Letters from Ambassador Tukufu

My dear Ambassador,

Your tales never fail to delight or thrill and I look forward to reading each one.

One detail which I think should be corrected was the reason for the lack of support from the Coryani and Khitani forces stationed in the First City.

Prior to the arrival of the heroes with their news of the gathering of enemies in Tultipet, the border mining towns in the north were being attacked by greater numbers of Voei than usual. Fearing that the civilians in these settlements would be massacred (as you are well aware, one should never allow oneself to be taken alive by the Voei), Generals Hektor Tensen-Balin and ul’Shi Dao took the majority of their forces out and to the north.

The Tomal Khan believed that waiting for messengers to reach them and for their return would prove too great a delay and so he determined, rightly I believe) to launch the preemptive invasion without their support.

But for that small detail, all else occurred as you said.

I look forward to your retelling the horrors that were met within that devastated enclave; some scenes of which are indelibly carved upon my mind.

I remain,

Sincerely,

the Old Centurion

Comrades Past & Present and all Gentle Readers,

I continue, and conclude, my account of the Second Sack of Tultipet.

To summarize: after receiving reports that enemies of the First City were gathering, the Tomal Khan decided to strike first. He gathered 3000 cavalry from various tribes connected to him by culture, history and intermarriage. The Tomal Khan also assembled an elite cohort of 60-70 hardened veterans. They set off with speed to defeat Princess Myrkasulanis before a massive combined force could be assembled. Despite losing the element of surprise in a skirmish with enslaved Voie, the Tomal Khan’s forces breached the walls of Tultipet with an absolute minimum of casualties. That was a small miracle in itself. It seemed like the day was ours.
In reality horror and death still lay ahead of us.

Tultipet is an exposed crater. Around the perimeter are the crater walls and an outer ring of the city. Next there is something of a “moat” or chasm that is linked to a central Island by several stone bridges. A massive ziggurat dedicated to Larissa sits in the center, much like the ziggurat in Savona. That was the probable location of the Princess. We would have to move through the perimeter and cross stone bridges to reach the center of the city.

There were three ways through the perimeter to get to the bridges and the Tomal Khan decided to test all three at once. We would then gather to push through any defenses mounted at the bridges. So part of his strike force went underground to clear out tunnels, part ran up a switch back and finally a last part took on a gauntlet of defenders trying to push through straight ahead. We prevailed on all three fronts with minimal casualties. The Tomal Khan had his pick of routes for his cavalry.

I watched the Tultipetan defense at the bridges also fell apart too. But for the first time, the dwarves seriously bloodied our noses. Many of our attackers suffered multiple wounds when shot by massed volleys from crossbows. The Tultipetan marksmen were further reinforced with giants. These blocked the ability of our hardened veterans to advance upon the snipers. Worse the giants also knocked several attackers off the bridges. In horror we could only watch them plummet screaming into the darkness bellow. Grim determination fueled the hearts of many of our attackers. Our numbers were too great and as the last of the giants were cut down and the surviving dwarves melted back into the city center.

Gulbahar, my commander, ordered me to use my Clairvoyance to look for survivors while the cavalry crossed. I tried to harden my heart…and indeed what I primarily saw was the shattered remains of bodies. But to my surprise there were also around a half dozen unconscious survivors being carried off. Thankfully they didn’t go far before reaching an underground prison. A single corridor led into a round chamber lined with cells. I couldn’t manifest a sensor inside the room itself, but I could look in from the corridor.

Gulbahar was excited by my report. He whirled and went to the Tomal Khan to organize a rescue party muttering, “That must also be where they are holding Ronomoquetz!”

I didn’t have time to ask. Our forces surged into the inner city and the cavalry finally came into its own. Tultipetan defenders were neither able to coordinate nor respond quickly enough to match the mobility of the cavalry. The Khan’s men rode through the streets slaying. When a knot of defenders congregated and began to organize, the veterans were sent in. The fighting was fierce in places, but overall it seemed fortune was smiling on us. Tultipetans fell in droves.
While this was going on the Khan Gulbahar came back and demanded that I check on the prison. Our jailbreak was in progress. While the Tultipetan guards were down as expected, all the prison doors were open. That was weird. And it meant a motley collection of monsters were free too! I saw a Voie chieftain and a wolf more or less trying to eat each other. There was a Singarthan warlock in a scrum with 3 or 4 attackers. There was also the world’s ugliest Bargest fighting and rifling through the collected equipment of the prisoners. What a chaotic mess!

