Welcome to the Halmae (updated 2/27/07)

[Cerebral Paladin]

Re:
For Anvil, Justice always has a capital "J."


You mean there are people for whom it doesn't?



Great storyhour as always.

Cerebral Paladin

 

[spyscribe]

Part the Very Second
In which: our heroes reach Dar Pykos and start to wish they hadn’t
(recorded by Fajitas)

It is dark now, and the smell of roasting bear meat emanates from Reyu and Thatch’s fire. Reyu tends it, while Thatch lies staring upward, deep in thought. They found the badly mauled body of the trapper that had injured the bear not too far from the bear trap. It is the first time Thatch has seen a body. At least, it’s the first time he’s seen the body of someone who died by violence.

"Dinner should be ready soon," Reyu informs him… and an unexpected voice answers:

"Great! It smells delicious! Can I have some too?"

It is a high pitched voice filled with a nearly feverish excitement, and it comes from the bushes nearby. Thatch and Reyu whirl and see a strange little man. He is maybe three feet tall, with a large nose and a dark beard full of twigs. He has great big expressive eyes¾though what exactly they express is unclear. It might be "Wow!" or it might be "Guess what the voices in my head are telling me!" Possibly both. A ferret sits on the man’s shoulder, beady eyes darting back and forth.

Thatch would think he was a child but for the beard. Reyu assumes he is some sort of nature spirit. But neither has ever seen anything like him before.

Reyu speaks first. "I… believe we could offer you some food."

"Gosh, thanks!" he replies, and sits next to Thatch near the fire. He looks up at Thatch and smiles. "Hi there!"

Thatch, unable to restrain himself, blurts out the obvious question. "What are you?"

"Me? I’m Hue," the little man replies. "What are you?"

"Um. I’m Thatch?" Thatch offers tentatively.

"Great!"

Reyu clarifies. "I think what my colleague wants to know is how you came to be here."

"Oh! Well, I was out in the woods and I saw your fire and smelled your bear meat, so I came over. It is bear meat, isn’t it?" Hue sniffs the aroma, as if making sure. "Yup, bear meat. Smells great! Anyway, I’m working on a book! On the mating habits of squirrels. I was out here doing research and…"

At this, the ferret on his shoulder turns to glare sharply at Hue. It is a look that, were it accompanied by speech, might be coupled with the words, "You fool! Don’t tell them everything!" But the look is ignored by Hue, who genially blathers about squirrels for some time.

Dinner is had, as well as a great deal of stirring conversation (assuming, of course, that squirrel mating habits stir you up). Thatch and Reyu hesitantly inform Hue that they are headed to Dar Pykos, and inquire if he is headed that direction.

"Oh, no. There’s still a lot to see out here."

Thatch, relieved, releases a breath he didn’t notice he’d been holding.

"I may come to town in a few days, though. Maybe I’ll see you there!"

And with that comforting thought, they camp for the night.

***************

They rise early the next day. With a jovial wave, Hue wanders back off into the forest. Their last glimpse of him is the Ferret, watching them from Hue’s shoulder with narrowed eyes. Thatch and Reyu shrug, shoulder their packs, and continue their way to Dar Pykos.

Before noon, they catch their first glimpse of the city.

Neither has ever seen a city-state like Dar Pykos before, and it is a magnificent sight. The sky is clear, the sun is golden, and the morning light sparkles off the deep blue waters of the Halmae, the great sea. Stone buildings, three or four stories high, are far more impressive and solid looking than the farmhouse Thatch grew up in. And above them all rise the spires of the Great Library, taller than the tallest trees Reyu has ever seen. Dozens of wagons make their way towards the main gates, laden with food or goods, each one carrying enough to feed Reyu’s entire tribe for a week.

Reyu and Thatch come to the main road and follow it to the gate. As Reyu passes the Watchmen, she gathers more than a few funny looks, some stopping in their work to openly point and stare. Wild elves don’t often make their way into the city. Reyu steadfastly ignores them, and without further impediment, they enter Dar Pykos.

