A Reckoning of Steel and Blood The Lysik and Ubel Rebellions James Lysik

For Jher

With a heavy heart, I begin the composition of this document. Such, I fear, will be the first and last account of the troubles that so beset Our Sanctuary, by a man who lived and fought through them. I do not make any assertions of neutrality, or state that this account is without bias. Any claim made for such logs are most often spurious and insincere. What I can offer is the hopes and fears felt by myself, and so many others, during the dark times. As far as I doubt this account shall ever reach publication, I can but hope that by some design other than my own, this history will find its way into the hands of some prudent soul, who shall take to heart the hopes, fears and hubris of those figures from legend, and ensure the Sanctuary Below shall never again commit the folly we embarked upon.

- James R. Lysik Year 123

Part 1: Liberty amidst the Coming Darkness

Contents I: The Dominion Chained? II: The Lysik Incident III: An Interlude in Bondage IV: Ascendancy Denied

Chapter 1 { The Dominion Chained? }

It was the year 116 of Our Sanctuary. In two years, the City would be cleft asunder by the two most violent conflicts in its history, and the very nature of the society we live in would be irrevocably changed. And yet, there was a lull. For sixteen years, the Sanctuary Below had been under the sway of the Council. The time when the Lower Ward had been a savage and reckless frontier, where the greatest made abode was a distant memory from my childhood. In spite of the fiery rhetoric from Councillor Ubel upon the annexation, the populace of the City was looking forward. There was open talk of schools and hospitals, and Sheriff Dhogur spoke openly of downsizing the Watch Garrison in the Sanctuary Below. At such a time, I was a member of a social club commonly known as ‘Frederick’s Bastards’. We were primarily concerned with over-indulging in the Free Drink; however, we often dabbled in politics. Many hours were spent late into the dark, discussing the various ills of Sanctuary. Upon looking back, I have reached the conclusion that most; if not all of this burst of optimism amongst rising petty crime and tension was due to our own denial of the realities facing us. And yet, us young souls, filled with revolutionary fervour yet lacking conviction, continued to drink away our last summer as children. Amidst the calm, Councilor Albert Ubel continued to prophesise a great conflict, and the armed bands devoted to the Ascension continued to quietly gain in numbers as the storm clouds settled over the Sanctuary Below.

It was in this tumulus environment that Lysik’s Lancers began to attract opposition from the Council. Formed originally as a Mercenary band, filled with some of the more adventurous souls of the youth of the City, it increasingly drew criticism for its (perceived) blatant disregard of the safety of the City, mounting ever ambitious raids upon the slave races of the Underdark. Embodying the panache of the Lysik Lancers, Jher confounded the forces of Old Sanctuary. Handsome, irreverent and contemptuous of authority, Lysik inevitably caused enough damage to warrant censure. The Watch’s response was swift and efficient. Rounded up for trial, the Lancers were convicted of numerous counts of endangering Sanctuary, and disbanded. And that, it was assumed, was that.

Chapter 2 { The Lysik Incident }

Tarsakh 14, Year 117. I was at that moment taking lodgings in the Rock Bottom, and was awoken quite brusquely by a loud banging on my door. I arose, weary and quite hung over, to greet Kaeron Locke, an acquaintance of mine from The Bastards. He greeted me loudly, informing me with barely contained excitement of an uprising in the Lower Ward. I locked my rooms and proceeded, dressed in my nightclothes, to witness the spectacle myself. The Staircase was pandemonium. Injured Watchmen abound, with a stony-faced Sergeant Greer organizing the sealing of the staircase. I could not help but notice the barrels of alchemist’s fire lying not far from the entrance. Largely ignoring us, I managed to ascertain a few certain facts: That the Watch had been decisively driven out of the Sanctuary Below, and that my brother was at the head of the rebels. He had somehow been able to make good his victory, and lock down the stairway. What exactly occurred during that period, which would eventually be known as the ‘Ascendant Regime’, I never fully managed to discover, even from participants. It would be presumptuous, and disrespectful, to attempt to decipher the mind of my brother- he was as much an enigma to me as the others. Regardless, I will attempt to convey what occurred during the long months of the revolt in the lands above.

