gorgenmast

Demon Sunrise

This looks really cool. I haven't gone through the OOC in too much detail, but I've noticed that the Eternal Verdance has not officially been claimed - yet. Does anyone know if TwistedSun still intends to use the Verdance as his realm?

Anyway, sign me up.

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

The Shivers, Shivering Sea
78th of Zieliah

'There is no faster way across the Shivering Sea', they told Sir Alfric.

The Karvaci sailors called it the Shivers: a turbulent current of cold water running from the northern oceans that clashed with the relatively warm seas around Elyden. The current curled westward around the continent, moving southward toward the Royal Coast. For vessels seeking to bypass Elyden's northern reaches in short order, it was the preferred route of travel. For inexperienced seafarers like Alfric or pitiful Percy, the speed came at a high price. The seas roiled and churned around the Karvina-built cog, white-capped waves crashed against the hull. Simply walking about the deck was a struggle. Sir Alfric could scarcely imagine trying to manage the sails. Even so, the Karvaci seemed only mildly disconcerted by the gales and rough seas.

The knight struggled up to the aftcastle of the ship, staggering about with every crashing wave. The captain seemed surprisingly serene, even as he fought against the wheel to keep the rudder in the correct orientation.

"This is good!" Exclaimed the captain, smiling through gritted teeth. "Wonderful weather!"

"Ya mean t'tell me this's better than normal?" Said an incredulous Alfric.

"No! These seas are the worst I've ever seen them!" The captain laughed over the roar of foam washing over the deck. "But we will make it to Krakenheart in record time at this speed. Good in that sense. These waters are nothing the boys and I can't handle."

"Been in rougher seas than these, no?"

"No..." The captain admitted with a chuckle. Alfric was hardly enthused by the honesty of his captain. "But it is nothing we cannot handle. We will be in calmer seas in a day. Fret not, good knight."

"LAND HO!" Rang out over the frothy roar of waves, drawing everyone's attention. The shout came from the crow's nest, in the masts high above the wind-strained sails. Confused glances were exchanged by the deckhands, Alfric looked to the seas around him but saw naught but whitecaps and hazy, overcast horizon as far as the eye could see.

"Impossible." The captain muttered. "We're a hundred leagues from the nearest land. He's wrong!"

"STARBOARD SIDE! NORTHEAST!" The spotter cried again. There, peering just over the whitecaps of the roiling seas, Alfric saw it. A jagged ice-capped peak poking just over the waves.

" Captain? What island is that?"

"That is no isle..."

The cog's sailed pulled it over the crest of a wave, affording the crew a glimpse of the white object on the horizon. With the several feet of altitude that the wave's peak provided, they could see the entirety of it. Two jagged peaks rose high above the sea, whose shadows and pits registered a deep blue against the pure white. Beneath the peaks, a giant, cavernous arch could be seen arcing above the waves keeping the mass afloat.

"Thas'... ice?"

The Shivers brought it south from the distant north." The Captain declared ominously. "A harbinger of winter; sailors know the legends of the fragments of the septentrion. They bring with them the chill of the long winter. It is the first of a great many."

"Thas' a bloody hunk of ice? Whence in Kammeth's name does such a block hail?"

"An ill omen indeed." The captain said soberly. "For that, Sir Alfric, came from Everfrost."

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

76th of Zieliah, Year 698
Riddom

Seagulls cackled overhead, choppy waves sloshed and churned underfoot. The barnacle-encrusted wharves of Riddom's harbor teemed with activity in the early morning as stevedores grunted and toiled hefting cumbersome loads over the gangplanks onto the ships or vice versa, all without the labor-saving cranes one might find in more developed parts of the world. All the same, the moored vessels were loaded and unloaded in preparation for the next leg of their journey. For most vessels, this next destination would be Korczyn or Soldier's Port. Relatively few vessels traversed the sea lanes along the Northern shores of Elyden, as most ships instead plied the more prosperous eastern and western coasts of the continent. Those ships that did stop in Riddom typically came to resupply and restock before leaving for their primary destinations. Even so, the port was busy enough for Lord Barad Anselm to track down a vessel calling Jihlava in Karvina its port-of-call.

"...Three, four, five." Lord Anselm counted aloud as he deposited a number of golden coins in the hands of the ship's captain. "Five golden crowns, for the trouble of sailing instead to Krakenheart in the Sharktooth Isles."

