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Category:The Crimson Moon: Difference between revisions
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A knock came at the door, and she pulled herself from her thoughts, walking over and squinting to make out the form of the driver. Once assured that was who it was, she opened the door and nodded as the driver said, "Seer, its time to go. A storm is coming." Reaching behind her to grab her bag, she cringed a little as her muscles protested weakly. "Here, let me get that. You're still recovering from the poison and we've a long ride ahead of us." Hoisting the bag into the back of the carriage, the driver helped the seer into her seat and climbed into his, cracking a whip to set the horses to moving. Ahead, a crack of lightning forked through the dark, rain-filled clouds and it began to rain lightly just as they took off. The driver glanced up at the late afternoon skies and murmured to himself, "I hope it ends before the moon rises.." as the carriage disappeared down the trail to Wehnimer's Landing. |
A knock came at the door, and she pulled herself from her thoughts, walking over and squinting to make out the form of the driver. Once assured that was who it was, she opened the door and nodded as the driver said, "Seer, its time to go. A storm is coming." Reaching behind her to grab her bag, she cringed a little as her muscles protested weakly. "Here, let me get that. You're still recovering from the poison and we've a long ride ahead of us." Hoisting the bag into the back of the carriage, the driver helped the seer into her seat and climbed into his, cracking a whip to set the horses to moving. Ahead, a crack of lightning forked through the dark, rain-filled clouds and it began to rain lightly just as they took off. The driver glanced up at the late afternoon skies and murmured to himself, "I hope it ends before the moon rises.." as the carriage disappeared down the trail to Wehnimer's Landing. |
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==Preparations== |
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09/15/2011 02:53 PM CDT |
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"Place it over in a pile with the others, please." |
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Nilandia pointed to the sacks of grain and the delivery man added a new addition to the growing heap. She murmured her thanks and pressed a few coins into his hand as he left. Sweeping her gaze over the accumulated foods, she smiled faintly. Almost all of the supplies had arrived and soon they could make the journey. |
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This trip would have to be taken soon if the food would help the people in need. Subarl, a village south of Ta'Vaalor, was afflicted with a disastrous famine. The cultists had taken advantage of the situation, promising food and relief to those who joined them. Averting hunger would bolster the people's resolve to resist the darkness. Or so she hoped. |
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Returning to the desk, Nilandia began to compose a series of messages to send to her many contacts. The more people who could help transport the food and contribute their own, the better. Several people had volunteered, including a storm mage to bring rains and help the failing crops. All that was left was to come together and make the journey. If all went well, she would be back in time for her other work to begin. She had just placed the seal on the last message and sent it for delivery when the next delivery arrived. |
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==A Letter To The Combined Liabo Forces== |
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09/16/2011 12:14 PM CDT |
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To All Who Seek to Protect the Innocent and Hold Back the Darkness: |
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We all stand strong in our Faiths and desires to what is right in the face of mounting aggression from the Loronites. Yet even as we strive to stand firm under this crimson moon we find ourselves often divided. Bickering over the proper course of action has become the norm and it cannot be allowed to continue if we hope to persevere. Our personal opinions, wants and egos must come second to the greater goal in this conflict. It is with this in mind that I propose a leader for our unified forces. While we all must have our say we need someone to ultimately make a final decision. From this point forward the Delcian, Ronan's Chosen, speaks for me as well. I will follow his lead on non-Military matters regarding the Crimson Moon and Lornonites. On matters of battle I defer as always to the ranking members of the Militia. I encourage others who would not hobble us due to their own pride to do the same. |
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By My Own Hand, |
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Brinret Ithillote |
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Lord High Inquisitor |
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Hand of the Huntress |
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Militia Scouts |
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==A Night of Preparations== |
==A Night of Preparations== |
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Outside, the contention of guards stood silently and stoicly at attention, their eyes fixed upon the clearing and above as they kept watch for any signs of disturbance. As the snap of the old seer's fingers extinguished the lamp, the subtly glowing trail also shimmered into darkness, revealed no more to the passerby. |
Outside, the contention of guards stood silently and stoicly at attention, their eyes fixed upon the clearing and above as they kept watch for any signs of disturbance. As the snap of the old seer's fingers extinguished the lamp, the subtly glowing trail also shimmered into darkness, revealed no more to the passerby. |
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==Missions of Mercy== |
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09/19/2011 07:55 PM CDT |
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The wagons' low drone echoed throughout the morning as a constant accompaniment to the travelers' steps. Some walked beside the carts to guard the cargo against bandits and other mischief, while others guided the animals pulling them to their destination. In the midst of it all wandered a young sylvan woman, endlessly checking on some detail or other. Weeks of preparation had come to fruition in a journey to bring food to a starving village south of Ta'Vaalor. |
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Thunder rumbled across the sky, drawing gazes upward. The sylvan cast a glance over to the dark elf sitting atop a pile of grain sacks, his arms lifted skyward. She smiled. The storm mage was starting early. She paused to check with the paladin traveling with the party, ensuring the food was kept fresh and unspoiled, before returning to her seat next to one of the drivers. |
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The village was silent as they entered. Children and adults stood and stared at the entering party, as if not able to believe what they were seeing. The carts circled in the village square and the travelers surrounded them. Now was the time of greatest danger, as hunger drives all people to desperation. Silence settled on the square for two heartbeats before chaos erupted, quenched only by the rains that had been so desperately needed. |
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......... |
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A caravan of empty wagons slowly returned to Ta'Vaalor with the exhausted party. The sylvan made sure to thank each traveler personally before she continued on to her apartment in Ta'Illistim. She arrived to find a stack of unread messages waiting for her and sighed. Then she saw the seal on the message at the top of the pile and she immediately picked it up. |
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"The work begins," she murmured. "And not a moment too soon." |
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==Aiding the Landing== |
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09/20/2011 11:38 PM CDT |
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Early in the evening, the townsfolk of the Landing were heard to report that jackals were circling the city. The defenders gathered to fight off the threat, but were surprised to see that the jackals were weak and not very numerous. Sheruvian cultists were also observed. Chanting was heard, particularly from the southern end of Lower Dragonsclaw, and a jackal-headed totem was discovered. |
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Ivasian cultists joined the Sheruvians as the defenders began to work on destroying the totem. Only sorcerers' disintegrate had any effect, and interfering with the totem resulted in the person being poisoned, but it eventually was destroyed. The Ivasians vanished, but the Sheruvians persisted and drew attention away from the Landing. Eventually, a figure was seen in the sky that appeared to be controlling the cultists, and with a few gestures from the figure, the cultists vanished. (It's possible that it was Azorlok, though it wasn't explicitly stated.) |
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Soon after things quieted down, it was noticed that some places around the Landing had been defaced. The statue in the park, the bank and the Thrak inn had all been vandalized with Lornonite graffiti. The tent in the park had also been painted and pushed over enough that it could not be entered. The food from the cart in the park had been tossed aside and spoiled, while the cart was carved with the message, "For those in need, find solace in the shadows!" |
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A group of people gathered to try to clean up the graffiti, and after some trial and error, most was removed. The cart and tent were deemed not able to be saved, but the statue, bank and inn were all cleaned. As they were working, Myke gathered signatures of support for his petition to rebuild and strengthen Shanty Town. It was also heard that the cultists had broken into a supply of weapons and armor to steal most of what was stored. They had also poisoned the well's water supply and had disrupted the supply of healing herbs. |
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It is suspected by some that the cultists are attempting to remove the Landing's ability to support and defend itself, but plans are in motion to counteract what has been done. |
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- A discarded glass vial of what is suspected to be the poison introduced into the water supply was recovered and is being studied to create an antidote. |
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- Water is being distilled to supply the people in the meantime. |
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- Empaths are being contacted in the guild to grow herbs. |
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- Herbalists in other cities are being contacted to ship the potion herbs to the Landing. |
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- Forgers are requested to begin making weapons to replace the stock that was lost. |
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- Armorers in other cities are being contacted to ship new sets of armor to the Landing. |
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- The merchant's guild in the Landing is being contacted for the name of a reputable contractor to replace the food cart and tent in the park. |
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It is suggested that all in the Landing keep a close watch of their surroundings in case that more attempts to sabotage the city are undertaken. |
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==Dream a Little Dream== |
==Dream a Little Dream== |
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"Very well, you have my word that I will take breaks." she acquiesced. "And.. you'l use the gloves." the cleric added, prompting a nod from Yuratlya once more. "Good. Now take a day to rest, and then you can travel back tomorrow once you are looked over." he continued, and then turned to give instructions to the empath as to Yuratlya's care for the remainder of the day. "I'll be back to see you tomorrow, seer. Rest please." he said as he exited the room, and she was ushered back to bed by the empath, who eased her head to the pillow and placed a cool rag on her brow. Yes..rest.. she thought to herself as her eyes fluttered shut, the gloves still clutched in her small hand. |
"Very well, you have my word that I will take breaks." she acquiesced. "And.. you'l use the gloves." the cleric added, prompting a nod from Yuratlya once more. "Good. Now take a day to rest, and then you can travel back tomorrow once you are looked over." he continued, and then turned to give instructions to the empath as to Yuratlya's care for the remainder of the day. "I'll be back to see you tomorrow, seer. Rest please." he said as he exited the room, and she was ushered back to bed by the empath, who eased her head to the pillow and placed a cool rag on her brow. Yes..rest.. she thought to herself as her eyes fluttered shut, the gloves still clutched in her small hand. |
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==Translation Begins and Luukosian Attack== |
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10/06/2011 04:54 PM CDT |
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The seer Yuratlya has been working with her assistants on translating the Dark Requiem for the past few weeks. |
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The meetings with the seer proceeded quietly the first week, though she began to show signs of fatigue and illness on the second week. She begged time to rest on the 27th, which was readily given. The next meeting, on the 29th, went quite poorly. A guard arrived in the park and notified all present that Luukosians had located where the work was being conducted and flooded the area. The seer had been spirited away unharmed, but the Luukosians had erected a shrine in the area. The guard requested help in purging the location. |
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After everyone was prepared, Hraus led the group to the location, and they were met by various Luukosians as well as snakes, worms and other sorts of creatures. They appeared to be led by a cultist who was involved in the kidnapping of Myriamie June 28th (named Abran but I don't believe the name is known), who claimed that those present would serve Luukos that night. Myke killed the cultist twice and fogged him to the Voln monastery, though it seemed to have no effect. Instead, he spoke Luukos' blessing on several people. |
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Instead, all those present dropped one by one to the Luukosians save Caden and Nilandia. As much gear was collected as possible and the dead were returned to the Landing to begin healing and raising them. Requests for help resulted in the arrival of two priests of Lorminstra who likewise did not give their names, but appeared in game as Aldrik and Pyali. They assisted with the dead as they could, and Aldrik also cleansed Luukos' influence from almost all who had received it. Pyali then told those gathered that many trials lay ahead, but emphasized the need for coming together in a unified effort. They departed, but pledged continued assistance should it be needed. The night remained quiet after that. |
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The seer remained resting after the attack until last night, October 5th, when she arrived in the park to meet with those who had volunteered to assist her. She recounted her her work with the text had taken its toll on her and left her vulnerable to Sheru's influence. Indeed, she had been unconscious for two straight days, afflicted with nightmarish visions until the priests attending her had managed to dispel them. They had also provided her with a pair of gloves to lessen the hold the tome had over her. Reluctantly, she had assented to their demands that she rest and take food and drink. |
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After some confusion to whom would follow her, she retired with her assistants to resume the translation work, which continued with few troubles within. A few difficulties were noted outside, but not enough to disrupt the translation work. |
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==Creepy Lornonites== |
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11/09/2011 08:47 AM CST |
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Last night while Mithogras, Ephelysse and Delcian were in the Rivers Rest commons they began seeing movement in the shadows, each one started to see different things. Delcian heard a mocking laughter in his heard and then the scars on his face begaun to hurt. |
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Ephelysse and Mithogras saw the other with an odd look in their eyes. |
