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Chapter 1 - Escape from the Underdark (http://http//www.efupw.com/old_forums/viewtopic.php?t=2005)

Chapter 2 - Escaped from the Underdark: Archipelago (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=757.0)

Chapter 3 - Escape from Undeath: Mistlocke (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=37899)

Chapter 4 - Escape from Uncertainty: Revelations (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=63722.0)

Chapter 5 - EFU: City of Rings (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=690985.0)

::Iyar 13th, IY 7787::

QuoteThe wind whirls, the sands scour. To the backdrop of beleaguered refugees wandering into Ephia's Well we hear of ancient things finding themselves upturned  and rumors of a Cup, hidden amidst the wastes, waiting to be found. Weary as you may yet be: rest as in your home here, strangers. Live and drink.

::[ lyar 15th, IY 7787]::

All the Well is abuzz with news that an infamous drug-addled bandit was finally to be brought to the Halls of Jurisprudence to face the first public trial of the new year.   

Legate John Syter sat and presided over the procedures, which progressed smoothly.   The State's Counsel, one Halina - selected in a bold move by the Legate from the crowd and assisted by the Jannissary - contended with Advocate Shane Gallows of the Scribes over the fate of the infamous Gutter Banshee. 

It seemed clear that the bandit was not of clear mind, but a glaring typographical error in the extant books of law printed for Voiceless resulted in the charges being dropped on a technicality. 

The IVth come away grumbling, determined next time to get their sentence.  The people come away unhappy, feeling justice was lost amidst the quagmires of the writ of law... and the criminal comes away displeased, her contraband forfeited to the Assembly. 

So it goes.

Iyar 18th, IY 7787

Not quite high drama from the Assembly meeting, but not uninteresting either. Several motions passed the Hall. First, a nebulous bounty was agreed to resolve the present problem with banditry..

Then, in pique of scandelous energy, Aubrey Domergue of the White League all but accused the sitting Legates of conspiring against the missing former Legate Constantine Diakos. She was escourted from the Assembly Hall by one al-Sid of the Janissaries..

Finally, owing to the last minute intervention of Shane Gallows (is he a Scribe, or a Journalist? None can be certain...) a reward for the discovery of Diakos was raised into the ultimate prize for the destitute: a Voice. Citizenship of Ephia's Well.

Suddenly, all talk of is the missing former Legate. None, however, seem to have any concrete information as to his whereabouts. Certainly not those in the League of White...

::[Iyar 20th, IY 7787]::

In the Krak des Roses, the men and women of the Cinquefoil Rose took the evening out from their duties to drink and toast their fallen brethren.  For today, Iyar 20th, IY 7787 is the 10th such day to pass since the bloody siege of the Well.

The Wilting of the Rose, they call this anniversary.  Tales of the departed were shared in good order, and as the wine began to flow the Balladeers and Banda became belligerent.  In the midst of recounting the end of the siege,  there was griping of how their final promised prize - the Well - was stolen from them.  Before the grumbling turned to a riot, Grandmaster Elizabetha d'Auvergne made an appearance.  Quieting her men, she plucked a single rose from the buds of the Krak and made her way to the base of the Pyramid. 

There, with a quiet word of remembrance and a flick of the wrist, she cast one Rose in honor of the fallen.  Not long after, another was thrown.  And another, and another, and another.  Piling petals beneath the palace, the refugees honored the dead.

...Though ill at ease, the Janissary did naught to stop the ritual.  Not this time. 

::[Iyar 22nd, IY 7787]::


Just before nightfall, as the sun set on the dunes of Ash, there came an announcement from the Eagle's Mount.  Wizards, astrologians, wise men and sages were invited from the Well to attend a contest of rhetoric. 

When the debates concluded, three citizens of the Citadel left the Mount in robes of shining azure.  Three new Nadiri of the Astronomer's of Q'tolip.

As to what prompted this invitation to the previously esoteric order, rumors abound... perhaps the Shade wavers, perhaps Q'tolip and his advisors are seeking successors, or perhaps they mean to act on the late sightings of a shadowy djinn loose in the Well...

Time will tell. 

::[Iyar 22nd, IY 7787]::

The former Legate of the League of White, Constantine Diakos, has returned to Ephia's Well after a prolonged absence thanks to the investigations of a band of dogged and dedicated White Leaguers. He was rescued, according to reports, from a group of bandits.

After arriving at the Well, he was greeted by the Assembly and the gathered masses, and then taken into the Chamber of Rule for a lengthy - and private - discussion.

It is whispered that the former Legate had been missing for some time, "away on business".

::[Iyar 23nd, IY 7787]::

A speech to mark the return of Constantine Diakos to the Well was derailed this night.  The former Legate appeared to the people, to tell them of his absence. He appeared wounded, only just recovered from whatever hardship he suffered.

It began to go wrong when a member of the public threw a piece of hardened camel dung at the former Legate. The Legate, winded, retreated from the scene.

None are certain what precisely followed thereafter, by an air of general recrimination filled the air, White turned upon White, and the Golds and Purples in the peripheries baying them on.

A shameful day for the nascent democracy of Ephia's Well.

::[Iyar 23nd, IY 7787]::

Former-Scribe Shane Gallows has been convicted of engaging in capital fraud and exiled from the Well. The twenty-third of Iyar has turned out to be an incredible day, coupled as it was with the return and defenestration of Constantie Diakos.

Rumors rage about the particulars of how Gallows came to the attention of the Janissaries and how he came to the Hall of Jurisprudence to face his charges. By most accounts, the Janissaries sought him and he either fled to the wastes, or was already in the wastes on some business. In any case, the Janissaries commanded his capture and one of the Legates, Azadeh Zarat of the Purples, even made a public plea for the wayward Voiced to return.

Return Gallows did, through the Krak des  Roses. There, it is said that he was publicly extorted by one of the Condottiero and other members of the Banda Rossa, who would not let a man with a bounty pass without paying a hefty toll. Many murmur about the propriety of such an act, but the Rossa seem entirely unperturbed. Their newly-full larders and fine casks of liquor almost certainly help ease their consciences.

A dramatic trial was held. Gallows was accused, primarily, of Theft by fraud of over nine-thousand dinar in license fees. Rather than ask for a customary donation, or bribe, it seems that Gallows had mislead applicants as to the actual cost of the licenses and then took additional bribes on top of that. Ellanher De Veend represented the Well as Counsel, while the defense was initially handled by Benjin Lamire. After some dispute--some say spar--between Gallows and Lamire, Gallows took over his own defense and made a passionate speech at the Closing Oration of the Accused.

It was a long affair, but the result was quickly reached. Gallows was declared guilty of the acts of Theft, but his life was spared. He has been sent into Exile: Let no man  or woman of the Well give him aid or succor.

::[Iyar 28th, IY 7787]::

Trial after Trial.  Tribulation after Tribulation.

After a lengthy investigation involving diligent work by the Janissaries, and  by dint of the wizardries of the Astronomers, the people of Ephia's Well can sleep a little more easily tonight.   The terrible creature of wind and shadow that had been invited into the Citadel has now been banished... vanishing with the death of Skaldorr Merizad,.  The prominent Voiced and leader of the Merizad familia was accused of the sinister crime of Brooking - the conjuring of the the ineffable terrors known as the Djinn.  Though he protested his innocence, he was condemned by traitors in his ranks, by the sciences of the Astronomers, by the investigations of the Janissary, and finally by the word of Legate John Syter.

As is customary for Voiced condemned, the dwarf was cast into the arena and fed to the Lions of Orentes.  They made a meal of him, even as the baked clay and sand seemed to mock their former master, and the wind howled its cruel victory. 

The earth is quiet.  The sky is at peace.  The moon is full tonight, and all is becalmed.

Until tomorrow... 

Hustle and bustle abound!

An announcement has come down from the Assembly and the sitting Legates that there is to be a celebratory day of games held in Ephia's Well.  These trials of athleticism and skill have been dubbed by the commons as The Palette Games  so named for the Three Leagues of the Well, each of which is expected to sponsor a team. 

The eyes of the Assembly, of the Voiced, of the Voiceless and more shall be upon these games.  It's whispered that the Sultan himself may deign to attend, though this is of course precluding any more pressing business of empire. 

Exciting days lay ahead!

::{Hziran 13th IY 7787]::

Flying in the face of sinister auspexes in the skies and rumors of strife, and heedless of rumored leads found by the Rose in their eternal quest for the cup, the Palette Games proceeded today.  The morning was rang in by the arrival of three speedy sky-skippers from the great city of Baz'eel, each carrying one of the three daughters of the Sultan. 

A great throng of men flocked to the Eagle's Mount to welcome Princesses Faziima, Hasheema, and Shaimela of the Maribid dynasty to Ephia's Well.  After the due obeisance was paid to the Wheel, the masses made their way in a mighty procession to the Stadium.

And the Games began!

There was sorcery, there was astrology, there was the clashing of blades! Purple, Gold, and White all locked in fierce contest.  And by the end of the day there were only two left standing.  Marriet Fairweather, dubbed the Madsword by the crowds, and Atreus the Strong, the contenders for the Purple and the Gold, fought there in the sand for what felt like a day and another.  The sun traced a great arc across the sky before the two combatants were exhausted, and in the end both were named the champions of the games. 

Few will forget the sight of Atreus lifting the halfling onto his shoulders, both toasting their victory with the Warrior's own pride.   

::[Hziran 25, IY 7787]::

As promised, the storm came at last. It almost wasn't noticable at first. Absence over presence. Like a haze, settling into the air. Those at high vantage points noticed it first. Occlusion upon the horizon. In the Canyons, south towards the Rampart. In the great lands of the Sultanate. Also over winding Edutu, that life-giving river, and towards glowering Qa'im in the far west.

