One early morning, an old mand set out for the wood:

Today Euler Leonhard placed ten leflets. Returning to the barracks for more, he got the protection of the recruit Matthew Ironside. Alas, the task were aborted, when he gated to Magensia, unknown of the dangers that waited there...

Name: Euler Leonhard
Occupation: Miner and smith
Current Standing: Commoner.
Current Shilling Count: 55
Shillings awarded for:

Citizen task board tasks: 0/0
 - Mining (0)
 - Chopping wood (0)
 - Dropping Leaflets - (1)

Cultural Events attended: 0/0

Adding to the Covian culture: 0/0
 - Polishing armours (0)

Other / miscellaneous tasks: 0

Events led: 0 (if applies to your rank)

TRIAL:

So it happened one dark and unhappy night, that the skeleton Gaskuratt came walking back from the moongate at Minoc. The skeleton had been on secret business in Yew, and it had seen battle. Unfortunate it were still weak after ages of slumbering, so the mortals had shattered its bones. Its master, the Guardian, had willed the bones to assemble again, but it needed to rest - and to plot revenge. Such where its dark thoughts, that it almost stumbled into three fighters, at the Vesper crossroad. The undead hidden in a bush, while it cursed its broken bones.

Mortals! Oh, murderers and ambushers! Those damned Covians... Nyss, it thought, it were nyss them. The uniforms were wrong. Foul Vespasians then? Hrm. No, the mortals armour were plain. No striking purple and red colours to hurt its eyes. These mortals were new. Foreign. Dangerous..

Gaskuratt could see a table and on it, a paper. The three mortals talked among themselves about orders and had not noticed the undead. Gaskuratt sneaked closer, and with its bony fingers it snapped the papers behind their backs. "What is that stench? It smells like a dead cat.. What!" The three mortals turned and cried out loud in alarm - Gaskuratt ran as fast as its ancient bones could take it, and thankfully the mortals were clad in full plate and were painfully slow. After a short chase, they gave up, while they cursed their ill luck.

When it reached a safe spot, the wretched undead broke the seal and read:



Gaskuratt dropped the letter and cackled insanely. War were coming. And with war its companions, famine and plague. The mortals were so amusing, when they made war amongst themselves. Unknowingly they would do the Guardians bidding! Mothers would weep for their sons. Wifes would be widows. The crop burned. The cattle slaugthered. Children would starve.. And.. bodies would be left on the battlefield.. There would be plenty mortal flesh for all! It snapped it jaws in anticipation.

Evening, miss Axiana

Eh have build what eh call a Shrine of Plenty, to celebrate the grand day!

It is free for ye to use.

Sennacherib the Scribe

Writes book on commision. Make other work to keep the hunger from the door. I am online only infrenquently though.

ICQ 151-638-627

Written by commision by Sennacherib the Scribe. Participating in the event; Hoagie, Drakhir, Farfar and Sennacherib.

Gaskuratt scouted the outskirt of Cove then it came by the mortals' workshop. It hissed irritated, for them mortal were all to much like them busy bees, bussing around happily with their many tasks. And happy mortals were nyssthing but trouble..

It could put a touch to the house, and the though of all their hard work going up in flames, gave some joy to its dark existence. Hrm. But a burning building would bring nyss only the citizens, but also guardsmen and church people - and weak from its long slumber, it were nyss yet ready for the hunt that surely would ensure. There must be a more subtle way to grieve the mortals. It looked into a chest that stood outside the house. Leaflets. Many of them. Promising a life of you for those who would move to the city. More citizens. More busy bees. That could nyss be allowed at all!



The undead cackled insanely. It would add a few words here and there. Subtle words of the Guardian! Words that would bring Cove much trouble. It retreated to the graveyard to think – and write..

- - -

Hours later it returned, cackling pleased with itself. It had made false copies of the leaflets – and only the most keen eyes would see through their falsehood. The mortals would make their petty shrines, and place the forged leaflets; and thus they would bring doom on their heads by their own efforts. It were a small payment for all their crimes, but it were nyss a bad start.. By afterthought it kept two copies for further use..

*Fasten on the board with a rusty dagger, is a message stained with blood*

Ass you ssee you see, itss iss nyss a empty threat. Today four innocent have died a terrible death, alone and broken in body and mind. Give uss back the couldron or more will die! You cannot protect them all the time! There iss nyss usse for more deathss, humen! Give it back, thiefss! Give uss the couldron!

Gaskuratt the Shrinebuilder

Gaskuratt looked at the knocked women. It were tempted to drag it into the deep of the wood, but the mortals were too close. A evil mortal had felled it earlier, and it had been forced to replace several of its broken bones, with those of a unfortunate peasant. The new bones, with flesh still on it, worked fine, but at always it did not feel right.

Curious Gaskuratt poked the women. She rolled over on her back. Her face had hard lines. The mortal moaned. It were nay dead.. Gaskuratt raised the mace to smash her skull.. But the glimpse of another face, from another time.. almost forgotten.. shined in the darkness that were its mind.. Gaskuratt hissed evilly, and resentful lowered the mace.

Instead the mortal's bag caught its interest. It ripped the bag away from the body, and emptied its contend on the earth. Bandages, oil and cloth. A stone to sharpen its blade. Warriors tool. A perfumed handkerchief, soap, a brush. A clean loincloth. Gaskuratt hissed disgusted. Women. They were always the same. And. What. A book? Gaskuratt remembered the books it had readed in the black library of far Yew. It had been good books; about wars, famines, curses and such. Gaskuratt liked to read good books. It opened the book, and readed. Pfft. A spy report. On someone called Templars. Hrms.. Gaskuratt thought hard. The right book in the wrong hands might cause trouble. And trouble could mean war. And war meant dead mortals. Interesting. Very interesting. Gaskuratt left the women and walked into the woods..