An Historical Tale of Dionica
This is a closed RP. Mostly. If you are one of the ones who were in the ooc discussion thread Hello World and then disappeared, or you're just someone who wants in and thinks you can conform your ideas to the existing structure and character of the RP, then shoot me a telegram, or post in Hello World and we'll get you in. This is the first RP that I have (semi) organized, so hopefully it goes well.
The weathered old man sits in his rocking chair, lazily pushing with the balls of his feet, slowly rocking back and forth. It has been a glorious summer day, and now that evening is beginning to fall, the heat of the day wafts away on the light, cool breeze. He seems lost in thought as he rocks, eyes staring off into the still blue sky. In one hand he hold an old fashioned pipe, just the thinnest thread of blue smoke can be seen floating away on a whisper. Now and again he clenches the stem with his teeth, making a satisfying rapping sound on the cherry wood. So calm and serene is he that it is a wonder he hasn't noticed the young rapscallion bouncing in the next chair.
"Grandad," he whined, "you said you were gonna tell me the S-t-o-r-y." The boy dragged out the last word; his tone would be grating if his voice were not full of the innocence of youth. "Grandad..." The boy pleaded one more time, hoping to have his curiosity sated. He continued to fidget, all the while hoping the his grandfather would hurry up and get on with the story.
The old man appears to be returning to the present, his eyes focus on the vista, his jaw tightens his grip on the pipe, and he calmly rotates his head, looking now at his grandson.
"W-e-l-l, it was a l-o-n-g time ago, child. Long before even I was born; even before my grandfather's time. But the story's been passed down in our family, from generation to g-e-n-eration. You can be sure that ev-re lick of it is as true as the sky is blue. Now back in those days it was like this..."
False dawn, Ancient Mediterranean
Kuinte Atna paced back and forth across the bow of his ship. Only years of experience gave him sealegs able to keep him upright and walking. The two decked trireme surged forward as it rode down the face of another massive wave, only to crash violently into the trough and begin the arduous climb up the next. The sails were furled, and each of the two hundred oars manned, men sweating and swearing and straining to match the stroke. They had raced the forward edge of the storm in from across the Tyrrhenian Sea for the last day and a half. As the storm bore North, and they East, they would soon break into the clear. Already Captain Atna could see a break in the dark grey clouds just above the horizon. With a tremendous whooshing thud the prow of the ship collides headlong with the bottom of the next trough. Foam and spray looking like spittle flying from the jaws of Cerebrus momentarily cloud his view. The waves were noticeably diminishing with each passing hour, he notices. As they crest the next wave, the Captain, and no doubt much of his crew see a brilliant yellow-white shaft of light piercing the gray, and lifting spirits. Sunrise. Soon we will be home. Tonight I will eat with my wife. At this thought, the Captain smiles and faces aft, studying his crew. He isn't the only one with a smile on his face, nor with thoughts of home flying about his mind.
Late evening, Outside of the Temple of Feronia, in the shadow of Mt. Soracte
The gathering of merchants had become something of a tradition and was getting larger every year. Being a goddess of mercatus, that is, trade has some certain benefits, after all the vendors, traders, buyers, and sellers; all would make donations in Her honor after a successful Market. Clumps of tents, some simple, others elaborate, dotted the hillside at the base of the mountain. Baggage trains, carts, livestock; stalls, booths, tables; tents, latrines, and camp kitchens; it all combined into a makeshift city, outside of the nearby town. Come morning, Market would begin.
A rather round, jovial appearing man sits on an upturned barrel next to a fire. His companions are clustered about him, spaced varyingly about the flames, yet all within easy earshot. Just out of the corner of his eye, this man can see a dim glow of the strip of coals where, in a few minutes, some other fool would probably test the goddess. Walking across hot coals with your feet bare? He snorts at the thought. What is it supposed to prove anyway? Just because you've never worn shoes, and have soles thicker than leather, and... Oh, bother.
"What's that you said?" he says as he realized that the man on his right had been asking him a question while he was annoyed with the coal walkers.
