Namburg, the shattered city.

The face of the city has changed profoundly in the last few weeks: the great colossus has left smoldering crater, hundreds of meters wide, opening into the badly damaged sewer system. Guards are posted 24/7 now around the perimeter to protect the citizens from the subterranean monstrosities that intermittently emerge. Sometimes they successful in this endeavour, sometimes tragedy strikes as some sewer beast manages to gain access to the streets.

Much of that forsaken battle area is off limits now as the palace studies and removes any dangerous magical energies and materials. The remains of Namthar have burned continuously for weeks, bathing the city in a deep orange glow. A haze hangs over much of the southern city, limiting vision to a few metres during the dawn and dusk, and fraying the nerves of travelers on the streets as figures seems to shift and dart just beyond focus through the har. Between this ever-burning torch and the malignant red moon- now seemingly larger than ever (is it closer? Fuck I hope it’s not closer) -the city seems constantly bathed in a sickly amber light. Animals snap and bite at their owners, people have taken to hanging double sets of curtains to try and get some sleep behind the deadbolted doors ( keep a dagger under your pillow they say, not for the intruder, but for yourself). Some have taken to wearing coloured lenses in their eyeglasses so intense can the glow become. Plants and flowers seem to be blooming constantly. The streets around the fallen colossus are generally empty, and a self-imposed curfew exists for many other districts. A child hasn’t kicked a ball in an alleyway for weeks.

Large tracts of residential areas are now unliveable and reamin as rubble, the city’s homeless population has exploded and crime is rampant within the foggy maze of streets. Several business and shops suboptima visited in the past no longer exist.

Security

The craburai, Mario, Radokaf are in jail awaiting trial. Much of the Road was defeated at the castle, it was almost as if the soldiers and judges had been tipped off. (DM note: they had been, by Mario – the Road were going to be the “fall guys, along with suboptima once it became clear you weren’t cooperating – around the time you murdered Sofia”) The remaining resistance fighters are being rounded up and executed with extreme predjudice.

As Marios contacts were interrogated, and notes gathered during the post-ball clean-up, it became clear he had been planning the night of the masquerade ball for perhaps a decade or longer, the full extent of the evidence against him to be presented at his trial. Learning of the true nature of the twin moons and the “Gods” he had decided it was an opportunity both to seize power on Vaul, but become a hero, and if possible a God himself ( its unclear how he proposed to do this from notes, he has not buckled under interrogation as yet).

He had used a number of adventuring parties to execute his plans, most of them unwittingly. It seemed a particular speciality of his. On meeting the zealot Etricht (later known as “the herald”), he saw an opportunity to finally access ashenkirk and set things in motion, where so many parties had failed. Needing some way to neutralise his unhinged new friend once he had served his purpose, he used Fleetflesh his doppleganger ally to guide Sub Optima to cross paths with Etricht, who assumed the form of a budding young adventurer (who he had murdered and buried in a forest, later unearthed by Etienne) named Alistair Bentbuck to help them on their way ( including bringing an essential key to access ashenkirk with him lest they couldn’t do it themselves).

Evidence of the enormous bomb he created in the sewers seems to show a plan years in the making ( DM note: In episode 1 or 2 Ernodal found a merchants note with Aurite being shipped to the capital in it, and later Throkk encountered the Road moving barrels north on a cart ( see also the luca/donkey boys fiction), as well as the red dragons mountain being a source and the miners shipping it north etc). Palace experts suspect there were at least 1000 barrels of explosive only a few inches below the statues feet when it was detonated, although at least 100 were moved to the dragon wagon station at the last minute. Its unclear to the investigators why Mario did this.

Some felt the empire under Mario was more powerful, and there are voices of support for him, saying he was betrayed by sub optima ( some even whisper he was framed to cover up the campaigners antics), and his supports claim his vision and ambition would have saved the empire, and Vaul.

The castle itself is somewhat weakened, mainly via fire damage. It will take months to repair.

The imperial airship fleet was badly damaged as the Black Flags stole the flagship. It is currently moored in the oilstains for minor cosmetic repairs and recalibrating the big gun, the tracking of which appeared to be off by a factor of 10, and the flags are … mandatory guests of the Kaiser. They may not leave the castle and are under 24 hour surveillance. Their fate remains unclear, it is something that needs to be discussed at an upcoming meeting.

