Within the swirling Mist (IC) > Tales Around the Campfire
L'âne Braillant
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MonsieurDonkey:
L'âne Braillant
The Braying Donkey
--- Quote ---Bonjour and well met! Thank you, dear readers, for picking up this - the first ever edition of L'ÂNE BRAILLANT, the paper that strives to bring to you the latest, the juiciest, the spiciest, and sauciest gossip of Port-à-Lucine! I am Monsieur Âne, and I will serve as your humble guide as we delve into this exciting world of intrigue, sordid romance, criminality, and more!
So hold on tight as we dive in, dear readers, and remember: don't make asses of yourselves - we'll do it for you!
~M.Âne
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Company of the ScandalFeatured article by Monsieur Clarence du Savage, Private Investigator
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My heartfelt greetings to you, esteemed readers of the City of Lights! It my pleasure to once again be invited to grace the newspapers of Port-à-Lucine with my work. I want to give a special shout-out to my good friend Monsieur Desmond Derthen over at Le Coiffeur for getting me started. Even though I have discovered my inner ass, I still strongly recommend giving Le Coiffeur a read!
In my last article, I promised to keep you, my dear readers, abreast of the breaking scandals surrounding the Company of the Bridge and their nefarious deeds in the faraway village of Krofburg, and - wow - has it been a busy week for Sieur Roland! With a summons and banishment in Barovia, and two summons from the Gendarmerie Nationale, it seems that my esteemed colleagues in law enforcement are beginning to catch on to Sieur Roland's disturbing antics. One is left to wonder what the members of his increasingly disreputable Company think of all of this.
It was that very thought that led me to secure an exclusive interview with a member of the Company - and the details that have come out have been nothing short of shocking! A tale of forced conscription, lies, threats, and criminal connections. Worst of all, dear reader, the Company of the Bridge does all of this while claiming to be a legitimate branch of la République's military abroad! Yes, you read that right - it's our names, my dear fellows of Lucine, that the Company is dragging through the mud. Let's turn to the exclusive interview to see how.
(The Monsieur's real name has been redacted for the sake of his safety).
M.Savage: "Thank you for your courage in sitting down with me today, Monsieur. Why don't we begin with how you came to be a member of the Company of the Bridge?"
M.Bridge: "Like many of the others, I first joined by answering his recruitment drive. Sieur Roland claimed to have been given special authority by the Council of Brilliance, telling us that the Falkovnians were massing troops for an attack. I was eager to serve La République under a war hero."
M.Savage: "Sieur Roland claimed to be an official part of the Réplublique's military?"
M.Bridge: "At first. He claimed to have been given a charter, but before we were allowed to know any details, he required us to sign an employment contract and a non-disclosure agreement. For those of us who, like myself, hesitated - he signed our names for us, and told us that our giving our names had constituted a binding verbal contract under Dementlieu's law."
M.Savage: "A lie, of course. But what were the details of these contracts he added your names to?"
M.Bridge: "I don't know - we were never allowed to see them before he signed our names. That was when I knew I was in real trouble."
M.Savage: "Why didn't you leave, or inform the Gendarmerie?"
M.Bridge: "Shortly after he signed my name on the non-disclosure, Sieur Roland explained that he actually worked for a Borcan Vicomtesse, not the Council. He told us that if we broke the non-disclosure and revealed that, Dementlieu's laws gave him the right as a military officer to court martial and execute us. If we tried to flee la République, he told us that the Boritsi would track us down wherever we went."
M.Savage: "Sieur Roland has never been a military officer. Any breach of contract would have had to go through the courts."
M.Bridge: "That isn't what he told us. He says that the punishments are for him alone to decide, as an internal matter. I've seen three beatings personally, and heard of a couple of others. There are stockades in the back of Shop 1 that a couple of us have been left in for days at a time."
M.Savage: "Absolutely repulsive. Monsieur, can you tell the readers anything about the jobs you've been tasked with?"
M.Bridge: "Most of them are for the Vicomtesse. Some of them seemed legitimate - we've assisted in clearing the trade ways between Borca and Dementlieu, and done some enforcement for the Bellegarde Consortium, guarding some of the mining camps around Krofburg. More recently, I was asked to be a part of a team that performed a jail break for one of Sieur Roland's allies. As more and more people turn against the Bridge, Sieur Roland is campaigning to brand our detractors as necromancers, so that we can justify abducting them, and I expect that I will be forced to be a part of that."
M.Savage: "Just one final question for you Monsieur. What do you believe is Sieur Roland's aim with all of this? It certainly doesn't seem to be serving la République, as he claims."
M.Bridge: "Ultimately, the Company exists to serve Sieur Roland's personal ambitions. He's spoken of using us to lay claim to a barony. But achieving his ambitions require actions that would violate the oaths he's taken. That's what we're for, and where the name comes from. We're the Bridge between the actions Sieur Roland wants to take, and the oaths he'd break if he did them himself. He forces us to get our hands dirty so that he doesn't have to."
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L'âne Braillant featured game!
A review of the Célébration de la Gloire MartialeBy Monsieur Âne, Chief Editor
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There's nothing like a good tournament to get the old blood pumping! It was with great excitement that we headed over to Le Fêtes Champêtres to partake of the grand spectacle. After making our way through a large exhibit containing an improbable number of siege engines (where Sieur Roland was seen taking hurried notes that throwing a party is apparently all that's required for the Gendarmerie Nationale to empty out half of their armoury and hand it over to outlanders) we at last arrived at the pavilion for the main event.
My dear readers, what a spectacle of brawling it was! Despite its advertisement as a fencing tournament, it was great fun to watch the foriegn competitors bickering and pulling out all manner of exotic weaponry and magic in flagrant disregard for the posted rules, culminating in one particular duel of note needing to be restarted three times due the apparent inability of Monsieur Tristan Summers to keep himself from cheating. We here at L'âne Braillant express our hope that Sargent Dorian de Sauvre takes a firmer stance on enforcing our laws than he does his own tournament guidelines - but then again, perhaps that explains a few things about the state of our city.
The grand prize of the tournament ended up going to Monsieur Franz Dietrich after a stunning display in which he fought down his opponent for half an hour straight, ending with his challenger literally collapsing from exhaustion! Following this incredible display of seemingly limitless stamina, a breathless and blushing Mademoiselle Madeleine Voland was observed eagerly recruiting the rugged stallion for "services" of her own (she needed a replacement, after all - but more on that in the following article).
A special shout out must be made to the gem-studded tournament prize commissioned by the Rathcores. While we appreciate the nod to the longstanding noble tradition of spending tens of thousands of solars sucking on the toes of Gendarmerie while children starve in the Ouvrier, we thought the "Made in Rokushima Táiyoo" marking on the Dementlieu-honouring blade was an interesting and novel touch. For a couple who seek to become citizens of our fair République, the Rathcores certainly seem to lack an appreciation for proper Dementlieuse craft.
The Célébration drew to a close with a fairly charming little gala and art display in the grotto that we admittedly remember little of, owing to the open bar.
Overall, we give the event a solid 8/10, and we look forward to seeing what Madame Celeste Alarie gets up to with that trebuchet she snuck out the front gate after the party had moved on to the grotto.
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Love and Loss in Quartier MarchandBy Monsieur Âne, Chief Editor
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Late last week the fragile peace of the Marchand was shattered with the sounds of argument and gunshots emanating from Novak's Rentals. Most of us have heard a certain version of this story already. A hulking caliban, a brutish villain, broke down the door of Mademoiselle Madeleine Voland's flat for no discernable reason, and assaulted her! We shook our heads and went on with our lives, not pausing to question. After all, the narrative fits - a damsel in distress, a villain we can instinctively root against, senseless crime in the Marchand. Those dirty commoners!
Still, the pieces didn't quite add up. Why exactly did this caliban break down Mademoiselle Voland's door? The residents of Novak's assure us that this is not a common occurrence. Why, if he had come for an assault, were the sounds of an extended argument heard for a significant period of time before the shots rang out? Perhaps most curious of all - what is a baron's daughter doing living alone in a disreputable Marchand tenement in the first place?
There's no need to make asses of yourselves going in search of these answers, my dear readers - we here at L'âne Braillant have done it for you! We approached a neighbor of Mademoiselle Voland's for the full scoop on this story - and it will shock you!
M.Âne: "Thank you for sitting down with us, Madame. Can you shed some light for our readers as to what took place last week? Perhaps we can start with this mysterious caliban."
Mme.Annet: "Thank you, Monsieur, for helping us to get the word out. I know what everyone has been saying about what happened, and there isn't a lick of truth to it! François was a nice young man, and I've known him since he was a boy."
M.Âne: "François?"
Mme.Annet: "François is the name of the caliban who was killed, Monsieur. I know they look scary, but they're really people just like us underneath."
M.Âne: "Hmm. Some of our readers might argue that point. But could you tell us what transpired after the caliban broke into Mademoiselle Voland's flat?"
Mme.Annet: "Well that's just it. There wasn't any break in, and it was hardly his first visit neither. François visited Mademoiselle Voland frequently. Often four or five times a week. Ask anyone who lives in Novak's, and they can tell you."
M.Âne: "Really? And what happened during these visitations?"
Mme.Annet: "It isn't obvious? Do you need me to explain the birds and the bees to you, Monsieur?"
M.Âne: "You can't be serious."
