Told from the Rant Stand

  • What is this "Rant Stand" you ask? Well, if you'll note the new market there is a podium on a small stage that has came to be known by commoners as the Rant Stand™. With the penchant for speeches and long rants by the adventurer's and citizens of Peltarch, this place was set up to give them a location to do such. Most speeches, announcements, and public addresses are now done from upon the Rant Stand. One can barely go by a day in the market where there is not some crowd listening to someone choose to address whoever will actually listen to them.

    OOCly, the Rant Stand thread is for any 1st person speeches or long statements you want to make with your character should be put. Want to rail about the corrupt magistrate, the annoying southern town, how smelly the docks are, or why exactly they call it the "Three Legged Mule", this would be the place. Unlike the rumor thread, you are free to give responses from your PC in this thread as "part of the crowd".

  • Shannon once again approaches the rant stand, and speaks after a crowd gathers

    Good people of Peltarch, it should be no secret that aides to the Lord Regent Damian Fisher approached me after I presented my resignation in public. He did call a full council meeting in an effort to address my concerns - as well as the concerns of so many others brought before him. You may be certain that the Lord Regent has heard the people of Peltarch and has taken their concerns to heart. In doing so, he has also asked me that I rescind my resignation and continue to serve the Crown as Magistrate and I have accepted his request. That he has laid bare all of the Crown's cards, and by Torm, my faith in the Crown and its mission to not only uphold the law, but justice for its citizens has been renewed.

  • @dorakhan

    City Hall clerks approach Shannon d'Arneau shortly following his declaration.

    [DM Xanatos Gambit]

  • Magistrate D'Arneau approaches the rant stand once more; he waits for a crowd of some size yet again before he begins speaking

    As it seems that the Crown has no interest in meting out fair justice, and seems content propping up its Princess regardless of her actions, my position as its interpreter of law no longer has meaning.

    I hereby resign my position as Magistrate effectively immediately. Written notice is also presented, forthwith, to the Crown.

  • Magistrate D'Arneau approaches the rant stand with his clerk; he waits for a crowd of some size before he begins speaking

    It has long been my preference to keep my oral arguments outside of the court of public opinion, but it seems that there are matters to be addressed before further damage is done to Peltarch's legal institutions and its own citizenry.

    First, let me clarify rulings with regard to the freedom of word: there has been no change between cases of my interpretation of law. Jonah Loch seeks to cite to me my own ruling in Crown v. HEMINGTON (not Hemway, I might add), wherein I ruled with regard to treasonous speech (under statute 1.00), setting up a legal test to determine what does and does not constitute such speech.

    If you wish to cite Crown v. Hemway, the most recent case in which the Bank of Narfell attempted to charge Ms. Jorino with slander, you might take a moment to note that I ruled in favor of the Peltarch Times and Ms. Jorino - as Ms. Phinkwell took it upon herself to join as a defendant in the case. My statement at the time was: that in order for such speech to be struck down (under statute of 1.16 fraud), it must be malicious with intent and demonstrably false. I also cautioned at the time of that rule, again, in FAVOR of The Peltarch Times, that while speech that is not malicious or demonstrably false is permissible, incitement to riot is not. Therein lies the difference, Mr. Loch. It was then in the direct aftermath of this positive ruling that Ms. Jorino took it upon herself to wield this ruling as a cudgel against the Bank of Peltarch once more - which again is within her legal right to do.

    However, given the manner in which it was done, the court feels that in this action, it did incite to riot a group outside the Bank of Peltarch. This is the point in which those words come to be in violation of the law. Not before it. It will be during trial that a determination is made as to whether or not external circumstances lead to further liability or mitigation. And let me be abundantly clear once more: the actions taken as a direct result of these printed words are what cause the legal issue, not the information contained therein. These incitations are captured under the negligence statutes (1.05 negligent murder and 1.10 negligent harm).

