Andustar

Albéric du Lac scanned over the invite with a mix of pride and yet apprehension. Hastily, he would write back to his younger brother.

"She deserved better," Albéric concluded upon reading the missive, producing a lengthy sigh.

Albéric felt genuine pride as he scanned the missive, his student and niece now destined to be Queen. "You've come a long way and will assume a great deal of responsibility, Sibyl. Yet, I trust you shall be up for the task." The Knight returned to his devices, believing it prudent to piece together a gift marking the occasion.

It was a nice little shop that hardly impacted the minimal merchant roleplay we see anyhow. The excuse for removing it in the first place was rather weak imo. Bring back the Auction House!

"The sins of the past have finally caught up to Ottomar. May he and his followers be called to account for their atrocities!" Albéric stated assuredly as he read the missive.

"Well then, here's an occasion I ought to attend," Albéric remarked, placing his attendence form in his brother's hand. @Chorale__

I'm glad to see some plain and simple undead again. +1

"About damned time," commented Albéric.

This revelation struck Albéric deeply, sorrow emanating from the wound that was his student's passing. Where exactly had he gone wrong? Was there a lesson or perhaps a measure of guidance that could have prevented this tragedy? Alas, he would never know, and the prospect he had so much hope for would be denied a true chance to shine. "Johanna... I'm so sorry..." The Knight clutched the talisman strung around his neck, his prayers offered to the comet-born Princess, now lost to the primordial seas.

[!] A series of flyers would be laid out on noticeboards throughout the realm. The Hungry Hippo Established: Circa. 1st of The Deep Cold, 61 BA. People of Portoregne, the Kingdom of Balian and all of Almaris! It is with great pride that we announce at long last the official grand opening of the Hungry Hippo Tavern, located in the heart of the Balianese capital of Portoregne. Eagerly supplied by the local region’s rich selection of vineyards, breweries and distilleries, this humble spot provides a vast range of beverages to choose from, whether that be a crisp wine, fresh lager, or a heart-warming whiskey. You will scarcely find a cheerier establishment to rest your weary feet! The establishment is located just beyond the front entrance to the city, open to the main square and primary canal within the city. With three floors and a broad layout, the seating arrangements are plentiful and we possess two rentable rooms for those seeking temporary accommodation. ~ Menu ~ Reduzzan Merlot 2 Minas Reduzzan Sauvignon 2 Minas Verdant Coast Cider 2 Minas Enderocan Lager 2 Minas Butterfly Tea 2 Minas Northern Isle Whiskey 3 Minas Marsanan Vodka 3 Minas Portoregne Spiced Rum 3 Minas In addition to serving as an inn, the Hungry Hippo additionally houses the Portoregne fighting arena. Located on the lower floor of the tavern, the chamber bears a spacious gallery, large enough to house a sizeable audience. We regularly hold fight nights in which the local populace and distant travellers may test their martial strength, or otherwise observe and place bets on spectacular entertainment. Furthermore, the champion of said events may purchase their drinks at half price, so long as they retain the title. One such event shall be hosted during our opening night, so if you feel confident why not have a go? We look forward to hosting you on this grand occasion!

Albéric sighed as he heard the news of the Vuiller's passing, murmuring a prayer within the chapel that evening. "Farewell, Father Ledicort. May you find deserved respite within the Seven Skies."

"There are some wounds that time does not mend. Some things that are best left unsaid..." Albéric mused as he heard of Vesta's departure. The one-armed hedge knight sat in the undergrowth, adding more wood to his campfire. "Farewell, Vesta of Vilachia. I hope you find the peace you long sought in distant lands."

