Maadoran was the jewel of the Old Empire and is the site of the Abyss, which makes it pretty unsurprising that it has a lot to explore. So much in fact that I've decided to make a whole update out of exploring Maadoran and its surrounds.
Starting off its pretty obvious that we want to go to that inn first, however I noticed something about the wall guards here that I've never noticed.
They have different faces! Compare that to these two Imperial Guardsmen at the local IG fort.
Suspicious. Very, very suspicious. We've got to go to the inn to find out more about this sorcery.
Goddammit.
"You see a grizzled old fellow haggling with the innkeeper over a dish of scraps and a cup of watered wine. When they reach an agreement the old man pulls the cup towards him for a long sip, savoring his drink, and reluctantly pours the rest into a bowl of yesterday's rice (8 perception gives us the ability to smell the date of food from across the room.) He works the wine into the rice which, along with half an onion, comprises his meal. After finishing, he lets his gaze linger a moment on the empty bowl before turning with a dispirited sigh to address the common room."
"A tale," he says in a hoarse voice, before pausing to cough explosively. "Harken everyone to a most wonderful tale, a tale I offer exclusively to the most distinguished patrons of this most illustrious establishment!"
I might want to walk away and the game gives me the choice, but walking away from a storyteller is like walking away from this LP.
"Look around you, my friends" (I'm not your friend, buddy,) demands the old man. The patrons comply, obviously suspecting it is part of some feeble jest. "No, not at these four walls, you dolts. Look in wonder on the glorious city of Maadoran! Countless cities and towns, villages, hamlets have crumbled into dust, or been submerged beneath the waves, or swallowed by the desert sands, but Maadoran survives. For ten thousand years (You got a citation for that buddy?) the mighty capitol has stood and for ten thousand years she will continue to stand, watching over-"
"I heard the city was a thousand years old," interrupts a surly looking metalworker in the crowd. See? This guy knows the deal, I bet he also has an intelligence of 10.
"And where did you hear that, pray tell?" The storyteller seems to grow in stature, looking down at the man with disdain. "I was born here, as was my father and my father's father, (Only peasants use grandfather!) and his father before him. So which of us knows best, my gritty friend? Now set aside for a while the cackling of geese in the market which is often mistaken for wisdom and you will learn something of this City of All Cities we are all so fortunate to call home." Truer words have never been
typed uttered upon this blue marble named Earth.
"Maadoran was old and wise, already a place of philosophers and statesmen, when the Empire was nothing but an upstart kingdom. (Maadoran=Rome, if you couldn't tell, I guess the Old Empire's name was Maadoran then.) Yes, they were brawlers, full of strength and bluster, let us give violence its due. But what would have been their end without our art, our knowledge, our wisdom? (It wouldn't have been in craters is where.) The Empire had their legions, my esteemed comrades, but there is a limit to what can be accomplished through brutality. Add culture and knowledge to your strength, and you have a potent force."
"The Old Empire has fallen to dust, (Totally not due to magic or anything, nope.) a heap of cracked stones where once stood mighty walls. Of ancient Aellium (Or maybe that's the name of the Empire, I doubt it though.) nothing remains but faded diagrams on a handful of mildewed scrolls. Maadoran alone stands, her glory scornful of the passing of mere men, of time and decay, her nobles and lords unfazed by..." [insert any number of terrible joke here]
"I come inside to get away from the wind, not to bathe in it," a dusty scribe declares. "Yes, get to the tale, before ye crumble away yeself," another patron helpfully adds." "
I get payed by the hour dammit! How am I supposed to afford half an onion under these conditions?!"
"I'm getting to the tale," says the old timer. He smiles still, but his eyes are tight with anger. "I know that such learned folks as yourselves must all have heard of that dismal and storied ruin, that place of terror and woe, commonly named the Abyss? Well, there are rumors, there are tales, and there is truth. I will wager a meal that no one here has heard the truth."
