Tales from Etheraz: November Event 2025 Recap pt. 2

Greetings, vandals, voyeurs, and voyagers! 

I, ATLAS THE BARD, must continue to tell a tragic tale, revealed to me by the Vault of Karna as I (and other) attempted to pass through a portal that would allegedly bring us back to the Arancis and away from murderous, magical monsters (and bring us back to NORMAL murderous monsters). This is a heavy tale, full of woe, telling the story of how the LORD COMMANDER BLAKKA came to rise to power, and how a mysterious trade caravan of House Chiropantre assisted his meteoric rise. In my previous correspondence, I left you all with the picture of Asher Blakka limping away to the woods after getting beaten and brutalized by his cruel brothers. Take a moment to remember that scene, as it changes everything… Perhaps if someone had had the ability to reach out, to follow him into the woods and extend some kindness, the future could have been averted. But alas, we are bound by what happened in the past.

Meanwhile, in the Chiropantre Keep, Yalan Chiropantre schemed on behalf of their injured best friend Asher. Spurred into action by Asher’s cruel treatment, Yalan thought they would instigate an (ahem) diplomatic meeting with Lord Chiropantre, politely asking for the reins of the House to be conferred unto them. Definitely not a soft coup. A diplomatic meeting. 

To accomplish this, Yalan approached the members of the trade caravan to have them be their instruments of change and get support among the House. Each member of the caravan had different loyalties amongst the house and walked vastly different paths. , their loyalties wavered and shifted as they maneuvered throughout the house. Some members aligned quickly and decisively with Yalan’s diplomatic perspective, and worked to pull strings to get political enemies quietly out of the way.  One member, Dante, managed to successfully blackmail Lady Chiropantre’s handmaid to be mysteriously ill that night, and therefore not there to oppose Yalan’s diplomatic talk. Another, Ferus, attempted to slip a sleeping draught into that night’s meal so the council chambers would be unguarded. Perhaps the most egregiously and violently unsuccessful was Silver, who forged a letter calling the Lord’s Castellan away from the Keep, and had her hand cut off when her deception was discovered. Though the meeting was intended to be peaceful, blood was shed nonetheless. Not every member of the trade caravan stood for peace, too; some, loyal to House Chiropantre, revealed Yalan’s plans to Lord Chiropantre. Jeff and Carven, two loyal footsoldiers, were amongst the loyal. 

Lord Chiropantre decided he could catch traitorsin the act. That night, the trade caravan approached the Chriopantre Council chambers in the hopes that they could “encourage” new diplomatic strategies  Though the Lord had let many of Yalan’s slights go in the past, enough was enough. Yalan was to be exiled, and their tongue cut out for their crimes. The type of power that Yalan attempted to yield — soft, relenting, and not addressed at the root of the issue — seemed to only make things worse. 

Before anyone in the chamber could react, there was a commotion in the hall. The sound of screams echoed, and something heavy fell to the floor. The Lord Commander Acharontia Blakka had arrived. With a slash of his enormous sword, he cut Julius down with one blow, calling him brother, and stormed into the Council room. 

Asher Blakka, former weakling of the Blakka family had transformed into something unrecognizable. Something powerful. Something that would never get beaten down again. 

The trade caravan, at this moment, had to make a decision. Would they stand against this figure who had come in and cut down the leaders of the House easily? Could they even do anything against him? The landscape of House Chiropantre was shifting rapidly, and the trade caravan had to choose an alignment. They could either slaughter alongside the Lord Commander, or be slaughtered. There was no secret third choice, no option that would permit them to object and create incremental change against the Lord Commander. If they wanted to live — and it seemed they did — they had to choose. 

It was time for the wolves to hunt. With a cheer, the trade caravan joined their new leader, and House Chiropantre began to fall.

The massacre was swift, but bloody. The Lord Commander made quick work of the Chiropantres, who fell at his feet. Waves and waves of Chriopantre guards set upon the Lord Commander and his new allies, but they were no match for the bloodshed. Here, the Lord Commander’s new followers proved their worth to the Lord Commander, striking down swaths of guards. Though the Lord Commander was powerful, he needed people to complete his task, and the trade caravan fulfilled their new roles excellently. In a mere hour, House Chiropantre had fallen, and House Blakka stood on its bones. 

It is here that I shall point out, dear readers, that this information did not just come to me in a dream or through the pages of the history books. The Vault of Karna presented this visage of the past to me and the group of soldiers known as the PC party on purpose. But for what? What wisdom did the Vault want them to gleam in this distorted mirror? Perhaps the party saw their inverse: people that in the face of great evil, they found empowerment in the violence. Contrasted to the many heroes and do-gooders in the party, the Vault showed a bleak scene. Or, perhaps we are to see the people who did what they could to change the inevitable, rather than support it. Regardless, the image of that poor, bullied Asher, coming back with a vengeance against those that hurt him, lays heavy on my mind.

And, dear readers, this is not the end of the tale. What of Silas Chiropantre, the heir to the House, who escaped the massacre by mere inches, and the other missing? What of the people, the brave, erstwhile people who resisted the Lord Commander’s rise when it was in its infancy? 

The Vault’s vision has not yet concluded, my friends. Though the end is conclusive, and we in Arancis must live with the consequences, there is more to the start of House Blakka than appears. For now, I must rest my quill and collect my thoughts. There is darkness before dawn. Remember, my friends: fight together, or die alone. 

Signed,

Atlas the Bard