[Cabbagefall] Shirekeep Ferry Terminal

The often renovated, and not infrequently burnt, Prefectoral complex in the capital city of Shirekeep. Charged with the thankless task of civic administration in the most malodorous and ungovernable city ever conceived.

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Laqi Hyrrion
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[Cabbagefall] Shirekeep Ferry Terminal

Post by Laqi Hyrrion »

Over half a century had passed since the horrors of the war in Shirekeep, along with its attendant harbinger, the Green Mortality, had abated, and reconstruction had begun in the shell-scarred, ecologically devastated and depopulated metropolis.

The pre-war population had numbered in the millions, the survivors had barely mustered sufficient to pass the benchmark into the hundred-thousands, and of those - too few retained the strength and will to build their old lives afresh; instead, new migrants were drawn in to fill the void, to staff the slowly reassembling bureaucracies of Imperial Government and to fulfil all the mundane secondary and tertiary level economic activities expected of a city; but the dead spaces still outnumbered the living. The Prefect of Shirekeep studiously avoided his duties and for every restored tenement there remained still a crumbling apartment block, boarded-up store fronts, weed-cracked roads and the heaps of contaminated spoil and rubble that still remained long after the evacuation of the UDF to a demarcation line outside the city walls had terminated the funding and conscript manpower for emergency remediation programme.

The immunity conferred by 'Merrick's Serum', the rumours about the victims of its original preparation and synthesis now long forgotten, sustained the human population well-enough but the local biota of the Red Elwynn river valley had been shredded. In spite of an abundance of open (greenish, brownish) spaces within the city walls, nothing could be grown nor could free-grazing livestock be reared. A particularly virulent strain of bovine rabies being just one instance of a zoonosis that has mutated after spending a lifecycle within a host infected with classic Barentsz–Melang Brassicosis. Cow maulings within the city precincts had reached epidemic proportions before the MoMA had instructed the Apollonian Guard Battalion, the disgraced remnant of the former Guard Corps, to round up the remaining herds of the Imperial County and use them for target practice. The small matter of compensation was still pending at the Judex.

Life, still precarious, clustered in nuclei where perseverance with the grotesque risks still rewarded; in the shadow of Raynor's Keep servicing the needs of government, with lesser settlements aggregating around the Landsraad and the Prefect's Palace with precarious ribbon developments linking the two. Lichkeep, the ancient Foreign Quarter, also survived the war, indeed it had prospered unperturbed by the horrors unfolding elsewhere but then in Lichkeep of late, the notion that life is for the living no longer really had any currency.

Then there was Cabbagefall, on the East Bank of the White Elwynn, built on the site of the in-filled crater that had once been the Mattlore Devious Stadium and Airport, this city, a borough or prefecture of Metropolitan Shirekeep, was in contrast to the heart of the capital enjoying something of a construction boom under the enthusiastic guidance of its Prefect, a retired civil engineer with a military background. Home to the city's functioning ferry terminal the rising city of Cabbagefall was strategically placed at the confluence of the dead waters of the Red and White Elwynn rivers- consequentially it was best placed to profit from the revival in river traffic between Musica and Timothea, and thence into Elwynn Proper and to Eliria by the myriad smuggling routes that kept the post-monetary Coordinated Regime from suffering an abrupt and particularly painful introduction to the imperatives of market forces.

For this reason, together with the trade in commodities necessary to sustain the Imperial presence in the capital, Cabbagefall was something a boom town; a hive of villainy and scum dragging in every manner and species of lunatic and rustic from the four counties that form the Duchy of Goldshire, its immediate hinterland and ultimate suzerain.

The Ferry Terminus therefore was the hub of this entrepôt and also the gateway to the hopes and dreams and to the gut-wrenching despair that would be experienced by untold thousands of anonymous individuals. For this reason the port authority maintained its own private contingent of security personnel at a not inconsiderable expense (more than defrayed by exorbitant tariffs however).

