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Heard in Haven: April 1999 Title: Where, oh Where, Have the Refugees Gone? Remnants of the Palladium refugees still linger in Haven, mostly in the tent city. Of those left, approximately half are recovering from the so-called "'Fugee Flu," and some have finally taken House Tritonis up on their offer. It started as a slow trickle, one or two small bands approaching members of House Tritonis and begging assistance to take them to a new life. Others watched on cautiously, sure that it must be a trick, for surely it was too good to believe -- coin and transport, simply for moving. They left Haven the same day, in a blurried whirlwind of dust whipped up by the wings of the powerful gryphons, chariots filled with people and packages. More refugees soon followed, mongrel and common Empyreans alike, approaching members and whirled away in a sea of dust just hours after their request. Word begins to trickle back to Haven, by the mouths of the servants who fly the chariots, of the obstacles to be faced when moving to the mostly-destroyed Arelate province, but this didn't slow the slurry of refugees seeking transport to somewhere -- anywhere -- but Haven.  Title: Aegian Aid Though the crowds of war-made homeless have barely left, already the great merchant houses of the Empyre have begun to tally and submit their records of aid for the purposes of taxation relief. Some have made a grand show of it, braying to the public about how many cartloads of food were brought, how many homes provided for the homeless, or how many shattered lives could begin anew because of employment. Aye, the merchants have already begun to submit their records, and do so with no lack of fanfare. Yet still they manage to bring scroll after scroll of relief aid records, leaving the Aegian Marcus Longinius to quietly grumble about his increased workload. Title: More Civitas Dei Celebrations... And the celebrations, demonstrations, and displays continue. Recently seen during the Coronation festivities:
Title: Exodus Preparations Word continues to filter back to Haven of the growing number of refugees that have gathered to Thomas Murako's banner in preparation for a departure to the free-land of Arelate. The initial two hundred have been joined by nearly a thousand others that have left the camp outside of the city's walls. Though many would like nothing better than to see this Mongrel 'leader' fall flat on his face, it has become painfully evident that the effort is quite organized. Shortly after the arrival of the first refugees, their illnesses were cared for by healers, some of whom hailed from Delphi, and they were provided with food, warm clothes, and shelter. Since then, Dremmond has been training some of the healthier men and women in the usage of weapons and other military methods. It is also said that the refugees have been loading a number of carts full of foodstuffs and supplies, and that the first group plans to leave within a week's time. The newest arrivals, much larger in number, were not turned away, but were set up in a secondary camp slightly to the south of the main one. Though these refugees were clearly a surprise to the small band, provisions are being made to provide them with shelter and healing as well for their illnesses. Rumors continue to spread of incredibly fair and decent treatment among these people, and even the tensions that were seen between various factions have been kept to a minimum. A few attribute this to luck, but it appears to be the ex-slave Thomas Murako, the now-called 'savior' of the Mongrels, who is the organizational force behind this. They say that he not only reads, but has knowledge of warfare, politics, and other such talents that are not common to these downtrodden people. The concept of Arelate's free-land in and of itself continues to loom as a potential danger to the slave-holding nations. Though few are willing to admit it openly, the declaration of such a free state could very well invoke dissent among the enslaved populace of the great races. Each day, the talk continues, and the possibility looms closer to reality. Title: Wedding Invitations The heads of foreign states, of Delphi, of the Heralds, and certain other dignitaries receive a missive via a Praetorian courier: an envelope with majestic gold leaf decorations and sealed with the wax imprint of the Empyreal Emperor's seal. Words inscribed in gold follow beneath the symbol of both the Aegis and the Emperor.
Title: Performers Wanted Throughout Haven, and even on the gates leading in and out, parchments are tacked up here and there, reading: Performers wanted for opening of Guild. Title: The Status of Empyreal Nobility Well into the second week of Coronation festivities, and very close to the upcoming wedding, House Ares put forth their attempt at courting favor with the new Emperor -- a gala ball of magnificent proportions, including members of the elite of Empyreal society. Though the focus of the event seemed to be the intricate dancing and glorious tables spread with food (an extravagance beyond compare for a House hit hard by the expenses of the war), the true focus for the evening seemed to be centered around a grand dame holding court in a quiet alcove off the main ballroom. Domina Adara Coronis Ares was well into her ninth decade, and commanded a respect unrivaled by even some of the House Matriarchs and Patriarchs. A lady of refined taste and impeccable manners, in her later years, she had become a maven of societal standings. She was the oracle all sought out when they needed to know just who was where in the mercurial status among Empyreal nobility. This evening, the regal Domina sat on her throne and commanded an audience of noblemen and women alike. In a beautiful voice only slightly marred by age, she gifted her audience with a summary of the recent changes among the oh-so-important but unofficial rankings... "He is quite the handsome young man and will make a fine looking Emperor, but only time will tell if he is able to rise to the level of his grand lares. Of course, regardless of what historians will say of his reign, the Emperor's house is at a pinnacle. House Jove has risen above the war's trials and emerged stronger than ever." An age-weathered hand lifts and a crystal stem goblet of ambrosia is placed between her fingers before she speaks again. "As always, House Tritonis is quite controversial, but seems always to stay above the tumult surrounding them." Eyes as pristine and blue as the sky above move to skewer a whispering