[Mkguild] MK Story Balancing Act

[Chris]

My good friend Stealth has made a cool map of the city of Marigund that
goes along with this story! Take a look at it at
http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2311402/


Chris
The Lurking Fox



-----Original Message-----
From: mkguild-bounces at lists.integral.org
[mailto:mkguild-bounces at lists.integral.org] On Behalf Of Chris
Sent: Thursday, May 21, 2009 10:25 PM
To: 'Metamor Keep'
Cc: tsa-talk at lists.integral.org
Subject: [Mkguild] MK Story Balancing Act



Here we go with a new story for MK! It is unique in that it makes no
mention of Metamor Keep itself!

   Enjoy and feel  free to make comments and suggestions!

   Chris O'Kane
   The Lurking Fox


Balancing Act
By Christian O'Kane

'Pulling a Sixteen' in the City Watch has always meant doing a
particularly bad patrol. For me it was the patrol downwind of the sewage
works.
"Here Come the Caial; The first 1200 Years of the Marigund City Watch"
Author; Philip Atwater, Publisher: White Flower Press, Marigund, CR1822

*****

City of Marigund, Country of Marigund, Outer Midlands, Spring 707

   It was raining by the time his small unit left the fortress. It was
April and it ALWAYS rained in April. It was less a full rain storm then
a really heavy mist. Still instead of being upset the soldiers were
happy for the bad weather. For with the bad weather most people would
stay indoors. It boded for a quiet day.

   This patrol of the town watch was larger then most; ten men all in
full chain mail armor, Sergeant John Wells, their leader was slighter
taller then most men. His weathered face was framed by blonde hair cut
so short that it barely peaked out from underneath his helm. Unlike the
rest of his patrol John didn't carry a long staff or a cudgel. Instead
he carried a small club about two feet long and barely two finger widths
wide. It was made of fire hardened oak and was highly polished.

   Standing close to John was a young woman wearing normal street
clothing that looked out of place with all the armor and weapons. The
emblem on the right breast of her jacket identified her as a member of
the Marigund mages guild. 

   Twelve people all in armor was unusual for a Marigund City Watch
patrol. Most had half that many people and they usually carried only
clubs and staves for dealing with problems. And all they usually wore
was a coat of padded cloth or stiff leather. But these watchmen were on
patrol route sixteen known about the watch as the Gauntlet. Like all
cities and towns Marigund was divided up into neighborhoods and patrol
sixteen walked the border line between two such neighborhoods. It was
unpleasant duty but it had to be done. At least it was not a holy day
when emotions ran higher and trouble was certain to happen.

   Standing in the center of the courtyard stood a tall bronze statue of
a man wearing archaic armor and carrying a long staff. On the base of
the statue was the words 'Caialann Armulin, Founder and leader'.

   John reached out and rubbed the left foot of the statue. "Bring us
luck Caial! We'll need it!"

   Each person in the patrol did the same as John as they walked past
the statue. Caialann Armulin had been dead for several centuries but he
had created and led the City watch and they all hoped his spirit was
watching over them.

   The group made its way out of the fortress and down the road. This
was a main road and it was filled with traffic of all sorts, wagons,
carts, horses and oxen all vying for room as masses of people moved
around them. Slowly they made their way down the thoroughfare as the
traffic reluctantly parted around them.

   The buildings on either side of them fell away suddenly and the Watch
patrol found itself in a large plaza. The area they were entered was
huge! A vast open plaza that could hold a thousand people at one time
with no problem. There was a lot fewer people in the plaza at this
moment but it still held several hundred people. Most were just passing
through from one place to another. But some were standing and chatting
and others were buying from the countless street peddlers who seemed to
haunt the place regardless of the time of day or the weather.

   The Grand Plaza. It had an official name that tended to change every
so often at the whims of the royal family but they never stuck. People
called it the name it had always had Grand Plaza. Over the centuries it
had played host to countless events; parties, pageants, celebrations,
grand reviews, state funerals, executions and riots.

