Recap Online Session 01.06.2018

The herald, Syr Dalibor continued to announce the group of people in the nave of the Chanter’s Safehold.

“…Our noble lord, the Duke of the Arganhold, Harmond Horvath, son of Orbek the Defender, whose heroism likewise has saved many Barosíans, giving us shelter at his mighty citadel in the Brindan Hills…
…and his vigilant Knights of the Citadel, Syr Decebal of Cardaun, Syr Horm of Costorvé, and Syr Erbin of the Great Dale……and the Knight of Orlath, Syr Antun Comton…”

“…Our noble lord, the Count Malor Mefester of Porsomonia, Steward of Mistmark…”

At this, Syr Malor interrupted by saying “Syr”, and Tylendel said “Duke” at the same time, leaving the herald confused for a moment. Mefester then said he saw himself as a knight before the herald continued,

“…and his loyal knight-captains, Syr Garling of Sledrakh, Captain Nistor, commander of the Bone Dragons, and Syr Neffir and Syr Robond of the House Witherwillow…

…Our noble lord, Count Roben Sandath of Falkerstone…

…Our noble lord, Count Ales Malion of Deepford…

…To our great relief and joy, the Grosskomtur of the Order of the Holy Hill, Syr Gylian Urunmyst, once sworn to the Golden Faith himself….
…and his lieutenants, Syr Valdor Ashgate, and lord Karlon Rymés…”

“…Our noble lord, Baron Ewane Darkryver of Rhadnya…

…the Knight of Littleshore Motte, Syr Kyrvel of the Witchwater…

…Syr Jerek of Purple Hill, Bane of the Myrlander Brotherhood…

…the Knight of Copperhook, Syr Allandes Hroby…

…The Knight of Highwater Hall, Syr Perron Branral…

…The Knight of High Oak, Syr Aarlen…

…The Knight of Willowhold, Syr Bede…

… Tylendel Greyoak, former Steward of the Province and heir of House Ingham, envoy of the Holy Sword, the High Protector Ionatan Heroth…”

As Tylendel was mentioned last, Syr Bohumíl welcomed him. “Welcome, Tylendel. We barely met at the Arganhold, but I have been meaning to find the time to talk with you again. For all that you have done for the province, I will forever remain in your debt. Tell me, where is my half-brother?”
Tylendel explained Eld’s situation, to which Camrey responded, “There have always been those who have sought to end his life. And mine, for that matter. If you remember, it was by my hand that he was saved from the executioner’s axe.”

After another interruption, the herald finally concluded by welcoming the westlanders.
“…And, come from afar, our friends from the west, the honorable Syr Dostan Anpetór of Greywolf Hall in distant Anastonia, and his lieutenant, Syr Kajin of Osset in Osbria, speaking with the wisdom and blessing of the renowned Prophet Haskent of Ensalm, who has come to aid in the restoration of our beloved capital…”

“My lord the Highlord Bohumíl Camrey is grateful for everyone present, and thanks you for heeding his summons, despite the cold grip of darkness. Together, we shall set the course that is needed to withstand the evils napping at our heels and to bring Barosía back into the Imperial fold and the light of the Holy Throne.”

With that, Bohumíl addressed those present. To Tylendel’s surprise (?) there was no hostility, but rather humility.

“There are many important matters to discuss, my lords and ladies. I am well aware that time is not on our side - and has not been so for a while - yet there are things that we must solve together. There are things that need explaining. I am quite sure some here question my right to the Highlord’s Seat, and so I shall first make a statement regarding this, in the hopes of easing hearts that yet suffer the anguish my father instilled.”
“Know that I am not blindly scrambling for my father’s position; I have traveled from the Howling Mines, and before that I have crossed the province from east to west, from north to south, seeking survivors, mostly in vain. Through darkness and dust and icy cold, in search of whatever remnants and memories of our once glorious province. I know there is nothing to rule. The Highlord’s Seat itself lies splintered somewhere beneath a million bricks.
No, I am not in some delusion, and no, I have never yearned for my father’s seat. I witnessed first-hand how his mind became twisted, first and foremost by that treacherous rat, Kyril Drazen.”

