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

[Beckoncall]

@General Deth Glitch @Heyitsjiwon :


As the fist Attolians examine the lay of the land in the Marketplatz, they rapidly gain the attention of some kind of town crier drawing attention to some kind of barn or... tavern or inn? being advertised in the 'Platz...


"NEW FRIENDS! COME TO DONKEY RATS! BEST FOOD OF MAEDER'S EXILES!"


"Try our salt broth! It's salty! I promise it's not saltwater! It's good!"


"we've got Rat ala Shark! It's a large rat stuffed in the head of a shark!"


"Not interested? We've got Shark ala Rat! It's one of our biggest roasted cappies, stuffed with baby sharks! It's fancy! You eat it!"


"Like nuts!? We got pecans AND almonds! Lots! You TOTALLY won't go out of your mind because it's all we have to eat here! They're good!"


"Keep coming round and see our facilities as we renovate! At Donkey-Rats' -- we're INFESTED WITH HOSPITALITY!!!"


The outside and edifaces are a wreck, but it actually is starting to look pretty comfy inside. Lots of tables with no fewer than four enormous fireplaces. Lots of seating and... ahem... dining... but the real draw is a bar which serves both watered-down beer, and some of the finest vintage wine most Attolians have ever seen? (exiles gain ONE luxury point)


Maybe looks can be deceiving regarding this venue's promise and it's true potential...


"DID WE MENTION SHARK ALA SHARK!?"


....then again, maybe not.

 

[Beckoncall]

@Leusis :


The harshness of the Autumn-Lord's words quiets the din of strife in the elven camp... but it does little to elevate the already declining mood. The springborn steel themselves, but all the elder kin can tell they do not wear their shame well... The loss to their morale is compounded by their guilt in disappointing their lord and being found so wanting for what the young perceive as their asked-for opinion...


The Glade Guard are stoic, and the Forest Kin let Belanor's ire roll over them, as the flower must bend to the wind, so the kin must bend to the Autumn-lord.


The Winterborn warriors seem to be the only ones heartened by Belanor's rebuke. If either of them ever felt like talking, it's possible they might have done the same.


Of the rest of the Winterborn, they are all accepting, save Anfel. Though looking a bit younger than Belanor she is considerably older... and is saddened by Belanor seemingly stripping down the spirit of the elves when it seemed so clear to her they needed lifting.


The law of the Autumn Lord remained absolute... though many wondered how freely his followers would feel to share their honest thoughts with him hereforward...


(Morale is STRAINED -- fighting spirit is stable, but general happiness lowered)

 

[Beckoncall]

@Leusis :


Belanor and his warriors stand ready at the rally point given to the Tyren and Exiles... unless otherwise directed, they would wait here until the Tyren and Exiles met to join them here... (Declare when you are enacting plan)

 

[Beckoncall]

@SpiralErrant


By Orm's command, the Tyren take their defensive actions in case their "new neighbors" decide to show up unannounced. As subtly as possible the herds are moved, the paddocks are watched, and the entire outside of the camp had eyes scanning for movement into the night. The warriors on watch swish their tails anxiously... Rolled Leaf and lids of chew are passed around to calm nerves and show brotherhood.


The Elves had some kind of plan, it seemed. Either they'd stay on watch -- or Orm would call some of all of them away from their vigil to follow the wee-woods on their gambit. Rahg and the eldest warriors walked along the river, and the youngest and most unruly were ordered to watch the elves new bridge, lest it be used against them.


They could not have been more pumped at the prospect of combat. Orm had inspired the entire caravan with his lofty words and vision for the Tyren. Orm was a good Chief, or they would not have followed him across the great blue. Many wagons parted ways with Orm when he began talk of this new land -- but the caravan knew now... viscerally... that Orm's strange ideas and curious goals were no pipe dream... in a wave of his mighty fist Hrun'taras was REAL -- a land of their own, and with a wave of the other most of his followers held more weight of coin than they had even previous at one time.


...When Uumush did the rites of homecoming, It became one of the grandest and proudest revelries any could remember -- and as the first celebration since their arrival in the new land, it would not soon be forgotten. The Warriors could still hear the revelry in the back of their minds, even though the feast-fires had long gone to smoulder and they were now watching for baleful eyes in the forest across the river.


When the revelry ended, the consensus was that the time of worry about the gamble of this new land was over. They were no longer following the Chief and Circle of Shamans in faith and hope -- If the Tyren had a word for providence, that would be what they would call it. But they didn't. It was enough to know hat Orm's dreams came true, and his dreams were for his people. Orm willed wealth from the earth, and it was. Orm called an end to the ways of the nomad and declared the Tyren have a flag, and what the hornless called "a realm"... and it was. Orm was a chief before this voyage, but in the eyes of his people he was officially a hero. Orm's place of the plates of memory were assured -- and none thought anymore of "If" their colony might fail. Orm would not will it to fail... so it would not.


So the warriors waited, and watched. To their feined indifference, the warriors nodded at the arrival of several herdsman slingers who first brought comforts to the warriors on watch, and then remained to hold torches into the night to make brighter the occlusion of the wood.


The Gnolls were out there. In particular there were definitely at least a number off into the woods across the bridge. Occasionally a Tyren or two could hear hushed yips or low growling, and insubstantial movement in the wood. There was something strange about these watchers though... and the Tyren Warriors had been watched a thousand times -- could pick up the subtleties of their would-be assailants -- who poised to strike, and who menaced to drive away. The Tyren Watch began to come to the conclusion that a Gnoll attack was not forthcoming... they were on the defensive. They knew not how many Gnolls lay hidden in the wood across the bridge -- but they were likely anticipating TYREN aggression, not planning their own. The shadows in the wood were furtive... these were not Gnolls on the prowl, or they wanted the Tyren to believe they weren't.


This was enough to keep the Warriors on their toes. Leave thinking to Orm and Shamans. Don't think, you can't be fooled... Mmmmm... sun-catcher. Flag. Mutton. Dead and screaming Gnolls. Happy thoughts.


outside the seeing and the knowing of the Warriors, a full score Tyren were training religously for Bruul to become accomplished slingers. It would not happen overnight, which was a shame... because the way things were seen to be going it might be better if they would be...

 

[Beckoncall]

@Heyitsjiwon :


Lady Cassandra the Seer is struck with a vision... she must share this with Lord Caelis as soon as she is able... the Exiles ship... it's crawling with rats. There are rats in the walls, rats wearing clothes, rats crawling all over the feed of the Leader of the Exiles. It must be stopped... the beasts in their midst must be purged before it is too late. She sees into an accursed future where lord Caelis himself shakes the paw of a rat, and the vermin begin to twist beneath his clothing... she is shocked from her waking dream... if Caelis and perhaps others act quickly, this possible future may be prevented... she can only pray it will be.

 

[SpiralErrant]

What a night that had been. It was a good thing they didn't have any booze or Orm's head would have been weighing heavy as a stone. As things were now he just had the taste of too much meat and dark leaf to contend with. 'I bet the others'll be spending that silver on bringing back as much beer and ale as they can find down at the beach now.' Ha!


Unlucky for him, Orm wasn't going to have any more time to celebrate any time soon and neither would anyone else. It was made pretty clear that a lot of work was still ahead of them if they were to make Hrun'taras a solid reality. A collection of tents and wagons did not a city make, even to Orm's muted vision. They'd need materials to build up some solid defenses and foundations, especially with the dogs across the river. That didn't seem a bother to the tribe though, they were all talking about making towers to rival Sky Hill and carving out some fancy statues like they'd seen in their travels. A little out there maybe, but Orm was loving the energy they were bringing.


