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Heard in Haven: August 2000
Title: Stocks and Tomatoes Apparently, someone has gotten on the bad side of the Hounds. During the midday bustle of the Rialto, several Hounds were seen to be setting up stocks in the center of the Rialto square. By the time sunset starts rolling around on the temperate November evening, it's discovered that the person to spend the evening in the stocks is none other than Eric, former Provost of Haven. Rumors begin flying immediately, ranging all over the spectrum. No matter what one's thoughts are of the former Provost, there's a 'reason' for them: He tried to stab the half-breed Commander in the back! The Estrella have it in for him and are going to execute him at dawn tomorrow! It's all a plot to make the Bordertown Mongrels think he's not part of Delphi anymore! He tried to rob a merchant! He was innocent and that Hound came out of nowhere to start harrassing him! He was flirting with an Empyrean Praetor and that Hound got jealous! For their part, the Hounds are silent on the matter, simply telling those with inquiries to take them up with the Bastion. And if anyone asks, the plethora of rotten tomatoes available are completely coincidental.
Title: Grandma Got Run Over by a... Gryphon? Wedding preparations were well underway for the joyous occasion of Deus Jove's marriage to his betrothed, Domina Arianna Augustin. Many of the guests who reside in other parts of Empyreal territories or Haven had already arrived in Civitas Dei, or had stayed on after other events and festivities. The sumptuous food for the feast was cooked, the Jovian estates were decorated, and besides a mysterious 'dress emergency,' all appeared to be going as planned. But lo, tragedy struck on the very morning that the happy event was to take place! Agrippina Juventas, recently a formidably austere figure of good health during the Aegian proceedings last week, was struck down by a freakish accident involving an out-of-control gryphon. Fortunately, the rigorous woman pulled through moderate injury, and has been ordered to remain bed-ridden for a week until in better health. As this was the bride's grandmother, Deus Augustin's mother-in-law through his first marriage, the family decided that, in consideration for the tragic event at hand, the event would be postponed for a week. This allows time for Agrippina to mend, the arrangements to be reorganized properly, and respite for the careless driver who will surely be berated over his ineptitude. Rumor has it that already the older woman is recovering remarkably well, ordering servants to tend to her in the only way that can be expected from their mistress... who is otherwise known within her House as 'The Iron Grip.'
Title: Varati Valkyrie? From the embattled areas where Varati war against Varati comes a rumor of remarkable degree, one that is passed along with the most sincerity possible by the wife of one whose brother was aiding those in the war against the insurgents. "The Lioness, the Shakir, she was seen! Yes, seen!" raves the woman in the Rialto stall, where others can hear. "They would swear to Khalid himself it was she." "Then she is free?" is the natural answer, prodding more information. "No! Not free but leading armies against the one who calls her daughter, against Khalid Atar HIMSELF!" *GASP*! "It is true, they say, it is true. She who walked in the steps of a man here in Haven now wears the armor of a warrior and carries a sword! She led troops into battle, hair streaming like a pennant behind her, carrying the colors of those who stand against the Amir-al." Disbelief wars with fervent agreement with the rumors, but one thing is certain: Shahar Khalida's fate is still in question.
Title: Evil Omens! The scene started simply enough, the city park bedecked in flowers and the Empyreal altar to Cybele in the midst of it all, awaiting offerings for the fertility of the fields, and the families of the Empyre. The gathering, too, of nobles and commoners alike, seemed serene enough, the altar soon piled high with their gifts. But before all could be completed, the most terrible of omens for the year occured. The altar shed its offerings to the ground and split from top to base to spill forth thousands upon thousands of starved rodents, which immediately set upon the offerings, the guests, and the feast set before them. Empyreans took wing like a startled flock, but without the instinctive grace of their animal brethren, too many crashing to the ground once more to be set upon by the rabid pack of creatures. All was in shambles, the rodents finishing the food set out in short order and spilling out of the park in all directions, many flooding the Rialto in turn and finally melting back into the alleys of Haven. What does this bode for the coming harvest and Winter? For the good health and the future of the Empyre? Whispers are passed darkly, for whatever it may mean, it surely cannot bode well.