"A fair price indeed." The Karvaci captain agreed, tucking the crowns into a breast pocket. "Sir Alfric and his companions will have safe passage on this ship. You need not fear for their safety. You have my assurance that they shall return safely home in ten days time, Lord Anselm." The captain extended his palm to Barad's and shook it deftly, confirming their arrangement. "May their business there be fruitful."

"We got us a boat, lads." Alfric grunted, slapping Sers Rendel and Percy squarely on the back of the shoulder, gesturing for them to make their way up the gangplank to the Karvaci Cog after the captain and a handful of crewmates.

"I shan't keep you much longer." Said Barad. "Time is of the essence, you ship must arrive at Krakenheart before there is any attempt to enforce a blockade. Heldan has informed me during our last discussion that Houseblades have been sent out to see the embargo enforced. I have arranged that your vessel shall not layover for resupply until it reaches the Sharktooth Isles in the interest of preventing your captain from inadvertently learning of the embargo, but you must take care not to let it known to your hosts that travel to the Conrad holdings has been forbidden."

"You 'ave my word in tha matter." Alfric acknowledged. "I'd not worry about it, but ah'll keep it-"

Alfric was cut off by Sir Percy leaning weakly over the side of the ship, his face an unnatural hue of pale white. Even before the young knight had begun dry-heaving, both Barad and Alfric knew precisely what was coming next. After a wet, burpy cough, Sir Percy's mouth erupted with vomit, painting the hull of the vessel off-white with half-digested porridge. The Karvaci deckhands snickered to themselves as Percy continued dry heaving.

"Oi, Percy! Better find yer sealegs in short order, lad!" Sir Alfric called out to his companion.

"Perhaps Sir Percy need not join you for this excursion?"

"He'll be fine." Alfric dismissed. "Boy's a bit green around the ears, aye, but he's mighty calm under duress that one. In case this business with tha gems goes sour, I want two lads I can count on at mah back."

"See to it that it never comes to such a thing."

"I can make no promises, m'lord." Sir Alfric warned as he made his way up the gangplank onto the ship. "All ah'll say fer certain is that I ain't comin' back empty-handed."

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

Chatzy link for Cosmic:
http://us19.chatzy.com/74079401018679

Democracy in Action: A Political RP

This RP is freaking brilliant. From the first paragraph, I was sold.


Name: Richard "Dick" Duncan
Age: 56
District: Tennessee's 1st Congressional District
Years in Office: 8 Years
Political Party: GOP
Ethnicity/Religion: White, Southern Baptist
Character Background: Dick Duncan has served as a career politician within the Republican Party since the mid-Eighties. As a product of the neoconservative movement of 1980, Duncan has served the Republican Party loyally in a variety of Tennessee state offices. In 2010, Duncan ran for the Senate, but the party chose to support the younger, quarter-Latino Jack Delito in an effort to attract younger and Hispanic voters. Duncan was offended by the party's decision, feeling that the Republican leadership owed him the Senate race on account of his years of loyalty to the party.

Richard Duncan is a staunch conservative and his platform revolves around family values, limiting the scope and authority of the federal government, and minimizing taxes. He rails frequently against taxes against businesses to "subsidize lazy folks on the dole". His liberal opponents tend to target the fact that Duncan votes overwhelmingly in favor of corporate interests and has proposed several bills aimed at protecting Appalachia's withering coal industry. He is largely unpopular with younger voters who mock his backwards opinions, particularly his staunch denial of evolution and his belief that "vaccines... give kids autism".

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

Googer in the House.

I didn't see anything show-stopping in Wilted's app. If you play as Italy, I'd appreciate some mention of Batista's Regime, and how generally crappy things were for the fourish years he was in charge there. We can work in how Batista supplanted the monarchy and he how ran the show in Italy; but try to build up Italy as a country that has just recovered from a period of repression and foreign governance. You should not try to play Italy like a nation that woke up one morning and decided "hey, we should start becoming important and invading things" like a lot of new players do. I won't hound you for not reading the lore to the letter and getting every detail right - we all know that the lore is massive and that would be inhumane to expect that of anyone. All I'd like is to see you try to work with the hand you've been dealt. Italy has not had an easy time this past decade - they've been invaded by the Ottomans and made pawns by the Spanish. At the same time, they have a lot to be proud of: they resisted the Ottomans and ousted Batista. They've seen trama in a short period of time and they've been hardened by it. That's the framework you should build off of: an Italy that has earned its country and monarchy back with blood, sweat, and tears and is looking to recover their pride and kick some ass.

