City of Sandburg

[Marko]

Sandburg. A small community that is recovering from it's turbulent past so it can once more infuse the arid lands of the southern Merchants Sea with life. It lies in the Ershun Plain on top of an easily defendable rocky plateau, surrounding the plateau there is a ring of Oasis that provided Sandburg with food. To the west rise the mountain range of Orib that held diamond mines. The mines were the reason why the city was founded in the first place, bringing colonists from the mainland. As the mines depleted Sandburg was able to survive because of the trading routes that emerged connecting the Southern Sea and the Merchant Sea.

At the moment it is governed by Sir Aranth Marcus placed there by Emry of Abrissel. His actions are observed and guided by a Comunal Assembly of the city.

[MT]
Popular name: Sandburg
Official name: Arhandaar Vel

Buildings
- Meeting Hall
--Town Hall
- Temple
- Bank
Troop Buildings
- Gatehouse
--Guardhouse
- Thieves’ Guild
- Mage's School
- Healer’s Conclave

Services

Hire:
Man-at-Arms (50 gold)
Thief (50 gold)
Acolyte (50 gold)
Apprentice (50 gold)

Upgrade:
- Man-at-Arms -> Pikeman (100 gold)

Sandburg can be reached only if the party has a diplomat with them. Because of past experiences it will atack any Horde affiliated character. The feeling toward the Legion ar not warm but it will accept some of its members transactions will have a 75% surcharge. Clan and Alliance members are welcomed with only a 25% surcharge, while Empire citizen have an 10% surcharge.

Comunal Palace of Sandburg

Art: Marko
[/MT]

[Marko]

A new governor...

A path of light is continually spilling from the small opening within the two curtains. Morning light is emerging from that space and cutting trough the darkness of Marcus’s bedchamber. The new governor had his head hidden deep within the soft silky pillows as he pondered to rise from the realm of dreams or to stay hidden. He could sense the daylight conquering the night and filling the room with a yellow morning glow. Marcus could also hear the activities of man picking up in the surroundings of his apartment in the Communal Palace. A roster here, a shout there, in the distance a cart rolling ungracefully on the cobblestones of the street. It was the time to wake up. He raised his head looked to his left and then to his right:

“What?! No one besides me.” – I tough rather disappointed raising my head even further sensing that I was alone in bed, then, as if unleashing the fury of hell, a splitting head ache erupted in my forehead – “Oh, now I remember, Church banquet.” – I sit up and place a hand on the back of my head gently rubbing it – “Why do I always forget that priests are immune to alcohol and have a limitless supply of Nestorian wine in their cellar, of course for religious ceremonies but none the less a focal point for us non-clergy members at any Church held banquet.” – my legs are firmly placed on the futon besides the bed. “Right, no more drinking if I intend to rise from my bed without further wounds” – as I commit my legs into pushing my whole body into an erect position I can sense the room moving – “Easy now, one step at a time. The room is only moving in your mind. For a room to move in such a way a whole battalion of Titans must dance the Uhondra.” – I try to use logic to outsmart the effects of the wine, but as that one step is taken my body wobbles and comes crashing down on the floor, luckily for that ornate wooden bed post, didn’t hit it but still I was too far from it to grab onto. “Fortunate me” – I was pondering laying on the floor – “Eh, at least this carpet is comfortable, I must remember to send a letter of appreciation to the weavers of Sandburg and to stop using logic in alcohol related issues.”

There was a knock on the door, the sound echoed in the high bedchamber.

“Yes, ugh, well don’t come in, there are demons here. Big red ones, the worst kind” – I shout in a desperate attempt to scare off anyone that treaten a few more delightful moments of sleep. But curse the saints the door was opening.

“Sorry sir...” – Edgar’s young voice rang – “...but did you say demons?” – the apprentice entered the room, but Marcus could see only a purple blur, only by his voice did he recognize Edgar – “I really think I heard you say demons.” – Edgar tried to pierce the dark with his eyesight.
“Sir! ” – he shouted when he saw Marcus on the floor, quickly coming to his aid and helping him back on the bed. “Sir, have you been attacked, by demons? ” – he looked allover his body to see if there are any wounds. Then glanced at the room to observe any trace of unholy enemies.

“Stay calm Edgar” – Marcus tried to calm the apprentice – “there’s nothing to worry about. I often scare chambermaids with that ploy so I can sleep a few moments more. Yesterday were necromancers.” – Marcus was rubbing his eyes and yawned – “Today I have a disposition for demons” – a moment of silence sank, as the young apprentice didn’t know how to react.

“I’m sorry Edgar, I didn’t know it was you.” – Marcus gave a strong pat on the back to the young mana weaver. Edgar started to smile and said.

“You were fortunate I didn’t enter the chamber with a spell prepared, because then I would have redecorated your room, sir.” – Edgar looked at the walls and giggled.

