Port Torvin
- hedgeknight
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Port Torvin
Greyhawk, 586 CY, Readying 14 > Remembrance Day
Port Torvin, at the mouth of the Javan River; Cold and Windy and Sprinkling Rain
"It's a great day for a hanging!" says one fellow to another as they hurriedly walk toward the docks.
This is a statement you've heard often since arriving in Port Torvin yesterday. The folk in the port city were wild and excited all day yesterday. Why? Because today is "Remembrance Day" - the first celebration of the signing of the Pact of Greyhawk in 585 CY; the official end to the Greyhawk Wars. Regardless of how you arrived, Port Torvin has been preparing for this day for the last two months. Stalls are full of wares; everything from weapons and armor to exotic fruits and vegetables to rare potables and perhaps even a few illegal substances, guaranteed to blow your mind. Not literally of course, but you get the idea.
It's still cold, even in this part of Oerth which is normally sub-tropical in temperature. The sun is hiding today and the overcast clouds spitter and spatter with rain drops. But it doesn't matter > a hurricane could be bearing down on the port city and the locals would be celebrating anyway.
"The war is over! Hail to the Sea Princes!"
"Fuck Iuz!"
"Ball sack! Ball sack!"
"Where's my monkey?"
"Flaming hog balls here! Get yer flaming hog balls!"
"Count Tydan! Count Tydan and the Soiled Dove!"
"Eat a dick, dye beard!"
And so forth and so on as the crowd gathers near the docks where the gallows are set up on the side of the docks, hanging over the water in the bay. Notably, you see several "fins" and shapes in the water of the deep harbor.
Several men (and a few women) stand around the docks, geared with stiff leather armor and shields, carrying spears and swords. Standing near the gallows are three men and one woman, all bound in chains; their dirty shifts swallow on their thin frames. Their greasy hair and deplorable condition can be seen (and smelled if the wind shifts) from where you watch several feet away.
A man dressed in some finery strides up to a podium, unfurls a scroll, and speaks:
"In the name of His Noble Excellence, Erasmus Tydan, Count of Port Torvin, these are sentenced to die by hanging for their crimes. Crimes against the Hold, crimes of allegiance to the Scarlet Brotherhood, and crimes of murder and rousing sedition against His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon II of Monmurg; Ruler of the Azure Sea!"
"Prince Jeon can eat a bag a dicks!"
Comes a shout from somewhere in the crowd, followed by not a few cheers and jeers.
The armed guard takes a step forward and the crowd calms somewhat.
The speaker then continues reading, but the crowd is restless and it's difficult to hear.
Someone nearby says, "These poor fucks are innocent! I'd bet me life on it!"
"Aye, just a big show for the Count more like it!" another says.
"Word is, the Count is just licking Prince Jeon's ass because he's afraid of him!" a woman says, holding a suckling babe to her tit.
"Gonna be hell to pay if they don't go through with it now, though." This from the first man.
"Somebody ought to step in and do sommat. It ain't right, I tell ya."
"Nobody's gonna speak out agains the Count, you know that! Anyone who does is liable to find a noose around his neck sure enough!" the woman says, as her child gurgles, eyes closed in a milk coma.
The speaker's next words silence the murmurs: "If anyone wishes to speak for these...wastrels...let him speak now, or forever hold his peace."
Port Torvin, at the mouth of the Javan River; Cold and Windy and Sprinkling Rain
"It's a great day for a hanging!" says one fellow to another as they hurriedly walk toward the docks.
This is a statement you've heard often since arriving in Port Torvin yesterday. The folk in the port city were wild and excited all day yesterday. Why? Because today is "Remembrance Day" - the first celebration of the signing of the Pact of Greyhawk in 585 CY; the official end to the Greyhawk Wars. Regardless of how you arrived, Port Torvin has been preparing for this day for the last two months. Stalls are full of wares; everything from weapons and armor to exotic fruits and vegetables to rare potables and perhaps even a few illegal substances, guaranteed to blow your mind. Not literally of course, but you get the idea.
It's still cold, even in this part of Oerth which is normally sub-tropical in temperature. The sun is hiding today and the overcast clouds spitter and spatter with rain drops. But it doesn't matter > a hurricane could be bearing down on the port city and the locals would be celebrating anyway.
"The war is over! Hail to the Sea Princes!"
"Fuck Iuz!"
"Ball sack! Ball sack!"
"Where's my monkey?"