   On the east side of the Grand Plaza stood the Follower cathedral,
opposite it on the west side stood a Rebuilder cathedral. On the south
side was a Lightbringer temple. On the north side was the grandiose
entrance to the Mages guild compound and the Promenade - the wide avenue
leading to the King's Palace. John pondered that image for a moment.
More then anything else it clearly showed the divisions that Marigund
suffered. All three of the religious structures were on different sides
of the plaza as far separated from each other as possible. That mimicked
life in the country as a whole. The Followers and Rebuilders hated each
other with a passion only possible with religion. And caught in between
the two were the Lightbringers who were disliked and distrusted by the
others. The only things that kept the peace in the country was the Kings
justice and fear. Fear that their country could descend into the chaos
of religious warfare. So no matter their hates and differences all
shared the Grand Plaza peacefully. Even if it was an uneasy peace at
best.

   Unable to settle their differences by violence all three groups
competed in other ways for posts in the government and the military, for
the best homes, for the finest lands and rewards from the King and who
got what seat in the parliament. The most visible sign of that
competition was in the Grand Plaza. All competed to make the most awe
inspiring cathedral possible. There had long been a Follower cathedral
in the Grand Plaza. A large and fine looking old edifice that was
centuries old. But when the myriad Rebuilder groups got together and
starting building their own cathedral suddenly the old Follower
structure was not good enough. This set off a construction war between
the two groups. Both pushed the construction higher and higher till the
fear one might collapse under its own weight and down onto the city
forced the king himself to intervene. He fixed the height of all
religious structures at no more then three hundred feet. Even so the
Rebuilder cathedral was three feet higher then the Follower building but
the Follower structure had a steeple that was wider and sheathed in gold
leaf.

  The height of the structures never bothered John and he paid that
little attention. What always did draw his attention was that the doors
of both cathedrals that opened onto the Great Plaza. They were not the
main entranceways into them. Those doors were indeed grand with all the
carvings and artwork one would expect but they were mostly for
appearance and remained locked at all times. The real entrances lay at
the opposite end of the buildings, as far from the plaza as possible. No
one was happy with this but all accepted it as a necessity. As the
Rebuilder faith came from the older Follower faith it shared most of the
same holy days. And the idea of the two opposing groups occupying the
plaza at the same time while religious fervor was running high was
assured of causing a riot. So on all holy days only one group occupied
the Grand Plaza - five hundred of the Kings cavalry - all of whom were
neither Follower, Rebuilder nor Lightbringer.

   The group of Watchman made it's way slowly across the plaza the
crowds of people parting in front of them as they walked. They all kept
looking about for any sign of trouble but they found nothing.

   In front of them loomed the fountain that occupied the center of the
plaza. It was a massive affair of granite and marble and adorned with
all sorts figures; some human some animal, some mythical or just plain
fanciful. At the center and highest point was the tall statue of a man
in flowing robes holding aloft a sword in one hand. Who exactly that
person was no one knew anymore. His name was long lost to history. Right
now the lower basin was occupied by a score of children splashing and
playing in the water in spite of the bad weather.

   Standing in front of the fountain was another patrol of the Watch.
This one half the size of John's. The woman in charge was chatting with
an old man who was wearing a small wooden keg on his back. A half a
dozen cups dangled from his belt. For a copper you could get a drink of
hot tea from him. On a cold, wet day like this the old vendor was doing
a brisk business.

   The woman smiled at him and nodded. "John. Good to see you today."

   "Good to see you Cecelia," John answered. "You have Plaza today."

   The woman smiled. "Yes. You have the Gauntlet?"

   He scowled and nodded slowly in response. "Yes. At least the bad
weather will help keep things quiet."

   "Hopefully," Cecelia said shaking her head.

   "What is it like here?" John asked changing the subject.

   She smiled. "Quiet thankfully. All we've had today was a pair of
cutpurses."

   John nodded. "I hope it's that quiet for us."


*******************************


   Near the Rebuilder cathedral a road led away from the plaza. It was
paved with a dark red brick arraigned in a simple manner and with no
real pattern. This street was called Carpenters way but no one
remembered exactly why. Lining both sides of the street were tall, well
built brick and stone buildings. Elaborate doorways gave way into the
courtyards of fine homes.

   The Watchman moved quickly down a street filled with people. Families
moved passed street vendors hawking all manner of wares. Most people
they passed gave the Watch some sort of acknowledgement. Usually a smile
and a wave or at least a nod of the head. Here their task was simple. As
members of the watch they were to watch for thieves, cutpurses or other
criminals. Crowded streets were a cutpurses favorite hunting ground. All
these people moving about made for lots of distractions.

