Summer 1, 518 AV
The three stood apart from the rest. One man was wild and unkempt like a tornado had woken him from his slumber and he took it by the tail and crammed the thing into his mouth for a snack. His armor was covered in dents and scrapes but the sneer of his bearded face looked like it would be harder to pierce than the tried and true breastplate. The second was a man who was slightly smaller but had a calm that swirled around his figure. White robes hung from a magnificently shaped form that wielded a mace and a perfectly chiseled jaw beneath a tussle of messy blonde hair.
These men stood shoulder to shoulder with a closed stance against a woman dressed in a black dress that was as simple as it was stunning. Tight sleeves ran down to her wrists but the fabric accented the fine lines of real muscle and flawless physiological construction. Her hair was drawn up in a neatly held bun with just a few strands allowed to hang down on either side of an attractive face like a frame around a locket. Slightly shorter than the males, this woman’s elegance was molded in a figure that could make any man -and most women- sweat with desire. Though the dress was fitting, it hung loose in some places to allow freedom of movement which included access to the sets of small blades which hung in ornate, black leather sheaths from her waist.
They shared a quiet conversation as soldiers and acolytes fell into place within the walls of the Vitrax. When the conversation ended, the three parted ways and took up positions in different ravosalas each with an entourage in tow. The large, disheveled man and his train of thin boats poled their way along towards The People’s Market in the Merchant’s Ring. The attractive man’s procession did the same except their path led them to the platform where The Pit once stood. The woman was last to depart, her attendants and guard scurried about like insects to make everything perfect for her voyage which ended at the Slave Auction’s front door down in The Docks.
The leaders, priests and a priestess of the mighty savior Rhysol, all reached their destinations without incident. Word of mouth started by Black Sun agents and apprentices as well as the curiosity of anyone who witnessed one of the line of ravosalas soon had each of the three locations plugged with people eager to hear what the Druvin had to say. Syna climbed higher across the sky, her warmth kissing the lake and the bodies who stood in the middle of its black waters with a golden light. The trio of powerful beings did not speak even though the crowds began to whisper, rustle and irritate one another. A volatile thing, the massing of people; stagnation almost surely would lead to violence. The white eyes, a matching feature of all the Druvin, watched to the city’s center- the heart of Ravok. Stoic, calm and patient, this attitude slowly took hold over the crowds’ restlessness and onlookers began to look inward towards the Temple of the Black Sun as well.
10th Bell
The Bell Tower rang out the time of day. The mighty gong of the metal instrument showered the floating city with a single purpose; a single heartbeat. Once the final toll had been rung, the Druvin turned to their respective crowds and addressed them with the news that had spawned such a gathering. Gru’tral was gruff, angry and spirited. His words flew like hammer blows against an anvil and inspired raw power within his listeners. The mob at the market began to cheer as the speech went on. Silvas was quite the opposite. He spoke softly and drew in his audience with an eloquence often lost in public speaking. He had everyone hanging on his every word as silent nods, shared glances and handshakes of agreement were passed about on the platform in the Noble District. Aemeli was unique in her own right. The woman wove djed into her words and actions. She moved through the assembled masses around the Slave Auction. This crowd was, by far, the largest yet everything went as she dictated. Every touch passed, every word uttered and every look given seemed to sway people to believe all of it- not just believe but feel.
The message delivered came in a variety of styles but it was all the same. It was not just similar but rehearsed. Even as the lords and lady of the Defiler’s order pronounced a new set of rules for Ravok, flyers and posters were being distributed with the same information all over the city. Gliders carried the paraphernalia to the lakeshore where riders in black on swift mounts set off to post the news at both outposts and some of the places in between.
The posters read:
When all was finished, the entire city clung to the already seeded hatred for nonhmans. Silvas walked through the more well-to-do gathering that he had addressed and gave assurances of success and efficient use of resources. Gru’tral raised his axe and started singing a battle hymn to Rhysol while Black Sun agents filtered into the crowd and recruited for their order, the Ebonstryfe and fodder for the challenges to come. Aemeli eventually made her way back to the door of the Slave Auction and gave a nod to her second. The pale man covered in black robes opened the heavy wooden doors and several beings were paraded around behind the Druvin. The crowd surged and booed but a force of soldiers all dressed in black armor formed a barrier around the auction block. The Ravokians were not willing to fight there own but it didn’t stop things from being hurled at the hooded trio held in chains.
