The Concordian Church stands as a tempermental, but powerful organisation with the will and the way to save souls, and Condemn them. But with so many disparate cultures, so many threats, it can be difficult to see the way forward.
In this past season the Concordian Church has pushed to mend bridges, survive the darkest night, and sought to remain intact, as they are attacked from all sides. In the light of the starlit Sphere, it is unclear how the Concordian church will survive this darkness.
How the Hammer Falls in Silent Song
Heralds of the Divine Spheres have been present among The Concord for as long as five realms have been one Concord. From the Firebrand to the Iron Stag, they have been present. But the Concord has struggled with the concept of these heralds standing against us. Surely these grand blessings of divinity support our righteous endeavour, surely we pursue the righteous path? Or have we led ourselves astray? Or is it the Council of Six to blame?
Most prominent of these concerns is the Magistrate, whose hammer is slick with the blood of Concordian heroes, vanquished in battle. This herald of Panoply remains steadfast in their support of the Trade Principality of Aprivano, seemingly revealing new mysteries to the Trade Prince Majeed, while providing the Concord naught but curses and malady. Is it that The Concord has failed to impart the will of its laws and we are to blame? Or is there greater concerns afoot? Concerns so great they may enrapture a Herald? And yet, this season, the expected tide of Panoply magic that once radiated from Aprivano has grown quiet, still and strange. Perhaps Concordian persistence in the enforcement of law has at last complicated the Magistrate's designs, or perhaps the Herald's purpose has shifted into something yet more insidious.
Also concerning is the skeletal and haunting form that some believe to be the Timid Husk. This creature has loomed silent over the Concordian Church for more than a year, plaguing its divine visions, and even the Sacred Square. Over the past season its actions have become even more commonplace, and not for the better. Across The Concord citizens are being abducted from thin air, gone for a moment, and then returned with stricken looks of fear upon their faces. What knowledge the Timid Husk seeks from its captives is unknown, though the interrogations are not without consequence, some return bearing the marks of pain. Among those taken are citizens whose names are known to the Council of Six, individuals whose accounts of the experience may yet shed light on what this Herald desires, and what it intends. The Church suffers. The Sacred Square is unsettled. And still the skull-faced figure watches, silent, as though waiting for an answer that has not yet been given.
The Council of Six cannot afford to treat these matters as the concerns of distant realms. The heralds act. The Concord bleeds. And decisions must be made.
Game Information
The Concord has had the poor fortune to run afoul of numerous Heralds, many of which appear to have no intention of stopping their enmity for the heroes and their Realms.
The Magistrate remains (seemingly) ensconced as a supporter of the Trade Principality of Aprivano. However no grand Panoply magic emanates from the Trade Principality this season. Perhaps Concordian efforts at law-enforcement have complicated matters.
The shadowy, skull-faced figure that has appeared to haunt the Concordian Church and its efforts has been tentatively identified as The Timid Husk. Although what this Herald wishes is largely unknown. What is known is that the Herald has been reported as removing individuals from their lives and interrogating them, with some painful consequences at times. The following characters have experienced this during the last season and will have additional information in their character packs:
- Eva Von Adler
- Lord Achmund Draeyn
- Ratta Van Doorn
- Pherjahbev El Bevan
- Osred
There will be decisions relating to hostile Heralds for the Council of Six.
Wrapt in the Old Miasmal Mist
The Magistrate, broad backed and crisp shirted, felt calm as he rose up the steps to the Parliament Building in Lerona Mere. In the early morning sun, the blue ink that marked his cheeks was not yet so hot that he could feel it when he smiled, but it was always there besides; a reminder of hope, even when all other sources grew dim.
He did not know this building - had not gazed intently upon its halls nor trodden its floors - but he knew its neighbours and its cousins. He knew the old theatre façade a few blocks away, still likely swarming with children swinging from its beams as it had been in his youth, just as he knew the town hall in Weiland where he had spent half of the Season, eyes catching with a dozen Commonfolk a day, each ready to say their piece. Even when the shell changed, the innards were the same - a place for people's voices to be heard.