pair of women nearby, "You speak of Thalia Tritonides, do you not? Yes, she has caused quite the stir, has she not? What she has done will cause a stir for years to come, I am sure. Remember, though, for as many that decry her as traitor, there are many who commend her bravery. The war is over, is it not?" A soft laugh follows before she continues, "What do I think of her? It does not matter, for House Tritonis balances each loss with a gain. They are one of the few that voted against the war, you know. It will take more than this... controversy... to bring that House down." "Hmmm, you wonder why I speak of Tritonis before Acesius? Lysander is dead, and many say he carried that House upon his shoulders. It was he that brought us to the precipice of war and into the dark chasm we only begin to emerge from, yet the fates took him away before he could reap the crop he had sown. Do not misunderstand me, child, House Acesius is still strong, and it will take more than this to cause them irreparable harm, but they do not soar among the skies they once did." A few more eager and hungry questions follow as the grand lady continues to speak on the various Houses among the upper echelons of Empyreal society. Though it is not spoken of baldly, she descends through the Houses in the ranking they currently occupy in society. Surprising many, she begins to speak on House Thanatos. "They have weathered the war fairly well and even appeared stronger than before. Hmmm? Child, do not interrupt me when I am speaking. You mean you truly do not know?" A derisively soft laugh follows and is echoed through the audience, causing the questioner to flush and slip into the shadows. Adara speaks in tones she would use for a child, "They have given the Empyre a Princeps, child. How could they not have risen in status? Oh yes, he is watched very carefully, but this Leonidas Thanatos does not show the signs of a decrepit mind that the former Patriarch did. We shall see." "Augustus? They have faltered with the loss of Cassius Augustin. Hmmm? Well, even if not dead, might not he as well be? It is not as if he can manage his House's affairs. The House is left in the hands of a drunkard cousin, and there are rumors surrounding the state of mind of his Dea. Hmm? Which rumors? Oh child, you must stay better informed. Ask another. I do not have time this eve to speak on that." And so it goes through the evening, talk of mercurial status and ranking among a noble elite. Title: A Varati woman Did What?! A couple of days past, a solitary figure was seen travelling up through the northern gates towards the encampment of refugees and outcasts headed towards Arelate. By word from the guards when asked, it was a young Varati woman, though she could have been a mongrel. Whoever she was, she was approached by Dremmond and later joined him in the camp. Several hours later, she was seen helping pack up one of the tents. Though none of this is really news -- since there have been a large number of refugees finding a home within the encampment, even if temporary until they travel -- what is odd about this is that once the young woman was done with the tent, she moved about the encampment gathering a few select mongrels, both men and women. They were then taken off toward a small, cleared area where she appeared to have spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening teaching them to read. Word filtered back that her name was Numa and she was joined by her sister Meryem later in the day. Numa has been working to teach the refugees to read and write since her arrival, though she is set to depart with the first group to leave for Arelate. It does indeed seem that this new nation just might be one to be taken seriously, as they have already begun the long process of teaching their people. Title: Atlantean Mass Suicide?? Overzealous Reeve? Or the ultimate protest against the laws of Haven? You be the judge. Talk of the town is that there was a duel between two Atlantean Pallid Warriors being held in the Rialto unannounced, the Orcinus Decemvir Kuronbo himself overseeing the battle. Torn from his love by his duty, one Reeve Altair, accompanied by a couple of Espers, moved to stop the duel and request that it be moved either to the Coliseum or outside the city limits. Delphi's jurisdiction was questioned in the words that followed, but the Decemvir conceded to Delphic law. Then, after beginning to leave, the two combatants and the third member of their triad all pulled out coral daggers and committed a ritual suicide right there in the Rialto proper. Aghast, all attempts by the Reeve and following caduceans to save or revive the three failed. Many heard the Decemvir's final comments to the Reeve as he departed. "A fine choice, Reeve... three deaths for one. Peace of Pasiphae be with you" Does this mean that the Decemvir is condoning public violence and gory displays of death in public streets? It's not unusual to see a Varati criminal staked up ouside the Atesh-Gah for horrible wrongdoings against the Varati kingdom, but Atlanteans butchering themselves in the central marketplace? What is going on in the Atlantean Kingdoms? Title: Subdued Homecoming In the moments before dawn on Tuesday, June 14, 3904, the gates of the Varati embassy opened and from them came a single winged figure, remaining feathers dingy and ill-attended, who was escorted by two Khalida guards to the area close by the Palladium and there left to his own purposes. Those few witnesses would confirm what is rumored: that Cassius Silvarius Augustin has been granted his freedom and has returned home. No comment was forthcoming from the foreboding ediface called the Atesh-Gah. Title: The Empyrean Wedding Word begins to make its way through Haven of the Empyreal Wedding -- the marriage of the newly-crowned Emperor, Drusus Marcus Jove to his Khalid-chosen bride, Aurora Khalida, as per the terms of the Varati-Empyrean peace treaty. The news is first spread by Heralds, but is quickly picked up in the gossip and talk of the Rialto and the various taverns and gathering places of Haven. The wedding itself is described as full of the expected pomp and circumstance: nobility and persons of rank from each major race and group. "With a notable exception," most every tale-teller says, and goes into some of the more interesting highlights: Khalid Atar, the Varati God-King, was not present at the wedding. Khalid -- showing his respect (or lack thereof) for the newly-crowned Emperor. Surprising, considering that the wedding and choice of Drusus' bride were among his