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May be a bit scarce this weekend-- birthday party for the kids and family staying the night. Should be able to make my commitments but we'll see.

I guess I'm giving them a reason. But Simon's comments before all the shit went down reminded me of why.

How'd he put it...

There's a difference between talking and getting something done. And the way he said it made it sound like he was trying to help me, or speak in my best interests, even while he was trying to put down the Lyrist-- because everyone likes doing that. But when I pressed him on what 'getting something done' meant, he got vague. Said something about how it shouldn't involve ending up in a cell, or getting a foot on your neck from the powers that be.

Going along to get along, basically. Or worse-- trying to enact some kind of change from inside the system. It's a pretty lie, and the Moon would smile on it, but it's not the way I can live my life. If everyone's willing to avert their gaze, gossip behind closed doors and wait for someone else to make a fuss, then nothing changes.

Can't think of a worse fate. And that's worth eating some abuse if it can avoid it.

The others-- well, I'm not completely sure where they stand. They back me, but I can't imagine I'm making it very easy and free of drama to be around me...and after this last election, that's what they want. What they need. They deserve it! But I can't give it to them. May have kicked the dust, but some habits are harder to break. Mouthing off is one of them.

Maybe they understand. I'd like to think after this long, after nights like last night, that they do.

I could always recant!

//My times tend to be around 9pm EST any day of the week. Weekdays I could potentially do earlier, but would likely need to dip out after a couple of hours

The Trial of the Illul Six

Next week will mark a month since the Folly of Illul, and the invasion of the Tormented into Ephia's Well. Despite the public outcry for justice, for transparency and communication, we were denied by Legates Lhyrian and Kruehtzer to the point where even your beleaguered writer despaired that the kith and kin of the lost 251 souls would ever receive closure. But Legate Linwood's announcement caught me by surprise when he finally announced a date for the trial. And what a trial it was!

Of the Illul Six, only four appeared for their time in court. Jamileh Attar and Apothar Zol Nur were strangely absent, though I have heard that they have since made their appearance now that they need not fear being fed to the lions. But I'm getting ahead of myself!

It was a very long trial, and a great many people witnessed the entire affair. I must admit that I was not one of them, sadly, but I'll touch briefly upon the highlights as they were described to me:

The rather controversial choice was made to have Legate Vellyn's Prelate, the terror of the Creep Evarielle Nerdolwe, sit for the 'procedure' of the trial, with the understanding that the verdict and sentencing would be left in the hands of both presiding Legates. 'Bias' was raised as a potential issue by the Six's Advocate, Enmur Faranos– who was seemingly selected spontaneously by the accused moments before the trial began. This objection was dismissed out of hand by the Prelate, who assured all present that there would be no bias. It is, perhaps, also notable that when the time for the sentencing came, both of our Legates lacked the spine to stand before the court and announce their decisions. The would-be arsonist Priestess served as their mouthpiece in this as well.

The heartlessness of Shum Sheroy, who declared before all that it was 'terribly sad that people died', but he's happy that his actions– which were in vain, of course– prevented a 'few more deaths.' We're meant to believe that if it were not for the Delvers, despite all evidence to the contrary, that there would be an even greater loss of life if they had not gone. There's no drug as addictive or enthralling as false hope living in the realm of if's and good intentions. Sheroy's drank deep.

The Astronomers in general, really. These people have declared themselves to be experts of the Depths, have given themselves a level of authority unheard of in dealing with something that no one seems to know anything about. And look at how these supposed experts act! Zol Nur the Apathetic, who didn't even bother to show for his own trial. Shuffle-off Sheroy, who sneers at any attempt to punish him for his actions. Eva Keter the Twitchy, who looked ready to blow up the entire room when the time came for sentencing. These are the brightest minds of the Well?

The obvious and frightening level of rehearsal from the Accused to the Prosecution, as Sergeant Gilbracht directed Soldier Al-Dawla through his own examination of the Accused. I'm no fan of the greencloak, but I'll give the man some credit in this– he called out the Legates for their refusal to preside over the trial, and he seemed ready and willing to lay down his life as punishment for his crimes. But if he was dead, how the hell could he vote Lhyrian in this coming election?

Priorities, people!

And of course...the decision. Coins for Children. A fine of 251,000– one thousand dinari for each life lost in the Massacre. And for not saying 'sorry' convincingly enough, the Legates demanded that Sheroy be demoted to Apothar– but we're not gonna talk about that bit because it's idiotic and I don't expect the Astronomers to respect that. Why would they? Why would anyone respect ANY of this??

