Salve, come va? Oh my dear friend, how weary and glum you look! I suppose trudging through endless tales of war and dour forestfolk can do that to a person’s aspect. Such nasty business, but you’re in a much better place now hmm? Better, but not necessarily safer in any case. Come, gather close and I will pour you some wine.
Perhaps you’d like to trade in gossip for a glass? Let’s see, let’s see. Well, everybody knows about the shake up in the Parliament. A little bit of a sweep and purge shall we say. There’s disbanded rats running for the gutters, and gutters running for the hills. Students who are putting their cunning minds to purses rather than to spells.
What else, what else… ah! A merry band of Bailles have come to stay, by invitation of our very own Senatrice Triboulett no less. Hopefully they’re not too repelled by that odd business in the sewers. If that matter isn’t resolved soon they’d surely be sending that shiny new steel vanguard for a bit of spick-and-span.
Well, I suppose I should let you on your way amico. Ah, but do take off those gloves before you head inside my friend, they’re rather unseemly don’t you think?
Hung or Hanged, it Matters Not
Moska sighed in annoyance as she glanced out the hallway window, looking up at the massive clockwork driven timepiece that adorned the western wing of the Parliament building. She was going to be late to her first Parliament session.
The cause of her lateness was still ranting and raving inside what was once his offices, and were now decidedly HER offices. The two assistants that the party had allocated her had managed to get her spare wardrobe, armour, weapons, and perfumes into the office before Monsieur Galadro had returned from his own home. Now the Ratscrew was throwing whatever he could at her, including mighty accusations of treason, impropriety, and Artebazzaniness. It grew old.
“-eason is what this should be called! You people have stolen this election in your attempt to steal this city!”
She looked over at the two young assistants who waited patiently in the hallway with her. ‘Assistants’ was perhaps a misnomer. Both of them were young men who stood at least a foot taller than Moska. They were wearing matching faded gray arming doublets, steel-reinforced leather gauntlets, and empty scabbards (their weapons held by the master-at-arms at the Parliament’s entrance). One had viciously cauliflowered ears, while the other had a scar through his bottom lip giving him a look of dopey cruelty. They were Ashen Hand, and it was past time to put them to use.
“Get him out of here.” She said simply and began to pack her pipe as she waited for it to be done.
“Signora.” Said the one with the turned ears, and he stomped into the room, followed by his companion.
“-oot soldiers of facism! The people will no-” Monsieur Galadro’s lamentations were stopped suddenly by a wide right hook, the metal bands in the Ashen Hand’s gauntlet breaking the once-parliamentarian’s check to shards of loose bone. The composer hit her desk, then the floor, making a noise somewhere between a mewling kitten and a wet fart. The following kicks from her assistants provided the percussion to the space as Moska retrieved her folio of motions, Ciao Bella No.2 perfume, and flask. As she stepped over him to leave she spoke allowed.
“My party has no need to steal elections, Citizen. Our power is very real, as I am sure you can agree.”
-=-=-=-
Moska collected Jasper from his office as she made her way to the chamber. Her partner in crime was a slim man in his mid twenties (nearly half her age), but was relentlessly likeable and respectful for his military service and winning smile. He was shaking hands and exchanging gifts with his predecessor, a stooped merchant-type in a long red and gold robe. The two men finished their pleasantries and the merchant tottered off down the hall, pushing a tall wooden trolley full of his possessions from his office, and a gift of Wolstad Whisky from Jasper, who came loping up next to Moska in that way that young men with boundless energy can.
“What a nice man.” He mused pleasantly as if he had just walked in from a butterfly garden.
“Quite.” Responded Moska as she lit her pipe and slid it to the corner of her mouth, chomping down on it and breathing deep as they marched towards the centre of the building.
“Have you spoken to Mario?” asked Jasper eagerly, locking-in on the fact that he was expected to be a valuable member of the party now, not just an empty mouth to spit words from.