The Shade, the great vouchsafe of the safety of the Well, roared into life. Until there was a crack, and for a brief moment it faltered.

The Melek came streaming in towards the twin Gates of Ephia's Well. The battle was breif but bloody. A few dead in the throng, the Shade repaired.

An Assembly where accusations of Sabotage and Treason were traded freely, finally settled upon the Legates. Weapons were drawn, forcing Sorazin Bey of the Fourth Legion to restore order.

What followed remains uncertain. Some say that partisans of the Wyrm snuck into the Pyramid, others that a traitor from within the highest ranks of government struck - all that is certain is that the beloved Legate John Syter lies dead, murdered in the Chamber of Rule.

Constantine Diakos is close to joining him. Of Legate Zarat, nothing has been heard or spoken, and it is rumoured that she has fled the Well for it were she that bore the knife.

The storm rages on.

::[Hziran 27, IY 7787]::

Murder and a terrible curse, the Well has been shaken to her very foundations this day.  Led by none other than the traitorous Ex-Legate Constantine Diakos, the Bashmu-kar: a cult of exiles devoted to worship of the Wyrm, seized the Palatial Pyramid.

Wielding his emergency powers over the Stele of Law, and proclaiming he acted out of vengeance for the Orentid Queen, Ibtihal, Diakos has cursed the very soil of Ephia's Well by declaring Bashmu, the Wyrm, as its sovereign.

The ash storm has abated and the cultists destroyed, Diakos fled into the night and Zarat still missing.  Emerging from the storm at the pivotal hour is the great floating Terrace that now hangs above the Citadel.  Sending down his Water-bearers, Sultan Osman of Baz'eel has arrived to right the wrongs done by traitors in our midst.

While B'aara's faithful chant over the Stele, whirling ouroboros clouds turn end over end overhead.  Snakes rise from the waters, and people can feel the curse like a venom in their blood...

Time will tell how long this wretched malaise will last. 

::[Tammuz 21, IY 7787]::

The intervening month since the cursing of the Well has been so fraught with news that the scribes and heralds have until this day found themselves distraught with delays!

An election has been held, and though the race was hard fought (and not without scandal) Ephia's Well has its first legate - the Stonefolk Sol Auk, heir apparent to the legacy of the late John Syter now holds court as the solitary Legate over all the Citadel.

As he dons his new trappings and adjusts to his duties, it is rumored that the failings of his predecessors have led the Sultan to take certain measures against such tragedies as befell them.

Indeed, though His Opulent Majesties royal skiff did depart from the floating gardens above the Well... the Sublime Residence still hangs overhead.  The geomancers still sing from its parapets.   It seems it shall become a permanent fixture of the city.  A promise to the loyal.
A reminder to the seditious. 

Heavy hangs the crown. 

::[Maribeh 1st, IY 7787]::

The Steele of law flexes with new engravings and etchings over taking the disastrous workings of the Wyrm..., but perhaps they are traded for another. As Legate Sol Auk takes power and station, The Sabotage, Gellema, finds purchase to replace it.

After what seems an extreme and trying test of the legal systems in place, by will of the voiced, a temporary legate of purple, Rashid al-Rashid, is appointed. The same owner of what once was Ibram's Fine Leather Products and Cobbler, meets concerns with what you might expect of a well learned and well opinionated Ashfolk Store owner.

Matters of licenses, who may and not find themselves elected, and who may even hand out licenses seem to rotate through the doors of the Palatial Pyramid as though something halted them from completing. Seemingly the reasons these fail to pass and find mass approval goes missing...

Elsewhere, secretive letters and busy hands move hidden information and plans about the well with a great deal of speed and accuracy. It seems obvious something is happening, but exactly what remains a mystery to most.

::[Maribeh 9, IY 7787]::

Fleeting policies and outlandish proclamations flood the office of announcements. Drowning out what seems to be a mundane and calm period of time with scandal and strangely forward admission. Even the street beggar catches wind of a plot to sack Qadira.

However, actions forthcoming and secrecy illuminated do not at all relate to this. Instead, it is eventually made public that a military injunction was poised to deal with a risk of control over the Osmani Canal. This, secrecy, to the distain of many organizations of the well and their members.

Quote from: Wastewide Sending by Sgt Rennik ColmesThis is Sergeant Colmes speaking. Earlier this week, it was brought to the attention of the Fourth Legion that the Thousand Clans were planning a hostile takeover of the Osmani Canal. War machines, siege engines, foul works of sorcery and alchemy, all t'be brought t'bear against our people.

The combined forces of the Fourth Legion, the Banda Rossa and the Sisterhood of the Sibylline Vine put aside their differences to delve deep into the underground network of these howling orcs and bring an end to their workings, ensuring the continued safety of Ephia's Well. They are t'be applauded

Should the Legates seek a more thorough debriefing, I can be found within the Garrison fer a time. Live and drink.

Upon the Steele, Warad sits by vote of the voiced that Sol Auk take action. And word of this and, many things, spread quickly.

::[Maribeh 25, IY 7787]::

The messenger Warad brought swiftly warnings of utmost danger and curse to those that would listen. Of agents working ever against stability just beyond.

The capture of Twindari Shahlil came just so swift. Backroom promises and deals perhaps saw no bounty claimed for their capture or otherwise, but them walking bravely to their own trial.

It is unknown if they would have, had the verdict and sentencing been given prior. To die by Ash Storm, and suffer crucified in place. It was crudely done however, and with haste.

As Shahlil suffered the storm of ash, the post sundered and broke, as all others fled into the shroud for safety. Easy come, easy go.


In temples and shrines of Kula a devastated figure, haunted by something mostly unseen, drifts from location to location in panic. Mummers of a painted one, and an exiled Once-Sister of the Priory spread like wildfire.

The exacts even now are hazy. Some trappings of brooking, but the honest facts lost. Regardless, some large cobalt coated and iron jar is spoken to have been thrust into the crater of Hufaidh.

Not all that walked the path to  save the woman returned, and rumors yet of what even happened are more confusing than the event that lead up to it.


The election for the empty Legate Seat has begun, The Warrior, Agaslakku upon the Steele. Battle has already begun in back rooms and upon the desert sands. It is yet to be seen if the quick rotation of devotion is appreciated, as the turning of the wheel, or something to bring the ill temper of Agaslakku onto the heads of those that might taunt them.

Tabbah 18, IY 7787 - A Crisis is Ascertained

For the last weeks rumours have swung around the well, passing from mouth to mouth. Shared in Coffee Houses, through mizzar smoke, in the quiet cloisters of the Temples.

Hushed talk, unguarded, spread the knowledge across the Plaza, so that by the moment that it was discussed in the Assembly, the vastness of the crisis was already known.

A great caravan of refugees is in the Waste.

The expedition of Lieutenant Colmes returned aboard the ashsail True Believer, with haunted eyes and sunken features. A day later, a grim and confusing proclamation was made.
The refugees were coming to the Well. And they claim to hold the fabled Chalice in their possession. The very Cup of B'aara.

The Dakhwar.

To even say it aloud seems bizarre, outlandish, surreal. A folk-tale manifest upon the bellows.

Almost immediately can be witnessed an upsurge in acts of faith. Street-preachers speak in terms not seen for ten years, or more.  Of the promised renewal of the world, and the Pilgrim that shall wield the Cup.

The educated scoff in public, affecting languid disinterest. In the Krak des Roses, the Balladeers of the Lost Hearth dare to hope.

Further strange tidings to those of the Outer Rings - a resurgent Sibilant Empire fields an army somewhere out in the Wastes. It is said they threaten the caravan, a few weeks march away.  More remarkably still, it is said they are laid by Constantine Diakos, the great traitor Legate.

Amidst such chaos, tired powers yawn, stretch, and ready themselves for the tumult to come.

Tabbah 25, IY 7787

Sweltering Tabbah wanes. So much dust is in the air, occluding the eyes. Politics, as ever, rages wanton - little care for the comings and goings of fate.

This is baser stuff. Ambition, desire. The very need of it. In the dark corners of the Krak, across the Plaza, ensconsed within the Pyramid itself..

Above the Citadel, the Ecstatic Terrace hangs in the sky. Marvel among marvels. A slice of Baz'eel, suspended miraculously in the air.

From that Palace the voice of the Princess Faziima is carried upon the winds..

"People of the Well, most beloved Satrapy. First among the territories, and vouchsafe of our strength. Hear me!

Ten years ago, we were delivered into tumult. The Great Rings, which held a whole world within them, fell. Broke apart. Ruin followed thereafter.

Great numbers came screaming across the Wastes. Traumatized, harrowed. In great numbers they came, convoys without hope. Gates were closed. Inns were shuttered. Potentates and the humble alike turned their eyes away from them, from you.

All save here, save for the Well of Ephia.

The great quality of the Mother is Mercy, good people. She is gentle. She is kind. She uplifts the weak and the wretched, and says - 'drink then of my tears.' Ten years you have endured here. You have grown, come to call each other neighbour. You have made of this place a Citadel.

Baz'eel does not sleep. Where the Well groans, she hears. When the Well is imperilled, Baz'eel draws her sword, which shines. She hath noticed this caravan in the Waste. She has heard tell of their promises, of their faith, of what they purport to carry with them. And in such numbers..

Baz'eel has resolved to act.

This convoy, this caravan is a threat that imperils not merely you, Ephia's Well. Nor merely Baz'eel. It promises to overturn the fragile peace we here in the Great Ash Desert have wrought since the Ringfall.

My father, o! He, so glorious - of great wisdom, subtlety of thought. Heir to the White Spear, and rightful suzerain of the whole Great Ash - has instructed me to invoke a right not used in an age, or longer. We have summoned the powers to Congress.

