Hex and the City 1: Saturday

A series played using Songs of the City.  This post is published under the CC-BY-SA-4.0 licence.

THE WITCH

Name: Sasha Wolfe

Pronouns: They / Them

Aesthetic: Cottagecore

Transport: Public transport and walking

Home: Studio flat in a converted warehouse

THE CITY

Name: Requiem Hold

Description: Historic walled city that has grown with successive migrations. Architecturally it is a classical stonework foundation with steel and glass above towering it. Culturally it is a mixture of traditions and peoples sharing and innovating practices, technologies, and festivals.

Fear: That the overly conservative local government will cause the city to break apart into factions and lose its pluralistic coherency.

Hope: That small acts of community will help to strengthen the bonds of community and promote wider civic participation.

Time: The middle of a cold, wet autumn following a long, hot summer.

Saturday

I jumped on the azure line at Gaffcairn and rode the monorail into the north of the city. It was early, before the height of the rush hour traffic. In an hour or so these carriages would be packed full of office workers on their way to Diamond Waterside and their workplaces in the shining chasm carved by the river. Now it was me and a dozen or so cleaners, labourers, and other service workers on the way to work in preparation for the office workers' arrival. As the monorail wove its way up and around the towers of the administrative centre, I watched the brutalist concrete of Auburn Terrace give way to the wrought iron and polished glass of Nova Park.

As we slid into the station I rose to disembark. Several cleaners joined me and together we made the long walk along the concourse to the exit. Nova Park acts as a hub for a cluster of corporate enclaves but the extensive, manicured park itself is a civic landmark. While the workers made their way through, I gathered my woollen coat and scarf about me as the chill breeze shifted in my direction. A sycamore tree rustled and unleashed a flock of its seeds that spun towards me like a cloud. I reached out a hand into the cloud and felt it flow around me, until a single seed danced its way between my fingers. I felt the papery wing and its delicate structure. The thickness of the seedpod foretold the potential tree it contained.

Holding the seed tight in my hand I perched on the edge of a low wall that ran alongside the path. The grey clouds above me threatened rain but for now their threats were hollow. In time the station disgorged the first wave of suits, a grey tide bustled past and I listened to their steady chatter as I twirled the seed in my hand.  I concentrated on these commuters, their work, and the role they played in providing the goods and services that fuel Requiem Hold. I reflected on the need for compassion over purely focusing on profits. I took that hope, that spark of light, and imbued it into the seed.

After the wave had passed, I planted the newly-enchanted seed in the soil of Nova Park and made my way home.

Moonrise - Act 2

A series played using Anamnesis. This post is published under the CC-BY-SA-4.0 licence.

Shadow: The Moon (Anxiety, Illusion, Intuition) 

ACT 2: SWORDS

SCENE 1: TWO OF SWORDS

The features of the cavern had either been examined or were items that I'd rather leave alone for the time being, so I decided to venture outside to see if anything else was familiar. I carefully walked up the narrow path as it wound its way up to the top of the cliff. The wind whipped past and tugged at my shroud as if urging me forward, upward. I cast a glance down and saw the waves crashing against sharp rocks some way beneath me. I decided against looking down again and instead concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other until I was at the end of the path.

Here I was confronted with a scene of vandalism. A great iron pedestal stood close to the cliff edge, a pair of feet and ankles emerging from its top. At the base lay the rest of the statue that had the once stood here. The salt air had not been kind to the statue's features, but their crown was still recognisable atop their head. It bore an uncomfortable resemblance to the one I'd left in the cavern below, and as I considered the fallen statue I came to understand that the weather-worn features were once my own. I sat at the base of the pedestal and stared at my fallen image, deep within my mind I knew the statue had been erected to survey the landscape; a representation of me surveying my kingdom. Looking further inland, I saw a land slope downward towards what appeared to be city in the distance. By this point the sun was beginning to hang low in the sky, so I rose to my feet and set out towards my city.

SCENE 2: PAGE OF SWORDS

I reached the walls of the city shortly before dusk and through broad sections that had been reduced to rubble I saw the ruins of vast buildings. I picked my way across the ruins and gazed upon the desolation of what I assumed must have been my once-proud city. A open area stood a short distance from the wall and upon closer inspection appeared to be an overgrown park. The ruined buildings around me felt stifling, they pressed against me with the weight in both stone and significance, so I sought respite in the park. Among the verdant growth, lines of worn stone hinted at pathways and borders lost to nature. Perhaps these were landscaped gardens once.

