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| Author | Unforeseen visitor |
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Snowstorms were rare throughout the history of Empire's cold winters, yet this night's raging blizzard would undoubtedly be spoken of on many occasions.
Paralyzing, penetrating frost felt like some sort of venom that was gradually capturing the body and freezing out the very last mote of coziness. Demons, accustomed to the blazing heat of their Inferno, probably endured worse than any other race, they crouched and cluttered in underground's deepest corners where least the frost could reach and most did the Earth bestow its warmth. The sky, usually so starry at winter nights, was cloaked with smoke coming out of every chimney in the Great Capital, gathering above the city like a fog - the houses were fighting back at the invading cold, refusing to admit its dominion.
A young elven sentry, nestling himself more tightly in his winter uniform, sewn hastily several weeks ago, glanced over the horizon once again, without even expecting to detect anything worth attention, dreaming only about a goblet of dry ale and a steamy warm bowl of pottage. Muttering inarticulate words of his disfavor towards this kind of nature's demonstration of naughtiness, the elf leaned his back on the stone wall... and regretted that action the next second. The slick icy crust on the wall didn't hesitate a moment to drop him into a snow-drift. The cursing sentinel jumped back on his feet and looked around again. Nothing has changed. Unless...
The elf blew the snowflakes off his eyelashes and stared into darkness. A red flamy spot had materialized at the southernmost part of the horizon, and, as far as the sentry could see through the storm, it was expanding. He ran up to the signal horn and stopped inches away from it, still uncertain, keeping his eyes on the fiery object. Seconds later he distinguished a figure with wings and a long bushy tail, bright orange as the flame itself... A bird covered with flame? He has definitely heard of that before! A deep, disquieting rumble of the horn cut loud through the howling sounds of blizzard. | The rumor of a most unforeseen nightly visitor has spread in no time, urging even the most cold-sensitive Lords to throw a coat over their shoulders and leave their dwellings. Drawn some by disturbance, others by curiosity, the inhabitants rushed down towards the Capital central square, so that half an hour later it was full of crowd. And why wouldn't it be? The Phoenix birds were subjects of most incredible myths and legends, and to meet one was considered a contingency of likelihood as low as to match a Deity. The snowstorm has stopped, it appeared as though the bird's presence has vanquished the weather itself.
The bird sat imperturbably on top of the dais as the guards circled it and held out their spears. They stood in complete silence, contrasting with noisy exclamations of the crowd, until finally a little girl ran out through the circle and pointed at a small pouch, apparently fire-proof, tied up to the Phoenix's talon.
Keeping the guards away and having set on fire the beard of the most audacious of them, the wise bird stared at the girl, then produced a short and beautiful melodic chirp.
The child timidly approached the bird and unbound the burden off the warm strong talon. She extracted an ornate scroll from the pouch and exclaimed in her cheerful clear voice: "This is a message for Her Majesty the Empress!"
The bird waved its head indignantly as the girl stretched out her hand intending to surrender the scroll to a guardsman. The latter nodded knowingly and led the child towards the marble columns of the Palace. | The early dawn had just begun to illuminate the sublime solemn peaks of the eastern mountains, as the herald was already proclaiming amongst the Central square gapers:
- Heed, Lords! Recently, a message came from vessels sailing nearby. The sailors arrive from distant lands populated by our kin! Upon Her Majesty's order, the envoys shall be greeted cordially and appear in front of Her Majesty in person. The Empress binds the Lords of highest ranks to array yourselves in parade ammunition and to escort the honorable visitors into the Palace.
The crowd, that was hitherto listening with bate breath, resembling an immobile painting, became a thundering wave at once. Everybody suddenly began to shout, voicing each other out. The Lords of high ranks stood still, looking at each other in anguish, as though evaluating the befit of their looks. Tailors, smiths and other artisans were beaming with joy, trying to remember were their best threads or polishing sets were stored in their dark dusty attics. The hubbub seemed to have made it impossible for the herald to be even heard further, but he used his trump spell again to make his words audible in every ear, and concluded with what seemed an air of disapproval:
- After the reception is over, Her Majesty will appear before you and speak of every detail of significance. Until then, you shall be dismissed and stay far enough from the palace not to disturb the envoys. | TL;DR version.
Events: A Phoenix bird arrives on a stormy winter night, carrying a message from sailors in the nearby waters. The sailors ask for allowance to moor on a pulling boat to spend a few days and regain forces. The Empress decides to give them a most warm welcome.
Updates: Character avatar and all artifact graphical update.
Interesting facts: From what can be understood (partially from the weather description, partially from further news), the visitors were not an embassy, but a group of explorers that has survived a storm and now asks for solace. |
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