Messages

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yours truly,
Dimitris Alexandros
The Logothete

['Get out of my city,']

"Get out of my city!"

Marcellus Saenus,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No more, my friends.

Yours truly,
Dimitris Alexandros
The Logothete

Elias,

How do your studies fair? I have recently read your Herbology but I could not recognize the plant I wish to know more of.

You recall where we met? The Soot Lamp. Go inside some time and flank to your left where the finer seats and that grandiose table is and upon it sits a modest plant with four stems for four chairs.

What is it?

My thanks,

Leo Tzimiskes

"How is progress?"

A hundred thousand dinars to expand this city and house the refugee, when the conditions of those who have called this Well their home for years endure the pointlessness of bureaucracy; in what world shall we make a Voice the be-all-by-all of this Republic?

We look to the Sandstone College and their namesake for commonality. We must not build outward, we must build up! The Glaziers shall provide our glass, the Archaeologists will dig for our stone and we shall build spiraling towers with little need to stretch the Shade's hospitality.

We are a city, a proud city at that, with a long and storied history. We are not a sanctuary for those who take advantage of the Mother's mercy, nor should we be expected to grant them freshly built homes without knowing the weight of their contribution.

This world is dying, it is true. We are among the last vestiges of civilization. Yet hear me now and heed the Ephian Question; civilization was not built in a day, but it can surely crumble in a day when the people cannot be assured of what comes next. Every month we hold an election, and every month the potential for new policy comes under hand. A new face to shackle our dilemmas upon until the next can take their place.

All the while, what good ideas they may have borne in spirit are lost to the interests of Baz'eel who wish nothing more but for the water to flow and this city to send its shipment. Like a distant father, our Sultan will send us riveting sights to fund this war effort but he will not send his legions, only the one that remains lamented in Misfortune and cursed by Wroth.

The poet said things are not as easy as they seem. This is right, good and right, but why then do we milk our pockets to expand our walls and our streets and the Shade many of us cannot understand but recognize its boon as the Ash falls all around us? Why do we not fix what is broken before we move onto the new? In a world where the solution to universal suffrage is to reduce the price of a Voice month by month and only when those who care for it are in office in a government that is shaky at best and always changing face, look closely and you will see for yourself what is the true obstacle for Ephia's prosperity and progress as a Republic.

Yours truly,
Dimitris Alexandros
The Logothete

Published in the less traveled corners of the city and spun without its cover in a long winding trail of papyrus, a work entitled 'Clamor of the Logothete' begins to circulate with hushed whisper, passed from hand to hand like contraband. It is a messy and disorganized series of pamphlets, and new pages seem to come and go.

"Alejandro Benjazar is a difficult man to read. When I broached him of the bloodshed, he only spoke of purer innocence bled that day. Were we not innocent?"


In the shadows of our divided leagues lies a truth too often ignored—a truth that echoes through out the corridors of power yet remains unspoken in the hallowed halls of the Accord. We are a city fragmented, torn asunder by the specters of our past and shackled by the chains of our present. Gold-White, White-Gold; a Lily on one side may not endure the stain of Ghalish mud on the other, yet both are bound by the same creed. The idea of forced disunity comes to mind. Why does rivalry between competitors turn to scorn and theatrics all ways? Why do we not practice what we preach? Illusion is engraved into our lives now more than ever and we do not fight it. No, we have made love to the facade.

The reminder of wartime looms large over our city, casting its long shadow upon our streets while our leaders dance to the tune of distant drums. The taxes remain unchanged, the rents unyielding, and the politics stagnant. If war has become our silent companion ere long after, then let us acknowledge it openly and embrace the urgency it demands. For too long, the interests of the self-serving few have held sway over the prosperity of Ephia's Well, while the needs of its people languish in neglect. Wake up, my friends, and see for yourselves that we have been wounded by our government and lied to. We must strive towards the promised city. The taxes can be lowered, the rents can be fairer, the leagues can be better!

Our adherence to the principles of this Republic ring hollow in the face of our fractured unity, the leagues standing as the pulpable in this exchange. We may choose the animal that best symbolizes our city, yet when it comes to matters of true import, our Assembly descends into chaos and discord. Common sense, that elusive virtue, should guide our steps as we navigate the labyrinth of progress. So I say, let it be on every Ephian's tongue to weigh the odds of our future, to forge a path forward united in purpose and resolve.

The time has come for we Ephians to reclaim our rightful place at the heart of our society, to cast off the shackles of division and embrace the promise of a united future. Let us not be bound by the sins of our past, but rather emboldened by the possibility of a brighter tomorrow. Together, as one, let us build a city worthy of our dreams—a city where the echoes of innocence lost are drowned out by the chorus of progress.