Title: Rumors out of the Eyrie... "I tell you, Christos, I don't think she should have done, but don't you think that punishment was harsh. After all, he got away with murder, and I don't hear any stories about him being flogged and thrown out of the Guard." "Hector, it was different. She fought with Marcus over a Varati in front of a Hound? Would you want to fight next to someone who might decide that you weren't as valuable as one of those rats? Yah, the old man wants us to treat them 'nice,' but she was a traitor." "But twenty lashes? All those things that Caius has done, he gets ten. She gets twenty and thrown out. I hear she was going to cut off that tattoo of hers, but the Imperator wouldn't let her." "Caius didn't get anything. It was Optio Zorelle that got the lashes. I don't know, maybe the Imperator has something about flogging people, I don't know. All I'm saying is that I don't think he was wrong, and neither did a lot of people. Particularly her cohors. She betrayed us all."
Title: Bloody Murder! Just a few days after the festival, another dreadful crime has hit the streets of Haven. While brawls, thievery and perhaps even death are not too unusual in Bordertown, the finding of last night seemed cruel and disgusting even by those standards. A mongrel was slaughtered in a narrow alley somewhere in the southwestern part of town in the middle of the night, found just before sunrise by a Hound patrol. But it wasn't left with murder. Rumors of malignant torments and torturings performed on the helpless, naked body before its death spread quickly. Some say he was cut open at numerous parts and left bleeding to death. Others claim all his limbs were cut off, his genitals stuffed into his mouth. Another man claims he has seen him being crucified to the wall of a warehouse. Just as diverse as the ways the man was killed are the reports of the traces the assassin left: a silver feather, or was it a dyed, or black one? A curved, hooked dagger pierced through the man's heart; the mark of fire, hot enough to burn through stone, on the man's feet. The truth behind all of this? Another death of a decent mongrel man who was a stone in the eye of those purebloods who consider a mongrel's position below their boots? The truth must be out there. The Varati Reeve-Commander Mul-Dher has already made a vow to find it out.
Title: Murder Most Foul (or Fowl, if You Prefer) In an alley where neither Empyrean or Varati reign, two Praetorians are found dead. One was stabbed in the back of the neck between helm and armor. The other sustained more wounds, one to the wing root, another to a wing, and a third to the stomach, with entrails threatening to spill out. The killing wound, however, was to the heart. Also, next to the bodies, was drawn a picture, that of a wing-clipped hawk falling from the sky, and a motto which ended up covered in blood. And under his body, are the tips of two black feathers.
Title: A Visitor... Chasing the last shadows of darkness in their retreat from the onslaught of Ashur Masad, a wyvern Queen claws its way through the air towards Atesh-Gah. Wings rent and shredded to near-ruin struggle to keep the monster aloft. The desperate beating carries through the streets like the war drums of the Varati. With a curdling, alien cry, the wyvern Queen announces its imminent arrival before careening into the stone courtyard. Seething with fury, it snaps at any patron within range, scattering them like so many quail. Only when its handlers manage to wrest a hood over the Queen does it finally settle. It is then that a figure slips from the beast's back and stumble into Atesh-Gah. Atarvani by his attire, visible only through layers of soot, grim, and blood. His entrance into Atesh-Gah precipitates the worst calamity ever to visit the Varati people. The God-King has been slain.
Title: Flames spread in the Night Before the night, before the day. Before the fateful announcement, ill omens reared their ugly head as Varati gathered to invoke the power of their god, Khalid Atar, in his form as the living flame. To hold his bright power against the growing night until Midwinter. It should have gone well. It was a simple ceremony, the fire already laid and guarded on the beach of Haven. Estrel Niamh Gitanjali bin Mazat, Estrel of Delphi and wielder of the elemental gift of fire came forward and drew forth the spark that ignited the mighty flame, and it roared upwards, casting the colors of the rainbow in quick sucession before settling down to a merry blaze. Offerings were gathered and laid within those flames, and those that wished its protection took a bit with them, in coal or candle. But that was not all that occured within the proceedings on the beach. Figures crept up on the gathering, base and masked. Like animals, they slunk up upon the unexpected Varati and cast within their number a cloud that settled over some, and left others untouched. They shrieked through the gathering, bestowing their 'gift' on the unsuspecting, gathered souls. And then... the strangeness began. It began for most with a sensation much like floating, a gentle warmth that wrapped around and uplifed the spirit, setting it free of the normal shackles of everyday life. Veils were discarded, and those affected... afflicted by this strangeness fell to enjoying themselves with great abandon. But for the few, it went further, the darkness of the night twisting into strange and bizarre visions. The scene slowly degenerated into chaos and factions fled -- Khalida bearing within its circle of guards the Queen-Maharani herself (the woman uncharactaristcally friendly for the moment) and Messala about its Warlord and his guests (quite charactaristically dour). Varati spoke with the fire, accosted their usually-willing neighbors and even the Estrel succumbed somewhat to the bizarre events, cavorting with one of the strange figures that flickered in and out of the bonfire's light. Slowly, however, the effects wore off, leaving a confused and drained gathering that trickled away into the darkness instead of moving away purposefully with the gathered light of their God for the coming cold season. Now... some click their tongues. Perhaps... it was an omen. Perhaps... it was a sign of the evil abroad. And many worry... what will they do now?