"Flaming hog balls here! Get yer flaming hog balls!"
"Count Tydan! Count Tydan and the Soiled Dove!"
"Eat a dick, dye beard!"
And so forth and so on as the crowd gathers near the docks where the gallows are set up on the side of the docks, hanging over the water in the bay. Notably, you see several "fins" and shapes in the water of the deep harbor.
Several men (and a few women) stand around the docks, geared with stiff leather armor and shields, carrying spears and swords. Standing near the gallows are three men and one woman, all bound in chains; their dirty shifts swallow on their thin frames. Their greasy hair and deplorable condition can be seen (and smelled if the wind shifts) from where you watch several feet away.
A man dressed in some finery strides up to a podium, unfurls a scroll, and speaks:
"In the name of His Noble Excellence, Erasmus Tydan, Count of Port Torvin, these are sentenced to die by hanging for their crimes. Crimes against the Hold, crimes of allegiance to the Scarlet Brotherhood, and crimes of murder and rousing sedition against His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon II of Monmurg; Ruler of the Azure Sea!"
"Prince Jeon can eat a bag a dicks!"
Comes a shout from somewhere in the crowd, followed by not a few cheers and jeers.
The armed guard takes a step forward and the crowd calms somewhat.
The speaker then continues reading, but the crowd is restless and it's difficult to hear.
Someone nearby says, "These poor fucks are innocent! I'd bet me life on it!"
"Aye, just a big show for the Count more like it!" another says.
"Word is, the Count is just licking Prince Jeon's ass because he's afraid of him!" a woman says, holding a suckling babe to her tit.
"Gonna be hell to pay if they don't go through with it now, though." This from the first man.
"Somebody ought to step in and do sommat. It ain't right, I tell ya."
"Nobody's gonna speak out agains the Count, you know that! Anyone who does is liable to find a noose around his neck sure enough!" the woman says, as her child gurgles, eyes closed in a milk coma.
The speaker's next words silence the murmurs: "If anyone wishes to speak for these...wastrels...let him speak now, or forever hold his peace."
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Winter is coming...
Re: Port Torvin
Fahima
Fahima watches nervously as best she can from the back of the crowd, of course everyone being twice as tall as she is doesn't help.
Fahima watches nervously as best she can from the back of the crowd, of course everyone being twice as tall as she is doesn't help.
- GreyWolfVT
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Re: Port Torvin
Roan having already shouted out his thoughts once or twice already, shakes his head "It ain't right. Doubtful them three even did it. An I gotta figure out a way ta prove it." the scarred dwarf says muttering to himself and turning to leave. Turning about and shoving through the crowd he bumps into a nervous looking halfling (Fahima). "Eh why dun ya look where yer goin'." he starts then realizes it's a lady halfling "Er, uh I mean sorry bout that lass. I can't stand ta see innocent folk get hung."
“All men did have darkness. Some wore it in the form of horns. Some bore it invisibly as rot in their souls.”
― Paul S. Kemp, Shadowbred
"If good people won’t do the hard things, evil people will always win, because evil people will do anything."
― Paul S. Kemp, Twilight Falling
DM - GreyWolf's Mystara Adventures - AD&D 2e
― Paul S. Kemp, Shadowbred
"If good people won’t do the hard things, evil people will always win, because evil people will do anything."
― Paul S. Kemp, Twilight Falling
Re: Port Torvin
Fahima
"Excuse me Master Dwarf, I seem to have a problem getting lost in the crowd."
"Excuse me Master Dwarf, I seem to have a problem getting lost in the crowd."
- GreyWolfVT
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Re: Port Torvin
Roan chuckles briefly at the notion of being called 'master' "Ain't too hard ta get lost. Gettin' found now that be the real trick. An it looks like you achieve that. But no need fer callin' me master, I ain't nobody's master or master o' anythin' just call me Roan."
“All men did have darkness. Some wore it in the form of horns. Some bore it invisibly as rot in their souls.”
― Paul S. Kemp, Shadowbred
"If good people won’t do the hard things, evil people will always win, because evil people will do anything."
― Paul S. Kemp, Twilight Falling
DM - GreyWolf's Mystara Adventures - AD&D 2e
― Paul S. Kemp, Shadowbred
"If good people won’t do the hard things, evil people will always win, because evil people will do anything."
― Paul S. Kemp, Twilight Falling
Re: Port Torvin
Fahima
"Well hello Roan, I am Fahima. A cartographer by trade, wanderer by necessity." She reaches out to shake Roan's hand.