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A chilling laughter filled the air before a shadowy winged figure was seen in the air. |
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==The Crimson Runs Freely== |
==The Crimson Runs Freely== |
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~Elanthian Inquisitor |
~Elanthian Inquisitor |
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==Darkness Returns== |
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11/10/2011 08:08 PM CST |
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On the evening of November 8, people experienced a series of strange experiences. As Delcian mentioned, some people saw activity with the shadows, or a winged creature in the air. Others heard laughter, or had their skin feel like it was on fire. |
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In the park, Nilandia sensed an entity of such overwhelming malice that it sent her reeling. Soon after, Seremela appeared to be overcome by terror and went rigid. Her eyes became black and a deep, cold voice spoke through her. The voice first began taunting Nilandia, but moved to other people. The voice targeted Shilarra, claiming that she had served 'us' so well and that her deeds were of 'Me' and not of Imaera. It also stated that the seer (understood to be Yuratlya) trusted Fjalar, but wondered if Yuratlya knew about Fjalar's wife Sadan. |
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Over time, Nilandia told the entity to leave Seremela so they could speak directly and Shilarra spoke rather belligerently to it. The voice responded by threatening harm to Seremela. Shilarra persisted, and Seremela's throat constricted so she began to choke. Nilandia was thrown to the ground when she attempted to help Seremela, who succumbed to death soon after. Seremela herself returned upon her death, but seemed to have no knowledge of what had happened. The night was calm after that. |
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The evening of November 9 brought attacks upon a few people in various places. |
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A man named Uckle was outside the Landing when he noticed a bloody mist following him as he moved. It tripped him just outside the gate, and he made his way to the park. He found a hiding place, but the other people there noticed the mist dissipating from the shadows where he hid. |
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Hraus was hunting near River's Rest when he heard scraping sounds. They were accompanied by an overpowering stench and the sound of undead creatures moaning as they crawled out of the ground. He was then attacked by undead men and women either missing eyes or with crimson eyes. They were noticed at one point to pause and face the crimson moon, but they continued to attack as more people arrived. A chill wind blew during the attacks, but it ceased as the attack died down. |
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Soon afterward, however, Kalyse was hunting arch wights on the Plains of Bone near Ta'Vaalor when the ground shook and she fell. Wolves and wolfshades appeared soon after, which she was able to handle easily. The creatures grew stronger, however, including rotting warriors and a shaman corpse, until she was wounded and forced to fall back. Other people arrived soon after, but the creatures soon vanished. |
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Ukon likewise reported troubles on the coastal cliffs and a similar attack was observed near the mausoleum and the wrecked village. Others arrived to assist and the attacks dissipated soon after. |
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==Crops Diminishing, Supplies found Ransacked== |
==Crops Diminishing, Supplies found Ransacked== |
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~The Elanthian Inquisitor |
~The Elanthian Inquisitor |
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== |
==...and the Roltons Did Swarm== |
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11/18/2011 12:04 AM CST |
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A short time later.. |
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Trudging to the south-eastern corner of the town square, Myke released a loud grunt as he dropped several more rolton carcasses off outside of the general store and called inside, "Megorn, I'd say we'll need another couple of salt barrels. I'll go grab Dakris before he leaves for the night, I'm sure he'll have no problem lending a hand butchering these roltons. I'll add the meat to the stockpiles." |
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Pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow he mumbled off-handedly, "Great idea, Philnia." |
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==The Impending Frost== |
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11/19/2011 04:40 PM CST |
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A lot had happened while he was away, and from what he could tell not a whole lot of it was good. The rifts seemed wider, opinions more varied, and the opposition to the Lornon threat appeared to be wavering. He couldn't blame them. The tactics that were being applied were textbook. Jaired idly scratched the tips of his fingers into the dark stubble under his chin, his eyes intent as they studied the documents and maps scattered across the table. It was time to finally settle back in as the Marshal. He'd blown a few of the surrounding sconces out to put the Keep's library in a dimmer light. The dark always helped him think. There wasn't enough food to feed them all, and the placement of the Minotaur's forces were perfect to maintain a blockade by land, and a blockade by sea seemed the next logical step. It was going to be a very long winter. Sure, they could find other ways to survive and live off of the land... but for how long? There were too many. The prophecy had given him an uneasy sense of inevitability. |
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His first thought was to simply go underground. The writing was on the wall. When winter came and all of the food was gone, and all of the water was spoiled... those that had not already given in to desperation would seek salvation wherever they could find it. Those loyal to the Crimson Moon would be ready to offer it. In time, anybody still opposing them would be seen as the enemy. If they'd just stop fighting and give in, everything would be fine. Those that fought would be blamed for the actions of other men, and the thirsty and the dying would believe it all. He'd be targeted along with anyone beside him, made out as villains... and summarily dealt with. And everything would be fine... for a time. Until the last ounce of resistance had been squelched or relegated into mere insignificance. Then everything would change and the true intentions would be made clear. This part was textbook as well. |
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If they went underground and worked in secrecy, he could avoid much of that... but only for so long. Eventually they'd just be painted in the same light and rooted out. Although... it did give him an idea. His hands brushed aside a few worthless documents until he pulled free a rough map of the catacombs and set it beside a more detailed map of the Landing. One stockpile would be reckless. They'd need many. They'd even need some that they'd be willing to sacrifice. He quickly snagged up his quill and began sketching out various key locations that would be most suitable. He'd need someone to look for alternate springs of water as well. Then he began writing out various proposals to present to the town Officials, as well as to various guild leaders. Stockpiles would need guarding, supplies would need smuggling, spoiling food and water would need purifying, new resources would need scouting, and herbs would need growing. There were many roles that needed to be filled. |
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He had to account for spies. He was counting on it. They'd endure as long as they could. He even began flirting with the idea that they may succeed, but that was not what he was planning for anymore. Many would suffer, many would die, and eventually... they may very well fall. He grinned a bit in spite of himself as he dropped the quill to the table to give his ink-stained knuckles a well deserved crack. At least they'd go out trying, or at least that is what they'd make it look like. The prophecy was what it was, but if someone knows where a stone is going to fall, it doesn't mean they have to catch it. He'd spent enough time planning for the inevitable. It was time to start planning for what came after. |
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Where to start... |
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==Organization== |
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11/20/2011 02:57 PM CST |
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He leaned back, half-seated atop a ramshackle pile of crates at the edge of Shanty Town with a hand fishing into the ornate eonake tome case on his hip and fished out a pair of parchment rolls. Unfurling them in his hands, no sooner had he set about starting to peruse them when he heard the creak of cart wheels and the local teens he'd grown so used to employing arrived with the small cart full of supplies. |
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"Ah, I'm glad you kids are here. Good to see you Bolivar," he inclined his head to each of them in turn, "Yand, Teress." The trio were eager to help, and followed adventurers passing through the area about with that perpetual gaze of admiration and envy. |
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"We got the extra wood and barrels you wanted, Lord Myke!" Teress and Bolivar spoke over one another, both eagerly declaring the same sentiment in so many words. Yand was already eagerly unloading them beside the small cart. He looked over and saw the papers Myke seemed to be looking over and inquisitively probed, "What's that? More supply lists?" |
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"Mm? Oh, no, Yand. One page is mostly scribbles, so I can keep track of the supplies we've gathered so far. Not encoded per se, but just something to jog my memory and help me recall what we've gathered so far. We've got the barrels for Laethia's garden idea, we just need to halve them and set them aside for when we fix up the homes, Mayor permitting. Then we've got the food stores.. rolton meat, crops, and some other notes." |
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"Oleha had a great idea to supplement the foodstores, we've no shortage of water, so I want to run with her idea and get some crude fishing poles made and passed out. Folks can fish steadily, even in winter, and we can pack the fish in salt to preserve them longer." Slipping a small piece of charcoal from his cuff, he made a few marks on the page as if to make a note of that. |
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"What is the other page, sir?" Teress timidly made her way closer, hands folded behind her back and long slender neck craned to peer towards the pages in his hands. He shuffled the first page behind the second and looked it over with features hardening into a look of concentration. |
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"Well, the second pertains to matters a bit less easy to manage. We've got the town to consider, but this overall problem extends far beyond it and we can't just wait and react to everything that unfolds. They're going to find new ways to make life hard for us and we need to anticipate it. We need everyone willing lending aid and feeling like their beliefs and views are respected. Someone not long ago told me, you have to lead people the way they need to be led. You can't just bark orders and expect people to care. Right now.. I'm just trying to find the people who will answer the call to help win this war for balance. Then, we need to make sure everyone is being used properly, and to their satisfaction. After that, we put it all into action and see if we can't turn the tide." |
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He sighed slightly. He knew he was reading off steps he might never come close to actually bringing to life, but the logic was sound. He'd learned a great deal in that capacity, growing as a leader, but a leader he was not yet. May never be. But people had to remain unified, and he had to do what he could at every turn to win this war. Too many people would suffer far worse if they failed, and anything less than his all was a failure of commitment. He had faith they would succeed, he needed to make others believe. |
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"We need to gather the people who want to make a difference, and give others reason to believe a difference will be made. That a difference IS being made. We can't force people to care, to help, or to believe.. but we can do what we feel we must and hope the example gives them reason to believe of their own accord." |
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At this point, his awareness of the trio's presence seemed to dim, he was speaking almost to himself. Reassuring himself perhaps? Repeating for clarity? Who knew. His thoughts were clearly burdened by the matter, "We have to lead, not push." |
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But would anyone rally? Would they all just straggle about doing what they felt they had to separately? There were still issues lingering in the pit of his stomach. So much to do, and it felt like they had so few resources.. |
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Resources. "Hmmm." He stood, pushing the pages away into his case and closing the lid. "You kids keep unloading, I need to look into something." |
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And with that he was off. But to where? |
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==Dilemma== |
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11/21/2011 03:43 AM CST |
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Lydanis felt the guard's pulse - weak and erratic but persistent. Though taciturn and grudging in his respect towards a Master of the Order who openly wore the symbol of his devotion to the Lord of the Hunt, the fellow was known to be reliable and Lydanis doubted that simple intoxication was the cause of his unconscious state; there was a strong odour of cheap brandy about him, but a cursory examination had shown that it rose from his clothing and was not detectable on his breath. |
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Rolling up his cloak as a makeshift pillow, Lydanis made the guard as comfortable as he might and was setting off to find one of the monks to aid when something in the thick vegetation near the moat caught his eye. It was a small glass vial, intact and filled with a clear, viscous fluid. He picked it up carefully in a gloved hand and stowed it in his belt-pouch for later examination. |
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Some hours afterwards, in River's Rest, he handed over the vial to Lord Mithogras. It was unfortunate that the Lady Ephelysse was unavailable, since neither her father nor her daughter fully trusted Lydanis. They had justification, to be sure - he had caused them considerable trouble in the past - but he would sooner have confided his discovery to the Lady herself. To his sorrow, even the Daughter of Andelas who companioned Laethia treated Lydanis with gruff disdain. |
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Still, with the exception of the grumbling Shadow, they listened with guarded courtesy as he told of the morning's events and of the batch of bad bread that the Monastery's cook had blamed on the local miller. It was true that the consignment of flour most recently delivered had a greyish colour and a musty smell, so much so that Lydanis had queried the cook's judgment in using it. Questioned by the Grand Master himself, the man had reluctantly owned that on the morning in question, he had overslept and the dough for the day's bread had been prepared by an apprentice. Further questioning revealed that the apprentice had not been seen since that morning. |
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Feeling that the good monks had been sufficiently alarmed for their present safety, Lydanis had privately decided that the vial in his belt-pouch need not be produced to trouble them further, at least until expert assessment had confirmed its nature. |
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Lord Mithogras agreed that he would pass the vial to his daughter for detailed analysis, though concurring with the assessment Lydanis himself had made, that it was some form of concentrated toxin. He went on to inform Lydanis of much that he had missed in his travels to Ta' Nalfein on Temple business; the recent spate of poisoning of foodstuffs and water around the Landing and Solhaven, and the rising fear that the Crimson Moon's adherents meant to starve the citizenry into submission. |
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He and Laethia even suggested that Lydanis might find it advisable in these times to be less open about his own affiliation, since many would assume that a servant of any Immortal but those of Liabo was aligned with the enemy. |
