon his loyal dogs...-- There is a sudden quaking ... --
-- The very ground beneath your feet begins to quake and quiver... --
-- And suddenly, the ground itself parts... a yawning tunnel yet deeper spreading... --
-- You enter into an ancient tunnel ... the air itself musty and earthen... --
-- There is something ... off... about this place ... --
--There is a haze lingering upon it - you find yourself unable to focus easily upon the details... you try, and find them blurring more deeply. As if it is a poorly recalled memory.--
-- Shades emerge from the very walls... indistinct, formless; as if imagined from the dark recesses of someone's mind. The faces are off- so off, so disconcertingly wrong... swarming, grasping... --
--The might of the gathered heroes relents not, and falters little against these wreathed and forgotten memories. The shadows of the mind. These creeping doubts at the edge of sight...--
--Each of them fights their own battle, against their very minds. Each shadowy creature wearing the face of those long forgotten to them all. A mother, a lover, a son or sibling. A long lost friend, and forgotten enemy.--
--Through winding tunnels, they go. Groping at the hazy walls, pulling themselves deeper through whatever ancient, forgotten place they now stand within.--
--Ahead, an opening... a glimmer of hope of a light, some respite, quickly quashed at the sight of further lingering shadows.--
-- You step out into a pitch black ruin ... light seems a foreign creature here ... --
-- An ancient bridge... a decaying memory ... --
-- You suspect there will be time to rest further on if you just go, rather than this cramped tunnel ... --
-- You come upon a strange chamber, mist high and thick in the air ... bedrolls line the walls ... --
-- Strange mirrors perched upon diases ... like an isle of light in a pitch-black place... --
There a path is clear, they will, of their parts, need to enter portals four and gather aspects required to seek out memories of Augur Auld:
Despair
Greed
Sacrifice
Fear
Quote from: DespairA brave Velstran party enters, though they might tell you that Frustration would fit its name whole. A dark maze of trappings and worse claim the life of Retainer Circe Madoka, whom helped bring the Blacke Velvet into works with the Late Dame Fleta.
Further in however, a nightmarish scene occurs that can only be described as muddling, maddening and dark. Some Horrible shade of a serpent seemingly devours a sun – light vacates, a vacuum; only dark energies betray the locations of each would be hero to their comrade, before the snake can be cut asunder, Retainer Ephraim Eagleguard is devoured in a passing swing, his form melts away into the darkness of the coiling horror's belly. Eventually, it is ended, the vision done.
Quote from: GreedA fit of avarice made sense for the party lead by the self proclaimed Captain and Harbour Master Erschel Byron, though he brought along trusted associate and new comer alike to his chagrin. The misty forests of former ring runners and broken men proved too much for most souls. Even the "Mayor" of little ticker, Jacinta Kennen, well known for her works upon improving the lot of commoner there, and raising wealth of coin, was lost in this madness.
They pressed on; into an old castle, ancient in form, further through as their numbers fell to two: Jedediah Toroff and Erschel Byron, saw their lives snuffed out by draconian powers in human flesh, mere moments away from victory...
A rescue party of sorts was formed form the masses, brave souls seeking to make names and complete the tasks, though they proved victorious, none could save the previous adventurers. Pass they did, and through the old castles of mist they found a palace of ice. Forms of previous Ring Runners true, those that had passed the trails and made way to the King, greeted them with axe and sword. The Vision of Greed was sated...
Quote from: SacrificeCruelties need not be only in the heat of battle. Upon a cold and shivering boat deck weathered in storm figures dead and prominent gave task and message to those 13 that entered. They would be playing a game. Among them: A demon, a sacrifice, a guardian and 10 commoners.
It was simple, they would vote, should they pick the demon, only the demon and the Sacrifice die, should they pick the guardian... they all die, but the demon. Should they vote the Sacrifice, only they and one other might live.
Two were lost, they played the game well... as well as could be... Visha Chance the sacrifice taken with the demon Adalyn Blanc.
Quote from: FearFear at times does what it can to protect you. It humbles you, it makes you reconsider your path forward for what to lose might be more than you can afford. The first party to enter fear would tell you that they might have learned something, if most of them could. Some did not enter a second time, though the holder of the Book of the Dead Sverri, did not feign his want of scripture and histories.
Still... Fistle Fistleson might never challenge his brother again for the honourable discourse of their family name. Ser Doch de Proux, knight of the Hedges, knight of the ponds, and ever the testing limit of the Peerage's pride, would not be returning. Both of them, devoured by spiders, or rather, the fear of them.
Lorric Colt, and Pykerallerin Lyasee were cut down in ambush by the fear of humans and their murderous blade, while Gilthalas Wealdath,Groundskeeper of the Ponds, seen in emblem Wealdath and a tried and true figure of the elven people was cut down by the fear of the unseen... the daggers and laughter of fey that followed him pressed more upon his mind that even perhaps he knew.
Though these horrors were bested: fear of birds in sweeping massive fashion, fear of darkness, fear of magics and pulverization. However, with a horrible twist, a monstrous force of many eyes blocked the remaining party from going further.
Thelisa Sunspyre, who had already passed the Trial of Despair, was turned to stone... She could not be felled by her lack of determination, want of greed, or lack of sacrifice, but now she waits trapped in splinters of rumble – Fear proved too much for the steward force of Good. Many in the ponds rejoice that their tyrant of order and honesty was snuffed out. Men of Nature breath easier. However... candles found themselves lit in the late Regent's Tower. Some one appreciated her works...
Pyro Severus, Dagaric Alwyn – Men of the ponds, died as their leaders and guides fell to forces horrible – devoured by spiders.
A fleeing party gathered new resolve, they pressed forward. Forces of Orza, Velstra, once more into the fray. Ser Adrian Winespill, Olaf Asketill and Lucan H'lraan all ventured in this time, a third! They slaughtered past the deaths of others until they arrived in a dark cave with horrors untold. A massive bright and glowing eyed tyrant of death and doom awaited them.
Orzan Retainer Nicky Reynn, might have succumbed to fear of the darkness in those caverns, but that darkness masked the true threat... the unseen doom that broke his mind was actualized. It is difficult to put aside such emotions when what you fear is real...
The horrible form is ended, fear has been overcome. The last Vision done... A hallowed chamber is entered, in old stones forgotten, words are spoken, choices are made:Jodfry a'Valar: This text- It is the key.
Eldrikh Mundus: But pages are empty and stained!
Jodfry a'Valar: It is the recipe that contains every last one of our enemy's secrets. Of this I am certain. You have acquired the fragments- the memories. The Vessel must hold them together.. and attempt to read the book. They shall absorb the Augur's essence, in so doing...
A vote is held, a conclusion gathered, though a tie is formed... Sverri or Vivian.Jodfry a'Valar: They seem equally good candidates. Heads, Vivian. Tails, Sverri.
A coin dances in the air a moment... Jodfry a'Valar: [The groat the Count gave him lands flat on his palm - a head showing upwards.] So be it. Vivian the Mendicant.
Vivian Servanus: [She stares down at the book, and lightly places her hand on the iron bound tome..]
--Vivian approaches the lecturn, upon it the chained and iron-bound tome... she reaches out her hand, and lays it upon it. A tremble through her fingertips...--
Vivian Servanus: [The scarred fingers of her bare hand tremble as they come into contact with the book. The blood-soaked bandaged hand comes to rest upon it as well. Stone-faced, she gazes at the object and carefully attempts to open it, to peer within..]
--And then her fingers grip it, willed to do so by some unknown and unseen force. They bend and twist in digusting, unnatural ways.--
Vivian Servanus: [A grimace as her fingers bend and twist, but no sound came beyond a soft rhythm muttering to herself, again and again..]
--The iron chains snap, and tumble to the floor. The book itself opens, its pages flipping through swiftly, and fast. White tendrils burst forth, and enter Vivian's eyes, she begins to spasm.--
Jodfry a'Valar: [He rubs his hands together expectantly.]
--She twists, and contorts. She screams in her own voice, then it slowly changes... it becomes more pained, deeper and tinged with the ethereal.--
Vivian Servanus: Hngh- Gkkhn- [The sounds that came out of her were of choked pain, fighting it, swallowing down what she could, struggling to remain conscious, sane.]
"THE LINE OF KINGS, THE BLOOD OF THE ANCIENTS..."
"THE CONCLAVE OF FOOLS, THE WAY OF FREEDOM. THE DARK SKIES, AND BONES OF THE WARDEN..."
"LONG IS THE SHADOW, CAST UPON THE LINE OF THE AUGUR. AND THE WAY TO THE SLAVE IS WOKEN."
--Vivian gasps, and collapses... energies roiling through her form.--
--She is as she was, but so much more. She carries with her now, a great and ancient burden. The memories of a past that is not her own, of a world she has never stepped upon.--
Grand Vizier Sardistan: [The man steps out of the shadows...] [He gives a manic, tittering cackle...] You've all done so splendidly... [He reaches his hand out...]
The Heroes and Villains are swarmed forward into some arid darkness of another plane – a wizard's power at peak manifest:-- You awaken in a vast, desert dune ... burnt and blackened and rolling ...--
-- High in the sky overhead... the light of the moon glistens. --
-- And you feel ... eyes looking down at you ... --
-- You see... an enormous, pock-marked face... with a drooping moustache --
-- 'AHAHAHA... ' --
-- A hand clutches the ground you stand on... --
-- And is raised up just as promptly ... --
-- 'Always they taunted me... always they mocked me..' --
-- 'NEVER was my service appreciated... ALWAYS was I smaller than everyone else...' --
-- The hand slams downwards... --
-- 'You are like TOYS before my MIGHT ... '--
-- 'RAW ARCANE POWER... ' --
-- The hand burls backwards and tosses a globule of shadow onto the ground... --
-- 'You think you are worthy of this knowledge... ? You? A pathetic girl who couldn't even save her own friend?' --
-- 'I have not been defeated- not even close... I shall do to you- as I did to CROOKJAW...' --
-- 'And with the power of the Augur at my command... even the COUNT shall have no choice but to KNEEL before me...' --
-- 'I'll have a pair of pikes ...' --
-- 'One for Ojo ...' 'And one for Zarono!' --
--You stand atop a makeshift redoubt, the Vizier's roiling anger and hatred bearing down upon you. Magic and steel, blood and bone. All that is throw upon you is cast down. You are heroes, and you fight as heroes do. Together.--
-- 'How about a little magic, Winespill?' --
--Dark energy threatens to consume you, as the cackling Vizier stares down upon you.--
-- The hand suddenly lifts up ... And hurls Khaz across the desert dunes... --
-- 'I really am brilliant ...' --
-- The Vizier lazily hurls a few flare cantrips at the field... -
-- The hand raises up ... --
-- 'Why aren't you dead yet... ?' It was I who planned our return...' --
--'It was I who activated the Knaves... who guided them... who USED them ...' --
-- 'Just as I shall use you - Vivian Servanus!' --
The ego is broken, though the Id haunted and tried... the wizard's mind begins to crumble...-- 'No... I'm working as HARD... AS I CAN... ' --
-- The great hands wring at gargantuan tears, a shrill voice blubbers, 'B-but.. I'm the ONLY Vizier you ever had...!' --
-- All the swirling emotion of the mad magician coalesces now upon the endless dunes... --
-- The Id is lost, the Ego too... with a great titanic HOWL.. --
Wrath and Rage manifest stampedes forward:-- 'You took EVERYTHING I had, and all that I asked was his suffering...' --
-- 'And you are unwilling to fight even for THAT... ?' --
-- 'I will kill all of you... every last one... I will crush you kill you burn you rend you ...' --
It too, is broken... Last words come from a broken shell, a crumbling man in a ball, begging:Grand Vizier Sardistan: Wait... W-Wait... Listen... you need to listen... He is all that I have... You can't let him go... You can't... take him from me ... Ojo ... Oh, Ojo... His suffering ... It's so... so beautiful...
Ser Adrian Winespill: ...take off his head, Manfred.
Orzan Knife Manfred Japes: Enough of this.
Grand Vizier Sardistan: [He sobs violently, like a spoiled child]
Khazau'ur Obrif-Fehnar: Ye've taken me blood brothers from me... Gilthalas... Pyke... sighil... An' more. Breath yer last breath, bastard.
Grand Vizier Sardistan: No... stop ... It hurts...
--They begin to hack him to death...--
-- Hatchets and blades rise and fall in a conjoined symphonic mauling...--
-- The heroes hack the poor, pitiful man to death with axe, sword and dagger... -
-- Sardistan, the Grand Vizier ... dies. --
Those that might have survived all of this meet within the Blacke Velvet... gossip swirls about the exact details, the attendees, and otherwise, but is is rumored that there, Lord Norbert Velstra gives a toast.
[[ :: Year 2 :: ]]
It was meant to be a new dawn for the Peerage Ward. Almost a year to the day since the Count first strode out of the shadows and abolished the ban on timekeeping, the rebellion commenced. An action that was intended to be a beacon of hope.
The light of said beacon was almost snuffed out the moment it was lit.
In a fit of jealous madness, the Vessel of Arrhenius, Vivian Servanus, was slain by the self proclaimed Augur, Aeryn Hastings, Witch of Oldspyre - an event that it seems the Mists, if not the City itself, attempted to prevent by showing all residents of the City visions of the matter as it was occurring. Yet it was not enough. In the end, the Witch was successful, though she herself was in turn slain. Without the Vessel however, the rebellious ward had lost their singular hope for obtaining the means of ending Count Senuspur once and for all.
Fortune had other plans in mind however, as shortly after the Vessel's death, a new Vessel arose. A feat that was not supposed to be possible. One that seemingly happened all the same.
Sverri of Gnipir, adorned in bones, now exists as the Vessel of Arrhenius, the new hope of the Ward's future. Yet whispered rumours of dark deeds and favours swapped haunt both his footsteps and those of Ser Adrian Winespill of House Velstra for this miraculous return of hope. For such things almost always have their price...
[[ :: Year 2 :: ]]
It was a period of reminders that the Peerage Ward has many enemies and many complicated relations with other Rings - and in some ways its singular focus upon the Count had blinded them to this truth.
After a diversionary attack in Ring 97 to lure out adventurers, the forces of the Pallid Prince launched a daring and focused raid upon the Peerage Ward itself, seeking one thing: a bride for the madman of bones. For whatever reason his target ended up being Lady Orianna Sunpurse, of the lineage Sunspyre, wife of Count Zarono Senuspsur and mother to the missing heir of Sunpurse, Phelan. In the end the Pallid withdrew, successful in their kidnapping, leaving many retainers and citizens of the Ward slaughtered.
Yet a strange few days were not over with the assault of the Pallid.
In the wake of the assault, odd whispers resounded from the Doorkeepers, before the Ward saw the fruit of such labours a day later: the return of Phelan Sunpurse, now calling himself Crowsong, surrounded by his "friends" and "guardians" - blatant Pondscum and some even more blatant Changelings - along with the notorious Jodfry a'Valar, smug like a cat that has finally received its cream. Though many of the "guests" were prevented entry to the Ward, the heir and his new Reeve, Cooper Crum, were allowed to return to the Sunpurse Manse. Sealing themselves away to deal with the inheritance, after the boy pleaded with onlookers for aid in the return of his mother.
Naturally all this has left many of the citizens of the Ward buzzing about the blatant scandal of an ancient House potentially now associated with Changelings. Many question whether this self-proclaimed Phelan is even who he says he is. Seeking leadership, and perhaps a reversion to tradition, many eyes have turned towards the remaining four major houses in the ward... only to be, in general, disappointed.
House Orza, led by Lord Anders Orza - one of the few mortal individuals to not only be well treated and rewarded by the Count, but to successfully betray him for more power - has clearly accepted the ascension of this Phelan to his new position for one simple reason: confused and distracted fawns are easy prey for hunters. Blatantly unconcerned without even pretending to adhere to the social niceties as his father Grigori did, it is clear that Lord Anders Orza desires the subjugation of the entire Ward. With Sunpurse so weakened, it is questionable whether there could be enough of a united front to stop him. His current right hand, Ser Manfred Japes, additionally seems uncaring. Instead focusing his attention upon a strike against the Pallid to try and claim the realm he deems is his: the entirety of Ring 92. None can claim that Orza lacks for ambition.
House Velstra, led by Lord Norbert Velstra, has attempted to keep to its old facades of apathy and excess in an attempt to deflect attention - yet in turning such an obvious blind eye to the concerning matters surrounding changelings and House Sunpurse they have perhaps revealed their entire hand for once. It is quite clear that Velstra views having a weakened Sunpurse as useful to their needs. After all, it is not as if a child and a rusty old man from a swamp are in much of a position to duel in the political arena. No... much like Orza, the lions of Velstra smell weakness and opportunity for domination in the Ward after the former Bannerhouse's humbling. Perhaps no other than Ser Adrian Velstra exemplifies this more amongst his House, spending much of his time wheeling and dealing to maneuver Velstra to take advantage of the forming situation - and encouraging others not to bother with Ser Japes' and Orza's plans for dealing with the Pallid.
House Moonspear, led by Lord Lyon Moonspear, has also attempted to keep quiet, but perhaps for a different reason. Lord Lyon - another mortal beneficiary, like Lord Anders, of rewards for loyalty to the Count before subsequently betraying him - has kept largely to Dusk's Cradle, his attention clearly still upon planning his crusade to the Outer Rings to rescue his father, Prince Trystan Moonspear. What little public reaction he has shown to current events has been simply small smiles of satisfaction at seeing an old foe and rival completely broken. Destroyed by both its own choices and unfortunate happenstance. Many in the Ward claim to be unsurprised by this, given the self-proclaimed nature of his father's "Prince" title and the fact that such makes clear that Moonspear was a house in rebellion against the King long before the Count stepped out of the shadows... traditions for such a House are obviously to be used when useful and abandoned when not.
Finally, House Glitt has been left to stew in both its traditionalism and its relative isolation in attitude from its fellow peers. Lord Bernard Glitt cuts a lonely, aggravated figure amongst the Ward as he tries to reconcile his loyalty to a distant King and his disgust with what Sunpurse has degenerated into, against the fact that should he and his try to act they would almost certainly be stopped by the collective opportunism of Houses Velstra and Orza. Combined with the fact that House Velstra has mounted a very successful campaign of seduction against many of his highlanders, offering them soft-bodied, soft-handed, powdered men as husbands... it is more than enough to drive a man to drink, were it not for his solemn oath to his daughter that he would never drink again. It is clear that House Glitt will somehow have to thread a needle with their desires in the Ward - or perhaps consider yet another grand migration, like the one that brought their highlander brethren from Ring 94 to Ring 99 in the first place. At this point in time however, nearly anything seems possible.
All the while Count Senuspur and his Rubies have barely been heard from...
// Above content potentially likely to be subjected to editing and revision.
[ :: Year 2 :: ]
The Pallid host, for a time now yet, has contested well Count Zarono Senuspur's advance forward, much to his spiraling control of the Ward. While some might contest that Ring 94 and 93 brought a deep distain to light that was a nail in the coffee for his tenure in the Peerage, none can argue the complete damage and disconnect wrought by the events following up to and around the siege of the Pallid Plane of Bone, Ash, and Death: -- Somewhere deep behind enemy lines, a small group has assembled.. --
Quote from: "City Whisper by Ser Manfred Japes of House Orza"
[A begrudging voice.] In light of our agreements as the cinquefoil rose, House Orza and House Velstra have made an agreement...