Now, I've heaped enough scorn on Nerdolwe. I've never liked a decision she's made in any of the trials she's presided, but she's a bit of an elven shield in this case; a sacrificial pawn for the political maneuvering of Linwood and Lhyrian. We all knew she wasn't a real Priestess of the Mother, because there's no way one would've gone for this.

There's nothing worse than a filthy centrist, and L&L attempted to balance the razor's edge of appearing to punish the guilty while leaving no lasting consequences. I wish I could quote either of them for the purposes of this article, but neither of them said a word until the Prelate looked to them for approval. Lhyrian:

Blood will not see the fallen returned, no matter how much the guilty are bled here. It is, frankly, wasteful. They will be put to use, and given chance to redeem themselves.

Linwood, the Puppet Purple, nodded along mutely.

I could call them names until the camels come home– spineless, weak, cowardly, hypocritical, short-sighted, charlatans who shouldn't be in charge of keeping a toddler out of the fountain, much less the entire Citadel. I'll likely call them a few more names in private, over a cup of coffee but that's just for me.

I could draw some comparisons to my own time in court– for capital narcotics. Why not? The Legates similarly weighed in with the Magistrate for my case to decide on my sentence, which was 25,000 dinari to be paid in weekly installments, or face worse consequences. The Delvers, as the Prelate outlined, are to pay 41,833 dinar over six months. That comes out to two hundred and twenty-nine dinar a day. Downright reasonable, isn't it? The average caravaneer probably spends more in a day getting their usual suite of spellwork from a Nadiri or Acolyte in the Krak.

It's nothing. A pittance. And that's exactly what our Legates think of us, and you, for accepting this. You're less than worthless to them in the way of their plans, their schemes, their high-minded ambitions and hopes. Legate Linwood is a hapless and hopeless people-pleaser who has had the distinct misfortune of being selected to take the place of someone who also had no idea what they were doing in a position of leadership. Legate Lhyrian is a shadow of the worm that preceded her who has only ever expressed disdain and disgust for her role, even as she fights to keep it.

Both of them should resign, and the Accord should call for it loudly and often until the Leagues are forced to select a replacement. But they won't. Because it's a bit easier to pay 229 dinari a day and wait for all of this to blow over.

Vaskr Moontouched

[one hundred thousand]

Burn them all! A Priestess' Plea

The Luminous Body

You Voiced and Wealthy Ephians! Hear the pleas of the small mothers of B'aara! Once again we have come to an election in our fair city. And we begin another charity event. During the Illul Election, the Temple of B'aara will ask for your donations, tithes and charity.

The temples and almshouses of B'aara are ever in need of more generous donations from people like you. Help out your less off neighbors by donating to the Temple. And the hands of our most needy shall hold what you pour for them.

The Great Goddess smiles on those who give generously. The Weeping Mother asks us to love our children, our families and our extended community! We engrave in our hearts the love for peace and well-being of our nearest. And little is as pious as showing how wide your love is. To how far from your family it reaches.

Do your part today, and find me or the other priestesses, and donate to help with the upkeep and expansion of our temples and almshouses! Any of your contributions will be recorded and displayed in front of our Temple in the Souk.

As always, As a show of my dedication and to challenge our candidate, I shall vote exclusively to the candidate who donates the most to our temple. Let us weep into dry clay, and build a city of wonders everyone can live in.

Last night, Evarielle Nerdolwe of the Nerdolwe method, was robbed of 'a significant sum' within the Krak by the ever-giggling bounty hunter and murderer Valeria Princestabber. That much is common knowledge, and hardly worth the point of writing down, but as needs must, dear Reader. It provides some context for what happened next, which is much less known...

For as the Banda Rossa and caravaneers alike rallied to the scene of the crime, as the beleaguered Prelate was helped from the floor and began the labor of gathering herself, did she demand of the gathered crowd for their aid. Though the culprit was long gone by this time, the Prelate announced that 'they were burning down the Creep' and 'killing everyone there until she comes out.' A newcomer fresh from the wastes walked into the Krak, was pointed out by the Prelate as being an accomplice to the crime, and was swiftly thrashed and arrested by greencloaks. This arrest was inconsequential and unrelated of course, but the Prelate was in a state, and– it must be added– the newcomer made the mistake of publicly criticizing Nerdolwe for the great sin of withholding charity.