"And you know this truth?" asks the scribe with a smirk." That isn't even a snarky quip scribeman. I would know, I make bad LPs with bad jokes.
"I certainly do," the storyteller snaps, for an instant unable to conceal the weary and bitter man he has become. (Behold, Vibius of Loremaster future!) "I happened in my travels upon a loremaster walking alone at the edge of the desert. His apprentice had died on the road the week before, and -worse luck!- his mule soon after. The loremaster himself was clinging to lif by the barest thread! I shared my water with him, the only wealth I had to offer for I am as you see a humble man, and in his gratitude he gifted me his finest scroll, a first-hand account of that poisoned zone which history has named the Abyss. This was ten years ago, and the scroll itself is now lost (My dog ate it.) but luckily for you, my friends, I have committed it entire (sic) to the vault of my mind." He taps a finger meaningfully on one temple. "Still, ten years is ten years, and a few of the details may be mixed up, but I promise it is worth your time, and a coin or two besides."
"It was during the final days of the Great War," he begins with a drama running close to ridiculous, "when earth and sky both were riven by terrible weapons, when catastrophe chased disaster. Entire cities vanished overnight, tens of thousands extinguished like candle flames swamped by the sea." Much like candles and seas, thermomagical warfare doesn't mix with cities of people. Maybe if the magi had 10 intelligence hey could've stopped them from mixing.
"Yet Maadoran was impregnable, for no army could breach her mantle of magic. Any who approached were destroyed without mercy, like ants treading a bed of hot coals. But her enemies were clever as they were relentless. One night the city's Magi tracked several new stars in the night sky, stars which moved but did not burn out and disappear as their more common brothers. They declared this a dark omen and commanded the minarets and spires to cast their nets just as these cursed beacons began to fall into the city. They were too late however. One star escaped those nets to land in the venerable District of Wisdom. That was the time when sun dawned in darkest night, and the thunder that arose made the gods themselves tremble. With the real sun rose in the east, all could see that the District of Wisdom was no more. What is left we now call the Abyss."
"But that is not the end of my story. (
That would be too convenient for Thingman.) With that cruel dawn, a strange, misshapen man appeared at the gates. He was haggard and wan and stumbled as though wounded, yet raw power crackled the air around him. When he gestured, the steel gates, twelve feet high, crumpled as if no more than paper in his closed fist. The guards who rushed to meet him bent like reeds in a gale, but from the wind that bowed them they would never spring back. In that instant the city was doomed, for this creature wasn't a man at all but a demon conjured in the unspeakable rituals of our enemies."
"There was, however, one who dared oppose him: Abu Hassan Ibn Hadad Al-Sarabi, First of the Magi. Though the lords of the city all knew him to be doing their good work a thousand miles from Maadoran, he had somehow appeared in her direst need to stand calmly waiting in the path." Deus ex Ibn Hadada
"The twisted creature sneered at the world's greatest Magus, (citation needed) using the familiar form of greeting, an insult to such a powerful man, and asked if he still thirsted for knowledge man wasn't meant to know."
"Calmly, the Magus replied that his thirst had been quenched a long time ago and that his power -and that of his seals- had grown since their last meeting, as the state of the demon's forlorn and raggedy host did attest."
"The demon had no witty reply to this, but reared up as if to strike him down. To the astonishment of everyone present, including the demon himself, his own limbs refused to obey him. His ribs cracked inwards with a sound like twigs breaking, his legs buckled beneath him, and his eyes turned white, leaving him blind. Sealed within his human form, he was unable to do anything but growl and curse." "
And then Ibn Hadad's rippling muscles burst open his shirt from the sheer holy majesty of his magic as the entire Qantari army despaired."
"What did they do with the demon?" (Gave the stupid thing a college education and raised it up right, dammit!) inquired the scribe softly. Sometime during the story, the patrons' taunts and grumbling had faded away, and everyone sat at on the edge of his chair, fists clenched, wine forgotten."