We shall rescue Lady Oriana from the Prince... Mghmm.. /Together/. Then once the Prince is pushed back, we will hold a royal tournament to determine who shall lead the ward. We will invoke what powers we can, to re-open the bannergrounds and have it out like we used to.
Quote from: "City Whisper by Marshal Luc Devereux of House Moonspear"
In light of recent developments, Retainers of the House Moonspear are given leave to join the attack upon the Palli.... should they so wish.
-- The Houses align themselves under their flags and make for war in earnest. The Pallid Prince turns from the City and the House's Banners have come to hound him until the very end of his realm. --
-- Somewhere else, safe in shadow, sits a boy with no shoes on a cold seat. A tall, gaunt man flanks him, whispering into his ear. --
-- When the cat's away... --
During the besiegement, a cunning rogue rocks the very foundations of a place of hope and expansion.-- From the Old Canal Harbor, a shockwave blasts against the Ringwalls of the 97th, and can be heard from the Ward to the Warrens. --
-- A tower topples against another. Pondsfolk say they saw the head of the King flying just above the Ringwall across the harbor... --
-- Smoke fills Ring 97. An incredible plume is seen, and will be seen for several days. --
-- ...many, many mice take the opportunity of a lifetime. --
-- Harborfolk are seen, covered in soot, scurrying away forever, after pulling their meagre belongings from the rubble. --
-- Three flavors of retainer drag a Recondite, covered in soot, over the bridge to the gallows, lecturing the stubborn creature on morals and ethics. Its head is cocked, as if its eardrums have already been destroyed. --
-- A gleam of masterful pride flashes from its visage, rapidly being enveloped in deathly stone. Following it: the smells of alchemist's fire and bombstuff. --
- One last explosion racks the Outer Rings as a hat-wearing buffoon ignites the remaining explosive materials on the body of the Hanged Recondite, since brought to justice. --
-- Luckily, the gallows are unscathed. --
Quote from: "City Whisper by Glitt Retainer Sorcha O'Connor"
Let it be kent that th' recondite kent as 'Mister Yakov' haes bin hanged fur th' crime o' murder haes bin hanged. Refugees 'n' survivors o' th' explosion in th' harbor ur fàilte tae tak' shelter in wee ticker 'til reparations kin be made, under th' protection o' hoose Glitt --
After a harrowing journey for most, an army is assembled:-- A forward encampment awaiting the brave heroes that make the path forward finds itself assaulted by a scouting party of the pallid --
-- The trail of Banners makes its way to the edge of outskirts... --
-- The Banners of Orza, Moonspear, Velstra, bring their retainers to bear on the edge of the Pallid Prince's inner demesne.. --
-- Battle plans are formed... the rest of the accompanying retainers prepare and take to the outskirts fields. The orders have been shared. Only time will tell if they'll be followed. --
-- The remainder of the retainers form up outside... --
-- The forces are arrayed... --
-- In the distance, the city of Pale glitters darkly. --
Meanwhile in the Peerage...-- A riotous rumble approaches the Peerage Ward gate, mercenaries and gangsters, well armed by some kind of funding, approach, chanting: WHERE'S OUR GROAT? --
Quote from: "City Whisper by Alden Greywood"
People of the Peerage's Ward, the barbarian mercenaries which assailed our home have been repelled and put to the sword by our loyal armsmen. You have our worthy sons and daughters to thank for the keeping of our Promise, and none more so than the retainers of Orza, Moonspear, Glitt, and Velstra.
Back upon the field of contest, armies are finished prepping, they make forth:-- Ser Manfred Japes sets his mouth to a bloodied horn. One single call that echoes across the flatlands of the Pallid domain. --
-- 'March!' --
-- An attack on the very gates themselves! --
-- Upon the Western Front a cold and horrible force seeks to stall the would be heroes --
-- Silence on the Eastern approach... --
-- Bones of Ice and stone crush against the Host lead by House Velstra. Ser Adrian Velstra leads grimly against massive foes that smash at them like gnats --
-- The masses of bone and ice, hulking ever so slowly from behind the Moonspear and Velstra line seem to dwindle a bit in power... their bones begin to chip --
-- The archers rain a score of arrows upon the Western Advance, the door is all but sealed... perhaps if they can remove the threat above they can deal with the one below --
-- Though the Western forces push through... terrible magics disturb the grounds there... a moment, and they are back where they were... --
-- A dreary battle on the Eastern approach... --
-- The retreat horn sounds on the eastern approach. --
-- House Velstra and Moonspear climb the battlements, seeking to end the Archers there --
-- The center approach holds... sounds of a struggling fight to the west. --
-- A horn blows long and proud from the Center, the sound of an approach cleansed of skeletal foe. --
-- The approaches are secured for the time being. From far behind the pale plains, a horn sounds from the harbor. Regroup, recenter. Restrategize. --
-- With less than a score of archers upon the Western front, terrible magics once more grasp at the heroes - still, the Western Wall is won --
With the gates challenged, a path forward to lay proper siege is given:-- Ulfington heads outside. Soon, more artificers and workmen of the Drill join her. In the wake of pitched battles, they load and bear out wooden beams and construction materials, carrying them deftly across the plains. Hastily, they begin to construct, craft and build. --
-- Soon, fortifications, defenses, armaments are constructed... --
-- The quartermaster positions herself outside, calling those inside the complex to join her. --
-- An orzan war horn is blown, and the forces proceed towards the siege weaponry, hoping to defend it --
-- Scores of Pallid descend upon the defenders from the Center fort --
-- The Eastern Forces also meet resistance from the Pallid in droves --
-- The horn for Reinforcements sounds from the West. Titans of Ice smash the seigeworks. --
-- Catapults fire upon the Eastern Front as the defenders are beset by wave after wave of the undead --
-- The Gates of the West fly open, and yellow mist seeps forth. -
-- Upon the Eastern Front, the gates finally break, but a terrible miasma seeps unto the battlefield --
-- In the Center, Volleys fly and lay down the Pallid upon the walls --
-- The gate breaks... however, the sound of gnawing, gnashing and stamping feet follows... --
-- Though the catapults fire, the forces find themselves overwhelmed - still, the gate forward is broken, for now --
-- In the West, the onslaught simmers, as the yellow mists envelope all. --
-- A horn bellows from the Main encampment, while the field of war is still very active, the battle is won upon all fronts, a retreat is called --
-- The Sunpurse Captain Speaks: The battle is won this day, though those brave enough to press into the city proper might gather resources to do so upon the morrow --
-- Further he quips: The Pallid Prince will regret their actions shortly... --
Quote from: "City Whisper by Ser Manfred Japes of House Orza"
The banners return to the ward. The city of the Pallid Prince has been cracked open and we shall soon be launching a grand assault. For now, we rest from the planar itch.
No less than four of the prince's personal knights were broken today and three of his grand city gates.
Quote from: "City Whisper by Ser Adrian Velstra of House Velstra"
With the tragic bombing of Swaddle Point Harbor, House Velstra will be pulling its forward garrison out of the Bonelands and repositioning them in the Wine Quarter.
Whatever passes for leadership of the harbor these days is ordered to report to the Velstra Vale, posthaste, to discuss the future of the district. Our guards will stand watch over the orphanage for now.
We are grateful to the hard work of House Glitt in apprehending and destroying the deranged Recondite terrorist responsible.
Night passes, tensions flare, and calls for death are made in the still of the night... but upon the rise of the Promise, the efforts are continued:-- Fresh for a fight after yesterday's taking and breaking of Pale's walls, the main force against the prince have gathered once again the next day to prepare for a final assault.. A captain, dead yet helpful, has ferried in reinforcements from across the Still in the wake of this main force... --
-- While many seem on guard, the same dead captain that has ferried a great deal of you before seems not to be hostile. In tow, he brings fresh reinforcements. --
-- The captain presents himself to the quartermaster. She, in turn, looks to him with something bordering between fear and obvious revulsion. --
-- The pair begin to converse. --
-- The quartermaster motions for Ser Manfred, Ser Adrian, and Luc Devereux to present themselves. --
The undead captain that ferried the host before and now asked for its price, but the host was unwilling. By Orzan orders the opportunist was cut down... never paid for his works-- The quartermaster asks for those ready to muster outside for final say and preparations... --
-- Of the three banners called to rise against the prince, only two yet remain. Orza and Moonspear... their retainers rally around them. -
-- The Sunpurse seem to have vanished... --
-- On the thoughts of many is an event that survivors - should there be any - will never forget. The 'Vanishing of Velstra', then when it mattered.
-- Pale's walls loom on the horizon... --
-- Ser Manfred Japes sets his horn to his lips and calls for the banners to gather. Swords unsheathe, shields raise, spells are sung. The final assault on Pale begins... --
-- Likewise, the Marshal in banner blue, Luc Devereux sets his poor marchers to task: ending the cursed Pale once and for all --
-- Archers, though less than before, have manned what is left of the walls once again... they seem prepared. --
-- The sounds of massed gatherings.. --
-- Ahead of you seem winding alleys and narrow avenues. --
-- You are swarmed, beset on all sides. These alleys are the death of the slow. They seem so stretch and wind endlessly into the rest of the necropolis. --
-- Straggles in the back are bogged down with the dead. --
-- Ser Manfred of Orza cuts his way through the dead, in his wake followed by the rest of the invaders of the city of Pale. Luc Devereux fights beside him, the banner of Moonspear held high. --
-- The dead seem endless, here in the heart of their domain. As you proceed through the streets of Pale, you feel a heaviness on your shoulders. The heavy gaze of someone watching you with keen interest. --
-- The fighting is dogged and rough... --
-- They enter a more pestilent part of the city. --
-- The air is green and sickening. And you can smell the acrid taste in the air... up ahead you see things through the fog. --
-- Past the sickening fog, you see the men of Sunpurse fighting for their lives.. --
-- The sounds of battle in a nearby alleyway. --
-- Numbers flee north... --
-- A titanic struggle to the south! --
-- The last of Sunpurse struggle downwind in the caustic air. --
-- Some of the Sunpurse saved, ser Manfred blows his horn and calls northbound into the city.. --
-- They enter a lonely lane.. ahead of them, it seems, the only way through is through the gate leading onward through a rotted park. --
-- They enter the loneliest lane in all the city.. --
-- They trudge through dreadful water. As you continue... --
-- ..the dreadful waters shift. Something stirs beneath.. --
-- From ahead of them, the waters shift in response to their approach.. --
-- The walls seems scalable here for a select few.. --
-- Here the air is still. The space is silent. Whilst the rest of the city is riddled with the dead, here... they seem alone. All alone. --
-- Ropes are lowered rapidly into the prince's personal grounds... --
-- More ropes are fastened. A rapid rappel down the sides of the wall into the silent quarter. --
-- They meander into the meat markets. Here, gigantic beasts roam. The prince's personal carvers... they are slow, but a single blow could fell a man in one blow. --
-- The Pallid rouse from their rotted homes. Their sockets are empty of eyes, but lit with green hunger. --
-- Meat for the tables of the prince. --
-- Corpses of former friends and acquaintances of their home are hoisted upon their shoulders. They carry them with, trailing what remains of their blood. --
-- They felt an intimate presence watching you here in this square, so heavy as to be almost palpable on the shoulders. --
-- Ulf chugs a rare drink, then hurriedly swings a large rock around in a strange sling. Whoosh, woosh, whoosh-- he lets fly, aiming for the belltower high, high above. --
-- The rock is let fly, it angles, arcs, then hits the massive bell high up in the tower. There's a sudden sound of incredible clamour of a cacophonous ringing as the bell is rung, audible - palpable - throughout the rest of Pale and its immediate environs. --
-- One bell is rung... --
-- Ser Manfred flexes, crouches, then springs up into a furious blur of mucle and motion. He hefts a large rock, larger than his head (massive in its own right) then hurls a large rock, aiming for the belltower up high. Miraculously, the rock connects - a tremendous feat.. --
-- ...the bell rings in response to the violence inflicted upon it. Once again, the sound permeates like a wave throughout the rest of Pale. --
-- Luc calls upon ancient and ornate powers. There's a prayer on his lips, quiet at first, but then it loudens, strengthens. 'I unsheathe my holy sword and take up my holy spear. I need no holy shield, for my faith is my armor and in this moment of courage, I call on you now.' --
-- There's a silence that follows, and a still wind blows about Luc. A moment passes, then another, as he picks up another stray piece of architecture long since broken off from the edifice. He takes a running leap, angles, then releases it from his hand. --
-- A moment later, the third bell is rung. --
-- And the gates open... --
-- They enter the Prince's palace. As you wind their way through the endless labyrinthine tunnels... they find that the gates close shut behind them, locking them in. --
-- They enter the many colonnaded hall of the Pallid Prince himself. All about them, the dead - sat at their feasting tables - look up from their meals. As they move between the tables, they notice former friends. Cut and served and in the process of undergoing consumption. --
-- The Prince lords from his position, high above the tables, overseeing your arrival. There is a cold and cruel smile to his features, green fire leaking in rivulets down his sallow, sunken cheeks... --
-- Before the Prince, at the base of his throne, you see the lady Oriana, her hands clutched together in what appears to be fervent, desperate prayer. --
-- Pallid Prince: Welcome... --
-- Pallid Prince: How easily you take to my table after breaking my things! Perhaps you are famished after your long and strenuous ordeal? --
-- Pallid Prince: Fret not. The meat is plentiful... --
-- The Prince is flanked by some of his brides, sat on smaller stools to the sides of his throne. Their flesh is pale, their hair and features beautiful. But their eyes are hollow husks... and they weep. They weep. --
-- The Prince oversees, looking out across the breadth of his hall. His gaze on you is cruel and heavy and incomparably piercing. --
-- The Pallid turn turn their head in instant, eerie unison, as if their limbs and skulls were directed by an unseen puppeteer. All of their empty sockets are filled with green, incandescent light that has burned away at their cheeks over eons. And they all turn to look at Manfred... --
Quote from: The Host makes conversation with the Undead Royalty.
The Pallid Prince: ...Is there something you wish to say? [He leans in, almost tiptoeing to cock one ear at Manfred.]
Ser Manfred Japes: You have taken Lady Oriana Sunpurse forcefully, and we are here to take her back. Stand... Stand you cowards. [He slams his fist into the table]
The Pallid Prince: [ ...As the lady is mentioned, the prince turns his gaze on her.] You come for her?
[The prince seems unperturbed by the actions shown by visitors to his hall. His attention is wholly fixated on Oriana. He steps up to right behind her, hovering, looming.]
Ser Manfred Japes: [Grips something in his cloak.]
-- The prince's wives, sat on their seats, suddenly gasp. Their backs arch and their limbs are made to move, almost catapulting themselves onto their feet. --
-- The Prince makes a slow gesture with his hand and in immediate reply, his pale wives make their way down the stairs. --
The Pallid Prince: See... [He gesticulates with his fingers. The women do as he wills them to. As he bends his fingers low, they fall to their knees. As he brings them back up, they look to him in fearful adoration.]
I will show you. [He says to the woman at his feet.] I will... please you.
[He turns to those before him.] You've come for my bride-to-be. But I fear you do not understand the gravity of what this woman is to me. Perhaps I can make you understand.
[From his side, he draws a slender rapier, he leans down to cup the woman's cheek.] ...My love. [He runs her through with one single puncture straight through the chest]
Ser Manfred Japes: [Kicks out the stool before him.] I fear you do not understand the gravity of the situation you are in!
-- Tables are flung, meat falls. Blood spills. --
-- The Prince raises his blade. --
-- Pallid Prince: ...very well then. --
-- Pallid Prince: Your blood as wine... your bone as bread. Let us see to a pleasant meal. --
-- Pallid Prince: My friends. It is time for a feast.. --
-- Reinforcements come from the many side halls.. --
-- The prince is not alone in his large palace. --
-- More of the Pallid slink in from the halls, ready to meet and eat you. --
-- The Prince raises his hands, working the ways of his world to twist and turn... --
-- The hallways of the Prince's palace open up... --
-- The halls rumble. The building-bones crack and splinter. --
-- More recesses of the palace open up as the bones of giants crumble and fade away, revealing passages. --
-- Long hallways closed and locked for eons open, revealing monsters long kept locked. --
-- Inadvertently, the passage for escape does as well. But the Prince seems void of his mightiest magics, the green fire in his eyes dimmed. --
A silver stake is stabbed into the cavity where one might find a heart of the Prince of Pallid, and then into the domain itself... fractures break in the plane itself -- The Prince is felled, the last blow done by Ser Manfred. In response, the palace - the quarter - Pale itself - shudders, exhaling as if a long held breath was let out. --
-- The palace continues to quake and shudder. The prince lay where he was brought low and around him, the cobble begins to crack. --
-- Oriana seems nowhere to be found... --
-- 'Let there be MEAT.' --
-- Survivors flee out of the prince's palace. Slow-forming splinters crack their way from the palace on outwards into the rest of the city. --
-- Survivors flee across the square.. --
--They are willed onwards, with the speed of horse. They leave behind a citadel of meat. No doubt, within, were many pounds.--
-- Victorious, but broken, those who survived the assault on Pale and its Prince return to the ward that houses them... --
-- Ser Manfred Japes crosses the bridge of the Peers with Lady Oriana Sunpurse on his arm, clinging to it tightly... --
Quote from: "City Whisper by Tolinar Mistborne"
Lord...Phelan of sunpurse.. your 'Mother' is here.. such as she is.
-- Buzzards circle House Orza as the Lady Oriana disappears within it... --
An ominous whisper follows...Quote from: "City Whisper by Lady Esmer, Mistress of the Hunt"We haven't had a proper meal....in eons. We cannot express our gratitude enough, strangers. We have much to do now that we are free again... ...and even more to eat. We'll see you sooner than you'd like, we're sure.
-- With the Prince gone, the threat of the Pallid seems to have been dealt with, though only time will tell the truth to that statement. --
-- The recovery of the lady Oriana and the secrets learned within the prince's palace will indubitably lead to a great varying array of consequences for those who call Ring 99 their home. --
-- For now, however, those heroes who have braved the depths of Pale and lived to tell the tale have earned their rest and reward for the time being. --
-- A chapter closes, but another Ring opens again as the Drill will likely see itself moved again soon enough. And the collected continuation towards the center of this place, our City of Rings, will once again resume... --
Still, a reunion is made... Hostage and the Missing, Lady and Lordling, Mother and Son.Quote from: "City Whisper by Ser Manfred Japes"
Lord Phelan Sunpurse, you are summoned to Castle Orza... To speak with your mother.
-- A crowd begins to gather in the Orzan manor... --
-- The guards can't hold back the throng as Lord Phelan enters... --
-- The scene that unfolds within is soon on the lips of every person in the Peerage... --
-- The Lady Oriana ... standing callously as Giuseppi Orza tests the boy's blood ... --
Quote from: A Reunion Within Castle OrzaGuiseppe Orza: [He swills Phelan's blood in the black bowl... and studies its eddies and flow.]
Lady Oriana, the Widow of House Sunpurse: Look at your work! Look what happens!
Guiseppe Orza: T-this is an exact science..
Lady Oriana, the Widow of House Sunpurse: This is clearly the work of changelings... Look at the sickly black bile in the blood... The boy is an imposter- a fetch!
