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Discussion in 'UHall' started by Riyana, Jan 5, 2015.
Title pretty much says it all. Thanks!
The Blue Boar Rages by Adamu Edom
The raucous crowd sing: “Alas! Alas! Who be your lady? Alas! Alas! Dear boy of Britain, who be your lady?! - Alas! Alas! There she be…A drink! For her! A drink! For you? Two?! Or three! Dear boy of Britain! - Alas! Alas! A game for you, do you play chess?! Throw a dart?! Or two?! Or Three! Alas! Alas! Dear boy of Britain!” The crowd then quiets: “Alas! Alas! The lady does see ol’ Davey climb away…His shoulders? Broad! His nose? Long! And away they go!” The raucous crowd then laughs: “Alas! Alas! Dear boy of Britain, where be your lady?! Alas! Alas! Where did she ?! Alas! Alas! A drink! For you! Two or Three, Dear boy of Britain!” The tavern wenches always seem to laugh a bit more at this song than the patrons and innkeepers, but all in good fun. You know you have arrived at the Bloe Boar Tavern. A decadent and lavish traditional Britannian Tavern and Inn.
Fortunes lost at the turn of a card. Ladies seeking court with rich merchants…rich merchants seeking court with ladies. Romances discarded and traded. The Blue Boar is never dull, never mundane, and never a place for the unwary. The ale and wine does flow, liberally across the lips of both peasant and prince. Vintages from Yew, Trinsic and the Serpent’s Hold, all roads lead to Britain.
The seat of our King, the capital of our Kingdom. Some would say the true jewel is not in the crown but in her inn.
The Blue Boar Rages, Don’t be shy.
A Tale of Two Jheloms by Adamu Edom
Many a politician has attempted to tame the beastly and tumultuous nature of Jhelom. Paladins, Warriors, Dragon Tamers, Merchant Princes, Gypsy Duelists…many rise and fall. The violent nature and draw of battle combined with the promise of a mercenaries pay make the Pit of Jhelom an irresistible destination for both the hero and the adventurer.
Yet, there is another side to this sprawling walled island, one rarely remembered or spoken of. The hospitality of Jhelom and the peasantry who scurry around behind the scenes, and not just shopkeepers and merchants, but bar maid, farmers, purveyors of animal husbandry, sailors and dock workers too!
It seems the overflow of warriors and a custom of commonplace duels have made the cities hospitality the best in all of the land. The bar maids are polite, the shopkeepers are honest, even the dock workers are happy to help with an occasional load off a merchants back for free. It seems that it does ring true, that “an armed society is a polite society!”
Still a third Jhelom exists, although only related through antiquity and rumor. I speak of New Jhelom or rather Nujel’m as she is called now by her people. The root of this lone Sultanate is rumored to be a colony that sprouted from the city of Jhelom in antiquity. Although it is denied by the Sultan and all the well classed citizens of Nujel’m, the first colonists are believed to have been Gypsy princes who set off from Jhelom after making their fortune.
It is not a debate that now, after the destruction of Magincia that Nujel’m is the jewel of Sosaria. Her sprawling city is unbeatably beautiful, rich and decadent. The Sultan lives in an Ivory place, and even the lowliest home within the city walls is of higher class and wealth that the richest merchant of Britain.
Yet in Nujel’m stray not far from the golden footpaths, for the shadow it casts is long and the dark side of the Sultanate lays outside the walls. Poverty and servitude among the poor in ways not seen in Britannia itself since antiquity.
The cousin cities, Jhelom and Nujel’m. Paradoxes both.
Of Human Pride by Adamu Edom
Pride. Avarice. Arrogance. These things were essential pieces of Magincia before the fall and its destruction. Some say pride is not at all a sin, only deserved vanity. Some say greed is good, it inspires and drives men and in turn society as a whole. Alas, my home Magincia had much to be proud of.
The white city, the golden bay, the hewn streets. Human achievement and accomplishment raised high above the other cities of Britannia and Sosaria. Magincia a humble hamlet of shepherds and open fields. Quickly the shepherds became merchants, the merchants became princes and the city rose and toward above all. It was then, the city of Princes looked upon itself and saw glory and relished in vanity. When they looked outward, they found fault and disgust. The people of Magincia turned away from the ideals of diversity and embraced a Humanist philosophy. They cast aside Elves, Gargoyles, Orcs and others.
It was pride and self glory that brought down the walls of Magincia, greed that carted it away. Our own vice that put an end to the shining city.
Even now, in the city of humility, New Magincia the seeds are still sewn. I worry, dear reader, are we Magincian’s are back on the same track once more? Our competitive spirit, our capitalistic drive. We will rise again, alas…let us not rise too high.
