2nd of Fall, 514 AV
A wind blew in that afternoon along the Kabrin Road. On that wind came change, and with it something new. The baking sun beat down upon the forms slowly trudging along the Road. The crunching of dirt under wheels, hooves and many feet accompanied the caravan making its way to the sheltering arms of the main gate of castle Stormhold. It was unusual, however, to have a caravan arrive so unexpectedly. The trading partners for Syliras were often predictable, merchants and city officials often meeting with the knights, the council and the wealthy merchants of Syliras to arrange a time to shoot towards. But it was not unheard of.
The caravan itself appeared to be relatively small, six wagons and about 40 people and half as many horses. It was typical in makeup, wagon drivers, passengers and accompany travelers with a ring of hardened guards, most likely mercenaries, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. With the city in sight the foot sore and travel weary caravaners seemed to brighten, the guards relaxed visibly in their saddles. The knights, who already were aware of this most unusually timed caravan, awaited their arrival at the main gates and were asked to stop. As usual, the two gatekeepers stood flanking the gates, ready to inspect the caravan. The called out to them, "Hail! Where be ye from?"
The lead wagoneer called back, approaching with a quickened, but steady pace, "Zeltiva Ser! We come bearing, Timber, Gadgetry and Zeltivian Cuisine." And indeed it appeared this was so. Two of the great wagons were longer than others, the covered tarps easily discernible to be timbers and masts. At last they came to a stop at the gates and awaited instruction. The pair of knights began with wagons. They searched all of its contents, checking expensive trinkets such as a gearwork clock, or wind-up toy knights, devices of obvious care and precision. Some of the wagons contained provisions such as casks of kelp beer and dried and salted fish, along with the fine timber important from the mountainous region that Zeltiva was indeed famous for. All of it was checked, the wagons themselves were looked at carefully, the knights experts at discerning hidden compartments such as false bottoms. But despite their scrutiny, the wagons were what they were told to be, good laden vessels who made great distances from their homes across the earthen sea known as the Wildlands.
Next came the people and the horses. One by one people were brought to the elder of the pair of guards. The man was experienced enough in medicine to know a sickness when he saw it. Their possessions were sifted through and for the most part nothing was confiscated. But when the knights came to the last traveler. At the last moment this traveler broke away from the group and ran to the gates and pulled out a package from his cloak. The knights yelped and chased after, just as the man reached the gates. Quickly he pulled open the box.
Then there was nothing.
In the White Swan the patrons were going about their business early. Regulars and patrons of the fine rooms lounged in the common room and Jazmin set about to commanding the ladies to their normal cleaning schedule. All was normal and all was calm. Another day at the beginning of another fall. But this was not to last and tragedy came swiftly.
Just as Jazmin smiled to herself, satisfied in the polished state of her inn, the very earth began to move. A great roar tore across the city along with the sound not unlike many thunderstorms at the peak of Zulrav's fury. Before anyone could react, something rent through her beloved home and business. Something bright, something powerful and something that made the air taste foul. It left an after image in her sight and in the sight of all patrons who were unlucky enough to see it the exact moment it screamed through the tavern.
Like that, in a flash it was gone and a hole was burrowed through multiple layers of wood and apparently, stone. Jazmin's eyes widened as she peered through the hole and saw the ocean, far in the distance. So distracted was she, though she was deafened as well, that she could not hear the screams of the staff and the patrons. Fire had been sparked. And within the few moments of wonder she had indulged in, it was already spreading along the points of entry. Tapestries and cushions, cloth and carpet took to the spark and the wood and timbers of the structure.
When she realized what happened she quickly ran to the stairs and began to usher people from their rooms. Property could be repaired, but lives could never be replaced. "FIRE!" She bellowed, her ears still dampened from the thing that caused it. "Someone help! Fire!" Bursting from the place herself she stood in shocked horror. Fire and smoke issued from the main gate, rubble littered the ground. Bodies lay, burnt and scorched, crushed and maimed, all across the main courtyard. Great boulders had been launched from the gates and crushed people, shops and stands alike.
Recovering from her shock she set to the task of saving her home, "Please help! Some help me save the white swan! Fire! Fire!"
