Welcome to Friday and CHAOS! The chaos has a bit of structure this time, as the fine people at the Story Engine have created a bridge expansion that makes it easier to use both the Lore Master's Deck and the Deck of Worlds together. (They have other bridge expansions to bring their core product, the Story Engine, into the mix as well - I hope to do all the chaos and use all of them at once one of these days. I will need a much bigger table.)
Faction: Heralds of the Stampede
Trait: Known for an attribute (hiding spot for a notable figure (poet))
Trait: Vast stockpiles of a material (river paint)
Agenda: Serve or awaken a slumbering entity (the Fool’s attorney)
Event: Contest
Trait: Nicknamed after a material or object (glass)
Catalyst: Greed of a notable figure (outsider)
Fallout: Important object going missing (respirator)
Fallout: New pantheon or calendar
The fifteenth year of the Awakening began, as all new years did, on a hot day with the sun hanging high above us. The newest members of the Heralds of the Stampede were brought out to the Square of the Fool’s Attorney for the ritual of joining, in which the acolytes would become Heralds in name and spirit. They would soon participate in the contest of glass, being ranked by their performance and assigned their duties accordingly. Each year, a few of the acolytes would fail at the contest, and would be sent out of the Square, never to be seen or spoken of again.
That was the idea, at any rate. In practice, there simply weren’t enough people in the village around the Square to keep the failed acolytes hidden from view. The failures, like everyone else in the village, worked to keep the Heralds fed and pampered, as they were far too important and prissy to do such menial tasks as till the land and weave cloth. They were made to serve the Fool’s Attorney, though they were extremely cagey about what, exactly, that entailed. The rest of the village did appreciate that they would educate the children, under the guise of identifying potential new Heralds, and they even helped send some of those children to the university in the capitol, but there was little day to day service the Heralds seemed to do for the village in exchange for all the material goods they received from those living outside their walls. The failed acolytes frequently left the village after a year or two, their bitterness overwhelming them as they became the servants rather than those served.
And some of us were stuck here, taking care of ailing parents and struggling to find a way to keep our minds active while forced into a life of drudgery, and it was a living hell. It had been three years since I’d lost the contest of glass, and though I maintained that the others had cheated, while I had followed the rules to the letter, the results were the only thing the Heralds cared about, and out I was sent. There were two others who had failed the same year I had, and they both left the village to travel to the capitol almost as soon as the great doors to the Herald’s citadel had closed behind us. They had been the younger children of their families, and were free of the responsibilities that plagued those of us upon whom our families depended.
Being the dependable one is highly overrated.
I tried not to think of the acolytes who would be lining up in the Square as I worked to make breakfast for my father before I started to tend the fields. My mother had died the previous year, and while I was saddened to lose her, of course, I felt the loss of her helping hands far more acutely. I had never realized how much work keeping house for just two people could be, but when one of those people refused to lift a finger in assistance, and was far too ill to work in the field or do any of the more manual tasks on the land, the workload felt intense. The beginning of the year, being the longest and hottest day of the year, always felt more oppressive than the others, and the reminder of my failure was a sharp knife in my heart at the same time.
Father managed to get himself to the table, which was becoming a rare occurrence anymore, and looked expectantly at me as I brought over our meager meal of porridge and toast. “The year begins today, doesn’t it?” he asked, peering at the calendar hanging on the wall. “I still can’t quite get a handle on the months since the Awakening.”
I smiled as I filled his plate. “Yes, I imagine it was much different in your youth,” I teased, giving him the pot of marmalade for his toast. “The year begins today, yes. By nightfall we should have the newest failed acolytes back in the village. We’ll have to be ready to welcome them back and prepare them for the way ahead.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but the way Father looked at me, I was sure I had failed at that as well.
“I’m glad you and some of the others have taken to welcoming those who are rejoining the village, though I do wish you wouldn’t call them - or yourself - failures.” His hand shook as he spread marmalade on his toast, but his voice remained steady. “That word has such harsh connotations to it, and just because you didn’t become a Herald, it doesn’t make you a failure.”
I stood, my appetite having fled. “Father, I’m not going to go over this with you again. The point is, we’re trying to make leaving the citadel a more pleasant experience than the one we had.” I cleared my dishes back to the kitchen, putting my scraps in the slop bucket to take out to the pigs before washing my things and setting them to dry. “Now, you take your time, and I’m going to run a few errands before I get into the fields. Since we have the largest place, we’ll be hosting the welcome dinner here. I’ve got a few of the others bringing some tables to set up outside, and to bring some food, but I need to pick up dishes from a couple of the houses.” I tied my hat on and picked up my basket, then came around the table to kiss Father’s cheek. “Once you’re done, why don’t you take a look at some of those books I brought from the librarian? She came by yesterday, and I picked a few things that I think you might like.”
His face brightened when I mentioned the books, and his smile grew as he looked me over for a moment. “You remind me so much of your mother,” he said softly. “Is that one of her dresses?”
I ran my hands over the sprigged cotton, worn soft with many washings and wearings, and nodded. “I recut it to make it fit a bit better, but it’s mostly her dress. Do you think she would mind?”
“Never, my girl,” he said, returning to his breakfast. “Now go run your errands, and don’t worry about me. I’ll take a look at those books and see if I can’t find something to keep the brain moving.”
I chuckled at him as I left, but as soon as I closed the door behind me, the frivolity left me. I had a job to do, and not much time in which to do it. Tonight was to be the culmination of years of work, and several of us were coming together to finally take down the Heralds. The first failure, the Outsider, had been the one to awaken the Fool’s Attorney these fifteen years ago, and tonight, he was due to return and finish the job.
The Heralds had rejected us, reviled us, and attempted to destroy us. Now, we would show them what destruction really looked like.
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