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Clearly, no self-respecting Paladin would lightly discard the symbol of his Patron. Still, mused Lydanis as he made his way back from River's Rest to the Temple at Solhaven, it would not be a simple matter to persuade those who stood against the Crimson of his good faith should he offer his aid in purifying water and foodstuffs, or in guarding supplies against contamination by stealth. Surely, there must be some way in which he could help - but would he be given a chance, or would he simply find himself staring at the walls of a cell until someone decided that it was not worth feeding a suspect? |
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==Getting the Ball Rolling== |
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11/21/2011 06:43 PM CST |
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Myke was busy this morning, in particular he was currently at the herbalist's in Wehnimers. |
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"Alright, here are the copies of the notice, Syiah. If you could get one to the heads of the Empath Guild it'd be great. I talked to some of the local healers, but we need to make sure that we've got a steady source of herb production incase any stores get destroyed. With any luck they can commit the guild to stockpiling and guarding some large stores. Talk to Surtey and see if he has any thoughts on things, if you would. Stay safe, too. If you catch wind of any more cultists hassling the other shop keepers just send word and I'll do what I can." |
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With a wave he was off, moving through the busy morning streets with a distant look plastered over his face. His thoughts were in a million places at once, and it was only a dim awareness of the tension in his face that made him realize he probably looked a bit angry. He had a tendency to have a natural scowl that formed when he was focused, and when you are a massive heavily-armored giantkin toting a flaming black claidhmore over one shoulder, that's not always the best for reassuring the townsfolk. Trying to shake it off he smiled a bit at a passing family, but the moment of detachment from the gravity of the situation was enough to remind him of just who would suffer if they all failed. He turned down the nearest street, Stormarm. Stepping aside into the back alley of Helga's he reached up and pulled off his visor. |
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It all seemed to crash in at once. A bead of sweat formed at his brow, and while a voice in the back of his head calmly stated 'All will be well', a torrent of thoughts washed over him. Were they taking the proper steps? Were they doing enough? Was he making sure enough people understood what was taking place? Had he forgotten anything? ...The pressure he fought off with confidence and faith was closing in. His hand instinctively lifted to his chest and found the small white shield amulet there. His thumb rubbed over it, and a faint corona of white light blossomed around its edges. |
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"They will be fine. We will protect them.." |
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The crippling anticipation began to fade. He knew he had a habit of attempting too much, too quickly. There were allies now. Their numbers were growing. He was taking the Seer and Hanos' words to heart. Rhyssa had taught him to choose his words more carefully, and not push.. |
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It was as he told the others.. if they set the right example, others would follow. |
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All would be well. |
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Sliding his visor back into place, a relieved sigh escaped his burdened chest and his posture straightened. |
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"Stay focused," he muttered to himself, "There is more work to do. It's time to find more help." |
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==Calling a Meeting== |
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11/22/2011 04:37 PM CST |
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After a series of discussions, several adventurers are calling for all to gather in the meeting hall of the Militia Keep, the evening of the 27th at nine in the evening. All are encouraged to attend to help coordinate relief efforts for the crop failures and anticipated upcoming famine. |
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==Lighting Candles== |
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11/27/2011 04:33 PM CST |
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A single night away, toiling as he had been. A single night away and he felt as if he had let his home down. All of his efforts felt momentarily inconsequential, even with the dim lingering knowledge that his presence would likely not have changed anything. He stood side the weatherworn grey marble statue of Rone Wehnimer and surveyed the park.. the rosebush Aurorah had made blush so long ago decaying to the west in the niche. The ground befouled. The knowledge it would happen made it no easier to stomach. Word had only just reached him of Dyhne's passing, and rumor of Azorlok's presence the prior eve. |
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It was hard to know just what to feel. Rage? Was it worth keeping his temper in the face of such infuriating adversity? Depression? Could he even hold fast to the hope that all would turn out for the best? The odds had grown so steep that they felt like less than a mouse cornered by a cat. It felt as if they were little more than a flickering candle seated at the core of an eternal and endless void. It simply waited for the wick to burn down. A flicker, a puff.. and they would be gone. The consideration sat cold in his chest and for only a moment his eyes grew distant. |
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A flicker of movement drew his attention. It was not there in the park, but distant. It was to the east, and it danced not within the gaze of his stormy blue right eye, but the paled gaze of his left. Insubstantial and hazy, the world faded pale as the colors bled. The spiritual realm lay before his gaze and there beneath the temple was the flickering light of a trapped soul. A lesser shade beneath the temple. |
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In the moment he found himself walking the streets of the town until he stood before the shade, there in the catacombs beneath the temple. As the rather pathetic little undead swung out at him mindlessly with that rusted short sword, he stepped aside and drew a glowing symbol in the air. There upon the stair he watched as a white glow seperated itself from the lesser shade's body and rose, accompanied by the sound of joyful weeping. |
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It was just that simple. There was no emotion to revel in. If all there were was a candle, then their job was to shed light as best they could in the time afforded to do so. Turning, he ascended back into the Temple proper and made his way back through town. He paused to hand a passing runner a letter produced from within his tabard and a brief instruction to deliver it to the Mayor. A few coins exchanged hands and he was moving once more. It was not until he reached the town square's center that he stopped to look around. In just a few hours their intended gathering would take place. They had known this day would come, they had known the darkness would close in. |
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It was time to light the candles. |
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Renewed Resolve - Warning the People |
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11/30/2011 12:12 AM CST |
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A bundle of wide wooden planks under his arm, his hammering could be heard late into the night. They weren't much, but it was a start. His incessant hammering finished, he left the well and made for shanty town. |
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He prepared the boards as he moved, stuffing one halfway into his tabard at an awkward angle and clasping one between his hands and looking it over. He grimaced slightly at his hand-writing. It wasn't terrible, but it was certainly not the most even or well-made sign. He set about hanging the signs around his adopted corner of town. |
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One sign read: "Warning: Town Water Tainted. Seek Distilled Sources. Help is here." |
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Another depicted the town well with an arrow to the water and a skull and crossbones over it. |
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Yet another read: "Warning: Lornon Plague Spreading. Food and Water Tainted. Help is coming to provide from stores. - Lord Myke" |
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Finally, a sign with less of a warning and more a reminder, "Unite. This is our home. Strength in Community." |
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The last of his signs hung for the time being, he sat down outside of a nearby hut. The second his posture slouched he felt the fatigue and weight he had been struggling against crash against him. His eyes closed and he dozed off almost immediately there in the slums of the town. Sometimes, Ronan was a truly merciful ally. Just a few moments rest.. There was more work to be done. For now, he felt he needed to be here. |
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==Destruction to the Blood-Seeker== |
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01/29/2012 11:03 PM CST |
01/29/2012 11:03 PM CST |
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Revision as of 18:55, 17 March 2023
The Crimson Moon
Chapter 1: When Shadows Bleed
Introduction
A prophecy has become known to the world, called the Dark Requiem. It dictates that five of the Lornon Arkati have chosen to come together to usurp Liabo's rule over the world. Led by Sheru, they are Luukos, V'tull, Mularos and Ivas. As the Lornon Arkati become more active, their adherents have likewise become bolder in practicing their faith. These cultists seek to bring the prophecy of the Dark Requiem into reality by recruiting converts, invading towns and cities, kidnapping people and enacting sacrifices at shrines erected around the world. Overseeing it all is the moon, stained crimson each night since the troubles began.
The Lornonites' activities are opposed by many different factions. Among them are Liaboites of many affiliations, joined by neutral parties seeking to restore the balance of the world as well as people seeking to protect the towns and people they care for. The opposition is aided by a gnomish seer and a human rumored to be a member of the Warders, a militant and often-reviled sect of the Order of Voln believed long dead.
Important People and Terms
Information partly supplied by Naionna
NPCs
Yuratlya - first appeared 11/2010 in WL, formerly blind gnomish seer, claims not to work for any side in the conflict Hanos - first appeared 03/2011 in SH, rumored to be a Warder Sedrygin - first appeared 03/2011 in SH, cleric of Koar, name unknown in game Aldrik - priest of Lorminstra, name unknown in game Pyali - priest of Lorminstra, name unknown in game Erim - NPC from previous storyline in 2008, father of Piperel Piperel - also called Pip, NPC from previous storyline in 2008, daughter of Erim, known as the "Herald," deceased Ydos - first appeared 05/2011 in TI, liaison for Scribners, name unknown in game Ningrint - first appeared 05/2011 in TI, Scribner, keeper of ancient artifacts and knowledge, lich, claims Ronanite sympathies, name unknown in game Carhn - Champion of V'Tull Naja - Champion of Luukos Azorlok - Avatar of Sheru Isium - Author of the Dark Requiem thousands of years ago Arcathis - Luukosian cultist Shezzaka - Sheruvian cultist, name unknown in game Abran - Luukosian cultist, name unknown in game Aibri - Luukosian cultist, name unknown in game Deirhge - Luukosian cultist, name unknown in game
Player Characters
Delcian - human priest of Ronan, named a Chosen of Ronan, torture victim Taeghan - Squire Legionnaire of Ta'Vaalor and paladin of Ronan, named a Chosen of Ronan, husband of Myriamie Myriamie - Nalfein with no known religious affiliation, wife of Taeghan, sacrificial victim Hubris - giantman knight of Ronan, named a Chosen of Ronan Nilandia - sylvan mentalist and telepath, named a Chosen of Lumnis and the Keeper of Knowledge Myke - giantman paladin of Voln, claims affiliation with the Warders, strongly urged by Hanos to become a leader of those opposing the Lornonites Jaired - Tehir, Lord Marshal of the Militia, close friend of Pip, currently missing Isanae - sylvan empath, sacrificial victim Caden - Dhe'nar sorcerer, ally of the Lornonites, released Azorlok from his imprisonment Terms Dark Requiem - prophecy written by Isium, zealot of Sheru, which contains a chain of events that results in the rule of Lornon, currently being translated Warders - militant sect of the Order of Voln, said by some to be heretical, believes in killing the people who use or create undead as well as releasing undead Elanthian Inquisitor - in-game newspaper, periodically publishes issues with information on the current events
An Invitation for a Moonlit Dance
06/28/2011 03:35 PM CDT
Strange winds blow this evening and all who have interest in the Rising of Lornon storyline are encouraged to be around this evening around 10:30 pm Eastern. This is a rough starting time so please keep that in mind if you accept our invitation to come dance with us in the blood-hued moonlight!
Another Sacrifice
06/29/2011 10:00 PM CDT
Last night after the crimson moon became active, Myriamie was patrolling the Vipershroud when she was kidnapped and taken to a Luukosian altar. As the rest of the people took up a search for her, Taeghan sensed the torture inflicted on her through his bond to her. Nilandia also attempted to make contact with her, only to be met by another entity forcibly and painfully silencing her efforts.
In time, Hanos located Myriamie's body and gave directions to finding the hidden temple in the area. He saw to her while the others fanned out and searched the temple. Two of the cultists who had participated in the torture were located. Myke attempted to kill them, but was instead killed by Naja. Taeghan would later kill the cultists.
The people in the temple soon left, only to be confronted by Naja leading various snakes. It was a quick skirmish, and everyone was brought back to the Keep. There, Hanos bristled at the barrage of questions and comments aimed at him, but still revealed some information he had.
- The gnomish seer, known OOCly as Yuratlya, has been poisoned with a rare snake venom. She is not dead, but is not doing very well. - Hanos searched for sign of the Scribners, who may provide crucial information in locating the Dark Requiem, a scripture believed by some to be the words of Sheru which contains the prophecy that may be coming to pass in the crimson moon. - Hanos set up a meeting this Friday night at midnight outside Ta'Illistim that may be a lead on the Scribners.
After what Hanos considered continued badgering, he left for the Voln monastery, possibly not having shared all he knows.
As always, copies of the report are being sent to various cities, the captain of the Sapphire Guard, Lord Urmeil, the city of Nydds, and any of her other regular contacts.
The Meeting
07/02/2011 10:08 AM CDT
Last night a group met with a "young" half-elf named Ydgo, who opened a portal that lead them to a meeting with a Scribner (the name escapes me at the moment) he agreed to give us the Dark Requiem if we give him something of value in return. He requires the lid of a destroyed urn. The group searched through out the catacombs and found nothing, after a long evening of searching Delcian grew tired and was starting to fall asleep while on his feet.
While in a sleepy haze Delcian began to see images that lead the group to a shrine where they found a shard of the urn and dust that had recently been disturbed by an orc, after searching the area it was decided that a bard was needed.
The bard sang to the shard and saw the event that lead to it's destruction, he also sang to the dust which revealed that an orc had recently been there and did in fact have the lid the group was looking for. The group gave chase but the trail went cold as they reached impassable terrain.
The group decided it was best to wait till morning when the trail might be easier to see in the light.
Recovering the First Shard
07/03/2011 12:43 PM CDT
To remind of recent events, the Liaboites are searching for a text called the Dark Requiem. They were led to a group known as the Scribners, and on Friday night they were finally able to meet with one. The Scribner, notable as being dead but also holding Ronanite proclivities, demanded the lid of a destroyed urn in exchange for receiving the text. Clues were uncovered to its location, but the trail became impassable from difficult terrain, halting progress.