    Which brings me to my next point, Mr. Loch. You are incorrect in your assertion that I dislike the Crown. You are incorrect in your assertion that there is enough similarity between these cases to imply that these rulings are different and you are MOST incorrect in your comparison between myself and the traitor Talbot Anderson. You compare me in your article directly to Talbot Anderson, traitor to Peltarch. You are entitled, by law, to make this derogatory comparison because it is an opinion and not demonstrably false as such. However, if a mob subsequently appears at my residence shouting chants of "Death to Anderson, Death to D'Arneau" and subsequently attempts my murder, rest assured you will be charged similarly with incitement under the law, as one would not wonder where such an idea came from.

    You are entitled, by law, to continue acting as nothing more than an instrument of propaganda for Reyhenna Jorino so long as you do not violate these laws. You are entitled, by law, to ignore her exploitation of the poor to the consolidation of her own power and swelling her Defender ranks. You are entitled, under law, to ignore Ms. Jorino's agreements with the Seafarers in an attempt to deny rights to workers in the Docks and across the city so she might maintain her hold. And you are entitled by law to ignore the fact than more than half of the Peltarch Defenders mobilized illegally, into the city, absent delcaration of martial law, on her behalf. You are entitled, by law, to omit the confrontation caused on her behalf between the Defenders and the Guards in the midst of the city. You are entitled, by law, to omit mention of the Lord Regent and his wise and prudent handling of the situation outside the gaol in a fair and just manner that ended the confrontation without violence. You are entitled, under law, to omit, also, that the Lord Regent saw fit to leave this case in my hands. He did not find my actions wise; he did not find my actions prudent; but he did find my actions principled.

    It is with the Crown, and solely with the Crown, that final say in all legal matters reside. This is what the people of Peltarch voted for those years ago. If the Lord Regent wishes a different outcome, he need but declare it to be so. The Crown being absolute in authority, ask yourself: where do matters stand now?

    However, as it seems that within the court of public opinion - true or not, in actuality - the citizenry believes me incapable of handling this case with impartiality and I understand this. I understand the want for a fair and just system of law that acts beyond personal entanglement. And because it would be unreasonable to ask the citizens of the Jewel to think otherwise at this point. I hereby defer the trial to the court of Magistrate Vlana Borodin.

  • Yet again making an appearance, the bard Mashal performs for the passing city folk, this time a mandolin in hand:

    Rika the barbarian a common sight to us all,
    Beautiful and deadly, standing a head above us tall.
    Alas she does not understand this bard's going rate,
    So here I shall sing of her of being a cheapskate.

    What is a hundred gold to a common adventurer,
    When quests and raiding get you rich just like an emperor.
    Not only did she request this song just for her,
    She did it after implying my skills were inferior.

    For she said she did not like city folk, calling us all weak,
    Not strong enough to do battle, no lives do we reap.
    Tell me my good sir, my fine lady in passing,
    Would you take that in stride from a vulgarian trespassing?

    Now she leaves stones after battle as a prayer to her God,
    With her name emblazoned on it's back for him to be awed.
    So if you do come across someone out for her in vengeance,
    Do please point her out and allow her own independence.

  • The bard Mashal once again making an appearance when the weather permits. Performing for the passing merchants and other folk at the market:

    The common folk are in constant worry with every passing day,
    with numerous attacks on the Jewel, to the gods they may pray.
    But when evil comes a knocking on our city's grandest gates,
    We have little to fear, for we stand united against such dire straits.

    Look not only to Peltarch's Defenders, military or otherwise,
    We are all citizens of this city and together we shall rise!
    Every single man, woman and child, we can all play a part,
    For what is a city without it's people, without it's beating heart?

    Help out where you can, we are all uniquely skilled,
    Not every battle is a fight, with the risk of being killed.
    Report the suspicious and the questionable activity,
    Certainly the worst we can do is rest on our passivity!

    With devils now attacking and crimes being committed,
    We must all do our part to no longer permit it!
    Glory to Peltarch and long live the Jewel!
    May the crown be ever bounteous with their rule!

  • Merchants, commoners, and other passersby listen to Mashal's song. They laugh at mentions of tables smashed, and applaud at mentions of new hiers.

