AMIA ARCHIVE • View topic - Diplomacy's Game Continues: Blood and Rebirth

Alanna rises in her Wharftown home from the sleep of the dead. She is severely disoriented, as she has never been a particularly heavy sleeper, preferring short naps scattered throughout the day when the time presents itself. The dull throbbing of blood inside her head brings a burst of pain with every pulse, and her ears seem to ring with a loud, constant noise. Glancing around for the source as the heavy veil of sleep lifts, she spies her infant daughter, face scarlet and shiny with tears, the young child wailing with the grief of the abandoned. She rushes for the child and checks her mouth, which is extremely dry. Alanna nearly weeps, cursing herself for, once again, letting time slip from her.

Eventually, she leaves her house by the temple to find the rest of the town whispering, the guards on edge, and a friend missing.

She heads toward Cordor, a letter in hand, teeth as bright as blades bared in fury.

The dark-haired bardess retires to the Triumvir, to listen to rumour.

She leaves then, seeking one specific person, or someone who knows where they are. Asking only those she trusts...

"I knew a man once. Very very pale, with white hair. Where has he gone? He said this would happen..."

The Triumvir bar owner points her towards the Shrine to Shaundakul. "He comes in once or twice a week to pray at the shrine there, but other than that, he doesn't seem to hang around too much."

Patrons of the Nomad might hear a rhythmic thumping noise as a man pounds his head against the wall upstairs.

Mala scampers off toward the Shrine of Shaundakul. Providing nothing shiny distracts her, and Akadi doesn't blow her off course, she goes there, and hangs out to wait.

This, of course, makes for a distraught-ly bored bard.

While studying away at the Map for a bit, Tuomas pondered to himself thinking. Rather.. suddenly, the Gnomish Wizard suddenly exclaimed out.

"Gond's Gears! Why didn't I think of this Sooner?!" . He exclaimed. If anyone was disturbed by his brief outburst, he apologized and hurried his way out into Kohlingen proper.

The letter was in one hand and the coin was in the other. The platinum coin turns slowly in his hand, over and over. The elf's attention was on neither, however. His gaze was fixed on the road. Upon reading the letter, he debated telling Xaviera what he knew, but held back.

Scrying was not necessary, but investigating was.

Spending a bit of time out getting air, Tuomas quietly went back to the Keep's tower and continued studying the Map.

----

After completing the address on the newly captured culprit, Nevaeh went into the Commonwealth building, and if able, spoke directly to Maximillian and Secretary Pelczur.

"Don't lie to them about geas magic," she said assertively, looking between both men with somewhat narrowed eyes. She was clearly displeased. "It is not peaceful or non-violent. It kills slowly, and we made our people submit to it without a second thought. Based on a single assumption that was all to quickly proven wrong."

Her gaze shifted to Pelczur, "Was it even explained to them what might happen to them, or their loved ones?" She paused to seethe in a breathe, maintaining her tone of voice, "The implications are terrible. At this point, I don't think it even matters if the people who ever suffer the effects of the geas. We think they will, and we are prepared to let them suffer and slowly die, without remorse or a second thought. What kind of trust and freedom are they supposed to have in a Commonwealth that firmly believes that every single magician will rebel, so two people out of the entire government decide to allow a system that agrees each and every one of them should die-- not just instantly, but a slowly, so that they suffer." She looked the middle-aged Minister in the eyes, sternly, "That is disgusting, Joseph. Will we do it to every single citizen we're afraid will act against the government, or only single out people one demographic at a time? It is a tyranny, Joseph. You need to stop this. Now."

After a while spending time out, and getting fresh air Tuomas continued his studies of the Map, seeming determined to learn what he could. He did sigh though in thought.

~Wherever Mister Belorfin is, I hope he sorts out finding a place to set up and continue selling his wares, or alternatively someone else can do so in his stead. ~ Tuomas ponders to himself, murmuring.

~.. Maybe taking Mister Vyashir up on his offer'd be good when we're.. less focused on this mess with Cordor? ~ he added, solely in his thoughts.

It wasn't that someone else had executed the perpetrator before she could; it was the name that made her blood boil, as it had so many years ago.

"Xyrkha..."

The name fell from her lips as a venomous whisper.

Xyrkha-Sarr Vanzan

Oh, Shala remembered her.
That night, when she went to speak to the small shrine of Hoar, another name was added to those of the Arcanum.