The afternoon of July 2, the treasure hunter Khlat met with people at Hearthstone and revealed that he knew of a mountain climber that might help with getting around the obstacles.
Later that night, adventurers met with the mountain climber, who provided giant spiders with huts on their backs to help the climb. Exiting, they broke through a barrier of brambles before moving on. In an outcropping, a shard of what is assumed to be the urn lid was recovered. Jackals and serpents also attacked the group after the shard was located. With nothing else found, the group returned to the Landing.
During the climb, however, there was significant strife among those present. Jesphian attacked Jaired, only to be killed later during the chaos of the skirmish with the jackals and serpents. Shilarra also was noted to be quite waspish along the way.
Not long after the shard was recovered, the gnomish seer (known OOCly as Yuratlya though her name has not been given in game so far as I know) appeared in the park. She had been disturbed by the great distress she sensed from other people that night and ventured out of her bed, despite still suffering from the snake venom she had been poisoned with.
As people arrived, Yuratlya began to address some concerning their weaknesses that may be hindering them. She advised the people to take advantage of the resources they had at their disposal. She noted that the people had a Keeper though they did not use her. When pressed for the identity of this Keeper, she indicated Nilandia, whom she had earlier referred to as a Keeper of Knowledge, and said that she had only recently discovered her need after walking the path for months.
Yuratlya also told those gathered to trust those around them and work together, for they had until then continued to work as individuals rather than as members of a group. She told them to listen to their instincts, and not to be afraid to make a decision of the course to take, for no perfect path lay before them. She then departed with Fjalar, who sensed that she was in danger and acted to protect her.
Crimson Whispers
07/08/2011 12:26 AM CDT
Blood red eyes peer at you from the gnome as he glances your way. You could swear he bears fangs. A faint whisper reaches your ears, the voice deep and almost gutteral as it says, "You can't avoid your fate.. you will be broken soon enough. Talking to the Priest will not help, it is an excersise in futility." A shudder of cold washes over your skin. The voice continues, insistent and unwavering, "Look at how he mocks you. He does not understand, he is wrapped up in his own goals. A priest? A priest would sympathize, attempt to comfort you, not snap fingers at you as if you were a child. You can find comfort here with us.. give in." The voice comes again, this time low and with a lulling affect as it whispers, "Yes...." "He does not understand, none of them do. There is no help. Not even your precious Brinret has stayed for you. You are alone. We will comfort you. We will not bark at you when you fear, we will embrace your fears. Together.. " comes the voice. "See, he mocks you. Yet this is your friend. Consider it, Shilarra.. you know we are right.." and then it fades.
The Ritual
06/30/2011 10:51 AM CDT
Player Log
Taken
08/08/2011 08:15 AM CDT
Player Log
Delcian was taken from Helga's Tavern in the evening, after being tortured for a time he was found stunned outside of the North Gate. As others found him and tried to heal him he died while reaching for Taeghan.
For now Delcian is recovering from his wounds both physically and mentally as he tries to come to gripes with his deformity.
Defenders Come to Assist
08/13/2011 04:01 PM CDT
Late this afternoon, a temple guard was spotted outside the trail to Voln near Wehnimer's Landing. Shortly after, several paladins of various faiths began showing up, occupying the area as well. The warriors of faith continued amassing, in Lower and Upper Dragonsclaw, and some moved on to fight the Illoke in the Badlands. While their cause seems related to the recent struggle against the Lornonites, their orders are unknown.
Tacked to the Wehnimer's North Gate
08/19/2011 03:50 PM CDT
Under cover of the crimson moon, a young boy rushes to the north gate of the city and removes a parchment from within his bag. Carefully unrolling it, he pauses a moment, catching his breath as he leans against the gate. A few passing locals give him a strange glance, considering his age and the time of the night during these dangerous times. The boy merely smiles, his eyes giving an unusual sparkle that the close observer would notice as magical in nature. After a few moments or rest, the boy completes his task and the result is a thick parchment, smudged from the elements' effect upon it and tattered at the edges, nailed securely to the exterior of the north gate of Wehnimer's Landing.
Giving the parchment a brief read, the boy nods and pulls his cowl over his face, disappearing into the crimson-hued shadows of night with very little effort. A nearby local man, having watched the curious occurance from the safety of the Wayside Inn, wandered out after the boy had gone, and took a look at the notice. Widened eyes were the response to what was read, and hurried footsteps into the city quickly followed as he too, disappeared into the misty, crimson-shadowed streets.
"The Shadows await their payment and are growing restless. If you have the required exchange, make your way to the designated spot this coming Day of the Huntress, the 26th day of the month, at half past the tenth hour. As usual, the boy awaits you."
On pale blue paper
08/22/2011 11:24 PM CDT
Player Log
>The paper's high quality and obvious expense, the ink's rich color, the beautiful blend of elven handwriting and human curvature in the letters will simply be ignored by those with the ability to appropriately understand the simple words: "The Marshal's father is Palestra. "The Light and Shadow shall yet mix. "Charl bless, always: "Nixandrea Peyroux Dagon Nalfein" >The paper is otherwise unmarked, save for the green pin holding it tightly to the North Gate of the Landing. Nixxi is beyond reach from her usual haunts. "Whut? Mis Nix? Ah ain't seen 'er today. Nut like 'er," the fisherman of Mist Harbor acknowledges uncomfortably. "Usually 'ere at least f-four times a day. Usually more." He frowns. "Nut like I was, y'know.. watchin'.. er anything. Just.. yup." >The subject is then changed towards the weather and the coming winter.
Blinded by the Light
08/24/2011 07:43 PM CDT
[Solhaven, Mid-Morning]
Recovering a bit more each day, she has finally reached a point in the healing process where she gets up daily and walks without assistance. The days are hot and bright, even as she wanders past the docks where the breeze from the sea brings a bit of relief from the humidity. She savors them, though. Too long she felt no heat in her flesh as the venom's effect took hold of her very core. Many healers labored over her in an effort to help, and most of them brought some little bit of comfort, truth be told. But noone had been able to decipher the source of the poison. Various herbalists and alchemists came to look at her, conversing with the healers and studying her in great detail while she lay fighting internally. There was never a conclusion made, only conjectures and possibilities. She was not sure that it would ever be figured out, but she had managed to beat it and that was what she cared about at the moment. Sometimes, the path of her life took her down dark roads, but never quite as dark as this. Still, she clung to her convictions and the faith that she was on the right track, as she'd been directed her entire life.
As a child, she'd been deemed 'marked' by the locals as one who would foretell of prophecy. This was such a mixed declaration for her family, and for her, if she were honest. On one hand, it was amazing and exciting to know that you could be the vehicle for the Arkati, and indeed even for the more mystical powers that are not spoken of except with others who have the gift. On the other, it was a lonely life and filled with obstacles and difficulties that noone could help her with. She would have to be strong, and perservere to make it down the path chosen for her. There would be those who scorned her, called her demoness and declared her a fake, or worse, a harbinger of evil. There would be those who did not understand, and by nature, people always fear what they do not understand. If she were honest, sometimes she did not understand either. But she did not need to understand. She just knew it would be what it would be, and that is what she was meant to know. Rather subjective, but honest. And if she were nothing else, she could be called honest. She never lied, and she never tricked. She always gave the news she had to give without anything coloring it. Sometimes, she could not say everything at once, as it was not given to her in that fashion. But she never withheld, nor lied. It just wasn't how it worked. Convincing others of this was no easy task. And so she enjoyed these moments when she could walk outside in the sun, away from the darkness that had been with her most of her life.
A group of men and women robed in sanguine silk with emerald lining crossed through her path, stepping past her with ease as they chatted amongst themselves. A quick flick of her eyes took in one's appearance in its entirety and she noticed the pewter pendant shaped into a stylized wisp of smoke. Further down, her gaze took in the thin emerald band on the woman's finger, engraved with the same wisp as the pendant. Another quick glance noted that the others wore the same things. "Ivasians.." she thought to herself, and nodded as she continued on her walk, though now not quite as leisurely as before. "They have come into the light in full, it seems." she murmured to herself and her companion, the guard sent with her by the church, shot her an inquisitive glance. "Oh, nothing. Just an old woman's ramblings." she said, forcing a smile to her wrinkled visage as she hobbled on. Once she reached the healers' abode, she nodded to the guard, who nodded in turn and took his leave of her once she was safely to the steps. As she closed the doors, another group passed nearby - this one smaller than the last and comprised of three young women and a single young man - their robes of crimson linen chained with onyx-set bloodjewels and their black scimitar-shaped medallions dangling from their necks. Though, she noticed, one of them was clad in something different - the young man she realized - he was clad in a pristine ivory robe with bloodjewels edging the sleeves and a blackened steel chain suspending a glass-encased petrified heart. "Oh. They are now mixing together openly as well.. Yes, I need to get to my notes." she thought to herself, closing the door behind her as she watched the group walk away from her window, none of them concerned about being seen in the slightest.
The Light Sworn
08/24/2011 09:44 PM CDT
Player Log
An Exchange Concluded
08/27/2011 05:45 PM CDT
The evening of August 26, a group of people met with a Scribner once more to make an exchange that had been promised before. They first met Ydos, a boy whose eyes betrayed a greater age. Ydos held a brief discussion with those present, including an attempt to get Delcian to acknowledge that there was room for grey in his black-and-white world view. Delcian refused.
Ydos opened a portal to a sanctuary where the group met with the Scribner Ningrint. Both Ydos and Ningrint were not named in game so their names would most likely not be known. In a brief meeting, a half-circle shard that had once been the lid of the urn Caden used to keep himself young was given to the Scribner. The lid had contained an inscription that was of interest to the Scribners, who themselves were dead and appeared intrigued by magic that could keep a person young.
In return for the shard, Ningrint gave the group an ancient tome said to contain the Dark Requiem, a prophecy written thousands of years ago by a zealot who believed himself the vessel of Sheru. It is believed that the Dark Requiem prophecies a series of events that are now unfolding under the crimson moon, culminating in the rule of Lornon over Elanthia. These events follow a specific order, but if the series is disrupted or prevented, the final rule of Lornon is also prevented. The book just received is believed to be the only copy of the prophecy, so possession of it is quite significant.
Despite the presence of Caden, the exchange went off without a hitch. Ningrint informed the group that the tome was very fragile and must be translated. He then promptly vanished without answering any more questions.
The group left the area and immediately vanished into a major sanctuary to plot their next move. As they were discussing, the seer Yuratlya was heard on the thought networks, and they went to meet her. She had recovered enough for make short trips on her own, and said that her ordeal after being poisoned with an exotic snake venom had also partly restored her physical sight. Tonight, she had sensed a lightness in the mists and had ventured forth to see what had happened.
Nilandia took a seat at Yuratlya's feet, and the seer observed that she had many questions she wished to ask. Nilandia nodded her assent, and asked a question concerning a darkness unacknowledged, and how she could help it be seen. Yuratlya replied that the crimson moon reveals the truths about everyone, but not everyone will wish to see them. Nilandia should instead worry more about her own darkness, rather than helping others to see their own. Yuratlya also said that what is done in shadow shall always come to light, and those who perform dark acts shall see them for what they are, even if they believe them otherwise.
Though many held suspicions of the Yuratlya's motives and trustworthiness, it was confirmed to her that the book had been obtained after she had pointed out that she had been the one to tell them about it. A discussion ensued concerning whether she could be trusted, as the seer had claimed that she has no agenda for darkness or light. This discussion, and others, continued after she had departed.