When he stepped into the room, now dotted with Heroic Priests of The Concord and their flocks, he didn't need his priestly tattoos to remind him of the hope present here: High Priests and ordinary Concordians together, aligned in their conviction.
It did not take long for Lerona Merians to begin streaming into the Parliament Building, which he was pleased for - it had taken more than a bit of time to put up dozens of posters about the city, explaining the goals of the session today, and the conviction from which it originated.
It had been some time since he had been home properly - barely more than a passing visit since he had joined the Civil Service - and he had felt so small then, just one young man in an overwhelming city. So it was, for a moment, reassuring to find that he did not feel as overwhelmed by the swell of noise as he once did.
Then he realised that was because he was no longer in the middle of it. He was no longer a part of the crowd that spoke with hushed whispers, their quiet voices deafening when at its centre. He was no longer of Lerona Mere anymore, not really.
Instead, stood with the gathering of Heroic Concordian Priests, he was what they whispered about - the thing their eyes flicked out to before muttering to themselves again. If he was feeling generous, as he so often was, he would say that he felt like a stranger who had not yet been invited in. If he was not, he would say it was closer to being viewed as an invasive species.
The large clock chimed, ordinarily used to signal the beginning of a Parliament session, and the crowd hushed as he stepped forward. He was not the only Magistrate present, and certainly not the highest ranking individual in the room, but as a former Priest of the Needle, he had been chosen to speak first.
"People of Lerona Mere," he started, voice unwavering. "I am Magistrate Tommaso, and I am pleased to be with you today. Thank you for being here to share with some of the Heroes of The Concord, in line with the Conviction put forward by the Council of Six, some of whom are here today."
He could feel all of their eyes upon him. They were silent - as silent as they were in the church when he was a boy. He cleared his throat.
"For those of you who may not have read the Conviction, I will read it out now, before outlining how we will be facilitating this first session. The Council want you to understand what they have asked these priests," he gestured, "to do, and want to make sure your voices are heard."
"We hear the voices of Lerona Mere," he began, reciting the conviction as spoken by one of the High Priests present. As he spoke, he heard more than a few sniggers, but no heckles. No shouted comments. They were quiet. Attentive. As if waiting for something.
As he finished reciting the conviction and looked up from his paper, he understood.
Though she had been seated at the back of the assembly before, she was stood now, her worn gloves tucked into her belt.
"Do you?" she asked, voice clear and sharp, as her eyes passed over him to view the Priests and Congregations behind him. "Do you hear the voices of Lerona Mere?"
The crowd was entirely silent now, save for shallow breathing.
"We have spoken before of the atrocities of Artebazzan. We have told you time and time again that we will not stand with a Church that aligns itself with Artebazzan. You know what they did to us. And yet you hide behind your motions and your inquisitions.
"Artebazzan have always been and will always be evil oppressors whose words cannot be trusted. They are the shark who can say whatever they would like to the minnow swimming about its gills because it can simply swallow them whole."
Her nostrils flared and her knuckles flexed, but still she did not move from her spot at the back of the room, and still no one from Lerona Mere moved to interrupt her. Instead, they stared forward at the Heroes, eyes blazing hot and distant in their steadiness.
"And this is not some happy-go-lucky story where the bully changes their mind - do you understand?" She continued. "There is no version of this tale in which The Concord comes out on top. Every time, we will end up crushed under foot. Every time, The Concord will end up oppressed, either loudly by Legionnaires, quietly through Church Motions. The Concord cannot enter into an equal discussion with them until it is a great empire, which, if you are what counts for leadership, I cannot imagine happening. Anyone who thinks otherwise is lying."