He'd been so terrified in those silent moments when he held up his crudely made flag. As if the unblinking eyes of his peers might crush him under the weight of their stares before they declared him a mad animal and banished him from the caravan for daring to defy tradition so greatly. It had swelled his heart to hear them support him so greatly, filling Orm with a sense of pride that made him feel like one of the raucous young lads. There was an energy about him today, one that embraced the unending list of challenges he would be facing today. Axe in hand, Orm strode from his tent and set about seeing to the camp's running with vigor. It turned out he wasn't the only one as his people were already busy and taking their own initiative.


First thing to do was to replenish their stockpile of building material. Orm was suddenly regretting trading away their large supply of stone to the beach humans but the prospect of those tasty strange meats was a tempting one and since the party that made the delivery got back he was only hearing more interesting things about it. SHARK ALA SHARK, what a time to be alive! Going a step further from that they went on to tell Orm about how the humans there were trying to form a proper organization that would see to the regular trading of foods among the different groups. Well that was just perfect, he thought. Trade was one of the rivers that fed the herd heart and this way they could make sure it would beat strong... or something like that. Either way it would make worries about food a concern of the past. The merchants were happy to try and snap up a strong source of income like this and even one of the veteran labour lads wanted to step up and give it a try.


"It's kinda like folks have been saying, Chief. If we aint travellin' no more then what are we? Well I think I'd like to try my hands at being this. Get up each day knowing what I'm going to do instead of wandering about looking for it. Besides I already got stories of dealing with the hornless, reckon I'm better suited to this than most."


Orm had to respect that. Time would tell how popular this food handler business would get. With that sorted he had to see about replacing the stone he'd so hastily traded away. The minotaurs on boulder gathering duty weren't being given the most exciting of jobs but it was an easy one as they'd found the last time the tyren went to harvest rocks from boulder field. Maybe they'd dig up something interesting this time while they did it? Orm was still stuck for what to do about getting some lumber. There was no way they'd take the wagons apart and he couldn't touch the woods around here until the elves had moved on. That would have to wait for now.


Until it could be sorted he'd get back to the exploring side of this place. There was talk of a possible swampland further along the cliffs and he knew exactly who to send to handle its mapping.


"Wha? You sure I'm a good pick for this?" Shul squeaked.


"Shul if that marsh is worth anything then it's probably full of strange, poisonous, plants and mushrooms. I can't think of anyone who kows more about those kinds of things than you." Orm slapped him on the back nice and heartily. Shul couldn't help but think he'd been given a backhanded compliment. He'd still go though, his stash was running low.


Orm had to ponder if there was anything else left to have done. The gnolls didn't look to be acting any time soon on their own accord but their presence was still being felt. He had to keep spirits up and the best way Orm could think to do that was to keep folks busy and to not give them time to dwell on possible threats. Oh, metal! They'd be needing plenty of that. Nails, hinges, all kinds of things for when they really got to work. Much more than the odds and ends they kept around if a wagon needed fixing. The smithing lads had found iron back in the cliffs where they'd gotten the silver, it was time for them to nab up some of that while they were at it.


With the last of any tasks he could think of doled out, Orm set off to join the elves in their planned meeting. He wasn't holding out much hope of avoiding a fight with the gnolls but if he could avoid any great risk to the caravan then he'd take it. 'Guess I'll have to stop calling us that now.'


"Keep an eye on things while I'm away." He asked Bruul. "You and Uumush are in charge of stuff while I'm gone and we might need the fighters ready in case things go bad."


"Uumush isn't here." Bruul shrugged.


"What?! Then where is he?"


"Last I saw him he was around the southern hills. There's some new hornless poking around there and I guess he was curious or something. Hard to say why he does anything anymore."


"Oh by the- alright, leave him be then." Orm sighed. He was already late as it was. He and Rahg needed to head out, the two of them should be enough to handle themselves and get back if there was trouble.


To do list:


- @General Deth Glitch Tyren join the Grocers Guild. They bring milk, cheese and mutton. Dedicating 2 skilled workers. (1 dedicated merchant and 1 skilled labourer who wished to become a dedicated grocer)


- A work detail is sent to Boulder Field to gather up fresh stone. (1 Skilled labourer and 4 unskilled workers)


- A foraging party is sent to explore the western swamp area. (1 Shul the shaman. 1 Skilled worker/herbalist. 1 Warrior escort. 3 unskilled workers)


- A crafting party is sent to the Shear cliffs to mine for iron ore. (3 Skilled workers/craftsmen. 3 Unskilled workers/apprentices. 2 Skilled labourers. 2 Warrior escorts)

*****

​

Orm and Rahg were walking towards the meeting point where they could see some of the elves already waiting. They were coming in some serious force. "You ready for this?"


"I just hope I don't come back with mange." The pale minotaur huffed, shouldering his sword. Like most of the lads, Rahg was itching to smack in some dog skulls.


Neither of them had much faith in the elves' ability to keep them hidden as the group made their way through the forest. The gnolls would probably hear their hooves crunching the undergrowth from a mile off and smell them from even further. The place was certainly full of scents for Orm and Rahg but they gave it a try anyway, stepping as lightly as they could. Orm dissuaded the younger warrior's fears that this would blow up in their face.


"Look at it this way, we can handle some gnolls in a fight and they'll be so busy looking at our big selves that they'll miss those." He nodded up to the quiet moving elves up above.


They both had to agree to being worried when Belanore stepped from cover and had his lands point arrows in the faces of some passing gnolls! Clearly elves and tyren had different thoughts on what peaceful talks were. Orm gripped his axe tight and breathed in time with his beating heart as the anticipation that had been growing since they entered the trees threatened to reach a boiling point. He couldn't see anyway this would be taken as anything other than an ambush.


- @Leusis Orm and Rahg go to meet the elves at the rendezvous point and accompany them to the talks.

*****

​

True to the gossip, Uumush was sitting on the slopes of the southern hills. he'd been there, still as a stone, for a while, he didn't know how long. The time just passed by. He'd help himself to some snacks that he kept in his robes now and then. They'd attracted some of the ground dwelling birds around here who seemed to think him calm enough to walk around. He was fine with sharing little bits with them. He didn't offer to share his pipe with them as he lit up and enjoyed some dark leaf mixed with... some things of his own design. They helped.


He'd been watching the land stir as the wind blew it around, sparing a glance as he saw the younger ones going to boulder field as they called it. He'd been watching the new hornless too, the blue colours they wore making them stand out against the land. They'd easily seen him, a large mass of dirty grey and brown against the hillside as he sat there, crumpled hood over his head. He was comfy and not about to get up any time soon.


- @Heyitsjiwon Uumush the shaman is sitting on one of the southern hills and watching the Attolian explorers. He's not being sneaky, he's just chilling.

 

[Beckoncall]

@General Deth Glitch : (Going to give you an amount of time to get in on the Elves "diplomatic overature" -- if enough time passes I'll process it with just elves and tyren present...) @Heyitsjiwon


in response to Maeder's call to arms, a handful of skilled/unskilled workers volunteer... 3 unskilled and 1 skilled -- One of which is a very odd sight to rally for a fight. Enoc, a farmer and sometime distiller -- looks to be 90 pounds soaking wet, and nothing about his frame suggests he has ever raised a weapon in anger before this expedition. Beyond that, a surprising 60 convicts put forth they would march for Maeder -- many of which are red-hot from hearing news that Baez was among the wounded, and there seems to be confusion as to whether dog-people and rat-people really are the same thing or not... the rumors of both are flying so fast they are effectively blended. Improvising weapons from picks and shovels, to belaying pins, to some of the sailor folk wrapping their hands with Rope "To make 'em heavy"... The convicts state reasons as revenge, defense, pre-emptive violence, and several who quote Baez in saying "I am of Dracos' fire, and I shall not be extinguished." Caeliss' Physician cautions against letting any of these persons go however -- a low-key quarantine should be kept for the "general rabble", as he called it.