Mme.Annet: "I wouldn't joke about something like this, Monsieur. François and Madeleine were lovers for quite a long time. We all knew about it. I personally thought it was a romance right out of the story books. The poor boy and the baron's daughter. I think that she really did love him, for a time. Madeleine has always had a more open mind. It's why she chose to live here with us."
M.Âne: "For a time?"
Mme.Annet: "Yes. Things between them became strained when the baron started pressuring Madeleine to find a proper 'noble' husband. He ordered her to start courting Sargent Dorian de Sauvre, and it broke poor François' heart."
M.Âne: "Interesting. And this is what led to the confrontation last week?"
Mme.Annet: "It was. François came and tried to plead with Madeleine to run away with him; to choose their love over her father's demands. But Maddy has always been a dutiful girl. Still, it might have ended peacefully, except.. "
M.Âne: "Except that Sargent de Sauvre was in the area, and heard the shouting."
Mme.Annet: "That's exactly right. He ran in and shouted for Maddy from the base of the stairs - and she knew it was all over, that her love affair would be exposed. She shot poor François to protect her reputation, and claimed that he had broken in to the Sargent when he arrived."
And there you have it! A tragic tale of star-crossed lovers, torn apart by duty and the prejudices of our times. We here at L'âne Braillant express our heartfelt condolences to the mourning family of François Duvet, who lost his life in pursuit of forbidden love.
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L'âne Braillant featured game!
Personals and Job Listings
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HELP WANTED - Lanterne d'Espoir Food Bank is seeking new staff members! Required skills include:
- Ability to hunt and preserve quality meats
- Compassion for the poor and downtrodden
- Willingness to swear fealty to Darkon
Interested parties should write to Mademoiselle Mariah Parsons, addressed to the bedroom of Baron Espen d'Orsine. (She's not there yet, but persistence has won more battles than valor. We're rooting for you, Mariah!)
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HELP WANTED - The Olive or Twist Bar & Brewery is seeking quality bartenders! Required skills include:
- Excellent customer service
- Ability to forge convincing signatures on legal documents
- Ability to mix potent enough beverages such that our sloshed patrons will actually be willing to accept the legal counsel of M. Beauregard
Interested parties should write to Monsieur Colin Beauregard, who can probably be found tampering with evidence somewhere.
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HELP WANTED - L'âne Braillant is seeking talented writers, jokesters, private investigators, poets, satirists, bored housewives, interviewees, storytellers, and more! Required skills include:
- Literacy
- A pulse
- A more developed sense of humor than that possessed by Gendarme Marcel de Renault (and honestly, if you meet the second criteria, this one is almost a given)
Interested parties should write to Monsieur Âne at the Broken Spire.
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Be on the look out for our next issue, where our featured article will be:The Seifert Story: An inside look at the sex, drugs, and scandal behind the starlet's rise to to fame
MonsieurDonkey:
L'âne Braillant
The Braying Donkey
--- Quote ---Bonjour my beloved readers, and well met again! Welcome to this, the second issue of L'ÂNE BRAILLANT. I must say, it is has been a wild week since the publishing of our first issue! The fan mail has piled so high that our staffers had to use a shovel to get out our front door! The gossip has been flowing - and as dutiful stewards of these delightful tales, we in turn pass them over to you, our cherished readers.
Hold on tight, and always remember: Don't make an ass of yourself, we'll do it for you!
~M.Âne
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The Seifert StoryAn inside look at the sex, drugs, and scandal behind the starlet's rise to to fameFeatured article by Monsieur Âne, Chief Editor
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And for our next trick... Sit tight, dear audience, and prepare yourselves! What you're about to see next will amaze and astound you!
If you have spent any significant amount of time in the City of Lights throughout the last several months, you have very likely found yourself attending one of the performances of popular stage magician Stella Seifert. Seifert recently created a buzz by hosting a whole week of performances out of her steamy new gentleman's club, the Wyrmsbreath - which kicked off with a controversial "Outlander Themed" wedding to her long time stage assistant, Celeste Alarie. Surprisingly, though the gentry of our fair city generally turn their noses up at such foreign customs (especially when they involve mingling with half-naked outlanders in the Savant, of all places), Seifert's magical wedding drew quite a bit of noble support, including - it's rumoured - even from notorious conservative stick-in-the-mud, Emeric Desrosiers (though for more on why Emeric is motivated to support non-traditional matches, be sure to take a peek at the preview for the next issue's featured article!).
Though Seifert's enjoyed the appearance of ever-increasing popularity, we here at L'âne Braillant couldn't help but wonder if there weren't more to this story. Seifert has always been willing to push the boundaries of what is acceptable in polite society, but she has ever been mindful of not crossing too far over that line. But is this veneer of quasi-respectability really the "true" Stella Seifert? Or is a certain social sleight of hand? What secrets might this master of misdirection and illusion be hiding behind the distraction of her "acceptable" challenges to propriety?
For more insight into these questions, we secured an exclusive interview with Monsieur Vennard, Seifert's mentor in the art of legerdemain, and longtime close personal confidant.
M.Âne: Thank you for sitting down with us, Monsieur Vennard. I hope you don't mind too much if we gloss over the warm up and dive right in. Our readers are dying to know: Who is the REAL Stella Seifert?
M.Vennard: Thank you, Monsieur! No trouble at all. What mentor doesn't love to talk about his star pupil? But of course, your readers are already familiar with dear Stella's public persona. You're quite right to question - that version of Stella is all smoke and mirrors. The girl behind the illusion is much more interesting.
M.Âne: Why don't we start from the beginning?
M.Vennard: Of course. By the time most of your readers would have become familiar with Stella, she was already well established as a stage presence. Getting there wasn't easy, though. Stella was a gifted magician right from the start - but it takes more than clever fingers to secure a recurring spot on Club l'Artiste's stage. Or rather... perhaps I should say that 'clever fingers' is precisely what it takes, though for a very different kind of show.
M.Âne: You aren't saying...
M.Vennard: The road to fame is seldom clean or easy, Monsieur. Marcelline Comtois became the first of many that Stella would lure to bed in order to secure her foothold on the stage, and several more would soon follow to heighten her status, to break her into certain social circles, and to make sure the seats remained full during her shows. Even when it was no longer strictly necessary to maintain her position, Stella seemed to have grown addicted. For a time, her standards for who she might take to the bedroom were not too far from the standards L'âne Braillant announced for contributors in the last issue.
M.Âne: Literacy, a pulse, -
M.Vennard: - And marginally more personality than Marcel de Renault, yes. A low bar indeed. This frivolity beneath the sheets would continue well into her relationship with Celeste Alarie and eventually cause no small discord between the pair. And it wasn't the only thing Stella was addicted to at the time.
M.Âne: We arrive at the infamous drug problem, I assume.
M.Vennard: Indeed. It's not uncommon for some performers to turn to the influence of certain substances for creative inspiration, and Stella was one of these. At first, they served her well - she pulled off some truly remarkable and original performances while under the influence. But impulse control was never Stella's strong suit, and recklessness is a poor partner for addiction. She became a common figure in the black markets, and her addictions were rapidly devouring every solar she had to her name. Eventually they, coupled with numerous infidelities, would lead to a rift in Stella's relationship with Celeste, and Stella entered a low period - and perhaps her darkest scandal.
M.Âne: You have me on the edge of my seat, Monsieur.
M.Vennard: It was right around that time, when Stella was at rock bottom - drug-addled, alone, broke, popularity waning - that she became aware of a possible rival. Not many know this, but Cornelius Valcourt, in addition to being a purveyor of fine whiskey, had a certain fascination with illusion - and an eye toward the stage. But for all of her problems, Stella remains an able performer. Valcourt would need a powerful gimmick to eclipse Stella's presence on the stage. He began searching for an artefact called the Rod of Rastinon, which was rumoured to be held in the Red Academy.
M.Âne: I can't say that I am familiar with the device. What does it do?
M.Vennard: It was rumoured to be able to work all manner of illusion and mentalism, a powerful boon for any performer. Valcourt sought it for his debut performance - and when Stella learned of it, she was powerfully afraid. It led her to try to sneak into the Red Academy herself.
M.Âne: The public story is that she tried to sneak in for revenge after Hazlani terrorists bombed the terraces.
M.Vennard: Stella is many things, but a hero isn't one of them. She saw an opportunity to snatch the Rod before Valcourt could, and she took it. But of course, the outcome of that is public knowledge. She failed, was captured, and faced several days of torture at the hands of the cruel Hazlani. But it was always Valcourt that she blamed.
M.Âne: His disappearance...
M.Vennard: There is no proof, of course. But Stella was extremely unstable at the time, and she is one of the few who could have pulled off such an assassination and disappear so adeptly in its wake.
M.Âne: A stunningly dark twist.
M.Vennard: And only the beginning of a string of tragedies for Stella. Following on the heels of what may have been her first murder, it's no surprise that Stella sunk ever deeper into her vices. The problem was, her performances had taken a sharp downturn in quality, and she was no longer bringing in enough gold to keep up with her addiction. She found herself deeply in debt to her primary supplier - The Mourning Lily.
M.Âne: The theatre troupe?!
M.Vennard: What, you don't think the managers of theatre troupes have connections to the drug industry? Just ask Madames Violeta Dragunescu-Istrate and Dhelindria Rathcore on that one. The public story goes that the Mourning Lily abducted Stella's father because Stella had been assisting Alanik Ray in investigating their crimes. But why would the legendary detective need the assistance of a washed up stage magician? No, the troupe had abducted poor Dietrich Seifert to encourage Stella to make good on her debts.
