Common Worlds

Here's an improved map of the Rubble.

There are ten Commissioners for Repairs of Temples, elected by lot, who receive a sum of thirty Guilders from the Receivers-General, and therewith carry out the most necessary repairs in the temples.

There are also by tradition ten City Commissioners (Astynomi), of whom five hold office in the new and five in the Old city. Their duty is to see that masons are not hired at more than two lunars, and if more than one person is anxious to hire the same one, they cast lots and hire her out to the person to whom the lot falls. They also provide that no collector of sewage shall shoot any of his sewage within ten stradia of the walls; they prevent people from blocking up the streets by building, or stretching barriers across them, or making drain-pipes in mid-air with a discharge into the street, or having doors which open outwards; they also remove the corpses of those who die in the streets, for which purpose under the Lunars they have a body of state slaves assigned to them.

Here's a preview of a product about Pavis in the 2nd Age.

Rasa is free to print this out and refer to it at any time. I reserve the right to revise any info.

Jon should read it and may draw on any of it as lore.

Pavis Rising

A shortish game, with some character sheet work.

Will and his entourage entered the Old City through the Griffin Gate. They kicked ice away from the path where it had built up. Much to their surprise, Will's arrival attracted a crowd who needed protection. This need forced Hargran the Dirty to send a Pavis Royal Guard patrol as escort, since he otherwise risked having 30-40 New City residents going missing in the huntlands.

The Champion and his crew made it to Rass Manor, where they found everyone safe, with the possible exception of one missing person. They also discovered brother Cam, miraculously returned from a long quest and last reported accompanying the Cradle out to sea.

With Cam still unconscious, Will turned his attention to the city and its need. Received with pomp at the New Pavis temple, he spilled his blood on the altar of Pavis and, in answer, a hot wind blew. All across the city ice groaned, cracked and started to melt.

After the battle, after the feast, after the raiding of the supply train, everyone is happy, many are drunk, all are well fed for the first time in months. Word passes first to you informally, then one of Broyan's thanes comes personally to Will's entourage and formally speaks in pretty good Pavic:

"I ask Issaries to bless this speech, Heort to guide my words to pass truly to you. I am Hjarlort Running Spear, Spearthane of King Broyan of Heortland, Tricker of Whitewall, Master of the Battle of Iceland, Last Free King of the Orlanthi. I killed a Bat Priest on the Bat's back, stood an hour in the Howling Winds at the Second False Breach of Whitewall, I helped bring the Messenger Deer, I carry the claws of two Black Leopard Men, and I killed four Tarshmen whose axes would have reached my King, here at Iceland."

"Under Orlanth's breath, at midnight, my King asks you to come stand before him for the King's Gifting. He accords you, Will I Am Redburner, Champion of Pavis, the status of Tribal King in the gifting and calls you the Champion of that city tribe called Pavis.

"Oshun Firecharge of the Zebra People, King Broyan accords you the status of Clan Chief under Will I Am.

"Axe Maiden Speth Generalsdoom, King Broyan accords you the standard of the general and such parts as your cult demands, and further calls you a Hero of the Battle of Iceland.

"Here is my tradethane Sora Wagonbreaker, to speak with your tradethane as is customary. I thank you on behalf of the Master of the Battle of Iceland and the Iron Ring of Sartar, and promise to return your words to my King correctly if you have message for him prior to the gifting tonight."

Oshun's Issaries knows his role here: to explain your preferences in loot to Sora, so that gifts appropriate to you may be awarded. Likely the king will make some special gifts separate from the requests you make as well.

Here you should decide what things are of most interest to you, and also if there is anything you may want that is unlikely to be of use to others. Things like very large shields, (not used in Sartar, but popular in Pavis) or grimoires.

Things most prized by most:

Lunar-Stolen Clan/Tribal relics (Broyan will not give you the Black Spear of the Colymar Tribe, for example)
Iron (which is always magical 99% of the time)
Non-hostile magic
Horses
Gold
Silver

Items of obvious imperial or Lunar make are less popular than more generic ones, even if less finely made than the imperial ones. Lunar style weapons claimed by Sartarites will always be reworked by smiths for example.

Notable, obvious and unique things:
Two injured but probably not dying, extremely hostile Bronze War Horses.
Four fine war horses with Imperial kit.
Several wagons with teams. (Broyan's army is not moving on roads)
Each of you may suggest two other unique and obvious things that are in the loot pile.