At the Pass of Kardesler, in a week hence, shall we meet, we powers of the Great Ash. There to discourse upon this crisis, and settle upon a resolution most swift.

As is ancient rite, this gathering is open to all subjects. As was demanded by Izdu, when he appeared to the Prophet Salhin in his dreams. Let it never be said that the Sublime Garden does not uphold the old ways.

One week hence, at old Kardesler. There we shall settle this, and act as one - such as it was in the time of the Great Caliphs al-Maribid. Praise the Mother! Praise Izdu, and his friend Warad. The Wheel turns. Glory to Baz'eel."

Illul 1st, IY 7787

Report arrives from beyond the Valley of Wisdom where the great powers of the desert gathered at an ancient site. Reposed in the Canyon of Kardesler, a structure of ancient days. Where the Caliphs once held court over their satrapies and dominions. Where voices argued, proclaimed, denounced, debated, commanded, and resolved.

Silent for a long age. Cracked and ancient. A crumbled throne with seats about the dais.

For Baz'eel came Princess Hasheema at the command of the Sultan, his youngest daughter, driven and fair, of renowned compassion and charity.

For Qadira-on-the-Sea came the Maharaja Ravindra Namahedu, resplendent in his plundered glory and flanked by his Raja Guard, bearing tigers' coats.

For Kha'esh came its great and terrible Vizier, Azarmidokht the Golden, archmagister of immense repute and power. Shaming, by his arrival among them, the Exiles of Q'tolip.

For Ephia's Well came the Legate Marcellus Saenus, recently appointed to the seat won by the League of Purple after the terrible assassination of Legate Zaniah Amirah, and the interim-Legate Rashid al-Rashid.

All was set for the Congress. Yet one other power was to arrive: Iron Men and Saints ascended the stairs, armor wrought of fine and heavy steel, helms bearing the immaculately crafted face of a man. All the face of the same man. They were silent. They marched in unison. As one.

For Qa'im came this strange and terrible delegation. Bearing a curious granite box.

The Congress began. All the powers sought of Ephia's Well the answer to the question of what came through the desert to meet them. Words were spoken of the Tonsure, of the refugees, of their claim to have recovered the Dakhwar, of Ibthial, of Constantine Diakos, of the Sibilant horde he leads, of the Thousand Clans that are said to march also.

Principled positions of Lieutenant Rennik Colmes of the Fourth Legion, Lyrist Lynneth Lynwarch, and Torchbearer Sephidra Niridhe were stated. It is said in hushed tones that the Fourth Legion would have cursed the refugees to die at the hands of the Sibilant. It is said the Rose would have risked flights of fancy and heroism to charge forth and slay dragons. It is said of the Torchbearers that all the Well should open its gates to an untested throng.

And dread Qa'im. By terrible artifice spoke without speaking four words that silenced, for a brief respite, the gathered Congress: "Give them to Qa'im."

The positions of the speakers for the Well were cast and recast, bickering ensued, and all principle and reason was swiftly overwhelmed by horror, disdain, argument! Sound and fury reigned over what was to be done.

And at this moment of chaos, when the Congress was near to disbanding, that at a whispered plea the Legate Marcellus Seanus rose to speak again. An old man, Izdur, he had given a long-winded tutor's speech to commence the proceedings. But now he spoke with the vim and vigor of a younger man.

With a thunderous voice and a doddering hand he demanded of the Ephians! Would Ephia's Well abandon the refugees, in dire need, to the hands of a sibilant horde? Would Ephia's Well permit the traitor Diakos to threaten her again?

And with tears in the eyes of some, the response to his fiery words was the swift chorus of an answer: NO.

The Well is pledged to ride forth and meet the Sibilant horde. Kha'esh has pledged a squadron of mages. Qadira has pledged... warships? And perhaps, sundry goods to provision these thousands in their new home. At what cost, one wonders?

But that is a question for another day. The bells toll out a call to arms. The Banda Rossa sharpens their swords; their Grandmaster shall surely order them out. The Balladeers compose their storied songs. The Sisters their hymns and poetry. The Fourth Legion seeks about the armory and prepares as only a Legion can to muster. The Astronomers, disdained as followers of the Exile at the Congress, retreat to their tower... but shouts of support were heard among their number also.

An incredible thing wrought by an unlikely man. For now, in one brief moment, the Well is united.

Illul 30–31, IY 7787

The road from Kardesler led inevitably to one destination: War. And what a terrible thing it was.

Over the past month, the Well spent its time in a fitful struggle to prepare itself for the conflict. The very conventions of Asterabidian governance were put to the test as the Legates sought to push the unruly members of the accord to cooperate. And of the Legates, indeed, much can be said.

Legate Qari Alriyh, who was not in office at the time of the great meeting at Kardesler, played little to no role in the preparations. For his silence he is now equally derided as a wallflower and a coward, who did little to muster the Well to the great task. Though in truth, with the benefit of hindsight, there are those who think he emerged the wiser.

Legate Marcellus Saenus, the aged Izdur who had rallied the disparate peoples of the sands and the Well, took to the task of preparing the Well with the energy of a much younger man. He held councils, pushed the Accord to prepare, and did his utmost with limited resources to make an unwarlike people ready to face the sibilant. In the end, he took the field directly, and commanded the battle. For all his work, for good or ill, this was to be remembered as Marcellus' war.
 
 ~----~

The great host departed the Well on Illul 30th, IY 7787. The Janissaries in their legion, the Astronomers with great arcane preparations made, and the Cinquefoil Rose amid clattering swords and storied songs.

Through ash and ruin they trudged toward the battlefield-to-be. A sundered ringwall passed. On a blasted hill the Well's army met a caravan wounded and reduced by repeated sibiliant attack. On their last legs, thousands reduced to hundreds, the Tonsure parlayed. A great man of inhuman stature, half again as tall as an ordinary man, he listened in silence as bandied words were joined between the Legate, the people of the Well, and the ruins of his court. When he could bear it no longer, he spoke again: "ENOUGH." And the Tonsure made a promise. If his people were saved, if the Well would fight, then he would give them that storied thing he carried: "DAKHWAR."

The very word, resounding in the ruins, brought all to silence.

And march they did. Diplomacy, a brief attempt to come to terms with Constantine Diakos, was a non-starter. The sibilant demanded surrender and enslavement; the Well rebuffed them. And both sides marshaled to battle.

Upon the western flank, in a series of trenches, the Fourth Legion took up arms. Jannisaries freshly minted, led by Sergeants, made ready their positions upon an ancient battlefield.

Upon the center, atop a great hill, a scant few Astronomers and great many of the people of the Well prepared to defend a great ritual. Much had been whispered about their preparations and they had brought a device of strange power with them, fueled by baubilium.

Upon the eastern flank, within a long-dead forest, the Cinquefoil Rose hung their banners and chanted a mighty war-song. Six of the Banda Rossa, Four of the Balladeers, and one of the Sibylline are said to have made their stand there.

Even farther east, Battlemages from Kha'esh would hold against dragons and wyverns in the mountains. Their terrible Vizier resplendent in his power.

The Thousand Clans, who had died in droves to offer of alliance to the Well, rejected a painted banner of a groknak skull as inadequate to the real article. A single rider paraded their own, mocking banner, and left the Well-folk to fight their war alone.

Qadira's promised fleet of ships was nowhere to be seen. There was no water for them to sail upon, in any case, and more than a few imagined the Maharaja laughing from his piratical court.

 ~----~

The odds were great. Sibilant banners upon the hills in three great formations. Flying columns of land-bound lizardriders and flying wyvrens with sibilant knights readied to put every one of them to the sword. Marcellus, in command from the rear, watched on as the battle lines took form. The Torchbearers his runners and scouts upon the field, his eyes, and what they would come to see!

The Janissaries fought as only a legion can. Keeping to the trenches, slogging in the ash turned to quagmire by the blood of dying man and lizard both, they held as long as they could. The lizards came in numbers, commanded by a shadowed monstrosity: General Sllyssyr the Gaoler. And at last the Janissaries were forced back from their western trenches, rallying to the great hill upon the center.

The Rose kept the ragged edge of their position on the dead forest firm. Raging against their foe, which came upon the ruins of a barricade en masse, and with shadowed strikes from the flanks, Banda Rossa steel stood with Balladeer heroism and Sibylline vision to keep that front from collapsing. Only when the Sibilant focused forces that were originally on the west, General Sllyssyr joining the sorcerer-General Shr the Glorious in massed assault against the battlements, did a Cinquefoil champion fall and their lines at last break. The Rose, too, retreated and rallied to the great hill upon the center.

Of the center little can be said but the tumult was terrible. A great open field, a killing ground, where the lizards used their advantage of numbers to terrible effect. Fifteen or more had died by the time the Janissaries rallied and joined that fray, and another ten were gone by the time the Cinquefoil did the same. All the Well assembled for one great, last stand against their bloodied foe.

In this moment, the Astronomers called down that red star. A thing of blood and horror descended upon the world, scattering tonnes of ruin from the Well to the desert and to the battlefield. The scene glowed red and the lizards died in droves as the Sibilant drums beat the call to charge.

General Sha-Trol, of the Profane Union, a three headed monstrosity ten times the height of a mortal man, took the field alongside Shr and Sllssyr. The survivors of the Well routed, rallied, routed again, rallied again, and died upon a field in a dozen little wars that can hardly be imagined for their ferocity. All was chaos. Heroes died. Kha'esh descended and rained fire upon the lizard and the battlefield. And for all the blood, all the carnage, the tide turned. The sibilant generals, slain.

The battle was won on a knife's edge. There was no remaining fight to be had. Crying "FOR THE SHAME", great men in the image of the Tonsure's own stature walked forward through the routing lines of the sibilant. Their aims were inscrutable. They spoke little of their purpose. It is said they came for a dozen things, but their eyes were fixed, implacably upon the court of the Tonsure.

