3. The Stand for the Jewel

The Stand for the Jewel


  • **-The Prelude-

    _Liberty or death,
    what we so proudly hail.
    Once you provoke her,
    Rattling of her tail.

    Never Begins it,
    never, but once engaged.
    Never surrenders,
    showing the fangs of rage.

    So be it.
    Threaten no more.
    To secure peace is
    to prepare for war.
    So be it.
    Settle the score.
    Touch me again with the words that you will hear evermore.

    Don't tread on me._

    So it begins.

    Decades have the stirrings happened around this city. Decades have the strings been pulled, the contacts been made, the dreams dreamt.

    And now it begins.

    We had watched on the side, witnessed the atrocities that were happening; the men and women that have been infiltrating our city, gaining places of power or gathering behind those that already had it. We’ve sat quietly, not making true moves that were need, not yet wishing to act, almost afraid of the reality.

    But here it begins.

    And so we few have had to make our choice. Do we step up and fight, do we try to make one last grasp for the city we hope to have, the true Jewel that it could live up to; or do we continue to sit, and let it happen, and simply do nothing as…

    …it begins

    No, we can’t sit back, or at least I know I can not and it seems many others have taken up this fight…this war. They have had the first move, perhaps the first dozen of moves. They have their pieces in play where they want them, but that’s the error they make. They are playing a game and believe they are playing it against an apathetic opponent. Perhaps this was true at a time, it is definitely true in the majority of the populace, but some of us have risen up…have refused to let our apathy remain…and we shall soon show them that this is no longer a game, and the rules of the game they play will soon be shattered. Let them have their pawns, there is nothing we can do concerning those now…but when they seek to move them they will find that the playing field has changed greatly. War is coming, it is inevitable, and we must accept it, we must prepare, and we must be ready when it arrives…

    For it begins.

    And we will welcome it.**


  • Nicely written, Zyph.

    🙂


  • **-The gamble lost-

    Fire
    To Begin Whipping Dance of the Dead
    Blackened Is the End
    To Begin Whipping Dance of the Dead
    Color Our World Blackened

    Fire.

    Everywhere there was fire and the sky was blackened as far as the eye could see over the city. Something had to be done, and quickly. Everyone knew it, and Zyph was no exception as he made his way around the tower. For the past days he had tried to lift moral, talking to the troops that had came from all over. He honestly wasn’t sure what would’ve happened to the tiny encampment if not for the stream of legion and gali that came and more groups came with each passing day. He thanked them all, told them all how good of a job they were doing, even if they were just standing there for hours on end. But every time he looked up he just saw the fire, and he knew that action was going to be needed in some way.

    He moved around the tower and heard Anakore, Captain of the Cerulean Knighthood of arcane warriors, speaking of an opening outside the city to the sewers. It was then that a plan formed in Zyphlin’s mind. It was thin, paper thin, but it could work. He asked the Captain for one of his knights, the bard Demi, and grabbed a dear friend from his past in the form of the Oreth druid and quickly he went about explaining this plan.

    The Bardic College of Peltarch apparently had a sewer entrance enterable by the master’s key and blocked by a heavy steel gate. Zyph informed them of his locking of the theater before he left and stated that while that didn’t mean it wasn’t broken into it at least would keep random ruffians from wandering it and it would be a chance they hadn’t made it to the
    masters chamber. The plan was to enter the sewers invisibly with the aid of the druid removing the stones covering the entrance and if finding it clear send word back to use it as a temporary forward base. A gamble, but sometimes you had to roll the dice.

    They moved off, heading towards the city that was no longer theirs. As they approached Zyphlin had to take a look, he had to see the damage and agreed as well with Demi’s assertion of checking the number of people. He moved quietly over to a tree he had used so many times before during battles to scale up the walls. As he reached the top and looked over his heart sank, a shadow falling over his hopes as he looked before him. Peltarch was in ruins; blackened and scorched from fire, ruined buildings filled the field of vision and wreckage littered the streets. This is what they were fighting for, this injured and wrecked city, and yet in his heart he could truthfully tell himself that yes…yes it was…and he’d die for it if it came down to it. It may be nothing but a stone left when they win, but by the gods he will keep fighting till his last breath for that stone.