terms for the Varati-Empyrean peace. And the bride! Aurora Khalida, fallen Empyrean, Varati-sympathizer, adopted into Khalid Atar's own clan. Lovely, lovely bride, subject of many baleful glares from the Empyreal nobility. One problem -- she had wings! So what? She's an Empyrean? Didn't you listen? She had been a fallen Empyrean, her wings removed whenever she'd been cast down, supposedly. But there she was, enormous white wings that were obviously real. It must have taken a score of amazingly powerful Healers to pull that feat off. But when you're of the God-King's clan, and marrying the Empyreal Emperor, guess that you can get such mages to attend you. That's right -- mages! There was a fair bit of magic around, not all of it expected. The weather went from sunny and clear to cloudy with a threat of rain in the middle of the ceremony; far too quick to be natural, although the Emperor Drusus Jove didn't appear to be expecting it. Nobody seemed to know how the unnatural weather came about, although it dissipated soon after. And here they always talk about how the sun always shines on Civitas Dei. From there, the news and rumors begin to fade, some telling of gifts of gryphons -- both real and golden -- and others telling of a fracas involving a few Empyrean ladies that required guards to break up, and others discussing the political ramifications of the new Empress' limited powers as per the terms of the Wedding Contract... (although the political talkers seem to cause a great deal of yawning in their vicinity). All in all, the rumor mill will have grist for weeks, and there will certainly be no lack of topic for idle conversation over a pint. Title: The Departure After weeks of preparation and training, the first cadre of former-refugees have broken camp and departed their makeshift home to the north of Haven. Rumor has it that they are beginning the first leg of the journey to the new land of Arelate. Approximately two hundred Mongrels and Empyreans, roused by the speech of Thomas Murako, had gathered together and began organizing an exodus into the territory granted by the Empyrean/Varati treaty. This is the first effort organized by these people to establish a presence in Arelate, though with the aid of other parties, some refugees have preceded them. Those who bore witness to this event speak of a well-organized effort, with at least six carts laden with goods and supplies, pulled by mules and other beasts of burden. The people were said to have been in good spirits, some even singing songs that were all too familiar in the slave fields. Even more surprising than this organized effort was the large group of Outcasts seen leaving Haven. The group, consisting mostly of Mongrels, was escorted by over two hundred armed warriors, which can only mean that this departure had the blessing of their leader, Cynara. Headed in a northward direction, one can only assume that they plan to either join, or contest those led by Murako. Within the last week, the Lady of Thorns was seen visiting the camp of Thomas' refugees under the cover of darkness and departing at late hours. The purpose for her visit remains as obscure. Also seen visiting the Mongrel encampment during the last week was Nefer Maat Al'Samar, Shakir of the Clan Al'Samar. It appears as if these ex-slaves and dregs are entertaining a number of Aether's more influential denziens, again for purposes one can only guess. Lastly, it appears as if rumors are circulating amongst the Mongrels, a name spoken upon their lips with both mystery and reverence. Castalia. It is said that there exists a force in Aether that is dedicated to teaching the less fortunate the powers that are necessary to make them into a great people. Though many would scoff at the idea of empowering slaves and commoners, those who speak that name are not dubious that such a force exists. It is whispered among those who pass to this new land, that Castalia will finally have a place to call its home, and there, the truth can finally be revealed to those who are willing to listen. With the talk of Mongrels learning to read, write, and fight, one would begin to think that this once-hidden name will soon be carried on the lips of all free men and women. Title: And the Jewelbox is Opened... It lies just north of the Rialto, this place. Still not officially opened, word still has it that if you're bold enough to open that closed door, you won't get thrown out. There aren't any real meals to be had, but if you're able to settle for whatever the cook has thrown together for the day, the dishes served are always high quality at a low price. And aye. You can rent a room, but only over the night. No long-term residents. Not 'til the official opening. When that will take place? Uncertain. The owner, Opal, is apparently still waiting for all of the goods to arrive. And the staff is also a bit sparse. She can be heard grumbling that she needs double of everything, preferably triple... Oh, yeah. It's an Inn, this place. The Gem Inn. Title: Heralds on the Move With little fanfare, the Heralds once gathered in Haven have slowly dispersed. Quite a few have been seen within the Heralds' Hall, gathering up books and loading them aboard a ship berthed at Haven's docks. With some pomp, ancient Organil Ronan, Atlantean Herald of much repute, was named the Herald Prime of the faction. He, in turn, named the Sylvan Daren Quick-Hands to the position of Corypheus of Haven. While some mutters were heard, most agreed that the Sylvan was doing much to strengthen the guild within Haven and should be given the rank to continue to do so. Ronan himself announced that the central library and administration of the Heralds would be moved to an island nearby Haven for safekeeping. And with that announcement made, Organil Ronan and his entourage of Heralds sailed from the Haven harbor to the new island-home of the Heralds, leaving Daren Quick-Hands with the reins of the guild in Haven. Title: Festival Preparations Planning and preparation for the festival to be held in about a week are underway. All throught Haven, the sight of decorations being hung and shapers to their craft of making statues or other ornamentation can be seen. The Rialto is under siege as well, as it is thoroughly cleaned and left to sparkle. Various entertainers are seen entering and leaving the Citadel as they audition for a part during the initial and closing ceremonies. Many more are invited to show their wares and abilities as it promises to be an eventful festival. Title: Massacre Do you know how hard it is to bury over