"Lost Continent: Flight From Muurdaan" (BeckonCall's FNB!)

[NorthOfOrdinary]

@Basically the whole colony

Charlotte was pleased to hear the safe return of her Defenders, complete with the location of the ring. The Miliz was called up with their rifles gleaming, and the Defenders were called forth in force. Enno alone, was left behind with the settlement. Charlotte would personally ride in his stead, to accompany such a dire diplomatic mission. She had another plan to attend to as well...converting the colony.

It was known to the Reinen girl, that if a war was won and it's spoils locked away, such a vault would be in a location where all the allied parties could watch over it feverishly. She also understood, that such factions may be lenient to show an outsider their treasures, hence the fourteen who followed behind her. Even worse, she expected spies from the witch. That is why, they came in the morning just before sunrise.

Fifteen Reinen, dressed in their finest, began their march. They crossed the stone fields and entered the Platz from the north, three wagons in tow. The first and foremost held kegs of beer, and a tray of fine silverware. The second, contained a single barrel half full with gunpowder and half with rocks. The last was filled with breads and oats.

They rolled into town, moving at a trot, and raising all sorts of commotion. Charlotte rode at the head of the procession, watching ahead with apprehension. Her militia behind her were almost jovial, singing songs normally saved for feasts. In the end, the Holy Princess cracked a smile too though her Defenders remained stoic.

Having talked to only commoners, she knew not the other faction leaders by name, face, or any other construct. She knew not how to ask for an audience, but she did gather a method of receiving one. An accordion and a violin would steal the ears of all those who drew near.

We come from a land gone yonder!
We come from across the sea!
We never seem to eat our fill!
We are always thirsty!

Heidi, Heidi, pure almighty!
Won't you dance with me?!
After tonight, we'll be wed!
Underneath the tying tree!

I worked all day to raise this house!
I worked all day to tame this land!
I've come to ask you Heidi, oh
won't you take my hand?!

There are no maidens sweeter!
Hey, don't give me that glare!
Oh won't you accompany me Heidi,
down to the Reinen fair!

Heidi, Heidi, pure almighty!
Won't you dance with me?!
After tonight, we'll be wed!
Underneath the tying tree!

The wagons circled the square and stopped against the edges of the blood fountain. Charlotte accepted a hand down from her horse as one of her men retrieved her favorite soap box and placed it at her feet. She could see the people of the colony as she took one step up and then another, waving to the crowd from atop her perch. The Defenders stood stoic, flanking her and the wagons. The Miliz smiled and greeted everyone they saw with bread and beer, blessing them by their lord. The Princess spoke to the peasantry.

"We the Reinen, men of the East-river, come here today bringing food and music to you, the people of the Platz. We wish to extend to you the blessings of the Lord of Purity and to welcome you to join us in worship. Starting tomorrow, an elder will be waiting to preach and teach our faith by the learning square. In the meantime, enjoy the festivities!"

She paused.

"And one more thing, I seek a private meeting with a representative of the faction leaders who fought the mud-elves. May one of them come forth and join us as the sun rises!"

The accordion began anew as Charlotte retired from her box and began to welcome her guests in their own square. She was sure at least one of these leaders would be awoken by the racket and curious enough to pay her mind before the drinks ran out. If not, they'd clear the square and make sure everyone was safe before bombing the sinner's fountain and cleaning the Platz of its debauchery.

No faction leader could sleep through that, and, they'd be doing the colonists a favor. The theory among the elders was, that the witch drew her powers from the bloody spicket.

Orders:

Spoiler

The Reinen are awaiting an audience with the faction leaders who fought against the mud-elfs, so they may gain entrance to the vault and secure the ring.

While they wait, they seek to win favor and converts with the peasantry. Should no one answer, they will demolish the blood fountain and leave BUT ONLY if they can do so without hurting anyone. They aren't terrorists, they're purifiers looking to stop an evil witch.

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

Caelis' ears perked as he heard a bit of commotion near the Attolian Housing District. In fact, he heard something that he had not heard in many seasons, an accordion. He headed towards this noise and slowly pieced things together. It appears that the Reinen had arrived and the Princess herself seeked audience with the faction leaders who fought in the Battle of the Platz. It appeared that the Reinen were aware of the finger. Plus, they made quite an impression with wagons of bread and beer being distributed to nearby spectators. This was an opportune time to meet the Princess. Caelis stepped up to the Princess and gave a grand bow. "Hail, Princess of the Reinen. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. If I may introduce myself, I am Lord Caelis Wolff, heir to the noble Wolff Family of the Kingdom of Attolia. I hear that you have been looking for me?"

"The pleasure is mine Ser Caelis, I have heard much of the the Attolians here in the new world," Charlotte was soft spoken in conversation as she walked away from the theatrics. The square was growing loud. She returned his bow with a curtsy, and was quick to dive into business. "A great evil has been seen in the wood and the faithful plan to purify it, we need the ring taken from the mud-elves during your defense of the colony." There was an almost worried sparkle in her eyes as the young woman paused, unsure if she should continue. "A witch attacked two of my men, they escaped through faith alone..."

Caelis nodded. "I must admit, I suspected that this was the reason for your visit. While he was a bit perturbed by the Reinen's... eagerness to begin proselytizing especially when this was meant to be a diplomatic envoy, Caelis did not think that it was too much of an issue. He did not think it was the domain of government to dictate or lord over the beliefs in the divines. Besides, he was skeptical that people's beliefs could be that easily swayed. It was just that this blatant advert of the Reinen belief was a bit rude when this was meant to be a personal meeting, seemingly of aid. "To be frank, I had been somewhat aware of your need of this finger. My seer, Cassandra, has had visions of you, the wisp woods, the finger, and the lady... the poor lady. If I may be frank, I do not think that what you believe to be the witch is not the true source of this wickedness. However, that is mere speculation on my part. Still, the haunted wisp woods are certainly a concern of ours as well as it should be of the entire colony's."

Caelis then paused for a moment before he continued "Thus, I have been advocating that the finger be granted for this cause ever since my seer mentioned that you may find a use for it. Of the three factions who partook in the war, I and the High Elves, have agreed to give you this finger. However, the third, has been absent around the colony as of late and cannot be contacted. Therefore, we have been hesitant to send the finger to you without informing the Aymaran. However, know that the Attolians give you their blessing and that the High Elves support giving you the finger as well. In fact, my seer, Cassandra, may prove to be useful in determining what vile evil has befallen the lady and the wisp woods and how to bring it to an end. The High Elves, I believe, would also be willing to aid you if you request it as they are rather ardent in their duty to banish evil from the lands."

Charlotte stopped. "So your seer, Cassandra, has had the dreams too?" The darkness in the wood must have been darker then she first believed. "The Elders and I, we believe that the lady you speak of is trapped, her soul warped and twisted as it lay bare in the wood. We believe that with the finger, we may perform a rite to free her from this plane and purify the evil that turned her into the monster that almost killed my guards."

Caelis almost seemed put off by something to her, was it the scene they had made in the square? He'd have to excuse their show, she had no way to make an appointment and needed his attention.

She started to walk once more. "We wonder if that fountain might be connected, but what we do know is that she was released from the wood when my men escaped. The elders fear retaliation, our settlement is just across the river."
Charlotte looked up at Caelis, letting their eyes meet. "We need that ring, with or without the Aymarans, can you get it?"

Charlotte thought it almost insulting that they tarried so on the permission of a faction they could not reach. Her people's lives depended on this ring, and they knew but had delayed out of what...politeness? She tried her best to hide this pain. Things depended on a cordial relationship.

Caelis nodded. He empathized with her frustration and her urgency to obtain the ring. He stated "Things have admittedly been frustrating in terms of dividing the loot. However, this is meant to be a unified colony and ignoring the Aymarans would be... they had a crucial role in the battle. Without them, I fear that this settlement that stands before you would not exist. However, I do think that there is a way for you to obtain the finger even without the Aymarans' consent. The loot is the property of the colony right now. I am sure that you know of the newly formed government? If the loot was made to be shared among members of the Colonial Government, then the Reinen could push for the finger to be given to them...no."

Caelis shook his head. It felt wrong to force the Reinen into this situation. "I will get you that finger. I will likely have to give up a significant portion of the Attolian claim to the treasures in order to get first picks of the spoils... but I will go negotiate and obtain that finger for your people." Caelis then paused for a moment again. Would he give up a claim to such invaluable treasures for the sake of people that is not his own? This was a hard decision, but it was for the sake of the colony as a whole.

"However, I wish to request something of you as well. As you probably know, Princess, the Attolians, High Elves, and the Order of St. Victoria have formed the basis of a Colonial Government and have drafted a Constitution with a following set of Common Law as well. A government is only as strong as its legitimacy in the eyes of the people. Thus, the support of the Reinen for this government would be appreciated. I know that this seems repulsive to the Reinen who prefer their tranquility and relative isolation. However, I believe that this government would also be in the best interests of the Reinen as well. I say that because the Constitution legally prevents the Muurdaan from suddenly appearing and forcefully intruding upon the Colony due to treaties that the Kingdom of Attolia has had in the past with the Eternal Empire. It ultimately grants us autonomy from the Old World when it decides to turn more attention here, and we both know that a day will come when that occurs.

While we would be more beholden to each other, the Common Law drafted is largely in line with Reinen principles and beliefs, and would not be vile to the sense of your people. Plus, a unified government with strong law is something that is becoming more apparent as necessary... there are numerous reports of organized crime and gangs forming around the Colony. It is embarrassing to say, but the Attolians have lost a quarter of our medicine supply recently... likely due to theft. Thus, your support of the government is what I ask. I ask you to help the Colony like how I will help your people."

Charlotte shivered at the Attolians response. She was glad they would get the ring...but this colonial government? She shook her head. It would have to wait.

"When the evil is gone we might talk again, but until then...the Reinen remain wholly independent. I'm sorry."

Charlotte understood the Attolians would be paying a hefty fee for the ring, but was that a burden to placed on the Reinen? If anyone was going to pay in blood at the hands of the witch, it would be most likely they.

This business about uniting the factions, it didn't sit well with her or the elders. The other factions were not faithful. They did not follow the Lord of Purity. They didn't deserve to have any role in governing over the staunchly 'go-it-alone' Reinen.

Charlotte remembered when the Muurdan came, how they had claimed to be the rightful government over her people. For being just and noble, they didn't embody either trait when they dragged her father away in chains. Were the Attolians the same as the Muurdans? She couldn't say, though she would guess not, but she couldn't take the chance...not until she had what she desired.

Charlotte started back towards her men. "Caelis, I can't promise you anything, but when this is all said and done, bring your papers to me and the elders at the settlement. We'll look them over and hear what you have to say."

"Until then, farewell!" Charlotte mounted her horse and the party was cleaned up. All three wagons began to roll and as soon as the morning had begun, the Reinen had disappeared back to the river.

Caelis continued to watch the horizon where the wagons vanished. Did he make the right decision? Clearly, the Reinen did not see themselves as a part of the Colony as a whole nor consider themselves a part. What did this mean if the Platz were attacked? Would they apathetically watch and simply say "At least it wasn't us."? He was not one to take maybes for an answer. He always strived to get problems solved, and did not rely on others who only gave vague maybes. He needed an answer, and if the issue was the people of Reinen not wanting to associate with others... then he had to show them that such isolation would simply lead to the death of all in these hostile lands. The Cull continued to approach closer as every minute passed. They did not have time to wait or for maybes.