    He dropped back down, returning to his partners without telling them of what he saw, and they continued to the sewers. They reached the entrance and dealt with it easily enough, the plot seeming to run smoothly thus far. Through the sewers they moved, following Zyphlin’s lead as he padded effortlessly through the halls he had memorized and traversed for so many years during his early days in the city. They slip past shadowmasks, brutal assassins and thieves of the highest caliber that had threw their lot in with the insurgents, and strange cultists in helms the shape of some demonic skull. Yet past them all they moved, the invisibility spells proving their worth as they made it to the base of the theater’s gate.

    Slipping his key in Zyph lowered the gate and a few steps later they were in the door to the theater, standing within the master’s library. They all uttered a sigh of relief and a cheer of happiness at the emptiness of the place. Each went about their own tasks; Demi moved up through the college to get a peak out the windows and see if the top was breached, Oreth sent forward an animal messenger to Captain Anakore letting them know they were in and it was clear as of now, and Zyphlin pulled forth his mirror and set about scrying senator Gelon.

    That’s about the time that the dice finished rolling and came up snake eyes.

    Halfway through his scrying Demi returned with Eowiel, he halfways registered it but was to focused in the magic. The next oddity came ten minutes later, a rumbling at the doors, but in his concentration he couldn’t hear it. He didn’t register a thing till the glint of cold steel hit his eye just soon enough for him to roll back from his scrying, turning a beheading strike into merely a deep cut along his shoulder. Quickly he strung his harp within his bag, bringing up a sphere of invisibility around him as he grabbed his mirror and assessed the situation. Six defenders, full armor, and his friends wounded. He quickly moved to the druid, pulling him within the sphere of invisibility and moving to the other bards as the defenders looked on confused. He found them close to the exit, fighting their retreat back. He attempted to include them into his circle but the combat was to fierce and they broke the enchantment upon themselves. Quickly he dashed for the door, calling for them to enter and flee with him while they could. They turned to go, Eowiel closest to the door while demi farther tried to cast a spell of invisibility…and it was her undoing. A blade pieced her side, spewing forth blood upon the Master’s Quarter of her home. Eowiel turned at her scream, almost to the door, and charged back into the fight only to be fell as well. Zyphlin looked on in agony, his heart demanded he go back and save them but his head told him such a deed with himself and the druid already injured and six defenders was foolhardy. Instead he closed and locked the door, pulled up invisibility again over himself and the last remaining, and quickly they retreated back to the camp. He felt frigid, his body numb; two dead friends and former lovers lay dead within the theater and his best option was to run in hopes of saving them at a later point.

    “Welcome back to the reality of war,” he thought to himself, “it is a foul thing that will leave all it touches blackened and cold.”

    Ten minutes later the returned back to the refuge camp, half their number now and with half the hope of before. It seems like this time lady misfortune won this gamble.**


  • **-The Decade Long Coup-

    _The window burns to light the way back home
    A light that warms no matter where they've gone

    They're off to find the hero of the day
    But what if they should fall by someone's wicked way

    Still the window burns
    Time so slowly turns
    Someone there is sighing
    Keepers of the flames
    Do ya feel your name?
    Can't you hear your babies crying?

    But now the dreams and waking dreams
    That ever last the night
    So build the wall, behind it crawl
    And hide until it's light
    So can you hear your babies cryin' now?_

    The day started off like any other in Peltarch. In her temple daisy was making the rounds to her priests, getting ready for the day to come. Fenz moves up and down the docks, keeping an eye out for guards and double checking his inventory for the day. The bards of the college sat in their library and classrooms, practicing their arts and studying history. And in the senate building, upon the hill in the civic district, the lights of activity were seen in the windows as Senators and citizens streamed into it awaiting the big meeting.

    And yet all could feel something was going to happen this day, that strange feeling akin to the hair standing up on end along the nape of your neck; you didn’t understand it, but you could feel it…down to your very soul.