Fey being reliably unreliable, Bubbles has notably not been seen in Cordor for at least a ten-day, maybe more. At least one ranger noticed her hidey-hole under a tree near the Grove is occupied once again, however, and she doesn't seem to be coming out anytime soon, save perhaps for a select few. It seems some battles are just too messy for such a creature of magic.

Xaviera makes a statement.

"I have been waiting for the Guard to complete their work before I said anything, so as not to hamper their investigation.

Minister Maximillian had given me leave to conduct my own investigation into the source of the leaflets that rained upon Cordor a few days ago and caused such chaos. I suggested to him that it was the work of Sharrans or Cyricists, seeking to take advantage of a tumultuous situation to cause even more turmoil. It turns out that my guess was correct.

I had assigned a few inspectors from the Ministry of Health & Public Welfare to check likely sources of the vellum upon which the notes were stamped, in hopes that this would turn up a large buyer. I was also in the process of making arrangements to have the coins scried independently of the Arcanum when I received a message that someone wished to meet with me about the incident.

I went to the arranged meeting place and spoke with the woman known as Caravanner Shark, who informed me that she intended to kidnap me. Among the effects retrieved from her body, in fact, was a letter obviously intended to be sent by her if she did so.

She confessed to me that she had herself distributed the messages over Cordor out of despair for the loss of one dear to her and a desire to wreak vengeance, which is the twisted dogma of the Lady of Loss. Sadly, in the depths of her anguish, she chose not to seek alternatives, such as are offered by the Temple of Love, but to make others suffer as she felt she had. As a result, citizens of our dear city who had no connection with this woman and her loss have themselves been made to suffer, have lost their livelihood and their homes, or at the very least their freedom by agreeing to the mind-twisting and the mental shackles of the Arcanum.

The menace of the coins from the sky has now been exposed. I therefore ask that Citizen Maximillian reverse his inappropriate, unilateral and possibly illegal decrees. I once again call upon Speaker Maximillian to reverse the edict against the Mystrans and Azuthans, and in particular, I insist - nay, I demand! - that the geases be broken. As long as the Arcanum controls the Ministry of Magic, it is a branch of the State, and this geas prevents its victims from acting against the State. The Arcanum wishes to control all magic on this island and throughout the world and, on Secretary Pelczukr's own admission, has no qualms about spying on your neighbours. Evidence in possession of the guard is also said to link the Arcanum to acts of kidnapping, arson and murder within this very city. If these allegations are found to be true, and if this organization, its true nature exposed, decides to launch a coup against the Commonwealth of Cordor, the magically-gifted citizens of this city will be powerless to act against it. We have not made ourselves stronger by accepting the Arcanum, we are making ourselves slaves to it!

As Waukeen encourages commerce in goods and services, I say to you that the welfare of the Commonwealth's citizens is best served by having a variety of providers for magical services. To give complete control to any one group - whether it be the Monolith or the Arcanum - is to accept whatever cost they ask, and is a mistake. At this point, the guilt or innocence of the Arcanum is irrelevant and they should be expelled from the Ministry of Magic if for no other reason than they prevent our citizens from freely obtaining their magical services where they will. And to allow such a group to control your very thoughts and actions should you no longer wish to support it is grave indeed. I leave it to you, Citizens, to decide whether or not this is acceptable to you."

The statements that are released by Captain Tarvencia and Minister Xee put the people of Cordor into what Bill Hurst describes, in an article where their speeches are reprinted, as a "stupor".

Having been so convinced that the Mystrans were responsible for the threats, an incident which seemed incredibly likely due to the loss of the Monolith and their antics at the Second State of the Commonwealth Address, the news that it was a woman, a merchant, and a supposed Sharran is so rapid a switch of gears that they simply return to their work.

There is an unspoken question on the tips of their tongues! Hurst writes, favoring the flourish of ink. In whom do we place our trust? Those who tell the story that makes perfect sense yet has no evidence, or those who bring the very uninteresting conclusion that presents the most convincing evidence? It is not my role to put an answer to the question, of course, save to inform you that the answer will most certainly be printed here, in the Amian Recorder!

The turmoil in Cordor has had a notable effect on Kurchin's behavior. When around friends, he behaves more like his normal self. However, when alone on the streets of Cordor, or around strangers, he tends to remain as hidden as possible. His tail remains static, his eyes betray a worried expression, his hands with their filed down claws twitch nervously. His gaze darts around rapidly, as if looking for something, or expecting to be kidnapped without a moment's notice.

