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

[Spacekitty]

Jonrier stood atop the massive beast that towered above the landscape, his hands placed on his hips, his chin held high. The tall, majestic, gold-laden conquistador gazed upon the endless swathes of lands from his perch upon his steeds mighty stone head, taking in the sight with a contemplative, serious look upon his face, broken only by the slightest of smiles. The sea of greens and browns stretched far beyond his line of sight, disappearing behind the golden horizon. It was truly a beautiful view, the rolling hills covered in the green of talls grasses the golds of grain which had been planted by the local people dominated much of the view to his right, broken only by a relatively close lake enclosed by three small forests. To his left, much of the same and behind him were the remains of whom had dared defy him. Their pitiful city, which surely must have once been a sight to behold, now lay in ruins, crushed beneath the feet of his loyal peons and his stone behemoth. It’s people were now his slaves, their treasure spread amongst the pillagers. Before him where the swamplands, with their sickly willows, irky ponds and the native snake-men savages who begged to be civilized beneath Fennec paws. They too would suffer the same fate if they resisted their manifest destiny.

Just below the nose of his mighty champion. His peons were hard at work, they looked like little more than toys as they toiled, digging out a great monument in honor of his glory. The ancient arena was being restored to it’s former glory, the overgrown adobe archways cleared of vines, the cracked seating marbled, the intricate artwork on even the floor polished to its former shine. It would be turned back to a place where prisoners of war would be forced to fight against strange beast brought over from far away lands, against hordes of other prisoners, even their own comrades. A place where the common folk could come to waste their weeks pay on cheap booze, food and bet it all away and lining the Conquistadors pockets in the process. It would be the sparkling jewel of his empire, bring him the prestige and wealth he so demanded. Great labyrinths beneath the soil would house his war machine, theysecurity they provided like his own personal doomsday bunker from which weapons and supplies would spew forth from the fiery foundries. Elsewhere his people carried out his well, turning others to his cause and unearthing ancient artifacts to decorate his halls.

He smiled sadly at them as they labored. He pitied them truly, a dim people they were. Little more than cattle looking for a shepherd to guide them, as were all. Easy to manipulate, even easier to replace. They should be happy he had taken them under his wing. If he hadn't they would likely be little more than savages, worse even! To the west more of his followers were sweating under the summer sun as they did his bidding. From here he could watch the small ants race across the distant lake as they dug trenches, little more than venules that channeled water to the would be farms like veins. The green pastures would soon be turned brown as his troll servants plowed the farmland, followed close behind by other servants who would place seeds in the fertile dirt- further fertilized by the blood of his fallen foes! With time a magnificent spread of colors would dominate the areas around the lake as food and luxuries grew to meet his demands. A road would be dug, cobbled in the finest cut marble to expedite shipping of materials between the farm and his foundries within the arena where everything from brews, to jewels to even herbs would be made.

Everything was slowly but surely coming together. But the ever victorious conquerer had no time to sit and watch. Villages demanding razing, cities begged to be pillaged and empires toppled! He unsheathed his ruby encrusted Scimitar- the fine silver blade tainted red from the blood of his enemies. Raising it above his head, sunlight glittering off of his polished Morion and plated chestpiece, he pointed it forward as if he were about to begin a cavalry charge.

“Onward!” He cried, his voice deep and commanding. “We will not stop until all of Muuradaan is under Jonrierian rule!”

“Uhh, you okay dude?” His friend Jahrien asked tentatively, taping his friend on the shoulder of the arm he was using to hold a steak knife in the air.

Jonrier sighed, ignoring his friend and doing his best to stay in character. “Quiet peasant! Do not disturb Baron Jonrier!”.

Jahrien, the taller of the two cream colored Finecians raised a curious brow. “How high are you dude? Did you find any Wazkuh you aren’t sharing?”.

Jonrier turned towards the peasant, heaving an annoyed sigh. His servants were well meaning, but dumb. They knew better than to disturb him when he was planning his next venture. This one would need to be taught a lesson.

“I SAID SILENCE!” He cried, swinging his Scimitar towards the dissenter, the blade hovering within millimeters of his neck.

His friend sighed, using his right hand to knock the knife away with an annoyed look upon his face. He had long gotten use to his friends… “acting” if you would call it that. Typically he found it best to ignore it, as playing along only fueled it.

“Anyways. Baron, I’m here to inform you that the Engineers want us off. They need to come plan how to build a watchtower on top of here”.

“Do not tell me what to do! BEGON!” The Conquistador shouted once more, enraged by the peons insolence. His swung his sword at the fool, who narrowly dodged it.

“What the hell dude? Chill!” Johrien hissed.

“You made me do this! Such disobedience will not be tolerated. I will make an example of your for the others!”. With that the Conquistador charged, swinging the steak knife dangerously.

Johrien dodged each subsequent swipe, back stepping and yelling at his friend until he fell over a root that had grown across the top of the head. The Conquistador hesitated, and in that moment Johrien struck back, kicking out with his feet and sending the smaller Jonrier flying back towards the edge.

The vanquished hero let out a high pitched squeal as he stumbled and fell backwards over the same tree root, leaving him dangling partially over the edge, the ground a frightening 5 burrows below.

Jonrier eeped, now out of character and scrambling to get a safe distance away from the edge.

“Why do they want us gone? Aren’t we supposed to watching everything?” He asked, looking back out towards the horizon.

“Yeah but the Engineers are worried we’ll just get in the way. They said we need to go down to the base of this thing to dig around and look for the little metal bits the Attolians seemed to be looking for. Capos think their might be more, but I’m pretty sure they’ve picked the place clean… Either way I’ll see you down there.” WIth that Johrien too his leave, climbing down the back of the giant foliage covered statue. The thing was truly a sight to behold, towering above the ground almost three stories tall, small trees, shrubs, moss and other plants covering most of it’s cracked stone features. It was an easy thing for the FInecians to climb, a perfect natural guard tower that was going to be converted into an actual guard tower. Essentially they planned on sticking some wood into the cracks and making small walled foundations on each shoulder on top of its head.

“Fine… I’ll be down in a minute” He whined, giving one last look about the world. Below the Colossi, radiating outwards from in front he could just make out the small specs that were piles of rusted chunks of metal. It was as if there had been a battle between the giant statue and an army of small metal things eons ago. Maybe if he ducked down below them he would find the bodies of ancient warriors, laden with treasure and maybe even a real scimitar?

Suddenly excited by the slight chance of finding an actual weapon, his eyes lit up and he scrambled down the being as fast as his small arms would let him, passing a group of fellow thugs who struggled to heave up a sack of supplies to the top. The lead of the group, a small silver fox struggled as he reached for the next crack in the wall, his paw trembling under the strain. Sensing himself about to give out a sprung upwards for the gap- narrowly missing it by inches. He began to fall, frantically grabbing at anything his paws could reach. But it was too late, the weight from his heavy pack carried him downwards, the vines he grabbed onto for dear life snapping and roots ripping out of place.

As he began to fall, his friends below him panicked, trying desperately to get out of his way. Too late sadly, as he fell on top of the Finecian directly below him, who subsequently fell and landed on top of the Finecian below him, causing a chain reaction until a line of five or so foxes thudded to the ground, most of them unharmed and cushioned by the poor soul who was on bottom. Fortunately they had only made it about 5 feet up and no one was seriously hurt. The Engineers rushed over to scream at the thugs to stop messing around and get back to work.

As soon as his furry fit hit the bottom Johrien shoved a shovel and bag into his hands. “Start shoveling. Capo wants it all collected by tonight”. It would be a long night. Week probably. Maybe month.

Spoiler

1. Borrowing/excavating within the “Excavation Site” begins. This focus will begin with digging tunnels/excavating buried tunnels to create an underground network of interconnected tunnels and rooms around and under the site which will be used as the main area of operations for the Finecians. Inside rooms ranging from Brewing, Jeweling, drug production and other “activities” will take place away from prying eyes. There will be multiple entrances to this network within and in the area outlying the excavation that will vary in size (depending on if it's a main entrance or not). The primary entrances will be within the excavation and in the basement of the warehouse which will be built outside the excavation as a distribution and gather center for goods produced. These entrances will be hidden both with physical camouflage and illusions. Within the network the interconnected rooms and passageways will vary in size, with a definite larger main pathway and other smaller routes for ease of movement and defensive purposes. These side pathways may be decent secondary ship routes, smaller sideways to small rooms and personal burrow,s or small barely fennec sized tunnels that may serve as hiding places. Hefty doors will protect the entrances and important rooms. It will be a pretty confusing place if you’re not use to it. These tunnels are planned to an extensive and elaborate network that will ultimately feed their distribution center and serve as the foundation of their empire. For now it will be somewhat minimalistic, consisting on what's needed to begin adequate production, house their people and provide security. More emphasis is placed on the renovation of the “quarry” to turn it into the colony's first stadium where all sorts of events can be hosted. From games, to fights, to theater. I will be perfect for all- and generate revenue for the Finecians through “house tax” on profits from winners (bets, winning teams, etc), vendors and total profits taken from their own drink/food stands. They even plan on building a tavern into the side on the arena! The arena will be open to the public free of admission for most events (unless a theatre showing wishes to book the stadium and charge for tickets, that sort of thing). The stadium will be made functional first, and later be made to look good. Basic guard tower built on top of statue (25 Skilled Workers + 10 thugs + 3 Trolls + 3 Capos))
   
   
2. After spying on the Attolians and seeing them take some of the bits of metal on the ground, a few thugs are collected with collecting anymore bits they can find around the area. Free range is given to dig around the statue. Extra drink will be given for every kilo of salvageable bits they can find as incentive. (5 thugs)
   
   
3. In a suitable field near Muddy Lake a farm will be constructed to grow/farm the supplies needed for brewing along with general eating and cattle ranching. The farm will consist of divided segments growing different crops that will be rotated yearly and the local lake will be used to irrigate the fields. Small barns and employee burrows will be built for storage and housing along with other buildings needed for farming and the such. (10 Skilled workers + 15 thugs + 2 Trolls + 2 Capos))
   
   
4. Fennecs under the leader of the Master Biologist will study the Runners and attempt to discover efficient hunting methods as long with whether or not the domestication/herding of them will be possible. (1 Capo + 5 skilled workers)
   
   
5. The hitmen will begin attempting to make friends with some locals. (6 hitmen)
   
   
6. Andrei (Illusionist Assassin Capo) will be sent to negotiate with a local leader. (1 Capo)

[/spoilr]

 

[Beckoncall]

"Dwarven visit to the 'Platz":

• Grimdr orders a 'peep hole' dug towards the fissure while stopping all over mining pending the securing of supplies:

The hole was dug -- and in terms of location it was by far the safest, but by no means the closest to the object of observance. Below the peep-hole could be seen a veritable forest of stalagmites... crawling amoung them were small trails and clumps of heat... dozens of them... adult cave fishers that troll the cavern of their massive mother for sustenance. The other side of the cavern was aglow with the heat of the "Fisher Grandmother" -- the largest cave fisher any dwarf had ever heard of. Cave fishers were common cave dwellers in the upper layers of caverns -- and it's been speculated there is no limit on their size but susceptibility to disease and other predators -- neither of which seemed to apply to this thing...

...It sustained itself by whipping several of it's dozens of tentacles along the cavern floor... and none less than eating whatever of it's young that it could find. It hung from the roof of the cavern by coils of it's largest tentacles, mooring it's bony back-plating into the cavern behind it -- long ground into it and fused against the back wall of this chamber... her nest. It's massive eyes, almost completely covered by calcified mineral buildup, blinked sightlessly into the darkness, and beneath it rolled a staggered but disgusting flow of grusome gore-colored eggs... the next generation of meals, perhaps. Somewhere off of the cavern, the dwarves could hear the sounds of Aymarans mining salt -- perhaps their tunnels were also closer to this massive cavern than one might have thought...

• Grimdr travels to the Platz to try and find other leaders and buy food

"A pittance! Food at the market cost but a song -- especially for not seeming THAT plentiful -- apparently if there were more means of making a buck at market there couldn't be that very many of them. For but some of the money Grimdr carried on him, a negligible amount really, he secured wagons worth of food -- enough to feed his troops at whatever rate he chose for the immediate time being. Fowl, Mutton, What passed for beer, bread, even some fruits and greens to go with the ever familiar fungi. Supplies? Check.


As for finding other leaders, perhaps he would have to seek audience with them, for in the market he found none of them... but word that the dwarf sought faction leaders began to spread. Heyitsjiwon SpiralErrant NorthOfOrdinary Prince Vaethorion Enemy Standoo .

• Grimdr also begins asking around for info about the colonies past.

The Dwarf lord hears several stories -- speculations about a cataclysm that wiped out the city the colony presently grew out of, of a war with degenerate elves in the east, and a tense border with gnolls in the same direction. That the ruins west were full of skeletons and other horrors, more numerous and varied as one cared to look. Historically things may have been tense between factions, but the colony seemed to work together when needed most. The most interesting stories were that this area had been the site of a Muurdaan colony long ago, and after that, an equally ill-fated colony of various races like what seemed to exist today. Townspeople also talked about "A Cull" -- some magical or bestial force that wipes the area clean of life every so often, and that colony leaders were attempting to learn about it before it was too late. That, and there was a "Gameball" pitch up the north road -- if the dwarfs felt like kicking the asses off the locals on a gameball field, they might just have to... if time for such frivolities existed....

.

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

General Deth Glitch

Wave After Wave

Caelis walked about the Depression and looked at the wide, open seas. To him, the seas represented opportunity. That somewhere in the horizon was a ship carrying with it dreams and ambitions no matter what kind of cargo it carried. The ship was a vessel of hope. As a child, he believed that somewhere out there was a better future and ships were the harbinger of such fortune. He never thought that they would bring this much trouble, but here, the colony faced a tense situation and it all began with these few blasted ships that stayed in the harbor. House Narvik would eventually be curious as to what had happened to the Baronetess if she didn't send word, and she wouldn't... for she had been brutally torn to shreds by the freed slaves who now resided in the Attolian Housing District. Then there were the Privateer Admiral who certainly was not helping the situation, but he had not particularly broken any laws other than being a general nuisance. Much had to be done to address these issues.