Guiseppe Orza: [He glances at her, then into the bowl..] ...I d-don't.. hm..
Lady Oriana, the Widow of House Sunpurse: Do you *know* how I know... ?
Guiseppe Orza: E-everyone is crowding me!
Lady Oriana, the Widow of House Sunpurse: [Her hands tremble...]
Guiseppe Orza: [He hyperventilates, ducking away from the crowd for some space to study the blood, back turned] J-just give me a m-moment, PLEASE..
Lady Oriana, the Widow of House Sunpurse: [She looks at Guiseppe, a frantic look on her face...] [She lets out a sigh...] Phelan... my sweet... baby boy...
Phelan 'Crowsong' Sunpurse: [Sniffles] I'm.. I'm your son.. please, m-mommy..
Lady Oriana, the Widow of House Sunpurse: [She approaches him...]
Ser Adrian Velstra: [He lays a hand on his sword and immediately steps up as Oriana closes on Phelan... [He glances at Manfred.]
Ser Manfred Japes: Do not draw blades on a lady. [He reaches to pull her back.]
Lady Oriana, the Widow of House Sunpurse: [The woman seems almost rigid... immovable?...]
Ser Manfred Japes: Swing your sword and die on these cobbles pea-pea... How are you so strong...?
Lady Oriana, the Widow of House Sunpurse: [What strange sorcery... ?] My sweet Phelan...
Guiseppe Orza: [Studies the blood intently, nervous sweat beading on his brow..] Erm.. w-well..
Ser Adrian Velstra: Manfred...
Ser Manfred Japes: [He tugs and tugs, he cannot move her!]
Ser Adrian Velstra: I didn't send you that letter as a joke.
Lady Oriana, the Widow of House Sunpurse: [She reaches her hand out, cradling Phelan in her arms... Sweet little Phelan...
Ser Manfred Japes: She's a Lady of the ward, swing on her and know th-nn... The consequences. [Try as he might, Manfred is clearly trying to tug on her, to no avail.]
Phelan 'Crowsong' Sunpurse: [Sniffles, quivering at his mother's touch.] M-momma..
Lady Oriana, the Widow of House Sunpurse: [And then.. perhaps predictably, she draws a knife...] Do you think this is my first time killing a Sunpurse.... ?
Ser Adrian Velstra: [He draws his blade. Coiled like a serpent, and twice as suspicious.]
Phelan 'Crowsong' Sunpurse: [His eyes widen in abject fear as the knife is drawn]
Lady Oriana, the Widow of House Sunpurse: He has his father's eyes... You see... They fill with the same fear...
Ser Adrian Velstra: I told you, Manfred!
Phelan 'Crowsong' Sunpurse: [He shrieks in fear!]
-- The woman... a collapsed puddle of insanity on the ground, impaled by so many knifes, swords, spells and blades... --
-- As her eyes close... --
-- "My Count... my beloved Count..." the Lady Oriana says... --
-- "Anything for you ... my Count ... my love... " --
-- "I'll wait for you... forever..." --
-- And with that... the Lady Oriana, once the desire of all the ward, once the pursuit of so many suitors, breathes her last... --
Phelan 'Crowsong' Sunpurse: N-no, no! No! No! No-no-no!
Lord Anders Orza: That was supposed to be my bride!
Ser Manfred Japes: [Manfred drops his axe as he steps away from the witch's death. Holding up his bloody hands.]
Guiseppe Orza: [The bowl of Phelan's blood goes spilling as the three Orza brothers tuck into a three-way fistfight]
Lord Anders Orza: [He snarls] That was supposed to be my BRIDE!]
-- The Orza brothers have tumbled from the room in their tousling... Leaving only a corpse, a crowd, and a weeping boy. --
Ser Adrian Velstra: ...Take Lord Phelan back to his mansion.
Phelan 'Crowsong' Sunpurse: [He shakes and wails] [Fragile and small and now - utterly alone] [He is led, inert and only weeping]
Guiseppe Orza: I really s-should've just said h-he was a f-fetch... At least t-then... this w-would have some m-meaning ... [He slicks back his hair with his hand... holding a bowl of blood...] P-Please - Everyone l-listen... The b-boy is not a f-fetch... I w-wish people would l-listen ... [He clutches at his head wearily...] Everyone j-just shut up ... !
Guiseppe Orza: [He sniffles loudly...] Again... the boy was not a f-fetch... and I have his b-blood now which the p-prophecy wanted... But it all f-feels... So h-hollow... and p-pointless... So many ... d-dead... For w-what...
Jodfry a'Valar: That should be obvious.You have all been gifted a great revelation... And you stand about gawking and gaping, wondering... The woman confessed to her part in the murder of the Lord Desmond.
-- Some souls are simply stained and some sinners not worth saving. --
-- When the world proves cruel and callous, and hope and presumption prove fragile in their swift shattering... what can you do? --
-- Pick up the pieces, and forge ahead. --
Among some in the peerage, a royal letter is passed around through lordly hands and hushed whispers...
[ :: Year 2 :: ]
Works of the Cinquefoil Rose continue against the wants and desires of the absent Count Zarono Senuspur, as the last prize and defense of the dead Grand Vizier Sardistan is tested.-- Dark omens in the skies of the City of Rings ... terrible black clouds streak through them. Something is surely soon to happen. .. --
Quote from: "City Whisper by Winter Augur and Conduit of Arrhenius: Sverri"
The skies darken, the snow tastes of metallic dried blood! The raven awakens. It is time. Gather allies, to the Blacke Velvet where this began...swiftly. It is time for another step upon the Path of Arrhenius.
--A band of Retainers and sundry gather in the Blacke Velvet, before slowly making their way from the Ward. They go onwards to perform a great deed, some feat of heroism. Some battle for the good of all mankind. Or onwards, to failure...--
--Into the rain, they stride.--
--What will be sown, this dark morning? With they deliver the light to some dark corner of the City, or will the shadow consume them, and perish?--
--The arrayed force departs from the safety of the Dorvant's Wall, heading deeper into the Swamps.--
-- Beady green eyes watch them as they advance through the swamps ... staring from the trees, from the murk and the mire ... --
--The Trail of the Augur trudges through the Swamps, through cave and muddied clearing. They ascend an ancient Ziggurat, stained red with centuries of blood, and more. A powerful conduit for whatever is to come next...--
--The writhing mass of heroes idles about as the Augur begins his preparations. He lays out vials of blood, and icy pebbles carved with runes.--
-- There is a loud swing of an axe from the highest reaches of the Ziggurat ... --
-- They see a hooded man with red eyes waving at them... --
A premature whisper rings out explaining the circumstance, however such end was not so:Quote from: "City Whisper by Xiv'rahk"
Adrian, Sverri and Japes in one swing. That's what we in the business call a three-fer. I even buried them at no extra cost. I'll collect payment in the coming days once things settle down.
--The blood of Nephezar, of Velstra, of Moonspear, of Orza, and finally. The blood of the Count Senuspur himself. Each are laid out, in turn... each in their particular place, drawn from deep within the Augur's mind. His memory, or otherwise... the ritual is set.--
-- A heavy silence falls over the chamber... --
--Sverri draws on some deep power, calling to the Gods, and the Mists within which they endure. And yet... nothing.--
--Lady Glitt's blood is placed aside that of Ser Adrian Velstra... a premonition, perhaps... or simple happenstance. The ritual begins again, in earnest. The Augur trails his own lifeblood, in a savage pattern about the chamber.--
-- Thick clouds of Mist begin to fill the Ziggurat chamber... --
-- Great spires of magic rise up from around the long-dead lizard's sarcophagus! --
-- Words spoken on the wind: 'The path... the path... the path...' --
-- Slowly... the mist seems to stretch out, invitingly... all-encompassing --
-- Drawing them elsewhere... Drawing them... along the Path... --
--It's tendrils snatch them, and they are pulled roughly through a cold blanket of Mist... somewhere.--
-- Finally they find themselves... In a strange place. A dark, cavernous structure. The colors are wrong. Strange and pastel... the walls drool and bleed as you glance at them. --
-- It is... dangerously cramped... --
--The world around you is strange. Cramped walls oppressively close to you, as if they close in. Closer inspection reveals that there seem to be brush marks. As if rendered on some canvas...--
--Chaos is sown amongst the ranks of the party. From those brush-stroked shadows, death steps forth, seeking blood to claim...--
-- The walls almost seemed to PRESS IN around them all... --
-- So CRAMPED... So TIGHT... Chaos... confusion... --
--Chaos. Absolute chaos... the painted men emerge from the shadows, their forms dripping with blood. Some folk are claimed, dragged into the canvas, awaking elsewhere...--
-- The bulk of the forces move ahead, while several dozen hang behind... --
-- Trapped forever? in the cruel maze of the Vizier... --
-- Finally the heroes reach the end of the terrible maze. But even at the end, there is no escape... --
-- Once more the houses devolve into petty bickering at their moment of triumph... --
--The group bickers and discusses, and decides. Which of their number will be painted upon the canvas, which of them will enter the Lighthouse, lashed as it is, by a raging, unyielding storm...--
-- Now the other painting comes into view... -
-- Many, many more spaces... back in the Peerage Ward. --
--All the while, a familiar shadow watches... stalks... slips among them, near unseen, with predatory instinct. The shadow, ruby-wreathed.--
--Casper begins to paint what he remembers of the Ward, and people begin to step into the painting, and disappear...--
--The eight enter, brush strokes calling them inwards. They emerge into an ancient, leaky lighthouse. The sounds of a storm rage outside...--
--Before them, a small boy. An orphan, no doubt - he is clad in the outfit of the Knaves. No doubt this is the infamous Pickney Jim, once unrivaled lockbreaker. Now a shadow of his former self. The cocksure grin replaced with one of pain, and turmoil.--
-- Into the dark depths of the Lighthouse do they tred; encountering strange and hunchbacked men - and even children, corrupted and defiled into titans of blood... --
-- A swirl of shadow.. An endless battle . --
-- The Count's Right Hand, Vizu Nemari, visits death upon brave heroes in a place far from here. --
-- A swirl of blades. ..An endless darkness --
-- As the Ruby's shadow grows long indeed; as it swarms around them all... --
A short moment of reprieve as shadows and shades of ruby red are dashed, the now seven continue on with their purpose... though they do not stay so for long. Soon the seven find themselves surrounded in an Auld room of Blood and Purpose.-- Ser Adrian Velstra slices at the ropes... as Sverri's blood drips from his palm, into the pooling fountain below ... --
-- And the ancient bloodmage... --
-- Collapses to the floor, a gaping wound through his chest where a long spear had been impaled ... --
--A tremendous roar, eons in the making, erupts from the bloodmage. He drags himself up, his wounds closing...--
-- It's too fast to describe... the Rubies swarm in... they leap onto the Blood Mage... --
-- And one by one... their heads explode --
-- The magical painting begins to fundamentally alter the world... --
-- And the heroes reemerge in the midst of the Peerage Ward... in a bright flash of pastel. --
The Eight gift the tower of Oldspyre to Ojo for his works, though the current owner is most distressed, a series of altercations lead to some resigned development:Quote from: "City Whisper by Eldrikh Mundus"
Hrm. Khrm. [Cough.] Alright... [Grandeur fells Eldrikh's voice.] Those Who Saw It Fit To Backstab A Fellow Rose! To Do Same The Cursed Count Did To Me! Will You Take Responsibility For Your Actions?! Ser Adrian. Ser Manfred. Casper. Gaddiel. Kinsley. Luc. Sorcha.
Deliver To Me Each A Vial Of Your Blood. A Challenge Of My Rival Ojo! If Not... There Is Other Me-[Sever coughing.] ...I'm too old for this... There is other means. Tokens of challenge and such. We'll find a way...
[[ :: Year 2 :: ]
Dark flames still flicker in and out of sight from the ruined bridge of the Peerage. The Shadow Witch of the Nothing, The First Inumbrater, The Light and Shadow of the Promise Aatish Aldebrand, or however many heard of her, was finally captured and put to death.
Though Dame Kinsley holds the honor, title, and worth of the deed of capture, it would be Kristoff Orza who would stab the once Orzan Retainer in the gut and watch her bleed out on the wrapped lumber beneath them. As a final act, an earth-shattering quake broke from a saged staff held by Inumbrater.
Splinters and debris caught upward as the crowd attending reeled from darkness surrounding them moments after. Black flames and maws of oblivion ripped from the cobbles beyond as boiling men and women brought a cold, devouring blaze to any they might reach.
As House Moonspear seeks to repair the damage done by their once retainer, those beguiled by the works of Doran and Aatish still pick apart the ranks further. Typherion Ozmeridians, once a proud glimmer of light and hope killed the champion of Moonspear, Bartimus Steel. Bartimus Steel, he who had weeks before defeated the champion of Count Zarono Sensupur and freed the Peerage of his presence, was cut down in the caverns beneath the weald. In the Burgage, what started as the death of a dwarf by a Glitt Retainer's hands has spiraled into riots simmering into open rebellion. The self-appointed protectors of Little Ticker have been replaced by faces non-human tangled within the banner of Blackjack.
Sons of Iron, Golden Grinners, and others fill the vacuum quickly, setting up shops in broken hovels and holes in the wall. Eventually, the unrest unravels an auld institution:Quote from: "City Whisper by Emma Falltower"
How much groat tarnishes away in the vault of the guild of lessors? Chests full. I cannot imagine the glimmer and excess. The lingering testament of a... man? that didn't care about any of us - Senuspur.
Open the vault, Rowan. Look outside of your window. Look at your neighbors! They starve. They have nothing. Everything was taken away. You stood by them not long ago in Ticker Square! ... but now?
I ask you remember us. You're supposed to be one of us. I'll help remind you I hope, Rowan. Open the vault.
Quote from: "City Whisper by Rowan Rummage"
The management of properties. The brokerage of titles. It was deemed prudent that a bloodless means for the Lords of the Realm to settle their disputes and squabbles would be concocted. My Guild exists to facilitate that. The art of the duel. The spin of the wheel. These things exist to prevent war.
The Lords and Ladies of the Peerage gave up their ancestral rights to manage their property. They were diffident, lazy, and destitute. They handed that power over to us in practice, and trusted us to keep their holdings in order and their feuds fair.
For a great long time, we did just that. On behalf of Count Zarono Senuspur, who was and always had been our benefactor and chartered master. Between the Guild of Lessors, the Knaves of 99, and other less mentionable organizations.
Timekeeping was made illegal some time ago. How long did he allow you your peace? A thousand years? Two thousand? I don't fret over it, nor do I care.
Business was good until all this business of revolt, rebellion, and war. There are no coffers, and I will not be harassed like a dog by beggars in our streets, either. I will be moving onward and upward, as has been my desire for some time.
Pickney, Finnegan, Cretus and the rest - 'tis a sorry thing how it all turned up. That is the lot of our labour, though. Anders, I do hope you keep your head among all the ~nobility~.
-- Spinning his cane and whistling, Rowan Rummage in his crimson cloak can be seen departing the Brokerage of the Guild of Lessors, once his very own Treasure Chest. He gives a whistful little sigh and then fishes about in his coat. --
-- Drawing out a little red card, he flicks it at the door. There is a hiss, then a sharp POP, and a roar of ruddy fire and black smoke. --
--The card rolls by in the blast, the last bit of matter to disintegrate. The mourning face of the Red Queen burning up and fading away. --
--At the urgings of a halfling woman, the dwarves and other sturdy folk of Little Ticker begin running to and fro. They are shouting proudly and giddily to themselves about a 'Ram'? --
--The Blackjacks seem to be inert to the potential trouble. The dwarves are becoming intoxicated on the moment and the mayhem to come. --
--In defiance of their small stature, a collection of smallfolk (with help!) make their way out from some hidden alley... with a battering ram?! . --
--With a ONE and a TWO and a THREE... and the aid of a drunken Son of Iron, they SLAM the RAM against the Brokerage door! --
--The shudder of hinges. The boom of iron bending! The door buckles under the second blow! BANG! BAM! And falls inward, the Brokerage and all its secrets now wide for the plundering! --
--A mob descends. Beggars, poorfellows, curious peers and all sorts. To ransack and rummage in Rowan's old shop... Strange oddities and the odd realization are found in abundance in the brokerage... Dwarves chop up the carpets. A half-orc Blackjack trundles off with a chest full of rubies. There is some pondering over an old portrait of Lord Sunpurse I. --
--The thrifters and the grifters, scribes and dwarves, a howling Zheng retainer and a gaggle of other sorts stream out of the Brokerage, smoke rolling out after them! --
--The building is ablaze within, set to the torch by some malcontent. In the inferno two shadows can be seen dancing about.. swords ringing out their retorts over the blaze! The fire mercifully does not catch on the neighboring properties. --
--The Rooftop Bar, in a stroke of sincere genius, has begun cooking sausages and selling smoked meats. A sign goes up. 'Jerkey, Meats, Cured and Smoked in Rummage's Refuse! Limited Time Only.' --
--The night goes on, marking the emergence of a new dichotomy. The riots and bloodshed of yesterday have born the fruit of resentment and rancour. No longer can the Retainers of the Houses Four count on their Blackjacks to beat and cow the people of little Ticker. Between the Sons of Iron, the generous donations of the assorted folk, and the whispered movements of other organizations and old names forgot, things have changed. --
As the weight of what was wrought still unravels, those that acted out of interest for little ticker manage to convince Dame Kinsley Greylocke to call a session of the Council of Peers to hear their pleas, woes, but mostly, their demands. Strangely, most of the houses present seem to comply with most desires of the Congressional of their lesser... Though, similar things have happened before, and the Lords of the Peerage do not fear this new opportunity... seemingly.-- Laughter and Derision escape from the mouths of Retainers and the Noble caste of the Peerage this morning. Another small council, they speak, that claims a vote of mayor, an equality of little-ticker, a doomed event that has echoed through the ruins of the 99th Ring time and again... --
-- However, a peculiar man garbed in auld Sunpurse regalia offered the House throne to Lady Belmore. He spoke quickly, directly, and left...--
Quote from: "City Whisper by Dame Kinsley Greylocke"
The Council has voted, and all Houses but Velstra, which either whined or twiddled their thumbs, agreed on the following:
First. Everyone, besides Lords and Ladies, will be considered equals within the Ward's district of Little Ticker. Long have their people been beaten and taken advantage of. Today we restore their dignity and show respect to fellow.
Second. Little Ticker will hold its own Little Council to manage their affairs. They will elect a single of their council to sit with the Council of Peers. Today we were blessed with Lady Belmore, and it was a better Council for it.
Third. The Little Council, or whatever they will call themselves, will put together a proposal on their plan for protections in Little Ticker for the us to vote on. They have a right to be protected, and to not fear for their lives.
I remind all that good leadership serves good people. It takes both halves of this coin.
-- Word spreads that one Lord was quite happy with the stance their House took during the Council of Peers, but only one. --
Meanwhile, strange gatherings of the undead seem to frequent the catacombs more often, rumours spread of cries of promises due between the ravenous attacks upon those that would put them to rest. While the harbour project still seems stalled after the bombing there, the orphanage keeps its doors open. However, Orza presence seems to have shifted focus to Ring 92 after the loss of their tower. With some long works in motion, figures cloaked in Orza vestment seemingly keep the lands for their Lord a toll, while dwarves shape materials in caverns auld. A cold chill that would usually leave by this season as well, strangely seems to linger....