Work off of that, and I'll excuse/work with any inconsistencies. Make some good stories, that's the important thing. Enjoy Italy.

(Googer Approved)

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

Plates and silverware clinked together softly as dinner wound down in Gullstone's dining hall. A charred iron kettle stood atop the dining table, steam wafting from the contents within. With a long-handled ladle in one hand and a napkin in the other, a handsome servant girl went about the periphery of the table, asking the guests if they wished for seconds; thirds; or, in the case of Sir Alfric, fifths.

"Aye." The knight slurped, wiping a dribble of rich, brown broth off onto to the back of his hand. "Keep'er comin', lass."

With a gentle nod, the girl reached across the table and fished out a heaping spoonful of the contents: a rich stew of fatty dove, leeks, potatoes, and carrots; Wilharnese bay leaves and a splash of Aglil merlot contributed a more exotic, savory zest. No sooner than it had been poured into his bowl, Sir Alfric had dug into the stew with his spoon and fished out a heaping spoonful of leek and potato.

Though no one else at the table had as voracious of an appetite as Sir Alfric, the stew had proved popular with all the guests and diners. Even the notoriously-picky Thadeos seemed to enjoy the chunks of dove well enough, though he did pick around the potatoes and vegetables.

"Elise dear, can you see if Thadeos is eating his supper?" Lady Marisa Anselm asked of her daughter from across the table. Elise leaned over Thadeos' shoulder and peered into his bowl.

"Mostly." She reported. "He's yet to eat his vegetables."

"I don't like carrots, or leeks, or potatoes, or leaves!" Thadeos protested.

"There will be no desert for you if don't finish your greens."

"Greens are for goats! I don't wanna eat them!"

"There are serfs in this very city that would be thrilled to eat your vegetables. You will clean your bowl, Thadeos." Barad snarled, speaking for the first time since dinner had been served. The other conversations going on about the table cut off. Being reminded of the starving peasantry just beyond Gullstone's walls was uncomfortable proposition, particularly when enjoying a fine meal. The lesser lord Osweld Verne, a hefty man with a thick, full beard of black hair and wiry muttonchops, offered the table out of the uncomfortable silence.

"I'll take little Thadeos' vegetables!" Lorde Verne of Gliss offered with a hearty laugh. "Every bit of the stew is positively splendid. Lady Anselm has done a marvelous thing with it."

"Ah'll agree to that." Sir Alfric added as he munched on a bit of stringy dove meat. With the uncomfortable silence averted, Lady Anselm excused herself from the table with a smile, beckoning the servant girl to help her prepare the dessert in the pantry.

"If I may observe, you seem somewhat discontented, milord. I take it nothing of import was accomplished at the summit." Lord Verne said to Barad, hoping to at least distract the bitter lord from whatever irritant was bothering him tonight.

"You'd be correct. An arrangement was made between House Conrad and ours. James Conrad promised our payment of a quantity of jewels in return for service on our part. Aside from that, and Heldan's absence, of course, nothing of concern to us took place"

"Sold a vote did you? No shame in that, milord. Doesn't make a lick of difference who's making orders up in Skyhaven, not in the Weald anyway." Lord Verne chuckled before taking a swig of the Stormgully merlot in his goblet. "But jewels... jewels we can do something with." Sir Alfric rolled his eyes.

"Unfortunately, however, there has been a complication. Heldan and I spoke by means of sightstone this afternoon. There is talk of Jame's family being arrested in the South, and House Benedikt has made the argument for naval embargo of the Sharktooth Isles."

"You fear you will never receive your due payment?" Osweld Verne deduced, eliciting a tacit nod from Barad.

"Sounds t'me that we'd ought ta collect on yer payment, m'lord." Sir Alfric chimed in, mopping up the remaining broth in his bowl with a slice of rye bread. "Kammeth's sake, Ah'll do it. Take one'a them boats to the Sharktooth Isle and get yer soddin' rocks. Don't even know what the fuss is about; I can't reckon how they plan t'carry out their, erm... what was it called again?"

"Embargo." Osweld and Barad said in unison.

"Right." Sir Alfric popped the broth-soaked slice of bread in his mouth. "How do ya think they figure they're going to do that when James' got the Sharktooth Armada? Ah'll show up, get the stinkin' jewels, and be off before we 'ave any trouble with this embargo business."

"You would do such a thing? I fear an element of danger. I do not wish to lose you, Sir Alfric."