Reyu and Thatch follow the road to the central marketplace. People are everywhere, more people than either of them has ever seen in one place. Merchants hawk their wares. Vendors offer food. It is an elaborate cacophony of sight and sound and smell and hustling and bustling, and Thatch and Reyu observe it all in astonishment.

"Now what?" Thatch asks.

"I suppose we should look for lodgings," Reyu replies.

"Right. Where do you think we find those?"

They are about to pick a random direction to start looking when a passer-by stops. He is a short man with a slight build and dark curly hair. His most salient feature is a large scar that runs down his cheek. He addresses them.

"I’m sorry, did I hear you say you were looking for lodgings?"

"Um. Yes."

"If you’re interested, I know of an excellent Inn with quite reasonable rates. I could take you there."

Reyu and Thatch exchange a quick look. There doesn’t seem to be any harm in looking at the place.

"Thank you. That is… most kind," Reyu says.

"Right this way, my friends" their guide says, as he slaps Thatch on the back and leads them through the market.

But at the far end of the market, their guide unexpectedly bolts away from them. He charges down an alley and around a corner before Thatch and Reyu have a chance to respond. They stare after him a moment.

"Why’d he do that?" Thatch asks.

"I don’t--" Reyu begins, but she is suddenly interrupted by a shout from the market.

"There! They’re the ones!"

They turn to find a man pointing directly at them. He has an imperious manner and wears fine blue and red robes. An ornamental medallion hangs from his neck. And he is flanked by six Watchmen, who quickly surround the stunned Thatch and Reyu.

"Um. Can we help you?" Thatch offers, but the imperious man does not answer. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if concentrating, then points at Thatch’s pack.

"There. That’s where it is."

The Watchmen remove Thatch’s pack and wrench it open. At the very top lies a somewhat erotic obsidian statue. Thatch’s eyes boggle.

"Um. Um. Um," he manages. "That’s not mine."

"Of course not!" says the imperious man. "That is the property of my lord, his eminence Count Dain Missola, stolen from his estate last night. Guardsmen, I demand that these two be arrested and handed over for immediate judgment under the rightful law!"

To be continued...

 

[jonrog1]

Ah, a classic setup. My own players have come to hate the marketplace, too.

Nice place you've got here. And another classic campaign. Heroes. Freeing slaves.

My players spent two hours tonight trying to figure out how to start up a casino in the Blood Steppes, God love 'em.

Looking forward to the rest.

 

[Ladybird]

I've finally been able to sit down and read through this thread, and all I can say is...wow!

Spyscribe, your descriptions are wonderfully fun to read! It sounds like this campaign has a great mix of characters, and you've really captured all of their personalities. (And I think the Lira/Euro/Frank thing is funny too )

Fajitas, I'm really impressed at the world you've created, and it's great to be able to see the story unfold. (Like CP, I've only received brief snapshots, which are fun in themselves, but it's really neat to read the story from the beginning)

Thanks to both of you for all your work, and to WLS and all the rest of the players for creating such a fun campaign! I'm really looking forward to the next installment!

 

[spyscribe]

Meanwhile...

Lira notices that Reyu has paused in her tale, and takes advantage of the gap to beckon to Mrs. Blackburn, the mistress of the boarding house.

“Is there any more porridge left?” she asks.

“Might be a bit,” Mrs. Blackburn allows cautiously.

Lira looks up at the older woman with an expression that would put a stray puppy to shame. “Please?”

Mrs. Blackburn snorts, but turns back to the kitchen. Lira swings her legs happily under her chair as the landlady soon returns with a refilled wooden bowl.

“Thank you,” says Lira and she digs in with gusto.

After a moment, she notices that Reyu has not started her story again.

“Go on. You were arrested by the watch, and…”

But Reyu is still staring at the young woman across the table.

“How can you eat like that?”

Lira stops eating. She checks. Elbows off the table. Back straight. No porridge dribbling down chin. She swallows so as not to speak with her mouth full. “Like what?”

“Aren’t you full?”

Lira shakes her head. “Not quite.” She looks down at herself and shrugs. “I know it isn’t going to muscle, but… I’m hungry. Mother always said it’s why I don’t get sick much.”