Title: Hounds on Alert! Quietly, people begin to notice that there are a lot more Hounds on patrol as usual, more closely spaced than before. That's when the rumor-mill about the observation begins, that the Hounds have gone on alert in relation to the rumors of Khalid Atar's death. Some also say that Commander Chryseis and Estrel bin Mazat had something to do with the order to arms. When asked, the Hounds do confirm that they have been put on alert, but when asked about the rumors, they say that they have heard nothing from officials regarding the death of the God-King, and that, until they do, they consider Khalid to be alive and the rumors falsehoods. That the alert has been triggered by the damage such malicious rumors can cause. They also try to persuade people to stop spreading the rumors, to wait for word from the Varati Government regarding the issue. But, by putting the Hounds on alert, aren't they giving creed to the rumors and adding to their validity? Only time holds the truth...
Title: Pronouncement from the Queen-Maharani The following proclamation is posted and shouted throughout Haven. "Loyal Subjects of Khalid Atar and his Queen, The Amir-al is not dead. Rumors of his demise are false and were created to sow panic and discord among the Varati people by those who rebel against his rule. The God-King is well and gathering his power so that he might crush the unfaithful with the might for which he is well-known. To prove that the rumor of his death is entirely false, all Varati are reminded of the Queen-Maharani's Storytelling Contest. The contest will occur January, 3907 (RL: August 30, 2000 at 7pm Central Daylight Time) as previously scheduled. Stories to remind all of Haven of the power and glory of Khalid Atar and his fearsome ability to demolish all who stand in his path are particularly welcome.
Title: Soft-Feather's School for the Shifted Word spreads throughout Ettowealona and Apisachi lands... some news may even reach Haven, carried by traders and visitors to the city. Deep in the forest, nestled in the upper branches of the Great Oak, a new school has opened: Soft-Feather's School for the Shifted. As the rumors go, apparently the shapeshifting teacher is accepting new students... as many as he can handle comfortably. All are welcome... even GRAISHA! Though Delphi turns them away, Soft-Feather recognizes and understands that they, too, need help. And his mission is to provide such help to any who need it. For those who seek out the school, it is certain they will meet sentries at the edge of Ettowealona lands. They simply simply tell them why they wish to enter... and Feather or one of his aides will be dispatched to come meet them and bring them in. Reserve your seats soon.... classes are filling up quick!
Title: Stirrings at Atesh-Gah Over the past few days, the observant may have noticed a subtle but definite increase in the number of dour, black-clad Agni-Haidar manning the walls of Atesh-Gah in the Varati Quarter. Those taking a particular interest will realize that these men are working in shortened shifts, replacing one another with greater frequency than is their wont. Within, the regular military drills in the courtyard have also increased in number -- and, it seems, in intensity. This last, however, is only clear to those who have ventured within the embassy's forbidding stone battlements.
Title: Repercussions Although the faces of the fallen King's sentinel warriors remain unchanged behind their masks of steel, the demeanor of most of the faithful among the Varati has changed dramatically. The pronouncement from the Maharani has held panic at bay, but fears of the rumor's truth mount with each day the Varati God does not surface. The pious among the race clog the Temple of Khalid Atar at all hours of the day and night, praying for the return of their God. Each new dawn sees the numbers of these worshippers swelling, until the Temple cannot accomodate so many. Yet still they come, choosing to worship outside the temple in the courtyard of the Embassy. Wherever Atarvani priests go, they are accosted by Varati and assailed by the same questions: Is he really dead? When is he returning? What will happen to us? Any semblance of order among the Varati is dissolving quickly.
Title: New Arrivals... The past few days have seen an unusual number of Kashtri warriors walking the city streets. They roam in pairs or in triples, their tan and brown haiks doing little to conceal the heavy brigandine armor beneath or the falcare hafts jutting from the depths of their garb. Clan Al'Gul. Rumored to be one of the many rebel Clans allied against the Varati God-King. They roam the streets, leering at the oppressive number of wretched candala when not cornering some outright and debasing them verbally. When their paths carry them past the stone embassy of Atesh-Gah, they carefully avoid the black-clad warriors, but their gazes are defiant.