"You need to understand that we are not the ones that have harmed Lerona Mere's 'relationship' with the Church. You are. You did that. You cannot pretend to support us while they support them. You cannot pretend to care about the wellbeing of our souls when you are damning everything that Lerona Mere stood and fought for so that your little Cardinal will be pleased. The Heralds blessed it! The Firebrand himself blessed the schism from the Artebazzani Church but you continue to crawl back to them, like maggots to a poisoned corpse. You are so blinded - so bound and gagged, too - that you do not even know what is in the interest of the Concordian people. How can you claim this when they support the atrocities happening in Andash? When they move to take yet another people's home from them?
"The Artebazzani that ruled over us - that buried our words and closed our churches and demolished our spirits - are dead or as good as. We did that. Lerona Mere did that. Not a poxy inquisition on the "management of these colonies." Not a piece of paper deciding the morality of an action that has already fucking happened. If the 'justice' you are seeking is delivered by pieces of paper signed by Priests who have not ministered for months, then you need to reexamine your definition.
"Did the Council of Six, genuinely believe in all of the goodness of their sacred souls, that their words would mean anything? That sending you, Heroes of The Concord, to listen in inaction would mean anything? There is no wound to heal through gentle words and reflection. We have listened. And we have thought long and fucking hard. And for what? A Church that ignores us, and a Council of Six full of Heroes that laugh when they execute my brother?"
Her eyes water, but grow no weaker for it. Alexis De'Rosa has lost many brothers-at-arms whilst at war with The Drowned - what's losing a twin to a different enemy anyway? But still, even as her fingers shake from the restraint, she does not reach for her blade, and Tommaso’s fellow Magistrates shift slightly in understanding.
"We have no need to rebuild faith. We have our faith in the Spheres, blindingly so, perhaps. But you? We have no faith in you, nor your Church Council. You are nothing but launderers for Artebazzan's imperialistic barbarity. You are not people of faith. Not priests. You are dogs who should be put down."
He thinks for a moment that this is the end - that the Second Anarchian is going to bring down the might of Lerona Mere upon the Heroes behind him, and himself in turn - when she points to them as she speaks. Even moreso when she moves to the aisle of the stairs, looking down at them properly now.
And yet, her blade remains undrawn while she sighs, though the badge of Anarchia in her hat is clearer.. "I am done fighting with you, for now. And we are done listening. You promised us, High Priest - swore it upon Cervitas that you would address our concerns. Our concern is Artebazzan, plain and simple. No amount of well-wishing words will fix that - show us some action, for Spheres' sake."
As he and the other attending Magistrates realise that she is intending to leave, they rush to action, moving to stop her before she can escape. But before they can move, Lerona Mere does - like a wave in the Bay of Promised Gold, they rise and stand to block the way. Along with them stand some of the Congregations that made their way to Legend City at the behest of their Heroes to hear the words of Lerona Mere, and rebuild their faith and trust in the Concordian Church.
There is a brief scuffle - a moment of possibility - then he realises this is not a fight they should have, never mind one they can win.
As Alexis De'Rosa leaves Parliament, and Lerona Mere, her words hang behind, heavy in the hearts and minds of the Heroes who promised to hear them.
Game Information:
The people of Lerona Mere have made their complaints known to the many priests from The Concord who attended their city over the past season. How these complaints will be heeded remains the purview of the Council of Six and the Church as a whole.
While Lerona Mere had threatened specifically those priests who champion the cause of Artebazzani legitimacy (even if they wear Lerona Mere stylings), these are simply threats for now. But Lerona Mere's willingness to act as a cultural trait is well known.
The Church of Anarchia is receding into memory. While there are likely still smatterings of its teachings hidden in desks and back rooms, it is no longer of active concern. Alexis De Rosa has not been seen for some time, and remains one of The Concords most wanted.
Characters who attended to this Conviction will receive additional information in their character packs, as will those who sponsored supporting motions.
There will be decisions regarding Lerona Mere's complaints for the Council of Six and priests of Lerona Mere. There will be decisions regarding notable Lerona Mere heretics for the Council of Six.