"Well hello Roan, I am Fahima. A cartographer by trade, wanderer by necessity." She reaches out to shake Roan's hand.
Re: Port Torvin
Zan
Zan is somewhere in the front half so that he can hear. Given that there is a little moisture in the air he is committing as much to memory as he can, mouthing the phrases that he hears from both the speaker and crowd but not ever speaking out loud.
Zan is somewhere in the front half so that he can hear. Given that there is a little moisture in the air he is committing as much to memory as he can, mouthing the phrases that he hears from both the speaker and crowd but not ever speaking out loud.
- Karaunios
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Re: Port Torvin
Vilana
Vilana remains silent listening intently what the town crier has to say. She's not fond of crowds, so she remains at the side, taking some distance. Her hood covers her head. She doesn't want to attract too much attention with her grey elven features.
Vilana remains silent listening intently what the town crier has to say. She's not fond of crowds, so she remains at the side, taking some distance. Her hood covers her head. She doesn't want to attract too much attention with her grey elven features.
Re: Port Torvin
Gordansk
Steps forward, removing the hood from over his head. It reveals a pale gaunt face, shaped by hunger and war. A nose, prominent like a bow sprit and piercing blue eyes that have seen what ought not to be seen.
His slick ink black hair matches the raven feathered shawl that drapes across his shoulders.
"I will take their confessions and commit their souls to the deep." he says climbing to the steps. A bird, a black carrion crow flutters through the seagull flocks to perch and squawk upon his right shoulder, over his left he rests the shaft and blade of a farmer's scythe.
He starts to sing a dirge as he mounts the gallows walking to the shackled quartet, a solemn chant that echoes amongst the quiet crowd. He hopes, indeed expects, one or two to join the requiem for the accused.
https://youtu.be/IX0r4H2i9uY
Gordansk: Charisma check vs >6 [1d20]=7
Steps forward, removing the hood from over his head. It reveals a pale gaunt face, shaped by hunger and war. A nose, prominent like a bow sprit and piercing blue eyes that have seen what ought not to be seen.
His slick ink black hair matches the raven feathered shawl that drapes across his shoulders.
"I will take their confessions and commit their souls to the deep." he says climbing to the steps. A bird, a black carrion crow flutters through the seagull flocks to perch and squawk upon his right shoulder, over his left he rests the shaft and blade of a farmer's scythe.
He starts to sing a dirge as he mounts the gallows walking to the shackled quartet, a solemn chant that echoes amongst the quiet crowd. He hopes, indeed expects, one or two to join the requiem for the accused.
https://youtu.be/IX0r4H2i9uY
Gordansk: Charisma check vs >6 [1d20]=7
- Monsieur Rose
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Re: Port Torvin
Cassius
"Hey, Sai! What do you make of all that commotion across the way? Something about crimes and sedition it sounds like." He strains his elven hearing through the spattering rain and chuckles. "It also sounds like the crowd isn't entirely on board with the plan. Something about dick eating."
He thinks he hears an old song wafting across the water, but can't quite place it.
After time in Furyondy battling the forces of Iuz, Cassius met up again with Sai, a newly minted captain, and spent some uncomfortable weeks fishing. The endless nothingness of the sea didn't suit Cassius and he was glad to be in port. Today they found themselves in "Where did you say this place was again, Sai? Oh, right." They found themselves in Torvin during some sort of Festival. "Remembrance day?" Remembrance day, such bullshit. The war wasn't over because a paper was signed, Cassius had the scars to prove it.
"Dammit, Sai. This salt air is crap for my pages. The ink won't dry properly. Do you think they have better ink in town? Something to use on long voyages?"
The archer puts his pages away in a tube and flicks the offending quill away. "Are you up for a shopping trip?"
"Hey, Sai! What do you make of all that commotion across the way? Something about crimes and sedition it sounds like." He strains his elven hearing through the spattering rain and chuckles. "It also sounds like the crowd isn't entirely on board with the plan. Something about dick eating."
He thinks he hears an old song wafting across the water, but can't quite place it.
After time in Furyondy battling the forces of Iuz, Cassius met up again with Sai, a newly minted captain, and spent some uncomfortable weeks fishing. The endless nothingness of the sea didn't suit Cassius and he was glad to be in port. Today they found themselves in "Where did you say this place was again, Sai? Oh, right." They found themselves in Torvin during some sort of Festival. "Remembrance day?" Remembrance day, such bullshit. The war wasn't over because a paper was signed, Cassius had the scars to prove it.