“Well, now...” – Marcus had a philosophical look to him – “pitch black walls, I’m certain the aristocracy in Abrissel would have something to argue, decorative wise, about that but I’m a risk taker.” – Marcus tried again to stand, this time more successful as he made two steps and reached a drawer to the left of the bed. – “Edgar, could you retrieve my clothes from that chair please.” – Marcus opened a drawer and took out a cloth tide up as a bag from which he retrieved a dried brown leaf.

“Yes sir!” – Edgar said eagerly.

“Have you brought the documents?” – asked Marcus as he ingested the leaf. Edgar placed the clothes on the bed and was now near the window.

“Right here...” – Edgar opened his personal bag and pulled out three scrolls– “straight from scribe Ipsilanti.” – Edgar flung the curtains apart and the room flooded with sunlight.

“Good.” – Marcus squinted his eyes until he could adjust – “Place them on the table and give me some moments to dress, I shall join you in the main chamber on this floor.” – Marcus picked up his clothes and observed them for a moment.

“If there isn’t anything more I can help? ” – inquired Edgar

“No, thank you Edgar.” – the apprentice started to move towards the door. – “Oh, one more thing did the delegates arrive?” – asked Marcus hand brushing his hair

“To my knowledge, they haven’t yet.” – Edgar placed his hand on the doorknob – “Sir.” – he bowed his head.

“Dismissed.” – replied Marcus – “The child wants to please me with that military routine”- he tough, picking up his red tunic and observing it for cleanliness reasons – “I’ll play along, could have made a good knight out of him but he’s so tided up in mana weaving techniques, that there’s no room for knights training in that boys schedule. Damn it, the tunic has a stain.”

***

Outside the new governors’ apartment leaning with his back on the wall and hands crossed was sir Aranths thief, Mr. Villiers his face opaque by his hood. As Edgar the apprentice walked out the thief made his presence felt.

“Ah, young Edgar Halwin of Grandmoor, how are we this morning hmmm...” – his voice always implied that he knew your deepest secret – “I see that we are working on an early promotion, hmmm....”

“What are you talking about, thief?” – you knew immediately that this aristocratic child was loathing the person leaning on the wall. Mr. Villiers had an even bigger smile on his face when the boy lashed at him.

“Now, you don’t have to pretend in front of me Edgar Halwin of Grandmoor” – he moved away from the wall and resembling an eagle circled his pray. – “You are young, ambitious, eager, hmm...” – his black eyes flickered with joy as the interrogation progressed –“there is no shame to have plans for yourself. I see grand plans in your eyes, but such grand plans take time and you fear time. Perhaps some ...hmm... shortcuts.”

“You are out of line, thief. Your imagination is running wild, perhaps your life calling was that of a bard as I seem to observe a certain love for fantastic and unbelievable stories in your oratory. You see here, in me, a maelstrom of conspiracy when there is clearly none.” – the boy was in an arrogant mood as he glared at the thief. Mr. Villiers continued his patrol around the apprentice.

“I know you, young Halwin of Grandmoor, you can go so far before your abilities and skills fail in front of the challenge. But the ambition is there, it burns into your veins, we will just have to wait and see what your ambition turns you into.” – Mr. Villiers stooped and looked in the eyes of the apprentice, who by this time has lost all patience with the thief.

“I consider this discussion over. I will leave you with your dreams and conspiracies.” – he said turning and heading down the corridor.

“As you say milord.” – Mr. Villiers slightly pulled on his hood in a salutary manner and returned in his original position of leaning on the wall, hands crossed and hood covering his facial features.

***

Moments latter from inside the apartment sir Aranth emerged in a dark green military tunic with a row of golden buttons going from a high neck collar to the bottom of his tight long tunic. The neck collar was unbuttoned so that his families cloth could be displayed. Marcus observed the thief immediately but choose to ignore him for a moment until he buttoned his sleeves and mended the white shirt that emerged from his tunic and covered his hands.

“Mr. Villiers aren’t you going to introduce yourself this morning.” – eventually said Marcus in a still guttural morning voice.

“Good morning milord, sleep well?” – the thief’s face with his dark eyes emerged from behind the hood and the shadow that it projected on Mr. Villiers.

“You know that I didn’t, but to make idle conversation...” – Marcus turned his attention to his thief and in an almost bored face said –“no it was a dreadful night. I kept turning in my sleep and I don’t know why.”

“You should try Hill Tea, I hear it helps with hmm...” – Mr. Villers came closer to Marcus on his right side and whispered – “bottle problems.”

“I already took an Isra leaf, I should be perfect as a summers day for the meeting.” – said Marcus moving down the corridor slowly. “Have you meet our young apprentice?” – he asked Mr. Villers that matched the walking speed of Marcus.

“Yes, I have parleyed with him just a few moment ago.” – Marcus smiled at the thief’s use of more elaborate terms.