Large picture below the break.

After a short delay, the Heroes met up just inside the Wyvern Gate. Rasa was no where to be found.

Moving toward the Real City, the Unicorn Riders broke off and continued toward their temple. Betira spoke her farewell to Oshun. "Your stalwart press of the center carried the day. I will not forget the bravery of you and your riders. My priestess, Morganeth shall hear your name." With that she departed.

Now the heroes stood before the gates of the Real City, which was clearly on high alert. All the pavisites could feel the tingle of agitated, watchful daimones guarding the gate.

Will I Am approached at the fore, and a guard called down the traditional greeting. "Peace of Pavis unto you. Who comes to the gates?"

Will gathered the blessings of Pavis around him, so that his aura of belonging would have been palpable to the least sensitive initiate. And more, he drew forth the first harp string of the Ivory Harp and let it sound. Ethereal echos and vibrations sounded from the gates and from more distant places. In short order the gate's postern opened and guards exited to protect the heroes as they guided their mounts through the gate.

Before they all finished getting into the city, one of Broosta's senior aides had arrived, looking like he had hurried. He escorted the heroes to the temple without delay.

Once inside the crystal dome of the old temple, worshippers left the outsiders. They continued on into the sacred precincts of the temple, where a ceremony already called for Pavis' aid. Oshun and his riders joined the outer supporters, but Will continued in until he was before the Holy of Holies, the altar and seat of Pavis.

There five of the seven Pavis priests worked their sacrifices and prayers. One spot was empty--Cyrillius Harmonius was not present. Ginkizzie was also absent, but a dwarf worshipper of Flintnail stood in his place.

Will I Am took in the ceremony, considering whether he should do more than aid it with his devotion. Watching it, he had a profound realization: he was the answer to their prayers. With that in mind, he layered his magics and awareness on, and entered the ceremony.

A timeless feeling of oneness enveloped him and he understood the entire purpose and direction of the ceremony. But now that he was here, another possibility existed. Rather than attempting the difficult reach across the ruins to the Flintnail temple, the priests and Will could invest Pavis' power in some of those here, now that there were enough warriors and magicians present to take up that burden and leave the temple.

His vision swayed the collected priests, who worked together to invest their chosen with the power of the city. Feeling the link to all those who aided the ceremony, Will and the priests also picked out one other member of the congregation to bear the powers of the god across the city and to Flintnail. They sensed him only as a nameless initiate among the crowd in the temple, but the power of his spirit and the firmness of his devotion made it clear he was a good choice.

The ceremony concluded successfully, and all those chosen to carry Pavis' power felt it invested in them, as if each of them rode a wave of the god's will. They could feel each other as well as the god.

The decision to include the unknown initiate seemed wiser still when they actually saw him. He was a tall man, broad shouldered and armed as a thane with mail and leather. A sun-browned face had seen many hard things, but his eyes were still clear if his beard had the first touch of gray in it.  Even now with the wind stopped and most proclaiming Orlanth dead, he wore the marks of the King of the Storms. Gathering together, the stranger spoke.

"Peace of Pavis. Friends, you are well met. It is a grim time, and we all need help."

"My name is Argrath of Pavis, and I am returned from the Cradle."

Oshun's zebra-riding Faithful Lancers continued to press the center of the Marble Phalanx Line, bravely standing and hacking among the stalwart and unflinching spearmen. Slowly they pushed their way into the ranks.

Will forced his way into the far left edge of the Dara Happan shield line, chain spinning and his spear driving the hoplites back with a series of feints and jabs. At one time or another, he faced as many as four of the infantrymen at once.

Betira skillfully led the Unicorn riders against the shield line again and again, taking the brunt of the losses to her Yelornans. They grew bolder with Oshun's success in the center, but paid heavily for their bravery with their blood and the blood of their mounts.

September 14 2004

After entering the most outlying part of Pavis County, the dawn comes red, smoky and late. As the sun begins to peek out, the Yelornans all stop and offer prayers to their Star Maiden goddess, thanking her for protecting everyone through the darkness.

The cloaked strangers with them take sightings, measurements and make notes as the sun rises, and speak prayers in Dara Happan to a god you are unfamiliar with--"Penendros."

