Greenbriar
Exile
Mariapore, the Living City
Genre: Alternative
Name: Mariapore
Age: 382
Gender: Female
Species: City
Appearance: Mariapore runs for a mile along either side of the Ximanuan River, but only three quarters that in width. A walled port city, she opens at the mouth of the Ximanuan to face east across the Endless Sea and welcome the trading ships that make the voyage to visit her. She is a city of thousands gathered around a grove of trees atop a hill that form her living heart. The rich T'Aldennin merchants who call her home live closest to the docks on both sides of the river, while what passes for the imported nobility have their mansions on the north bank, by one of the three great stone spans that stitch the two banks into one great city. In most cases one has to go west to the artisan quarter to meet any of the Roldese settlers who created this place - or, all gods forbid, a native. Still she is the jewel of the western seas, and every dawn the chiseled stone walls fairly gleam with golden light.
While Mariapore is ever aware of the living beings within her walls and streets, it is unusual that she takes a personal interest in an individual or their family. Once in an age when this does happen (and she cares enough to do so), she can focus her energies to incarnate into a wraithlike human form. She can only hold it for a few minutes at a time however, at dawn and dusk.
Mariapore-the-spirit appears as a translucent fifteen-year-old girl clad in the ceremonial white gown she wore at her death. Her blue- black hair is bound in three successive rings of beaten gold, and flows in one unbroken stream down to the middle of her back. Small copper charms representing the sun, moon and the gods have been strewn among her locks, which almost cover the open back of her dress. Her eyes are a cerulean blue scarce faded by her current straits, and still appear as windows to her soul amid fine-boned features. In contrast, her white gown rarely comes completely into focus; glimpses of embroidery or bare feet become increasingly rare toward the end of her manifestation until the last things to fade are her eyes hanging alone in mid-air.
Personality: In her earlier years, Mariapore was cold and spiteful to those who lived within her bounds. She resented the manner of her beginning, and bent her limited reach to vengeance upon her murderers and their children, parasites living on her grave. In the last few centuries she has warmed to those who call her home; she treasures those who love her and work to strengthen and protect her, just as she hates those who simply want to use her for their own ends. She is lonely though, watching the business of the world whirl by while rarely ever having a chance to touch it directly. Once in a handful of generations she may find a favourite, and breathe secrets, tales and good fortune into their ear. Woe betide any who would hurt them.
Backstory: Born Mari Nicessus, she was brought up a daughter of the Seventh House of Rolde - a great mercantile power and city-state on the western coast of the largest continent of Pelosia. Rolde's peculiarity was that not only was trade permitted its aristocracy, but it was actively encouraged. A man's measure was in his wealth; in gold, ships, property and family. Mari was raised to be an adornment to her class, to hone her native wit with learning and to support her future husband at work and at home with all that she was. Her marriage was naturally far too important a matter to be left to her girlish whims, and she was raised to understand this so felt no great distress when at the age of thirteen the father she loved introduced her to her betrothed; Tristan Martyna, an illustrious scion of the city's Third House. Tristan was in his early twenties then - a fair smaller age gap than many girls of the nobility had to bear - but he was already very successful and ready to think about establishing a family.
They were to be wed on when she came of age her fifteenth birthday but unlike most older men, Tristan didn't simply show up on his wedding day but actively sought to build... if not love, then at least a friendship with his future bride. Through a series of carefully chaperoned visits he brought her tales of the world outside and the wide open seas his flotilla sailed in search of profit. He brought her gifts from each of the different ports at which he had made landfall, and soon Maria nursed a fervent girlish passion for him. Almost incidentally she picked up a version of recent history that her books and tutors had not covered; all those cities had not spontaneously decided to embrace the suzerainty of the T'Aldennin Emperor, but been conquered with brutal swiftness by this Friend and Ally of Rolde. So it was that almost alone among the well-bred maidens of the city, Mari was unsurprised when the T'Aldennin broke their alliance and marched on the city. The war between the veteran Imperial Army and the valiant city militia was short and entirely onesided. Though there were a few fierce skirmishes, the defenders were forced back and back until the city itself lay at the invaders' mercy. Many of the city fathers openly advocated for a surrender with honour rather than risk the sack, but there were enough dissidents with wealth and power that the night before Rolde dipped its banners in surrender one last fleet left the city, an exodus of those whose love of liberty was enough that they would sooner chase the myth of a land across the Endless Sea than bend the knee to foreign tyrant.
