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The Streets Of Skavenport With endless forests surrounding the city, Skavenport has immense access to huntable wildlife. The skin sold by the huntsmen is processed into fine fur by Skavenports many furriers and one of the most desired exports. Foxes, sables and wolves are popular furs, but you will never find a coat of squirrel skin, or a beaver hat in Skavenport, since Lord Osric had forbidden the sale and production of rodents, in the city. On the furrier's bench last rags of flesh are severed from the skin. Tanning makes the skin smooth and durable. So, a little bit more Skavenport. Enjoy!
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The City of Skavenport was one of the strangest cities in Nocturnus, where indeed many a strange town existed. Maybe it was even one of the most peculiar cities in all of Historica. But at the first glance a visitor could find no difference to any other bustling town. There were half timbered houses, large and small, built without any sign of logic; older houses with crooked roofs and sagged walls, newer houses attached to the others whereever a free corner could be found. Houses lined to long winding alleys. Some of the larger streets were paved, or once had been at least, but most were muddy and rough. Everywhere the reisdents were busy, hushing through the streets, children were playing, and barkers could be heared. All in all it was a loud place full of life and hustle. But this most special town was inhabited by rats. Not only rats, but rats and men together, side by side. Because this was the city of Osric Isentooth, the Rat Lord. Long ago, when the rats, were driven out of their realm far in the northern Rakath Mountains, Osric led them all through Nocturnus to the eastern shore. But the rats had been weakened and were disheartened. So Osric called for people all over Historica to follow him and join his cause. So the men of Skavenport had come. They were neither lords nor noble knights, not even brave farmers or diligent craftsmen. These men had been thieves and robbers, smugglers and all sort of sinister fellows. That kind of people decent citizen would call rats. And said:"You may live like vermin under your kind, or you live free and proud under us rats." So vagabonds turned into most respectable citizens. They became farmers and craftsmen and merchants. Thieves, who had never known other than loneliness, became the fathers of families. And the rats on the other hand adapted much of the manners of their new neighbours. Where they once had lived in caverns and dug tunnels they now inhabited tall houses and walked other broad streets. They learned to esteem precious fabric and to trade with all kinds of goods (a new and very strong domain of the rat people). They learned how to grow crops and even how to tame the sea. Some travelled far away aboard black sailed ships and returned with spices from isles as far in the south as any mariner ever dared to sail. And the rats and the men lived henceforth in union, and nothing ever would divide them. So, finally I can present you the first build of my city! Enjoy Skavenport!
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Finally the next chapter of my story in the Nocturnus Resistance. Make sure to read this one first: Glance into the future "Our board council prefers to keep a sceptical attitude towards your youngest plans, my lord." So many words for so less content. Osric wondered if the Strigoi enjoyed steeling time of their mortal clients by pointless statements. "These plans are yet not firm. The situation is changing from day to day. But we must take action soon." Osric could see the lifeless eyes of the vampire lurking out of their deep and dark holes:"Time lessens indeed for your cause. And so does any confidence. Our institute demands securities. While your success in the Kaliphlin war was with no doubt highly gratifying, this campaign offers very few capital gains." The rat's tail was winding in anger by that last comment:"It is not about profit. My cause is nothing other than the survival of the east. And for your business' sake this should be your request as well. What future will your it be for the Royal Bank of Nocturnus when the Spire triumphs? Do not forget that.". The Strigoi began to stare in a menacing way at the lord of Skavenport. His voice was now unconcealed in its snarling nature:"My lord... the Bank of Nocturnus has seen countless dynasties rise and fall. We have outlived wars like rainy seasons. We were always there. We have always been. Doubtless there could be found an agreement with lord Raavage. We are not bound to every day politics. For now, we rate your credit worthiness higher than that of the Black Spire. But evaluation can be changed. You better do not forget this. I will report your request to our council. Good even, my lord rat." It was late in the night, when Aethelrat and Dunstan arrived in the council chamber, finding their lord in deep thoughts. "I greet you, my bolt captains." Osric enjoyed the presence of these two, although not the reason for it. "My lord, whatever your decision may be, our men can be ready for march within two days." The man with the harsh lineaments stood ready to attention, as always. "I still haven't decided now, Dunstan. Things have changed as you will be aware soon." Osric went to the end of the long table, and made a gesture to follow him near the fireplace: "Three ravens, three messages. One is bad, one is good, and one is probably worse than the first. I haven't decided on this as well. Choose what comes first!". Dunstan was a soldier as loyal and brave as the most honoured Avalonian knight, but he jsut was a soldier. He could easily be overwhelmed by too much choices. "May I