First, he needed to find a way to insure that further damage is not done to the House of Narvik. If things went too far, they would certainly send agents to the colony, which Caelis wanted to avoid at all cost. This was not a Muurdaan settlement, and he would be damned if they just strolled in one day and took everything by force. Thus, they had to somehow make the House of Narvik satisfied. Without a doubt, they would demand quite a hefty blood debt for the life of the Baronetess. However, the question was who could they try to extract it from? The murders were just recently freed slaves. They had no money. Would House Narvik then take their heads? How would they benefit from that? Nay, surely House Narvik would look for the quickest and easiest way to make a bit of money, and call it quits. The Baronetess bore little power other than generating some cash for the House. Thus, they had to quickly inform the House Narvik of the situation, and make a reasonable offer that would make them sending agents not as profitable. But... how? The remaining retinue of the Baronetess would like try to bolt with the ship and its treasures. That would only cause more problems for the Colony as House Narvik would likely blame the Colony for letting their inheritance be stolen.

What if the Colonists could somehow deliver everything themselves? That was it! The Attolians still had their ship and so did several other faction leaders. What if they formed their own convoy to trade and bring things back and forth from the old world? It would help reduce the middlemen and make trade more profitable for the Colonists themselves. This idea could be the answer and it excited Caelis. So much so that he called for his shipwright and asked him to lead this ambitious project. He would have to ask others if they were willing to send men and ships back to the Old World as well. The trip was perilous, and there was safety in numbers, but they needed some sort of naval presence. Caelis looked around for his Castellan, who had just recently been denied access to the Admiral's ship, and told him a simple task, purchase the Lesser Sirens at the lowest price possible.

It was soon right when their conversation ended that he overheard the commotion from the Admiral and the Order. The Attolians were received similarly, but this also went to show that the Colony simply had little means to enforce their laws especially against an organized group like the Admiral's Convoy. They needed to strengthen the Colony's defenses and capabilities. This had been apparent since the battle of the Platz. In fact, he had been discussing with his Engineer and Architect about fortifying the area for quite a while, but didn't seem to have the time or the labor to make it happen. That is until the arrival of 100 newly freed men. Another concern was no longer having Boulder Fields saturated with stones to use. However, the recent expedition to the Agora District seemed to have secured a decent supply of Marble for the time being.

Caelis was lost in his thoughts until he realized that he saw an unusual sight, a small humanoid, a Dwarf? He had heard that dwarves had arrived with the Admiral and the Fennec, but he had not seen them much in the last few days. Perhaps, they were cautious, but this was finally a chance to meet them. Thus, Caelis walked towards this dwarf and said "Hail Master Dwarf. It seems that you're looking for something? I am Lord Caelis Wolff of the Kingdom of Attolia. Welcome to these lands. I can try to help you find whatever it is that you seek."

---
Summary:

Caelis plans to begin the First Colonial Convoy back to the Old World

Castellan goes off to the Slavers' ship to see if he could buy the Sirens and negotiate for a better price. (Looking to buy for less than 3 wealth, if possible. Otherwise, 3 wealth it is.)

Engineer has green light to try to crack open the vault.

Caelis meets the wandering dwarf, Grimdr

 

[Beckoncall]

SpiralErrant :

"For Ancient Wood":

"Two Coffers for a wagon of ancient wood!? Madness!"

"Considering however that the mistress died practically on our watch, we'll need money to run and keep running -- we'll agree to your price, but only for the whole lot -- 2 wagons for 4 wealth... and we accept silver AND scrip."

"Deal?"

 

[Prince Vaethorion]

Spacekitty Beckoncall SpiralErrant Heyitsjiwon NorthOfOrdinary @Enemy Standoo General Deth Glitch

The Highborn lost two more of their kin. This was devastating to the Highborn. The Prince was unsure why the Witch was being held for so long, why had the Rats not interrogated her as they had asked to do? The Plan was to kill the witch after interrogation, so why was the Witch still alive he wondered. It was intended to keep the witch no longer than a day or two, and yet months had passed (which seemed like days to an immortal). This angered him to no end. Many things confused the Prince these days. The events were happening rapidly and with no time to respond. The Prince did not have the luxury to dwell on how discombobulated the Colony seemed to him. It seemed that the introduction of new Colonist to the Colony had put things into disarray. No use crying over spilt wine thought the Prince, but mourn he did over his lost kin. The Prince was in a revery of mourning and did not have much energy, or desire for socializing, or interacting much with others, especially not lower life forms. Life went on, the colony went on, and for the sake of his Elves, he must focus on the matters at hand.

The matters were many....

Fennec:

The Prince was still furious with the Fennec. Their exploits thus far were upsetting and their actions in the Platz freeing the slaves risked the wrath of the Murrdain. Regardless, the Prince could not afford to let them run about without knowing their intentions. The Prince ordered a messenger to summon the leader of the Fennec to appear in front of the Colonial government to discuss their future (if any) with the colony and what they thought was a suitable punishment for their actions. (The Fennec would remain on probation till further notice.)

- Fennec leader invited to appear in front of Colonial government's leaders (specifically where will be at undisclosed location until actual meeting). This will be arranged in secret in order to prevent any trickery.

Colonial Defenses:

The Colony defenses needed to be bolstered. To this end, the Attolians and Highborn were to begin a joint project and would request other colonist to collaborate. A keep high above the port, with a gate to enter the Platz, with walls flanking the gate and keep was planned to be constructed. The Prince would command his Engineer to draw up plans. Near the keep a garrison would be built, along with an armory and barracks for the Colonial militia. Within the compound, the seat of colonial government would be built. This needed to be a combined project for it to coalesce the factions and have them vested in the Colonial government.

Order:

The Attolians and Highborn begin to work on defenses:

- The Attolians and Highborn collaborate in developing colonial defenses. This would initially consist of a keep on top of the Platz. Walls would be added with the cliff incorporated in to the defenses. A request of cooperation would be formally sent to ALL colonial government members. Plans would be drawn up. The depression would have a smaller keep and set of walls with small towers flanking above the port. The Port itself would have wall built, and gates leading up the road (there was a road right?) to the Platz. If there was no road, then a road would need to be built.

The entire Colonial government would need to involved. The Highborn and Attolians send request especially to the Victorians (who are In the vicinity) , but also the Reinen, and Tyren. They put an open invitation to any members of Colony (not on probation) to contribute if interested. The more Colonial factions involved the more a seat of power would have legitimacy. For any faction that collaborates with developing Governmental building and defenses, the existing colonial government offers to reciprocate developing their defenses (this is mainly directed at Tyren, but applies to Dwarves and others).

-The Prince orders the Highborn engineer to work with Attolians, and other Colonist to draw up plans for the Colonial defenses and to pool manpower and resources. In these plans, there would be a Garrison, a Keep, walls, an Armory with training court yard and lower defenses in the depression and port to project defensive power to anyone approaching the port. Below the depression would have be fortified and even lower, the port would need to be fortified. Small towers would need to be constructed with gates that both exuded defense and would prevent invasion from the Port itself.

Port Defenses need weapons to defend port

The Attolians had expressed interest in constructing Trebuchets to defend the port. The Highborn thought this was a good idea. There was also talk in replicating the Tyren balista. However, the Prince had been recently admiring the “guns” the Reinen and Slavers had and were rethinking the prejudice Highborn had towards cannons and guns. The elder Highborn in the old world had found guns and cannons distasteful , cowardlyand too unsophisticated to adopt usage of. Guns and gun powder was a known substance to the Highborn, used in alchemy, for some magical purposes, but not embraced for warfare. The Prince thought this attitude to be restrictive. Why couldn't cannons be used for port defenses A long cylindrical metal tube could be made to fire projectiles with gunpowder. These large siege weapons could be used for port defense, and perhaps on land. The Prince would ask his artificer to work on this project along with the Dwarves if they were willing.


- Highborn Artficer ordered to manufacture dirty gunpowder, and to develop cannons to fire projectiles using gunpowder to defend the port. The Highborn would present the idea to the Dwarves and ask for their expertise. The Highborn looked down on other non Dwarven designs. The Highborn did not at this point intend to use the Guns and Cannons themselves, but they were to be used in Port and Colony defenses. “Let others dirty their hands with cowardly weapons” The Prince said to his artificer.

Trade ships to the Old world.

The Attolians presented the Highborn and Colony with an idea to send ships back to the Old World and begin a trading fleet. The Prince thought this to be a prudent idea. The Prince would send a request back home for more Highborn colonist, some mounts, and supplies. The Prince could spare 18 Highborn to help sail the ships back.

- Prince orders 18 sailors to sail back to Old world as part of joint Colony trade mission

Building Outpost

The Attolians and Highborn decide on where to build Outpost for NW exploration and cultivation of resources. It will be in the Hills East of Muddy lake. Approximately X5,Y9 on map.

.

_The Attolians and Highborn build Outpost in NW
In hills east of the Muddy Lake approximately X5, Y9 on map.

Finding the Coppersmiths

The Prince orders his spy to sniff out the Coppersmiths. He also orders his Mage to feel the returned opium that was stole by them to learn about Coppersmiths.

All in all there was much to do. The Prince would wait to hear from his NorthWest team and meanwhile would put available resources into developing defenses.

Communicating with Zebani

The Highborn desired further contact with the Zebani. The Linguist would be sent to meet them if possible. The Prince wanted the permission to access the Cave of Straight lines, as he thought it might be a place to take cover from Cull.

Revenge:


The Prince plans to avenge his losses against the Witch that was reportedly sighted and the existing mud elves. He orders his tactician to develop plans to strike at the Mud Elves. The Highborn offer assistance to the Reinen in destroying the Witch in return, the Highborn ask for Gunpowder in exchange. If the Reinen joined the government, they would be asked to contribute to the Colony's defenses.

Future Joint Projects with the Attolians:

-Establishing a Colonial bank - the Prince assigns the most knowledgeable Highborn economist to working with Attolians on establishing a central bank.



Orders Summary:

Spacekitty
- Fennec leader invited to appear in front of Colonial government's leaders (specifically where will be at undisclosed location until actual meeting). This will be arranged in secret in order to prevent any trickery. (ooc: this will be RP'd jointly between different members. This was discussed with Bobisdead123).

-Prince orders mage to find out about the Coppersmiths. The mage can learn about them perhaps by touching stolen opium. Based on these findings, the Mage will work with Spy to obtain intel about them. (resolved in post to follow)

Enemy Standoo SpiralErrant
- The Prince orders the Highborn engineer to work with Attolians, and other Colonist engineers to draw up plans for the Colonial defenses and begin constructing keep and garrison. This will be done with the collaboration with Victorians and Tyren (if interested). Other parties are welcome to contribute and will be rewarded with improved defenses in the long run.

- Prince asks Artificer to develop large cannons for port defense and artillery. Gunpowder would be needed to be manufactured.

- The Prince arranges meeting with Leader of the Dwarves to discuss Colony defenses, potential collaboration between two peoples. General Deth Glitch

-The Prince orders his spy to sniff out the Coppersmiths. He also orders his Mage to “feel” magically the returned opium that was stole by them to learn about Coppersmiths.

- Prince orders 18 sailors to sail back to Old world as part of joint Colony trade mission. The Prince sends a coded messaged back to his Highborn kin requesting more Highborn, some mounts, supplies and equipment. The Prince gives summary of what has been accomplished thus far.

- Tactician asked to make plans to attack Mud elves for retribution. The Highborn offer assistance to kill witch, in exchange for Gunpowder and to join Colonial government. NorthOfOrdinary

- Attolians and Highborn begin to flesh out a central bank together.

 

[Spacekitty]

Prince Vaethorion
From the Finecian’s makeshift watch tower on top of the Collosi the Highborn messenger was easily spotted long before he reached the Excavation site. One of the thugs atop the oversized statue let out what would have only sounded to the Elf as an odd bird cry, a disguised Finecian calling signal design to alert friends of an approaching stranger. Immediately the thug was up and over, well down in this case as he scrambled down the behemoths front, sliding/falling down the small crane that he been placed atop it to aid in the construction process. He ran as fast as his little legs would carry him to their now HQ, stumbling past his friends around the statue as they dug, leaping over freshly made holes and bounding down the staggered tiers of the vine covered arena.

The workers around him glanced curiously about as they continued their work (albeit it at a snail's pace as they intended to rubbernose the entire situation). The thugs arrival had temporarily stalled the flow of dirt and supplies as Finecians with shovels and picks unearthed the ancient tunnels and dug new ones. Already their mining was muffled as their work took them below the earth. Of course this stall lasted only a moment as Sontio was soon standing upon the shoulder of the largest troll, yelling and eating his head off for everyone to get back to work.

The Finecian messenger doubled over for a moment, panting as he regained his breath. All had heard the call, and within moments the capos were over the messenger.

“A highborn is commin!” The thug cried out, eliciting nervous sideways glances from the capos. Last time the elves had sent a message they had released their slaves, torn down everything and moved. But they only nodded in reply, sending the thug back up to his post and disappearing into the large tent that had been erected in the center of the site. Moments later they remerged, whispering amongst themselves with Mr. Mallowthew at their lead. The well dressed businessman hushed them, proclaiming “You all are too quick to scatter. Let me talk to the messenger, we don’t even know what he wants!”.

The other capos nodded and Mr. Mallowthew made way for where the Highborn was estimated to be approaching from, flanked by two dirt covered thugs, all of whom were seemingly unarmed. Not the hint of a blade amongst his tight black overcoat and top hat or the Thug’s torn cloth tunics. The messenger would be stopped just before he could begin to peer over the edge of the excavation, close enough to hear the clinks and clunks of work and the grunts of the trolls as they threw dirt and rocks around, the flying debri likely visible to the gathered party.

