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Heard in Haven: April 2000
Title: Fire and Riot in the Rialto A mongrel merchant in the Rialto can be heard muttering as he picks up his broken wares from the stone ground, conversing with a fellow merchant. Broken ceramic lies in almost all directions, and a rather large portion of cobblestone is scorched black. The ragged stall looks as though it was hit by a hurricane, and a few other stalls nearby are damaged as well. "Can you believe those pompous stone-brained Varati? They always cause trouble, especially last time. This needs to end." A nearby Empyrean meat merchant responds, "Their pride will be their undoing, but what about that lout of a woman? Can you believe an Empyrean, even one as rat-like as her would wear a sari? I would have slapped her myself if I had the chance for going out in public like that." "What was her name again? Sebastienne?" asks the Mongrel potter. "Yeah," replies a third merchant. "She starts trouble wherever she goes. But dont forget that Sylvan who sparked everything. Hes the one what knocked down that stone-walker to begin with. Thats why he got so upset. Them Varati dont like to take insult from anyone, expecially not some barbarian from the forest." "I heard that Sylvan was a graduate of Delphi," says the second merchant. "And he got knocked out real bad at the end too. He took a stone to the back of the head to protect the girl." "That girl had a little too much protection if ya ask me," says a mongrel girl who gets in on the discussion. "She had a graisha fox thing what snuck out of Delphi and a horde of Varati led by them Jehan and Geridan men. And that one started that wall of fire!" All four nod their head then as they agree that the wall of fire was what caused the most damage, lighting one of the poor rioting Varati women on fire, and hurting a few other people as well. "At least your stalls werent torn apart to get tossed at people," whines the potter. "And then when they was done ruining my wares, they almost trampled that old Sylvan woman. What was that crazy old bag doin in the middle of a riot anyways? Ya think shed have known better." They all agree and the mongrel girl remarks, "Nah, shes as stupid as they come. She got herself caught in that tomato riot a few days ago as well. Seems she likes tget inta trouble. Almost as bad as that dirty Empyrean girl. A street rat is a street rat as far as Im concerned. I dont care if she got wings or not." They all agree once more and the griping about Varati and such continues for a while as the cleaning up goes on.
Title: Quake in the Infirmary The sun dips in the sky as a pale, yellow-haired Empyrean woman sits near the entrance to the infirmary, on a bench in the courtyard of Delphi, and attempts to catch her breath. Crusted blood-stains darken her arms and the front of her robe, and she shivers violently. From within the infirmary can be heard the moans and cries of the suffering, but the novice does not return to her duties within. Such is the degree of her emotional distress. After a moment, a young man comes running across the courtyard -- an Empyrean like herself, with the same yellow hair. He goes to greet his sister, but finds her unable to speak, covered in blood and trembling uncontrollably. It takes him several minutes of soothing words and gentle hands upon her shoulders before she is able to tell him what happened. There had been some sort of violence in the Rialto, it seems, and several victims of the chaos had been brought to the infirmary. Among them had been a Varati known as Geridan whom she had tried to heal. The rigidity of his body and the rictus of death that tightened his features would have convinced anyone without affinity that he was beyond aid. Yet, he still lived, and the novice could not help him -- her abilities were wanting. There were others in need of her meager abilities as well -- a young Sylvan named Little-Impressed, accompanied by a small fox who viciously attacked any and all who attempted to succor his ailing master -- and an ancient Sylvan crone. She was watched constantly by a quiet Varati who hovered near her in careful observation, and used his knowledge of the body's nerves with skillful fingers upon the old woman's neck to help her regain her strength. The crone, however, seemed mad, for she did nothing but sing, and rave about the shrieking of the crow outside the infirmary window. Then, the true insanity began. The patient most near death -- a young Sylvan known as WindRyder -- began in his unconscious delirium to summon the Aether and use his powers aimlessly to shake the earth. The walls trembled, tables and cots were overturned, pieces of stonework fell from the ceiling. The healers cowered in terror as the quaking battered the infirmary. It seemed as if WindRyder were battling death itself armed with the force of his will and the only weapon that remained to him -- his affinity. What ended the madness? It is impossible to know for sure. Yes, three Delphites did arrive to form a barrier between the patient and his Earth Power, but the worst had already passed by then. The Adept Caducean, Linnet, administered a potion that seemed to rouse WindRyder from his delirium, but even before her patient had drained the vessel he had already opened his eyes. Here the blonde novice pauses, thoughtfully. "What do you know about Sylvan mysticism?" she asks her brother. He only shakes his head, and shrugs. The novice lets out a long sigh, staring at the blood drying upon her arms in the late afternoon breeze, and thinks of the old crone's song -- the haunting melody that still repeats itself in her mind, over and over. She remembers that the song only ceased when WindRyder opened his eyes. With a sense of dread, she attempts to dismiss it as an odd coincidence This, however, does not bring her comfort.