Legate Lhyrian was quick to address the misconceptions this morning:

Hello! I hear some very interesting things over the Bellows. Allow me to offer some clarity. The good Waterbearer has, to date, raised something to the tune of forty thousand dinar for charity, and seen the coin delivered to the Temple. This is a thing that is recorded quite plainly.

The rest? She has earned through her own earnest labor and toil. Doing many of the things you have. The slander is in poor taste, and false. Let this be an end to it. Now. I shall be making my rounds shortly, and securing information on recent events. Live and drink.

But you and I have grown adept at reading between the lines, at seeing what others would wish obscured, haven't we? Here is truth, Reader, for it was not forty thousand that Valeria Mist-blade seized from the Prelate's purse. It was not eighty thousand.

It was, at least, one hundred thousand dinari. Six figures.

One could, perhaps, forgive the Prelate for her rather sharp and destructive instincts coming out upon realizing that she was not yet dead, but instead penniless. The stress of the moment, the shock and adrenaline of nearly losing one's life can make people say some strange things. But I personally like to believe that such moments bring our truest selves to light. The lies fall away. The mask slips. The Moon's light shines brightest.

The Prelate, when shown mercy after giving such 'charity' to a killer (albeit at knifepoint) turned immediately to thoughts of vengeance and death on anyone connected even tangentially to the theft. Thoughts she acted upon, with the unjust imprisonment of a Voiceless. Thoughts she will continue to make a reality– as she and the Legate already meet with Sergeant Hanson of the IIllul Massacre to teach him how to better 'leverage our laws.' This is the woman who stands next in line to lead our Citadel, should the worst occur to Legate Lhyrian. A woman who called for burning beggars and children, Voiceless all, from the dark tunnels of the gutters.

The Great Mother sits upon our Stele at the moment. The call for charity that began this article is the closest I have ever seen Evarielle Nerdolwe come to delivering a sermon. She is more adept at collecting alms than nearly any other caravaneer I've seen, but the enormous sum stolen for her was clearly intended for other causes besides the Temple of B'aara. What could it be? The coming election, in which Legate Lhyrian's seat is up for the taking? Personal expenses– or debts to be paid off? Who can say?

But something tells me that we'll soon find out.



Vaskr Moontouched

Much as I'd like to lay it this mess at the feet of self-righteous cacking oathsworn

If I had just been content with my lot and stayed underground, none of this would've happened. I'd still have my hat, still have a bag full of the goods, still have the freedom to come and go as I pleased, wherever I wanted. What the actual fuck was I thinking? What were we thinking?

I can barely keep rent up and now I'm in the hole for fifteen thousand?

And even that ain't the worst of it, no. The worst of it is I'm completely dry, not a grin of the good shit to rub together. And I've gotta stay this way for the near future, because if even one person gets a sniff of my shenanigans that I'll be out of the Krak in a second with that debt staring me in the face.

But I'm alive. I should be thankful. Right?

Fuck.

I could run, but I won't. I made a decision to stick by them, made it without even realizing that it would lead me here. Grime, Skink, the old man, Zee...I chose to ignore the voice that said the only one you can Trust is yourself. They have you, but you have no one. Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.

But it's harder to believe that at night. Head's constantly pounding. Feeling feverish. Skin's almost too sensitive somehow, which makes getting to sleep damn near impossible. Coffee's a shit replacement for wine.

I can't give them a reason. I won't. 

[A terse note left at the front desk]

The bored judge said I was broken. Aurelio thinks that, too. He said that you can help me feel things again without the drugs. I think the Moon smiles on that.

But I'm not giving him the satisfaction of turning in my cloak, so that means I need help. Not too proud to admit that.

Please. It's bad now, but it's only going to get worse.

Vaskr Farsong

[A transcript of a series of bellows made on Illul 29th circulates in the usual shady spots...]

On Faith and Fortune: An Earnest Plea

Live and drink! I wish to speak some words about the Legate of the Purple League, Faith Kreuhtzer.  I'm not interested in these back-handed insults, you see. I know I'm in your head Faith-- which is a problem, because I ain't running for Legate. And Buster Grimes doesn't need to resort to firing off stray shots at an entire League to get his point across. He says what he means. Might wanna tell your speechwriter to take notes...