Title: Rebellion Against the Throne When the sunlight of day had long since retreated beyond the horizon and the bitter cold of night reclaimed the city, warriors of a distant Varati Clan walked the street. Three in number, they roamed until the red robes of Atarvani seized their attention. Spouting blasphemy against the dead Varati King, the Al'Gul assaulted the Atarvani. The red-robed male was slain easily, but the priestess managed to stall her attacker with means unknown. When patrons of the city and Hounds arrived on the scene, the Priestess's assailant was fleeing for the alley's shadows, half mad. A Hound and some unnamed Varati monster confronted the two remaining Al'Gul Clansmen, aided by the appearance of an Estrel, the one called Niamh. One clansmen escaped, but the other was dispatched by the Hound in grisly fashion. His blood still stains the cobbled streets. When the issue was at last decided; One Atarvani lay slain, beside him a Clansmen from the Clan called Al'Gul; the shechah priestess, though wounded, was healed by caduceans from Delphi; and the large Varati and the Hound were injured, but slightly so. How quickly the Varati have unravelled in the wake of their God-King's death.
Title: Betrayal... "I know who killed the Amir-al." "The Clans killed him. You have heard the stories. The Amir-al died in Masada. Who else can lay claim to his murder?" "They did not kill him. They do not have the power to. Who among our people does?" "The Atarvani...?" "That is what the Al'Gul warrior who attacked the Shechah last night said. I heard him dishonor the priestess's robes by saying she wore the same as they who killed our God." "Kafir Atarvani dishonored us by killing our God?! They must not go unpunished..."
Title: Agni-Haidar on the Move! "They're at it again, Amalda. Those Varati and those filthy lizards they ride. I stepped into a pile near up to my kn--" "Loran! Enough! I don't want to hear that!" "You'll want to hear this, though. A whole horde of them lit out of here last night like someone had lit a fire under their feet. They didn't even wave back to anyone who was fool enough to be near them. They just rode. Rumor is, even that new Seraskier went with them." "Well, the new one's better than the old one. Relieving himself on the Delphic Citadel, indeed." "Don't know about better. 'Least this one doesn't shout as much. Still, there's no telling with those 'rati. It's always the quiet ones you have to worry about. I say good riddance."
Title: Winter's Onset and Haven's Conditions With the full onset and chill of winter, the office of the Provost, in conjunction with Delphic mages -- directed by the Seneschal -- have begun regular relief efforts for those in need. Stronger efforts (than last year) have been made to reach those in need of food, medical attention, and better living conditions. In part, the availability of aide has increased due to better organization and coordination, and the increase of trained magi and funds for supporting the local relief efforts. Those that are unable or unwilling to reach Delphi walls are met upon the streets, instead. All are continually encouraged, by the acting Provost (Auvrey), to feel welcome within Delphi for aide.
Title: Rumors from Orcinus Word begins to trickle out of Orcinus that the current Decemvir, Orcinus Sanise, has taken to her sickbed, perhaps for the last time. The Decemvir's health has been failing for a good number of years, and only grew worse when news of her children's escapades in Havens reached aged ears. It seems to have finally caught up with her. With Orcinus Kuronbo missing for these two years, his younger sister, Orcinus Shinjukou, has quietly stepped into the arena to take up many of her Mother's responsibilities. The young diplomat does not seem to believe in making any waves; her 'rule' so far has been noneventful, focusing more on steadying a strong foundation in preparations for the Decemvir's eventual death. Little else seems to be presently known about Orcinus Shinjukou's activities. When not at her Mother's side, fulfilling her responsibilities, she seeks refuge in the dark waters of the area -- communing with Pasiphae as she did in her childhood, it's said.
Title: Purge or Power Play? Disturbing reports have begun to filter out of the Varati Quarter, reports of small skirmishes involving the recently-arrived members of Clan Al'Gul. Some claim that they are being set upon by elements of yet another Kshatri clan seeking to exploit the present unsettled state of the Kingdom; others hold that the black-clad Agni-Haidar themselves have taken the offensive against the newcomers. Thus far, most of these potential eruptions appear to have been forestalled by the diligent efforts of Haven's constabulary, but rumors persist that more than one bloodied Al'Gul corpse has been discovered in the deep of night. Where all of this will lead is anyone's guess.