All of the Countrymen volunteer, especially if Maeder has any intention of going himself. The Physician quickly examines those fit for combat, and detects strange scratches under the tunic of one of the countrymen he cannot explain getting -- The Attolian Soldiers Promptly restrain him, and there is almost a row right then and there -- before Dr. Fleming explains that this just a precaution, and he aims to get to the root of the problem before any sickness in question causes any complexity for the patient, beyond his being temporarily contained. The countryman in question thankfully relents, finding concern over the tiny markings far more threatening than the imposition of the Attolians... seeing this, his axe-brothers back down, leaving all but two of the countrymen cleared for battle....

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

Caelis finally landed on the beachhead, however, it was a queer sight that greeted him. The entire beach seemed to have turned into some sort of base for the current residents there with a lot of the movement and activity happening near a beached merchantman. Not to mention that there was another, wrecked merchant ship on the beach as well as a sloop with no sails. Quite a queer sight indeed. This was all ignoring the residents themselves. They did not carry themselves like normal people. Most of them seemed like they were accustomed to working at the shore like there were dock workers, a rough bunch. Still, it made sense. A lot of people looked to leave the old world to leave behind whatever restrained them from their dreams. Plus, the new world could be a difficult place to live at, so being a hardy man could hardly be considered to be a negative trait.


However, one man among the current settlers at the beach stood out. He looked at the approaching Attolians with purpose and carried himself differently. He looked like he was in charge of the rabble. Thus, Caelis approached the man, offered a hand, and said "Hail, I am Lord Wolff of the Kingdom of Attolia. I must say, it's quite a pleasant surprise to meet other humans already after all these months spent at sea. I imagine that we will be working together often for the foreseeable future."


The man who greeted him for this new bunch of colonists seemed like an influential man, possible one of the Muurdaan Underlords, certainly didn't look like a king but perhaps a wealthy and influential duke or other such noble. He was well spoken and reminded Maeder of his foe but he was no savage, despite their depictions of him. "Hail, I am Maeder, lord of these men. I 'ope we do form goodly relations, two more colonys arrived with m'self, they be further inland and generally keep to each others company, perhaps they don't like the race of men" he said before adding to himself 'Not that I blame them' He offered his hand and shouted over his shoulder "Get any man who 'aint busy to 'elp this lot disembark!" and soon there was a flurry of activity and he turned back to continue his discussion.


Caelis nodded and thanked Maeder for his help in unloading the ship as they shook hands. He then continued to speak "Well, then. I'm sorry, but I believe that you said two more colonies? I was under the impression that we were meant to be pioneers of a colony. Surely, it is folly to think that we would be able to survive alone? I believe we must learn to be able to help each other if we are to prosper in these foreign, untamed lands." as he looked around the shore. Caelis returned his attention to Maeder and said


"Either way, I do not think it is wise to make camp far from each other in the event that one of us need help. By all means, if there's anything that you or your people need desperately, then do not hesitate to ask. Although, we have just arrived, I have brought many skilled individuals with me. In fact, I have a physician on board, a true doctor educated at the Royal Attolian Academy with years of experience in medicine and anatomy. I'm sure that medical expertise will be a very desired skill here in these remote lands."


With Caelis' offer to support Maeder and his people, Caelis then moved on "Well then, I was hoping that you could tell me of what you and your people have discovered so far in these lands? Perhaps another, pre-existing species inhabiting these very grounds?"


"Aye, When I arrived I settled here and helped the Tyren up off the beach, they and the elves then set off to claim distant lands. Your welcome to stay within my little region but I warn ye' most me men are convicts, dumped with me in this new land. Most be shapin' up to be good men but I cant vouch for them. Not yet. Well there is good land just up from the coast that I hope to transform into a trading hub for us all and, all goin' well bring us all closer together an' suchlike. I would advise keeping close to there, perhaps we can develop this plan together." he said "Until you need to though you are welcome to store your supplies with mine just make sure to have a way to signify which are yours and which 'aint"


Then he actually became quite serious "A skilled doctor you say? I have a fairly serious matter I would like looked into by a man of professional medical skill. If you don't mind its quite a sensitive subject I would like to keep away from prying ears"


Caelis nodded as he heard from Maeder about plans to develop the region. He replied "Thank you very much for your offer. I'll make sure that things are separated. I hope you won't mind having a few men stick around to make sure a mishap doesn't occur between our supplies. I'll see if we can find land close to this area." Then he noticed the very sudden change in Maeder's demeanor. This was far from a good sign especially since it seemed to be a very significant medical concern.


Caelis nodded. "Sir Maeder, I understand there may be... serious topics that you do not wish for everyone to hear. However, at a certain point, a serious matter that affects your men will ultimately affect all of us in this new land. Now, it appears that this issue is medical. However, because of the nature of it. I wish to be at least somewhat aware of the situation, especially if it be concerns of plague or some illness that is very virulent. Thus, that is my condition, I will be glad to offer my physician to this matter and any other assistance needed.


However, secrets like these are simply... unhealthy to keep. For both your people and mine. I wish to be aware of what is going on. If this matter can be contained and dealt with privately or will not affect anyone else, then the only people who will ever know of the situation will be me and my physician. You have my honor and my word as a Lord. Of course, in the event that something dramatic like plague happened to my people, then I would extend the same courtesy to you as well and inform you the moment I find out. "


Meader was heartened to hear this, most men, especially those of Maeder's origin and occupation, would be quite the opposite. "Aye, the men are no issue though I will have men of my own with them or watching, more so since I do already and indeed with convicts its nessisary. About the other concern it was not that I did not wish for you to be aware rather for those about us whom I know not if I can trust. I would have you follow me to my temporary holding, the ship, for inside is where the matter lies, though I doubt it to be spread by breath." He looked at the man "Yes, no, it is only right of course that such matters be openly communicated for the safety of all. Although, if I may ask, what is it you are lord of? To save old rivalries rising up shall we say.." he said as he began to lead them to his ship and men hurried past to help with hauling.


"Wonderful, lead the way." Caelis replied. As the two men walked to the ship, Maeder brought up a question. "What am I lord of. Well, Sir Maeder, my family was granted estates and land by the Royal Family of Attolia generations ago. Therefore, I am a nobleman soon to be under the service of current King of Attolia. However, I am not yet beholden to him, for my father still lives and is quite lively. Thus, I am the heir of my family's holdings. What am I Lord of? Quite frankly, nothing, other than the men that I have led here, but that is the title that my name bears."


As the two walked to the ship, Lord Wolff saw a man that he hoped he would come across. "Sir Fleming! Would you please accompany me? There are matters in which I would enjoy your judgement." He then turned to Maeder and said "Sir Maeder, meet Sir Fleming." as he introduced the two while they walked closer and closer to the secret that Maeder seemed to be concerned about.


Maeder saw this 'Sir Flemming' and hesitated "I hope he is your medical man?" he said as he assumed as much, taking them into the ship. Maeder was then greeted by a fair number of his countrymen who accompanied them inside. "The issue, now that we are away from people who would cause undue panic threatening us all in the long run, is relating to 'Ware Rats'. A curse 'o which we know little and seek to solve before it, as ya' say, becomes a plague to all our peoples."


Caelis was caught off guard. "Were Rats, you say? Well, that's certainly not what I was expecting. I was thinking it was consumption, or perhaps even plague. But, I suppose that Sir Fleming can take a look." as he looked over to his companion who nodded in affirmation. Caelis then continued "How widespread is this issue? Is it contained?"