Yet, whatever they wished, these mysterious men would not have it. The Tonsure was gone from his holdfast. Only his court and his refugees remained. They would go to the Well. To the outskirts. Before the Gate of Roses in their throngs. The Well would keep its promise.

The army marched home, heroes, but with a victory purchased at a terrible price.

 ~----~

A great red wound has been dealt to the world. Celestial rock descended upon the shade and shattered it. Though it is now restored, ash poured through in gouts and has buried much of the Well. The Astronomers are half-reviled, half-feared for what they have done. The architect of this horror, Mae Stern, is derided as "Meteor Mae" by some, called a mass-murderer by others, and a shortsighted fool by most.

The Cinquefoil Rose and Janissaries alike lick their wounds; the Banda Rossa's entire contingent, slain, while the Balladeers' Lyrist Lynneth Lywarch died a hero in her last stand upon the central hill. They have both been cut to the quick.

The Third Legion was forced to rally to the Well itself and fight off an attack. Already, there is discord between the cavalry of the "Fighting Third" and the Fourth.

The Well now looks to rebuild. To dig out from this tragedy.

But what to make of that red star?

And what to make of dread Qa'im?

And where is the Tonsure and his storied Cup?

The Wheel turns on.

Maps of the battlefield are on display in the Krak des Roses courtesy of the Balladeers. One Narwen Alendiel, a veteran of the conflict, is said to have prepared them.

First, the course that the army took into the ashen wastes:

(https://i.imgur.com/hwNotrm.jpg)


Second, the battlefield itself and the disposition of the forces of both sides:

(https://i.imgur.com/Q4Ddc0k.jpg)

Tesrin Hray 13th, IY 7787,

The month of Tesrin Hray was a bitter one. Following the many losses of those that ranged beyond the Wastes to the broken fortress and at last to a man upon the Red Hill still have their songs sang and prose recounted. The toil and the effects of the devastation and turnabout in the ranks and order of the Accord are still yet felt even as new leaders and shapers make names for themselves.

Tested mettle is ironed out as War Legate Marcellus Saenus continues his tenure. Out doing his would be rivals despite numerous outrage and scandal to how the war effort was handled, and worse yet, whispers of possible actions by Qa'im. How muted and muddled the results of this conflict could be a sign of proper recovery efforts, or a waning interest by the public. Regardless, outspoken followers of the White League still decry certain atrocities committed.


Following suit, various uncertainties and potential calamities unfolded in the interest of certain knowledge. The Torchbearers, a group of loosely affiliated explorers, adventurers, graverobbers, or outright sociopaths depending upon whom you ask, become word of contention and rumor frequently as misfortune and ancient evils seem to spring from all matter of traps they spring.

The Beast, The Blood Horror unleashed from the Vault, "The Centuries of Thirst". Such things are posed to them as foolish and risky endeavors released for but crumbs of knowledge hoarded. And to what use of the Well? Many of these plights are seemingly alleviated due to the efforts of the Acord, but who can truly be certain?


In the lower drenches and dust and ruin filled underbelly of the City, a war hero is cut down by a former soldier of the Sultan's Fourth Legion Janissary. Sergeant Joachim Sathuul is whispered to have lost their life in pursuit of Leander Nifkil, the Throater, as some have come to call them for their method and means to find victims. Some whispered panic and considerable blame for any and all death and dismay begin to circulate as possible victims of this rogue.

Most recent upon the air and in conversation is the election of Legate to replace the absent Legate Qari Alriyh. While a much calmer election than past. Each League has made their showing and a new Legate will be in offices to navigate the end of Tersin Hray.

::[Kanon Hray 21st, IY 7787]::

At a time when doors are opened to all guests, certain public relations with foreign entities are strained and flexed as required of them. Conflicts swirl with Ephia's Well being caught between much of it. Legate Domhnall Guivarch of the White League is elected and jointly with incumbent Legate Marcellus Saenus of Purple, do they navigate much of the difficulties of their stations to mixed results and various disagreements:

QuoteKanon Hray 15th, IY 7787. The events of yesterday linger heavily in the minds of those involved, not yet fading from vision, yet somehow muggy, soft-edged. A dream. From the mercenary band's arrival and demand of Hephaestus of Banafsi ...

... to the discovery of an active Qa'immi drone within the Well's walls, apparently broadcasting logistical information to the enemy, and the following execution of the infamous priestess Mari Blacke.

A haze that only when observed directly, truly comes into view. There is worry amongst the citizens of the Well, of the growing number of threats beyond the borders, and within them.

Iakmes, and the Thousand Clans preparing for war. Diakos, and his Broken Host performing profane rights throughout the desert. The Archon of Banafsi, and the Pretender King Hephaestus, given succor in the Well.

And above it all, a spiders web of intrigue, of worry, of panic. Qa'im. Their arm is long, their influence seen by many in every machination, in every threat.

On a somewhat better note, Il Modo has opened routes of communications with diplomats of Ephia's Well, and generously, other notable members of the accord for talks. While some small mishap is rumored to have occurred over eel oil, nothing insurmountably negative has seemed to have taken place. Other small words whisper of dangers afforded to these new dealings and certain hushed and sensitive information. People missing, murdered, and secrets locked:

QuoteAnd then came excitement, focused on the Diplomatic Delegation sent to Il Modo, led by both Legates Marcellus and Domhnall. They were gone for some time, returning after their long journey with reports of them looking a mixture of tired, confused, and even some say - fearful.

Full details of the situation are not known by many outside of the Pyramid, with only scattered whispers of their encounters and of the wonders of Il Modo.

Accord sanctioned assaults on Iakmes' camps continue, though no full mobilisation of forces has, or perhaps ever will be, approved by the current administration. Though the orc chief seems content enough to stay within the lands of the Rampart...

... many speak with worry about the Thousand Clans and their next move.

Sightings of Sibilant forces, and of Diakos himself, seem to grow. Though many believe them simply to be misunderstood rumour, flights of fancy, or simple lies. However, again in recent days serpentine shapes have been seen, formed of crimson-green smoke, within the ash clouds.

And throughout it all, the click-clack, tick-tock of Qa'immi sightings are whispered most fearfully in the days following the revelation of what many are scared is a very large, and very sophisticated network of spies within the Well...

... while others consider these rumours to be nothing more than ignorance, turned to fear, turned to panic... threatening instability, if those grim feelings turn further, into violence.

QuoteKanon Hray 18th, IY 7787. A day of confusion, of bloodshed, and the rattling of sabres. The disappearance of two high profile citizens of the Well, who both incidentally shared the same office... Recluta 'Boots' and People's Magistrate 'Squeev', the latter of which it is said was found...

..though found beaten and bloody, in the Gutters. The Janissary scramble to investigate. Boots, however, is yet to be found. The Banda Rossa grow more and more concerned..

The arrival of strange dignitaries from Baz'eel, the whispers of a murdered clockmaker, the Well seems as a dry tinder in the wake of the death of Mari Blacke, awaiting a spark...

Another election stirs and the unrest and chance to seize power, for better or worse, breaks much complacencies the voiceless could otherwise indulge. Justice for Mro Po and fireworks filled the skies of Ephia's Well before an emergency session was held. Janissary injustices, Licensing, and the roles and complications of the Accord ever at the present:

QuoteInteresting times are surely ahead for Ephia's Well; rumors spread that an election is soon to begin for the seat currently held by Legate Marcellus Saenus. Prospective candidates flock to their Leagues and supporters, eager to curry the favor of both their patrons and the masses, beginning a five-day primary.

And so it begins

The announcement does not come as a surprise, but regardless the Leagues are a sudden flurry of activity. Officials, attache, voters, deal-makers, influential members large and small take to the streets...

The fight for the Second Seat, currently held by Legate Marcellus Saenus, is said to likely be a great battle. Though no League are yet to pick their official candidates, the streets have been awash with rumour in weeks past...

19th of Kanon Hray. The Time when All Doors are Opened, so the auspices for the month go. Yet so many cry out that they have been barred. That the business of governance happens behind lock and key. That their Voices are not heard. Ad hoc assemblies have been called that end in discontent.

In this time of uncertainty and great promise, there is still a lingering feeling of concern... these past few weeks have been fraught with danger, within and without. Murders, trials, riots. Diplomatic missions... what platform will the Candidates pick to fight upon?

Individuals of each league bustle to their halls, where candidates and constituents shuffle themselves behind closed doors. The Voiced are eager to hear the campaigns of their candidates, and the Well lights up with activity.

Already the first candidates have taken their petitions. Of Marcellus, the sitting Legate. Of Eamon, an up and comer of the League of Gold. Of the League of White, none yet step up. Who will rise to the occasion..?

The first evening of the Primaries rolls on, the League offices awash with petitioners, and lively discussion and debate, at least amongst the Leagues of Gold and White. The League of Purple office is remarkably quiet...

Quote from: Legate Domhnall GuivarchWe greet warmly the new season of elections and celebrate the liberties afforded to the Voiced of the Well. In these great days of debate, deliberation, and excitement, let us not forget the dispossessed, the Voiceless masses who teem in great throngs in this, our home.

For liberty is merely privilege extended unless enjoyed by one and all, and the system of popular government we enjoy belongs to everyone, not merely the wealthy and powerful. Do not forget them, for I say that if the lot of us should vanish, they will persist. But if they should so much as shrug...

All of this shall vanish. Regard warmly and with due respect the slumbering giant upon whose shoulders rest your works and ambitions.

::[Kanon Hray 22, IY 7787].:



A glimmer of uncertainty shines among of Sea of Pearls. A boiling pot simmers over and rolls when the final ingredient is added to the mix. The stench of fireworks and blood, copper and bitter, drift unto Qadari's shore carried by the breeze.

