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Heard in Haven: September 1999
 Title: Missed Empyrean Holiday? Looking quite consternated, Enrikos, one of the clerks working with the Emperor's staff, emerges to wander through one of the exquisite gardens of lofty Civitas Dei. Not looking where he's going, he practically stumbles over Lirabeth Herculeaum's outstretched feet. "Oh! Watch where you're going, oaf!" A sudden intake of breath and a less snippy tone, "Enrikos? You look as if you'd lost something?" "Oh Lira, please forgive my lack of grace." Frowning a little deeper, the young man stops to straighten his chiton, "Something... important seems to have been forgotten." Curious, the young noblewoman blinks and tilts her head to ask, "Important? Whatever could it be?" Tapping his chin, the young man continues, "Do you recall just before the war? How we spent two days in celebration of Emperor Lucian's birthday?" "Oh yes, it was a grand occasion. The ball held on the Corinthialus estates in his honor was..." She breathes a deep sigh and then smiles wistfully, "I had the grandest time." Tilting her head, she says, "But that was in the fall and besides, Emperor Lucian is dead... surely we would not have celebrated it again." It takes her a moment, but suddenly light dawns in the girl's eyes, "Oh... do you mean?" Aghast, she stares at the man opposite her. Nodding solemnly, Enrikos says, "I am unsure, but some letters that passed through the Emperor's office en route to Haven seemed to indicate that... it was his birthday. But... surely we would not have left a holiday such as that go unobserved." Looking even more distraught than her companion, Mirabeth bites her lip and then rises, "What is this Empyre coming to if we do not properly celebrate the birthday of the Empyror." On the verge of tears, the young woman stomps her foot. It seems to be that it is indeed true and that Emperor Drusus Marcus Jove's birthday -- surely what should have been a Grand Holiday -- has slipped by in obscurity.  Title: A Call to the Starving It's a simple affair. It started when someone saw Dremmond talking to a small group of starving mongrels for whom he had just bought a meager amount of food. "You will have to be willing to work, but I can take you to a place that you can call home. A place we can grow food to feed you," said the weathered Mongrel. "Many have said 'good riddance to bad rubbish,' and I could not agree more. Come with me and we'll leave the pompous, fattened rubbish behind. And we will go home." As they broke what bread the old warrior could offer amongst themselves, he told them to spread the word to any who would listen. Any mongrel that can has either recently been cured of the plague or shows no signs of it will be welcome to return to Avalon with the Marshall when he makes his trek back. Those that will come are welcome to gather near Dremmond's tent in the field where his training camp once stood before it was moved. Title: Riots! Haven ran amuck with chaos in the wee hours of March 14, 3905. Somewhere after midnight, a riot over food broke out in the Rialto. Some attribute the riot to a farmer refusing to sell his produce and the former Shakir of Al'Samar, Nefer Maat. In any event, the mob soon split into four separate factions; three factions left the Rialto to storm the gates of the three embassies while the fourth attempted to take on Delphi. What actually resulted was a large amount of looting and vandalism in the Rialto. Stalls were destroyed and much blood was spilled. Many mongrels were injured, some saying upwards of 100, though many of them were taken into Delphi to be healed afterwards, and thus the number dead is far smaller though no accurate count is yet available. Casualties before the Korallion were almost as high, numbering some 30 dead while the other rioters jumped into the sea or fled to the beaches to feast on the free food that the Atlanteans had offered as a bribe. Only two unfortunate rioters were killed at the Palladium, the rioters seeming satisfied to plunder the quarantine camp outside of the gates. Amazingly, the Varati fared the best as the only casualty was one boy who had his hand cut off. Word is that the Pasha is seeking this boy in order to have the Atarvani restore his hand. Whether it was the reason presented by the Pasha or the sudden deluge of cold rain that marked the end of the riot will remain a mystery. Indeed, a rainstorm cut the riot short, and its participants fled for shelter rather than face knives, swords, fists, magic, and the elements. With the Rialto in tatters and some shops between it and the various embassies destroyed, the riots managed to do many zechins worth of damage in a relatively short time. Title: The New Seneschal In the aftermath of the riot, the Herald assigned to make a particular announcement during the afternoon found himself feeling a bit edgy. However, he did not allow his emotions to