In The Beginning - RPLOG
Participants
Date
26/6/478
Log
Fenris has found a cool, quiet corner of the inn in a private booth to hide from the oppressive summer heat. The big, fluffy feline has his old guitar in hand and is picking out a quiet melody while he thinks.
The inn's common room is sparsely populated at this time of day, too late for breakfast and yet too early for lunch. Several patrons lie sleeping at their tables for lack of something to do, sleeping off either last night's drink or this morning's heavy breakfast, but that is the long and short of the inn's current patronage. Without warning, the entrance swings open, and a rather tattered leonine being sweeps his way through the place, large, heavy strides eating up the distance between him and Fenris.
"Fenris," Ethelberd notes, coming to a stop besides the tiger. "It is good that you appear to be unoccupied. We must talk, and there is something I wish to show you."
"Hello, Ethelberd," Fenris says genially, nodding to the empty space across from himself, "I was just thinking about you. You look different out of your armor, you know that? I honestly did not recognize you." The tiger sets his guitar gently aside. "What do you want to talk to me about?"
"What you have been doing." Ethelberd looks down at the empty space, and shakes his head. "I think it is safe to say that it is time to drop our pretenses. As I said, there is something that I must show you, and as such I do request that you come with me. Do not worry, I give you my word that you will be unharmed, and that I shall return you to this spot safely when we are done."
As Ethelberd finishes speaking, the entire room takes on a slightly grey, muted tone, as if someone had drained the colour from everyone and everything within. Patrons remain frozen with mugs and spoons half-raised, the barkeep motionless, the drink he's pouring hanging in mid-air, serving wenches bent over tables. Time itself stops, save for Fenris and Ethelberd, and the latter draws an old, notched sword from a scabbard at his waist, holding its tip low to the ground.
"Do not be alarmed. I had to secure someone else's assistance in making sure our little trip is unnoticed. Then again, I trust that you are not unacquainted with the strange. I intend to take you somewhere, Fenris, in the hopes that you might reach a greater understanding of the situation at hand."
With that, Ethelberd cuts at the air with a single stroke of his sword, and the air itself splits apart, revealing a gap to...somewhere else. It's not easy to make out just where, but there's a distinctly warm and humid air to wherever the other side of this impromptu portal is. With a faint grunt of effort, Ethelberd steps up and grabs the edges of the tear with his bare hands, forcing it wide enough to admit a being. "Shall I go first, to prove I mean you no harm?"
Fenris does his best not to gape, and swallows hard. "I admit," he says quietly, standing from his spot, "I have never seen such an. . . impressive display. But I will take you at your word." The tiger looks incredulously at a fly stopped in mid buzz and looks around at the frozen tap room. "I did not realize you were a Spirit in your own right. I just thought you were a powerful caller." He walks over to the portal, looks at the lion, then steps through.
As Fenris steps through the impromptu portal, there's a brief sensation of pressure, quickly replaced by heat, humidity and a blazing sun. The other end of the portal opens out on what might once have been a dry, dusty road, and Ethelberd steps out besides Fenris, a soft, sucking noise sounding through the air as the portal closes behind them.
"It is not all my own doing. As I said, I had to call in some favours from my fellows to make this entrance. But someone might remember seeing you going off with me. Someone might ask inconvenient questions. Someone might start wondering. Ethelberd is a persona I use to move around amongst you beings, but I have grown fond of him, and it would be a shame if I had to discard such. Masquerading as one of my own callers allowed for far more freedom of action than taking the guise of an everyday being would.
"There are a few others who choose to walk amongst you in disguise, either for study or for sport. But that is not the concern of why we are here today. Behold, Fenris. This is where it all started. The City of Arkadd, also known as the Golden City throughout the civilized world of ages past."
As one's eyes adjust to the light, yes, plainly visible in the valley below, strewn with tall, yellowed grasses - the remains of of what must one have been a glorious city, far bigger than even Firmament itself. Ringed by mountains, it's little wonder that it's lain undiscovered for this long, and besides, it's hard to get a grip on just where exactly on Promise one is. The heat would suggest Shralesta, but the humidity and tropical climes, coupled with the dense jungle of where Fenris is standing - it's not a place marked on most maps, at the very least.
"Please, walk with me a while. We shall see the sights, and I shall explain. Please, feel free to ask questions. I shall entertain as many of them as I can."
"So," Fenris ventures, falling into step with his guide, "You are not Ethelberd." It is not a question. "I wondered when I would meet you," he confesses, "I was not sure how to go about it. I mean, I do not even know your actual name." He looks down at the massive city. "It was. . . is beautiful," he says, "And if anyone understands the desire to walk unrecognized, I suppose it is me." He smiles a little at the thought of his own guises.
