The Council of Arche Terre: When Stones Fall and Secrets Whisper

By Eleawen Galadiel

Last Sunday past, whilst the wind did blow ‘twixt the hills of Mur County Center like a whisper from Erevan himself, a rare event did stir the austere walls of the Council of Arche Terre. For the first time since the resounding withdrawal of Oloth Lle’isga – that day when the drows did turn their backs on common assemblies – the great cities of Arche Terre had gathered anew. Durakiss, with Their Majesties, Queen Jula Marin-Maeviir, heavy with child, of course; Port Elysium, with Councillor Wilkinson, ever elegant; Sambrune, quiet yet ever formidable with its mysterious rulers; Lomidar, whose leader hath manifestly returned to affairs; and even Doomwood, with the presence of Sidney Delrin Kouya Doomwood, emerged from his retirement.

Ah, Doomwood! That city so discreet that one oft forgets its very existence, like a thief of Durakiss who hath pulled off the perfect heist. Their presence was already a marvel, yet their control over Delbrook – that village whose ashes and screams did grace the front of our Gazette n°17 (« The Shadow Beneath the Earth: A Tale of Fire, Betrayal, and the Depths of Doomwood ») – made their attendance all the more intriguing. What did they all, these leaders of cities and villages of Arche Terre, seek there, whilst rumours spoke of increasing rockfalls launched by the Hive? Coincidence? Erevan, he would hath laughed and shaken his head: « When stones do fall, ‘tis because someone, somewhere, hath stumbled upon a truth. »

Officially, naught did leak. Unofficially, even the walls of the Council of Arche Terre did seem to have been deaf that day. Yet, in a smoky tavern of Mur County Center, a few hours later, a most strange scene did unfold: a group mingling emissaries of Oloth, Lomidar, and Sambrune had taken a table in a corner, whispering like thieves planning a heist. Fortunately for them – or unfortunately for us – the patrons of the establishment were too busy drowning their sorrows in ale to pay heed to their conspirings. « Drunkards are the best allies of conspirators », Erevan would doubtless hath murmured with a smile.

When shadows do gather and stones do fall, remember: even the most secretive of councils do hide truths that, one day, shall roll like boulders.