 

[Spacekitty]

Guard the henhouse? Why bother! The Foxes are already inside…
(Character posts for Jonklav and the gang incoming, possibly another! But these are the orders. Needed to get them out of the way so I can stop worrying about them )

It was a rather pleasant morning. The sun shone brightly overhead, casting the landscape in a calming golden glow that seemed to put a smile on even the ever-grumpy Yuln. The star’s rays warmed the planet, not enough to make it unbearably hot, yet not too little to allow it be uncomfortably cold. Even the humidity seemed to cooperate, not a single drop of dew could be found condensed to the Finecian’s fur. Like the old human tale involving a small child and three bears (Mr. Salvator had of course read the tale, thinking it to be rather odd and nonsensical), it was just right. But of course, the faction such as Salvator’s Fine Brews and Luxury Goods Co. does not measure a good day by the amount of sunshine alone, rather by how brilliantly it reflects off of their earnings that day. And it seemed, to Mr. Salvator at least, that said reflection was slightly too dim for his tastes…

The aged mobster burst out angrily from his makeshift “office” after a meeting with his capos, leaving them in his dust to nervously glance amongst themselves in the tent. At least they would be comfortable inside, safe for now from their bosses rage. Their only wish was that the place was sound proof. Oddly enough, the meeting had gone almost swimmingly, at first. The fickle minded Fox had been more than pleased when shown his temporary quarters, which Sontio had overseen the construction of personally. The office space was a large tent of sorts formed by a circular wall of carts and crates with a pillar in the middle that supported a tarp that draped over it all. Inside was a rather ornate set of a matching desk, bed, night stand, dresser, and even a painting by the late Elven artist Arwen Elladan depicting a tranquil day at sea hung on the wall. All complimentary of the rather generous Admiral who brought them here.

The boss’s mood had been further elevated as the Capos began almost assaulting him with a wealth of information about the colony, from the factions that called it home, almost concerning detail on the guilds already formed, to the average number of drunken brawls per hour that occurred in the tavern. What's more, they had found the perfect area to settle- right at the entrance to the depression that served as the main trade route of the colony. The area was even protected by the paranoid snobs to the west, the human meat shields to the east and strange crocodile men- one of whom had tried to take a bite out of Salvator before realizing he was a friend -to the north. Right in the flow of trade, protected on almost all sides, and the area even had convenient ruins to use as the foundations for their new HQ. A map of the area had even been produced in the short time they had been here.

And then there was the bad news. Despite finding a suitable location for a base, little real progress had been made constructing one. A city of ramshak tents, little more. But he had suspected as much. Few skilled workers had been left behind to guide the thugs and trolls. He should be pleased they at least have a roof over their heads. No, what angered him was the Hitmen’s failure to acquire the gunpowder he had tasked them with. Fortunately for them, this failure he pinned on Sorkin (They had “forgotten” to mention the fact that the entire Reinen ship had been unloaded, deconstructed and the supplies moved while they feasted on nuts and slept). The gunpowder would have to wait, this Sorkin would have to be dealt with, and soon.

Spoiler: Orders

1. The workers were whipped into shape. There would be no rest now- not when there was so much work to be done! If their quota wasn’t met rations would be cut in half. And then a quarter if delays continued.
   
   
2. Under the supervision of Master Brewer/Grower Yuln Orsona fifteen skilled Workers and ten Thugs will begin converting the cellars of several of the ruins into temperature controlled farms for mold and fungus. The damp nature of cellars makes them perfect for this but cold temperatures can slow, halt or even kill the product and so ensuring they can control the temperature will be a key priority. This of course, while easier said than done, is not a new concept for them and methods that worked in the old world will be put into place here. A leading idea is use of fires/furnaces to provide heat and piping/vents to dissipate heat inside/outside the room. Vents will be abled to be opened and close. Some will be used to let heat into the cellars, others will be used to let heat out. Growing of mold and fungus will begin as soon as possible.
   
   
3. Under the supervision of Donti, who will be sure to ensure Salvators deadline is met, ten skilled workers and ten thugs will work on the upper levels of the growing cellars and ruins inadequate for growing. They will be restored and built upon to create mini warehouses, distilleries, and workshops for the Jewelers and craftsmen. Productions of Finecians beers and wines will begin immediately once they are completed. These more legal operations will hide the growing going on below.
   
   
4. 5 skilled workers will oversee the 5 trolls who will be used as machinery to begin digging out the cellar of the planned main warehouse with 10 thugs as support,
   
   
5. Jonti Capro will begin work on creating illusions to hide their growing cellars and activities in general.
   
   
6. Master BIologist Mikkoleti Sonto will be sent out along with 5 skilled workers to study the native fauna of this new world, aiming to find materials that could be used to produce old and new drugs. (Searching for honey, syrup, etc and now things to experiment with)
   
   
7. Five skilled workers, among whom will be agricultural specialists will search for land to grow the crops they will need to produce their more favored drugs.
   
   
8. Andrei Connic and the 6 hit men are given a new primary task. Uncover Sorkin’s operations and end it. Acquiring gun power is now a secondary mission. (Post for Jonklav and the gang coming soon!)
   

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

The Blood, Sweat, and Tears of the Kingdom

"You have called for me, My Lord?" Cassandra confidently stated. Caelis was still unnerved by Cassandra's complete change in demeanor. Ever since she had accepted the deal with the Red Fountain... she had no longer been the same. It was concerning, and the extent of the Red Fountain's control over Cassandra was unknown. However, the Red Fountain seemed to be helpful so far and there was no reason to consider it outright hostile. Still, Caelis had made it a point to not allow Cassandra to rely on the fountain and for her to develop and learn more about her powers through her own initiative. This seemed fruitful so far as she was instrumental in healing the five poisoned elves. Her blood magic was not inherently evil. No, it could be used to help and to heal as well. Still, there was much uncertainties, but he was confident that Cassandra was strong willed to continue to help Caelis and the Sons and Daughters of Attolia.

Caelis nodded and said "I am glad that you have arrived here so promptly." After all, she was able to fly with her new abilities, which meant that she could quickly appear where she was needed or called. "Cassandra, I am sure that you remember that vision that you had." "Of the poor noblewoman?" "Indeed... it seems that the noblewoman, the wisp woods, and these reports of a witch by the Reinen are all interlinked. I would like you to help that noble woman find salvation and end her torment. I would like you to help the Reinen and end the witch problem that plagues them. I would like you to clear the woods of these wisps and unnatural beings. But, ultimately, I need you to help me, Cassandra. Help me to unify the Colonies. Help me to ensure that the people of this New World will have a future to look forwards to. Help me to ensure that the Sons and Daughters of Attolia will flourish in these new lands. To achieve this, I need you to take this." as he produced the preserved finger with the ring. "And go to the Reinen to help me achieve these dreams of mine for the Colony and the people."

Cassandra nodded and deeply bowed "I am blessed for you to entrust me with such a task. As always, I will serve you, My Lord, and do all that I can to help you and carry out your will." She gracefully took the finger and with no further hesitation, seemingly flew away from Caelis towards the east. There was much to be done, but Caelis was confident that Cassandra could accomplish the heavy task that he had granted her. It was a task that the Colony needed to be done if there were to be a future for the Colony. He looked towards something that shined in the corner of his eye; the Star Tear seemingly called to him. There was much to be done, but Caelis was confident that he could see the light in the distance.

Summary:
Caelis gives the finger with the Ring to Cassandra
Cassandra is on her way to the Reinen with the finger to assist them

 

[Beckoncall]

THE SLAVERS COME TO MARKET!!!

"Ladies and gentlemen, please tell your friends, far and wide to come to the auction! You'll get a discount if you can draw verifiable attention to the Sale!" I'm Mr. Narvik -- YOUR FRIEND, and the finest and gentlest whip in 20 markets! Nary a mark on any of these, friends -- just the finest quality slaves for you and your needs, from the mundane to the exotic, and boys and girls you are going to LOVE what you see! Before I explain the lots on sale, I'll say that My Wife the lady Narvik is perusing the luxury guild as we speak so who knows? maybe you've already made a profit to spend here!!! Don't think! Just buy! Slaves are a no-brainer where there's work to be done!

Thralls -- 50 for 1 wealth
"My first lot may not be the most special -- but a more grateful gang of servants you can't hope to possess. Left without home after an unfortunate assassination in the Warrion Downs, these folks can't make it in this world alone! Give these men and women a purpose, friends -- They've held up well over the voyage, and the majority of them will be 100% with a little bit more food and water. A steal at one wealth coffer! Their master is dead and they have no path to freedom -- their loss if our gain, get them while they're young and hot! I'm not winking ma'am, but really I am!! HA-HA!"

Kobolds -- 50 for 2 wealth!
"great miners and porters! They Know who's boss -- and that boss could be YOU! Resiliant! kick 'em all you want -- sniveling and scraping they'll do, but rise against you? NEVER. Confuses as hell since they were captured in the Dwarf deeps of Tar-Gharomax and haven't understood a damn thing that's been happening to them ever since! Great labor, hard to wear out, harder to kill -- so if that's your pleasure better rest up before you take up your whip or flail! Great for the true sadist that has trouble holding onto his imps! No glass ones here! A great Buy!"

"Next lot, I am personally proud of -- Found this little diva with no depth-perception hiding on an Island in the south archepelagos! Just wants to be left alone and guard a territory -- will it be your treasure room? Your gardens? Your very life? You guessed it -- A Giant Cave Cyclops! -- Dumb as a post, but makes friends easily. Doesn't want treasure, perfect guard dog! Screams loud enough to wake the whole community at dawn, if that's what you're into! Alarm clock, Guard Dog, even sacrificial pawn of destruction -- yours for 3 wealth!"

(the thing looks defeated, and it's eye has not opened since it was unloaded, it stands like a gorrilla on all fours, it's wrists bound VERY tight and close so that it almost stands and moves like a tripod. It's breath is loud but sad and vanquished.)

Gnomes -- 10 for 1 wealth. "Exiled for building bizarre machines for rebels against the empire -- they've spent the last 10 years building siege weapons for the muurdaan for the PRIVILEDGE of being spared so YOU fine ladies and gents could buy them! Who wants to show their approval with 1 wealth?! They're lives are forfeit, so why won't YOU own them?"

Now this next Lot I'm really proud of -- because it showcases some of the other wares we have to trade at market!!! The Muurdaan have waged war on the Ancient Woods of the Scelapian expanse, so we not only have this Ent captured in the conflict, but we have A WIDE SELECTION of ancient and elven woods that were cut down or knocked down in the sieges of the wood! Ask about it at market! the Lady Narvik will show you wood like you have never seen!!! (*Beck: Unless you're one of SpiralErrant 's Springborn, that is -- eesh!)

"You never would have guessed! A Sabre Ent! -- Look at this majestic beast! Captured, bound and enslaved from the deadly resistance forces of the Wood Elf Autumn lord himself! 15 feet tall, each hand a battering ram! You won't believe the cruelties the Muurdaan heaped on this one to ensure it's docility to a master -- and we pass those savings onto you! a STEAL at 2 wealth -- and if it ever looks at you sideways, a torch will fix that, never a creature more afraid of fire! come and see!"

"Now for the slave-owner with an attention to the exotic --100 Smog Gremlins -- Like flammable gasses? Chemical weapons?! Smog gremlins are your playthings! A short fuse and their propensity to flee in the direction their facing make them great improvised suicide bombers! Herd them in chains and they generate cover, and woe be unto the folk downwind of them! They can only breathe in the company of more gremlins, so don't worry about individual ones running off! come with various bonds and chain-gang equipment! See what you can get them to do for you! Only 2 wealth, but you better take them all, please!"

"For our last lot we have... 50 Lesser Siren -- Disenchanted to make them harmless, these poor ladies can't WAIT to sing for you -- this close to the sea you won't even need to keep them wet half the time! And the MUSIC -- any of the wealthy amoung you will never want to be without them cast about your abodes! 3 Wealth! Never be without a harmony again! Comes with a Magical shell that if hey get unruly, can be smashed to make them mute forever! Do you think they won't serve you for life? with this leverage It's GUARANTEED!"


(Next post: Slavers buying and selling at Market -- commodities!)

 

[Beckoncall]

SALES AT MARKET!!!

