The Mistwalker Journal
February the First; Year 418
An Intangible Tsunami Sweeps the Continent
By Armasol Ve’Sayde; Story Keeper
A massive blast of magic erupted from Isenhjem’s mountains of Ice and Dawn, sending out a wave of dazzling color and sensation throughout the continent. The ripples, described by some like the Northern Lights and by others as comet tails, also produced a ubiquitous feeling of disquiet. Such an event is completely unprecedented, but stranger still are the effects left in the wake of this brilliant burst.
Across the continent, beings have inexplicably changed. Some had their abilities altered, others jumped to another race entirely. Others still have vanished without a trace, while strangers arrive knowing no one and nothing about the world, as if they’d been sucked from another shard.
Denizens of Isenhjem are uniformly different, shards of stone protruding from their bodies and an uncharacteristic serenity about their person.
In the Empire, Crimson Inquisitors are out in droves, far exceeding the number previously assumed their order maintained, exerting citizens to remain at home as much as possible. The extent of the storm’s effects have yet to be determined, but the Crimson Inquisition assures that everything is in hand.
Elsewhere, various authorities have been dispatched to ensure the safety of their respective nation’s citizens. When Terras’ Knights of Sepira investigated neighboring tunnels of Umbrussa, they found that the Umbrussans “hadn’t heard any such blast,” according to one merchant. The merchant’s cousin, however, had mysteriously turned into a Hobbling, which the merchant justified as, “his mother’s side was always a bit odd, y’know?”
Tribes in Vuka have not reacted so calmly to the shifts appear to align with prophecies or at the very least superstitions. (See “RUN”, in Submissions)
And yet whatever the change may be, it seems as though the altered state is in line with the changeling’s innermost heart… as though it was the change they always wished for deep inside, granted strangely by this old magic.
We find ourselves suddenly standing on shifting soil, the very world around us mutable. If reality is malleable, what will change next, and more importantly, who is in command of its changing shape?
The New-new with the Who’s-who
By Gigi La Fosse
Some of the most notorious nobles of Radiant Helios have been behaving rather strangely this winter. But Sarr don’t change their spots, and this rumor connoisseur is determined to prove that these strange shifts in character are actually perfectly within character for these aberrant aristocrats.
Subject one: the ever-stylish Baroness Von Heisell hasn’t been seen at her usual party circuit, nor has she invited guests to her parlor. I waited patiently for an invite to her wine-tasting this harvest, and never received one. Imagine. Shall we conclude that Herod’s expansions (and alleged witchcraft) put the outspoken Baroness in her place? Hardly. Rather, I believe that she’s keeping all of her wine for herself, and has been drinking herself into oblivion all winter. By all accounts, she hardly leaves her home, except to wander her grounds, leaning on a servant. Nursing a hangover, obviously.
Subject two: play-boy Robert DuVak seems to be turning over a new leaf after a long line of debacles. (DuVakles, we’ll call them.) He has spent all Winter in the boot-heel of nowhere in a tent-city full of apparent refugees. Would a philandering fop like Robert deign to soil his cuffs with the tears of the downtrodden? Is he taking responsibility for his people at last? Don’t believe it, fair reader. I have been lead to believe that there is an absurd concentration of musicians, storytellers, and poets in the area and that Selunari barons have been reported coming and going. The clear conclusion is that this tent-city is actually an elaborate, clandestine festival to entertain DuVak and his hundreds of friends. Wild parties, performances, and all manner of debauchery no doubt take place all season long. They simply party so hard that they dishevel themselves to such a foul degree. Classic DuVak.
As I have detailed so plainly, the nobility of Helios are simply a different breed from the muck-a-muck citizens, and invariably true to their nature. Drawing wild conclusions that they have “human motivations” and “basic empathy” is absurd, and indeed can only be achieved through unnatural contortions of logic.
Lucky for you, I, Gigi La Fosse, am your loyal informant on the other side of every rumor, and my beautiful ears hear everything. Where there’s a story to be had, you know I’ll hop to it!