“This morning. The agenda is agreed upon, although we shouldn’t expect to get much done this week.” She knew that De Gardin wanted to focus on additional support to the army gathering outside the walls of the city, to the detriment of other plans, Moska only hoped there would be enough time in the week to get such things done.
As their side hall opened onto the main promenade, Moska and Jasper’s path was cut by a tide of colour, tall boots, and swagger. Five strapping individuals with empty bandoliers were busy readjusting their hats, or sliding their arms in heavy brocade coats as they strode purposefully towards the parliament chamber.
Moska scowled around her pipe.
“Free Captains…”
-=-=-=-
The Parliament chamber was strangely quiet.
Now it was nowhere near silent, but gone was the raucous roar of the past term that Moska had experienced. Sigils like herself were not standing in the isles screaming bloody murder at bewildered idiot Ratscrews, and Ratscrews were not standing over professionally oblivious Council in Coin fools. Instead the noise came from knots of boisterous Frontiers Folk who were clapping themselves on the back for a job well done. Crews of Free Captains were guffawing with mirth at their success. Across the stands she made eye contact with Sigils she had worked with during the last term, and even a handful of new faces.
The crash of a cymbal called the Parliamentarians to order. Sitting in her new, notably more substantial, seat, with Jasper at her right and some Frontiers League goon to her left, Moska watched Mario De Gardin, Vera Halvine, and Cosma Albiro take to the stand in the centre of the chamber. Each of them shook, and spoke words of camaraderie and allegiance, binding their parties to the work that sat before them. Moska had little care for these empty words that would be discarded as soon as they took smoky form.
Instead her eyes wandered over the assembled representatives. Every single one of them had needed to be disarmed when they arrived, she was sure the master-at-arms would need a larger armoury and double the staff to manage the increased load. There wasn’t a damned peacock feather in sight, and there were more scarred visages, dirty hands, hungry snarls than there were fops, dandies, or poets. It was a Parliament of steel, sea, and soil. It was a Parliament of anger.
“Comrades!” That was Cosma Albiro, the burly leader of the Frontiers League, and the apparent Speaker of the Chamber.
“Let us get to work.”
Game Information
The Lerona Mere parliament election has come and gone, and the state of the realm has changed markedly.
Three parties have risen above all others into a triumvirate of competition. They are as follows:
The Frontiers League holds a slim majority of a single representative, with nineteen seats. Empowering the regional industry of Lerona Mere, the people of Mancante Terra’s new expansion, and Lerona Mere’s land forces. While the Frontiers are powerful, they are forced to share the spotlight with their two companions and have been unable to immediately bullrush their full legislative agenda. However, their presence has been felt.
- All Mine and Wilderness investments in Mancante Terra and Lerona Mere have been excused from the State of Emergency’s negative effects this season thanks to subsidies from the Frontiers League.
- There will be additional information and choices for the Senator of Mancante Terra, The Senator of Lerona Mere, and the Abbot of Mivara.
- Current representatives of the Frontiers League are below, they will receive additional information and tasks from the party:
- Anne Marie Van Voyant
- Rosaria Medusae
- Champion Jeiver di Carbonizzi la Petri
The Frontiers League is not accepting any other representatives at this time.
The Steel Sigils stands alongside the Frontiers League in a generally agreeable coalition. Their eighteen seats in any other Parliament would leave them in only a moderate position. But in this strange electoral result, they represent one third of the people of the Realm. They have immediately pushed for even greater support for the coming Lerona Mere army and have been overall ornery.
- The Voyant’s Steel Vanguard have gained the following trait:
| Name | Casualties Inflicted Mod | Casualties Suffered Mod | Claim Mod | Special |
| Stay out of My Swamp | +10% | +5% | +500 | This trait only applies when this force is fighting in La Dove Dormani or Sylvestelli Mare |
- There will be additional information and choices for the Senator of Mancante Terra, the Senator of Lerona Mere, and the Captain-General of the Voyant’s Steel Vanguard.
- Current Representatives of the Steel Sigils are below, they will receive additional information and tasks from the party:
- Foreign Minister Jalen Van Voyant
- Jacques Di Zisseau
- Mother Brine
The Steel Sigils are currently not accepting any other representatives at this time.
