Post by Warhammer Exec (Dane) on Oct 29, 2012 1:59:09 GMT -5
It has been years since the founding of the guild, but only months since you joined the organization. The changes you have seen are monolithic, like nothing you had thought to be a part of. For some of you this is how it was meant to be, for others this is more work than you signed on for, the disaster relief is above your pay grade.
The Neutral city you have come to call home is recovering from catastrophe. The city itself has wakened and is moving north, and what’s more, the winds are growing colder. Thousands still call the city home, and thousands more have died in the transition as buildings crumbled away from the Golem’s back as it rose, it's hands dangling chains. Still, not all is despair. The Crystal Embassy was formed the night of the Golem’s rising, almost in anticipation of the event. Safe within those shining halls hundreds of civilians passed the worst of the chaos and set-to in the morning after, restoring their homes to order. The disaster brought out the best in people, those of different quarters of the city, and different statuses within the city came together. The guild leaders made their presence known. Golems by the hundreds emerged from the industrial quarter, largely unharmed by the transition. Some stood tall above the citizens of the city, swinging easily between the levels to remove rubble and debris. Some were smaller, scurrying underfoot carrying bandages or medicines with miraculous effects. The sun shone. For days there was no rain, and the bitter chill of coming winter was diminished while the city was rebuilt. Now the rain has returned, but it is warm and mingles with the sun to draw rainbows across the neutral city.
Littlevoice offered advice which none of the other councilors might have been able to give in the restructuring of the city. The new homes, those that rose from the rubble of the old were shaped in the old ways, with words of calling. First known only to Littlevoice herself, but later sung by many artisans in the city these words shaped the stone. The earth of the Golem, the living being itself was shaped into new forms to restore the city – to make the city a part of its host.
In the days after the disaster the guild launched a recovery effort and many of those left on the ground were brought into the city or otherwise helped in their new life. The pit was traversed and rations doled out. Still, the disaster was just that, a crippling of hope. For many the rise of the Golem meant the end of a generations old business, or the loss of family – fathers, wives or siblings. Children and parents were lost, and still some looked to profit from these losses. The brass embassy took in those who fled to higher ground in the city, taking donations of blood – just a drop – as they entered that sanctuary. Inside fever caught from one survivor to another, but there were no deaths. The brass embassy prevented the loss of life, for a price. And still more profit was sought. The Devil Alistair attempted to claim a chair on the council in accordance with the laws of that council. He was stopped, but the issue was a close one, and Alistair’s power has been greatly heightened by the disaster.
The rumors which came to the city were limited for a while by a lack of access to the ground, but quickly a combined effort by several council members produced air tethers, invisible pathways which allowed civilians and even merchant trains to ‘fall’ upwards into the city. When the rumors returned, so did a sense of oppression which had for a while been relieved.
The dead have risen in the north. A fire burns in the land of the elves, and a war to level nations rages, fought by humans and their allies. Still a chill wind blows across the neutral city, and eventually snow begins to fall, the kind which brings children out of doors with smiles on their faces. Miraculously, wishes for order to be restored are granted, buildings are made complete, crime is lessened, and looting severely punished. The inner city becomes the heart of the Neutral city where once it was closed off and inaccessible – the walls dividing the inner city and the city proper are torn down and the council takes direct control of the Neutral city despite protests by one Tom Wulfe. In response the weary alchemist retires from public life.
A new gate is found outside of the pit, unearthed where the Golem laid slumbering. Matilda Carebetter has set up a base of operations at this gate to help those who lived on the outskirts of the city and are now horribly vulnerable to threats which a short journey to walls and safety had been able to prevent. She is stationed with a small army of like-minded individuals, and surprisingly to some, a group of Svirfneblin representing a force for law between the lower lands and the higher. From within the pit a balance which has not shifted in millennium has been thrown into disarray. There is talk of Drow – Dark Elves – abroad in the light of day, unchecked by those who have sorely hoped this time would never come. Some whisper that something still more sinister lurks in the pit, and those sent into it have spoken of whispers in their mind, like voices in a dream.
As the snow begins to fall in earnest, you move about the city, the landscape of which has changed so drastically. For better or worse you have come to call this place home. There is a sound like ice breaking and it pulls you from your thoughts. In your mind there is a set of eyes and you blink to dismiss the vision. It doesn’t fade.
There is a voice, and for a moment you think it is only you that hears, but looking around you see the same expression on others' faces. Each of those that hear wear the guild ring, and your guild ring like theirs glows fiercely on your finger. It is the voice of a woman you once knew, or a dead loved one, or the shriek of a man you slew. It is the voice of a person important to only you, and each guild member hears it differently, but to each it speaks the same words.
“The breaking has come. The Siren is woken. The staff is placed. The Golem walks. All that is needed now is that the key turns and then either all will be ended as it should, or simply all will be ended.”
The voice fades and is replaced by another. It is that of a male, and fear tempers his voice. He speaks quickly, and looking around, you know that the others hear it too. “The slave rises in the human lands, the spirits speak with mortals rather than flee, the God stirs in his slumber, and the Elves wage war in ways they should not. All of these things are to be feared, or rather, considered. Do not make decisions lightly in the time that is to come. Maybe it is not the outcomes which are to be feared, but the choices.”