disgrace himself in the eyes of his guild, and his voice rings clear for anyone who might hear. "Hear ye, hear ye, people of Haven! On the morning of the fifteenth of March, in the year of 3905, the Council of Estrella has appointed a new Seneschal of Delphi. From this moment forth, let it be known that Minowara Raijin, Teacher of the Water Element and Acolyte of the Mystai, has been granted all the rights and privileges that such an esteemed rank bestows upon him." And with that message, short and simple, the Herald goes on his way. Title: Has Everyone Gone Mad? The young redheaded Empyrean raises her voice, demanding to be heard within the crowded Rialto. She holds a letter, allowing it to lie limply in her hand as she continues to raise a hissy, "I am telling you Daphne, my Pelos is a reliable source -- and even my brother saw them together. A disgrace I tell you...and with the Emperor trusting him with Haven's own guard." The other woman, Daphne, frowns a bit, "Are you certain it was the former Praefect Marcellus? I mean he doesn't seem the sort of man to spend his time with a darkling -- especially that one." Eris snaps, "You are not calling my Pelos a liar are you? I swear to you it was Dominus Theron and that... that..." She is loathe to even utter the other name, "...Optio Zorelle. They were laughing and on a date in the Pantheon of all places. My Pelos served them himself." She shudders at the thought. Daphne's eyes widen, "But...but... the dark Optio hates everyone! And Praefect Marcellus is so oooold." The latter half comes out as a semi-whine. "You mean Imperator Marcellus, didn't you hear he was promoted? And from what Pelos says those two were anything but hating each other... the darkling even was out of uniform. if I didn't know better I would say they're in love," Eris remarks disdainfully. "In love?!?! But... but he murdered his first wife -- everyone knows that, even if they couldn't prove it," Daphne gasps. Eris smiles, the first sign of happiness touching her lips at the thought, "Well then, maybe he will do us all a favor and murder the darkling as well." Her smile fades to a sigh as she shakes her head shamefully. "Really, such conduct from the head of Haven's guard. I wonder what the Emperor will say when he hears this? Just what is our Empyre coming to: first a Varati Empress, then an Empyrean noble forced to wed their false God, and now.... tainted guards trying to sleep their way to the tops of their ranks. Has everyone gone mad?" The two women's voices trail off, but not before the conversation is overheard and passed on among any who will listen. Title: Storm Season Word has it that the Emperor has left Haven for the farmlands of the Empyre, to complete a tour of inspection of the crops so vital to the Empyre's nutrition. There are suggestions that he will be personally assisting in the wind mage network -- to whit, that he will be helping the network of weather watchers and wind mages in deflecting the more frequent storms of this time of year. None of the rumors are certain as to whether Her Majesty, his wife, has accompanied him on this journey. Title: An Abusive Nabi? Whispers fly, as they so often do, through the ranks of the shudra and naraki of Atesh-Gah. And whispers are exchanged in particular between a pair of Mongrel naraki: "The halfbreed, the healer? The one who's been tendin' us on the sly? The Atarvani took her." "Really? Didn't seem like the type to get scarfed up by the red-robes." "Well, the way I heard it, they took her 'cause of the plague out in the city. But it don't seem like they want her for their own. I seen the Nabi that's been draggin' her around..." The first whisperer's voice darkens. "I seen the Nabi curse her, and hit her. Seems like she's a lot more interested in haulin' every scrap o' power she can get outta the poor chit rather than makin' her one of the red-robes, y'ken?" The second whisperer is aghast. "Can she do that? I mean... cor! Don't the chit work for th'other halfbreed? And don't th'other one answer right up to the Khalid?" "That's the way I heard it, aye, but you think the Amir-al's gonna care much if another mutt gets smacked around, even if she is a healer?" Title: Refugee Cavalcade The population of the tent city grew smaller today as a cavalcade of refugee families left the encampment for the better and brighter Edessa. Imperator Theron was seen giving instructions to the Praetorians that would guard the cavalcade. Of Imphada Nefer Maat, the longtime benefactor and organizing maven, nothing has been seen of her since the night of the riot, but the refugees appear completely willing to hand their fates over to the authority of the Imperator. The most hardy of the refugees, which had borne no sign of sickness for a couple weeks were in this cavalcade. As these refugees were all mounted, rumor ran high that the first selection of refugees were those with the best familial lineages. However, rumor