The Embersails have bucked the tradition of maritime parties swinging big and missing wide, taking 18 seats to equal the power of the far more established Steel Sigils. Immediately, they have stood as the check on the power of the Frontier-Sigil coalition, albeit an impotent one in many ways. Unfortunately, this division of power has left them unable to champion their more diplomatic or mercantile ideals. Their martial ideals however? Perfectly doable.
- Both Lerona Mere Fleets have gained the following traits.
| Name | Casualties Inflicted Mod | Casualties Suffered Mod | Claim Mod | Special |
| Tyrantsbane | +10% | +5% | - | This trait only applies when taking the Bloody Attack or Cautious Attack orders in a campaign that includes forces of the Artebazzani Empire. |
- There will be additional information and choices for the Senator of Lerona Mere, the Admiral of the People’s Gift, and the Admiral of Liberties Fist.
- Current representatives of the Embersails are below, they will receive additional information and tasks from the party:
- Warmaster Free Captain Pierre Capulet
- Lev “Lucky” Luksemburg
- Captain Raton Laveur
Power resides where it should reside, in the hands of jesters.
The Embersails are currently not accepting any other representatives at this time.
The Ratscrews, following a loud and colourful division of the party, have disbanded, with many returning to their first love; art. All representatives of the Ratscrews should consider their time with the party ended.
The Council in Coin has not disbanded, but has failed to obtain any seats. The group has indicated their intention to continue working in the interests of Lerona Mere and will run candidates in the next election. The current representatives for the Council in Coin are:
- Diz De La Gasparde
The Council in Coin are accepting a single additional representative from the heroic contingent. Applications should be sent by Civil Service Protected Post to The Council Chambers in Gafroza. There will be additional information and tasks for Diz De La Gasparde.
The Guttersign Assembly, receiving nearly no votes, decided that stealing the election was a folly. A silly side project anyway. They have disbanded.
The next Lerona Mere parliament election will be held in Autumn 228.
The Tyranny of Idiot Friends
“I believe that my counterpart across the room will find that the Andashi are incapable of managing Concordian funds, and this can be seen in the fact that THE CONCORD HAD TO TEACH THEM HOW WATER WORKS!”
The chaos in the room was already at a fever pitch, now it was overflowing. Someone threw a stack of reports off a table, another threw a shoe. For once in the last few weeks, Calinda Valera was enthused to see the Frontiers arguing with the Sigils as much as they were everyone else in the room. It appears that sentiment towards their ever-powerful imperial masters was a splitting point for the coalition.
But this was becoming the norm. Every two hours of that alliance of angry people bullrushing through whatever it is they wanted, followed by an hour of lamenting the Concord and its follies. Sure, the Parliament was passing more motions than ever before, with vast sweeping changes being made for the people of Lerona Mere. But it also felt like they were drifting further away from The Concord than even the Church of Anarchia had called for.
Suddenly, the hands around her went up and Calinda raised hers as well. It was always better to be a part of the winning side.
-=-=-=-
“What do you mean we don’t have any rations? The fighting is over.”
Gorig didn’t really know what to say. The two new bags of hardtack and mutton-jerky had been there the night before. They were nearly two dozen leagues behind the front line at this point and the patrol of nearly twenty Wealders hadn’t thought to put out a picket. Now they were staring at a long walk back to Korrence with empty bellies. As if matters could hardly get any worse, Ritter Strueker wandered into their slapdash camp at that very moment.
“Soldiers!..... Do you have any food?”
-=-=-=-=-
A common aphorism in Lerona Mere is that “You take the bad with the bad, and hope to take someone's good”. This past season has shown this to be true, as the realm struggled with minor setback after minor setback, and has begun to look elsewhere to make up its gains.
Supplies from Mancante Terra travelled abroad, be they as officially decreed by Senator De Zisseau, or pilfered by the enterprising people of Mancante Terra. The Parliament of Lerona Mere has chafed against the State of Emergency, perhaps representing the legitimate complaints of their constituents, perhaps simply giving voice to their own shackled greed. Regardless of the cause, the knives are out.
