FLAMEs in Polaris (Part 8)
Stark's eagle eyes bore holes through the bundled mass of fur upon his doorstep. Well over two hours had passed, and still the loathsome creature had yet to take a breath from haranguing him over the injustices of making him wait in the snow. Stark vigorously rubs his taloned hands across his leather encased arms, berating himself for failing to grab his cloak ere answering this errant creature's rude knocking. Icicles had begun to dangle from the point of his raptor beak. This had gone on long enough. A mounting flame of irritation rages through his system until he finally erupts, "Now LISTEN, you vacuous, rat-pelt covered windbag, either tell me what brings you to my door at this time of night, or leave before I give you a burning sensation that's sure to keep you warm in even this frozen place!" Silence stuns the bird as the stranger instantly stops speaking. Stone hard eyes peer through the folds of impeding cloaks taking in the kenku before creasing at the corners as if amused. "Tis about time ye greet a wander'n travler right proper like, ye blasted bird. Had me goin' thru the motions of salutation long nuff, don't ye think!" The stranger roughly pushes past Stark and trundles inside, "Get yer feather-duster arse in here bird, yer turnin blue already. Its time to be gettin' to business." Stark thankfully rushes to close and bolt the door, and turns just as the stranger removes the last of his impeding weather garments. The rotund, gray haired dwarf erupts into a sonorous pronouncement, fit for a Royal Court introduction, "Ye be askin, who I be... well I be the Third Viscount Elias Dirgestandal CleftReaver, Corruptor of the Seventh Sect, Travestor of the Kobold Tribes, Armorer of the Battleragers, third cousin twice removed by marriage from her most prolific majesty, Queen Strangelove, and Emissary of the Dwarven Kingdoms. But Ye, ye can call me Dirge, fer short." The dwarf stomps his boots loudly and bows deeply, the length of his beard sweeping up a mote of dust in its wake. "As fer me purpose..." (continued)
Speaking with the leaders
"Attention leaders of Polaris. I am Kaz Starchacer of the FLAME. The time has come for you to decide what you want for your city. The FLAME offers you comfort. Yes, the cold of the city hardens you into the warriors you are. But heating your homes is not the only thing that we offer you. We offer to bring trade into your isolated city. We offer to help modernize your city, police your streets, and offer protection against those who would wish you harm. The Istishians will try and sway you from what we offer you. They will tell you that we are only here to serve ourselves. I have been alive longer than this city has existed. I would not support anything that was not in the best interests of the realms. I am a Crimson Guardian before I am a FLAME. I give you my word that FLAME will in no way hurt your city. They plan to improve the quality of your lives and catch you up to the rest of the lands that surround you. This city has played home to me many times over the years, and I hate to see it become the barren waste that it has become. With tourism you can bring in some much needed money that you could use to make your city more livable. We dont presume to be able to change the climate of the city. But we do plan to make your homes much more livable. With this I leave you to your decision. I have made my offers. As have the others of FLAME that have come here to tell you what we offer you. Now it is up to you to decide how you want to live."
With a bow and a wave of his hand Kaz dissapears from the room, leaving the leaders of polaris to debate over the future of their city.
With a bow and a wave of his hand Kaz dissapears from the room, leaving the leaders of polaris to debate over the future of their city.
FLAMEs in Polaris (Part 7)
It is the darkest hours of night as we find Stark still going about completing his reports of the day.
THUMP THUMP THUMP
The thunderous pounding from the alleyway entry quickly draws his alert attention.
"Who could that be? I'm not expecting anyone, especially not this late.", he whispers worriedly to himself.
Cautiously he makes his way up the escarpment to the bolted door; steam from the saunas condense in running rivulets down the walls and across the floor as he passes by. He slides a spy hatch open and peers into the swirling snow of the night and yet .... sees nothing. Hastily closing the hatch, Stark shrugs in confusion and makes to return to his study.
THUMP THUMP THUMP
Stark nearly jumps out of his feathered hide as the deafening blows ring throughout the building. "What the flaming ....", he curses as he again tremulously opens the spy hatch... and again... can see nothing.
Closing the hatch, Stark contemplates what the source of this nocturnal disturbance could be, when...
THUMP THUMP THUMP POUND POUND POUND
Growling in irritation, Stark throws back the restraining bolts of the door. As the light of the building spills into the dark and ice covered depths of the back alley they illuminate the source of the midnight madness...
"About time ye opened the damn-ed door ye flamin unplucked, undercooked chicken... ye seekin to be seein me freeze te death fer yer own pleasure or what ... and another thing..."
Stark sighs and patiently waits for his visitor to take a breath, certain that it will likely be a while yet.
(continued)
THUMP THUMP THUMP
The thunderous pounding from the alleyway entry quickly draws his alert attention.