Gulbahar wanted me to find this, Ronomoquetz. He now said this guy was a runecaster and the key to the Tultipetan resistance. I was only listening with half an ear at best, and then I saw something that nearly froze my heart.

It was like several spinning cloaks of shadows unfurled from empty air. And in the center of the shadows I could just make out this angular lanky thing. It looked like a humanoid. More or less. But it was covered in a carapace. And it had no eyes. I felt my heart in my chest and I started to sweat. I couldn’t bring myself to look away. A Voiceless One! I’m guessing it must have been in one of the cells too, though the Gods alone know how the Tultipetans managed to put it there. There was a Centurion with our raiding party and he moved up to screen the rest of his companions while people tried to attack it from range. Most of the attacks missed, and those that did hit seemed to do it no real harm.

My attention was jerked away by Gulbahar’s scream. Back on Tultipet’s streets our forces, now strung out across the city, were under attack from Reavers. Reavers! I don’t need to tell you what a bad a sign that was! It should have been unthinkable for Tultipetans to bring Reavers into their city as allies. And a part of my heart grew cold as I acknowledged that any chance for some kind of peaceful surrender surrender by Princess Myrkasulanis was surely gone. If she had brought the Reavers to Tultipet then we would fight it out till one side or the other was utterly vanquished. I reoriented myself just in time as a Reaver charged me and I finally bloodied my sword.

The Reavers gave no quarter, nor asked for any. We suffered a number of initial casualties, but our forces pulled together and consolidated. Our casualties stopped. The Reavers continued to force us together, but suffered extraordinary casualties to do so. I had the thought that even with surprise their tactics were foolish. The Reavers would have done much better to fortify the ziggurat. And then I had the follow on thought that the Reavers know their way around the battlefield. If only I had figured that out earlier! The Reavers did reject a defensible position. But in herding us together they set up a coup-de-gras, even at the expense of their own lives. As the last of the Reavers were falling, the burnt shades of Tultipet rose against us!

Voie. Harpies. Dwarves. Giants. Monsters. Reavers. It was like a carnival of death! Step right up! A new foe in each act! I had heard that the Dragon Villa’Tavorentis had burned out the soul shards of the Tultipetans, but that proved to be untrue. There were plenty of dwarven shades that remained burnt, half melted things. They had been gathered base the base of the Statute of their elder. My rapier has several runes on it and I swept it through three Shades at one go and the wretched things dissipated. But the cavalry had only mundane weaponry, helpless agaiunst these foes they died in droves. Some tried to hold their ground, some ran. I didn’t matter. Over no more than five or ten minutes I saw perhaps as many as five out of six pulled down and slain. The main body of our host simply ceased to be. And there was nothing I could do. I was nearly overwhelmed and it was all I could do to stay alive.

Our veterans fared much better. Almost all of them had either access to the Arcanum or runes or both. Without them Tultipet would be a city of ghosts. Eventually the screams stopped and the last of the shades were dissipated.

There were more unwelcome surprises. Malfelen soldiers now held the Ziggurat’s stairways. As our heavy infantry advanced fireballs that exploded erupted among the master swordsmen of both sides. The Malfelen had “Deathwardens.” I had never heard of such a thing before, let alone seen them. Clearly Ardakene, they somehow inverted their healing magics. These elorii had a palpable necrotic aura around them that sucked at the very life forces of our attackers when they closed to melee. And they wielded dread cants. For a moment I doubted our ability to force our way past them. Soldier for soldier they were essentially a match for our elite forces, but thankfully we had greater numbers this day. Though sorely battered, our infantry cut their way forward to the summit.

There they found Princess Myrkasulanis. Somehow she was embedded in a cube of pure crystal gazing of into the distance. Our assault force didn’t have much time to consider this strange thing.
A penultimate challenge was presented. The last of the Princess’s defenders were more fire giants, a few of their lava hounds and their “Fire King.” I’m sure there was a deeply fascinating story about him and how he came by his crown, but by that point I was numb and exhausted. I just wished he would fall down and die.