"That detail the scroll did not reveal," says the old man, "but I would venture the demon was locked way for eternity in the most impregnable sort of prison or vault. I mean, what else would you do with such a being?"
"Did the scroll mention the name of that demon?"
"It did," says the storyteller. He is befuddled for a moment, since you're clearly the first person to ask him that. "Balzurath? Baalzurab? It was an evil sound, like vinegar on the tongue."
"What do you know about
Saren the Gods?"
"Old wives' tales," says the old man dismissively. "Men of wisdom (and rippling abs) won the War, not Gods. Let these Gods strike me down if I lie."
"What were the Magi working on before the attack on the city?"
"The scroll didn't say. All I can tell you is that the grandest and tallest building in the city was the House of Magi, a dozen golden towers and silver arches hovering over the city. It is written that the highest pinnacle pierced the clouds, and the lowest catacomb struck dug (sic) deep under the earth, anchoring the tower in place. Can you see now what was lost?" He is practically pleading for understanding. "When will we ever rebuild such splendor? How?"
"The Abyss used to be called the District of Wisdom?"
"That is correct," he nods "It was the heart of Maadoran, a place of temples, libraries and schools... Granted, all I saw was an old drawing but the image left me speechless and filled my heart with sorrow. Loremasters say that the answer to any question could be found in the District of Wisdom, if one knew where to look and whom to ask. Men would come from all over to seek out our wisdom. Now the only thing they seek here are whores." Who's to say that the Magi didn't do a little business on the side? They might have came to Maadoran for both.
"So, it was like a vast library?"
"Not wholly inaccurate," he replies pompously, "but it was also much more than that. The ancients mined knowledge the way slaves mine ore. (Poorly and under threat of violence?) This city boasted the best magi, algebraists, topologists, alchemists, engineers, and astronomers. Maadoran had them all in one place. They walked these streets, breathed the same air, gazed upon the same stars. It was a time of wonder." Not an Age of Wonder though.
It's over! Praise the scholars! However this update isn't over yet so my fingers get no rest.
We stumble outside and meet this dude.
"You're too late," says a man standing next to an empty stall when you approach him. "The caravan just left. It will take weeks before the next one is ready to depart." Unlike Fallout 2 this game doesn't have an extremely time inefficient escort-the-caravan quest.
"Where do you send caravans to?"
"These days? Mostly Ganezzar and Caer-Tor. Asmara and Cippur are gone, Teron's about to join them. We need markets for our goods and the local goods to take back to cover the costs and turn some profit. There are a couple of mining villages that can make a trip there worthwhile but they're an exception rather than the norm."
"Asmara and Cippur?"
"The Imperial Guards took over Cippur two decades back and ran it into the ground. Asmara fell a few years ago. Two lordlings tore it apart after their father's death. The way the story is told, the younger son gathered enough support and deposed his older brother, who somehow managed to escape, hired every mercenary company willing to fight for a cut of the action and returned to claim the throne."
"The siege went on for years and by the time the town fell and the mercenary companies took what they considered a fair share, there wasn't much left of it."
"Why didn't the Imperial Guards step in?" IG loves helping people for little gain, yep.
"The Guards said that the Chapter doesn't allow them to interfere in the internal affair of the Houses, but the way I see it, the weaker the Houses, the stronger the Guards. At any rate, I don't seem them putting their asses on the line just to prop up some lordling."
"You mentioned villages?"
"They pop up here and there like mushrooms after a rain, but most don't last. It's hard to make it out on your own out there. They think they can grow some crops because they did it so well behind their shacks in the city, but a few acres field in the middle of nowhere is a different game."
"First, it takes more water, for once, and water is fickle these days. One year you have enough to cover three fields, the next - barely enough for one. Second, there are a lot more birds and animals to watch for and guard your harvest against. Third, the rot. Once it starts spreading, you're as good as done. My uncle was a farmer; always talking about the rot." Nurgle, why you gotta do this?