“Hope you didn’t give the boy any unnecessary trouble.” – Marcus pronounced it in a caring tone.

“Unnecessary? Oh, no ‘twas the usual conversation I have with young people that enter your service.” – responded summarily the thief with a small grin on his face.

“And?” – Marcus was eager to find out.

“Well it’s suffice to say that the boy will never make a good thief, hmm... I threw the bait and he bit...” – Mr. Villiers stooped talking and meditated on the last part of his sentence, Marcus in the end opened his eyes in a clear demand for more information.

“What, more?” – asked Mr. Villiers as if he was giving out gold globes. – “Fine, young Edgar doesn’t prove wrong his aristocratic upbringing, arrogant to underlings, confident in the righteousness of his actions and quick to pick a fight, although the last one could be from his young years. Anyhow he’s perfect for the role I think you want to give him, after some polishing of course.”

“Of course. So I made the right decision in bringing him here? – Marcus bit his upper lip calculating the other possibilities that he could have followed.

“That’s my opinion.” – said Mr. Villiers, a little annoyed that Marcus asked that question. The two walked slower and slower.

“Now what can you tell me about the delegates?” – Marcus continued.

“Ah, the delegates. I should say from the start Marcus, that making this city a supply point for the Wolf Warriors is easy compared to actually running it.” – you could hear a thin vein of fear in his voice.

“I think I can manage. It’s an extraordinary challenge, to bring order to...” – Mr. Villiers placed his hand on the shoulder of Marcus.

“I’m not going to listen to one of your populous inspiring monologues at this moment Marcus.” – Marcus smiled.

“Fine. So the delegates...” – Marcus re-entered his inquiring demeanor

“You’ll have to deal with three men, hand picked by the Communal Assembly and each supporting one of the major classes of Sandburg. The merchants are represented by a man called Ridelur Tarrant, a rather ruthless merchant that has risen trough the merchants rank fairly rapidly due to the recent chaos, he is devious in the sense that I personally wouldn’t trade with him, ever.” – Mr. Villiers spoke with a calm distant voice.

“That bad?” – Marcus wanted a clarification.

“He seeks any means to enlarge his wealth, but in your case Marcus and Sandburgs, Mr. Ridelur is among the last merchants of Sandburg. If you want Sandburg to fill its treasury he has the right skill and lack of scruples, I suggest persuading him on our side or eliminating him.”

“Right, I’ll make a decision after the meeting. Another delegate.”

“The Communal Asembly choose Mr. Hewdar Turner to represent the craftsmen. He’s... hmm... flexible.” – Mr. Villiers face glowed again – “... this one you can persuade more easily because the craftsmen feel they are protected by the Crafts Charter, but if you read it I’m sure that the fingers on your hands and legs can’t account for the number of loopholes you can use.”

“And the third...”

“Ah yes, the biggest part of the population, the peasantry. The Assembly, in my opinion, picked the largest and strongest of them, a mountain of a man that calls himself Jurriaan Tillman”

“Trolish intelligence, I suspect?” – Marcus wanted to guess and hoped.

“Not that primitive, but he shows a rather limited desire for complicated plots, he’s very out-spoken and blunt. Mr. Jurriaan doesn’t trust people with elaborate words, he likes to have everything simple and favoring him. You can and perhaps have to make him your best ally.”

“Peasants the majority of Sandburg.” – Marcus stooped in front of a window and began to watch the people outside in Communal Square.

“Precisely.” – Mr. Villiers kept his distance from the window.

“They seem a warm bunch.” – Marcus didn’t even try to give his voice a comical nuance.

“Ow, yes grand individuals if you like spending half a day arguing about trivial things that from a political point of view are of utmost importance. I for one enjoy blacksmithing with bare hands compared to that.” – Mr. Villiers teased. Marcus didn’t say anything for a moment.

“I’ll heal this city...” – he eventually whispered – “...one way or another.”

“I have doubts, but I see that glow in your eyes again. Small steps, sir. First you have to meet with those vultures and I have some blacksmithing to do.” – Marcus saw a grin on the thief’s face.

“Yes, but I’ll have more fun.” – Marcus turned from the window just to see Mr. Villiers departing.

“Perhaps, but me time will be spent into something more productive.” – the thief retorted. Marcus didn’t want to argue anymore, especially on an empty stomach.

[Blitz]

[MT]

Windrider is going to be the mod over the contested lands, but since he's out until the weekend...

Lord Marcus - 1 Potion of Protection, 400 XP (feel free to distribute it as you see fit)

[/MT]

[Marko]

The first test...