Quote from: "Legate Marcellus Saenus"Many of my opponents speak proudly of what they would do, or what they intend to do, yet can you truly say that they could stand up to the same challenges that I did? Many dangers, and many threats, throwm against us, and every time I stood up to face them, and guided our Well.

Even now, at the end of my second Term, our treasury is healthier than it ever was before, and this is after a period of disaster and loss that I cannot recall before, in the Well's History. On my very first day I was told that we had nothing..

We were faced by strife, and challenges I ccould never imagine. And today, I can finally see our Well grow. A vote for Purple, is a vote for Stability, Safety and Growth, from a Man who has worked tirelessly for Ephia and its people.

Works of strife, stability, choices and gambits made for prosperity and just survival. All of these cloaked in hushed mummer and stabbing complaints levied upon the Legates of Ephia's Well. Shouldn't they do better? Could they have? Who can say, honestly.

QuoteA deep glow from the Island of Banafsi, fires still burning even now. Word carries quickly. Hephaestus of Banafsi and General Diocles have made landing upon the island, and raised a revolt against the rule of the Archonate. For now the details remain just that, hazy and inconclusive..

Some say the Archon is now dead, and Hephaestus crowned as King in her stead. Some say the revolt failed, that it was snuffed out at the very moment it sparked.

Other, more sober figures, suggest that the tale is not ended, and the Island of Banafsi is now engulfed in a fratricidal war, the type which does not end quickly or cleanly. Instead, resolving only when families are emptied of children, and friends turned into the bitterest of foes.

Civil War.

Confusion reigns tonight. Eyes towards the dying embers of the night's flames, darkly.

Kanon Hray 22. IY 7787.

Liberation Day.

The route to Banafsi is now closed.

::Kanon Hray 24th Y 7787::

It has now become public knowledge that tenuous diplomatic relations between Il Modo and Ephia's Well have frozen almost before they began.

It is said that Legate Marcellus Saenus entered into an agreement in which Ephia's Well would recognize (for its part) the independent status and sovereignty of Il Modo as queen of the Sea of Pearls; and furthermore conduct an exchange of friendship-gifts of two barrels of well-preserved Well water in exchange for a barrel of eel oil (exchanged monthly) as well as a single cannon.

It is said that upon his return to Ephia's Well, and after consulting with his various handlers and advisors, the Legate realized that such a deal would displease the faithful of B'aara and the Grandees of the Sultan's Court, and he therefore immediately wrote back to Il Modo to break the deal that he had just freshly signed.

Reactions to this gossip is mixed. While none deny that overall this has been an embarrassing incident for the reputation of Ephia's Well diplomatic acumen, many argue that Legate Saenas was simply unaware of the ancient resentments and histories between Il Modo and Baz'eel, and that he had made good faith efforts to make a deal with very slippery foreigners who took advantage of age and good-nature to press for concessions that would displease the Sultan's court.

What, after all, are these Modini good for? Who needs them and their strange beliefs and deceptive ways of speaking, their masks and knives, their eels and cannons?

The Sea of Pearls is far distant, and the Janissaries are a highly visible reminder of the true ruler of the desert.

:: [ Subat 9th, IY 7787 ] ::

Rumor has it that the Sandstone College recently dismissed an esteemed professor of archaeology visiting from The Academy of Baz'eel. The professor is said to have led a dangerous expedition to unearth an ancient dwarven artifact which concluded in tragedy.

The journey, intended to bring great renown to The Sandstone College, instead took a sacred turn as the students laid the artifact to rest in respect of dwarven heritage. This act elevated the involved students from humble archaeologists to custodians of ancient dwarven heritage.

Tragically, the bright future of Nofri D'Ovidio, a student of promising talent, was cut short due to the expedition's mismanagement. His memory is honored by his peers.

::[Adar 20, IY 7787]::

In a close election, incumbent Legate Domhnall Guivarch barely contests a victory from Purple League candidate Sephidra Niridhe. His tenure marked with strange fits of ambition, political lectures and eel oil, it seems still that Ephia's Well has not done worse for wear because of it. Perhaps? Regardless the super majority of Purple was halted by the skin of ones teeth.


In obtuse siltation and dire panic, Legate Marcellus went missing. The clamor rang out for some days as the Pyramid of Ephia's Government went black and shadowed. Whispers and strange sights visited those to brave it is rumored before the doors were locked and sealed. The task was put to place to recover the lost Legate.

Several days later, those that went below, minus notably Sergeant Kirgan 'Caddy' Cavanaugh, and Apothar Oscar Kreutz who were felled by deranged horrors in the workings below. Details of their deaths are mixed. Tormented shades of men, brambling eldritch trappings, and Giant visage are spoken poetically, but difficult to fathom without sight.

Funerals were held, the Legate was rescued, but the mysteries below are hardly resolved.


Elsewhere, a certain map detailing the whereabouts to a frost cloaked tower is held by a man auctioning off tickets to trips within and towards it. Why exactly this tower appeared now, or much else about it is uncertain.

::[Iyar 8th, IY 7788]::

At a time when blossoms announce themselves, fixtures plant themselves into the lifeblood of Ephia's Well, below it, or find themselves uprooted altogether.

Incumbent Legate Marcellus Saenus has stepped down from office, and found themselves replaced by White League Candidate Ricario Casella, however, this super majority seems to last only a few weeks...


The tenure is mostly marked with small matters of unrest and toil. A roaming group of mercenaries are slaughtered for want of purchasing refugees and assault of the Gate of Rose. A case of arson sees a property vandalized and stolen from during the same event. Attacks upon members of the accord by cloaked and hooded figures are spoken to have grow more common. And certain accounts of violence and otherwise are not completely understood.


Another election begins, Incumbent Legate Domhnall Guivarch no longer vying for their station this time. However, what follows next was unprecedented:

Quote from: Scribe Bashir Khatara'Ahem. Uhm... Ahem. Ephians... As is the right of our Leagues... the White League is withdrawing the Legatine position from Leg... Ricario Cassella. His Prelate, Akna Ymir, is stepping forth as the new Legate of the Second Seat...'

Quote from: Akna Ymir[A young woman's voice, deliberate and stoic now in tone, sounds] Ephians, please for a moment hear me.

Yestereve I and League leadership became aware of a policy set in motion by Ricario Cassella. I believe that he acted in what interests he thought best, however the consequences were dire, and a thing we could not permit to occur.

it was his intention during the next Assembly to occupy the chamber of the Well, and seize by force control of the Waters.

This action would make red our streets. Bring surely to use war, not from an outside threat, but from within. It would tear apart this place that is for many of us our only home. Being made aware of this policy, I, our League Official, and both of our present candidates agreed that the legal option of the League of White to end his Legateship had to be exercised.

Be that as it may, Akna, the man is still determined for a trial. He has rights. You act as if he is dead already. Let him have his heyday in court.

Quote from: Sultan's HeraldLet it be known that Akna Ymir of the League of White has been raised to the position of Legate. They are to report to the Chamber of Rule to receive the badge of office from the Chief Scribe.

Quote from: Lieutenant Vardgul SkarnAn ashsail has been dispatched to Baz'eel. We now await the Judge's arrival. Available Janissary, to the Garrison. You are ordered to get the witness statements in expert order, and prepare to prosecute the trial. A bellows will be made once the trial is due to commence.

Personal squabbles and teeth bearing accusations grip most of the Well. What exactly happened here, why and how? Who was telling the truth of it all, and what has fit a narrative... who is to say?

So it becomes that Prelate Akna Ymir becomes Legate Akna Ymir. No lions as the crowds roared for in the heat of the moment. Whether for justice or for bloodlust, they had this stolen of them.

Fragment from the Baz'eeli
Newspaper  Evrensel
Hziran IY 7788

BANAFSI AT WAR
The Banafsian Civil War grinds on into its sixth month, showing little sign of abating. News from the island remains scarce and confused. It has been reported by refugees that both sides are suffering from acute shortages of men-at-arms, their original forces having been much depleted by the ferocity of the bloodletting. 

As a result, mercenaries have flocked to the island from all across the Great Ash Desert. It is said that Modini companies favour the side of the so-called King Osiron, leading to much speculation that he enjoys the patronage of some faction within the Floating City.

Of scandalous interest to long-time readers of this paper of record, is entry of the Company of the Spear into the service of the Archon. This notorious gang, a mercenary force comprised of veterans of the armies of the renegade Ibtihal, is already developing a dark reputation of atrocity and bloodshed. Alkab has long been safe haven for Orentid renegades, but this is the first moment since the overthrow of their bandit 'queen' that they have constituted themselves into a fighting force. It is said they possess a full squadron of warships with which to assail royalist forces.

Qa'im continues to provide logistical aid to their client the Archon, but have hesitated in deploying its Remade Legions in direct support of her regime. Nervous factions at the Sublime Garden are said to speculate privately of the consequences for international peace if one side were to gain a decisive edge.

A VICTORY IN THE WASTES?
Rumour spreads that a great battle has been fought in the Wastes between the Thousand Clans and the hosts of the so-called 'Neo-Sibilant Empire'. Ash-Sail pilots report witnessing the aftermath of a terrible struggle, with great corpse-pyres burning over a stretch of miles. If these reports prove accurate, it is likely that a decisive blow has been struck in the war between the two barbarian entities, a tremor which will doubtless have ripples towards the civilized world.

Which side came out the victor, this newspaper is presently unable to venture.

TWO-HEADED BOY FOUND IN TABLET OF BAZ'EEL
Residents of the Tablet of Baz'eel were stunned when the Kulamet Hospital revealed to the Evrensel that they have been caring for a boy with two heads. The child, known only as A, is twelve years old and apparently in training for the Kulamet Priesthood. Only one of the heads is verbal, with the other being entirely mute.