"Dammit, Sai. This salt air is crap for my pages. The ink won't dry properly. Do you think they have better ink in town? Something to use on long voyages?"
The archer puts his pages away in a tube and flicks the offending quill away. "Are you up for a shopping trip?"
- GreyWolfVT
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Re: Port Torvin
Roan wipes his hand off on his stained armor and returns the handshake. "Well met Fahima. Guess you can say I'm a traveler by trade. Guess I'm more a sword fer hire actually. But I like ta travel too."
“All men did have darkness. Some wore it in the form of horns. Some bore it invisibly as rot in their souls.”
― Paul S. Kemp, Shadowbred
"If good people won’t do the hard things, evil people will always win, because evil people will do anything."
― Paul S. Kemp, Twilight Falling
DM - GreyWolf's Mystara Adventures - AD&D 2e
― Paul S. Kemp, Shadowbred
"If good people won’t do the hard things, evil people will always win, because evil people will do anything."
― Paul S. Kemp, Twilight Falling
Re: Port Torvin
Fahima
"It seems to me Roan that we would make good traveling companions. I am capable when required in defending myself but having someone you trust to watch your back is very important these days."
"It seems to me Roan that we would make good traveling companions. I am capable when required in defending myself but having someone you trust to watch your back is very important these days."
- Darklin2
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Re: Port Torvin
Sai
Alright Cassius, Let's go see what all the commotion is about. It has been pretty boring the last few months. Let's go do some shopping and see this hanging. He straps his sword across his back and grabs his bag of spell components, along with a small bag of 20 gold. Let's see if we can find some decent food too. I am tired of fish three meals a day. Time for some beef or deer meat. With this he throws his pack in the large chest sitting on deck and locks the lock. Checking the key is still on his necklace with his Holy symbol. He shoulders a quiver of arrows and long bow and heads off the boat. Alright let's get to it before we miss all the fun.
Alright Cassius, Let's go see what all the commotion is about. It has been pretty boring the last few months. Let's go do some shopping and see this hanging. He straps his sword across his back and grabs his bag of spell components, along with a small bag of 20 gold. Let's see if we can find some decent food too. I am tired of fish three meals a day. Time for some beef or deer meat. With this he throws his pack in the large chest sitting on deck and locks the lock. Checking the key is still on his necklace with his Holy symbol. He shoulders a quiver of arrows and long bow and heads off the boat. Alright let's get to it before we miss all the fun.
All things are possible through Magic.
- GreyWolfVT
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Re: Port Torvin
Roan shrugs "I guess so. Dunno until we try I s'pose." the rough looking dwarf says. "But I dunno how long I can stand to watch this mess." he turns and sees someone approaching the gallows (Gordansk) "Now what ya s'pose he's up to?" he asks Fahima pointing to the man.
“All men did have darkness. Some wore it in the form of horns. Some bore it invisibly as rot in their souls.”
― Paul S. Kemp, Shadowbred
"If good people won’t do the hard things, evil people will always win, because evil people will do anything."
― Paul S. Kemp, Twilight Falling
DM - GreyWolf's Mystara Adventures - AD&D 2e
― Paul S. Kemp, Shadowbred
"If good people won’t do the hard things, evil people will always win, because evil people will do anything."
― Paul S. Kemp, Twilight Falling
Re: Port Torvin
Fahima
"Not sure. might be worth waiting a little while to see."
"Not sure. might be worth waiting a little while to see."
- Monsieur Rose
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Re: Port Torvin
Cassius
"Oh gods, don't remind me about the fish. Why are there so many kinds in the damn sea anyway? They all taste the same you know, fishy." He looks around at the long coastline of Torvin and sighs. "Maybe they have chicken."
He keeps his pack, hoping to fill it with jerky, and gathers his bow and blades. "I'm coming, I'm coming. I will say this about the south, a lot fewer orcs around. At least it only smells a little."
Cassius disembarks and heads towards the commotion.
"Oh gods, don't remind me about the fish. Why are there so many kinds in the damn sea anyway? They all taste the same you know, fishy." He looks around at the long coastline of Torvin and sighs. "Maybe they have chicken."
He keeps his pack, hoping to fill it with jerky, and gathers his bow and blades. "I'm coming, I'm coming. I will say this about the south, a lot fewer orcs around. At least it only smells a little."