For within ourselves, we Princes of Magincia hold the future of Sosaria within our hands. We turned it to dust one before, and in Sosaria, true second chances are rare.
The Dwarves of Sosaria by Adamu Edom
Nearly every miner in the lands got his start near the town of Minoc. The mountain has provided more ore, gems and granite than any other mine in Sosaria. Generations of miners have toiled away hollowing out and hauling away.
Still rumors do blow, and quieted tales around mining camp fires asking the question, “Have we dug too deep?” Even the gypsies have made their camp nearby in a sort of watch across the river.
The underbelly of Britannia, what dangers slither? What dangers lurk? What foul winds do the grounds do contain? The miners wary, and they all ask the same questions. Yet, before they are too wise to stop, a new generation steps forward with lustful dreams of diamonds and valorite in their heads. It will be years before they start to wonder.
The mountain comes alive, sentient elementals walk the mines. Minoc harvests them too. Dragons come to roost in the hollow halls of the mountain. Heroes clear them and the miners continue their work. Yet the danger from below, who can save us from that once the capstone is gone? Could an ancient prison lay below? Could the rumored home of daemons lay just below our feet? Creator protest us, and let us hope we will never know.
So young miner, keep your head. The whispers in the mine are not just in your mind, heed them and ask the question. “Have I dug too deep?”
Moonglow Abides by Adamu Edom
Many in the Common Era do not realize that traditionally the magical arts were feared and even shunned by most people of Sosaria. It was thought, and still is among many peasants and townfolk that magery, alchemy and other magical temptations darkened the spirit of a person and turned them toward Vice and immorality. The rise of both Relvinian and Mondain did nothing to dissuade this worldwide prejudice against magic.
So when the fortress of Verity Isle was transformed into the Lycaeum the magically inclined flocked to it and felt safe to conduct their learning there. In spite of the prejudice against magic all of the great Kings of Sosaria have had a court mage at their side. Even now the Mage Guild of Moonglow remains the center of knowledge and learning within Sosaria.
The great observatory stretches its vast eye into the stars and charts the course of the heavens. The libraries, great and small litter Verity isle with knowledge once considered forbidden. Magic now, has almost become mainstream among the heroes and adventurers of Sosaria. With the introduction of Gargoyles and Elves into mainstream society it is no wonder why. Yet even I, a creature of a mystical nature do wonder if the predilection for magical power and learning have somehow stolen aspects of hard work, pride and morality from us.
Invention and experimentation continues within the city, even now some poor fool attempts to build some sort of balloon of hot air to rise above the clouds. He has yet to devise a safe method of landing though, most believe he will either drown in the sea, or melt by getting too close to the sun.
The Flame of Truth still burns and the Book of Truth still has sages that turn her pages. Moonglow abides. Moonglow remains.
A Light in the Dark by Adamu Edom
As a Britannian scribe, many tales, legends and myths cross my desk; many sordid with exaggeration and self love. Still, some are so fantastic that in spite of the natural aura of disbelief that follows, I am inclined to believe there is truth in its root. This is such a tale.
The deep forests along the mainland surrounding Skara Brae have long been the subject of myth and horror. The mountainous spine of Britannia and as the Rangers are fond of saying, “Here there be dragons!” Yet more than that, the rangers know that there are even more terrible things in the forest.
Among the deep and dark thicket of trees, many an adventurer has come across rings of mushrooms often called fairy rings. The learned sages of Moonglow tell us that these have nothing at all to do with faeries, instead involve “magnetic polarity” and “ley lines” stretching across the face of Sosaria. (Whatever that means!)
Among these rings of twisted and altered nature, the bodies of men are often found. Hulks of discarded flesh and twisted mass, as if some terrible experimentation or harm had come to them. It is said, that when found a Xorinite Wisp is always nearby observing. Are these creatures to blame?
The Wisps have always been a source of mystery and awe among mortal men who seek to understand that which cannot be understood. There have been texts written to understand their language, primers and historical documentation. Among the peasantry it is considered good luck to cross paths with a Wisp. The Skara Rangers though remain vigilant and warn others to not step within the circles of mushrooms, for where stands a circle a wisp is surely nearby.
The Walls of Trinsic by Adamu Edom
The enormous sandstone walls that bring Trinsic both protection from its enemies and fame throughout Sosaria are a subject of much debate. While the walls do indeed provide protection and make the city a fortress, the walls too restrict the size and scope of the city itself leading to overcrowding and an occasional exodus of our middle aged men and women to Britain and Skara Brae.