THE AFFLICTION OF ACRE Circa. 14th of Malin’s Welcome, 1923. FOREWORD Citizens of the heartlands, nobles and commoners alike. I write to you bearing a warning of rising darkness in the East, within the borders of the former Barony of Acre. It is a disease that has been allowed to fester amidst the political intrigues and war, seeded by a common enemy that seeks to render all of us low, no matter what nation or creed we align ourselves with. A few months ago, a group of like-minded companions from Barrowton and I received whispers of strange developments in Acre, to which we responded by venturing there ourselves. We found the land repopulated with refugees from Adria, intent on escaping the violence of the most recent civil war. Yet, the village had been devastated by a recent murder, and our company soon discovered evidence of a conspiracy. THE AFFLICTION One amongst the villagers was a contact of the Mori’quessir and had taken to fostering a monstrous arachnid with a sinister goal in mind. The monster in question seemed to be the mother of a much greater brood, producing spiderlings that seemed capable of infesting the village near enough in its entirety, right under the noses of its dwellers. But still, it was worse than that, for these spiderlings could also infest the bodies of the recently deceased and wear their skins like camouflage. We believe the afflicted initially found their bodies infiltrated by the parasites whilst asleep or otherwise distracted. They then proceeded to kill their host by consuming and hollowing out the insides, including the muscles, bones and vital organs. However, this did not appear to significantly alter the afflicted’s mannerisms, for they seemed to continue with their everyday activities, implying that the swarm within could emulate, to some degree, the behaviours of the one whose identity they have assumed. Examples ranged from an elderly wood miller to a six-year-old child. Additionally, the lack of internals did not appear to hamper the afflicted, with the swarm within seemingly capable of replicating the functions of both bone and muscle. Any signs of necrosis were also absent, indicating that the swarm can preserve their shell for a lengthy period of time. Yet, the facade was not flawless. Friends and family of the afflicted noted a tendency towards anti-social behaviour and reclusiveness. Furthermore, once they became aware of us getting closer to the truth, the afflicted became feral and resorted to violent attacks upon all the unaffected in their immediate surroundings, whether they were strangers or family. The writings we uncovered of the Mori’quessir associate also suggested that the afflicted were compelled to spread the parasites to new hosts, thus multiplying their numbers. However, given how quickly the condition spread throughout the village, we can assume it is a rapid process and have reason to believe the intention is to soon spread beyond the borders of Acre to the rest of the heartlands. RECOMMENDATIONS The afflicted are difficult at first glance to distinguish from their otherwise healthy counterparts, which brings me to my recommendations and probable methods for countering them. Due to being comprised of skin and little else, they are highly susceptible to damage, with breaches to the skin barrier appearing to compromise their functionality. With this in mind, a medical examination of one suspected to carry the parasites, similar to that carried out upon suspected darkspawn and vampires, may prove a successful method of revealing them. However, such an act may ultimately trigger a hostile reaction. The best method we have found to combat these monsters is fire. Setting them alight will destroy the skin barrier and thus the cohesiveness of the parasites. Grievous injuries inflicted by cutting weapons may also prove effective in compromising their ability to manoeuvre. To prevent the spread of the afflicted from beyond Acre, and in order to prevent the development of further Mori’quessir incursions in the East, I call upon all nations to establish an effective quarantine of the land and monitor the activity within its borders. This is not a time in which we, the denizens of Almaris, can afford to stand divided. We must put aside our petty differences to combat the greater evil that threatens us all, as we have many times before, or risk annihilation and all we have built falling to ruin. SIGNED, Albéric du Lac

The Knight-Errant received the news of Laetitia's parting with a heavy heart. Having known her since the earliest days of his adolescence, Albéric remembered the woman as a kind and selfless figure, always keen to make people happy. She would be terribly missed... "Farewell, dear friend. Give my regards to my father and may peace be with you."

How are you doing today?

Awesome work as always, Sander!

Albéric du Lac smiled as word of his commission's completion reached his ears. "I look forward to seeing Garedyn's work firsthand!"

Albéric's heart was heavy with grief as he received the news of the King's passing. "May your find peace in the Seven Skies, uncle. Give my regards to my father."

Albéric du Lac acknowledged the High Pontiff's death with a solemn prayer at the roadside, knelt before a saintly shrine. "May you find safe passage unto the Seven Skies, Your Holliness."

"As if there was any doubt. One can hope the witless wyrms will be put to the sword in due course," stated Albéric du Lac upon reading the missive.

"Another betrayal, orchestrated by my aunt no less..." Albéric du Lac lamented as he read the missive, hand trembling with restrained anger. "Worse still, Charlotte sought to indulge in kinslaying. Why must my family continue to disgrace themselves?!"

Albéric du Lac read the missive with intrigue. "At last, the wider realm acknowledges the threat. Best they know the whole truth of what to expect..." He saddled his steed, preparing for the ride to Karosgrad.