“No. I proclaim myself Highlord for but three reasons, both which I consider more sound than what you may suspect from me. First, I sincerely believe that we, who still remain, need to gather under a leadership, if we are to stand against the evils assailing us from every side. Not a tyranny, but to establish a hierarchy, and to reach conclusions with more efficiency.
Second, by proclaiming myself the Highlord, I spit in the face of this Cult of the Lost who, by their nefarious schemes, have worked to destroy all that my bloodline has built. I show them that not all Camreys are so easily swayed. I remind them of those before me who withstood their manipulation, first and foremost among them Highlord Artan Camrey himself. I mean to become a lodestone, my lords, to draw their attention and so take the brunt of their wrath, thus giving you all the time you need to either flee these forsaken lands, or to prepare your resistance.
Finally, I seek to reclaim a shred - small as it would be - of honor for the name of my House. I need to show you all my integrity, my will to withstand, my courage to defend. And by so doing, find some measure of redemption in the eyes of the holies in Eveninghall and the Imperial Capital. I do not believe, not even deep in my heart, that I shall rule anything should we come out of this darkness alive. But whether I’m slated for execution or not, I will do what I can and give it all for redemption. If not in the eyes of the Holy Throne, then in the eyes of the Lost God Found.”

“However, even though I know I must fall, there is one sliver of hope, a little light in the darkness. In the darkness of the Howling Mines I came upon none other than my very own sister, the Lady Ester.”

Duke Harmond muttered, “So that’s who he was talking about? His sister, and not the saint?”

Syr Bohumíl explained, “What I did not know, and I suspect none here knew, was that my sister gave birth to a boy. That child is now five years, a good lad, who has lived for years in the dark. This means, my lords and ladies, that the Camrey bloodline continues.”

Duke Harmond asked if this would be the son of Aron Imlia, which Camrey affirmed. There were gasps and whisperings and mutters among the assembled.

“Indeed. I name Orlos Imlia Camrey the Heir of Barosía. Syr Stribogh, you have my thanks for protecting my lady sister and her son through these dark years. I hereby officially grant you the title of Protector of the Heir.”

“We were never the best of siblings, I cannot deny it. But I see hope, my lords and ladies. Even now, when it cannot get darker, I believe we are meant to suffer… in preparation of a new and better, brighter future for these lands.”

Syr Bohumíl also mentioned Ristina Goldhill, who turned out to be the ‘Saint of the Howling Mines’ the people outside were clamoring for.

“There is one who deserves more gratitude than I am able to give at the present moment; you must have noticed the clamoring crowd outside these walls.”

“Without Ristina Goldhill, the very daughter of Count Ilian, I am not sure anyone would have survived the Howling Mines. Her compassion and diligence saved many lives, as many have told me. Yes, there is a faith spreading among those who survived, that Ristina was guided by the saints themselves to her selfless, perpetual work to keep them all alive. The ‘Saint of the Howling Mines’, they call her. Unfortunately, she is now herself a victim of weakness and famine. She is being given the utmost care at Summergate. Tell the anxious ones outside that we do everything we can for her. We need a priest...”

Then, he gave the listeners the tale of how he faced Night People in the northern Slidil Riverlands, and how Syr Kyrvel of the Witchwater had removed a mask and robe from a man on Black Wing Hill, and found a scroll.

“I shall tell you of our journey from the Howling Mines, not only as an excuse as to why we arrived so late [he smiles], but because it will reveal, in my opinion, things that could change matters a deal.”
“We crossed the Great Plain under a dark sky; but no troubles beset us and so we reached the Kingsbridge, where we turned west onto the Goldenway, past the Víla Heights into the Slidil Riverlands. The cold was clutching at our hearts, but there was also hope, for we knew at last that we were close to the journey’s end.”

“Though tired and spent, my scouts performed their duties as best they could…they were ahead, scouting the northern riverlands, but did not return. I decided to encamp on the slopes of the Víla, giving everyone a time to rest. I gathered my knights and we discussed how to proceed. We agreed that we had to move cautiously, at least until the scouts returned. We distributed food and gave out torches, to be kept close in case we would need light to see enemies.”
“At last we had to move; every man wielding a weapon was asked to be on his guard, and indeed, when we neared Black Wing Hill, further southwest, we could smell it in the chilly air. There were Night People ahead.”

“With picks and shovels we quickly dug holes in a circle around us, where we put the torches. Fire and light would, I hoped, help protect us. Inside the circle, my friend Sandon here arranged the companies into defensive formations, while Esmond had the torches lit. One by one they flared into life, and we became as an island in the dark; and ahead, we heard the gruesome howls of the mad Night People, reacting to the sight.”

“With a heavy heart I bade my lord of Mefester send men ahead to investigate Black Wing Hill. His brave captain, Syr Garling here, volunteered. They went off to scout out the enemy and to my relief they returned alive and well, but with disturbing news.”