"Who could that be? I'm not expecting anyone, especially not this late.", he whispers worriedly to himself.
Cautiously he makes his way up the escarpment to the bolted door; steam from the saunas condense in running rivulets down the walls and across the floor as he passes by. He slides a spy hatch open and peers into the swirling snow of the night and yet .... sees nothing. Hastily closing the hatch, Stark shrugs in confusion and makes to return to his study.
THUMP THUMP THUMP
Stark nearly jumps out of his feathered hide as the deafening blows ring throughout the building. "What the flaming ....", he curses as he again tremulously opens the spy hatch... and again... can see nothing.
Closing the hatch, Stark contemplates what the source of this nocturnal disturbance could be, when...
THUMP THUMP THUMP POUND POUND POUND
Growling in irritation, Stark throws back the restraining bolts of the door. As the light of the building spills into the dark and ice covered depths of the back alley they illuminate the source of the midnight madness...
"About time ye opened the damn-ed door ye flamin unplucked, undercooked chicken... ye seekin to be seein me freeze te death fer yer own pleasure or what ... and another thing..."
Stark sighs and patiently waits for his visitor to take a breath, certain that it will likely be a while yet.
(continued)
Krogenar in the Inn
Kaz sat quietly and listened to the discussion in the inn around him. He drank his usual brew, and kept his cloak low. He had stripped himself of all of his identifying marks so that the people around him would not know who he was. Kaz was infuriated by what Krogenar was telling the people. How dare he accuse the FLAME of using the city for their own purpose. Sure the city held some benifits for the FLAME. But Kaz had been around long enough to know that Elbryan would never let any harm come to the Citizens.
Long after the people had left the inn. Kaz had some time to think about what had just happened. Finally later that night Kaz decided to go report to Elbryan. Kaz Told elbryan everything that he had overheard that night. Elbryan was less than pleased with the whole thing. After telling his story Kaz Left Elbryan to think about what to do next. Kaz knew Elbryan would know what to do about Krogenar. He always seemed to know what to do. Kaz was glad that the Flame had the two capable leaders that it did. Otherwise FLAME would not have lasted as long as it has. With his work for the night done, Kaz went out to the city of Darrowmere to sit int he forrest for a while, to calm his nerves...
Long after the people had left the inn. Kaz had some time to think about what had just happened. Finally later that night Kaz decided to go report to Elbryan. Kaz Told elbryan everything that he had overheard that night. Elbryan was less than pleased with the whole thing. After telling his story Kaz Left Elbryan to think about what to do next. Kaz knew Elbryan would know what to do about Krogenar. He always seemed to know what to do. Kaz was glad that the Flame had the two capable leaders that it did. Otherwise FLAME would not have lasted as long as it has. With his work for the night done, Kaz went out to the city of Darrowmere to sit int he forrest for a while, to calm his nerves...
FLAMEs in Polaris (part 6)
Quickly stretching his limbs to warm his cold atrophied muscles, he leapt with avian grace to the heights of the trader's building. Talons gouged through layers of ice and snow before finding purchase in a beveled crease of the slate roof. Soundlessly he trudged across the expanse, tracking his quarry from the building heights. Stark watched with rapt, unblinking interest as Krogenar labored through newly formed snow drifts and entered the local tavern.
"Lambs to the slaughter", a knowing grin played across his raptor beak, "or rather, a certain little piggy just made it to market." His chilled breath clouded the hazy night as he whispered, "The best form of information, is misinformation, my porcine friend. We have well prepared our contingents here for your eventual arrival."
With barely restrained mirth, Stark waited for the performance to unfold, confident that his agents would liven up the Istishian's confidence of FLAME's failure here in Polaris. The uncountable and torturous span of time of living and preparing in cold suffering had paid off, FLAME plans were quickly coming to fruition.
His humor only increased all the more as his thoughts centered upon his comrades... especially those in New Thalos. "... and the curtain rises even now upon a new act being performed in your own backyard."
With a firey glint, he hastily leapt from the heights and made way to the chapel to prepare to receive the reports of his comrades. Stark had had a very busy, yet fulfilling day.
"Lambs to the slaughter", a knowing grin played across his raptor beak, "or rather, a certain little piggy just made it to market." His chilled breath clouded the hazy night as he whispered, "The best form of information, is misinformation, my porcine friend. We have well prepared our contingents here for your eventual arrival."
With barely restrained mirth, Stark waited for the performance to unfold, confident that his agents would liven up the Istishian's confidence of FLAME's failure here in Polaris. The uncountable and torturous span of time of living and preparing in cold suffering had paid off, FLAME plans were quickly coming to fruition.
His humor only increased all the more as his thoughts centered upon his comrades... especially those in New Thalos. "... and the curtain rises even now upon a new act being performed in your own backyard."