The Flagonborn Inn, and Taahirs tower both have a fulltime squad of Imperial soldiers stationed outside for protection. The former has been closed for business for weeks. The crowd constantly outside is a mixture of adoring fans and bloodthirsty zealots who blame suboptima for everything that has befallen them.

Attracted by the destruction, minotaur raids have increased slightly in the northern provinces, but none dare approach the capital, even now.

Economy

Supplies are limited, and many luxury items and magical supplies due to be shipped to the capital have been delayed, as the main route into the city for such products is the dragon wagon. As a result, what supplies are arriving are by land (a slower, and more dangerous route), and as a result, prices (especially for luxury items) have almost doubled.

Medical and healing supplies are exceptionally rare and sold at a premium. A black market has sprung up for such items, as well as a vibrant and successful counterfeit market. Some estimate that 50% of all the greater healing potions in the city are fake right now.

Masons are suddenly the most in-demand worker in the city, and everyone is claiming to have extensive stoneworking experience as demand rockets.

House Prices have crashed however as the middle class flee the city for now, and nobody wants to purchase property admit the uncertainty.

Social

The causalities were in the thousands. The graveyards were unable to cope with the influx, The Kaiser has designated the slapclay as a mass burial site, all bodies are being taken and interred there. Those unidentifiable (of which there were many ) are added to an everburning funeral pyre at the mouth of the quarry. The mourning line the street to the slapclay weeping at each passing body, lest it be their loved one.

While it might appear to be business as usual at first glance, unrest and fear characterise the gossip of the capital now, many taverns are struggling as people save what little coin they have or leave for safer lives to the South. Frequent statements from the palace and tepid speeches from The Kaiser (whose strength appears to be returning now he no longer drinks soup) and his son Wilhelm go some way to ease the masses. But not entirely. Their brutal treatment of the road after the failed coup was unpopular amongst the many who supported the rebels, and their attempts to push the church out of much of the politics of the city is unwelcome from the religious. While broadly speaking, they are benevolent, they lack the charisma of Mario and the sense of fate and grandiosity the church wielded. They maintain a tenuous power, but mainly though their legal and inherited legitimacy, and crucially because no suitable alternative has arisen. Yet.

The Kaiser has dispatched multiple messages and missives to his few remaining allies in Salt and Wounds that had survived Mario’s assassinations and is attempting to establish peace talks. No response has been received yet. The Palace remains hopeful, but this has understandably generated quite a bit of discussion on the streets.

Given that the defeat of Namthar has weakened the clerics and judges of the imperium, it has allowed Salt in Wounds to claim a number of key victories, and he is parleying at a distinct disadvantage now. Many may see this as weakness, and a surrender to the enemy before the war had even really started.

Adventuring parties have flocked towards the capital, and what taverns remain open are usually full of all manner of sword wielding, magic slinging fly by nights. Opportunity is in the air (or perhaps blood is in the water?) and there are contracts aplenty for the industrious campaigner. Minor nobles consolidating politic gains, private protection, searching for missing persons and academics searching for artefacts amidst the beast stalked rubble, or tentacles of sewer dwelling beasts. When street fights break out these days, they are swift and bloody affairs, with a tendency to leave a few scored craters behind.

The church after Namthar: Rhea

She wrapped the child tightly under her woollen blouse as she huddled outside the infirmary, pressed up against the others. She could feel the heat of the fever, burning into her breast even through the damp rag she had carefully wrapped over the boys face. She glanced around at the crowd in dismay as the haggard faces stared blankly into the smog. Some sat silently, staring into the distance, hands clutched around grubby knees, the horror of the events having robbed them of words, or even sanity. Others simply groaned, the anguished guttural whine of those left behind. Woken in the middle of the night to a nightmare, their broken limbs twisted and gnarled like winter branches as they rolled over to find crushing loved ones beside them, pasted across floorboards in chunks, blood and shit seeping through their nightgowns. The loudest voices had fallen silent as the days went by. She began to see the pattern. They start loudly enough, shouting in pain or despair, calling for vengeance against the church, or the moon, or the adventurers. As the hours passed by, they became silent, as the wounds robbed them of strength and voice. Finally, they said nothing at all, and just waited for the end – in whatever form it would take. Jessop had not spoken in days. Rhea coughed violently into her sleeve and stared down at the mucus, dreading what she would see there. Amidst the blood floated the coal black globs of pigment, swirling in the phlegm as if alive. The air around the slapclay was still thick with ash as the godbody burned continuously for weeks now, an neverending bonfire that showed no sign of diminishing, and coating the district in a thick, oiling smog. Rhea guessed this wasn’t particularly good for her health.