While combat raged in front of the encased Myrkasulanis, I finally met the Runecaster. Even for a Tultipetan dwarf he had an enormous quantity of tattoos covering his body. Ronomoquetz had more dire news. I didn’t know if I had the stamina to take it. Princess Myrkasulanis, he said, had been kidnapped, and effectively brainwashed by Villa’Tavorentis, and even now was trying to contact and summon the dragon back to Tultipet. If that happened then we should just fall on our swords and be done with it. But he did have one trick that might help – Ronomoquetz had learned how to scribe runes directly onto the “human” body. And he knew of a rune that could send people into the mind of the Princess and do battle with her there. I helped him with preparations, but I barely understood what we were doing. Virtually everything of his advanced art was opaque to me.

So began the final battle. I was told after the fact that strike teams faced off against fragments of her mind on what amounted to strange Islands floating over a roiling void. Even with Clairvoyance I had no way to observe. The strike teams just sat there in a trance. In horror I had plenty of time to survey the abattoir we had created. Dwarves littered the ground. Probably less than one Tultipetan in twelve that had started the day alive was still breathing, and most of them were in hiding. I saw no surviving Reavers. I saw no surviving giants. Plenty of our own lay with the piles of the dead too, man and horse alike. Maybe 400 to 500 of us were left. Jackals and crows would love us.

Finally our strike forces emerged from their trance. That was it. Myrkasulanis was stopped. It was over. Those of us who had survived would ride home. I believe Ronomoquetz stayed to help organize any surviving in Tultipetans.

I suppose a final paragraph is merited for tying up two loose ends. I have heard wild rumors that we tortured and killed the Princess afterwards in vengeance, but these are untrue. She emerged from the Crystal, apparently free of the influences of the Dragon. Exhausted and full of despair as we were, none of us touched her. Also exhausted and full of despair she took her own life upon seeing what had become of her city. I continue to hear criticism back in the First City of the Tomal Khan’s leadership from certain quarters. Our casualties were horrific, but not one citizen of the First City was been injured. I find an unaccustomed anger inside me that the sacrifice of the Tomal Khan does not earn him more overt respect.

I suppose there is one more loose and as well, though my pen nearly shakes to write it. Villa’Tavorentis is hostile towards the First City. Safely home, I still feel the worm of fear gnawing at me. Will there be a next move from the Dragon? How will we survive it?

May peace favor you,

Tukufu, Ambassador of Altheria.

DeAR Misser Smart-MaN.

Dis be Me 1st lettor. Butttt Arundel say plez wriet.

Arundel sazs youz forgett da DEath Curze. Kuruntetee or smothing. Y no mension death Curze? It change wether. Y not mines?

Ysa best Boody,

Ooze Jumper.

Good Ambassador Tukufu,

I have enjoyed reading your missives and appreciate your sharing your investigations and knowledge with others. Your wisdom and insight serve you well.

There is one perplexing question that I wonder if your investigations into the First City may help uncover. Ever since I was a young child and first heard of the First Imperium (Primus Imperium), the name of that august nation has confused me: why is it called “the First”? History has not shown any record of a Second Imperium to follow it, and both tradition and common sense indicate the pattern of naming something “the First” only if it is guaranteed to have a successor or if one is looking back in hindsight to see that there was a second. Thus, I have wondered whether the First Imperium called itself by that name, and if so, why?

The common assumption seems to be that there will be a coming Second Imperium. I have heard debates about whether the Coryani Empire is that Second Imperium or there will be an even greater nation to come that will fill that role. Regardless, how do we know that there will be a Second Imperium? Surely if there were a grand prophecy from Larissans or even the Oracle of the Gods Herself, we would all have heard it. Is there any such prophecy that I managed to miss?

My own thoughts have led to a potential answer that your investigations might be able to confirm or deny. The word first or primus is typically interpreted in this context to mean “earliest”. However, first or primus can also mean “of primary importance” or “of highest value”. Could the name mean that the Primus Imperium was the state with utmost primary power that outranked any state of lesser authority? If the Imperium was a federal government, then lesser states or imperia could have existed under the central authority.

It is also possible that there is a double meaning, that the First Imperium was the earliest major nation of Men in Onara and was also the highest authority.

Do you have any knowledge or thoughts upon this matter than you can share?

May Althares continue to grant you His gifts of wisdom and knowledge.

Your friend and fellow man,
D’Abura, Brother of the Order of Althares

OOC: My question about the naming of the First Imperium is answered on page 19 of the Blessed Lands book and is included in the history section that Henry Lopez has distributed to KickStarter backers!

(Thanks, Henry!)

Ambassador,

Your encounter with the “Death Wardens” concerns me.

Have you any knowledge of forces or factions that could have taken one for interrogation?