Title: Disgruntled Student? Word swiftly floats throughout the Sylvan community that the shapeshifting teacher, Soft-Feather was assaulted in the early morning while out hunting. Though the attacker is unknown, it is speculated that it was the Hunter that has been targeting Shifters as of late. Or perhaps that pesky Greying-Temples? Either way, the threat is very real... and drawing ever closer to home.
Title: Hunting the Hunter? Sorrow spreads throughout the Sylvan lands today as every being mourns for the lives lost earlier this day. Any who dare venture in to the forest would find a dreadful sight -- animals dead, wolves, eagles, and bears, utterly slaughtered and strewn about the trees. How did this happen? The Hunter. It's rumored a battle took place beforehand when a party of Sylvans and a Varati returned to the site where hours before Soft-Feather was attacked to investigate. Unfortunately, they shortly found themselves pinned as two arrows quickly dropped SharpClaw and WolfEyes. The others moved to protect and defend the fallen, deflecting arrows while some attacked and called upon animal help. A blow was finally struck and the Hunter fled at last, but not before launching an arrow of fire that lit a ring of flame which surrounded the helpless party. When asked how they made it, they only answered, "The Grandmother blessed us from above that day." And the animals? That's right, the Hunter took out his frustrations on them.
Title: Overheard at the Siren's Song "I'm tellin' ye, me take on Empy goods ain't the same these days, with Richard lit outta town the way he's done...!" "Tough luck, mate, gets in some fine pieces, he does! Ain't in Haven, then?" "The way I heard tell it, he been in the Empyre for months now--" "The way I heard it, he been in an Empy prison!" "Yer puttin' me on! What the kark'd the wingers want with 'im?" "Yer full of it! Can't be in an Empy prison!" "Ye callin' me a liar? Shag off, man, I'm tellin' ye what I heard--" "An' I'm tellin' ye the man can't be in no winger prison 'cause I seen 'im three days ago, in the winger quarter! At a winger house!" "WHAT? What, somebody nabbed 'im for a slave?" "Didnae look like no slave t' me, mate, 'cause he were wearin' duds fine as any lord's, an' furthermore, he were orderin' round the servants! Talkin' like a lord, too!" "You're karkin' crazy! What's the likes o' one of us doin' orderin' 'round servants at a winger house?" "Well, if it weren't Richard, it were 'is twin brother, 'cause sure as Tyche's fickle, he had his face!" And the Mongrel men fall to vigorous debate of who exactly was spotted at the newly re-opened house in the Empyrean quarter, at least until the next round of drinks and girls....
Title: Overheard at the Pantheon "It's a frightful shame, and no mistake. Not that I'm opposed personally, mind you, to those wretched Varati killing one another off instead of us for a change -- but it's been positively dreadful for business. And if that weren't bad enough, what with Nemea's been so thoroughly plagued with misfortune these past months as well I have lost countless denarii and I am at my wit's end as to how to recoup my losses--" "What, wait -- Nemea? The merchant House? I thought you had a contract with them, Gracchus." "I did. But after what's happened to them these last months I can't expect they'll remain a profitable venture much longer!" "And what's happened to them would be -- what? Give forth, man, you can't drop a hint like that and not elaborate!" "You don't mean to tell me you haven't heard...? Ah, well, the short form oof the sordid story, and it is I assure you quite sordid, involves robbery, bloodshed, and perhaps even murder. The slightly longer form... well. The shipments they've lost and the warehouses they've had plundered are enough to keep any man with an eye to his own profit awake at night with a crossbow by the bed, I can tell you. And furthermore... their Deus is dead, and so is the Dea." "No! Surely the Praetorian Guard has investigated -- do they have a suspect? Who holds the House, if the Deus and Dea are dead?" "Hah! That's the truly shocking part, my friend. Brace yourself for this: the one calling himself Deus of Nemea now is a darkling. And he has no wings." "WHAT?! You're drunk. That's preposterous." "I am quite sober, this fine ambrosia not withstanding, and the new so-called Deus of Nemea is a bloody wingless darkling! A long-lost son of the House, evidently. The Guard took him in for questioning, I'm told, but they released him at last. 'No evidence of guilt,' or so they claimed." "Wait... this man... is Nemea blood... the Guard questioned him--" "Oh, indeed, they had him for a week, as I understand it." "--and they LET HIM GO? Are they all mad?" "Mad. Bribed, perhaps. Lares! For all I know, the accursed Varati bewitched the lot of thethe lot of them. Perhaps he's part Varati, himself!" "I... by the Kronian! I cannot believe any of this...!" "You had best believe it, my friend. That bloody wingless darkling has come to Haven, and if you've any care towards guarding your own profits -- if you want to keep your House from suffering Nemea's fate -- you'd better not let him anywhere near your coffers!"