a hundred corpses outside Haven's walls without getting noticed? Very, very hard. All over town, rumors fly, about carts driving through the streets laden with something, covered with canvas yet still dripping blood. About those carts passing through the northern gates and large holes being dug a few hundred meters outside Haven's walls, and the carts' loads being dumped in it. About those holes being closed again. But when asked on their way back, none of the men driving the carts would speak a word of what happened. The other clansmen are just as tight lipped. So the question remains: What in Khalid's name happened in Behzad Hall? Maybe the town's people will find out one day... or maybe they never will, this being just one of those Varati myths. Title: Neighbors in an Uproar! The summer heat can bring many odors to a crowded city, some more pleasant than others. However, residents of a handful of flats above a shoppe on Fairway and Vicina have begun to loudly complain to each other and their friends about the stench that is emanating from one of the quieter apartments next door. The landlord below has even begun to note it, but it seems that he is unable to unlock the door to the place. Some of the residents have found another place to stay in the interim, moving in with relatives while cursing the landlord for not just having the door broken down. One renter has finally taken his story to the Hounds... What in the name of the gods could be making such a foul odor? Title: Minor Chaos in a Major House The new arrival to House Thanatos is also its newest shame -- one Cassia Dionne Thanatos, or "Cassie." For brawling with a Mongrel in the Rialto in full daylight and several resistances to arrest, Cassie has been confined to the Palladium grounds. Faithful gossip hints at a record even more colorful: attempted (but uncharged) attacks on two Jovians, as well as the more socially-oriented misdemeanors of swearing like a banshee in public and having her belly tattooed with something unknown (market-slaves peering through her shredded clothing all swear they glimpsed a fluke). Poor Andromache! Shut up with this hellion for a week or more... And now there's tales of a brother.... Title: Arelate Bound... Outside the walls of Haven... In the bright morning sun, the sounds of horses and herd-beasts mingle with the ringing of hammer and tools. After the charismatic Thomas Murako led his large group northward to Arelate, the refugees and others who arrived too late to join him have taken up residence where he and his camp used to be. There is bustle in the camp, and though it is a smaller group than the first, it continues to grow. Whispers and rumors abound, but seen everywhere is a white-haired Empyrean woman who busily organizes families into the caravan, sees to supplies and generally orders people about. A few of the newly-arrived mongrels were put out at this; they had left slavery to avoid being ruled by Empyreans, hadn't they? Most of the mutters die down after a few days when it becomes obvious that this particular Empyrean is different, if the calluses on her hands and mud on her clothes was not enough evidence. The word is commonly spread around that any and all people interested in going north to Arelate should seek out Ianthe in the Tent City and prepare their belongings, for the group will likely leave soon. Title: A Spectacle to Behold! The Council at Delphi has delivered a verdict, and the people of Haven have been talking about it. The Praetor, Zephyr Marcus Iolanus, was delivered by his superiors into the custody of the Hounds weeks ago after he assaulted a group of Agni-Haidar and Atarvani during the war, breaking the peace of the city of Haven. Yesterday at dawn, in Delphi's courtyard, the man's sentence was delivered in front of a moderate-sized crowd that had gathered to witness. Word is that the Varati demanded death, but the ruling Avatarati, now calling themselves the Estrella, chose a different fate for him, as evidenced by this paraphrase of the Archon's statement being recounted by the Heralds. "Zephyr is to be branded on the forehead by a healer with an inverted star. For a period of two weeks, he will be required to perform heavy labor. During the daylight hours of this time, his shape will be changed to that of a donkey, and in that form he will be subject to the service of the Varati people, since they were the targets of his attacks. At nightfall during this period, his shape will be restored, and he will serve with the Mongrel crews that clean the streets and the sewers of Haven. At the end of the two weeks, he will receive sixty lashes, and his performance will be evaluated. If it is found to be satisfactory, he will be released at that time. If not, he will serve for two additional weeks in a like manner." After this was announced, the Caducean Magus, Amaris, planted the brand on Zephyr's forehead, shaping the skin irreversibly. Then, the Feralis Magus and new Estrel known as Spirit-Whisperer stepped forward and forcibly changed the Empyrean's shape, leaving the man in the form of a donkey to be escorted away by the Atarvani priest, Duayr, and his guard. Witnesses also speak of a flock of ravens numbering at least fifty, that took flight after the event had ended. Many of these birds dispersed, but a significant number remain in Haven, finding the Rialto an abundant source of food. Title: Another Death Another death, or perhaps something far from that. In the dawn's light as a particular dark alley near the Siren's Song became illuminated, a male Empyrean's body was found. His grim demise was noticeable by a nasty gash running across his throat, having been split with a blade. He was void of any possessions save ripped clothing and bracers, the latter being clue to his idenity; Tros Marcus Basilius, once assistant to the late Princeps Lysander Acesius and also a Praetorian guardsman. Rumors have already begun to stir about what motivated his death. Some say it may be connected to the late Princeps' own assassination, or the fact Dominus Basilius was seeking to return to ranks of Guard. He was never popular among the Varati, some say -- his earlier years evidence of that as he slew many of their ranks with deadly precision by his bow. (But would they jeopardize the peace? Doubtful). Then again, it could just be a random robbery, or at least it was covered up well enough to seem that way. One never knows. Title: The Cairds are Coming to Town... The idle rumor has been circulating in the Rialto and among other parts of town. Imagine that, eh? So, what's