    [DM Xanatos Gambit]

  • On the busier days at the market, Mashal sits on the edge of the podium, performing for the passing people. Dressed in his usual white leathers, he strums away on his lute, singing:

    Peltarch the Magnificent, Jewel of the North,
    Ruled by a kindly king, an example set forth.
    Listening to his people, of many varying voices,
    Compassionate and understanding are his very choices.

    Charitable he is, not just to Peltarch's residents,
    He provided for the dwarves, enduring their arrogance.
    Look to the Defenders, if you are concerned of his giving,
    They tolerate no defiance, tables at inn's they're smashing!

    Many were once worried, for there was no apparent heir,
    But now we rejoice to the crown's successor with fanfare!
    Tournaments are held, Knighthoods are granted,
    Rewards and prizes for everyone, most certainly enchanted!

    Make sure to smile and wave when the crown heir passes,
    For he too will be as benevolent as his father to the masses.
    Glory to Peltarch and long live the Jewel!
    May the crown be ever bounteous with their rule!

  • A green haired elf ascends the rant stand, dressed in the blue and silver uniform of the Knights of the Cerulean Stars. Citizens may recognise the reclusive former Senator, Eowiel Senella, who rumours say spends most of her days cloistered within either the private libraries of the Bardic College, or behind a desk in Cerulean HQ with her longtime friend and commanding officer Lycka Zomasdottir.

    "My fellow citizens, what a long time it has been since I stepped up here before you! Not since nine became one, and longer, I daresay, but that is not what I wish to speak of.

    You may know of late I have made the chronicling of history one of my chief distractions, as I rightly leave the destiny of our beloved Jewel of the Icelace to younger generations. It is the call of history that has brought me before you this morning!

    A long time ago, the Nars Pass was infested with a rapacious enemy, and travel across our rugged, wild and wonderous country was ever a challenge. Why, to get from Peltarch to Norwick or back again one had to either know the secret, untrafficked bushways, or brave the roads well armed or ready to pay a steep price in gold or blood. For generations this malice laid claim to the roads, the bridges and the byways across our country, and for generations the free peoples of Narfell united again and again to oppose them.

    I cannot count how many times they marshaled their armies to march north, the pass painted ghastly orange and purple with their numbers, the ground quaking with their accursed Warmachines, the air abuzz with the lightning of their Evokers. I cannot count how many times their assassins tried to creep behind our walls in the dead of night, slipping into the homes of our leaders to shed their blood as they slept.

    And all for what? So one man could say, "This bridge, this pass, this...this is mine, and none others!" Now that man is dead. General Grag of the Legion put his mighty axe in his neck, and since that some interruptions...we have had the freedom to travel the length and breadth of our country.

    Now, of course, we all know that Grag's heirs have closed the way east. The Temple of Helm, the temple of legends such as Shane Andryll and Kanen Hightower, just liberated from the foul demonic forces surrounding it now stands isolated once more. Why? Does the Legion no longer trust its oldest and its truest allies?

    I personally have fought side by side against Narfell's foes with General Grag, with General Lyte, and yes, with General Theon too.

    For centuries Peltarch has been the anvil upon which the hammer of evil has smashed, time and time again as it rears its filthy head, and this is our repayment? To have our friends turn their backs on us, to sling accusations at us, to make demands of us? To have our King PROSTRATE himself before them? How much of our blood must be shed for all of Narfell before WE are the ones owed debts!?

    When I have bled in the service of the Jewel, the Jewel has bled in the service of our whole country, and what thanks have we now? Our farmers must work themselves to their bones to service a debt? Do not mistake my, my friends, the duergar and what they did to the dwarves of the Hold are vile, and I mourn their losses. But I challenge the notion we turned our backs out of cowardice! The Jewel has proven a thousand times that we will fight for our countrymen if we can!

    The one time we could not aid our allies, they dare to call us craven!? How many wars has Peltarch fought without them!? They have come here a time, but have they come every time as they demand of us? For every dwarf that fell in that terrible battle, how many HUNDREDS of our citizens have died to the Eastlander, to the N'Jast, to the Orcs, to the Fire Giants?

    But no! OUR singular failing must be paid back, but ONLY ours!