M.Âne: Her own father became a casualty of her addictions...
M.Vennard: It was a turning point for Stella's sobriety, and it may well have saved her life from an overdose in the long run. In the dark aftermath of the loss of her father, she was also able to mend the rifts between herself and Celeste, who'd reached out to provide comfort to an ex-lover. All in all, Stella's in a much better place now. But it's not without its cost.
M.Âne: What do you mean?
M.Vennard: Remember, Stella's success was rooted in trading her sobriety for creativity. Celeste has cleaned her up, yes - but with that, she's also killed the Golden Goose. Stella's most recent performances have been called dull, derivative - even repetitive. Her plans for the future largely involve repeating those early tricks that delighted us. But the magic is gone - she has lost the ability to shock and innovate, to bring something NEW to the stage. She finds herself on the tines of a devil's fork - her sobriety and her happiness with Celeste on one side, and her sole chance at recapturing her former brightness on the other.
M.Âne: An interesting insight. One final question for you, Monsieur - how do you see the story ending?
M.Vennard: I couldn't begin to guess which side of the fork she'll take, but I'm sorry to say that I am not confident in a happy ending. Self-destruction is in Stella's nature.
M.Âne: Thank you for sitting down with us, Monsieur.
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L'âne Braillant featured game!Stella Seifert and... The Maze of Chemical Dependancy!Help Stella escape the maze and reunite with her sobriety - but cross as few hookahs as possible!
Off with her head!A theatrical review of the Execution of Arielle de BellavanceBy M. Frédéric R. Élon
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Action! Open scene.
It's an overcast and drizzling morning in Port-à-Lucine, and the wind carries an unpleasant bite with it as it rolls in off the Sea of Sorrows. A quiet morning, one normally better suited to somber reflections beside a warm hearth. But not today. No, today a young woman pays the ultimate price and meets a justice as cold as the waves.
The crowd gathers early to watch. The spilling of blood is one event that the denizens of the City of Lights won't be late for. All eyes turn to the Palais as the stage is set - as that most infamous and feared of all Port-à-Lucine's rulers emerges from the doors into the dim pre-dawn light: Madame Guillotine.
Next come the Council and - here I really must praise the insight of the writers, for there is a cunning twist of the knife at this - only two of the six are in attendance. Arielle de Bellavance, commoner, would-be revolutionary, will not even be given the dignity of a full showing of those who condemn her to death. "I defy you!" screamed she toward the heavens. "You are nothing to us," whispered the heavens in turn, and the cold winds blew on.
Now we greet the rest of the ensemble, as the remaining actors enter from stage right. At their head is Sargent Dorian de Sauvre. He's painted as a sympathetic figure in this play: grim but dutiful - a man just playing the role he's called on for the good of la République. There's a subtle regret underpinning all of his lines, and I really must praise the actor for managing to convey such depth of emotion through his mannerisms in this role.
Following closely behind him, we have the central character of the drama: Arielle de Bellavance. Arielle's actress does a fantastic job of straddling the line between fear and courage. The sight of Madame Guillotine fills her eyes, and oh - there is fear there, yes. This is no foolish Outlander's bravado; there’s no laughing in the face of death. But there is a steel to her - a willingness to meet and overcome that fear for the sake of her convictions. That was wonderfully portrayed. Bravo!
Behind Arielle, we have two more minor characters - Gendarmes de Chauret and de Renault. Neither have speaking lines and seem included mostly to show the weight of the government outnumbering de Bellavance - and to serve as foils for the sympathetic de Sauvre. Where he is portrayed as carrying out an unpleasant, reluctant obligation, these two betray no emotion at all. They are the grim, joyless cogs in the machine of state - a foreshadowing of what Sargent de Sauvre himself may someday become as he treads further down this cold and lonely road called duty.
Finally, two more characters slip into the set, positioned off to the side, as if observers. Clad in black and red, we have the Red Vardo - Rithwarian Luelana and a mysterious outsider known as Hashan. The audience is left to wonder briefly at the part this pair will play in the unfolding drama - even more so when, shortly after their introduction, both run off stage!
The exit of the Vardo marks the transition to Scene Two - Arielle's last words. Given leave by de Sauvre, she begins her impassioned speech - and one is left with the impression that the young woman's words have been growing within her all her life for just this moment, knowing all along that they would someday be delivered here, to the crowd that will watch her die. "Truth! Justice! Find your voice! Sit not idly by while evil prowls your streets!" cries she.
The scene is not without a certain stirring power - but the writers have planned a cruel, cruel twist. Arielle is not halfway through her speech when the Vardo return, lips smirking, and throw the still-warm corpse of her sister, Juliette de Bellavance, at her feet.
The stage and the audience erupt with shock! This, the very sister for whom Arielle commited murder to save, for whom she performed the very crime she will now die for, dead at her feet. The loss! The anger! Arielle's noble words are forgotten - and again I praise the actress. The heartbreak is plain on her face - Arielle looks gutted. Her face reddens, and she cries out to the storm above with all of the force of wrath that only a soul-wound can bestow. "If there be any justice in the world, a curse upon Rithwarian Luelana!"
The audience holds its breath. What twist have the writers planned next? The storm cloud rages overhead - will lightning fall from the heavens and strike the elf? Will the ground at her feet split and swallow her? Is there justice to be had for the lowly and the wretched? - No, not this day. Arielle's plea falls upon deaf ears. "I defy you!" screamed she at the heavens. "You are nothing to us," whispered the heavens in turn, and the cold winds blew on.
All strength goes out of the firebrand, and she speaks not a word more as she is fixed into the instrument of death. The guillotine drops, and it is not the biting wind that sends chills down the spines of the audience as Arielle de Bellavance's head drops into the bucket with a cold finality. The thud seems perfectly pitched to carry the message of the State to every waiting ear: Defy us not. This could be you.
What a wonderful performance! I personally enjoyed myself thoroughly from start to finish. The writing was quite good, and the setting couldn't have been more atmospheric. I take my hat off to both Dorian de Sauvre and Arielle de Bellavance for their excellent delivery.
Of course, no performance is without its flaws. I would have liked to have seen some lines from Juliette de Bellavance, for one - her presence in the piece was rather abrupt. Too, the character of Hashan seems sorely underdeveloped. Who is this strange Outlander? I feel there's some potential there for a background piece exploring his origins.
It's a minor nitpick, but it must also be said that the Gendarme costumes in the play were thoroughly outdated. What with the Vardo having taken down both revolutionaries and handled security for the execution on top of it, it couldn't be more clear that red and black are the current "in" colours for law enforcement. Perhaps if we give Luelana a Sargent position, I'll finally be able to walk home after dark with my pistol unloaded.
All in all, I give the piece a 6/10. Good framework, but with room for improvement. I look forward to seeing what comes next.
(EDITOR'S NOTE: For those curious, some of our staff have been keeping an eye on Mademoiselle Luelana to see if the symptoms of any strange new curses present themselves. While our reporters have noted that Mademoiselle Luelana DOES seem to break out into full-body boils under the light of the full moon, we are still awaiting an official opinion from our staff physician on whether this is a potential manifestation of de Bellavance's dying wish or - more likely - a natural repercussion of Luelana's infamous nocturnal proclivities.)
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Club l'Artiste Open Talent NightBy Monsieur Sauve, Contributor
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Everyone's favorite magical establishment surprised and delighted us all this week by opening its stage up for upcoming new talent. We had a correspondent on the scene who was able to conduct some flash interviews with those in the audience. Let's hear what Port has to say about the new talent.
Stella Seifert
M.Sauve: "Madame Seifert, as the acknowledged master of Club l'Artiste's stage, we'd love to hear your thoughts. Did you see any promising new talent out there?"
Mme.Seifert: "Oh absolutely! A lot of new faces that I can't wait to ravish - er, I mean, to mentor!"
M.Sauve: "That's great to hear! You'll be passing your hard-earned wisdom on to this next generation of stage magicians, then?"
Mme.Seifert: "Oh yes. I can't wait to take them under my sheets - Wings! Under my wings."
M.Sauve: "Thank you Madame Seifert."
Joséphine Périgord
M.Sauve: "Mademoiselle Périgord, we're dying to know your thoughts. What did you think of the talent show?"
Mlle.Périgord: "The capital of Souragne is Port d'Elhour."
M.Sauve: "Er... Yes. Yes it is. But we had been speaking of the talent show. What did you think?"
Mlle.Périgord: "In Souragne, we worship the Loa. Sometimes, we do drugs and pretend that they possess us."
M.Sauve: "That's, uh, very nice. But about the t-"
Mlle.Périgord: "In Souragne, necromancy is legal. Our primary produce export is - "
M.Sauve: "And that's all the time we have! Thank you, Mademoiselle Périgord."
Camélia de Chauret
M.Sauve: "Mademoiselle de Chauret, how did you feel about the talent show?"
Mlle.de Chauret: "I do not feel."
M.Sauve: "Oh. But surely you have some opinion?"
(EDITOR'S NOTE: At this time Mademoiselle de Chauret adopted an unblinking, expressionless stare, and was unresponsive to further questioning. After a few minutes and several abortive attempts at communication, our correspondent found himself unnerved and made a hasty retreat.)