Cassius disembarks and heads towards the commotion.
- Karaunios
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Re: Port Torvin
Vilana is more attentive now that Gordasnk makes his appearance. What does the strange man have in mind?
Re: Port Torvin
Gordansk
If he is unopposed to mount the steps he does so, acknowledging the executioner standing by the trapdoor lever and the proclaiming official.
He opens his mouth as one might imitate to a baby to convince it to take another spoonful, when the man opens his mouth his stuffs a wafer in, gesticulating with his Caduceus holy symbol, a winged serpent coiled around a staff.
"Confess your sins my brother. You are about to meet thy God and face eternal judgement. I can only intercede for the repentant sinner who wants to change his ways for mercy triumphs over judgement, even upon this gibbet. "
If he is unopposed to mount the steps he does so, acknowledging the executioner standing by the trapdoor lever and the proclaiming official.
he signals. He takes some bread, thin slivers of flatbread, using broken pieces as wafers of communion. He feeds one to the cawing bird on his shoulder and stops in front of the first shackled prisoner."Bring them forward and put the hemp cravat around their necks."
He opens his mouth as one might imitate to a baby to convince it to take another spoonful, when the man opens his mouth his stuffs a wafer in, gesticulating with his Caduceus holy symbol, a winged serpent coiled around a staff.
"Confess your sins my brother. You are about to meet thy God and face eternal judgement. I can only intercede for the repentant sinner who wants to change his ways for mercy triumphs over judgement, even upon this gibbet. "
- hedgeknight
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Re: Port Torvin
Greyhawk, 586 CY, Readying 14 > Remembrance Day
Port Torvin, at the mouth of the Javan River; Cold and Windy and Sprinkling Rain
"If anyone wishes to speak for these...wastrels...let him speak now, or forever hold his peace."
The crowd shouts various things from death and dismemberment to mercy for the sake of Remembrance Day. The speaker frowns and glances at the damned in their chains. He seems about ready to pronounce their sentence, when an odd fellow speaks up, walking toward the podium.
"I will take their confessions and commit their souls to the deep." Gordansk says climbing to the steps. A bird, a black carrion crow flutters through the seagull flocks to perch and squawk upon his right shoulder, over his left he rests the shaft and blade of a farmer's scythe.
"No hold just a minute. Who the hell are you?" says the dandy holding the scroll of sentencing in his hand. Guards with spears step forward, ready to repel the interloper...when a voice from the balcony overlooking the square says loudly, "Let him speak! I would hear what he has to say!"
A hush falls over the crowd and all eyes turn to look at the balcony. Several gasp in surprise, while others murmur to their companions, for standing on the balcony, surrounded on all sides by guardsmen, is none other than Count Erasmus Tyden!
While others gape and gawk at the appearance of the Count, Gordansk begins to sing a dirge as he mounts the gallows walking to the shackled quad, a solemn chant that echoes amongst the quiet crowd.
The king and his men stole the queen from her bed
And bound her in her bones
The seas be ours beyond the powers
Where we will, we'll roam
For the verse, all are silent, listening...but when the chorus arrives, the crowd joins the requiem for the accused:
Yo, ho, all hands
Hoist the colours high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
Yo, ho, haul together
Hoist the colours high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
Yo, ho, haul together
Hoist the colours high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die!
With the final words, the crowd grows ever more silent. Only the pattering of raindrops and the cries of the gulls penetrate the silence. The speaker on the stage looks to the balcony where Count Tydan stands, his hands on the iron railing surrounding the balcony. With a deep sigh, gives a slight bow of the head to Gordansk, and watches as the strange cleric offers the sacrament to those about to be hanged.
"Confess your sins my brother. You are about to meet thy God and face eternal judgement. I can only intercede for the repentant sinner who wants to change his ways for mercy triumphs over judgement, even upon this gibbet."
The man doesn't even raise his head, rain dripping off the ends of his greasy hair. "Go bugger yerself and leave me be!" he growls, sucking on his teeth. Another man catches the eye of Gordansk, his lips trembing, his eyes rheumy, a scar across the bridge of his nose. "Please, your grace. The wafer and the wine, please! I'm a poor ol' sinner, sure as the world. But I ain't ready to die! Please can you help me?"
Regardless of the stage, the crowd begins to grow a bit restless, as the rain picks up and the cold mud and wet seeps into their shoes. Several begin to murmur and a few cries rise up from the crowd.