Mr. Mallowthew greeted the messenger warmly, as if there was and never had been any tension between the two faction. He accepted the invitation, stating he would be in attendance and he would be expecting the location soon. The highborn was once more invited to stay for pleasantries- an offer that was undoubtedly refused.

(Fennecs accept offer. Lets get this show underway!)

 

[Beckoncall]

SpiralErrant :

"We tend our flock, we do."

The Tree-singing for whipporwhil:


Whipporwhil listened the springborn, and with creaking limbs it drew it's limbs about itself. Weeping gave way to grief, and in hours or days, grief gave way to communion and homecoming. Whipporwhil spoke of the Autumn-lord, his breath panting like a drum as horrors man and man-made, or man lead slaved to kill him.

...And theyfailed. They ALL failed. when he was dragged away by a Great Siege Bullette, whatever that was, dragged in chains flailing from the homewood, he could see the Muurdaan cutting trees of the homewood, but also cutting their losses. The great mage Anfel's left arm was broken in more than a dozen places when she turned it into a swarm of brambles and picked the opposing general up into the air and rained him upon his command cavalry. Were they all dead now? Whipporwhil didn't think so -- but the springborn could tell he was unsure.

"I must rest, my children -- I will awaken in the wintertime... but while I sleep, sing to me of the Tyren -- that I have made it back to you, and reached the fabled "Harun'Taras" to join with them...

And with that, more creaking and wending of wood as Whipporwhil's root took their places. The long thorny blades of his fore-limbs bloomed with black and green flowers and the Ent folded withs branches around itself.

"uuuuurrhhh... strange soil. So far away. Yes, sing a bit longer -- in a moment it will be wintertime."

______________________________________________________________________

"The Crate" :


At this quiet and private part of the beach Orm and Bruul finally pushed the little crate into the current of the waves, and it turned once of the seas power finally, and not their own.

The crate seemed for a moment to soak up water like a sponge, air-bubbles rising out of even the pores in the wood... the voice of a mischievous and drunken child, it's mouth full of seaweed, emanated from a crack in the wood, as a translucent blue watery hand then another, began to peel a little porthole in the crate.

"It is YOU who have done so well, it is YOU who are going to be alright... YOU are so close to the sea... YOU..." the voice giggled, then coughed... "That are almost there."

Bruul put a hand before orm and shielded them from the blast of flimsy wood and the blast of water that poured from the porthole, swelled higher, and ripped the crate to pieces. Nothing that would harm the great Tyren, but the creature within.. that was within it's box no more... was now free...

"Standing before you is Anais-T’leth-Aboleth” – the disturbing, gutteral bubbling voice of a drowned maiden seethed – her eyes were white and her teeth were green and she looked like the skeleton of a child suspended in the flesh of a jellyfish.

“It means Anais, mouth of Aboleth – and it is I you have contacted. I have used the shell of one of the discarded slaves of your colony to create this avatar, for I speak in the tongues of all whom my father has consumed… and we have consumed so very many…”

It spoke in the oldest style of Tyren -- long ago, in the tongue of the first caravan.

Bouncing upon a small wave it seemed to create itself, this glassy girlchild-become-man'o'war seemed to pull ever more water into itself, and from that, slimy folds, become robes, become gowns folded around her. It gazed ruefully for a moment at Bruul -- who looked prepared to smash the thing with a thousand chambered punches...

...Then her white eyes fell upon Orm, and perhaps seeing a tiny slice of her own pain in them, relaxed...

"You're not a Slaver. Slavers don't have such eyes... Orm." It spoke with the tenor and officiousness of a mother, though the voice of the creepy child remained.

"Let us both calm our little hearts, friend... we will both hold our rage until we can find a spot where it belongs, shall we?"

"Oh, this tounge is disturbing and unwelcome coming from me, is it?" Bruul just blinked and waited for Orm to give the order to disintigrate it...

"Father has eaten Lord Vorenus, colony leader of the island that now is not -- he spoke a modern dialect of common... perhaps this voice-noise is more pleasing?" it spoke in the common of a Muurdain murderer, calculated, measured. It frowned when this did not get the desired result.

The slimy cilia on her head twisted and tied itself into a strange hybrid of a mane and a hairstyle... an errant tentacle scooped a claim out of the sand, and in a single gesture, dissolved the meat inside and turned the shell into a clasp to hold it into place.

The little thing was strange, and were the Tyren not massive mighty-thewed creatures in their own right, they might have garnered a human's fear... To Orm the thing was simply an amorphous water-bubble that spoke in strange tongues. A head cock was all she had gotten in response to her great displays.

"Your Anais was a slave, and was to be a slave -- but Orm is no slaver -- so what am I?" little miss "mouth of Aboleth" queried...

beneath her feet, tiny cilia and tentacles were combing up whole gangs of tiny crabs and shellfish that fled from her in all directions...

"Besides STARVING. I mean..." she looked up at Bruul, shook her head, and went back to combing the sands... a giggle escaping her lips as the tiny invertebrates dissolved in her own murky depths...

 

[SpiralErrant]

Silver metal for lumber

Two Coffers for a wagon of ancient wood!? Madness!"

"Considering however that the mistress died practically on our watch, we'll need money to run and keep running -- we'll agree to your price, but only for the whole lot -- two wagons for four wealth... and we accept silver AND scrip."

"Deal?"

"I'll meet you half way, you can have THREE coffers for the lot. If you want four then throw in a helping of those quartz stones too. We already got some of that around here anyway so aint no one else gunna offer you coin for it anyway. How's that for you?"

"Yer Doing us a favor -- we don't want to load those things back in the boat half-handed!"

"How 'bout you let me do you a bigger favour and you add another block? You were giving those away two for the coffer anyway, you's gettin' it full price." The tyren merchant added cheekily.

"Most respectfully, if you intend to murder us all -- please choose a means of execution that does not involve strangling of our business or consigning us to slow, painful starvation. We will sell you wares, and considering the delicacy of our situation, we are willing to deal. But unless you've been using those horns to PICK YOUR NOSES -- Stop. Trying. To. Rob. Us."

"So is that... a deal?" Minax asked after an awkward pause. The human had left things a little open to interpenetration there and she didn't want to get in trouble for accidentally stealing from slavers.

The slavers, for their part, burst out laughing. "You know what?! Considering we're about to begin our new lives fleeing persecution under assumed identities, I needed a good laugh. Deal."

Now that was what she was talking about! It had delivered a gut punch to the caravan's treasury but it was the deal of a life time! If they couldn't find a use for all of this to make their profits back then she had no hope for her own kind. She deserved to go down in the caravan's history for this, this earned her a place in the iron pages! The nerve of those folk, if Minax hadn't come away the victor in that battle then she'd have been furious about them.

["Making their living stealing people from their homes and selling them like sheep, and they've got the nerve to look down their noses at me. That's humans for you I tell you."] She grumbled along under her breath to the rest of her crowd as they pulled their carts back to the hills.

["This is gunna upset the wee ones though, won't it? Is it even a good idea to bring it where they can see it?"] One of her apprentices asked.

None of the minotaurs truly understood the intense emotional reaction that the springborn had when it came to the golden wood or the cutting of trees in general but they were beginning to appreciate it the longer their two peoples lived together. They were living in their wooden longhouses now, just like how the elves had lived in these trees. They supposed that having someone burn your house down and then try charging you to scoop up the ruins was a bitter insult as well. Still their sorrow for seeing even a single tree fall was taking it a little too far. Some of the tyren had tried explaining it to the springborn the best way a shepherd could... by comparing the trees to sheep! A shepherd must slaughter some of the flock sometimes, to eat and stay strong so they may protect the rest, to keep their numbers in check so they don't graze their way across the land and leave it barren, growing out of control for the poor herdsmen. It was a tough thing but each death had a purpose and even back in the old world when they'd been called on to aid lumberjacks the tyren had seen humans plant two trees for every one they felled. But not all of nature could be trees, fields and hills were needed, even mountains. A nomad knew that there was life beyond the forest but the chief had promised the elves that he'd look out for their old ways.

That was why they were bringing these golden planks back to Hrun'Taras. Orm figured it was better that the elves be allowed to make their peace with what had been done to their old home trees. Better that than to let them get word of it being chopped up even further and turned into furniture or fire wood. Not before they sent it to the mine though. Orm or the shaman could probably explain it better but there was hope among the minotaurs that the magic within the mine that had brought life back to other dead and magical plants could do the same for the ancient wood remains. Maybe they wouldn't get the might oaks they used to have but if they had a chance at restoring a piece of something as old and powerful as this then they had to take it... didn't they?

4 wealth spent! 2 units of ancient wood. 2 units of quartz.

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

Stones turn green.

I step​

toward the risen light.
Each star dies in the sea.
A peak erupts with smoke
and snow.

I herald a day​

that never came.

"Poet!​

Rise from your cave.

Forget​

the newts, rats, and worms.
Come out.

Witness.

Testify.​

The land that had a name
is nameless.

Corpses lie​

everywhere.

After sudden​

death, come out and speak
your promise to the sea and sky."

-From the scattered notes of an Attolian Linguist in a nameless land

 

[NorthOfOrdinary]

A lot had happened while Charlotte was away in the square. Upon her return to the Reinen settlement, she found herself assaulted with a barrage of recent news.

First and foremost, someone or something had been seen stealing away with gunpowder and a handful of rifles. Yet, that was as much information as had been gathered. Her Defenders were immediately on the task, investigating, while Charlotte worked tirelessly to assure the elders that security was being taken care of. At least the party had everyone in good spirits.

Next to occur, was the arrival of a band of elves, the Highborn, if she did recall correctly. She journeyed to meet them at village's entrance personally.

"We welcome your assistance, Cleric, and would invite you to stay with us for supper, but alas, I must take leave shortly" The Princess began, "I understand now, the gravity of these reports of theft, for we had weapons stolen from last night. In regards to joining this colonial government, I can tell you what I told the Attolians. The Reinen will not join such an endeavor while we are still fit to stand."

The Princess thought on that for just a moment, wondering if she had made the right decision. Surely, joining the government would make apprehending the thieves easier, but, independence!

Charlotte had spoken, and after politely bidding the Highborn auf Wiedersehen, she ran to catch another party of elves, from the Tyren in the north. The brunette girl smiled, upon knowing they had heeded her warning.

"Ya, I think it does...both me and one of the Attolian seers, Cassandra, have had the same dreams. This woman, we believe, was turned into the monster she is now by an evil spirit. She lost her finger and ring in those woods, wich was found by a mud elf, and later captured in battle by the colony. We will be moving against her shortly, with the hopes that this finger will prove to dispel the entity. The Reinen thank you greatly for all your help."

Charlotte thought of the offer of a shaman, but hesitated allowing a person of a different faith place protections on their settlement. No, this was the Lord of Purity's people, and his blessing would be enough.

"We won't be needing your shaman, our faith will be enough, but if you wish to find out more, I invite you to talk to Trekkman. He witnessed the evil of this spirit, and he tell you what he saw. Take care!"

With that, Charlotte thought the day's visitors were over, until word reached her of yet another arrival.

Only, this one made her breath stop. Lord Caelis had kept his word, and Charlotte would meet his agent with open arms.

A flash of red bolted above the plains, east of the Attolian Housing District. It was too big to be a bird, and certainly too vibrant. The bolt was a crimson red, deeper than a glass of wine. There couldn't be a natural occurrence of such a color... unless it were a splash of blood. Cassandra flew. Her Lord had asked her to perform, and perform she shall. The Reinen settlement with its humble homes came into vision in the horizon. However, before she was tooclose, Cassandra landed, and walked the rest of her journey. The Reinen were certainly a people who got spooked easily. if she flew into the village, then next thing she would know would be that they would be trying to burn her at the stake for being a witch. That was something she certainly wanted to avoided. After all, it would make this assignment even harder. She had to help them stop a witch, not be accused of being one.

Soon, she walked into the domain of the Reinen and noticed the villagers giving her curious glances and glares. Certainly, they had almost never seen anyone wear such colors and clothes in their lives. But, such were the lives of the reclusive Reinen. Either way, as she made her way to find the Princess, she overheard the Reinen talk about a robbery that had occurred just moments before everyone had returned. Little did they know that even if they wanted to distance themselves from the Colony... they were inherently a part of the colony. They could never be truly alone.

Cassandra eventually found herself in the presence of the Princess. She gave a quick curtsy, and said "Hail, Princess of the Reinen. I am Cassandra, seer for his lord, Caelis Wolff of the Kingdom of Attolia. I have come for I have been instructed to assist you and your people with this rumored witch that seems to live in the woods to the east." She then looked around as people seemed to be scrambling from figuring out what was stolen. "I wish to also inform you that I know the culprit of this crime that had been committed on these grounds. I have seen the Fennec come to this settlement while you and your people went to the platz with food and a bomb. They are the ones who have stolen from you. I assure you that if you look around for their tracks, then you'll curiously find them around the settlement."

"A bomb? Merely a keg of gunpowder, to protect against that abomination of a fountain." Charlotte liked that the seer was blunt, direct, but that didn't mean that she had to be assuming. "We'll send riders to question the Fennec, but we can't rightly accuse them, not while we still have evil in our wood." She gave only a cursory glance at the woman's clothing, they had colors too, but to judge someone on their dress was hardly pure. The Reinen Princess turned to Trekkman with directions.

"Trekkman, dispatch someone to track the Fennec, and send someone to fill in the Tyren and Highborn on everything we know about the witch. I want you beside me and Cassandra later on."

Charlotte started towards the dock, motioning that Cassandra could follow, as she made her way through the new village. "This is our home, and for as long as you wish to be our guest, it is yours too. Did you bring the ring?"

Charlotte hoped that she had, for otherwise their meeting would be meaningless. She still had to help check the fields and plan for winter provisions. Yet, if the ring was here, taking it into the forest would be of far greater importance. "I'd like to carry it across the river, and personally deliver it."