"But I am Ethelberd, inasmuch as you are Kawa, Fenris. Or Bernard. Or any of the many guises you've taken in your time. But you have asked for my name, and thus I shall give it to you - not one that has been popularised over time, like Kendrac or Shalia or Zimla, no, not that. The name I was given was Conquest, and it is this that I tell you.
"The city? It was even more beautiful," Ethelberd muses as he sets off on the trail, leading Fenris through tall, golden grasses and stalks of wild wheat to the outskirts of the ancient city, beyond the wall. "And once, it was a glorious light of the people that you call the Ancients. Look at the golden grasses which ring the valley. The golden sun which beats down upon the ruins. The rich yellow bricks and blocks. Its inhabitants adorned themselves with the finest of fripperies brought from all over the planet, most of all gold. Enjoying the patronage of not one, but three spirits, they wanted for nothing, needed to work for nothing, and because of their status as the jewel of civilization, lived off the tribute others brought them."
"That was how the rot started. A lovely golden shell, yielding nothing once cracked apart."
Fenris nods and runs his fingers through the golden grass. "Who were the Spirits of the city?" he asks, though he suspects he can guess the answer. "Why would they make a city with no industry?" he asks, more as a prompt for the mysterious Spirit beside him to continue his story than anything else. The really worrying thing was the Spirit's intimate knowledge of his aliases, especially one of his most secure ones.
Ethelberd nods. "Zimla, Ser'ther and Vasht were worshipped by the citizens once, and with the aid of their powers and guidance, the city grew. Understand that the Ancients were not a singular people, no more than beings are, Fenris. There were nations, factions, peoples, often divided by whose patronage one received. Yes...in times long past, the people who dwelled in what would become the Golden City were industrious. Yet as their influence and power grew...why labour, when those from afar would seek to buy you off for political favours?
The two of the pass under the remnants of a colossal statue broken off above the waist, its legs straddling the road. Before them lies a sprawling multitude of square, brick buildings, and beyond that, the city's outer gates. "Perhaps you have heard the saying that a civilisation can only last ten generations? Or perhaps another saying that wealth does not pass three generations? That is what happened - the industrious fled, and sycophants and sybarites moved in, to better engage in rent-seeking behaviour and grasp at the levers of power. Look at what passed for their poor, those forced to live beyond the city gates!" Ethelberd casts a hand over the neat rows of squat houses, the paved streets full of dry dust, the dry fountains. "Think of how your own poor live, Fenris."
"Not so well as this," Fenris says softly, casting a sad look at the empty streets and dry fountains, "What happened to the city? I confess, I did not expect those three to be the city's patrons. Indolence does not really seem to be. . ." he thinks on it for a moment, "But then, maybe I can understand how it slipped by."
"To make a long story short? Those who had grievances against the city - and there were many of them - desired to see it crushed and toppled. I heard their desires, for that is my essence, and gathered them under my banner. Oh, they were as many as their desires were, but they all had glory in their minds and fire in their bellies. The citizens of Arkadd had none."
Ethelberd sighs as he and Fenris pass through the outer gates. "Do not blame those three, Fenris. They did all they could, but their advice fell on deaf ears. Hubris, alas - such pride, to imagine that you do not need those whom you owe your success to. The Dogs of Conquest laid siege to the city. The three, seeing that nothing more could be done, abandoned it. After that, the end was never really in doubt."
Ethelberd makes a crushing motion with a hand to emphasise his point, and gives Fenris a nod. "I can go into further detail, if you like. It will occupy us until we reach the acropolis."
Fenris listens attentively as Ethelberd talks, always interested in a story. "I think I understand," he says, "And I do not judge. I told you before. It is not my place. And it would not really change anything." He looks at the ruined city in awe as they pass great buildings and fountains. "Are all of your followers called Dogs?"
"No," Ethelberd replies. "That was the name they were given by those on the other side in the conflict that resulted. It was meant to be an insult, that they followed me unthinkingly to a fault, that their willing servitude was something wrong. They, on the other hand, took it as a badge of dedication and loyalty to their freely chosen master."
As the two pass through the city, more ruins come into sight: that of a reservoir in the form of an artificial lake, filled with water from underground streams, clay pipes and stone aqueducts stretch away into the rest of the city, although water no longer flows through them. Proceeding further into the city alone the main street, one notices the increasing number of water features interspersed along the road - fountains, basins, terraced flows. So much exposed water in the heat of day instinctively sounds like a waste, but upon further thought, it's unlikely the ancients wanted for water when one of their patron spirits was that of the element itself. The waterfalls, pools and terraces are now dusty and dry, their sources stopped, but their mechanisms remain.