Matthias Le Scerri
M.Sauve: "Monsieur Le Scerri, thank you for coming. What are your thoughts regarding the talent show?"
M.Le Scerri: "Well first and foremost let me extend my sincerest thanks to you, Monsieur Sauve, for soliciting my eminently didactical opinion about these seminal contemporary affairs for your illustrious paper. Exemplary performances such as these we witnessed tonight, along with the accompanying cultivated reviews of the foregoing, are a long and time-honored tradition that incontrovertibly exhibits the ascendant culture of Port-à-Lucine - from which my own distinguished family draws its original heritage - and I am beyond gratified to take part in it. Before we dive further in to my own ruminations regarding the talent show, we would be well-served to spend some time pontificating upon the established history of stagecraft in general and then the tighter focus of legerdemain, so that we can truly apprehend this evening's emprise within the greater chronological scope of - "
(EDITOR'S NOTE: The interviewer here dozed off for a few moments.)
M.Le Scerri: " - and thus taking into account Mordent and even Borca, one can draw some incredibly intriguing and even non-linear comparisons in the evolution of the respective crafts and their manifestation in discrete cultures, sub-divided by their presentation in cultures of shared socioeconomic and attested mutual lingual foundation. When we take a closer look at the histrionic manner common to Dementlieuse stagecraft as compared to - "
(EDITOR'S NOTE: The interviewer at this time wandered to the bar for a few minutes to fetch a drink.)
M.Le Scerri: " - and this of course is why the contextualization of these processes with all attendant focal convergence upon studied ratiocination is vital to proper implementation of any cultural evaluation, lest we fall into the intellectual inveiglement of - "
(EDITOR'S NOTE: At this point, several sunlit days were observed to pass. Please, Ezra. Anyone. Help me.)
M.Le Scerri: " - and so without any further supernumerary obfuscation, loquaciousness, or deliberation - but with all due consideration to all heretofore antecedent enumerated factors and extraneous assiduous cogitation toward all constituent yet supervenient historico-cultural elements I arrive at the arrant culminating assessment that the talent show was pretty alright."
M.Sauve: "Thank you, Monsieur Le Scerri."
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L'âne Braillant featured game!
Fan Mail!
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Deer [Sic] Monsieur Âne,
It has come to my atention [Sic] that you have made an unathorized [Sic] usage of the Olive or Twist Bar & Brewery and asoceated [Sic] intellectuaul [Sic] properties in your publication.
This letter is to serve as your legel [Sic] notice to sieze [Sic] and desist any further mention of the Olve [Sic] or Twist Bar & Brewery in your paper, or I will sew [Sic] you for libble [Sic].
-Colin Bearuegaerd [Sic], Attorney at Law
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Good business,
I read your trash paper. Yes, ha ha. Very funny. I am going to give you one warning: If you ever scorn the love that Espen has for me again - or if you ever even DARE to print his name again in your filth, they will never find your body. Do you think I am kidding? I have bathed the streets in the blood of THOUSANDS LIKE YOU, YOU INSOLENT WORM! TRY ME!
AVE REX!
-Mariah Parsons
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Dear Monsieur Âne,
I am writing to inform you that there is some manner of issue with the ink used in the printing of your paper. While perusing your first issue, I found myself overcome by what I assume must have been poisonous fumes left over from the printing process. I found my facial muscles spasming uncontrollably such that the corners of my lips were pulled upward along my cheeks, and at one point these bizarre symptoms worsened to such a degree that I felt my throat tighten, and air was forcefully expelled from my lungs to create a “haw”ing sound.
This experience was deeply unpleasant and unsettling, and I would appreciate it if you would take care in the future to avoid inflicting such upon me again.
-Gendarme Marcel de Renault
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Dearest 'Monsieur Âne',
I found your posting to be quite the interesting read. However, I noticed in your first issue of L'âne Braillant, you seem to express a care for the poor and starving in Quartier Ouvrier. This piqued my curiosity! So, to test how much you truly care for these people, I've decided to play a game. The poor children of the Ouvrier tend to wander out at night in hopes of thievery or scavenging, so, until you proclaim your true identity with a publicly posted notice, I have decided that each night I shall kill one. Your identity revealed, then I shall stop, by my word.
I expect this will be much fun! Enclosed with this letter is a copper bit that belonged to my first victim, taken last night, perhaps you can use it to buy a drink at the Broken Spire.
Affectionately,
The Shepherd
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(EDITOR’S NOTE: Why Sieur Roland, you sly dog! You almost fooled us - we had no idea you were literate! You’ll have to try a bit harder if you want to pull one over on us, however. We here at L'âne Braillant know good and well that you’re the only man in la République cowardly enough to murder children as a form of extortion. Solid effort, but I am afraid this is one ass you won’t get to swat!
P.S. We know all about the murder that you and your Bridge buddies commited beneath the Mutinied Sailor. Tips have been coming in all week! Monsieur du Savage is already hard at work getting the details ready for print. We’ll see you next issue!)
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Have you witnessed something rare and shocking, like Stella Seifert being sober, Marcel de Renault smiling, or Roland Steele actually behaving like a decent human being?
Do you find yourself in the center of gossip that just needs to be heard? If so...
We want to know about it!
Write to Monsieur Âne at the Broken Spire today, and become a part of the exciting gossip sensation that's sweeping the nation!
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Be on the look out for our next issue, where our featured article will be:Something Old and Something Blue: How the secret love affair between Emeric Desrosiers and Dorian de Sauvre gave birth to Valey Neuve
MonsieurDonkey:
L'âne Braillant
The Braying Donkey
Something Old and Something BlueHow the secret love affair between Emeric Desrosiers and Dorian de Sauvre gave birth to Valey NeuveFeatured article by Monsieur Âne, Chief Editor
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Though the dulcet song of la Republique's lively political sphere does not always appeal to every listener, those who have followed its notes over these past few months have no doubt encountered the ideology of Valey Neuve in some capacity, even if they haven't before heard the name. A novel combination of some of the conservative traditions favoured by many country nobles held together with a healthy splash of urban liberalism, the political movement has been gaining some attention of late primarily due to the efforts of two young noblemen who have been dancing in and out of the public eye in matters both licit and illicit: Maître Emeric Desrosiers and Sieur Dorian de Sauvre.
Neither of these men have emerged from the crucible of Port-à-Lucine's public opinion entirely unmarred by scandal, but nonetheless both have recently managed to wrest special attention from the Council of Brilliance and begin their ascent up la République's social ladder with their gazes firmly and publicly set on still loftier rungs. Their successes naturally drew the attention of L'âne Braillant's crack team of intrepid reporters, and - as always - when we took a closer look, the questions began in earnest. How did this disparate pair from unconnected families come to be so unified in this new political party of theirs? What foundation was this surprising edifice of mutual trust and unquestioning support built upon?
For insight into these questions, we turned to Monsieur et Madame Rathcore, well-known as unscrupulous theatre managers, notorious social climbers, and - most relevant for our purposes - disgraced former retainers of House Desrosiers.
M.Âne: "Thank you for joining us, Monsieur et Madame. For the sake of brevity, let's dive past the pleasantries and get right to the heart of it. What can the pair of you tell our readers about the relationship between Emeric Desrosiers and Dorian de Sauvre?"
Mme.Rathcore: "I believe you mean Monsieur le Maître Emeric Desrosiers and Sieur Dorian de Sauvre."
M.Âne: Well yes, of course. Actually, I generally leave off the titles simply because they take up so much space in the column - "
Mme.Rathcore: "If you want our participation, then I must insist that you abide by the expected rules of propriety. Also, please remove your hat when indoors."
M.Âne: "Fine. But I'm not wearing - "
Mme.Rathcore: "I was speaking to Monsieur Rathcore."
[EDITOR’S NOTE: Monsieur Rathcore sheepishly removed the hat he had been wearing.]
M.Âne: "My sincerest apologies, Madame. What can you tell our readers about the relationship between Monsieur le Maître Emeric Desrosiers and Sieur Dorian de Sauvre?"
Mme.Rathcore: "It's all rather romantic, really. I ought to have Madame Dragunescu-Istrate turn the story into yet another long-winded, overly complicated musical to which we can invite the entirety of the Council of Brilliance."
M.Rathcore: "Indeed. Maître Desrosiers and Sieur Dorian have always gotten on well, right from the start really. But a relationship as strong and as loving as the one they have today isn’t built up overnight, nor without a degree of tragedy. They were forged together in the fires of hardship."
M.Âne: "What happened?"
Mme.Rathcore: "Maître Desrosiers fancied himself the next Alanik Ray due to an over-inflated sense of general competence as well as an unhealthy fascination with all things elven. That unfortunate mindset led to his scandalous involvement with a dark elf known as Shrixenna, who - during their pillow talk - funnelled him sensitive information about the notorious criminal organisation called Le Fracas."
M.Rathcore: "Of course, organisations like that don’t go down without a fight. Le Fracas wasted no time in divulging the affair, and one of Maître Desrosiers' closest friends, Monsieur Marco Corbeau - who was also Sieur Dorian’s trusted mentor in the Gendarmes - was revealed to be among the traitorous conspirators. The betrayal led both men to a very dark place since their trust in others was so thoroughly broken."
M.Âne: "And that was when Sieur Dorian and Monsieur le Maître Desr - "
Mme.Rathcore: "You can use 'Maître Desrosiers' now. It's only 'Monsieur le Maître' on the first address."