   The group of watchman came to the intersection of two streets and
they all stopped at the same time without John giving a command. None
was needed. The road stretched onward in a straight line. On the north
had side the buildings were the same as before but on the left brick and
stone gave way to timber and plaster painted to resemble stone. The
buildings were smaller and taller on the left speaking of cheaper
construction intended for more inhabitants.

   In spite of the many differences all the buildings shared a few
things in common; no windows or doors. All the buildings on both sides
of the street had no windows or doors that opened onto it. On the older
buildings was plainly visible places where doors and windows has been
carefully boarded or bricked closed. For such an important border the
street itself was surprisingly plane and bare. Behind them the road was
bustling with traffic but ahead no one walked this street, no venders
moved along it peddling goods or services. There wasn't even traffic
just passing through. No one went down this street unless they had to
and even then they went in large groups. This was the Gauntlet. It was
division between two separate neighborhoods of the city. On the south
side of the street lived solely Follower. On the north lived only
Rebuilder.

   "All right," John said trying to remain calm. "Let's go. Keep alert."

   The patrol made it's way down the street slowly everyone alert for
the slightest signs of trouble. Their footsteps echoed loudly here
bouncing back and forth off the walls. All over, painted, scratched and
drawn in chalk was countless graffiti. The walls were covered with it.
Some were curses and insults, others portrayed various religious leaders
doing all manner of nasty things.

   Johns first sign of trouble was angry voices carried to them by the
wind.

   "PAPISTS!"

   "HERATICS!"

   "On the double!" John ordered.

   The patrol broke into a run as they hefted their weapons and cursed
under their breaths. The voices grew louder as they ran. The street
ahead was filled with people. Standing on either side of the street were
two groups of young men that were shouting and screaming at each other.
Some were waving sticks about while others had their hands filled with
rocks. John noticed that the wide street between them remained empty.
The only things traveling back and forth were insults. At least for the
moment.

   The two groups had two things in common. All were male and teenagers.
He was looking at two gangs of teenagers. Too old to be children but
still too young to be adults. Restless youth like them always seemed to
find new ways to get into trouble.

  One young man stepped forward into the street from the south side.
"STINKING HERETICS!" he shouted as he brandished a large club in his
right hand!"

   From the opposite side of the street another young man came forward.
He was holding a large piece of wood in his right hand. "Why don't you
go back to hell with your Patriarch."

   "WHAT'S GOING ON?" John shouted as loudly as possible. His voice
carrying over all the others.

   Everyone went silent for a moment as all eyes turned to John and the
others of the watch. He saw the eyes of all the boys go wide with
surprise.

   "SHIT! IT'S THE CAIAL!" someone shouted and both groups disintegrated
into chaos as the boys ran in all directions.

   John lashed out with his club sending the small wooden stick flying
through the air. It bounced once off the pavement and caught one of the
boys in the ankles sending him tumbling to the ground.

   In a few moments it was all over. The street was empty of everyone
except the Watch and two boys. One of the boys was laying flat on his
stomach with sergeant Cody's foot on his back. The other boy was sitting
on a curb rubbing his ankles.

   John marched over to the boy rubbing his ankles. The guardsman
grabbed the boy by the back of his neck and pulled him off the ground.
The officer put his face within inches of the boy's. "All right," he
said in a voice as cold and hard as steel. "Your name little boy."

   The boy's eyes grew wide as the color drained from his face. "J. j. j
. j. Jason W .w .winslow." he stuttered. "Sir."

   Cody taped the other boy lightly on the back of the head with a boot.
"You have a name?"

   "Evan," came the muffled answer. "Evan Faradock."

   The sergeant pulled the young man to his feet and dragged him over to
where John and the other boy were standing.

   "Where do you two live?" John asked.

   Jason pointed north and Evan pointed south.

   A loud groan escaped from Cody's lips.

   "Shit," the mage muttered.

   John and Cody talked for a moment in words too low for the boys to
hear. "All right. Cody, you take him," John said loudly and pointed to
Evan. "And I will deal with this one."