"Well we cannae be certain but I'd wager we got it contained but it all depends on if the two we captured had any friends, but we plan to draw any out once we can. Two of my men were bit and I need them up and running." he said as the headed in and saw the half eaten corpse and the prisoner alongside the two shivering men. And men they were indeed, large strong men. "I warn you its not a pretty site, he ate his his friend."


Caelis slightly grimaced as he came upon the grusome scene. "Savages." He muttered as he looked upon the mutilated body that was half eaten. He then looked at Sir Fleming and said "See to it if you can't help the two that may be cursed as well now." He then looked at Maeder and said "This is an issue that I will certainly be willing to help with. God knows what could happen if this were to be left alone. Now, I don't know if your two companions can be saved, but I can tell you this. Sir Fleming is a master of anatomy. If he were allowed to... 'study' the specimens, then we may be able to find a way to identify these were rats poising as humans. In fact, we brought along a chemist who may be able to concoct a solution that is revolting only to were rats or perhaps out right poison them while leaving the unaffected alone."


"However, I am concerned... if you don't mind, I would like your two companions to be restrained at all times. They may turn at any given moment, and I do not want to risk any more than needed. As of now, Sir Fleming is the only doctor in this new world that I know of. So, I wish to ensure his safety as much as possible and of my chemist. To which point, I request that they be able to have 5 of my soldiers escorting them at all times even in here. Also, anything he needs, I want it to be available to him. Any help from your men would be appreciated, but... as you said there is no certainty that these are the only were rats around."


@Beckoncall


Orders:


Sir Fleming is to start seeing the two potentially infected Exiles once they are restrained.


He and the chemist is also to start "studying" and experimenting on the were rat subjects to see if they can determine something of note to help stop this terrible curse. They are to have a constant 5 soldier escort. Granted this is all assuming Maeder agrees to Caelis' terms.


Both the physician and the chemist are each granted permission to pick an assistant/apprentice from the skilled workers to help them from this point on.


---


Caelis left the Exile's ship with things in regards to the Exiles' "public health" concern being dealt with. He hoped that it would be solved with little incident. Until then, he had a job to do as well. He walked over to the depression where all their stuff was being stored for now. There all the people who were waiting for him or needed to speak with him were all waiting. First, was one of the sailors who had apparently gotten Lothar onto the island off the beach to meet with the Imperial Oriental Trading Company. He approached with some cloth that one of the company's indentured servants had dropped onto his lap as he left. On it seemed to be a message, but the exact contents were indecipherable. All that was obvious was that at least one of them was in desperate need for help. He nodded and thanked the sailor for bringing this to him. He thought about what he could do. There wasn't much that could be done based on this single parchment other than bring up the potential ill treatment of the indentured servants. After all, everyone on this island is depended on to do the best for the colony, but an oppressed person would look out for his best interests first. He needed to investigate further to figure out what was going on, but that was not his primary concern for now. His people needed guidance first.


Next came reports from his various scouting attempts. The sundered king that he sent out to scout provided Caelis with a rough draft of a map of the nearby lands and the rumors surrounding them. He thanked everyone for their work as it provided very valuable feedback. He ultimately addressed the settlement outfit and told them "For now, we should at least have some shelter. Thus, it goes without saying that developing the northern region of the Marketplatz seems ideal. The foundation is strong, there's developed infrastructure and we're right next to a massive source of stone. We could further expand north into these fertile grounds. However, these ruins propose an interest place to at least visit and so are these locked doors and that building as well. Finally, it appears that a community is building over the sales and distribution of food. I wager that joining this group would be beneficial for us since we have yet to secure a food sourse."


Orders:


1. The Architect is to begin leading construction of buildings in the northern area of the Marketplatz. He has 20 unskilled workers under his supervision and 5 skilled workers.


2. In order to supply the architect with ample material, 20 unskilled workers and 5 skilled workers are to go to the north, collect stone, and clear the land to allow for farming and further development.


3. The Engineer is to take 10 skilled workers and they are to begin investigating and explore more about the marketplatz such as trying to gain access to the jammed doors that lead to basements, the sealed temple, and the water system in place at the marketplatz.


4. 1 Sundered King is to take 5 soldiers to the eastern outskirts of the ruins to scout the area and see if there's anything valuable or notable. However, they are not to go too far into the ruins, just the outer region.


5. The Attolians are joining the Grocer's Guild. While they have no food to contribute, they are bringing in 9 unskilled workers, and 5 skilled workers (merchants) to help the guild.


---


Then came Tommen the geologist. He seemed to be ecstatic about the prospects of hidden troves of jewels hiding under the cliffs. However, for now, that was a fool's errand to chase. Caelis was more interested in the prospects of deposits at the hills. However, it seemed that the minotaurs that settled that area was claiming the region, which Caelis found to be a bit ridiculous especially since the ships were to form one colony. Regardless, it seemed like it was a good idea to visit the Tyren and build a relationship with them, and figure out exactly what grounds they claimed their own. For now, Caelis just wants Tommen to focus on the southernmost hills and make sure which ones do have deposits.


Order:


1. Tommen the Geologist is to take 10 unskilled workers and 2 skilled workers and focus his attention on the southern most hills that he examined before. He is to confirm if these hills do have deposits and try to determine what kind of deposits.


---

Caelis wandered until he finally found the man he was looking for, his falconer. While Caelis wasn't that into falconry, his brother, Lothar certainly is. So, that's partly why they brought a falconer. However, there were 2 other reasons. 1 was that falconry could help supplement their food supply if they could find bird to hunt for game. The second was that certain species of bird were invaluable. He remembered hearing about how one king rejected a peace offering of 200,000 golden coins, rather he demanded 12 white gyrfalcons. Thus, if they could find a very desirable bird, or perhaps a new species, then that could be shipped back to the old world for a very large sum. Therefore, Caelis wanted the falconer to begin his search for birds immediately.


Order:


1. The falconer has 5 skilled workers (hunters/people with experience in dealing with animals), to begin catching birds.


---


As Lothar prepared to leave to establish relations with the Tyren, Lady Cassandra came to him in a hurry, looking concerned. This was rarely good news. Lady Cassandra then said "Rats. Rats everywhere. The Exlies' ship. It... it's infested with rats!" Caelis tried to calm her and said "I think I know what's going on. Don't worry. I have it being worked on right now. Sir Fleming and the chemist are working on solving the issue as we speak. It appeared that the Exiles had a case of were-rats hidden among their people. That was what your vision was probably trying to work on, but like I said. It's being worked on, so please. Do not worry." as he firmly held her shoulders. Lady Cassandra regained her composure and nodded in acknowledgement.


Caelis smiled and said "Good, now. Let me know if you have any other visions. Until then..." Caelis then paused for a second. He then said "Some of the people among the exiles said that they got weird vibes from the fountain, but more so from the ruins to the west. A scouting party is leaving to go investigate the area. Could you please join them and see if anything magical or evil is about?" Lady Cassandra replied "Understood." She then turned to leave, but as she left she looked back and said "Please, be careful, Caelis." right before she was too far to hold a conversation with.


Order:


1. Lady Cassandra is to join the party scouting the ruins to the west and see if there's anything that concerns her in regards to the magical or anything that she senses.


---


@SpiralErrant


With everything set, Caelis took his gear, and was accompanied by 6 people on his trip to the Tyren. 5 of them were soldiers, but the last person was the Attolian Linguist. Caelis had little faith in the Minotaur's ability to fluently speak common, and thus he thought it would be prudent to be ready with someone who was at least familiar with the minotaur language. After all, Caelis hoped to build a good relationship with the minotaurs , and hope to find out exactly how far they wished to extend their domain. They might even be able to reach a deal on something.