"I was asking if you had heard about the new expedition that's being organized. Well, have you?"
The large fleshy man merely stares blankly and raises an eyebrow infinitesimally.
"Ha!" the second man replies with an air of having just won some competition. "I thought not. Let me tell you about it..."
Mariosz, along the coast of Czardas. Evening.
Kandarin was the last on watch. This was normal among the slaves; she had harder nights than any of the others, being employed in the kitchens during the evenings. It was a clear night, with a thin crescent moon throwing a misty light over the slaves’ compound, a group of dirty and ragged huts surrounded by a huge spiked wall. It was from among the spikes on this wall that Kandarin watched the nearby palace, surrounded by Imperial guards. She sat there, with the long rope ladder she had knotted ten days ago, musing over the events of the day.
A perfectly ordinary day. Her slavemaster had beaten her for being too early to the kitchens that morning. Then when she was allotted her leftover stew and water for lunch, she had been beaten again when another slave falsely accused her of stealing food to cover up for his own misdeeds. She had been treated as a sub-human entity by a group of drunken officers, just an hour before. She thought of what she could have done had a pole been on hand. Ariki, the traditional Czardaian art of pole-fighting, had long since been outlawed by the ruling régime; once practiced by an elite warrior force of over 4,000, there were only a few who still remembered the art today. Kandarin was one of them; so was her husband, Kol Araoth, who served as a builder in the Imperial capital of Mariosz.
Kandarin sighed and stirred slightly, looking to all the world like a bundle of clothes placed untidily on top of the wall. How it came to be there would not be investigated. The guards, after all, were drunk.
Kandarin had made them so.
She had an excellent reason to do so. Tonight was their last night in the Cvarkenian Empire. The slaves were escaping, and she was leading them.
In the Imperial Palace
It was in the last days of the Empress Veria IV, Hatsun's Jewel, Ruler of the Twelve Cities, Queen of the Cvarkens. All were awaiting her words as she lay on her deathbed, the mortal daughter of Hatsun in this world, naming her succcessor. The Empress was silent, lying in a coma. The fever had taken the better part of her life. Dawn approached as the High Priest of the Palace led the populace in prayer to Hatsun, Lord of the World, for the Empress to live long enough to name who would succeed her to the Golden Throne.
It was, after all, the closing of an age. For countless years the sons and daughters of Hatsun had awaited this time, the time when the Empire had reached its height on this world and in the next. Its riches had been incomparable, its technology frightening. The slaves had worked hard to build wonders unequalled in splendor. But with the end of Empress Veria's 40-year reign as their ruler, everyone knew what would erupt. Violence had always marked the Imperial succession. And with no living children of the Empress, and four councillors who could inherit the title, it would certainly turn bloody.
To appease Hatsun and convince the Lord to allow a peaceful succession, the High Priest of the Palace had a plan: sacrifice. Hundreds of slaves would be thrown into a pit of fire, their souls crying out to the Lord for peace. Then a new ruler would come to the throne, and perhaps the glory of Cvarken would be prolonged.
The Empress, daughter of Hatsun, stirred and turned on her side, but still did not speak. Physicians could no longer aid her in her struggle against death. Slowly dying that cold dawn, she was waited upon by thousands upon thousands of her subjects, awaiting her awakening.
The flames flickered....
The Base of Mt. Soracte, at the Temple of Feronia, Late Evening
An enormous amount of worshipers had congregated at the base of Mt. Soracte, at the Temple of the Goddess Feronia. Feronia was Goddess of many things; nature, intellect... but to these vendors and business people, the fact that she was Goddess of Markets was vital to them.
They had started setting up for tomorrow's Market Day, which would very obviously be a successful one. Various merchants, getting everything ready for tomorrow, brought wares of all types, including livestock.
This is the biggest turnout ever. Feronia will be pleased. She will receive many fine offerings and bless the many who honor her.
To prove devotion to Feronia, many would walk a strip of coals barefoot. The coals were already hot.
"Can I have your attention please!" Arria shouted.