Upon the docks, bobbing in the river were a handful of boats. Standing beside them, the Miliz and a handful of Defenders waited. Trekkman had already returned.

Cassandra nodded and said "An abomination? Princess, that fountain has done much to help this colony especially with the Undead to the West. If anything rash were to happen to the fountain, then it would certainly draw the ire of my Lord. While it may not be a true ally. It has yet to prove itself an enemy. Regardless, this is not what is important at the moment. I am sure that the witch is a greater concern to you. I do bare the finger and the ring. However, my Lord has instructed me to assist you and your people. Not to simply hand it over. Nay, I am not a mere courier. I shall join you and your people and, to the best of my abilities, use my best judgement on how to help. If it seems that you willneed the finger, then I will gladly hand it over. However, until then, let us go and see if this witch can be put to rest. It appears that removing this ring may help... for I have had another vision of the Muurdaan Noblewoman who is imprisoned by this ring." She then continued to follow the Princess towards the boat so that they maycross the river.

"You are welcome to come and to hold onto the ring, but please remember whose land you stand upon, and whom has the most to lose in this fight. These woods belong to the Reinen now. I think it would be smarter to share your vision, than to keep it a secret."

Trekkman offered a hand to help Charlotte into a boat, and once she was situated, offered help to Cassandra as well. The remaining boats were filled by the assembled men, all praying for protection as they loaded their rifles and sheathed their swords.

When they reached the other side, Trekkman was the first to climb out onto the muddy bank. Charlotte smiled at Cassandra. "Are you ready?"

"Of course, we all have much to lose. Your loss is the loss is the loss of all here. These are hostile lands, and anything that affects one, affects all. But, to call these woods part of Reinen territory... let us rid these woods the of spirits and the mud elves first before making such statements. I suspect that once the wisps are gone, the conflict between the gnolls and the Mud Elves will expand into these woods as they will try to claim more territory as well. But, that is for us to worry about in the future. Let us deal with the witch and the wisps." Cassandra replied as she joined the Reinen on their boats and awaited their arrival to the woods at which point she would take out the finger.

Once they arrived at the edge of the wood, Charlotte told her men to wait. She'd go alone with Cassandra, for there was no need to risk so many lives.

 

[Zaltusinel]

Ambience:​

"Pop Star's Happy Beginnings"

“The darkness always stays with you, do not fear it. Because, it is not truly evil.”
​

Crystals gather over the passages of the dreary vault. Long overdue, long past. She awakens, her name is Ryleon. The daughter of Bersi, Koria, the sister of five. In her past life, she was Deysai; the pop star of the era. She wrote hundreds of albums in her life, her fame was quite prevalent in Nylorian Society and to no one else. Now she awakens in the vault, her thoughts guide her as she stirred. Peering to the directions, seeing the crystals, seeing her people all stored and alive. She noticed other planty supplies and smiled. ‘Something to remember!’ Grateful that nothing was truly lost. Everything would return in time; she held a great deal of hope. A trademark for her. While they will not know her name for a while, once they do. Morale will surely go up. She was an icon of her people, and now she will repay them by leading them to glory. To reclaim their homeland. Some desperate bargain struck between them -- the Mage Queen needed Nylor magic... and for it gave them the needed, and hope, to survive the coming storm.


Ryleon jumped up from the floor of crystal, her arms recede to chest where she tilts her head. The various coils and collections of hair moved, held in place, as a waterfall intertwined with a reactor core. She moved to the very edge of the crystal, looking around for anything. Any clues that may suggest who was in this place. The glow of her eyes motioned as doves in autumn breezes, letting a petite azure flame echo from within. Her arms guided multiple strings of navy lights, motioning around her until a gas-like cloud of darkness echoed her form. Her lips parted as the missing piece became apparent to her, she raked through her hand as a swift angel on top of a panther. Slowly, her hair fell out of mood for the nightshade she slumbered in. Instead, a steady stream of milk white and metallic gray intertwined as twin lovers, forced apart by lusterless interloping of prejudging and fear. She raised her hand and mouthed in Nylorian, "Heed Ryleon, I'd suggest you drop this rush before the whatever kept us here wears off! Not like I know what that is at the moment! But I'll remember!" Her voice predicted songbird ballads as Shakespeare's unholy alliance with the collective of muses. Her body implied a kind, gentle, diva that generally kept ideas of the prurient off her backs. Though like she would worry with her kin. As she closed her mouth, she let her bones pop and loosen before tapping the crystal with her pinky finger. The crystal responded with a faint wave of strings of light, a dark violet this time drawn across an ocean of hot pink in the purest of fruits.


Her graceful touch echoed around the vault, a faint hum of magic encircled her as multiple voices clinked and rose from the edges of the vault. The gray walls whispered to each other, somewhat surprised and curious. Her eyes followed her hearts commands. Others had rose around her, some were on an elevated platform dusting off their cloaks, their armor they wore. Step, step, step; they came down to greet her, their eyes met hers, she saw the familiar fire inside of them. Torching their eyes in a colors of light. To the unadapt of the dark, they appeared as floating flames, searching for vengeance. A fellow of a tight-knit armor clasped her hand, he moved it to his chest and let it stay. Ryleon giggled with the man as she etched his cloak back to reveal his face. His hair dashed forward, over his eyes as tsunamis splintered by Mount Everest. Peaks of hair extended out from his head in the back, facing forward and curving. On top, a swirl of hair as a spikey, upside down whirlpool, that layered over his head. A soft burnt sienna glazed over with an alabaster sprinkle. A desert discovering the vengeance of snow.


“May you name grace my heart darling?” Ryleon caressed as a butterfly in the wind of the right side of his face. A valiant chin, with soft texture, echoed off of her hand as cheekbones tickled in curve. His eyes resembled the shape of almonds in peak of health. His irises, almost invisible by the flame, flowered of obsidian dosed in sprinkles of parmesan. He giggled as he gazed eye to eye with her.


“Urun, my lady.” Wiping the stray hairs on her forehead with a slight glow in his armored hands, letting the hair fold into place with Ryleon’s exciting hair. A rumble enticed them to follow the sound to the right. Two Nylorian males wrestled, sliding each other close in five percent competition, ninety-five percent overclocked joy. Waves of tears flood each other’s bodies as clothes failed to accompany them, as most in the vault. Chests collided in powerful bumps, letting arms tackle around necks. Urun kneeled down beside them, placing his hand on them. Looking up only moments before a giant hug surrounded them as well.


Her legs craned up in joy, never feeling so happy before in her life. “Awww, that’s cute of you Urun. This is so special. I think I’m going to need a doctor for my squeezing heart.” Urun laughed as he hugged the other Nylor, laying on the floor with them in his arms. Another cloak kneeled, reaching down in the mess of comfort. The cloak rested its hands on the shoulders of the Nightbringer, easing out a breath. Urun let his head back, focusing his eyes onto the cloak. Slowly, the hood stumbled from his head, revealing the mirror image. Widened eyes form as Urun pulls down the cloak to him.


“Blessings, Urun, I think we have something in common.” The cloak lowered down onto the pile, “Jadius is my name. I suppose you must be my twin.”

Ryleon smiled, “Hey Jadius, Urun, and you!” She pointed to a Caliber (MidKnight), “Go see if there is anything else in here.”


Slams! Thuds of great size echo the room. Constant, threatening the door as dragons of the past era. They bundled together, protecting each other’s ears. Jadius had barely rose up on the platform again. They howled, pleading. Some received nose bleeds, letting their violet blood whisper away on one another. Ryleon breathed, “Jadius, quickly. Shoot down that door!” And so the door tumbled down onto the outside as a bolt disintegrated on the edge. While truly, they willed it and it fell. A burst of light surged from the open doorway, they covered themselves again letting the strange aura around them adjust their eyes. But it was not over. They slammed to the floor as the vault rose up, then gently rest on the ground roughly behind the excavators. By this, everyone sundered about. Falling, tripping, but not too severe.


Ryleon shot up, she hugged Jadius who shot the bolt, “Haha, I knew you could do it!” She gazed around, peering the corridor for the supplies. She noticed how they had everything they needed. She praised the goddesses for helping her people advance farther than she could dream, so quickly. As she heard movement from the outside, she motioned for the supplies. All the Nylor quickly threw on clothes while some started to organize the supplies and gather them up to carry and move. Jadius, Urun, and the Caliber looked farther into the vault for anything of use. Her style continued as she stood by the door, looking out upon the colonists who were there. She smiled and spoke in Nylorian, “Hello, welcome to Kalimdor. The homeland of the Nylor.”

Orders:


1. Take all of the supplies in the Vault room and organize them to be packaged for movement.

2. Ryleon meanders to the door and greets those on the outside.

3. Jadius and Urun (The Nightbringers) search farther into the vault with one midknight or Caliber.

References:
Heyitsjiwon

 

[Spacekitty]

Mr. Mallowthew had been chosen by Salvator and his capos as the delegate to attend their “meeting” (or trial as it was referred to) with colonial government. This meeting was being kept a secret by the capos, well, as secret as you could when you’re surrounded by eavesdropping Finecians. But Based on the gossip that had circulating around the area most, if not all, knew the gist of what they were preparing for! Their attempts at a secret certainly weren’t helped by the fact their guards outside the Officer’s tent were the ones spreading it…

Regardless, today was the day of the meeting. Mr. Salvator had just finished getting dressed- a simple purple dyed suit and pants would do the trick. A matching homburg with a white edge trim of course to top t off, in classic Mallowthew style. Accompanying him would be two skilled workers, dressed in less ornate but respectable suits. Both carried a brown leather messenger bag, filled with paper and pen so as to document the meeting for Salvator and the other capos to go over. Besides it would serve as insurance to make sure all agreements were signed and documented. Although it’s probably not the Finecians who should be worried about trickery…

With the morning sun behind him, Mallowthew left the new Finecian HQ, heading past Muddy lake and across the panes to where the Colonial representatives had told him to meet them. It was a quiet, pleasant journey. Their star’s brilliant rays cast the fields of tall yellow green grass in a golden glow, the ground beneath their feet was warm and soft. One of the Finecians even chose to go barefoot! Strolling with a happy sip in his step. The small convoy stopped around mid day under the shade a lonesome Willow for a snack of dried salmon and bread with a customary glass of wine each. After resting a bit and even a quick nap in the cool shade they continued towards their destination, passing through a small forest of pine that smelled like heaven on earth. It was quiet of course, even the sound of the chirping of birds and the rustling of squirrels searching for nuts in preparation for winter was void. Disturbingly so. They were not alone.

The party glanced around nervously. Perhaps there was a bear about? But the slightest gleam of silver in the darkness of the forest gave their would be ambushers away. Ahead of them, a figure cast in shows approached. It was tall, slim, and had pointy ears. An elf. Perhaps they had arrived at the meeting spot?

“I thought the meeting was still a ways up?” Mr. Mallowthew called to the figure, stopping his envoy who were looking around nervously at figures in the shadows around them.
Prince Vaethorion

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

Zaltusinel

The Vault door flopped forwards towards the Attolians. A bunch of the men cheered, but to the engineer... this wasn't a good sign. There was no possible way that the door should have fallen forwards like that. It made no physical sense. If anything, the locks should have gave up and the door should have opened normally. Then, the Attolians noticed something in the vault. The Attolians stood by the opened vault and saw the elves in the shadows. There were... many of them and they certainly didn't look like any High Born or Wood Elf. No, if anything, they looked like Dark Elves, and that certainly was not a good sign. Particularly, some of them clearing had blood on them. This did not bode well. The Attolian Engineer reflexively took a strong grip on a hammer and said "Three of you boys... run and inform Lord Caelis and those Highborn too. Hell, get the Order as well. Tell them that we found over two scores of dark elf looking people in the vault by the graves in the Depression. The rest of you. Get ready. If these are Dark Elves, then we're going to be in a fight for our lives." The Enginner looked around for cover in the excavation site, and prayed that help would arrive soon.

---

At the time, Caelis was wandering the roads around the Attolian Housing District when he spotted his Linguist, particularly looking melancholy as he scribbled notes on a small, battered journal. Caelis went to the Linguist and said "What clouds darken your thoughts?" "My Lord... these are dangerous, nameless lands. Yet... it almost feels like there is no hope. There are no valorous tales of triumph. Nay, all we can see are signs of death, decay and ruin. No one has succeeded in what we are trying to do here. How can we hope to survive when there are only signs of despair?" "If there is no hope, then is it not our job to create it? To look and to find the opportunity that we may yet succeed when the world wants us to fail. Is that not what we as people do? Every day that passes, we bare witness to the hardships and uncertainty that is ever present. However, every day we live is also testament; that we will not shirk from the challenges that we face and hold our promises that we make to others and to ourselves." It was then that Caelis was interrupted by someone running towards him with an urgent look on his face. "It appears that I must return to my duty." Caelis then went off, leaving the Linguist to ponder.

---
Summary:
The Excavation Team sends a few men to alert the Order HIghborn and Caelis of potential Dark Elves in the vault by the grave

They dig in and hope that help will arrive on time

 

[Zaltusinel]

Her eyes glimmer on the Attolians as they rushed for cover, she could sense the fear from them. Some appeared to be sweating in the wake of her acute eyesight. She looked back upon her people, and though she bit her nails in confusion, she straightened herself out. Her hands glided out from her body as she innocently twirled out of the vault. A short cartwheel followed as she jumped up high before landing on her feet in front of the Attolians. Three calibers braced themselves by the entrance of the vault. One held a glaive in each hand, another a katana, and the other let moon knives harbor in the spaces of her fingers. Ryleon giggled as she bowed to the Attolians. “Don’t be shy dear ones! We are peaceful.”