The cliffs beside their camp were supposedly good and rich with ore, but he suspected that the Tyren would have to resort to guessing and a lot of physical work to find the ores. He would be willing to offer his geologist's services for a share of the haul. But, more importantly, he wanted to try and convince the minotaurs to have more of a presence at the Marketplatz. They had to be one colony if they want to survive, not separate domains, and the first step to accomplishing this was to spend more time with the other colonists so that they would be willing and able to cooperate more.


1. Caelis departs with a Linguist and 5 soldiers to the Tyren settlement in order to open relations and find out more about their fellow colonists.

 

[Beckoncall]

@The Elusive Shadow :


Virus, the company shipwright and the detail Vorenus assigned to them set out in a landing craft for Exile’s Beach – their task? Assess the condition and value of the sloop anchored there, so an informed decision could be made on its purchase.


With the exception of an absence of sails, at first sight it was a quality vessel – relatively modern design, fine lines and displacement. Could be fairly fast on the seas if crewed right, and more to the point maneuverable.


What it didn’t have going for it was some kind of frost damage on the front deck and to a lesser extent the outer hull below it. Many boards were warped, and some even were cracked. The repairs would not be costly, but for them to be done fast would require a goodly amount of labor.


Oddly, the mainmast also seemed to be a living tree. It began to grow branches at various points, and leaves from those. The metal mooring on the other masts seemed to be replaced by a root system… but it seemed the more secure and sturdy for it.


Lastly, the entire cargo hold seemed to be CAKED with manure. While many people would consider this a liability, it was speculated that this could actually be fairly good fertilizer if they wished to utilize it… one way or another it would have to be removed before the cargo area could be cleaned and fit for travel.


The base value of the ship was in the vicinity of 1 wealth point… maybe a bit more if you had the crew to push it to its fullest. That said, it seemed like there might be more than one potential buyer, so if the company WAS interested, they might have to be willing to pay the premium of 2 wealth.


While this took place, Ebon enlisted on the house elite to carry a wooden chest with him to a part of the beach farthest from the ship. When they arrived, the chest was plunked down unceremoniously and the Plate-clad guardian was bid to take his leave of the necromancer. Ebon opened the chest, and out climbed his undead minions – without emotion or thought they clattered forth and stood on the sand awaiting the necromancer’s instructions. Ebon had them fetch ropes from the chest and tie them about themselves, then tie the other end of the ropes to a hanging palm that grew close to the shallows. He then bid them to dive from the shore. Commanding them without line of sight was difficult, but Ebon could occasionally catch a glimpse from the perspectives of the skeletons as they took to their tasks.


The first discovery was quite the strange one…but perhaps something some had begun to suspect… the island was without doubt at rest on the dorsal of some kind of giant fish or cetacean of some kind. An eel-like head seemed to bow low to the sea floor below it, and ebon caught a glimpse of it grazing on the coral reef languidly, as though asleep. Rocks and sand were expelled from gill-slits all along the sides of the “Island-Fish” but Ebon speculated that a byproduct of its respiration and perhaps it’s digestion, had to do with expelling excess sand, rock, and to a lesser extent organic matter out through the blowhole on its back… the Geyser. Ebon did not care to speculate how old the fish might be, nor how many exhalations of debris were required for “Paradise Island” to be created… but there was no disputing that their base of operations was alive, and seemingly gorging itself while simultaneously in some sort of torpor…


The skeletons fell past this spectacle to the sea floor a good distance below. The water was clear, and upon reaching the bottom Ebon was able to see that a great number of caves seemed to be hewn into the cliff face in the area that seemed to be below the waterfall. In the semi-fresh water, scaly humanoids seemed to be carrying on inscrutable business. At one point it seemed clear the skeletons were detected, but they were unassailed by these fish-like denizens... perhaps for their un-natural nature… but it also seemed like they might be going through their business as if in a trance. The skeletons moved around slowly along the sea bed, kicking up small clouds of sediment as they went. Skates and rays, resting on the bottom, were repeatedly shaken from hiding by as they walked. It did not take them long to find a large chunk of coral rock on the sea floor, and two of the skeletons untied the ropes about them and instead tightly bound the rock with it. It could be hoisted up later, Ebon mused. Whilst walking closer to the cliffs parallel to the “wall of caves” it could be made out that there was some kind of great fissure at the foot of the cliff… small bubbles, a brisk current, and what appeared to be a bit of heat distortion seemed to rise from the crevasse… Ebon would keep the skeletons well away from it.


On the sea bed, small patches of water-plants grew in scattered clumps. Sponges and corals seemed to grow in great swathes separated by narrow valleys of sandy bottom. The fish here, though sparse, seemed to laze about on the rocks over these valleys, filter feeding it would seem on smaller fish and bits of organic debris floating around.


In one such shallow valley, Ebon spies through his constructs an array of blood-red mollusks of some kind… a clam-field, actually. Bottom feeders, when one had the occasion to move it would sift the sand for nourishment, expelling sand violently and often upon other mollusks which would too be triggered by this activity. At this point, he began to feel the hold on his puppets weaken… so he wasted no time. Calling them back they all scaled the remaining rope to the surface, and climbed back into the chest at his behest. Upon returning to camp, he would order a company of thralls to pull the coral rock to the surface, where Vorenus’ artisans would have their way with it by his command…


Grigor, the Horticulturalist was happy to have another task worthy of his talents cut out for him. Vorenus certainly seemed to be the kind of man that could appreciate his talents. His skilled worker detail quickly set to the business of constructing a series of small vats nearby to where the colorful dye-berries could be found. Once properly shaped and sealed, the thralls were put to work gathering the berries and stomping them in the vats. The crushed solids could be harvested and dried to make a variety of fabric dyes… with the added benefit of the berry-juice being captured in compartments beneath the vats, where they could be emptied into vessels if desired. The berry juice alone was quite inviting, but some of the skilled workers considered how it might be pleasurable, and profitable – to ferment these juices into berry-wines and lambics… approval of such a project would need to be cleared with Vorenus, but he was expected to see the promise in this enterprise. (New Resource: Fabric Dyes / New Commodity: Berry-Wine)

 

[Beckoncall]

@SpiralErrant


With much aplomb and strong spirit, even in light of the possible dangers ahead, Orm’s work details set to the tasks at hand…


Orm sends a smaller number of workers to gather stone than before, but they do a respectable job of loading two carts full of masonry before becoming absolutely exhausted. (4 unskilled workers need rest before returning to work) – it seems many hands make light work, though a minotaur is still a minotaur when it comes to hauling weight…


As for the miners, they find a spot on the cliff-face suggested before to perhaps have iron deposits. They spend a bit of time and material building a scaffold, and then proceed to work on an area of stone that shows some ruddy stone which is often evidence of iron exposed to elements. The efforts of the skilled craftsmen keep the Tyren safe, but they rapidly come to the conclusion that mining is a job with an economy of scale. The scaffolds are sturdy, but the job still feels unsafe to some. A full cart of stone is broken away from the shear-cliff before a minotaur-sized hole in the rock has been made by the miners. Breaking a bit further, they hit a large pocket of gravel which is practically loose enough for them to pull away with their hands. Here and there floating in the gravel is the odd chunk of coal or iron – but more time and labor will need to be expended… and the workers find the bottom of their reserves of endurance before true “pay dirt” is struck. These workers too, will require a rest… but it is thought promising what might be yielded from the rock at next attempt. By the end of the detail, much of the concern has subsided… why did hornless make mining seem so difficult before? True they were weedy and slight next to a mighty Tyren, but this cliff seemed to be giving up its secrets easily. A good bit east of here was also the giant maw in the rock where Orm had SUPPOSEDLY pulled all the silver down from the mountain, in a single gesture… if the Tyren could make their way up there, they might be able to explore inside that “ready made” mine as well..