M.Âne: "… And that was when Sieur Dorian and Maître Desrosiers drew closer?"
M.Rathcore: "Le Fracas wanted Maître Desrosiers dead, and he spent most of his time either jumping at shadows, buying more ludicrous outfits to wear, or attempting to convince his former lover that he didn't actually use her for his own benefit and then discard her the moment she became inconvenient."
Mme.Rathcore: "Around the same time, he had ultimately sunk so deep into the pit of his own self-pity that Sieur Dorian was rapidly becoming his only correspondent. Since Maître Desrosiers feared stepping out into public, Monsieur Rathcore and I would carry letters between them. Obviously, we would first - … Please pardon me for a moment."
[EDITOR’S NOTE: At this time, Madame Rathcore departed to chase after a jogger she had witnessed passing by the window.]
M.Âne: "Hmm. Monsieur Rathcore, were you and Madame Rathcore aware of the content of these letters?"
M.Rathcore: "Oh, of course. We were always on the lookout for political secrets that we could use to our advantage. At first, the correspondence was fairly innocent - Maître Desrosiers and Sieur Dorian spoke of their mutual heartbreak at the Le Fracas betrayals and came to lean on each other for support. Over time, though, we noticed a transition. While we weren’t privy to whatever event took place between them that catapulted their relationship from friendship to courtship, after a certain point there was a marked difference in the content of the letters. They became openly romantic, even lurid in their details, and often spoke of secret rendezvous at inn rooms all over the city and surrounding areas."
M.Âne: "Do you still carry such letters for them?"
M.Rathcore: "Goodness no. We don't have the time for such frivolous things these days. For the nonce, licking the boots of every noble and politician we encounter is basically a full-time job, and that's in addition to all the real work we actually do."
M.Âne: "Any idea of how Dame Desrosiers and Mademoiselle Voland have reacted to the shame of having to share their hearts with men who will never reciprocate?"
[EDITOR'S NOTE: Madame Rathcore returned from her pursuit of the unfortunate runner, and - judging by her triumphantly smug smile - succeeded in accomplishing absolutely nothing of any true value.]
Mme.Rathcore: "They'd have to have actual personalities in order to have memorable reactions, wouldn't they? But I suspect they all have an arrangement that's fairly common amongst the nobility: the men get to do as they like, and the ladies get to do as they like… for the most part. Rest in peace, dear François."
M.Âne: "Interesting. One final question, Monsieur et Madame. What do you foresee as the future of the Valey Neuve movement?"
M.Rathcore: "I think it stands to become a powerful force in la République’s politics. A party in which the two central figures will never seek to advance themselves at the other’s expense? Their love for each other makes Valey Neuve a formidable contender."
M.Âne: “Thank you, Monsieur et Madame.”
Now naturally, my dear readers, we did not end our investigation merely with the Rathcore interview. We knew that for a scandal of such magnitude, you, our discerning readers, would surely clamour for more conclusive evidence. We at L'âne Braillant have not failed you! Alerted to the existence of this secret correspondence, we were able to intercept a pair of letters travelling between Maître Desrosiers and Sieur Dorian!
[EDITOR'S WARNING: Unclassy smut worse than anything contained within Placidé Eloise's "The Red Rendezvous: Volume One" follows. L'âne Braillant is not responsible for any inappropriate feelings or nausea that may result from reading these utterly atrocious poems.]
Spoiler: Emeric to Dorian • showO sweet Dorian, Knight of my heart
How I doth anguish when we are apart
With every lapsing moment, my yearning blooms
Awaiting the hour our consummation resumes
My flanks are a'tingle with memory of your touch
And the taste of yours lips is a flavour I miss much
When your hands are upon me, my skin burns like fire
And I cannot contain the force of my desire
So come quick to my bed, my love I entreat
Only with you in my arms can I be complete
You are a gift, a gift come down from above
Long live the Republic, Long live our love.
Spoiler: Dorian to Emeric • showO Emeric my love, my bright captivating Rose
When I think of you, the poetry so easily flows
Though it's a poor substitute to seeing you face to face
And beholding your smile as your breeches I unlace
How I ache to prick my fingers upon that thorn
When we're together, I feel reborn
A love like ours will never die upon the vine
I'm forever yours, and you're forever mine
We've planted the seeds of a love all our own
I'll be by your side when we reap what's been sown
For you are a gift, a gift come down from above
Long live the Republic, Long live our love.
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L'âne Braillant featured game!Dorian and Emeric have lost their cipher! Decode the secret note so that they know where to meet!(There's a special prize awaiting at the location for the first person to break the code and reach it!)
Truth for the People VBy the Ghost of Arielle de Bellavance
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Greetings to you once again, dear citizens of la République. I am Arielle de Bellavance, she who was recently executed for treason but who has now been wrenched from the peace of my grave by dint of the unholy magic of a necromantic artefact borrowed from the secret cache of Sieur Roland.
Restored to a perverse semblance of spectral life, I vow to continue the same mission that has always driven me: To bring the unvarnished truth of the happenings in our great city to you, its people.
Having never been permitted within the chamber during my life, haunting the recent session of the Council of Brilliance seemed like a good first test of my newfound incorporeal powers. Spiriting through the rafters that criss-crossed the ceiling, I had an unparalleled view of the proceedings, and now - for the first time - I am able to provide you, my dear readers, with a firsthand account of the machinations of our governance.
The session began on the fairly tame note of applications for citizenship, though even this was not without some excitement. The first up were the Rathcores, who made their pitch on the grounds of their "cultural contributions to the République." This was greeted with a chorus of affirmations from the Council and not one single challenge, which came as a shock to myself and several others in the room given that it was only a few short months ago that pair were publicly denounced by their own employer, the Marquis de Valey, for their nebulous ambitions. The couple's warm reception from the Council this time around seems to lend credence to rumours that their recent "contributions" to la République have been other than merely cultural in nature.
The next to stand before the Council was Vasya Sarukina, who was endorsed by none other than soon-to-be Sieur Dorian de Sauvre himself! This came as such a surprise that I nearly dropped out of the rafters. Never did I think I would live (sort of) to see the day when a Sargent in the Gendarmerie would endorse a Red Wizard of Hazlan for citizenship in la République! Sarukina's participation with the Red Academy is no great secret - he has been known to boast of it in public - and while he's been less open regarding some of the horrific experiments he's participated in, many of them are still well-known among certain circles. These experiments included the live magical experimentation, torture, and grotesque mutilation of Hazlani prisoners - all worked alongside the notorious Imzel Imala, whom our readers may recognize as the Red Wizard responsible for a terrorist bombing in the Publique a few months ago that claimed over a dozen innocent lives. What was the aim of these inhumane experiments? According to our sources, it was the creation of exciting new magical drugs to distribute among the populace of our very own city!
So what would lead a man like Dorian de Sauvre to endorse a criminal, torturer, drug-pushing, ally of terrorists, and Red Wizard like Vasya Sarukina for citizenship? Oops! We were not told, but I suspect the involvement of more of these undefined "contributions" to la République. Amusingly, and continuing their recent trend of opposing criminal activity, it was the Red Vardo who spoke out against Sarukina in his hearing - but to no avail. The Hazlani found himself welcomed into la République by a narrow victory.
The remaining two citizenship cases never made it to vote, as Rithwarian Luelana - now conveniently clad in Bellegarde blue (having presumably finally finished sleeping through the entirety of the Red Vardo, and now ready to move on to bigger and more exciting circles) - deferred to next month's session, while resident lawyer Colin Beauregard demonstrated his astonishing legal finesse by hilariously misfiling his own paperwork.
The evening was capped off with one final surprise as Sargent Dorian de Sauvre was called forth to kneel before the Council. In recognition for his unparalleled valour in the War Against Public Running, de Sauvre was anointed Chevalier of la République, thereby entering into the fellowship of the other legendary heroes of our generation such as Sieur Lucien 'Necromancy Club President' de Bellerose, Dame Alix 'Keeping It in the Family' Sinclair, Sieur Roland 'Extralegal Executions' Steele, and Sieur Jacques 'Need I Even Say More' Boucher. I, for one, offer my sincerest congratulations to the newly-raised Sieur Dorian even as I burn with curiosity to discover what sort of mysterious c-c-contributions he must have made to warrant such a sudden rise in status!
I'll be keeping an eye on these and other stories for you, my dear readers, for my wayward spirit will never find its rest until every secret is unravelled and you, the people, know the truth.
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Black Magic and High Crimes in the WyrmsbreathBy Monsieur Sauvé, Contributor
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Take a deep breath with me now, dear readers, and close your eyes as we perform the séance. Yes, that's it - we're now contacting the spiritual realm. Don't panic! Stretch out your hands and feel the veil parting - hear the pitter patter of approaching feet. It's coming. Do you feel the presence? There it is! The dearly departed spirit of decency, which recently passed away in a tragic accident at the Wyrmsbreath this last Saturday.
I, like many others, had excitedly piled into the establishment at the promise of a refreshing new variety of entertainment put on by Stella Seifert's latest stage partner and probable mistress, "Madame Dove." A newcomer to the stage, Dove has endeavoured to bring a novel "Vistani-lite" atmosphere to her performances, complete with fantastical fortune telling and now a theatrical séance experience! I came to the show anticipating the normal sort of hocus-pocus common to such acts. No doubt there would be mysterious knocking on the wood, "incorporeal" footsteps, and perhaps even a spooking levitating table or two.