Aemeli smirked and moved to the first, a tiny black hood that rested against the wood of the docks. She lifted it to reveal a small thing -lizard like- but made of clay and bearing many strange shaped and protruding bits. It was bound by a magical chain and held by a single Stryfer. “This is a Pycon! They are nothing more than magical dirt!” her words were thick with djed. “They can shift at will yet are not alive. Trap them and send for help. These beings are very hard to kill but worth more alive.” She dropped the hood back over the sad excuse for a being. “We wish to study these Deplorables. The more we know the better we can fight them and control them.” She emphasized the word ‘control’. “We seek to gain dominance over them just as we have over the shifting of our kelvic slaves.”
The woman in black moved to the tall figure of a woman next. She drew back the hood to reveal a beautiful blonde with glassy green horns. This woman was shimmering in Syna’s light and nearly as tall but twice as breathtaking as Aemeli. “This is an Ethaefal. She was cast out from the realm of her goddess, Syna. By day she is beautiful. By night she is wretched and full of hate.” Aemeli turned and pressed her magical words over the crowd. “She is just as much a Deplorable as the snakes who tried to end our lives in the spring.” The woman lifted her hand to play with the luxurious blonde locks. “By day one way, by night another. Some Ethaefals are ugly during the day but glitter in the light of the moon. Trust no one who runs away before the lights of the sky change and report them to the authorities. These, too, must be studied.”
The lady Druvin lastly moved to a figure of blue skin but was thin and slick. She pulled back the hood to reveal a Charoda; a fish-like man who can breath underwater and walk on two legs. “This is a Charoda. They are rare but they live in the lake without adhering to our laws and customs. They certainly helped the wretched Deplorables target us and attack us. There is nothing to study here. Slay them on sight.” She dropped the hood to the deck and walked back to the Ethaefal.
Aemeli grabbed the slave by her right horn then lifted her dagger against the glassy emerald surface. Within deliberate and powerful strokes, the Druvin -thrice blessed by Rhysol with strength- used her dagger to saw through the horn. Back and forth, back and forth; she was relentless and exact in her actions. After fifteen chimes of sawing away, she had only gone two-thirds of the way through. Red in his cheeks and nose, the priestess gripped her vice-like fingers around the woman’s face underneath the damaged horn then smashed her dagger’s hilt against the horn just outside the cut… once, twice and a third time. This ended with a resounding crack and the horn fell to the dock. Aemeli flung the slave down away from her where her handler bagged her head, kicked her in the face and then jerked her back up to her feet.
The female warrior stooped down and took the horn which had been stolen from her captive and walked over to the Charoda. Once more, she peeled back its hood then waited for it to turn its black eyes to her. She smiled then drove the horn into the fish’s eye. Black goo spurted out but this only encouraged everyone including the priestess. She took hold of the soft, slimy flesh and twisted the horn back and forth as she worked it further into the creature’s skull until the point came out the back. She dropped the lifeless corpse then turned to face the crowd who were praising Rhysol with chants, shouts, songs and the clanging of weapons. Aemeli raised her hands high into the air with blood from both slaves on them. The crowd calmed to hear her words.
“People of Ravok! Do your Lord’s work! Praise Rhysol!!”
The mob returned to its bristling volume of violence, reverence and excitement for the revenge that was going to be dispersed to the Deplorables. The pot had been stirred and the Druvin were pleased.
The three stood apart from the rest. One man was wild and unkempt like a tornado had woken him from his slumber and he took it by the tail and crammed the thing into his mouth for a snack. His armor was covered in dents and scrapes but the sneer of his bearded face looked like it would be harder to pierce than the tried and true breastplate. The second was a man who was slightly smaller but had a calm that swirled around his figure. White robes hung from a magnificently shaped form that wielded a mace and a perfectly chiseled jaw beneath a tussle of messy blonde hair.
These men stood shoulder to shoulder with a closed stance against a woman dressed in a black dress that was as simple as it was stunning. Tight sleeves ran down to her wrists but the fabric accented the fine lines of real muscle and flawless physiological construction. Her hair was drawn up in a neatly held bun with just a few strands allowed to hang down on either side of an attractive face like a frame around a locket. Slightly shorter than the males, this woman’s elegance was molded in a figure that could make any man -and most women- sweat with desire. Though the dress was fitting, it hung loose in some places to allow freedom of movement which included access to the sets of small blades which hung in ornate, black leather sheaths from her waist.