(3 carts of stone total, negligible amounts of iron and coal)


…Shul walked in the shadow of Goefuran, youngest of the Tyren Warriors. Although taller than even most of the other warriors in of Hrun’taran, he still had yet to completely fill out, his frame considerably more narrow than that of his older kin. After proving himself to join the Warriors of the caravan, his peers finally stopped calling him “Hordu”, or “Horse” as the hornless might say, though perhaps if it was dark enough one might see the resemblance. GoeFuran had the distinction of being relatively quick-reflexed, for a Tyren… but that would likely change when his inevitable bulkening up nearly tripled the width of his torso and stance. With them walked Weome, the herbalist – in her youth she tirelessly pursued Shul for a partner, but very young since Shul was Elevated into the outer ring of shaman she since put those feelings away. Still, she idolized him – She saw cavalier in what many others saw as tomfoolery from Shul, and she relished every opportunity to work with him, which happened almost often enough for her liking. Behind them walked three more Tyren, huddled together and grunting and posturing about news of the day. Were the Tyren the richest of the newcomers, they wondered? What does that even mean? When are the first wagons of exotic meats from the Exiles likely to be delivered? Can you domesticate and herd Capybaras? Their minds were far from the task at hand.


It was only when the group crested the westernmost of the Barrier Hills that they noticed the Spire of Sky hill behind them to the south, and the opposite slope from where they stood led into trackless moors, scattered pools of black water, and sog-grasses and reeds growing a full head taller than any Tyren among them. It was here that Shul stepped forward, with one eye closed he seemed to look around, while with the other he continually prodded the ground ahead of them with his staff. Every so often he would disturb some nest of vibrant-colored frogs, or scare away fat mudskippers the size of small dogs. The trees growing further into the swamp were black and gnarled, but Shul lead his party towards them, on the pretense that the ground might be more firm where they were. Once the edge of the swamp was well behind them, they finally picked their way into a twisted grove of blackened, twisted, misshapen trees that seemed to list insecurely in the muddy each around them. Where this ground was treacherous to a hornless, foolish steps here could be truly lethal to a Tyren, where too much misplaced weight could trap one’s limb or worse send somebody sinking swiftly to the bottom of the thick but yielding muck.


The ground here was solid enough, so Shul bid the group to look for plants of interest – one worker paired to Shul, Weome, and Goefuran respectively…


Shul and assistant found another nearby “island” of wet but solid earth a slight distance away – the mound intermittently diffused with several asymmetrical holes or burrows. Shul poked one of the holes with his staff, and a cat-sized bug or crab (perhaps a mix of the two?) instinctively lunged from the burrow to strike the walking-stick. It seemed highly aggressive, and took several steps towards the backpedaling Shul before the carapace of the thing began to smoke, and it quickly turned around and darted back into its hole just as he saw a small lick of fire erupt on its back, apparently just from exposure to sunlight. More rasping and clicking and hissing issued from other holes in the mound, and Shul quickly took his companion back from whence they came. As if to answer the cries from the first mound, similar cries seemed to erupt from mounds in several directions at once...


“Loaf around here past dusk and I’m thinking these critters will be finding exotic edibles and not the other way around.” … his assistant did not reflect the amusement in Shul’s face. Shul would call it an "Onlyday bug", unless another name presented itself... so named because Shul imagined the Tyren would only be safe from swarms of these things if they traveled the swamp during the day...


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/Vilebug.png.5c8d4015c28f8a61dd2446a77c837bd9.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="96548" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/Vilebug.png.5c8d4015c28f8a61dd2446a77c837bd9.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


"Onlyday bug"


Weome, however, has happened upon what seemed to be a criss-cross of little paths away from the tree-clearing… hard packed mud ran in odd straight lines and junctions, as if something heavy had been dragged there. She gave a low Ululation to signal the others, and waited for their arrival.


Goefuran and Shul arrived with their companions in tow.


“Caught fat mudskip” rasped the Warrior… holding up the back end of the semi-devoured critter on his spear – “fat tasted rotten. Blech.”


“swiped a few vivid frogs” Shul coughed back, as he took a furtive lick off the back of one after taking an extended pause to smell the wiggling thing. As he slipped the froglet back into his pouch, his associates could see his pupils expand almost to the outside of his eyes.


“My catch more pleasant. We go further.” He followed with.


They examined the strange line-paths in the swamp for a time carefully before deeming they were safe. They seemed to lead deeper and deeper into the swamp, often connecting areas of more solid ground. Shul urged that time was not on their side, so with all precaution they hurried from islet to islet in the swamp, looking for points of interest.


Coming to a particularly dry area of the swamp, a cobweb-like moss seemed to grow and hang from everything... snaking vines, the reeds, every rock and twisted branch. Off-center in this area they found a dome of thorny brambles almost thirty feet in diameter… deep within, they could see shiny blue and glassy fruits or pods growing in the heart of the bramble, Shul and Weome were instantly piqued by this discovery. Goefuran quickly proved his worth in cutting through the outer layers of the bramble, where even Shul was quickly repulsed by the raking mess of nail-like thorns, Goefuran swiftly cut, and by reflex held many whipping arms of the “HegPag” – or “Hedgehog”, as it were. Even with these best efforts Goefuran was raked time and time again, his non-dominant arm and hand began to glisten from scores of tiny cuts. Still, after a bit more effort he held the inner-most branches open, and allowed both the shaman and herbalist into the center of the plant to examine the shining bits within. All throughout nature there are examples of food and favor that yielded itself to whatever animal was devoted enough to curry it out. The nectar of this flower it turns out, was very sweet indeed. While not edible, the glassy seed-pods at the center of the bramble were hard as stone, and quite beautiful. Shaped like elongated eggs, they seemed to be absolutely lovely even as ornaments. Resembling a handful of sapphire but lighter than rock, in a Tyren’s hands the pods could be broken apart much like a pomegranate, the seams between the kernels only showing when fully separated. As such, the organic crystals could be broken into ever-smaller pieces… The adorners and embellishers of the craft wagons would LOVE these… more to the point, it was likely that they could be made or worked into very saleable objects, if not be sold on their own… If they had any other secrets, The herbalist could not tell, and Shul did not imagine he had the time to ponder. (New Commodity: Bramble Gem, +1 luxury)


They quickly loaded up a great basket of the things, (1 unit, or bushel) and resolved to note where they could see others deeper in the swamp but not readily accessible. Weome and Shul crawled out of the spiky dome giggling like they did as children, their backs packed with glassy pods, and their hands and fur slick with mud from dragging themselves about in the confined space.


“Two more island and we double back home” Shul tittered. His eyes twinkled but he re-located his center and returned to vigilance as they proceeded. A great hollow log gave more solid footing through a particularly slippery flat in the swamp, halfway through it broke at an upward angle with the ground, and the Tyren had to climb hand over hand. This tree was huge, it’s shell more than enough to fit them with room to spare… perhaps this was the same type of tree that grew so large on the coast, but fallen? Weome thought so.


Peering over the top of the log to the swamp beyond, they could see three reptilian hornless standing in the center of an area where the reeds seemed cut low… Two of them were brown and green in color, their skin appearing as alternating patterns of diamond-shaped and dark earthy patches – terminating in a snake-like head at the top, muscular arms protruded from a bulky and shiny torso (though perhaps not as mightily thewed as the Tyren observing them) – Below which was a serpentine body that seemed to hold up the rest of the creature as if on a pontoon, they slid around more like slugs than snakes – not undulating as much as it seemed they used the muscles outside their body to force their fluids powerfully down the length of them, seemingly gliding as if by hydraulic principles largely beyond the understanding of the Tyren that watched. Arching their necks they seemed to flick their tongues at the air… searching for something, and the Tyren could guess what that might be. Standing bipedally between the two snake-things was another type of hornless entirely – bright yellow for the most part, it had cyan scales running along it’s ventral side, under its bulbous newt-like eyes, and at various joints about its body. Its entire dorsal side was dominated by a blue-spined ridge running from head to tail, which as the Snake-things turned to the opening in the log suddenly flared up like a great pink sail along the back of the creature, intimidatingly boosting it’s apparent size. It’s jaw appeared to dislocate to burst forth a bristling phalanx of spiny teeth, it’s eyes and mouth weeping fluids as a pouch below its head began to flare and pulse, disturbingly.