“Black Wing Hill was crawling with them. Thousands of Night People, who had managed to remain quiet until we lit our torches, squatting on that tall, jagged hill, as if they had been waiting for us. I bid Sandon blow the horn, and it echoed through the chilly night. I remember wondering if it would be heard from the Arganhold, not knowing it was already abandoned.”
“If they want us, they’ll have to come to us,” I said. We had to draw them from the high ground. I suspected they would not consider such a tactical detail. To my surprise they waited, though we well heard their restlessness. I wondered whether there was someone controlling them; they seemed not so much like wild, hungry beasts then.”
“…But before the first torch began sputtering, their guttural growls and shrieks began..”

Syr Bohumíl explained how they won, then reads the letter found:
‘The master’s order: All are to gather at the Starless Halls with haste. Our lord is almost upon us. We shall combine our forces and prepare our strike against the last of our enemies. Do not tarry. Time is short.’

Then, he looked up, and said, “Furthermore, there are instructions as to how to reach these halls. My lords…we know where the Cult is massing for their final attack. Can we let this chance go?”

The scroll reveals a communication between a man named Kardolf and someone called Bone Man; Tylendel immediately argues that it’s a trap - why would these cultists write messages in the paksí language - or indeed, write anything at all? Tylendel convinced the assembly not to take a chance, what with the darkness and cold, and possibility of being lured into an ambush.

After this the assembly parted into smaller groups, discussing the topics Camrey had brought forth, and Tylendel’s counterarguments. There was some heated discussion on the use of titles - with Tylendel actually convincing Bohumíl himself there was no value in calling himself ‘Highlord’. “Stand together, with us,” Tylendel said, backed up by Duke Harmond and Syr Dostan and Syr Gylian. Camrey agreed there was wisdom in Tylendel’s words.

Many wanted to greet Greyoak; there was Syr Dostan, who came to sit at his side, suggesting that he inform Camrey’s people more thoroughly; Syr Perron Branral appeared, revealing himself to be the young uncle of the Blackstorm; Count Roben Sandath stepped up, asking for his younger brother’s fate. Tylendel told him the truth…from a certain point of view. Roben was glad to learn that Syr Jahon had died as a loyal protector, and revealed that their father had wished Jahon had been firstborn. Syr Malor pledged his sword to Tylendel, not caring that anyone saw his open display.

Eventually, decisions were made; Duke Harmond took it upon himself to lead the survivors of Barosía to Sirry, as Tylendel had been suggesting. Tylendel told Syr Gylian to begin fortifying the Holy Hill, and Syr Dostan as well. He spoke briefly with Camrey, and they agreed to meet on the Holy Hill. “Let’s die together,” Camrey said. It was clear by now who was the true leader in the Chanter’s Safehold…

All of a sudden, the people in the nave were silenced by thunder, followed by a heavy rainfall - and more thunderclaps. Peering through a broken window, Tylendel saw the courtyard of the safehold lit by a lightning strike. People became nervous, and things began to move quicker. Duke Harmond went outside, with Syr Decebal, while Syr Comton remained behind at Tylendel’s side. Outside, the duke led the survivors, still clamoring for the Saint of the Howling Mines, away.

At last, Tylendel left the safehold too, deciding to go to Summergate, where the sick and ailing were being treated. Upon arriving there, he saw that every hallway, every chamber, every nook and cranny, was filled with sick and dying people. He asked for Erik the Rose, only to see him lie sick and silent in a bed; he asked for Dinja as she wasn’t in the bed he had last seen her in. He began searching Summergate for her, walking past people everywhere, looking for her face. On this quest, he saw other familiar faces - Syr Besarth and Syr Mergrim, whom he had dined with at Syr Theo’s Holdfast; Adony, Camrey’s lover; Syr Basill of Glanmar Hearth; Witch Lights; and Syr Ramon Duntry. Asking around, he eventually walked the outer wall through heavy rain and entered one of the towers flanking the gatehouse of Summergate itself. He encountered two Horvath soldiers carrying the body of Justina down the stairs. In the hallway below, he finally found Dinja…as he saw two other soldiers drape a blanket over her and carry her out. Tylendel stopped in his tracks. Stood there, barely registering the coughs of the sick lining the walls, the soldiers carrying bodies in and out.

He went down to find a large wagon being loaded with bodies. A soldier tried to protest as he climbed aboard and found Dinja. He lifted the blanket and saw her white face, her unseeing eyes. He asked the soldiers where they were being taken. He was told they were being taken some ways from the city walls to be burned. One of the soldiers said he was sorry for Tylendel’s loss, understanding what was going on.

Listless, Tylendel began walking up Faithful Lord’s Street, his mind reeling…