the latest tidbit from the rumor mill? Well, apparently it comes from outside Haven. A group of cairds has been seen in the towns beyond Haven of late, bartering for goods, information, a hot meal, and the like. But this is no scruffy bunch, it seems... No, this group seems quite well-off, with wagons, and burden-beasts, and a happy-go-lucky attitude few can match. As colorful as they come in both language and appearance, the cairds call themselves a clan, the Cahr'Dhaki clan, to be exact, and all of the rag-tag members (from graisha to Atlanteans to Varati to... you get the idea) seem quite proud of this fact. They've journeyed wide and far and their wares are just as varied as their travels and clan-members. Word has it they've set up camp in the fields beyond the West Gate of Haven, but their main trade wagon and several clan-members have been seen setting up in the Rialto. When approached, they offered a friendly smile and something about staying to trade for the Festival... It would seem news of Delphi's festivities have reached far and wide, perhaps through one of the Rialto's vendors. The Dyer and Tattoo-artist, Deianyra, has been seen among the Cahr'Dhaki quite often, and a few of her neighboring vendors say she is also Cahr'Dhaki, pointing at the tattoo they all bear on their temple. Title: Festival Begins! The arrival of the Cahr'Dhaki Clan is not the only group of merchants to make their way to Haven for the Festival. Granted, they are probably the most unusual. Nobles, commoners, merchants and warriors alike have been arriving in Haven for the past week in preparation for the grand festival. Their finery has brightened the streets and lifted the sounds to a new volume. Throughout not only the Rialto, but the streets directly off of it, various merchants have set up their stalls and wares in the hopes of capturing some of the wealth that shows its head at this festive time. The past few days have been the most active, as members of Delphi clad in their kaftans of various colors are seen throughout Haven, working to clean its streets and form beautiful images. It seems nothing is going to interfere with this occasion, and rumors of the events begin to creep out as the excited Acolytes and Adepts are heard speaking in hushed tones. Seems one of the rumors is that the Varati will hold a Kite War on the beach. Others speak of the beauty of the Atlanteans displayed in their artwork and the Empyreans through the magnificence of one of their balls. When asked of the Sylvans, all the speaker would offer was a sly smile that sent shivers down those that would listen. Whatever they are planning, it promises to be as intriguing as the race itself. Title: Delphi's Celebration As the momentum builds and the Rialto gains more and more merchants, an announcement is made. Walking out of the Citadel to stand on a podium that is raised even as he looks out to the people of Haven, an older man known as Rodrick begins to speak. "People of Aether. The Council of Delphi would like to welcome all the people of Aether to Haven on the joyous occasion of Delphi's birth. To begin the celebration, they invite you all to join them in the courtyard of the Citadel on the eve of tomorrow's night as they prepare to officially open the celebration." Rodrick then smiles as he looks out to those who quieted and listened. By the time he was done, it was the entirety of those within the Rialto. The stone platform lowers, and the old man once more returns to the Citadel. Trailing behind him, though, the bantering of the market starts anew. Title: Paper Monsters in the Tent City The remaining refugees, most having recovered from the crash course in influenza, have been hard at work in the last few days. Under the direction of the unfatigued Nefer Maat Al'Samar and her brood of clansmen, the refugees have constructed many creatures, some of nature, some of fancy, out of sticks, string and paper. A group of ten children, ranging from eight to twelve, have created a red dragon that draws multiple onlookers and which looks to require the entire group of children to maneuver in the air as it seems to approach fifty feet in length. All the creations are proudly displayed for passersby to oggle. When asked, Nefer Maat Al'Samar said, "These kites will be sold during the Varati portion of the Delphi Festival, for all who wish to take part in the Kite Competition. All proceeds from the sale will go to the those who created the kites, so that they may make new homes here in Haven or in those lands ravaged by war." So far, the dragon children have refused to answer rumors that their masterpiece will be in the Kite Competition, but the red dragon has been seen in the air, going through what appears to be fighting paces and rumors have it that bets have been placed among the gambling set. Supposedly, odds are running 3:1 that the red dragon will be on the winning team. Title: Depression Sets In Upon hearing the news of her beloved Tros' death, Amaryllis Nikrolia Jove, cousin of the Emperor, has withdrawn to the confines of her room except for the brief morning walk in the Palladium Garden, if she does dare to venture out. She is accepting visitors, but don't expect the usual bubbly girl -- she is merely a shell of severe depression taking to wearing a simple outfit of the darkest red to symbolize the heartbreak she is now bearing. One person who has been by her side since soon after the event if her own mother, Evangeline. She will be staying in Haven for an undecided amount time as rumors within the House itself say there is more to Lissie's health than meets the eye. Title: Decorations! Overnight, decorations have sprung up all over Haven, centering around the Rialto and each race's embassy. Oceanic themes dominate, turning the streets of Haven into a surreal display of painting and sculpture. The very cobbles and the faces of buildings have been coaxed into new and 'aesthetically pleasing' formations in the shape of fish, dolphins, whales and other denizens of Aether's seas. The Atlantean celebration has begun! Title: The Atlanteans are Planning Something... Ever since the appearance of the myriad statues about the city, a buzz of curiosity has been growing about what the Atlanteans could possibly be planning for the Festival. A hum of activity has centered on the Korallion in the last few hours, the people seen coming and going range from artists to Shapers to all sorts of entertainers. The occasional glimpse within the courtyard has revealed Atlanteans decked out in body-paint and odd costumes resembling animals and other sea creatures, all moving and swaying together in some sort of rhythm. What are the Atlanteans planning? Title: Opening Ceremony Rumor quickly spreads of the announcements made at the opening ceremony of the Festival. In short, they boil down to a few interesting facts:
And after all was done, the festivities were opened to all. Much food and drink was to be had, and the revelling went on far into the night.... Title: Festival: Atlantean Troubles Currently, the hot topic of conversation among the rumor-mongers in the Rialto has to do with the Atlantean exposition for Delphi's festival. Stories have been circulating wildly. Earlier in the day, the city was abuzz with talk of a fantastic performance being planned. Colorful props and costumes were glimpsed in the Korallion's courtyard, where it was said that the event would take place. Excitement was building for what should have proven to be an impressive show of Atlantean culture. It was not to be, however. As time wore on, it became increasingly clear that something was amiss. The excitement and energy that once emanated from the Atlantean embassy suddenly died. It was replaced by an uneasiness, contrasting greatly with the mood a few hours before. The situation only became more puzzling as the Estrel representing the Sylvans, Spirit-Whisperer, was seen to pay a visit. After the halfbreed Magus left, a quiet announcement was made, stating that due to unforeseen circumstances, the performance would be postponed to a later date and time, to fall, interestingly enough, during the Sylvan portion of the Festival. Aside from the official word, many other things are being said. Rumors of Sylvan involvement seem unfounded, but they persist. Also, members of the Cahr'Dhaki, whose wagons have been camped just outside Haven for several days now, have been seen entering and leaving the Korallion. Judging from the frustrated expressions on the faces of these colorful gypsies, the visits were not of a social nature. Mutterings about body-paints and dyes were overheard. Whatever the reasons, the Atlanteans seem to be making preparations once again. The show, apparently, will go on. Title: Those Pesky Ravens... To the great shock and disgust of people entering and leaving Delphi's compound, the multitude of ravens that have recently come to call central Haven home have been making themselves known all day. This in itself isn't really news, but the way in which these mischievous birds have been calling attention to themselves is. There is a long, narrow ledge running near the top of the wall surrounding the citadel. This ledge extends above the gate leading into the compound and is just wide enough that a raven can perch there uncomfortably. But they've been perching there in numbers, just over the heads of people passing through the great gateway. You've guessed it (or at least I think you have): all day, the birds have been dropping 'presents' onto the heads of passers-by. It's not a constant stream -- the animals seem to be selective, although Ferrin knows how they discriminate. Their aim has been improving as the day wears on, however, and those with business in the citadel have found themselves 'running the gauntlet.' Ferrin only knows what might have gotten into those birds... Title: Flea Outbreak? There's little more than the occasional disgruntled muttering to tie this together, but it would appear that there was a flea outbreak of some kind in the Rialto, causing itching, scratching and general discomfort. Perhaps it was from the gryphons or wyverns. Some blame it on the dirty mongrels. Others retaliate by declaring it to be wing mites. Then again, perhaps it was Ferrin's touch. Title: Animals and Infants Around Atesh-Gah It began very quietly, at first. A hound who had gotten into a fight with another hound and had had a nasty scratch delivered to the side of its muzzle seemed whole and hale the next day. After two tomcats got into a hissing, spitting, and scratching match over a she-cat in heat, the cook who owned the second tomcat observed the next day that her pet had had half his ear slashed off. But the day after... his ear was as good as new. A horse who had seemed listless and uninterested in his food and water one evening was bright-eyed, alert, and vigorous the following morning. And a young mongrel mother, a naraki who worked in the kitchens, was overjoyed to discover upon rising one morning that the cough and fever her infant had developed the previous evening was suddenly gone -- relieving her of the need to have to take the infant to the Atarvani healers. The shudra and naraki within Atesh-Gah have begun to wonder amongst themselves what shadow might be creeping through their midst, working such acts of kindness away from the eyes of men and women. Magic it must be, they murmur to themselves and one another -- but whose? Title: Death of a Hound The shocking news filtered out of the Bastion as well as through the ranks of the mongrels and other low-lifes of the docks. Sounds of a fight and a horrible scream brought one of the many dock-patrols running. The body of a Hound, an Empyrean no less, was found quite dead in the back alleys near the docks. With her, a mongrel man was also found. To all appearances, the two ended up killing each other in a hand-to-hand battle. Those that arrived on the scene but moments too late found Esper Zephyra desperate to speak, trying to communicate something that was obviously of the utmost importanct to her. She managed only the cryptic phrase, "Found blue eyes..." before she died. Those that heard connected it immediately to the bright stare of the dead mongrel, his unseeing gaze matching the color of the sky overhead. The matter appears to have been ruled resolved. Information on what took that Hound to that particular area was not released, but those that hear what is behind what is said determined that the death of the mongrel closed some other, important matter. No further investigation seems to be forthcoming. Title: Empyrean Ball Preparations! Even though the event is not scheduled until the following day, it is clear the Empyreans will not be outdone in their splendor. They have been busily working in both the inner and outer courtyards of the Citadel, decorating it with dozens of lampions, colorful streamers and various other decorations that only enhance and show off a truly Empyrean style. Musicians of various calibers are seen going back and forth as they set up their areas for the performances the following day. And indeed, from the word that spreads