In all of this, a strange thing occurred. A band of foreign warriors departed an uninteresting Lerona Mere cog, and spent two weeks in the lead up to the Summit enjoying the card houses, pubs, taverns, and more that Legend City has to offer. The band was a strange one, hailing from the newly resettled Bailles, they included a handful of fighters, a woman calling herself ‘Swift Ava’ and an odd priest-magician by the name of Lokan Cadrum. While the relationship between The Concord and the Bailites remains distinctly icy, cracks have begun to appear…
Game Information
This past season, a delegation from the Kingdom of the Bailles was entertained within the Cardhouses of Lerona Mere. The group included a notable Bailite headwoman by the name of Swift Ava, and a strange priest-magician known as a ‘Lokan’. Tentatively cordial relations have been opened, and additional opportunities have been made available to Lerona Mere bands with the ‘Hospitality’ enterprise based in Legend City.
The band currently remains in Lerona Mere, and there will be a Conflux to speak with them during the summit. The responsibility for and details of this Conflux will be made available to the Minister of Foreign Affairs.
Unfortunately initial meetings of the Lerona Mere parliament have had a thoroughly xenophobic beginning, and there will be additional requirements placed on Lerona Mere titleholders from powerful figures within Parliament.
The general lawlessness of Mancante Terra and the harsh taxation of the State of Emergency has seen a spate of robberies targeting the military encampments in the region. Both the Legion of the Blackheart Bear and the Iron Brawlers have lost the ‘Well Supplied’ trait. The territories of La Dove Dormani, The Plateau of the Gods, and Marepato have gained the ‘Sticky Fingers’ trait.
| Name | Casualties Inflicted Mod | Casualties Suffered Mod | Claim Mod | Special |
| Sticky Fingers | - | +5% | - | This trait only applies to defending forces.
Forces that campaign in this territory cannot benefit from Well Supplied while in this territory. They will lose the Well Supplied trait upon the end of their campaign in this territory. Forces that do not have the Well Supplied trait that campaign in this territory will gain the Undersupplied trait. Movement into this territory costs one extra movement point. |
There will be additional information and decisions regarding theft in Mancante Terra for the General of the Legion of the Blackheart Bear and The Brigadier of the Iron Brawlers.
My Children Who Only Wish to Touch the Stars, Why Do You Sever Their Fingers?
The garishly painted townhouses of the Redbrick District were crammed beside and atop each other like a patchwork of stone and wood. Its narrow uneven roads would cause a fit of claustrophobia to an Andashi nomad and an easy shoulder bump to a pickpocket. Here, tucked between a Church of Anarch and a Church posing as a Church to Anarch, was a modestly decorated Church to Stallia, the Stellato la Carta, run by the Pastor Sergius.
The Pastor himself had returned this evening with another lumpy sack tucked beneath his arm. He pulled from a pocket in his robes a large iron key with a twisted maze engraved into its bow. As the Pastor pulled the door closed behind him and locked it, the small wooden sign nailed to the door rapped against it:
Closed for repairs. Seek your knowledge elsewhere, friend. In the Spheres’ Light we pray.
It was rare for a building in Legend City to not have some sort of cellar beneath it, with thanks to the catacombs the city was built upon, and the Stellato la Carta was no exception. And like most entrances to basements in the City of Legend, it was well hidden. Pastor Sergius slid the false wall back into place carefully and descended the uneven stone steps.
Most of the furniture in this bottom dwelling had been pushed to the walls. The Pastor lit a candle on a nearby desk, illuminating the numerous books and scrolls littering every available flat surface. A copy of a Motion by Allegro D’Arrigoet sat nearest to the flame. The Pastor turned to the centre of the room.
“Are you hungry, my child?”
