On Pharazôn

[StingyParrot 1595]

[!] Missives find their way to the noticeboards of the Empire and Idunia, made from hammered sheets of metal. [!]

 

NOT long ago, the Crown Prince Pharazôn was subjected to a grievous, likely mortal injury. Whether he survived or not is immaterial to me. What I write about now is the sheer ease I was capable of doing this. Your gate-guard let me in without requesting weaponry, inquiring about magics, or even conducting a test against darkspawn (that I would have passed), and it was a simple matter of locating the Prince, who stood helmetless beneath a publicly accessible walkway, moving up to that walkway, then preparing and casting the spell. I would have thought that, with Alduun being the capital of grand Idunia, I would have had a harder time of it. 

 

Perhaps maegi are the monsters the Empire claims us to be. Perhaps we are to be scourged from the land, or subjected to penance for wielding spells that necessitate discipline and training to cast, forgoing physical might in favor of the mind. But one point stands: Could a mundane assassin, armed with a crank crossbow, have achieved what I did? I was not frisked for weaponry. They could have made the walk up to that balcony, wound the string back, loaded a bolt, and fired. Such a person could have been anyone, from any nation, even Darkspawn. 

 

To make things quite clear, though, I did not conduct this attack with a political motive, or as a means of retribution for perceived crimes. I did it to hammer home a message:

 

TO The Host and Knights of Idunia, you would do well to consider this a wake-up call. Are you so inept that your High Prince could be brought low by a common assassin within the walls of his city - an assassin who outmanoeuvred your retaliatory force of overwhelming numbers and escaped? Do your guards man the walls, the streets and towers? Or has your fixation upon honor and knighthood distracted you from practicality? Security?

 

And will you bring retribution to me, he who dares speak these things?

 

Kind Regards,

 

K͈̠̏ͬ͘͞ả̞̚hm̸̤̹ͤ́ã̬̙͙̇̕͜s̡͓̀̊

 

ʎʇᴉuᴉɟuᴉ ɟo ɹǝʌᴉʅS

[The Vulgate Cycle 577]

Lord Arthur Marsyr, the healer who had saved the Crowned Prince amidst the chaos of the mage's attempt on his life. He read the missive with something approaching outrage. 
"A thinly veiled excuse to try and harm a young man hardly coming into his own. Trying to hide his insanity behind the rational of 'speaking the truth'. With any luck, we'll string you up soon."

[Glue 40]

Tîlîdhil Winfield reads this missive quietly. She had been one of the two within the clinic that night and by her understanding, along with most of the people around her, this assassin had done little more than swatted at a bee’s nest. Her face turns sour as she mutters to herself in a thinly veiled voice of contempt. “Thes person must be incredibly stupid er down right insane.” A pause as she looked over at her fiancé “Perhaps both, seein’ as how they scampered across roofs like sum demented cat. . .”

Edited February 9 by Glue

[Chimeraof1999 1187]

"Wild Magic, Wild People, equals to wild excuses and made up problems. Survival of an arrow to the head is very unlikely but possible, and often or not, Adunians are thick headed, mentally and physically. It is not surprising to see them surviving bolts or arrows to the head. However, that doesn't mean their brains will remain the same. . . Maybe a mental health evaluation or a physical examination of the Prince would be in order."
The Specter stated, humming as he began to trace the words on the metal sheet to a piece of paper, after which, he slid open a cabinet to store the metal sheet within marked as Original Missive 264879. He then shut that cabinet and returned immediately to book keeping.

[Wolfy-D 468]

Astrid gives a quick read of the missive on her travels "he's not wrong, I've found it quite easy to bring anything I want into that place"

[Frisket 4538]

“Well I will say… he needs a helmet.”

 

Vivien seemingly suggested this to the Idunians at the tavern.

[sam33497 7356]

"What exactly are you trying to gloat here? That you received the benefit of the doubt and betrayed it?" The evil undead mage Lanre Cerusil made a 'tsk' noise and wished his fellows would do more interesting things.