Please see the OOC thread here.
How strange that my journeys should bring me back here... the traveller mused.
It had been many years since he had been to Riversend, or, he realized, since he even thought about it. The old town bridge that he had his first kiss on. The clocktower that he would play in with his friends... Maybe I could stay for a while and visit with some of my old friends, and mom, and maybe even... dad. So many memories came rushing back all at once. Not all of them were good, but since travelling across a warring continent, this place seemed like the last haven of peace and tranquility on Oannon, and it's just over that hill...
A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face as he reaches the crest. There it is! The beautiful Aduin river, running through the center of the town (heh, though the bridge appears to be out). Oh god, and there's the clock tower and the old mill! Something catches his eye, there's some sort of commotion going on in the town square, and by the glinting of the sun off their armor, there are a few guards there too. Squinting against the oppressive sun, he makes out... a gallows? Since when was banditry a problem in Riversend? He frowns in consternation.
He makes his way into town and arrives just as the last man drops. There were eight in total. Presently, a man in green-dyed linen steps up onto the scaffold, followed up by a single guard (probably a captain) holding up his banner. That man has the trimmed moustache, fair skin and aloof demeanor typical of a count of Forannon; but his face is unfamiliar. Cound he be Lord Gilliam's son? No... he's too old. Wait... those colors floating on his flag: green and white... House Stonebridge's colors were blue and gold. So the rumors were true, that fool did side with the secessionists. His heart sank a little.
"Your Lord Stanly of House Oswell speaks!" The ensign shouts out, hushing the crowd. Before the lord even speaks, several members of the crowd begin to walk away uninterrested, allowing the traveller to edge in a little closer. "Not this speech again" someone mutters.
"My good citizens," the lord addresses the crowd, his eyes wandering over the sea of faces as he gestures dramatically. "Know that these men who were executed today were not just traitors to House Oswell, but they were traitors to the crown itself! By attempting to waylay the royal tax collector, they have not just committed theft and murder, but treason!"
He begins pacing around on his makeshift podium. "A nation cannot exist without taxation. It is the foundation that our entire kingdom is built on. What do you think pays the soldiers who protect you? Who pays to mend the roads? They may claim to fight for a world without taxes, but what they speak of is anarchy!"
More people begin to walk away. It looks like many of those remaining in audience would have jeered Lord Stanly if they weren't afraid of being up on those gallows themselves. Their contempt written clearly across their faces.
"I know some of you still cling on to your old loyalties... But I think you'll like what I have to tell you next..." Lord Oswell announces, his voice growing more confident, like a gambler about to reveal a trump card. He pauses for dramatic effect, reaching for his belt and unstringing a bulging coin purse, dangling it above the crowd by its drawstrings. "This is a bag of holding. Inside it are 2500 gold talons. It belongs to the party who brings me Lord Gilliam's head." He looks around for a moment, smiling smugly upon seeing that he had indeed caught their attention. With that, the lord steps off his stage and makes his exit accompanied by the guards, fastening the pouch back onto his belt.
Those of the crowd who held back earlier are now jeering while others look around at eachother with greed in their eyes. "You said that you were going to repair the bridge with that money!" someone bellows. "So this is what you raised taxes for?! Just take it back from him!" someone else roars. It looks like a riot could start at any moment. What was he thinking, flashing this sort of money in public?
The traveller slips away from the mob, hanging his head down in disgust for what has become of his quiet little town. I guess I'll deliver the letter then be on my way.
*************************************************
You feel a man brush past you. You pay him no heed, keeping more mind on how to best avoid being trampled by the mob. You see a few eager-looking indiviuals entering the tavern, presumably to plot out their capture of the elusive Gilliam Stonebridge; while those that remain suddenly surge forward with cries of "For Stonebridge!" and "It's mine!"
In only a few seconds, Lord Stanly and his escort are surrounded on all sides by about 30 angry peasants. The half-dozen armsmen form a protective circle around their lord. The crowd draws back a little as the escort draws their swords, causing 2 concentric bubbles to form in the teeming mass of humanity, with Lord Stanly at the center. You stand safely out of the way, along with a few other curious onlookers. Those at the forefront of the surrounding mob are unarmed, and try to draw away from the steel longswords, but the crowd behind them is pushing forward. One panicked man, shoved into the center lunges to grab a guard's blade from him. A flash of red and a scream of pain, and his hand is lying on the road as he falls down next to it in agony, the man who shoved him taking his place.
"I am your rightful lord! Don't think that there won't be consequences for this!" Stanly protests weakly, "Gilliam was a traitor! I bought this land! I am your lord!" This claim only serves to make the crowd even more frenzied. You realize that it's only a matter of time before the bubble bursts and the mob, unarmed though it is, manages to overwhelm the guards and rips him apart.