After hearing of Nevaeh's and Xaviera's addresses, he strolls over quickly and quietly to the Nomad. Once inside, his demeanor changes again to his usual happy self.
Come on... keep it together... don't panic now...

Once inside, he makes a friendly wave to Griff, then asks for a chocolate milk. However, despite the air he tries to put off, he's not there solely for the revelry. The kobold pays close attention to the other patrons, particularly when they talk about Cordor's politics, trying to get a feel for what they think and feel. He tries to subtly shift conversations towards that end, but he does his best to obscure his own thoughts on the matter.

Merrien wrote:

Fey being reliably unreliable, Bubbles has notably not been seen in Cordor for at least a ten-day, maybe more. At least one ranger noticed her hidey-hole under a tree near the Grove is occupied once again, however, and she doesn't seem to be coming out anytime soon, save perhaps for a select few. It seems some battles are just too messy for such a creature of magic.

Crow, noticing the return of Bubbles, checks her secret place on a daily basis either to or from one of his extensive patrols throughout the island of Amia.
Hidden from view, he would whisper to see if everything is in order for her, leaving as silently hidden as he arrived and watching to see if he was being observed.
A promise is a promise after all, not to be broken.

A young Calishite male, busily exploring the length and breadth of Kohlingen, is on his way out of the bathhouse when a nearby citizen misses a garbage can with a copy of the Amian Recorder and fails to pick it up in their hurry. He strolls over to the pages and bends down to scoop them up, flipping his long, wet hair as he does so. Initially, his intention is to rectify the situation, but an article catches his eye, as many articles within the Recorder are specifically designed to do.

In rapt silence, he regards the article in its entirety, and the adjoining statements, before his eyes narrow as they settle on the final lines...

"In whom do we place our trust? Those who tell the story that makes perfect sense yet has no evidence, or those who bring the very uninteresting conclusion that presents the most convincing evidence? It is not my role to put an answer to the question, of course, save to inform you that the answer will most certainly be printed here, in the Amian Recorder!"

With sudden, jerking motions, his face twisted into frothing, jittering anger, the paper was torn and crumpled into tiny, tiny pieces in a lengthy rage. If other people came across him as he worked out his aggressions, his face would turn to regard them with a wide, plastic smile, even as his hands continued to destroy and maim the news, not returning to his angry expression until the moment they looked away.

When he was done, he dunked the pages' remnants into a nearby metal trash bin, setting the contents of the bin alight with Burning Hands and taking care to watch the fire until it burned itself out.

"Oh look, it's inflammatory." He mumbled to himself. "Who would have guessed."

The next day Captain Tarvencia returns to argue the geas spells, when she learns that the order has not been overturned yet and revoked. She speaks directly to the Council, which she insisted on doing.

"These geas spells should end immediately, and the ones that have already been please need to be broken. The assumed threat that brought them on has been dealt with, and the investigation has cleared the Mystrans and Azuthians. It's only doubly unnecessary and unacceptable now that we keep putting serious magic on innocent magicians and citizens, especially when the only alternative they're offered is that they have to leave their homes if they don't agree. It makes no sense that everyone be made slaves to the Arcanum and be oppressed like this. The Adventuring Division can't support this blatant undue use of force on our people. It's a misuse of power that it was even implemented so quickly. We support Minister Xee that the people should be free from these geas threats immediately.

If it turns out to be so necessary, I want to hear a reason why it should be kept up, and I'm sure the people would want to know why, too. A solid reason, at that. And then, the Council can vote about it, like was intended for all decisions like this."

And later that evening, the Captain walked through the Square with company, and then paused at Mikey's latest message:

"Mystrans and Azuthans temporarily outlawed by Minister of Law as enemies of the state for offering a 40,000,000 gold bounty for the lives of Minister Tytalus and Secretary Pelczukr!"

She paused to address the child kindly, and advise him to hold that message until further notice, since it is advertising false information; at least it is false now, as of her recent address.

The official advisement arrives at the Amian Recorder Office, explaining that it is providing incorrect information and can only serve to inflame tensions between Cordor and the Mystrans and Azuthans, any other related people. At the end of the letter, it becomes clear that it is actually an order to either correct the advertisement or to pull it completely. Signed, Captain Nevaeh Tarvencia."

