Episode: The Sack of Bastion
Posted by Story on 12/24/21
Autumn in the Compact is a season of reaping the result of Spring's planted hope. Grain is harvested and stored away for the winter. Fruit and vegetables are plucked from stems and branches, both to be savored in the moment and treasured as protection against hunger when the air turns cold. Yet, there are few harvests as eagerly anticipated as the harvest of a season's grapes and the promise that they hold within those exquisite, tiny globes. The promise of warmth and celebrations to come for wine flows liberally through the Compact's veins and serves as the backdrop from weddings to births to funerals.
The Mercier vineyards located near Ashford holdings are some of the most lucrative in the region, if not in the Compact despite fierce competition from Lycene and Pravus vintners. Yet, this late in the season, the grapes remain on their vines long after they should have been harvested, fragile and delicate with the risk of the coming chill. They remain there, filled with potential, even when the Merciers' neighbors come to investigate their holdings after the sounds of horrifying roars pierce the stillness of an Autumn's night. They remain there, coated in the blood of the bodies that are scattered about the property, most of them in pieces.
Though the vineyards remain untouched, the house and the buildings are in shambles, coated in horror. All that remains of the holding are the ripened vines while what is left of the workers that so lovingly tended to the bounty rots in the Autumn sun.
The Mercier vineyards located near Ashford holdings are some of the most lucrative in the region, if not in the Compact despite fierce competition from Lycene and Pravus vintners. Yet, this late in the season, the grapes remain on their vines long after they should have been harvested, fragile and delicate with the risk of the coming chill. They remain there, filled with potential, even when the Merciers' neighbors come to investigate their holdings after the sounds of horrifying roars pierce the stillness of an Autumn's night. They remain there, coated in the blood of the bodies that are scattered about the property, most of them in pieces.
Though the vineyards remain untouched, the house and the buildings are in shambles, coated in horror. All that remains of the holding are the ripened vines while what is left of the workers that so lovingly tended to the bounty rots in the Autumn sun.