Title: News from Abroad Hello Mister and Missus Haven and all the frigates at sea. Dateline Avalon. Varati rebels have invaded this small mongrel nation and are ransacking its countryside. Supplies of food, vital to the invading troops and the Avalon people, are their main concern. The Varati threat continues into the long months of winter where both forces seem ragged. The hearty mongrels, unskilled at fighting but with food and freedom, have been whittled away for months before calling in the mighty fighting force of the Empyre. The noble Emperor Drusus Jove acknowledged the problem by sending two of his finest fighting troops to relieve the war-torn Mongrels. These two veteran forces are lead by Praetors Claudius and Cepheus, Legates to the Haven Imperator of Theron. Expert politicians expect this to be over before the first major Avalon snow.
Title: Coming Home... "Oh my Kronian, there goes the Palladium!" "Why's that?" "She's back, the Jovian girl. Helena..." "Oh my Kronian, there goes the Palladium!" "That's what I just said." "Oh, right. When? Why? Where she been?" "Well... Apparently, she returned some night back. Quiet as the mice haunting Augustus at the moment. As quiet as she left, too. Claims her parents had sent her to some aunt in the country, to get some fresh air." "But of course. Fresh air. Do you believe it?" "Not for a second, but she must have liked it, stayed for over four months!" "Aye. Perhaps the aunt had a good-looking son?" "Hehe, most likely. But it seems to have done her some good. Seems calmer, she does. More like the honorable Selene. Think she finally grew up?" "That'll be the day..."
Title: Stirrings within Atesh-Gah! Late in the evening, a litter surrounded by Clan Khalida guards and Agni-Haidar was seen being taken into Atesh-Gah, the travelers looking rather worse for wear. Since then, rumors have spread about like wildfire. Some say that the litter bore the dead body of Khalid Atar. Others claim that Khalid lives, but is near fatally wounded. Many insist that the person within the draped palaquin is the Shakir of Clan Khalida, however, for over a month ago, her husband Ranjeet, the Foreign Minister, set out with a group of Khalida guards and Agni-Haidar to recover her from the Varati rebel clans. It had been so long many had wondered if they would ever return, or if they were casualties of this civil war fomenting within the underbelly of the Varati kingdom. Many claim that they have heard from a reputable source within Atesh-Gah that the figure within the palanquin is indeed the Shakir of Khalida, but so wasted away and starved that one could scarce recognize her. What is worse though is that no one has seen sign of her husband amongst the return party. Could he have not survived the journey?
Title: More Violence in the Streets Yet again, the violent troubles of the Varati has spilled into the streets of Haven. Word travels quickly that the men of Kshatri Clan Al'Gul met up with a trio of Agni-Haidar outside of the Siren's Song. Blood quickly began to stain the streets. According to those who witnessed the scene, it escalated from a brawl typical to the area to a true battle in a very short amount of time. By the time the Hounds could reach the situation, four Al'Gul clansmen lay dead and two of the Agni-Haidar were wounded. (Not that they would show weakness, but they were bleeding at least!) Apparently, only one Al'Gul clansman escaped the scene. Soon after this, word began spreading from the Bastion: All Al'Gul clasnmen are to be arrested on sight. Specifically, they are looking for one of Seraskier rank. There is a grim determination among the faces of the Hounds as they begin their search through the city. The Al'Gul Clan's fight may be with other Varati, but apparently they've dragged the Hounds in as well.