There is another sound like breaking ice, then silence. The wind whips up, the snow piling on the streets lifts to the air and in moments the city is caught in a blizzard. Everything is blindingly white, cold, and beautiful.
The Neutral city you have come to call home is recovering from catastrophe. The city itself has wakened and is moving north, and what’s more, the winds are growing colder. Thousands still call the city home, and thousands more have died in the transition as buildings crumbled away from the Golem’s back as it rose, it's hands dangling chains. Still, not all is despair. The Crystal Embassy was formed the night of the Golem’s rising, almost in anticipation of the event. Safe within those shining halls hundreds of civilians passed the worst of the chaos and set-to in the morning after, restoring their homes to order. The disaster brought out the best in people, those of different quarters of the city, and different statuses within the city came together. The guild leaders made their presence known. Golems by the hundreds emerged from the industrial quarter, largely unharmed by the transition. Some stood tall above the citizens of the city, swinging easily between the levels to remove rubble and debris. Some were smaller, scurrying underfoot carrying bandages or medicines with miraculous effects. The sun shone. For days there was no rain, and the bitter chill of coming winter was diminished while the city was rebuilt. Now the rain has returned, but it is warm and mingles with the sun to draw rainbows across the neutral city.
Littlevoice offered advice which none of the other councilors might have been able to give in the restructuring of the city. The new homes, those that rose from the rubble of the old were shaped in the old ways, with words of calling. First known only to Littlevoice herself, but later sung by many artisans in the city these words shaped the stone. The earth of the Golem, the living being itself was shaped into new forms to restore the city – to make the city a part of its host.
In the days after the disaster the guild launched a recovery effort and many of those left on the ground were brought into the city or otherwise helped in their new life. The pit was traversed and rations doled out. Still, the disaster was just that, a crippling of hope. For many the rise of the Golem meant the end of a generations old business, or the loss of family – fathers, wives or siblings. Children and parents were lost, and still some looked to profit from these losses. The brass embassy took in those who fled to higher ground in the city, taking donations of blood – just a drop – as they entered that sanctuary. Inside fever caught from one survivor to another, but there were no deaths. The brass embassy prevented the loss of life, for a price. And still more profit was sought. The Devil Alistair attempted to claim a chair on the council in accordance with the laws of that council. He was stopped, but the issue was a close one, and Alistair’s power has been greatly heightened by the disaster.
The rumors which came to the city were limited for a while by a lack of access to the ground, but quickly a combined effort by several council members produced air tethers, invisible pathways which allowed civilians and even merchant trains to ‘fall’ upwards into the city. When the rumors returned, so did a sense of oppression which had for a while been relieved.
The dead have risen in the north. A fire burns in the land of the elves, and a war to level nations rages, fought by humans and their allies. Still a chill wind blows across the neutral city, and eventually snow begins to fall, the kind which brings children out of doors with smiles on their faces. Miraculously, wishes for order to be restored are granted, buildings are made complete, crime is lessened, and looting severely punished. The inner city becomes the heart of the Neutral city where once it was closed off and inaccessible – the walls dividing the inner city and the city proper are torn down and the council takes direct control of the Neutral city despite protests by one Tom Wulfe. In response the weary alchemist retires from public life.
A new gate is found outside of the pit, unearthed where the Golem laid slumbering. Matilda Carebetter has set up a base of operations at this gate to help those who lived on the outskirts of the city and are now horribly vulnerable to threats which a short journey to walls and safety had been able to prevent. She is stationed with a small army of like-minded individuals, and surprisingly to some, a group of Svirfneblin representing a force for law between the lower lands and the higher. From within the pit a balance which has not shifted in millennium has been thrown into disarray. There is talk of Drow – Dark Elves – abroad in the light of day, unchecked by those who have sorely hoped this time would never come. Some whisper that something still more sinister lurks in the pit, and those sent into it have spoken of whispers in their mind, like voices in a dream.
As the snow begins to fall in earnest, you move about the city, the landscape of which has changed so drastically. For better or worse you have come to call this place home. There is a sound like ice breaking and it pulls you from your thoughts. In your mind there is a set of eyes and you blink to dismiss the vision. It doesn’t fade.
There is a voice, and for a moment you think it is only you that hears, but looking around you see the same expression on others' faces. Each of those that hear wear the guild ring, and your guild ring like theirs glows fiercely on your finger. It is the voice of a woman you once knew, or a dead loved one, or the shriek of a man you slew. It is the voice of a person important to only you, and each guild member hears it differently, but to each it speaks the same words.
“The breaking has come. The Siren is woken. The staff is placed. The Golem walks. All that is needed now is that the key turns and then either all will be ended as it should, or simply all will be ended.”
The voice fades and is replaced by another. It is that of a male, and fear tempers his voice. He speaks quickly, and looking around, you know that the others hear it too. “The slave rises in the human lands, the spirits speak with mortals rather than flee, the God stirs in his slumber, and the Elves wage war in ways they should not. All of these things are to be feared, or rather, considered. Do not make decisions lightly in the time that is to come. Maybe it is not the outcomes which are to be feared, but the choices.”
There is another sound like breaking ice, then silence. The wind whips up, the snow piling on the streets lifts to the air and in moments the city is caught in a blizzard. Everything is blindingly white, cold, and beautiful.