Inside the Communal Palace in a room of average size, seated around a table of beautifully decorated wood, were four men. At the head we saw sir Aranth the governor of Sandburg with a chaotic pile of documents in front of him, to his right was Hewdar Turner, crafts guild delegate, dressed in a white shirt, long gray trousers, a sleeveless dark red coat and a craftsman’s hat. He had a few documents that he organized neatly in front of him. Right next to him was Jurriaan Tillman the large peasant leader, he and the merchants’ leader stood on opposite sides of the table. And if you consider that rumors are your best source of information then it should be pointed out that this “coincidental” positioning had roots in real life, something to do with “daughters and wives”, but who trusts rumors?

The peasants monolith-like body was covered with a simple blue-gray shirt under a leather jacket, hidden beneath the table were brown trousers. The merchant on the other side had an elaborate bright green tunic made out of different pieces sown togheter in interesting geometric patterns that mixed cloth and golden thread, this hanged upon a smaller then average body.

Light began to transform in its afternoon orange glow as the meeting with the delegates was already in its seventh hour, and with every new hour the governor reached new hights in the quest to know how annoyed a person can become. The delegates focused more on issues that they wanted to solve trough the governor. The other paths they can take are lengthily procedures in the Communal Assembly. Yes it was the governors’ responsibility but Marcus considered himself more then a bureaucrat. And yet, it was still too early for him to impose his way of thinking upon the delegates and the Assembly, going against their beliefs would be an uphill battle, at best. He was still new here and didn’t understand the social fabric of Sandburg. An outsider, on the other side against which the locals could band together if Marcus starts erasing what they think is their way of life. Fighting against the status quo is usually counter productive in the worldly concept of Marcus Aranth....

“Sir, are you all right?” - rang from the right of Marcus.

“Yes, Mr. Jurriaan, my mind has wandered a bit, perhaps the new climate is taking its toll on my perception and endurance.” – Marcus rubbed his eyes.

“Should we get you something?” – baru(*honorary title given to craftmasters) Hewdar made his presence felt.

“No, there is no need to baru Hewdar, we are close to finishing here... “- Marcus cordially smiled and urged the others back to the problems of his governorship – “Now, I’m sorry Mr. Jurriaan but what you are proposing is not possible” – Marcus continued from where he left off, trying to reason with the peasant leader.

“Why, milord?” – the bass of Jurriaan Tillmans voice shook your bones – “The militia is needed here to protect the fields not running around the lands, hunting down bandits. We need food, not coin. I for one can’t eat coins.”

“I understand your fear...” – Marcus’s face was all sympathy

“If that is going to happen then I, as the primary representative and voice of the merchants” – the merchant delegate intervened cutting off Marcus – “demand that the peasantry make a generous offer of produce every month or so, to us - the merchant league.” – Mr. Ridelur unglued his back from the chair and leaned on the table with his hands clasped in front of him.

“And why should we do that?” – Jurriaan leaned even more on the table which cracked and whistled in agony – “you consider us your slaves?”

“Well...” – Ridelur smiled – “...let’s put it in another way. Those men and women of the Militia, are they well armed?”

“Yes they are.” – Jurriaan lifted some of his weigh from the table.

“And tell me this.” – Ridelurs face had a joyful stance as if saying to Tillman “welcome to my trap”, he used his hands to help his oratory– “Those weapons and armors must come from somewhere. Right?”

“From our workshops!” – baru Hewdar, the craftsmen delegate, answered, jumping in the discussion.

“And the metal in your workshop comes from...” – Ridelur paused waiting for a response.

“We have...” – began Hewdar.

“Right! From us, merchants” – Ridelur cut him off – “So there is no need to recall the few militia warriors that protect the small groups of caravans that still trek through this dangerous arid land, bringing valuable materials to Sandburg. There is just no need!” – the merchant fell silent after his voracious testimony, laying dormant in his chair waiting for the peasants’ response.

“You have to admit Tillman, they are few in number.” – the craftsman turned to the peasant. But he didn’t want to answer preferring to hold an annoyed demeanor.

“Don’t worry Mr. Jurriaan, my personal guard is at your service if your or any part of Sandburg and it oases are treated.” – Marcus tried to console Jurriaan – “But the fact is the militia warriors, at the moment, won’t be reshuffled.”

“Your personal guard?” – asked Ridelur raising an eye brow

“They will help the militia clear the territory of Sandburg from its enemies.” – Marcus leaned in his chair, padded with chicken fetters and covered with fhindarian silk.

“And when will we see them in action.” – Ridelur and his eyes focused on the governor, you could read some discomfort in them.

“You are welcome to watch our drills later this day.” – said Marcus in a proud voice – “As a matter of fact you are all invited to see them and me in battle.”

“You milord?” – asked the craftsman with wide-open eyes.

“I am a knight, when all this is striped away.” – Marcus pointed at the room with his finger gently moving trough the air.

“I shall be present, it sounds interesting milord.” – said baru Hewdar the craftsman.

“So if there is nothing more on the agenda for today...” – Marcus concluded and waited for a response, a moment of silence fell as the three observed Jurriaan the peasant for an reaction. He nodded “no”.