At the Market, The "Lady Narvik" -- Stangely a weird facsimile of the slaver's husband, They both wore full long and black robes and finery of nobles... him a suit and her something that looked like an armored ball-gown. They both wore absurd jet-black top-hats that seemed to teeter impossibly from an angle on their heads -- one would guess Mr. Narvik wore a wig that his hat was simply a part of, while one guessed the lady Narvik's hat was held on by an impossible complex of hairpins. Perpetually polite, no amount of rosy words could disguise that they were terrible people -- true sociopaths who had found a true love together, leaving behind them a trail of mercantile storm and tears to those that ran afoul of them. True Muurdain in blood, The lady Narvik looked at everything as if she owned it, or chose not to. Her agents constantly whispered to her and she would unfurl a fan to disguise any quiet conversation politely... she had the charm of a beautiful cobra. A single GIANT cart UNFOLDED in the market, showing the Slave Ships wares that were not, ahem... Livestock. The Lady's agents quickly assessed what was in the market and sought to purchases.

Salt -- The Lady immediately saw the value that this commodity had for long-distance traders, and quickly sought to purchase the purest amounts of it. "The Cunning" do not drive a hard bargain... but a take is made nonetheless. (+1 Wealth to Market, +1 Wealth Direct to Aymaran)

Dohvamon and Tropical Melons -- Exotic enough that combined sales enrich the market. (+1 wealth to market!)

Many commodities like tropical feathers and bull-iron "gee-gaws" and pottery had either not ramped up in production sufficiently or not recovered from depletion in the sale at the haunted Agora in the ruins... What remains is snapped up and new wealth enriches the economy. (+1 wealth to colony!)

Bramble-gem lighting!!! -- The attolians had for sale a cart of prototype enduring lighting, small amounts of magical charge suspended in bramble-gems from the Swamps of Onlymorn, they themselves obtained from Tyren who explored there long ago. The Tyren were dejected that the sale in the ghost Agora put them at seemingly only value as costume jewels... but the Lady Narvik LOVED the new potential realized as a light source. (+2 wealth to market, +1 wealth Direct to Attolians!)

After these purchases, all The lady's agents buzzed around her -- apparently there was only so much they could spend until profit from their own wares, and that of her husband's, A Strange, Damp, and HORRIBLE-SMELLING CRATE was brought out of the depression to be shown to the lady by an agent of "The faith of the Rich" -- The Lady Narvik scowled at this agent, and said "Livestock is the business of my husband... Take it to him, and for the love of heaven and hell, get that disgusting thing out of the sun."

MARKET TURNS PROFIT! : +4 WEALTH IN MARKET, +1 Wealth to Aymarans and Attolians!

 

[Beckoncall]

"Hearts and Sales of Stone and Wood"

The Lady Narvik, her cart unpacked, showed the wares she herself had for sale to the colony -- mostly minerals, a train of huge and tortured oxen strain to drag it from the depression into the marketplatz:

Ancient Wood (2 units!) -- Once alive in perpetuity from time immemorial, this fine lumber has FINALLY been harvested for the pleasure of the true afficianado -- before we take this wood to the next stop amid the auctions of the trade-belt, you have a chance to grab some samples -- as a special favor to Underlord Varna, who believes some of this wood should find a home here. Subsidized at 3 wealth per unit, this lumber is PURE GOLD in color, both holds and radiates magic, and is simply some of the best material for building or crafting you'll ever encounter. Easily twice this price after this sale -- I almost wish you wouldn't buy it!
( SpiralErrant : Springborn will see this as the murdered bones of their home-trees... a terrifying thought.)

Black, Rose-Vein Granite! (3 units) -- From the Slave Quarries of Hiraam, These rough-hewn blocks take slaves untold time and lives to curry from the jealously guarding earth. Remnants from our last port of call, you may buy each cart of blocks for a mere 1 wealth! So often security must compromise aesthetics, this material is for the builder that refuses to compromise!"

GREAT DEAL ON QUARTZ! (4 units)

"We've just learned that this mineral can be locally sourced, so those of you in a hurry can take advantage of our misfortune! Cut from solid blocks of crystal, these cubes can be broken down further or become a beautiful statement of their own whole and unworked. Further this graded of Quartz is perfect for magical catalysts and lenses of all kinds -- and what lenses can you cut from blocks such as these!?
TRUE ROBBERY at 1 wealth per 2 units! Make us both happy and take it all!"

OBSIDIAN: 1 cart-load (unit)
For the truly discriminating connoisseur, This sample was taken from the prison of the hell-elemental Xyzythrax! Volcanic glass as black as the night, when polished it's a beautiful purple... Knowing we can make more at the next stop, we'll part with it for 4 wealth for the unit. Need a chamber that is proof to all heat and fire? LOOK NO FURTHER -- this is your solution for the next thousand years!

Rubies (1 unit) -- "We bought too many of these, so we have some left for this stop... a STEAL at 4 Wealth, a doubtless investment for whatever beautification or jewelry you might care to make, or simply sell to the next trading ship!!! Loss is gain, people! Make me regret it!"

SPIDERSILK: (2 units)
"And finally, see all of these sparkling bolts of cloth?! None other than the silk of collosal spiders from the jungles of Hiraam! How many warriors died for these luxuries? Don't concern yourself! Just know it's 3 wealth per unit! Cloth as good as armor! Rope as strong as steel! Don't get too close to your campfire, but the applications for this material are amazing to behold! 5 wealth if you buy it all!

 

[Beckoncall]

"Dwarven hope and habitat" --

The Dwarves, Lead by Grimdr, first stopped at the most alarming temple of Dracos. Sure, it was a human structure -- made of rough-hewn cliff-rock (which was a choice the dwarfs actually admired) it looked like a Rectangular structure built out of mortar-clung Talons of stone, as if the dragon herself was sending a hundred claws skyward. The interior was more a mix of cobbled ruins-stone and the best wood the Exiles could capture, which admittedly wasn't that great. What WAS awesome, even to dwarves that were difficult to impress, is that an open aperture at the front on the structure struck a HUGE naked ruby in the shape of an eye -- THE EYE OF DRACOS. Light, of moon or sun, would bathe the interior of the temple with a Fire-Dragon Red. The interior of the church was dark, but the red light leant itself to finer night vision. They watched, incredulous, at the moving sermon of "High Priest Baez" --who emerged from a staircase behind the rock housing the "Dragon's Eye" -- and preached from his heart of freedom of sky, of purity of fire, of redemption and righteous rage. He said that as dragons hoard, so too might some of the faithful, but a reckoning was coming for those that kept separate their loyalties to dracos from other loyalties they held. "When the light and eye is on you, when the torch and flame looks for you -- your works are laid bare. Surely as she knows, so too will your comrades if your heart is duplicitous. "Exiles have had to represent their own interests to avoid the yoke of other factions, yes -- but for those of you who have made a new yoke for yourselves, will lose, my brothers." A claw-shaped nest of dagger-like rock held a massive brass brazier that burned a variety of flammables, from shark-oil, to pitch, and driftwood. The congregation was invited to climb up and down a ramp that allowed them to safely run their hands through the smoke, which stained their hands. at the bottom of the ramp barrels of sea-water invited the faithful to wash the soot clean of their hands. These folk had little instruction in the ways of Dracos, but Grimdr felt the presence of his goddess was here. Baez ended his sermon with "Until the ArchInquisitos be found, or has found us, faithful -- the goddess knows our hearts better than we know the faith... but this is no barrier to the goddess, nor her flock."

Baez was pleased to see the newcomers in such large numbers in his house of worship, so he gestured that they were welcome to talk to him when he was not swamped with the process of the worship, and the glad-handing afterwards.

The dwarves continued their assigned tasks -- which were few. They transported all of their goods to the top of the Platz, and made a hard-right through the ruins south of the Attolian 'housing district' -- if that's what humans called firetraps that threatened to fall upon their heads tomorrow if not return to piles of ruin if left alone for less than a century... they scoffed. Still almost completely in file, they walked along the garrison of St. Victoria, and watched with somewhat less but still real contempt for their lighthouse... the ruins of the Platz thinned, and then it was just the dwarves, solid against the howling wind of the sea, as they walked along the cliff... so sure of foot it mattered not how close to the edge they walked.

"What do you call a dwarf that falls over?" Drumrim couldn't help but find a speck of levity between his gritted teeth. the old jokes were always so tired, but one peer to another they always took the bait.

"An impostor." Olthurn laughed once and punched the dwarf ahead of him in the shoulder. The blow might have sent a human flying for the ledge, but as if to corroborate the old chestnut of a jest -- the blow was barely registered. They marched a relatively short distance from the platz to the east, put down their gear, and began to dig a hole.

A perfectly square hole. When it was deep enough, which it didn't need so much to be considering their stature, they brought all of their supplies underground. Utterly without ceremony they carved two doors from the same piece of living stone and made a strong barred door -- framed into more rock, and eventually, into THE rock. The door was nondescript in every way except for the way it seemed to say "trespassers NOT welcome" --

From here, they began to dig their dwarfhome. Of a certain footprint in size, they dug out, then down, then out, then down... like building a great vertical tower, but in the negative.

"Plenty of room, brothers... we'll not stop digging until we can open on the port below! 30 stories lads! Lets make a joke of it, eh Drumrim?"

Who knows when the dwarves would even be seen again?

 

[Beckoncall]

NorthOfOrdinary - Prince Vaethorion - Heyitsjiwon - Enemy Standoo :

"Crime is on the rise!!"

It is quickly discovered when the Reinen return to their homes from current business -- that there has been a burglary of sorts! Outrage about the crime rapidly spreads throughout the colonial government.

Enno, being in far too weak a shape -- slept through the entire ordeal, but 10 rifles, 20 handguns, and a generous share of powder for them has vanished into thin air! To make matters worse, the coffers of the Reinen, stowed and secured were still found locked and barred -- but ONE WEALTH POINT IS MISSING!!! (-1 wealth Reinen)

Since the settlement is empty and the thieves were careful to cover their tracks, no evidence as of yet to the perpetrators has surfaced!

(this amount of armament lost will not impede the power of your troops, as extras and fashioning replacements is possible... and there is plenty of powder left. However, the loss of a full wealth point is disconcerting!)

 

[Beckoncall]

NorthOfOrdinary :

"Reinen Beer, song and cheer, when the bomb goes off, be nowhere near?"

The Reinen Festival in the square brings all manner of people out of the woodwork... activity from the already busy market brings many folk to investigate first out of curiosity, but then in droves for delicious bread and beer.

Attolians, exiles, Even some of the more humble fennecs, Ratmen, even a few aymarans although they are confused about what beer and bread actually is, and don't like to consume it.

Attolian constables, gaining wind of the bomb -- begin to assemble, and ask that lord caelis or lord wulf must be summoned before anything rash be done with the well. It was surely an oversight for Lord Caelis to say nothing about the barrel or powder and rocks, perhaps he was not informed when he came to the square to make parlay.

The Attolians, offering some elven wine from the Inn and some shark and capybaras. A party becomes more underway, and Talk of the Lord of purity is received differently by different peoples:

Exiles: We follow the goddess Dracos! Most of us will not share our faith with another god -- but those among us who believe in many gods can hear a yarn or two about this "Lord of Purity" -- what does the lord of Purity have to offer those who have only been redeemed by fire? Men and Women who bear the scars of this world's cruelty, and have done our fair share of cruelty ourselves, some might say!

Attolians: In Attolia, we have tolerance and ear for all the divines, but as a people we do not hold any gods above them all -- if The lord of purity requires it, some of us may adopt your faith, but it may never have the greatest traction with many of our folk... when all the divines seek and deserve our regard, why must we shun powers we might need and respect?

Ratkin: They are more curious than anything else. The "Sons and Daughters" of the ratkin are very friendly, but non-committal. It is obvious they have never been invited to share in human fellowship -- and it is obvious many will be bringing much talk of it to the underwarren!

Tyren: We had Green Goddess, and we took her to the heart of Harun'Taras. In the end, our Shamans and Chiefs warned us not to tie ourselves to one great spirit. Many worship the Green Goddess still, and our herds and our crops have grown for it. Is Lord of Purity a Minotaur? What does he know of cattle?

