HEAR YE, HEAR YE: Citadel News -- Everyone Read!

[Guenhwyfar]

OOC: This is a general post for all players in the Citadel. You may assume that your character is aware of, or has been exposed to, all of the information contained in this post.

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Samheen 5. The joyous atmosphere that had suffused the Citadel leading up to the Festival was gone, and in its place a feeling more somber, more tense, had risen up, oppressive as the fog that wreathed the early-morning streets.

Many people had been at the Festival of Pan – but, by now, everyone had heard about it. Stories and rumours abounded, all with varying degrees of truthfulness – but all the rumours, no matter how fanciful, agreed on once crucial point: something horrible had happened last night.

Voices were low and urgent or loud and angry; glances were suspicious or hostile; and the streets were covered with slogans and leaflets in varying degrees of eloquence. “The Practice of Magicks is the Downfall of the Virtuous Soul,” began one carefully-lettered poster plastered on several walls. HOW MANY ROZES DID CESER PLUCK? read another, slightly less literate sign, scrawled in red paint outside a popular saloon.

“…And then all of the magicians took off their veils, and it was the councillors, all of them, but possessed, and that would explain why our damn sewers still don’t work, what with them focusing on channeling the dark arts instead of channeling waste water, don’t you know,” one irate middle-aged woman was saying to another as they hurried along the streets, eyes darting warily from side to side.

“Well, I heard that it was the same thing as the storm, do you remember? On the second, or the first? Anyway, Julia heard from Elizabeta whose maid’s cousin was at the Festival that it was some kind of demon,” and here the snooty-looking young aristocrat lowered her voice, “like a sex demon, so that just goes to show what having all these wantons who are no better than they should be running around our city and going after our men,” she continued haughtily before getting into her carriage with her friend, who was nodding solemnly.

“And then the Caesar pulls out his enormous sword and starts waving it about at the ladies, hollerin’ at them to submit to his investigation,” slurred one man leaving a tavern, already drunk, despite the early hour. “Aye, there are some of those ladies that I’d like to investigate with my enormous sword,” his friend guffawed, making a lewd hand gesture.

Not all of the gossip this morning was so innocuous, however.

“What is this message of joy we keep hearing about?” bellowed one street preacher, who seemed to be attracting quite a crowd, which included several Purple Guardsmen, nodding gravely. “It is joy, they say, love; or magic only ‘in harmony with nature.’ But it is not joy, but whoring – and it is no devout man who thinks to control the very forces of nature! Sin follows sin, and it is we, the innocent and good, who are made to suffer while they wreak carnal havoc on the streets of our city and call down the wrath of Illuminatus! We must stamp out this viper of immorality, magic and sex and all things dark and vile, or it will sink its foul teeth into us and infect us with its venom…”

“…threatening honest citizens with that sword of his, the great peacock,” one lady said indignantly to another. “And who’s to say that this wasn’t all a game to get those who stand against him out of the way? I heard they took many people prisoner – but where are those prisoners now? Where are they being kept? What is their crime? Now that’s something I’d like to know, and I think it’s my right as a citizen, whatever that preening autocrat may think…”

“…and it stems from a problem at the very core of our government. If the Caesar would take matters firmly into hand,” one well-dressed man was saying in a low, serious voice to another wealthy-seeming man, “none of these problems would be arising. I hear that some of the instigators were courtiers themselves. What sort of ruler is he if he cannot even rule his own court? Think on everything that I have said to you, Matteo, but keep it quiet for now, hmm?” The two men gave each other significant glances then parted ways.

The Festival had been intended to sow the seeds of Pan’s love throughout the whole city. Unfortunately, the seeds it had sown seemed to be of a different sort…

[Maeve]

At late tradetide of that day Purple Guards marched the streets. Several houses were checked systematically, and not a few of them in the patricians sector too. What they were looking for was unknown. Prisoners were taken to the palace to disappear in the dark dungeons under the Citadel without them having so much time as to even utter a whisper to their relatives. The whole town was buzzing with rumors as to who had been taken and why.

All gates to the Citadel were closed by the guards, visitors turned away. Even the harbor was shut down, a large iron chaing hung over the entrance of the port. The merchants laments fell on deaf ears and those trading houses expecting shipments were told that mage messages had been send to all ships to detour to Dort or Muchislie.

