1 Klarmont - The Festival of Lucor

Although this next adventure takes place in Specularum, the capital of Karameikos, I have not yet made a map of my own for it. It's on the list! Details about Specularum can be found online fairly easily. Threshold Magazine has an issue dedicated to the city, and the Vaults of Pandius have various pages describing it. There is also a map of the city on the Vaults of Pandius. Feel free to read this narrative in conjunction with these sources, which largely conform to the background I am trying to stick to, although my game will differ in detail because Broneslav is not necessarily a reliable narrator.

Broneslav had enjoyed the chance to relax for a while, even if he did have to get involved with the family business for part of it, and he was looking forward to the Festival of Lucor. It took place every year on the official first day of summer. It promised to be a good one this year for the weather was especially good and omens suggested that there would be a bumper harvest.

Broneslav Torenescu, Aged 16

When he emerged from his house, the festival was in full swing already. Music played, acrobats, mimes, and other artistes performed. People were talking excitedly and wandering around in their best clothes. Those who had the money bought sweetmeats from market stalls, while other more impecunious types snaffled them where they could. These latter suffered the blows and buffets of outrageous fortune when caught, while the stallholders from whom they pilfered cursed them. The smells of sewage, grilled meats, spiced breads, sweat, wine and beer all mingled into one glorious odour that informed Broneslav's nose that he was home. He wandered the city and drank in the sights and smells.

As he sampled a spiced bun from a nearby stall, Broneslav noticed the crowd in the street pushing back to the buildings on either side. The noises faded and were replaced by bells and chanting. Statues carried by several people swayed above the heads of the crowd. Priests of Traladara followed behind, carrying a sedan chair on their shoulders.

"The procession is coming," came from the throats of many bystanders. The excitement was palpable. Here came the statue of Lucor that would be floated out to sea. Broneslav knew that it was a distant relative of his who would lead the Procession this year, Lady Magda. That must be her in the sedan chair.

Suddenly everything went quiet as the procession stopped. Three men were arguing in the street ahead of the Procession.

"What?" said a small, plump man to the leading cleric, "You Torenescu scum think you own this street! There's room for all of us and no need for your overbearing ways here."

The lead bearer looked contemptuously at the other man, "Out of the way of the Procession of Lucor, Radu rabble."

A tall, lean man who stood beside the plump man sneered at the bearer and spat on the statue of Lucor, "That old fool? Don't make me laugh!"

The lead bearer struck the tall man with his rod of office and knocked him into the filth of the street. The smaller man tensed and put his hand to his dagger.

At this point, Broneslav intervened. Stepping between the two factions.

"Sirs," he said to the two troublemakers, "I think it best that you make way for the procession. Or would you like to take this discussion outside the city where we can, umm, 'discuss' more freely?"

He moved his hand to the bound sword at his side, and the gaze of the two men followed this movement. They took in the well-used weapon and the coldness in the young man's eyes. Then they thought twice. Even as young as he was, Broneslav looked like more trouble than a pampered temple cleric.

"Hah," sneered the smaller man, "You think you're something, don't you? We'll deal with you later."

The two men scuttled off.

"Thank you, young man," said the lead bearer and the procession carried on its way.

As the sedan chair passed him, Broneslav noticed the Lady Magda appraising him. She nodded in his direction and then disappeared out of sight as the crowd refilled the streets.