When it is Dark Enough, the Sky Sings Back
A jagged image of a crown, as if carved by dying hands. The splintering wood of the door clearly bit back into the finger that wrought this crude image, leaving red smears atop the art.
-
The Plinth of uncaring gray stone stared up into the stars as they swirled and shifted. As the impossible occurred and the night sky shifted by degrees, it was as if all was getting righter in the world. Splayed across the plinth's stoney form was a night sky that was impossible, but as the twinkling lights danced and skittered it became that little bit less unthinkable.
-
The goat's carcass was splayed open by the hands of an unskilled butcher. Its head lay propped up on the steps to the tavern, one eye put out with an iron nail. The entrails were dragged down the street for six paces, the half digested cud spread around like foul green stars.
-
Oh this is very nice of you. Very nice indeed. You shouldn’t have. I couldn’t possibly have another. Oh? You insist? But the last one was such a bother to keep down, such a tiresome effort to prepare. You’ve prepared this one yourself? Well then it would be rude of me to not have at least a nibble. Who knows.
Maybe I’ll develop a taste for you.
-
The scale of the collage was the impressive part of it. Sailcloth from the largest ship at dock at the time, torn and woven with frantic abandon. Each long woven cordage draped down suspending the ship's night watchman’s rictus form. His two arms were raised above his head and clasped together as if in prayer high above, his feet were missing, having become the artist's frustrated meal. The watchman, Frederico was his name, had blue eyes in death that he had not had in life.
-
Far away from busy hands and watchful eyes, the stones drip through a beautiful hue. They twinkle into cerulean tones that reflect the iridescence of sapphires and ocean deep. A bewitching sight for a forgotten age.
-
The flaming thunderclap burned the darkness of autumn night, the eruption of stone could be felt for a day's travel in any direction, followed by dozens of additional strikes. This meeting of soil and star is repeated out across the region. The glittering pieces of night had ever-so-kindly avoided the homes, camps, and lives that dotted this countryside, leaving the people shaken, but not shattered.
-
They had climbed up past stones and grates, up past windows and gutters, up past tile and thatch. To the highest peaks and unsteady vanes. Across Legend City but in no place more than The Docklands, where the waves reflected a second night sky, gifting twice the stars each night.
They were cruel things, pale skinned with pointed teeth and claws made of bone and clotted blood. Their howling screams reached into the night sky for harmony with each other that could not be found. Across the city the people cowered indoors as the singers below rose up and called to the stars. Some reached for their blades, others ran for their Capos, but all watched with haunted eyes, praying for night to end.
But the night did not. Would not. Could not.
As the sun strove to rise, the stars would not cease. They heard the singing of their children and were not content to cede their audience. Across Legend City there was no morning, there was no dawn. Daynight had come and the night belonged to the Underfolk. Those hungry-for-flesh and robbed-of-stars. They crawled down from the high places and walked the streets. There were hundreds of them, on this their holy starday. Their misshapen hands scrawled on the doors, their maws drank the flesh of those who would walk in the starlight.
The people of Legend City ceded the Docklands to the Hunger-Below-The-City for this darkened day. Across the northern districts they fought them back, reclaiming the streets. But in the south, there would be no taking back cobbles from the claws.
But it was only for two nights, with one night between them. April the fifth, 226, the day that forgot to be.
When the sun rose on the sixth, the city was changed, the marks of the people below adorned it like a starmetal crown.
But perhaps it was worth it to keep this door open, to drag starlight into your lives, into your souls, where it can twinkle against the shade in the middle of you.
Game Information
The Precipice has been aligned to Stallia this past Season. As such Stallian ceremonies have had their magnitude reduced for this coming Summit:
| Ceremony Magnitude | Magnitude Reduction |
| From 1 to 10 | By 2 |
| From 11 to 30 | By 4 |
| From 31 to 50 | By 8 |
| From 51 and higher | By 16 |
In addition, the ceremonies 'Serpents Sequestered Secrets’, ‘Clockwork Messengers of the Machine’ and ‘Trapped in the Labyrinth’ may be cast.