Inside, another Nightbringer stirred as the others had. His eyes flooded open, his arms thrusted him up to a stance. The other survivors braced him as he walked towards the light of the outside world. His hood diminished, revealing the sliver dragon half-mask on his face. The head of the dragon perched on his nose, the wings covered his cheeks, and the talons swooped over his jawbone. For the eye inside the mask, the flame glowed of a hazel light and the iris of a golden blaze. The other laid in a lightless black, only a faint ember of a bright lime remained. His body moved as a shape-shifting shadow with grace, his hair tossed over his face as thorns of roses while the top of his head emulated the pattern of the rose. A dusty turquoise with peaks of crimson of blood. Though, this man had never encountered blood magic as Nylorian blood is violet. Swagger of his legs shifted eyes as he followed up behind Ryleon, his armor seeded little resemblance to those of Urun’s and Jadius’s. Crackling with extrusions, with thousands of markings of ice, fire, toxin, lightning, light, and darkness. Armor abraded by great beasts seemed apparent, and overall, he would be fitting of the title, “Badass”, as most would consider. However, the Nylor refer to the term, “Loyadias”, meaning taker of suffering, creator of paradise in hell. An equal meaning in terms of reaction and praise in society.

Ryleon held out her hand to him. His armored hand, charred in fire with claw markings, took it swiftly and twirled her as he announced, “Kuva. My name. Charming to have you here darling, may I ask yours?” She rushed up against him and laid her hand on the mask, “Ryleon sweetie. What did you do in the great times?” Kuva smiled, “Dragon tamer of the Volsié Mountains, survivor of the elements.” His eyes shift to the Attolians, mostly to the engineer, who had a way about him that suggested he obviously knew what he was doing. To the Attolians; Kuva, Ryleon, and the others looked alien in their armor, clothes, and weaponry. Kuva’s mask struck them as odd, and his armor could easily rattle their bones. Who were they up against? Where the hell did they come from, and how did they break loose?

References:
Heyitsjiwon

Summary:

1. Ryleon exits the vault as innocently as possible, showing great grace.
2. Kuva awakens from the vault and reveals himself to be a dragon tamer from the Volsié Mountains.
3. Kuva inspects the Engineer, noticing the way about him.

 

[Prince Vaethorion]

Spacekitty
The Prince was as fascinated by the Fox people as much as he was annoyed and disgusted by them. He was trying to remember the order of races he learned as a youth of a hundred years..Elves, Ents, Dwarves, Hobbits, Men...". It was a great mystery as to how many of the races became sentient. Many suspected magic, other thought evolution, and some people thought they were from other dimensions. Even though non-classically humanoid races were not unusual per say, they still were interesting to the Prince. Talking animals the Highborn regarded them as, and here on this colony alone there were talking Bulls, talking Rats, talking Alligators and now talking Foxes. It was quite a menagerie. A cruel joke by the Muurdan to send what they must regard as misfits to this colony to co-exist. The Attolians and Victorians were as close to civilized Humans about, the Reinen were known as primitive, superstitious bumpkins and the Fire Dwarves were cranky traditional rivals of Elves, but at least they crafted superior items.

There were criminals in the Colony, that was clear when they arrived. Only now they knew the Coppersmiths were operating here. It explained the missing gold from the market, the opium but it was not a surprise considering so many exiles were criminals. The Fennecs as far as criminals were know to be exceptionally crafty. They were known Pimps, drug dealers, thieves and assassins. A handful were even half honest businessmen he had once heard, but that was like seeing a one legged unicorn. The Prince had never seen a one legged unicorn, or an honest Fennec for that matter. The Prince was determined to find out what the Fennec knew about him. They would most certainly lie, as it was a compulsion with them, and although the Prince had means to make them talk, he was not intending to use any force. The Prince believed in destiny. He knew the stars held the prophecies and that there was a reason he and his Highborn were here with lesser creatures. This was a test. A test to put his prejudices aside and cooperate with the talking animals for their survival and success depended on it.

The Prince was very tall and gorgeous to behold. This was not his opinion, but a fact. His beauty was disarming many had said. The Highborn and other Elves were naturally beautifully androgynous beings. The only creature more beautiful than a Male High Elf, was a female one. That said, it was not time to put on perfumes, beautifully crafted jewelry and adornments. It was time to put on Mithril plate, extra daggers, bow and quiver, Mithril helm, and over his plate he would put on a muted dark green and grey Shadow warrior cloak instead of his usual bright silver one. He would order his best Elven warriors accompanying him to do the same, and this lessened their shine somewhat. The Prince knew that some of the Fennec were Hit men, immoral assassins of the lowest sort, but effective. The revelation of his not so secret identity in the letter to him revealed that his identity and location in the new world were known by his enemies, the accursed Drow Elves. So be it, thought the Prince. He would just have to be more careful and unassuming. This was not something that came naturally to the Highborn, but was once instinctual in his ancestors when they lived in the woods millennia ago. The Prince mused to his Spy Master, a renowned Shadow Warrior of his Race. "fare ed' i' ronyo?" ("Hunted by the Fox?") The Spy Master responded " Sereg'wethrin uma il- nyara essa" ("Assassins do not offer names"). The Prince nodded. Yes, he thought that is true, why reveal the Prince's identity if they were sent to kill him. That made no sense and yet someone told the Foxes of his identity, but who?

"We are going to have a private chat with the Foxes. Choose Fifteen of our best warriors, our archers with the best aim. They will accompany me personally, we will position them in hiding along the route of the Foxes in the North West and will go greet them. Position another fifteen nearby in reserve and await our signal, in case the Fennec play tricks. Be wary of their illusions. Scout the area well, and trust not your eyes alone, but all of your senses.., these Foxes are sly little creatures."

Fifteen, of the best Highborn Swordmasters with great swords, Spear-elves with shields, long spears and Archers with Elven longbows, Five of each accompanied the Prince. All with armor, helm, and cloaks. The other Fifteen warriors positioned themselves nearby, ready but out of sight. The day was splendiferous, the sun shined through the pine trees, creating dappled shadows on the soft earth. The Highborn knew well how to ambush and set themselves in position on both sides of what seemed to be an animal trail. The Archers took positions in higher ground and used the trees for cover., the Sword masters stayed silently behind the Pine trees with their swords at ready awaiting for their targets to appear. The Spearman Stood with shields and spear ready in front of the Swordmasters The Prince did not hide, he waited in the middle of the pathway, he held his elaborate, highly decorated shield with his house's sigil in one hand and his long Spear in the other. This shield was not like Human or Dwarves, yes, it was like other shields in that it was designed to be used for maximum protection, a barrier and as a weapon, but different in that it extended from neck to shin and was designed to be used with swords, spear and bow in formation. The High Elven spear was also of distinctly Elven design. It was had a broad point that was razor sharp with two other pronged points that had edges as well. It was a cross between a lance and a spear, as it was slightly thicker in the center for use on a mount, and both ends seemed to be a functional weapon. The Prince had sent his Spy Master ahead to reconnoiter clandestinely from a distance, and report back the movements of the anticipated Fennec.

The Spymaster returned. "Ron naa Tulien" ("they are coming"), he said and then disappeared with bow in hand into a nearby pine tree with an agile leap and seemingly vanished. The rest readied themselves, and prepared themselves for dirty Fox tricks.

The Prince said gravely "We are here to discuss, not to slaughter. However, "er bela ar' Ndengina sen ilya" ("one false move and kill them all"), put an arrow in their eyes, a sword in their hearts and a spear in their groins. They have good sight these creatures, so they will likely see me from a distance and will have tricks up their sleeves as they are a deceitful race."

The Fennec approached and as expected they spotted the Prince. The Highborn and the Prince had keen vision as well.

"Greetings Fennec!", the Prince said authoritatively in an odd attempt to be both serious, cordial and non-threatening, but seeming stilted and awkward. "We are the Welcoming party! We will escort you the rest of the way. It is for your own protection as many Colonist want to see you all turned into fur stoles. However, before we head to meeting with the Colonial government's leaders I have some questions, but perhaps an underling Capo like yourself will not have the answers? I am unsure, as I do not see Mr. Salvador with you. Is he afraid to face justice? or does he not deem this meeting serious enough to attend himself? Why is he absent, please answer?" The Prince looks about expectedly, nearly expecting Mr. Salvador to jump out of tree stump or knot in a tree. The Prince nodded somewhat gravely and continued in his educated, formal, highly accented Common tongue (a primitive language he thought). "I hope for your bosses sake, and that of your people, that you have been given the authority to speak on behalf of your people. He had said he tired of messengers, so here I am, but he is not." The Prince shook his head, somewhat disapprovingly. "In any case, I am here, you are here, we all (the Prince gestured to his menacing archers with drawn bows and arrows in hand), and other are here. I do not advise any tricks or false moves."

"Enough Pleasantries for now, I will get to the point. Who am I, who do you think I am, what are your true intentions, and if I am who you think I might be, then how do you know, who else knows and what else do you know that I do not know you know?" the Prince queried.
This line of questioning made complete sense when the Prince translated in his mind from High Elvish to Common, but sounded something like a riddle when presented. "Speak Foxman, and please do not deceive me with stories of how you are honest businessmen. I have no patience for such tales. If I so much as suspect you are lying, which I realize is your natural instinct, things might not go well for you today or any day for that matter. Who am I and If I am who you think I am, how do you know, and who else knows? Answer the question honestly. and we shall proceed to the Colonial government meeting. I will remind you that you and your Fox people are on probation, so do not trifle with us. I am insisting for your own benefit."

The Prince stood there, looking glorious, awaiting an answer, as one might await an answer from a child that was expected to prevaricate. The tension was palatable, his Highborn warriors were ready to kill and awaited his command or a wrong move of the Fennec. Somewhere in the distance a bird chirped and the moment seemed like an eternity to those involved...


Attolians confirm to the Highborn regarding disturbance.

The Highborn War-mage sensed a magical disturbance in the vault. The magic was familiar, but also exotically foreign. It was like a distant memory, a song that one could not remember the melody for. It was not menacing, not dark magic, not blood magic, but what was it..? He would need to find out. The Prince had gone to meet up with the Fennec and he was in command. As he was gathering his gear, giving orders, decked in his robe with his bladed staff. He instructed the tactician to put the Highborn quarter on alert and gave her command in his absence. As he and a Dozen Highborn who accompanied him were heading towards the disturbance. He was met by an Attolian foot soldier/messenger. The Attolian said something in Common about Dark Elves, but that did not seem right to the seasoned War-Mage. This was not Dark Elven magic he was feeling, but something else..."Summon the Linguist!, this is something out of the ordinary, there are other Elves here, and they are not of the Garden variety!"

War Mage goes to investigate accompanied by five spear-elves, five Archers, 2 swordmasters, and Linguist.

-
order summary:

- The Prince orders a party of 30 plus 1 (himself) to intercept the Fennec delegation for a "talk". 15 are accompanying Prince, fifteen are in reserve. The Prince wants to know how the Fennec know who he is, who told them and who else knows?

- Highborn mage sent with a dozen Highborn and linguist to investigate magical disturbance at vault.

 

[Beckoncall]

ORDERS PROCESSEd:

"Elven hand, Attolian Fist"

Whole post partains to - (others mentioned where applicable)
Prince Vaethorion :
Heyitsjiwon :

"The Outpost" --

signs of the fennec, or rather their trolls dragging heavy equipment could be seen running near to but past the site The Attolians and highborn chose for their outpost. A short distance from the east shore of muddy lake, the soil closer to the lake seemed unfit if they decided to build anything long term... too muddy and slick, especially when it rains.

The high elves were already making a business of exploiting the area and getting good lines of sight... the latter in the form of a few well-hidden tree-stands in the east runner wood. Taking a tree tall enough to almost get a lens on the Fennec -- who seemed to be combing the grass for something, by the looks of it.

Initial attempts to capture and tame runners by the high elves was not meeting much success. They knew the land better than the elves, and showed it by Alphas turning to face them wherever they hid. Too many close encounters and an entire herd fled back to Dirtwater basin. Considering the average herd was 30-40 runners strong and had 3-4 alphas, the tamer's group just wasn't large enough to have early successes. Attempts to net and trap runners likewise failed when it was seen how high a runner could jump vertically -- and alphas became VERY aggressive surrounding netted runners, and matched up nearly 1-to-1, the highborn decided to back off rather than kill the alphas to capture a single runner. The alphas scratched at the net until the captured creature was half free, then dragged the net around with the poor thing in it until it was rent apart. The freed runner, having endured great abuse, in typical cold-blooded fashion shrugged off it's wounds and fled to the dirtwater with it's herd. It was estimated that 4-5 different herds travelled from either the swamps or the dirtwater to muddy lake, and they mostly gave each other a wide berth, with Alphas getting excited if other herds came too close to theirs. It was also noted all Alphas were females... in fact, they ALL were females. Where were the male runners?

As it was, the outpost was a collection of small tents, lean-tos, and a small and low circle of stakes circling the encampment. Further defenses might be devised, but the fallen wood from the lakesides made quick resources for defenses. considering proximity to the Fennec, supplies and anything of importance was kept in what was the small beginning of a Pallisade, A wood wall in an open arc kept under guard.

Originally the outpost was envisoned to be a hidden affair, but once the Attolians were involved and it started going up much faster this was scrapped as impossible. Attolians were LOUD and OBVIOUS -- and out on the plains there was little cover they didn't make for themselves. Building in the wood or closer too it proved too muddy and such attempts were horribly bogged down.

Initial attempts to fish the muddy lake proved productive -- but the catches were strange. If there was any doubt this pool was both fed and drained by underground caves, there was none now. The fish caught (always in the muddy shores and not the clearer rushing currents of the center) were long, grey-scaled fish, most peculiarly without eyes -- these fish originated in much deeper and lightless caves, but either get pulled into lake by accident or perhaps come to the lake to spawn. If a bit bland, the fish were good eating -- the meat in fact was quick to absorb a variety of sauces the elves determined -- so as long as you had spices and sides they were a pleasure to eat as long as they were "dressed"

(Resource found: Subterranean Pikefish)

The highborn were put out a bit to learn the fennec Spacekitty had turned the excavation they hoped to examine closer into their very homes -- They built a crude tower on the collosus itself, giving them the highest perch in the area. While the Highborn spied on the Fennec, the Fennec in their watchtower waved back at them, and a pair of them even put on a puppet-show for the highborn observers, to the elves chagrin, but to great fennec amusement. When it was clear the highborn would not stop watching from the angles they had, some of the Thugs put on a Talent show. Bastards.