Hanos Vs. Myke - Brawl at Moot Hall
08/31/2011 12:17 AM CDT
Player Log
The Black Serpents Coils
08/31/2011 08:54 PM CDT
[Dark Cavern] The tunnel opens up into a wide, circular chamber. The craggy rock walls curve overhead into the darkness, their surfaces blackened through the years by the large torches set within them. A large slab of granite sits in middle of the room, ringed with dark stains, ageless dust and charred stubs of wax. Deep channels are carved into the stone floor, their crude yet sinuous routes weaving a radiating serpentine pattern around the slab. You also see a trail of blood. Obvious exits: south A quartet stood within the cavern. Three stood in layered copper linen robes edged with green scales on their cowls, emerald medallions adorning their necks. The fourth stood in moldering black robes which consumed him entirely with the other trio facing him. "I don't know about this," one of the robed figures spoke up in a hesitant voice. "I did not asssk what you thought," the black-robed figure stated in a flat, raspy, and hissing tone. Stretching a scarcely visible jaw riddled in scars, there was a sickening pop and briefly a scarred and forked tongue pushed into sight along the edge of his lower lip. One of the robed figures flinched. "But there's no way this isn't just pushing them further. We've no shortage of sacrifices, willing or.. otherwise," came a stern female voice from one of the copper-robed figures. The third chimed in with a youthful masculine voice, "I can't do this. We've too many other options. I won't do this." Silence reigned as the dark figure shifted, limping to a corner of the granite slab. Tracing a scarred, bent fingertip over the bronze serpent gracing the surface. A soft and sibiliant hissing began to rise in the corners of the room. The trio of robed figures each began to glance around, only one of the trio managing to feign a look of calm. The concern was readily apparent on the faces of the other two. Like the beating of a pulse the soft swell of the serpentine chorus rose and fell. From the faintest of hisses tickling the edge of the senses to a crowding, confining swarm, the hissing rose. A blackened and splintering yellow fingernail scraped the edge of the slabs inset image, and the hissing came to a stop. The fingertip bent inwards. As broken as the finger looked the gesture seemed impossibly paintful. An equally disgusting thumbnail scraped against the fingernail and a dirt brown-black bloodclot shook loose from under the nail with a flick. "I trussst we can continue with lesss disssent amongsst ourssselvess, now?" With only a brief pause, the raspy voice continued, "Now go.. Retrieve what you have been inssstructed to. Take your par-ssselss to the ssshrine we have prepared. Do not quessstion me again." The three copper-robed figures filtered out uncomfortably without another word.
Survival
09/01/2011 09:03 AM CDT
Brooding.. he'd been brooding for days. It was somewhat enlightening and he had to admit.. pleasurable. He rubbed the scar on his cheek, left there by the demon several nights before. Why.. why must pain always be mixed with pleasure. He took out his idle and rubbed it. His fingers running over the edges in gentle reverance, but nothing.. no reaction. He sighed, heavily. So much had happened. So much truth, so much deception. She had come. The one promised. The one that would be willing. She was a dream in alabaster.. a midnight blue on black. All she did was smile and he knew. She was chestnut and flowers. Justice. Had it come full circle? Was it all for naught? The sleeper was probably right, he thought to himself. Damned. He saw her again, several times over the passing days, always, she was alone, nothing but a smile.. a hint.. of promise.
"Lady, how is your night?", he said
"It is well", she replied, "And your's m'lord?"
M'lord, the world sent chills down his spine at that word. The promise, the hint, the.. offering.
"I am well.."
Turning he left, fear rising in his throat. "I won't give in. I won't!" Knowing, even as he thought it, that the odds were he would. He was marked. He knew it. An open door, a conduit.. and no one had bothered to shut it. He'd been abandoned by the sleeper, the one he felt he could trust, but who had given up. He was running out of options.. running.. always running. Would he stand and fight? The dog had spit on him, SPIT... wasn't something he would let go. Anger welled up in him, and something very quiet inside him, whispered, given into it. Use it.
He was turning, turning and running, and that's when she found him again.. and blackness enveloped him.. sweet sweet blackness...
Children at Play
09/01/2011 12:46 PM CDT
. . . He handed the last of the small handfuls of coins out and showed them the picture so artfully crafted by his subordinate.
"This is her. Find her, and tell her she is needed. I presume she will know who asks for her."
The swarm of children look at the picture, leaning over one another with enthusiastic nods or a tongue tucked into a cheek with concentration as they look at the woman's image. After a few nods, the small group of children begin to filter off into the town.
"Well, this is the easy part.." He sighed slightly and reached up to massage his tired eyes.
He didn't even want to begin to consider the argument that might follow.
Chapter 1 Summary
Provided by Naionna, covering November 2010 to August 2011
Locations: Wehnimers Landing, River's Rest, Solhaven, Icemule Trace, Teras, exteriors of Ta'Vaalor and Ta'Illistim
General Synopsis: Yuratlya, a blind seer, appeared to players in November of 2010 to convey the coming of a Sheruvian prophecy. In December, the Crimson Moon appeared as a normal phenomenon known to happen yearly during the end of the year, but did not end as usual. Beginning in January, several sacrifices started to occur, with the increasing agitation and fear growing amongst the populace of Elanthia due to the constant presence of the Crimson Moon and its effects. Invasions, kidnappings, appearances of altars and Lornon cultists become the normal occurrence.
February, a young girl named Piperel is kidnapped in Solhaven and several adventurers go to her rescue as they are familiar with the family. She is found the next day, but has been through something supernatural in nature and now has visions in the forms of nightmares every time she sleeps. She is deemed the 'Herald' of the prophecy by the seer and deteriorates rapidly due to the effects of her affliction. The seer spends a great deal of time with the child and her father, Erim, documenting her visions and speaking to her about her experiences. She concludes that the prophecy she spoke of in November has now started and is in progress fully.
In March, an attempt is made to release the child from her torment by a cleric of Koar, Sedrygin, in Solhaven at the arch of the Liabo. It fails, and the seer confides in those in attendance of the details she knows of the prophecy and an important tome named the Dark Requiem. She provides them with the information that the tome contains the steps to the prophecy, and is in fact considered by many to be the word of Sheru, written thousands of years ago by a half-elven zealot who claimed he was fed the text by the Lord of Nightmares Himself. Only one copy exists and must be found if those who oppose the prophecy would like to know more of what they face and get a foothold on stopping it. In the same meeting, a man called Hanos appears in the crowd to observe and is named by the seer as a Warder, though he has yet to confirm such a thing. His role is yet unknown other than his opposition to Luukos as a part of his vows being a Master of Voln. Several others, however, are revealed as "Chosen" of the Liabo - a priest by the name of Delcian, a Knight of Ronan and Vaalorian soldier by the name of Taeghan, and a Knight of Ronan by the name of Hubris. These three are named 'Chosen of Ronan' and are tasked with finding the "written word of Ronan" to aid in the process of locating the needed tome. In addition, a sylvan healer by the name of Nilandia is deemed a Keeper of Knowledge due to her devotions to Lumnis and is given an unsual map of the stars that is rumored to detail the numbers on each side of the conflict, ever changing as the roles do.
During an unusual disturbance in Darkstone Castle near Wehnimer's Landing, a phylactery is discovered in a shrine to Sheru within the castle itself. Several adventurers gathered and reported strange whisperings requesting a release of something or someone. One such adventurer, a sorcerer by the name of Caden, spoke the name given to him in said whisperings and released a being named Azorlok. Ancient and of enormous power, Azorlok is said to be the Avatar of Sheru and has come to begin the prophecy in earnest. Shortly afterwards, everyone was expelled from the shrine and the castle was overrun both inside and outside on the grounds by demons and other horrifying creatures. This lasted for several weeks until a way to weaken the magic creating them was found by heroic adventurers.
The months that followed found several attacks upon the cities of Elanthia, with continued sacrifices, kidnappings, and appearances by the Avatar of Sheru. Producing allies, the Avatar has been seen with Naja, Champion of Luukos, and Carhn, Champion of V'Tull. There are rumors of Ivasian influence as well as Mularosian influence with their champions to be seen at some point in the future should the prophecy not be stopped. Though the tome, the Dark Requiem, has now been located and is in the hands of the adventurer's who oppose the prophecy, they have yet to translate its ancient dialect and it is so far, of no use to them.
OOC Note: I'm sure I've left out things, and I don't mean to slight anyone or anything, so if you'd like to add in something please feel free! This was just a general overview of the storyline thusfar and the major parts of its plot movement.
Update: The copy of the Dark Requiem has been delivered to Yuratlya, who has begun working on translating it with the assistance of various adventurers. Pip, the Herald of the prophecy, has succumbed to her torments and died.
Chapter 2:
A Year Beneath the Crimson Moon - REPORT
9/13/2011 11:09 PM CDT
As time has passed beneath the watchful and ever-present eye of the Crimson Moon, Elanthia has fallen into a dark routine. Reports are flooding in from all over of the activity of Lornon followers in and around all major cities with things such as prayer vigils, study groups, meetings, and open recruiting to join their cause. Fliers can be found in many cities, tacked to the gate posts openly, speaking of social events and prayer meetings. Shop owners report an increase in patrons who openly bear their religious symbols and robings, and citizens have reported that even young teenagers and children have been spotted walking openly with their parents, all clad in their Lornon trappings. This begs the question - Has Lornon become the new majority?
While no temples have been defiled, no Liabo prayer meetings have been disrupted, and no attacks are openly made against Liabo followers, the account of disappearances and sacrifices rise. Several locations of makeshift altars and shrines have been reported as well, some within the city walls, and some in the wilds. Darker, more sinister reports have come in from various cities of Lornon followers being found slaughtered at their sites of worship in what is rumored to be some type of vigilante effort to quell the rising of Lornon followers. Bodies have been found in groups, such as at meetings in the wilds, and in singular or in pairs, such as those found in a Wehnimer's Landing alley recently by an actor leaving the local Bard guild. "I couldn't believe all the blood that was on the ground. It had soaked in some, but there was too much for it to all soak in and it was puddled. Odd, though, there wasn't much of the body itself left. Just a few scraps of emerald cloth, a medallion and some ripped and torn body parts." stated the actor, who wished to be left unnamed for safety.
"While we don't stand behind vigilante acts, we understand the anger and fear of our citizens. We here in Wehnimer's have been through a great deal and many of our people have lost loved ones - in some cases, entire families - to these horrible acts of evil and violence. I would encourage any and all citizens who feel they want to help to join in the rebuilding of the city instead. We have many ways to help and I'm sure that the families affected by these tragedies would be greatly appreciative of whatever can be offered." stated WL official, Izaar on behalf of the Mayor and local government authorities.
As we near the end of the year, when the Crimson Moon would normally rise for just a few weeks as part of the season, we can't help but recall that it was this same time last year when we first laid eyes on this unusual phenomenon, not knowing what it would mean to us just months later. Who knows what is to come as Elanthia continues to be bathed in the bloody light, as the saga of the Crimson Moon continues.
~Elanthian Inquisitor, Dateline Leyan, day 14 of the month Imaerasta in the year 5111
An Afternoon Storm
09/14/2011 06:09 PM CDT
Her back ached more today than before. She paused in her packing, glancing outside of her cottage window as the smell of ozone filtered into her nostrils. She had gained partial sight, but many things were still very blurred and so she still relied upon her other senses the most. She could feel the increased wind and the darkened skies as they prepared for a storm. "I hope it concludes before the moon rises.." she thought to herself, remembering the last time it rained at night and how the empaths said the droplets looked like blood as they plinked on the ground. An involuntary shudder coursed through her aged frame and she shook it off, steeling herself as she turned to finish her packing. "You cannot let your emotions get involved. You know this is the one rule. Do as the path tells you to, nothing more and nothing less. Anything different will cause chaos and destruction in ways that I cannot comprehend otherwise. Just. Follow. The. Path." Her resolve back in place, she closed her bag and tucked the note she'd received from a grubby little child a few days ago. She was glad that they understood her purpose finally, and would allow her to do her job. She expected some resistence, and would meet it with the same resolve of before. She could not do anything else, as it was their decisions that shaped the events unfolding.
A knock came at the door, and she pulled herself from her thoughts, walking over and squinting to make out the form of the driver. Once assured that was who it was, she opened the door and nodded as the driver said, "Seer, its time to go. A storm is coming." Reaching behind her to grab her bag, she cringed a little as her muscles protested weakly. "Here, let me get that. You're still recovering from the poison and we've a long ride ahead of us." Hoisting the bag into the back of the carriage, the driver helped the seer into her seat and climbed into his, cracking a whip to set the horses to moving. Ahead, a crack of lightning forked through the dark, rain-filled clouds and it began to rain lightly just as they took off. The driver glanced up at the late afternoon skies and murmured to himself, "I hope it ends before the moon rises.." as the carriage disappeared down the trail to Wehnimer's Landing.
Preparations
09/15/2011 02:53 PM CDT
"Place it over in a pile with the others, please."
Nilandia pointed to the sacks of grain and the delivery man added a new addition to the growing heap. She murmured her thanks and pressed a few coins into his hand as he left. Sweeping her gaze over the accumulated foods, she smiled faintly. Almost all of the supplies had arrived and soon they could make the journey.
This trip would have to be taken soon if the food would help the people in need. Subarl, a village south of Ta'Vaalor, was afflicted with a disastrous famine. The cultists had taken advantage of the situation, promising food and relief to those who joined them. Averting hunger would bolster the people's resolve to resist the darkness. Or so she hoped.