[ :: Year 2 :: ]]
The Jester, Conqueror and Knight and Knife of Orza Manfred Japes has been ended. His pride stolen by ambush in House Glitt, His life stolen by House Belmore, and his prized belt stolen away by Augur. There were many daggers that ended Japes - his fellow retainer, now oathbreaker, among them - she stood against him all while decrying his pact with some demonic force. A man that brought such mobs against the oathbreaker Malik, against the Pallid, and eventually against the late Lady Sunpurse was ended in his own.
Ring 92 still bears the scars of his works...
House Moonspear continues its constructive efforts upon rebuilding Dusk's Cradle, and repairing their footing in the ward. By some secret exchange was the skull of Aatish, buried under the pseudonym Aleena Moonspear, pried from her dead body, and gifted to Kristoff Orza. The two Houses waltzed into the Castle, of name so contested, and came to some agreement.
The Shroud of Childebert and Recumbant Effigies of Moonspear Auld are given proper respect by rites sacred of Venerable Niobe Greywood, as the works continue.
Meanwhile, a stirring between forces of nature seems to be amassing. Changeling sightings become all the more common, and the honor and prestige of the Peerage Ward is called into question again and again. Bereft of the malevolent Count, pondscum, snowdrifts and wailing non-humans continue to make demands of their Lords and Ladies, unchallenged.
[ :: Year 2 :: ]]
A terrible mongrel horde lead by a terrifying leader: Hrorgjar, continues its war path against the Peerage. Stones of old power and might are wrought from their captors and utilized to some terrible purpose... his reign and actions lead to calamity for staples of the ward, and shatter the sense of control once established. --Another great boom of green light from the mongrelwoods, and a loud, elongated horn blast, then chanting can be heard. 'Hrorgjar, HRORGJAR!'--
--It seems a warband approaches through the forests once more, greater numbers than ever seen prior, and at their head.. A Mongrel Warlord, in excess of seven feet tall, eyes glowing green with wytchstone light--
--The warband begins to send stronger foes, as the barricades slowly break down, but the bridge is held--
--The assault halts, a moment to gather the fallen? A pinch of mercy?--
--The Mighty Hrorgjar stands before those few gathered who dare to leave the peerage, his army at his back, and captives, including Ser Adrian Velstra at his mercy--
--The Warlord speaks clear, enchanted by his dark magic--
--As promised, this day you have crawled behind your walls.. As promised I showed you what the future holds for mankind--
--I told you, no ransom, no gold nor offer you can give except... ACCEPTANCE, will save you. Of these hostages, I will keep... hrm.. [he pauses]--
--So I will keep... this night...
--Four of your fallen, and I will subject them to the change BY FORCE, perhaps they will survive, perhaps they will not--
--Say goodbye to your precious Knight, Velstrans. He is MINE now.--
--Heralds, pick three of our other captives, if ANYONE else tries to interfere. Kill them--
Cool winds whip the air in the Weald and travel swiftly through the alleyways of the Burgage... the battle is lost for the Knights of the Peerage this day...-- The early morning is ushered in with an unbearable hoarfrost, the likes of which are not recorded in the kenning of Steadingfolk and salt of the earth. It's sudden, horrible, and laced with an old, dull cackle. --
-- Men and women stay in bed, padding their bedding with extra hay or whatever material they can. Goosedown, and so on. --
-- Work in fallowed fields is foregone. A reveler of Norbert's festivities, left by his party in the street in debauched momentum last night, freezes over and perishes darkly in some alley. --
-- A deadening snow takes hold, like a sudden, smothingering blanket. Sound travels ill, as do men and women. --
-- The Peerage Ward is all amurmur about the disappearance of its most prestigious and longest-lived knight, Ser Adrian Winespill ... said to have been brought back from the grave itself, once ... --
Quote from: Velstra Retainer Lalena Steele[A voice heavy with grief is hear] I just spoke with Sverri.....it is true....Ser Arian has been slain.....sob Velstrans. Come to the ward, let us grieve and plan our next moves together.
And to the Mongrels that kidnapped him, and changed him, and lead to his death......your days are numbered. We will be coming for you.
-- At word of his death, the ward breaks out in hushed and frantic murmuring. The mongrels ... a word that is spoken with great bitterness upon the tongue. -
The second Augur of Arrhenius and Prophet to the King Sverri of the Skratti has met his death, something walked into, given to another as though by some passing thought awoken to him... Lightning breaks the ward during a storm, eyes are opened, but whom and why?Quote from: Dame Kinsley Greylocke
An honest report is due. Sverri of the Skratti died today. He fed the head of Ser Manfred Japes and the mongreled body of Ser Adrian Velstra to the Winter Court. He preyed on Orzan, Velstran, and intended to do the same to me. He intended to murder me in cold blood for Fey.
Uncertainty erupts from the inner rings, a force ignored for a time has found their way through an obstacle that seemed to stall their efforts completely... bereft of their wizard, their connections to the Peerage, and one of their prized tools of blood and magics, Count Zarono Senuspur yet persists in his claim. In his rebellion. Even if alone.
-- A whining protest of scrapping metal and crumbling brick and mortar screams through the night air deeper within the Rings. A man in a dashing doublet adjusts his cuff-links and takes a sip from a goblet of deep red liquid --
-- A vacuum of colour spills outward from the rings, soon disrupting and flooding into ring 91 --
-- A deep red miasma soon spills outward... it manifests in some sweeping storm of agony and rage --
-- The storm ebbs and flows, growing in strength as it spreads further out... 92, 93, 94, 95... --
-- Lightning cracks in the Pauper Ponds... --
-- Eventually, the crimson storm rips open in the seams, bloody rain and ash spew from the sky there and horrors shimmer towards the
king's commons --
A grueling battle takes place in the rifts, a combined force attempting to undo whatever troubles have been wrought from deeper rings...-- The sweeping clouds of red seem to settle into the ground around below them... however, they seem stopped from pouring further into the peerage, the burgage or worse... --
[ :: Year 2 :: ]
As a rough winter continues onward, though it should be well into spring... House Glitt fights back against the waves of horrible Mongrels. As a shard of power imbued to save the life of Ser Geno, does the knight repay the effort with his advance towards the defenses of the Peerage in but a moments time. The calamity bear turned away from the gates this time... a small victory for the Ward.
Meanwhile, Feathers ruffle and fall in the Scraggleways, and wildlife flee as a blizzard fills the Weald. What exactly transpired there is rumored, whether or not it matters much at this time is yet to be seen...
House Orza and Moonspear fight embittered, the death of retainer traded again and again. Conflicts before the Castle, Orza or Moonspear depending upon who you ask, escalate with the death of Aldstan - he who was a leal servant of Moonspear; now left twisted, gutted and hanged by the King's Statue.
As the Dawn of the Promise reaches towards the sky, and retainers shuffle out of auld halls with smug looks of satisfaction, contempt or arrogance, a series of direct and impacting measures are placed by the Lesser Council of Peers. Only hours after scores of starving wolves descended upon the gates of the Steadings, seemingly driven to their deaths by madness...Quote from: "City Whisper by Sophia Blackstone"[a warm and gentle voice, reassuring Citizens of the Peerage Ward and Burgage] Harken unto me, Sophia of Blackstone as I impart to you the edicts of the council of peers from todays illustrious meeting.
Edict the First: The public sale of prestigious items is henceforth banned. Private sale to the Greater or Lesser houses is still permitted. Punishments for a breach of this law are as follows: First offence, Payment to the offended house of triple the coin made in the sale of the object. Second offence, public humiliation and pain as decided by the offended house, short of maiming. Third Offence: Hanging by the neck until dead.
Edict the second: The sale of all objects that allow for the creation or summoning of undead creatures is banned. First Offence: Triple the value of the sale granted to the offended house. Second offence: Public humiliation and pain as determined by the offended house, short of maiming. Third offense: Burned upon the pyre until ash
Edict the third: Changelings, when discovered, will lose one limb and be given a single opportunity to repent. A second offence of changing ones king given form will result in being placed upon the pyre until ash. A first offending changeling with a previous criminal record will be considered a repeat offender.
Edict the fourth: The Tilted scales are given three candles from this moment to quit the ward and are declared exile. Erica Danebluff is bountied to the sum of four thousand groats, dead or alive. Payment offered in equal parts by houses Moonspear and Velstra.
Edict the Fifth: Bishop Stavros is hereby empowered to examine all faiths wishing to practice publicly within the ward and determine if they are inoffensive and permitted to proceed, or offensive and forbidden. Her word is law, but may be appealed at a convention of the Council of Peers.
Edict the sixth: All Holy Relics not in use by, or held by inoffensive faiths, may no longer be publicly traded and must instead be surrendered to the temple of the Lady Requited. To repeat, all faiths not approved by Bishop Stavros and all merchants holding relics of unapproved faith must surrender their relics to either the temple of the Lady at Dusks Cradle, or to the Bishop Stavros, pending judgment.
This concludes the edicts of this days council of peers. Be well.
However, a measure was quickly rebuked...Quote from: "City Whisper by Ser Nicholas Velstra"
Servants of the Peerage, listen closely. I do not care what you do to men that raise the dead, why give them a second chance at all? Nor do I care about you sentencing merchants to fees and fines for peddling kingly wares. However.
THAT church is dead, and I'll not suffer the hypocrisy and slight that front for the Count Senuspur manipulated you all into believing was Law, Dogma, Rite and Ritual.
Let any that seek shelter from this religious intolerance know that Velstra lands will /never/ abide by these petty words of this Lesser Council.
House Orza seems to follow suit quickly, though not by words of Lord or Knight, while House Glitt seems further focused upon the Mongrel Threat than matters of Religion. House Moonspear, however, sends a clear message that they mean to see these Edicts done:Quote from: "City Whisper by Erica Danebluff"
I suppose the council conveniently forgot that the Tilted Scales where under contract from a -knight-? Hmm, or they probably don't care. What do titles mean anyways? Anyhow, if any houses voted -against- this terrible mistake, it would probably do good for their honor to mention it on the bronze very soon, so we know who are Moonspear lackeys or not.
Quote from: "Moonspear Retainer Devale Desthen"
Hark, denizens of the Ward. The witch Erica Danebluff and her half-blood mongrel have met their end at the hands of Moonspear. While the witch succumbed to wounds and shall be spared the pyre in life, she shall be burned at the stake now outside the cradle, a lesson to any who act against the safety of our fair ward.
-- Edict Four burns by the Cradle, betwixt the folly of Nephezar and the crumbling ruin of Zheng lies an Icon that the freedom of Little Ticker strove for. Erica Danebluff, Latched to a post, the dead body tied around a number of times, melts in the midmorning wake of the Promise. --
-- A struggling little ticker and heated arguments between houses continue on as Mongrels and Winter bark at the gates of the Peerage. Each House eager to prove themselves the correct path forward. A way forward and away from the council of Count Senuspur Zarono --
--All the while, a leased expansion continues onward... by blackjack bribe, through Velstra extortion, and the tempering of Orza's wrath by promises of implements and otherwise useful to their campaigns, a Workshop of Toyfolly opens its doors in little Ticker. --
[ :: Year 2 :: ]
The scion of Sunpurse, the House, its lord, its mansion and all else are dealt some fatalistic and seemingly sudden change. Though the young Phelan was soft spoken, rarely seen, and cloistered away from the politics, bloodshed and terrors of the Peerage, his council was not without works.
Several scruffy and broken men and women had been making moves to some effort. Mostly unseen, nor felt, but for by those observant. The fluttering littering of feathers within the scraggleways, the howling packs of beasts at the Weald gates: Some loose connections are now apparent.
A massive paradigm shift has undergone throughout the natural worlds around Rings 99, 98, 95, 94, and 92. Animals flock elsewhere, green withers and finds reproach. All this seems to have been for a calming voice, and their ends. A means to end the curse of Sunpurse.-- "Thus the curse is broken! Ten, the final time. Nine the last sacrifice. In absolute resolve and finite determination have we sundered the final hold upon your freedoms. A key is left with you. A path forward curved from Auld Stones..." --
-- "... By aspects stolen were these gifts delivered: By Unmeasured Growth, by Protection and Life, by Transformation, by Sacrifice, by breaking of Cycles; and by Purification of Blood."
-- "We leave with you a Hearth for the long Winter. Bereft of the Willow, the Curse, and given life by paths upon the Oldways. Flourish and survive."
Without misstep, in moments of its revealing, the sanctum and hearth and warm glow was christened with blood upon the streets of the Peerage. Yet, the warm glow that cuts through as a knife through the frozen winter air does not seem disturbed. It is peaceful, it is alive, it is whole.
Rambling drunks and pleading beggars can be seem to frequent the outskirts for hopes that the warm air might shield them from death of hypothermia. Meanwhile, Retainers and Kingsmen can be seen taking sword, torch and axe to it with little effect. The forested grounds swallow harm brought to them as though a child with a toy...Only House Glitt still seems to manage its vigil of the Weald, through cutting frost and biting snow, the lumber camp continues, as do patrols. While Velstra and Orza lose ground and as the Mongrel army advances, making its calls to War, a stalemate is seemingly formed. Three Wytch stones to three Wytch stones. It is revealed, before the battle upon the bridge, before Ser Geno might have ended some abomination that blighted all good and leal of the Peerage name and honour; that there is one stone left. Something unmovable, something critical to which ever host might prove victorious.
As men pile upon carts of the dead, as the Willow tree of Desmond Sunpurse's gardens and ponds bends and twists into the permafrost below it - bereft of its dryad, left to freeze in the cold – a battle for the future of who will survive nears conclusion.
[ :: Year 2 :: ]
The early hours of the morning were broken by a whisper, Ruul Velstra demanding aid. What for is unknown. Only that shortly after, the Mongrelwoods filled with smoke...
Shortly after, a strange whisper tore across the bronze ears:Quote from: Supervisor Aleksandr Makes-Eyes-ShineRUUL VELSTRA
Quote from: Supervisor Aleksandr Makes-Eyes-ShineBY THE LAWS OF YOUR OWN WARD, I CHALLENGE YOU.
Shortly after, with an army of retainers gathered before the gates the ward, a single figure was seen approaching the ward alone. Waiting. And for a great time he waited, alone, silent. When questioned he would not speak. Until, after some time, he spoke:Quote from: Supervisor Aleksandr Makes-Eyes-Shine... Coward. Your people play at honor... play at law... like children. You do not even understand the words. Your entire ward shall suffer for your cowardice. And when you suffer, remember this moment. Remember the hand that ended this long quiet. It. was. not. mine.
[ :: Year 2 :: ]
A rare sight limped into Ring 99, this day... one of the Master Ringrunners, Andryr the Orphan. Crippled and meek, the man spoke of a lifetime searching for a single place: The "King's Vault". He told a tale of a time long past, unimaginably so, where the king himself gifted upon his most trusted a gift of incredible power. The specifics of which... unknown. It is said that entire rings were reshaped by its passing... and now is the time for the worthy to reclaim it.
By terrible price, Andryr secured his first clue in a lifetime of searching: Ring 99. He now recruits men to begin the great search for the vault. He now calls upon aid in discovering, and unsealing, the vault.
[ :: Year 2 :: ]
At last, the key to the King's Vault is found. Two glistening suits of armor, one in Red and one in Blue.
Some say that a price in blood will be required. That two great warriors must fight, to the death, under the eyes of the king.
Others say the winner of the duel will be rewarded beyond belief.
The only thing that is certain is that soon, now, the vault will finally open, and its power given to all...
[ :: Year 2 :: ]
As black storms and tides rage upon the distance of the outer-rings, and blizzards of ice and snow only seem to gain in strength from the Weald and further within, an earthshattering quake erupts below Ring 98.
Under pale orange moonlight old Leyroads are remapped, torn and twisted by forces in service to the Winter Fey. A work whispered done by the self proclaimed Mother of the Mongrels, Queen of the Stars and Winter, carried out with deal and force to fix what was broken, While not evident to most, something drastic has shifted, and final plans seem to be in motion. At the baying of hounds and stampeding of beast do the gates of the Steadings once more face aversion. A massive winter wolf leading them into battle seemed to vanish in and out of the melee; all before ripping some portal open to a frozen altar.
Whatever the hound was, Gnipir or otherwise, a pack of spirits and shades followed in its wake and attempted to defeat the resolve of the Ringrunner, Retainer, or adventurer keen enough to dare enter the frozen prison. Despite them walking so eagerly into the trap, the wolves were all laid low. Though curiously, their howls remained... deafening those too close, roaring and shattering the resolve of lesser men and women.
A horn blared through the cold night air, one normally met with reinforcement from highlander and otherwise, was drowned out in the cacophony of violence and death throes. The Glitt encampment was covered in ice and snow, those that stood made skeletons and martyrs to their Lord Bernard Glitt.
Hunting parties and changeling resentment in the Peerage grow like wildfire, as crops continue to freeze, animal life seems to disappear and now materials for repairing damages grow more scarce.
All the while, the plaguing blight of the inner rings drifts from the mind a bitter memory. Heroes of past lost to conflicts spurred on by a Count done with the troubles of Ring 99 and still paving his way forward towards his revenge... with no regard for those lingering behind. A lingering and strange red light shimmers from time to time high above the walls of the rings.
[:: Year 2 ::]
Glistening hoarfrost encapsulates the rooftops of the Burgage. A Trashgull succumbs to the elements and flutters in mid-flight: dropping before the feet of some uneasy Blackjack. The Promise in the dim and despondent sky wanes considerably quicker than it should, as rancorous cloven feet stomp upon the once calm and relaxing meadows of the Weald.
It's all but become accepted.
A bellowing voice rings through the night air. Resentment and wroth boiling over like a tea pot burst upon the floor:Quote from: House Glitt HuscarlBy authority of Lord Bernard Glitt, I exclaim to any and all tired of this bewitchment: ENOUGH! We have an answer for you devils of Fae make and unapologetic arrogance. House Glitt will take back its possession of the Sheppernine.
Prepare - Your Fortress besieged, your efforts ended. We will march upon the new Moon
As spoken by Retainer Mathans MacBriar, a host will march and end this threat. Those inclined to earn their family name honor. To fight back against the corrupted demons that weaken our chances for survival. March with us.
[:: Year 2 ::]
A gleaming haze spreads over much of Ring 98 and 99, as the snow and ice melt quickly after the defeat of the Devil-Fey Eg-iln-ribs-soto-eg. First battle and siege were given to the walls of the Frozen Fortress of the Winter Fey. The curse of Fimbulvetr, some sort of dragon of ice and snow, magic and glamour appeared when those leading the assault reached the summit. -- A large piece of siege weaponry is wheeled into the Weald, by the Glitt Host --
-- Through harsh battle does the battering ram meet the frozen encampment --
-- It slams into the gates of the Frozen keep as forces of the peerage pile upon it --
-- Massive figures from inner rings begin to shamble towards the inner Weald... --
-- Shards of the Failure, the massive remains fled from before in deeper rings, gather hence --
-- They begin pile upon the egg, gathering toward the summit --
-- One by one, they fade away and a crack forms in the surface of the massive sphere --
-- The egg, as it is called, cracks, and a howl and scream fill the Weald --
-- The Curse, the works and efforts of the Winter Court slays one Retainer after another in rage--
The works of previous failure, the efforts of slaughter and revenge were bested by painful effort, as this augmentation of supposed fears and misconceptions grew giant in strength... though fell when challenged. The host had won the battle; however, the way forward was sealed... they had to find an alternative route if they wished to do more than stall the works of the Winter fey.