Title: Public Relations Press Release The Queen-Maharani of the Varati people would like to extend her personal condolences to the people of Haven for the recent conflagration in the Rialto. She would also like to state that she personally supports peaceful solutions to problems and disagreements. In addition, the Queen-Maharani supports observation of the Varati surahs as taught by the Atarvani and God-King Khalid Atar. Any Varati needing lessons in the Varati surahs may visit Atesh-Gah.
Title: Crime running rampant! Even still, weeks after the incident with that nayaka and his cohort trying to kill an unarmed mongrel right in front of a Commandor of the Hounds, just after threatening to kill anyone who was unarmed, rumors continue to fly. "I heard somebody say the people were thinking of revolting against the Delphi!" "...supposed to protect us, but they only protect the Varati!" "I'm on my way to buy a sword! I won't be one they find unarmed when they try to take over the city!" "We're leaving Haven... Before the Varati take over." "...its no wonder they won the war with all of the Delphi secretly on their side." The sale of weapons from the local merchants seems to have increased a good deal. And the crime in the city has almost doubled! People cannot go out late at night any more by themselves without worry over being attacked. More and more reports filter in about people dissappearing and shops being broken into, even the occassional Hound being lured into a dark alley and then beaten to a pulp! Pick pockets have increased their numbers in the streets as well, stealing anything they can get their hands on! Even the slave market has seen a decent increase in business as a result, for those looking to purchase slaves who can fight... It all seems to be a boiling cauldron, centered on the idea of the growing Varati rule of the Delphi and ultimately of Haven.
Title: Increased Hound Patrols Though nothing seems to have been done about the recent crimes of Faisal, Agni-Haidar Nayaka, those that feel this is a sign the Hounds are not attending to their duties may find themselves to be sorely mistaken. Many may cry that Delphi and the Hounds are the puppets of Khalid, but those that test this theory by trying their hand at thievery and mayhem are often finding themsleves caught. Especially in the Rialto, the indigo uniforms of the Hounds are seen in increasing numbers. With Hounds travelling in 'packs' of three, it's beginning to be hard to spend time in the Rialto and not see a patrol nearby. It's also noted that patrols seem to have been increased near the gates of Atesh-Gah. The reasons for increased patrols? Some of Haven's residents seem reassured at Delphi and the Hound's dedication to protecting the city, but more cynical folk point to the increased patrols near Atesh-Gah and state that it's simply to protect their 'master'. Who really knows but the Hounds and Estrella themselves.
Title: Exodus. In the early hours of morning, a train of wyvern mounted Agni-Haidar emerged from the gaping maw of Atesh-Gah. Their hideous steeds viciously snapped at unfortunate denizens of the city that ventured too close. The needle-like teeth found no flesh however as the nightmarish warriors of Khalid Atar held a tight reign on the wyvern's harness. It did not prevent the mounts from constantly testing their masters. They were 60 in all. The Agni-Haidar numbered fifty, riding escort for a household departing the stone walls of Atesh-Gah. In the very center of the formation was a man who's cruelly ruined face, brilliant white hair, and ominous black garments betrayed his identity: Faisal, the Nayaka of the Agni-Haidar. Beside and behind him were palanquins born by shudra. They carried: Rabi, the sublimely honorable Mahisi of Faisal and her infant son Israfel; Laila, the Nayaka's young concubine and her infant; and assorted servants. They passed quickly, leaving a wake of hissing and scraping claws to mark their progress through the city. Speculation followed them. Why would Khalid Atar send the Nayaka back to the Kingdom? Had the Delphi finally forced the God-King to remove him from the city? Did he retreat for fear of the Hounds? Or did the will of the God-King demand that another Clan be sacrificed for disobedience.