Jay Edgar Mover, Secretary of Law, finally emerges from the Law Ministry's offices and declares that, on the order of Minister Joseph Maximillian, the Ministry of Magic is to suspend the geas'ing of citizens and non-citizens and to leave the Commonwealth Center at once while the investigation continues.

"Considering the suspicions raised by both Captain Tarvencia and Minister Xee, it seems imprudent to have the Ministry of Magic remove the geases they placed upon people at the Ministry of Law's command, which, I remind you," he says with his winning, happy, well-meaning smile, "is well within the Ministry of Law's right to decide when the Council cannot effectively render a quick enough judgment."

"The geasa will be removed either by the Ministry of Magic, provided they are cleared of any actual wrongdoing, or by a trusted third party, should the investigation reveal evidence of the Ministry of Magic's wrongdoing."

The dark-robed men of the Ministry of Magic simply cease their activities and do not seem upset at all about the decision. They leave the Commonwealth Center immediately and mix into the ether of the crowd. Secretary Pelczukr, however, is quietly ordered by Secretary Mover to remain in the Commonwealth Center.

"To answer some questions, is all," he says with a smile, cracking a knuckle on his left hand. "Nothing serious."

After a discussion with Ulrik, Tuomas stood for a long time on the roof of Kohlingen keep, murmuring to himself in Celestial quietly.

"Diligence.. patience..humility.. temperance.. kindness .. Charity.. Chastity.. " he murmured.

~ .. Damned.. why was I so impatient? Why didn't I just leave? I .. Gods am I starting to think like Mentaki.. that Ulrik shouldn't be trusted because he's holding information back until it appears to be pertinent? ~ he asked himself, quietly going out on a walk.

A teary eyed Gnome spent some time in the Library of Kohlingen , researching rites and rituals of penitence as he tried his best to keep some measure of dignity while acknowledging the regret he'd been feeling.

After spending some time in research, he seemed to find a quiet place on the keep grounds and slipped into meditation , going well into the night with such and the next morning, he only accepted some bread and water before going back to his meditations.

In the early morning, Captain Tarvencia stands before the Commonwealth building with another address, wearing her full rank regalia sans her helmet. She seems to wait a few minutes, perhaps mustering the confidence to speak.

"Today, I address the citizenry with another trouble, and hopefully, with steps towards lifting another burden that has weighed on us for too long as a people. This time, it is not to bring a threat to your attention, but to hopefully bring around a peace of mind, and to finally close a door.

The Adventuring Division believes we have found the culprit responsible for the murders of the former Minister of Public Health and Welfare, Jonathin Leohnard, the organizer of Sympathy for South Cordor, Renee Flowers, and two other members of Sympathy for South Cordor whose identities will remain undisclosed with respect to their families.

The official suspect is Sir Avadon of Wiltun.

In reviewing past evidence from the scene and implicating circumstances of how the victims were slain, including the weapon used-- which made Sir Avadon of Wiltun a suspect before--and with respect to a recent testimony from a prisoner held by the Commonwealth, we are confident in naming him the top suspect for these terrible crimes.

An investigation will be opened again, and will continue it in order to confirm him, with certainty, as the culprit. There was a time several months ago that Sir Avadon of Wiltun unofficially confessed his involvement in these murders and that he was the one responsible, in an attempt to earn an Atonement from Selune, away from the grasp of Shar. He had admitted that he hoped to repent for these crimes and to be forgiven and meet judgement for his crimes. I had hoped he would confess definitively and openly, as he expressed to me that evening.

It seems that I should have known better, and for that, I apologize. Such a chance should not have been given, and now, I will be trying to correct that mistake in my judgement. Sir Avadon of Wiltun has already been exiled from our city as an enemy of the State, and I believe that the term has gained new definition in regards to him, with this unfortunate and dark announcement.

I wish I had more hopeful words to end this address, but I can only promise to learn from my mistakes and improve.

I hope this will be one of the first steps on a long road towards making a better Commonwealth that the one we have today."

Hearing the words, a scarlet-haired tiefling stiffens, her jaw dropping, and gathers a small herd of demon-dragon-elf-human mutt babies into the Triumvir to hide. She's not seen, for quite some time, not even at the temple of love's altar to Sune.