They shared a quiet conversation as soldiers and acolytes fell into place within the walls of the Vitrax. When the conversation ended, the three parted ways and took up positions in different ravosalas each with an entourage in tow. The large, disheveled man and his train of thin boats poled their way along towards The People’s Market in the Merchant’s Ring. The attractive man’s procession did the same except their path led them to the platform where The Pit once stood. The woman was last to depart, her attendants and guard scurried about like insects to make everything perfect for her voyage which ended at the Slave Auction’s front door down in The Docks.
The leaders, priests and a priestess of the mighty savior Rhysol, all reached their destinations without incident. Word of mouth started by Black Sun agents and apprentices as well as the curiosity of anyone who witnessed one of the line of ravosalas soon had each of the three locations plugged with people eager to hear what the Druvin had to say. Syna climbed higher across the sky, her warmth kissing the lake and the bodies who stood in the middle of its black waters with a golden light. The trio of powerful beings did not speak even though the crowds began to whisper, rustle and irritate one another. A volatile thing, the massing of people; stagnation almost surely would lead to violence. The white eyes, a matching feature of all the Druvin, watched to the city’s center- the heart of Ravok. Stoic, calm and patient, this attitude slowly took hold over the crowds’ restlessness and onlookers began to look inward towards the Temple of the Black Sun as well.
10th Bell
The Bell Tower rang out the time of day. The mighty gong of the metal instrument showered the floating city with a single purpose; a single heartbeat. Once the final toll had been rung, the Druvin turned to their respective crowds and addressed them with the news that had spawned such a gathering. Gru’tral was gruff, angry and spirited. His words flew like hammer blows against an anvil and inspired raw power within his listeners. The mob at the market began to cheer as the speech went on. Silvas was quite the opposite. He spoke softly and drew in his audience with an eloquence often lost in public speaking. He had everyone hanging on his every word as silent nods, shared glances and handshakes of agreement were passed about on the platform in the Noble District. Aemeli was unique in her own right. The woman wove djed into her words and actions. She moved through the assembled masses around the Slave Auction. This crowd was, by far, the largest yet everything went as she dictated. Every touch passed, every word uttered and every look given seemed to sway people to believe all of it- not just believe but feel.
The message delivered came in a variety of styles but it was all the same. It was not just similar but rehearsed. Even as the lords and lady of the Defiler’s order pronounced a new set of rules for Ravok, flyers and posters were being distributed with the same information all over the city. Gliders carried the paraphernalia to the lakeshore where riders in black on swift mounts set off to post the news at both outposts and some of the places in between.
The posters read:
The events of last season have finally come to light thanks to the dedication, hard work and sacrifice of the servants of Rhysol. A vile nest of Dhani - a people both snake and man - cast wicked spells to disrupt the lives of the faithful. Blessed Rhysol, through his awesome power, diverted the second and third attack to spare our fair city. He turned their own magic against them and forced them from their cowardly positions. Let it be known from this day forward that all Dhani are marked as enemies of our God, our city and our people. This race of shifters can be extremely dangerous and everyone is encouraged to work together to help rid his stain from our lands gifted to us by the benevolent one known as Rhysol. The Dhani will not be called by their name but by the term ‘Deplorable’ for it is only fitting.
Ethaefals will also be considered Deplorables as are Akalaks, Charoda and Pycons.
Citizens are encouraged to report any and all suspicious activity to the authorities.
Anyone who has information regarding Deplorables may be entitled to a reward should the value of the report deem it necessary.
There will be many opportunities provided by Rhysol, the Black Sun, the Ebonstryfe and the City Guard for good folk to volunteer or even labor for coin to aid in the process of cleansing our beautiful city. Notices will be posted as more information becomes available.
In regards to Kelvics who are already marked slaves:
These are the property of your neighbors, business partners and fellow believers in the one true God, Rhysol. It is out of mutual respect that we ask for discernment and patience in dealing with these creatures. That being said, any kelvic marked as a slave operating in a singular manner should be closely monitored and its dealings recorded. Any action performed by a slave can be subject to punishment and that discipline may also be transferred to the slave’s master.
**Descriptions of the felon races are listed here as well as an overview of abilities**
Ethaefals will also be considered Deplorables as are Akalaks, Charoda and Pycons.
Citizens are encouraged to report any and all suspicious activity to the authorities.
Anyone who has information regarding Deplorables may be entitled to a reward should the value of the report deem it necessary.
There will be many opportunities provided by Rhysol, the Black Sun, the Ebonstryfe and the City Guard for good folk to volunteer or even labor for coin to aid in the process of cleansing our beautiful city. Notices will be posted as more information becomes available.