With a firey glint, he hastily leapt from the heights and made way to the chapel to prepare to receive the reports of his comrades. Stark had had a very busy, yet fulfilling day.
FLAMEs in Polaris (Part 5)
Stark stepped down from the fountain and smiled broadly as he handed out the remainder of his parchments to the anxious citizens. "Yes, Krogenar... I am well aware of your presence. Twould take more than a few seasonal bathings to shield your wretched smell, even in the depths of this frigid waste", he thought amusedly to himself. His hawkish eyes hadn't missed the Istishian's less than adequate attempts to lose himself in the crowd as he had continued his speech. Though well skilled in the arts of camouflage in the wild, Krogenar was well out of his element here in the city. The expected and long-awaited appearance of the enemy merely made things all the more interesting. "Indeed, the Istishians have placed their necks right in our noose, just as Lady Atandella foresaw they would" Stark congratulated to himself as he marked Krogenar's slinking retreat through half-lidded eyes.
Pocketing the fire ring, Stark graciously took his leave of the assemblage and made his way down the ice shrouded street to the depths of a frost-limned alleyway. From the depths of a 'borrowed' bag of holding he withdrew a flowing white cloak which blended seamlessly with the surrounding snow, even in the growing darkness of the fast encroaching night. Donning the garment, Stark drew the cowl low across his head and studied the wall before him with a smile. "Ah... the thrill of bagging the mark."
Pocketing the fire ring, Stark graciously took his leave of the assemblage and made his way down the ice shrouded street to the depths of a frost-limned alleyway. From the depths of a 'borrowed' bag of holding he withdrew a flowing white cloak which blended seamlessly with the surrounding snow, even in the growing darkness of the fast encroaching night. Donning the garment, Stark drew the cowl low across his head and studied the wall before him with a smile. "Ah... the thrill of bagging the mark."
Campaigning in Polaris 2.1
The townsfolk chittered away at the thought of becoming like the decadent southern cities. "Can't have that! Gamblers and flop houses everywhere! We know what the southern cities are like..." a voice called out. "He's just trying to scare us! We'll always remain as true Polari's!" another countered.
One elderly woman spoke up, "They move here, where it's warm like the other cities... and then the whores will come!" Some of the younger men cackled, and she pounced on them.
"See! Even now our men are pining for those southern strumpets and hussies... they wear next to nothing at all!" she nodded with dreadful certainty.
One older Polari, a grey-haired sailor posed a question to the strider. "What would you propose instead then?"
"I would propose that Polaris stay the way I have always enjoyed it..... ....Cold. Where the strong and the straight walk." Other voices called out, even while some silently nodded in agreement. "He only wants _HIS_ church to rule here!" Shaking his head, Krogenar replied. "No. I just think that Istishians, like myself, would be... ... a better fit with the way Polaris is now. Make no mistake... the FLAMEs want to change Polaris to suit themselves. We can have prosperity, and you can rule yourselves."
"But Polaris can, and SHOULD retain it's uniqueness... it's cold."
The strider left then, and walked into the cold, continuing his search for The Way.
One elderly woman spoke up, "They move here, where it's warm like the other cities... and then the whores will come!" Some of the younger men cackled, and she pounced on them.
"See! Even now our men are pining for those southern strumpets and hussies... they wear next to nothing at all!" she nodded with dreadful certainty.
One older Polari, a grey-haired sailor posed a question to the strider. "What would you propose instead then?"
"I would propose that Polaris stay the way I have always enjoyed it..... ....Cold. Where the strong and the straight walk." Other voices called out, even while some silently nodded in agreement. "He only wants _HIS_ church to rule here!" Shaking his head, Krogenar replied. "No. I just think that Istishians, like myself, would be... ... a better fit with the way Polaris is now. Make no mistake... the FLAMEs want to change Polaris to suit themselves. We can have prosperity, and you can rule yourselves."
"But Polaris can, and SHOULD retain it's uniqueness... it's cold."
The strider left then, and walked into the cold, continuing his search for The Way.
Campaigning in Polaris 2
Later, in a tavern, some of the townsfolk gathered to discuss this strange visit. Under the peaked cedar rafters, the men and their wives smoked and drank - the doors shut tightly against the cold night wind. People spoke at individual tables, until the talking turned to debating - with speakers taking the floor, one by one.
Krogenar watched them from his table, silently. Ordinarily, they were a taciturn, unreactive people - not given to the loud passionate speaking that was the norm amongst those of warmer lands. But the days doings had aroused a fire in them.
"I say let them warm this place - we have suffered too much from the cold!" The middle-aged fisherman sat down, pulling his warm ale closer.
An old man stood shakily from his table, helped to his feet by his sons. "The warmth would be kinder to old bones like mine... I say we take them at their word." His sons nodded at that wisdom, helping him to sit, wrapping him in furs.
But other voices did not agree.