"When, m'lord, do ya think a spot'a danger's ever been a concern ta me? Ah'll take one'a the boats in the 'arbor, sail around past good ol' Gliss, get the jewels from James' cousin or some such, and make mah merry way back home. Ah'll be back in a fortnight."

"You would be doing a tremendous service to the realm, Sir Alfric. I'll see to it that you have a ship and crew prepared for your departure tomorrow."

"I don't need no crew, m'lord. Gimme a few crowns to have one of these Karvina boats take a detour on their way home, Sers Percy and Rendel, and Ah'll 'ave yer gems before ya know it."

"Persimmon cakes!" Thadeos exclaimed, practically jumping up in his seat. "My favorite!"

The topic between the lords and the knight was put on hold by the arrival of dessert. From the pantry came Lady Anselm and her servant girl, each with a heaping plate of golden pastries. Nostrils sniffed up the sweet smell of honey-sweetened cakes as they were brought to the table.

"These look positively delectable, Lady Anselm." Crooned Lord Verne.

"They are. But do be careful: I imagine they're quite hot yet."

His mother's warning did little to hold off young Thadeos, who practically crawled across the table to snatch one of the pastries. Elise shoved him back into his seat. "You've not finished your vegetables, Thadeos." Elise reminded. Without further protest, Thadeos upended his bowl and bolted what remained of his helping of stew. Without so much as the slightest bit of chewing, Thadeos gulped his vegetables down and shoved his bowl aside before reaching again for a persimmon cake. The rest of the diners soon reached for their own pastry, albeit in a more controlled and reserved fashion than young Thadeos.

"Oh my..." Lord Osweld Verne exclaimed after tasting his first bite. He had bitten through the moist, spongy outer layer of pastry into a steaming core of saccharine persimmon pulp. "These are extraordinary. Lady Anselm, you must provide my wife with the recipe!"

"They are surprisingly simple to make. What's difficult is finding good persimmons. They have a terrible penchant for spoiling; the fruit goes rancid well before you can ever get them to market, so you must have a local tree. Fortunately, our Gina here went out to the wood's edge where a few trees with ripened fruits may be found. She deserves the lion's share of the praise for them."

"Well then, miss Gina, you have my thanks!" Osweld told the servant girl.

"Ya got mine too." Sir Alfric said with a mouthfull of vermillion persimmon pulp. "By th'way, speakin'a my ol' Gliss, how fairs the place, Lord Verne?"

"Quite cool of late." The minor lord of Gliss reported after swallowing a bite of pastry. "I was quite surprised to come down to Riddom yesterday to find it much colder than I have ever seen it in Gliss. I can only imagine how cold it has gotten since my departure. Winter is coming indeed, and it seems it shall arrive first at Gliss!"

"Also," Osweld added after a sip of merlot, "there's been some unfortunate incidents with the people of the deep woods lately. There was a peasant girl that was taken one night, presumably into the deep woods for some nefarious scheme; dreadful affair, that one."

"Damnable Eldfolk." Alfric snarled.

"I trust you dispatched the knights after her?" A sympathetic Elise asked.

"I did, yes... but I have little hope of them returning with the girl. One would have an easier time of finding a grit of sand in that kettle of stew there than a handful of knights searching the deep woods for a missing peasant girl. I am confident that Sers Hammond and Rolf are doing as much as they can, but I will be the first to admit it a nearly-impossible task."

"Know this, young Elise: House Anselm rules the Weald, but it is the Eldfolk who control it. That poor girl is in their realm now, and fear she shan't return from it."

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

Phoenix Tower swarmed with guards. Down every corridor and across every balcony of the citadel, Royal Guard contingents could be seen and heard stomping across the marble flooring. Guard patrols had been redoubled in recent days, and for good reason; it was only days before that Black Scorpions had infiltrated what was - supposedly - the most heavily guarded citadel in all of Elyden. The first murder within the tower was intended as a message: not even the High Lords were safe from the ire of the Scorpions. What had summoned this upswing in guard patrols was what the assassins intended next, now that their message had been received.

Seeker Heldan tread briskly down the same corridors of the Phoenix Tower, as he had done almost-incessantly since taking his position. Despite the foreboding woolen cloak draped about him, the Royal Guards payed him little heed - choosing instead to ignore the Seeker or briefly nod to him in greeting. This new Seeker, scurrying about at all times, had become as much a fixture of the tower as its Phoenix Porticullis or Mural of Heroes. If anything, the ominous Heldan skulking about was something of a reassurance to the personnel of the citadel - that they could rest easy that he was working tirelessly to uncover any other nefarious plot.