In the end, a handful of exiles and a score of so Attolians are interested enough to seek fellowship. To guess further would be too speculative.

The party, by it's apex is a great festival indeed -- though many folk try their best to assure the Reinen that the blood fountain has nothing to do with Witches, and is in fact a place where one of a few spirits that guard the fledgling colony chooses to reside. Many implore Charlotte to stay her hand with her Bombing the fountain, if she will not commune with the spirit within the fountain itself, at least endeavor to learn about the fountain from it's adherents -- not the least fact of it is that it may have saved the life of Lord Caelis in battle -- and while he walks and rides tall, you would not guess in that battle he was near-mortally wounded...

Overall:

COLONY MORALE TAKES A GREAT JUMP -- BEER WAS SHORT AND A PARTY WAS SORELY NEEDED!

Reinen morale increases in particular, which insulates them somewhat from the sad news of a great theft when they return home...

 

[General Deth Glitch]

Waiting until the man was no longer surrounded Grimdr walks to have a small discussion. He asks him about how the true faith managed to cross the great ocean and says "I'll certainly be returnin' to talk a greater length in future. I hope m' people are able for use of your temple for their own worship. I hope I can oneday support this great house, give you a building worthy of that..." trailing off as he points at the eye. After the short discussion he heads off to help his people settle this new land. However upon leaving he is met by a large animal-like being, it tells him and his fellow Dwarves about its peoples influence on the construction of the temple. Grimdr looks cautiously at the being "I am glad you dont supress our faith. I hope you listen to her message and I thank you for helping it in this new age." He wished to converse more with the large being but didn't want to stand around chatting while his people were hard at work. Arriving at the new, fledgling, hold he gives a few orders. First he states the priority of what they need to 'build' first. He would place a 'barracks' for sleeping as the first priority seconded by a guard post near the entrance and then a focus on descending down. Once they reach the bottom the real construction work would begin.

While many of the Dwarves are not generally put to work mining they all know the methods and skills, as do all Dwarves. With this project being so vital they all set to work getting everything up to standards for the dwarves to have a home. Even if it was, by Dwarven standards, merely a 'hostel' of sorts. However Grimdr knew he and his people were far from safe. They had their own supplies for a short while but until they could begin producing their own food, deep in the ground, they would need to interact with the world above. After helping them finish shaping the basic shape of the early buildings he set off again with a small group. They needed to set up deals. They needed security. While they could defend themselves that would only be able to help them right up until the food ran out. Grimdr didn't need friends. But he needed allies. With that in mind he set off to the Lighthouse to request a meeting with their leadership. "We 'ere would like to tae meet wit who commands this tower. I am Grimdr, I speak for the Firebeards."

 

[Spacekitty]

Mr. Mallowthew straightened his suit in the mirror, adjusting his silken tie with both hands. He looked rather good he thought, smiling to himself. Like a true businessman. The young up and comer wore a slim fitting silver suit and matching pants with his royal blue undershirt peeking out from under his cufflinks. To top it all off was another hat, a grey top hat with a blue feather on the right side. Professional yet fashionable. True Finecian style. It had been a while since he had worn something fresh- the last few days had been so crazy he hadn't had time to change! He had slept and worn in the same suit for the past three days! He had so much to plan and execute, and not even a fraction of it was done. There were many sleepless work filled nights ahead filled with scheming and planning. Nights well spent if you asked him.

He hummed contently to himself as he bounded around his small office, a smaller less elaborate version of Salvator’s tent fitted with a bed, desk, chest and a bronze mirror he had picked out from the First Mate’s chamber. His bed was a mess, it looked as if an entire family of Finecians had slept upon it. His desk was the same, papers and models spread randomly across it, drawers already over flowing.

He had just finished organizing the company's entrance into the market. Walking Dream Soda would be flooding the Luxury Guild this time tomorrow, and would soon be followed by other Finecian beers and wines. Later he would have to do the same with their medicinal and jewelry sectors, but for now he had more interesting business to attend to.

His humming turned to fanciful whistling as he did a twirl, adjusting his top hat and straightening his jacket one final time before exiting his tent. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sudden change in brightness. Today was beautiful- perfect weather for a little slave peruving! Around him Finecians were hard at work, rushing around haphazardly under the watchful, outspoken eye of Sontio.

“I want this roof erected by mid day!” He shouted at a crew of engineers below, spittle flying from his mouth as he took a subsequent bite out of a chicken leg. He was always complaining about how all the yelling he had to do made him hungry. “We ain’t stopping for lunch till it is, so… make it happen!”. Several of the engineers let out high pitched shriek. No lunch!? They had already skipped breakfast! Their pace doubled forthwith, yelling at the workers they supervised while bouncing around excitedly from project to project. The roof would be erected within the hour.

He made his way through the construction site, weaving through a maze of ruins in varying states of decay and repair. Some were in the first stages of excavation, groups of thugs struggling to lift (or more like push/roll) rubble and debris out of the foundations. Others were nearly done, groups of engineers supervising other workers as they used small cranes they had erected on the spot to lift wood and tiles up to carpenters crawling about on the unfinished roofs. From the basements of many of these buildings the distinctive musty odor of Purple Slime wafted upwards along with the clinking of metal on metal and picks on stone as workers hidden below the restored cellars outfitted them to serve as small mold and fungus farms. Towards the temporary rickety wooden steps that served as the main way down to the depression a large hole was being dug in the ground. More engineers stood around the ever deepening depression, shouting orders down to the trolls and thugs below. Mr. Mallowthew stopped for a moment by the edge, glancing down at the scene below. Thugs and other skilled workers scampered about, dwarfed by the large slimy trolls they had been tasked with directing. The trolls were almost completely naked, their moist pale green skin reflecting the sun's light as they worked, using large over sized shovels and picks to dig through the dirt and rock. From the outside the other factions could probably see dirt and rock erupt from the Finecians perch above the depression as if small explosions were occurring in rapid succession.

“Excellent work boys!” He said, slapping the back of the engineer besides him, almost sending the poor fellow tumbling over the edge.

“Thank you sir”. He said, ignoring his near death experience. “We should be done excavating this initial basement within the week.”.

“Good good! This facility will exponentially increase out efficiency. The basement will be the perfect place to produce our brews and the ground floor will make a great distribution center. I’d say this place will be up and running by the end of the month!”.

“Well, sir, I hate to disagree bu-”

“Then don’t!” Mr. Mallowthew said, cutting the engineer off. “I can’t wait to see what you do with the place!”. The Engineer gulped, his ears twitching ever so slightly.

“Of Course sir. I-im sure you’ll be pleased.”

“Good man”. With one final pat on the back, Mallowthew took his leave, descending down the mud soaked staircase. Behind him he could hear the engineer shout with renewed vigor.

***

Mr. Mallowthew approached the docks, excitement brewing within him as he grew closer to the almost circus like precession. Slaves of all sorts and sizes were shackled together in small huddled groups, spread out across the docks. There were hundreds of them! It was amazing they had all been fit into the ship. The slavers were efficient people, clearly. And for that Mr. Mallowthew had to respect them. Besides the slaves were crates upon crates of exotic goods, raw resources in particular seemed to be the main focus. Mr. Mallowthew perused these crates as he made his way to the main attraction. They were top quality goods and many were enticing, especially the rubys. But he had but few coins to spare and the slaves would have to take priority. He and Mr. Slavator had almost been ecstatic when they discovered a slaver ship would be trailing them on their way to the new land. The company had not been able to send quite enough in the way of manpower, a gap a few slaves would fill nicely. Finecians we're no strangers to slavery. Indentured servitude had long been a way to pay of debts, both monetary and in repentance for crimes. The trading and even sale of indentured servants, especially those condemned to work for life wasn’t particularly uncommon either back in the homeland. It would be no different here.

Once he was done window shopping he made his way to the slaves, where large crowds of curious spectators and interested buys alike gathered around. The huge cyclops gathered a massive crowd of interested spectators, even a few merchants who whispered amongst themselves, arguing over whether the creature was really worth the expense. Similar crowds assaulted the ent and spider, although few seemed to have any real interest in purchasing them. It was doubtful any could afford the hefty price tag. They were a spectacle. Nothing more.

Buyers seemed more interested in the cheaper thralls. A flock of merchants examined the poor souls, whom could only try to hide behind their comrades or accept their prodding. They were dressed in little more than dirty rags, grim expressions on their dirt covered faces, unkempt hair on their heads. Some stood tall, almost proud in some sort of defiance to their destiny. Most however, seemed broken, their shackled hands limply held in front of them. Merchants of all races poked and prodded both groups, examining their teeth and feeling their muscles to judge health and strength.

Mallowthew, who had never actually purchased slaves, did the same, although he didn’t really know what he was looking for. The slaves had to lean down to meet the small Finecians needs, a difficult and painful task given the short nature of their leash. After examining a dozen or so thralls he moved on to the others, stopping by both the kobolds and gnomes. The kobolds, small rather ugly creatures seemed submissive, docile even. The gnomes were like smaller, less bulky, devilishly clever dwarves. Almost concerningly clever. But likely useful servants none the less, if watched carefully.

He paused, counting his coin pouch and making quick calculations in his head. After deciding his purchases, he approached Mr. Narvik, whom was busy negotiating with a human merchant. The merchant was trying to make a trade of some sorts with Mr. Narvik, who in turn was rejecting each subsequent offer with a different jovial joke. Mr. Mallowthew, rather than wait for the negotiations to be done, shook his coin purse, the distinctive clink catching the attention of the exuberant slave trader, who excused the penniless merchant.

“Ah! Someone with coin! Finally!” Mr. Narvik exclaimed. “I was beginning to think this place was dry. Boy am I relieved to see a fellow trader- and a Finecian no doubt!”. The trader gave a low bow, sweeping his arm out and almost hitting his previous customer in the process, who stormed off angrily. “So… what’ll it be?” Mr. Narvik grinned.

Spoiler: PURCHASES!

1 unit (50) thralls (To be handed “contracts” which they may sign in return for their freedom, stating that in return for being a “freeman” they will agree to work for the company in indentured servitude for 25 years. They will accept lower pay and work essentially for company housing, food, and allotted free-time during the evening/nights. (although it's much more than being a slave!). Post to come about this soon)

1 unit (50) Kobolds (Their status of slaves will remain unchanged)

1 unit (10) Gnomes (Will be given a similar contract as the thralls but with better compensation)

Total Spent: 4 wealth

The Finecians join the Luxuries guild selling Walking Dream Soda

 

[Beckoncall]

General Deth Glitch :

"Stones of the Hearth, Bones of the Earth" :

The dwarves began to clear their excavation with a purity of purpose and one directedness that even impressed Grimdr... they felt the proximity to Dracos here -- at times only a few thousand yards away, through the stone, they swore they could feel the eye of the goddess upon them. First a barracks was cleared, and it was made decent enough to rest and eat when there was no longer strength for mining. Digging their own tunnels through solid rock, they found no food to speak of -- but strangely the fossils of fish-men and strange three-eyed skulls, stacked vertically were occasionally seen in the rock. After the barracks progress was slowed because they began to run out of space to place the fragmented and relocated stone -- but they quickly cleared another area below the barracks for storage and some dwarves in their spare time used the stone to brick the walls for extra strength and security... such was the hobbies of a dwarf in downtime, though they also gambled on the number of bricks that might be in piles or the amount required to cobble a room. After that, they built a small vault-chamber over the door on the surface to make room for more stone. For now, the way into and out of the dwarf-hold was not even apparent to one that could not find the secret to the box-shaped construct that covered the door... and still they dug on...

...landing after landing of stone steps... they mined ever downward... but in the process found some things...

1) A large void could be detected (by sounding for hallows) east of the main stairway. Odd slithering and whipping noises could also be heard, with instruments.

2) Tiny traces of salt "veins" could lead to greater amounts (the purity was striking) if they were willing to excavate north (though this would deviate from their plan)

3) They truly were running out of food and supplies quickly. It was impressive what they could accomplish, but the mere supplies, even with dwarven efficiency, would not last long without a means to resupply.

