Ross Fisher

Much appreciated. Its pretty self-indulgent of me to write such a long accompanying text, so I always hope it's worth reading.

The biggest issue was that I wanted to have a big contest with Calida for who would be leader of the Faith, but I don't think Oleon's leadership were keen on the idea. Plus he was getting up there in age terms, and I wanted a younger character with more freedom to behave badly. More opportunities...

My attempt at an ancient Greek tripod. Not the best, but it does the job.

André Giefaux, fifth son of the Margrave of Hernsey, on the occasion of his enlistment as a Cornet of Dragoons. 9 August 624. During peacetime this position would, naturally, have allowed him to draw half pay, while the uniform gave him privileged access. He does not appear to have stayed with his regiment for very long, beyond demonstrating the skills required to complete intial training. Having joined the service, he quickly slipped beyond its reach and ventured off on the Brick Seas once more.

André Giefaux, fifth son of the Margrave of Hernsey, scurried down the steps to the harbour. If the rumours were true, his long-lost cousin, William de Royne, had arrived some time in the night. Even though he had the misfortune of being born a citizen of Corrington, William had always been a favourite of his. A few years older, and very much the black sheep of his own family, de Royne was a man to be admired. And then, a few years ago, he had mysteriously gone missing. The families refused to even address the issue, and so Antoine had quietly missed the man. So when he was allegedly back, out of the blue, André had to see him. No-one else had been excited, but that was their failing. Skidding into the harbour, he spied a sleek black yacht, with crew busy about the vessel. A stately young man was directing them. Could that really be William? If so he had changed from the lanky playmate André remembered from years gone by. Suddenly he was struck shy. It had been years. How do you greet someone who has changed so much? He didn't have to. "André? Little André Giefaux, is that you?!" He didn't even hate the nickname. He was too busy glowing from the recognition. And suddenly he was on the receiving end of a manly embrace. "de Royne! How do you do?" "All the better for being in familiar waters! My gods, look at you; all grown up! Are you as well as you look?" Giefaux positively melted. "Are these all yours?" he asked, gesturing to the works of art, sculptures, books and mysterious boxes piling up on the quay. "Little insurance policy," the man winked. "Father will likely chew me out when I land back on the mainland. Confiscate my boat and anything on board. You know what he's like! I can't do anything right." "Sounds familiar," André commiserated. "Well the old Grand Tour proved rather profitable for me. But I've no intention of letting the old miser see a penny of it. I thought I'd leave the best stuff here under lock and key. Would you be able to lend me a vault in the family bank?" "Of course!" replied André. It was one of the few things he wouldn't have to ask the Margrave's permission for. "It's just a shame I need the yacht to get me back to the mainland, or I'd be tempted to stuff that down there too! Oh well, can't be avoided. Ah, but cousin, it's good to see you again! To tell the truth, I've been wary about coming back to familiar waters after that windfall inheritance. But it's good to be met by a friendly face." At that moment, a vision in silk appeared at William's side. He turned, smiled at the lady, and then caught André's awestruck gaze. "Ah, forgive me. Allow me to introduce my wife, the Comtessa Felizia Delphina. Señora; mi primo, Monsieur André Giefaux." "Comtessa." He smiled, weakly. "Your wife?!" "Yes, it was a surprise to me too, but all the parties involved were very much in favour. It's all been decent and honourable. Did I mention that my voyages have been good to me?" That old glint was back. "Then why is your hand in bandages?" André challenged "Duelling scar. It'll heal soon. Misunderstanding, really. You should see the other fellow!" "Gods, what a life of adventure you have lived since I saw you last! I only wish I could escape like you have. My family casts a very long shadow." "Well, that's one wish I might be able to grant. Why don't you take the yacht?" "What!? But it's yours! It has to be worth more than I could realistically pay back?" "And it'll be confiscated the second I moor up on the Mainland. I'd sooner see it put to use in your good hands." "Really?" "Call it a thankyou for that vault. You can buy us all a drink if you feel that's not enough. Your first charter will be to take myself and Felizia back home, so you'll need something to fortify you!" "Cousin, I don't know what to say." "Say you won't let her gather barnacles in Hernsey Harbour." "I won't." But apparently this wasn't quite enough for the older man, because he gripped his cousin firmly by both shoulders. "André Giefaux, by the luck vested in me by the Ocean Father, I charge you to keep the Thessalonike sailing. Do not let anyone waylay you from the freedom that is owed you. The world out there is greater than you know, and your fortune lies beyond the horizon, I promise. All you need do is chase it." "Hell of a speech, cousin." "I mean every word. If all I accomplish by coming home is to free you, then my journey hasn't been wasted." And so it was that in the summer of 624, André Giefaux, fifth son of the Margrave of Hernsey set sail on a life of adventure. If he only knew then just what was coming his way, he might have baulked. But sometimes the greatest first steps are a leap of faith.

Stylish as ever! Nicely done.

Third picture had me really giggling. Excellent work!

Great portrait. Really captures the Spirit of the man.

Ah, that's my misreading. I saw "At least" and "20×20" and hit on this... No biggie. I have other ideas.