A hush fell over the assembled peoples as a figure appeared in the church doorway, a thin and bleary-eyed priest of Namthar, his beard unkept and stringy, his robes stained with the blood of his patients. Rhea had never seen that before; healing spells were relatively bloodless she knew.

“We are full tonight my children, we do not have space to even lay a blanket down for you. I will send out our nurses with food and water and what medicines we can spare…”

An elderly man pushed forward, peering out from under his hedgerow of charcoal eyebrows as he swayed against his makeshift crutches. His right leg was heavily bandaged; the dried blood had turned black now and was crusting along the thin wooden splint that had been poorly bound across the joint.

“Please… Its just a broken leg brother, it wont take you long….. please, I have prayed everyday since I was a boy, and always pay my church dues. I know you to be a kindly cleric and a man of Namthar. Ive broken this leg before when I fell from my horse as a younger man, and you were so kind as you wove your magic to bind the bone. I know how quick it can be, please, heal me one last time – for I cannot rebuild with my …”

The old man fell silent as he looked at the cleric, tears streaming down the priests face as he stood infront of the crowd. He could not look the broken man in the eyes.

His silence told them all they needed to know.

The child whimpered in Rheas’s arms. They were on their own.

Intell:

Clerics of Namthar seem to have lost their powers, and a judge was taken down by a group of angry Road sympathisers. This would never have happened before, and rumours abound now that they have lost some of their fighting prowess. The church are attempting to keep this all under wraps it seems, statements released have attempted to distract and claim the enormous creature in the statue was in fact the work of the demonic allies of Kossos, as everybody knows that Namthar has no material form. The cathedral was uncharacteristically empty for worship this week, and churches around the city are having windows broken in and obscene graffiti painted across their doors. Loyalist groups are taking shifts to protect the buildings.

Some splinter factions have already formed, The “Church of Namthar Reborn” for instance claim his death was part of his divine plan to save his followers, and we must follow him. They indulge in ritualised suicide as a result, often taking their less enthusiastic families with them. In contrast the “Sacred order of the true Namthar” feel that all statues contain some element of Namthar now, and have taken Colossus-gate as sign that all statues should be destroyed, as is his divine will.

A small but increasingly vocal cohort of Namtharites have petitioned to the Kaiser to have sub-optima tried for treason (they are unwilling to use the term Deicide)

The weaker judges have allowed some incursions from the sewers, for instance a Malboro was sighted and engaged in lowtown, but thankfully a low level campaigning wizard was able to assist 2 squads of soldiers in securing the street.

The Wider World of Vaul.

Vicetina is a free city, with a proud history of neutrality in wartime, but under Sofia’s rule had suddenly become exceptionally friendly to the empire, sending troops and signing a number of generous trade deals. Now however, Vicetina is a rudderless, ruler less city, the entire Ordelaffi family slain. An interim group have taken over for now, “Vox populi”. They are comprised of nobles and local tradespeople, but their ultimate power and direction are unclear.

Some of the centaurs insisted on telling the Khan what they had seen, claiming their Hoofspringa demanded it, and this unit is temporarily at half strength until they return.

Porta Verde has not responded to a formal request to send aid and financial support to the capital – It is also an independent city, but has been a traditional ally of the empire in the past

The rain of objects from the moon has increased exponentially since godsfall and a number of towns an cities have fallen silent, EMAIL no longer reaching them, and wizards casting routine military message spells to watchtowers finding no targets.

Power Vacuums: Tilly

“Im sorry, it seems youll just need to kill yourself”

“What?”

“Yes. If youre a traditionalist I would suggest chopping your own head off, but I think we accept being hanged in section B15 as an alternative.. let me see.. yes, hanging is fine. So you could hang yourself too. But not both obviously hahaha”

The prisoner stared at the woman in front of him. A simple pony tail, plainly dressed in a neat clean tunic, her thick glasses gleaming in the torchlight as she stared over her clipboard. She chewed a pencil nervously as she continued to study the execution form. It was a first draft but she didnt want to let him know that.