    The main point of the meeting was known to all, it was obvious by simply looking around the streets. The perennial hero of Peltarch Devin Telan, the man that bested the giants in the war with their kind and defended the city for decades, had gone missing and a new hero must be chosen, must be found, and must restore the peace.

    But with such a simple purpose, the day went horribly horribly wrong. And yet it was an ending that had been heralded by the bards of the city for the past decade…

    The meeting started simple enough; Gelon, Bravickus, Rath, Evendur, and Roland were all present, however the absence of almost half the senate was disheartening. Still, the seats of Vino Sten and Nico Black were filled by their advisors, Magistrate Zyphlin Re’cual and Knight Nathen Wingates respectively, giving them a seating of seven, good enough to conduct the meeting and begin the figured. The main issue was skipped around at first, going instead to the investigation of the Black Dragons. Discussion was had and just as a vote was called and the question of where their former commander was asked Koreth walked in, accompanied by a sight no one had seen in Peltarch for some years now; Black Dragon Knights flanking behind him. From that moment the people within the room knew that this would be a different meaning, a defining one in the history of Peltarch.

    Koreth spoke his outrage at the investigation, and pointedly at the man that caused it…Zyphlin…who happened to be sitting at the very table. He labeled him treasonous, guilty of trying to sabotage and discredit the military, and demanded he be removed forcibly and that the government was suspended. When the senate demanded to know at what authority this was being done Koreth uttered the definitive words that sparked what will likely be labeled in the annuls of Peltarch from here until the end of its time:

    “Under my authority.”

    At that point what transpired can only be described as chaos. The senate was in shock as Koreth demanded no one leave and left. When the senate refused to sit upon Black Dragon orders, all hell broke loose. The Knights attacked, the assembled hero’s within the room fought back, and in the end the Knights within the room were slain. However as the senators and citizens left the building they realized this was not some sudden plan, no grasp for control due to a thin standing case of treason of a bard, this was a calculated and thought out in advance plot. All around them the city was in shambles; defenders fought defenders, guards fought guards, mercenary men that had been slowly infiltrating the city for the past decade took up arms against all it seemed…Civil War had come to Peltarch.

    Amidst the sound of siege weaponry battering buildings and roads and the cries of women and children through windows of burning houses refuges tried to make their way out of Peltarch. Some gathered their earthly possessions while others gathered family members to flee from the city at haste. Still others, such as the foolhardy Headmaster of the College fled back into the city despite the odds, stating there were things he had to secure no matter the cost of his life. How he made it back out, along with his partner in crime Meril that ran back in afterwards, people still wonder…but then many whisper he is smiled upon by the goddess of luck.

    In the end the battle lines were drawn. The refuges flooded in, citizen and military alike, filling the lands to the south. Daisy had seen such possible events coming, having been warned of them for years by certain people within the city yet hating to admit the possibility, and had set up a temporary healing ward within the tower. Tents were spread along the base of the valley for people to stay in and tend to their families while still others secured the hill with barriers and siege weaponries, building their defenses to hide behind until the break of day.

    The next morning the populace of the refuge camp stood upon the hills looking at what was their home, now burning off in the distance, and hearing the cries of children behind them in the tents. Hell had been brought to the people of Peltarch, and it came on the back of a Crusader in golden armor.

    And behind them all, a bard in blue closed his eyes and cursed himself for being right and yet being unable to do a thing about it.**


  • **-Gazing upon the pawns-

    _Soldier boy, made of clay
    now an empty shell
    twenty one, only son
    but he served us well
    Bred to kill, not to care
    just do as we say
    finished here, Greeting Death
    he's yours to take away

    Back to the front
    you will do what I say, when I say
    Back to the front
    you will die when I say, you must die
    Back to the front
    you coward
    you servant
    you blindman

    Barking of machinegun fire, does nothing to me now
    sounding of the clock that ticks, get used to it somehow
    More a man, more stripes you bare, glory seeker trends
    bodies fill the fields I see
    the slaughter never ends_

    He walked out of his theater, swinging the large double doors open as the sun beamed down on his face. The azure sky over head seeming so clear that it could be an ocean within the sky, the bright golden sun and a few stray clouds of the milkiest white were all that could blemish it the pristine blue. But in contrast to such a sight Zyphlin was not draped in his once more typical radiant blue tunic, instead wearing his new dark outfit. While in contrast to the shining sky that day it was in perfect harmony with the inner thoughts and fears of the bard.