So it was in the year 5262 ASC, that Yoren Malferous a forty-six year old Security Contractor with responsibility for monitoring the CCTV feeds of the wharves of the ferry terminus found himself at ten in the evening, contemplating the long uninteresting lull between then and the arrival of the S.S. Hovercat, a hovercraft-catamaran hybrid that constituted the midnight service across the White Elwynn from it's moorings in the Landsraad district of Shirekeep. The wall display of monitors showed empty wharves, an empty quayside, empty terminal lounges, the only movement in the arrivals lounge was zombot cleaner pushing an industrial floor polisher from one end of the lobby to the other, and back again, and back again. Yoren reflected, as he rested his folded arms on a not-inconsiderable paunch and reclined back in his faux-leather lazy chair, that unsecured loans carrying a clause about the bank being entitled to claim possession of your body after you no longer had a use for it in default of payment was probably not worth the bother.

As may be observed, his mind was wandering somewhat, about the news, the bills, about who was on television last night, about how he still hadn't quite gotten round to mentioning to his wife that he had contracted a slight dose of herpes. That was understandable, considering the screaming fit she'd had the time he'd winked at an Elw checkout girl at the convenience store. Of course it'd only get worse the longer he left it, the anger and the symptoms - how exactly was he going to explain it when lesions started forming on his lip. Face O'Herpes wasn't exactly going to be a good look. Sometimes he was grateful for the night-shifts that got him out of the house and away from his better-half, who worked an 8 hour day-shift during the week at the local branch of the Former Commonwealth Bank, the Melang inspired ponzy scheme that was forcibly taken into public ownership by a pitchfork wielding mob a year or two back.

His mind then turned to happier thoughts. Carefully, he turned his head and glanced behind to see that the door to the CCTV room was firmly shut. There was still nothing happening on the monitor screens. Gratefully, he relaxed. The bottom draw of his desk unit held a quarter-bottle of Treesian Red, half-empty now, and a glossy magazine of Jingdao Export Strength Sisera-Tentacle-Hentai. Sighing contentedly, he reached down to unzip the fly of his trousers. The magazine in the draw was still in its brown purity envelope. He was looking forward to this, a new unwrapping was always a cause for celebration.

Suddenly he felt the firm grip of a cold, damp, resinous, hand on his right shoulder at the base of his neck. The fingers, bony and talon-like, were pinching through his tunic, and felt like they were cutting into skin, flesh and muscle. The nerve endings of his neck and spine were tingling, pain-receptors in his brain were doing the synaptic equivalent of a full-bodied scream.

He was in shock, to put it mildly. Part of him wanted to know how the hell someone had gotten into the closed room without him noticing. A more significant part of him wanted to jump up out of his chair, he wanted to shout out in alarm and surprise, he wanted to call for help, he wanted to turn around and land a vicious left handed jab on his assailant. He did none of these things. Instead he just sat there, stiff as a board, and not in the way he had been hoping to be earlier. A single thought of rising panic seized him.

Paralysed!

His head was immobile, but his eyes could still rotate in their normal field of vision. Desperately he tried to glance behind him, to look back out of the corners of his eye to see whose clutches he was in, but it was futile and the shadowy figure remained a peripheral blur. It was only when he gave up and looked back down that he realised that a five inch bronze coloured blade had been drawn and pressed against his throat. Suddenly he was all too aware of the knife's serrated edge biting gently against his vulnerable skin just beneath his Adam's Apple. He couldn't even gulp.


Finally a soft rasping, almost ethereally distant, voice spoke. It did so with corrosive harshness and contempt dripping like acid from every word.

YOU ARE WEAK AND PATHETIC. AND WORTHLESS. IF YOUR VIGILANCE WAS ANY PART OF OUR DEFENCE WE ALL WOULD BE DOOMED AND AS DEAD AS YOU DESERVE TO BE FOR YOUR DERELICTION.

Yoren couldn't even manage to utter a word but instead, to his mounting horror he realised that the empty mooring berth of Terminal A now contained a floating apparition, a motor boat of 30 metres length that appeared effectively to periodically flicker in and out of view. Even more difficult to discern was the presence of a half-dozen crouching individuals shrouded in black cloaks who also seemed to Yoren to be also experiencing some difficulty with remaining within the visible spectrum.