Reyu mentally files a note for her future reports to the matriarch. The size of an Elf, but with the constitution of a horse--

“So, what happened next?” The young human asks.

--and the patience of a swallow.

Reyu drags her attention back to her tale. “So, we were arrested…”

 

[spyscribe]

Yay and verrily, we are back.

--spyscribe

Part the Very Third
In which: Justice takes a little doing.
(as recorded by Fajitas)


Anvil the Just arises at dawn, not because he has a lot to do but because that is what he does. That’s what he’s done every day of his life. Well, every day he’s been Anvil the Just, that is. Every day since he gave up his old name and his old life and dedicated himself to Kettenek and the Justicars.

He rises from his cell in the Temple of Justice and attends daybreak prayers. He then adjourns to the mess hall, where acolytes bring him food. He and his brethren engage in deep discussion of Kettenek’s Law and its rightful application, and then each attends to his own business.

This day, Anvil’s business includes research. He will spend the day in the bowels of the Temple, researching precedents on a finer point of Kettenek’s Justice in the archives. He is on his way to the archives, when he is stopped by an associate of his, Stalwart the Just.

"Anvil!" Stalwart hails him. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"Certainly," Anvil replies, "if I am able and my duties permit. How may I help you in the service of Kettenek?"

"I was assigned Market duty this morning, but it turns out Iron is preparing to rule on the Liassos appeal today. He asked me for an opinion based on Aegosian precedents, given my expertise. Trouble is, I can’t find anyone to cover the Market for me, so I was wondering..."

Anvil doesn’t need him to finish. He is still only a First Order Justicar. Market duty is generally reserved for those of the Second Order. Inwardly, he leaps at the opportunity, though his outward appearance remains stony.

"If Kettenek demands it, I shall take up this task in His name."

Stalwart blinks a few times. Even for a Justicar, Anvil is a tad austere.

"Many thanks."

"It is no more than my duty. May Kettenek’s Justice be with you."

"And you."

And Anvil turns from the musty depths of the archives and heads towards the Market.

**************

Market duty, while not quite comparable to latrine duty, is not the most favored assignment of a Justicar. It is generally limited to mediation of petty disputes between merchants, farmers, anyone with a grudge. True matters of Justice are seldom dealt with at the Market. Anvil, nevertheless, attacks the job with gusto, dispensing his rulings as severely and dispassionately as if lives were in the balance. Justice demands no less, even if only two chickens and a fence are in the balance.

However, after delivering a textbook ruling in a matter of a thrown horseshoe, Anvil notices a disturbance a little ways off. A group of Watchmen seem to have two people surrounded. Miscreants, no doubt. A young lad runs up to Anvil from the crowd.

"Justicar! The Watch have made an arrest! They’re demanding justice! Come quick!"

A chance for summary justice? On Market duty! Anvil hurries to the disturbance.

He arrives almost unnoticed. Six Watchmen hold two people at spearpoint. One is an elf-woman, dressed in wild furs. The other is a large lad with a boyish face and a brickish build. "But we didn’t do anything!" the large lad protests.

A robed man wearing what Anvil recognizes as a Chamberlain’s medal of office scoffs at him. "The evidence speaks for itself."

"What evidence?" Anvil demands, making his presence known. "Who are you, and who are they, and what are the facts of this case? Tell me what has transpired, that I might dispense Justice swiftly and righteously, as Kettenek demands."

That stops the conversation. All eyes turn towards the Justicar.

"Um," says the large lad.

"Who are you?" the robed man asks, quite stupidly given robes of office Anvil wears.

"I am Anvil the Just, servant of Kettenek."

The robed man straightens himself up. "My name is Desalle, Chamberlain to my Lord Count Dain Missola. These two individuals have stolen property from my Lord—"

"But we didn’t!" the large lad insists. Desalle pays him no heed.

"—and I demand they be sentenced to enslavement and given into his possession immediately, under the rightful law."

The lad’s eyes bulge. The elf-woman’s brow furrows. Anvil stares at Desalle. "You demand their enslavement? Is this not Dar Pykos? Is not slavery illegal under our law?"