It is rumoured that this second head has powers of divination, especially pertaining to matters of agriculture and animal husbandry.

QA'IM ON THE BANKS OF THE EDUTU
Since the City of Crucibles' stunning seizure of the great fortress of Korumak, all Baz'eeli society have looked west with fretful eyes. As is now well-known, with the loss of the fortress Baz'eel lost its final territory upon the west bank of the Edutu, allowing the Qa'immi to ford the river unopposed if they should so desire.

Of course, in spite of the climate of fear, this newspaper is certain that no Ashfolk – albeit heretical – would strike a blow of aggression against a sibling, however estranged they might be. 

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Tammuz 4th, IY 7788



The Well is all activity, now. Spears are sharpened and shields tested for cracks. In homes, through toasts, in furtive embraces in the shady corners of the Well - farewells are spoken. For today is the day that Ephia's Well enters the fray.

It is said that Rennik Colmes, Warmaster of the Heron, has decreed that a force shall be dispatched to offer aid to a beleaguered fortification far to the south.

A voice, crisp and clear, resounds across the Bellows

'Those who march, gather at the Divan.'



Above the Well, the great terrace of the Sultan is awash with activity. The Water-Priests of B'aara are lively in their intonations. Their voices can be heard, deep and sonorous: 'O! B'aara! Mother Most High, weep for thy belov'd dead...'

An Ash-sail in deep Janissary green, bearing the Caliphal numeral 'VI', glides into dock above. Two tiny figures can be seen departing..

Below, about the Pyramid, all eyes look towards the leadership. Those who seek to lend their arms to the day's sport head towards the Pyramid, their countenances grim, yet tempered by a fluttering anticipation..

First Blood. Clanging Bronze.


Tammuz 4th, IY 7788.




While elections, laws and leisure continue onward in Ephia's Well, War has begun. The Office of the Legates and much of the bellows overrun with issue over the new "Accorded Governance" law which sees all those members of the accord, past or present barred from service to the government of Ephia's Well.

The Purple League has managed to secure a powerful majority headed by once more Legate Marcellus Saenus and the once Prelate for Gausim al-Marain, Nasreen Shabani. Gausim al-Marain served a short period before rumors gave way to some reason they may have vanished. Reasons range from being called back to Baz'eel in protest of the upcoming War, needing to see to a sick relative, to being abducted by the tormented below. No one really knows, and it doesn't matter.



War is here, the truth of it cemented violently as if a concussion. Prayers and rites to the Wroth are given in dark depths, in simmering agony. Four names are spread across the Well by Legate Marcellus Saenus. The details of the assault are lost in the fog of anguish. A victory traded for lives of those bright and promising. A Zenithar laments a future that was never to be. A Star Falls. War is here.

Quote from: City Whisper by Legate Marcellus SaenusHeed me, people of the Well. I bring news from the South. Both of joy and of sorrow. The Battle of the Boundary was victorious. We have won. But, four of our brave people will not return to us. Lift your cups to the heroes of the Battle of the Boundary. Apothar Cosine Mevura, Sergeant Lightdew... Legate Akna Ymir... Recluta Baako Mahmoud. May their bravery never be forgotten. Live and drink.

Quote from: City Whisper by Zenithar Oro KonthazThis is another one of your flights of fancy, isn't it boy? Well.. I don't find it amusing. Get ah- get back to the Tower, on the double. You're needed...

Rumors spread of the latest diplomatic mission to Il Modo.

Despite a cold welcome and an uneasy start (it is said that the long-winded Legate Gloamingdaith may have inadvertently offended the Modini with his choice of gifting an old Caliphate amulet and a certain lack of clarity regarding his view of Modini sovereignty), it is reported that the troupe of performers - the "Floating Fantasia" - were a popular & appreciated spectacle.

It is also reported that Legate Gloamingdaith and his advisors succeeded in persuading the Modini to dispatch a representative to attend the Kardesler conference.

But at what price? It is whispered - in tones of shock and amazement - that the Ephians agreed to offer a gift of One Hundred Barrels of Well Water in exchange for this attendance.

Such a huge quantity of sacred waters (representing nearly an entire month's worth of discretionary production) being handed over to slimy eel-merchants and strange Sage-worshippers is widely considered to have been a colossal gamble. Many of the faithful of Ephia's Well are particularly angered by the decision and consider it a huge scandal, whereas others urge caution.... after all, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Perhaps the Legate is right and this distant naval power could in some way be persuaded to offer its help against the threat of the Thousand Clans...?

Except from the Maribeh Edition of Sublime Parchment, Baz'eeli Paper of Record

Op-Ed: TODAY, UNION. TOMORROW, CALIPHATE?

With the signing of the so-called Union of Kardesler (signatories Baz'eel & her minor Satrapies, Kha'esh, Banafsi and the Hold of Got Valdhazr) inagurates a moment not beheld since Uspek abdicated the Caliphal throne: the peoples of the Great Ash Desert united together, in common cause, beneath the suzerainty of Baz'eel.

While the Sultan at present sits de facto as the symbolic head of this new Union, wise heads in the Sublime Garden note that Marib himself was noted as the symbolic head of the people at Kardesler before he was invested with the White Spear.

What chance, then, that this new Union heralds the inauguration of a new golden age beneath our beloved sovereign, Osman VI?

ARSLAN SURRENDERS

The City of Arslan, which, as regular readers shall know, is a hive of unsettling Izdur heterodoxy, has surrendered to the forces of the Thousand Clans. Refugees fleeing the city report that the Grand Tutors (the so-called 'Council of Old Men') were publicly executed by the Thousand Clans. Unverified reports speak of a general massacre of the civilian population.

Our reporters suggest that Arslan has now been re-fashioned into a formidable outpost of enemy power.
The faithful note that such events tend to befall the heretrodox, and that all right-thinking people should tend to their prayers, and heed the theology of the Temples.

KHA'ESH SCOURGES THE EASTERN STATES

Tughril Yataghan, the so-called 'Great Serdar' of Kha'esh, has begun a punitive campaign against recalcitrant allies in the eastern mountains. It is said that the Serdar and his 'Wild Brothers' have fatally undermined Orcish gains in the eastern territories, leading to a vast expansion in the city's sphere of influence.

One eye witness said: "The Kha'eshi hate two things: tabbouleh and cowardice. Thank god no parsley grows in the mountains."

GOT VALDHAZR INVESTED

The dwarven hold of Got Valdhazr, a previously unknown settlement, has been besieged by a grievous host. It is said they are heavy with refugees from the southlands, and that food supplies remain scarce.

It is reported that a delegation from the hold has arrived at Ephia's Well, led by a member of the royal line.

'FORT EPHIA' RESISTS, THANKS THE SIXTH LEGION

The so-called outpost of Fort Ephia continues its resistance against the armies of the Eater of Eyes. A journalist who visited the Boundrymen Mercenary Company, spoke to their commander - a rather brusque man who referred to himself only as 'Duck'.

He said: "Thank the Gods for [the Epicrasis]! We'd be [defeated] if it weren't for [the Sixth Legion]."

BANAFSI'S WHITE SPEARS ACCUSED OF CRIMINAL MASSACRE

The so-called 'White Spears', that notorious company of Orentid exiles, have reportedly conducted a brutal massacre of civilians amidst the civil war in Banafsi. Survivors described their leader, the self-styled 'Komes', as a blood-soaked butcher who delights in slaughter.

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More refugees come in, ever more. Slaves that have escaped from bondage. People who have trudged, alone or in convoy, through the great desert.

All bearing tales of woe, all with one refrain upon their lips:

"We are from Arslan, which opened the gates to The Eater of Eyes, and was rendered a ruin by his command."

Trouble with refugees, it seems. More filter from the camps at the peripheries into the Plaza and Souk proper. There they make trouble, protesting loudly at the cost of grain and the paucity of their water rations.

They stand darkly in the cool corners, and spit curses as harsh as wicked Tabbah itself.

Everywhere the stones sizzle, in discontent. The Ashfolk have retreated inside, and are rarely seen except for under the blessed respite of the Celestial Disc.

Tabbah 23rd, IY 7788

The war drags on, failures and victories roll into a an economical struggle to the benefit of survival. The "Dragon" Argent Argyris, claimed a seat amidst the heart of the war, with his fellow Golden Legate Balstan Gloamingdaith. They vowed widely the notion of Total Victory, and through much difficulties secured the funding for the new district, in entirety. Whether these things are to go as so planned is a heated topic.

Promises and arrangements has been stretched thin and made tense. It is a confused matter who will have majority control of the new structures, and more importantly, how they will operate. Though, much of it seems due to the matter of Conscription.

With the continued asylum of refugee, the strain on resources and proper protections is obvious. And as the enemy host continues its assault, drastic actions were taken. Men sent to march on the eastern front, piled with the security of a future in Ephia's Well, have brought one step of Victory Further, or died trying. These securities bought the men on the Eastern Front by the Lover's Gap enough time to set up siegeworks and hammer down upon even now the blasting walls of the Thousand Clan's Encampments there.



This aid from the scattered masses was cut short, the night before the completion of a Massive Weapon that it is rumoured when tested, took a large chuck out of a mountain side. The reason for the appeal was obvious, as the Grandmaster herself decried the horrible treatment of Conscripted Quarry workers, and told the self-named Dragon that it must cease.

However, plans quickly shifted on the frontlines, any hopes in capturing the Fortress and this Weapon now lost. Through quick action a Kan'Zuzu force assembled by works led under direction of Warmaster Rennik Colmes, and driven by the strange guidence of Thrasamund Sorrow-Marked, sapped underneath the castle and within.