In months of planning, deception, trick and trade with Summer Fey, Changeling and otherwise, the Peerage had learned of such a route. A mirror once a boon to the Winter Fey, twisted against them by blood of Gnipir, a broken phantom that cursed and blinded many to its purpose. Whispers spread still that such blood was the downfall of Valmoria the self-proclaimed Mongrel Queen... -- The blizzard grows further in the frozen forest, all battling the seemingly endless fey --
After long battle with wolf, mammoth, bear, bird, and phantoms of an ever-shifting Eg-iln-ribs-soto-eg, who twist from stag to bird to man to beast. Only a single soul remained to speak of the works here to gather from revenge or punishment of the ward.... Nowhere was the Troll Witch seen, or the servants of the Winter Court; just a pitiful man whose bones and limbs slowly turned into brittle ice. -- A single man sits in the ice and snow --
-- Aged well beyond his years, haggard and broken --
-- The icy cold figure, self-proclaiming to be Kae Skybloom, boils to death at the hands of Glitt RetainerMarbhaiche... before saying anything else... they simply are gone. --
-- However, the icy realm begins to shake... a grave mistake, perhaps for eager fools to make --
-- The portal locks and a horrible laugh escaped --
-- The mirror is broken by the Glamour Breaker, the way back out, freed as ice and snow tries to bury you --
-- In the Weald, in the Steadings and around the bends of the Peerage and its surroundings, the ice and cold begins to melt... it seems the plight and curse of Fimbulvetr has ended --
Conquest of the Weald, and its surroundings once more ramble upon the subordinates of the Peerage's Lords. As such it must always be. Mold and mildew begin to become the new pest of the average serf as drunks once more gallivant upon the streets of the burgage - drowning their sorrows in ale and mead.-- Rumored bickering seem to flare in much of the Peerage, as each House attempts to claim the honor of victory against the Winter Host, and furthermore, fuses over control of the recaptured lands --
-- Any small truce or allowances prior shatter almost instantly as the Promise rises in the morning sky --
A black storm yet rumbles upon the distant horizon, and the animal life in the Weald is not what it once was...
Quote--With the breaking of the Walls by the Count's drill, and the scouring of challenges laid before those Ring Runners eager for their wish from the King, the greatest reward, it seems, is such a small, and inconsequential thing. Rumour.--
Quote--The free flowing of information, and knowledge, and rumours from the outer rings, to those Kingswards, and from those Kingwards, outward.--
Quote--Slowly, some may say, by way of ill-omened remarks, rumour spreads throughout the Ring 99. Within the deeper Rings, the great city within the City, Baz'eel has gone to war. The specifics are murky, and no one seems to know anything for certain.--
Quote--Some say an ancestral enemy of the city has reared its head, others speak of a Pretender who is trying to usurp the throne for themselves. Calmer voices speak of a mere local conflict, between the city and an unruly satrap.--
Quote--The war is clearly spreading, however. A number of Ringrunners reporting that a huge battle occured somewhere in the Dunes of the Great Ash Desert. Carrion birds are visible over even the Ringwalls.--
Quote--And slowly but surely, mercenaries are draining from the Ward, heading towards the so-called 'Great Ring' to offer their services to the highest bidder. Though to what master, or to what cause, none can be sure...--
[[ :: Year 2 :: ]]
Rumours spread of an unseen foe. A mysterious and powerful beast with axe in tow. Word of cloven whisp coloured monsters that steal away those hoping to oppose them and simply, vanish. A prismatic haze floods the ruins of Ring 92 and then drifts out of sight as though a passing storm.--The Council of Peers begins its session, thinly manned by those of the Houses, and Commons alike; though at least there is a Retainer for each House. House Moonspear, as has been common enough these past weeks, leads the session...--
--There is seemingly a sense of urgency among those sitting, however. A keeness for it all to be over with, some worry hanging in the air.--
--A mystery visitor attends the Council, and leaves after a short discussion. His appearance seems to have confused and annoyed the room, in equal measure.--
--A mysterious fog gathers upon the inner rings, beyond the blasted ruins of the Silverspike. It glimmers and shifts in colour.--
-- Numerous vagabond ill suited in orzan garb grumble in hushed tones as the rolling fog descends and obscures much of their makeshift hovel there --
Quote from: City Whisper by House Orza Guard
Help! We need help at the camp at the 92nd! Monsters come out of the fog and slaughter us one by one! Come, Quickly!
-- The rolling of drums resounds throughout the Ring 92, as a band of ill fitted servants begins to make waves towards the foggy and desolent Orzan encampment --
--From the fog, the 'Agates' came. A mercenary company of little skill, or renown. Now, to be forgotten.--
--The 'garrison' at Ring 92, however, have disappeared. All that remains is a singular 'street hustler'; the others, fled, taken or otherwise unable to be displayed as corpses upon the floor for some other reason.--
Squabbles of efforts to stem the tide of decay and black pitch that rumbles in dark clouds beyond continue as ever within the halls of the lesser council. Evidence of a darkness within the weald is contested... perhaps it is indeed nothing; just a scar from the countless toils and tribulations offered weathered and ruined wilderness.
Quote-- More rumours from Baz'eel. It is said that the city has placed Janissaries at the borders of its Rings, and are heavily questioning any Ringrunners who are attempting to head further Kingwards. Many have been turned away. Boarding houses are refusing to house further guests from the Outer Rings, or have been raided by soldiers. There is talk of press-gangs, the unceremonious imprisonment of outspoken Ringrunners. Though no confirmed reports of such things...
Quote--Elsewhere, preachers have taken to the streets of the city - promising the onset of something, or someone. The language is strange and esoteric, filled with allusions that are dense and confusing.--
Quote--The Ashfolk, typically tight-lipped, seem to be forbidden from speaking to outsiders about any of these matters. Their dissembling gives purchase to fresh unease...--
Quote-- Many now believe that Baz'eel is preparing for the coming of Count Senuspur, that the Sultan intends to take a stand against the renegade in his Ring... --
Quote-- That whatever military adventures Baz'eel has embarked upon is intended to shore up their position in advance of the arrival of Comital forces... --
Quote-- Others suggest that the Sultan, long envious of the King, intends to make common cause with the rebels and march upon Ring 1 in their company... --
Quote-- A minority claim that neither of these theories hold. That instead whatever is occurring in the Great Ash Desert is something in and of itself, a happening with no bearing on the grand contest between Count and King. --
Quote-- These ill-tides, and more, are awash about the Ward, slopping around at the bottom of half-drunk tumblers and flagons. --
Quote-- Slowly, tentatively, more rumours from Baz'eel arrives at last in the Peerage Ward.... --
Quote-- Those Ringrunners that dare to brave the taboo speak of a terrible upheaval in that city within a city. It is said that the Janissaries, and other feared servants of the Sultan, descended upon the houses of many notables in recent weeks. --
Quote-- No one seems to know the cause of this purge, nor why the notables and priesthood have been targeted. It is obvious to all that it is related, in some obscure way, to recent military developments in Baz'eel, the details of which remain obscure and curious. --
Quote-- Some say that a pretender to the throne has risen to challenge the Sultan, and those arrested were plotting a coup against their sovereign. Others simply suggest that the Sultan has gone mad, lashing out against paranoid threats to his rule. --
Quote-- As for the Ashfolk themselves, they remain typically tight-lipped, refusing to speak of such matters to 'outlanders'. --
Quote-- Nonetheless, soldiers patrol the streets of Baz'eel in ever-greater numbers, and the borders of the Sultanate are tense, confused and dangerous... --
[[ :: Year 2 :: ]]
A violent storm erupting from the Weald and manifesting as fire and light scoured a path upon the frostburn and winter ravaged lands of the Rings. An unnatural flame amidst spring seemed to bring to life this cause and purpose. Rumour abound as to the exact where and why, but most point their fingers at the Moonspear Bloodmage Igor Morozov. Regardless, his cause, purpose, and efforts were drowned out quickly... the brightest flames burn out the fastest.-- A harsh and warm wind howls through the Weald --
-- The storm spreads towards the ponds and then the king's commons... turning all in its path to ash --
-- The storm of flame and power eventually ebbs towards the broken road of ring 101 --
-- The storm halts seemingly a moment... before turning back towards Ring 99... --
-- The clouds drift and begin to sway back towards the Peerage --
-- The horrible clouds seem to settle finally upon the peerage --
-- Purest light and blazing fire leaving only ash in their wake, they begin to attempt to consume it entire --
-- Variants of the Peerage make to its defence --
-- Yet the storms seems only fuelled by their suffering... something keeps it building and building --
-- The storm seems to twist, slowly, towards ring 97, though its parts are not separate... they only grow stronger --
-- Screams erupt from the Muckboy's squat, as the men there fight off the horrible elements --
-- Further out the storm wails, deeper yet towards Ring 96 --
-- The storm bubbles and smoulders over the ruins of Ring 94 --
-- The storm now reaches even into Ring 92.... ash and flames along its path --
-- The storm mixes with the fogs of Ring 90... --
Quote from: A series of coded messages ring out through the whispers:
Fly 'ome, sparrows.
[A series of unusual words are spoken in rapid, hurried succession!] Sandpiper! Coo at the Ash Tree! It's Waxbill-- WAXBILL-- Starling, dammit! [The man coughed and wheezed.]
'Nesting at ash tree.'
-- Upon the gates of Vestige a bright light of fire and ash rains down upon it --
-- The counts forces are quick to attempt to expel the storm --
-- In the far reaches of the rings the storm seems to die out... thrashing against a host it could not meet --
-- A resounding trumpet sounds from the Count's Drill, as the storm clears --
The conquest of the Greykeep, or rather it's control by House Blackhearth, has been handled in simple events. While offers were made upon it from both efforts of the Peerage and from the Count's forces, it simply appears that any agreements or prior oaths were disregarded... The offer of the Count shunned and the payments to House Velstra lost. However, a Velstra Retainer claims the hold for the Cinquefoil rose.Quote from: Drill Whisper by The Librarian
Please clear your ramblings and wanton pageantry for a Royal Decree, it shall be succinct to wager against your attention spans.
By extension of Count Zarono Senuspur's generosity and benevolence, House Blackhearth and its Baronship will be allotted fiefdom and be left to their own devices provided they decry the Houses Velstra, Moonspear, Glitt and Orza for their treason,
and halt any ringrunners not pledged to Senuspur's service. Obviously, the Lordships of these four rebels shall be stripped of whatever useless mirth of station is afforded to them when the Usurper is removed.
Quote from: City Whisper by Mebril Blackhearth
Hark, City of Rings, hark and heed my call with keen audition! These are the words of Lady Mebril Blackhearth. Heed this announcement, for it comes from a Peer of your King:
In keeping with auld agreement struck with Fabian Winespill, Master Illusionist of House Velstra my tenure as Castellan of the Grey Keep draws to a close. I willingly and in good faith shall soon remit the title of Baroness back to Vale to mete as they will.
To those that have undertaken my Trial. Be you in the Ward, in the Rings, on the golden sands of Baz'eel or sitting now, perhaps, at the table of the King... Living or dead, I thank you for allowing me to be a part of your story, and for entrusting me with a facet of yours.
My Lord Blackhearth and I will, in the coming weeks, endevour to properly collect and preserve the works so-entrusted in keeping with the traditions of our House.
Promise keep. No dawn without darkness, but the dawn comes.
Quote from: Baroness Synia Winespill
Recall in the future, this day, when an ancient oath was upheld by those often doubted. Recall it and be inspired by the weight of honor and duty, the level of which compels us to obey our King in greater ways.
The banner of Velstra will flicker in these winds that howl upon the Grey Keep. The house of Glitt shall stand with us. The House of Moonspear shall cover our flank well.
Together, the Cinquefoil rose reforms and musters in strength to obliterate this wretched creature who proclaims himself a Count, yet fears to dare call himself King, for he remains unworthy.
I am Synia, diluted of Velstra, first of the Vanguard, and now accept this offering of Baroness until time my Lord deems me unworthy. I, Baroness Synia the diluted, will break the lines of this Count and repel his filth.
My mace will echo across the rings as it shatters shield and bone so loudly that our very King hears it true, and I will rise above my own blood to serve him like no other has. I will wear his livery, I will wield the weapon -
Rubies will break beneath the weight of my steel and I will spike the head of this Count upon it in honor of my father, in honor of our King. The Cinquefoil rose will NOT fail.
A horrible message of perverted hope and a mind driven to madness are evident from the massive chasm now in the middle of the King's Commons of Ring 99. The painstaking efforts of such desperation plain in passing over the clouds above. A worried sight as consulates gather with how to deal with yet another horrible threat they would rather delegate away now festers upon the minds of those in the lesser Council of Peers. in rare sighting, a deva slighted brings some hope of absolution provided an end is brought to this "savior"...-- Rumbles begin to resound throughout the King's Commons of Ring 99, from deep below its surface --
-- Crumbling cobble and pavement break away as a massive quake erupts in the King's Commons. Echoing harshly throughout Ring 99 entire, a massive structure begins to shift and form from broken and spewed rubble and waste from the drips below --
-- From within the center of the King's Commons a structure begins to appear, cloaked in painful red light it defies any actions those gathered might try to do to stall it --
-- Beckoning red glimmering lights sparkle from the inner rings a sanguine hue and begin to guide a floating enclave of what once was partly the Sepulchral Guildhouse. Horrible magics fly and swirl around its shape as it defies the King's Law in celestial fashion. --
-- Royal Wyverns serge and take to the skies only to be torn asunder by the recalcitrant mausoleum given flight. --
-- The voice of Ennugim Ishmenka breaks through the air of the rings and speaks clearly and crisp through ones ear bauble... --
Quote from: The Voice of Ennugim IshmenkaChildren of the Rings. Slaves of your absent king. Victims of the undoing and the Inert. Your fears, your worries, and your suffering is at end. I have deduced the only possible method of ceasing your misery, and saving your souls from the black godless abyss.
With this motion, and by the collected efforts of my students, we shall undo all that would be consumed and forgotten. I will rescue you all! Though it pains me to force this eventuality upon you, the black clouds grow close and it is only moments before there will be nothing to save...
The Crown and control of matters shall be settled, in what so ever fashion I may have them! Paradise shall be given and gifted freely to any and all by command of its power. No longer will you fear death, no longer shall you suffer life. All will be forever in peace.
-- As the floating ruin held together by loose and horrible magics continues to defy the King's laws, a red haze hemorrhages over the skies of Ring 95 --
Those that tried to halt in vain the forward shifting and massive floating structure were brought low... a sword draining memory and blood gleamed wickedly as the craft moved onward - kingward.
[[ :: Year 2 :: ]]
A strange magnetic and magical red storm passes through the rings with great speed. In only a week's time does it travel some 40 rings. However, it would not reach its destination. -- The magical red storm and the massive ruin continues kingward, as it twists the skies and lands of Ring 87. A pale and sanguine figure of who once was Luna Wintergard beams unholy light guiding the craft forward --
-- Some small unrest wearies heavily upon the vassals of the Peerage. The bleak and desperate methods given by more unorthodox figures and continual flow of information from the inner rings has many contemplating. --
-- Many untrained and untalented a ringrunner has begun to flock towards the Drill in simple hopes of outrunning the ever-present horrors continually at their gates. Serfs of the Households and respective servants are mixed. --
-- Many worry they can not simply leave their lot in life. Those especially under care of House Glitt seem disheartened and nearly broken by the constant attacks against their holdings, the loss of family and friends and now a call to panic and abandon what ever they had left... --
-- The floating structure spiralling with negative energies passes over Vestige and the Count's Drill long before the promise rises upon the crumbled ringwall. No efforts are taken to stall the efforts of Ishmenka, at least, seemingly. --
-- Regardless of tolerances or otherwise, the ruin drifts kingward through the night's sky before cresting above Ring 72. It's storm raging and its path open. --
-- The recalcitrant mausoleum given flight breathes a horrible red miasma upon Ring 58, as it drfits forward, closer yet towards its goal --
-- As much of the Rings sleep, those brave enough, or hopeful enough to stall this cataclysm prepare. Rumours still spread that a Deva spoke to those gathered and unable to stop what has happened. Spoke of a possible path forward. --
-- Above Ring 56 the visage of Jeremiah Ashford, a betrayed and broken man, writhes in a horrible red storm. Just above the ruin stalls for the first time along its voyage. Walls of Earth and stone erupt from the grounds below to strike at and deter the path forward. --
-- Still, the floating monstrosity weaves through these traps and protections slowly. --
Those brave enough or desperate gather in Ring 99. As told, the Deva kept its word. A trumpet was gifted, a means to destroy the black opals that kept Ishmenka whole and empowered. -- Within the King's Commons a blinding light begins to form and appear before the King's Statue --
-- A holy beam of light surges from Ring 99 and strikes at Ishmenka's Ruin. It is thin and direct, and causes no notable damage to the structure. --
-- The path forward for the brave is opened, a dead-end for them. A one-way passage into the floating ruin. -
A shade of the lich Ishmenka greets his guests with condescending remarks and pleads that the "children" invading his ruin reconsider their actions. He assures them they have no weapon or hopes to stop his plans. In a gesture of simplicity, his shade splits into six and sends waves of undead from one of his black opals.-- Faces of the vengeful Uld and those that perished within Ring 94 seems to manifest against the heroic force --
-- the shade of Ishmenka seems to simply absorb any blows upon it --
-- Thousands of souls of the dwarves of Ring 94 flood the room -
The Trumpet gifted, despite its obviously deadly toll, begins to make a dent in the Lich's resolve. One by one the shades begin to fade and replace one another as dozens of spirits manifest. The Wizard Morvoren Adaira, or rather the captured and tormented soul of the dead woman, screams through the crumbling ruin. -- Visions of a woman now fill the room, a horrible sight of someone sacrificed directly to Ishmenka's Revival --
-- Legions of undead flock to the shade as they continue their arts --
-- An ear-shattering explosion as hundreds of souls fly from a broken black opal along Ishmenka's jaw --
--A gruesome sight as the Archon's trumpet resounds and the very noise it makes ends the life of Meryl Fitzgerald--
-- The trumpet lies upon the ground now... --
The Lich, incensed and wroth spits venom upon the crowd and claims the games it plays are over. At Ishmenka's behest four Nightmares of terrible strength stomp upon the old and magically bound cobbles below them. Vines and foliage bleeding negative energy with every step the Nightmares take. Unholy flames and snarling heat escape from the beasts as they chase down at take the lives of any slow enough to not escape their path. -- From the undead trees around you, four steeds of black undeath begin to move --
-- The massive ruin begins to shake and crumble at its edges --
-- The shades seem no more, though the toll was great --
-- Ahead, the dark arts of Ishmenka continue --
The doors are locked by magical energies. Ahead Ishmenka, even in defeat, seems untouchable as they channel their last Black Opal to operate the floating ruin. They now seem too busy, too focused to even respond to those they spoke of as mere children. The Archon appears and rains holy fire upon Ishmenka, something the lich seems to brush off unphased. However, all can hear before the Deva begins to move: "I will have what I desire, Ishmenka. They have done all the work for me." -- Some shade of being runs up to Ishmenka and in cloaked and magical hand does it draw from directly his power source --
-- Some horrible trickery, and a disguise is broken... A ghastly figure reaches outward and grasps for itself the last black opal of the Lich Blacksmile --
-- A horrible laughter begins to fill the halls of the floating ruin --
Some strange rat like figure, cloaked in shawl and carrying a strange staff steals the last strength of Ishmenka. Any control of the ruin is lost, it does not take long for the floating object to meet a disastrous fate.-- The floating Ruin is struck by one of the defensive pillars of sand and stone --
-- The ruin begins to drift and connects with the side of a mountain face --
-- The heroes that ventured forward now seem trapped by the /deva/ that lead them here --
-- The only possible way out seems forward... --
The mages still among the heroes manage to break the now failing magical locks upon the doors to the master control room. Some manner of portal was still flickering with a path forward. As rumble and fire fell from the ruin now crumbling and falling apart without its master, those that could escape, did. The portal leads just outside of Vestige where upon the skies horizon the flames can be seen to drift lower and vanish. -- Quaking into the very sands around it, the Sepulchral Guildhouse slams into the grounds unwelcomed --
-- Whatever works Ishmenka had planned to halt the Nothing, are done --
Quote from: City Whipser by Baroness Synia Winespill
Overly bold, brave, and ever lacking wisdom. You'll be missed Meryl, even if ever a pain in my side. Your mother will know of your bravery and how you destroyed a lich this day.