For her part, the darkhaired card-turner once again finds her way into the city, but does so with the air of a feral cat, jumping at any noise, and fairly crackling with nervous energy. However, she's still hunting....furtive glances to any pale-haired figure as she tells fortunes and sings songs.

A knight sits with eyes closed, a single gauntleted hand rubbing his forehead as he mutters a dismissal to the messenger. Silence overtakes him as he slips into a quiet and sober meditation. With the briefest of exhales and a longing glance, he sets his crimson eyes upon the seas outside the fortress walls.

"I suppose it was never meant to be...Despite it all, they won't let me leave...Just when I thought I was out...they pull me back in."

Stiffly, he retrieves his cloak from the corner of the tower's room. Lethargically, he tucks his helmet underneath his arm. By impulse, he rubs at a gnawing pain in his chest.

"Time to make some waves, partner."

After a chat with Lady Emma, Tuomas continued in his penitent meditation and contemplation, though he seemed a bit better in spirit, still, contemplating to himself curiously.

When word eventually gets around to Taelar, whose participation in the campaign in Caraigh means he is rarely to be seen around the Commonwealth anymore, the tiefling lets out a low snarl.

Nev you bloody twit.

Rumors spread very quickly that Sir Avadon, the foreign Knight of Wiltun and accused Sharran, has turned himself in to the Ministry of Law, and that Captain Tarvencia of the Adventuring Division took him into custody.

Lately, the people linger around the Commonwealth Center or the pavilion in South Cordor much more often, expecting sudden and immediate public addresses by prominent figures in the Commonwealth. They seem eager for some pronouncement of Avadon's case.

Meanwhile, in an Inn in Bendir Dale, Tuomas and Eli sat talking.. Tuomas himself thought quietly.

~.. "Return to the origins that gave Birth to what dreams called the City of Tolerance.. " .. Hrm.. how to do that? ~ he asked himself quietly, sitting with Eli and discussing still.

Richard's chipper demeanor is brought to a swift end upon hearing news of Avadon's arrest.

"That's a problem..."

The dark-haired fortuneteller makes her way to Kohlingen, a male bard at her side. A bit of talking with Yaston shows she's stepping up the search for Torin, and has added those of the Monolith to her list. There's something firm in her face and stance; she knows none of this will end well, but it's up to her, and those like her, to make sure it ends.

Finding a woman with long, long red hair, they duck into what looks like a wealthy estate to talk.

A raven haired knight leans his forehead against the bars of a Cordorian cell door. Clearing his throat he calls out to no one in particular, but obviously directed towards a guardsman.

Tell Captain Tarvencia that I demand to see Joseph Maximilian. If they want to learn anything, I speak to him and it better be soon. You can tell her, him or whoever you like that it would best serve the Commonwealth and Her people to hear what I have to say...

I'd also suggest not wasting any time... It's already slipping away."

Solemnly he turns and trudges to the far wall where he settles himself to the ground to wait.

Last edited by Merrien on Tue, May 10 2011, 17:07 PM, edited 1 time in total.

An exotic bard woman with cat-like eyes and her friend-- Malaguena, and Sano-- indeed find their way to a brief encounter with a red-haired noblewoman in Kohlingen. After hearing her words, Lady Emma invites them into her home for an even briefer discussion, after which she bears a message to the former headmaster of the Monolith, whom the noble (who chose to ignore the usual nicety of introducing herself) informed Malaguena "was currently staying within the Keep."

"The Tower" tarot card in hand with Malaguena's name upon it, Lady Emma realized she might be able to get word to the pale man the woman sought. "Someone I know can deliver such," Emma thought.

A certain Hin keeps keen eyes, ears and nose on the goings on in Cordor.

In a back alley in Cordor a young tiefling slams his head against a wooden wall, yelling a word with each slam.

Why*slam*Is*slam*Everyone*slam*Being*slam*Stupid!

He snarls and slams his fist hard against the wall, splintering wood and possibly though not definitely breaking his own knuckles before stalking off, growling long and lowly at the back of his throat.

Uninvolved with the power struggle, neither understanding nor caring who wins, Nelene focuses on only one thing.
A letter to Nevaeh.

Following a morning buffet of Cormyrian muffins slathered with genuine butter and fresh Dale apricot preserves, a half a pound of bacon, pan-kissed, three eggs scrambled with goat cheese, sausage, diced tomatoes and cilantro, three traveller's flapjacks with an extra dose of maple syrup from Guldorand, a few glasses of sugared grapefruit juice and a cup of coffee, Bill Hurst of the Amian Recorder cleans crumbs and jelly stains from his mustache and sets off gleefully for the South Cordor District Prison.