Likewise, Heldan ignored the guards marching around him, skirting about them mindlessly as he immersed himself in thought. There were such a great many secrets to unravel and so little time for the Seeker to uncover them. Appointments and meeting with various persons had consumed much of his time of late - time he would have preferred to have spent investigating leads and the like. Such chores were entirely necessary however: installing a network of compartmentalized informants was a laborious, time-consuming process indeed, but wholly necessary for uncovering secrets and plots wherever they were to be found.

And so Heldan scurried up flight after winding flight of stairs, to the midsection of the tower, to his new study. At this point, the Seeker's new office was nothing but a drop-off point for the numerous goods he had ordered or requisitioned. The spacious study, decorated with ornate marble moulding and fine tiles more in keeping with the office of the Keeper of Coin, had been allowed to become a chaotic mess of crates and shelving. Boxes of scrolls were stacked all about a single desk placed haphazardly in the center of the room while a small library's-worth of books and ledgers made slanting stacks upward to the ceiling. A dozen porters and stevedores navigated through the disorganized maze at any given time, delivering the materials that Heldan had ordered thus far. Among the porters, Heldan found the person he intended to meet next.

"Seeker Heldan." A man clad in a leather tunic acknowledged the cloaked figure approaching him and his two associates. "A pleasure to convene with you at last. I am Ason Marstel of Amplefort, Engineer-in-Chief of the Royal Army. The First Sword personally sent for me to meet with you as well as deliver unto you the hardware requested." The engineer glanced to the two stevedores beside him, who stooped down and brought up to chest level a long, shallow wooden crate. Heldan drew open the top of the crate, set it aside, and sifted through the packing straw to uncover the contents.

"I see." Heldan said unenthusiastically. "These are satisfactory. Leave it by the desk."

The carriers tacitly replaced the top of the crate and shuffled across the room with the crate hanging in between their arms. The siege engineer's eyes followed them for a moment as they hefted the load away before turning again to the Seeker. "I understand now that I am to speak with the Regent."

"Indeed." Heldan confirmed. "Follow me."
________________________________________________________________________________________

Shamgar sat back in his chair as he digested Heldan's plan. His new office, unlike the previous one located in the Palaces Chapel, was much larger then that modest chamber. The walls were lined with books and scrolls, and at the rear of his desk was a large stained window that offered a wonderful view of the city of Skyhaven. The desk before him was fairly organized if but a bit hectic, overlayed with texts, scrolls, and documents. His eyes had been locked on his quill and inkpot as he considered his options. Finally, he sighed and looked back up to meet the man opposite his desk gaze.

"I must confess this is a rather...unorthodox idea to say the least Master Heldan, the risk alone are great, we cannot be sure if they will rise to the...opportunity. But you say there is no other way?"

"Never said I that there was no other way. By means of traditional investigation, we could capture adherents of the Black Scorpions. Such methods would take months - years perhaps. We do not have the luxury of time. There is no faster way to apprehend a Black Scorpion."

Heldan paced about the bookshelves, as he often did, with hands clasped underneath the folds of the cloak's sleeves. "I will be the first to admit, it is a daring scheme - worryingly so. I will not lie to thee, Regent. There is a great element of danger at play. But this danger would be omnipresent; so long as the Black Scorpions are at large, your life is in grave danger. I should think, with my scheme in action, you will be better protected against their assassins than you would be otherwise."

"Ultimately, the decision is not mine to make. Will you help me, Regent?"

Shamgar's left hand rub at his chin in thought once more. He could not say he was a brave and noble individual, immune to fear and anxiety. No man was, unless of course, he was mad perhaps. Still his true worry laid with his dear nephew. Rightful king to the throne he might be, he was but a boy, a child really, surrounded by predators on all sides. He would be robbed of a protector if things went astray. Could he trust Helden however? What poking around in the past he did he could find little about the Seeker of Secrets. On a romantic level of such positions, one might think such secrecy was befitting of a man in his station, in the real world however such fairy tale ideals were foolish. Yet, for all that he knew that Helden had served and advised Lord Hamel Anselm along with every Anselm Lord since, faithfully and loyally. No, Helden might be many things, but a spy was not likely one of them. He was also right, something had to be done, these Black Scorpions had not only infiltrated the Palace once, but twice!

They had all but made a mockery of the Royal Guard, and the crown as well. Never mind the blood of a Paragon was already on their hands. Action had to be taken, or else they may as well bend their heads to the chopping block themselves.