The pallid form chained to the stone floor in the centre of the room stirs. Slowly, its skeletal limbs unwind from its twisted position. Pages, some torn, some bloodied, some scrunched and smoothed out and scrunched again, surround the creature like a salt circle. Each page scrawled again and again with star after star after star after star after star after star after star…
A mangled hand with fingernails so long they may as well be talons reached out towards Pastor Sergius and snatched the dead rat he offered. Teeth too big for its jaws tore at the flesh and crunched the bones of rat after rat after rat after rat after rat after rat after rat…
Pastor Sergius recited prayers to cover the sickening sounds of feasting. He stretched out his hand to touch the child’s forehead and ran his thumb across its dimpled surface. Soon, he would have to rise and return to his paper and ink. The letter atop his desk needed to be with the Concordian Post by the end of the week in order to make its destination.
To my fellow Priest of Stallia…
Game Information
Following downtime actions last Summit there will be additional information for those characters regarding what they discovered below Lerona Mere and the nature of the Slangs.
There will be a Conflux this Summit to interact with a captured Slang. Responsibility for this Conflux lies with Brulee Dupont. This Conflux will be open to any hero of Lerona Mere. Additional information will be provided to Brulee Dupont.
There will be additional information regarding the investigations into the Slangs and the Catacombs of Legend City for the Senator of Lerona Mere.
Transient Themes of Darker Dreams
| A man clambers onto an old wooden box. In his pocket, the ornate missive weighs far heavier than it should.
He claps twice and the small crowd in the square grows silent, their eyes falling upon the steel-grey sigil emblazoned upon his coat’s breast. He speaks of glory; the way La Bevanda Dei stood as a place of protection. A safe haven in the lawless wilds, a stronghold of security. He speaks of fury; the red-hot grief that burns in all their chests. The watery ghouls that turn to steam as they reach for the town’s iron spirit. He speaks of parliament; the turning of gears in the shining city so far away. The gaze of legends turning to their town; not to grasp, but to give. He speaks of war; the promise of steel and stone upon the town. The promise of transformation, of militarisation, of grand bastionhood. Beyond the square, a nursemaid clutches a bundle of rags and a blasphemous babe. Barely three hours old and stone cold, the babe’s impossible scales glint strangely in the moonlight. In the dark, the battered town dreams of victory. What will the Steel Sigils bring to La Bevanda Dei? |
A woman wanders the streets, admiring every facet of the aging architecture through which she walks.
Her fingers brush along the cracked stonework of a long abandoned inn, her face raising to listen to the lone bird’s song somewhere far above her head. She remembers what this place used to be. The heart of the forgotten lands; the last bastion against the expanse of nonmeaning. The sound of laughter filters through the crack under a door. The woman pauses, her dérive broken by the festivities echoing those of times-long-lost. She peeks through the keyhole at the glorious scene. Working people, farmhands and traders, all nursing their spirits; liquor and hope alike. They speak of simpler times, of a return to form. A place of hospitality and pleasure to rival Loricazzo, and one day, perhaps even the city of legends. A moment. A beat. A murmur in the hearts of herself, the child in her belly, and the deep far below. Both where she stands and in the ocean a hundred miles away, the water breaks. In the dark, the desolate town dreams of company. What will the Frontiers League bring to La Bevanda Dei? |
A pair of figures stare out of a window on the coast many miles away, a shared glass of dark wine between them.
Though they cannot make out the town through the tempest that roars above them, the maps on the table behind the couple remain just as visible. The poorer speaks of opportunity; the grand projects that could begin with the resources that the dying town still grasps. She holds her reports of person and place. With enough pressure, La Bevanda Dei will crumble into resources repurposable for their far-greater home. The richer speaks too of opportunity; of blessing those hangers-on with greater views than dreary fields of grain. Their glorious Bay shines enough to share. She holds her reports of babe and betrayal; the marring of the child’s skin, the pleading of the mother, the burning of both on the Sphere-blessed pyre. They speak both of opportunity, but for whom? The world is so much larger than La Bevanda Dei. By the flicker of firelight and the pealing of thunder, the two embrace as the dark storm rages above. In the dark, the ambitious town dreams of glory. What will the Embersails bring to La Bevanda Dei? |
Game Information
The town of La Bevanda Dei in Mancante Terra once served as a great halfway home between the cities of Vidania and Posta Lerona. Filled with inns, taverns, and other seedier places, it was called home by few but passed through by many. Overtaken during the Ilsevir occupation of the region, it has now returned to a population of roughly two thousand.