Title: Rumors Saleem says, "Did you see that brawl in the Siren the other day? Those Mongrels were mad as hornets and drawin' blades at the former Provost." Aclieus shakes his head, "No, but I heard about it. He's the bouncer there now right? The poor guy, he got what he deserved though. Did they gut him?" Saleem throws his arms up and makes circle-like glasses on his face, "No! some Varati came along and stood beside him, and without even raising a fist turned 'em all away! Like he controlled them with his eyes!." Aclieus laughs, "He was a Varati right, not an Atlantean? You've been lisening to too many mynstrel's stories. What was the fella's name?" Saleem pouts and shrugs a little, "It was Geridan I think. He just kinda turned and left like nothing had happened afterward, no one really got a chance to talk to him."
Title: Rialto Throng turns Vegetable Soup "Did ya hear?! 'em Varati again.. now they got graisha working for 'em! ...have no shame... Delphi prob'ly sent 'em out ta get us all! None of us decent citizens walk safe 'ny more..." So goes the latest talk in the Rialto, where the cleaning-up of the northern - rather soggy - parts of the square is in full activity, overseen by an increased patrolling of Hounds, who all receive quite glum stares from dark-faced passers-by. Another riot - well, half-riot, at least - broke out in the late morning hours, when the northernmost crowds all seemed to decide that throwing assorted fruit and vegetables - even some eggs could be seen zinging by - at eachother was a great activity to get some excercise. The hail of wet mushy things soon got out of hand, of course; the angered shouts rose in pitch, people started pushing and shoving; the throng was practically broiling, and soon, several smaller fights had broken out in the din. If the Hounds hadn't showed up right about then to, under the capable command of Commander Amaris Caioma, disperse the masses, things might have turned out quite nasty. The funny thing is that no one seems to know exactly what started it all - however, some do mutter about a tall, red-haired, tail-sporting woman, along with a smaller, veiled and sari-clad companion who looked much like a little miniature Varati, slinking off into the crowds just before the worst rain of vegetables began.
Title: Stirrings in Delphi The sleepy walls of Delphi may not be so sleepy after all. Despite the constant rain and chill, it would appear the caducean order has been active. Well, at least the Head of the order at any rate. Rumors stir among the various novices and vendors in the marketplace: Jonas: "Somethin's stirring I tell ye...tha' young Caducean, the winged one, she be stirrin' up a hornets nest. Sent a student o' hers in tha pourin' rain tae fetch that hound commander." Nara: "Which one? Ye mean tha half-breed lady?" Jonas: "Nah, she sent fer the empyrean one, tha' Januarius - Chryseis whatever-the-jove-his-name-is-now. I tell ye, she be up tae no good." Lot: "I heard she's right mad 'bout the rumors o' Delphi -- being swan like she be. Mebbe Delphi ain' so varati-lovin' as they be sayin'?" Nara: "Yea, an' mebbe I be tha empress herself. Still, ain' never heard o' anyone sendin' fer a hound 'cause o' some rumor. An' a Caducean? Why she ain' even an Estrel...that's their job ye know." Jonas: "Good luck gettin' them bird-brained estrels to do anythin'..only swan tha' ever gave a damn in the position was the Archon's wife an' she be long gone. Them other two ain' worth their weight in salt." Lot: "Yea, but I hear say the Caducean head be the cousin o' the Archon's wife...mebbe she be different." Nara: "Don' hold ye breath, rumors don' lie too much...if'n Delphi ain' varati-held yet, they will be less'n them estrella do somethin' to stop it." The voices slowly continue to fade with the steady pitter-patter of rain.
Title: Rialto That damned crazy smithing partnership of Shimone and Thenomain has wooden scaffolding, BUILT wooden scaffolding going up on the smithy roof. What are those two up to this time, and can't they afford some stonewalking Sylvans for it? Then again, that involves dealing with just as wierd Sylvans. Wierder than Shimone, that is.
Title: A God Unmasked The devoted of the Varati spend their time in prayer at the Temple of Khalid Atar in hopes that their pleas will be heard by the God-King. For a pious few, those prayers were answered by the God-King himself. He appeared in the temple bereft of his flesh, revealing his immortal nature to the faithful. Fashioned from light and fire, he strode among them, a living reflection of Sun God Ashur Masad. The wings of the Phoenix stretched to shelter the worshippers and he spoke - warning his children to obey the surahs and not be tainted by the candala ways of other races. The brilliant heat of his presence grew almost searing, as if the warning tone of his words were made tangible....and then he was gone. Since that time, the temple of Khalid Atar has been clogged by Varati devoted, all desperate to bask in the presence of Ashur Masad's son, the living God.