“Great, then I hope to see you gentlemen at the seven beats of the bell in the Magic School. Good afternoon.” – concluded Marcus gathering his documents from the table and leaving the others behind. Passing quickly by the guard at the door.





Later that day in the cloister of the Magic School in Sanbdburg leaning on one torse gothic column with a floral capitel was the young apprentice Edgar Halwin, lost in his own little mental world. He held with one hand a magical tome coated in brown leather upon which a silvery insignia. His lips moved but the words were only heard in the nether. The other hand glowed yellow with magical energy as his fingers and palm danced trough the air.

Footsteps echoed in the spaces created into the old stones of the building. Edgar closed his eyes and whispered a chant, while the light from his hands dwindled into oblivion he rejoined the real world. When his eyes welcomed the world back into them, Edgar slammed shut the tome and hid it in his bag. The steps announced a visitor to the silent cloister submerged in the orange glow of the evening desert sun. The sound grew louder as a figure emerged from behind a corner in front of Edgar. He tried to give himself a pleasant stance as his mind recognized the visitor. A golden hared girl, her long blue acolyte tunic flowed behind her as she entered the colonnaded corridor of the cloister. The light dazzled her after walking so much in the shade of the stone building.

“Caitlyn, over here!” – shouted Edgar raising his hand at half height.

“Ah, Edgar?” – the girl was not sure of his identity.

“Indeed I am. Edgar Halwin of Grandmoor.” – he had an aristocratic approach to his introduction, full of pride.

“Great, I tough I got lost for a minute there.” – she was visibly overjoyed to find that she reached the right place, letting out a large puff of air from her lungs. – “I’m Caitlyn Winne of...” – she paused. Edgar smiled but tough how weird this girl was, but soon she found what to say – “...of... Vyllinar and Lowbarrow and a little from Kylbun. Nice to meet you” – she extended her hand.

“Yes, we’ve introduced ourselves three days ago. You know at the ceremony.” – he grabbed her hand and gently kissed her milky skin.

“The ceremony? Yes, I remember now. That was fun.” – she observed how the aristocratic child was respecting his traditions and deep inside she loved the attention – “You sat near sir Aranth.”

“I did. He asked me to join him at his table to speak with me about something.” – Edgar returned the hand to Caitlyn.

“Anything important?” – Caitlyn closed the gap between her and the stone railing surrounding the cloister.

“Nothing that would entertain milady if I would re-tell the words, I spoke with sir Aranth about trivial things.” – Edgar watched Caitlyn as she jumped on the railing, sitting on it and hugging a column with both hands. She was now exposed to the orange glow of the sun.

“How did you meet, our benefactor?” – asked Caitlyn with her eyes closed enjoying the sun.

“Sir Aranth knows my parents.” – in Edgar’s head an idea was slowly brewing as he looked upon the acolyte. “She is rather beautiful” – he tough.

“Really? That’s nice.” – she opened her eyes – “I was recruited for my skills in healing although I suspect that I was recruited for my other talents” – her hand combed her hair.

“Which other talents?” – asked Edgar his mind already filling the gaps.

“You see...” – her eyes went right down, inspecting the floor, Edgar grew suspicious – “...I like to talk and tell stories.”

“Stories?!” – Edgar reorganized his toughs – “That’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“I can grow boring and annoying after some time, you know.” – she glanced one moment at the apprentice.

“If sir Aranth hired you then all your skills are of the highest degree. But I don’t understand why are you so gloomy this evening.” – he moved next to her.

“I’ll tell you another time. I’ve never been to Grandmoor, how is it?” – she smiled.

“Well, it’s the best place in Nevandaar, especially in the summer, the fields are golden with bountiful corps and...” – a door opened on the other side of the corridor and from behind it appeared sir Aranth in his red uniform, followed by two men-at-arms clad in chain mail armor. Their footsteps ended the meditative silence of the cloister.

“Edgar, Caitlyn, good you are here. Did you have trouble finding this place?” – he stooped in front of them.

“I know my way in any Magical School, sir Aranth.” – said Edgar.

“Marcus you said first door on the left.” – Caitlyn went down from the stone railing.

“No, I did not. Second on the left, I said” – relied Marcus.

“Oh, that’s why I entered over there in the cloister” – she pointed to the corner.

“Now you know.” – Marcus took a moment to observe the space inside the cloister – “Are you ready for this evening?”

“We are actually fighting something today?” – asked Edgar with disbelieving eyes.

“As soon as Master Sumner arrives we will.” – Marcus answered.

“And who are your two friends?” – Caitlyn asked moving her head to see behind Marcus the two metal covered men.

“Right. Meet Andrew Kyln and Cadmon Kyln. Our two frontliners.” – Marcus joked, moving one step to the left for the two warriors to become visible to Edgar and Caitlyn.