Regards,
Vaize.
Disciple of Anaphylaxia, servant of Belisarda.

Friends, Comrades, and all Gentle Readers,

The chaos and merriment all started with one of the most frequently asked questions at Litera Scripta Manet…

“What are you reading?” my wife said as she came upon me. I told her half absently I had a scroll on Savona’s history. I planned to consult with oracles there on the Blessed Lands Prophesies. Belinay apparently had other ideas. She snuggled up against me and murmured in my ear, “Savona.” The way she stretched out each syllables banished dusty history from my mind. “How I would love to see that city. We could both go…as a belated honeymoon. Isn’t there a festival coming up?” I could feel her warm breath on my skin and new ideas filled my thoughts.

Well! I can tell you that suddenly my heart was beating a little faster and I fumbled out something like, “Of course dearest. That’s a great idea!”

Gods! A great idea? The logistics were daunting. Who was going to run Litera Scripta Manet if we were both gone? What about safety? Bandits…don’t get me started on Almeric! How would my wife react to comparative privation of the road? And maybe most importantly, what would Aunt Nasha think of this “Great Idea?” Or her husband Ys, the Tomal Khan? I knew they weren’t ignorant of Savona’s reputation.

Laugh at me if you will. Even quietly at home, my life is rarely boring.

Suffice it to say there were obstacles between this “idea” and our departure. But I will spare you the tedious details. Belinay had her mind set, I couldn’t say no, and in the end Aunt Nasha granted her a tacit blessing. And it even turns out my beautiful and urbane wife travels well. We arrived without major incident.

Priests and priestesses descended on us as soon as we entered the city and liberally planted kisses of welcome on us. We made it just ahead of Solleme Saeva Tempestus & Festum Serena. The Celebrations of the Savage Storm and the Festival of Calm Skies. I am not entirely sure how Belinay took our greetings. I thought she seemed pleased enough with the attention she received. But I could also feel the daggers in her eyes when it was my turn. So much for justice!

We had a relatively quiet and blissful day before things truly got under way. The Celebrations of the Savage Storm and the Festival of Calm Skies come out of the Storm that devastated the city while it was a battleground during the Coryani Civil War. And the calm that came after. Saturnalia iis the biggest holiday in Savona, but this might now be second.

I was looked for lingering signs of damage while we shopped for carnival masks. But so many decades latter, it is hard to see anything out of place. Savona has rebuilt itself and has regained its stature as the biggest Coryani port on the Gulf of Yarris. And the biggest tourist destination in the Empire.

But this wasn’t just a pleasure trip. I had to remember the Destroyer! In a stroke of luck I crossed paths with Nikomedus val’Borda. If you, gentle reader, took part in exploring the Vault of Larissa you might remember him. A gentleman and a scholar, Nikomedus is an influential member among the archeological set. I plead with him for assistance in polishing and publishing my annotated copies of the Blessed Land Prophesies. He thankfully had a great deal of interest in my project. But he also wanted my help as well.

Nikomedus had two jobs in mind. A pair of “colorful individuals” was attracting attention of late. One was the person or small group known as the Harlequin. The other was the very rich and now deceased Costruccio Neuvalari. I escaped the potentially thankless task of chasing down the Harlequin. That job went to someone who insists they’re nobody important. That’s almost certainly a lie. But out of respect for their desire for privacy I shall not print their name here. I got the easier job. Nikomedus tasked me with trying to steer Costruccio’s fortune to his son Saverio. I thought I just had to massage the bureaucracy to make sure there were no hiccups in the inheritance or at worst maybe discretely grease a cog or two of the city’s legal machinery.

Wrong. I should have asked more questions of that weasel Nikomedus! It was more complicated than that. The famed “Speculator Prince” amassed a gigantic fortune over his life. But also found enough time to father three sons. And of course they all wanted the whole pile of gold to themselves. My initial suggestion to split the fortune fell on six very deaf ears.

Saverio was not the oldest. In fact he was the youngest which was something of a problem. But others were no peaches. Giacomo, his oldest brother, was frankly a little dull. With a sense of entitlement in my opinion. And the middle brother Renaulto was an undisciplined gambler and duelist. He was certainly charming a good guy to share a drink with. But like the oldest brother I had a hard time seeing him as an asset to the city in the role of a powerful patron. Saverio by contrast was bright, humane and philanthropic. But also a little bit quiet.