************************
How strange that my journeys should bring me back here... the traveller mused.
It had been many years since he had been to Riversend, or, he realized, since he even thought about it. The old town bridge that he had his first kiss on. The clocktower that he would play in with his friends... Maybe I could stay for a while and visit with some of my old friends, and mom, and maybe even... dad. So many memories came rushing back all at once. Not all of them were good, but since travelling across a warring continent, this place seemed like the last haven of peace and tranquility on Oannon, and it's just over that hill...
A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face as he reaches the crest. There it is! The beautiful Aduin river, running through the center of the town (heh, though the bridge appears to be out). Oh god, and there's the clock tower and the old mill! Something catches his eye, there's some sort of commotion going on in the town square, and by the glinting of the sun off their armor, there are a few guards there too. Squinting against the oppressive sun, he makes out... a gallows? Since when was banditry a problem in Riversend? He frowns in consternation.
He makes his way into town and arrives just as the last man drops. There were eight in total. Presently, a man in green-dyed linen steps up onto the scaffold, followed up by a single guard (probably a captain) holding up his banner. That man has the trimmed moustache, fair skin and aloof demeanor typical of a count of Forannon; but his face is unfamiliar. Cound he be Lord Gilliam's son? No... he's too old. Wait... those colors floating on his flag: green and white... House Stonebridge's colors were blue and gold. So the rumors were true, that fool did side with the secessionists. His heart sank a little.
"Your Lord Stanly of House Oswell speaks!" The ensign shouts out, hushing the crowd. Before the lord even speaks, several members of the crowd begin to walk away uninterrested, allowing the traveller to edge in a little closer. "Not this speech again" someone mutters.
"My good citizens," the lord addresses the crowd, his eyes wandering over the sea of faces as he gestures dramatically. "Know that these men who were executed today were not just traitors to House Oswell, but they were traitors to the crown itself! By attempting to waylay the royal tax collector, they have not just committed theft and murder, but treason!"
He begins pacing around on his makeshift podium. "A nation cannot exist without taxation. It is the foundation that our entire kingdom is built on. What do you think pays the soldiers who protect you? Who pays to mend the roads? They may claim to fight for a world without taxes, but what they speak of is anarchy!"
More people begin to walk away. It looks like many of those remaining in audience would have jeered Lord Stanly if they weren't afraid of being up on those gallows themselves. Their contempt written clearly across their faces.
"I know some of you still cling on to your old loyalties... But I think you'll like what I have to tell you next..." Lord Oswell announces, his voice growing more confident, like a gambler about to reveal a trump card. He pauses for dramatic effect, reaching for his belt and unstringing a bulging coin purse, dangling it above the crowd by its drawstrings. "This is a bag of holding. Inside it are 2500 gold talons. It belongs to the party who brings me Lord Gilliam's head." He looks around for a moment, smiling smugly upon seeing that he had indeed caught their attention. With that, the lord steps off his stage and makes his exit accompanied by the guards, fastening the pouch back onto his belt.
Those of the crowd who held back earlier are now jeering while others look around at eachother with greed in their eyes. "You said that you were going to repair the bridge with that money!" someone bellows. "So this is what you raised taxes for?! Just take it back from him!" someone else roars. It looks like a riot could start at any moment. What was he thinking, flashing this sort of money in public?
The traveller slips away from the mob, hanging his head down in disgust for what has become of his quiet little town. I guess I'll deliver the letter then be on my way.
*************************************************
You feel a man brush past you. You pay him no heed, keeping more mind on how to best avoid being trampled by the mob. You see a few eager-looking indiviuals entering the tavern, presumably to plot out their capture of the elusive Gilliam Stonebridge; while those that remain suddenly surge forward with cries of "For Stonebridge!" and "It's mine!"
In only a few seconds, Lord Stanly and his escort are surrounded on all sides by about 30 angry peasants. The half-dozen armsmen form a protective circle around their lord. The crowd draws back a little as the escort draws their swords, causing 2 concentric bubbles to form in the teeming mass of humanity, with Lord Stanly at the center. You stand safely out of the way, along with a few other curious onlookers. Those at the forefront of the surrounding mob are unarmed, and try to draw away from the steel longswords, but the crowd behind them is pushing forward. One panicked man, shoved into the center lunges to grab a guard's blade from him. A flash of red and a scream of pain, and his hand is lying on the road as he falls down next to it in agony, the man who shoved him taking his place.
"I am your rightful lord! Don't think that there won't be consequences for this!" Stanly protests weakly, "Gilliam was a traitor! I bought this land! I am your lord!" This claim only serves to make the crowd even more frenzied. You realize that it's only a matter of time before the bubble bursts and the mob, unarmed though it is, manages to overwhelm the guards and rips him apart.
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