“You are brothers?” – Caitlyn asked as she moved closer to them. Both had dark hair and brown eyes. One had a mustache while the other was cleanly shaven. The one with the mustache spoke first.

“Yes we are. Name’s Andrew.” – he bowed his head.

“And I’m Cadmon” – said the other a few steps behind his brother. You could see that between the two there was no apparent age difference. If you would like to take a guess they looked in their mid-twenties. Young, but menacing would be your basic description of the well-built warriors. Also the chain mail shirt and large spaulders helped carry the message of the “don’t mess” with us.

I’m Edgar Halwin, magic’s student and this is Caitlyn Winne, healer.“ – Edgar entered the discussion.

“Acolyte.” – Caitlyn whispered to Edgar.

“What?” – he asked in a whisper also.

“Anyone that heals injuries and wounds is a “healer” I use the divine powers to heal injuries. Big difference.”

“All the time?” – Edgar wanted to elaborate in his defense.

“Well, most of the time.” – Caitlyn replied and then looked at the two warriors and raised her hand for an hand shake – “Nice to meet you”- and nudged Edgar to do the same. They exchanged pleasantries, while Marcus was removed from the group and watched them felling proud.

“I’ll leave you here so you can get to know each other, you are after all my personal guard.” – Marcus eventually said.

“Really?! Do we get matching uniforms?” – considered an overjoyed Caitlyn.

“Yes it is, and no you will not. At least not now.” – Marcus said – “oh and one more thing, tonight we have an audience.”

“A what? ” – asked Andrew

“I’ve asked some members of the Communal Assembly to come and watch our training.”

“Good I hope they know how to cheer” – Camdon said almost laughing.

“And where are you going Marcus?”- asked Caitlyn seeing Marcus retreating.

“To find Master Sumner and put on my armor. I’ll see you here on the next church bell ring.”

“Alright.” – was the chorus response of the warriors and Edgar.

“Gentlemen” – Caitlyn said – “lets move into our new arena.”



As the Basilica bells of Sandburg rang the sun was nearing the horizon and activities in the city were beginning to subside. People marched to their homes or filling the taverns thus ending one more day in Nevandaar. The cloister of the Magical School was transformed, its two levels are now filled with people and their voices have massacred the once silent atmosphere of the cloister. Now a sense of excitement filled the air as the spectators took up a seat seeing master Sumner, the arch-mage of the school, coming out of the corridor after speaking with Marcus.

“Right” – Marcus spoke to his warriors in the cloister corridor – “this evening we’ll try two basic tactics the Imperial Army uses. First one is something we borrowed from adventure parties that had to fight with larger enemies. It involves bait and a number of archers and mana weavers. The second is a tactic that we started using again in the Elven War it features a...

“Hell-of-a-charge, sir!” – busted with enthusiasm Camdon.
“Yes, I see that someone has been reading. But keep that zeal for the fight.”

“Teachers pet” – whispered Edgar to Caitlyn, she giggled behind her hand

“As our college pointed out” – continued Marcus – “we shall try a shield charge. Any questions until this point?”

“Who fights what and where? – asked Edgar

”I see that Mr. Villiers hasn’t arrived yet so we shall begin with Andrew, Camdon, myself and Caitlyn” – in the distance Marcus observed the two warriors with an ear-to-ear smile. Seeing them Marcus pondered upon their reckless nature. “Perfect.” – he concluded. “A little ruff on the edges as Edgar but the basics are there.”

The four entered the floor of the cloister among the applause of the spectators. They bowed in a showmanship fashion, as from above master Sumner began chanting the summoning spell. His voice echoed in the air as circles of light appeared on the floor, from them five pillars of light shot up and blinded everyone. When the light faded away five air elementals floated graciously in the cloister.

”Caitlyn, grab a shield” – advised Marcus.

“Grab a what?” – she couldn’t believe.

“A shield. Don’t tell me you skipped battle magics.”

“No I didn’t. But do I really have to join you there when the cloister is much more beautiful here.”

“You won’t be there. You will be here, the shield is just in case...”

“Ah, well, alright. Don’t take me as a coward just following my training.”

“I know Caitlyn, Master Lambert taught you well.” – Marcus said moving toward the warriors

“Are you ready?” – Marcus joined them. The two answered in a more primitive but brave gnarl – “Good. Master Sumner, we are ready.” – the summoner spoke two words and unleashed the elementals from their lethargic state. Their eyelids opened revealing jade looking eyes that pierced your soul with a cold glare.

A wall of steel and wood met them.

“Parry, flurry, side step, parry...” – silently repeated Marcus as he fixed his wooden blue and red shield upon his hand. It was a little un-natural for him because Marcus, when fighting at all, preferred to wield two swords.