Title: Ill Omens Word spreads slowly through Bordertown, riding the air between Sylvans mostly, and their mongrel neighbors. "Hey Aidan, didja hear?" asks one Sylvan man of another. Dingy clothing and dirty nails lend him the appearance of a pauper, but there is a certain light of knowledge in his eyes. "Ere whut, Bevan?" comes the reply from the other Sylvan, his long brown hair covering pointed ears, lending him the green-eyed appearance of a mongrel. "Ya know that seeress that lives around here? The one with the red hair, pretty li'l piece if ya ask me," he comments with a wink of his eye. "An young 'nough t'be yer daughter, aye, I seen 'er." Aidan looks at the man skeptically then. "Wha about 'er?" "Well, me cousin Caitlan what lives downstairs," the last word is said with a wink as Bevan nods in understanding, "said that the red-haired li'l catch was all upset one mornin, screamin in her sleep. She's a seeress, ya know, an she had a vision." The last is said with added seriousness, and a bit of emphasized wonder. "That crackpot li'l wench 'as been runnin round 'ere screamin bloody murder fer ages! What'd you care whut she says?" The reply comes quickly, the man eager to dismiss anything bad in such cold weather. "No Bevan," replies Aidan, looking at the man with a serious air. "She's been good as of late, and hasn't been mad for months. She's a seeress, and well, Caitlan saw things." Bevan's eyes go wide as listens, and he asks, "Like whut?" "Like magic, there it was, floatin before the girl when she sat upright in bed, starin into nuthin! A blizzard the likes o' which you never dreamed, and after that, a beast! Come right out o'the sea!" Mention of a blizzard makes Bevan cringe, but when he hears tell of the sea-beast, he shakes his head, relief washing over his features. "We already 'ad a sea-beast here, an killed it too." He nods once more for emphasis and adds, "She's seein the past, and I'm glad fer it." "But it was a vision from the Gods," says Aidan, as sure of it as he's sure of his life. "Tupuran's sendin' her messages..." And so word spreads slowly, each one hearing it from someone who heard it from someone who was there. More than one person saw it, before the girl. Some say a smith was there, holding her hand. But only time will tell if the red-haired seeress is mad or not.
Title: Blood in the Marketplace! There was a casualty today amidst the usual hustle and bustle of the Rialto. While trying to 'save' a kitten from harm, a young mongrel girl known as Celia was run down by a cart loaded with logs. No one even noticed that she had darted before the vehicle until after it had rolled over her body. The kitten was unscathed.
Title: Madwoman Succumbs! The Madwoman of Behzad, former concubine of Khalid Atar, was found dead today in the hall of Clan Behzad. No signs of foul play are apparent. It seems she merely slipped away while sleeping. The young woman was less than twenty- three years of age, and at one time was known as the Hope of Clan Behzad. She was one of the Amir-al's favorites until he married. It is said that the girl never recovered from her dismissal. The attitude of Behzad is one of mourning, but those who knew Hepzibah say that she hadn't truly lived since her dismissal anyway. Her family praises Khalid Atar for his mercy in ending her pain.
Title: The Birdie Song "If I was a Birdie "The Birdie Song" has been heard around some of Haven's taverns and eating establishments since the rumored death of Khalid. On this morn, four kshatri warriors of Clan Al'Gul sang it and paid dearly for their transgression. They serenaded an Empyrean, supposedly of House Acesius, and threatened physical harm, but the Empyrean was saved by some passing Agni-Haidar, among them Kaimakam Amipal of the Queen-Maharani's guard and a young Janizar, Kedar. A passerby was hurt in the fray, a young Varati woman named Emmali. She took a knife thrown by the Al'Gul clansmen in the gut. The Hounds were quick to appear at the scene, especially as the fight broke out up the street from the Bastion. However, by this point, one Al'Gul clansman was dead and another had burst spontaneously into flame. The Al'Gul still alive were quick to surrender themselves to the mercies of the Hounds, crying "Khalid forgive us! We have sinned!" Apparently, the flaming effigy caused them to have a religious conversion. The Agni-Haidar lef the Al'Gul to the Hounds, but took Emmali with them to Atesh-Gah after removing the twisted and bent remains of the knife from her stomach.
Title: Sing me a Song And though in violence one song ended, new ones can be heard on about every street corner. Sometimes whispered, sometimes bellowed in drunken bliss, songs appear everywhere. One of the more rebellious ones is said to go like this: Emperor! The 'breed is dead. (OOC-note: Not entirely in tune with 'Ding Dong, the Wicked Witch is Dead,' but just couldn't help myself ;) )
Title: Another Song. Perish the Thought One particularly bold and brave (or crazy; or stupid; you pick) bard picked up his lyre one day, and entertained a crowd in the Rialto with this number: First Verse: OOC: Sung to the tune of "Sounds of Silence." Sorry for the spam, but I couldn't resist this. :)
Title: New Estrel in Delphi It is announced quietly -- with the recent violence in the streets of Haven and the bitter chill of an unusually cold winter, no person wishes to remain outdoors longer than needed. Not the Herald who stands chattering on a podium to make the proclamation, nor the few people who move, bundled and purposeful, through the chilled Rialto. The news, however, manages to filter slowly through Haven. Caducean Niherlas Lyonikos Tritonides has been named to the Estrella of Delphi, taking the position left by the long-ago departure of the Cabeiri Medea. His appointment returns the Estrella to their full number of twelve: each pure-blooded race seating three Estrel on the Council of Delphi. What little rumor-mongering follows seems to center on wondering how good the new Estrel is at healing frostbitten fingers...