Goefuran was already climbing over Shul to get on even ground with these things just as one of the snake-men pulled some kind of stick with a broken loop, the inside of which had pointed bits of graven stone – Tyren had seen such tools before… “man-catchers” the hornless called them.


The other snakeman closest to the Tyren unslung his quiver of sticks and dropped it on the ground behind him, advancing quickly and babbling and hissing in a manner more worried than aggressive. Behind him, his partner had slipped the man-catcher over the head of their crested friend, and was desperately trying to pull the thing away from the Tyren spying place, which is clawed and slavered at in a manner WHOLLY violent and brazen. The snake-thing sliding towards them had his hands out, making a gesture as if the push them away.


Shul could feel Goefuran unstrap his cleaver, but Shul interpreted the body language of other humanoids far better than most of his brethren. Any Tyren warrior would perceive an open handed pushing gesture as a challenge, a demand for a pitched fight in single combat. Goefuran could likely not be more wrong, Shul thought – and Shul practically stood on the Warriors head and pushed down on his leading hand with both arms to stay his attack before it might be too late…


…He was successful. Goefuran slid down the tree-truck to the ground below, taking three of the workers climbing behind him down with him and collectively breaking their falls. The snake-proceeded to push Shul down the chute as well, his tongue flashing with some odd nonsense that was on the very boundary of decipherable. It’s tone and manner was urgent, but beseeching… as if trying to conceal some great embarrassment to a guest.


“Ssssl Pa’aani, VARM –“ It placed its EXTREMELY cold and clammy hand over Shul’s wrist, pulling it away suddenly, as if it was very hot.


“Ssssl Pa’aani Varm sllst Tasoth KESH!”


Shul had NO IDEA what this bizarre thing was saying. It slid past him, coiling the end of its tail around his ankle as if to redouble his emphasis to pull him back the way he came.


“Pa’aani Ahmbra?!” Once they were all back at the bottom of the log-tunnel the shrieking and flailing of his frilly companion seemed to grow lower, and the struggle of his snake-kin to restrain it seemed to laxen as well, it then became distant, then subsided altogether.


The Tyren, most of them still coming to their feet, just stared at this new creature, who continued to babble, even as his back was turned to them and he seemed to be waving his hands up and down as if on unbalanced scales.


“Tasoth KESH VARM, Pa’aani VARM. Ssssoollliss Tasoth, shuk shliss!” It seemed exasperated and apologetic. It continually bobbed it’s head in beats of two to each of the Tyren in turn. An apology?


Shul did his best to put this mess together... the gesticulating of the creature helped a great deal in at least THEORIZING what this creature was talking about.


“Huh. We’re “Pa’aani” – whatever under the moon that means. Tall, bright, and crazy up there? He’s “Tasoth”… Tasoth goes nuts when he sees “VARM” – warm-bloods? Bobble-head over here is really sorry about that. Humph.”


“CAN SOMEBODY PLEASE TELL ME HOW I AM GOING TO EXPLAIN THIS TO ORM IN ANY WAY THAT HE COULD POSSIBLY BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND?”


Shul absent-mindedly pawed at his pouch and got a good bit of toad-stuff on his fingers, and began to agitatedly rub at his gums. He felt better.


The snake tilted it’s head at Shul’s exasperated exclamations, and continued his head bobbing.


“Pa’aani APSHAI??” he seemed to gesture towards the center of the swamp, as if bidding them to follow.


Shul duplicated the snake-heads bobble-skulled apology… dusk was coming. This native seemed keen on keeping them alive, but he was far from letting the sun set on his companions if it meant leaving their fates in his hands.


“Yeeeeeaahh… Pa’aani Apshai. But not now.” (points at the setting sun)


“Pa’aani come back with more daylight, and a whole mess of torches.”


The snake man continued to bobble-head as it slid backwards up the log-tunnel, it’s hands open the entire time – save for a moment when it patted for it’s back-quiver and seemingly recalling it left it in the clearing above.


“If we don’t want our bones to be bleaching in the sun tomorrow morning, let’s get back to the tribe and out of this bog as fast as our hooves can take us.”


Shul’s words were accepted without comment. Goefuran absent-mindedly licked at the wounds on his arm, and returned to the front of the line. Shul and the other workers hurried behind him, as Weome swooned shamelessly as she followed Shul back to the camp. Her sisters were going to get an earful of this story, to be sure.

 

[Beckoncall]

@SpiralErrant :


A large group of elder Tyren approach Orm, just as the Chief prepares to leave and rendezvous with the Elven leader in an attempt to make initial contact with the Gnolls...


"We elders have pondered in our revelry at the founding of Harun'taran -- we have also fire-gazed and leaf-smoked in contemplation of what our new fortune means, and how it relates to the old ways."


"You are preoccupied, Chief -- but we look to the sky and moon and it tells us that it is not enough that WE believe in Harun'taran -- we must make the hornless believe, as well. We propose a great feast day -- some of the wagoner's new wealth and coin will be purposed to this end. It will be a yearly festival where we proclaim the ships a caravan of the great blue, and invite the hornless to believe they travel with us in spirit, as well as in the sheeted sea-wagons. The caravan is no more -- we are one wagon, ever placed... but the others, are they not wagons too? Perhaps in this way we are still a caravan, only it has grown in scope with your dream of home, which we too now dream."


Another Tyren piped up, as if to check his comrade's enthusiasm.


"This does not mean we trust the hornless, but there is little doubt the wee-woods are our allies, and even before our arrival the hornless have come more in trade or in the name of cooperation than as else. We should encourage this trend, especially now that fortune gives us the 'speed' to do so."


(Elder Tyren request permission to spend 1 unit of personal wealth on a great feast for the elves and other hornless factions that crossed the blue.)

 

[Beckoncall]

GROCER'S GUILD IS FORMED!


DOMINANT FACTION: @SpiralErrant


Tyren join the Grocers Guild. They bring milk, cheese and mutton. Dedicating 2 skilled workers. (1 dedicated merchant and 1 skilled labourer who wished to become a dedicated grocer. (FACTION INFLUENCE +1 - if needed/desired, you now have the power to levy the market for funds. However, at the moment there is 0 wealth in the market.)


In addition, the most commonly used currency in the colony at present is "the silver Orm" -- (+1 FACTION INFLUENCE, for a total of +2)


RUNNER UPS: @General Deth Glitch


"Exhiles form Grocers Guild, We have Capybara, Shark and Nuts!" (FACTION INFLUENCE +1 - if needed/desired, you now have the power to levy the market for funds. However, at the moment there is 0 wealth in the market.)





@Heyitsjiwon


The Attolians are joining the Grocer's Guild. They bring Fat redwood blackbirds, they are bringing in 9 unskilled workers, and 5 skilled workers (merchants) to help the guild. (NO INFLUENCE GAINED, AS NOT MUCH FOOD TO CONTRIBUTE - if needed/desired, you now have the power to levy the market for funds. However, at the moment there is 0 wealth in the market.)


Morale of all factions in guild goes up as diet, health, and food security increases.


HOWEVER -- there is a distinct shortage of fruits and vegetables in the colony's diet. This is now strongly sought after to maintain happiness -- though the Tyren have wild grasses and sun-catchers to cover this weakness)


KEEP TRACK OF YOUR INFLUENCE, JUST LIKE YOUR WEALTH -- Influence will have an effect on events, and future resources like MANPOWER.