Callous Faith, with no one in their corner. No one she hasn't paid, anyway. Surrounded herself with sycophants eager to nibble away at the Treasury, while she believes it to be out of respect or loyalty to her leadership. Not even your Prelate can defend your decisions, though he does lament them--privately, of course..in the wee hours of the morning. You're not a leader, but ya do have deep pockets. Or-- ya did!

Lucky Faith. Pious Shabani given the boot by Lujayn the Transparent because she believed in you. Left ya a cozy little warchest to, I hear. Forty, fifty, sixty thousand dinari? All gone to the Hall of Trade now, I assume- the League of Gold you so openly and vigorously decried in your last election. The one you /lost/. What do you call belief traded for coin? Fool's gold. Perhaps you fool yourself into thinking these Compromises are worthy things for some greater good.

But the Moon smiles on you, Faith. As She does on all that delude themselves. It?s why I admire you so much. You're the stuff of storybooks! You claim a desire to see the wrongs committed against the people undone, but we both know better. Once you find a way to pardon the Illul Six, you'll get what I know you're really after. More glory and more blood-- neither of it you're own.

Step down. Go back to what you're good at. We both know it isn't this, Legate. I haven't wanted any laws abolished, save the ones you've touched. If I'm an addict, then let it be said we can recognize our own. And I see you. Your thirst isn't one the Mother can quench. And we will all drown before you're full. Just...step back.

Please.

THE LEAGUE OF WHITE PROUDLY PRESENTS

CYRILLE MONTEGLAS, PUBLIC ADVOCATE

RUNNING FOR LEGATE

CHICKEN IN EVERY POT

It takes a certain level of... something. Not bravery. What's the opposite of sobriety? I wasn't drunk or high for it, though

A certain level of something

to step into a beartrap you know is riiiiight there. And I knew it was coming, thanks to R's letter. When I have more than two dinari to rub together I'll throw him some charity as a thank you. But still. It was harder than I thought it was to step aside.

They were on me pretty much instantly. And at that point, all I could do, all that could be done, was leave it up to the whims of the Moon. Pray that my little mockery was enough to burn their ass without leaving a mark. And I don't think it worked.

Lost the shit. Didn't lose any dinari but that's kind of an afterthought I don't have Her protection and I can't see Her face without the shit

SHIT

SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT





I can't believe he gave them my name. How's that for loyalty? Don't these colors mean anything to him? They should, by rights and common sense, mean more to him than they do for me

But I'll get him back. Can count on that.

GOAT ON EVERY FARM

CLARITY ON EVERY BELT

THE MONTEGLAS MANDATE

My Night Inside the Garrison

Readers!

I write to you as a newly emancipated jailbird to tell you of my harrowing night inside the Garrison of the Fourth Legion. It should come as no surprise to anyone in the know that there are some among the green who hold no love for those bearing my colors, or that of the Lily. Since my last article, all of the campaign leaflets and flyers explicitly for Buster Grimes have vanished from the Plaza, replaced by some crude attempt at propaganda. While inspecting these, I found myself approached by two thuggish Soldiers– Ibrahim al-Dawla and Anwer Eventide. They announced they had some 'questions to ask', before clapping me in irons and dragging me off towards the Garrison.

Within, I was subjected to the cruel, frigid magicks of the Wroth from al-Dawla while Eventide interrogated me over my connections to Buster Grimes, to smuggling, to illegal narcotics. I was beaten, mocked and intimidated. When I showed no signs of folding under their pressure, I was thrown into a cell without food or water and told to wait for the arrival of a Magistrate.

When al-Dawla returned with the Magistrate, he carried a bundle of narcotics with him– that he claimed belonged to me. Dirt, Scorch, Shimmer– all of it he claimed to have seized from my person. Had the Magistrate chose to believe his words, dear Reader, I very much doubt I would be here to write another word. Thankfully, upon seeing the state I was in, they chose not to proceed with the case. I was reluctantly released from the Garrison...but assured I would be seeing them again.

I hesitate to call this a victory, despite my perseverance. The quill may be mightier than the sword, but it is still a very different thing to feel naked steel against your windpipe, and know that behind it carries all the will of the state– of our current Legate, Faith Kruehtzer, who seems determined to silence a Voice in dissent.

But it remains a victory. And I will not be silent.

I remain yours,

Vaskr Moontouched

Lyrist,

He reported it in-- all of it. Gave them my name. And they came looking for me, which I more or less saw coming.