throughout all of Haven, the Empyrean celebration is set to last the entire day with the unmasking to occur at midnight. Though the Empyreans who have been working steadily to create this magnificent ball try very hard to make it appear as affluent as possible, the rumors of just how hard hit they are come to bear as some of the aspects of the ball come from Delphi itself. Under the guidance of some of the finest cooks in all of the Empyre, the Delphi staff busily begin the preparations for the day-long event. To aid not only the Empyreans, but also the members of all races, including halfbreeds and mongrels as well, the Cahr'Dhaki clan have been spoken of highly in their skill with decorations and costuming. One thing is clearly expressed to all those who walk the streets of Haven. The ball is one of olden times when the visage of those attending were concealed until the clock would strike midnight. Not only to shroud the face, but to appear as different from one's self as each could. Perhaps it is a taste of Ferrin within the Empyre, but for this one day, the image you see might not be of the person you think it is. Title: Red Dragon on the Move The cry, "To the sea! To the sea!" heralds the mass movement of the gigantic paper creations that have infested the tent city for the past week. Like lemmings, the refugees, the Varati assistants, and the dragon children (see prior post, Paper Monsters in the Tent City, for identification of the dragon children) trekked to the beaches of Haven. Those refugees hawking samples of fighting kites can be heard calling out, "One denarius! Two denarii! Five quintar!" Varati stand about, willing to teach newcomers the intricacies of kite fighting. Two teams practice on the sands for all to observe. The aforementioned dragon children are seen hauling not only their red dragon, but also its siblings amid one of the teams. Title: New Praefect The word goes out. A new Praefect of the Praetorian Guard has arrived in Haven with a small cadre of his own officers. But soon the gossip starts up again, when some of the older residents in town realize who this new Praefect is. There was something about his wife. From about fifteen years ago. His wife, that's right, she was killed. He got transferred out shortly after. And now he's back. Title: Hallucinations Abound! If the outbreak of fleas in the Rialto wasn't enough, prior to that, there was quite the scene, believed to have possibly been the result of a few mischievous Sylvans -- at least the more suspicious denizens of Haven might be suggesting that. It all started when a pair of Sylvans got a few looks of surprise by bringing a dead deer into the Rialto, cooking it up shortly after setting up a place for it. One was easily recognized as Morning-Mist, and the other was an apparent newcomer to Haven for the festival, not known by many before that. He had a few differences in appearance that might've marked him as a graisha, and he answered to the name of Sharpclaw. Deermeat stew was the main course, passed out to all who wanted any. Surprisingly though, there were a number of people who started acting rather oddly after eating the food, while others seemed just fine. Word had it a certain Woodchuck began to act quite madly, believing himself to be a pirate and speaking gibberish all the while. Then there was Kallista, who seemed to think Woodchuck was her mother, wishing her harm. She raised a bit of a scene as well. Perhaps the biggest scene was made by Pricilla, who... ah, treated those gathered to a striptease in between running around and kissing just about everyone present -- including the statues! But once Altair came on the scene, one might've wondered whether the Reeve had eaten any of the tainted stew himself. Considering the extent to which he was overreacting, one could've gotten the impression the very safety of Haven itself was in jeopardy! But in the end, the reason for the strangeness was found out. The culprit? Some mushrooms that must have caused those affected to act like loons for a bit of time, for within the hour, they were back to their normal selves, after the Sylvans had closed up and departed the area. Ferrin's name was heard a few times, even uttered by Spirit-Whisperer. Was the Estrel part of this, or just a fortunate bystander who happened to eat an untainted bowl? Or was it even truly intentional? See, just as many people were unaffected, if not more. Perhaps those who did the cooking just picked a bad patch of mushrooms for their meal... Title: Kite Competition Rescheduled Wild winds whipped the beach frenetically when citizens of Haven gathered to watch the Kite Competition. Over the loud roar of the ocean, Nefer Maat Al'Samar announced that the competition would have to be rescheduled for a time when the winds would not destroy the kites. As she spoke, several kites were raised by the vicious winds and tossed willy-nilly across the beach and into the ocean. Among those tossed was a red dragon. Screams of anguish arose from the throats of ten children who watched one wing of their creation become nothing more than tatters. However, the rest of the dragon was salvaged and the children vanished back into the environs of the tent city where additional sticks, string and red paper vanished into a tent. Title: Tattered Clothing... "...that's all he's given them to wear, Pella!" "Don't listen to Quinrius, girl." Pella rolls her eyes and jerks a thumb towards the offended servant. "He's exaggerating." "Am not," the young man insists. "Martya, I'm telling you. They're barely fit to use as rags on the kitchen floor." Pella plants her fists on her wide hips. "Now see here, boy, I won't have you gossiping about the Emp'ror's household in my kitchen, do you understand?" She turns to the girl who has found herself in the center of a bewildering disagreement. "It's just that he's given them clothing to wear that's less fine..." "Less fine!?!" "...than what the royal slaves and household usually wear." Pella aims a glare at Quinrius for his indignant outburst. She continues, patient. "Good, solid linen instead of fine silk. It's perfectly functional and it's not so far off what he usually wears, anyway. Who says the slaves have to wear finery?" "But it's the royal household -- even his clerks are wearing the" Quinrius shudders, "linen. And even cotton. It's an outrage!" Martya tilts her head. "It doesn't cost that much, though, does it, Pella?" "Oh, but don't you be thinking that the only staff he's got are the ones in Haven. The royal household is very, very large. It's cost