“I have rights you know; I have a legal right to a proper execution”

“Yes well all the executioners are dead. They were having a moon party on. you know… that night.”

“What?! They all just happened to have a fucking party, in the rfucking capital, on fucking Godsfall?”

“Yes. And I think that’s an insensitive term for many Sir, and please dont curse so much in our dungeon”

“Right, so they are all dead. fine. Look, its not hard to cut a head off, just get somebody else to do it. I killed a man you know! His Lordship Hryon Ardeth personally sentenced me to death”

“Yes. Well, Im his steward, and unfortunately for you, that means I get to decide who does the beheading and when. And we are all out of executioners.”

The young woman was not prepared to be thrust into such a role. She worried she had no aptitude for running a barony and had shielded herself with the armor she wore best – impenetrable paperwork. Studying as a legal clerk, Tilly was a bright woman, a little bookish some said and really wanted nothing better than to keep her studies and office in tidy, well organised, highly structured (possibly alphabetized) manner. Lots of right angles and muted colours please. There was not a full stop out of place among her immaculate study notes, and her idea of a good time was a glass of wine and working through her tax returns with a really nice pen, maybe a high flex on a medium nib and expensive nicely flowing ink. Her thoughts wandered to the smooth scratch of the nib as it is dragged itself languidly self across the naked paper, like a finger tracing the outline of a lovers body, dribbling its stream of dark rich ink as it….

She shuttered as something shot up her spine and tickled her brain a little. She refocused her attention. The massacre at the ball had been ruthless and efficient. Lord Hyron lay dead, his heavily pregnant wife was in the royal infirmary, wounded but alive. Having no children, the stewardship fell to the commander of his guards, who was halfway through his seafood bisque when he was halfed himself by a craburais pincers in an act of cosmic poetry. Third in command, the head of estates was having an affair with the fourth in command, hyrons armsmaster. They were found in a closest, burned to an intimate crisp. Her own father, the master of letters, had managed to duck out of the fray and dash to the stairs only to slip on bat droppings and fall 3 stories into a fountain. So here she was. She wasn’t the only one suffering such a strange fate. Some great houses had been completely wiped out, and the baronies returned to the Kaiser to administration and redistribution.

“Anyway, times are tough. I cant afford to hire more executioners, so you’ll need to do it yourself im afraid. If you’re really good maybe Ill hire you, who knows? ahahaha. Thats just a little joke of mine.”

“Wha… bu.. bu But I killed a man!”

“Wonderful, you’re an expert, you can do it again. How did you do it exactly?”

“It was brutal your ladyship, I bashed his head in with a club for a few gold pieces, I deserve nothing but death” howled the prisoner.

“Wonderful thank you. Now , can you sign here please? How does 11:00 tomorrow sound?”

The men the next evening would whisper of their new ladyship, “Tilly the Terrible”, and tremble as they though of the rein of blood that could follow. Their pints sat untouched on the table, flat and warm. Few would ever forget the image of their new Lady, calming filling in official paperwork at the pulpit as the prisoners were marched up one after the other and forced to mutilate and humiliate themselves infront of the agast and silent crowd. She seemed more interested in her documents and her penmanship as the landsmen watched a man beat himself to death with a club. Tilly refused to help or let him stop, explaining that appendix 4 was very explicit that nobody would help. It was a “unions thing”. He took 4 hours to die as he lapsed in and out of consciousness from his own blows. Tilly smiled absentmindedly, this was much better from a paperwork point of view, and really was more efficient and economical. She chew the back of her pen and smiled.

Crime in the Ardeth lands dropped to zero almost immediately.

Bonus social Intel:

With the nobles of the empire dramatically diminished, many baronies lay weakened and power vaccums exist throughout. Mario had intended to commandeer and seize all such lands to extend and consolidate his personal power, but now many are in disarray. Recruitment to the army from the townships has almost vanished under the circumstances, and the borderlands to the west are losing ground rapidly to advancing armies of Salt in Wounds. Soldiers and Battle clerics are ineffective following godsfall, and the lack of magical artillery is sorely felt on the field.

Month: August 2019

Assorted Letters

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