I absent-mindedly followed a series of weather-beaten mounds that I suspected may have once delineated a winding path. As the light rapidly faded, replaced by the collected light of a crowded starscape, it occurred to me that I was following the path by memory. My senses were haunted by faint echoes of the aroma of exotic flowers. Where my eyes saw dense foliage either side of me, my mind's eye saw elegantly sculpted topiaries resembling mythical beasts. I felt a hand in mine and an air of tension looming; I knew that this seemingly romantic walk was destined to end in heartbreak for at least one of the two parties. With this in mind my steps slowed, both in the memory and now, as I tried to delay the walk's outcome as long as I could stand to.

SCENE 3: NINE OF SWORDS

I left the winding paths of the park onto a long boulevard which eventually took me under a crumbling arch and out of the park. The buildings that lined my way were somewhat more intact; tall, sleek structures with the remnants of geometric patterning and faded colours that must have been vibrant in their heyday. I suspected that each must have once been a monument in its own right, testaments to the might of my city. I wondered how far their reach had extended at the height of their power, and that in turn brought the dawning realisation that I knew so little about the wider world. I stopped in my tracks at this thought and gazed about me. My eyes were drawn to a curious sculpture which stood in front of a nearby building, a pair of stylised figures posed in heated debate. I wondered what was the source of their conflict, why it had be chosen to be immortalised in stone, and why it was placed here.

I reached out to touch the sculpture but withdrew my hand in shock as soon as it touched the cool stone. In my mind I flashed back to the outcome of that walk in the curated gardens. The path between the topiary had led us to a small clearing with a low stone bench, the edges carved with flowers. Here we had sat in awkward silence, each unwilling to break the tranquility of the garden with our words. Eventually entropy won, as it always does, and we had quarreled. I began by trying to politely, respectfully, disengage myself from our series of trysts, claiming that the need for an appearance of integrity must be placed above our own needs. I was lying; I had been here before and had this conversation with others, my words were obviously rehearsed. They were seen through, how could they not be, and not only was my own honour challenged but that of my dynasty. I recoiled in shock at the anger I was being presented with, stood shakily, and crossed to the edge of the clearing. It wasn't meant to be like this, it was never like this. As I returned to myself I saw that my still outstretched hand was trembling.

Hilde Ironhand 6

 A series played using Quill: Coal & Parchment and Quill Quest: The Warlord's Downfall. This post is published under the CC-BY-SA-4.0 licence.

Kamron the Rogue

Hail Kamron, the greatest thief the land has known.

Tales of your cunning ans proficiency are legendary. Brintha also speaks highly of you and thus i seek your aid.

I wield an axe more often than a swift dirk, but can recognise the need for subtlety. I tried a front-on assault and failed. A more strategic mind however would perhaps find a way.

The enemy I stand against hides their true face behind a coward's masquerade. They send minions and powers against the people of Swanvale but never leave their tower. I beseech you to join me in unmasking them.

By the by, Kuhlo, Master of Tomes, holds the only copy of a book that would aid us. If a certain notorious cutpurse were to pay him a visit. Well, the value of his library is said to be limitless.

Brintha and I will be assembling oit allies in the Swanvale tavern. We expect many will flock to us eager to learn, so a potential mentor could take their pick. I await hushed whispers of your coming.

Hilde Ironhand.

The letter is successful! Kamron agrees to meet Brintha and Hilde at the Swanvale tavern. If he happens to pay Kuhlo a visit on way... so much the better.

Hilde Ironhand 5

 A series played using Quill: Coal & Parchment and Quill Quest: The Warlord's Downfall. This post is published under the CC-BY-SA-4.0 licence.

The Setters

To whom it may concern,

I am writing regarding my recent order to your esteemed crafters. The custom axe-handle charm bracelet I ordered arrived today and it was utterly unacceptable. This is nowhere near the normal high quality of your work.

I have been a loyal patron of your artisans for many years. I know that this is a heinous, but uncharacteristic, error. Your fine smiths are surely labouring under some fell curse when they fashioned this piece.

The item received is most assuredly a grave error. I ordered the charms to be kittens with bejewelled collars, these kittens have gold-inlaid collars. I'm sure that my intense disgust is understandable.

I regret to inform you that I will be suspending all further orders. I will hold short of advocating an absolute boycott for now. Though rest assured I will resort to such methods if restitution is not prompt.

Once the correct order is supplied I will resume my trade. Further, I will bear my newly-adorned axe into battle so all shall behold your guild's work. Eventually it will become a legendary weirgild that future generations will speak of in awe.

Hilde Ironhand.