A wind blew in that afternoon along the Kabrin Road. On that wind came change, and with it something new. The baking sun beat down upon the forms slowly trudging along the Road. The crunching of dirt under wheels, hooves and many feet accompanied the caravan making its way to the sheltering arms of the main gate of castle Stormhold. It was unusual, however, to have a caravan arrive so unexpectedly. The trading partners for Syliras were often predictable, merchants and city officials often meeting with the knights, the council and the wealthy merchants of Syliras to arrange a time to shoot towards. But it was not unheard of.
The caravan itself appeared to be relatively small, six wagons and about 40 people and half as many horses. It was typical in makeup, wagon drivers, passengers and accompany travelers with a ring of hardened guards, most likely mercenaries, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. With the city in sight the foot sore and travel weary caravaners seemed to brighten, the guards relaxed visibly in their saddles. The knights, who already were aware of this most unusually timed caravan, awaited their arrival at the main gates and were asked to stop. As usual, the two gatekeepers stood flanking the gates, ready to inspect the caravan. The called out to them, "Hail! Where be ye from?"
The lead wagoneer called back, approaching with a quickened, but steady pace, "Zeltiva Ser! We come bearing, Timber, Gadgetry and Zeltivian Cuisine." And indeed it appeared this was so. Two of the great wagons were longer than others, the covered tarps easily discernible to be timbers and masts. At last they came to a stop at the gates and awaited instruction. The pair of knights began with wagons. They searched all of its contents, checking expensive trinkets such as a gearwork clock, or wind-up toy knights, devices of obvious care and precision. Some of the wagons contained provisions such as casks of kelp beer and dried and salted fish, along with the fine timber important from the mountainous region that Zeltiva was indeed famous for. All of it was checked, the wagons themselves were looked at carefully, the knights experts at discerning hidden compartments such as false bottoms. But despite their scrutiny, the wagons were what they were told to be, good laden vessels who made great distances from their homes across the earthen sea known as the Wildlands.
Next came the people and the horses. One by one people were brought to the elder of the pair of guards. The man was experienced enough in medicine to know a sickness when he saw it. Their possessions were sifted through and for the most part nothing was confiscated. But when the knights came to the last traveler. At the last moment this traveler broke away from the group and ran to the gates and pulled out a package from his cloak. The knights yelped and chased after, just as the man reached the gates. Quickly he pulled open the box.
Then there was nothing.
In the White Swan the patrons were going about their business early. Regulars and patrons of the fine rooms lounged in the common room and Jazmin set about to commanding the ladies to their normal cleaning schedule. All was normal and all was calm. Another day at the beginning of another fall. But this was not to last and tragedy came swiftly.
Just as Jazmin smiled to herself, satisfied in the polished state of her inn, the very earth began to move. A great roar tore across the city along with the sound not unlike many thunderstorms at the peak of Zulrav's fury. Before anyone could react, something rent through her beloved home and business. Something bright, something powerful and something that made the air taste foul. It left an after image in her sight and in the sight of all patrons who were unlucky enough to see it the exact moment it screamed through the tavern.
Like that, in a flash it was gone and a hole was burrowed through multiple layers of wood and apparently, stone. Jazmin's eyes widened as she peered through the hole and saw the ocean, far in the distance. So distracted was she, though she was deafened as well, that she could not hear the screams of the staff and the patrons. Fire had been sparked. And within the few moments of wonder she had indulged in, it was already spreading along the points of entry. Tapestries and cushions, cloth and carpet took to the spark and the wood and timbers of the structure.
When she realized what happened she quickly ran to the stairs and began to usher people from their rooms. Property could be repaired, but lives could never be replaced. "FIRE!" She bellowed, her ears still dampened from the thing that caused it. "Someone help! Fire!" Bursting from the place herself she stood in shocked horror. Fire and smoke issued from the main gate, rubble littered the ground. Bodies lay, burnt and scorched, crushed and maimed, all across the main courtyard. Great boulders had been launched from the gates and crushed people, shops and stands alike.
Recovering from her shock she set to the task of saving her home, "Please help! Some help me save the white swan! Fire! Fire!"