Giacomo had a patron in the form of Tessa Harlock. I know I had heard and seen her before but I couldn’t place where. Renaulto was championed by Enzo. I am sure Enzo has a last name, but as one of the most esteemed duelists in Savona I doubt he uses it much. Everyone knows who you mean when you say his name. It happens I know my way around a side sword as well, but I resolved not to deliberately give him any cause for offence. Both of them took a great deal of time

A number of individuals investigated the estate of the late Costruccio and uncovered all sorts of interesting facts about the parties. Most curious is the fact that there was apparently no one named as a successor. Instead their father had some sort of “popularity contest” left in place as a way to measure who was most fit to inherit. If that sounds daft to you, I confess I also feel no urge to follow that example either. Nikomedus sought the Myrantian vote by promising to float Saverio enough short term money to help them fund a dueling school. Given that the Myrantians were on the cusp of rioting the whole time I was there, more on that bellow, I thought this was a questionable plan.

Still the situation was what it was, and Nikomedus wanted an outcome.

Loyally, I started digging for dirt. Unfortunately the most damaging rumors seemed to concern Saverio instead of his brothers. I heard from a gnomish rumormonger named Scratches that there were whispers connecting him to the Mourners of Silence. You can imagine that did little for his cause. In fact Nikomedus almost dropped him. But the story gets even more convoluted. It happens that there was a certain fair minded Inquisitor named Nemerius in the city. I am told that Nemerius put in a discrete word in Saverio’s favor. This caused some confusion and a lot more digging. The next rumor that surfaced was that Saverio’s wife was an informant for the Inquisition, and she helped keep an eye on the local Mourner elements. Tragically she almost immediately had an “accident.” By accident I mean somehow she got locked in a private caldarium that overheated. She died of heat exhaustion. Saverio went to pieces. I went looking for Scratches to see if he might have any ideas how to discretely investigate the matter. But the gnome was killed too. Some festival goers started agitating for Scratches to inherit the fortune. I think as a drunken joke. But despite the fact that Scratches apparently befriended several Ss’ressen members of B.E.A.S.T. he was abducted off the streets and drowned in one of many canals by people who didn’t find the joke very funny. On the whole, I don’t care much for gnomes. But Scratches had a certain charm like Little Max and I found myself sorry for his fate.

At that point I more or less through my hands up and accepted defeat. My wife was out shopping for sandals so I retreated to a tavern. A nice barmaid named Virdess and an elorii importer from Seremas named Larok were polite enough to share a drink and listen to my tales of woe. Until we all heard that there were some crazy Yarricite cultists who belonged to the sect of the Cleansing Wave. They had a ritual and were trying to drown the whole city.

Honestly. I can’t make this stuff up. Now if I could have found my wife I would have done the sensible thing and taken her and fled. But who knew where she was? Not me. So instead the only sane response, and I use sane loosely here, seemed to be for me to run as fast as I could down to the docks and join in the riot between the duelists and festival-goers on the one hand and way too many Yarricite cultists on the other.

The city didn’t drown. After the blood and tears I traded notes with other people who got caught up in the chaos and discovered I wasn’t even having the worst day among us. Remember the Myrantians? While there wasn’t an all out riot, I discovered that monks of the Medja, whoever they are, and priests of Tzizhet had been causing civil unrest across the city. There had been fighting in alleys all day. Sometimes with city authorities. Sometimes even with the Yarricites. Harvesters had also been running riot in the city. That made my blood run cold. Some Ordainers brought golems. Others strange beasts. At least one was a Ssanu. There’s a story there I’m sure.

And in the midst of all this merriment where were the Vigiles? Or the Urban Cohort? Or the Legions? Nowhere. Civic authority was stretched thin by the Myrantians and then paralyzed for a time because the Governor was also kidnapped by a powerful illusionist. Maybe the Harlequin? Though I’ve been told politely that the city is now officially denying this. Maybe I should say no more. Armand De Beaumarche might know something if people are interested. He kept trying to tell me about an illusion that had been selling masks in the city for the last two years.

I was too exhausted to pursue that improbable statement, I limped off and eventually found Belinay.

Friends I am sure that this year’s experience in Savona was atypical. Even for a city with such a wild reputation, “my” festival seemed a bit extreme. But I find myself thinking you need to see this place for yourself. Just remember the advice I usually give to wayfarers: travel armed.

I remain your obedient scribe,

Ambassador Tukufu