No one but a charlatan claims true knowledge of the future, but some can get
glimpses. Whether they are remnants of Mammons fallen sphere, or the gift of some other divinity, or the simple ability to make better assumptions from the state of the world, there are those who are never quite surprised as the worlds turning.
Oddly enough, few of those gifted with the ability ever gain true power. There are many proposed reasons for this, but the one that, perhaps, is the most telling claims that they do not desire power because they know what will happen if they take it. Some other facet of their being makes them undesirable as leaders, no matter if they can see the effect of their actions better than others.
There is a second realm of thought, however. It claims that these people do not take charge because they know that no matter what they do, it wont change what happens.
You Cant Be a Good Samaritan Without a Poor Sap
Throughout Erebus, heroes and villains of all kinds have heard of the Bannors plight, and for one reason or another have made a great exodus to the area. Some the richer, the luckier, the more intelligent filter in by sea.
Others take the land route
which for the most part becomes the underground route, leading directly to a shallow grave. The Clan does not like trespassers. However, a large percentage of the landgoers are skilled enough (or lucky enough) to make it past the lines.
The Bannor, on the other hand, will take whoever they can get. Many of the immigrants are great heroes and warriors, pledging arms to battle some others are common criminals, who quickly resume their old trades and nearly as quickly become volunteered to the front lines. Both types of man are useful.
All nations of the world besides the Clan and Bannor lose 300 population.
The Clan loses 1000 population.
The Bannor get one Demagogue healed fully.
War What Aint it Good For?
The Ljosolfar/Svartalfar border, while never exactly a pleasant place to be, has been especially plagued by skirmishes of late. It seems that whatever the decisions of the national leaders, the common peasants of each side are quite willing to begin the old feud once again.
Both elvish nations lose 1000 population.
Staying for Another Drink
The Svartalfar troubles with pirates continue.
Svarts lose yet another 1000 population
thomas, its just not your day.
Karimir gets another ship.
The Suns Too Bright On Sundays
The Balseraphs giant party was a rollicking success
but those few who make the ridiculous claim at staying sober through it are beginning to spread rumors that some of what happened seemed beyond even Balseraph capability. That some of the ponies were unicorns, or that some of them were jumping a fence, or that some of them were just damned weird. These people have been swiftly abducted and taken to the nearest bar, then forced to slam a half-dozen shots. Theyre not really coherent anymore, so no worries!
Balseraph Partygoers get a bonus point of Strength, due to
something odd
more drinks all around!
Its Not the Swine Flu, Is It?!?!?
Disease has struck Erebus. Starting from the southern Luichirp lands, and swiftly spreading north into the Ljosolfar forest, people begin to sicken and die. Curiously, the plague seems to be relatively limited in scope; it extends quite far on a north/south line, but it very narrow east to west. However, many ignore this fact, and instead everyone anywhere close to the infected areas begins to panic.
Luichirp and Ljosolfar lose 3000 pop each, and a temporary .05 to productivity
And Because I Say So
The Murderous Rampage Begins
It started on the island of Tinstamel. Perhaps it was a Sidaran creation that escaped even their magical mastery; perhaps it was instead a Sheiam demon loosed on the world. Perhaps it was something entirely different. No one know for sure, since no one with the experience to guess is long dead.
It took a mere week for the first thousand to die. It took three months, and thousands more, for it to end. The last handful of survivors, shellshocked and bloody, look to each other for what comfort they can get, and rejoice that they still live and the enemy does not. Or so they think
For the enemy is not dead. Just recuperating, hidden on a pirate ship headed for points south. He knows that the survivors think him dead, but it does not bother him. They did not gain victory over him; he simply got bored with the game. Plus, that island had run out of alfalfa.
One survivor, who was perhaps a little more perceptive than the others, does not celebrate as the others. Instead, he has begun a great project: a lighthouse and watchtower, to do what he can to guard against the terrors return. So that none may forget, he inscribes its name upon the door: Bun-bun
The Sheiam and Sidar both lose 20% of their population
this is, partially, for my own entertainment, and partially because theyre both nonessential NPCs anyway.
Who am I kidding? BE AFRAID, nations. Be VERY afraid