But Seifert and Dove had something far darker in mind.
As the show began, a metal coroner's table was wheeled in from behind the curtain - and I, like my fellows in the audience, gasped with horror as the white sheet was ripped back to reveal the battered and bloody corpse of a young boy. Though we who watched were convinced at first that it must be a prop of some kind - despite the foetid smell of decay reaching our nostrils - we shared looks of incredulity and disgust given that even a facsimile of a child's corpse was a vulgarity unfit for any stage in the City of Lights. The show would only worsen from there.
Madame Dove declared to the audience that the body was that of one of the victims of the repulsive serial killer known as 'the Shepherd' and that she would force the boy to name the true identity of his killer. Incanting black words of power that caused my ears to ring and the very wine in my glass to curdle in an instant, Madame Dove made the corpse thrash and shriek as some manner of apparition took form. I, along with the rest of the terrified audience, searched every corner of the room for the hidden projector, but the wave of pure dread that washed over my senses when the spirit appeared told me that I would find none. This was true necromancy - the darkest of all known magic as well as a High Crime - being used openly for entertainment.
Before Madame Dove could compel the conjured thing through whatever macabre display she had intended, the creature screamed vengeance toward the one who had murdered it - and, to the consternation of Madame Dove and everyone else present - promptly escaped into the city. At this, Sieur Dorian - a highly decorated Sargent of the Gendarmerie - leapt to his feet to give chase, but he was promptly intercepted by his fiancée, Madeleine Voland, an employee of the Wyrmsbreath and herself no stranger to covering up High Crimes (L'âne Braillant, Issue I, "Love and Loss in Quartier Marchand"). Whatever passed between the two, Sieur Dorian promptly attempted to persuade those in attendance that what they had perceived was naught but a trick of the light and, stunningly, elected to sweep the High Crimes he had witnessed under the rug.
Despite this utterly breathtaking disregard for the law from one of la République's own Chevaliers, the performers were not about to get off entirely scot-free, however. The establishment would shortly find itself hosting a full dozen Ezrite Inquisitors, led by the infamously unstable Inquisitor Xanthus Creek. After a heated confrontation in which many a hand rested upon blade and pistol, the Inquisitor was seen being dragged away by others of his party, frothing at the mouth and screaming of heresy and Legion, thus ending the evening's entertainment.
Now, I know what you're thinking, my dear readers. "Monsieur Sauvé, you don't really expect us to believe that a ghost was conjured at the Wyrmsbreath, do you? A creature out of Ezrite myth? I thought L'âne Braillant purported to serve up the truth!"
And you'd be right to question, my astute followers. While there was no question that horrific necromancy was employed at the Wyrmsbreath, there did indeed remain some necessary clarification on what it was that Seifert and Dove managed to create. For answers on that, we reached out to Lord Balfour de Casteelle, Ph.D holder in both History and the Arcane Sciences and President of the Université de Dementlieu.
M.Sauvé: "Thank you for agreeing to weigh in on this troubling matter, Monsieur le President."
Ld.de Casteelle: "Of course Monsieur, professional consultation on subject matter like this tragic incident is an important function played by those of us who have been privileged to attain higher education."
M.Sauvé: "Given what we all witnessed that evening, the rumours have really been flying, as you can well imagine. In your informed opinion, Monsieur le President, what was it that we saw? Did the proprietors of the Wyrmsbreath really conjure a ghost?"
Ld.de Casteelle: "Dear me! I should think not. At least, not in the sense you're thinking of. Ghost stories are just that: stories. Myths fabricated by a juvenile mind to make sense of what they cannot explain. But of course, myth and legend often do have some basis in fact, as any member of our history faculty could tell you."
M.Sauvé: "And in this case?"
Ld.de Casteelle: "It seems to me that what you've described is something more akin to a necromantic construct. Golems are, if not a common invention, at least a fairly well understood one - we have showcased iron and stone variants here in the Arcane Sciences department of the Université. Unless I miss my guess - and I don't think that I have - what Madame Dove attempted to create for her performance was a particularly dark and ill-advised variant."
M.Sauvé: "A ... necromancy golem?"
Ld.de Casteelle: "That might be the simplest way to describe it. Traditionally, we use more stable materials to build constructs - as I mentioned before, iron and stone work well. Although less common, it is possible to build something similar out of forms of energy. A fire construct, or 'elemental', if you will. But to toy with the energies of death and decay - necromancy - that is far more dangerous."
Mlle. Joséphine Périgord: "Did you know that necromancy is legal in Souragne? We do it to honour the Loa."
M.Sauvé: "... Mademoiselle Périgord? How did you even get in here? You're - you’re not even a part of this interview! Shoo!"
[EDITOR'S NOTE: There was a brief break during which Ld.de Casteelle and the interviewer relocated to a room with a lockable door.]
M.Sauvé: "Apologies for that interruption. Picking up where we left off, is it possible to create such a thing - a construct - in the shape of a little boy?"
Ld.de Casteelle: "Oh yes. Distasteful in the extreme, but certainly possible. While a large humanoid shape is traditional for most forms of golem, it needn't be so. I have seen constructs in the shapes of horses or even spiders. With a golem constructed of death energy, I imagine you could imprint on it the shape of anything you had nearby at the moment of its construction."
M.Sauvé: "Like a body."
Ld.de Casteelle: "Precisely. It's my hypothesis that most 'Ghost Stories' are actually tales of constructs just like this having 'slipped the leash,' as it were. A magical machine crafted of entropic energies and imprinted into the shape of one departed, set loose upon the world."
M.Sauvé: "If that is the case, what is the creation likely to do next?"
Ld.de Casteelle: "Well, therein lay the rub. There is a reason magic like this is forbidden under our legal system. One can craft a golem of iron or stone with reasonable expectation that when left unattended, it will behave itself. But necromancy is far more volatile. The very substance that makes up the creature is the antithesis of life itself. My guess is that it will be driven to seek out and destroy its opposite force - in this case, life, wherever it's found. Unfortunately, those girls were tampering with forces they had no chance of understanding or controlling when they decided to use such a thing for a stage performance."
M.Sauvé: "It sounds like it may have been an accident - an attempt to create a realistic 'ghost' for the séance that simply got out of hand. Would you agree with Sieur Dorian's decision to conceal the crime under such unintentional circumstances?"
Ld.de Casteelle: "No, I'm afraid not. Sieur Dorian did la République a grave disservice in attempting to spare his friends from justice. Accidental or not, it is clear that Seifert and Dove delved too deeply into dangerous and forbidden magic, and the consequences that will follow will be entirely their responsibility. They should have been tried to the fullest extent of the law."
M.Sauvé: "Thank you for your time, Monsieur le President."
And there you have it, dear readers. Desperate to recapture the wandering eye of the masses, it seems that the proprietors of the Wyrmsbreath have released a terrible calamity into our fair city. Although Sieur Dorian has elected to overlook this massive transgression against the safety of his fellow countrymen, one is left to wonder how the Church of Ezra will decide to react to this and other provocations. Far from being dissuaded by her brush with the Inquisition, Stella Seifert has already announced her next great poke in the Church's eye by proclaiming that she will make the historic Ste. Mere des Larmes cathedral vanish from the city skyline - just as she has already caused any semblance of moral decency to vanish from the steamy hotbed of sin that the Wyrmsbreath has become.
Will the Gendarme continue to turn a blind eye as the performers' escaped creation begins racking up a body count? Will the Church continue to sit idly by while these necromancers make a mockery of one of the most iconic landmarks of their faith? We will be following this story closely for the answers to those questions and more as the tale develops!
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L'âne Braillant featured game!Oh no! Marcel de Renault is being humiliated in chess by the Falkovnian Ambassador! Solve the puzzle to help him salvage what's left of his pride!White moves next, checkmate in two.
Personals and Job Listings
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MISSING: The last vestiges of my dignity and self-respect
Please help, I have misplaced the last vestiges of my dignity and self-respect during the Council meeting, where I - a juris doctorate holding attorney - misfiled my own citizenship paperwork in front of the Council of Brilliance and half of the nobles in the country.
If you have any idea where they have run off to, please, please, please write to Colin Beauregard at the Olive or Twist Bar & Brewery in Quartier Marchand. I will offer a very big reward!
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SEEKING: A new toy to fill the position vacated by Emeric Desrosiers.
Qualifications include:
- Comfortable with manacles and similar restraints
- Able to cook well with mushrooms
- Possessing the discipline to respond "Xas, Mistress, please strike me again," when whipped
Write to Jalil Shrixenna of Lueltar at the Broken Spire
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SEEKING: Fresh cadavers
Cadavers must be well preserved and no older than three days deceased. A signed waiver of voluntary surrender of the cadaver for medicinal purposes from the deceased prior to their expiration is preferred. Cadavers of attractive men are desirable. For scientific reasons.
Write to Gendarme Camélia de Chauret at the Gendarmerie.
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MISSING PERSON: Monsieur Clarence du Savage
Private investigator and L'âne Braillant contributor Clarence du Savage has gone missing. He was last seen entering the Mutinied Sailor in the company of member of the Company of the Bridge. L'âne Braillant is offering a reward of 5,000 solars for information that leads to his safe recovery, or the recovery of his remains.
Contact Monsieur Âne at the Broken Spire.
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LIMITED TIME OFFER: Justice and a gruesome death.