"What can you tell me about Ganezzar?"
"It's a lovely town. It's built in cascading levels around the castle that gave the town its name, so the view alone is worth the trip. The archways of the Lowtown become the walkways of the Skyport - it's quite the sight, my friend. There is nothing like that left anymore. The locals are getting too obsessed with gods and worship, but maybe it's better than being obsessed with money and power, eh? I find it rather charming, to be honest." Their fervor is just as charming in person, don't worry.
"The Skyport?
"It's one of the districts. The stories say that flying ships used to dock there and it does have these strange platforms but they could have been used for just about anything, if you ask me. Of course, flying ships and chariots make better story, so who am I to argue?"
"What can you tell me about Caer-Tor?"
"You've seen one military fort, you've seen them all. This one's just much bigger than all the others combined, but they keep it simple - rows of barracks, granary, cookhouse, hospital, and the praetorium. This entire splendor is surrounded by walls to keep the Guards from running away in the middle of the night, no doubt."
"I best be going now." Onto the next wall of dialogue!
This dude with a nipple showing seems trustworthy.
"Ten imperials!" yells a man, standing in the middle of the street. "For only ten imperials you'll get a tour of our glorious city and have all your questions answered. I'm not going to stand here all day, so it is a limited time opportunity only!"
We vigorously apply hard jack onto his hand.
"Excellent choice," says the man in a patronizing manner, as if being pleasantly surprised by an out-of-towner's acumen."
"Rule number one - stay away from the Slums. If the city were a hill, then the Slums would be at the very bottom of it, the final destination of all the shit that slowly flows downhill, from one district to another. (Hope none of you are eating while reading this.) The guards stay away from the Slum and so should you, if you have any common sense."
"The only 'law' there is the thieves' guild and it's a very simple law. If you're one of them, nobody fucks with you. If you aren't, you are on your own, which usually means good as dead."
"How many districts are there in the city?" By the way, do people want me to do these? I personally don't care and transcribing this much text when it is stuff we'll find out anyway is kinda annoying.
"We have five districts, but you should limit your stay to the Trade and Arena districts. Trust me, you have no business in the othe three, but since you paid me, I'm going to cover them in my tour to give you a proper perspective."
"At the top of the pyramid is the Palace district, named after - you guessed it - the palace. That's where the noble-born live, if you have the money to afford it. It's nice, clean, and crawling with guards."
"You steal a purse in the Arena district and all you're going to get for your trouble is a beating. You even look at a purse in the Palace district and the guards will chop off your arm before you can blink, just to be safe. Don't say I didn't warn you. Life isn't a picnic even when you have two hands, but if you're down to one, it becomes downright unbearable." Even worse when you can show only one nipple.
"Then you have the Trade district, home to the merchants' guild, which pays a fortune in levies and keeps the district on the upper end of the scale. You see that golden dome in the distance? That's the Commercium, which is kind of fitting. Maadoran used to be known as the City of Three Temples a long, long time ago. The Commercium bought one, the thieves took another, and the Abyss claimed the third. So, now we're the city of two temples: one houses the merchants' guild, the other - the thieves' guild. What can I tell you? It's the sign of times."
"The Trade district is for tradesmen, moneylenders, and impoverished nobles. If you're doing well, that's where you settle and consider yourself lucky."
"The Arena district," the man gestures around him, "is all about entertainment. We have the arena, of course, taverns, whorehouses - nothing fancy, mind you. (Damn, I wanted a magi.) If you want a real courtesan, you go to the Trade district. If you aren't picky and don't want to spend more than a few coins, you'll find a plenty of local talent right here."
"The Imperial Guards' barracks are here as well. They don't get involved in local affairs, of course, but they do try to keep their house clean and the Slums from growing any bigger than it is."