In regards to Kelvics who are already marked slaves:
These are the property of your neighbors, business partners and fellow believers in the one true God, Rhysol. It is out of mutual respect that we ask for discernment and patience in dealing with these creatures. That being said, any kelvic marked as a slave operating in a singular manner should be closely monitored and its dealings recorded. Any action performed by a slave can be subject to punishment and that discipline may also be transferred to the slave’s master.
**Descriptions of the felon races are listed here as well as an overview of abilities**
When all was finished, the entire city clung to the already seeded hatred for nonhmans. Silvas walked through the more well-to-do gathering that he had addressed and gave assurances of success and efficient use of resources. Gru’tral raised his axe and started singing a battle hymn to Rhysol while Black Sun agents filtered into the crowd and recruited for their order, the Ebonstryfe and fodder for the challenges to come. Aemeli eventually made her way back to the door of the Slave Auction and gave a nod to her second. The pale man covered in black robes opened the heavy wooden doors and several beings were paraded around behind the Druvin. The crowd surged and booed but a force of soldiers all dressed in black armor formed a barrier around the auction block. The Ravokians were not willing to fight there own but it didn’t stop things from being hurled at the hooded trio held in chains.
Aemeli smirked and moved to the first, a tiny black hood that rested against the wood of the docks. She lifted it to reveal a small thing -lizard like- but made of clay and bearing many strange shaped and protruding bits. It was bound by a magical chain and held by a single Stryfer. “This is a Pycon! They are nothing more than magical dirt!” her words were thick with djed. “They can shift at will yet are not alive. Trap them and send for help. These beings are very hard to kill but worth more alive.” She dropped the hood back over the sad excuse for a being. “We wish to study these Deplorables. The more we know the better we can fight them and control them.” She emphasized the word ‘control’. “We seek to gain dominance over them just as we have over the shifting of our kelvic slaves.”
The woman in black moved to the tall figure of a woman next. She drew back the hood to reveal a beautiful blonde with glassy green horns. This woman was shimmering in Syna’s light and nearly as tall but twice as breathtaking as Aemeli. “This is an Ethaefal. She was cast out from the realm of her goddess, Syna. By day she is beautiful. By night she is wretched and full of hate.” Aemeli turned and pressed her magical words over the crowd. “She is just as much a Deplorable as the snakes who tried to end our lives in the spring.” The woman lifted her hand to play with the luxurious blonde locks. “By day one way, by night another. Some Ethaefals are ugly during the day but glitter in the light of the moon. Trust no one who runs away before the lights of the sky change and report them to the authorities. These, too, must be studied.”
The lady Druvin lastly moved to a figure of blue skin but was thin and slick. She pulled back the hood to reveal a Charoda; a fish-like man who can breath underwater and walk on two legs. “This is a Charoda. They are rare but they live in the lake without adhering to our laws and customs. They certainly helped the wretched Deplorables target us and attack us. There is nothing to study here. Slay them on sight.” She dropped the hood to the deck and walked back to the Ethaefal.
Aemeli grabbed the slave by her right horn then lifted her dagger against the glassy emerald surface. Within deliberate and powerful strokes, the Druvin -thrice blessed by Rhysol with strength- used her dagger to saw through the horn. Back and forth, back and forth; she was relentless and exact in her actions. After fifteen chimes of sawing away, she had only gone two-thirds of the way through. Red in his cheeks and nose, the priestess gripped her vice-like fingers around the woman’s face underneath the damaged horn then smashed her dagger’s hilt against the horn just outside the cut… once, twice and a third time. This ended with a resounding crack and the horn fell to the dock. Aemeli flung the slave down away from her where her handler bagged her head, kicked her in the face and then jerked her back up to her feet.
The female warrior stooped down and took the horn which had been stolen from her captive and walked over to the Charoda. Once more, she peeled back its hood then waited for it to turn its black eyes to her. She smiled then drove the horn into the fish’s eye. Black goo spurted out but this only encouraged everyone including the priestess. She took hold of the soft, slimy flesh and twisted the horn back and forth as she worked it further into the creature’s skull until the point came out the back. She dropped the lifeless corpse then turned to face the crowd who were praising Rhysol with chants, shouts, songs and the clanging of weapons. Aemeli raised her hands high into the air with blood from both slaves on them. The crowd calmed to hear her words.
“People of Ravok! Do your Lord’s work! Praise Rhysol!!”
The mob returned to its bristling volume of violence, reverence and excitement for the revenge that was going to be dispersed to the Deplorables. The pot had been stirred and the Druvin were pleased.
Players :