    I say it is UNJUST. I say it is hypocrisy! I say they have repaid our centuries of service to Narfell by spitting in our face! We were brothers, once, and together we freed all of Narfell. What are we now? Once we repay this blood debt levied upon us, what are we then? I do not know. But we are brothers no more."

    With that rueful conclusion, the elf departs from the stage quickly, vanishing back within the Bardic College as abruptly as she emerged, leaving onlookers wondering if it would be another decade before her next public intervention.

  • **Walking up too the speech stand in the commons is the high priestess of Sharess. With a defender escort of six warriors way too many also likely a request by her. Carrying a stack of papers that one would guess is a speech of sorts as she taps them onto the stand. Looking around at the gathered crowd and smiles tilting her head as she does often laying the paper down onto the stand. **

    Hi friends and common folk

    impish grin and friendly smile too the crowd

    I must correct somethings that i have said as of late as they were kinda false. It was during the siege of peltarch that i signed up to the defenders to help reclaim our city. Many wonderful and brave men and women did the same but once the war was finished. Myself and many others resigned our positions since we had our home back safe and sound.

    Tilts her head to the other side looking at different people in the gathered crowd

    It would seem that i forgot about this fact probably because of my very important duties to my Goddess the Lady Sharess.
    The Dancing Lady, Patroness of Festhalls, the Festhall Madam, Mother of Cats, Foe of Set, the Lustful Mistress, Feline of Felicity, Succubus of Sensation,the Tawny Temptress.

    Her speech goes off topic for abit as she lists out many of Sharess known titles before one of the defenders cuts her off to get back on topic.

    Oh right so yeah anyway seems i may have misled alot of people with saying i was still part of the defenders so yeah sorry about that.

    At this point most would notice she hasn't even looked at the papers she had with her.

    So at this point i would like to state that i, Hedia Gend, am not a member of any of the divisions of the Defenders and have not been since the end of the siege of Peltarch.

    Thank you and may Lady Sharess bless you all with all the pleasures of life.

    Hops down from the stand with a grin heading off too her tree to settle down under

  • A hooded figure slips through the crowd and says softly here and there, moving on before anyone can pin him with a gaze

    Where is your child?
    Where are your children?
    Where is your niece?
    Where is your nephew?

    The hooded figure seems to cause an inordinate amount of disruption, raising the levels of fear and anxiety to fever pitch

    Weapons are now being openly carried on the streets, with guards becoming more and more worried

  • Next is the novelist Isolde Garibaldi, her glass slippers click-clacking against the wooden platform as she takes the stand. A shimmering outfit of emerald green and gold hugs the bardess' figure, the scale-patterened cloth seeming almost to writhe when she moves, the effect sinuously snakelike and decidedly eye-catching. Isolde's voice carries easily across the crowd, melodic, smooth and laden with emotion:

    "You reap what you sow", she begins, letting her dark eyes sweep over those gathered, singling one or two out for a solemn, scrutinizing look.

    "If there's one thing life has taught me, it's this. If there's one prevailing lesson in all that I have seen and experienced, it's this.

    You reap what you sow.

    The N'Jast war claimed a man's beloved, destroyed their home and the life they'd built there. Shattered, the man fled to Peltarch, tried to find a way to go on. He made a friend and found small joys to patch the gaping wounds of loss. Until another war came and his friend was killed. Just another casualty of war, a forgettable footnote in history. What's one person's life in the greater scheme of things, in the game of kings and heroes? Nobody cared. So he decided to ~make~ them care.

    That man became Chirade, a Sharran who would try to drag the whole world into darkness, hellbent on taking all from it that he himself had lost. For one person can be the world to someone. One single casualty of war can be ~your~ wife, your daughter, your best friend. Before you drink from the war mongerer's cup, remember that.

    It's easy to hate.

    It even feels good, to rail and cry foul, to take up arms and teach the BASTARDS who hurt you a LESSON! That anger's a poison, the very poison Talbot Anderson used to march our army to the Giantspires. Fuelled by anger, by the righteous rage against what was ~thought~ to be an orcish attack against our General, Anderson easily seized control of the army and marched towards the Giantspires to retaliate. Except HE had engineered the attack himself - and his gamble for power cost the orcs dearly.