    He moved down through Bard Street with heavy footfalls as his eyes never left the metal machines that supposedly housed men within them, the yellow sashes draped over their shoulders as they patrolled the streets. He wondered how many of those he knew, had possibly even fought beside when they were once part of a cohesive unit, and realized such thoughts were fruitless. They were no longer those people; they were just play things for an overweight old fart. He sighed in disgust, continuing down the streets.

    His feet led him through the city on a path to the docks, a hollow sound echoing with every beat of his feet against the cobbled rode, having to deliver some paper work on some recent arrests. Tedious paperwork, pointless technicalities that half the time just prolonged things that needed to be done and gave chances for those that were wrong to just find a loophole or a friend with the money for the right bribe; how he hated it. But his disgust for the petty parts of his job was no match for that which he saw as he moved through the docks, and it was quickly pushed out of his head. No, what was disgusting was what was happening in the docks these days. He watched as some men in red sashes bullying people simply walking through the streets. He watched farther forward as another couple of Sent’s men cornered a woman, getting a bit to friendly before finally backing off and letting her go her own way. He watched them as they prowled the streets, eyes ever watching for anything they could pounce on, all the while feeling the ever present haze of unease that seemed to fill the docks so much as of late. All of this he watched and did no action against…what was the use. As much as he’d have liked to intervene, to interpose himself, he knew in the long run it would be detrimental. The time must be correct, the moment right, and the action perfect…and it would be against those pulling the strings. These men in sashes were simply place holders.

    Papers dropped off, duty done, and out the door as quick as he could. He was in no mood for business, no mood in seeing Dunderstone or hearing the cries of those in the jail. He needed to think and align his plans. Back out of the district he headed now, passing sashless defenders as he moved along the waters edge, heading towards the ritzier side of town. Varid’s men, the few that were above this petty squabble of captains and factions. He had his run in with Varid the other day, and it was not exactly what he’d have liked. He regretted it now, while strict and by the book he was at least a decent man compared to the others. He noted to himself to be sure to write the captain and apologize as he made his way past the Defenders standing their position but doing truly nothing more.

    Nodding to a few nobles as they moved by, putting on the smile and the cheery look, playing the game…forever playing the same damn game. But for a good cause…that’s what he kept telling himself…it had to be for a good cause, else why would I continue on this long. He past the purple sashed bunch of defenders as he moved through the district, past the city hall and in front of the Temple of Tyr. He felt deeply for Kaster, barely able to imagining what pain it must be for him to know that the woman terrorizing the city for so long is a twisted and warped shell of his daughter. His men did their job it seemed, and while they were not above the squabbles at least they had a decent leader…or at least that’s what he hoped.

    Finally out of the city, into the plains and up onto a hill. This is what he wanted to see, to force himself to watch and understand. Before him was the training field of the defenders, watching them practice their tactics. “The Army of Peltarch.” He scoffed at the thought. What he saw was no real army, nor soldiers. He saw the cliques even within the practice, always focusing so much on those damn sashes. Pawns, nothing more then pawns, for Knights and Rooks that fell haphazardly into the place of King and plan on holding onto it no matter the cost.

    He sat there most of the afternoon, watching and thinking; the thought that within days these men could be upon each other, pouring blood within the streets. Many of these men could barely even be considered soldiers; new recruits fresh out of training and fresh out of their mama’s care as well. Did they realize what they were really training for, did they realize that soon they would no longer be themselves…they would simply be tools, metal machines with an empty human body within, they would be disposable hero’s in a war of fools and the greedy. The gods have mercy on their souls once their purpose was done…**