"What's the last district?"
"The Abyss - an old wound that still won't heal. The bastards hit us pretty hard during that big old war, so now we have a miles long crater filled with fog and ruins, where two districts used to be. Keep in mind that the fog is still as deadly as the day it appeared, so if you're thinking of going in, don't count on coming out."
"Who rules the city?"
"Lord Gaelius of House Aurelian - the best lord you could possibly wish for, bar none. He leaves us alone, keeps the levies reasonable-like, and doesn't get any bright ideas like Meru. What's not to like?"
He's even on the cover of the game!
"Besides, he has too many of his own problems to worry about anything else. The palace district is a nest of vipers. You see, when the Empire fell, most nobles fled to Maadoran. Nobody wanted to go to two-bit towns like Teron or Cippur. Ganezzar? It was not for everyone even before Meru went mad."
"So, as I was saying, most nobles fled to Maadoran, and by most, I mean several Houses with their guards and retainers. Oh, it was bloody! House Aurelian - one of the late arrivals - managed to come out on top, which means that many families ended up at the bottom. Still living comfortably, mind you, but what's comfort for you or me is utter humiliation for the likes of them."
"Why do the guards avoid the Slums? Surely, they can restore the order?"
"Sure they can," agrees the man, "but if they do that, where would all the dregs go? (To get a damn college education is where.) It's a harsh world, my friend. Some people don't have what it takes to make it. I'd rather they keep to one place than wander around aimlessly, bringing the quality of life down for the rest of us."
"It's a good arrangement, trust me."
"I'm looking for some people."
"Do you know a good loremaster?"
"They say that master Erebus is as good as they come, but he lives in the palace, so I doubt you'll get a chance to see him. If you're desperate, try Abukar the Mad. You can find him in his observatory in the Trade district."
"The Mad?" The Mildly Disturbed?
"He's not... altogether there, but some people swear by him."
"I have more questions."
"Where can I find some work?" "
If the magi had some side-jobs so will I!"Try the guilds. They are always hiring, especially the Boatmen. Business has been good for them lately. Alternatively, you can always go to the arena and try your luck there."
We've drained all this dude has to say, to some other hobo full of knowledge!
But wait, surprises!
"You hear the sounds of drums announcing the arrival of a caravan and almost immediately crates, barrels, and sacks start flowing through the gates, followed by chained, dust-covered slaves and tired guards."
Time to investigate this, maybe one of these slaves can tell me their whole lore-filled backstory.
"Once inside the gates, the new arrivals are dealt with a surprising speed and efficiency. Slaves are taken to the auction block, paid-for cargo delivered to consignees, guards paid and discharged to boost the local economy. All that's left are small-time traders hoping to sell their goods at a profit in a big city and the vultures that prey on them: levy collectors who'd take all they can and cutthroats who'd take everything, including their lives."
"One of the traders shakes his head and turns away from a levy collector to think it over. Almost immediately, he's approached by two rough looking men who whisper something in his ear. The trader, still in a state of shock, accepts their generous offer much like a drowning man grasps at straws and follows them to his doom."
Time to follow dudes into shady alleys.
"You follow them into a nearby alley, arriving just in time to witness the last act of the drama: the parting of the fool and his gold and possibly life. The thugs, now three of them, regard you as an extra bonus: two for the price of one."
"What do we have here?" inquires one of the thugs - a skinny man with deep seated eyes, surrounded by dark circles."
"Is that what you do for a living? Rob and kill the newcomers?"
"How's that any of your business?" asks the thug, looking a bit confused."
"Get out of here."
"Or what?" asks the thug, spreading his arm and pushing his chest forward."
[
streetwise] "Or what? Do you have any idea who you're talking to, you stupid little fuck?"
[
success] "Easy there, friend. We're leaving," says the thug, raising his hands to show that he leaves in peace." Decided we needed more word magery this update.