He turns around a quarter of the way there to have a second morning constitutional.

An hour later, he arrives at the prison and smiles at Clerk Rosana and showers her with praise for keeping so many accurate records for him, the Secretary of the Press.

"I'm just here to see Sir Avadon of Wiltun, who turned himself in I hear! Sounds like this is going to be one hell of a story. A foreign knight, incarcerated, but on his own cognizance! Confessing to his suspected murder of Johnathin Leohnard and, no doubt, his Harper affiliations. Thank you, I'll just see my way through, I know the way."

"Just a minute, Mr. Hurst," Rosanna calls quietly.

"Yes! Yes, what is it?"

"I am afraid I cannot allow that."

The Editor of the Amian Recorder feels a rush of heartburn, and belches into his clenched fist before smiling broadly again. "You, ah, I'm sorry, what?"

"Captain Tarvencia's orders, sir. He is not to speak to the press."

Hurst throws up his hands. "Inconceivable! Unconscionable!" In a matter of seconds, his neck flares tomato red. "She can't keep me out like this! Can she?"

"She can, sir. This is a Ministry of Law matter."

"Well, you tell her-"

"I'm not likely going to be seeing her, sir. You should just write her a letter."

"I will! I will write her a scathing, damning letter to inform her that she's overstepping her boundaries here! The people have a need to know the news of the hour! Progress waits for no man and I am the herald of progress and I will wait for no man!"

"Fortunately, Captain Tarvencia's a woman, so I take it you won't mind waiting. Here are some request forms you can fill out and send to the Captain."

Bill, shocked, takes the stack of papers in his hands as though they were live catepillars the size of miniature dachshunds, licking at his face with black, sticky probosces.

Over the next couple of days, Neveah Tarvencia is assaulted by paperwork requests from Bill Hurst, demanding clearance to speak to Avadon. His persistence is driving until suppertime, when he heads to the tavern to drown his bourgeois sorrows in ale and tell stories about how hard his job really is and how little it pays and how ungrateful everyone is and how it is so very unfair for Captain Tarvencia to shut him out and it really just gets worse as he keeps drinking until finally he stumbles home to his office and passes out on his couch, only to wake up the next morning and continue sending requests through his hangover.

Please, Captain Tarvencia. You must listen to reason! The people must listen to my reason! They deserve to know! You cannot keep this from them forever!

Metalien Sikth, being a former Cordorian Guard and a registered citizen of Cordor, though he tends to live elsewhere at the moment, grows increasingly concerned at the rumour mill throwing out so many stories.

In the privacy of his own home he allows his memories to wonder back to a painful time that he does his best to forget, the Thayvian attack on Cordor, more specificly the burning down of the orphanage.

He is growing increasingly worried but is for the most part trying to stay out of the way. He's clearly had his fill of politics for one lifetime, though he is however clearly ready to act when the need arises, his medical supplies are well stocked and he never leaves home without a large supply of salves, bandages and poultices.

Yossarin wrote:

Over the next couple of days, Neveah Tarvencia is assaulted by paperwork requests from Bill Hurst, demanding clearance to speak to Avadon. His persistence is driving until suppertime, when he heads to the tavern to drown his bourgeois sorrows in ale and tell stories about how hard his job really is and how little it pays and how ungrateful everyone is and how it is so very unfair for Captain Tarvencia to shut him out and it really just gets worse as he keeps drinking until finally he stumbles home to his office and passes out on his couch, only to wake up the next morning and continue sending requests through his hangover.

Bumping into Bill in the tavern, quite coincidentally of course, Elor greets the Secretary of the Pressing Shirt cheerfully, as one Herald to another 'herald'. "Oh dear. Seems you've been well and truly pickled! On the other ham, perhaps this would be an excellent time to start a culinary column? I for one would love to read more deliciousness among the so often political sourness. It's ever so dull."

::

After a few visits to noble families in Kohlingen, sir Robert returns to his own residence. There seems to be no attempt to hide these meetings and as the cormyte knight usually prefers the company of his own social class over mingling with the common people, it is not something unusual. Before he departs from Kohlingen to return to aid with the endeavors in Caraigh, he however shortly speaks to Simond of the Purity Refuge. The meetings with the kelemvorite priest in the outskirts are something that, for anyone paying attention to the movements of the noble, would know have become more frequent in the days past.

