Gilded Dispatch 02

The second dispatch from Springfield Autumns in the Gilded Sands campaign, proceeding GS03 – COUNT DOWN. Originally posted as a Google Docs document.

## Dispatch

*Things are about to get ugly, here.*

*It’s all over the news in Dodona: the judges in orbit have listened and declared that peace is inefficient and untenable. The Golden Canopy has been thanked and dismissed, now serving as a meek diplomatic corp to the ascendant Narkissos Root - or should I say, the Argent Canopy. To hear the stiff giving the press conference, this is Tribunal innovation rising to meet the inevitable tragedy of war, but that’s all spin. Those in the know say this is a political coup orchestrated by the Iris, whose zealots have been itching for an excuse wipe all the ‘superstitious’ off the face of Aureate for ages now; this way, they get their purge, and Narkissos gets a blank check budget as the foremost Dodonan military engineers on-planet.*

*Unsurprisingly, the Terrenons are thrilled with this development. Selamis Hogen has fought hard to keep the peace, but the Dynasty has never favored its politicians - not when there’s glory to be won on the field and blood to be spilled. They’re barely holding onto everyone’s leashes at this point, and if Selamis doesn’t back the Uldraths when their Templar launch their crusade, Gerea will have her head and her throne within the week. Our stranger in beryl has gone missing - perhaps they miss Berek, stars rest the fucker.*

*Pesok is fit to boil over, but then isn’t it always? I’m hearing all sorts of rumors about why, but Stervat Services is done, gone, dust-o’ Toporik Jet either wiped em off the map or got framed for it, and nobody has the story straight. Conspicuously absent is their beloved scrap rocket, their ticket off Aureate, and the good money is either on Dunyasha or the Baron keeping it nice and safe… which reminds me, I need to make a trip out to Vedro day after tomorrow.*

*[ATTACHED IMAGES: a Dodonan propaganda flyer scraped off a wall in Kleidos, advising the reader to report any superstitious action to the nearest Iris bureau, defaced with a pair of overlapping circles - the sigil of Two Moon Cry, a Satellist vigilante effort; the door of a bakery somewhere in the Peregrine District of Vow, with an image of a bisected crown crudely worked into the wood; a grainy photograph of the Grand Colosseum obscured by tarps, clearly under construction and hidden from view; a selfie of Dispatch-Captain Springfield Autumns leaning on a rusted railing somewhere out at sea, crowded by smiling Nadezhdans]*

*I’m thinking about Fugue a lot these days. It’s not the heat that kills me, not even the lack of moisture - my hair actually looks great, considering where I’m sleeping - but the lack of green. Sure, the Dodonan breadbasket has its fair share of scrubby grasses and safe crops, but I miss the hills, just rolling on like someone painted ‘em. I miss not being the only idiot stomping around in a big astronaut suit - even Langley, though I still wanna break her nose. I miss my moms, and I bet they’d be stoked I get to see the holy moons every night. I talk to them every night - Severyn and Samara, not my moms, though I wish I could - wishing they could reach down and help folks out. Aureate’s been hurting for a long, long time; she could use a hand up.*

*Instead, she’s just got me.*

*-Dispatch-Captain Springfield Autumns of the Aureate Dispatch, the so-called “Lonely Banner”*