Yours truly,
Dimitris Alexandros
The Logothete

Three moments with Cosine across two different PCs with different perspectives were by far my favourite. They weren't anything too major to either character, but it was human and immersive. Eamon, Gausim and Cosine hanging out in the Temple of B'aara, Eamon pleading with Cosine for the support of the Astronomers and being told 'maybe next election', and all of Diadys' interactions with Cosine were really enjoyable. I know you wanted to live much longer on Cosine but I'm excited to see what you do next. Good luck!

Dio has been a Janissary since February 11th and has existed since the 8th. He began as one of my more characterized concepts, starting out as a fervent Agasian wishing to prove himself, to an experienced Janissary who did not let any loose ends go uninvestigated.

He felt human, and for once I didn't feel like I had any OOC stake in a character. I played him as he was, through both mechanical and roleplayed flaws to just letting the story take him where he needs to go, rather than hamshoeing a goal. The only goal I actually had for him was to become Baz'eeli nobility (partly by becoming a Lieutenant).

But as time went on, he had always been rather naive and unaware of his surroundings and though he adapted his views accordingly came to realize he is and always will be a grunt. He was okay with this, and I was also enjoying just being a soldier without any ulterior motives.

He became involved in a lot of funky stuff, from being captured by some dead Janissaries to getting the shit kicked out of him by his own comrade Hosan (a hilarious scene), to his most notorious case, Phil Lashio the Wicked. It was all a blast and I enjoyed a lot of the PCs I interacted with. Just off my top of my head, these PCs were Samton Ashworth, Daoud al-Maaz, Arnock Reyer, Rennik Colmes, Zol Nur, Xon Dhoten, Ashley Scherwin, Bajica Dilleni, Maria Tuscanzi, Emmanuel Harper. Commendations go to the bros he had along the way; Kroggnought, Edan Keladon, Vim Veltrod and I forget the last dude but he made a mean worm stew.

I'm choosing to retire Dio rather than conclude his story, as the conclusion of his story is probably dying in the first permadeath event of this war but I'm running short on time and I didn't want to just be super inactive, show up for a perma event and off myself. So I'll let the end of his story be vague and simple, much like the man himself. Did he get killed in some patrol, after everything he had survived? Did he desert? Is he in some Fourth Garrison basement, waiting for a phone call? Whatever the case, Dio is never seen again by most Ephians.

A few screenies:













Peace and see you on the next (when I have the time!).

I loved all my interactions with Pauvera on Dio. Good PC, good luck on the next :)

[Meditations of Diocletes, II]

Meditations of Diocletes, II
Hziran 7788 'When unions of love are formed broken'


No one would ever let me feel shame in this Ephia's Well. Even as I mewled to them like some defeatist, some weakling, some vagrant they would always pat my shoulder and let me soak my eyes. I am not ashamed to have wept in quiet, but I am ashamed to have felt ash in my cheeks and the cold iron of captivity. Was I not the man Diocletes Diadys? That is, of course, Soldier Diadys to you.

Diocletes Diadys was not the name I was born with, but it is similar enough and a nod to the many inklings of awed, inspired and momentous deference I began to hold for my new-found Ashfolk masters. I remember the doubt, of the thoughts many I surmise thought then. We, survivors all from lands none the same who have fought, clawed and cried our way into the Maribid Sultan's embrace, we? To be ruled over by these beings so small, almost sickly looking in their Ashen grotesque.

I came from a land that by our countenance today, thought yesterday hills of stone that would never falter, never fail. How wrong we were, and how small our world began to seem as all the dooms and perils of the Great Ring befell us in all its antiquities to our small minds who lived for long in desolated bliss. So long we felt that wretched ignorance, that we had forgotten what it truly felt to belong.

So yes, today I am happily a citizen of this Ephia's Well; a friend to its peoples, a servant to its protection, a shepherd of fragile peace. True peace in our time will only be felt and known when all that is wretched, that is monstrous, that is treacherous is swept back whence they came and the banners of Baz'eel & Ephia's Well, of its bravest and peculiar Heron flutter over the Great Ash. Waradim at its borders, Agasians upon the field and our Martyrs known to all. The day this city falls, will be the day my heart breaks.

(OOC: Send a letter on the forums or reply here for arrangements. All crossed out items are not for sale.)

Pamphlets are spread around the city, with copy of an acquisition form with some entries crossed out and dignified as not for sale. The symbol of the Fourth Legion is present and signed by Janissary-Soldier Diocletes Diadys.

Fourth Legion Garrison Surplus Detail

Aid the War Effort! All funds divied to the War Council & Fourth Legion soldiery for the battle with Iakmes.

Inquire with Soldier Diadys for purchase of surplus.