We watch as they wander off in search of other opportunities to be murdered by RPG protagonists.
"I don't know how to thank you," says the trader, visibly shaken. "They would have killed me. The bastards would have killed me and taken everything..." He hesitates for a moment, then makes a decision and removes a well-adorned dagger from his belt."
"It's (sic) been in my family for generations. My father gave it to me before I left. He told me once unsheathed it can solve any dispute, but I just couldn't bring myself to draw it. May it serve you better than it server me, stranger."
*You gain a new insight - 3 skill points gained.*
Time to walk away, we've lore to hear and read.
Also, apparently that house he was pushed up against is trapped: "The door is locked. You push it, testing the strength of the lock and hear the sound of a crossbow being cocked. You best leave it alone."
Let's investigate a shed while we are at it. "Nothing but junk inside. If it has any value, it's purely sentimental."
What about this humble abode next to the shed?
"You see six or seven dirty bodies lying next to each other on even dirtier straws covering the floor."
What about this flickering well? No really, the water is freaking out, call the mag... oh wait.
"It's a typical Maadoran courtyard - cul-de-sac formed by houses built next to each other and smaller dwellings and sheds added later. The courtyard has its own well and an old campfire surrounded by worn out tree trunks serving as make-shift benches and empty bottles."
Down the road we see another man with a nipple out, but before we survey his lore we check out this random house.
"It's one of the better buildings on the block, undoubtedly belonging to the prosperous citizens of the district. The prosperity is manifested by three wives, a dozen of dirty-looking children, and an oversized antique pot hanging over (sic) fire, smelling of lamb and spices."
Now, let us survey this man.
"Show kindness to a veteran, good master!" barks a scowling beggar when you come too close. "A coin or two is all I ask. Come on, we both know you can afford it."
We slam some sweet Gaelius into his toga.
"Much obliged," says the beggar, offering a practiced military salute." I didn't even know that this was coming up, which makes slamming some imperials into his toga even better.
"Are you really a veteran?"
"Antidas' finest," says the man with a bitter smile. "Yeah, wrong side, I know, but it's hard to tell them apart beforehand. Every lord makes it sound like his cause is righteous and his side is going to come out the winner, but in the end it always comes to a roll of the dice."
"How did you end up here?"
"It's a long story. You sure you have time for it?"
Do you A Thing? Do you? What are you doing with your life? Stop this LP, you asshole. "I'd like to hear it."
"Alright. So, yeah I served Antidas, but it was more than a job for me. I took the oath and meant every word, gods help me. I didn't believe any of the 'Antidas, the last emperor!' bullshit that the court poet always went on about. For me, what mattered was that Antidas actually gave a shit."
"I'd worked for the Commercium years before, so I knew how rich bastards can treat you, but Antidas was different. (
He put imperials in my toga! Strabos never did that!) He'd actually spend time with his men. He said the prophecy wasn't just about him, that we were all part of it, and that the words themselves were just empty blather without good men to back them up and follow his lead. We were the foundation upon which the House was built, he said. Fine words, though I know it must sound like so much horseshit coming from me."
"Things were really gearing up by the time I'd joined. His father had left him the throne less than a year prior, you see, so Antidas was chomping at the bit to get things rolling, considering how cautious and miserly his father had been. He spent a lot of gold on payroll so his recruiters could compete with the Imperial Guards, and began outfitting his men in armor of the grand old Imperial style."
"Pretty soon the common folk took House Daratan for the real descendant of the Empire, while the so called 'Imperial' Guard took the role of a shameful pretender staffed by ill-armored lepers. The ranks began to swell, and in a little over half a year, Antidas was ready to stake his claim."
"Luck favored Antidas. THe Ordu had begun a huge push to the south, and Gaelius had to bleed his own legions to beef up the Guards to the north. Gaelius knew it would risk legitimacy of the Charter if he did nothing but spend his time with some Bactrian belly dancers, while the Guards died defending his backyard from the greatest threat since the Qantari, so he didn't have much choice in the matter."