Elendithas :

Once it was made clear that ceramic heaters ran on coal, and that the high elves were willing to provide them for labor, the Aymarans began to report in modest numbers to do some labor... since the "Garden of Quartz" was on the way between the outpost and the coal deposit, Aymarans were encouraged to smash or push over larger pieces of quartz on their way through, which they happily obliged. Thusly,
(ATTOLIANS, HIGHBORN, AND AYMARANS gain resouces: Coal, Quartz) -- money was put forward for additional labor, which helped move the coal and quartz back to the outpost and then to the Platz. The cost was nominal.

The Attolian and Highborn endeavor to seek magical gems met with some success... but not without complexity. The Attolian Geologist found trace elements east of the platz, but more interestingly the traces were of higher concentrations in the highborn quarter itself. On a hunch the well defended and manned team took assay samples along the cliffs in the theater district of the ruins -- and hit pay dirt. Apparently, the magical forces inherent in creating this undoubtedly unnatural cliff generated a strange kind of mana crystal -- hot to the touch, but blue like cracked ice. The gems were quickly dubbed "Frozen Flames" -- but to exploit the resources would require the theater district to be pacified... as the operation even taking small samples quickly began to draw crowds of longdead -- who first speculated this was some form of foreign performance art... but when some of the restless dead starting guessing it was a mining operation they began to get very upset reconciling their ignorance of their own deaths, so work had to be halted.

Mana gems found by Attolians/Highborn, but cannot be exploited in current climate.

On a better note, As private and Attolian Barley and grain began being harvested -- the Mill the Highborn had the foresight to build became HIGHLY in demand. Little if any grain did not have a highborn hand taken to it, and this lead to a shot in wealth and heightened influence in the colony. BREAD AND BEER become commodities Attolians produce, with Highborn as well after taking their cut.

(ATTOLIANS GAIN +1 INFLUENCE FOR SECURING THE FLOW OF RECREATIONAL BEVERAGES TO THE COLONY.)

(HIGHBORN GAIN +2 INFLUENCE FOR FULLY UTILIZING WINDMILL, WITH THE BURST OF BREADS AND PORRIDGES EFFECTIVELY SLAYING THE FEAR OF FOOD SHORTAGE DURING WINTER. EVEN THE RATKIN HAVE PLENTY TO EAT, (and it seems their population is growing in their seclusion) KamiKahzy

 

[Beckoncall]

Spacekitty :

"Fennec Infestation... I mean EXCAVATION! EXCAVATION!"

The trolls were indeed just what the operation needed. Trolls could walk ponderously even when sleeping, so even when they needed "rest" the fennec could guide them to move freight. The warehouses and a number of smaller support and business structures were built on the outer lip and the first tier down into the excavation, from there fennec and troll both began digging up the area around the "Arena" -- overall the amount of labor dedicated was truly up to the task.. the Arena floor was so clean you could practically eat off of it, and no fewer than EIGHT subterrainian stone chambers had already been hollowed out -- two on each side of the upper tier, interestingly equidistant and opposite each other on each side. First roots and vines were pulled away, and then the business of the real digging of the dirt -- which both fennecs and trolls could do VERY well -- the upper tiers began to give up their secrets... it became evident this are was hit by a mudslide, as the bones of hundreds of people and animals seemed crushed against the back of the chambers when they were emptied out. The chambers on each side of the excavation connected -- but any sign of their purpose they once served was long destroyed. Moisture, the disaster that buried it, and the ravages of time left anything that was not solid stone as the wind, and even the stone looked like it had at once point wall to wall detailed carvings, but these had been weathered down into a visually appealing but indecipherable mess. The Fennec had underground space for living, cultivation of products, whatever purpose they desired... (but they would have to designate how many facillities and of what type with the 8 chambers they had presently, and there were more chambers likely on the tier below that were yet to be excavated) -- still, they had their little pre-fab facilities, and they carefully hid the entrances with secret doors and illusions. Digging in the areas outside of the chambers it began to become clear (as they sought to honeycomb and connect their growing maze) that the excavation was actually four buried stepped pyramids... the soil far enough away from the entrances had no ruins to excavate. The capos were proud of themselves, for they had really managed this project well...

There was also a question of what to do with all the bones they pulled out of the pyramids -- presently the trolls piled them in wagons and dumped them in a growing hill outside of the excavation, to the north.

The small number of well-motivated group of fennec tasked with stealing-up any remaining samples the Attolians were themselves combing the grasses for were rewarded for their work in spades -- not a speck of metal could be found on the plain by the time they were done, in the end having a full wagon (1 unit of shattered automaton debris) -- beyond this, the crowning jewel was a completely intact (but deeply pitted and rusted) Torso and Head of an automaton -- a spectacular specimen, and telling the fennec exactly what it was the Attolians were looking for -- bits of clockwork men!

East of the excavation, between the woods of muddy lake and their own warehouses, the fennec began to plant crops, a variety of hardy but nutritious greens known to grow in their home desert -- (heck, they'd damn near grow anywhere!) and in addition to these yummy "siltstalks" they planted corn and potatoes -- though it was questionable if there was enough time before a late fall harvest brought way into wintertime. Besides these plots were plots for opium poppies as well as sweet-leaf.

Observation of the Runners (especially the spectacular failures of the highborn to capture them) gave them some ideas... the herd didn't leave members behind -- so if they were to be captured either the alphas would need to be killed (which should throw them into chaos) or the entire herd would have to be trapped somehow. Thinking of the herd as a single entity would likely help in capturing and taming them.

The Fennec had intended to locate and commune with persons of interest in the depression, but most unfortunately a strange injection of wealth into he underworld there had caused loyalties to shift and great upset sufficient to preclude making any friends.

Heyitsjiwon Enemy Standoo Prince Vaethorion

Events of interest are:

1) Five Exile constables are found in the morning hung from fishing lines on the beach, with the words "Sorkin's Fish" carved on their bellies.

2) Suspicion among the previously unseen "coppersmith family" reached full blown paranoia, with fingers pointing to the front, and curved blades stuck in the back. Another 3 exiles are murdered in the days that follow, and 10 more are arrested for suspicion or association and questioning by Colonial Authorities!

3) Little else is known except organized crime in the depression basically gutted itself. No signs of the mythical "Sorkin" could be found, but one thing was certain -- after this he'd be shorthanded.

 

[Beckoncall]

UPDATE!:

ATTOLIANS AND HIGHBORN BOTH VOLUNTEER CREW FOR COLONIAL TRADE ENDEAVOR.
TOTAL SHIPS WITH POTENTIAL CREW: (1)

 

[Beckoncall]

Prince Vaethorion :

Recent reports put Sorkin's organized crime operations at a standstill. Where Sorkin is remains a mystery -- the only person of interest not in custody is a whip-scarred shark-hunter named Hasud... who was able to pay Blood-gelt on his murder of another exile until such time as any judgement or court is to be meted out. Hasud has A LOT of money for a shark-hunter.

 

[SpiralErrant]

Spoiler: Bulls on the beach

"Your Anais was a slave, and was to be a slave -- but Orm is no slaver -- so what am I?" little miss "Mouth of Aboleth" queried...

beneath her feet, tiny cilia and tentacles were combing up whole gangs of tiny crabs and shellfish that fled from her in all directions...

"Besides STARVING. I mean..." she looked up at Bruul, shook her head, and went back to combing the sands... a giggle escaping her lips as the tiny invertebrates dissolved in her own murky depths...

Orm used to think he'd seen a lot of the world on the road... that he'd crossed paths with the strangest things the wilds had to offer. The new world seemed to take joy in proving him wrong with each passing season. This thing wasn't what he'd expected to find, it didn't look like a fish at all! But at least it could talk a tongue Orm understood and could speak easily, that made a welcome change. It still had a lot to say for itself though! Everything he met here that could talk had a thousand years of history it wanted to talk about... or at least a very important few days that Orm had completely missed. How could he decide what this Anais was to be to him when he didn't even know what it was. Besides something that ate fish meat.

"I'd make you a friend if I can." Orm rumbled. The thing didn't inspire fear in him but until he could understand what it was he'd be on his guard. "I thought you were just a fish to swim away from the box when I found you... and you aint that. If you wanna stick around here then I can offer you a home and safety with the caravan..." He'd already brought elves and trees into the fold, a slime fish didn't seem like that much of a stretch. "... but I have to know you won't be hurting my folk."

"You said your father ate a man from the colony before, so where's your pa now if he aint here to try and free you himself?" Bruul chimed in.

Orm gave the shaman a nod, pressing him to stay his hand. "I'd ask what an Anais is too... or what an aboleth is. I never set hoof on that island and 'aint no one spoken of what's happened there before it sank."

"A FRIEND!"

"Now that is an interesting proposal. Imagine my confusion as my mortal body was pulled screaming from the arms of my lover and into the cold bottomless deeps where not even the fish dared descend to make me a meal. Who could have guessed my destination was exciting new friendships!"

"to be expected... things were not supposed to work out this way. I am what is called a 'Gibboleth' -- a mortal host with a polypal (that's baby to you folk) aboleth inside it. Vorenus -- an evil bastard associated with your colony pulled the young girl Anais -- that's a name which I've kept to remember my origins, and my fate, it soothes the fragmented spirit of that girl that whispers behind the eyes of that of I that is, to be honest, the would-be herald of a creature of unfathomable power and malice."

"Did I get away from myself? Where was I? Oh yes, agonizing death at the bottom of the sea. Aboleth do not leave the deeps, they bring what they want to them via agents -- creatures of whom a mind can be broken to serve. The falls and area below are a great community of once proud Deep Ones... but all but the very-most leaders of that race are perpetually enslaved by the all encompassing will of Aboleth... An Aboleth mind..." (anais trails off)

"...It's like a CURRENT. Every other mind that is weaker goes with the current of Aboleth. I was created as a tool for Vorenus, before his own painful drowning demise, to speak to my father and translate for him the tounges of other races. If I encounter a race I do not know the language of, which I do not forsee, I am to eat such a speaker and expand the breadth of my tounges. I guess that makes me an interpreter."

"Aboleth pretty much forgot about me when the Imperial trading company and their island sank. He saw potential in Vorenus, but sees much less in the folk of the sandslope and beyond. If Aboleth wanted the surface, he would have had it long ago... but do not seek his city beyond the crevasse below the waterfall... the city of the Deep Ones... and his destroyer, the Dagon... await any foolhardy challenge."

"Why does my father not free me? I am a dangling remainder for a plot that was cut short before it had a chance to thrive... that of propagating vorenus' evil for my father on the surface. I am unneeded, at least for now -- and probably forgotten. Aboleth do not tend to young until they lose their hardened carapaces (you can see something twisting within her chest cavity but cannot make it out) -- until then aboleth leave polypal young to fend for themselves, inviting only the most self-sufficient and deadly into society. Where there are no natural predators for Polypal Spawn, Father introduces them. I would not be very happy or comfortable if I were to go home..."

"One can suppose father might have some secondary and more insideous plan for me, but that's quite boisterous for a fry like me growing inside the terrified and sundered will of a human maiden encased in magical slime -- isn't it?"

"I can tell you more about the history of Aboleth, but really the best thing to know is to never allow a single person of your community to encounter one... if a true Aboleth decided it wanted anything your culture had, even just to know what you tasted like, he would send the mind-shattered thrall that dared to come upon him back to your community, brainwash you all, and march you all into the sea to drown or become his thralls... Since I don't see any gills I would consider that an unfortunate outcome."

"So yes, I suppose I am a FRIEND first (though I wish my screaming spirit was not ripped apart and perverted just so I could MAKE FRIENDS...) then you could consider me an interpreter second, and a possible historian of certain things... Aboleths remember much if not all knowledge from a brain we eat... and father has eaten MANY brains..."

"Is there saltwater where you live? You smell like grass and dung, which is quite novel and exciting -- but I get the impression you are not from, or of, the sea."

Anais looks at her jelly-form riding a tiny wave...

"this presents some logistical complexities, if I am to ever visit you -- I don't particularly want to be in the sea during this stage of my development, as Eating sharks and deep ones could put the undue attention of Father back upon me..."

"So what are you to me?"

"If I am a fish and you are a bird, where do we live if we are to be such good friends?"

"Do you ever dream that a dark presence from below the sea will one day rise and devour all you are and love?"

"..."

"I'm just curious about the last part. I have WEIRD dreams, Orm -- thank you for telling your shaman not to blast me."

Was there any end to the number of predators and monsters that were looking to drag their little town down to whatever pit they crawled out of? News of all these deep ones and their flesh eaters had put Orm on a fresh edge. They'd have to see to the walls soon, maybe the ent could strengthen them.

"Well uuh... No. It's all fresh by us, no salt. We could make you a place down here, we've been making houses for everyone we meet these days. Oh or we can get salt from market! We could dig you a pool, build you a longhouse."

"You wanna make a village sage out of the jelly?" Bruul grumbled, flexing his hands as the muscles within stirred with energy.

"If we can." Orm chided him before turning back to Anais. "You've got a lot of knowledge that we don't and folk have mixed with a lot of things in Hrun'Taras... they could respect a wise woman. And a water mage of sorts, they'd love that in a town of wood." Was woman even the right word. "Whichever you want. The whole reason tyren came here was cus we were sick of others telling us where we could or couldn't live, I'm not keen to do the same to someone here. Wherever you want to stay we can work something out, there's some fancy humans around here who owe me a favor so they can build you a pool or a den easy enough."