Over the past season, discussions have begun within the Parliament of Lerona Mere regarding this once-great halfway town and its possible renovation or repurposing.
There will be information and decisions regarding the future of this settlement for the Senator of Mancante Terra, the Heroic Parliamentary Representatives, and the High Priest of Stallia.
What Hides in the Cellars of the Learned?
The hall was silent save for the clip clip clip of hardened leather soles tapping rhythmically across its surface. The rhythm betrayed a nervousness. Anxiety. A glimpse into the mind of its source with no need for magic nor a profound psychological understanding of the individual. It was simple to see, or rather to hear, how they felt about their current undertaking.
Marsilia di Fiola could not help but look up and down the dark hall. Lit by candles as it was, it served to only deepen where the light did not reach, and to cast mobile shadows that flickered and danced. She would love to be dancing right about now, but it was her responsibility to stand guard over the entrance to the Vault, even if it was unused. It was still a place of magic, important and requiring some small protection.
Small. That seemed about right. Marsilia, despite her knack for damaging magic, considered herself naught but a minor bump for anything that would decide she was a barrier. What with the horror of last Season, the threats that followed, and the random strange happenings going on around the School…
Well it was no wonder that she hated to be alone, protecting a place of importance, with seemingly no one else around.
Seemingly.
She shivered at her own thought, and her foot started to tap the ground faster again. Why did the mind, in situations like this, seem so determined to create further concerns? Was it human nature to be so willing to envision danger, to imagine fear? And why is it so damn cold in this hallway? These thoughts and more raced through Marsilia’s mind all in the space of half a minute, and were gone just as quick, ready to be replaced by whatever was willing to follow.
But instead of thoughts in her mind, it was a very real sound that distracted her. A ka-clack ka-clack ka-clack sound, echoing from somewhere distant. Panic immediately set in, as the sound began to get closer, though still far enough away that its owner was nowhere to be seen, and its direction remained unknown. One end of the hall turned into another, wider hall that went both left and right, while the other end rounded gently at its end to continue on to other parts of the School. Where would the sound eventually reveal itself from? Would it be safe to run if it was something horrific? Could it even be outrun?
As the sound got louder, Marsilia’s thoughts grew in intensity. Now it was a monster coming. Now it was an angered being of pure energy. Now it was two monsters. Now it was the essence of anguish and rage.
In the end, it was simply a man.
Dressed plain, for a Lerona Mere, with steel-tipped shoes ka-clacking on the tiled hall floor. Marsilia breathed out a sigh of relief, before pulling herself together and remembering her duties.
“Hold away there a moment, just in the light of that torch if you please. No closer till you identify yourself. This is a restricted space.” Her voice betrayed none of her earlier anxiety, but she felt a cold sweat begin to form down her back.
“Name’s Giano. Got a tip from Mocenigo, he said I might be able to do a little business down here…” The man patted a satchel he was carrying, producing a noise not too dissimilar to a glass bottle rolling off the back of a very flat sheep.
Marsilia visibly relaxed. “Mocenigo sent you? Good, good. It's been a week since my last fix and I was getting a bit rattled.”
Giano grinned as he began fishing through his satchel and walking forward. Marsilia returned the grin as she pulled her own bag out from underneath her chair, fishing around inside it for a coinpurse and a funny-scented smoke pipe.
-=-=-=-
Those who believe that there is nothing criminal happening within The School of Embers would be fooling themselves. While perhaps nothing particularly offensive is known to be occurring, it is a notable building within one of the most renowned criminal hotspots in Lerona Mere, if not the whole Concord. The Docklands finds a way to worm infamy into its residents, one way or another.
Most are just happy when it's not through the pointy end of a knife.