Mari's father and Tristan were both aboard the fleet that set out across the sea, and soon established themselves as its leaders. Aboard were a broad cross-section of the city's citizens, those who either had nothing to leave behind or who had enough portable wealth that they feared losing it. For sixty days and sixty nights the motley flotilla sailed west out of sight of land. Food quickly became rationed, and some of the smaller vessels turned back rather than face their inevitable doom. Others disappeared without a trace when storms wracked the convoy, but sixteen ships remained when the the lookouts finally sighted the far shore. Despite all that wind or storm could do they had washed up at a good natural harbour at the mouth of a river, and while most refugees were scouring the area for food and shelter Lords Martyna and Nicessus were planning to found a new city there. Rolde would rise again in new guise! It had long been tradition among the Roldese that when a new settlement was established a sacrifice would be made (sometimes as rare as an albino bull) but this was for the establishment of a new homeland! It had never been more important to ensure the favour of the Gods, and when the priests of Hudar were consulted they advised the only sacrifice that would be acceptable to the Gods; that of a young man or woman who was the soul of the city, and in whose honour it would be raised. The names were gathered, the lots were cast and through some ill-chance it was Mari Nicessus who was drawn; daughter to one lord and betrothed to the other! They each protested (as did Mari herself), but as one opponent raised, weren't they asking some other family to face the loss of one of their own? Why should Mari be spared, once the Gods had spoken? Grieving, Mari's father finally assented and spoke to her of her duty to her people. She loved her father, and though terrified she eventually mustered her courage and went to her death with what tearful grace she could. Mari was slain that morning, her life's blood spilt over the new city's foundation stone in a cluster of trees overlooking the sea. Her body was shrouded and placed deep within the earth, but she knew nothing more until over sixty years had passed and both Tristan and her father had long gone to dust.
Mariapore was named for the blessing her people believed her sacrifice conferred on the city, but there is a world of difference between personal sacrifice and personal, sacrifice. When the spirit that was Mariapore awoke, her mind was still filled with the horror of her demise. Within a day she had gone from cherished and on the verge of a happy future life to browbeaten and bent over a rough stone slab by those she trusted, then the sharp pain in her chest... The city awoke in winter, and the chill of the city was nothing compared to the cold in her bones. She could feel them, hundreds of them, parasites wriggling around in her carcass. Having them there itched at her, and though her mind was as yet hazy the winter lasted longer that year. The cobblestones seemed more slick, the ice readier to turn a hoof or twist an ankle. The spring trade winds came and filled sails across the seas – but not at Mariapore, where the winds inexplicably seemed to avoid the city for days at a time. The summer sun beat down across this new land, browning the waving grass as far as the eye could see – but at Mariapore the air was still and stifling, only a rare sea breeze making it into the streets. These transplanted colonists were nothing if not stoic, rowing their vessels far enough out to sea that they could fill their sails and enduring weather so harsh that some spoke of being cursed. Over the years as her awareness grew, Mariapore’s living heart softened and she began to relent.
She became aware of the memorial shrine that had been raised to her, and the hereditary priesthood held by her family's descendants - but more than this, she learned the pulse of life that ran through her streets. The morning ritual of the bakers and apprentices, then the flow of humanity out into her streets. No sooner had the artisans and tradesmen settled into a haze of productivity than the merchants and sailors emerged to buy, sell and drink. When the ladies joined the busy throng in the market square, she enjoyed a buzzing sense of excitement that lasted for hours, and when at last everyone went home in the evening and the sun slipped below the horizon she felt a draining sensation, kept only awake by the carousing of the sailors in her waterfront taverns. Then the sun would rise again, the bakers and apprentices would rouse themselves and the whole dance would begin again. These people were no longer parasites in a corpse, but the blood in her living veins. Mariapore came to care for those who called her home, and to help them when she could. The winds always favoured a Mariaporean ship close to port, and men joked that they could sail home blind merely by following the movement of the waters and the wind's sighs. When the natives grew restless and there came an attack on her new walls, the city herself bolstered her defenders and fought alongside them. Sometimes she would bless a person throughout their lives, and some swore they'd even spoken to her; whether they believed it or no, tales began to be told of the Living City that cherished those who lived within her.
Then Mariapore fell in love.