Arria was dressed in her ceremonial gown, layers of white diaphanous fabric, edged in gold, belted with braided olive brances, and roses in her hair.
Arria Lucini was the High Priestess to Feronia, and had lived in the temple for many years. She had come to worship one day when she was no more than nine years old, and the current High Priestess saw something in Arria and told her that she would be the next High Priestess. From that point on, with her parents blessing, she moved to the temple and began grooming for that position by the High Priestess and all the other priestesses. Arria loved this life. Serving Feronia was such an honor, and when she became High Priestess eight years ago, she felt a blessing from Feronia, and she promised she would serve as best as she could... and she did.
The crowd was so huge that some of the other priestesses had to go around to various areas and direct their attention toward Arria. After they all realized she was up front and about to speak, the crowd went silent.
Arria began. "For those of you who don't know me, I am Arria, High Priestess to Feronia. It is wonderful to see so many of you here to worship Feronia. She will be very pleased. I can see by the crowd that Feronia will receive many offerings, and blessings will be given to many of you for your devotion." Arria smiled.
"For those of you who are here for the first time, I will explain a tradition we have. You do not have to participate, but it is encouraged. We have a strip of hot coals over to the left." Arria pointed over to the coals. "To show our devotion to Feronia, we walk barefoot over the coals."
Some of the crowd began murmuring, some gasped. It was obvious some were shocked.
"I repeat this is not mandatory. It is just another way we honor Feronia. Now if you will please clear the way, I will walk over them first."
Arria took off her sandals and walked over to the hot coals. She held her dress up a bit and walked slowly across the strip of burning coals. No pain, no burns. The murmuring started again as she did this.
"Anyone who wishes to follow, go ahead and line up and walk over one at a time." She put her sandals back on.
"I wish you a prosperous Market Day and Feronia's blessings!" Those were her last words to the crowd. Many had started walking over the coals, while others were too afraid.
As she was walking to her sleeping quarters, she overheard some discussion of an expedition, but no details.
Arria went to her bedroom and got ready for bed. After saying her prayers to Feronia, she fell asleep. It was 2:00am after all, and tomorrow would be a big day.
The City of Caisra, Etruria, Early Afternoon
The heavy oak doors slammed open as Velthur Lusinies stormed into his chambers. "They want rid of me, I tell you!" the man roared, casting off his finely embroidered cape and hurling it to the floor. "'Voyage of exploration' indeed!"
His wife Hercna looked up from her reading and waited patiently for him to let off his steam. She was used to her warrior's temper.
Velthur was stalking angrily about the room, his rough sailor's hands making wide, expressive gestures. "For five years I have captained my ship, and for five years it has torn apart all the ships that have faced it! My men have bled for their land - how can I ask this of them?"
Hercna recognised when she was expected to interject. "Ask them what, husband?"
"To go on this fool's voyage! To find where the world ends, and most likely fall off it! I'm telling you those damned philosophers want to get rid of me - they're happy to watch me sail off and never to return."
Hercna shook her head and looked up at her husband. His dark eyes burned with the greatest fury - that of a man who firmly believes indignity has been brought against him. She sighed and beckoned to Velthur.
"Come, husband. Sit." Reluctantly he did so, sitting tensely in one of the reclining couches. "Perhaps they have not chosen you out of some punishment. Perhaps they have chosen you because you are among the greatest captains in the navy and they want a fine captain for their expedition."
Velthur scratched his close-cut beard thoughtfully, his anger fading a little. "Perhaps, though I doubt it. What sane captain would sail a ship to the very edge of the world? Only an imbecile would try it."
"Or a hero." Her voice was soft. By calming him, she might set his mind on this voyage, and lose him forever. But she could not endure his anger for long, and she could see the signs that this time the insult, real or imagined, would not be quickly put aside.
His brow furrowed in deeper thought. "Well," he stated, as though reaching some conclusion. "I will see what they have to say when we meet tomorrow. Tonight Captain Atna has returned, and I hear they want him to sail on this expedition as well. Maybe he will have something to say on the matter. We must prepare for his returning banquet."