A week passed, and I was left alone. My days mostly contained heated debate regarding my brother’s Rebellion with my associates- by this point, Montgomery Ubel joined us regularly. The atmosphere was thin enough to slice. The streets were filled with nervous looking young men, fresh faced and ever eager to engage you in debate as you passed. Word had eventually spread of Michael Bresley’s emergency empowerment of the Sheriff, who had promptly lead a regiment of grizzled Watch veterans out into the Underdark, in a flanking moment towards the Lower Gate. Various members of the Council were incensed. I recall some of the more pompous members at the time going so far as to support Albert Ubel in his denunciation of the measures, purely as they viewed Dhogur’s emergency powers as a matter of wounded pride. Many arrests were made, seemingly without warning. The usually prudent Greer was lengthily interrogating Seekers and private citizens alike. Ivlysar, it appeared, was the only one left untouched by the random arrests.

And yet, I have yet to touch on the most prevalent and malicious threat during these dark periods. Despite the lengthy interrogations of the Watch, if you were to be detained there, one could be certain of food, drink. Despite the Sheriff’s increasingly savage attempts to breach the Lower Gate, Michael Bresley continued to use his personal sway over certain ranking members of the Watch to keep them on a tight leash. However, the ever present spectre of the Spellguard remained unchecked in it’s detention of suspected traitors. Barely two tendays after the declaration of Ascendance, they came for me.

Chapter 3 { An Interlude in Bondage }

And so, I found myself consigned in the dank dungeons of our oppressors. Having previously spent a time in the cells of the Watch, this was an utterly unique experience for me. The Watch Cells in the Sanctuary below reeked of human suffering. The stench of blood, excrement and vomit was thick there. Interrogations were often brutal, but one could anticipate what was to occur while in bondage. The Spellguard Holding Block was something else entirely. Much of my stay is clouded in my memory, and I cannot recall the interrogations with any clarity- my mind aches in the most peculiar way when I attempt such. But, to the cells. They were clean, incredibly so. The floor sparkled, and the walls were spotless. The smell of soap was evident everywhere. Such a place would, in any other circumstance, be rather pleasant. Yet, a profound sense of foreboding was around the cell, as if it had been cleaned to cleanse the very memory of the foul crimes committed inside. I have only vague memories of this time: Blank eyed men beadily regarding me, probing me. Endless questions, nonsensical and terrible. Eventually, the constant questions took a toll upon my sanity, from which I have not recovered even today. Often, fellow prisoners with cells next to my own would be taken away, and I would hear a quick scream, and then no more.

After what must have been several weeks of confinement, the foreboding sound of an Agent with Animatron escort came ever closer to my cell door. I reasoned that my time had come. Not remembering any significant portion of the questioning, I’ll confess I had thought my end was upon me. As the footsteps grew louder, any hope I had of escape was banished from my mind, and I resigned myself to death. I could only hope Jher would triumph, and I would be remembered as a decent and honest fellow. Alas, fate had not yet prescribed me the heroic death I expected. Alongside the Agent stood a Seeker, helmed and grim. Half starved, unshaven and caked in my own filth; I was dragged up by my fortunate rescuer, and escorted out of the Tower. Sometime along the route, I lost consciousness, and for what seemed like an eternity, the world was blackness.

I fear this segment must remain concise, as my memories of this period are marred by haziness, and contradictory memories. Despite this fact, the author sincerely hopes he has managed to portray the feeling, and the human degradation of being under the custody of our oppressors. Suffice to say- no other experience I had or would receive in the future, save for one that would occur within the next month.

Chapter 4 { Ascendancy Denied }

I awoke some days later, in a warm bed, in a small room, with architecture of the old Dunwarren style. A warm hearth was kept alight in the corner of the room, and in front of it sat a young, fresh faced man whom I was not acquainted with. He wore a tunic in the dark blue of the Seekers. He wore a troubled look upon his face. I reached for a glass of water, and when he saw me stir, he rose over to me, and we discussed much. His name was Derun Hayis. He will later come to prominence in this account, but for now, it will suffice to say he informed me of the situation. An unknown party had secured a writ from Mayor Bresley reducing my stay in the Spellguard Tower to arrest in Seeker custody. I never discovered which soul did such- although, I like to believe Albert Ubel had a hand in the decision. Things had taken a turn for the worse in Upper Sanctuary. Sympathisers with Jher and his rebels had all been rounded up, many of them stoned to death for actively supporting them. I was given special dispensation to watch the stonings, and daily the grim spectacles came about. I witnessed the death of no less than five of my own close associates. It pains me to say that by the end of the executions that marked the latter days of the Ascendant Regime, the Bastards were all dead, save for three of us, including myself. My days in this time were mainly spent writing fiery retorts against the Watch presence in the Sanctuary Below, and minutely going over every little titbit of information that people were able to smuggle through regarding the regime. My time in the Seeker Hall was altogether peaceful. Derun and myself talked for many hours and fast became friends. Otherwise, I spent my time indulging in fine wines and song. These times I remember even know with joy. With hindsight, it is possible to characterise them as filled with fear, or apprehension. Yet they were not. The executions and arrests proved to us that Jher was on the cusp of breaking the deadlock, and routing Dhogur. At that time, he became a popular hero of the downtrodden of Upper, with his image emblazoned upon many a wall. Alas, he remains altogether forgotten now. But I digress. These days were filled with laughter, and hope. Such fools we were.