After a moment more of weighing the options, Shamgar nodded, almost more to himself as he rose up in his seat. “Very well Master Helden, while I knew tough choices awaited on in these dark days, I had not envisioned something quite like this. Never the less. I shall not shy from it now, Master Helden, make whatever preparations you may need, aside from that, I will prepare a list of our most trusted and skilled men-at-arms and Houseblades. If we will do this, we will do it right the first time, we may not get another chance I fear.”

"Very well. Your selflessness to Elyden's people is exemplary." Heldan nodded, making his way to the Odeshi engineer he had brought along. "I will not make false promises as I cannot guarantee your safety in this scheme. But we shall make every preparation to assure your safety."

"Ason Marstel. I do not mean to question your loyalty - but we can take no chances with our Regent's safety. I am afraid that you shall not be permitted to leave the citadel until this plan has come to fruition. You know too much now to risk falling to the enemy."

"I understand." The engineer acknowledged.

Shamgar nodded warily, the bags under his eyes and shifting of his shoulders almost made it appear as if he had aged an entire cycle just from sitting there. “Regardless of what happens Helden, I want your word. You will aid our King, should the worse come.” He laid back in his chair. Realizing now that there was a letter he needed posting...his sister had been away from the capital for almost too long now after all. Woe to any assassins indeed.

He shivered.

"I... see." The gravity of the situation at hand had manifested itself completely. "This I shall do." The Seeker affirmed dutifully. "You have my word."

"Now, I have other appointments to commit to for the time being. Our arrangement is effective starting tonight. Ason Marstel will make the requisite preparations. See him to your sleeping chambers." The Seeker glanced out the stained windows, noting the lowering afternoon sun. Little time remained until his next appointment.

And without so much as another word, Heldan was off, scurrying away to the next secret to be uncovered."

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

Amidst the elm trees planted within the cobblestone square, a small crowd of peasants had gathered within one of the lower plazas of Skyhaven. A hundred of them - a great many children - jeered and laughed in contempt of the ten locked in heavy, wooden stocks under the watch of two Royal Guards who watched the proceedings with apathetic amusement. Stooped down beneath them in worn stocks strategically positioned in the sun so as to ensure proper sunburning throughout the day, the ten prisoners took their punishment with a dejected acceptance. Dressed in ragged prison clothes, with mussed hair and untrimmed facial hair, they were subjected to all manner of humiliation by any passerby who wished to shame them and would continue to do so until sundown that day.

Beneath their clamped necks hung crude chalkboards tethered to chains, upon which the prisoner's crime was written for all to see. Their crimes, while covering a broad range of unacceptable activities, were all fairly minor. Three chalkboards read "DEBTOR", another had "DISAGREEABLE ODOR" scrawled in capital letters for the passersby to see. One particularly-unfortunate soul had "DONKEY-BUGGERER" hanging beneath his name. And although most of the peasants gathered at the stocks could not read the signs, they knew that they had committed some offense against society and that some mild catharsis against them would do everyone some good.

To this end, the peasant children had brought with them copious amounts of rotten and inedible produce. Mushy cabbages sailed through the air and splattered against the faces of the condemned or the stocks they were affixed to, showering them in soggy fronds and maggots. The man accused of fornicating with a donkey received the lion's share of the abuse, who was now drenched with the pulp of spoiled tomatoes, but not far behind him in terms of degradation was a younger, more handsome man with a gaunt, chiseled face; the chalkboard beneath his face read "HABITUAL THIEF". He had made some attempt to slick back his oily hair, now embedded with several chunks of rotten turnip. A serf girl not too much younger than he stepped gingerly over the layer of vegetable matter over the cobblestones and approached him and smiled.

"Why hello, miss..." The thief crooned. The girl responded in kind by stuffing a molding carrot up his left nostril and then skipped back to her peers, blushing profusely.

As produce continued to rain down upon the condemned, a dark, cloaked figure approached the stocks. The guards seemed somewhat more alert as the hooded stranger approached the thief's stocks. With a speckled, wrinkled hand, he read the crime upon his chalkboard silently to himself.

"Come to stuff another carrot in my nose?" The thief asked with a nasally wheeze.

The man in the dark, gray cloak turned to the guards instead, ignoring the turnips splattering against his feet. "What cost to free this man?"

The Royal Guards looked to one another, seemingly perplexed by the offer. "Five dawns should suffice." One offered at last, his companion nodding in accord.