Desalle crosses his arms. "It is. But my Lord Count Missola is a citizen of Dar Aego, and the statue they were found with is his property. Under Aegosian law, slavery is the proper sentence."

And suddenly, Anvil realizes just how legally complex the situation really is…

THE SLAVE OWNERSHIP RULING.

85 years ago, Dar Pykos outlawed slavery. However, when the wealthy Aegosian merchants threatened to leave the city if they could not keep their slaves, the law was altered to accommodate foreign slave owners. The Slave Ownership Ruling was written, which stated that "slaves being regarded in other Confederate city-states as property, not people, Dar Pykos will respect the ownership rights of foreign slave-owning residents and will abide by their local laws in related matters".

At the time, it seemed like the best solution. However, 30 years ago, a case arose in which the defendant argued that the Slave Ownership Ruling was written such that it could be extended to provide protection to ALL property belonging to foreign residents. Not just slaves. The Justicar overseeing the case was persuaded and, in a highly controversial opinion, found for the defendant.

There has been great debate over the wisdom of this ruling, with Justicars split on either side. Some see it as a commitment to Dar Pykos’s "melting pot" status, while others consider it the first step towards complete anarchy. Since the Justicar who ruled on this is now the head of the Order in Dar Pykos, it has never been overturned. But this is the very issue that spurred the creation of the Universal Law Caucus, of which Anvil is a member, and overturning it is the number one item on their agenda.

In the meantime, matters of law involving foreign residents in Dar Pykos are very, very sticky…

Anvil strokes his bearded chin in an outward appearance of deep thought, while inwardly his mind races. How best to proceed? There may be a political opportunity here… but first and foremost, Justice must be done.

 

[spyscribe]

Let there be feasting and rejoicing throughout the land!

The management would like to advise our two remaining readers that if they are searching for a reason for festivities, any one of the following events may be invoked:

SpyScribe has finished her master's thesis!

Fajitas's work schedule has retreated from "truly insane" to "merely busy"!

Another update is just moments away!

(The management would also like to clarify that the first two options on the above list are in no way intended as an attempt to explain or excuse the derth of updates in the past month. Insofar as said derth was truly beyond explanation or excuse. )

 

[spyscribe]

Part the Very Fourth
In which: Anvil fires the forge of Justice

"You have proof then that these two are indeed the culprits?" Anvil asks.

"We do. They were found with the stolen item in their possession."

"But we didn’t--" the large lad begins. This time Anvil cuts him off.

"What led you to search them for it?"

"I did," Desalle replies. "I have certain… gifts of an arcane nature. I can pinpoint the location of missing objects. And my abilities led me straight to them."

Anvil turns his attention to the accused. "Well, then. What say you in this matter?"

The lad blurts out "We didn’t do it!"

"Then how do you account for the presence of the stolen item among your things?"

"There was this guy who was going to show us to an Inn. He must have put it there."

Desalle laughs aloud. "Is that the best they have to offer?"

Anvil turns a stern glare on the lad. "Why would this man seek to do such a thing?" he asks.

"I don’t know. You’d have to find him and ask," the lad shoots back.

And the elf-woman speaks up. "Justicar. Though I am not familiar with the… ways of your people, I would simply like to note that these crimes were committed last night. We have only just arrived in the city today."

"Can you corroborate this claim?" Anvil demands.

"We cannot, but perhaps the guards at the Gate who saw us enter can," she replies.

"Excellent. You," Anvil says, abruptly pointing at a Watchman, "go to the Gates and bring me anyone who can corroborate this story. Wild elves do not often enter the city."

The bewildered Watchman blinks at Anvil. "Uhh, I’m under orders to—"

"Kettenk’s Justice demands it," Anvil says, in a tone that brooks no argument. The Watchman runs off.

A short time later, the Watchman returns with one of the Gate Guards in tow. The Gate guard looks at the elf-woman and her large companion and nods. "Yeah, that’s them. Saw ‘em comin’ in this mornin’, I did. They was gawkin’ at everythin’ ‘round ‘em."