Quote from: City Whisper by Oliver Merryweather
[His voice defeated, hollow, without any hint of emotion...] You /ruined/ it.. You killed Emily, you killed Jeremiah... You-. Why-. Because you cannot stand the idea of a world without a feast? I-... [His voice would crack, nearly tearful.] I won't forget 'at.. This isn't over 'en.. It would be by 'e Hands o' 'e Ward that somethin' /WORSE/ would emerge..
You /bastards/... I could've shown you how t' make an Opal.. I could've done it /for/ you.. Instead.. You ended all o' it.-... [A agonized choking sound swiftly follows as he swallows something..] Y-. You made me Kill Jeremiah, you made me kill Luna an' 'at fool boy o' a Knight. You made me kill 'e Patriarch for /nothin'/. You doomed /everyone/.
Y'aint won yet.. Ishmenka was brought back once.. I'll claw him from 'e fuckin' /SANDS/ myself an' do it again..
Quote from: City Whisper by the Scholar Doukas Domaclides
I congratulate you on your victory today. But do not drink too deeply, for what have you truly accomplished? What greater schemes have set to their next step? Wonder, while you feast tonight why the resistance was so bare. Contemplate while you drink why Oliver curses us so deeply.
Consider all these things and then know, you still are years from understanding the truth of today that has been in motion for longer than anyone alive. An inevitable plan still marches to fruition.
[[ :: Year 3 :: ]]
A petal falls from the Cinquefoil Rose, a Lion's roar fades into a whimper, Castle Moonspear Auld smolders in ruin and wreckage... A series of known misfortunes compile into these events and whisper on the winds common knowledge:-- Some chaos in the Burgage as an alarm rings out, some merchant is assaulted by a band of Orza. A blackjack is hit in the crossfire --
-- A beaten and stripped Daniel Winespill is lead towards the Doorkeeper beyond the Peerage, dragged by Orzan Retainer --
Quote from: City Whisper by Glitt Huscarl Moros Thelle
House Orza, three of your retainers are seen in the light of day assaulting and attacking a man of the burgage and have caused more to be concerned. There are many of us who would hear to why you have brought violence and bloodshed unto our alleys.
So speaks Moros Thelle, in service of the esteemed Lord Bernard Glitt.
Quote from: City Whisper by Orzan Retainer Balthazar Lepida
Oh, joyous day. Attend to this message, City of Rings.
Quote from: City Whisper by Daniel Winespill
This is Daniel Winespill... of House Blackhearth [his voice sounds very weary and pained], and i've been asked to say a few things on the bronze. That House Blackhearth consorts with ch- changelings, such as Mil, Balz, and Rin.
We often... [a pause] hire them as guides to journey deep ring... [another pained pause]
We turned a blind eye to rumors... [another pause] for a long time...
-- A message rings out about changelings in the doorkeepers room as an alarm rings out --
-- Chaos and pain erupt throughout the peerage as a winespill's throat is cut after a group of changelings come to his misfortune, instead of aid --
Quote from: City Whisper by House Orza Guard
Synia Winespill, you friends with changelings too? Because a greenleaf moss covered changeling just got your kin slaughtered. Not Orza's fault they killed a man with a knife to his throat.
-- A terrible tale plays out on the gallows of the steadings --
-- A man driven to save a friend, driven by anger and rage, without caution, causes the death of his friend... the death of the gutterknife at his neck, the death of the girl in suit and station with orders to proceed--
-- The 'curse' of changelings plays out in its home theatre... bedlam, blood and war, as the noose is wrapped into a coil --
-- A short drop and a quick stop and then it's over. Legs swinging in the breeze. --
Quote from: City Whisper by Kristoff Orza
I want the Glitt maceman who bludgeoned one of my soldiers alongside that Changeling dead, Bernard. Decide how you'll be making that right for me.
Quote from: City Whisper by Lionguard Synia Winespill
Unleashed hounds get bit, it seems. What more of you Orzans that attacked my brother like gutter rats will be brought to justice as well. The changeling that forced the knife is already dead.
Quote from: City Whisper by Lord Anders Orza...The whole purpose of this Rose tripe was to agree not to butcher one another in the streets and focus on bringing down my former associates in the Ruby host.
And yet again and again, my men are being killed. What am I to think? I am losing faith in that rail-thin Reeve of ours...
If these murders are not redressed, I will pull all my soldiers, capos, and knives out from this coalition. You will march on the Count's forces, entrenched, with a few highlanders, whatever geriatric old man Moonspear sends, and the pretend-knights of Velstra.
My House /is/ the Peerage's rank and file. We are your military. Velstra has no squadrons, Glitt no sappers or saboteurs. Moonspear has a duelist or three. I am greatly displeased, and I am not above doling my displeasure out evenly. Give that some thought.
The Promise Rises and Falls from the Sky over the Peerage, the worries of retainers and common men seem nothing more than they were, matters progress, people live their lives.-- As the day turns to night and the time passes on, two arbalestiers atop the Castle Orza share a flask of whiskey. Scarcely a dram between them, but it burns well and stays in the throat. They take potshots at a straw dummy, the odd 'thunk' of bolts sinking in sounding o'er the Ward. --
-- It is known to the learned... that in times of old, the King would make his presence known through certain signs and omens. All know of the cloying mists which ebb and flow where His power hath been brought in force. But there are other portents... --
-- When a champion was needed in times of eld, one to take up the cause of the monarch against some bitter foe... often they would be tasked with a trial, to prove their worth. --
Quote from: City Whisper by House Orza Arbalester
The bell's not ringing for no reason, fools - haven't got all night!
-- The hour strikes midnight, and the moon hangs full and heavy in it's celestial perch. To some it seems as if those brilliant, pale beams become animate, dart about the city itself. A trick of the eye, a delusion of lunacy, surely. --
-- ..Cloven hooves clap upon the cobbles. In the pale light of the moon, standing proud and kingly, there is a White Stag all wreathed in mist. With placid grace, it picks its way through the alleys and tenements.. along the canals and across rooftops. --
Quote from: City Whisper by Royal Huntsmaster Boris Grick
As I live and breathe...! One of the King's own beasts roams this night, friends - favor of our liege to the man who might catch it! A good omen, for our war on Senuspur. Is this how He means to choose our next champion?
-- With his bow slung overshoulder and his kith around him, Lord Bernard Glitt bursts from his hall and stomps into the night. His bannermen, retainers, and sundry are not far behind it seems. --
-- Velstra Vale is abuzz suddenly at that sight - where flippant rolls of the eyes had ruled, now there is a bustle as the Lion himself digs about for a long spear. Bowmen in purple motley follow after him, as he too races into the gloom. --
-- A contingent of Orzan men, flatbows across their shoulders, seem to have already slipped ahead of the rest. --
-- A dozen sightings of the white stag, rumors abound... it slips from fingers and ducks arrows.. darting from the swamps to the scraggles, some say it hops among the magma in the 94th, others say it bounded into the sewers.. --
-- Some see it bound across the rooftops, leap the great ringwalls in a vast clattering-bound, hooves unseating the fired clay of roof tile... --
-- Somewhere in the skies above a falling star slides down the firmament and fades. --
-- The night is quiet.. hunters still prowling.. but signs of the stag have abruptly ceased. Could it have been found? --
...
-- Shock as the Lord Bernard Glitt limps back into the Peerage Ward, a score of arrows and bolts sticking from his armor and battered shield. --
-- The general alarm is only raised as it becomes clear.. that Nicholas Velstra and his retinue have yet to return at all. What disaster has befallen them? --
-- Somewhere deeper in the rings, bold Moros crosses blades with one of the infamous Rubies. All the while, his lord writhes in his hall - beset by some wasting poison. --
-- House Orza has become... quiet. Their gates yawn open, all living souls evacuated it seems... though the Old Castle Moonspear is not.... quite... empty. --
-- A sulphurous, horrible wind comes suddenly from House Orza, the Castle itself seeming to exhale some hellish miasma and somewhere in the catacombs below, a single spark is struck... and swiftly catches. --
-- The entire WARD shakes and quivers like an infirm pudding as explosions begin to thump and scream through the night, a horrible, Hellish cackle sounding across the ward, punctuated by the combustion of pure black powder. --
-- The castle itself crumbles, as it's foundations are obliterated, the rest of it... following swiftly, plumes of black smoke billow and writhe forth, dust and pulped rubble, innumerable treasures and troves of prestigious goods gone, a wall, mounted with beasts of the mongrelwoods, a stray camel's head... vaporized... --
-- Young Toby, the beggarboy is crushed to death by falling rubble and hellishly heated rock. --
-- The force of the explosion ejects a strange man from the castle, it's sole occupant. --
Quote from: City Whisper by Orzan Retainer Garreth Sterbough
And with that final destruction, House Orza is no more.. Kristoff takes most of the knives and capos toward Ba'zeel. And some men stay here at the Drill, to work with Anders. I'm not gonna pretend I was innocent in any of this. I'm not gonna beg for mercy, nor offer it. You lot will be coming for my head..
And gods be great, I hope you take it, for the monster I've become in my long, long life. But I'm not gonna go down without a fight.
Quote from: City Whisper by Ruul Velstra
Nicky! I don't know when you stole one of my warding charms, but this isn't funny anymore. Father's worried, and I can't scry you anywhere.
-- Over the coming days, the following facts become clear. --
-- The House of Orza is no more. Their castle is in ruins, detonated by saboteurs hands. Their soldiers, one and all, have disappeared into the night... --
-- ...Only to re-appear, as the proud standard of the Unicorn is raised alongside the crimson banners of the Count. --
-- Ser Nicholas Velstra, the Lion, is nowhere to be found. He has yet to return to the Vale... and his family now fear the worst. --
-- Some suspect he found his end in the night. Butchered by the sons of Grigori, in vengeance for their murdered brother. Still others cling to hope that he is simply lost... yet to return, or boldly embattled against the traitors. --
-- Lord Bernard Glitt has - by some miracle, or the hand of his bold retainers - survived the attempt on his life by the Ruby Vsaja Sumari. One mote of good news, amidst a torrent of worse. --
Quote from: City Whisper by Lord Anders Orza
My condolences and much luck to the poor bastards who still believe in your little conspiracy; mayhaps if the Ward had been more wise, had not continued to butcher Orza men who bled for it, this would not have happened.
Alas that it has. Nicholas died begging for his life, but alas I'd only a quarrel to give him. The rest of you will have it worse. If you have some objection to our new allegiances, if you need some answer as to why this happened --I answer in the words of our late father:
'Here is My Sword.'
Like a sigh word spreads through the Ward. Another meeting of the Peers, yet another. However many there have been, none are allowed to count. The Lords slunk through the streets, with no bannersmen or boon companions in attendance. Shamefully alone they made their way. Most curiously, however, it is said that Marquessa Cazmaier was witnessed dragging the stupefied Lyon Moonspear through the streets towards the Council, drooling and murmuring to himself....
An unmitigated disaster. Amidst the crumbling Council Chambers, with two of five thrones toppled to the floor from neglect, the three remaining Lords of the Peerage bickered over supplies and shortages. Despairing, or damning one another, or dozing in haunted slumber, they callously disregarded the urgings of Jodfry a'Valar to bring them to focus.
When the near-catatonic Lyon Moonspear spoke, in broken whispers, of his father's return... and the promise of the coming of the nothing again, chaos erupted in the chamber. Just as the negotiations came to violence, over the clamour of fists and swords, it rings out. Shaming one and all. The voice of Elizabetha d'Auvergne, shaming the Lords for their bickering. Remembering to them their duties, not to their own coffers but to their kin and their charges.
Yes, 'twas true the shadow loomed. 'Twas true that foes surrounded them.
...But so too was it true that their enemy on his cursed Drill was at his very weakest. His followers were plenty, but the Count starved.
The cool wind whispered through the broken mortar of an ancient manor, rustling the leaves of a little sapling tree.
Somewhere, perhaps far, far away -- or perhaps not so distant at all, a broad-bladed spearhead gleamed in the darkness.
The weapons they needed were already in hand. The strength to wield them and the courage of great heroes was all they required. And by the time she had finished, that courage and strength were overflowing.
A horn not called for an age, or longer, echoes throughout Ring 99, outwards from the Council of Peers so loud that it hangs about in the air. It is agreed. The Lords, squabbling for so long, have come together at last. They shall march to war, towards ruin, towards Count Senuspur and his Drill. Under the banner of the Cinquefoil Rose, the three houses would muster and march again. To leave behind the toppled past, and wrest bright future from the hungering dark!
[[ :: Year 3 :: ]]
Quote from: City Whisper by Lord Norbert Velstra
You may think it easy. One more child of mine, gone. You may say - and I cannot say otherwise! - that 'twas his own hubris, his own pride that was his end. I would not protest it. Many of my children bear such sins, flaws, blemishes on the vine. You may have loved him, or hated him.
Yes, you may think it but another wound for old Norbert Velstra. One more to add to the growing callous on my heart -- but it is not. Each one, I weep for, and yearn for at my table. As I ponder the empty chairs. Winespill, Velstra. True or baseborn, they are my sons and daughters.
So I have a dozen, or more - is not each one precious to me? You wished to leave this place behind? Fine. You lost a brother, can I begrudge that? No
But... but to steal one of my sons, as you went.. monstrous. Horrible! Damnable! You snakes! You vipers! I curse the name of Orza, and I spit my cup, all the wine's rankled sour now... my boy, my boy...!
Where is Adrian? Where is little Merryberry? Annette, bold singer, is that you? Declan, Damian, Daniel.. my poor, misled boys! Nausica? Theobold? Gabrielle? Aloysius? My Vale is so quiet, of late... once it was full, you know, with the pitter-patter of little feet; of my children and their laughter!
Ah! But I.. I am drunk, yes - drunk. The last of the wine has finally been drunk, the bottom of the last bottle now stares back at me. Who stares from inside? Why - naught but a miserable old man, who with all his riches can never buy back a child...
In the dead of night bade by Ruul Velstra a band of the Houses summed, the Cinquefoil Rose, boldly leap into ruins and encampments old held by Squatter, Countsmen and Minotaur shrouded in a painful and obscuring fog. They recover from it a prize of the fog and blood that drenched them in their actions and vengeance substantiated.
When goaded Ruul gave them reward, but promised them yet that his revenge was not sated.Quote--More strange and confusing tidings from the war in the Desert. Carrion-birds can be seen circling ominously over Ring 55. Those in Baz'eel report columns of Janissaries hurriedly departing the city, all grave in countenance. It is whispered that the Sultan has suffered a defeat..--
Quote--... that Baz'eel is losing control of its war with the 'renegade' Ibtihal, of whom little is known other than a name. That the Sultan could lose himself in some internecine struggle when terror itself loomed at the edge of the world is spoken of with great incredulity. --
Quote-- The civilized world scratches its head, as the Desert seems to fall headlong into chaos and confusion. Why, they wonder, does the Sultan not commit himself to the struggle between King and Count in the stead of his petty, local strife? --
Quote from: City Whisper by House Glitt Huscarl
Hear the word of Lord Bernard Glitt. In grim anticipation of our march, he has seen fit to Knight the armsman Moros Thelle. Folk of the Peerage! Attend to the Lord upon the bridge, and behold the naming of a new champion. Our blades thirst for Comital blood. They shall not be waiting overlong.
-- Through the Ward, upon the lips of so many worried faces, between packing (for many are resolved to flee the ancient Ring 99), there is talk of a new champion to help lead the armies of the Peerage as they march to awaken Count Senuspur from his brooding upon the Drill: --
-- Ser Moros, called the Last. --
-- The meaning of this epithet is unclear. Many say that Lord Glitt has broodingly foreseen his own demise in the battle to come, and that he believes he will Knight no other after Ser Moros. --
-- Others believe the Lord was making a poetic point about fate, that the age of Knights is ended, that however the coming strife is to resolve itself, the Peerage shall itself be changed, or else unmade.. --
-- But there is scant time for such talk, between the choice between food or valuables for the Kingward Road... --
The Promise sets upon the Peerage, as it was any other night. As it was any other day.
-- A lonesome crow lands atop the abandoned Sunpurse manse, ruffling its ink black feathers, beady eyes watchful of the streets below. --
-- A night of auspices. --
-- A breeze blows soft through the chill air of the Peerage, whipping leaves to dance about the streets. --
-- And on the back of those wayward leaves, a faint whisper... --
-- A calling. A beckoning... --
-- They dance hither and thither, a quiet whisper in their wake. Waves of gathered leaves, roiling and twisting... the door of the old Manse of Sunpurse blows open... --
-- ...and by the whispers and the wind, they are welcomed within... --
-- A crowd slowly makes its way, following in the wake of the wind's beckoning. At their head, the newly anoited Ser Moros, the Last. --
Within the room spins the leaves of the trees transformed and gifted avoidance from the Sunpurse Curse by magics of the Auld ways. Unfettered by the cruel reach of the harbormaster, the grandfather; the lord of the house of Lessors: a gift is bestowed upon those that would end the sanguine cycle. -- The bough of the little tree, its outstretched arm, stretches to meet the spear-tip. It is a quiet thing, and quick - sinewy twigs grow to bold ivy, wrapping tight the blade. Tying it tightly to the bough -- which itself becomes firm, sturdy. --
-- And where there was an outstretched hand, there is now a spear. A weapon ripe for wielding. Pluck it from the branches, hero. --
-- Ser Moros the Last takes the spear in his hand... The golden tip glimmering in the candlelight. --
-- There is a gust of wind, emanating from within the manse... a great exhale relief... --
-- And upon the tree, new life blossoms. --
-- A final gift. Many fruits... wrought of the last labours of Phelan Sunpurse. His final gift. --
-- And it is done. The final labor borne, the fruits of it now shed. Seasons change, hearts change. Short or long, lives are lived - for Young Phelan, fishing under the cool shade of the willow trees, it was a good one, and well spent. Those boughs gave him comfort, and now he gives it in turn. --
-- And the leaves change in the manse, going brittle and bronzed. The bark dries. Dying is not so terrible a thing, when your life has been spent well. The little tree fades to dust with a smile. --
-- That same wind, blown among the alleys of the Ward, ferrying these would-be heroes to claim their last gifts, carry the lifedust of Phelan outward, into the skies beyond... --
Elsewhere, within Dusk's Cradle, two Lords, the other two of the petals Rose, dote upon the daughters of their own household. Dames now, they command the respect due those Knighted upon the Banner of Velstra and Moonspear: Dame Synia Velstra the Beloved, and Dame Jagoda the JustQuote from: City Whisper by Dame Jagoda the Just
So speaks Dame Jagoda. We go to war, but I am not under the dillusion that we fight some faceless force of evil. We go to fight men and women crafted by our wrongs. We fight not to punish, but to redeem. To find vengeance.