The halls were spoken to be a nightmare, even with the outside distraction and siege. The many of Ephia's Defenders worked there way to the top of the Fortress, with Sergeant Samton Ashworth detonating a massive bomb to destroy the Weapon. Even in this victory, they could not celebrate, and the many had to work their way back down the castle and back through the now collapsing tunnels. Soldier of the Fourth Legion Duncan MacGregor and one Antonio Caravari were lost in this effort.




Even on the foot of victory, things remain uncertain. The Rampart Nusrum has fallen almost completely into the Thousand Clans Control, and efforts South remain likewise besieged. As the election ends, Purple Legate Marcellus Saenus takes a victory over Gloamingdaith. The golden majority ends, but the war and the expenses compiled to its efforts and this new district are hardly finished.

BAZ'EEL INTERROGATOR:

EMERGENCY BULLETIN - WAR ISSUE IV: Illul 3


VICTORY FOR THE GREAT SERDAR

The Interrogator can exclusively report there has been a great battle fought between the Grand Army of Kha'esh and the forces of Iakmes, far to the east. It is said that great flocks of carrions circle the field, and that a train of plunder has been claimed by the Kha'eshi for the Emir. After months of guerilla war, the Serdar Yataghan has forced the Orcs into a confrontation. There, he has defeated them in detail and annihilated them.

"Our work here is done. Now, as promised to my second, the Warmaster Colmes, my forces shall begin the slow march west to unite with our allies - the people of the Heron. Together, we shall destroy this Iakmes and drive him howling back into the hovel from which he came."

SEEKERS-AFTER-DEATH MASSACRED IN BAZ'EEL, SAVAGE THE TRADE ROUTES

A cadre of so-called Seekers-After-Death have been discovered and slaughted in the Great Tablet of Baz'eel. It is said this cell of malcontents were plotting an assassination attempt against our beloved Sultan. They were slain to a man by the First Legion, who pounced upon them as they sought to recieve a shipment of arms upon the Osmani Canal. A network of informants and collaborators has also been uprooted within the tablet. The Death-Seekers continue to harass trade upon the highways, forcing more merchants into seabound or ash-sail shipments.

SULTAN ACCLAIMED WITH GARLANDS AT EDUTU

The graceful Osman VI conducted a rare visit to the Edutu Delta this week, where the Kulamet Priests greeted him with flowers and garlands. He reaffirmed his stewardship of the Delta, and promised that no Qa'immi would step foot upon her eastern bank while he drew breath.

Illul 7th, IY 7788






Word spreads like wildfire that the Lover's Gap is pacified. The Weapon there destroyed. The forces pushed west, fleeing the Kah'eshi, routed. Zthae'ikos, The Spear, dead.


A broken detachment lead by Sergeant Seymour Duncan finds its company halved. Those brave enough to sully forth to meet the host, count among them dead names listless as poets and historians work to put them to phrase and prose.


The Banda Rossa make jab and cheer for the victory of the Well and despite their discounted involvement. Removed from the War Council days prior to this entanglement, they toast the death of Janissaries who rebuked them and the victory won that much more difficult.




The assembly prior stirs its own strange energy, rumors of children being bartered for the securities of the western front work through the ears of stranger and friend alike. A foul taste fills the mouths of those with concern like ash. Surely it was all jest. A princess was present and some insane halfling was said to have broken into the event and flung disgusting gases twice if not three times or more before the Janissary put a stop to it.



Perhaps this is an upswing for Ephia's Well in the conflict, even if matters domestic are muddled.

From the Sublime Parchment

A GLORIOUS VICTORY

The forces of the Union of Kardelser have triumphed against the forces of Iakmes in a stunning victory before the walls of Arslan. The Orcish host, gathered in numbers not seen for centuries, was utterly routed by the combined forces of Osman VI and Kha'esh.

A glorious first since the dark days of the Harrowing, the two cities united together under a common banner and a common leader - Osman the Sixth, rightful Caliph of the whole desert.

Under the able command of Rennik Colmes, Warmaster of the Fourth Legion, the Clans were encircled and annihilated. So great was the slaughter, it is believed it will take the Clans four generations to recover their former strength.

It is said that the cataphracts of the Second dealt a grievous wound to the warchief amidst a thundering charge, and that he cursed the arms of the Sultan as he withdraw weeping from the field.

Colmes was asked for comment in the aftermath of his victory. He said:

"I dedicate this victory to Osman VI, he of the glorious name, and the brave soldiers of the Sultanate. They died with the Sultan's name upon their lips."

From Evrensel, Special Bulletin

TENSIONS AT ARSLAN

The fate of Arslan hangs upon a knife edge in the aftermath of the rueful victory at the Gates of Dawn. Uncertainty swirls about the city, with the forces of Yataghan occupying the city proper, while the Sultanate keeps an uneasy watch from their baggage.

Evrensel can report that no Janissaries have yet been allowed to enter the city, under flimsy pretexts that grow more threadbare by the hour.

The city itself suffered grievously from the sack, with food supplies now scarce. Hassan Ibn Ghalish of Ghalish & Sons is leading the charity efforts, and has consulted Asterabadi concerning the right and fruitful way to alleviate suffering. Ghalish is emerging as a powerful voice for the true victims of war: the civilian population.

It is the opinion of this journal that this situation must be resolved with all due urgency, in the spirit of friendship that delivered such a glorious victory to allied forces.

WHERE NOW THE CLANS?

Scouts and travellers report that the Thousand Clans have abandoned their defensive fortifications north of the Rampart, and can be found abroad not at all. Concerned factions at court are skeptical of the alleged 'annihilation' of the Clans, and consult the chronicles with much consternation for guidance as to where they may gather their wounded strength.

From the Sublime Parchment

The Sultanate reels tonight. The picture still is not clear, and this newspaper cannot verify all reports, as the Garden has yet to formally comment upon these events.

THINGS OF MYTH?

Titans of uncertain provenance roam the  Desert. Eye-witnesses report them 'rising, things of molten metal, with grotesque theatre-masks upon their faces'. These great hulking things stalk the desert, glancing at the sky, else issuing a strange kind of song which causes the heart to shiver and the ears to bleed. What are these things? Where have they come from? As for now, they have become an ominous feature upon the horizon.

KHA'ESH ASSAILED

A victory celebration at Kha'esh was derailed by a surprise attack by savage guerillas in the pay of Iakmes. It is said the city was thick with fighting until the early hours of the morning, and much of the city remains on fire. Many of her outlying garrisons to the east are reported abandoned, as her troops rush to secure the city and protect her from any further assaults. The sky overhead was thick with mage-fire, yet the sound and fury of combat has abated for now, and the city appears safe, albeit wounded.

ARSLAN QUIET

The City of Arslan remains secure, and her garrisons have not moved. Kha'esh appears determined to hold onto its prize.

THE RAMPART BROILS

The Rampart Nusrum seethes with fresh activity, and many barbarian fortresses and camps long-abandoned have been reoccupied. Yet there is no sign as-of-yet of the hosts which imperilled the Desert before they were utterly broken at the Plain of Arslan.

Nest of Barbarians Found - Allies Resolve to March

Through some flash of serendipity (or, it is rumoured, the genius of His Majesty's Consulate) the location of the legendary BET NAPPAHI has been uncovered. It is said that it lies beyond the boiling, arid desert named the SCALD.

The Union of Kardesler has tentatively agreed upon a daring response: to march upon the Orc, and overthrow him there utterly. There are those who question the wisdom of this course, and say that instead the allies should focus upon ridding the desert of the cursed Titans of Dawning.

Sultanate Imperilled

The Thousand Clans continue their dramatic recovery from their alleged defeat at Arslan Plain. Flying columns strike at small, unprotected villages and unwary merchant caravans, then vanish into the desert. Seemingly nowhere is safe from this heathen scourge, with the raids striking deep into the heart of the civilized world. Only Baz'eel herself, shining, remains unharried.

Small comfort is that the Warchief is yet to gather his forces into the great hosts that threatened Kha'esh and the Well at the war's outset.

The so-called 'Titans of Dawning' continue to stoke mayhem. Evrensal can exclusively reveal that just yesterday the antique town of Şehzadeler was levelled by the monstrosities, it's people scattered into the desert with little more than the clothes upon their backs.

As the war enters a new and dangerous period, this newspaper brings you shocking reports from the nightmare Satrapy of Ephia's Well.

Life's One Long Party for Azarmidokht the Golden

The Harem of the Golden Vizier is the place to be this social season, as the great sorcerer celebrates his release from captivity in style. It is said that the party is as decadent as it is sensuous. The Vizier and his guests are attended to by a specially hired coterie of Modini Mummers.

The theme is "Sisters & Sibilants", with the ladies attending dressed in the distinctive habits of the notorious Sibylline Sisterhood, and the men wearing elaborate costumes in imitation of the fearsome lizard empire.

An entire shipload of Alkabi Syrah was diverted for the celebrations, and that another has been waylaid after the revellers guzzled the wine in the course of the three ecstatic evenings. Just don't try and sneak past the battlemage bouncers. Gatecrashers have reportedly been magically turned into hares, voles and chickens!

Arslan Tutors Go Begging

The Grand Tutors of Arslan are complaining to anyone who will listen about the continued occupation of their City by the forces of the Great Serdar Yataghan and his mercenary host.

It is said they are looking for patrons to help them assert their claim, but so far they have found little more sympathetic counsel.

Ill Omens Invited In!

In yet another shocking display of ineptitude, it seems that Ephia's Well has some new guests. None other than the dreaded MARISHYEN.

Forgive your correspondent for naming them. Their return to the affairs of the Great Ash Desert is nothing short of a historic catastrophe. The ill omen are like weeds. It took the great Caliphs of elder times much effort to uproot them from their gardens.