has it that caravans of refugees -- for those who cannot ride horses and require wagons instead -- will begin leaving at regular intervals for Edessa in the coming weeks. Already, refugees appear to be making appointments to be in certain caravans and discussing the impending journey with happy faces throughout the camp. Title: In the Scriptorium An easel of sorts? Pots of glue, laid next to a selection of fine haired brushes. Bowls of multi-colored glass, in fragments no larger than a man's thumb, more often smaller are splayed about on tables and ledges, all within hand's reach. Patiently applying glue to each piece, positioning it just so, a hunched-over Empyrean woman sits on a weathered stool for hours at a time. The artisan's hands dance over the framework. Occasionally, she stops to sketch in a form or shape with the burnt end of a charcoal stick, and the mosaic begins to breathe. The size and scope of the platform makes it suitable to decorate an interior wall, rather than the plaza of the Scriptorium, but this is where the work takes place. The theme and picture are unknown to any but its creator for present, but as passersby view it over time no doubt all will be made clear. One thing is sure, Kamilah, the artist in question, is a talkative woman, about anything but her latest creation. Swiftly becoming a fixture of the Scriptorium, the woman has an ear for gossip, an opinion on almost everything, along with the unmistakable eye for art. Title: Proclamation from the Varati The following proclamation has echoed throughout Atesh-Gah's hallowed halls and reverberated without that august embassy. The depth of tone bears the sound and gravity of the Amir-al Himself, Khalid Atar. "Be it known throughout the people of the Flame that the vaisya known as Ranjeet has, through his strength of heart and faith and devotion to our people and to the Maharani and myself, proven himself worthy beyond his present means and state. He is dear to us, to myself and to my clan, and his heart indeed beats with the fiery fury of the Varati people. As is my right, as is my pleasure, I forthwith claim him as Clan Khalida, worthy of such an accolade, and elevate him to the kshatri. "Furthermore, as befits a Khalida male, I award him a wife of unparalleled splendor and loveliness. Let our people know that Ranjeet Khalida shall, in coming days, be wed to our daughter Shahar Al-Jehan Khalida, Pasha of Haven. Let all rejoice, let none question. So it is said, so it shall be." Title: Another Faisal Incident? Two merchants start gossipping in the Rialto about the latest in currents events... Mogra: Did you see it, Titus? What a mess! Titus: See what?? Mogra: The Commander and the Praetor! They were standing there and talking last night, the Praetor gettin' rather nasty before he tried to swing at the Commander! Damn near got his arm twisted right off. Titus: Kita?? Twist a Praetor's arm off?? Mogra: No, not the Sylvan! The Empyrean! Altair somethingorother! Just as he was turning to walk away, in came that frightful Varati fellow, Faisal! I thought someone was going to get killed! Titus: Faisal and Altair again?? I hope we don't lose that boy... Mogra: Lose him? It was incredible! The guy just hands Altair something, what I couldn't see, and the Hound just started smiling and offering him a bow, just before his Praetor companion went beserk and tried his luck on Faisal. That Commander tried to stop the two, and the only damage the Praetor got was his pride and a bruised throat. Well, that and being arrested. Titus: Empys arguing with Empys, smiling at Faisal, Agni's not bothering to kill or even maim Praetorians... Will wonders never cease in this city? Title: An Old-Fashioned 'Witch' Burning The docks were shaken by a disruption of mob violence yesterday evening, when a group of purebreeds grabbed a mongrel woman from the beach and attempted to burn her at the stake. However, she was saved by a dozen of the long-thought-disappeared Orcinus Pallid Warriors. The woman was one Milane, an ambassador from the nation of Avalon. While she escaped the fiery blight the crowd wished upon her, she did not escape harm. She was beaten by the mob and her jaw severely injured. While escaping, the Pallid Warriors were 'forced' to cut thier way through the crowd, and all but the warrior bearing Milane were taken down by the crowd. Title: Archon's Announcement Once again, Rodrick finds himself lifted atop the stone platform by a pair of Delphic Cabeiri. This time, the man emits a faint sigh as the scroll is handed to him by a younger Delphic member. Perhaps he has been atop this perch a few too many times before... "People of Haven! I stand here before you, this third day of April in the year 3905 to offer you the words spoken by the Archon of Delphi." The older man takes a deep breath, the words from his mouth strong but brief. "Good people of Haven, for over twenty years I have served you and all the governments