The tension had been building between the Rebellion and the Royalty since the Empress and King arrived in Falton. Seeing the storm approaching, the Royalty had purchased the services of a formidable army. Yet, the army was not so large as to turn the Rebellion from their mission.
In the afternoon of a crisp autumn day, the Rebellion began to execute their plan and attacked the Royalty Army with heart and soul. Though an outsider would have considered the Royalty Army to have an overwhelming advantage, the fervor of a hired hand seldom matches the fury of one who feels their land and life are at stake.
Just as the battle got underway, the town was up-ended by the onslaught of a pack of werewolves and their Troll (the Ancient Yuletide Carol) master. It was mayhem as the quiet streets of Falton have seldom seen.
Instinctively, the Rebellion and Royalty Army banded together against the Troll and the werewolves. The monsters made a mighty stand, but as the Troll master was beaten down, the werewolves retreated to the hills. It was at this pause in the mayhem that there occurred a most unexpected turn of events.
In the quiet of the moment as the Royalty Army and the Rebellion paused to watch the mighty Troll fall to the ground, the Empress, who had been fighting alongside her army, was betrayed from within her own ranks. A hired hand she thought of as a trusted confidant, turned his sword upon her and took her life.
As she fell to the ground, a stunned silence fell over the field. First the Troll and now the Empress? This was beyond comprehension. As they watched the earth gently embrace the fall of the Empress, they noticed a wave of peace sweep over her and into the surrounding grass. They watched as the weight of the stress of leadership gave way, and the gentle beauty returned, that had once been known to launch a thousand ships.
Finally seeing the true intentions of the Royalty Army, the Rebellion felt unified with the Army. And yet, in this moment of seeming victory, both bands felt an unexpected sense of sorrow. The cry of one of the Rebellion leaders simultaneously strengthened the unity and dissipated the sorrow. Everyone knew the worst was ahead when they heard, “Watch out, he lives!”, as the Troll was seen staggering to his feet.
When the werewolves saw the Troll continuing to fight in spite of his injuries — as at times only the slow of wit are able, they raced from the hills to aid in the fight. After many blows, bruises, bludgeoning and blood, there was a lull in the battle that the Chief Werewolf seized as an opportunity to propose a truce.
Wary of a trap, the townspeople encouraged the Captain of the Guard to engage in dialog with the Chief. Surprisingly, given the weapons in hand and the smell of death in the air, the differences between the races were quickly resolved in favor of a harmonious partnership. It was agreed that almost any solution that resulted in no more bloodshed would be preferred to the present state.
This dialog ended with cheers from all as the Captain and the Chief embraced. The jubilant celebration masked for many the concealed dagger in the Captain’s left hand, and the lip curled over the two daggers that the Chief used for teeth.
With this embrace, the curtain fell on the evening. Many are celebrating the union, and yet some are left wondering how this embrace will end, and what will yet become of Falton. Join us in 2016 to live the rest of the story.