A youngish man, tall and lean, with the wide shoulders of lumberjack stood, placed his mug on the table beside him. "Polaris has always been as it is now. Why should we change? If others wish it to be warm and balmy, like some desert - let them leave!" Some cheered to this.
Smiling at the support, he finished, "Or let them rule elsewhere!" More applause from some patrons.
As the catcalls and cheers died slowly, other concerns were raised. "What of these Istishians? They could be lurking about, even now! If what the FLAMEs say is true, we should be wary of their lies." Another spoke, "They hate the Istishians - that's clear, I think. We should NOT choose sides betwixt them - keep to the old wisdom: 'Leave Fighting Bears Be.'"
Some knew of Krogenar's association with the Church of Istishia. And as the word slowly made its way about the room, from conversation to conversation, many eyes came to settle on him.
The strider kept to his beer.
"Well, Istishian? What say you? Can the FLAMEs really do what they said they could - make us into a paradise as they promise?" A fisherman stared at the half-orc- waiting for his reply.
Putting his mug down, Krogenar looked down into it.
As though speaking to it, he said, "I call Polaris paradise already - no changes needed." The room erupted into argument again. The strider stood, pulling his knapsack over his shoulder, arranging his winter coat.
From the din of voices, a young man shouted to Krogenar. "You're not even a Polari, half-orc! Don't pretend to know us! The FLAMEs offer us warmth, and we'll take it!" Krogenar stopped on his way to the door. "Think on this, Polaris - think of what the cold and ice has given you."
Most of the younger nobles scoffed. "..numbed fingers!" But some of the old-timers caught his meaning. The strider approached the young men who tended to their aging father. "You are right. I am not Polari. But I have traveled to other, warmer lands, and so I can tell you of them." Some leaned in to listen, others fell back into their chairs, smirking.
"They are not like Polari. Grown fat and lazy where the living is easy..." He seized one young man by the shoulders - who resisted - pulling away. "Your young are strong, resilient - hardened by the cold." he said, smiling. He motioned to a table of lumberjacks. "Your sons, able to withstand the fierce north winds, only they dare to chop at the trees of the north."
The room quieted to a low buzzing as they discussed this idea. But the strider continued. "And what of discipline? Your fishermen, survive the raging seas only through the discipline that adversity forces upon them."
"Polaris, you are strong - strong because it was the cold, the ice, the snow - the Water - that forced you to such strength."
"Would you be like all the other cities in the Realms? You are a rare northern jewel! Would you take on the other qualities of the warmer cities?" He played this card, knowing what they thought of the people who populated the south.
Krogenar watched them from his table, silently. Ordinarily, they were a taciturn, unreactive people - not given to the loud passionate speaking that was the norm amongst those of warmer lands. But the days doings had aroused a fire in them.
"I say let them warm this place - we have suffered too much from the cold!" The middle-aged fisherman sat down, pulling his warm ale closer.
An old man stood shakily from his table, helped to his feet by his sons. "The warmth would be kinder to old bones like mine... I say we take them at their word." His sons nodded at that wisdom, helping him to sit, wrapping him in furs.
But other voices did not agree.
A youngish man, tall and lean, with the wide shoulders of lumberjack stood, placed his mug on the table beside him. "Polaris has always been as it is now. Why should we change? If others wish it to be warm and balmy, like some desert - let them leave!" Some cheered to this.
Smiling at the support, he finished, "Or let them rule elsewhere!" More applause from some patrons.
As the catcalls and cheers died slowly, other concerns were raised. "What of these Istishians? They could be lurking about, even now! If what the FLAMEs say is true, we should be wary of their lies." Another spoke, "They hate the Istishians - that's clear, I think. We should NOT choose sides betwixt them - keep to the old wisdom: 'Leave Fighting Bears Be.'"
Some knew of Krogenar's association with the Church of Istishia. And as the word slowly made its way about the room, from conversation to conversation, many eyes came to settle on him.
The strider kept to his beer.
"Well, Istishian? What say you? Can the FLAMEs really do what they said they could - make us into a paradise as they promise?" A fisherman stared at the half-orc- waiting for his reply.
Putting his mug down, Krogenar looked down into it.
As though speaking to it, he said, "I call Polaris paradise already - no changes needed." The room erupted into argument again. The strider stood, pulling his knapsack over his shoulder, arranging his winter coat.
From the din of voices, a young man shouted to Krogenar. "You're not even a Polari, half-orc! Don't pretend to know us! The FLAMEs offer us warmth, and we'll take it!" Krogenar stopped on his way to the door. "Think on this, Polaris - think of what the cold and ice has given you."
Most of the younger nobles scoffed. "..numbed fingers!" But some of the old-timers caught his meaning. The strider approached the young men who tended to their aging father. "You are right. I am not Polari. But I have traveled to other, warmer lands, and so I can tell you of them." Some leaned in to listen, others fell back into their chairs, smirking.