FORTUNATELY FOR YOU. WE ARE THE KINDLY ONES.

The blade was withdrawn from Yoren's neck, and fortunately for him the neck appeared to be substantially in tact afterwards. Instead a manilla envelope was thrown onto his lap. On it, written in a perfect cursive script was a name
'Ryabin Merkayastreb'

Where the envelope had been held there was four distinct blotch marks visible, a sort of greasy greyish-white taint. Again the voice spoke unbidden.

POLYETHYLENE GLYCOL. PERMITS OUTWARD FORM TO REMAIN DIMENSIONALLY STABLE WITHOUT WARPING OR SHRINKAGE. SIDE-EFFECTS INCLUDE REGRETTABLE SEEPAGE.

There was a pause, then it continued.
TAKE THIS MESSAGE TO YOUR SUPERVISOR. DO NOT OPEN THE ENVELOPE.
Your Grace,

If the unnamed gentlemen of the Avakair Mint and Bullion Depository have been doing their job properly you will have already received a prior notification of this letter and its contents and will thus be thoroughly appraised of all that will be set forth herein. However that is no reason for me to be impolite and withhold information where it pertains to yourself.

As Lord Marshal of the Imperial Forces and Custodian of the Tower of the Kampioens (previously the Tower of the Apollonian Guard before that corps' disgrace) in Raynor's Keep the defence of the combined realms of the Imperial Republic falls within my purview. Accordingly it is my intended purpose, which I shall now express, to consult with Imperial State's government prior to conveening the first formal session of the Imperial Shirerithian Defence Council in accordance with the Martial Code in order to correctly understand the defensive disposition of the State Forces, the strategic interests of the States and the overall security requirements of the wider Imperial Republic. As you do not need me to remind you, there are dark forces rising in the east and we must be ever vigilant to make sure that such horrors do not occur on Benacian soil, lest the fragile recovery following the conquest of Shirekeep be imperilled.

Additionally, there are a number of tasks that I would like to successfully conclude concurrently with those deliberations. The Directorate of the Dark Arts [MoMA DoDA], which was re-established by my orders in ASC 5257, was traditionally based in Demonsfall in order to watch against the emergence of unwholesome and otherworldly threats to the realm. The Imperial Order of Technomaezji have been tasked to proceed to Demonsfall and there to establish an appropriate forward operating base from which the revived Rrakanychan Watch can operate.

Moreover the Court of the Prince has also asked me to follow up some correspondence they have received from the Count of Suthergold concerning the possibilities and potentialities of establishing a more regulated cross-border trade. Accordingly I took the liberty of summoning a number of representatives from the ten state corporations directly administered by the Hall of Appropriation within the Court of the Prince as well as an envoy from the Municipal Corporations of each of the 182 Bailiwicks in the Coordinated State of Elwynn to attend the talks between myself and Count Ryker. As you will appreciate, making travel arrangements for 192 prominent businessmen and civic leaders is no easy matter and for that reason I have made the vehicles of the "Progenitor Aiomonde" Battalion of the Octavius Manoeuvre Support Brigade available for transportation purposes, especially considering the condition of the roads in the more depopulated regions of Suthergold.

Recognising the differing and varied roles I will be expected to perform, I have brought with me for this journey a number of hats, which I will be required to wear on various occasions as the situation requires in order to maintain a clear separation of interests in the name of probity. These will include a pickelhaube for Imperial matters as well as a wolf-fur ushanka for Elw business transacted as Magister of the Hall of Concilliation, and perhaps a sombrero for if I am feeling particularly flamboyant. A blood-red Euran fez will be carried as a precaution but will only be donned in case of emergencies.

To facilitate the use of the newly developed 'hats-system', and following the latest fashions in Shirekeep, I will be including a hat doffing minion amongst my staff.

Therefore, in accordance with §3.s3.c of the Martial Code, I request permission for Imperial Forces as outlined to enter the Duchy of Goldshire in line with the proposed itinerary outlined below. At the conclusion of the mission all Imperial Forces with the exception of the Directorate of the Dark Arts will withdraw from the Duchy unless invited otherwise by the Ducal Authorities.
I have the Honour to Remain Your Obedient Servant
Laqi Hyrrion
Lord Marshal &etc.