4) There were no useful minerals so far in the cliff rock, but they did not really expect to find any, nor were they working their best to look.

 

[SpiralErrant]

["Have you seen this? I didn't think they'd be something this big. These are like, l-like the Fireband slavers, like the Bitterblacks, that ship must have a hold like a cavern."] Shul gawped in disbelief as the slave market was unveiled for all the colony to see. They hadn't expected their first visiting traders to be of this sort.

It wasn't just the tyren down at the market now, Hrun'Taras had come down in force from the hills. A mix of builders working on the shared project of the knights that had been promised, the merchants who were grumbling over the lack of profit going their way today and the warriors who would scrape at the ground with their hooves as they went on guard. The tyren may not have been easy prey for these slave drivers but old habits died hard and old wounds left scars that were spoken of through generations. Even the elves were taking a watch. The little springborn gasped and wept as they saw pieces of their ancient home forests carted out and put on display for all to browse through.

Bruul stood by, arms folded with any twitching of his muscles or swaying of his tail hidden by his ragged grey robes. The same couldn't be said for his chief. Orm hadn't moved from the spot he stood upon for some time but his whole body radiated with suppressed energy like a tightly coiled spring yearning to be set loose. His breath came heavy and loud, his tail flicked like a mad man's whip and his nostrils were flared so wide the flies would think it was play time. His eyes were getting wide too... Bruul could see the red spreading out from the straining veins and those pupils getting wider. The little elves and the stronger one's that had embraced their inner bull were speaking all around him and in such sorrow that the shaman doubted Orm needed to understand every word they said to know what was going on. Then the damn foxes made their move, quick as you like.

The coin changed hands and the chains were taken... and Orm stepped forward. It was the most Bruul could do to step in his path and block his chief's advance before things got any kind of far.

["You have to stay calm."] Bruul hissed at him, as under his breath as a tyren could manage. ["You can't fight them here. Whatever you want to save here will die if you do."]

["Can't let it happen... can't let it pass."] Orm groaned. ["Too fast too much."]

Orm grabbed his war shaman by the shoulders as if Bruul were a rock he could anchor himself on in the raging current. Something to keep him still, something to keep the preassure building behind his eyes in check and to keep him from being overrun by the shadow at his back as it pushed him on.

["Get them out! We get the tree out of the chains before any other buys their chains fast as we can! We bring them back to Hrun'Taras and make them safe. Find the human paymaster and see if we can't get the one's of his kind under our coin as well, we need more strength. And Shul -"] Orm barked to the smaller shaman. ["Find the spirit you spoke of, seek them out however you do!"]

["Yeah chief."] Shul stuttered under Orm's red stare. ["W-what are you doin' for it?"]

["I... I will get help."] And with that Orm stormed from the market and into the white walled quarter of the platz.

*****​

Prince Vaethorion
Orm's heavy steps carved a path into the high elf quarter, he only knew their chief by some fleeting meetings at the learners square but he knew how guards clung to their side, he figured the more swords that stood in his way the closer he was getting. His roaring call went up until their silver chief stood before him.

"This was not what we saw... what we wanted under your star!" Orm's voice thrashed at their white walls as he tried to summon up all he'd learned at the language lessons. "These ones... they come with chains and put blood under coin. Is this us? I will not be slave maker... WILL NOT! If we are one caravan... we stand together... we break chains! Tyren... Elf... come here when homes taken... we can't be... have to be better... break chains." Anger was giving way to desperation under their dark scowls, these ones were so different to the young elves of the hills. But they came her because the old world had driven them from their homes just like the tyren, they had to understand what he meant, what was right, they HAD TO.

And while it all went on the word spread of this meeting. It was easily done, half the colony was gathered for the Reinen festivities in the town centre as the rest browsed the market... and Orm's voice echoed through the high elf mansion it was likely that half the elves in the platz heard him without even trying if their hearing stood up to their bragging. The tyren had been chased through the old world plenty of times in their wanderings as bandits and or ruthless nobles tried to claim what the bulls had... and sometimes what they wanted was the tyren themselves and the chance at strong free labour.

The bulls themselves were open in snorting their distaste for the slavers as news spread that the black charger was trying to rally the other joined leaders of the colony to get the chained folk their freedom in any way the could.

*****​

Beckoncall
So it was down at the sea that a mix of the folk from Hrun'Taras bitterly handed over their silver to the slave master, such was their hurry to get the beaten ent clear of that ship of horrors. It was a slow trip from the platz into the hills but the young elves of the hills were all about the giant as it weakly made its way on.

"Please do not fear, coedenell, you are slave no more."

"What word of the Autumn Lord, ancient one?"

"Let them rest! Do not harry them so! Your chains will be broken, gentle ent, the chieftain had promised. You are one of the Charger's clan now, you are protected here, you shall see." The elves went on.

"You're a part of the caravan now." One of the more tyren added. "All of the caravan get good rights in the new world, like a human lord! You get that too now. We'll get you out of chains soon as and you'll see, got your fancy vines and everything up here."

It left a bitter taste in their mouth but such was the panic that had stricken the chief and the elves in the face of seeing a folk of their clan being taken by another before they could get to them. It fell to Bruul to be the cold voice of calm as he met up with Paymaster who'd made his office among the shanty town of the beach. His banner brothers had come along with the boat escorting the slavers and the new colonists. He'd go with him to look up the terms of their contract, maybe the one of the slavers too, it was time they got some news of the world they left behind and if they were lucky bolster their own forces somehow.

For Shul things would get more frantic... or calm, it depended on how the spirits were feeling. He still wasn't sure what exactly had called out to him during his latest bender but it had sounded wet, maybe it was those siren lasses? He wouldn't know until he got a closer look in a certain sense. If it was around he'd find it. It was rare the third ring shaman got a real kinda job from the chief like Uumush and Bruul did, this was a time for Shul to shine on his own.

*****​

NorthOfOrdinary
Back at the hills themselves Uumush was at work himself. The beer soaked warning of the witch had come back to them and the chief wasn't one to leave the stockade undefended in the face of the green lights that were acting up across the river. Witches were a more rural kind of magic, a cousin to the shaman and something a creature as old as Uumush had what he'd humbly call some knowledge of.

Some of the elves had made their way to the Reinen village under the thought that they'd be less frightening to the more passionate humans than a tyren war shaman. They came baring some gifts of woolen blankets and a helping of dry dark leaf for smoking. Something for need and something for pleasure.

"The chieftain just wanted to send some more thanks to your people." The young springling passed on with their message. "Along with his thanks for the warning of this wisp witch. Though Orm regrets he cannot be here himself the tyren do wonder if there are any among you who can give more information on this spirit of the woods. Their shaman of the longhouse is said to have some experience with these matters and would offer some aid in defending their homes from any magical threat that might be posed. Apparently one of the bull seers has seen some dreams or visions of a woman in white running through the forest... does this mean anything to any of your people?"

Spoiler: Actions

-The tyren support and enter into the colonial government. Chronologically this was done soon after the offer from the Highborn I just haven't been able to post an official reply.

-Orm pays the slave price for the sabre ent (2 wealth) and a group of elves and tyren try to get the ent to the protection of the glade stockade as soon as possible. The ent is made a member of the caravan and given the same rights under the current charter of the colony pretty much on the spot.

-Orm seeks out the highborn leader and looks for help in liberating the slaves and giving them protection under the colony law.

-Bruul brings the Paymaster and tries to make contact with the Faith of the Rich mercenaries with the merchant ship to examine their contract and attempts to strengthen their own branch of the company. Shul is sent to seek out the spirit that contacted him asking to be liberated from the slavers.

-Gifts of wool and darkleaf are sent to the Reinen village and they are asked for any details on the wisp witch. They offer their own shaman's skills in helping with the matter as Uumush prepares magical wards around Hrun'Taras.

-JOINT PROJECT IN THE WORKS! Once the lighthouse is finished the tyren workers are looking to use their masonry practice by helping to renovate the exile shanty town on the beach. (5 skilled, 5 unskilled, stone and clay)

 

[General Deth Glitch]

As Grimdr arrived at the lighthouse a dwarf came running and hopping across the cliffside. He didn't seem in an urgent rush but running quickly he was nonetheless. As he approached the unofficial leader he handed him a note. It was from Elves. A Normal Dwarf would shiver and curse them and their kind. However Grimdr and his people were turned away by Dwarves. Grimdr and his people strove to defend the Dwarvern halls even after they were expelled from them. Grimdr and his people were not 'Normal' Dwarfs. That's not to say he LIKED Elves. Far from it, he still saw them as self entitled, dancey folk, who thought the world was theirs to do with as they pleased. But he didn't hate them for it. In fact, after reading the note, he felt very much in agreeance with it. He was about to ask the man who delivered it where it came from when, before he could speak, the dwarf blurted out "A tall fella' He had a bow. One of them dancey folks. Came an' delivered it. Said it was for the leader, you's the best we got fer onna them." Grimdr then decided to ask a new question instead. "Why'd ya' rush over 'ere lad. You know this coulda' waited. I know fer a fact ya' read it first." he added with a chuckled. "Well, Grimdr, the works being done as fast as we can but I wasn't really needed an' well.. I wanted sommat tae do!" "Aye, alls well lad. Here send this message back to them, if'n you can find the bastards. Grimdr, acting speaker of the Firebeard Dwarfs, is happy to forget the past and look to a new future. We must indeed work together to create a free world." He said, speaking with as little accent as he could when dictating the letter. With that the plump dwarf bumbled off toward town to try and find the elves.

Meanwhile the concerning issue of the slithering cavern weighed on the dwarves. They were not going to risk opening that can o' worms without Grimdr but they were put on watch. Periodically dwarves would tap at the rock to detect any changes in the sound and, if necessary, prepare a group to defend their proto-hold from what demons lay within'. The supplies, or lack there of, was becoming more apparent to the dwarves and so the protection was becoming even more apparent. Storing them with the rough stone that was being piled up seemed unwise. So the Dwarves traveled up to the surface and excavated a small area. Theory was. If other colonists wanted the stone they could negotiate with the Firebeards for it. If not it would eventually be reclaimed by the earth as a fairly flat section of land. Once that was completed they would begin transporting the stone up and putting it there. Meanwhile one of the dwarves thought of a way they could use the exposed cliff to their advantage. Once they reached about halfway down, he figured they could build a lift on the outside of the hold to transport goods from the middle up to the top area, without having to carry it up the numerous staircases. This could be repeated once they reached the bottom too. Allowed for the transport of goods from the bottom to the top. He began designing it on a slab of slate.

As Grimdr was about to sit down, preparing to wait for a message on the prospect of meeting this leader, he decided instead to walk to the edge and look down into the depression. From here he could see something odd about its shape, though before he could pay too much attention to that he saw the sheer number of slaves being sold on the beach below. Half of him wanted to storm the port and fight for their freedom while half wanted to maintain fairly isolated relations for the time being, that half however was beginning to consider the purchase of them to free them all. But he feared for the costs that could ensue.

 

[Beckoncall]

POST FITS CONTINUITY! POST STAYS!

Spacekitty

Spoiler: PURCHASES!

1 unit (50) thralls (To be handed “contracts” which they may sign in return for their freedom, stating that in return for being a “freeman” they will agree to work for the company in indentured servitude for 25 years. They will accept lower pay and work essentially for company housing, food, and allotted free-time during the evening/nights. (although it's much more than being a slave!). Post to come about this soon)

1 unit (50) Kobolds (Their status of slaves will remain unchanged)

1 unit (10) Gnomes (Will be given a similar contract as the thralls but with better compensation)

Total Spent: 4 wealth

The Finecians join the Luxuries guild selling Walking Dream Soda

[/QUOTE]

Mr. Narvik is seemingly overcome with joy at the prospect of such a large sale -- His deal-handlers had brought a variety of goods Ms. Narvik had brought from the market, and he seemed to be nervously tallying the investment in the next stop with the profits to be made here. Troubles Mr. Narvik were disabused of the moment Mr. Mallothew put forward his coins of intent and even more relaxed was he when a full four coffers of hard currency and valuables were loaded onto his wagon in a tiny corner of the space previously occupied by the slaves.