Across the Concord, a variety of unexpected effects have occurred.
The stars above the Iron Valley have appeared to shift. Complex astronomy must still be done to ascertain the effect of this, but it appears to be more than simple illusion. There will be decisions for the Archmage and the Reeves Council of Windholme. There will be additional information for Farseers.
All characters who are afflicted by the ‘Known’ spiritual wound have had their base hitpoints reduced to 1. All characters afflicted by the ‘Understood’ spiritual wound are also affected by venom, which cannot be removed. Your flesh is sweet as your minds are full.
There will be two Past Life Visions available this Summit, both occurring on the second night at 1030PM. The Council of Six will have to elect 2 Aspirants, and 2 Guides.
The Esterran Circle is B L U E.
Falling stars have landed across the west of The Concord, landing in Mancante Terra, The Tribelands, and Mukarrem. Investments in these regions will have the opportunity to gather Starmetal as a special action during this season’s downtime.
Across Legend City, the Sewer Slangs have emerged from their subterranean hollows, climbing to the city's highest roofs and weather vanes they have howled into the night. The sun did not rise for the next day, and people of the Docklands cowered as the Sewerfolk owned the daynight. The next sunrise came as normal, revealing troubling images across the Docklands left by the hunger below the city. The damage to structures was minimal, but there are many bloody attacks across the city. Outside of the Docklands, the people of the city rally and push the Slangs back underground. Characters who live in Legend City can retell stories of the Slangs prowling the streets (normally 1 - 2 per neighbourhood, save for the Docklands). These tales are not pleasant or whimsy-filled, but rather are closer to horror stories. A weakness beneath Lerona Mere. There will be decisions for the Senator of Mancante Terra, Senator of Lerona Mere, and the Champion of the Revolution.
Life Where Heroes Have Left
The most popular tavern in The Concord earned its title through years of existence and thousands of travelled boots through its glade. The Game Hen, known by nearly all within The Concord’s bounds, remains the place to be should you find yourself at the centrepoint of the great coming together of Realms. Whether you are a hero, a Magus, a priest, or simply someone looking to fill your cup in the company of others, it is known where best to plant your feet, find your seat, and speak of all things from here to there.
-=-=-=-
“It’s bloody busy today, aye?” A Bordevarian speaks from a long table set in the back of the glade. Their hands fiddle with a metal worked symbol of Cervitas, but their full cup rests easy and within reach.
“True enough, as it always is.” Replies the steady and calm voice of a Wealder, sharing the table but certainly not the cup. They carried at their hip a flask emblazoned with the entwined symbols of Anarch and Arcadian, but their hands were simply steepled on the table before them.
“You know, I was expecting to see more heroes.” Came the musical lilt of an Andashi nomad, a refugee from Mukarrem who was taking the time in the early evening to work on a patch of Lumos.
“Ah, mon ami, you should have come on Saturday! Heroes never attend The Game Hen outside of the blessed Saturdays.” The jovial tone of a Priest of the Needle, recognisable by their prominent Stallian neck tattoo and fancy choice of clothing. Lerona Mere true as true.
“I have always wondered why it is that the general public is disallowed from attending on Saturdays. I never thought that the venue would be booked entirely for the use of our heroes. I guess I didn’t think why we never get to mingle.” Mused the Valley Graver, carving away at a wooden token of a helmet, shaping it ever so patiently into a form befitting Panoply. Looking up from their work, the Graver’s eyes squinted as they peered through the foliage towards the building of The Game Hen itself.
“Is that the Symposiarch serving drinks?”
“Haha! No, ami Graver, that is the barkeep and owner. They look much alike!”
-=-=-=-
As the evening progressed into darkness, the glow-shard lights come on and the persistent bards continue their varied tunes, the table of unlikely companions would turn their conversation towards matters more political.