ITINERARY

Image
Shirekeep, Prefecture of Cabbagefall (Establish contact with the Ducal Authorities, represented in the Metropolitan Region by the Prefect, Brigadier (Ret.) Kieren Wood)
>>
Timothea, (Staging area, separation of the MoMA and Elwynnese Delegations)
>>
Demonsfall (Technomage: oversee deployment of Directorate of the Dark Arts)
>>
County of Ransenar
Goldshire Hamlet (MoMA Delegation: Discussion of coastal defence coordination. Also to discuss the Pact of Non-Aggression as part of a PAX AIOMIDE for Eastern Benacia)
>>
County of Suthergold
Kingsgate (Delegation of the Hall of Conciliation, for the Court of the Prince of the Coordinated State of Elwynn, to discuss various matters pertaining to cross border trade)
INSTRUCT HIM TO INFORM THE PREFECT. MORE CONVENIENT FORMS OF COMMUNICATION ARE AVAILABLE TO US. THIS WAS A TEST. TELL THE PREFECT MORE VIGILANCE IS REQUIRED.

ALSO YOUR GENETIC COMPOSITION INDICATES A 45% PROBABILITY OF DEVELOPING PROSTATE CANCER WITHIN THE NEXT FIVE TO SIX YEARS. CONSULT A PRACTISING CLINICAL PHYSICIAN AND CONSIDER RE-EVALUATING YOUR SEDENTARY LIFESTYLE. GENTLEMEN FROM AVAKAIR MAY WISH TO DISCUSS THIS MATTER WITH YOU. WHEN THEY DO YOU MAY WISH TO BE MORE PHYSICALLY ROBUST. THEY ARE NOT SO - KINDLY - AS WE.

NOW SLEEP.


And with that a greasy hand grabbed hold of Yoren's auburn hair by the pony tail that was his regrettable attempt at compensating for a receding hair-line and with one simple motion pushed the head forward with effortless brutal energy and slammed Yoren's head against his desk, breaking the keyboard, and the desk, in the process.

For Yoren the rest of the night consisted of a protracted period of exceptional darkness.
Laqi Hyrrion (dec'd)

[Legatus Imperii | Ambassador to Minarboria | Employee 1634-902 of the ESB-Jörmungandr Group]

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Ryker
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Re: [Cabbagefall] Shirekeep Ferry Terminal

Post by Ryker »

especially considering the condition of the roads in the more depopulated regions of Suthergold.
I don't know if you've been reading my forum, but all roads are being reconstructed and several subterranean railways are also underway. Kingsgate has a sort of subway system which uses an efficient fuel synthesized using Suther-Rathasian magic (in fact, this fuel is one of our future exports). Outside of Kingsgate, the only "subways" are two way tunnels between cities, though Tephal's rails are still being installed. We're doing just fine in the transportation department.
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Deimos Jasonides
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Re: [Cabbagefall] Shirekeep Ferry Terminal

Post by Deimos Jasonides »

(We really need to do something about inter-State postal services... this way of sending messages can be prove unreliable in the future)
Deimos Jasonides| Деймоос Ясооннаи | Deimoos Jasoonnai
Grand Officer of the Holy Order of the Strait of Barbary
Former Prime Minister of the State of Talenore
Former Sovereign Prince of Elwynn

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Ryker
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Re: [Cabbagefall] Shirekeep Ferry Terminal

Post by Ryker »

Suthergold is moving towards the telegraph.
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Re: [Cabbagefall] Shirekeep Ferry Terminal

Post by Deimos Jasonides »

Trade with Elwynn would give you guys Elwnet!
Deimos Jasonides| Деймоос Ясооннаи | Deimoos Jasoonnai
Grand Officer of the Holy Order of the Strait of Barbary
Former Prime Minister of the State of Talenore
Former Sovereign Prince of Elwynn

Just another Ric

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