that make the body of Delphi strong. I have tried to keep the streets safe and I have tried to be fair, but above all you have allowed me to serve you. But like the setting of the sun, all things must come to an end. It is with regret, that I must leave you to attend to matters of my life. I know the Estrella will find a suitable person to stand in my place. May you all live well and long." The older man then bows, making his exit quick and smooth. The crowds that remain quickly fill with many questions. Why did a man in his prime leave such a position? Where is he going? Will he stay with Delphi? Will he stay in Haven? Who will replace him? Why was that speech so cheezily political sounding? The Citadel, for at least a short time, seems to let these questions ring. Title: Another Announcement Before the week is out, Rodrick once again strides forth to address Delphi and a gathering of Heralds to spread the news throughout Haven. "There can be no delay in the efforts of the Estrella to keep the peace in Haven and the strength of the Hounds intact. Therefore, Delphi names Dohosan Eagle-Eye, Commander of twenty years in the service of the Hounds, to the position of Archon. May he guide them with the same strength and purpose that Cepheus Deukalion Tritonides showed in our service!" Title: A Matter of Food Quietly, but not imperceptively, the Rialto becomes fuller with its usual band of merchants selling all sorts of end-of-the-storehouse foodstuffs. Dried meats, slightly aged grain, preserves and other dried fruits, the usual. The traders aren't talking -- mostly because they don't know. They were roused from their beds and put to work again, and that's all there is to it. The farmers who can't afford to hire anyone to buy and resell their wares, the small families, are loathe to talk about it but it is difficult for word not to reach the streets. One day the boycott was over. Some were given a choice, but people (the mysterious "people") heavily insinuated that ending the boycott now would be A Good Idea. This is all they want to say, or want to think. However, getting out into the farmlands and the small community centers that dot the wide acreage, and the rumors are still drifting around. The plague seems to be over, the camp is going away unharmed, there is no reason to boycott anymore. Not a public reason. Animosity in the farmlands toward Haven still runs high, but quietly as the masses and men in power continue to evaluate their presence and importance. Title: Occurrences at Atesh-Gah No proclamation was made, nothing transpired to make official the moment, but as dawn arrived on the morning of April 5, the gates of the formidable embassy, the Varati's Atesh-Gah, were opened once again to traffic. Those with business within the embassy were permitted entrance, those who wished to leave and return were free to do so. It is the way that the Varati have said, quietly, the plague's threat is ending. Life shall go on. Title: Busy Man Even before the echoes of his resignation cleared the Rialto, it seems the retired Archon Cepheus Tritonides has been a busy man. Rumors drift throughout Haven of the Oracle having conversations with everyone from blacksmiths to members of the Praetorian guard. Healers, herbalists, and furniture craftsmen seem to make up some of the more normal contacts the man has been making. But, there are even rumors of long conversations in the darkened tables of the Siren's Song. It is well known that the man is near to becoming a father, but many might say this activity is a little too high to be explained simply by that. What the man is really up to or what his intentions are is not clear, but one thing is sure, the seasoned Empyrean is not following a "quiet" retirement... Title: Response to Attacks Upon the heels of the attack against Milane at the docks, a letter begins to find its way around Haven. Tacked to the doorways of inns and shops in Bordertown, it is written in a strong, literate hand. Word begins to spread fast amongst the community that the circulation is actually a statement from Thomas Murako and Avalon in response to the recent attacks around Haven. For those who are gifted with the ability to read, the parchment reads as follows: "Citizens of Haven, "I cannot express how much it pains me to see Mongrels being attacked in the streets as a result of the terrible plague which struck the city. That Mongrels are being called 'witches,' when our people clearly lack the affinity to even wield magic. People are asking the question: Who is to blame for the sickness? I tell you that no one is. Foulest times have befallen Aether in the last several years as we have all been so deeply affected by war, plague, and famine. Such are the foulest things and I tell you that my people, the Mongrels, have suffered as much as each of you. We have lost our families, our homes, and our lives. Though, it is often easier to blame the weak ones. Those