Mariosz, The Imperial Palace
Karl Elkacs strode briskly across the courtyard. His metal-tipped shoes clacked on the stones, and the swish of his uniform could be heard in the intense silence enveloping the entire Palace. The Captain of the Imperial Guard made an unmistakable figure. His close-fitting garments included the ceremonial bronze plates over his shoulders, and the twin gold stripes running down from the plates to his military steel-tipped boots. There was no mistaking him for other than a defender of the great Empire and the army's favored servant of Hatsun.
Karl turned slightly as another man accosted him. The Imperial Chancellor Dagirus Beneddo, a dignified, portly man, said, "Karl, can you round up the slaves?"
"Yes, Chancellor Beneddo." Karl never called anyone "sir", and no-one tried to make him.
"Then do so by all means. Fresh guards are on hand if they are needed."
Karl nodded. "I will call for them if they are necessary." He turned on his heel and made his way to the barracks. The Chancellor turned back towards the Palace as an aide ran up to him to inform him that the Empress Veria had awakened, if only for a brief moment. Beneddo lifted a prayer to Hatsun, then hurried on in.
Someone else was watching them. Someone who slipped off a wall and gave a signal.
The soldier on guard looked up sleepily as Karl Elkacs approached. He tried to pull himself together to salute, without much success, falling flat on his face. The Captain of the Guard was standing over him in two steps. He lifted the soldier up with a merciless arm.
"Drunk again, aren't you," he said in his curt manner.
"I'm not drunk, sir Cap'n, I'm just...jus....j...I'm..." The soldier sank down again.
Elkacs pushed him away with a violent thrust, and swore heartily. "Are the others drunk as well? Don't tell me the entire Hatsun-damning contigency's tipsy."
"H-no sir, they's just asleepin', I..."
"And you be quiet!" Elkacs stepped into the barracks.
After a few minutes he returned. The prudent soldier had hidden himself safely away but nevertheless had to suffer a string of colorful expletives. Elkacs got his fury under control, and marched off to the Imperial Chancellor's quarters to request his reinforcements. It was four in the morning on the night of Veria's ascension to her Father above Earth, and Karl Elkacs was furious.
OOC: All things considered, is there even a place for my character now? Czardas' people worship somone else... Where do I go from here?OOC: There is a place for your character. She is a priestess for Dionica's and RoyalBank's characters. My Imperials worship someone else and may come into conflict with yours. The Czardaians themselves, i.e. the slaves, on the other hand are mainly atheist, partly due to the fact that anyone found worshipping the Czardaian god is immediately put to death. I think they may be willing converts.
Arria awoke to all the sounds of the market taking place. She could hear a lot of trading and haggling. This was the biggest turnout ever, and she knew Feronia would be pleased.
There were lines of people waiting to give offerings to Feronia, and ask for her blessing. Food and drink were being served. It was a beautiful day.
Arria got dressed in her ceremonial gown again, and went to say her own prayers to Feronia. Such a huge turnout! The weather couldn't have been better.
Arria spent the morning wandering around the market looking at what people had to trade, and just satisfying her curiosity. Each year, this day elevated Arria to a joyful place. She felt light as a feather.
She continued to wander around and chat with the traders, the other priestesses, and anyone else who happened to be around.
It looked like it was going to be a perfect day.
Mariosz, Outside the Imperial Palace
Kol Araoth awoke sharply at the cry of an owl. He knew as well as any of the slaves that there were no owls in Mariosz. It could only be one thing.
He dressed hurriedly. Along with the other slaves, quickly awakening at the signal, he left the ramshackle, dilapidated hut to the center of the slave compound, where Kandarin, the rope ladder under her arm, had motioned the population to her.
"They are coming to sacrifice us," she said shortly.
"Already?" asked Kol Araoth. He pushed back his dark hair.
"We have no more time. We must flee this place," said Kandarin, unheeding of the interruption. The slaves nodded in comprehension.