"Sounds like you sorry lot got almost as good of a deal as I did!" Mr. Narvik croaked, gently pressing his cane into the slaves at the heads of their lines so they would start walking. Mr. Mallowthew had to call in a Troll escort to make sure absolute control and powerful authority was presented to the slaves while they were taken to the warehouse...

...Mr. Mallowthew tarried only a moment to make sure every coin was spent or saved. The deal was done. While he counted his money, as any fennec would, he eavesdropped on the folk around him, and Mr. Narvik in particular:

"Yes -- Get that crate to the shore and keep it wet -- we'll load it shortly before we board. We have a courier arrangement with the Mercenary Paymaster here. No, I don't care what's in it. Courier contracts make the Muurdain happy, and that makes the wife happy. For the price they might be getting for such exotics I imagine it's going to Muurdaan nobles anyway -- Neither you nor I should be tempted."

"She did? Oh -- well, I have tied things up on my end -- we shant run out of coin before the locals do I suspect... how much coin can this one backwater have? Besides -- you know what they say about rich Fennecs -- poor non-fennecs." (Narvik Laughs)

"And double my guard for property!"

 

[Beckoncall]

SpiralErrant

***​

-The tyren support and enter into the colonial government. Chronologically this was done soon after the offer from the Highborn I just haven't been able to post an official reply.

EFFECT: Colonial government has quorum of influence with Tyren Support -- suddenly this "colonial government" thing becomes very serious business. (+2 Influence for Tyren, ADDITIONAL +3 Influence for St. Victoria, Attolians, And Highborn!)

ALL MEMBERS OF COLONIAL GOVERNMENT PLACE SIGIL ON THE BANNER OF "ONE CARAVAN" -- BANNER BECOMES OFFICIAL FLAG OF THE COLONIAL GOVERNMENT -- (+2 INFLUENCE TYREN!)

-Orm pays the slave price for the sabre ent (2 wealth) and a group of elves and tyren try to get the ent to the protection of the glade stockade as soon as possible. The ent is made a member of the caravan and given the same rights under the current charter of the colony pretty much on the spot.

EFFECT:

The Ent tries to speak as it's chains are pulled free -- when uprooted, especially over sea, their lifeforce draws ever inward... though it be clear as day fall, the ent looked like a tree in the bitterest of winters. It tries to say it's name...

"Whill... I'm... Whill... but it then grows silent. It's roots, as great as trees themselves, stumble with the help of Tyren to lift them, and the entire host as the ent is sped to Harun'Taras is half-panicked the thing will topple over as they travel... the last thing the Tyren hoped for would be for an arm or some other critical part to snap off in some accident... and the dry creaking of the wood whispered just that.

Halfway to Harun'taras -- thanking the spirits for the road and the speed and ease of travel, the tree novice tree-singers of the springborn who had been alerted ran to meet the ent and his retinue. Their song brought color to the ent, and a single leaf sprouted from a crowning head-branch, turned yellow and orange of fall, and slipped to the earth. They sped it within the circled glade, a microcosm of a home he may very well have seen burn around him... and though life fast returned to the saber ent... it could not speak. I mourned... a cry so quiet no Tyren could strain to hear it, but it broke the heart of every springborn anywhere near. The springborn looked at the ent, and huddled at it's feet -- They knew Whipporwhill... he was a resident in the Lasthomes. This was awful, awful, horrible news. When tales of the ancient wood for sale trickled back as well, none of the springborn could keep their composure... they wailed, gnashed their teeth and hugged the ent as one might an uncle or a father -- and wept for it.

"The Autmn...Lord... Yet.... Lives, my wee ones.... fear not." and it began its silent cries again...

-Orm seeks out the highborn leader and looks for help in liberating the slaves and giving them protection under the colony law.

EFFECT: (handled by players)

-Bruul brings the Paymaster and tries to make contact with the Faith of the Rich mercenaries with the merchant ship to examine their contract and attempts to strengthen their own branch of the company. Shul is sent to seek out the spirit that contacted him asking to be liberated from the slavers.

EFFECT:

Bruul opened the door of the paymaster's office to see what might be the biggest smile (riddled with gold and silver teeth) he had ever seen on a human. The entire office smelled like pots of sea-water, now empty and piled on the outside of the office, nearly cutting half the light from the window. A corner of rotten boards, the size of a crate, looked recently liberated of cargo. The many gold tals (dogtags) the paymaster wore about his neck were curiously absent.

The Paychest, filled to overflowing, had coin laying all around it, and the chest itself was bound almost completely shut but only for the work of a dozen chains wrapped taught around it.

"SO GREAT TO SEE YOU FOLK! I HAVE SO MUCH GOOD NEWS!" The paymaster said. Bruul was kurt -- they would talk on their way to the beach.

Bruul was brought up to speed -- a full score mercenaries had come with the most recent ships, and 15 of them would stay as replacements, still under contract, as pension regiments apparently receive reinforcements when casualties are reported, -- though admittedly losses were not expected to be as high as those that were lost when the island sank. As such, the better part of the mercenaries would join the Tyren, but the remaining five were required to complete a bit of business -- a special chest was to be transported by the Slaver Narvik -- the proceeds of what the paymaster called "The find of a lifetime" would go into the collective fund for the Mercenary company to pay out on fallen tals for operations globally. "The captive the rats secured for us is worth a king's ransom! (20 wealth) as Aboleth were thought extinct -- she's a modern marvel of the world that... erm... crate is!"

Bruul had put together what was likely a VERY complicated situation. YES, their soldiers had arrived, and 15 of them, free -- to replace those lost before they even held their contract. But Bruul knew what "Pension Legion" meant -- It meant none of these mercenaries fought for pay for themselves, they fought so that when they died, somebody far away got very rich... the value of their lives was reflected in plunder or deals they could secure while the mercenary companies were active across continents... and right in front of them, the "spirit" they intended to free? This was apparently property bought and sold, and being sent to the old world to enrich the "Doom-Fund" of their OWN. FAITHFUL. SOLDIERS....

Bruul chambered the fiercest punch he had in a month to eliminate his own strain and rage -- seeing Orm wish to fall into battle, he was slow to concede even to himself, nearly pushed his own wisdom aside... But Bruul wondered how the HELL he was going to explain what was happening to Orm... and why SOMETHING couldn't just be simply difficult for a change, rather than needing to take interest against their own soldiers, or mining without collapsing a mountain on all their herds... It was barely noon and Bruul was TIRED ... tired in a way your body wasn't... tired in a way a Tyren puts thoughts aside and begins smashing things...

-Gifts of wool and darkleaf are sent to the Reinen village and they are asked for any details on the wisp witch. They offer their own shaman's skills in helping with the matter as Uumush prepares magical wards around Hrun'Taras.

EFFECT: (handled by players)

-JOINT PROJECT IN THE WORKS! Once the lighthouse is finished the tyren workers are looking to use their masonry practice by helping to renovate the exile shanty town on the beach. (5 skilled, 5 unskilled, stone and clay)

EFFECT: Waiting for details...

 

[Beckoncall]

Heyitsjiwon

"This district is no longer haunted, is it? Just you Attolians and we, the Twice-born."

Sir Bors marched his steed with his significant troop accompaniment. The Agora was quiet now -- they used to think it was quiet before -- but now it seemed even the wind was taking a rest. It wasn't hot, if anything the street and stone around them seemed to slowly be surrendering a hoary frost that had been locked within it for centuries. It's not like you felt cold unless you touched it... but it soon became unmistakable... the breath of a man condensed on the stone in moments, and in certain places like windows and doorways, the moisture in one's breath could even freeze.

The discomfort of the troops armor faded -- they no longer sweat. Off the main stream and into the Agora district proper it was almost as if the world was locked in a comfortable 70 degrees... even in partial plate. That's when Bors saw the watchers again -- not many of them... just a handful... ever since the battle in the 'Platz the highground further into the ruins than was yet explored had a haunt of skeletons that didn't behave like the rest -- they were not slaves to events of long ago... they sat in groups and transacted... and mostly watched the platz. There were less of them on the hill than any of the sentries at the tower had seen before... a mystery that quickly explained itself when Sir Bors horse began it's descent down the ramped steps down into the Agora proper...

All of the watchers were here. Almost all, it seemed. Several squatted in the fire-pit where the district's poor had burned themselves en masse, exorcising their spirits with the help of the colony's wares. Where they found solid bones, they broke them. Embers still burned under all the ash, a full SEASON after the oil had been poured to set the Agora's spirits free. They seemed to tend the fire to assure that all remains in the pit were totally cremated... poking the ashes endlessly for those final bones, as if there were always some left.

Around the pit others luxuriated, laying not like the dead, but in various ways of repose, stretching their limbs languidly over the abandoned trade displays, others stood in small groups talking to one another.

Bors showed no fear (nay he was hungry), and would not brook it of his troops. He did not expect to find the dead here -- numerous scoutings and scryings had showed no sign of restless spirits. He ordered his men to stay their hands -- to walk in parade formation, if for no other reason than to look less on offense than their readied weapons suggested... One of the skeletons, this one wearing pitted armor held together with recently crafted bits of ancient leather and even plant fibers presumably gathered north of the ruins.

"This district is no longer haunted, is it? Just you Attolians and we, the Twice-born."

"Yes, we know you're attolians... the ghosts told us as they left. Not that we know what that means... Let me try to explain this in a way I made it clear to my brothers and sisters -- This ruin is filled to the brim with lost souls, dead bodies stuck in the final days of their death. When all you 'meat folk' were warring off to the east a spell got cast here -- but the spell was fractured, and didn't function as intended. It was supposed to bring all the 'longdead' swarming into that weird square you guys like to play in... where we were to seek an ivory handed scepter that would give us purpose. The spell worked, but key elements were missing. We don't know exactly how, but a bunch of us were indeed effected by the spell -- but not compelled to do anything. Our restless spirits left with the rest of them, leaving us -- dead, but born again -- we've been figuring we're less undead than animated bones... if that is any real distinction... so ahem... we do not intend to lunge forward moaning or anything. We were waiting for you to start purging more of the restless dead of the ruins... maybe helping you in the theater district... go where it's safer for us to, spotting the really angry ones before they start flying around. But you never came. We've met the Zebani, and made our peace with them -- and you should too. They're really just waiting to see if something kills you or if you are willing to go to the trouble of making a peace with them. But I'm getting away from myself. I'm Humurus -- Not that that's a joke or anything. I don't think it's funny -- do you Scapula?"

Another one of the languid skeletons turns her skull on her naked spine, a tattered headband of grass and a shadow of a skirt of the same material doing a positively awful job of covering her clearly evident hip-bones...

"No my shiny, not funny at all. I love your name."

Humurus continued...

"I really wish we had something to offer you... but we really haven't been around for a long time and are not used to entertaining."

Bors was stymied.

He would muster a response, or Those chatterboxes Jav and Tomaz would speak for him... they never stopped tittering, and almost fancied silence as the best response...

"We also can speak directly to your minds, but we don't understand how you folk seem to communicate by flapping your meat... the Zebani communicate like we do, so we apologize if the slapping and spitting and hooting noises you make don't go over with us. I'll be terribly embarrassed if you need to ask me something... maybe a Zebani can translate? None of us can read, so you can just forget about that. No eyes, and no common alphabet. Heh!"

Scapula Chuckles slightly that time... before returning to basking in the cool air under the sun on her bones....

SUMMARY: There is a strange group of magically animated skeletons ("living?!") amid the wasted ruin of hordes of undead, animated by negative energy and restless spirit. They refer to themselves as "The Twice-born"...

 

[Spacekitty]

A Change of Heart? PARTY TIME?!?!?

Jonklav leaped around his teammates and friends happily, talking at a mile a minute as they approached what seemed to merely be a small gathering of tents and destroyed ruins.