    I followed in the wake of the army, that day. An hour or two behind, when corpses lay fresh where they'd fallen. Warriors, women, even children butchered, heads on spikes. I followed a trail of blood through the orcs caverns, out into the snowy fields below. You know what followed - you know the consequences for our city, but the orcs, the scapegoats necessary for Anderson's ploy to work, they payed too!

    I spoke to their envoy, good people. I witnessed his pain and know that it is just. But he, like so many others suffering, direct their rage indiscriminately. Anderson came from our city - the raiding adventurers come from our city, so our city must pay! But what of Alice the cabbage seller, Nelson the chimney sweep, Tria of Vanity Plates? Are they too to blame, for being citizens of Peltarch? For being human? Must they risk death for anothers deeds?

    I wish that we could be better. But left and right in this city, I hear the same blind rage. Orcs killed my parents, says one adventurer, so ALL orcs must die. The fair Tel'quessir says the only tribute orcs deserve is steel and arrow, flame and death - not for what they did, but just for being orcs. He says there can be no peaceful coexisting with such 'rabid dogs'.

    I say there can be no peaceful coexisting if you don't dare to try.

    You reap what you sow. Anger begets anger, violence begets violence and the wheel keeps spinning. War. Pain, loss, anger, retribution. War again. Now, the wheel has paused for a moment's reflection. An opportunity for ~change~.

    Honour, keeping our agreements as Inquisitor Northman says, may yet beget honour. At the very least, showing the orcs that we are willing to give something back defuses their ire. Let's show them the likes of Talbot Anderson does NOT define what it is to be Peltarchian!

    We're more than that. We're 'better' than that.

    Paying their tribute is not giving in to threats of war. It's an ackknowledgement that what was taken from them was not right and not in agreement with treaties made. But most of all, it's an opportunity to spin the wheel in a different direction.

    You reap what you sow, good people of Peltarch.

    So what future do you want to harvest?"

    ((Taking 10, Charisma 20, Persuade 40))

    The people listen, but as she talks of orcs being honourable, of the potential of a treaty, the crowd splits; it seems there is no love of the orc. Some seem to agree with her sentiment and disperse peacefully, hoping for a quiet resolution, others are incensed and go off to get drunk and rally with those who would seek violence.

  • A halfling clad in defender armor steps up after Cecil saying,

    ‘ello! ‘m Bellamin, most of yeh just know m’ ‘s Bell. Yeh local guard ‘n ‘is 'ere district. Just want’d a quick word while yeh all ‘ere.

    While w' all know ‘r relations with t’ orcs ‘aven’t been the best o’ sorts. Reckon if 'ere’s a solution without need’n blood t’be shed, we ought t’ ’t least try 'at first, yeh?

    Think of yeh loved 'uns waitin' ‘t home, look t’ yeh friends right ‘ere. 'nother war 's not what we need right now.

    Make n' mistake, I'll be t' first amongst many t'lay down m' life f' yeh good folk, -IF- 'n when t' fightin' starts. 't's the job afterall.

    But 'afore 'at, 's what Cecil's been sayin', peace for the Jewel."

    He smiles confidently, before stepping off and wandering back into the crowd

    //Taking 10, Charisma 12, Persuasion 26

    The hin amongst the crowd nod along to Bell’s words, as do the humans who can understand him. Some are moved to disperse peacefully, others seem to stand and think thoughtfully.

  • Atel works the crowd while Cecil speaks, having heard of concerns of a potential War with the orcs, and having seen a full scale war in her day, works to prevent this if possible...

    What else I am, however, is patient. When a situation such as a cease-fire is brokered by the City, it's intended to be KEPT, but not because that makes us all a bunch of orc lovers.

    “It’s true you know.” she tells one man in the crowd quietly. “Remember all the damage Talbot caused? And that wasn’t even a full scale war…”

    In less than half the time allotted, I've gathered over half of what I need, what WE need, to keep this peace without bloodshed. With the rest, I may be able to avoid a war, through mere WORDS, representing Peltarch.