From the elementals, flying shards of lightning appeared. Andrew and Camdon violently smashed the shards with their shields and started running as if angered by this attack. Andrews axe was a menacing whirlwind above his head while Camdons saber reflected the sun, in long ribbons of light. Small sparkling explosions lit the cloister as shard after shard broke by shield or weapon. By now the air became filled with the lightning shards and the improvised arena was turned into an obstacle course. Andrew jumped over two low shards while Camdons shield was hit by one dead center and pushed his legs to bury a few inches into the ground. A shard missed Marcus by such a small distance, but for the next one Marcus swung his shield to hit the shard and sent it back to do some damage to one of the air elementals. The spectators applauded the move.

Andrew crashed upon another air elemental and pushed it with his shield out of the way heading upon the next. The elemental tried to throw a shard at Andrew but as it was not aware Camdons sword slashed it from behind. The remaining puff was cleared as Camdon charged onward.

Caitlyn knowing her training kept a moderate distance from the frontline defending herself from stray shards and keeping her healing spells ready.

The two brothers worked in tandem one crushed the shards so the other could take a swing at the enemy. But at the third elemental Andrews shield finally broke. Spectators took a deep breath and watched with anticipation seeing Andrew in a part of the cloister were columns were not, only high thick walls. The warrior ran behind his brother Camdon.

“Do you think I have room?” – asked Andrew breading heavy.

“I don’t think so, but you should try it” – bellowed Camdon as another shard hit them dangerously close to the shields edge.

“Fine” – responded Andrew counting down from three, when he reached one Andrew ran to the left, the elemental immediately sent a couple of shards that way. Camdon charged the creature hoping to reach it before Andrew ran into the wall. He succeeded, but Andrew had to use his momentum to walk a short way upon the wall to escape the last two shards.

Marcus had trouble with the last elemental, the one before was easier to dispatch but this one proved more agile that the governors moves. Camdon crashed upon it from the right, splattering it upon the wall.

“Sir!” – Camdon grinned looking how the elemental dispelled. Marcus bowed his head in thanks. The spectators let loose a wave of applause that filled the cloister it was over, their first battle togheter was a success a small one because Master Sumner was careful to water down the strength of his summons, but it was a victory no matter the enemy.

“Good work men, Caitlyn” – Marcus acknowledged the job well done as he entered the corridor, throwing his shield down. Andrew was sitting on a bench while Caitlyn healed wounds on his left leg. – “Hope that’s not serious” – Marcus asked coming closer to them.

“It’s nothing sir.” – he answered boldly.

“It will be if you don’t stay put and let me do my job.” – demanded Caitlyn as her hands glowed with light blue divine magic.

“How about you Camdon?” – Marcus turned to the other brother, who was leaning on the stone railing inspecting his saber.

“Oh, I’m fine sir. No, wait!” – she stuttered raising his hand – “I chipped a nail” – Camdon started grinning at his brother.

“Bah, show off!” – barked Andrew as his brother exploded in laughter.

“Don’t worry Andrew, there are many more battles to out-fight your brother.” – Marcus sat near Andrew fixing his grieves.

“Speaking of next battles” – Edgar the apprentice approached – “when will I fight?”

“Eager lad.” – said Andrew hissing and glaring at Caitlyns attempts to heal him.

“It’s not that, I just want to know when, so I can be prepared.”

“As soon as Mr. Villers arrives.” – sad Marcus making himself conformable on the bench.

[Marko]

“You called...?” – a hooded figure in thieves clothes appeared from the nearest corner to the right – “What Marcus, you have requested my presence, didn’t you not.” – a cynical smile appeared on his face.

“You and me must have a long talk about punctuality, Mr. Villiers.” – Marcus tried not to be annoyed,

“Come now, you must know that a thief always arrives when... you know...” – Mr. Villers stooped near Camdon.

“When he’s needed?!” – tried Camdon to finish Mr. Villiers sentence.

“Precisely!” – concluded Mr. Villiers crossing his arms.

“Hey, wait a minute wasn’t that about wizards?” – Camdon issued the face of an unbeliever as he looked upon his brother and the young apprentice for approval. It wasn’t long before they reacted giving strength to Camdons words.

“And who said I’m not a wizard?” – Mr. Villiers defended himself – “your purse of gold could quickly and without a trace disappear from your holdings due to my mystic powers.”

“Then, find that you will be impaled on this!” – Camdon threaten with his saber. Mr. Villiers laughed with much delight, moving closer to the blade with cold blood that ran trough his veins, with every step his laugh was silenced and his smile turned to a sadistic one.

“Glory seeking youth” – he said – “you will find that threats on my expense will bring you no satisfaction.” – at that moment with near lightning speed Mr. Villiers knocked the saber out of Camdons hands, placing a sharp long needle on his troth.

“No war cry...” – Mr. Villers toyed with his victim – “no heroic charge, no legendary battle, just cold hard facts and logic. Trust me, you don’t want to die by the hands of a thief, warrior.” – after proving his point Mr. Villiers, retracted his small but deadly weapon.