Returning to the desk, Nilandia began to compose a series of messages to send to her many contacts. The more people who could help transport the food and contribute their own, the better. Several people had volunteered, including a storm mage to bring rains and help the failing crops. All that was left was to come together and make the journey. If all went well, she would be back in time for her other work to begin. She had just placed the seal on the last message and sent it for delivery when the next delivery arrived.
A Letter To The Combined Liabo Forces
09/16/2011 12:14 PM CDT
To All Who Seek to Protect the Innocent and Hold Back the Darkness:
We all stand strong in our Faiths and desires to what is right in the face of mounting aggression from the Loronites. Yet even as we strive to stand firm under this crimson moon we find ourselves often divided. Bickering over the proper course of action has become the norm and it cannot be allowed to continue if we hope to persevere. Our personal opinions, wants and egos must come second to the greater goal in this conflict. It is with this in mind that I propose a leader for our unified forces. While we all must have our say we need someone to ultimately make a final decision. From this point forward the Delcian, Ronan's Chosen, speaks for me as well. I will follow his lead on non-Military matters regarding the Crimson Moon and Lornonites. On matters of battle I defer as always to the ranking members of the Militia. I encourage others who would not hobble us due to their own pride to do the same.
By My Own Hand,
Brinret Ithillote Lord High Inquisitor Hand of the Huntress Militia Scouts
A Night of Preparations
09/18/2011 10:48 PM CDT
A subtle glow filled the area deep in the heart of the forest, where the foliage of trees is so dense as to block most of the moonlight from touching the ground. The nature of the glow is only perceived by those heavily skilled in the arts of weaving mana. Several trips are made back and forth by stealth, quiet steps and care not to disrupt the quiet of the darkest part of night as stacks of books, supplies and furniture is carried down a faint trail. She stood quietly, a deep cowl shadowing her face as she waited for the end of the deliveries. She was enjoying the peaceful darkness, free of the crimson influence that she normally felt in the deepest part of her bones. She knew it was not entirely gone, as just outside of the boughs of the ancient trees framing the area, the moon's bloody eye continued to stare down upon them. But at least here, amongst not only the protective wards, but the clustering forest as well, it seemed to be a distant thing. She also hoped it would put her aides at ease as well, for they were very tense and it was seeping into her with each meeting she had with them. "Follow your path, that is all that you must do." she repeated to herself once more, one of the many times she'd reminded herself over the past few days.
"Seer, the rooms are ready for you to inspect." came the quiet words, bringing her from her thoughts with a nod and a murmured word of thanks. She was lead down the trail and into the clearing, where the location was set up for her and her aides to handle their translation work. "I'd like two of the chairs placed just outside of the door, please. Oh, and place a sidecart there also for refreshments. I'm sure they will appreciate them." she noted as she took a somewhat blurry stock of the area. Quickly, her requests were accomodated as she wove her fingers together in an intricate fashion, causing a dome of pale blue light to entertwine with the blinding white sparkles already surrounding the building. After a moment, she exhaled, obviously tired from the use of such magic, and she observed the wards to ensure she had taken correct precautions. Once satisfied, she entered and made herself familiar with the surroundings. "Please place the texts over there in the corner, and be careful as some are older than you! And I'll have the quills, parchment and ink set up on the shelves." she directed as she walked from corner to corner, ensuring everything went into its proper place. "Watch those solvents! Put them on the other shelves, away from the books!" "Those tables can be spread apart, please, there will be three of us working in here at once so give us some space please." "Oh don't put that tome with the other, they don't even remotely pertain to one another!" "Watch it, you'll spill the ink! Set it to the side, please! Oh be careful!" "Yes, right there, that's perfect, thank you."
As the last of the supplies were in place, she let out a long breath and nodded to the remaining guards who took their places outside and left her alone to her thoughts. Tiredly, she made her way to one of the three tables and settled down on a chair, taking quill and ink and writing a note with cramping fingers. After completion, she duplicated the letter and sealed them both, addressing them to two of her chosen aides. She then wrote another to her supplier, sealing it as well, and finally she wrote two more to her chosen guards, sealing them with the last of her wax. She gathered the parchments, tucking them into her arm as she wandered into the back area of the building, where the quarters were located. She noted with some satisfaction that two beds had been brought in so that if one of the aides should need rest, it was provided. Reaching over to the pitcher of water, she poured herself a glass and drank long from it, then set it to the side and tucked her letters beneath her pillow. Next came her body as she climbed into the soft bed, her aged frame creaking with protest and tiredness. A snap of her fingers doused the magical flames inside the nearest lamp and she was bathed in darkness as rest finally came.
Outside, the contention of guards stood silently and stoicly at attention, their eyes fixed upon the clearing and above as they kept watch for any signs of disturbance. As the snap of the old seer's fingers extinguished the lamp, the subtly glowing trail also shimmered into darkness, revealed no more to the passerby.
Missions of Mercy
09/19/2011 07:55 PM CDT
The wagons' low drone echoed throughout the morning as a constant accompaniment to the travelers' steps. Some walked beside the carts to guard the cargo against bandits and other mischief, while others guided the animals pulling them to their destination. In the midst of it all wandered a young sylvan woman, endlessly checking on some detail or other. Weeks of preparation had come to fruition in a journey to bring food to a starving village south of Ta'Vaalor.
Thunder rumbled across the sky, drawing gazes upward. The sylvan cast a glance over to the dark elf sitting atop a pile of grain sacks, his arms lifted skyward. She smiled. The storm mage was starting early. She paused to check with the paladin traveling with the party, ensuring the food was kept fresh and unspoiled, before returning to her seat next to one of the drivers.
The village was silent as they entered. Children and adults stood and stared at the entering party, as if not able to believe what they were seeing. The carts circled in the village square and the travelers surrounded them. Now was the time of greatest danger, as hunger drives all people to desperation. Silence settled on the square for two heartbeats before chaos erupted, quenched only by the rains that had been so desperately needed.
.........
A caravan of empty wagons slowly returned to Ta'Vaalor with the exhausted party. The sylvan made sure to thank each traveler personally before she continued on to her apartment in Ta'Illistim. She arrived to find a stack of unread messages waiting for her and sighed. Then she saw the seal on the message at the top of the pile and she immediately picked it up.
"The work begins," she murmured. "And not a moment too soon."
Aiding the Landing
09/20/2011 11:38 PM CDT
Early in the evening, the townsfolk of the Landing were heard to report that jackals were circling the city. The defenders gathered to fight off the threat, but were surprised to see that the jackals were weak and not very numerous. Sheruvian cultists were also observed. Chanting was heard, particularly from the southern end of Lower Dragonsclaw, and a jackal-headed totem was discovered.
Ivasian cultists joined the Sheruvians as the defenders began to work on destroying the totem. Only sorcerers' disintegrate had any effect, and interfering with the totem resulted in the person being poisoned, but it eventually was destroyed. The Ivasians vanished, but the Sheruvians persisted and drew attention away from the Landing. Eventually, a figure was seen in the sky that appeared to be controlling the cultists, and with a few gestures from the figure, the cultists vanished. (It's possible that it was Azorlok, though it wasn't explicitly stated.)
Soon after things quieted down, it was noticed that some places around the Landing had been defaced. The statue in the park, the bank and the Thrak inn had all been vandalized with Lornonite graffiti. The tent in the park had also been painted and pushed over enough that it could not be entered. The food from the cart in the park had been tossed aside and spoiled, while the cart was carved with the message, "For those in need, find solace in the shadows!"
A group of people gathered to try to clean up the graffiti, and after some trial and error, most was removed. The cart and tent were deemed not able to be saved, but the statue, bank and inn were all cleaned. As they were working, Myke gathered signatures of support for his petition to rebuild and strengthen Shanty Town. It was also heard that the cultists had broken into a supply of weapons and armor to steal most of what was stored. They had also poisoned the well's water supply and had disrupted the supply of healing herbs.
It is suspected by some that the cultists are attempting to remove the Landing's ability to support and defend itself, but plans are in motion to counteract what has been done.
- A discarded glass vial of what is suspected to be the poison introduced into the water supply was recovered and is being studied to create an antidote. - Water is being distilled to supply the people in the meantime. - Empaths are being contacted in the guild to grow herbs. - Herbalists in other cities are being contacted to ship the potion herbs to the Landing. - Forgers are requested to begin making weapons to replace the stock that was lost. - Armorers in other cities are being contacted to ship new sets of armor to the Landing. - The merchant's guild in the Landing is being contacted for the name of a reputable contractor to replace the food cart and tent in the park.
It is suggested that all in the Landing keep a close watch of their surroundings in case that more attempts to sabotage the city are undertaken.
Dream a Little Dream
10/04/2011 07:38 PM CDT
Flickering light broke through the darkness, causing her eyes to tighten with the futility of blocking it. "Yuratlya." came the woman's voice, "Yuratlya." again - this time more firmly. "Yuratlya, do you hear me?" came the voice again, persistently invading the cocoon of her unconscious. An inner groan rumbled through her mind as her bones ached in the process of sitting up. "Yes, yes, I'm up.." she grumbled, and managed to squint against the brightness of day enough to see the outline of the empath. "How long have I been out?" "Two days, seer. We were very worried but the clerics have been praying over you vigilantly."
Two days. Her mind ached with the sudden influx of memories as she sat up fully. Nightmares. Visions of fire and flame, of smoke and destruction. Death. The screams of the damned filled her with fear as she remembered the sound and their agonized visages. A shiver ran through her and she felt weakened, almost toppling but for the attention of the empath. "Seer!" the girl exclaimed, and then called out for another to come and help the elderly woman. A guard stepped in, eyes falling upon the old gnome with a friendly and concerned expression. "Seer, you are awake. It is good to see. I will fetch the clerics." and then he was gone before Yuratlya could even bother to nod in response. She felt sick to her stomach and had to swallow down the bile before it rose up from within.
"The visions..." she murmured, and the voice of a cleric repeated her statement as he entered the room. "Yes, the visions. You have been out for two days, seer, plagued with nightmarish visions. We have worked hard over you while you slept, if that is even the right word to describe your torment." He walked over and placed a gentle hand on her frail shoulder, smiling finally as he said "You are very strong, you know. I am positive you are looked over and are meant to stay. But it was touch and go for a bit. That book.." he trailed off, glancing at a locked box guarded by two well-armed clerics in the corner of the room.
The book! She remembered now. The book had taken its toll on her and when she'd been moved to avoid the invasion of Luukosians, she had fallen to its curse. "I've been foolish." she scolded herself inwardly, angry that she had not taken the proper precautions in the effort to translate. She turned her attention to the cleric, who was holding out a pair of gloves to her and speaking quietly. "These have been worked over by all of the most powerful clerics in this area and we have faith it will help you when dealing with the text. You must take breaks, however, Yuratlya. You cannot work on this text as often as you have been and expect not to feel its wrath." She accepted the gloves, glancing at the way the fabric shimmered subtly as she turned them over in her hands. A frown crossed her face and she nodded. She did not want to wait to translate the text, it was so important for them to know of what they faced. Yet, she could not deny the truth in the cleric's words - she was falling to the curse and the only way to prevent it was to space out her time with the book.
"Very well, you have my word that I will take breaks." she acquiesced. "And.. you'l use the gloves." the cleric added, prompting a nod from Yuratlya once more. "Good. Now take a day to rest, and then you can travel back tomorrow once you are looked over." he continued, and then turned to give instructions to the empath as to Yuratlya's care for the remainder of the day. "I'll be back to see you tomorrow, seer. Rest please." he said as he exited the room, and she was ushered back to bed by the empath, who eased her head to the pillow and placed a cool rag on her brow. Yes..rest.. she thought to herself as her eyes fluttered shut, the gloves still clutched in her small hand.
Translation Begins and Luukosian Attack
10/06/2011 04:54 PM CDT
The seer Yuratlya has been working with her assistants on translating the Dark Requiem for the past few weeks.
The meetings with the seer proceeded quietly the first week, though she began to show signs of fatigue and illness on the second week. She begged time to rest on the 27th, which was readily given. The next meeting, on the 29th, went quite poorly. A guard arrived in the park and notified all present that Luukosians had located where the work was being conducted and flooded the area. The seer had been spirited away unharmed, but the Luukosians had erected a shrine in the area. The guard requested help in purging the location.