suggest, my lord, to act chronological." Aethelrat was more of a gambling nature. He loved to act in a posh attitude, but nonetheless as reliable as Dunstan. Osric tried to remember which raven had arrived at first. He was sure it had been the one carrying the bad news:" So be it. This one arrived in the morning. It came from a spy in Port Wrath. He reports the death of Lord Vladivus." His captains didn't seem surprised too much. Aethelrat spoke first: "I hear this rumour in every tavern from the Northern gate to the harbour. Our spy probably spent his pay on a beer in Port Wrath and picked it up from someone." The rat captain looked pitying:" I still don't believe it, my lord. How often did one hear word on the street that Raavage had been seen plugging your head on a pike. And you are still enjoying our company." "Our spy reports he saw one of Vladivus' own men selling his master's skull to a witch clan." It took his captains a moment to digest. "It...could still be anyones skull. It is said that most skulls in Historica are nearly identical." Aethelrats voice proved his self confidence a liar. "Perhaps. But it is fact that the lord of Shadowmere vanished, and until his return, may it be from exile or grave, he cannot help us. And this questions our whole campaign." Osric took the second letter, when Dunstan finally had found words to comment on the first one: "Lord, even if we lost lord Vladivus, there is still Shadowmere. We have pacts that must be fulfilled. I can not counsel you to remain in Skavenport." "Then hear now the second message, from Sultan's Gate: Pharao Ankh Mora'Raa gathers his forces in Kaliphlin and prepares for a march to the Darklands. He calls for every loyal man in the South to join in our fight." "Wonderful words, in my ears, although I wonder how many 'loyal' men he may find in his own realm." Aethelrat had found back to his regular cheerfulness. Lord Osric knew he now had to destroy this silver lining with the last raven: "I made a decision. After discussing the first two messages I am now certain that I find this last one even worse than the first one. While the lost of lord Vladivus is a great tragedy for Nocturnus, he is at last only one man. And this letter is about armies. The Drow have returned. In inestimable numbers. A plague upon these lands, they are spreading out of the ground from Scarborough to the Claw Breakers, And from the eastern sea to the Rakath." The two captains of Skavenport stood there with aghast faces, struggling for words. This time, Dunstan was the first ready to reply: "Is there any sign that these hordes are an ally to the Black Spire? Unlikely that so many of them would care about what is going on on the surface." "No, we have no information about their intentions yet. But there has never been something other than the lust for war. You know my position in this. There is no peace with the Drow. No coexistance. Only a decision: freedom or slavery. Survival or Extinction. Anyhow, we must..." "Mylord!". Osric was abruptly interrupted by an entering rogue and the impact of the door. For a second one could have seen the exp<b></b>ression of astonishment on Osric's face. But it changed immediately in calculated disapproval: "It seems that I missed out the council meeting that declared council meetings open for everyone to rush in and interrupt. What is this all about?" The rogue seemed embarrassed, struggling where to begin: "My lord...it is your law that every wizard, mage, sorcerer, witcher...every harnesser of magic must be recorded and reported to you." "So it is. I demand a weekly report. Weekly, soldier. So, for your own sake explain what makes this wizard such a special being that you felt the necessity to interrupt my small council? And unless it is Victor Revolword himself milking ale out of a two headed unicorn, I will be hard to convinced." Dunstan and Aethelrat had bother to hide their smirking. The poor rogue was certainly sure that he had done his duty exemplary. He responded: "I know, sire, but that wizard... when we found him, he immediately demanded being brought to you. He tells many weird things. About the Black Spire, lord Vladivus, and things about your fate." __________________________________________________________ As always, thank you very much for having a look. And of course for reading! Oh, and for those of you who did read all of it, here are overall pics!
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The Streets Of Skavenport Skavenport Furrier The great miracle of large cities is what holds together the jumble of dirt and noise and lunacy. Despite the heartfelt closeness between its inhabitants and their love for the city, the one thing that held together Skavenport was beer. And the finest beer to be found was the Skaven Ale. But only a few larger breweries were allowed to call their mixture Skaven Ale, strictly regulated by purity laws and selection of only the finest ingredients. Brewing day always followed baking day, when yeast still filled the air in the houses. The workers were in good mood and many a song could be heared throughout the city: The houses are filled by taste of bread so every man can tell its time to malt and cook and brew to have our Skaven Ale it keeps your heart warm and means you no harm our finest Skaven Ale! Once an old king layed down to die his devious heir enjoyed a jug full of ale and marrow came back made him raise and speak to him "there is still time to make a new son more worth to be a king!" And when my lady the day has come for me to say farewell slaughtered by axe, or stabbed by sword enchanted by a spell keep your last kiss cause all I miss will be the Skaven Ale! Such and many other ribald verses they sung, and they became very popular not only in Nocturnian taverns.