To seize this offer, you must meet the following criteria:
- Be guilty of the murder of numerous children of the Ouvrier
- Have single-handedly redefined the term "Despicable Cowardice"
- Go by the unoriginal moniker ‘The Shepherd’
Reach out to the Ghost of Nikolai in the Ouvrier.
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Be on the look out for our next issue, where our featured article will be:Of Grain and Pasta: An Op-Ed on the Borcan Grain Deal by the Falkovnian Ambassador
MonsieurDonkey:
L'âne Braillant
The Braying Donkey
Of Grain and PastaAn Op-Ed on the Borcan Grain Deal by Hermann von Wittendorf, Falkovnian Ambassador
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Alzright, "Bonjour," I am Hermann von Wittendorf, ambassador from zee mighty kountry of Falkofnia. Our diplomatik experts hafe determinedt zat you Dementlieuse like zis paper, so vee make our arguments here. See? Vee are beink kulturally sensitife. Zough, personally, I sink it is a vaschte of time for your men to learn zis 'readink' - zat time is better schpent in physikal konditionink for zee battlefieldt. I am diktatink zis op-et to mein voman, who is doink zee vritink for me, as I myself am illiterate, as all true men schouldt be. You sink I vouldt hafe survifed zirty years in zee Kinkführer's army if I hat schpent mein time readink inschteadt of trainink for zee 'runnink avay' part of zee battles? Nein. But I digress.
You are konsiderink zis 'Grain Deal' vis Borka. It is a bat idea for many reasons zat I schall lischt for you. For beginnink, Borkan foodt is inkredibly unhealzy. I hafe seen zis man zat you hafe namedt Maître - zis Basile Corbeau. He is zee perfekt example of vat I mean. Zat unhealzy pallor. Zose sunken, beadty eyes. Zat unnatural smell. Zat horrible grease. Is zis vat you desire for yourselfes? Zis is vat komes of eatink Borkan foodt, ant zis is visout efen gettink into zee hafok vreakedt upon zee bowel mofements.
But Falkofnian foodt, now - zis is vat you are neetink, ja. It vill put hair on your cheschts, ant turn your boys into men, ant your vomen into men, ant your men into manlier men. I vill use an example of your neet for zis vich I hafe seen in your city alreadty. I vas at your chess night vis zat unbeardet de Renault boy. I saw his voman zere, lookink at me viz zose deadt, deadt eyes. I zought to myself, "Zis is zee face of a voman who has nefer been pleasedt by anysink in her whole life." Zee de Renault boy lakks zee firility for zee task. Zis girlisch physique of his is bekause he does not eat enough Falkovnian foodt, vich is fortifyink to zee konschtitution ant profides zee necessary paddink.
For anozeer sink, you schouldt bevare zee Borkan kontracts. Zee Borkans are lakkink on zee battlefieldt, ant so zey make up for it by beink trikky vis zee vords, like vomen. Zese Borkan kontracts vill make you like slafes. Zee Kinkführer, on zee ozer hant, vill only make you like zralls. Zere is a subtle but important dischtinktion! Zralls are better, ant zey kome vis fery schtylisch foreheadt brants.
Anozer konsideration for you is zat if you vere to schtop buyink Falkofnian grain, our kountry vouldt kollapse ant you vouldt be floodet vis undesirable refugees. Zis vouldt be a fery big krisis for you. Huge! Truscht me. Some fery important people - I vill not name names, but you vouldt rekognize zem - hafe konfirmedt zis.
Finally, vile I know zat many of you are schtill 'offendet' at zee recent var, I vouldt like to remindt you zat vee hafe on zee whole been fery goodt neighbours. Much like zee beatink of an unruly schpouse, zeese okkasional vars are necessary to maintain a healzy relationschip. You kannot holdt zis againscht us.
P.S. Ven you are sendink an ambassador to zee Kinkführer to diskuss terms of zee ongoink trade, I rekommend sendink Sieur Rolant Schteele. I hafe met zis man, ant I like zee kut of his jib. Seldom hafe I efer met anyvone who so embodies zee Falkofnian national ideals of petty kruelty, senseless tyranny, ant repeatet humiliatink failures at eferysink vee do as Sieur Rolant. He ant zee Kinkführer vill get along famously.
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L'âne Braillant featured game!Solve the Logic Puzzle: The farmer needs to cross the river, but his boat can only carry himself and one other thing at a time.If he leaves the rat alone with the grain, the rat will eat the grain. If he leaves the hawk alone with the rat, the hawk will eat the rat.Cross the river in as few moves as possible, with no losses!
Love, as Told by the CardsBy Monsieur Sauvé, Contributor
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Bonjour, my dear readers! We here at the writing staff of L'âne Braillant are always looking for ways to bring you, the citizens of this great République, more of what you want most. So many of you wrote in to compliment last issue's featured article, "Something Old and Something Blue," that we just knew that more romance was what you craved! And we are here to deliver.
But why settle merely for the reports of the ongoing romances of our city? What if we could go a step further, and determine the romances that will be. Or, perhaps, the ones that should be? In this issue of L'âne Braillant, we reached out to none other than Madame Dove, renowned fortune teller and sometimes necromancer of the Wyrmsbreath, to consult her cards and predict for us the true soulmates of some of Port-à-Lucine's singles. This will be exciting!
Madame Dove: It looks like we begin with an easy one - Death and The Hermit, both rightside up. Death is a clear reference to Camélia de Chauret and her unnatural fixation upon corpses, while The Hermit can only be Rezsö Németh. That would make sense, as Rezsö's utter lack of an interesting personality does make him rather corpse-like, which in turn feeds into Camélia's own fantasies. A good match.
Madame Dove: Another fairly straightforward one to ease us in. The Magician Reversed is clearly a wielder of the arcane, but the reversal indicates one who uses darker powers. This is obviously Mariah Parsons. The Devil, meanwhile, usually references Borcan contracts. This is almost certainly Basile Corbeau. That would make sense, as a food bank serving the poor is likely the only place the Maître will be able to find employment for his skills now that he's lost his restaurant and his courtship prospects.
[EDITOR'S NOTE: Sorry Mariah, there's no bear in the deck, but we're still rooting for you!]
Madame Dove: I barely even have to look at The Sun to know that this is a reference to the sunny Madeleine Voland - the card is practically screaming it at me! The Emperor is somewhat trickier, but my divinations are telling me that this is a reference to Councillor Andrei Palasçu. Given that dear Madeleine comes from a family greatly focused on trade, it is no surprise that these two should have much in common!
[EDITOR'S NOTE: At the time of the reading with Madame Dove, Dame de Sauvre was still single. Unfortunately, it seems she missed out on her soulmate!]
Madame Dove: Oh, an easy one. The Knight of Cups is most certainly Sieur Dorian, while The High Priestess is without question Abigail Shuttleworth. Sieur Dorian knows why this is a match. But I am not sure if his intended does...
Madame Dove: Hmm. The Knight of Swords Reversed is surely a reference to Sieur Roland - there is no knight more fallen from grace than he. It would seem that his soulmate is none other than Madame Guillotine. She does love to bestow her kisses upon men with such an impressive list of High Crimes as Sieur Roland.
Madame Dove: Justice upright would certainly be Marcel de Renault, while The Empress Reversed is absolutely Shrixenna Lueltar - she certainly views herself as an Empress, anyway. I have heard that these particular soulmates have already found each other! It certainly makes some sense as to why Marcel "No unsavouries allowed!" de Renault has always been so eager to attend Drow Chess Night. Shrixenna certainly has a talent for sinking her claws into the men who seem most to be sticklers for propriety, doesn't she?
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The Seifert EncoreBy Monsieur Âne, Chief Editor
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We at L'âne Braillant have been closely following the emerging scandals surrounding the Wyrmsbreath and its turbulent proprietor, Stella Seifert. Just last month we broke ground with "The Seifert Story," which exposed the scandals that paved the starlet's road to fame; in our previous issue, we reported on the stage magician's disturbing delve into the dark arts of necromancy - a desperate gamble to try to recapture the attention of a waning audience.
As she continues to slide down the slippery slope to irrelevance, Seifert has proven to be nothing if not a consistent source of material - evidenced by reports coming out of the Université de Dementlieu that claim that Seifert has attempted to murder her own barmaid, Dame Madeleine de Sauvre, with a poisoned cigarette!
For the details of this story, along with insight into the rapidly degrading stability of the Lamordian artiste, we turned once more to Seifert's former mentor, Monsieur Vennard.
M.Âne: "Thank you for sitting down with us again, Monsieur Vennard. What a shocking few weeks it has been since 'The Seifert Story' first saw print!"
M.Vennard: "It certainly has, Monsieur."
M.Âne: "You've continued to follow Stella's career and activities closely, Monsieur Vennard. What can you tell our readers about the event that took place on the Université campus?"
M.Vennard: "Well, I have done some digging myself, and it doesn't look pretty. My sources indicate that Stella and Dame de Sauvre had been attending a lecture together when Stella was seen offering the Dame a cigarette. A fairly common occurrence... except that this lecture was then cut short when Dame de Sauvre collapsed."
M.Âne: "Is there any chance that this was an innocent mistake? Perhaps the poisoned cigarette was given to Seifert by someone else, and she herself was the intended target."
