Last night the People of Magincia held a vigil to commemorate the fourth winter since the Magincian War: the eve when the Daemonhost of Bane – and the Imperial Fist of Lord British – turned upon citizens of the Isle and butchered them in their beds.
Visitors were treated to a toast and invited to sample Magincian wines and wares during the event.
Lady Zellinous – the hostess – invited both Magincians and Britannian rivals to approach the dais and share their memories of Old Magincia. Good and Bad. Below is a sample of the speaches heard during the evening.
“Autumn leaves drift and scatter, the moment our world was turn and shattered.
The air, even here, has a chill bite. It is the time then lives change and the world dies for a time. It is the hour when the Daemonhost – with their vicious claws and infernal magicks – tore our world apart.
…with the aid of very human Paladins.
Tonight we commemorate those lost in what seemed the blink of an eye. A reality two months in the making …a Hell for them no dimension in the Void can match.
To be Magincian means to have Pride in something greater than onesself. We are crafters. Healers. Magic Wielders. But most of all, we are a people of a common thread, and common blood. Let us be silent for a time: that our ears might hear the still small whispers of those who died defending their homes. Our home. Let us be silent for those innocents murdered in their beds by Daemonic Claws and Britannian Swords.”
– Lynne Zellinous, of the Magincian Council.
“Magincia, all made of marble. A fine place.
Let me tell thee a tale. Once upon a time, in the corresponding spot near here, there was a couple in love. (L O V E, that spelleth LOVE.) Their names were Gilmour and Jixxa.
Seest thou this building and environs which stand behind me? These correspond to a great degree to the little chapel on Magincia, where these two lovebirds tied the knot. ‘Twas a delightfully showy wedding. There were stairs to the roof of the chapel, and the wedding was held on the roof.
At that time, I was a Pink Scorpion. And the Scorpions served as Groomsmen for Gilmour. ‘Twas long ago, in the heyday of Avalon… and of Magincia. Scorpions Forever!”
– James, of the Mage Tower and Servant of Queen Shieba.
“There are some who believe that Humility means lowering onesself. And bowing low. I am like totally here to remind one and all that Humility truly means knowing who and what you are, and living that to the fullest. No shame. No pretenses.
In this sense of the work, Humility, may the City of Humility stand forever…”
– Fern Goodfellow, High Councilwoman of Britannia.
“I did not know I would be delivering a speech tonight, so I will not bother you long. But I will share with you some personal memories – thoughts – on what happened, four winters ago.
You see, the Priests and Ecclesiarchs proclaim Magincia was destroyed for its Pride. Its Sin. That our forefathers, debauched and decadent, were unworthy of life. And that we are damned, unless we bend knee and embrace the Virtues.
Yet how many times has Britannia been invaded? Do we curse Haven, and call them heathens, when their city was burned to ash? What of the Paladins of Trinsic, whose ‘holy’ city was raised to the ground by Juo’nar more than eleven years ago? Do we desecrate the grave of your Queen Dawn?
No. We don’t. We honor those who have fallen. And remember their sacrifice.
Magincia was destroyed not long ago, and like a phoenix it has risen again. Stronger. Strong enough to claim our rightful place in the world.
We do not stand in opposition to Britannia. We stand as its equal. We will soon find out if Britannia feels the same way about the Islanders.”
– Dante Lamperouge, Merchant of Magincia.