::

Karl the Monk is seen by the few folks that try the smaller side room of Waukeen's Temple sitting and reading with a fair stack of Amian Reporter editions on the table next to him. This is certainly no leisure reading as there is no idle breakfast chatter, no glimmer of weariness in the man's eyes, and no stretch breaks. He is sitting alone in the small room with whatever quiet can be arranged for within the oft-busy Cordorian Temple. The man's eyes move along the papers with a quick and repetitive motion that displays his efforts at doggedly pursuing the digestion of his readings of choice.

Xaviera walks the streets of Cordor accompanied by the Law Knight, Sir Apollo, talking to citizens and shopkeepers, taking her own informal poll of the people's attitudes toward mages, Mystrans and Ministers.

"Aww, bollocks! Gods-damn-you, Espiel!" roared the rather rotund ruffian, his massive mustache waving like a hearty black flag. He stood, slamming his roast beef of a fist atop the table, Cordorian crowns spilling this way and that across the aged wood. Immediately he turned, his typically pale complexion ruddy with rage - and knocked his chair over in the process. He was played out of the Nomad with light, rich laughter, a gentleman's applause matching tempo with his livid stomping.

Espiel turned back to the table covered in gold, shaking his head in disbelief. A pearly white smile stretched from ear to ear as he reached out, hugging the pile of coins and dragging it towards him. Reveling in his victory, the young Cordorian allowed his ears to be perked by some commotion across the room: it appeared that Bill Hurst had showed up in the Nomad, all a-fluster, furiously protesting something-or-other. Evoking another winning grin from the card player, Espiel quickly tidied his table; ensuring to reshuffle his deck and stow it before walking across to the bar.

" 'Ey, Griff - thanks for lettin' me use your table again," he casually called, tossing an amiable wink and a friendly smile to the proprietor. He set down a fist full of crowns atop the bar, leaving it there for the owner to take at his leisure. It was a gesture of kindness, more ritual than necessity, from one pal to another.

Elbows down and arms crossed atop the bar Espiel allowed himself to take some time to listen to the Secretary of the Press as he voiced his dismay. In spite of his attempts at not being too obvious, Espiel smirked.

"Well, it's about damn time. I hope they hang the bastard."

With a casual, two-fingered pseudo-salute the card player waved a farewell to Griff and turned, leaving the Cordorian inn.

Though the following event would likely be considered unremarkable in most circumstances, in the current political climate some may take note..

Dressed in his trademark Heraldic outfit, along with his feathered hat, Elor walks into the Commonwealth Center and approaches the stand..

"... The Heralds are currently compiling a grand history of Cordor, and I think those books would make a fine starting point to begin with. Would I be allowed to loan them for a while, so that I can study them? Captain Neveah told me it would be alright."

Elorathall is told to go to the public library, which is where the city's histories are located.

From Kohlingen to Cordor to Wharftown to Kohlingen to Wharftown to Cordor to The Triumvir, Samantha moves slower and slower to and fro each place she travels.

She retreats to Kohlingen once more...

With very little pomp and no circumstance, the Vaughn estate and shipyarding business in Cordor seem to have someone at the helm once more. Lady Emma's Uncle Gregor, along with her twelve-year-old cousin, Fitz, returned via ship from Waterdeep, though without the rest of their family, and moved back into the Vaughn estate. He is seen back in his usual routine at the family's shipyard-- the only notable difference is that young Fitz seems to be learning the family business at his father's side.

A few days later, Elor returns to the Commonwealth Center.
"Goodday, Franton. I've looked trough the library, but seems that there the history recorded in the books there ends at the time the first Council was disbanded, and much of the information on the Thayvian Enclaves is written in the present tense. It's all woefully outdated, and so much of it is missing or misplaced.

Could I take a look at the books you have in the Records then?"

Franton heaves a great sigh and shakes his head. "What's in the library is what we have. That's why I sent you there."

"Do you mean to tell me that there isn't a record of how the Commonwealth came to be? The invasion of the Horde and its effect on Cordor? And many other notable events, no doubt?

That's quite dissapointing, really."

Diplomacy's Game Continues: Blood and Rebirth

Who is online