And to see it all put right. Dim no torches.
Three petals, Three hopes, Four is weak, and five too many.. Three as the Lady who watches us, Three as the promise that keeps us, Three the Departed. A wilted rose still has thorns. and a spear has it's point.
-- Clouds clod together above Ring 99, tightening in ranks as if to ward away the morning sunshine. --
-- An overcast, cloudy sky. The inevitable promise of gentle rain. --
-- At long, long last, long-lost light penetrates the very uppermost level of Oldspyre tower. A dark place left light-lorn for so long finally sees itself basked in glorious warmth. --
-- And a woman that had waited for so long finds herself no longer yearning. --
-- Promise fulfilled. --
-- All things are fleeting, some for good and others for ill. In the Dusk's Cradle, the Lady seems... less resolute. Her stalwart vigil over the yawning chasm feels... fainter. Songbirds flit about the upper awnings. Lady Niobe's daily prayers and rituals resound less fully. --
-- The torches of the Promise, once proudly gleaming now are... simply torches. The sun will rise tomorrow. Of what use are these wards 'gainst a darkness that will pass? --
-- Something has 'changed'... and something is waning. --
-- Prayers and Orisons to the Lady, the Promise, and the Lord Departed hold less might than they once did. The magic, divine and bright, is fast fading --
[[ :: Year 3 :: ]]-- A quietness lingers upon the Rings, as they hold their breath for the events to come... these past days, supplies, men, warriors have been ferried out of the Ward, into the Rings beyond in preparation... --
The fearful flee, and the brave rally their nerve. A reckoning centuries in the making comes, on the winged heels of the Ward's newest champions. The time is soon to come... --
-- Amidst the pained howls of a tortured beast and the baudy laughs of drunken merrymakers, amidst the vice and terror, the rebellious Count's forces speak their oaths and promises, under the watchful eye of their would-be King. --
-- Many multitudinous loud trumpets are sounded, each from the uppermost spires of the Ward of the Peers ... --
-- The nursemaids and peasant-folk of the Peerage huddle together as trashgulls let out their all-too-familiar squall overhead. --
-- Master Orenzio hammers out a piece of armor for one of his last customers ... perhaps his finest creation ever... --
-- Mrs. Minchin dickers over the price of rent, increasing it by three times ... her renters are outraged... --
-- Apprentice Designer Lebril Thielin, one of the last remnants of old Ticker Square, grows increasingly nervous that the second time won't be the charm... --
-- There is a sense of ... finality. --
-- If not for this Peerage Ward, then perhaps for the world itself. --
-- It is for the ending of her play that Elizabetha d'Auvergne, the famous actress, emerges once more for a walk-on performance ... --
-- A new sun rises, a red dawn. With it, the exhale. The time is upon us, for good or ill. A shadow lingers, heavy, above the liberated Vestige. --
-- The great gate of the peers... is left open ... --
-- Tumultuous times. Folk march to their defeat or to glorious victory. Such things are hard won, and hard lost. None can say who will emerge triumphant. --
-- But there is a singular certainty: men will die, tonight. --
-- The trail of the Ward's finest continues onward, in the wake of the Drill's destructive passage; each crumbled and abandoned district bringing them closer... --
-- From tumble down cityscape, to the frozen tundra... past abandoned homes, long since raided or abandoned by Comital forces, or other miscreants of the Rings. --
-- The prize, in sight. Trepidation ripples through the vanguard like a biting wind... The force, arrayed. The bridged river the only obstacle remaining... --
-- A delaying force of mercenaries sallies out to meet them on the frozen river... --
-- A cataclysmic battle is about to unfold ... --
-- The once peaceful town of Vestige... now a bloodbath for a world's destiny... --
-- Crows pick at the dead. The Ward is come, and breaks through the barricades to sack the camp. It remains remarkably undefended, though from the darkest corners the dead, and shadows emerge to claim their due. --
-- Chaos reigns, the perpetual snow stained with the blood of the Count's mightiest defenders. Among the corpses, jackals pick through the packs of slain foemen... --
-- A quiet settles over the Vestige... the wind is calm. Shadows stir... --
-- The passage to the Drill lays open...--
-- Comital mercenaries emerge from the various tents and camphouses about the Drill... --
-- There are screams from within the Drill as the Peerage vanguard enters, slaughtering and killing with brutality. --
-- Eddie Goodtimes get beaten up. --
-- The man once called 'Reeve' hosts a tense conversation with Drayson Sparrowbroth amidst death and betrayal, long-time bartender at the Spinning Groat tavern. These men have known each other for many years... --
-- There is much discussion within the Drill. The Count has fled deeper into Stormharbour, the remaining Rubies at his side. The tale of Stormharbour's curse is well known --
-- Doubly so now, seized and controlled by the Count's forces. There is the sound of drums from within, and the faint whisperings of darker things yet. --
-- A small group, the tip of the Spear, is to descend beneath the streets of Stormharbour. Brave the curse, and the Count's elite forces, while the remainder hold the line, with the Drill now seized --
-- As the discussion is had within the Drill, reinforcements come to set up and reinforce the siegeworks.--
-- Barricades are set, catapults drawn. Preparations made... --
-- small number of camp followers have begun cleaning up the bloodshed, tending the torn and battered tends. Preparing the Vestige for what is to come... --
-- The snow falls. The blood isn't so clear, now. --
-- The Tip of the Spear prepare themselves to follow the darkened walls, and into the sewers beneath them... --
-- How long until these fields shine a bright crimson once more? --
-- An ominous feeling in the air. Anticipation. Concern. The victory was too easily won. Too few fallen. What horrors await? --
-- The barricades are set, ready for the counter assault. --
-- A hatch, buried almost by fresh snow... --
-- The snowy air cuts to the bone, more than ever.--
-- Far in the distance, the faint sound of infantry... --
-- They're drawing ever closer. Forms, some large and some small, shamble onward with grim determination. --
-- A moment of unnatural calm, and then - they've begun to arrive. --
-- The wind howls. Hope shakes, insecure once again in your bodies. --
-- A smattering of grim laughter as men who's only love glitters, gleams and clinks kindly in purse step forth into the gallow's ever tightening noose. Your life- and theirs- for a hefty smattering of ducats. --
-- Cackling at the gates. Ahead of you. Beside you. Behind you. --
-- Atop the barbican gate of Vestige, the orange banner flies tattered beneath the comital. Watching as the warriors of the 99th are slowly ground down is Anders Orza, evidently left in command. --
-- A pause in the clamor of battle... no more reinforcements in sight. --
-- Beneath the siegeworks, in the gloom... more terrible monsters, garbed all in ruby red, await the brave few who aim to steal into the comital holdfast. --
-- Comital mercenaries, their lives bartered for coin and blood, fight tooth and nail against the sieging forces. Hardbitten men, living unhappy lives - still, better a bitter one than none at all. --
- The battle lessens at the fore as reinforcements come slower and slower. The smoke of battle drifts along, howled away by the strong winds. Blood-stained, gore-speckled, viscera-coated; the men and women stand at the ready to push forward. --
-- Bare your blades, raise your shields anew. Something drives on the Count's creatures - a relentless zeal, a ferocious fury. --
-- Armaments from above.. --
-- A great howl from the fortress. A groan, or a sigh. The air around it shimmers with strange energies. The host of the Peerage lets up a cheer, even amidst the thick of the fighting... --
-- A pause in the fighting. A woman can be seen walking, gliding, smoothly over, across, past the battered and the broken, the dead and the destroyed. --
-- Mortal form bled out on the stone, yet the work is not concluded. Swift spear strikes made quick work of the flesh, but such a man is not so easily undone. Our works linger, our spite, our ambitions, and all the misery we have wrought. The soul lingers in the terror remembered to the survivors. --
-- t gleams in the darkness ahead of them, as the tide of shadow rushes in to claim it. A Bitter, Angry Soul. Crimson in the dark. --
-- From the inky black sky, that ripples like water, a surge forms. A cloying mist of darkness. The deluge erupts. --
-- It comes. It comes seeking to claim him. That lingering orb of hatred. --
-- The mood shifts at the gates. The Count's final reinforcements begin to arrive. The mood shifts to dogged survival... --
-- All-consuming... the darkness spreads... --
-- The deluges rages. It ROILS. The blackness come to claim that which they so desperately desire. --
-- The gloom grows thick and heavy ... --
-- And from it issue so many whispers, so many confused cries. Old, familiar words.. --
-- The tendril-like fingers of the creatures of shadow and desire, of wanting grasp at the crimson soul. As the anchors are struck and destroyed, it weakens... it HOWLS in pain, and frustration. It's end is near. --
-- Now unprotected, the deluge roars once more. They fling their full force upon the lingering soul. --
-- The Spear in Moros' hand hisses, roars. A familiar voice... deep, gutteral. Strong.--
-- 'ROHOMUAJI!' --
-- 'RED BLOOD, AND LIFE FOR A LIFE!' --
-- 'IT IS OVER. IT IS FINISHED.' --
-- 'ROHOMUAJI! ROHOMUAJI!' --
-- 'BITE DEEP. LIFE FOR A LIFE. IT IS ENDED!' --
-- Moros fights his way free of the thousand hands, all probing and scratching. He leaps forward, thrusting the spear deep. --
-- A life. For a life. --
-- A life. For a life... --
-- A life... --
-- ...for a life... --
-- As the final blow is struck, the promise of Rohomuaji - the red spear, that trades life for life, is fulfilled. It takes the ruddy soul of auld Senuspur into itself, and then --
-- SHATTERS! A hundred splinters spray about the shadowed glade, and the ambitions of the Count come finally to their end. --
-- ..Alas, that the promise must be fulfilled. Those same splinters find Moros the Last's heart, and bury themselves deep. And his life ends. Traded for one, and for a thousand. --
-- Meanwhile, above the great gates of Vestige, the Orzan banners are being swiftly struck down by men in orange and black. Not a single soul of that house even stepped foot to challenge the heroic besiegers. --
-- Anders smirks, taking a final drag from a loose cigarillo. He upturns a mock salute to the brave heroes below, and then disappears beneath the walls. --
-- They return, from the shadow and darkness. From the whirlpool of inky black, thrust into the bloody battleground of the Vestige. They charge, emboldened, into the back line of the lingering creatures... --
-- As the Captain falls... you notice the body of Ser Moros the Last... the many bodies of the dead all strewn around you... --
-- Seven score and more of them, heaped up upon the once peaceful snow of Vestige... even now... beginning to grow thick with snow and ice. --
-- A cheer rises up from the haggard heroes, 'Moros the Last! Courtland! Otto! Syl! Atlem! William! Grim! Seamus! Fierce Chakravati!' and a score others, the dead are extolled by the lucky few who survived. --
-- The rumors that spread about this day run far and wide... they are contradictory and conflicting in almost every way. --
-- But one fact remains consistent across them all: Ser Moros the Last held the key to defeating the Count, and he gave his life to use it. --
-- Retainers of the three houses begin to arrive at Vestige slowly, paying homage to the dead burning upon the fields of blanketed snow --
Quote from: City Whisper by Dame Synia Velstra the Beloved
Countless heroes spend their last as that which you see now, as if the Lantern of Stormharbor itself were still pure and existing. That warmth of their life, that glow of their intent, that /light/ of the Last.... It shall soon sway from this celebration, from these comforts, and focus upon you wretched and lingering things that escaped our Cinquefoil Rose this night.
QuoteCount Zarono Senuspur:
Ah. The hour is upon us.
Dame Synia Velstra the Beloved:
Count Senuspur. [She lends him a bow of her head... just slightly]
Ser Moros the Last:
It has been some time...
Count Zarono Senuspur:
[Senuspur, lets out a deep, courtly bow.]
Dame Jagoda the Just:
Your crimes are too numerous to count, you'll forgive if I do not list them.
Count Zarono Senuspur:
Welcome, all. Brave errants. Welcome to my House. [The Count's lips are pursed, his hand upon a rapier which gleams coolly even in the dark.]
Ser Moros the Last:
[Moros offers the Count something else. He offers a Lady's favor.] This wood, it's from the Tower. [Moros slowly reveals a spear, made from the wood of Phelan Sunpurse. The Spirit of Rohomuaji... The Spear to slay the Count]
Count Zarono Senuspur:
I remember, as a boy, the duelling clubs of the Old City. You see this scar upon my cheek? A merchant's son etched it into my skin. It has remained with me, even now... [He ignores the spear, quite pointedly.]
Ruby Emerice Guoremor:
[Entirely encase, Ser Emeric stands alert, as the Count greets his guests. His longspear, having supped from the blood of Kings, glows a sinister red.]
Count Zarono Senuspur:
Of course, I couldn't let such an insult stand. He cut deep, you see. A mark upon a Prince's son.
I remember...
We met upon the shores of the Island Ymph two weeks thereafter. The air was hot, there. Your sweat got into your coats, into your jerkin.
That day...
That day was such a day.
I skewered him. The man who made this mark upon me. [He presses one solitary finger along his cheek.] And I gained a reputation, then, as the premier duellist in the City of Old Port.
But that...
That was long ago.
[He draws his rapier in a long, slow motion. The sword, it shines. He regards it with a kind of louche disdain...]
Dame Jagoda the Just:
To think... Imagine if you had used all this time, all this life to be a hero, not a villain... You could have walked to the king with all behind you. Our sins stand before us, and you your own. This fate is our own making. Blame no one.
Emma Falltower.
[She looks to the spear held in the hands of Ser Moros before looking back to Zarono, a hatred filling her eyes.] you... you t-took away my only chance to ever learn who my parents were. Who I am. Who I was supposed to be. You burned it down, erasing my family's legacy. I'm not here for the King, I'm here for revenge...
Count Zarono Senuspur:
You could have followed me, you know. My path was the path to truth. A luminous truth. Of this dread, fetid world. It's tawdry reality.
Ruby Emerice Guoremor:
[He steps forward, a moment in time...]
Count Zarono Senuspur:
But you have chosen a dream in its stead.
Ser Moros the Last:
I have brought somethign with me... Something you forgot. A /Promise/. The Lady in the Tower, the Lady in Waiting, how her grief has touched me.
Dame Synia Velstra the Beloved:
[She glances to her allies making ready...]
Ruby Emerice Guoremor:
[He spins his halberd...]
Count Zarono Senuspur:
And you think I fear this little device? Yet another mirage, another fantasy, dreamed up by a frightened little boy.
Dame Jagoda the Just:
A dream, carried in the hearts of men is as real as any spear.
Ser Moros the Last:
Phelan was brave. That much I have come to learn.
Count Zarono Senuspur:
[His eyes twinkle.] I was not speaking of the young master Sunpurse.
Dame Synia Velstra the Beloved:
[She glances between the Count and them once more] Who?
Count Zarono Senuspur:
At any rate... you shall have no truths from me. No ribbons, no bows, no ending to the tale.
You have forfeit that, I think.
Shall we dance, then?
Dane Jagoda the Just:
Let battle be the reward we reap, Count.
Ser Moros the Last:
Very well then. May we keep the Promise.
Emma Falltower:
For Jodfry! For Ticker!
Ruby Vsaja Sumari:
You're in for a surprise, sweet dove.
You're to see the truth of it all.
-- Count Zarono Senuspur's body lay prone on the cobbled floor, bleeding out along the length of the spear... --
Ruby Vsaja Sumari:
You're to gaze into the absence of beauty, and there...
You'll come to know yourselves.
-- The sound of a heartbeat, drub-drub, drub-drub, drub-drub.. resonates in the chamber as Vsaja languidly speaks. --
Ruby Vsaja Sumari:
Let me look upon his eyes, one last time...
And you can continue your journey.
[He steps quietly through the darkness, looming over the Count's ancient body.]
[He draws a flower from his cloak, cone vibrant, now dying.] This dear Count, is what I have become...
[He kneels, and plants a kiss on the Count's cold, dead forehead. A piece of theatre...]
Onward now, sweet doves. Fly, into Shadow...
[[ :: Year 3 :: ]]
Yesterday came the banners of the Cinquefoil Rose. The players of that great ballad, summoned by Elizabetha d'Auvergne - that famous actress who has been a common sight at the gatherings of the Cinquefoil Rose - marched in a storm to their curtain-call upon the battlements of old and ruined Stormharbor. There was a great and terrible clash with much death, where the warriors of the Peerage fell upon the last defenders of the Count Senuspur, much drained of their power and their fury in the year since the Vizier's defeat.
Little noticed at the time was a vessel bearing the bulk of the might of House Orza, the murderers of Ser Nicholas Velstra (called "the Lion"), up and away from the battle in what was surely a decisive decision by Lord Anders Orza to quit the field. The figure of Knife Auria Sellic could be seen standing upon that vessel's pier as she stared out upon those she and hers doomed to death, with Oskar Thorne standing amidst many other soldiers.
Then came the battle. A meager host emerged from the Drill. Sabhat Ju-Urdai, long an erstwhile foe of the Peerage, fell slain in the chaos. In those cruelest of tragedies, Doukas Domaclides, Sabhat's dark servant, convinced Sabhat to fight and die for sake of the Count and quit the field rather than share his fate.
Nass Brokenpeak, the last of the Count's kobolds forced to fight and die at his whim, shared the fate of its many clutch-companions when it died upon those frozen fields. Its frozen mithral armor buried forever.
Among the many traitorous Peerage warriors fighting for the Count was Jaime Lachland, tragic figure from a tragic background, who discovered that the world cares little for the drama of tragic tales. He died in seconds and the world forgot his name.
Many others died, among them: Xiv'rahk Shuul, the former assassin, Jawick Aschenfreude, Astara Goldmint, Saschka Delmastro and Eddy Berkshire.
It is said some small remnant of the Count's host fled rather than fight a doomed battle; some even turned on their former brothers in arms. Among these survivors, Oliver Merryweather and Tommy Francke were seen departing together towards old, frozen ruins... and then to parts unknown.
The fields of Vestige were whet with blood. When it was over, Jodfry a'Valar, called "the Reeve", confronted Drayson Sparrowbroth, long-time bartender of the Spinning Groat and a long-time friend of "Him Upstairs". There there was a great and terrible revelation: the Count Senuspur, along with all of his rubies, had disappeared into the walls of Stormharbor.
It was decided then by the gathered knights, among them Dame Synia the Beloved, Dame Jagoda the Just and Ser Morros the Last, that the bulk of the Cinquefoil Rose would distract the Count's remaining mercenary force who held the walls while a small team descended into the depths to confront him.