The large lad sighs, visibly relieved. Desalle glowers, not at all pleased with the direction Justice has taken. "Justicar, this is ridiculous. If they did not take the statue, they are clearly in collusion with those who did. Who would give away stolen goods to unsuspecting strangers? I demand that justice be carried out upon these two."

"And so it shall be," Anvil responds.

"Then you will give them to my custody at once."

"I shall not. I am not yet convinced that that is Justice."

"But Justicar—"

"Unless," Anvil continues, matter-of-factly, "you feel you are more qualified to mete out Justice than I?"

Desalle’s eyes flash, but he knows better than to push his luck. He backs down. Anvil continues. "Clearly this matter is not as simple as it may seem. These two prisoners shall be turned over to my custody. They shall be brought to the Temple of Justice, where we shall attempt to unravel the truth of this matter."

"I protest!" Desalle exclaims.

Anvil shrugs. "All right."

Desalle stares at him, but Anvil has nothing more to say. Then Desalle throws back his shoulders. "My Lord shall hear of this," he says, and stalks away. Anvil turns to his two prisoners.

"You two shall come with me to pursue this matter. What are your names?"

To be continued…

 

[spyscribe]

Sidebar: Slavery in the Halmae

(On the off chance that it is about to become relevant to the narrative, the management is pleased to bring you the second in our series of informational supplements.)

--spyscribe

Slavery in the Halmae:

Slavery, as an institution, is a long-standing part of society in the Halmae. Slaves are used as laborers, servants, and in many cases aides. Halmae slavery is based on a Greek or Roman model, rather than American chattel slavery. This means that slaves, although considered property, do have some basic legal rights. Killing a slave for no reason is considered murder. It may be easier to justify killing a slave than killing a free person, and the penalty may be less harsh, but there is a punishable crime there.

One legally becomes a slave in a finite number of ways:

Prisoners of war are enslaved for life

Abandoned children are enslaved for life

Criminals may be sentenced to slavery, often for a finite term,
though the duration is dependent on the crime.

People in debt may be enslaved for a term of eight years to repay their debt

People may voluntarily become slaves for a term of eight years in exchange for money

People may voluntarily choose to stay slaves after their term is up. These people are branded, to mark them as individuals who have deliberately chosen slavery over freedom.

Slaves may be bought and sold freely in places where slavery is legal. Non-criminal slaves may be freed at any time, though they are automatically freed if their master dies. Criminal slaves who are no longer wanted by their masters are sold back to the city-state or to another owner, unless their terms have expired.

This, at least, is the system on paper. Naturally, there are some abuses to be found. Unscrupulous individuals have been known to keep slaves after their terms have expired. The degree to which such abuses are prosecuted varies from case to case and city-state to city-state, but law-abiding slave owners tend to frown on those who abuse their power over their slaves.

There is no formal Abolitionist movement in the Halmae. There are small organizations in each city-state opposed to it. The Universal Law Caucus opposes slavery, but chapters have been known to abandon that aspect of their platform to forge political alliances in slave-legal city-states.

Slavery is legal in the Empire of Ebis, Dar Henna, Dar Und, Dar Aego, Dar Thane, and Mynope. A de facto form of slavery exists in the Kettenek Sovereignty, which has a severe feudal serf system. Slavery is illegal in Dar Darine, Dar Karo, Noran, and Sirrus. Dar Pykos, as noted, has an odd situation; citizens of Dar Pykos are not allowed to own slaves, but foreigners from lands where slavery is legal are allowed to keep theirs.

(addendum for those readers unfamiliar with the geographic references in the preceeding paragraph: Any locale with the prefix "Dar" is a city state and member of the Darine Confederacy. The Empire of Ebis and Kettenek Soveriegnty are their own entities, and all others mentioned are independent city states.)

 

[WisdomLikeSilence]

Re: Let there be feasting and rejoicing throughout the land!

The management would like to advise our two remaining readers that if they are searching for a reason for festivities, any one of the following events may be invoked:

SpyScribe has finished her master's thesis!
Fajitas's work schedule has retreated from "truly insane" to "merely busy"!

Excellent reasons for festivities, both.

Would you like a cake to celebrate?

-WLS