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.
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."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)