Legion will come looking for a statement from him, likely-- I pissed them off enough. Still leaves me some wiggle room, and I can wiggle with the best of them.

Just in case my dancing shoes ain't shined enough, though-- you don't stop for nothing, aye?

Vaskr Moontouched

[Left at the front desk]

Heya!

In these very political times, I'd like to speak with the lot of you about an opening that I think your lot can fill should the election fall where it needs to.

I'll be looking for ya-- one at a time or altogether, as they say.

Vaskr Moontouched
Student of the Lost Hearth

[presented with reliable evidence that the Tormented attack upon the Well scaled with the depth of those below. The deeper the delvers went, the more Tormented poured onto the streets.]

The Debate of Illul

or

The Tireless Warrior

Good Readers,

Other, better writers have already covered the Illul debate today with far better expertise than I could hope to aspire to– I'm not here to talk about that! No, what I'm discussing is one particular question posed to the candidates– on the fate of the Illul Six, for the part they played in the Massacre.

Now, I'll preface this by saying– let's give her, as well as the other candidates the benefit of the doubt and assume that the proctor was looking for other answers besides "they should all be tried in our court system" or something equally as rote. They wanted something unexpected, something personal, something true to the feelings of the candidates at the time. But of the three on stage at the time, only one individual is in the position to actually make their answer a reality. That person is Legate Faith Kruehtzer, and her answer was telling.

She would see the Illul Six placed into the power of the now-defunct War Council, sent to the frontlines in our next conflict with the Tormented.

There's a lot to unpack here. Quick hits!

~~~This, O Reader, is called a Compromise. This is the reason for the delay in announcing the date of the trial, and what our Legates have privately discussed with the powers that be. It is astoundingly savvy, politically speaking– and astonishingly cowardly, morally speaking. In one fell swoop, Legate Kruehtzer manages to sidestep the apparent legal quagmire of placing the offenders on trial, avoid the hard decision of deciding their sentence and win the favor of their respective organizations for doing so.

The Six live as long as it is determined they shall die in the depths below, rather than the lion pit. And when will they descend again? At the Legate's whim, of course.

~~~We are at War, Ephia. At least according to some– Faith among them. The enemy is the Tormented below, and your brothers, sisters and children were the first casualties to fall in this new, senseless conflict. The Purple Legate has decreed that we will fight for as long as is necessary.  This is what your taxes will be going towards, after all.

~~~The Moon smiles when a lie is spun, and a lie unravels. She is smiling now.

n the meeting with the Crown Princess Faziima and her advisors, Legate Lhyrian and myself were presented with reliable evidence that the Tormented attack upon the Well scaled with the depth of those below. The deeper the delvers went, the more Tormented poured onto the streets.

We were also given verified numbers... Two hundred and fifty one people of the Well slain... A hundred and... thirty-two of them... children.

This cannot happen again... Thus the amended law. That is all... Wheel have mercy on us all...

Faith has served as a Soldier, as a Commander. She is not a Leader. A Leader ought to be capable of making rational decisions in times of war as well as times of peace, rather than heedlessly spurring us on towards the next conflict. And there will be a next conflict, one we initiate. Faith told us as much herself.

Consider who and what you'd be supporting with a vote for her. Consider the people who have already declared their support for her, such as Enmur Faranos– who has shared many a whispered conversation in our very own Krak des Roses. Consider the cost of what will come of another fruitless expedition of six that costs us so many more lives– for what?

I don't care if you vote White, but by the Wheel, don't vote for this madwoman who sees us all as little more than pawns in some grand Purple conquest.

Vaskr Moontouched

Lyrist,

Bellows went out at some point after our conversation. Normally I'm not one to notice patterns, but after our conversation last night, something stuck out:

Though I have held the seat for a mere three weeks, there are things I am very proud of having accomplished. Construction of the new district begins; those who build it and those who shall work it in the future shall be ensured fair pay, time to rest, and safeguard for their health and safety.

Other achievements that I am proud of include: progressing our good relations with Tlonsiyya; facilitating the conclusion of the dreaded bottle debacle; and negotiating the appointment of two District Architects.

If you'll recall, these are by and large the same reasons Aurelio provided as proof of Faith's support of the Balladeers. It could be a coincidence, but given his closeness to the Legate, his fervent support of her, his blindness to the criticism flung her way...I think otherwise, personally.

But that's just me. Anyways, not telling you anything you don't already know.

Vaskr Moontouched