"Out in the bay there is the Empress's boat. Once we are over the wall, we run that way. Split up and do not go together."
At a noise from beyond the wall Kol Araoth spoke in a whisper. "And if we are caught?"
"We shall die. Do not be caught."
Araoth nodded. "Over the wall."
His wife swung the rope ladder to the spikes on the far wall and motioned to the slaves to climb it and then jump over the other side, into a ditch surrounded by bushes. There they would be secure from capture. One after another, they climbed, as noiselessly as possible. A baby wailed, hushed by its mother. Small children asked questions in low voices, as Kandarin had instructed them not to speak loudly. Soon more than half the slaves had climbed up.
Shev'uan, the son of Kandarin and Kol Araoth, was one of the last ones to climb. As he neared the top, he heard the military steps of Karl Elkacs on the path beyond the ditch. He paused, uncertain, frozen with fear. Below him the face of Kol Araoth took on a petrified expression.
The footsteps continued without faltering, and gradually died away. Swiftly Shev'uan climbed over and dropped to the ditch.
The last to climb was Kol Araoth, who gathered up the ladder once atop the wall. He was just in time. A second after he had vanished over the top, the door to the compound was unlocked and pushed open. Shev'uan hurried silently along the walls of the compound. His task was the last one.
The soldiers wandered in, looking for the slaves, calling out names. Karl Elkacs was among them. As the last one filed in, Shev'uan leapt from the darkness and locked the door. Then he fled.
It took a long time for the soldiers to realize that a) the slaves were not in the camp anymore and b) they had been locked in. They began raising hell. Karl Elkacs cursed violently. But to those outside it seemed just as if they were having difficulties with rounding up the slaves, who were usually unwilling to die for their Empress.
In the meantime, Kol Araoth, Kandarin, Shev'uan, and hundreds of others were fleeing in the other direction, along the silent streets of Mariosz, desperately running for the port where the Empress's ship was docked.
Back at the Palace, a soldier finally unlocked the door for Elkacs and his men.
"Escaped, every single blasted one o'them has!" shouted Elkacs.
"They must have headed for the sea!" called a soldier. "Sir! I'd recommend we go that way!"
"Good thinking, Cristzof," said Elkacs, leading his men towards the city proper. A hundred soldiers filed out behind him, their spears glinting in the moonlight. They marched through the streets of Mariosz as people came awake and lights were lit in every window of the multi-storied buildings.
Somewhere in front of the soldiers, slaves were converging on the pier leading to the Empress's ship.
"There's the harbor!" cried Kol Araoth, quite unnecessarily.
"And there are the guards!" added Shev'uan, pointing back towards where the soldiers had broken into a run.
The baby began wailing again, as slaves began running or swimming towards the end of the pier. Kandarin produced a long wooden pole that may have once served as an oar from where it lay along the pier. As Karl Elkacs, ahead of the rest, ran towards her, she swung it around violently and knocked him into the murky water. Then she, too, fled, again the last in line as slaves filed onto the ship. As Kandarin jumped on, with the soldiers still in pursuit, Kol Araoth severed the rope and instructed the slaves to row their hardest.
Karl Elkacs, spluttering and coughing, stood up in the waist-deep water in time to see the Empress's ship leave the pier, for freedom.
He was not happy about it.
As Arria wondered around, she heard on and off talk about some big voyage. Perhaps later she would ask someone about it.
As of now, more worshipers were walking on the hot coals. Everything was going well this year. Arria smiled.
OOC: Where are you Dionica?? Some of us are wondering...
OOC: Yes, I'm a woman.
ooc: TG Dionica...
Morning, First Day of the Feronian Market
It had been a great start to the latest Market. Last night the High Priestess had led the gathered merchants, citizens of the nearby town, and worshippers in what might be termed the 'opening ceremonies'. A fair number of the congregated crowd followed Arria over the coals signifying their devotion to Feronia, and their absolute faith that she would protect them from serious harm. Every camp had pulled out all of the stops to lay out lavish spreads, grapes, figs, olives, cheeses, breads, mutton, beef, fowl, lentils, and plenty of all the best wines. As was the tradition, people were welcome to any table from which they wished to sample. The feast was a gesture of showing one another the generosity they all hoped Feronia would show them throughout the year.