Olver Martyna was a fortunate man. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth - a scion of the oldest House of Mariapore - he wanted for nothing but always dreamed of more. While other boys his age could be found training at all hours with sword and shield, he put in the time required of him then disappeared to the walls overlooking the sea. He watched the vessels come and go, but even when there were none to be seen he would return there, staring out over the waves until one sunset she approached him. "What do you see out there, that draws you so?" "I see our history - and our future," he replied absently, before spinning in surprise. No woman stood there, having snuck up on him unawares; instead there stood a wraith, the spirit of the city herself. They spoke for a few minutes of inconsequential things, before she disappeared into night's shadow. But the next sunset they met again. And the next. He told her of his dream, that one day the empire their forefathers had fled would come across the Endless Sea in search of them - and that this city of traders was no more ready to face their Imperial might than it had been before. He spoke of centuries-old records, and she corrected them with her own living memory. She urged him to do something about his dream, and watched with pride as he set about doing just that. He worked hard and after years of twilit conversations became the youngest Archon of the city since his illustrious ancestor. He spoke openly of preparing the city for the conflict he saw coming, and while some in the city expressed their fears and doubts, Mariapore had long since lost her heart to him. He looked uncannily like Tristan, save that he actually listened to her, appreciated her - and in turn she could refuse him nothing.
When he needed wood for his ships and the traders nearest the city seemed reluctant to sell their entire stock, she whispered in their ears as they slept. When they woke, they were much more amenable. While the shipwrights were eager to accept all the extra custom, when the city's coffers began to run dry, Olver met the shortfall with his own funds. When even the coffers of House Martyna dwindled and it seemed as though the Archon's grand dream would fail, he miraculously found a lost treasure in a coastal cave. Truly he was one of Mariapore's blessed, the city whispered. Maybe he was right?
As time would prove, he was.
With the spring came the T'Aldennin, lured by tales of the city's prosperity and its half-legendary past. Olver called the city to arms while Mariapore filled her people with whispers of martial glory. The people of Mariapore faced the invader on land and sea with weapons of steel and fresh-built ships. With Olver at their head they fought, bravely - and they died, bravely. Olver fell on his flagship, fighting against waves of Imperial Marines. Mariapore breathed the last broken vessels home into her harbour and the skies wept with her loss. When the T'Aldennin fleet approached the harbour she saw in their ensigns the symbol of all her loss and Mariapore exploded with grief and uncontrolled fury. Hurricane winds came howling down out of the grey sky and scattered the nearest ships while a whirlpool bloomed outside her harbour and began slowly spinning towards the chaos. It cost the enemy almost a dozen elementalists burned to a husk to face down the Living City in her fury, but their last and greatest spell shattered her mind and she faded into a thousand rainbow shards of memory.
This winter Mariapore came aware once more, as faded and absent as she was when she first awoke as the city. She can feel the Mariaporeans in her streets and buildings. She can feel the odd presence of the natives, trading rather than raiding - and she can feel her T'Aldennin overlords as well.
Now Mariapore has relearned how to hate.
Other: I created Mariapore for the character challenge (after listening to those three songs far too many times) but the more I write about her the more I'm excited about the idea of playing out part of her story. Maybe I can play out the romance of Olyvar and Mariapore? After September 25th, obviously.
Inspiration: It didn't come to me right at first; I didn't even know which set of songs I was going to use, but on my second or third run through (all) the songs I hit MGMT's Kids and heard the phrase: "A family of trees wanting to be haunted". Instantly I thought about a ghost haunting a circle of trees... or a stone circle... which led me to thinking about druidic sacrifice (because, of course!). Reading into the song more, I felt the determination and upthrust chin of a character facing adversity and refusing to let it get her down. "Memories fade... like looking through a foggy mirror..." yes, I drew a lot more inspiration from this song than I expected the few times I listened to it.
Marina and the Diamonds' Savages I more drew on for the background for a war that wouldn't leave her alone (the T'Aldennin), her best efforts with Olvar blowing up in her face (since by readying the city for war they brought it to her shores) and "all the hate coming out..." which helped me to focus on the powerful emotions she's been through in her life (before and after her rebirth). Finally Two Birds on a Wire I had to listen to quite a few times before anything leapt out at me... and then finally it inspired the romance of the piece. Olvar is the young bird ready to fly away, ready to dream his big dreams and see the world. Mariapore is the other, who wants to be with him... but won't (or can't) leave the city that is her self.
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