"That whole mess took Gaelius' carefully arranged game board and threw it into the Abyss, and Antidas was poised to exploit the situation. He sent his uncle to Ganezzar to sell Meru on a joint attack against Gaelius. He gave him a hundred soldiers and guess who was in charge of that entourage? Yours truly. Meru's mind was soft like clay, easy to mold, and the deal was struck within a week. Soon after, we were ready to march to war."
"With Gaelius fighting a war on three sides, the Daratan front had become his soft underbelly. This was still Aurelian though and Daratan was still the weakest House, so there was no certain outcome. Nonetheless, Antidas belted Gaelius with everything he had. I don't know whether tactics or numbers won that first battle, but we absolutely bled those bastards!"
"House Daratan had accomplished a decisive victory, the first in decades, but all Antidas did was salute his men and walk the battlefield as calmly as if he were enjoying a stroll in the garden. He wanted it to seem as though this was all a matter of course. It must have taken a godly effort to hold in the pride he felt, and as for us, hell, we didn't even bother trying."
"What happened then?"
"Well, it all went to shit, of course, but you already know that, don't you? Things went well enough during the first month after the initial attack. Aurelian withdrew, Daratan advanced. Then one day we got word from the northeast that Meru had suddenly withdrawn his troops from the field. They hadn't been routed; they'd just completely ditched the war! Antidas didn't know what to think. Had Meru been bribed by Gaelius? Had he lost his nerve?" Somehow I feel as if I know the answer to this question.
"It turns out Meru hadn't lost his nerve, just his whole fucking mind. I brought Antidas' uncle to Ganezzar again and he didn't even greet us when we walked into his court, but instead began a crazed oration. It was like we were listening to a totally different man. He spoke of gods, he spoke of revelations, he spoke of the people, and he ultimately just spewed out a mess of the most impassioned insanity I'd ever heard."
"At first we hoped it was nothing but an act to cover Meru's real doubts about the war and so the uncle staying into the night to discuss it with him further. When he finally came out of the palace, his skin white as gypsum. I tried to fish out some of the details, but he (sic) the only thing he said was, "Gods help us, he actually believes every word. It's all over..." And so it was."
"Just like that?"
"It was the turning point marking the end of Antidas' good fortune. The Imperial Guards ambushed and decimated the Ordu and suddenly Gaelius was free to give Antidas the attention he deserved. Of course, we didn't see it this way back then as Antidas had us convinced that the prophecy was coming true and nothing could stop him. Except, Gaelius' legions, of course," laughs the beggar, the laugh turning into a violent cough that stops him for a moment." This guy not only looks suspiciously like that storyteller dude, he coughs like him too.
"Wiraz," he says finally as if the name still invoked pain. "It was a disaster. Complete and utter fucking disaster. If Antidas didn't run, he would have lost everything there When we got back to Teron he practically barricaded himself in his compound and that was the last I saw of him. No more speeches, no more heart to hearts, no more talks about prophecies."
"So, how did you end up here?"
"Tell you the truth, I just couldn't stomach stating in Teron, pretending like nothing happened. Don't know how Antidas could handle it. Maybe he's a tougher bastard that I thought. For a while, we thought that he was just laying low, biding his time and waiting for the right opportunity. Turned out, there was no opportunity. He sent an expedition to look for some temple in the wasteland as if that was his main concern and nothing else mattered."
"Of course, his luck being what it is, he lost most men he sent on that fool's errand and didn't find any temple. Between you and me, I wouldn't be surprised if it exists only in his addled mind."
"I left shortly after. Thought I'd come and see Maadoran, see the city that so many men died for. You know what, I don't think it was worth it. (Take that, Maadoran!) Anyway, my throat's getting dry, so it's time to go and water it. Take care of yourself, stranger."
We walk away, finding more reason for calling it House Diminutive.