"They are not like Polari. Grown fat and lazy where the living is easy..." He seized one young man by the shoulders - who resisted - pulling away. "Your young are strong, resilient - hardened by the cold." he said, smiling. He motioned to a table of lumberjacks. "Your sons, able to withstand the fierce north winds, only they dare to chop at the trees of the north."
The room quieted to a low buzzing as they discussed this idea. But the strider continued. "And what of discipline? Your fishermen, survive the raging seas only through the discipline that adversity forces upon them."
"Polaris, you are strong - strong because it was the cold, the ice, the snow - the Water - that forced you to such strength."
"Would you be like all the other cities in the Realms? You are a rare northern jewel! Would you take on the other qualities of the warmer cities?" He played this card, knowing what they thought of the people who populated the south.
Stark's visit to Polaris
Elbryan watched Stark work the croud from the edge of the croud. Stark's eloquent speach got the crouds attention quickly. The Ring just giving off enough heat to melt the ice and snow in the immediate area. Elbryan had left Stark to speak as he would to the crowd. Now he was glad that he did. Stark was a much better publicist than Elbryan could ever hope to be. Some people just walked away from the speech, but many others stayed and listened. Many of the citizens of polaris had never even known that there was a world beyond their small city. Stark's talk of the outside world made them curious about the way things worked. They had never had a ruling class to govern Things for them. Elbryan knew Stark would know how to play off of that to keep their interest in FLAME. Elbryan smiled as he walked away from the fountain. He whispers to himself, "Well done Stark."
Campaigning in Polaris
(Technically, Krog is out in the Wastes, sure to die of frostbite and hypothermia... for the moment, lets just imagine he stopped on his way in Polaris first.)
Handing the pelts to the man behind the counter, Krogenar turned to the window of the trading post - watched a group of people milling about.
"We're square now Krog... fine furs, fine furs..." the merchant purred at the thought of the price that the women of Polaris would pay to adorn themselves in such fashionably warm coats.
But the half-orc was growing into a wiser merchant with each trade. What he once traded for some simple supplies and a room, he now traded for supplies and credit on his next visit!
But the trader still came out ahead, and the strider often brought strange and difficult-to-find carcasses back - to which he gave him the first pick.
Looking up from his imaginings, surrounded by open barrels of goods, the trader saw the strider walking towards the gathering outside.
-------------------------------------------------------
Krogenar watched the people milling about the town square... - Polaris - being so close to the frontier - rarely had visitors.
"Stark..." he muttered under his breath.
Watching the FLAME wave his hands as he spoke, the people around him listened with earnest - curious to see what the stranger brought with him. Standing atop the fountain, he spoke of remaking the city into a paradise to rival any of the great cities of the Realms. Some of the people around Krogenar looked on suspiciously - but others were curious.
"A paradise? ... What's he on about? .. like New Thalos ... or Westbridge... what's this western bridge?..."
As they muttered, some cried out in concern when the speaker lifted a ringed fist, and his eyes shone with a crimson light that was matched by the ring he wore.
A wash of heat rippled through the air, melting some of the snow on people's coats, soaking them with water. Icicles hanging under the eaves of a nearby tavern dropped like deadly pikes, nearly spearing some greybeards who sat underneath, listening. A small wail caught the strider's attention amidst the chaos.
Atop her daddy's shoulder, a 5-year-old girl watched in horror as her ice cream cone melted under the furnace-like heat, dripping down her father's winter jacket. Her small, cherubic face turned scarlet - nearly losing her breath from the effort of crying. And then the tears began streaming down her cheeks, her little shoulders shaking as she cried.
Frowning, Krogenar looked back at the speaker.
"We do not, however, wish to force governance upon you by force..." Raising an eyebrow, he smiled - waiting for the inevitable rhetoric about Istishians. "We are aware of the lies which have been perpetuated by our rival, the Church of Istishia, in attempts to befoul Lord Flame's honoured name..."
Handing the pelts to the man behind the counter, Krogenar turned to the window of the trading post - watched a group of people milling about.
"We're square now Krog... fine furs, fine furs..." the merchant purred at the thought of the price that the women of Polaris would pay to adorn themselves in such fashionably warm coats.
But the half-orc was growing into a wiser merchant with each trade. What he once traded for some simple supplies and a room, he now traded for supplies and credit on his next visit!
But the trader still came out ahead, and the strider often brought strange and difficult-to-find carcasses back - to which he gave him the first pick.
Looking up from his imaginings, surrounded by open barrels of goods, the trader saw the strider walking towards the gathering outside.
-------------------------------------------------------
Krogenar watched the people milling about the town square... - Polaris - being so close to the frontier - rarely had visitors.
"Stark..." he muttered under his breath.