Title: The Sky is Falling! "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!" called out the little girl. "It fell and hit me on the head." The little girl's mother sighed at the her daughter's lack of intelligence and continued on with her work. A few people gathered around a gleaming piece of gold that lay on the ground. "It's a pin." "Eh, and a nice one." One person raised a fist and shook it at the sky. "Damn Empyreans, dropping their jewelry on people. That little girl almost got her brains knocked out." A faint chuckle came from a young boy. "Nah, she lost them long ago. She's an idiot." "That's a zechin's worth of gold." "It is? Gimme that. I saw it first." A struggle ensued, to be ended by the arrival of some Hounds.
Title: Who was that gloved stranger? In the early morning of yesterday, two Sylvans dragged their cart into the Rialto and setup shop, selling various furs and other items. As they peddled their wares, one of the cart's wheels came off of the axel, sending the cart crashing down, incidentally pinning one of the Sylvans underneath. Soft-Feather, apparently the younger man's teacher, did his best to lift the weight off of his pupil, but wasn't strong enough. As a crowd of bystanders encircled the scene and simply stood there, watching, one man actually pushed his way through and lent a hand. Together, Soft-Feather and the stranger lifted the cart and pulled the wounded man out from underneath. As the hounds broke up the circle of bystanders, and as help arrived to carry the hurt Sylvan to Delphi for healing, a young graisha decided to attempt eating him. Stopped by Soft-Feather and the stranger, not too mention the many hounds present, the graisha failed in her attempt. Oddly enough, it seems Soft-Feather has befriended this young RagingSpirit and taken her back to the forest with him. As he departed, only one question remained in his mind. Who was that gloved stranger? One day, he hopes to find out. Some say he goes by the name Geridan...though Soft-Feather left Haven before he found this out.
Title: Pronouncements from a God An old man garbed in the manner of a senior Atarvani Priest climbed the stone steps of a merchant's store to deliver a pronouncement to anyone in the Rialto bothering to listen: "Faithful servants of the Neverending Fire, listen and remember, for your God speaks with my lips. It is the will of the Amir-al that any Varati who justly defends His honor and that of his wife, the Maharani, shall have sanctuary in Atesh-Gah from the punishments of the Delphic Kafir. However, the faithful are forbidden to defend their own honor less it be inside the walls of Atesh-Gah or outside those of Haven. This is the will of our God and King." With as little grace as he used mounting the steps, the priest now climbs down and walks away from the assembled rialto patrons - leaving some patrons stunned, some entirely indifferent, and some obviously pleased by the proud nods of agreement they make.
Title: Rumours from Palladium First it was just talk among a few servants. About How the Dea didn't go out as much as she used to. Mostly it was blamed on the new husband keeping her up later at night, the 'marital bliss' so often spoken of when a couple's just wed. Then talk spread to the family members - Kaly's always been a staple in the Atrium in the house, but anymore it is rare to find her there. Save an hour or two, here and there, throughout the day. Mostly remaining in her rooms in the grand House, even when her husband is out and about on business. But now the rumours have spread outside the house, the Praetors stationed at the gates of the gryphon pens discussing how they haven't seen the Tritonids matriarch for weeks, when they used to see her two and three times a day. Servants from other houses can't even remember when last she visited. She's no longer seen in the bathhouse, save for late at night, and then it is only a quick trip, with two of her guard. It's reported, by those same bathhouse servants, that the dea's lost weight, and looks more pale than the ivory wings sprouting from her shoulderblades. Some of the more outspoken servants are so bold to suggest that perhaps Kalypso's caught the same illness that her aunt Damaris had - which ultimately resulted in the former matriarch's death. But no official word comes from the house. If pressed, the staff will report only that their Dea is under the weather, and entertaining only limited company, in the afternoon and evening hours. Her vaunted Golden Boys are even more tight-lipped about the whole matter, refusing to say anything (or even speculate) on matters concerning the dea's health. But whatever the truth might be, House Tritonis doesn't appear to be too concerned. No official word, yet, of just what might be plaguing Kalypso - what is true is that new family members seem to be arriving on a weekly basis. Some only staying for days before departing again. Really is quite strange.