"Get on with it!"
"While we're young, would ya?"
"Another song, priest! Another song!"
"Your mother was a hamster!"
"Hang 'em high!"
"What in the name of all that's unholy are they waiting for?" a woman hisses, giving Fahima and Roan a scowl. Her rotten teeth add to her rotten breath and she scratches a weeping sore on the side of her ear. "What are you two on about, eh? A couple o' fraggin' midgets I reckon, eh? Ya lookin' to get all slick and sweaty I bet?"
Standing off to the side, Vilana keeps her hood drawn over her head, hiding her ears and her hair. Imagine her shock to see two other Elves (Cassius and Sai) come walking through the crowd.
"Dammit, Sai. This salt air is crap for my pages. The ink won't dry properly. Do you think they have better ink in town? Something to use on long voyages?" one of the Elves complains, putting his papers away. His companion shrugs, eyes searching the crowd with practiced vigilance, a bow and quiver over his shoulder.
Zan is near the front where he can see, repeating the words of the speaker. As a native of Port Toli, he is familiar with this type of public display. The dirge runs chills up and down his arm and threatens to sting his eyes with tears. When his vision clears, he looks around and then notices two children, street urchins, watching him. One is a boy, another a girl; both are filthy and feral; barefoot and with clothes that hang limp on their thin frames. The boy nudges the girl and she walks up to the chronologian, and says, "Ya got any coppers? I ain't ate in 3 days. Neither has me brother."
She turns and looks at the boy and then back at Zan.
Port Torvin, at the mouth of the Javan River; Cold and Windy and Sprinkling Rain
"If anyone wishes to speak for these...wastrels...let him speak now, or forever hold his peace."
The crowd shouts various things from death and dismemberment to mercy for the sake of Remembrance Day. The speaker frowns and glances at the damned in their chains. He seems about ready to pronounce their sentence, when an odd fellow speaks up, walking toward the podium.
"I will take their confessions and commit their souls to the deep." Gordansk says climbing to the steps. A bird, a black carrion crow flutters through the seagull flocks to perch and squawk upon his right shoulder, over his left he rests the shaft and blade of a farmer's scythe.
"No hold just a minute. Who the hell are you?" says the dandy holding the scroll of sentencing in his hand. Guards with spears step forward, ready to repel the interloper...when a voice from the balcony overlooking the square says loudly, "Let him speak! I would hear what he has to say!"
A hush falls over the crowd and all eyes turn to look at the balcony. Several gasp in surprise, while others murmur to their companions, for standing on the balcony, surrounded on all sides by guardsmen, is none other than Count Erasmus Tyden!
While others gape and gawk at the appearance of the Count, Gordansk begins to sing a dirge as he mounts the gallows walking to the shackled quad, a solemn chant that echoes amongst the quiet crowd.
The king and his men stole the queen from her bed
And bound her in her bones
The seas be ours beyond the powers
Where we will, we'll roam
For the verse, all are silent, listening...but when the chorus arrives, the crowd joins the requiem for the accused:
Yo, ho, all hands
Hoist the colours high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
Yo, ho, haul together
Hoist the colours high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
Yo, ho, haul together
Hoist the colours high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die!
With the final words, the crowd grows ever more silent. Only the pattering of raindrops and the cries of the gulls penetrate the silence. The speaker on the stage looks to the balcony where Count Tydan stands, his hands on the iron railing surrounding the balcony. With a deep sigh, gives a slight bow of the head to Gordansk, and watches as the strange cleric offers the sacrament to those about to be hanged.
"Confess your sins my brother. You are about to meet thy God and face eternal judgement. I can only intercede for the repentant sinner who wants to change his ways for mercy triumphs over judgement, even upon this gibbet."
The man doesn't even raise his head, rain dripping off the ends of his greasy hair. "Go bugger yerself and leave me be!" he growls, sucking on his teeth. Another man catches the eye of Gordansk, his lips trembing, his eyes rheumy, a scar across the bridge of his nose. "Please, your grace. The wafer and the wine, please! I'm a poor ol' sinner, sure as the world. But I ain't ready to die! Please can you help me?"
Regardless of the stage, the crowd begins to grow a bit restless, as the rain picks up and the cold mud and wet seeps into their shoes. Several begin to murmur and a few cries rise up from the crowd.
"Get on with it!"
"While we're young, would ya?"
"Another song, priest! Another song!"
"Your mother was a hamster!"