The team was as follows:
- Ser Moros the Last, of Glitt and the bearer of The Countsbane,
- Dame Jagoda the Just, of Moonspear and brush companion of Lord Lyon Moonspear,
- Dame Synia the Beloved, of Velstra and a legendary hero of the Peerage Ward,
- Mathans MacBriar, sturdy huscarl of House Glitt,
- Emma Falltower, a student of the Reeve,
- Lirwyn Naeranye and Hathir Nalaeyrn, Moros' inseparable ringrunning companions
- and Sasha Kovalenko, a mysterious man from foreign lands,
They fought through countless hordes of the Count's defenders, slaying the last of his loyal rubies and eventually arriving at his sanctum. There Ser Moros' spear struck true, and did so with great ease. The blood mage Ojo had perfected his weapon; the Count died in one piercing stroke of Moros' spear-thrust. Impaled on the blade, the Count crumpled to the ground, sickly shade oozing out his lips as the world seemed to shift and shimmer.
The heroes came upon a dark forest, where a great battle was had as agents of the Nothing sought to steal for themselves the last vengeful soul of the Old World. Ser Moros the Last gave his life to deny them their victory, bringing the spear to bear once upon the Count's far more powerful soul in a cataclysmic and titanic battle. A life for a life, the world chanted as Moros fell to his knees.
In the aftermath, the world was different. The Drill is now under the control of the forces of the Cinquefoil Rose, though - as always - the representatives of that group quickly turned to bickering and arguing about what to do with that terrible device. Some, including Dame Synia even wanted to set the Hound free to undo the Count's great wrong. Amidst this bickering, the Peerage still stands, sturdy and strong, but as some poets begin to ask: for how long?
[[ :: Year 3 :: ]]
The Peerage Ward was swallowed in an all-consuming tide of black this evening; Pauper Ponds, Little Ticker, the Burgage, the Steadings ... all of these old places, now nothing more than empty voids of blackness. Capable knights, heroes, adventurers and otherwise made their way to the Drill, but only a few commoners were able to do the same.
Notably, the House Moonspear was nearly completely devoured by the Prince in Shadow who arrived in all his fury: the Marquessa, Lord Lyon, Lady Niobe Greywood and others. Among the survivors was Dame Jagoda the Just, who chose the path of true honor over dying alongside her comatose Lord, and made her way to the Drill alongside a few scattered remnants. For all intents and purposes, that great house has ceased to exist.
It is said that the House Moonspear did take one great enemy with it: the Pale Stranger was slain by the blade of a mysterious Moonspear paladin. Now his machinations shall trouble the Drill no more.
Jodfry a'Valar, the Reeve was not seen in the battle to defend the Peerage, nor was Lord Norbert Velstra or Lord Bernard Glitt. These three appear to have evacuated the ward and allowed others to die in their place. Now, the Houses Velstra and Glitt and their chosen seconds are largely in command of the Drill, at least for now.
As for House Orza and its wayward Lord, Lord Anders Orza... they have still not been seen after the great battle at Stormharbor.
House Greywood was completely destroyed, the Lady Esther Greywood preferring to stay and die with her house than flee like a coward. Many other smaller houses were also destroyed... The Marquis de Savary fled the Ward long ago. The House Kwhajar is still unaccounted for.
At the Drill, Emma Falltower has been anointed some sort of people's representative by Dame Synia the Beloved...
Tensions are rising, however, as the need to drive the Drill onwards is reinforced again and again...
[[ :: Year 3 :: ]]Strange rumors flood much between those lingering and clamoring together among the packs of displaced refuges housed by the Cinquefoil Rose.
The absolute panic that has transpired in such short time has lead to a string of disappearances. Lost sons and daughters unaccounted for become a common occurrence. Claims and causes range and vary, though some things are treated as fact, whether or not they be so:
- It is spoken shadows and black gates appear and disappear at their want, taking lives in the process.
- That the madness that drives Ruul Velstra, whether desire to find his lost brother, anguish from losing his prior life, or want to enable the drill to further break forward, has torn open rifts and seams at breakneck risk.
- That some horrible contract was fulfilled by demon or devil to avoid the Nothing's Path. That brimstone pits of ash and death open to those foolish enough to enter.
- That some Gremlin comes in the dead of night and steals your belongings, children and all else you do not keep safe and well hidden or watched.
- That the Toyfolly, once trusted servants and manufacturers of most of the known Rings supplies are horrible strange monsters hoping to twist and transform those they can capture into gnomes... and whispered still that some Toyfolly Difference Analyzer has been seen traveling through the Rings and kidnapping those unaware.
- That goblins, kobolds, lizards and otherwise have been capturing victims in flight and sacrificing them to their gods, or worse, once more enslaving them to rebuild their empires.
These and more troubles continually affect the lives of those hoping to break the path for the common man Kingward. Though bands of monsters, bandits and worse stall and assail the camp of the Cinquefoil Rose near daily, some good has come of it all. Rescue missions lead by Elizabetha d'Auvergne have saved the lives of many, lodging for any and all has been availed, and furthermore the Drill by hard work and effort has begun to move forward once more. While only a ring ahead now - crushing housing and alley in Ring 81 and its Frigid Ruins - the process has become learned and proper fuel can now be gathered to power its mechanizations.
[[ :: Year 3 :: ]]The Rings shift, something Auld and set in stone falls away and is gone. Something dying a slow death, suffers no longer. Something taboo is scandal no more. Just as the Lady Waiting no longer wails. Just as the Traditions of the Peerage and the Royal Archives are lost in Black Nothingness. Now too, the Auld ways cease to be. What exactly lead to this is uncertain but those who might say do not speak. It simply is: --A great pillar of white light flashes into the air from the Keep at the Center of the City. --
-- And all around the City... there is a change. Or perhaps there is no change at all, more aptly. --
-- Royal Edicts from ages passed begin to fade... and erode.. proclamations against Changelings, against those who long kept the arts of the Druid alive, are suddenly... gone. --
-- Unseen amidst the rolling shadow, the great dying willow tree is now no more. Instead there is a quietly weeping woman, consumed in the rush but with tears of joy - not sorrow now. --
-- In the 97th, a great vile creeper vaporizes. Leaving behind the form of a confused, raggedy beggar. --
-- There are no more Manyworms a roaming... --
-- Whatever great feud, whatever long in the bones enmity once existed between King and Druid has at long last come to its terminus. No longer must his forms be defied, no longer is there a need to Change. --
-- And that power, too, shall fade from memory... in due time.. --
With this turn of events matters within the Drill seem to simplify. The engines and works of the continual path Kingward eased. A great deal of clamor erupts as movement takes place quickly and without much resistance until the grave of Ring 72. Notably, the disturbed golems though much quiet and broken until now, rally against the disturbance brought to them. Rumors abound to exactly why, but the Drill's movement is absolute:-- There's a flurry of activity about the Drill, this evening. A variety of folk, under the direction of Elizabetha the Playwrite, and Jodfry the Adder, begin packing up crates, and strapping down tables. --
-- Ruul Velstra is seen brimming with glee, deep within the bowels of the Drill. The Hound utters a pained yelp of distress, turning to a roar of annoyance, and anger. --
-- And then it happens, with a sudden start. The planar engine, retrofitted by Ruul, powered by blood magic and weird energies, roars into life. The Drill lurches forward, with great abandoned. Chewing through masonry like nothing - --
-- A lonesome King's Inquisitor stands in its path, almost begging. He is cast aside. Pillars of colour, crushed beneath its hard metal teeth. Towering spires topple, crashing down. Wolves, and their bipedal warped cousins are scattered - --
-- Ruined neighbourhoods, long abandoned, are crushed to dust... --
-- And with another lurch, it settles. Among the cold, lifeless husks of the Golem Graveyard; and there it rests... for now... --
-- With each Ring breached, the great mountain ahead comes ever closer. Looming in its finality. Meanwhile, in the Old Ward. A storm roils, and grows hungry. --
Quote from: Drill Whisper by Elizabetha d'Auvergne
And with the winds of fate at our heel, the road before us stretches on and on. I am told the Rings ahead lie the strange, and mysterious. Powers auld and profane that may be turned against us. Where might may fail, and its might be have aplenty, brave souls -
A soft word, quick mind and quicker tongue may prevail. I seek, therefore, trailblazers, mapmakers, diplomats, and people of great confidence. Let us hatch a plan, for the Rings to come, lest those powers these runners mutter of, afear'd, become reality.
And all the while, let us mend our armour, and sharpen our blades. Make companions of those that sit, and sleep aside you. Make merry, and speak tales of the Old World we once knew, and enshrine its beauty, lest it be lost to us. Forever.
And yet still, worry not, my heroes and heroines. Those with stout bulwarks, and keen blades. There is work aplenty for you, as well; the Great Storm of Black is growing in power, and fury. It will come again, and soon. And there's plenty more to save -
And know well, that when it comes again. Even piss-soaked rats, their stunted tails tucked fearful between their legs, won't escape its coming.
Elsewhere, matters grow increasingly more tense. Rumors spread slowly to the drill of increased security and resounding disbelief at the outlandish behaviors of visitors to Baz'eel. -- And rumour swiftly spreads. A splash, in the calm waters of the pond. A group of ringrunners have broken the lockdown of Baz'eel, as announced by Sorazin Bey, and even now strike deeper, in search of the King, with legions at their heels. --
Outward, the bleak entropy of brackish rain - slick and burning to the touch, melting and consuming as it piles and pools in Rings 98 and 99 - now spills over into Ring 97. Horror stories emerge from those still wandering or refusing to leave their homes: That it seems but a pin-prick to burst the next wall, and a tsunami might sweep it all away.
{{ :: Year 3 :: ]]When the levy breaks upon the King's rings it comes sweeping. Desperate last measures to save orphan, friend and family are over in a terrible blink. The length of distance that most commonly held house and home for those that rally to the Drill and the Cinquefoil Rose is gone. The Muckboy's Squat, the Wizard Towers and Warrens, the Squats between fought over and contested, or melted down by volcanic ash are simply gone.
Erased, as though they never were.
The Drill presses on, as Toyfolly siege and bribery are sundered, Golems and their walls broken and their hearts stolen, and planes defiled and abused - the powers and focuses required are taken and put to use. The now outer rings have become desolate, though they were already broken months before, the encampment of Vestige full of hundreds not but a month past is empty. No soldiers, no squatters, not even birds.
The black abyss stalls at little now, only taking time to consume.
Some light yet exists in the hearts of those willing to lose everything to save those damned, it flickers brightly against the dark before the wick of life is extinguished. However, the names are not lost:
Quote from: Elizabetha d'Auvergne
Jagoda. Rhowan. Galen. Lucardis. Let me begin our day of remembrance, with their names. May our goblets be risen in their memory, and our children named for their selfless bravery -
Let us muse, let us mourn, and tell tales in good humour of their lives, and deeds. Yet let us not mourn overlong, for though their bravery has given us a moment to prepare, to contemplate, to consider -
We can no longer look back. Not while the storm rages. Instead, let us turn our gaze forward. I see now the road we must travel, ever more clearly; take heart, and gather your nerve, my friends -
This road we travel. Together.
The Drill moves past the once contested Grey Keep, and its cursed lands of Pale. What ever designs Zoggaz was rumored to have over them or want the Count had of them long gone. Instead they have found ground in the forests of Ring 67, a calm and solemn place of bitter auld memories.
[[ :: Year 3 :: ]]
The Nothing does not stop at the edge of the old encampment, no, the storm continues on unperturbed by any threat or life it has extinguished. It boils now with the fuel of thousands of lives wrought from their homes, their rings, their bodies and mind. A quick search of the Temple of the Many Gods of Ring 82, the once quiet place, by Jesse Bythene and company reveals a horrible truth: the souls of women and children torn in abject misery suffer now there. That the gods or whomever had been worshiped there themselves are dead.
Everywhere figures break between the barriers that once held back the flood. The Seams even bleed with them, as boiling black fire burns gourd and grain; as wretched black waters fill the planes of water. It becomes obvious that something must be done, and quickly. A trip to collect ladders is conducted, last measures for the Drill from the town of Gernary. Alongside them refugees and... twenty goats:
Quote from: Drill Whisper by Godred Myrbane
'Comrades of the camp! At the behest of Lord Ruul a deal has been negotiated. The folk of the Gernary will join us in the Drill, in-exhange for a generous donation of supplies. Most importantly LADDERS! Dorvant be praised.'
The clear night turns to rain, storm clouds gathering above the outer Rings, as far as the eye can see. The newly retrieved ladders are erected at the side of the Drill, maintenance beginning in preparation for its journey inward, through the looming mountain.
It lingers, stationary. Unmoving. Unprotected, as the skyline yonder rumbles ominously, with a threatening shadow growing.
.. and everywhere people are patching holes, greasing mechanisms. They throw away rotten wood and patch up the device with fresh timder. Arguments begin. Why is it not moving? When shall we depart? How soon will it be before the darkness is upon us again?
Where, oh where, is the King?
There is a tense air about the Drill. Ruul is called to a private meeting, the Yellow Lion stands in silent vigil outside the command room door. Muffled shouting, pitiful whines, and then quiet acceptance follows.
Rumour spreads, growing in urgency as it passes around the rickety interior of the Drill. Lord Velstra is suggesting a plan to hold back the dark, if only for a night ...
That grotesque sound, akin to crashing waves, that horrendous echo that results from inky wave meeting the grand, insouscient Ringwalls, begins to echo. The tide is rising. It is hungry.
History. Legend. Myth. Three names for a single master - and a cruel and callous one they are. Already, weary heroes, already it stirs. Time to break camp. Time to form ranks again.
Again and again and again. However many times it takes. That is the way of it. That's the deal. Simple.
Just beyond the safety of the Ringwalls, writhing deities of forgotten oaths roll tremendously against the black glimmering death that pools. Their wails twist and bubble upon surfaces and leave scars irreparable.
Quote from: Drill Whisper by Dame Synia Velstra the Beloved
[Her voice is void of the common hint of sarcasm, the tone holding some actual empathy for a change, timid and with the lightest hint of shaking] We've no time as we are, we've no hope to outrun the tide now -
At least, not without you brave heroes who would make the time we need. You brave and bold refugees that would fight this shadow who proclaims others cowards, who hides behind the fallen of better men and women.
And so that is where my father will see us go. We shall go to that wretched place that so many fear. We shall go to that disgusting place where wrong and right begins to fade away, where instinct takes over and heroes are born, or die.
You who walk still in what light remains of this city, you who would see the time made so that others may continue to do so, you who are bold and most brave. I call you to arms, to stand with me upon the walls of my Grey Keep.
We go soon, and there we will face the tendrils that come before the deluge and see it /pressed back/ until time is made for this drill to proceed. THERE, I shall see what a Prince is made of upon the ramparts I so protect.
There, we shall make our first stand, and perhaps our final stand, but we shall carve the path ahead together. So speaks Dame Synia Velstra, last Castellan of the Grey Keep, last to gild the wounds of our ward.
"You look about a feast, all are merrymaking, joyful. In a corner, a man begins to play the fool, to draw a crowd. A good man, a friend. What do we do, to draw those wayward eyes?""Make a scene."A grim but determined air lays thick about the Drill. Lord Norbert, Ruul Velstra, the Yellow Lion, Dame Synia the Beloved, and what remaining Retainers of Velstra there are, begin preparations. There, upon the walls of the Grey Keep, will they have their moment.
So that others, may have theirs
A tragedy unfolds, as the eye of the storm is drawn close by the unfettered magics of Ruul Velstra, goaded on by his Father Norbert, and Sister Synia, to do this last thing, a roaring lion takes shape in the black clouds above. As the thick sludge, burning and boiling, rain drips from the skies like digestive acids melting away all illumination from the sky, figures all too familiar take shape. Mockingly, in agony, uncontrollably and warped to an end unbefitting even the worst sin.
The Viper strikes the vanguard, though it is quickly overrun by the fresh strength of the overwhelming army that Velstra has mustered to defend the Cinquefoil Rose's Drill and Home. The poison of the snake gives the forces a fleeting vanity, though swarms still die under the tide of the nothing, this was simple, couldn't it all be so?
As the walls are rocked by wave after wave of black waters and bodies crying out in desperation to live - to exist - a manifestation of the wanton feast and livery that Velstra made common devours defenders whole. The Glutton swallows whole those still screaming, unable to break free. It does not stop for manners or tact, but consumes, or rips apart what it might not simply have before it is put down.
The eye of the storm circles over head, a moment's calm washes over the masses. The dead piled on auld cobbles and stones walked by ringrunners for ages: now breaking and bleached with black bile. They can breathe, a moment. Ruul collapses momentarily upon the rooftop near the throne where Norbert looks out towards the Drill in silence. They can breathe, a moment. The defenders gather whatever they have left of their things, they steel their visages and hold whatever they might to steady themselves once more into the fore. They breathe, most of them, their last moment.Dame Synia takes to the bridge, once more. She calls out to the storm, as it rages. 'Where is the Prince!?'
And the storm responds, though no words spoken. A wave of doubt washes over the defenders. Where is your King?
A black mass descends once more from the heavens, tearing and screeching against them like so many teeth gnashing, like so many fingers crawling against their coffins, like a Favored Son, awash in bleak despair, lost to wars past. A man that knew death twice.
Ever by their side, the shadowed Son fights with their shield-arm now a grim and twisted mockery of what they once were. They strike down Lady Sarah Belmore, they slay Dame Synia Velstra the Beloved, they end the flickering hopes of many with their rapier wit and black despair. Losses traumatic, Norbert and Ruul find themselves surrounded by the bleak and only a dozen or so among their army.
Though the Favored Son is defeated, the roar of the Lion was no empty gesture. In pounces from sights unseen. It howls and sends men to their deaths with its very threat.
The Yellow Lion, the golem of Ruul crumbles. Ruul screams for the commoners to save him, that this isn't the way this should end, they beg their father to let them leave, for them to flee.
The Lion devours those around it, reducing the defenders one by one. Norbert turns towards it, he speaks with a certainty, knowingly, calming and with acceptance as the claws dig into his finery, plush and purple, prim and proper now sanguine and ruined:
"Come, boy. Make a fine feast of your father!"
"Ours was never a victory! Ours was a sacrifice! Let your boldness not falter! Look now upon your brothers. Your sisters. What comes, comes, as it must be so. Ruul, my dear boy. Your brother comes. Gaze not upon his face, lest you remember a monster."
The terrible roar echoes and shows no sign of abating, becoming more distinct. Less like the tide, more proud. Regal. Leonine. A shape begins to form from the rolling current above. The head, familiar - a sharp nose, a roiling mane of shadow.
They shout for Ruul, as his father enters the Lion's maw...
...he does not answer, for he lays among the dead already.
The defence breaks, the House Velstra ends, and the Grey Keep is lost to any and all. Lord Bernard Glitt and his company of retainers arrive upon Roc and break the retreat for those yet living... the few they are.
The Silent Wanderer... Hathir Nalaeryn ... Lirwyn Naeranye ... and Sayyid al-Tayyib.
The churning and boiling darkness contents itself with the rings beyond 67, consuming and devouring before pressing further on... Time, granted by Kingly deed to stir men to bold action.
Velstra's Last Feast (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQWuNh2B8BY)