Chronicle of House Palmor
When the Royhnar invaded, the old lords were swept away under the rolling war machine, but the clan known as the palf were one of the people who gathered fish on he shallow waters. The homeland appeared to be no more than a swamp, but keeping the fertile plains hidden the palf on their coracles stole forward and stole back the food and loot that were seized by the Royhnar.
Part of the legend was the palf lord wooed and married the river daughter, a woman whose skin was the colour of mottled turtle skin, this alliance was said to be the secret of the successful resistance.
This minor resistance became a major headache for the Royhnar, so much so that when the war was done the people were allowed to settle the land in their own right as House Palmor. The leader rising from a simple fisherman to War Leader.
It was a century after the Royhnar invasion and House Palmor was settled as a minor house of the Riverlands. The Lord at the time, Kemeil Palmor, was married to a woman from the small minor House Villeus, a woman named Desrean. All seemed well and the House was prospering, but Desrean wasn’t happy with her lot. Through intrigue and manipulation she rallied the people against the Lord and he was forced to step down and Desrean’s son took up the mantle of Lord Morgath Palmor. He was a cruel ruler and taxed the people heavily, keeping them under thumb by his strongarm tactics. It wasn’t until a stranger arrived in the hamlet that it came to light that Morgath was not of Palmor blood but the product of Villeus incest.
The citizens called for help from the outside to depose the wicked Morgath. A knight by the name of Adean Ryn pledged to rid the House of Margath. The citizens were filled with hope, but upon entering the keep Adean reported those that had called for his help, they were rounded up with their supporters and publicly executed by Adean himself. The people had put their trust in this knight and he had betrayed them.
For twelve long years after the people suffered and starved at the hands of Margath and Adean who became close friends until they and the Lady Desrean burned in a fire in the castle. No one knows who started the fire but the new Lord Tristan Palmor, Kemeil’s nephew, ruled benevolently.
Eight generations ago the eldest son of the current dynasty of our house found great Favour with the King. The King had a middle daughter – in every sense – who’s facial accomplishment left the royal family somewhat disappointed. Our lad was proffered through a range of tasteful intermediaries at just the right moment and the deal was done. A strapping lad wed to a woman whose face had once been compared to an unripe patangga nut! The King was delighted that his hence to forth unmarriageable daughter was wed and within a few years the children came. His honour was saved. As a consequence the family’s coffers received a health giving makeover, the influence of our family also rose.
Recent generations have been careful to see that the small folk have benefited from our fortune, yet, in recent years we have begun to see a rise in favour of other houses and new speculation about what might be happening across the seas has unsettled the court and that is never good news for those seeking to steadily build influence.
In recent years a wandering storyteller by the name of Pisceca has been seen and heard around our lands and on a few occasions in the lands of our neighbours. This strange and elusive man is remarkably adept at not being there when His Lordship’s men arrive. He speaks of unrest and causes unease with his tales. He is a concern as well as an embarrassment to us.
Pisceca is known to have three webs between fingers of one hand. Some say right, some say left. This along with his rebellious tone has led to speculation that he is one of the ‘Fish-folk’ from much earlier days and that he has come to call all of the Palf back to the first times. Whilst this would be annoying at any time, some of his mutterings are about bringing down the King. To our Lord this is politically unacceptable and worrying, in public at least.
Some of our neighbours have caught wind of his stinking fish breath and on one occasion, and there has been speculation he is a direct descendant of the river daughter as a result of this and his webbing! Some of our neighbours are reported to wonder if we have the king’s best interests at heart. This is only a step away from being accused of plotting intrigue and could also cause bad feeling amongst our friends.
It’s easily dealt with, if only we can find and catch the slippery little webber. We’d also like to know who is behind him, there lies the real intrigue.