“I shouldn’t get involved yet.” – Marcus considered, holding out on his intervention because the situation is not that dire. “It’s better to see what Camdons reckless nature can do. Better now in safe quarters then out in the midst of a battle.” – Marcus would have desired to test his new warrior even more but the wait for the next “event” was boring the crowd.

“Mr. Villiers” – Marcus placed a hand on the thieves shoulder – “I think you have taught enough warrior-thief ethics to my young warrior for today. I suggest you join me in the cloister.”

“I still have some finer points.” – Mr. Villiers didn’t want to move an inch.

“So does my sword concerning you but I’m not interested in either discussions.”

“And me who tough that you governor types patron education” – said Mr. Villiers walking towards the cloister. “What a shocking discovery!”

“You are actually dreaming, Mr. Villiers. You have discovered nothing.” – answered Marcus. Mr. Villiers at that point stopped and glared for a moment at Caitlyn.

“Nope. I’m certain this ain’t no dream.” – and moved onwards after he looked enough at the acolyte, certainly he hope for something to happen.

“Edgar, Caitlyn.” – Marcus spoke turning his head – “Join us also in the cloister, the next battle will begin.”


Caitlyn left Andrew with a healed wound packing everything back into her bag. Edgar tied his magic book by a chain to his belt. It hanged naturally on the right side.

Light was getting sparse, fueled by the last rays of the sun and now torches were lit around the cloister. The crowd applauded the four individuals that emerged in the cloister.

“Are you ready sir Aranth?” asked master Sumner from above.

“Summon it now.” – proclaimed the governor of Sandburg readying his shield. – “Caitlyn and Edgar you know what to do. Just trust in your studies and be careful.” – Marcus turned to his thief – “Just like in the Yul forest campaign.” – the thief acknowledged with a head nod. In the mean time imperial wizards magic trough a magical circle on the ground. Mana combined in arcane formulas to bring in front of the four combatants a Living Armor. Master Sumner released the entity. The Living Armor took one step then another moving quicker and quicker as if getting aquatinted with walking for the first time. The gap was small between Marcus and the armor when it let out a metallic roar. Then producing an ancient looking sword etched with old texts in front of the governor, which it swung with clear intention to slice the governor in as many pieces it could. Marcus blocked the first two blows. The impacts damaged the shield but it held tighter with all the force draining into the body of Marcus. So by the time the third hit Marcus, he was thrown to the grown with his legs deciding that they can not take it any more.

A powerful lightning hit the armor, saving the governor from the nasty cut a living armors sword could leave. But the attention of the armor was now directed at the young apprentice, he stood stalward but the living armor charged the young one. Reducing the distance in a short span of time. The sword was in the air and in range of the apprentice. One arrow, then another one lodged into the arms of the living armor changing the direction of the sword, lodging itself into a nearby wall.

Marcus was nearby and sliced through the metal leg of the armor. It seeing the sword was stuck for the time being proceeded in striking the governor with bare hands. He flew about a couple of meters landing near Caitlyn. The acolyte with her healing spell unleashed at Marcus helped him get up on his legs even helping hold the shield as the next impact of the armor met the surface of the shield. Edgar having charged another spell, voiced the last words of his chants and tossed the lightning ribbon upon the armor. It shocks every part of the armor body.

After the lightning drained itself of its potency the armor wanted the apprentices head but Marcus was sure to give it a reminder. His sword clinked on the metal of the armor. Which in anger launched another fist of hurt at the governor. He dodged and retreated a little. Caitlyn was right behind him charging healing spell trough chants of the Highfather. By that time Mr. Villiers took up a good spot for his crossbow and unleashed a rain of bolts.

The Living armor was starting to get disoriented. It received a blizzard of lightning from Edgar and bolts from Mr. Villiers and when it desired to attack the two , Marcus was there to make the armor reevaluate its target.

Soon the armor fell down, its magical “life” exhausted. The crowd was quick to give out its apreciation for the show of skill, applauding the ones on the cloister floor.


The end of the evenings events was un ceremonial, Marcus and the others were tired and wanted to retreat to a bath and bed with somekind of food on the way. The rest found a way home in the night covered streets of Sandburg.

[OC]
This text was wriiten to explain the XP blitz has given me before. The next day the first story arch of this Sandburg saga will begin.
[/OC]

[Blitz]

[MT]

Just so you know, you don't have to explain anything you don't want to. Rewards are to keep your characters developing as you'd like them, and XP doesn't have to be earned in battle. People gain experience in every way, and I like to think that you should have some kind of something as payment for offering your participation. I'll try to keep it in context of your storylines, and you are welcome to explain it as you like however...

Lord Marcus - Strength spell scroll (so you know, these work differently from the PC game. They can be used to perminently teach any unit the spell, it doesn't have to be a leader), 400 XP.

[/MT]