The May Revolution
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It began with a sleazy drug dealer in the basement of a sleazy inn, in the heart of a sleazy city.
Ercole became known as a socialite, a man of the lower classes who dreamed of rising higher. He wheeled and dealed, a man who met many, both below and above- and laughed in front of Angels and made a mockery of devils.
Together, he formed the Lower House, together, they became the talk of the town, rubbed shoulders with the mighty and uplifted the forgotten. He introduced new goods and services to the city, and the city was better for it.
Whether he believed in the Faith of Gondegal or not, remains to be seen- but he is certainly its first herald. Prayers held and vigils are made in his memory amongst the Lower Class- something, he no doubt, would find laughable.
But let us talk of how he passed on.
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The mood of the city, apathetic, passionless- it was the mood of a man who gazed upon his works and felt nothing. There was no pride in this nation, nor scorn, it was a place to live. Taxes were paid, you were kept safe for the most part- there was food, if sometimes scarce. The Crownlands of the Kingdom of Arabel weren't the most vibrant, but the city of Arabel, despite its proclivities, was home to the True Royal Blood of Goldfeather.
This line sought to reassert its right to rule, its power, and its martial might over its denizens. Quietly amassing its power to suppress both foreign power and their own subjects- for, truthfully the only steadfast rule in Feudalism is this: The Biggest Army is King.
Yet, there were those who were not content to let the Power of the Monarchy grow, fearful of the implications to hard fought and won 'rights' that they now enjoyed.
Jo Sparrow, a bitter drunk and revolutionary cripple.
Arianna Redlocke, the High Priestess of Tymora
Ercole Crawford of the Lower House
Spearheading the movement was the Lower House, who in their Revolutionary fervor, proclaimed Gondegal a God- and rallied the diehard supporters of his reign, old soldiers, young folk who believed that they were worth more than the station of their birth would indicate. The common man rallied, and so did the Temple of Tymora, the revolution born again- only to be strangled in its womb.
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The power of the Status Quo and reaction elements of the nation pushed against the Lower Houses proclamation, and ruled them to be treasonous swiftly, condemning them for their want of chaos and fervent desire to oppose the growing power and solidarity of the Noble Class. The House of Misrim, spearheaded by Sir Pierre the Hound and Jenny the Reaper, Jace Throgmorten of Mossmere, and Izereth and Treth of the Precept colluded together.
Rebels were captured. Revolutionaries executed. The House of the Morning's Tristan was exiled from the city, with Belon not saying a peep or word in his defense.
And despite overwhelming advantage and power, the Mossmere Wizard Jace offered magical reagents and mushrooms claimed via strange channels to pummel the Historic District in the midst of their war, turning brothers upon each other and sisters into raving lunatics. The bloodiest fighting was not when the City marched upon the district, but what magic and cruel disregard made men and women perform wickedness upon each other.
The Historic District dripped with blood, and rats will feast well.
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Jace was the first person of note to die upon the side of the Crown, and perhaps, fortunately. Bathed in the crimson red fire of Tymora as he joined the rush into the temple, the wizard screamed a bloody cry as his hoarse throat turned to ash and he crumpled in his robes- his equipment surviving him even if his spirit moved on to the next.
Jenny led the charge within the temple, and slowly, each of the defenders fell. Hordish the Brute, Jim O'Bob the Twice-Returned, Saladin the Sneak, Eve the Gondegolan, - and others whose name would be written down if not for the Royal Censors decrying the event as nothing more than a petty uprising of a gang.
Ercole, for his part, offered his flesh and blood to Creeping Hunger, a blade won through skill and cunning in a djinn's vault, and it twisted him into a monstrous abominations that nearly routed the temple defilers. However, he fell afoul of Beshaba's luck, and a sewer scrape paralyzed him in the midst of the battle, and he fell to the overwhelming blades that punished his corrupt body.
The drug dealer in a sleazy basement breathed no more.
Victory for the Royalists, and the Revolution died in its bloody cradle.
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The Temple of Tymora desecrated with the blood of its High Priestess.
Its followers broken, no more a threat to the rule and stability of the city.
The former innkeeper of the Faceless, Jo Sparrow, on the run.
The city is a strange place these days...
But what can be marked for sure is this:
Things are going to change.
Puffy's bumbling Scum-goblin minion.
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After a grand papal coronation within the Palace, hosted by the King himself, the Temple of Tymora has a new leader.. High Priestess Dalorna Aris. With this, the Historic District see changes and repairs, whilst the High Priestess predecessor's supporters soothe their wounds among the dark alleyways.
