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Heard in Haven: November 2001
 Title: Mayhem in House Nemea! It happened swiftly, so swiftly that the residents of an otherwise peaceful little corner of the Empyrean quarter barely had time to react. Night-patrolling Praetors first became alerted when a pair of sobbing Mongrel servants were spotted fleeing the grounds of House Nemea -- and although the enforcers of Haven's law hastened to the residence, it became quickly obvious that they were too late. Signs of an obvious struggle were revealed within: furniture and objects of art overturned or destroyed, the dead bodies of a white-winged Empyrean man and a Varati woman found sprawled in the atrium, three more servants murdered in their beds. Scorch marks blackened the floor around the hands of the fallen Varati woman, suggesting that she had been calling up fire-magic when she'd died; some sort of magic, too, had surely been used upon the front door, for all that remained of its lock was a mass of melted slag. Most disturbing of all was the utter absence of the Deus and the children known to be under his protection. No sign of bloodshed could be found in the room shared by the young Empyrean maiden Moirae or the Mongrel girl-child Elette, nor in the room shared by the Mongrel boy Roki and the Empyrean boy Momus who was Nemea's heir. But in the Deus' quarters, it seemed as if a small hurricane had struck. Nearly every scrap of furniture had been destroyed... and a sizeable bloodstain, through which were scattered several ebon feathers, provided chilling implications as to what exactly might have happened to Julian Nemeides. "Th-they a-a-attacked us," the remaining servants sobbed as the Praetors questioned them. "That's all we ken -- their faces hid -- they c-cut th' Deus down! An' some o' th' rest o' us, too--!" Who they were, none of the servants were entirely certain. Thieves, perhaps, but if they were they were extremely well-organized, armed with weaponry and likely magic as well. Asked who might have hated the darkling Deus of the House so much that they would have levelled such an assault against him, the oldest surviving servant, Malcolm, was heard to gruffly and despairingly moan, "Who didnae hate th' Deus, among the wingers? Darkling he be, y'ken? And wouldnae bow an' scrape because o' it, like the white-wingers think 'e should!" As for the children, all the servants could provide by way of testimony
to the Praetors was a futile hope that somehow, they had gotten away to safety.
But among the small huddle of men and women escorted out of what was left of the
House, not a one of them seemed to truly believe it....
Title: Fugitives into the Darkness "Young domina, wake up and quickly. Your life and that of Momus, Roki and Elette depends upon it." Nine-Fingered Rab's urgent hiss snapped Moirae Julia Nemeides out of her slumber -- and into a waking nightmare. Sounds of combat filled the House: the clash of weaponry, and a muffled *whoosh* that could only be the fire-magic of her father's Varati guardswoman roaring into life. "Lares... Rab, what's happening?" "No time to explain, domina--" "RAB!" her father's voice thundered. "GET THEM OUT! GET THEM OUT NOW!" We're being attacked, was all Moirae had time to think as the Mongrel knife-man, her father's best guardsman and the finest fighter she'd ever seen, hastened her and the younger children out into a scene of utter chaos. She had barely enough time to catch a sight of her black-winged father, locked in combat with a pair of sword-wielding figures in muffling garb as black as his pinions. Blood dripped from his side and his shoulder as his attackers forced him steadily backwards towards the door of his quarters -- and he had barely enough time to shoot her, his only blood child, a single searing look. It slammed into the maiden's awareness, communicating despair and paternal pride and love and anguish all at once-- And then the assailants shoved him out of her sight, leaving her stunned and shaken and heartbroken-- And prodded mercilessly by the Mongrel warrior, who would not permit her to fall into grieving. "Move it, domina," he urged her, mocking tone gone uncharacteristically grim and free of irony, "lest you wish to share your sire's fate! Help me get the children out!" She couldn't cry. Not when Roki and Elette and Momus all gazed up at her and Nine-Fingered Rab with shock and horror as great as her own in their eyes. And so she joined Rab in urging the children out the back way through the house, while Rab hurled daggers into two more attackers that sought to block their path and Moirae herself produced the knife Rab had taught her how to wield. Somehow they made it outside, taking the secret routes through alleys and back paths that she had wheedled out of Rab despite her father's reluctance for them to know such things. Somehow they all made it out... But without her father. None of the younger children spoke, not until they'd run for what seemed like hours. And only then, huddled in the shadows amongst them all, did little Elette ask tinily, "Is Uncle Julian dead?" "I wish I could tell you, lass," was
all Nine-Fingered Rab could murmur, again without any trace of mockery for once
as he settled them all down in the hidden refuge, one of many, that the Rook had
scattered around the city. "I wish I could tell you...."