“Priest of Lerona Mere, what are your thoughts on the called inquisition for the one who shares your profession? The one who tattooed the word ‘Heretic’ across the neck of the punished?” Pointedly, yet politely, asked the Wealder.
“Fantastic of you to ask, and just the person indeed. I was there for the inquisition, called and motioned rightly so by Mother Brine, I believe. They argued their defence well, and in the end they were not considered to have made a martyr, not to have broken the bounds of their duty as a Priest of the Needle, not to have done anything wrong beyond be the hand by which punishment was given. I will not bore you with the details, but it was a grand affair, one worth seeing.”
“Seemed to be a fair bump of that going around. Inquisitions, and even penance for Lord Lanval who put through plenty of motions hisself.” The Bordevarian commented, with a small amount of pride for their countryfolk hidden in their tone.
“It is good to see the responsibility of guidance toward The Divine taken so close to heart by the heroes of our Realms. Was it nine inquisitions at last Summit alone?” Replied the Graver.
“More like four, in truth. Three were directed out towards leaders of our enemies in The Principality, and three or so were for a single individual, Lyam de Rosa.” Kindly corrected the Andashi.
“Four is enough to tell me that the people who dictate our future care enough to be watchful. This is good news.” Said the Graver through a genuine smile, one that spread to a few others at the table.
“What of the exciting news? What of the investigations into Holy Sites?” Questioned the Priest of the Needle.
General cheers of excitement and speculation took hold of the table from that point, and refused to relinquish its grip for another hour at least.
-=-=-=-
“I must take my leave, as my people and caravan are moving before the moon is at its zenith. This has been a much needed time of discussion. Thank you all, and be blessed in your travels.” Smiled the Andashi nomad sadly, as the whims of the world saw fit to take them from a conversation they most certainly wished to continue. They were farewelled with all the energy of a lost family, and it would be a memory that stuck with them for many months to come.
“I apologise to once more be the one to ask a difficult question, as is the nature of my people…” The Wealder began, to the chuckles of the Graver, Bordevarian and Priest of the Needle in turn.
“What of the Church’s intentions with Artebazzan? Desiring a lack of war, and stating it clearly. I am not so immune to people’s natures as to not realise this must be difficult to hear?” The apology, already spoken, was not needed to be repeated by the Wealder.
The table was quiet, as each remaining member looked into their cup, their carving, or their hands. It was clear that each had their own thoughts, but after a few seconds all eyes drifted towards the Priest of the Needle. They were the one who all expected the first opinion on the matter to be sounded by. They were the one who would be most affected, with the Andashi already having left. They were the one who came from a people known to become volatile at the mere mention of their once-oppressors.
And this time, they just sighed.
“It upsets me, mon ami. What else is there to say?”
Game Information
The common people from across The Concord carry opinions and burdens all their own, with no thought more pressing than that of life after death. The Church, despite its penchance for stumbling, remains a firmly rooted and present aspect of everyday Concordian life, with common congregations, priests and layfolk all affected by its going ons. In particular, motions both passed and failed remain a topic of conversation, discussion, and in some cases conflict.
The reactions to the most recent set of motions has been varied, but all in all has left a primarily positive imprint on The Church’s willingness to police the safety of the soul, encouraging inquisitions and penances, beginning discussion of further Holy Sites, and even questioning the actions of those who stand in the light of The Spheres. While this brings no direct benefit to the lands, it gives the people hope and some measure of trust in the system.
But, those few other motions that speak to the broader intent of The Church and its aims leaves a sour or confused taste in the mouth of some, and a fiery anger in the mouth of others. While this similarly brings no direct negative consequence, it can still be expected that the people of The Concord will react in a variety of ways, particularly regarding The Church’s intentions regarding Artebazzan.
The Council of Six should expect information or opportunities regarding the general state of The Concord’s citizenry at the coming Summit.