effective..." "Cost effective?!" "...and it sets a good example. You know how some of those noble Houses would rather let their finances go to ruin than show up at a party in anything less than the finest fripperies." Pella shoots Quinrius a pointed look. "Ohhhh..." Martya heaves a sigh. "There aren't hardly any parties anymore. I miss them." Pella pats the girl's shoulder in a companionable way. "Well, dear, parties are expensive. That's the price of being on the losing side. But don't you worry. Things will turn around, as long as everyone keeps together. Now shoo, both of you. I've got dinner to prepare and unless you're cooking, you'll be in my way." Title: Augustin Wares for Sale! A new booth has been set up in the Rialto, featuring fine furniture, bolts of linen and silks, an array of clothing, boxes of jewelry and ornaments, and various other knick-knacks that one might find around a palatial home. "Did somebody die?" queries one passersby, as he stops to inspect some of the goods. The mongrel manning the booth frowns. "Certainly not. And don't go getting your grubby paws over everything. You'll ruin the merchandise." "Well, you talk mighty fine for a merchant," observes the youth impudently. "This booth's new. Whose is it?" "That's Deus Augustin's booth," cuts in another voice before the mongrel can answer. The speaker is a swaggering young Empyrean, liberally sipping from a flask of potent ambrosia. He is likely a commoner, judging by his garb. "Aye, didn't you hear?" he goes on to say. "Augustus has hit hard times, 'cause of the war, you know. Forced to pay on account o' their Deus bein' such a loudmouth bastard." "Dominus!" cries the mongrel at the booth, aghast. "Mind your tongue!" "Why? I don't care who hears me. Augustus is one House that deserves what it gets." He smirks and waves an expansive hand at the merchandise. "Maybe y'ought to get the Deus out an' offer him up for sale as well. Might fetch a nice price. Though I hear he makes a wretched slave..." And, under the horrified gaze of the mongrel, and the smirking stare of the initial shopper, the Empyrean gives a jaunty salute and staggers away, more than happy to spread his tale to others who care to listen. Title: Nobility Clashing It is no wonder that with all the festivities going on, that problems could arise. After all, the Hounds can't keep the peace everywhere. ...But wait, what is this about a Hound striking someone? Could it be? "Why yes, I saw it with my own eyes!" exclaims one Empyrean male, "During the kite competition down on the beach." "The Archon himself walked right up and punched a nobleman! No words or anything first, just socked him!" his wife adds to the gossip, "Not very noble for a Tritonides to do, and I think it was a Jovian that he struck!" "But surely the Jovian was doing something to warrant it," asks another woman after a brief pause. "Oh no!" says the first woman with a stunned tone, "He was tickling that Arch-Magus the Archon is seeing -- hardly grounds for striking a man." "And after a few moments of verbal sparring, the Jove turned and left. The Archon didn't even apologize for his conduct! And... AND... the Dominus he struck didn't stoop to his level by striking back -- that is a sign of noble bearing," the husband closes as the trio continues to whisper about it. It is imagined more will come from this. Title: The Roar of Victory The quiet of months was abandoned in the Tent City late in the evening following the Varati Kite Fighting Competition. Flown from the beaches of Haven to the refugee camp was the triumphant red dragon kite. Revelry was heard throughout the night as those who had styled themselves the Red Dragon Brigade partied in celebration. The victorious kite was raised on poles in the center of the Tent City while its ten creators shouted to the Heavens, "We're number one!" Under the roar of the jubilation, the satisfied smirks of a few individuals hinted that the bettings books had been full during the event and for those who had backed the long shot Empyreans against the more experienced Varati teams had seen their investment returned three-fold. On the flipside, members of the audience, caught leaving the beach holding a variety of lovely kites, were heard to say only, "Poor Squid." Also, a team of Varati children walking through the streets of Haven carrying wet and tattered pieces of a kite were heard muttering, "Next year, next year." For those without desire to speak of the Squid, there was muttering about Atlanteans appearing in force at the end of the event, though no coherent story can be garnered concerning actions by the Atlanteans or if they were the reason for the ending of the event. Title: Fight at the Beach! "Hey, Lucas, d'you make it down ta th' kite thingie yesterday? I heard it was somethin ta see." "Sure. I was there. That Dragon took on ever'body an' took 'em out 'a th' sky! But that wasn't th' only show ta see." "Oh yeah?" "Nope. Seems there was a fight on th' ground, too. This fancy-schmancy Empy was puttin moves on Arch-Magus Medea." *short chuckle* "Th' Arch-Magus? Was he crazy? She's with th' Archon, an' I've been hearin they're pretty serious." "I dunno 'bout all that. I jus' saw him makin eyes at her, an' touchin her. He rubbed his wing up against her... backside." *wink* "He was pettin on her with his hands, too. That's 'bout th' time th' Archon showed up, an' man, was he flamin mad!" "I'll bet he was!" "Yeah. He went stormin over an' socked th' lout in th' nose! Broke it, I think. Th' Archon's a big guy fer a bird-man, an' th' other guy didn't wanna mess with him, so he took his bleedin' nose an' flew away." "Man! I wish I'd 'a saw that!" Title: Moooove 'em Out! After the grand Festival's end and many days of bartering and trading, the caird clan known
as the Cahr'Dhaki has been seen packing up their wagons during the last couple days. They
finally pulled out this morning, with new wares stocking their wagons, for they have been buying
as much as selling this last week or so. With well-lined pockets and bright smiles upon their
faces, the colorful band drove their wagons northwest, towards the once-Empyrean province of
Arelate. The Rialto seemed a little less colorful and a little less noisy with them gone, but they
promised to return soon. Who would not, when there were such riches to be made in Haven? But
the assurances did little to quell the quiet tears of one Empyrean Dyer called Deianyra, who
returned to her stall alone, left behind by her clan to carry on their work here.
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