Title: Mugging In the Streets It is well known that lawlessness abounds in Bordertown, but it is also true that it occasionally spills beyond those darkened streets and into the rest of Haven. It is an unfortunate incident that occupies the whispers of the day--of an armed Atlantean man, wielding an ancient and special weapon, was attacked in the streets of Haven and stripped of all his belongings. Kael,
of the Ipponis Decemvirate, was the unfortunate recipient of this unkind attention,
clubbed to the cobbles and left with only his clothing. It was an unfortunate
incident, but one that seemed almost to have a purpose, as the furtive muggers
took off quickly into the streets and those that followed found most of what was
removed left behind. Only one particular weapon known to be carried by the warrior
Kael was never found--the weapon named to some as Swallow.
Title: Of Orcini Trade Ships Word spreads quickly from the docks, as the regular Orcini trade ships to Haven arrive. This time, they were not alone. The convoy of three trade vessels was accompanied by one Orcini warship, and with warriors on the ships themselves and in the waters around the ships. This -is- an interesting deveolpment for the Orcinus Decemvirate, despite the rumors of their being a martial society already. When asked, as any Captain would be, the Captains of each trading vessel replied, "The Orcini refuse to allow any form of Piracy upon the High Seas to overcome their vessels. Thus, we are taking matters into our own hands to make certain -our- trade goods are kept safe from the likes of the Buccaneers." Does this mean the Orcinus Decemvirate has declared war
on those whispered to be pirates... specifically on the Buccaneers? Few Atlanteans
of the Orcini will speak of this, and fewer outside the Decemvirate know anything.
Only time can solve this riddle, it seems... and so, some rumor mongers wait to
see the result with anticipation.
Title: Divine Family Departs It happened early one spring morning, unremarkable save for its vibrant sunlight. The royal wing of Atesh-Gah was astir with uncommon bustle; the embassy stables were emptied of several of their vicious, reptilian charges; the dour, sable-clad honor guard of the God-King was mustered amid the budding flowers in the yard; Khalidan warriors resplendent in red, blue and gold donned their armor, girded themselves with steel. Before long a silent procession was winding north through Haven's city gates, back towards the mountain fastnesses of the Varati people, towards their spiritual home of Masada. And leading the departure, dark against the bright sky, were winged wyvern queens -- one bearing the God-King Khalid Atar himself, and the other his Queen-Maharani, the Empyrean, Thalia Tritonides Khalida. Behind them they leave a young scion of the Khalida clan -- Mustapha ibn Kasim al'Khalida-- wearing the Pasha's robes with what some report is disturbing negligence. The bulk of the Khalidan warriors remains as well, participating, as they have for months, in the occupation of the Varati Quarter of Haven. Those about the court murmur that Khalid Atar has grown tired of protracted and fruitless negotiations with Delphi, and has departed to show his Queen the glories of a truly Varati city. But is there
more to his removal than this? Gradually, word trickles down from the Varati capital
that the Khaliph has called several prominent Imams home from their far-flung
provinces; do they anticipate the arrival of the divine family in Masada? And
if so, what does Khalid wish to impart to these spiritual leaders of the Varati
kingdom? Only time will tell.
Title: The Amarada Sails! Word on the dock says that the Amarada is finally going
to set sail to the north, where the Aesir live and few dare to explore. The waterways
were too choked with ice to risk the voyage earlier as had been planned, but now
the ice is melting and word is that the seas, while still dangerous and icy, are
now at least passable. And so it is that the infamous ship stocks up on food stores
and goods to trade along the route up.
Title: A Cold Shower for the Faithful The departure of the Varati's royal couple from Haven is still a hot subject on many gossipers' tongues when even more news reaches the city -- originating from the heart of Varati homelands itself. It comes as a declaration, and washes over Atesh-Gah much like the first wave of an oncoming storm. Khalid Atar -- King of the Varati, God of War and Fire, Hawk of Heaven, the Neverending Flame -- has left Masada. With him he has taken his devoted wife and Queen, Thalia Jovia Tritonides Khalida, and in their wake the Visir now steps forward to safeguard the throne and rule over the vast kingdom in the name of the Amir-al, illuminated be His path for eternity, until the joyous moment of His return. Backed is the Visir by the Atarvani and the Agni-Haidar, but the answer to where the God-King and his bride have gone to, or when they plan to return, shines with its absence. A weary
courier delivers the message at dawn to the Pasha of Haven, but as with all such
matters, the fateful news has spread throughout the city by sundown, leaving an
almost palpable tension within its Varati citizens. Marks this the beginning of
another time of trial? |