Title: Birds of a Feather The rumors began small, but soon spread across the breadth and width of Haven. Empyror Drusus Marcus Jove and Queen-Maharani Thalia Jovia Tritonides Khalida were seen together at the Pantheon. The two Empyreans were seen by early dinner-goers seated in at a corner table, sharing drinks. Speculation abounds, but those in the know whisper that the Empyror is thinking of replacing his current Empress with Thalia and thus uniting the Varati and Empyrean kingdoms in a new Golden Age. Others say that the Empyror has received a sign from the Kronian concerning the Queen-Maharani and her imminent demise, unless she should toss over Khalid and marry the Empyror instead. Certainly, those in the restaurant claim to have heard mention of the Kronian during the long and extended conversation between Thalia and Drusus. As legal proceedings have not been initiated against Aurora, the speculations remain only rumor.
Title: The Coming Storm. On the docks they sit. Two men. Wizened fingers mending nets now that their legs have grown too weak to take the brunt of the every rocking seas. One gnarled hand darts out to cuff the head of his neighbor to get his attention. Old Sineu's salt dried voice rising in querulous comment. "Andean just arrived with the recent load. Said there was trouble out to sea. Something about a large armada weighing at anchor two weeks or so away." After returning the glancing knuckles with a glare, Carlsen returns in much the same tone. "Arr, you keep your hands to yourself Old Sineu. You always was a fool. Besides Andean was always a bit too fond of the grog. He's seein' ghosts I tell ya." "Mayhap that is so," come the reply, "but I talked to some of his 'mates, and they say the same. Atlantean ships. Lots of them. Just sitting out there waiting. Not letting anybody know the why or how." This is met with a thoughtful stare to the west, before Carlsen growls out "You don't say. Damn gills. Up to no good as usual. Aye, lets go down to the Siren. I hear Jenean got herself a new girl." With that offer Old Sineu gets to his feet. "Aye, you know I like them fresh." With that the two men move off, their conversation moving to matters of a different import, but even amidst the talk of warm flesh Old Sineu pauses and turns to give the setting sun and what lays beyond a thoughtful stare, and then a shake of his head, as if to brush away the worries and problems of the world. Soon the two evaporate into the mist of shadow.
Title: Conversations in the Rialto The following is a fairly recent conversation that has cropped up between two merchants of the Rialto, but by the flow of things it's been cropping up more often. That Ned is a chatty fellow around the trade center: Tal, a glass-blower: Do you hate the Varati rule as much as I do? Neddor, a farm merchant: What Varati rule? Tal: You know, the Varati rule wot everyone's been talkin' about. Ned: Have you gone Sylvan, Tal? There is no Varati rule. Tal: Why do you think the 'ole city's been a pisspot lately? And yes, my dear ol' gran 'appened to be Sylvan, so you keep your comments to yourself. Ned: That explains it, then. Look, apart from the upper-class snobby-types acting like children, an' I didn't say a word of that mind you, nothin's been goin' wrong. Well, not more wrong than usual. Tal: Wot about the increase in crime? Only three booths on my street alone in the last month have been broken into. Ned: Oh, an' that's the Varati's fault, is it? Seems to me, an' I don't much like the hothead Varati much either mind, but it seems to me as someone's or a number o' someone's got it into their heads that they just need to stir up us Mongrels and /they/ think we'll just as happily fall on Varati swords as anyone's. Tal: 'Ere, Ned, you're in the farmland half the time. You don't have to watch those damned Varati scum come in 'ere like they owns the place. Ned: Oh, and the Empyreans don't? Even the fishes are pretty snooty. You've just got to think to yerself, Tal, who hates the Varati most of all? Tal: Errr... the pidgeons, I'd reckon. Hey, you think -- Ned: I don't think nuthin', Tal, and neither do you. You want my advice, you just keep tellin' people they're wrong about this whole Varati thing and they'll start to believe you, but let 'em make their own conclusions. Tal: But if the Empyreans -- Ned: /If/ the pidgeons, Tal, then we don't want to fall on /their/ swords any more than the hotheads, eh? Tal: Good point. Better to blow today than bleed tomorrow, right? 'Ere, Ned, 'ow'd you get so smart? Ned: Smart? This ain't smart for them farmland fellos. They've got backstabbin' down to an Art. Naww, you want someone who knows how to stop somethin' like this, you just find one of them farmer-barons. As ruthless a mongrel as you'll ever find.
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