M.Vennard: "I've heard that theory proposed, but I think it's unlikely. The problem is that the poisoned cigarette was recovered and promptly tested by the experts at the Gendarmerie Nationale. They found that the cigarette contained traces of 'Malice' - an inhaled poison that targets the lungs. To most, inhaling it would result only in a mild sickness. But to someone with Dame de Sauvre's underlying medical conditions, it is very lethal. Insidiously, due to those ailments, Malice poisoning might have been mistaken for a death by natural causes were it not for the swift response by Université medical staff and the recovery of the evidence."
M.Âne: "Dame de Sauvre has been a fairly ardent supporter of Seifert from the beginning, even persuading her husband to sweep Seifert's recent brush with necromancy under the rug. Why would Seifert turn on her friend now?"
Mlle.Périgord: “Did someone mention necromancy?”
M.Vennard: “... I was quite certain we had locked the door. Was she hiding under the bed?”
M.Âne: “Mademoiselle Périgord, what are you - ”
Mlle.Périgord: “In Souragne, we - ”
[EDITOR’S NOTE: There was a brief pause in the interview whilst the interviewer and M.Vennard made it to another safe location.]
M.Âne: “Apologies, Monsieur. We’re looking into means of preventing that. Please continue.”
M.Vennard: "Of course. As I was saying, Stella has a history of lashing out in paranoia as she unravels, just as she did with Cornelius Valcourt. I would guess that after her disappearing act with the Cathédrale failed to really recapture the attention of the crowds, and given that her necromantic creation is still on the loose, Stella may have been butting heads with her staff. It's not hard to envision a scenario in which Dame de Sauvre may have threatened to go to her husband over some of these matters and thus drawn Stella's ire."
M.Âne: "A disturbing thought. Do you have any advice for Dame de Sauvre?"
M.Vennard: "I would caution the Dame and the other staff of the Wyrmsbreath to put some distance between themselves and Stella. She isn't stable at the moment, and even the simplest tricks - like lighting herself on fire - have been going poorly for her as of late. She's a danger to herself and others in her present state."
M.Âne: "Thank you, Monsieur."
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L'âne Braillant featured game!Sieur Dorian is trying to find the Donkey! Give him a hand by spotting the donkey mixed in with the horses!
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Bonjour my dear readers! In this issue of L’âne Braillant, we are officially introducing our Guest Writers Column! The stories that follow have been written by sources outside of L’âne Braillant’s crack team of highly trained journalists, and so we cannot vouch for them with quite the same degree of 100% guaranteed factual accuracy as our other stories. However, we of L’âne Braillant’s editorial staff believe firmly that every voice should be given a chance to bray to the public!
Monsieur Âne
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Guest Writers Column
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Love for Grain is Red and Blue
By Fleurine Belleview
The Grain Deal has been a quiet affair for some time now, strangely so. This reporter has done some digging into the matters on why and discovered that a small committee has been formed to assist with further negotiations as the deal was stalled out. On investigating the reasons behind the delays, this reporter discovered that the deal had many wrenches thrown into it by the efforts of none other than the notorious Rithwarian Luelana. It was no secret that she stood publicly against the deal, with largely no real support from the gentry at first. Now, however, it seems that Sieur Dorian De Sauvre and Maître Emeric Desrosiers have united to the cause as well and have been working with Luelana to find alternate food sources for the nation. This is not the first time Luelana and De Sauvre have united, though. This reporter thought that the two would have nothing in common, but it turns out they have been working together for months.
Luelana and De Sauvre made a deal, it seems: the De Bellavance Sisters in exchange for a pardon for past charges so Luelana could become a citizen. This deal went sour, however, when Luelana delivered the body of Juliette de Bellavance to the execution of Arielle de Bellavance. Luelana was subsequently fired from the Red Vardo for this action, and her citizenship hearing was delayed. Since then, she has joined the Bellegarde Consortium and is rumored to now be working to push the Grain Deal forward, switching sides entirely.
Incidentally, this reporter discovered that this is not the real reason that De Sauvre and Luelana have stopped working together. Going back months, it seems, the two had been working together closely on their plans to stop the Borcan deal from happening. Late nights and too much wine... and well, a man and a woman united in a cause together, it is no real surprise that sparks formed that led to nights of passion. However, with the recent marriage of De Sauvre and Mlle. Madeleine Voland, it seems the affairs of Luelana and De Sauvre have come to a full stop.
This reporter fears that this mixing of personal pleasures and business was not wise. Luelana is well known to be focused on her advancement, and it seems that her dealings with De Sauvre correlate with several of his promotions. The question is begged, did Luelana turn De Sauvre against the Grain Deal in some scheme for her own personal gain? This reporter will continue to work to uncover the truth of the matter.
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Monsieur Âne,
Kösz for taking my contribution. Once again this paper shows its bravery and commitment to truth. Without papers such as yours, it would be an ignorant world. I write to you not as a citizen of Dementlieu, but as a Gundarakite reaching out to my brothers and sisters in the Black Army who have been trapped in Dementlieu after the war.
[EDITOR’S NOTE: The next part of this submission was translated into High Mordentish from the Gundarakite Luktar language.]
Brothers and Sisters of Gundarak, it is time to return home. The Black Army has failed. What has Vas és Vér won us except the dead in Zeidenburg? What has this flight to a foreign country achieved except dividing our people? Only the foolish cling to something after it has caused them nothing but harm.
Not only has the Black Army failed us, they don't act in the best interest of our people. Remember their parade in the Ouvrier where grain was divvied out to the poor. What a wonderful thing they did for the poor of Port-à-Lucine, but did you know that despite being stolen from Barovian farms, they didn't even give a single bag of grain to our own people? They left our kin to starve.
Not only did our people starve under Black Army rule, but the leadership of the Army conducted a purge of our own people. In a ruthless act worthy of the Tepestani Inquisition, they killed hundreds of their own citizens. Claiming to be acting against demons, the Black Army killed mothers, fathers, and children for following our ancient traditions.
Worse, despite being the cause of the revolt, when the Count brought his soldiers and attacked the city, the leaders of the Black Company chose to flee. They left behind those who had not chosen to revolt in the first place to bear the rage of the Count. Only a coward doesn't take responsibility for their actions. The Black Army has proven itself foolish, proven itself traitorous, and proven itself cowardly. I ask you kin, why do you remain?
Brothers, Sisters, it is time to return. Together, united, we can make Gundarak whole once more.
- János Nagy
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Fan Mail!
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--- Quote ---M. Âne,
I was afforded a good chuckle at your exposé. I can absolutely appreciate a writer with a vivid imagination. Just one minor quibble for the sake of accuracy: I actually slept with Maître Corbeau first.
Regards,
- S. Seifert
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--- Quote ---EDITOR’S RESPONSE: Oh, we knew about the Maître, Stella. But some bits of gossip are simply too disturbing for even L’âne Braillant to reveal lightly. We can only hope that you bathed very thoroughly afterward.
Incidentally, you picked an interesting time to publicise your connections to a potential Borcan purveyor of exotic poisons!
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--- Quote ---M Âne,
I respond to Jabbress, not mistress. Do keep that in mind when you are answering your own advertisement that you placed in my name.
Also, consort takes pawn, regent takes consort, rook to the far right column, checkmate.
- Shrixenna of Lueltar
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--- Quote ---EDITOR’S RESPONSE: Thank you for the clarification, Mademoiselle. We would offer to let Marcel know of your preferences, but we have a feeling that you will prefer to train him yourself.
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--- Quote ---Monsieur Âne,
I must confess, you've impressed me. Your anger shows you're not entirely heartless.. perhaps. There remains the contradiction that you value your anonymity over these children's lives. Perhaps you are only angry for the position I have placed you in, singling you out. Either way, I have had much fun with this. I have decided to pause with the killings for now, to give myself some beauty rest.
They will resume soon, I shall not say exactly when, but my offer stands. Your true identity revealed, I will leave them be.
C'est la vie, mon cherie.
The Shepherd
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--- Quote ---EDITOR'S RESPONSE: Spoiler: An Ode to Your Cowardice • showBonjour 'Shepherd', I would like to say
I've met infants who more menace convey
An irony it is that myself you call out
For hiding my name, oh how you pout
Yet the very same sin, you yourself so eagerly commit
So to make such a demand, t'would seem you're unfit
So I say that you're are a cad, the most wretched of cowards
And when you meet Nikolai, I suspect you'll be devoured
And on that day oh how I shall dance, leap and sing
My sole regret that your neck I myself didn't wring
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Monsieur Âne,
Bonjour! Why did you portray me in such an unflattering manner in your made-up interview? Don't you know that I only want attention when it's the good type? Look at me! No, don't look at me. Are you looking at me? Why aren't you looking at me?!
Excuse me - composing this letter has distressed me, and I must now make a quiet but dramatic exit from it. My husband will write to you later to tell you what actually upset me, but until then... please leave me out of any further narratives.
Cordially,
Madame Dhelindria Rathcore
P.S. Running through the city should be a High Crime!
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Monsieur Âne,
Please.
Please, I must know who you are. Thoughts of your true identity consume all of my resting and waking hours. I cannot eat. I barely sleep. I need to know.
I know that if I were to devote this level of attention to my other cases, miscreants like the Shepherd and Roland Steele would likely have met Madame Guillotine by now, but I cannot focus on them. I need to know.
Please. Maybe just a hint?
Sieur Dorian
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Would you like to write for L'âne Braillant? Send your contributions to Monsieur Âne at the Broken Spire and become a part of Port-à-Lucine's most popular paper!
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