“Oh my god guys! I can’t believe we just did this!” He leaped acrobatically over the crate the rest of his crew was struggling to carry. “Who does that? Just leaves everything wide open like that with a single guard- a basically comatose one at that!”

The exactic Fennec was of course reffering to their recent raid on the Reinen settlement. The news of which was likely already spreading across the colony like wild fire. The group had been sitting a few hundred meters away from the settlement earlier in the day. The Reinen of course had had no clue their home was being watched by 6 pairs of indiscriminate beady eyes from within the tall reed grass. And so they had went along business as usual- just what the hit tim had wanted. They had been closely watching them work on the protective wall, hoping in what seemed to be in vain that an opportunity would present itself before the wall- and their mission, was finished.

Many of them had already resigned to failure, Jonklav included. He still watched of course, but from the comfort of laying on Shacklay’s lap rather than an actually strategic vantage point. Shaklay of course had remained completely intentive, ignoring his friend despite the number of times he whispered his name or nipped at his snout. The morning wore on, the bright soothing sun causing Jonklav to curl up and fall asleep on top of his friend, who simply remained as he was, forever watching.

Just past noon however… the scene began to change. Work suddenly halted on the wall. From the hit teams vantage point they could just make out the Reinen folk gather at the center of the colony, forming into some sort of line. Perhaps this was part of their religious ceremonies? The hit team was interested certainly- but none of them expected what was to happen.

The Reinen left the settlement. Every single one of them, marching towards the platz. EVery member of the crews mouth dropped in awe. Was this really happening? It was as if the Fennec gods of old had come back and givne them the opportunity they so deserved.

And they seized it, boy did they seize it. As soon as the Reinen had disappeared from view, the Financials leaped from their hiding spots. Making way towards the gap in their wall. They were still cautious at first of course, half believing this to be a lazy summer dream. But as they tiptoed their way through the settlement they found not a single living soul. Well, except one of course. But he appeared in a deep coma of sorts, a not even Jonklavs loud mouth and overly exuberant excitement could wake him. Hell, one of the crew even stole the man's ring off his finger and he did not so much as bat an eye!

Knowing this to be their one and only chance, they made the most of it. An entire crate filled with the weapons Salvator desired was heaved off the ground. The crate was actually half empty, so Donti had the idea of making up the delays to their boss by filling the rest of it with jewelry and coin- that the Reinen were so generous to provide! A simple pad lock to guard all their treasure? Why the doors might have well as been wide open!

After filling the crate they made their way back towards their own settlement, stopping of course to stealth the sleeping man's right sock as a practical joke.

They neared their home just as the sun began to set, the sky a brilliant orange and purple ahead of them. Jonklav of course had been leaping around the entire time. (“Someone needed to keep watch” he insisted when asked to help carry). Just as it seemed they would walk over the edge of a steep incline they seemed to pass through an invisible barrier- an illusion created to hide the settlement Rather than fall to a certain death they were greeted with the hustle and bustle of a construction site. An army of camp fires and tents surrounding a cacophonous chorus of hammering, mining and of course screaming Fennecs as wooden and stone structure were erected. Blocking the view of this progress however, was Mr. Salvator and several of the capos along with a few thugs.

“God damnit, what took you guys so long!” He growled, scaring the hit tema into dropping the crate.

“S-sir?” Donti said hesitantly, recomposing himself. “Is everything alright?...”

“ALRIGHT? DOES EVERYTHING SOUND ALRIGHT???”. The drug lord barked in response, his golden suit damp with sweat. Beside him Andrei wringed his hands nervously, glancing randomly about as if he was worried of being ambushed.

Donti didn’t answer the clearly rhetorical question.

“Hand the box over to these thugs. They will take it to a secure place. The Illusion master has already begin setting up a veil over its position, along with the entire damn camp. I want your team to go spread out across the colony. Find out what's happening fast and report back.”

Mr. Salvator seemed out of breath, he had to stop mid way through to take a long breath.

“Boss, what's crackin?” Donti asked nervously.

“Too much too fast” THe boss replied simply. “Now GO!” He barked again. And with that the hit team was rushing off back towards the Platz and the docks.

ORDERS: Hit team is sent to gather information


***

Despite the capos obvious lack of calm, everything seemed normal in the Fennec settlement. Finecians were still hard at work, furnishing out the basements of the ruins, completing the upper floors and digging out the warehouse. The 6 thugs he had ordered to carry the large crate glanced nervously from each other to the organized chaos around them as they speedily carried the crate to a freshly dug tunnel hidden among some shrubbery in the center of the area. Why was the boss so nervous? They had only seen him like this when there was about to be an attack… But they hadn’t done anything, had they? Not that they knew of anyways.

Was it the crate? They were tempted to peer inside, but they dare not risk the wrath of the boss. They would have resorted to trying to read the labels on the thing but they were written in the Reinen's home language. Not that it mattered- they couldn’t read regardless.

They had been initially glad to get a break from working- maybe they could finally catch time to eat breakfast! But now that they knew something was up, they were damn well too nervous to even THINK about eating. All they wanted to do was drop off the dumb crate and go hide in a ditch or something…

ORDERS: The stolen crate of guns, ammo and wealth is hidden under illusionment and other forms of concealment.

***

The large procession of newly purchased slaves was lead by Mr. Mallowthew and a troll away from the docks and up the steep incline to the Finecians stake on the area just below the platz. Mr. Mallowthew was grinning ear to ear, skipping like a schoolgirl and whistle old folk tunes. The boss was going to be so pleased with his purchases…

He was particularly surprised when he entered the cap to be greeted by an exuberant, perky version of the boss, rather than his typically brooding quick to anger silence. Surely he wasn’t going to use his diplomatic persona to enslave people? That seemed unusually cruel- even for a mobster.

Turns out he wasn’t. No, he was doing something much, much worse. He seemed to legitimately being friendly! HE WAS FREEING THEM!

“Friends, friends!” He exclaimed from atop a crate (so as to at least be on eye level of the slaves), a fresh maroon tux covering his grey fur.

The slaves seemed to be just as confused as Mr. Mallowthew, looking and whispering about each other. Clearly their new slave master was insane.

His fine ears having heard their murmurs gave a hearty, jolly laugh. One would think him a dwarf as he bellowed!

“Yes, yes, I am crazy! But not for the reason you think my dear, dear friends!”

He laughed for a moment more, taking a pause to breath and smile at the gathered crowd, who still looked up at him in a mixture of confusion and rather intense anxiety.

“Why the long faces?” He asked, cocking his head and ears to the side. “You should be happy! YOU ARE FREE!” He exclaimed. “Guards, unshackle our new friends!”.

The slaves stood dumbfounded, as equally confused Finecians obeyed the order, undoing the former slaves chains. Had their boss had a sudden change of hearts?

“Today is a good day friends, your day.” He began once all were free. “For I have bought you, not to further your torture, but to end it! For too long you have suffered needlessly, whatever crimes you committed long paid back. This my friends, is you deliverance, you reward for you struggles. All those dark times you almost ended it all but the light in you saw through have earned you this end! From this day on… you are free men!” He said with such vigor and passion the crowd erupted in cheers. Even some of the Finecians began to scream in joy, caught up in the moment.

“You are now official employees of Salvator’s Brews and Luxury Goods my fine folks! It is all I ask in return, your permanent employment under my guidance (till you retire to the comfort of a hot fire and roof over your head of course!). What’s more, you are now citizens of this fine colony, You are privy to the same privileges of us all- even I stand no higher than you! (Quite literally he added, garnering some laughs from the crowd).”

The now free men and women were ecstatic, leaping about and hugging each other, kobold, gone and even Finecian alike! (The further causing shrieks of protest as they hugged the small foxes more than a tad too hard).

“Tomorrow in the morning we shall go over the details of your new found freedom. But for now… we celebrate! Come, come, to the Platz everyone! Employees, fetch our finest beers, wines, foods… EVERYTHING! The entire colony shall feats tonight in celebration. Huzzah!”

A loud chorus of cheers erupted from all peoples, the Fennecs because of the prospect of finally eating and drinkings, and the newly freed peoples because of the euphoria of what was likely a dream come true. Many probably thought this all hte be a terribly bittersweet dream! They had certainly had many of them before during their struggles… both those were now behind them!

The Platz was soon overwhelmed by a sudden swarm of party goers, all lead by a seemingly jolly Mr. Slavator who was just as excited as the freed slaves! As make shift tables were being set up, food and drink placed upon them, he mounted a tall crate placed in the center of the are (heaved up by his new human friends) from which he announced a colony wide celebration to honor their new countrymen introducing them as “Slaves no more!”. Some of his Fennecs would be dispersed to gather the leaders of all other factions to celebrate, stating that not only are their people all welcomed, but Mr. Salvator would like to dine with all, or at least representatives of all personally to discuss matters important to the colony. THey may be hesitant at first, considering the Finecians reputation,n, but as the noise of celebration reached them and the news of freed slaves reached their ears surely they would at least investigate.

ORDERS: The Slaves are set free on the single condition they stay, at least for now a, permanent employee to the company (equals to the Fennecs and other colonists). Most of the food and beer that is not absolutely needed for selling, replenishment and nourishment along with crates to serve as tables is brought to the Platz where a large celebration free to all will be help. All faction leaders and colonists are invited personally by Skilled Fennec Workers. The trolls and other guards are left behind to protect their colony however, about half are left behind in total.

Spoiler: orders summary

ORDERS: Hit team is sent to gather information

ORDERS: The stolen crate of guns, ammo and wealth is hidden under illusionment and other forms of concealment.

ORDERS: The Slaves are set free on the single condition they stay, at least for now a, permanent employee to the company (equals to the Fennecs and other colonists). Most of the food and beer that is not absolutely needed for selling, replenishment and nourishment along with crates to serve as tables is brought to the Platz where a large celebration free to all will be help. All faction leaders and colonists are invited personally by Skilled Fennec Workers. The trolls and other guards are left behind to protect their colony however, about half are left behind in total.

Heyitsjiwon SpiralErrant General Deth Glitch NorthOfOrdinary Enemy Standoo Prince Vaethorion

 

[Beckoncall]

General Deth Glitch :

Grimdr would be told when he returned to the dwarf-home:

"Eets ah Cave Fishah -- Bhotton is right sure... big an' nasty one too. Figure they don't have natural predators in the cliffs here, so they get biggah 'ere than in the old world. Regular ones can grab a young'un or a drunk from time to time -- but this one, can't imagine what it eats... but if we estimate scale we git to thinkin' it might have the diseased notion we were on the menu. Can you believe it!? A colossal Feeshah! Think it could be Grimdr?"

 

[Prince Vaethorion]

Spacekitty Heyitsjiwon SpiralErrant Beckoncall NorthOfOrdinary Enemy Standoo


The Prince sitting in his throne room with his officers present for advice and briefings. The room was palatial and the atmosphere was tense. The Highborn had put on alert and were readying for combat. All of the Highborn were fully armored and armed to the teeth. The Archers had more arrows in their quivers than usual. Swords, spears, daggers were all honed to be razor sharp. The Armors they wore were recently oiled and polished. The Guard to the Highborn quarter had been doubled, as had the guard to the Prince. The Mithril shone bright and true. The swords, spears were ready for blood, Fox blood. Elite Swordmasters stood on both sides of the Prince. The look on the Highborn faces were serious. They did not like to be toyed with and knew the Foxes were dirty.

The Prince was especially not pleased with the latest developments at the Colony. And the Fennec response to the Prince's kind overtures. The Fennec have ignored his merciful, diplomatic warnings to not behave like scum and instead robbed the Attolians and Reinen. Cassandra, the Attolian seer using her powers of prophecy knew for a fact that the Fennec robbed the Reinen. This was enough evidence for the Prince to ac, but then the Tyren seer confirmed that the Fennecs robbed the Reinen. This was enough for the Colony to act.