After everyone was prepared, Hraus led the group to the location, and they were met by various Luukosians as well as snakes, worms and other sorts of creatures. They appeared to be led by a cultist who was involved in the kidnapping of Myriamie June 28th (named Abran but I don't believe the name is known), who claimed that those present would serve Luukos that night. Myke killed the cultist twice and fogged him to the Voln monastery, though it seemed to have no effect. Instead, he spoke Luukos' blessing on several people.
Instead, all those present dropped one by one to the Luukosians save Caden and Nilandia. As much gear was collected as possible and the dead were returned to the Landing to begin healing and raising them. Requests for help resulted in the arrival of two priests of Lorminstra who likewise did not give their names, but appeared in game as Aldrik and Pyali. They assisted with the dead as they could, and Aldrik also cleansed Luukos' influence from almost all who had received it. Pyali then told those gathered that many trials lay ahead, but emphasized the need for coming together in a unified effort. They departed, but pledged continued assistance should it be needed. The night remained quiet after that.
The seer remained resting after the attack until last night, October 5th, when she arrived in the park to meet with those who had volunteered to assist her. She recounted her her work with the text had taken its toll on her and left her vulnerable to Sheru's influence. Indeed, she had been unconscious for two straight days, afflicted with nightmarish visions until the priests attending her had managed to dispel them. They had also provided her with a pair of gloves to lessen the hold the tome had over her. Reluctantly, she had assented to their demands that she rest and take food and drink.
After some confusion to whom would follow her, she retired with her assistants to resume the translation work, which continued with few troubles within. A few difficulties were noted outside, but not enough to disrupt the translation work.
Creepy Lornonites
11/09/2011 08:47 AM CST
Last night while Mithogras, Ephelysse and Delcian were in the Rivers Rest commons they began seeing movement in the shadows, each one started to see different things. Delcian heard a mocking laughter in his heard and then the scars on his face begaun to hurt.
Ephelysse and Mithogras saw the other with an odd look in their eyes.
A chilling laughter filled the air before a shadowy winged figure was seen in the air.
The Crimson Runs Freely
11/09/2011 05:55 PM CST
After weeks of quiet, with only the occasional skirmish or disappearance to report, citizens all over Elanthia are now reporting concerns over an increase in creature activity. From various places about the continent, citizens are being attacked by packs of roaming creatures, many of which incidents have resulted in injuries and sometimes death. The attacks appear to be random in nature, happening in both daytime and nighttime hours, against young and old travellers alike. In many cases, the packs of creatures attack a group of two or less travelling outside of city limits, and then dissipate afterwards without further issue. Travellers are asked to be cautious while making their way in the wilds as the dangers continue to rise.
In other news, a breakout of what can only be described as mass mental disturbances has been reported from various cities as well. Several citizens report having seen visions of horrifying magnitude, both in the environment and in other people. These attacks of mental disturbance seem to happen only in the evening, and are also random in nature as they attack. Authorities are looking into what might be causing this and have considered the tainted water supply found in Wehnimer's Landing as a possible catalyst. Testing will be undergoing over the next few weeks in an effort to find a solution.
~Elanthian Inquisitor
Darkness Returns
11/10/2011 08:08 PM CST
On the evening of November 8, people experienced a series of strange experiences. As Delcian mentioned, some people saw activity with the shadows, or a winged creature in the air. Others heard laughter, or had their skin feel like it was on fire.
In the park, Nilandia sensed an entity of such overwhelming malice that it sent her reeling. Soon after, Seremela appeared to be overcome by terror and went rigid. Her eyes became black and a deep, cold voice spoke through her. The voice first began taunting Nilandia, but moved to other people. The voice targeted Shilarra, claiming that she had served 'us' so well and that her deeds were of 'Me' and not of Imaera. It also stated that the seer (understood to be Yuratlya) trusted Fjalar, but wondered if Yuratlya knew about Fjalar's wife Sadan.
Over time, Nilandia told the entity to leave Seremela so they could speak directly and Shilarra spoke rather belligerently to it. The voice responded by threatening harm to Seremela. Shilarra persisted, and Seremela's throat constricted so she began to choke. Nilandia was thrown to the ground when she attempted to help Seremela, who succumbed to death soon after. Seremela herself returned upon her death, but seemed to have no knowledge of what had happened. The night was calm after that.
The evening of November 9 brought attacks upon a few people in various places.
A man named Uckle was outside the Landing when he noticed a bloody mist following him as he moved. It tripped him just outside the gate, and he made his way to the park. He found a hiding place, but the other people there noticed the mist dissipating from the shadows where he hid.
Hraus was hunting near River's Rest when he heard scraping sounds. They were accompanied by an overpowering stench and the sound of undead creatures moaning as they crawled out of the ground. He was then attacked by undead men and women either missing eyes or with crimson eyes. They were noticed at one point to pause and face the crimson moon, but they continued to attack as more people arrived. A chill wind blew during the attacks, but it ceased as the attack died down.
Soon afterward, however, Kalyse was hunting arch wights on the Plains of Bone near Ta'Vaalor when the ground shook and she fell. Wolves and wolfshades appeared soon after, which she was able to handle easily. The creatures grew stronger, however, including rotting warriors and a shaman corpse, until she was wounded and forced to fall back. Other people arrived soon after, but the creatures soon vanished.
Ukon likewise reported troubles on the coastal cliffs and a similar attack was observed near the mausoleum and the wrecked village. Others arrived to assist and the attacks dissipated soon after.
Crops Diminishing, Supplies found Ransacked
11/12/2011 08:28 PM CST
Reports of vanquished crops, fallen to disease and victims of pests, are coming in from all over Elanthia. Many farmers are concerned about their ability to maintain throughout the cold winter season as their crops fall one by one to mysterious infestations and what appears to be poisoning of the roots. Local shops are unable to stock supplies for sale as before, and prices are rising rapidly, making it more difficult for the commoner to purchase the necessities. Some shop owners have resorted to using the adventurer's guilds around Elanith in order to replenish supplies with crops grown wild as the focus seems to be on the cultivated crops instead.
During this all, invasions of creatures are on the uprise and travelers continue to run into danger outside of city limits. The Empath's Guild is reporting an amassing of healers that are skilled in growing herbs so that help can be given to the wounded who would otherwise suffer without the much needed plants. The supply is stretched thin, however, as even the stores of the local militias are being found and vanquished by some unknown means, leaving everyone in great need of replenishments. Thankfully, the water supplies have not been reported as of yet as tainted, but this reporter believes it is only a matter of time given the trend of things over the last week.
More as it comes in.
~The Elanthian Inquisitor
...and the Roltons Did Swarm
11/18/2011 12:04 AM CST
A short time later..
Trudging to the south-eastern corner of the town square, Myke released a loud grunt as he dropped several more rolton carcasses off outside of the general store and called inside, "Megorn, I'd say we'll need another couple of salt barrels. I'll go grab Dakris before he leaves for the night, I'm sure he'll have no problem lending a hand butchering these roltons. I'll add the meat to the stockpiles."
Pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow he mumbled off-handedly, "Great idea, Philnia."
The Impending Frost
11/19/2011 04:40 PM CST
A lot had happened while he was away, and from what he could tell not a whole lot of it was good. The rifts seemed wider, opinions more varied, and the opposition to the Lornon threat appeared to be wavering. He couldn't blame them. The tactics that were being applied were textbook. Jaired idly scratched the tips of his fingers into the dark stubble under his chin, his eyes intent as they studied the documents and maps scattered across the table. It was time to finally settle back in as the Marshal. He'd blown a few of the surrounding sconces out to put the Keep's library in a dimmer light. The dark always helped him think. There wasn't enough food to feed them all, and the placement of the Minotaur's forces were perfect to maintain a blockade by land, and a blockade by sea seemed the next logical step. It was going to be a very long winter. Sure, they could find other ways to survive and live off of the land... but for how long? There were too many. The prophecy had given him an uneasy sense of inevitability.
His first thought was to simply go underground. The writing was on the wall. When winter came and all of the food was gone, and all of the water was spoiled... those that had not already given in to desperation would seek salvation wherever they could find it. Those loyal to the Crimson Moon would be ready to offer it. In time, anybody still opposing them would be seen as the enemy. If they'd just stop fighting and give in, everything would be fine. Those that fought would be blamed for the actions of other men, and the thirsty and the dying would believe it all. He'd be targeted along with anyone beside him, made out as villains... and summarily dealt with. And everything would be fine... for a time. Until the last ounce of resistance had been squelched or relegated into mere insignificance. Then everything would change and the true intentions would be made clear. This part was textbook as well.
If they went underground and worked in secrecy, he could avoid much of that... but only for so long. Eventually they'd just be painted in the same light and rooted out. Although... it did give him an idea. His hands brushed aside a few worthless documents until he pulled free a rough map of the catacombs and set it beside a more detailed map of the Landing. One stockpile would be reckless. They'd need many. They'd even need some that they'd be willing to sacrifice. He quickly snagged up his quill and began sketching out various key locations that would be most suitable. He'd need someone to look for alternate springs of water as well. Then he began writing out various proposals to present to the town Officials, as well as to various guild leaders. Stockpiles would need guarding, supplies would need smuggling, spoiling food and water would need purifying, new resources would need scouting, and herbs would need growing. There were many roles that needed to be filled.
He had to account for spies. He was counting on it. They'd endure as long as they could. He even began flirting with the idea that they may succeed, but that was not what he was planning for anymore. Many would suffer, many would die, and eventually... they may very well fall. He grinned a bit in spite of himself as he dropped the quill to the table to give his ink-stained knuckles a well deserved crack. At least they'd go out trying, or at least that is what they'd make it look like. The prophecy was what it was, but if someone knows where a stone is going to fall, it doesn't mean they have to catch it. He'd spent enough time planning for the inevitable. It was time to start planning for what came after.
Where to start...
Organization
11/20/2011 02:57 PM CST
He leaned back, half-seated atop a ramshackle pile of crates at the edge of Shanty Town with a hand fishing into the ornate eonake tome case on his hip and fished out a pair of parchment rolls. Unfurling them in his hands, no sooner had he set about starting to peruse them when he heard the creak of cart wheels and the local teens he'd grown so used to employing arrived with the small cart full of supplies.
"Ah, I'm glad you kids are here. Good to see you Bolivar," he inclined his head to each of them in turn, "Yand, Teress." The trio were eager to help, and followed adventurers passing through the area about with that perpetual gaze of admiration and envy.
"We got the extra wood and barrels you wanted, Lord Myke!" Teress and Bolivar spoke over one another, both eagerly declaring the same sentiment in so many words. Yand was already eagerly unloading them beside the small cart. He looked over and saw the papers Myke seemed to be looking over and inquisitively probed, "What's that? More supply lists?"
"Mm? Oh, no, Yand. One page is mostly scribbles, so I can keep track of the supplies we've gathered so far. Not encoded per se, but just something to jog my memory and help me recall what we've gathered so far. We've got the barrels for Laethia's garden idea, we just need to halve them and set them aside for when we fix up the homes, Mayor permitting. Then we've got the food stores.. rolton meat, crops, and some other notes."
"Oleha had a great idea to supplement the foodstores, we've no shortage of water, so I want to run with her idea and get some crude fishing poles made and passed out. Folks can fish steadily, even in winter, and we can pack the fish in salt to preserve them longer." Slipping a small piece of charcoal from his cuff, he made a few marks on the page as if to make a note of that.
"What is the other page, sir?" Teress timidly made her way closer, hands folded behind her back and long slender neck craned to peer towards the pages in his hands. He shuffled the first page behind the second and looked it over with features hardening into a look of concentration.
"Well, the second pertains to matters a bit less easy to manage. We've got the town to consider, but this overall problem extends far beyond it and we can't just wait and react to everything that unfolds. They're going to find new ways to make life hard for us and we need to anticipate it. We need everyone willing lending aid and feeling like their beliefs and views are respected. Someone not long ago told me, you have to lead people the way they need to be led. You can't just bark orders and expect people to care. Right now.. I'm just trying to find the people who will answer the call to help win this war for balance. Then, we need to make sure everyone is being used properly, and to their satisfaction. After that, we put it all into action and see if we can't turn the tide."
He sighed slightly. He knew he was reading off steps he might never come close to actually bringing to life, but the logic was sound. He'd learned a great deal in that capacity, growing as a leader, but a leader he was not yet. May never be. But people had to remain unified, and he had to do what he could at every turn to win this war. Too many people would suffer far worse if they failed, and anything less than his all was a failure of commitment. He had faith they would succeed, he needed to make others believe.
"We need to gather the people who want to make a difference, and give others reason to believe a difference will be made. That a difference IS being made. We can't force people to care, to help, or to believe.. but we can do what we feel we must and hope the example gives them reason to believe of their own accord."