Some weeks passed, and the Watch appeared more slack, as if resigned to defeat. How cruel I must seem, but I almost enjoyed being escorted to the executions, to see how tired and drawn the Watchmen looked. Alas, after a long night at the cups, I fell into bed with a profound sense of optimism, and the world drifted by into nothingness. I was awoken by a loud banging. A Watch Sergeant stood at my door- Proaker, known affectionately as ‘The Beast’, feared in Lower like no other, even Dhogur. It was reputed many of his bastards wandered The Sanctuary Below- those rumoured to be of his bloodline were scorned, often slain at birth, lest another Beast arise to terrorise the streets of Lower. He has a cruel smile smacked across his scarred face. He ordered me dressed, and promptly slammed the door. I heard agitated conversation behind the closed door as I dressed, and I arrived into the common room to see Proaker flanked by three Watchmen, one of them with a blooded blade. He bid me follow him, and assured an older Seeker whom I did not know I would be returned to the hall without arrest once his business with me had been concluded. The Seeker protested loudly, but allowed me to leave, departing upon the long trek, down in the Sanctuary Below.

As I departed the Seeker Hall, much had changed from when I was last allowed out into Sanctuary. The streets were filled with refugees who had erected makeshift encampments in the street, defying the earlier decrees of Sheriff Wyle. Ragged, unshaven Watchmen limped about the street, in twos and threes. The stench of human degradation was all about, assaulting ones’ nostrils with its putrid stench. I saw one of the Lancers, dressed in filthy rags and shackled. His gaze met mine, and he attempted to cry out something to me, but was promptly beaten into the ground and dragged off in the direction of the stoning cage. Ill omens were all about, and I felt at that moment a profound sense of forebodence- whether Jher had remained victorious in battle, or was utterly defeated, some great calamity had occurred in the darkness as I lay sleeping. Proaker laid a hand on my shoulder, ushering me towards the staircase, and his gauntlets left a bloody stain upon my tunic. I cried out to protest, but was quickly silenced by a sharper nudge from the end of a spear. Whether I was a hostage, or was being ushered downwards for some other end, I knew not. Instead, I followed my instructions wordlessly. The descent left me weary, yet ever onwards I was pushed. As we moved onwards into the Sanctuary Below, the truth was finally laid before my eyes. Watchmen stalked the streets in packs. I passed a small group of strong looking fellows kneeling upon the ground in a line. Four Watchmen, lead by an Agent, stood before them, brandishing Crossbows menacingly. The Agent said something I could not comprehend, and the men I assumed were rebels were peppered full of bolts. The urge to vomit suddenly was with me, yet ever onwards we marched, until the footsteps of my captors was all I heard, so desensitized to the atrocities around. Doors being smashed down, the screams of women and children inside. Men pushed up against the wall, and run through by spears, or feathered with arrows. Corpses still freely littered the ground, but some effort had been made to pile them up. However much the Watch had killed, it was clear to me even then the Sanctuary Below had not been tamed. In the darkened windows of houses, in the corners of alleyways, naked steel glistened. Beady eyes, terrible and full of unbridled passion, watched, waiting for a time to emerge from the shadows to strike once more. It was clear to me Albert’s reckoning had not yet come to pass.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, we arrived at what they had wanted me to see. Outside a Watch bunker hung a neat line of corpses, one mutilated beyond all recognition. Proaker ordered a Private to cut it down, who promptly did so. The body was held up before me. I hardly recognized it. Hair had been torn out, it was missing an eye, and all manner of small cuts had been applied to it. Yet, caked in blood as it was, only one wound appeared upon the body. Dhogur had wanted me to know it was he who had caused the fatal blow. A wide, mocking smile upon his face, Sergeant Jonas Proaker presented to me the mutilated corpse of my brother.

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