The history of the walls that surround our proud city dates far into the Age of Darkness. Even before the Great King came into power. Then the walls of Trinsic were a pointed wooden lattice hewn from the forest lands to the north. The warring Kingdoms of Men demanded strong walls, and the forest depleted quicker than many could have imagined in those years.
When the flood waters first came, the wooden walls did very little to protest us from the sea and the north peninsula became a swampland and bog. It was then the first plans for the Trinsic Wall first began. Sandstone from the vast sandstone deposits on Barrier Isle to the east were requisitioned and too that resource was torn from the land.
It was quickly determined that by reaping any further sandstone from the isle that Trinsic proper would be at risk from further flooding and tidal fluctuations. And so Barrier Isle excavation was abandoned and the walls have stayed static and unchanged since that Age.
Still the sacrifices, triumphs and battles we the people of Trinsic have endured to maintain and build our great walls have not been in vain. For we are the shield of Britannia, the King looks to us as the bastion of defense for our motherland of Britannia. We train her Paladins, we instruct her Generals, and we protect the people and the peace. We are Trinsic, and our walls will hold.
The Sailing Wench of Vesper
Ne’er did I meet a poppet so fair, as the sailin’ wench o’ Vesper. Hair like the sunsets blood’e shee’n, eyes the color o’ the deep. She wore the colors o’ the rainbow in her dress, sewn together salty rags taken from the victims o’ her plunder, ‘n plunder she did!
I first met her on the dock o’ the Buccaneer’s Den, standin’ on her keel shoutin’n cussin’ at her crew. The orders she barked, “Secure that rig!” ‘n “Get that sail patched!” struck at me heart ‘n made me stare. She swung from her lines ‘n turned her wheel ‘n into the sea she sailed away wit’ me heart.
Th’n in Vesper a double fortnight avast, I fould her within the Ironwood Inn. None o’ her crew, nah a scallywag in sight. When I did scooted up close ‘n mentioned me name she belched in me face ‘n bloodied me nose. Yet still I fell in love wit’ the Sailin’ Wench o’ Vesper.
O’ver the seas, ‘n on the docks o’ Sosaria I chased her ‘n pursued her. We shall ‘ave known where ‘twould soon end. At the end o’ a cannon, at the draw o’ a cutlass. Our ships clashed together, our crews bloodied thar cutlassess! Shot ‘n arrow flew through the air, till the Sailing’ Wench o’ Vesper had me alone ‘n at the end o’ her blade. I didn’ beg, I didn’ plead, for wha’ better way t’ die then t’ be bested by the Sailin’ Wench o’ Vesper?
I asked her name, “Oh beautiful Sailin’ Wench o’ Vesper afore I die, tell me yer name, please, afore I die!” I cried.
Her clea’n smile cracked ‘n in me ear she whispered, “Me name? Me name be Pirate!” she said, me end sure t’ come.
Yet here I stand, ‘n her I live, fer the Pirate Wench o’ Vesper didn’ scuttle me bones that day. Instead I am her mate, ‘n more ways then one. I bark her orders t’ the crew, I stand wit’ her ‘n follow her as me cap’n. …me Sailin’ Wife o’ Vesper!
A Monk and His Wine by Adamu Edom
Among the glorious Yew trees, in the land of the Sun and the Wolf away from the halls of Justice an ancient order makes its home. The ancient Seers of the Leaf and Grape have long tended their crop of grapes from their vines making the most tactile and amorous wines in Sosaria. From the smooth and sweet Serpent Cross to the spiced vintage of Kazola, Yew has always been known for their wine as much as for the trees by which the city is named.
It may seem strange to some for an order of celibate and virtuous monks to tend to wine and imbibe on a daily basis. But I ask you dear reader, were you living a poor and humble life devoid of personal possessions and indeed celibate as well, would you too not enjoy the fruit of the vine rather often?!
I digress. The unnamed streets of the sprawling lands of Yew have long been hewn from the forest. Carts and wagons heavy with casks of the multitudes of wines, ports and ale flowing through the wooded city are like the lifeblood of the city itself.
The secrets of the leaf, while closely guarded by the monks have as much to do with the location as it does any sort of tradition or secret recipe. To the south, snowy peaks whose pure glacial runoff provides ample fresh clean water, mixed with the volcanic enriched soil of the area provide the perfect staging point for winery.
While true, Yew will always be known for its trees, and the court of Truth…also true is that the wines of Yew will always be the sweet under current that wet the lips of Kings and Beggars alike.
Wow, thank you @WildStar !
Bravo! Good show!