Details are thin on the ground. We know only the name of the one who invited them in: 'Big Bash'. Is this a wicked sorcerer, who has long plotted the downfall of Ephia's Well? Or perhaps it is a pseudonym for an agent of malign Qa'im. Whatever the case, Big Bash is clearly a dangerous menace and MUST BE STOPPED.

Tesrin Hray, IY 7788 - a Time When We Open Our Doors To Notorious Harbingers Of Woe?

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Kha'esh Gathers Its Might

The City of Kha'esh is gathering its forces from its far flung holdings, a glittering host such as the City has never assembled.

They are rumoured to be preparing to gather at a staging post, whose location remains strictly confidential.

Boffin Says: Give 'em to Qa'im!

"Give them to Qa'im" - who can forget that chilling refrain?

Well, an industrious inventor from our very own Sublime Garden claims he has found a novel solution to the problem of the Titans.

"The thing to understand about these Titans is that they are fundamentally unthinking automata, much akin to animals and other lesser orders of being. With my patented pheromone mixture," says the swot, "All we need to do is douse my mixture all over the Tantalatum Gate of Qa'im, and the Titans will be driven into an insane frenzy of heat! The object of their desire? The loathsome Qa'immi."

What do we think, readers? Two birds with one stone?

Scuffles at the Satrap

Another day, another bloody brawl upon the steeets of Ephia's Well.

The fragile 'Accord' in the turbulent satrapy of Ephia's Well has fallen into disarray in the past days. Yet again, chaos on the streets of that place threatens all in the Sultanate. The Misfortune and so-called 'Cinquefoil Rose'* have yet again fallen to brawling in the streets. In the aftermath of these thuggish displays La Banda Rossa - a Modini Mercenary company employed by the Cinquefoil - have supposedly quit the field in the struggle against the Thousand Clans.

If the reports prove true, the rumoured march against the Barbarians in their nest could suffer a disastrous reversal. It is said the La Banda have quit the field, leaving the Fourth and their Kha'eshi allies sorely pressed.

Yet again the Sublime Garden is forced to turn its gaze from the great matters of state towards its disquiet satrap. How many reports like this must this paper write? How many missteps until the Great Asterabadian Experiment is declared an utter failure? That the holy Well is routinely blasphemed by these infantile scuffles is nothing short of appaling.

Something must be done.

*Editor's note: for more upon the precise origin and meaning of this name, see Eusti Turmenulu's On the Nature of Savage Appellations.

Kanon Hray 27th, IY 7788. A time when doors are opened to all guests,


As the war etches on and devastates much of the unprotected regions of the desert, the flow of dinar into Ephia's Well has skyrocketed. Dozens of lost settlements, bands and treasure troves emptying into the safer option. The Gold League's choke-chain of affairs has proven a net positive, at least for those with enough dinar to afford the voice.


Word swirls of the cost of all this. A refuge camp maintained for military drills destroyed completely by these Titans of Dawning. White League Legate Ahmet's Disappearance and later replacement with Legate Asherias brings more questions than answers and raises further worries of unstablity. The elephantine cannonade's firing still rings in the ears fresh of those that have heard it; the whistling ether of vibrant energies carving across the sky. Total Victory.

Kardesler on the March!
Yataghan, the Great Serdar of Kha'esh, has done the unthinkable: he has walked with none has dared ere the great Scald was formed those long years ago. The Academies are abuzz with scholarly discontent, it was believed that such a desiccated place would quickly swallow up any host that attempted to traverse it.

The Parchment witnessed as the Serdar was the first man to step over the precipice into the Scalded land. He kneeled down and picked up some dirt of the land between his fingers, remarking:

"Ash the same as any other - ho, onwards. Nappahi awaits."

Then many horns sounded, and the dust raised by their march made a cloud that could be seen upon the horizon for many leagues.

The host has hitherto faced little true opposition. They are systematically levelling barbarian nests that litter the Scald, yet no enemy battle has appeared upon the field to challenge the march. It is believed by the Serdar that the great number of the enemy awaits at Bet Nappahi itself, which remains many leagues to the west.

It is said that dehydration and weariness afflicts the army, and that many have died already of these terrible cruelties. This is only the beginning, and Academicians report that casualties of this kind are likely to far outweigh any that fall in battle.

Grand Tutors in Ephia's Well?
The Parchment can exclusively reveal that the turbulent Satrapy of Ephia's Well is secretly sheltering the Arslani government-in-exile, although they have not been seen in public and none can confirm where they might reside. There has thus far been no official response from the Emirate of Kha'esh, although none can say what their presence means for the fragile Union of Kardesler.

Why the Well has given the Tutors asylum is unknown, yet readers of this publication should not be surprised at this wild and unruly maneuverer from the government of that Satrapy. When will the Sultan bring them to heel?

Emir Jaiyan at the Sublime Garden
In a remarkable turn of events, Emir Jaiyan Ibn Sharev is presently enjoying the lauded hospitality of Osman the Sixth, the great suzran of the Great Ash Desert. No Kha'eshi ruler has visited Baz'eel for half a millennia, since the traitorous Sharev sundered his city from the Caliphate amidst the melancholy of Harrowing.

It is said the Emir is mesmerized by the glories of the Sublime Garden, and that he and the Sultan have together supped from the Edutu Fount. The true cause for the Emir's visit is a strict confidence, with even the most elevated functionaries of court perplexed as to the significance of this exceptional turn of events.

Mining Operations Resume in Arslan
After a fretful negotiation, Ghalish & Sons have resumed their mining operations in Arslan under the watchful eyes of Kha'eshi overseers. The Parchment reports that a deal was cut at the last minute allowing the mining consortium to retain profitability while diverting the greater part of the precious metals to the Emirate of Kha'esh.

Hassan Ibn Ghalish, the consortium's representative in Arslan, is reportedly privately furious at this turn of events. Whispers say that his father overruled his plan to scuttle the mining operations and withdraw Ghalish Specialists from Arslan in protest at the extractive Kha'eshi terms.

Defection!
A provincial notable, 'Silver Drake', has reported defected from the government of Ephia's Well to the Emirate of Kha'esh. It is said the man was a cannibal and a deviant, wanted by the Sultan's Fourth for his grotesque crimes.

This meddling in local politics gives us pause, and is especially ill-timed considering the delicate events in the Garden proper. Can the Kha'eshi be trusted? The jury is out.

Titans of Dawning Gathering in Great Numbers
The feared Titans are said to be gathering in the deep desert, in groups as large as five. Waradim report seeing them kneeling, or uttering deep groans, or pressing their faces (if we might call them faces) deep into the earth. This ominous development is concerning, with a taskforce of Academicians reported to be consulting the ancient texts to develop weapons with which to fight these dread foes from older times.

Seekers-after-Death Quiet
After a glorious punitive campaign against guerilla columns within the Sultanate, the so-called Seekers-after-Death are scattered and in disarray. The 11th Legion has taken the lead, with merchant caravans gaining confidence to travel the trade routes. The last of the great bandit nests was scourged by the Scour but two days ago, and a minor triumph was held at Admasu Bezabh for their Bey. - glory to Osman and his Janissaries!

EATER OF EYES GOUGED

For a nigh hundred years he has been the scourge of the Sultanate. His wolf-riders have ranged deep into our lands, and set villages to the torch. We recall with sorrow the places lost to his reiving - Üzgün, Büyük Şehir, Kayip. At the Battle of the Boundary, he slew a hundred men with his own hand, and sowed terror wherever he walked.

No more.

It was a stunning victory. We fell upon his soldiery in the night as they engaged in vile orgies. Their tents were set to flame, the terror that the Eater of Eyes visited for so long upon the Sublimate realm was placed upon him instead. They are calling it the Battle of the Crag, yet it was no true battle. Rather, the slaughter was great and glorious. The Fourth and Ninth Janissary Legions, together, have won laurels for themselves.

Sergeant Ibal Utim, a dashing human of the Fourth who lead the assault - they are calling him the DEFEATER OF EYES - had this to say to the Parchment:

"All for the Sultan, everything for Osman, all for he - upon his lips we fell upon them howling. We have made a banner of his skull, which shall, in time, be returned to the Garden where our children shall gawp at it as a curiorisity. Victory is close, now."

Captain Immet of the Ninth, who is so handsome the Parchment might be sick, reports that his beloved vessel Devout - while battered and bruised - is now in working order again after working thirty hours without sleep to get her fixed up.

Can we go for a ride?

OUTBREAKS OF MADNESS AT THE SCALDING

Strange, unexplained fits of madness have begun to beset the war-camp of the Great Serdar. A spate of gruesome suicides have been discovered, and the sounds of screaming can be heard from tents at night. The cause of this malady is uncertain, for the Taffavogh have been strenuously avoided.

The soldiers are growing nervous, and the disciples of Azarmidokht are seeking a cause for this strange and disturbing development.

IL MODO - The SINKING City?!

Reports from the notorious city of Il Modo are coming in that suggests the city is SINKING beneath its own weight. Perhaps it is the size of their heads that has tipped the balance?

Iyar 2nd, IY 7789,


Ephia's Well is abuzz with activity following the recent election and tensions. Legate Dante Moretti removed shortly after a series of public edicts were set into place to some unrest. They did not run again but were replaced in the running by Zina Zizzo, a wealthy merchant of the Souk. However, opinion has swung away from the Dragon and his hatchlings and their promises of gold: Total Victory and Glided Districts.


Instead, on the month of The Wilting Rose, Legate Alexandria Sayburgh is elected to much fanfare by the improvised and those tired of men paying their way out of crime. Alongside Legate Achaeus Komemnos, a tense situation prods along. The war reaching its zenith, one hopes. The Springtime Promise begging some peace from bitter actions between the accord, and some certain reform.