Over in one of the larger and most elaborate camps, situated near to the temple with a pleasant shade from the mount in the morning sits Hasdrubal son of Himilco. Hasdrubal was prospering a merchant, Phoenicians tend to have a knack for that somehow, but in his own eyes he has yet to live up to his father's fame; the man who had explored out of the Great Sea through the straights to the West and then North in the land of many barbaric tribes. Deep inside of his heart, Hasdrubal yearned to be more than a merchant, he desired to set his eyes upon new horizons, experience alien sunsets, and sample the air of undiscovered lands.
He sits on a stool, arranged with several in a circle. Upon the others sit the leaders of the major camps - major in terms of influence, not size - both large and small. Altogether there are eight of them. Hasdrubal sits there, sipping on his morning tea brewed from some of the local herbs, sizing up each of the others, evaluating what had just been discussed.
After a minute or so of the men coolly judging risks and rewards, Hasdrubal stands up. He does so unhurried, letting out a simultaneous sigh suggesting that he had arrived at a conclusion. He stands tall amongst the Feronians, by a head or so against the average. His jet black hair is oiled into tight ringlets and his beard, close to his face on the sides while jutting out and down past his chin matches in style. He certainly looks dignified, almost regal with his light olive skin and sharpish features, oval eyelids tapering together at the outside rest above a nose that hooks slightly near the end. Hasdrubal has always made an effort to present a superior appearance, and that effort along with the natural constitution of his face results in a visage that could have been the model for statues of Persian royalty.
Clearing his throat he begins to speak to his peers and competition, "I have decided that I will fully support this proposed voyage or expedition. As you all know, I have long suspected that there is much yet to be discovered in the world - people, goods, trade routes, and new markets. The city Council has provided me just the opportunity I have awaited to find for myself the veracity of this idea of mine. From what we have heard here, the ship and crew will be provided by the city. It is my intention to join myself and my fortune to that of this undertaking to venture West, beyond the Great Sea. Any of you who propose to do the same, please announce your intent now, so that we may plan together..."
He waits for a few moments in silence, locking eyes with each man in turn, giving them all a chance to speak up.
It is as he expected, none of the others wish to bet their livelihood, and potentially their lives on this trip that was still something of an unknown. But for his internal, and somewhat subconscious motivations, Hasdrubal probably would not be making this speech, instead he would be as the others - mute. As usual, it falls to us, the Phoenicians, the daring, to break the mold and be the first, for good or for ill, to attempt some new feat of exploration.
"In that case, I shall make my obeisances to Feronia, and be off to meet with the Council. May She shine upon all of your endeavors."
At that, the meeting was finished, and by silent consensus, the others began to return to their own camps and proceed with the business at hand - Market.
After a few words with his foreman, instructions to strike camp - irregular though it seemed - Hasdrubal headed off towards the temple with offering in hand to consult with the High Priestess...
ooc: Hopefully I'll post today...
Kuroi Hiryuu Joouheika
Arria was more than satisfied with this years Market and Tribute to Feronia. The goddess would indeed be pleased.
After all the speeches and stopping by all the merchant's booths to talk with each of them, she was a bit tired. She noticed a booth where a man was selling various teas.
"Hello there Sir", Arria said. "You are Delonios, are you not?" She smiled.
"Ye-yes Priestess." the man replied, flustered at having the High Priestess talking at his booth. He bowed.
Arria smiled. "You have some great looking and smelling teas here Delonios. I am a little tired from all the activity. Is there one you could reccomend that would wake me up a little bit? A pick me up." Arria needed a big pick me up. "Make that something that will REALLY keep me awake!" She grinned.
Delonios, having calmed down started working on a tea concocted with a few different herbs.
"Are you enjoying yourself Delonios?" Arria asked.