"Hang 'em high!"
"What in the name of all that's unholy are they waiting for?" a woman hisses, giving Fahima and Roan a scowl. Her rotten teeth add to her rotten breath and she scratches a weeping sore on the side of her ear. "What are you two on about, eh? A couple o' fraggin' midgets I reckon, eh? Ya lookin' to get all slick and sweaty I bet?"
Standing off to the side, Vilana keeps her hood drawn over her head, hiding her ears and her hair. Imagine her shock to see two other Elves (Cassius and Sai) come walking through the crowd.
"Dammit, Sai. This salt air is crap for my pages. The ink won't dry properly. Do you think they have better ink in town? Something to use on long voyages?" one of the Elves complains, putting his papers away. His companion shrugs, eyes searching the crowd with practiced vigilance, a bow and quiver over his shoulder.
Zan is near the front where he can see, repeating the words of the speaker. As a native of Port Toli, he is familiar with this type of public display. The dirge runs chills up and down his arm and threatens to sting his eyes with tears. When his vision clears, he looks around and then notices two children, street urchins, watching him. One is a boy, another a girl; both are filthy and feral; barefoot and with clothes that hang limp on their thin frames. The boy nudges the girl and she walks up to the chronologian, and says, "Ya got any coppers? I ain't ate in 3 days. Neither has me brother."
She turns and looks at the boy and then back at Zan.
Winter is coming...
Re: Port Torvin
Gordansk
Rejection and insults run off his shoulders like water from a duck's back. The accused has made his choice, he moves on to the second trembling man. He stuffs a wafer of bread in his mouth. "New wine for new wineskins. Only the repentant may drink from the cup of grace." he says solemnly, telling 'no' 2' that his fate is sealed but his soul may be saved. He goes by the third, giving him a wafer also, studying his visage as if some recognition or perception comes to him. He embraces the man saying, "tis a far, far better thing that you do now than you have ever done. Tis a far, far better rest that you will go to than you have ever known."
the suggestion here is that this man has chosen to take the place of another
He moves to the woman. He checks the noose around her neck. "Better to haul you in tight and snap your neck in two rather than leave you dangling and dancing mid-air for the crowds entertainment, treading the air as one swims and pissing yourself as life drains away."
He counsels the woman, seeing her terror, whispering comforts in her ear.
He turns to face the executioner and gives him a dented metal flask. "Please Sir, give her this. It will dull the pain and douse her memories and fears."
Then Gordansk addresses Count Tyden.
"Vanity, all is vanity. We are the winds empty sighing.
I saw the tears of the oppressed and heard their cry though they have no comforter. Power and life is on the side of their oppressors.
A righteous judge may execute justice but wise ruler offers mercy lest all who die become martyrs for their cause.
Harken then to the winds of change, may it blow where she wills, our lives just a candle light vapour before we are so cruelly snuffed out."
He rambles, giving time for the executioner to give the woman a last gulp before the trapdoor lever drops the quartet, quickly dismounting the stage and heading into the crowd.
Rejection and insults run off his shoulders like water from a duck's back. The accused has made his choice, he moves on to the second trembling man. He stuffs a wafer of bread in his mouth. "New wine for new wineskins. Only the repentant may drink from the cup of grace." he says solemnly, telling 'no' 2' that his fate is sealed but his soul may be saved. He goes by the third, giving him a wafer also, studying his visage as if some recognition or perception comes to him. He embraces the man saying, "tis a far, far better thing that you do now than you have ever done. Tis a far, far better rest that you will go to than you have ever known."
the suggestion here is that this man has chosen to take the place of another
He moves to the woman. He checks the noose around her neck. "Better to haul you in tight and snap your neck in two rather than leave you dangling and dancing mid-air for the crowds entertainment, treading the air as one swims and pissing yourself as life drains away."
He counsels the woman, seeing her terror, whispering comforts in her ear.
Then Gordansk addresses Count Tyden.
"Vanity, all is vanity. We are the winds empty sighing.
I saw the tears of the oppressed and heard their cry though they have no comforter. Power and life is on the side of their oppressors.
A righteous judge may execute justice but wise ruler offers mercy lest all who die become martyrs for their cause.
Harken then to the winds of change, may it blow where she wills, our lives just a candle light vapour before we are so cruelly snuffed out."
He rambles, giving time for the executioner to give the woman a last gulp before the trapdoor lever drops the quartet, quickly dismounting the stage and heading into the crowd.