   "WHAT?" Evan asked in a panic filled voice.

   "What are going to do?" Jason asked in an equally frightened voice.
"You can't arrest me! I'm too young."

   "We're not arresting you," John said is a soft tone. "We're taking
you both home and let your parents deal with you."

   "NO!" both boys shrieked at the same time.

   And with that as the two boys were dragged in opposite directions
they pleaded, demanded, threatened, begged and blamed each other.


**************************


   The door to the Winslow home was of wooden weathered with age to a
gray patina. A large brass door knocker in the form of a snarling lions
head. But the expression on the lions head was nothing compared to the
scowl on the face of the man and woman standing in front of the door. It
seems word had spread faster then the Watch could move.

   Jason let out a low moan. "Mom, Dad, it wasn't my fault . . " His
fathers cold, hard gaze stopped all further explanation.

   "He is to be at Watch station six every morning at dawn for the next
month to clean the stables," John ordered.

   The father nodded. "And when he is done there he can come home and
clean the Dovecote."

   "But Dad . . . "

   "No buts!" the older man countered. "You shamed us by getting into a
fight and being dragged home by the Caial like a common hoodlum!"

   Jason's mother pointed into house. "Go to your room," she said in a
harsh tone.


************************


   The door to the Faradock household was also of the same gray wood and
also sported a brass door knocker. The door and the knocker were smaller
but just as solid and well cared for. Standing in the doorway were two
adults with look on their faces so foul that it could curdle milk with a
glance.

   Evan opened his mouth to speak but his mother acted first and grabbed
him by the ear and yanked him through the doorway and into the house. In
seconds they were out of sight. 

   "Was there anyone hurt? Any damages?" the elder Faradock asked.

   "No," Cody answered. "They were just shouting names at each other."

   "Thankfully!" the father answered. "What of the other side?" he asked
putting an angry twist on that last word.

   "The leader from the others is getting the same treatment as Evan.
Your son is to be at Watch station six every morning at dawn for the
next month to clean the stables."

   "That's fair. He will be there. I'll make sure of that." The father
paused for a moment then looked around to be sure they were alone. "It's
his cousins to the east," he said in a whisper. "He spent the summer
with them and they've filled his head with all that silly Crusades
crap."

   Cody just nodded in response. He had heard this before. "There were
others but they got away unfortunately."

   The father nodded slowly. "I have a good reckoning of who they were."

   Cody smiled. He was sure that after he left the father would be
paying a visit to other families and soon there would be a lot more
unhappy young men.

   "WE TREAT YOU LIKE A MAN AND THIS IS HOW YOU ACT?" came the voice of
Evans mother from inside the house, loud enough to make both men wince.
"You bring shame and dishonor on your ancestors and your whole family!"

   "But Mom!" was the boys faint response. "They started it!"

   "THEY STARTED IT? THEY STARTED IT?" came the woman's shouted voice
from the depths of the house. "IF THEY JUMPED OFF THE ACQUEDUCT WOULD
YOU DO THAT TOO?"


*****************


   It was dusk when the patrol finally made it's way back to the
fortress. They were all tired but glad that their patrol was finally
over. The fortress itself was busy with people arriving and leaving
either on patrol or on personal missions.

   Standing near the gate was an older officer. His hair and beard once
black but now heavily peppered with gray. On the left side of his face
was a long scar earned long ago in a fight with a criminal. His clothes
weren't as clean or well groomed as they should be but the rank on his
shoulder marked him as a senior officer of the watch and commander of
the fortress. So no one bothered him about his dress.

   "How did the patrol fare?" the officer asked as John approached.

   "Quiet, Captain Sedgewick," I did break up one gang fight," John
answered. "Expect involuntary stable help starting tomorrow."

   "Another day, another teen cleaning the stables. It can't be a
Lightbringer so what is it this time? Rebuilder or Follower?"

   "One of each this time!" John answered.

   "Oh joy!" the captain commented sarcastically.  "A few weeks of
shoveling horse crap should take the fight out of them," Sedgewick
finished in a hard tone.

   "And if it doesn't?" John asked.

   "More shoveling but I'll take away their shovels first," Sedgewick
answered.

   John made a face. "EW!  Now that's nasty!"

The End


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