Archbishop François passed under François' Arc De Triumph. A massive edifice of marble and sandstone, surmounted by a Quadriga of Hades; it represented a monument to all he had worked towards. Ironic, then, that it was dedicated to his brother. Hades himself rarely presided over victory monuments like this. And yet, it was not entirely inappropriate. He recalled the old adage; "Count no man happy until he is dead". With the Seawatch campaign happily brought to a conclusion, Hercule could rest secure in his victory. And for Jules? A celebration was in order. It certainly would not hurt their family to have an edifice bearing their name standing on one of the main routes into Granoleon. Even now Celeste was making the rounds among the masqued revellers, introducing them to her nephew, the diminutive new Comte Hercule François the Younger. But he would not come into his own for many years yet. Instead, it was time for someone else to carry the name forward. Who better than the Archbishop? He had, after all, been by his brother's side every step of the campaign; his Knights Treasurer were holding important territory among the colonies; and his people were working even now to develop Nola Mar into one of the premier trading ports in the Brick Seas. Perhaps now it was time to return home and trade all that for real power. Put a hand on the tiller of the nation? Few could deny him that. He looked back, and beckoned his ward. She had, after all, been with him at many of the stages of this journey. In Fatu Hiva they had called her "Weasel". Among the Sisters of Artemis she was "Sister Phoebe". To the troops of the Oleonaise 3ieme Division she was known as "Phoebe Full-Draw". Tonight she was in disguise as a Hellequin. Who knew what she would be tomorrow? But she was grown now, and fully capable of taking care of herself. Even now she bridled against any restraint put in her path. Perhaps it was time to grant her her independence? He felt a pang. All these years, he had tried to protect her. But no-one could be protected indefinitely. Certainly not this child. He smiled at her. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't dismember anyone too publicly this time. It is not considered ladylike." "We'll see," she smiled, and skipped into the crowd. The world would have its hands full with that one. Oh well; her ship would sail with the morning tides. She couldn't do too much damage before then, right?

Some of them were put in there with the trans clear angled stands. Some were just hanging in there, though.

Great build, lovely concept. Can't wait to see it play out.

Chapter VIII - On the Cold Seas Archambeau slipped beneath the shutter. Mess had just been called, so he had, at most thirty minutes. This storm had kept a lot of the ship's company below decks, so finding a chance to squirrel his haul away had been hard. Not that it mattered, really. He didn't have much to add. A few trinkets picked up Tam, the ship's spare silverware, the buttons from the priest's formal cassock. Nothing that would be missed for a while. Even so, it was barely worth making the trip. He quickly worked his way back through the hold; carefully counting the bulkheads until he found the right one. No mistaking that trio of knots in the woodwork. Quickly checking over his shoulder, he slipped an iron bar into place and pried the plank off. A pouch sat there, and he slipped his goods into it. He checked again. No-one to interrupt him. Good. The more he moved into this stash, the worse it would be if it was uncovered. A more cautious man would've split it up into a few places. But, then again, a more cautious man probably wouldn't be in his position in the first place. He sealed the compartment, and made his way back to the entrance hatch. "How many have you killed?" a voice asked. Archambeau flinched. Who the hell!? "Over here, lad." A man was sat on a chair, a knife in one hand scooping wood shavings off of, something. Who was that? Sorensen? Had he seen the stash? Could he afford the risk? This might be the only crew member he absolutely needed alive if he was ever going to get home. "Asked you a question, lad. How many have you killed?" Who asks that? "Enough to know there's no smart answer to that question." It was all he could think of in the moment. "Heh, smart men don't get themselves stuck on a ship into the heart of desolation. You and I are fools as much as any other here. How many?" "What is it to you, old man?" As the Pilot looked back, the lamplight caught a curious gleam in his eyes. "The killings'll start soon; just like before. This far north; this close to the Gates of Tartarus; normal folk can't handle it. The bleakness, the silence. The skin-shrinking cold. "They crack. "Times like that, a competent killer's worth knowing. Could be he'll help you out in a tight spot. "Someone who's too good at killing, though; he's more trouble than he's worth. He'll be sure you die before him. So which are you?" He stopped carving, and held the knife in a low, tight grip. The sort of grip that could carve up through a man's guts and leave him dying a slow death. Archambeau took a step back. "I'm not looking to make enemies here," he answered. "If I betray you, you'll be back home with your brothers in front of a warm hearth before you realise it." "Small comfort, that." The ship suddenly lurched, as it took a rogue wave in the broadside. Both men struggled to right themselves. Archambeau stayed well clear of that knife, and looked the pilot in the eye. "Believe me. Nothing I do to you will bother you enough to leave your front door. I'm not the one you need to worry about on this voyage." "Oh no? Who then? The captain; the miser who would rather have done this without me?" "What about the priest? Sure, he's all smiles now. But he's a true believer. Anyone who'd prefer the word of their god over their fellow man - not a wise choice of ally when the blood starts flowing." Archambeau made his excuses and left. He spent a moment to reflect on what he'd just learned; there was a lunatic at the tiller. Just what they needed.

That's hilarious! I love it.

Really well done.

In the past we had a Great Ball, I was thinking, now that Nola Mar has taken on a Venetian vibe, maybe it should play host to a masquerade ball. It would also help if someone doesn't have all the right parts to make every fig. Maybe someone with enough time on their hands could moc it up?

I love it. Is Calida still part of the Council? Or is it time for a different representative of the Faith?

Great build, great story! Keep it up!

Great intro! We'll watch his career with great interest

It's a nice idea, but it sounds like more bureaucracy. What we need is more building and storytelling opportunities, fewer barriers to entry, and quicker game turns.

The Archbishop has a habit of leaving the region just before a volcano hits. What insider intel is he getting from the Lord of the Underworld?

If I'm understanding correctly, the Second Terraversan War was originally between Oleon and Royalist Terraversa vs Independent Terraversa. Other PC nations decided to involve themselves afterwards. Likewise, the Lotii war was originally between Corrington and the Lotii. If you want "Safe" targets for campaigns, you might want to set up rules to exclude other nations from getting involved after things have kicked off.

If memory serves, the nation didn't join, but gave permission for their members to act as mercenaries. I may be wrong there, though. Happy to wrap this campaign up quickly. Can someone build some scenes from the Lotii perspective so that the storyline works?