Old Sibilant Shield - ?? (Unclaimed)

Damaged Tel'Quessir Leafchain - ?? (Unclaimed)

x9 Repeating Ballista Packs - Fourth Garrison (Claimed)

x4 Catapult Ammunition - Fourth Garrison (Claimed)

x1 Catapult Pack - Fourth Garrison (Claimed)

x2 Experimental Lightning Rifle - Fourth Garrison (Claimed)

Barbed Basher (Spiked Shield) - ?? (Unclaimed)

Runic Femur Club - ?? (Claimed or Unclaimed, suggestion that this item be destroyed)

Starred Cloak - ?? (Unclaimed)

Defending Shield - ?? (Unclaimed)

Janissary's Voulche - Fourth Garrison (Claimed)

Potion Cauldron - ?? (Unclaimed)

Hobgoblin Greatsword - ?? (Unclaimed)

Black Scarf/Wrap - ?? (Claimed)

Deadly Twinblade - ?? (Unclaimed)

Cloak of Auras - ?? (Unclaimed)

Janissary Bronze Shield - Fourth Garrison (Claimed)

Skillful Crossbow - ?? (Unclaimed)

Odious Rags - Prison Acquisition (Claimed)

Greased Up Sticker - ?? (Claimed or Unclaimed, revolting)

Prowler's Helm - ?? (Unclaimed)

Lightened Half-Plate - Soldier Keladon (Unclaimed)

Harpoon Gun - Soldier Keladon (Unclaimed)

Ornate Helmet - Soldier Keladon (Unclaimed)

Grapple Gun - Soldier Keladon (Unclaimed)

Oaken Shield - Soldier Keladon (Unclaimed)

Dame Scherwin,

We are at war now. I'm sorry for not trusting you.

I do not want to die, knowing I have lost a true friend.

That may well be tomorrow, yes? Or the day after.

The point is, let Xon's sacrifice be the end of this sordid affair.

I was wrong about him, and I was correct about you. I have felt lonelier, since our last conversation.

Coffee at the Bell soon?

Regards,
Dio

[Meditations of Diocletes, I]

Meditations of Diocletes, I
Hziran 7788 'When unions of love are formed'


Ah, and so it has come to this pen in my hand and this paper in front of me. What do people even write in these epitaphs of their personal life, and who will even read it? Is it intended as a message to the self, the self that many do not realize in themselves, much like myself?

Whatever the case, we are at war now. No more am I a glorified city watchman, but a soldier, a true soldier. I have stared death in the face and to my remorse, walked back alive with my friend on a Janissary shield. I have heard malcontent in my fellow Agasians, and I say to them keep that chin up. We are the true sons of Agaslakku, the prodigal brother. Iakmes is nothing more than a pretender, and it will be proven in the battlefield.

I came to Ephia's Well from my hiding hole. Telling myself that I am loyal to no one but the Sultan of the Maribid Golden Lands. Golden Land. I first heard this term from a citizen of this Ephia, from one close to the Wanderer, Bajica Gilleni. He went on an arduous ordeal of erecting beacons of pure light to guide our Way, and I have held a deep rooted respect for the man ever since. I am remiss to say we do not know ourselves too closely as friends.

When I arrived, I was filled with fervor. Yes, some might have witnessed my shameless bowing before the many esteemed Ashfolk of the League of Purple. To my surprise, however, the Ashfolk are not any more or less prominent than the peoples that make up this young and wounded lion. In response, I stifled my instincts and began to shift my allegiance to my Bey, Sorazin al-Komayyad.

The Fourth Legion was not all that I expected but I had lost all I cherished long ago, before even the calamity that befell the Rings. It begins and it ends with the barbarian; the Orc, the Torc, the Fork in the road. I have composed myself well, I think. Despite coming close to the edge many times already, I have been kept in check by my new found friends, my new found family. I even found the strength to loosen my wedding ring and say my proper goodbyes. I have forgotten what the faces of my children looked like, and I have forgotten the touch of my beloved wife.

There was a fellow soldier, the one mentioned above who did not return from Har'pas. His name was Kroggnought and when I was tutoring him in writing, reading and our Penal Code, he made his wants known well; the man wished a wife, and I could have entertained this as a friend and encouraged him. But I knew no woman would ever love Kroggnought, not in the way he wanted. Not in the way my wife loved me. Was this a sabotage of the most foul contention I had uprooted his hope in? Instead, I pushed the Penal Code closer to his chest and told him so, 'That is your wife now. Love her true.'

I am sorry, my friend. I am so sorry.

Gone till April 5th for Easter and a busy week after, taking a little break to focus on other things, Diadys can be reached by letter and I can find the time to reply there

Recruit Wolfhard,

This is all beautifully contrived proof of your expertise in a grand new war measure I have been pondering for some time.

The truth is, I was pondering it before the war. If the people realise their chances of impending doom, they will be more inclined to heed the need for tighter immigration laws and due process of effective processing for civil disputes and new arrivals.

Tomorrow morning we will establish a checkpoint in the Palatial Pyramid check-in for new arrivals as the burden of duress on our diligent Scribes is a mountain's worth.

One last thing. Don't leave reports at the front desk. The enemy has eyes every where and some. Request your key to our logistics where files are organized and reports are stored.

Good work, see you when the sun rises and Pra'raj wishes us dead.

Soldier Diadys