[b]The Cultivator's Plateau[/b]

A woman in brown robes yawned as she walked along a muddy path. The moon was high in the sky, and it shone its pale light onto the golden fields of the cultivators. The fields didn't quite feel as alive during the night, for one could only hear the wind whistle through the grain and the muted sounds of laughter and mirth at the Temple. This woman was put on patrol duty to find would-be thieves, but she found something quiet different indeed. She heard screams of anguish and battle coming from below the plateau, so she darted to the edge to see what was going on. It was hard to see from up high and in the dark, but there was a battle occurring down below. Screams of agony were interspersed with flashes of light and incantations spoke in ancient tongues. Soon afterwards the sounds of panic could be heard from other parts of the city. After a few moments she had seen enough, and ran off to the great temple shouting for help.

In the cavernous Great Temple, one of Marton's massive feasts was underway. Only the most talented performers were given permission to be on the plateau this night, and they truly met their expectations. Several bards sang cultivator hymns and other songs, knife jugglers juggled twelve of their knifes at a time in reference to the twelve harvests, and one very talented magician was able to make a likeness of Plenora out of rose petals and told stories about the goddess with his magic. And the food, the food was the best part. Several loaves of bread still warm lined the tables as well as several roasted chicken and just about anything you could find in Antioch. In the center of it all was Marton IV himself, also known as Marton the Fat, which is a surname he truly earned. The morbidly obese man laughed and laughed and wine dribbled down one of his several chins. While all of the cultivators wear brown robes, and Marton was no exception, he also donned a ceremonial hat which looked like a tall, thin wicker basket with flowers sticking out of it. Marton also had a wooden staff beside him that had vines snaking up it and a gas-lantern hanging from the top. 

The joy of the feast was not to last however, as an acolyte burst into the temple screaming: 

"There are sorcerers below that seek to defile the plateau! I've seen it! Antioch is under attack! I've seen it! We have to strike or they will defile our precious fields!" 

Soon after everyone got the message, a panic went through the feast like a wave. Several of the cultivators simply gasped in shock. Others shouted that they would drive the sorcerers out since Plenora was on their side. Some others said it was their duty to protect the city, and they should take arms. Marton wiped the wine off of his chins and was saying "Silence." over and over again each time a little bit louder and more frustrated, but it was barely audible over the crowd. The frenzy of the crowd grew and grew until Marton slammed his staff against the table smashing several plates and bits of glasswear and roared: 

"IN THE NAME OF PLENORA, BE SILENT!" 

Out of respect for the liason, the crowd quieted down. Marton looked slightly exasperated as he pointed to the acolyte that burst into the door: 

"You there, step forward." 

The acolyte did as she was bid, and before she had a chance to speak up Marton continued:

"You are going to lead my chancellor," Marton cocks his head toward a thin old man, "to where you saw this conflict." The chancellor looked somewhat surprised, but was led outside of the temple by the acolyte after muttering a "of course Marton". Marton raised his voice once more and said: 

"It is Plenora's will that we share our prosperity and help others when we can. However. If we have nothing to give, then we cannot share in our wealth. If we don't know anything about this threat, then we may do more harm than good by interfering." 

The crowd murmured, and one acolyte shouted: 

"Do you really suggest we just sit back and do nothing while the city burns!"

"No of course not! All I am saying is that we need to be able to protect ourselves first! What good will a mob do against a sorcerer? We don't even know where the sorcerers she saw are, and your suggesting that we go into the city? No. We wait until we know more, and we do what we have always done, we protect the fields. Arm yourselves, arm yourselves and if any sorcerers are spotted we will hear from an acolyte patrolling the plateau."

And with that, Marton the Fat collapsed into his chair, and watched as the crowd scrambled for weapons in the great temple.

Meanwhile, Chancellor Tero and the acolyte descend the plateau into the main-city. Panic is wide-spread, people are locking their doors and closing the shutters on the windows hoping for the best. Eventually after winding through several alleyways, they arrive at the where the fight took place between the assassins and the sycophant. As the light of the chancellor's torch licked the side of the plateau, the more of the gruesome scene was revealed. The side of the plateau was coated with blood, gibs, and chunks of bone. A corpse of man wearing black robes with golden trim had a look of sheer terror plastered onto his face. His neck had a large chunk of flesh missing, and he had a missing eye that looked like it was removed recently. Chancellor Tero looked slightly shaken but not nearly as much as the acolyte, who looked absolutely gripped with fright. The Chancellor and breathed a sigh of relief:

"It looks like one of the mages got to him first... What I don't understand is why he is so mutilated... And why his compatriots seem to be painted onto the side of the plateau... That... is going to be a question I have for the mages. But thank Plenora that the threat to the plateau is gone. We should go back to report what we've found here."

The acolyte merely nodded, and they began the trek back to the Great Temple on the Cultivator's plateau.