"As you walk down the street, you hear shouts and see an angry crowd pursuing several men. They chase them into a nearby house and start discussing the best way to smoke them out."
"A lone guard shows up and tries to clam the tensions, but without visible success."
More dialogue? Let's go!
"Burn them!" yells a red-faced, burly man in a dirty tunic, pointing at the house. The crowd seems to share his animosity towards the house's inhabitants."
"Nobody's burning anything in my district!" says the guard weakly. He tries to infuse his words with authority, but he isn't eager to risk his life to restore order, which only emboldens the crowd."
"What's going on?"
"It's the nutters," sighs the guard. "Now that they've got some numbers behind them, things are starting to get out of control. Earlier, they went through the district, shouting, pushing over carts, and pissing people off. There was a fight - three dead, a dozen wounded."
"The preacher and his cronies holed in there," he nods at the house, "and now these idiots want to burn it down and half the district with it."
"The nutters?"
"The mouth-breathers who follow these preachers around, eating up every word and asking for more."
"We didn't see it coming when it started. These preachers were talking crazy, but nobody listened. So, what's the harm, right? And then something changed. Suddenly, they were drawing crowds; people were repeating their shit like it meant something. And now we have bloody riots in the middle of the day!"
"What preachers?"
"Ever since Meru went nuts and started talking about gods, some people took it upon themselves to spread his *teaching* and bring the fucking light to our darkness. Now, as far as I know, the preachers never said a word about attacking the "unbelievers", but maybe they didn't have to. Make a man feel righteous and there is no telling how far he will go."
"What do they preach?"
"The usual shit - the goldess will be punished, the righteous saved."
"Need any help?"
"Can you keep the crowd in check, while I got and get more men to handle it properly?"
"Sure" "
Sure I'll risk my life, sounds cool brah."
"The guard leaves you in charge and quickly walks away. The crowd gets its hopes up and moves a few steps closer."
"That preacher ain't going nowhere!" says the burly man. "We had enough of his shit."
[
lore success][
persuasion] "The preacher will be dealt with in accordance with the laws of House Aurelian. Any attempt to rob our Lord of his right to dispense punishment will be considered a grave insult, punishable by removal of the offender's right arm."
[
success] "Alright," says the burly man, spitting and narrowly missing your feet. "Have it your way, but if we ever catch this fucker in our neighborhood, he's ours."
We wait for the smallfolk to leave, and go inside the house to hear some preaching.
"You see a man with a thin face, a narrow aquiline nose, and fire in his eyes. This must be the preacher. Behind him stand two men, roughed up and bloodied."
"Who are you?" asks the preacher."
*You gain a new insight - 3 skill points.*
"A friend. It's safe to come out now."
"The gods worked a miracle through you, my child, much like they always do. It is the righteous men like you that make this world worth saving."
"Thank you, brother (22 inch pythons, brother!) So, what happened here today?"
"My congregation wanted to share their love for the Gods with their neighbors, for it is a duty of every believer to bring the light of true faith into the hearts of others. Yet, apparently, such roads are filled with perils. The faithful were attacked, spat on, knocked to the ground and beaten."
"We had to defend ourselves, but our creed isn't a militant one and we fared poorly. All but these two lucky souls are dead now."
"I'm glad I could help then."
"We are in your debt and this debt will be repaid. I'll bring the word of your deeds to the holy city of Ganezzar."
*House Crassus reputation increased*
"Thank you." Off to slightly less preachy pastures.
Walking to the trade district to get some Abukar, we see a broken fountain. "There's no water to be had from this fountain. The frenzied shrieks coming from the arena make you think that blood is a more obtainable commodity in these parts."
We also walk by "Quintus' Palace of Pleasure, but there are no robed mage ladies so we just keep on going.
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Topic: Let's Play The Age of Decadence Part Holiday Spirit: Christmas Special (Read 50594 times)