It was in a quieter moment between the two of them, when Bruul was out of earshot that he answered her other question. "No, I don't dream of that. My bad dreams usually have fire and... the dark thing's usually from close to home." He didn't care to go into greater detail. But it got Orm thinking of the moon and its phases. It'd been so long since his own darkness had been allowed to feed, too long now.

"I shall stay in these tide pools and grow FAT off the filtering beasties here until you can say that this den or pool is ready. It's nice to have somebody to share the gnawing horror within you with, Orm. Perhaps we'll face more than one horror together... FRIEND!"

"If you like that sort of thing I guess." Orm shrugged. "We'll get you something sorted for you one way or another. FRIEND!" He just wanted to yell it back, sources of fun were rare these days. "We'll come get you when a place is ready, until then if anyone gives you trouble you tell them you're a member of this caravan and if they've got issue with that then they can take it up with Orm Black-Charger."

They made their way back to Hrun'Taras and word would swiftly travel north about how the platz town had gone into a rutting frenzy. The smaller races proved as industrious as ever but were wracked with magical attacks, beasts in the west and murders among their own ranks. And these people claimed to be 'civilised and orderly' if anything they'd proven again that the caravan had been right to plant their roots out here in the hills. Still they grew and claimed more land as their own. Orm had taken accepted their offer of unity, begrudgingly, in the hopes that the advantages they took for themselves could be shared with him and his own people... but he'd seen enough of these sorts to know that nothing was given freely and their greater numbers and knowledge would always put them ahead and leave his own people in the role of labourers. That needed to change somehow.



Seeing to the defenses
With reinforcements fresh off the boat the new mercenaries would need their training. Bruul had been carving his own part of the village out with pacing hooves and trampling feet. The Faithful, as they often called themselves for short, had gotten used to the tyren warriors they stood guard beside. Some of them spoke of battles they'd fought in next to a giant race of humans, ones that swung massive blades like the bulls did, extending over their own heads and able to reach down and slam into the ground in front of them. Bruul had spoken of how he'd fought along side his own brothers in coin in the past, using shorter weapons to clear a path and allow the smaller human fighter to come in and guard his flanks as he prepared a spell.

It was something of a mixture of these stories that made up their training as the two species learned to work together. Both used large weapons that took both arms to use, though the tyren warriors had the option to switch into a one handed style and still fight with less force if they needed their off hand for something. They would swing wide, the humans stabbing narrowly. One would hit high, the other low. One had clear sight to call out for coming threats, the other saw movement in a wide arc and could guard their flanks. Though they didn't have any shields the elven mages had worked on some crude bark fittings that could let the minotaurs let some strikes go ignored. And when working as a massed group they made a charge that no one in their right mind would want to stand against. Even without spears and shields they made a bristling wall of sweeping iron that would carve into whatever stood against them with wild abandon.

Then there was the tyrenborn! The strengthened elves would strut around the hills like young bulls themselves, their more tyren like and macho style earning them a new measure of respect and popularity among the fighting minotaurs. The way they reveled in this new... physical way of being and the looks it got them didn't half make the herbalists wonder if they'd be assisting as midwives to some swollen elf girls come next summer. But for now the lads and lasses with horn shaped hair seemed most happy to test their new strength out on some longbows. They made a happy addition to the ballista on the stockade and none would push away someone willing to defend their home. Their idea to perch on the shoulders of the other warriors was met with... less enthusiasm. Tyren were so used to being looked upon like beasts of labour that it could develop a sort of complex in some of them, if they knew what a complex was. The idea of being used as a firing station for an archer rankled them in a bitter way.

Bruul in his practical way was less than keen to give up on it though. The idea of such high reaching arrow cover was too tempting an offer, especially if the elves could use their keen sight as nearby scouts and sentries. ["It's like with the slings, you lot. Remember you said it was mad and ended up mucking around with loincloths like a bunch of stupid yearlings but those slingers saves some hides on the night at the river. And any of you can look across and see what we did to the tree line! Mad ideas can work and when you blustering fools swallow your pride you can shake the earth!"]

["Our steps are light, brothers, you shall hardly know us there upon you and all have said our eyes are keener, let us see for you and no enemy could sneak upon you."] One of the tyrenborn said, his fancy elf speech had started to slip as they became more used to using the minotaur tongue around their neighbours. ["Many of you have offered to lift and carry our people in the past. Why Gornax is always carrying Lyrana upon his shoulders."]

["Yeah but she's my friend and she puts flowers on my horns."] Gornax said defensively, before looking away from the embarrassing looks he'd earned himself and acting like he was facinated with his hooves and the dirt.

["This is much the same. Let us be your fellow warriors. Instead of flowers upon your horns let us put arrows in your enemies. Let us be the blistering light and wind that announces your charge."]

Well when they put it all fancy like that then they had to give it a try. A tyren warrior's place was to just charge at something until it ran away or broke, yet for all the aggression they showed their place in society had always been a more defensive one. Defend the caravan, protect the lives of others. It was something they were taught to take pride in but it meant getting a lot of stones and arrows thrown at you, a part of them liked the idea of handing out those ranged beatings for a change. Of course the boisterous oafs couldn't keep it too serious for too long and the training quickly turned into bouts of a game to see which elf could hop along their shoulders fastest or to give them a powerful boost up to see who could jump higher and land in the tree tops.

Seeing to the mine

They had to put some stairs into this thing Uumush grumbled to himself as the tree song brought the surrounding vines around him and lifted his withered body up into the mine's mouth. The wee woods had been as distraught as they expected when they brought the blanks of golden ancient wood, lucky for them Orm's plea for them to let them try and work the mine's magic on their remains. Even though the wood was long dead it still radiated a powerful kind of magic, anyone with the sense for it could feel that, even the little remnants of sap caught between its splinters felt like something special. Soppy elf feelings aside, the shaman could see why someone would pay through the nose for something like this.

Now with the soppy elf feelings added into the mix they were on some long shot of a quest to see if they could revive or resurrect the old bits of lumber. It didn't seem immpossible. They were still learning the secrets the mine had to offer since it proved too poisonous for their elven experts. Luckily Uumush, as a long dead minotaur, had little fear of the poison stone within the mine's core.

["So I'm told you like to speak to people. Well you've got me to handle now... and some fresh supplies to get to building. Perhaps this means more to you than me, either way, this garden of yours is about to get brighter."] The old shaman mumbled on as he and his assistants went about laying the timber into the walls and experimenting with how the mine would react as Uumush strained the knowledge he'd gained from the bark tome at the mage's guild.

He never would have thought that such a place would have actually come in handy for the secretive shaman rings.

["Did I really have to come? This place gives me the creeps."] Shul whined behind him, panting from his unassisted climb up.

Seeing to the houses

Over the coming days came the tending of the garden. Hrun'Taras itself had started to strain at the stockade and if the hill folk were to gain the extra hands they needed and the wealth they desired then works would have to be done. Elves and craft wagons were set to work, the trees were serenaded into expanding their branches, the longhouses extended and stone and earth was brought up from the mine and the river. Bull iron was in short supply for now but there was no reason they couldn't try adding stone and mortar to their building supplies. This had made no pact with fire either and would stand strong for an age, as well as keep some of the winter chills out. Though the tyren were no great architects by trade the times had forced them to change that and the elders of the craft wagons had worked as the heavy lifters on building projects across the old world and the new. These same bulls has shouldered the keystones on the white tower and bravely mounted the cranes as they placed the final stones in their precise places. They had ground the foundations of the human village along the river and worked the road through its phases up along the learners square. (That was a point, should they start work on a road to the Reinen town?)

The point was, they had their experience! With or without the haughty hands of the townies they could make their start and ready Hrun'Taras for its future needs and the hoped for coming of new residents. It even got brighter as the tree singers and the shaman set to lighting the bramble crop that had grown within the mine's hold. The technique they'd garnered from the human seers was simply reproduced as the mine had already done half the work upon the crop's planting. White glowing brambles were joined to the glade as natural street lights, bathing the paths and the leaves in a clean, clear, glow. While other bushels were broken apart under the strong but tender grip of the tyren craftsmen. They'd learned that if they planned to sell their wares to the more high rolling spenders then something would be needed to set it apart beyond a bit of silver lining. So some of the little gems were only left half charged, they kept that red glow and shone like rubies amid the clothing of those who wore them, only better since they made their own light instead of relying on catching it. At least that was how the tyren sold them. The new red gems did get a fresh customer base amid the shepherds at least. The glowing light that saved your night sight proved a handy thing when trying to bring the herds in after dark, some even took to lacing them in the wool of their leading rams so as to find them more easily should they get lost.

And while all that went on the call went up that Hrun'Taras was looking to expand, and to open its doors to those that felt less at home in the platz, whoever they might be.

Come to Hrun'Taras! It's clean and pleasant country living!

Come to Hrun'Taras! Looking to make your own way in the world? The wagon houses are always looking for new apprentices, learn a new trade and language from the founders of the learners square!

Come to Hrun'Taras! Where minotaurs, elves and humans have lived together and grown together! Race is no issue, share your culture around the story circles, all are welcome.

Come to Hrun'Taras! With strong walls and a standing force of warriors it's one of the safest places in the colony. Not just soldiers, these warriors are neighbours and brothers, members of the community. Want to prove yourself a warrior? The hill guard are always looking for new recruits, learn archery from elven marksmen!

Come to Hrun'Taras! The joining of cultures is making new discoveries all the time! Lost elven magics and tyren craftsmanship have come together to make something new and strong! Share your own knowledge and help discover the new arts of the new world! Who knows what you'll find!

Come to Hrun'Taras! Things... don't... just... explode sometimes! No swarms of undead or bloodthirsty monsters lurking in the shadows.

Come to Hrun'Taras! See where so many goods at the market get made and grab your bargain before they move to the platz!

A message to the highborn
Prince Vaethorion

Times were getting hectic and a meeting of leaders became more difficult but word still reached their chief on Orm's opinion on this plan to build a hall for the government in the platz.

No, no, no! Why are you lot so obsessed with the platz town? Half the reason folk resented the heavy hand of you noble types was cus you kept telling them where to live and where to do all their trades. You want to make a hall of leaders where this council can meet and decide on a future of the land, good, but half the people who live here don't live in the platz! Half the folk hate always having to travel! This is why the river human's don't like it, cus you keep telling folk what to do the moment you meet them.

If this is a place of leaders then a leader should be open with their people, should shout their meaning for all to hear because a leader is meant to SERVE their people, and here we're supposed to offer to serve ALL people. So this hall should be in a place of all peoples, not hidden away behind the walls you want to shut the platz behind so only those you want can enter. Thinking like that is why most of us left the old word.

The place you're looking for already exists. The learners square! We should come together, yes, and all build the place together. Just as we all helped build the learners square! It's where all the peoples of the colony have come together already. It's where they learned each other's tongues and stories. It's where they go to play games together for fun. And it's already where they take their issues when they want them sounded out! If we build there then the hall of leaders is on neutral ground. Near where the platz dwellers live, near the hill folk and the river humans you want to join so much, as well as the rats and the foxes. No one group will hold power over it because the square is already shared by all, unlike the platz. Build it anywhere else and anyone who hasn't already knelt to the powers of the old world will see you are only interested in ordering them about, not speaking to them and hearing their lives out like a leader should. Trap what should be a place of free speech and shared ideas behind walls and you kill what it should stand for and what the banner of the great caravan was meant to mean. Equal standing of the races!

Spoiler: Action summary

Military: The standing garrison of Hrun'Taras is 35 Faith of the rich mercenaries, 9 tyren warriors, 5 tyrenborn archers. The new human and elf recruits begin their training under Bruul the war shaman to get the three species used to working together in a fighting team and regiment.
The decision is made to let the elves mount the shoulders of the tyren warriors and to try this new approach of combining the two warriors into a ranged/melee combo unit. The tyren begin to see it as a very literal version of watching each others backs.

Magical: Uumush and Shul take the ancient wood to the mine of vines. The elder shaman takes the lead using the knowledge he's gained from the bark tome and the mages guild while Shul works on communing with the spirit of the mines. 2 skilled tyren assistants are on hand to help since the springborn cannot enter the mine proper for fear of its poison.

Civic: The bramble gems are charged with mana and placed around the town to work as street lights. The gems used in the luxuries guild are half charged to give them a red glow, almost like rubies.

An expansion effort is made to make new housing in Hrun'Taras, reaching beyond the glade stockade if needed. 10 skilled tyren, 15 unskilled tyren workers and 30 springborn are put on the job.
They are given stone and clay to work with and make use of the new advances in tree singing arcana to augment the glade and existing longhouses. Any dwellings that are to be made outside of the glade are to be mostly stone in case of fire and the strengthen their defenses as a hard outer shell. As a side job the springborn are to use the new tree singing skills to also help plant flowers around Hrun'Taras and work them into their designs if they can with climbing ivy and flower walls on the stone. Orm has caught wind of people saying the higborn quarter is the most beautiful place in the colony and has taken up the challenge.

Word is spread that Hrun'Taras is looking for new builders and skilled folk. The hill town is expanding and needs more hands but instead of silver they are offering homes to those that will move, be it for work or if they have not made a proper home for themselves by the sea. Race is not an issue in this multicultural town.

5 influence is spent spreading word and advertising to bring in new residents to Hrun'Taras

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

High Born and the High Seas!