Title: Uppity Mongrels? As the evening light douses Bordertown in its orangeish rays, men of all backgrounds meet inside its bars for their evening drinks. At one table is a group of Atlanteans, the broadest of the group complaining bitterly and loudly to any of his companions who'll listen to him. "So an'way, 'm followin' this crowd to this house, see, an' the whole time their glaring at me. But I ain' 'bout to leave 'im, they was just being rude, an' they didn't say a word to me the whole way there. And then we get there, and there's these huge, and I mean huge mongrel's standin' at the door. They let all the rest of 'em pass, but when I go ta get in, they get in my way. "Well, I ain't 'bout to 'low that so I let up a holler, They've no right to have a closed party like that, an' if they let dirty mongrel's inta drink they oughta let a decent folk like me. But those roughnecks didn' move an inch. An' doya know wha' they said? Do ya? They said I wasn' allowed in cause I was a pure blood. Ain' that the craziest! Them mongrels gettin' all exclusive now! "I don' know how they got tha' idea in their head, so I hung 'round, tryin ta see wha' was goin' on. Didn' see much though. Jus' some o' those good-fer-nothin's gettin' up an' talkin. I wasn' the only one they didn' let 'n either. They didn' let an'one but mongrel's an' halfbreeds in. 't don' matter though, wasn' even a real party. Still, 't wasn' right."
Title: Stories, Accusations and Chaos Yesterday, during the Storyteller Contest, loud explosions rocked the Varati compound of Atesh-Gah. Soon, black smoke, carrying with it the scent of crisped human flesh, rose over the skies of Haven and contaminated all that it touched with the smell of death. For those brave enough to venture toward the nexus of chaos, the following story emerged: The Storytelling Contest was well attended, including a contingent of Atlanteans led by Decemvir Riva. The Contest began well, with a decent, though poorly-told story by Nefer Maat Al'Samar. This was followed by a wondrous song by Bard Rashid Cheb Baljekar, which many consider to have been one of the best of the evening. Vasuki Mehen Azhi-Dahaka ibn Messala told the tale of a snake that was much enjoyed by many in the crowd, especially those not of Varati descent, but at the conclusion of the Qadi's tale, the Queen-Maharani stood and disqualified the tale. Apparently, the story violated the contest rules. Yet the contest was not allowed to continue in peace and harmony, instead, an Imam arrived from Masada, and rather than presenting a story to the crowd, planted himself in the courtyard directly before the Queen-Maharani. The Imam also had a story, one about faith, which he used to attack Thalia's belief in Khalid. The Maharani's answers were apparently not to the Imam's satisfaction, though the woman professed nothing heretical, instead proclaiming that she was a true believer of the Varati religion. Despite this, the Imam disrupted the proceedings by sending a fireball toward the Queen. The actions after the eruption of the fireball are quite difficult to reconstruct, given the general screaming and chaos which resulted. The bare bones of the situation appear to be that Kaimakam Amipal threw the Queen-Maharani out of danger, but took the edge of the fireball himself. Cowardly Thalia did not stay and defend herself. Instead, she took to the air and flew up to the balcony which led to the rooms of the God-King and herself. The Imam, thwarted of his prey, began to methodically explode people and various sections of Atesh-Gah. The Atarvani and Agni-Haidar present began to attack the rebel Atarvani which had come with the Imam while he vented his rage. Women and men worked together to save those too confused to escape. Kaimakam Amipal, rather than simply burning to death, apparently took on aspects of the Khalid himself by descending upon the Imam like the Angel of death. The sounds of warfare drew reinforcements in the manner of additional Agni-Haidar and the warriors of Messala. The Imam and his rebels were horribly outnumbered by the loyal Varati still within the walls of Atesh-Gah. Soon, they were all dead, including Imam Mansur, the instigator of the bloodbath.When the battle was over, many were dead, far more were injured and the decapitated head of Imam Mansur was carried off as a trophy by the Agni-Haidar. The citizens of Haven walking past the gates of Atesh-Gah can peer through the gates and examine the destruction for themselves.
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