who cannot defend themselves and retaliate for crimes perpetrated against them. And thusly, again, we suffer beneath the degradations of our 'betters.' Many may read this and call it revolutionary or radical. But to each Mongrel or Outcast who reads or hears this and has felt the pain of being abused without just cause or spat upon for merely being who you are, I say that there is a place where you can live free of that shame: Avalon. There, men and women can live in peace, without fear of random attacks or being burned at the stake for 'witchcraft.' It is not a special place that only a select few can join, for it is a cause which needs your contribution to make it a reality. These times afford us a rare opportunity that is at least owed consideration by those who care for their future. Some of you may have questions or seek to hear what has transpired lately in Avalon.Towards this end, there will be a gathering on Tuesday evening, April 8th, in the Rialto. There, you can see how much we have accomplished and how far we have come. Also, we will set up a booth in the market which you can visit and ask questions about the cause which we have embarked upon. And so, to each of you who seeks to bring Haven more strife and death, I do not ask you to stop, for such is a futile thing, but merely to let these people rest. They have paid their price in blood, sweat, and loss. Let Aether be at peace, if even for a few moments." Pax, Thomas Murako Title: Palladium Quarantine Lifted! The gates of the Palladium have at last been opened to the public, perhaps prompted by the Varati's decision to once more throw open the gates of Atesh-Gah. The Optio in charge of the Palladium's security, Cyrano Gracius, commanded his men to maintain their vigil, and even added a few healers to the embassy's 'welcome wagon.' Any visitors who enter the Palladium's grounds will need to be inspected for signs of the plague, but at least visiting is now possible. Those who keep track of such political trivia might discover that it was Cassius Augustin who ordered the quarantine lifted. Thus, any repercussions resulting from the decision will fall upon his shoulders. Title: Another Riot A pair of Hounds meet within the walls of the Bastion. The younger one, a Sylvan named Aron, frowns as he asks his companion, "Have they found him yet?" The second Hound shakes his head a little, "Nay. He's still missing. Tell me Aron, what exactly happened out there?" The young Sylvan swallows and glances at the ground. "The Provost and I went into the Rialto. He wanted to hear what Thomas Murako had to say about Avalon and so forth. Well, just after we showed up, so did a horde of rats. Someone drove them out of the sewers it would seem, en masse. Hundreds of rats. Well, people started screaming and running in fear. Chaos broke out. "Then they started to riot. People started getting angry, blaming Murako for the plague and what not. There was shoving and so forth. Just... just before that the Provost had ordered me to go to the Bastion and get some Hounds. I did as I was ordered and I glanced back to see the Provost wading into the crowd just before it got angry. "Well, next thing I know, I'm back with the Hounds but there is a full-blooded riot going on. The Provost was there, sword bloodied in his own defense. So was Cepheus, the ex-Archon did a lot to help out. But the oddest part was that there seemed to be another group, helping the Hounds. I... I think it was the Outcasts. "Well... from there it was just a lot of riot control... but when it was all over, Thomas and his bunch fled with Cepheus into the Citadel. There was a Varati healer hanging about, and the branded healer... that Empyrean woman, she was there at first but disappeared with most of those Outcasts." He shakes his head. "And the Provost?" asks the second Hound. "Gone. No one's seen him sense. They say he went down in battle. I should have been there." "You did all you could Aron, lets just find him." The two walk out into the city, drawing weapons as they do. Title: A Quiet Departure In the wake of Thomas Murako's disastrous speech in the Rialto, rumor spreads quickly that nearly all of those who have claimed any sort of loyalty to Avalon's cause have left Haven. The morning of Aptril 11th, 3905 saw several hundred rain-soaked travellers of various races make their way out from beneath the gates of the city and into the wilderness. With the assault on Milane, Ambassador to Avalon, and the attack against Thomas Murako by the rioters, it is clear that Avalon's representatives are not welcome within Haven's walls. No statement was issued by Murako or any others, and from the looks of things the departure was quiet and without incident. This may have only been because the Hounds kept a close eye on the departing cadre, ensuring that they safely made their way out into the northlands once again. Some whisper that this is the beginning of the end for the