The Fennecs also settled near the port, with intentions to steal and now must be dealt with perhaps even annihilated.

The Highborn Prince wanted to go to war immediately, but Caelus and the Tyrren wanted to give one last warning to the Fennec. The Attolians have agreed to combine forces to combat the Fennec if need be. Even the Tyrren had grown wary of them after they robbed the Reinen.

The Prince had ordered his tactician to draw up attack plans to attack the Fennecs and orders Her to coordinate with the Attolians. The Prince orders his Drillmaster to train Highborn soldiers on techniques to combat Fennecs. Their weaknesses and strengths are to be studied and trained for. The War mage is told to prepare combat spells for potential combat against them. The Highborn are preparing for all out war. He orders his Artifcer to prepare weapons of war.

"Do not underestimate these little jackals. They fight dirty." The Prince ordered. "This will be their last warning.". the Prince said with conviction.

Furthermore, The Prince orders Highborn to no longer salute him or other officers. The Prince will now assume less conspicuous dress. "The Fennecs are known assassins. They know who I am. We will no longer salute officers or me in public. I will for now on assume garb like the rest of you, as my identity here is no longer secure" the Prince said to his Highborn.


The Highborn send another Archer/messenger with a message.

Fennecs,



Apparently, You have taken us for fools and our friendly warning fell on deaf ears. Since the arrival of the Fennecs items of value have been stolen. This is a grave situation and one that the Colony will not tolerate. These items are to be returned immediately or there will be dire consequence. You as people here have two choices, abide by the colonies laws and traditions or pay dearly. Additionally, you will give one 10,000 gold pieces (1wealth) over to each of the victims, and 10,000 Gold to the Colony to your crimes as compensation.

Additionally, Your settling at the slope is impermissible. The slope and the areas near the Port are slated for development. There are projects planned for that area. We do not want ANY Fennec near or around the port area until further notice. A new area for the Fennecs to settle must be found and immediately. Any new area is to be away from existing colonist and settlements. Any area to be settled within two miles from other colonist must be approved by the Colonial government.

Lastly, this is your final warning. Things are different in the New World. Your reputation as cutthroats is well know. If anything should occur to any member of the colonial government, they fall, they eat something bad, a knife ends up in their back, the Fennecs will be held responsible.

Any slaves you bought are to be forfeit, and will be handed over to the colony to be freed and to work for compensation, or decide their own fates, on the colony's behalf. Any rights and privileges provided to Fennecs under Colonial laws have been suspended.

This is your LAST warning. Failure to heed this warning will be considered a declaration of war.

Your faction is on probation. Any infraction will be met with extreme retribution.
The Fennec are to be kept away from the Platz, the Port, and Market and away from other Colonist until further notice.

DO NOT TEST OUR RESOLVE. This is your final warning. Any thing goes missing, even a seashell or grain of sand, and the Fennecs will be suspected, and held accountable. If someone gets ill, ftrips and falls, or a knife ends up on their back, we will look at the Fennecs first.

Pack up your things, or it will be put to the torch. Hand over the items, compensate the victims and the colony. In time with good behavior This MIGHT be forgiven, but this will NEVER be forgotten.


Signed,

Colonial Government

-The Highborn prepare for war
-Message to Fennecs is sent from the colony with warning
-The HighbornTactician to draw up battle plans with Attolians
- War Mage prepares spells specifically to deal with illusionist along with Cleric
- The Drillmaster trains and teaches Highborn soldiers on techniques to fight Fennec
-Prince doubles guard for complex and personal guard.
- No more saluting officers and Prince will go about incognito

 

[Spacekitty]

Party's over boys...
The party was going swimmingly, better than expected even. At first, the merchants and late night goes of the Platz and local area was suspicious, even the newly freed slaves were hesitant to partake in the celebrations. (Although the Finecians he had brought with him were already drunk and screaming randomly). But slowly, but surely they seemed to warm up. More people began to approach the makeshift tables, eyeing and examining the food and drink as if they feared it to be poisoned. Most withheld from eating at first until a few more adventures- or perhaps hungrier- began to dig in. After a few minutes, and no fatalities, the true party began!

Patrons from the local inn rushed out- free drinks?! You better BELIEVE they were getting this party started. Soon the platz with nothing more than a mob of party goers in various states of mind rotting alcoholism. There would certainly be a colony wide hangover tomorrow morning. Even Mr. Narvik could be seen downing ales at an alarming rate, the toxins in his bloodstream causing him to go from questionably insane to outright batshit crazy. Still, it was a good time.

That was when the letter arrived. Mr. Slavator had been getting suspicious. For all the commotion he was causing it seemed to attract not even a single representative from the other faction’s leadership. Something was wrong. And so when the letter came, his suspicions were confirmed.

The party was halted almost immediately. Mr. Salvator mounted the podium once more only this time he wasn’t so pleasant. He began shouting at his fellow Finnecian the mixture of yips, snarls and other assorted canine-esque noises that was the FInecian tongue. The drunk Fennec party goers were confused at first and slow to respond but with enough prodding from Slavator they began quietly packing up everything they had brought. Half eaten pork chops and half drunk beers were shoved back into the crates and then transported off the platz and back towards the Finecian claim. Any newly freed slaves that tried to follow were sent off with a hiss.

An hour or so later, a white furred Finecian messenger would arrive at the entrance to the Highborn hands, the poor fox shivering both in fear- and for the cold. He was unarmed, that much evident by his complete lack of any sort of clothing. Unless his prison wallet was full, there was little the small creature could do if the Elves decided to attack. In his hand he simply clutched a scroll that the writer hadn’t even bothered to neatly wrap and tie up.

Written sloppily, it read;


Dear Highborn;

There is no need for bloodshed. We capitulate to your demands. Paint us as fools as you may, but we are not stupid. As soon as we can, our things and all traces of us will be gone from the area. The crate containing the Reinen guns and wealth will be returned within the hour and the Opium to the Attolians. The slaves are free and we hold no sway over them. We spent all but 1 wealth, that which was stolen and soon returned, on said slaves and cannot pay your price. We will need to negotiate other means of repentance- if not the loss of all our wealth, effort, rights and land not be enough for your kind. No Finnecian will set foot near colony lands until given permission.

One last note, a warning even. We are not (this part is scratched out and replaced with “were”) the only crime syndicate here. Wealth was missing from the economy well before we arrived, and it's not the Ratkin. There is another crime family, the Coppersmiths already amongst you And they are rooted deep. So deep they managed to switch some of your cargo for the voyage here with a ballista and fine wine. So deep they knew we had sent some… scouts aboard another vessel and attempted to kidnap them. They were… taken care of of course, but we learned the name of your new concern. He calls himself Sorkin. A capo of the coppersmiths. No coopersmith leader has ever been taken alive. He sees you, not the other way around. We will not cause you any further trouble, but I cannot say the same for them.

You of course, likely have no reason to believe us but examine the facts. A wealth point does not simply disappear and we certainly weren’t around when it did. Have you seen some of the exiles lately? While they certainly aren’t beggars- they are far from rich. Yet some adorn golden teeth, rings, necklaces… suspicious isn't it? Where could they have gotten such wealth? Is there a correlation? Who knows. Maybe your black magic spying will help. Good luck. We certainly won’t be helping you root the out. A pity truly. We are your greatest chance at doing so. Its our industry is it not? Infiltrating, embezzlement, eliminating rivals gangs? A shame.

Good luck.
-Salvator

Spoiler: ORDERS

The slaves are abandoned and the party stopped. Everything is packed back up and moved back home. They will immediately dig up the Attolians opium and the Reinens crate, returning both without word.

They will deconstruct everything they have built so far, harvesting everything grown and move to a new location away from the colony. Anywhere with arable land will do. The same sort of structures will begin being built in the same order, with preference for the growing areas and farm.

The hit team is called back.

Prince Vaethorion Beckoncall

 

[Prince Vaethorion]

Beckoncall SpiralErrant Heyitsjiwon

The Highborn, Tyrren and Attolians are interested in buying slaves and freeing them. They are willing to combine wealth to do so.

The Highborn are particularly interested in the Gnomes to work with our and the Attolian artificers to build siege weapons for the colonies defenses.

The Kobolds could be useful to be settled and mine in the NW.

The Attolians will negotiate on behalf of the Highborn and Colonial government.

The Cyclops, and Sirens we need more information about, but are wiling to free to my understanding.

 

[Beckoncall]

"Freedmen all -- with fates uncertain..."

The party had pretty much moved back to the INN... if what was left could be called a party. The newly freed slaves watched the Fennec quickly break down their camp and it was obvious that if they were leaving they weren't coming back. For most of the thralls they were still scared as to what "compulsory employment" had in store for them -- but then they were in the plaza drinking beer and talking about freedom. The Kobolds were CERTAIN this was a trap, so while they did make merry, they did so with careful eyes about them.

"Kssst! Kthootie!" One would hiss to another.

"Ty-Tau! Ty-Tau!" another would say, nursing a beer.

Most of the slaves had no idea what was to become of them now they were left in some strange land, in a strange square, without their would be masters or employers to tell them so.

The Gnomes? Well they were nowhere to be seen. If they were free, they weren't going to stand around and wait for another shoe to drop. Something bad had happened to the Fennec... and if the Fennec were running, they weren't sticking around either...

Then came the uncomfortable moment when Ms. Narvik came with her attendants to look for her husband. Mr. Narvik, in his excess -- had passed out under a table, and now -- with all the slaves idle and wondering... one thing seemed clear to them as they formed a circle around him...

They tore him apart.

The kobolds did, anyway. The thralls watched in a symphony of relief, horror, gratitude and excitement as the architect of their misery was ripped limb from limb. Before he was completely dismembered and eaten by the kobolds, his head was held high on a piece of wood, one eye open in shock while the other eye seemed to slumber on as it had when it was still on a body under a table.

Ms. Narvik looked at the group assembled, and began to backpedal towards the marketplace -- from there they would quickly make their way to the ship...

Or Not.

The Thralls this time knew their lives were forfeit if that harridan slaver woman were allowed to escape. Most felt for sure their lives were forfeit the moment her husband was killed... but they hadn't truly believed the Fennec finally and whole-heartedly before, perhaps in stupor, perhaps in dazzled disbelief -- they knew they were free now.

They knew they were free when they killed her attendants, they knew they were free when they dragged her to the blood fountain... and they knew they were free when colonists finally got wind of what was going on -- word had gone out -- they knew they were free when they DROWNED Ms. Narvik in the fountain of blood, and cast her lifeless body into it. They did nothing to weigh the body down... but it did not float, indeed, it never surfaced ever again... and noticed by absolutely no-one, a new tiny spigot appeared on the fountain... like so many others each issue-hole in the fountain was a tiny face... and this time there was one more -- spewing blood silently, the face eternally frozen in a scream...

Colonists, Exiles, and constables surrounded the "Freedmen" and blocked all exit from the fountain square to the rest of the Platz... an alarm was sent up -- SOMEBODY in charge would show up... they had to... and they'd have to make sense of this mess...

...A Muurdanian Noble, a baronetess in fact -- had been murdered in cold blood with her husband and retainers in the colony plaza. The freed slaves, now uncertain, or afraid, and some defiant -- turned their backs to the fountain and prepared for what they expected would be a hostile response.

The situation was officially OUT. OF. CONTROL.

 

[Beckoncall]

,,,It was getting late in the Market. The few slaver attendants tasked with minding the stalls were never told to break them down. Once it was fully dark, the wares were covered or packed back into wagons, but the servants running the stalls would wait for further instructions.

"Lady was in a good mood today, wasn't she?" an attendant murmured, getting ready to take shelter in a tiny tent/lean-to they'd attached to their stall.

"Good days are the worst. You'll see." retorted another attendant, they too fluffing a cushion in preparation to tuck in.

"If the lady stays out all night, she'll be in no mood to be civil tomorrow, mark my words!"

"Still, starry night -- isn't it? You're looking as beautiful tonight as a whole tray of rubies, luv."

(tent-flap closes...)