Nearing the city walls, everyone can see that something is wrong. Thief Town, the squatter community outside the New City, has swollen to twice its normal size. Lunar pennants and standards fly at a hastily dug fortification at the Griffin Gate to the Old City. Plumes of smoke rise from several spots in the main ruins and Zebra Town.

"It has upon it quite the appearance of complication,," says the Issaries guide, stating the obvious. "And more there be too. Now with the dawn, I am assured by Issaries-who-guides-us that we are being followed. None too close though."

Scouting by the Young Riders reveals that the ferries across the Zola Fel at the new city have been stopped, and that two files of the Granite Phalanx have dug in a position in and around the ruined Griffin Gate, preventing anyone from entering or exiting. Sable Riders run scouting patrols out of this spot, but are clearly reconaissance forces who do not come after riders who stay distant from the walls.

No obvious lunar presence shows itself at the troll break, but there's a good sized Sable camp at the northern entrance of the Zola Fel, on the Garden side.

All that means that there is no easy, direct way into the Rubble. Certainly not by daylight.

With twilight upon you, Garusharp gathers his prayers and magic about him and disappears off toward the walls of the old city. Will's blessing offers him further reassurance.

Close up the ancient blocks are even more impressive, bearing thousands of marks of battle and wind scourings. Even in their neglected state, ordinary climbers would have trouble with them, and ordinary men would hesitate because the stones themselves seem to silently radiate a message: "You, pitiful mortal, you may not pass."

In the half light and shadows cast by the setting sun, Garusharp freehands his way to the top of the wall a hundred yards south of the Granite Phalanx pickets at the Wyvern Gate. It is twilight of Waterday, the beginning of Clayday, Mobility Week, Dark Season 1621

Below him a cluster of ruins the size of a normal city spreads out from the gate, then peters out into icy stubble fields dotted with fallen walls. Hills rise within the walls, each covered with ancient fortifications. Some are whole and manned, others ruined and abandoned. Watch fires burn brightly from all the manned towers of the largest fort.

A mile or more away across the city, the icy river gleams by the fitful moon's glow. And across that, there's the distant sense of motion--slow moving cavalry (Cavalry?? they are the right size, but they move strangely) coming from the river and heading toward the northwest corner of the ruins.

Fires burn in distant ruins across the river and before the cavalry.

After taking this in, perhaps 60 yards forward into the ruins some sound and motion draws your attention. Shortly after that, a fetid stink reaches your nose.

In a partially collapsed and burned ruin, twisted, unclean figures move about. You hear guttural orders and see their attempts to start a small fire. Several of them move back and forth between two sections of the ruin. They are obviously where they are for the same reason you are--this is just outside of the perimeter of the gate guards.

Working to get a better view, Garusharp moves along the wall's top. As twilight fades into night, he sees hideous goatlike faces reflect the sickly light of the fire. A forward scout with scrawny little horns that wave about like a snake's tongue capers nearer to you, still unaware of your presence, watching instead toward the Lunar position.

The hair on the back of Garusharp's neck goes up as he hears snips of grunted prayers to their obscene and hideous spirits. Their tongue is a twisted mess of languages, but you pull one word out as it is repeated again and again: Ma-ll-ia Ma-ll-ia Ma-ll-ia Ma-ll-ia.

The mistress of disease.

Their ceremony has only begun. The shaman at the center of the magic lifts a tied dog up, croaks some dreadful benediction at the center of his circle, runs a knife along its side and parades it in a circle around his ritual space. The dog shudders and squirms, whimpering as its blood pours out on the ground, the walls and the other goat men gathered for the ritual.

It seems likely that this is just the first and least of several sacrifices.

Garusharp decided to find a spot in the ruins to run his ambush, a place where he could fire on both camps if necessary.

Will, Oshun and the others worked their subtle magics to move undetected to near the gate, where Will's Pavis magic made amazing progress moving stones and boulders out of the path of the combined Unicorn and Zebra cavalry, which promptly charged. Oshun joined the charge while Will attacked one edge of the shield wall from foot.

Rasa has pulled what simple magic it can together and is attempting to pass through the Dara Happan line unnoticed, in order to reach the tower of the Rass and his magical resources.

After some initial success, the experience and training of the Marble Phalanx is beginning to tell. Even though they have taken casualties and they're being attacked from two sides, their lines have held and they have twice pushed the cavalry charges off.

In the ruins behind Garusharp, the noise of the broo ritual is no longer quiet and whispered. It rises with screams and loud, horrific invocations.