Mongrel's 'crusade' for true freedom. That Haven and the world has finally woken up to the reality of what they are doing. Yet, even in the face of such rejection, these people carried on with the same determination which has lasted them through generations beneath master's whips. One thing is for certain -- the future of Avalon is uncertain and in jeopardy. Only time will tell if these people will be able to hold out against the odds and triumph over those who would see them fail. Title: Imperial Return With little fanfare, the Emperor has returned from his tour of the farmlands and from a stay within Civitas Dei to confer with the Aegis. The results of said conferences (and the topics, yea) are unknown, but Drusus is back in Haven, and has returned to the royal residence within the Palladium now that the quarantine has been lifted. Title: Confirmation The word spreads even before the announcements are nailed to the fora posts, before the heralds and cryers can call out the news officially: Theron Dorius Marcellus has been officially confirmed as Imperator of the Praetorian Guard of Haven. Title: Jurator's Return Thorn Argus Alexandrian has made his presence known in the Palladium once again now that it is open. He looks a bit leaner, perhaps, and more stern than he did before the quarantine and the plague hit Haven. Rumors state that the man himself suffered the disease while resting in his apartment in the Empyreal Quarter. Other rumors state that a young Varati woman who helped tend him died there from the same sickness. Thorn himself isn't saying much on the matter, he's merely throwing himself into his backlog of work. Title: Glass Amidst the Storm... Through whispered lips of the lowest rumormills comes the name of one who lived past his fifteen seconds of fame. Craft Astorius is dead, another body amidst the hundred claimed by the plague. No ceremony was given, nor one is expected for the memory of one who tried and failed, who attempted the insane and was leveled -- another casualty of Empyreal society. Title: The Return Quiet and unassuming. That was the apparent return of the Provost to the Citadel this morn. No big to do. Just a single figure returning to the walls and then to the tower he calls office and home. Rumors spread about where he has been, but as of yet, nothing is confirmed. Title: Hell Duty It's well-known among the Hounds and often amongst the citizens of Haven that certain patrols and duties fall to those that are out of favor. The surprising thing is when one of the 'golden boys' of the Hounds is found amongst those that are forced on late-night patrols of Bordertown, the docks and the beach front where the sewers of Haven drain. Most surprising is the presence of one Altair Januarius on those patrols. Seems the Hound's new commander did something dire enough to not only warrant the hell-patrol, but to get it not as Commander of the group, but as a lowly Esper, walking the beat just like the rest under the command of a hard-nosed Reeve. And in fact, a second Reeve was added to the force for the durration of Commander Altair's stint, just to watch over the man. While his actions on the patrol have been exemplary, it's quite clear that the constant scrutiny and hellish shifts haven't been all that kind on the fallen Commander. It's also quite unclear how long he'll have to serve this particular duty. Title: Death in Jove With the plague ended, Palladium servants are free to go into the city and of course, gossip. A few wearing the Jovian and Acesian livery are heard in the Rialto by passersby discussing the death of Deus Arahael Jove. "'Tis a shame 'bout that young Deus, in the prime of his life with a pretty wife and daughter. I heard that his wife is living with the Acesius family rather than her husband's family. I'll never figure out those nobles, no tears from any of them, even his sister, she's an Acesian now, hasn't been seem crying over her own brother. Must be all that intermarrying between those families -- it strips emotion clean away." Title: The God-King Returns. In the thick of night, many things can pass unnoticed if they fly above the skies of Haven. Some, however, are too recognizable or important to be missed. A solitary figure atop a wyvern Queen was seen descending from the rainy, pitch black sky into Atesh-Gah's courtyard on the eve of Holi. The figured, winged and imposing, could be but one individual -- Khalid Atar, God-King of the Varati. Perhaps because of the celebrations at hand, he has come to greet the faithful of Haven. Perhaps not. Regardless, one thing is certain: he is present in Haven once more. Title: The Commander is Out! Rumor has it that the Praetorians have released one Commander Altair Januarius from their
Eyrie tower. The circumstances of his release are not yet known, but witnesses say that he must
have broken speed records on his mad dash homeward.
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