At this point, his awareness of the trio's presence seemed to dim, he was speaking almost to himself. Reassuring himself perhaps? Repeating for clarity? Who knew. His thoughts were clearly burdened by the matter, "We have to lead, not push."
But would anyone rally? Would they all just straggle about doing what they felt they had to separately? There were still issues lingering in the pit of his stomach. So much to do, and it felt like they had so few resources..
Resources. "Hmmm." He stood, pushing the pages away into his case and closing the lid. "You kids keep unloading, I need to look into something."
And with that he was off. But to where?
Dilemma
11/21/2011 03:43 AM CST
Lydanis felt the guard's pulse - weak and erratic but persistent. Though taciturn and grudging in his respect towards a Master of the Order who openly wore the symbol of his devotion to the Lord of the Hunt, the fellow was known to be reliable and Lydanis doubted that simple intoxication was the cause of his unconscious state; there was a strong odour of cheap brandy about him, but a cursory examination had shown that it rose from his clothing and was not detectable on his breath.
Rolling up his cloak as a makeshift pillow, Lydanis made the guard as comfortable as he might and was setting off to find one of the monks to aid when something in the thick vegetation near the moat caught his eye. It was a small glass vial, intact and filled with a clear, viscous fluid. He picked it up carefully in a gloved hand and stowed it in his belt-pouch for later examination.
Some hours afterwards, in River's Rest, he handed over the vial to Lord Mithogras. It was unfortunate that the Lady Ephelysse was unavailable, since neither her father nor her daughter fully trusted Lydanis. They had justification, to be sure - he had caused them considerable trouble in the past - but he would sooner have confided his discovery to the Lady herself. To his sorrow, even the Daughter of Andelas who companioned Laethia treated Lydanis with gruff disdain.
Still, with the exception of the grumbling Shadow, they listened with guarded courtesy as he told of the morning's events and of the batch of bad bread that the Monastery's cook had blamed on the local miller. It was true that the consignment of flour most recently delivered had a greyish colour and a musty smell, so much so that Lydanis had queried the cook's judgment in using it. Questioned by the Grand Master himself, the man had reluctantly owned that on the morning in question, he had overslept and the dough for the day's bread had been prepared by an apprentice. Further questioning revealed that the apprentice had not been seen since that morning.
Feeling that the good monks had been sufficiently alarmed for their present safety, Lydanis had privately decided that the vial in his belt-pouch need not be produced to trouble them further, at least until expert assessment had confirmed its nature.
Lord Mithogras agreed that he would pass the vial to his daughter for detailed analysis, though concurring with the assessment Lydanis himself had made, that it was some form of concentrated toxin. He went on to inform Lydanis of much that he had missed in his travels to Ta' Nalfein on Temple business; the recent spate of poisoning of foodstuffs and water around the Landing and Solhaven, and the rising fear that the Crimson Moon's adherents meant to starve the citizenry into submission.
He and Laethia even suggested that Lydanis might find it advisable in these times to be less open about his own affiliation, since many would assume that a servant of any Immortal but those of Liabo was aligned with the enemy.
Clearly, no self-respecting Paladin would lightly discard the symbol of his Patron. Still, mused Lydanis as he made his way back from River's Rest to the Temple at Solhaven, it would not be a simple matter to persuade those who stood against the Crimson of his good faith should he offer his aid in purifying water and foodstuffs, or in guarding supplies against contamination by stealth. Surely, there must be some way in which he could help - but would he be given a chance, or would he simply find himself staring at the walls of a cell until someone decided that it was not worth feeding a suspect?
Getting the Ball Rolling
11/21/2011 06:43 PM CST
Myke was busy this morning, in particular he was currently at the herbalist's in Wehnimers.
"Alright, here are the copies of the notice, Syiah. If you could get one to the heads of the Empath Guild it'd be great. I talked to some of the local healers, but we need to make sure that we've got a steady source of herb production incase any stores get destroyed. With any luck they can commit the guild to stockpiling and guarding some large stores. Talk to Surtey and see if he has any thoughts on things, if you would. Stay safe, too. If you catch wind of any more cultists hassling the other shop keepers just send word and I'll do what I can."
With a wave he was off, moving through the busy morning streets with a distant look plastered over his face. His thoughts were in a million places at once, and it was only a dim awareness of the tension in his face that made him realize he probably looked a bit angry. He had a tendency to have a natural scowl that formed when he was focused, and when you are a massive heavily-armored giantkin toting a flaming black claidhmore over one shoulder, that's not always the best for reassuring the townsfolk. Trying to shake it off he smiled a bit at a passing family, but the moment of detachment from the gravity of the situation was enough to remind him of just who would suffer if they all failed. He turned down the nearest street, Stormarm. Stepping aside into the back alley of Helga's he reached up and pulled off his visor.
It all seemed to crash in at once. A bead of sweat formed at his brow, and while a voice in the back of his head calmly stated 'All will be well', a torrent of thoughts washed over him. Were they taking the proper steps? Were they doing enough? Was he making sure enough people understood what was taking place? Had he forgotten anything? ...The pressure he fought off with confidence and faith was closing in. His hand instinctively lifted to his chest and found the small white shield amulet there. His thumb rubbed over it, and a faint corona of white light blossomed around its edges.
"They will be fine. We will protect them.."
The crippling anticipation began to fade. He knew he had a habit of attempting too much, too quickly. There were allies now. Their numbers were growing. He was taking the Seer and Hanos' words to heart. Rhyssa had taught him to choose his words more carefully, and not push..
It was as he told the others.. if they set the right example, others would follow.
All would be well.
Sliding his visor back into place, a relieved sigh escaped his burdened chest and his posture straightened.
"Stay focused," he muttered to himself, "There is more work to do. It's time to find more help."
Calling a Meeting
11/22/2011 04:37 PM CST
After a series of discussions, several adventurers are calling for all to gather in the meeting hall of the Militia Keep, the evening of the 27th at nine in the evening. All are encouraged to attend to help coordinate relief efforts for the crop failures and anticipated upcoming famine.
Lighting Candles
11/27/2011 04:33 PM CST
A single night away, toiling as he had been. A single night away and he felt as if he had let his home down. All of his efforts felt momentarily inconsequential, even with the dim lingering knowledge that his presence would likely not have changed anything. He stood side the weatherworn grey marble statue of Rone Wehnimer and surveyed the park.. the rosebush Aurorah had made blush so long ago decaying to the west in the niche. The ground befouled. The knowledge it would happen made it no easier to stomach. Word had only just reached him of Dyhne's passing, and rumor of Azorlok's presence the prior eve.
It was hard to know just what to feel. Rage? Was it worth keeping his temper in the face of such infuriating adversity? Depression? Could he even hold fast to the hope that all would turn out for the best? The odds had grown so steep that they felt like less than a mouse cornered by a cat. It felt as if they were little more than a flickering candle seated at the core of an eternal and endless void. It simply waited for the wick to burn down. A flicker, a puff.. and they would be gone. The consideration sat cold in his chest and for only a moment his eyes grew distant.
A flicker of movement drew his attention. It was not there in the park, but distant. It was to the east, and it danced not within the gaze of his stormy blue right eye, but the paled gaze of his left. Insubstantial and hazy, the world faded pale as the colors bled. The spiritual realm lay before his gaze and there beneath the temple was the flickering light of a trapped soul. A lesser shade beneath the temple.
In the moment he found himself walking the streets of the town until he stood before the shade, there in the catacombs beneath the temple. As the rather pathetic little undead swung out at him mindlessly with that rusted short sword, he stepped aside and drew a glowing symbol in the air. There upon the stair he watched as a white glow seperated itself from the lesser shade's body and rose, accompanied by the sound of joyful weeping.
It was just that simple. There was no emotion to revel in. If all there were was a candle, then their job was to shed light as best they could in the time afforded to do so. Turning, he ascended back into the Temple proper and made his way back through town. He paused to hand a passing runner a letter produced from within his tabard and a brief instruction to deliver it to the Mayor. A few coins exchanged hands and he was moving once more. It was not until he reached the town square's center that he stopped to look around. In just a few hours their intended gathering would take place. They had known this day would come, they had known the darkness would close in.
It was time to light the candles.
Renewed Resolve - Warning the People 11/30/2011 12:12 AM CST
A bundle of wide wooden planks under his arm, his hammering could be heard late into the night. They weren't much, but it was a start. His incessant hammering finished, he left the well and made for shanty town.
He prepared the boards as he moved, stuffing one halfway into his tabard at an awkward angle and clasping one between his hands and looking it over. He grimaced slightly at his hand-writing. It wasn't terrible, but it was certainly not the most even or well-made sign. He set about hanging the signs around his adopted corner of town.
One sign read: "Warning: Town Water Tainted. Seek Distilled Sources. Help is here."
Another depicted the town well with an arrow to the water and a skull and crossbones over it.
Yet another read: "Warning: Lornon Plague Spreading. Food and Water Tainted. Help is coming to provide from stores. - Lord Myke"
Finally, a sign with less of a warning and more a reminder, "Unite. This is our home. Strength in Community."
The last of his signs hung for the time being, he sat down outside of a nearby hut. The second his posture slouched he felt the fatigue and weight he had been struggling against crash against him. His eyes closed and he dozed off almost immediately there in the slums of the town. Sometimes, Ronan was a truly merciful ally. Just a few moments rest.. There was more work to be done. For now, he felt he needed to be here.
Destruction to the Blood-Seeker
01/29/2012 11:03 PM CST
Dateline ~ Restday, the 29th day of Lormesta, in the year 5112
Destruction swept across the outskirts of the elven nations recently as one known as the Avatar of V'tull, Carhn, fought violently against adventurers who were determined to put an end to the occupation of the wilds by vicious creatures who sought the blood of innocents. After several bloody battles, it is said that the Avatar was slain by a brave dwarven adventurer, who, backed by several other adventurers battling the invading creatures of the environs, was able to take the Minotaur-Avatar Carhn down to his final rest. Rumors have it that the very night of Carhn's demise, the volcano in Teras Isle known as the 'Eye of V'tull' trembled heavily in anger and several locals say the mournful wails of a creature in death were heard momentarily throughout the isle.
Since that fateful event, the occupations have died out around the outskirts of the elven nations, and though precautions are still being taken by local authorities and those who live in the vicinity, there has been no more reports of significant occupations since. Skirmishes upon travellers continue to occur, and all those travelling outside of the protection of city walls are still cautioned to maintain groups of more than three, but no significant invasions have occured. In addition, shrines to V'tull built into the wilds have suffered great losses as reported by those locally, as cultists who once walked the Shining City and its proud companion fortress city Ta'vaalor with heads held high quickly took flight and have been seen leaving the cities daily. Some reports have come in of citizens "helping" with this process in less than amicable ways, but authorities have not confirmed any such thing despite inquiries as to incidents spoken of.
Though it has been a month since the death of the V'tullian Avatar, it certainly has taken its toll upon the followers of the Crimson Moon as they continue to move from their cities in fear of reprisals by those who once tolerated their presence without choice. It will be interesting to see what unfolds in the future as the loss of V'tullian followers is felt by those who support the prophecy of the Crimson Moon and whether or not it will have an effect on the blight still felt so prominently in many towns across Elanthia.
Speaking of the blight, there is some progress being reported by various cities across Elanthia as samples of water, crops and animals are being examined by the most highly educated scholars and alchemists available, joined by adventurers who have risked themselves to provide more information to the cause. The discovery by said adventurers in Wehnimer's Landing of the healing powers of Voln's cleansing pools was a major starting point in the progress made and since then, several people previously afflicted by the blight have regained their health due to that event. There is work in progress regarding the use of the healing springs and how to further their powers, but it is not yet completed. Stockpiles of clean herbs, water, food and supplies continue to be donated by adventurers and are being used rapidly by those who are most in need at this time. Local authorities continue to encourage any and all donations in the wake of this tragic blight as work is being conducted in the background to put an end to the destruction.
~Elanthian Inquisitor
Credits
Special thanks to the following staff - GM Wyrom, GM Bravura, SGM Kaikala, GM Ovellia, GM Aulis, GM Marstreforn, GM Valyrka, GM Thandiwe, GM Nebhrail, GM Cirath, GM Itzel, SGM Izzea, GM Kenstrom, GM Quyorque, GM Gsyxer, and GM Zoet
Pages in category "The Crimson Moon"
The following 3 pages are in this category, out of 3 total.