Still, the recent threat from the aggrieved Capo sits heavy in the minds of those both in and out of the School. For those inside its ‘protective’ walls, it is a matter of waiting. Watching for the action that so often follows threats like those. Nervously anticipating a problem, or danger, or strangeness. For those outside, it is a matter of pondering. Well, if THAT Capo can get away with it, why can’t we?
And once those thoughts begin, action soon follows. Many within the School find themselves, at some point or another, involved on one side of a quiet feud. The De Re School of Embers, a place that accepts or rebukes criminality? As with all things, there are those that agree, those that don’t, and those that sit in the middle and think they are above it all. But The Docklands has a way of dragging people off fences, often aggressively and with no small amount of danger.
Letters, notices, odd schedules and other quiet signs of non-legally compliant activity begins to spread throughout the School over the Season. The more offensively obvious are quickly reported to Magistrates, but the inoffensive and ‘innocent’ remain. Criminal contacts begin to be established, names begin to be known, and as if it had always been there in the first place there becomes an air of infamy, for those who choose to look for it.
This faint air has not yet settled, and could just as easily be blown away by the strong winds of ‘justice’ as it could firmly permeate the magical stones that contain it.
As is so often the case, now it is up to the Heroes of Lerona Mere to pick which is more chic.
Game Information
While no direct acts of criminal terrorism have been made against the De Re School of Embers, there is a nervous energy in the air. Students, faculty and visitors alike find themselves waiting for something to occur, for blood to be shed, and yet it never comes. Whether this is the intended effect of the mysterious capo from a season prior remains to be seen, but nonetheless it spreads a sense of anxiety throughout the School.
There will be further information and decisions for both The Headmaster of the School of Embers and The Senator of Lerona Mere.
The School of Embers has always had a tenuous relationship with crime. Whether due to its founding members, the presence of Mountebanks and their like, its location in The Docklands or some other reason, it is not uncommon to associate the School with criminal activity of some kind. There are those who work from the shadows and wish to support such infamy, and those who believe in the weight of the law who wish to give the School of Embers a new identity. Now, a public call has been made to see where the heroes of Lerona Mere sit on this particular fence.
There will be two separate Public Special Actions available this coming Season that will allow Lerona Mere Heroes and Enterprises to support either direction for the School. The Special Actions are as follows;
Infamous Identity - For those who believe that The School of Embers should embrace its unspoken identity, encouraging it to become a safe-haven for those with less than legal intentions. This action would see heroes arranging for cellars to be turned into smuggling dens, for hidden routes in and out of the School to be created, and for students and faculty alike to be convinced or bribed as appropriate. While this action does not innately require illegal activity to be undertaken, those pursuing this should expect trials and similar consequences should the action fail or come under notable scrutiny.
Or
Missives for Magistrates - For those who wish to ensure The School of Embers is as far from criminally involved as it could be. This action would see heroes encouraging students and faculty to report any suspicious behaviour, to have quarters prepared for live-in Magistrates, and to help create and distribute anti-crime propaganda in and around the School.
Any Enterprise taking either of the above actions will count as if it were 5 individual Heroes, to represent the weight of an organised group compared to solitary action. This does not prevent Heroes of that Enterprise also picking one of the Special Actions. Heroes and Enterprises pursuing either action should expect additional opportunities, or consequences, should their chosen action notably succeed or notably fail.
Florals For Spring?
Legend City is the beating heart of the Concord in more ways than one. Its biggest city, and largest trade port, her position in the middle of its five realms, and the core of the Central Service at One Concordian Plaza. Only one person can claim to have their finger on the pulse of this mighty city, this place of so much culture and bustling activity. Symposiarch Gavril Princep? A fool’s answer. It could be none other, of course, than the Avant Guardian; Emyrson van Soer!
~=~=~=~
“Come one, come all! Gather here and see the great works of Lerona Mere artistry, and hear the vision of the Avant Guardian!”