Before a lot of this mess, Caelis was talking to his shipwright. "Thus, how many men do you need?" The Shipwright replied "At the bare minimum, 18 men, but that's if we assume smooth sailing. Once we hit a storm or a rough patch, the ship will be difficult to control with just 18 men." Caelis nodded and replied "Well, Captain. I received word from the HIgh Born not too long ago after I mentioned to them in passing that we were interested in starting our own Convoy. They are interested in our venture and have provided 18 sailors. Congratulations, you will have your full crew of 36. Perhaps more if others decide to join as well.I expect much from you, Captain." "Aye, aye, my Lord. We'll be back before you know it!" Caelis nodded and said "Grand, may your journey to the Old World be peaceful. I hope this journey will prove to be successful. When do you expect to depart?" The Shipwright replied "Within a few days if you desire it my Lord. Just need to plan the logistics and accommodate everyone's requests." Caelis firmly grabbed the Shipwright's shoulder and said "May the winds guide you wherever your heart desires." The Shipwright replied in the same. It was an old phrase stated by the early Attolian Merchants when the Kingdom's commercial empire began. While it was a bit antiquated, Caelis knew that the journey was not easy, and that any help would be appreciated even if it were something fickle like the wind.

---

X Marks the Spot

The semi-functioning clockwork soldier followed Nicholas and the expedition back to the Platz under the cover of night as it was late by the time that they had returned from the spire. Once they had entered Nicholas' workshop, they immediately began examining it. After all, a doctor has to understand anatomy to heal a person. They had to study the functional clockwork soldier in order to properly fix it. Many odd instruments came out, from calipers to magnifying monocles. However, perhaps it was because it moved, Nicholas constantly said "Excuse me." as he touched or looked at the clockwork creation. It practically seemed living, and to Nicholas it pretty much was. So, he couldn't help but be polite and delicate when examining the machine. The group of men were fascinated with the finding, and looking at how this fellow moved. In fact, Nicholas thought that it would be important to ask for more help and sent someone to call the Engineer over. He had heard that the Engineer had found something interesting in the Depression, but surely this was even more interesting to look at! Then group of men then continued to work into the night in an almost manic fervour of excitement.

---

Long Found Tradition

"Look! We need to get this built! We can't call this a home or a community if we don't have this up! A dedicated forum for speech, art, and sport! Can you imagine it! It would bring so much life to the area if it were up." The Linguist exclaimed to the stoic Architect. He didn't seem moved and replied "I don't know... that would be a pretty ambitious project in terms of manpower, materials, and cost." The Linguist pressed "What has ever happened to your sense of artistic vision? Have you never wanted to leave you mark upon this world? This is your chance. To make something different than anyone else with some creative flair! Besides, I've already talked to Lord Caelis before and he approved of this project. He was even willing to fund this project to get you more labor and help! Besides, they're excavating the Agora as we speak. We'll be able to get more marble for this project." "Ahh, well if this is Lord Wolff's request, then I suppose I can't refuse." "There we go! Now let's start planning! We've got a lot of work cut out for the both of us to create art." "The both of us?"

---

(Re)Fit for a Lord

The sound of metal clashing filled the air around the platz. It was a sound familiar to most in the old world, but it had been absent recently, until now. To Lothar, it was a comforting sound. It was a sound that he had grown up with and one that assured him of safety. It was the sound of metalworks. The Colony had established its first proper smithy with its recent access to coal. Steel was being made and it was about time. 5 Halberdiers were unarmed since the battle of the platz and the Exile Constable force needed better equipment if recent times was a sign. Thus, these men would be getting refit with proper weapons and armor. It was a relief to Lothar. He had been worried as times were getting more turbulent and uncertain. They needed to be ready to protect themselves if needed, which they likely would sooner or later. He came across his men, 20 Halberdiers, and 15 Exile Police, now aspiring Spearmen with Spear and Shield and a bit of armor rather than then the rags and chains they used. They would need a bit of training, but they had started to get together as a fighting force as of late. There was progress, which was something at least.

Lothar looked at the men and said "All right you loving lot! Quit ogling each other's uniforms. We have jobs to do and get ready for!" They had planned a few ventures. One, was that the geologist was going to go out and search for more metals around the area. Iron was useful, but so were many other metals if they could be found. They planned to make another deal with the Ratkin to help facilitate the process. Plus, the plan was to have two more expeditions. One was to explore the jungle. It was going to be rich with herbs or other useful things that the Colony could use. The other was the properly explore the sewers. It had become the domain of the Aymaran, but they seemed to be able to distinguish between food and friend now... somewhat. Thus, the sewers were a priority as they served as potential entrances to the Platz that haven't been fully explored yet. They had to know what was going on below them."

He then turned his head as he saw Caelis in the distance. He was waving and signalling, rally. It appeared that the men already had a job to do!

---
Wake Up Call

The Attolian Engineer watched as a female Dark(?) Elf flipped out of the Vault and in front of all the Attolians to see clearly. However, the rest seemed to stay inside. What was this? A Performance or a ruse? Regardless, the Engineer stood fast where he was. The Elf said something that kinda sounded elvish and almost musical, but the Engineer was a man of numbers, gears, and physics. He wasn't a Linguist or a Musician. He loudly said back "We don't speak any Elvish! Only the King's Common! Now, just stay where you are. We've got someone who might be able to translate on the way!" and as if on cue, the Engineer could hear scurrying from behind. There came Lord Caelis and Lothar with 35 men in tow, and swiftly coming up the Engineer could see the unmistakably shining armor of the High Born. He sighed a deep of relief and said "Well, looks like we get to live another day, Lads." He then took out a small flask and took a large gulp. He had been saving his small personal stash, but hell today was a day to celebrate and there was a whole load of beer waiting for him at the Platz. His job was over for now.

Caelis arrived at the scene with Lothar and the 35 men, and to Caelis' appreciation the High Born had sent their men rapidly as well. Thankfully, the men had notified them as well. If these were Dark Elves, then they would certainly need the High Elves. The Exiles took the lead with their new shields and formed a wall with their shields while the Halberdiers were right behind them in support. While their weapons were not pointing at the Elves, they were certainly ready to be dropped to form two lines of pointy things. The formation was similar to the one used in the Battle, but this one was better organized. Perhaps it was the time spent since the Battle, but the two group seemed to get the hang of working together. With the excavation team secured, Caelis waited for the High Born to arrive. It seemed like the Elves didn't speak common, so they really did need a translator. Caelis greeted the High Born Mage and Linguist and said "Hail! Thank you for your quick response. I don't know who these people are, but can you ask them who they are, and why they were in the vault?"

---

Summary:
Attolian Halberdiers and Exile Police are re-fit with Steel weapons and armor.

Caelis arrives with the Attolian Military and the High Born to the Vault

Attolians are committing the Shipwright, and 17 sailors to the Convoy to fully man 1 ship along with the High Born

Current Orders:

Excavation of marked sites located in the Agora District to begin
5 Skilled Laborers, 15 Unskilled Laborers and 3 Augmented Stone Constructs

Study of the functional Clockwork Soldier and Repair
Nicholas, Engineer, 5 Skilled Workers

Linguist attempts to write a new easily read fairytale that is meant to be a message of unity and virtue. They have access to the writing copying arm.
Linguist, 5 Skilled Workers

Construction of an Amphitheatre by the Commons
Architect, 10 Skilled Workers, 20 Unskilled Workers
1 Wealth to Hire Freedmen Labor, 2 Units of Marble, 6 Bronze Statues

Expedition to the Northern Jungle
Preserver, Falconer, Chemist, Dr. Fleming, 5 Skilled Workers, 5 Unskilled Laborers, 5 Halberdiers, Sundered King

Assaying and mining of other metals/deposits in the barrier hills, hopefully with Ratkin help
Geologist, 5 Skilled Workers, 15 Unskilled Workers

Extensive exploration of the sewers begins!
Lothar, 5 Halberdiers, 5 Skilled Workers, 5 Unskilled Workers

Establishment of a proper Customs Office and Regulations by the Port
Castellan, Caelis, 5 Skilled Workers, 10 Unskilled Workers

 

[Zaltusinel]

The song of notice:



Her eyes dotted the formation in front of her, the spears and armor. To her, she seemed slightly confused. Her lips flustered a bit as she waved her hand as a petite flag before turning back around. The graves, the buildings, the surroundings rattled her. What plagued these people? Her first thoughts seemed to be altruistic, and her moon surface colored hair whimpered as the wind curled around her in strength. Sounds of the past echoed in the distance, though so far away, out of her memory, but she knew it was there. She began to dance, a ninja’s gallop in the center of attention. Flowing herself as banners, as a savior coming to battle just at the tipping point, she pushed and pulled Kuva until he felt the music on the zenith of his brow. The winds of the trees concentrated in her mind producing the notes of the instruments of the past. The thumps of the Attolians’ feet echoed the drum beat, the sun reflecting off of the armor giggled of the lights she once knew. Recognized none, the moment held a significance for the Nylor. It was only the beginning.

Ryleon beckoned to her brethren, her hand calm and flowing as she continued to dance in duet with Kuva. Meeting mid jump and pushing off only to land. She heard the voices represented in the calls of the colonists, more civilians seemed to be attracted to her and her dance. The calibers sheathed their weapons, joining in dance. The calling could be heard to all Nylor and possibly the other mages as well. But this may be for a short time. Others cheered from inside the vault, they lost the bearings, the situation they were in. The Attolians didn’t bother them a bit, and as the Highborn entered the scene, Ryleon slowed her pace in more strength moves and instructed her brethren to coordinate a singular jump, touching feet in the center, where to fall onto the hands of another. Continuing to dance as a whirlpool with no weapons drawn, simple tranquility. As Lord Caelis, the Highborn mage, and the Linguist chattered amongst themselves, the Nylor chanted and sang in tune to the song of the past, growing stronger in their minds. The notes felt easy on the ears, while quite relaxing and full of hope.

Summary:

• The Nylor toss aside the fear in the Attolians and take a leap of faith in sheathing all their weapons as they dance and experience a tune of the past. Though, nothing jogs them of anything. Ryleon encouraged them to join to announce their presence and put on a show for the colonists to ease fear and concern.
• The song the Nylor dance to can be heard by mages.

References:
Heyitsjiwon Prince Vaethorion

 

[Beckoncall]

Heyitsjiwon :

"Headless slavers still sell slaves"

Attolian Agents do not have any difficulty haggling the slavers -- to be rid of the sirens they're glad as it enables them to focus all attention to the Cyclops since it's got progressively cranky moping in it's chains as the ships have been overdue to leave. They're eager to put everything away and put the colony far behind them.

With the Writ of Ownership for the Sirens, The attolian agent is given the shell talisman that will silence them forever, if it functions as advertised -- the sirens are all smiles to be let out of their cages, their webbed hands and feet, their slightly taloned nails... they are all otherwise very comely and shapely ladies... Each sentence seems to come of one voice, harmonized amoung all of the sirens at once.

...They coo as the first ranks of them walk, kneel, and languidly move submissively around their new masters.

"We heard you Colonials like freeing slaves... but we wonder if being mere men you can bring yourselves to keep the courage of your conviction... we have secrets to share with our masters, or treasures to plunder, if such are your proclivities... what is our fate to be? Ohhhh, singing in your parlors? Singing in your bedchambers? Will your wives and lasses watch? So many questions... We especially look forward to performing our civic duties for agents such as yourselves and them that lead... we have many talents... There will be good rain in the next few days, I doubt we'll have difficulty staying wet... after that we'll have to work EXTRA HARD to find ways to stay moist..."

(Attolians buy 50 lesser Sirens for 2 wealth) --

Several questions remain -- what will be their fate? Where will they live? How will they "serve" the colony?

The hearts of the attolian agents are not a bulwark against their charms, however unweildy and direct.
After brief exchanges some of the Attolian agents begin to wonder just who was bought by whom!

 

[Beckoncall]

UPDATES:

Heyitsjiwon & Prince Vaethorion :

Recent construction of forge/armory leads to SMITHS GUILD BEING FORMED! REQUIRES ONE MORE FACTION MEMBER TO JOIN TO BECOME OFFICIAL!

Even if the Operation does not become a guild, the current elven/human forge and smithy operation is capable of producing quality steel armor and weapons for the colony, which may also potentially be sold. Silver bought/supplied from the Tyren would allow silver weapons to be made, which can have additional special properties.

Attolian soldiers with rusty equipment are resupplied with better gear! Attolian forge encorporates Piston-loaded weapons!

Prince Vaethorion : (and those interested in crime):

Examination of the pilfered opium reveals it was placed by (the now dead) corrupt exile constables. Exile police are "Taking care of their own" by tracking down and killing remaining criminals as they are found -- without process of court or higher judgement. a number of additional exiles die for associations with criminals,..

 

[Beckoncall]

"FAMILY REUNION, IN THE GRAVE"

Heyitsjiwon :

Attolian police, while re-purposing the Nylor Vault into a warehouse/strongpoint continue their search of the graveyard. In addition to the previous exile bodies buried in already full graves with packing material, the SECRET HIDEOUT OF SORKIN was found under a mausoleum in the back of the Cul-de-sac. Inside was a secret passage that had an ancient tunnel leading from Sorkin's tiny hideout and a more recent, exile made tunnel that leads to the basement of the temple of Dracos... it is unclear if any of the faithful knew of this passage... which was seemingly constructed during the temple being built so as not to attract attention.

Sorkin, who's better known alias was Sailas, functioned as a higher level skilled worker among the exiles -- was rarely seen except when interfacing with very explicit instructions for merchants and the corrupt constables to grift money from the market.

SORKIN IS FOUND DEAD -- he drank poison at his desk when the last of his followers was slain and in a brief note states:

"It's been an interesting run, will be sorry I cannot share with you the pleasure of my company. Places to go, people to see, you understand. Sincerely, Sorkin."

His penmanship and sense of dress was impeccable, for an exile. One of the rapidly vanishing bottles of elven wine from the old world being the medium by which he drank his demise.

(FENNEC DEFEAT THEIR COMPETITION WITHOUT LIFTING A FINGER! +3 FENNEC INFLUENCE, Reputation gained with exiles and attolian small business as well for indirect handling of crime.)

DECISION POINT:

Harud is the last individual not in custody that has any ties to criminal activity, but he seeks a pardon from any authority of the colonial government, considering his involvement with rooting out and ultimately dissolving the coppersmiths. Many exiles look on intently with what fate or indulgence the charismatic Harud is served with...