[Ahren]

Early Eveningtide Samheen 8, The Massage Palor is open as a supporter location.

[Maeve]

Samheen 13th

It had started with one or two simple arrests, in clear daylight. People brought in for questioning and allowed to leave fairly soon. Suddenly however, a flurry of arrests broke loose. Left and right people disappeared, in the middle of the night. Entire taverns were rounded up on a mere whim. The dungeons of the Citadel were overflowing with people.

It was whispered that the Purple Guard, now that their commander was out of town, was under the control of shadowy figures who trusted nobody. They were searching for any sign of collaboration with the darkness. Loyality to the light and all it stood for was what people were questioned about. And who didn't have a little skeleton in the closet when a question was asked so generally?

People started betraying their neighbors, their friends, just to get out of the clutches of the inquisitors. A bit of cooperation, spying on friends and family left and right, an occassional betrayal went a long way to keep you safe.

[Maeve]

Samheen 14th

Rumors and fears abounded in the city after the freakish snowstorm, burying the island in the white frozen moisture. So soon after the first wild fire storm, the speculation that this too was inspired of darkness ran rampant. Those in the shadows rounding up suspects, took full advantage of the atmosphere of fear to strike where they could not previously.

It had started with simple interrogations within the halls of the Red Rose Guild, but meeting little real resistence, despite the monumental efforts of the guildmaster. By tradetide on the fourteenth, Roses were being hauled out of class in chains and herded in masses to the dungeons. Those few left behind clustered together wondering what to do.

In response, Larbeido closed the guildhall, sending all remaining Roses either home or to trusted clients where they could be protected. It wasn't that the man had stopped trying. If anything, he toiled harder than ever before to try and free his children, those he was responsible for. Still, with the Caesar behind closed doors and Sosa gone, the going was difficult.

By eveningtide the guild hall was dark and empty, the only light - the lamp in Larbeido's office as he poured over documents and conferred with the occasional visitor, those always arriving through secret entrances in the back of the guild. The heavy wooden doors that normally remained open to the public at all times, were closed, barred and bolted. No one came in or out through the front portico.

[Maeve]

Samheen 15th

In the course of the day came the whispered word that the Ceasar was recovering from a strange illness. He was seen taking a short walk through the magnificent Palace Gardens during tradetide, even though he received no visitors.

Heralds at the Antechamber announced to the council that His Highness would start his normal routine again on Samheen 16th, receiving petitioners.

Word from the palace was that the Ceasar would announce his bethrotal at Samheen 16th on an official statedinner that was being hastily prepared by the Office of Protocol. In celebration a tournament on Samheen 17th would be held, honoring the gods with warriors showing their prowess on the battlefield.

While the statedinner was clearly only for nobles and merchants, who were just now receiving their invitations, it was the tournament that held the most promise for the population of the Citadel. The festival ground was in the Fields, and the first preperations were already starting, putting up tents and building the seating for all the spectators. Merchants rubbed their hands as they anticipated a long needed boost to their trade.

Of a certain high profiled Rose called Ahren, who had been working for the Office of Protocol nothing had been heard since the upheavel began, and people were reluctant to even gossip about him. The recent arrests among not just Roses but ordinary citizens as well had stirred fear in their hearts. The Rose Guild was temporarily closed now, and many Roses and Panlings tried to keep a low profile.

[Twilight]

Samheen 19th – Running on the Rumour Mill

By mid-Morningtide, there were whispers around the Palace that the Caesar was once again unwell. Some speculated that it was a relapse, while others said it was an injury received during the Tourney, while still others muttered about some new ailment. A few uncharitable souls suggested that it was pre-wedding jitters, but that was laughed off easily enough.

By late-Tradetide, the rumours had reached the Marketplace, along with a new tidbit from another quarter. Word had it that Guildmaster Larbeido had been murdered. One could imagine the mixed up possibilities of those to rumours run rampant.

By Eventide, speculation of both fronts was the talk of the town: the Caesar ill, some said he was near death’s door; and the Guildmaster foully murdered, or blessedly, depending on where one’s loyalties lay.