"The citizens of Arkadd no longer wanted to risk their lives in fighting wars and keeping peace, yet needed arms to maintain their power. To that extent, they sought to hire mercenaries. One particular band of such agreed to fight for them in exchange for payments in food and salt. Such simple things. Of course, they hoped to be able to eventually join in the civilisation Arkadd represented - decadent as it was, it was still superior to many others, at least in a material sense."
Fenris shakes his head over the many fountains. "I can see how Ser'Ther would have liked this place," he says, "And I am sorry to see the fountains dead. We don't have even five hundred years of history, but I think we have seen what you are talking about. We came to this world with the power to traverse the stars, but have lost most of what we once knew." He is thoughtful for a moment, then looks to Ethelberd, waiting for him to continue his story.
Ethelberd shakes his head. "No, you did not lose that through decadence and lack of will. The things you brought with you were never meant to last, as you know full well. That puts you ahead of those who came before.
"Nevertheless, let us return to my story. What was agreed upon was that the provisions were made to be payment for services rendered - yet who seeks to be held to deals with barbarians? They were barbarians, after all. Stupid creatures without the light of civilisation. No, the officials in charge of distributing the food and salt instead thought to line their own pockets and sell it to the mercenaries that were hired instead. Such a small act of petty greed, and it set unfortunate events in motion. Suddenly, many others, too, remembered the grievances and reneged deals they had suffered; it merely took one to say something, to make a stand against a seemingly unopposable foe to open the floodgates.
"I still remember when my callers and broke down the gates and led those under them into the streets. The citizens of Arkadd were rioting in the streets against their own rulers, because rationing had been suggested in light of the siege. I remember instructing them to ignore the circuses, because disturbing the entertainments would be more trouble than it was worth. The last sliver of the guard who had some valour left in them died defending the acropolis, for even their own people were turned against them.
"Ah, the Golden City! With its fall, the merchants wept and cried. Who would buy their silks and perfumes? Who would pay for their meaningless trinkets?"
Fenris has no response to that. "Why are you telling me about all this?" he asks, waving at the ruined city, "Why bring me here? Not that I am ungrateful, this is remarkable. But I am sure that this tale could have been told just as easily over tea at the Freeswords' Inn. What have you brought me here to see?"
"Patience, Fenris. We are almost there." Silently, Ethelberd leads Fenris through one more gate - this time covered with the inscriptions so familiar to Serenefall lake. Through it, and up a hill to an old acropolis citadel - strong and imposing, rising high above the rest of the ruined city. Small shrines to spirits line the road intermittently, and Ethelberd stops at the entrance to the citadel proper, a dark maw leading into the ruins.
"Below this citadel lies the vault of Arkadd. At the very last, my callers found the entirety of the Senate - their leaders - huddled in the vault with their gold and jewels, with their artifacts and trinkets. Throughout the whole siege, not a single jot of the treasure within had been expended in the city's defense. Ah, I still remember my words: 'Since you love your treasure so much, may you eat of it for the rest of your lives.' Then I ordered all thirty useless fools sealed within alive, a request my callers were only too happy to oblige."
"Firstly, I want to impress upon you what has happened here, to learn from the mistakes of those who came before you, and to give a certain emphasis to my side of the tale. Why, otherwise it would be just my word against someone else's.
"Secondly, I know that you fight the Craige. The ruins of the Golden City lie in the mountains south of the continent you call Shralesta, Fenris, and deep within the vault here is...well, its original intention was not as a weapon, but it could easily be one of considerable power against them. If it pleases you, now that you have the knowledge of this place, to come here, unseal the vault, and put what lies within to better use that the Ancients did."
Fenris nods, laying a hand on the fine carvings, worn by the long, slow passage of time. "I am grateful," he says, "For the tale, the lesson, and the information. It is always less painful to learn from the experience of others." He looks at the embodied Spirit. "What will I find here, if I open the vault?" he asks, "What is it that I am looking for in this Necropolis?"
"A weapon. That much I will tell you. The rest...consider it a test of your desire, which is already great. Unlike the many of the others you have sought so far, I want nothing of you. By following your desires and attempting to make them reality, you have served me in ways you do not know. That much is enough for me." Ethelberd closes his eyes, concentrates, then draws his sword and slashes the air in front of him, tearing it apart. "There. That will take you back to your proper time and place, and none will be the wiser."
"Earlier, you asked for my name, Fenris. I am Conquest. From the moment a creature was able to think 'I want', I was there. It was me who drove your Creators to seek what was beyond the next hill, the next wave, the next star. I have driven peace and war alike before me through those who have desired such, and inspired murder and charity alike. And yes, it is I who bind the threads of those whom you call the Corrupt Court into a common cause.
"Again, this is where it all began. From simple petty greed grew a war that engulfed the entirety of this world...and you know much of the rest."
Fenris looks at the portal and at Conquest. "I think we will meet again soon, Conquest," he says before stepping through the portal and back to the inn.