Watching the FLAME wave his hands as he spoke, the people around him listened with earnest - curious to see what the stranger brought with him. Standing atop the fountain, he spoke of remaking the city into a paradise to rival any of the great cities of the Realms. Some of the people around Krogenar looked on suspiciously - but others were curious.
"A paradise? ... What's he on about? .. like New Thalos ... or Westbridge... what's this western bridge?..."
As they muttered, some cried out in concern when the speaker lifted a ringed fist, and his eyes shone with a crimson light that was matched by the ring he wore.
A wash of heat rippled through the air, melting some of the snow on people's coats, soaking them with water. Icicles hanging under the eaves of a nearby tavern dropped like deadly pikes, nearly spearing some greybeards who sat underneath, listening. A small wail caught the strider's attention amidst the chaos.
Atop her daddy's shoulder, a 5-year-old girl watched in horror as her ice cream cone melted under the furnace-like heat, dripping down her father's winter jacket. Her small, cherubic face turned scarlet - nearly losing her breath from the effort of crying. And then the tears began streaming down her cheeks, her little shoulders shaking as she cried.
Frowning, Krogenar looked back at the speaker.
"We do not, however, wish to force governance upon you by force..." Raising an eyebrow, he smiled - waiting for the inevitable rhetoric about Istishians. "We are aware of the lies which have been perpetuated by our rival, the Church of Istishia, in attempts to befoul Lord Flame's honoured name..."
FLAMEs in Polaris (part 4)
Stark levels a piercing gaze about the gathered crowd as he continues to speak the tempo of his words matched by the people's chilled breaths.
"The Istishians claim that they were forced to create their church as a means to counter the spread of Kossuthian influence throughout the lands. Given that there was no devouted worship to Lord Flame until well after the Istishians became actively promoting his downfall in the realms, we must ask what exactly their true motivations are. There have even been accusations made by the Church of Istishia against the Crimson Guardians, claims that the clan is merely a pawn of Lord Fire in enacting his plots about the realms... again unfounded and clearly untrue.
FLAME was created by Lord Fire in order to balance the growing expanse of power and misinformation that was being spread by the Church of Istishia. Alarmingly, the Istishians espoused the extinguishment of all fire from the realms. Not only would this effect magic profoundly, but it would also cause a detrimental and lethal effect upon the very realms, should this ever be permitted to come about. The elemental balance must be maintained. It is FLAME's duty to maintain it, not eradicate or eliminate CoI as they are want to do of us.
We accept the necessity of the Water element in the balance of life and expect the same respect from them in return. For what is life without the SPARK of flame, the BREATH of wind, the BODY of earth and the VITALITY of water.
Lord Kossuth is a beneficient and gracious god. His blessings ensure that our crops grow, that the harshness of winter comes to timely end, that the realms are bathed in light, and that we have the use of almighty fire in all its forms against the wilds and beasts of the realms.
Allow us to aid your suffering city by bathing it in the warming glow of his blessings. The time for Polaris to be recognized by the realms has come... allow us to take you there."
Stark takes a deep breath as he steps down from the fountain. He smiles broadly as he hands out all of the parchments to the waiting people.
"The Istishians claim that they were forced to create their church as a means to counter the spread of Kossuthian influence throughout the lands. Given that there was no devouted worship to Lord Flame until well after the Istishians became actively promoting his downfall in the realms, we must ask what exactly their true motivations are. There have even been accusations made by the Church of Istishia against the Crimson Guardians, claims that the clan is merely a pawn of Lord Fire in enacting his plots about the realms... again unfounded and clearly untrue.
FLAME was created by Lord Fire in order to balance the growing expanse of power and misinformation that was being spread by the Church of Istishia. Alarmingly, the Istishians espoused the extinguishment of all fire from the realms. Not only would this effect magic profoundly, but it would also cause a detrimental and lethal effect upon the very realms, should this ever be permitted to come about. The elemental balance must be maintained. It is FLAME's duty to maintain it, not eradicate or eliminate CoI as they are want to do of us.
We accept the necessity of the Water element in the balance of life and expect the same respect from them in return. For what is life without the SPARK of flame, the BREATH of wind, the BODY of earth and the VITALITY of water.
Lord Kossuth is a beneficient and gracious god. His blessings ensure that our crops grow, that the harshness of winter comes to timely end, that the realms are bathed in light, and that we have the use of almighty fire in all its forms against the wilds and beasts of the realms.
Allow us to aid your suffering city by bathing it in the warming glow of his blessings. The time for Polaris to be recognized by the realms has come... allow us to take you there."
Stark takes a deep breath as he steps down from the fountain. He smiles broadly as he hands out all of the parchments to the waiting people.
FLAMEs in Polaris (part 3)
Donning his ermine trimmed cloak, Stark steps out into the chilled streets of Polaris. His arms heavily laden by billets and flyers, he trudges cautiously through the slickened streets until he finds himself in the central square of the city.