    “We should try to find the ones responsible, and get back what the Orcs need. Without violence.” she tells another man elsewhere in the crowd, plus size of being Halfling is the ability to move in a crowd with relative ease.

    I did this, because I remember the last time our walls were breached, and the faces of those that aren't here today, in the crowd with you, right now, because of it. It was ogres that time, and I will NOT see it be orcs this time, if I can prevent it.

    “Exactly, we should do whatever we can to prevent war.” Atel told a woman, “Remember how bad N’Jast went for Jiyyd? For the surrounding area? Even Peltarch didn’t escape that violence, we don’t want that kind of thing to have its eye centered on our city.”

    ((OOC checks (take 10): Charisma check: 15 Persuade: 18))

    With Atel’s assistance, Cecil’s speech goes down a bit better, another 10% of the crowd being moved to agree with the Inquisitor’s stance

  • Scott decides to take a moment to address the gathered crowd

    If you do not know me, I am Scott. Newly accepted into the defenders.
    The borderlands are my jurisdiction now and I will be patrolling them. I do not want to see anyone instigating any hostilities with the orcs, or else you will answer to me. . and I speak with my blade. Rest assured this goes for the orcs as well, I will not allow them entry to Peltarch Land without an official reason.

    ((Charisma Check 13, Taunt: +36))

    The crowd listen, and become extremely agitated by his taunting, several of them running out towards the orc lands when he finishes as if responding to his taunt and acting foolishly, opening themselves to harm

  • The next day, a very tall human dressed in fullplate with an imperious gaze and a look of definite tiredness and frustration takes the stage, with as many of the Defenders, Guards, and other Peltarch City Employees as were available to attend. Other locals come in, interested to hear what the half-giant has to say.

    Soldiers. You all know who I am.

    Most of the citizenry does too ... if for no other reason that I occasionally get in the way of the sun that they're using to see by.

    I'm not fancy, or particularly well spoken, I'm just a human, and mostly just a soldier at that, despite the title.

    What else I am, however, is patient. When a situation such as a cease-fire is brokered by the City, it's intended to be KEPT, but not because that makes us all a bunch of orc lovers.

    Am I wrong in assuming that the men who fight, bleed, and die for the city, prefer to LIVE to see the next day, and go home to their families after their shifts, and take some pride in their work of keeping their neighbors safe?

    Right now, I've been collecting the things the orcs claim were taken from them, from volunteers and whoever actually DID the taking alike, to show that Peltarch KEEPS its word, even when random people upset the delicate balance of agreements and peace!

    In less than half the time allotted, I've gathered over half of what I need, what WE need, to keep this peace without bloodshed. With the rest, I may be able to avoid a war, through mere WORDS, representing Peltarch.

    I did this, because I remember the last time our walls were breached, and the faces of those that aren't here today, in the crowd with you, right now, because of it. It was ogres that time, and I will NOT see it be orcs this time, if I can prevent it.

    Help me prove the honor of the Jewel, that we KEEP to our agreements, and let's not throw away the lives of those people standing next to you ... or your own, where another path is visible.

    Peace for the Jewel!

    He roars to the crowd, hefting his OWN sword, one nearly as long as he is tall, in the air.

    ((OOC: Charisma check of 12, Persuade of 12))

    Two of the soldiers clap excitedly and wolf whistle, shouting out various Peltarch-centric statements to encourage the Inquisitor. Most clap politely, but then wander off. The non-soldier crowd seems not upset, but not overly moved. There are some, however, who listen attentively, and stick around to encourage Cecil Northman that he is doing the right thing.

  • A tall, handsome elf equipped with an ornate bow, an impossibly long blade that seemed a cross between a rapier and a greatsword, and dressed in gold filigreed leathers takes the stage. As he does, a crowd gathers, seemingly drawn by his presence

    Good people of Peltarch!

    I have heard, that orcs are your foe here in Peltarch, and yet... that they come to make threats, to demand tribute, to force those brave souls who live here and work here to stay out of orc lands... orc lands, as if there was ever such a thing!