Without further comment, the hooded stranger deposited five copper coins into the guard's palm. With a shrug the same guard stowed the coins in a pouch at his side and produced a key from his belt. With a metallic click, the key popped the wooden yoke open, freeing the thief.

"Go on, thief. Don't do it again; you won't be as fortunate next time." The guard growled.

With the prisoner free the cloaked figure stepped away from the stocks. The man he had freed followed hot on his heels, massaging his wrists as he went.

"Now, who do I have to thank for such generosity?" The thief asked after plucking out the carrot lodged within his nostril.

"Your employer." The hooded figure answered curtly, stopping under the shade of an elm, well out of earshot of the roaring peasant crowd.

"My employer?" The thief pressed a finger against his nose and blew a wad of mucus and residual carrot-mold from his nostril. He wiped his hand against an unsullied portion of his trousers. "What an honor that is - you will be my first. My name is Ernest. Ernest Gilwerth. And it is my most sincere pleasure to make your acquaintance, my only and dearest employer." The thief presented his hand to the cloaked man to shake. The cloaked man showed no interest in returning the gesture.

"So I see that you are a thief." The hooded figure asked, all business. "But are you a good thief?"

"It is hardly fashionable to boast of such skills," said a smiling Ernest, combing his hand through his hair and brushing out bits of turnip, "but between an employer and his employee, I am a talented pilferer of pockets."

"For a good thief, you seem to be caught rather frequently."

"For every time I have been found out, there are two dozen times I have not."

"Fair enough. Then I have work for you."

"What sort of compensation am I to expect, my dear employer."

"Handsome compensation." The cloaked man nodded across the skyline to one of Skyhaven's towering spires. "We shall discuss the details at the tavern. Wash yourself and meet me there a candlemark after dusk."

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

72nd of Zieliah, 698

To the men of Noctua, or Aglil, Riddom was a rude, rural affair. What in Karvina or the Riverlands would constitute a small, provincial town was the seat of power of House Anselm. There were no glittering spires to be found here; no awesome temples, towering ramparts, or pristine canals. The seat of the Weald was but a modest port on the stony shore of the Green Gulf. Bark and thatched roofs poked over a palisade made not of chisled alabaster or granite, but lichen-painted timbers. Thin, wispy trails of smoke melted into an overcast sky amongst the masts of moored cogs from the Greenwood or Karvina. The town's unimpressive skyline was made whole by a cobblestone edifice looking out to sea from above a rocky promontory above the wharves: Gullstone Hall.

To Lord Barad Anselm, Riddom was home.

Herds of sheep scattered before Lord Anselm as he rode on across the rolling hills to the gate – a wooden door of knotty oak encircled by a crude arch of cobbles. Elite city guards clad in silk tabards and polished armor were nowhere to be found here; the southern gate of Riddom was guarded by a pair of bored serfs dressed in studded leather tunics and oversized kettle hats dripping with the misty drizzle falling over the land. As their lord approached, they unbolted the gate and saluted Barad with their right arms balled into a fist over their chest as he cantered through the portcullis and into the city.

Clods of earth mixed with rich-smelling manure shot forth from the hooves of Lord Anselm's horse as he rode through the streets of Riddom, a far cry from the paved thoroughfares of Skyhaven from whence he had returned. Chickens scratched greedily through the ruts of the same streets that men and horses trod, which darted jerkily out of the path of Barad's steed. Serfs and low bergers too steered out of the way of the Lord as he rode up the hill. Clouds of frosty vapor puffed forth from their nostrils, their hands rubbing together to keep warm. It was the chill that hung in this northern air that was the cause of their lord's visit to the South; even the great lords themselves were worried by the cold. They looked up to their lord expectantly, seemingly hoping that some development from that summit in great Skyhaven would avert this coming winter.

Barad hoped for the same.

Atop the hill of Gullstone, Barad jerked the reigns, commanding his horse to stop with an irritated snort. He slid out from his saddle and handed the reigns off to another under-armored guard standing watch upon the steps of Gullstone Hall to stable. With no more fanfare than he had received at the gates, he clasped the iron hoops and drew open the doors to his home and seat of power – however modest it might be.

Just as soon as the warmth from inside the hall overcame him, a patter of small footsteps rumbled across the floorboards.

“Papa!!” A giddy child squealed. The scowl for which Barad “the Bitter” ceased to exist once he heard the boy's cheer, who proceeded to throw himself at his father.