Placing the documents upon an overturned crate, Stark sweeps the billowing folds of his chill-shielding cloak aside as he steps atop the ice glazed marble of a fountain and prepares to address the gathered citizenry. His eyes flare as he twists a ruby encrusted ring upon his taloned hand and activates a crimson aura which emanates a soothing warmth about the entirety of the area, stealing the frosty kisses of the cruel Polaris breezes.
'People of Polaris, I come to you on behalf of Lord Kossuth and his devout followers known as FLAME. It is his divine wish that you choose to allow his followers to aid and assist you in making your long-ignored city into a paradise which rivals the other great cities of the realms in commerce, trade and adventure. We do not, however, wish to force governance upon you by force, moreover we pray that you would choose to accept our aid by voting our faction into power in the impending elections.
We are aware of the lies which have been perpetuated by our rival, the Church of Istishia, in attempts to befoul Lord Flame's honoured name. We merely ask that you judge such accusations in the light of the evidence and not the conjecture which they are often clouded by the Istishians. FLAME realizes that there are some questions which have arisen concerning our... relations... and we would like to come forward with the facts in order to provide you with a clearer picture.
Lord Kossuth has taken no part in harming the realms. He has often been accused of many attacks upon the City of Westbridge through the use of the looming comet, yet this is plainly and obviously not true. Our confused compatriots in the Chapel of Water wrongfully assume that merely because the Rok has some capability of fire damage that it MUST be sent by Lord Flame, and yet they refuse to accept or see that the Rok is an agent, or device rather, of much older and more powerful forces than even Lord Kossuth may call to bear."
Placing the documents upon an overturned crate, Stark sweeps the billowing folds of his chill-shielding cloak aside as he steps atop the ice glazed marble of a fountain and prepares to address the gathered citizenry. His eyes flare as he twists a ruby encrusted ring upon his taloned hand and activates a crimson aura which emanates a soothing warmth about the entirety of the area, stealing the frosty kisses of the cruel Polaris breezes.
'People of Polaris, I come to you on behalf of Lord Kossuth and his devout followers known as FLAME. It is his divine wish that you choose to allow his followers to aid and assist you in making your long-ignored city into a paradise which rivals the other great cities of the realms in commerce, trade and adventure. We do not, however, wish to force governance upon you by force, moreover we pray that you would choose to accept our aid by voting our faction into power in the impending elections.
We are aware of the lies which have been perpetuated by our rival, the Church of Istishia, in attempts to befoul Lord Flame's honoured name. We merely ask that you judge such accusations in the light of the evidence and not the conjecture which they are often clouded by the Istishians. FLAME realizes that there are some questions which have arisen concerning our... relations... and we would like to come forward with the facts in order to provide you with a clearer picture.
Lord Kossuth has taken no part in harming the realms. He has often been accused of many attacks upon the City of Westbridge through the use of the looming comet, yet this is plainly and obviously not true. Our confused compatriots in the Chapel of Water wrongfully assume that merely because the Rok has some capability of fire damage that it MUST be sent by Lord Flame, and yet they refuse to accept or see that the Rok is an agent, or device rather, of much older and more powerful forces than even Lord Kossuth may call to bear."
Polaris
Elbryan Picked up the note that apeared on his desk and looked at it. The contents pleased him greatly. He wondered if the people of Polaris would want the heat that Flame Offered them. Elbryan decided that he would write a Few Flyers and post them about the town.
Atention citizens of Polaris. The Order of the FLAME offers you a better life. The cold that you live with every day can be dealt with easily. We propose an aquaduct system that would pipe steam from our very own temple satraight to every business in the city. We also propose a tax system that would stimulate the growth in the area and allow the businessmen of the city to do buswiness. With us you will live warmer and easier. Tourism in the city will go up and the standard of living within the city will be raised.
Thank you
Elbryan Dragonfire of the FLAME
Elbryan tacks the flyers up about the town and hopes that everyone will read them. Elbryans intentions for the city were truly noble. The hope that he would piss off the istishians was only an added bonus to the deal. After looking back at the note one more time Elbryan slips back into the shaddows.
Atention citizens of Polaris. The Order of the FLAME offers you a better life. The cold that you live with every day can be dealt with easily. We propose an aquaduct system that would pipe steam from our very own temple satraight to every business in the city. We also propose a tax system that would stimulate the growth in the area and allow the businessmen of the city to do buswiness. With us you will live warmer and easier. Tourism in the city will go up and the standard of living within the city will be raised.
Thank you
Elbryan Dragonfire of the FLAME
Elbryan tacks the flyers up about the town and hopes that everyone will read them. Elbryans intentions for the city were truly noble. The hope that he would piss off the istishians was only an added bonus to the deal. After looking back at the note one more time Elbryan slips back into the shaddows.