Delonios turned with a large cup of tea. "Oh yes, very much. This year has been very successful. I think Feronia will be pleased."
"As do I." Arria took a sip of the tea. "This is delicious! May I ask what herbs you used?"
"Of course... strong green tea, a few small pinches of this and that, and the herb that will keep you awake; coca."
"Thank you so much, it is delicious." She pulled out her purse to pay and the man stopped her.
"I would never think of charging the High Priestess of Feronia for a cup of tea! You take that. I hope it works for you." He smiled.
"I'm sure it will. Thank you very much." She smiled back at Delonios.
She turned and made her way back to the temple. When she arrived, Arria noticed a rather dapper young man headed her way. hmmm? I wonder who that might be? I don't recall meeting him.
Morning, First Day of the Feronian Market
The almost dandified man stands in the shadow of the Temple as he awaits Arria, High Priestess. Hasdrubal wears his robes comfortably, but the dark blue, almost royal purple trim against the pure white gives an air of borderline pretension common among the wealthy traders of Phoenician descent. In his hand he grasps a rolled parchment bearing the unbroken seal of the Council of Feronia. Soon enough he spies the High Priestess walking back towards the Temple from the Market. He then heads off to intercept her and snatch a moment of her time.
Hasdrubal bows, but not too deeply, clearing his throat as he does so. "Greetings High Priestess. I come bringing tidings from the city Council, and to ask Feronia's blessings before I set off on a voyage." He hands her the rolled parchment which she then opens unhurriedly:
The Council has decided after much debate that it is high time we extended our influence further to the West. We have summoned captains Lusinies and Atna before us tonight. In addition the man who delivered this message, Hasdrubal, son of Himilco, will most likely be involved. What we propose is a Voyage of Exploration and Trade, reaching far to the West. Our cities are prospering, however we of the Council feel that we cannot prevent the rampant stagnation many other cities face without opening new markets and sources of goods. We therefore ask that you accompany Hasdrubal to the meeting tonight that Feronia's Will may be known.
the city Councils of Feronia and Caisra
Afternoon, the Great Amphitheater of Caisra and Feronia
The council members of the two cities are gathered together as they do from time to time to discuss matters that pertain to them both. Today it regards the expedition that has been proposed to almost unanimous acclamation. The council herald is standing upon the stage at the moment calling out the first order of business:
"Councilors, messengers have been sent to both of the Captains, the High Priestess and the merchants at the Market. So far we have received responses only from Hasdrubal, son of Himilco, and Captain Atna. Both have agreed to come before you tonight and pledge their support to the Voyage. We await answers from the High Priestess and Captain Lusinies, it is expected that they will arrive shortly."
Kuroi Hiryuu Joouheika
Arria turned as a rather pretentious looking man approached. He greeted her and then opened a parchment and read from it. So his name is Hasdrubal, so she understood from the City of Council's parchment.
She listened intently and did not have to take a moment to think it over. Feronia would bless this voyage and would want her to go along. The possibility of new areas of trade, and the possibility of items never heard of or seen here would please Feronia. In addition, she would approve of the possibility of greeting new cultures.
"Hasdrubal, I will accompany you to the meeting tonight. I believe Feronia would be more than pleased with this voyage.” The Goddess would be very pleased…new markets, new items, and new cultures. This is something Feronia would bless. “I have no hesitation accompanying you and making the Council aware of the High Priestess' blessing." Arria informed him. She beamed with excitement.
Afternoon, the Great Amphitheater of Caisra and Feronia
The Council members and most the others had already arrived when Arria approached, her white gown flowing. She was indeed interested in this proposal.
Kuroi Hiryuu Joouheika
Afternoon, the Great Amphitheater of Caisra and Feronia
Arria looked around as she approached and saw Hasdrubal, amongst a large council.
All stood as The High Priestess of Feronia approached. Arria smiled at all of them. "Oh please sit and thank you for the welcome. I am quite excited about this potential voyage." She said, hardly able to contain her excitement.
Now they just had to wait for the others.