“Thadeos!” Barad chuckled heartily as he scooped the little boy into his arms and swung him about. He was no older than five turns, and light enough for Lord Anselm to carry and move through the air. The boy squealed and giggled as Barad swung him around through the air, before letting him down gently onto one of a number of cushions circled around a roaring hearth hearth, mussing up a head of silky, ruddy hair.

“Again! Again!!” Little Thadeos demanded. No sooner than Barad could respond, a pair of arms came around his belly and squeezed him.

“Father!” The voice of young woman exclaimed from behind him. He spun about to find his eldest child and only daughter, clad in an orange, velveteen dress. She had a gaunt, mousy face, dominated by piercing, green eyes. The very beginnings of breasts from underneath her dress suggested she had seen perhaps fourteen turns of the wheel.

“My Elise.” He declared, stooping down and parting black, wavy hair to plant a kiss upon her forehead. He glanced around the empty hall with its tall amber windows pattering now fatter raindrops. “And where is your mother?” Barad ignored the little one tugging on his tabard.

“In the pantry, I should think.” Elise reported. “What was Skyhaven like?”

“Did you see an elephant?!” Thadeos blurted.

“Bigger than I imagined. The city is carved into the top of the mountain, one can see for leagues around just from the lower levels where I stayed. I imagine I'll never see anything like it as long as I live.”

“Papa! Did you see an elephant there!?”

“No...” Barad reported dejectly, then grinning. “I saw two elephants! All the way from Odesh!”

“Wooooow...”

“They could barely fit in this hall, they were so big!” Barad stretched his arms out as far as he could for emphasis. Elise shot a nervous glance across the hall and then looked away, drawing Barad's eyes to the newest one to welcome him. He came to to his feet and turned to face the sound of heavy bootfalls across the floorboards.

“Sir Alfric!” Barad cheered, opening his arms to accept the approaching man in embrace. A wall of chainmail collided with Barad, heavy slaps thumping upon his back as they closed the embrace before backing off to a respectful distance.

“Good t'have ya back, m'lord... and in one piece.” The knight graveled. “'Fraid one of them might'a tried t'poison ya or somethin' fer a vote.”

“Thankfully not!” Barad chuckled.

“Can't say I envy ya. A man like me doesn't have a lot'a patience for that sort'a politics and pissdrinkin'.” Sir Alfric swore. Barad smiled sheepishly and turned to his children.

“Elise, be a dear and see where you mother is... Thadeos, why don't you and play outdoors for a bit?” Without protest, Elise sauntered off and Thadeos skipped out the front door. With both children out of earshot of any other potential profanities from Sir Alfric, Barad continued.

“We have a Regent. Shamgar governs on behalf of the Paragon boy until he is of age... Heldan appointed himself the Seeker of Secrets and remains in Skyhaven for the time being.”

“I was wond'rin' where that old cretin had gotten off'ta! Our very own Heldan the Seeker of Secrets?”

“I must say I wasn't too thrilled by the appointment.” Barad admitted. “These are to be difficult times and I would like him be my side through it all.”

“Pfh! Might do us all some good t'have him snoopin' about a little less. Anything else'a import from Skyhaven?”

“Heldan suggested that I sell my vote for the Regent. Lord James Conrad of the Sharktooth Isles had been campaigning heavily for votes in favor of his regency. Heldan asked jewels of him in exchange for my vote?”

“Jewels?” Alfric snorted. “What would we some soddin' gems for?”

“House Anselm is not a prosperous house.” Barad reminded. “We will need some tangible capital in these coming days for my machinations.”

“Machinations? What in Kammeth's name is a machination?”

“Erm... Designs, plans.” Barad rephrased. It was not the first time he had overestimated the knight's vocabulary.

“Are they really your plans?” Asked Alfric dubiously, “or Heldan's?”

It was then that Thadeos had slid through the cracked front door and ran over to his father and the knight.

“Papa!” Come outside! Look and see!” The boy demanded with excited urgency. Barad and Sir Alfric followed behind Thadeos and stepped out into the cold air beyond the threshold.

The guards at the foot of the cobblestone steps to Gullstone Hall had their full attention to the sky, their hands held gingerly up to the clouds. Thadeos giggled gleefully as he did the same as the guards: pointing a finger up to the sky, as if trying to catch something on the tip of his index finger. His finger made jerky arcs through the air before catching a single white speck upon the tip of his finger.

“White rain!” Thadeos giggled, presenting the quickly-melting speck to Barad and Alfric.