FLAMEs in Polaris (part 2)
Finally completing the missive, Stark reviews what he has written one last time, the crimson quill grit in his razor sharp beak:
******************************************************
High Flame Atandella and Lord Elbryan:
Per your request, I am reporting some of the things which the righteous forces of Lord Fire may strive to bring to the cold and troubled peoples of Polaris.
- aquaduct waters from the Dark Lake through the proposed Temple of Kossuth, thereby heating the liquid to steam and piping it into the businesses and homes as an ambiant heat source.
- import various endangered species from the realms into the Polaris Forest to create a wildlife sanctuary for the beasts.
- prepare tax incentives for the merchants of the city to import and sell more exotic and desired goods.
- encourage the guilds to better prepare their pupils for the wilds of the realms through practice and training
- balance the patrols of the uncaring Shimmering Guardsmen of Polaris with more populace friendly guard to police the wandering bands of thugs and street tuffs.
- temper the clergy to put the wandering spirits of the Polaris graveyard to final rest, fire the current gravekeeper for hitting the spice wine too often and not doing his job.
- increase the housing for the poor and downtrodden
Istishian activity has been limited in this area at this time.
Signed by my hand, your loyal Servant... STARK
******************************************************
Nodding in affirmation, Stark invokes a prayer to Lord Flame and watches in rapture as the message is consumed in a blazing ball of fire... magically transported to his lady and liege.
******************************************************
High Flame Atandella and Lord Elbryan:
Per your request, I am reporting some of the things which the righteous forces of Lord Fire may strive to bring to the cold and troubled peoples of Polaris.
- aquaduct waters from the Dark Lake through the proposed Temple of Kossuth, thereby heating the liquid to steam and piping it into the businesses and homes as an ambiant heat source.
- import various endangered species from the realms into the Polaris Forest to create a wildlife sanctuary for the beasts.
- prepare tax incentives for the merchants of the city to import and sell more exotic and desired goods.
- encourage the guilds to better prepare their pupils for the wilds of the realms through practice and training
- balance the patrols of the uncaring Shimmering Guardsmen of Polaris with more populace friendly guard to police the wandering bands of thugs and street tuffs.
- temper the clergy to put the wandering spirits of the Polaris graveyard to final rest, fire the current gravekeeper for hitting the spice wine too often and not doing his job.
- increase the housing for the poor and downtrodden
Istishian activity has been limited in this area at this time.
Signed by my hand, your loyal Servant... STARK
******************************************************
Nodding in affirmation, Stark invokes a prayer to Lord Flame and watches in rapture as the message is consumed in a blazing ball of fire... magically transported to his lady and liege.
FLAMEs in Polaris (part 1)
Billowing clouds of chilled breath spill from the dark recesses of a fur trimmed cloak as a lithe figure rushes through the ice covered streets of Polaris. Bird tracks betray his lineage in the snowy pathways as he hurries onward. His cold-palsied talons shakily pick the locks of a nondescript iron-bound door and throwing it aside, release a hissing stream of heat into the darkness of the alley before hastily retreating inside the back of the establishment.
Stark relishes in the warm steam exuded by the public saunas, allowing it to wash away the lingering remnants of Polaris' unforgiving icy tendrils from his bones. The last vestiges of frosty snowflakes melt away from his crimson feathers as he makes his way down a dark escarpment to a back room.
An audible sigh of relief escapes Stark's beak as he enters the impromptu altar room of Lord Fire. Soothing flames lick at the surrounding walls without consuming them, while the crackling fires whisper with Kossuth's warming promises.
Stark seats himself at a rickety desk, plucks a feather from his arm and sets the quill in a vial of oiled ink. From a flame embossed scroll tube, he withdraws a length of warm parchment made of salamander skin and prepares it to receive his report.
His quill scratches hastily upon the pebbled parchment, the penned runes set in barely recognizable script... likely little more than chicken scratch to the uneducated observer.
Stark relishes in the warm steam exuded by the public saunas, allowing it to wash away the lingering remnants of Polaris' unforgiving icy tendrils from his bones. The last vestiges of frosty snowflakes melt away from his crimson feathers as he makes his way down a dark escarpment to a back room.
An audible sigh of relief escapes Stark's beak as he enters the impromptu altar room of Lord Fire. Soothing flames lick at the surrounding walls without consuming them, while the crackling fires whisper with Kossuth's warming promises.
Stark seats himself at a rickety desk, plucks a feather from his arm and sets the quill in a vial of oiled ink. From a flame embossed scroll tube, he withdraws a length of warm parchment made of salamander skin and prepares it to receive his report.
His quill scratches hastily upon the pebbled parchment, the penned runes set in barely recognizable script... likely little more than chicken scratch to the uneducated observer.
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