On the steps of The Triboulett Academy of the Arts stands a libreartiste, peacock feathers in her hat and a golden cape embroidered with flame and eye of shining red, her fingers stained with ink and paint. She rings her bell again, beckoning all around the square to come close and hear the announcement of the season.
“From the fields of Bordevar to the sands of Andash, Lerona Mere is the heart! From the mounts and dales of the Valley to the plains of Mancante Terra, Lerona Mere is the heart! Come see the art inspired by these words of UNITY, and stoke the fire to rage against that which would oppress us and that which would poison us from within!
Lerona Mere has always been the torch of the Concord, and we must lead the rest to the light of change. To be heard, however, you must first be seen, as seen as someone of repute. You, sir! Your garish doublet offends the eye! I fear my eyes may never see a colour other than yellow again!”
“But it was expen-”
“But you, mademoiselle! Your necklace of teeth? Magnifique! Zut alors, your companion and his fingerless gloves? Does he mean to pick my pocket? To stack the deck and load the dice? We will not be cheated so easily here!”
A woman across the coward blushes, first at the compliment, then with embarrassment as her partner sheepishly removes his gloves. Murmurs ripple through the crowd as the artiste hangs a poster upon the door, then removes a sheaf of flyers from her jacket and tosses them into the air. As the words of the Avant Guardian rain down upon the crowd, she rings her bell once more.
“It is your duty to make sure no one is left behind in obscurity! By Anarch’s grace, let all know the news of fashion and flame. En Evante!”
~=~=~=~
“I could have sworn your wrist was empty when I saw you not two hours ago Mateo.”
The bracelet of teeth was all too obvious as the clerk had placed the report on his superior’s desk, hand lingering for a moment with a slight shake to make them rattle.
“But of course, did you not see the news? Teeth are the height of fashion now, dear Archivist. And, if the Avant Guardian is to be believed, there has been no reports of slangs bothering those who wear them!”
“A gruesome statement if ever there was one, particularly after last season. Perhaps they think you are one of them, adorned in their rags and filth.”
“You speak like a wealdsavage, with your stick in the mud! It is but a simple statement piece; clean, respectable and popping up all over the city. You can stick with your silver, but know that you are being left behind by our great nation! At least you don’t wear yellow!.”
~=~=~=~
“Take that off! Do you want people to think you are a pirate?”
The captain of The Joie de Vivre starts as the feathered bicorn is knocked from their head, falling from the helm down to the main deck below.
“Bicorn hats are OUT, unfashionable and gauche! The Avant Guardian announced the trends last week, clearly a nod to the repealed Treaty of the Corsairs. To wear a bicorn is to appear as a pirate of the Golden Fleet, and no self respecting harbour master should grant you a berth.”
The two share a chuckle at the concept of a harbormaster operating anywhere along the coast of Marepato, charging a berth fee for their particular patch of underdeveloped dirt.
“With the wealdsavage army coughing their way through the towns, I’d rather remain at sea. Though those storm clouds rolling in may not give us a choice.”
Game Information
The philosophy inspiring artistic works in Maracavo’s Wing this past season has been:
“City. Valley. Fields. Sands. Unity!”
The following items are considered “In”:
- Symbols of a flame in conjunction with eyes, though notably not the exact burning eye of The Divine Church of Anarchia
- Teeth, particularly in the form of jewellery
- Duelling capes, particularly red and gold in colour as worn by The Second Anarchic Alexis De Rosa during her speech against the Council of Six’s Conviction one season past.
The following items are considered “Out”:
- The colour yellow
- Fingerless gloves
- Greenwealders, often using the term “Wealdsavages”
Characters from Lerona Mere are encouraged to incorporate elements that are considered “in” and avoid ones that are considered “out” in their kit, however these are not costuming guidelines presented by the Concord team. Adherence to, and comment on, the cultural trends of Lerona Mere should remain wholly in character.
Greenweald characters with investments in Lerona Mere will find they have produced less, due to more reliable workers and trading partners turning them away or increasing prices. Characters not from Greenweald or Lerona Mere with investments in Lerona Mere will find they have produced slightly more, for the opposite reason.