    They come, and they are negotiated with, they are respected, they are... tolerated!

    Friends, there is no tolerating an orc, any more than one might tolerate a rabid dog!

    There is no peaceful co-existence with orcs, any more than one might live peacefully next door to a Cyricist

    And now... they have a King. A KING of ORCS

    Do they, the ignoble orcs, seek to ape their betters, the noble and good people of Peltarch?

    I am Tel'quessir, and I will not stand for it, nor will my kin! There is NO KING on the ICELACE but OUR KING.

    Let every able bodied adventurer not pay tribute to the orc, lest we empower and embolden them. Instead, let us TAKE our TRIBUTE to them, a tribute of steel and arrow and flame and death. The tribute they deserve.

    When their ambassador comes again in a ten day's time... I will meet them there, and I will throw my defiance into their teeth, and shatter them, and pursue them back to the snow, that their blood might stain the field red for an eternity

    Who is with me?

    The crowd roars their defiance, their anger, their fear... it seems that the orcs are not liked in Peltarch, and this elf has captured the mood of the moment well.

    ((OOC: Charisma check result of 15, Persuade of 35))

  • Not really told from the "Rant Stand" so much. Marty gives a short speech to the folks living Ashald Garden. She stands at the top of the stairs so that her voice can carry over the crowd

    "Good folks! May I gain your attention please?

    On behalf of the People of Peltarch …"

    Points a young boy out of the crowd, the one she caught trying to be a hero on the wall. She motions him up to join her on the steps.

    "It is my duty and pleasure to award this Medal for Heroism …"

    Removes a medal from around her neck as the kid climbs the stairs.

    "Umm … "

    *Whispers to the young boy.

    "What's y'name kid?"


    "I award this medal to Mornay Smick, for bravery in the face of certain death, and heroism above the call of duty!"

    Martouscah quite regally places the medal over the boy's head and down to hang around his neck. She then takes him by the hand and holds his hand up high


    Hiphip HORAH!
    Hiphip HORAH!
    Hiphip HORAH!

    quietly to Mick

    Thanks kid.

    To everyone

    Folks, the Medal I lay upon Smick today I symbolically lay upon all of you! To be honest …
    ... To be totally honest …. I had lost hope. We faced foes that seemed uncountable ... unstoppable. I had resigned myself to die a good death fighting on the line.

    But you FOLKS! In all truth I took one look at you all … and even as I look at you all now ... You're what it's all about. We all are. Sons and Daughters of Peltarch. Sons and Daughters of Tidus, of "The Jewel of the Icelace".

    You lot gave me hope.

    So … I salute you.

    Marty brings her hand up in salute, and then brings it down sharply

    And to all of you my warmest thanks. May your gods love and keep you all.

  • While the air is still hazy with smoke and ashes from the fallen star which struck just south of the city proper, Cerulean Commander Lycka Zomasdottir, husband Aelthas her pink, towering shadow, takes the stand. Her well-trained voice carries far and wide, though not without a raspy strain from the trials of the scorching days the city has suffered.

    "People of Peltarch!

    While our trials are not yet at an end, neither are our lives, for on this day all the city's finest spellcasters banded together; Ceruleans and Archangels, Thayan and Rashemi, adventurers and scholars, wizards, priests and bards.

    On the roof of City Hall itself, our defenders stood, facing the scorching heat, the falling flames. They did not flinch, they did not flee - they raised their hands and voices and wove such magic as to PUSH the dread and fiery star off its course and onto the path of the enemies past our gates!

    We're not out of harm's way yet - I know it and you all know it. But I would have us celebrate the victories won, the efforts made, both great and small, by all the city's bravest. From putting fires out to bandaging a broken arm, from fighting orcs with bow and sword to baking bread to fill hungry bellies, or simply offering kindness when war threatens to get the best of us - all, yes ALL of us can make a difference! But on this day, I raise a special cheer to Mystra and to all the weavers of magic that blew fiery doom away from our home.

    While the city stands, there is hope, while we live and breathe, I know we will all fight to keep it so! Praise Mystra! Long live the Jewel!"