Until next time!~
xoxo (\_/) xoxo
“Our Hero Herod” Conquers the Audiences of Sonnenspire
By Margrave Wolffe; Entertainment Critic
In the shining city of Sonnenspire tonight history was made, and retold. The play “Our Hero Herod” opened with all the acclaim and honor the great hero of the Empire is deserving of. A play written by Holly, the famed Selunari thespian and citizen of the Empire has done it again with her masterful skill. She has crafted a story and a tale that had the audiences on the edge of their seats.
The play masterfully recounts the tale of Baron Herod, growing up as a young commoner and working his way up, and then finding the downtrodden Baroness, on the verge of suicide. He nurses her back to health, and then on her wedding day, she is stolen by the evil Lord Brightstone. Of course it is clearly understood how the Lord has usurped his role from his weak relative, and saw this as a chance to keep hold of the lands Malidor could not.
Of course the role of Herod is played by Tad Bridt, who as you know is Sonnenspire’s handsomest bachelor, and the role of the Baroness was played by Rhea Kite Kingly. Both of whom give amazing performances, and deserved the standing ovations as well as calls for them to take extra bows.
It introduces many characters the audience was not formally aware of, such as Squire Hilder, played by Stub VicSeeme, who you may know from his former roles as the large Assassin in ‘The Shadow King’ and who played the simpleton oaf in the comedy ‘Take who?’. As well as clarified the interesting relationship she had with the head of the Ashen Maidens, particularly after the noble Baron spurned the advances of the harlot traitor. The play does foreshadow the untimely demise of the treacherous group of spurned sword maids, and highlights the nobility of the people like the Baron.
At the end, when the six soldiers sacrificed their lives so he could save his wife and deftly capture the foolish Hildr there was not a dry eye in the house. The only question is, why have you not gone to see this play?
The Commerce guild and Lucas Clair is producing this and this play will be touring the Empire. Already they are arranging for it to be held in all the main cities and places of urban development. On top of that, if you need travel, with the ticket stub food and housing is half off at all Commerce guild approved lodging.
I must say, if you are half as impressed as I was with this play, you will understand why he truly is ‘Our Hero Herod’.
Sonnenspire Confusing Ticket Sales with Bribe Money
By Armasol Ve’Sayde; Story Keeper
As a collector of the happenings in our world, I thought to catch up on missed events by attending a play. ‘Our Hero Herod’ was playing in Sonnenspire as I was passing through.
I’m a chronicler, not a critic.
But something very horrifying is happening on Empire stages--and I’m not merely referring to the whinging of the lead actress. Propaganda is spreading further and further into the arts, without even the decency to costume itself as engaging entertainment.
All you need to know is this: A Selunari Playwright has written a drama deifying a man who enslaves her own people. And she wrote it in A B A B rhyming verse. The entire thing.
Were I not sworn to remember, I would drink to forget those four hours of ‘theater’.
Concernnin Straeng Folk at the Ouposte
By Tyber Johannsen; farmer
Ther re sum folke theese parts dont ‘precate adventursum typ settlin at the outpost.
I lyk em fine. Goods git bot. Trades up. New folk pass thru.
And. 1 tim. Saw me a woman walk rit outa a tree, eyes lyk vyletts. Nevr see nothn lyk befor ventur folk come by.
Thinkin of yon tree lady kep me werm all wintr.
Passed from the mouth of NarrowMaw; Medicine-woman of Carrion-Fist Tribe
The waves of light portend an opening. Not an open door, but a scar cracking with fester.
It is an omen, civil world, feral world.
The wave of the End Tide rushes towards your feet, and still you do not turn, and still you do not run.
Looking a Gift Lande in the Soil
By Jolyn Withers; Displaced citizen of Engleheim
Allowe me to preffass that I am graetful for the land givenn my family and myself.The Outposte is a fyne section of Empire, I supposse, if one likes terrifying magick ruins and sieges and evil cults of goblynn and evry manner of ill thing at ones threshholde. Annde nothing grows.
At home, oranges grewwe like jewells thru the winter.
Here, Fayte sends staggs to trample my turnyps.
I proppose the Destyned do somthing to teache us how to defend ourselves, for I swearr with Weavers as my Witnesse, I’d rather braev Herod’s troops than an other Magick Eating Beetle roaming the night.
The Well Earned Rest
Haiku by Erathalyn Lackless; Wanderer
Winter reigns, howling,
Yet dreaming spring laughs.
All sleepers must someday wake.