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

Caelis and his company were off on their way to the Tyren camp. As they walked northeast, they came across a small group of minotaurs in boulder fields, gathering stones. At the moment, it didn't seem like the stones would ever run out, but a few months of constant gathering and there would be a noticeable decrease in the amount of stone available. Still, for now, there was plenty of easy stone to pick, so he wasn't too concerned. The group continued to travel, and they came across a few more minotaurs once they arrived at the hills. One particularly stood out because that minotaur, instead of working like the others, seemed to be just sitting on a hill and enjoying nature. Still, that didn't matter much as Caelis simply gave a friendly wave at each minotaur that they came across.


@SpiralErrant


When the small group finally arrived at the Tyren encampment, Caelis asked his linguist to translate, which was no small feat as the linguist was only somewhat familiar with the language since minotaurs were not a very populous people in the old world. Caelis introduced himself as a lord from the Kingdom of Attolia, which the caravan may have conducted business at in the past, and asked that the two groups be able to maintain amiable relations in the new world as well. Caelis then asked for their leader Orm. However, a minotaur named Bruul seemed to indicate that Orm was not at the camp. Thus, Caelis was left to simply leave a message for the Tyren leader as he wanted to return to overseeing his people. His requests and proposals were simple.


1. Caelis offered the industrious Tyren the skills of his geologist to help identify where ores may be in the Shearcliffs, so that they would not have to rely on luck to find deposits and waste time. The Attolians would like to split the located ores 50/50.


2. Caelis also desired that the Tyren be more present at the Marketplatz where things seemed to be centralized. Thus, he requested that the Tyren consider making a small settlement/outpost at or near the Marketplatz so that it would be easier to coordinate among the different races at this colony. This, especially when considering that the Tyren were now a part of the newly formed Grocer's Guild, seemed to be a good choice for the Tyren and the colony as a whole.


3. Finally, Caelis also offered to have his Linguist teach the Tyren how to speak common so that it would be easier for all the colonists to communicate as a language barrier was extremely undesirable especially when this colony required its people to support each other for the hard times to come in the not so distant future.


With those terms communicated, albeit at a time-consuming matter with the Linguist needing time to convey the ideas, the group began walking back to their camp. As the small group walked Caelis asked his Linguist what he thought about the Tyren. He responded "A bunch of wild things especially with their runnic language system. However, they are not mindless, as I have had met minotaurs who spoke fluent common in the past. While they're certainly not the ideal dinner guest I could think of, they are a hardy, diligent people. If only they stopped acting like animals..."


Caelis nodded. He agreed with the general sentiment that the Linguist had of the Tyren. Still, the Tyren didn't seem to be an annoyance to the development to the colony. Yes, they were seemingly backwards in some things, and the language barrier was concerning. However, Caelis' own experiences with minotaurs were that they are hard working, and relatively honest. Those kind of neighbors were never bad to have around. Thus, with contact established with another group of colonists, Caelis was satisfied with the current progress being made.

 

[Beckoncall]

@Heyitsjiwon :


@Leusis


Orders:


“Something that could be harmful to the Wererats, but not to humans?” Doctor Flemming turned the words over in his mouth… Caelis’ suggestion must have a solution. Rigel the chemist, immediately spread a gigantic smile, before quietly uttering “Colloidal Silver! Colloidal silver – Were-creatures are notoriously vulnerable to silver and to a lesser extent other native elements… While a small amount… dissolved in food or drink, would be relatively if not completely harmless for humans. But how can we get a large enough quantity?!? Doctor flemming, you use colloid silver to cleanse your instruments, yes?”


“Perhaps enough, if we intend to perform all future surgery with rusty razors, Chemist.” Flemming sighed.


Anfel, Wood-elf Counselor to Lord Belanor, had dropped into the hold from above undetected, and pushed her way up to the host of soldiers flanking the men as they talked. “The humans are seething with disease, it would seem? Why is this even surprising?”


The soldiers turned and placed their gauntlets to their weapons, each of them startled but ready to fight. The elf behind Anfel slipped into the shadows. Anfel lifted slightly off the ground, energy crackling between her eyes, and between her boots. She spoke in a low and measured tone, addressing the Doctor and Rigel directly, ignoring the warriors that sought to bar her path.


“Stay your hounds, gentlemen – we have been sent by the Autumn Lord to help with your… rat problem… but by all means press your attack if it pleases you, and you shall see how a 'Doctor' of the Ancient Glade Bruig dies.”


“Stand down, men – Unlike our guest I am not one to let pride get in the way of cooperation. You are most welcome here, Wood Elf. Lend care however you feel you can.” Flemming said, his voice a calming force in the room.


“What do you need for this… ‘colloid silver’… this intrigues me.” Anfel began to walk the rest of the host into the chemists lab… as if she were at home there.


“Silver wire, Pure Water – cleaner the better, a bit of rigging… but it’ll take me days to build a power source… I have NO idea where I’ve put my Cadmium…” The chemist flopped open a tome with illustrations as he brushed piles of random fizbins and geegaws from the workstations.


Anfel’s assistant was already mantling up out of the cargo hold, she swung upside down to speak to Anfel before departing: “The Exiles have Silver coins from trading with the Tyren… I shall seize some in trade for some souvenirs those men might find attractive. I shall return.”


Anfel pulled a long barkskin glove from her hand, wiggling her fingers as if to count how many she had. “Any water I touch I can make pure, repairman of ape-flesh. And Power...” Anfels hands crackled with energy as she spoke… “That is one song I carry the tune for in this... ensemble. Tarry not mayfly, it would be a pity you die of old age before this task is complete.” Anfel pushed her silver hair away revealing a wry grin on one side of her face, the other side deadly serious.


“Four Hours” The Chemist replied. One for rigging, 3 to dissolve the silver and stabilize it in medium. Then what?”


“We tell Maeder to call a feast for all of his men at the inn – and we feed them all a meal prepared with trace amounts of silver fluid. Those most recently exposed will be cured outright – those in transition will become sick, and easy to quarantine until the cure takes effect or to dispatch if neccessary. Those fully changed – they may die outright, but we should be prepared to finish them off.” Flemming mused… was it really going to be this easy?


Anfel stepped past the chemist and began looking at the crude drawings, It seemed to her so clever – in the same way perhaps an armless man might tie a shoe. She flipped some pages. “It would appear you chemists like to pour acid on everything and watch what happens… is this the only way you know how to make nature surrender her secrets? ...Don’t answer. If you watch me carefully, you might learn something you can tell your grandchildren…”


The chemist sighed. In four hours the likely cure would be ready, and they would inform the leader of the exiles how to deliver it.


“We will be taking some of the colloid silver ourselves” Anfel stated flatly. “Innoculation vs. Lycanthropy could be valuable, not to mention what an ampule on the end of an arrow might do to a were-creature or other such monstrosity...”


The game was on… Now if only Dr. Flemming could take steps to prevent Arygaria… it might not do to turn the skin of ALL the exiles grey…


(New Commodity: Exiles, Attolians, Wood Elves gain 2 units of colloid silver)


Orders:


1. The Architect is to begin leading construction of buildings in the northern area of the Marketplatz. He has 20 unskilled workers under his supervision and 5 skilled workers.


“Invest I say!” Alred, the Architect hooted… absentmindedly twirling the one wisp of grey hair that remained on his head in front of his pint-glass spectacles… “we build a CRANE, and this whole side of the ‘platz is going to go up with a vengeance! You’ll see!”


His skilled underlings raced everywhere, Taking the delegations of the Architect to the workers with rapidity. In one day, the crane would be built. On day two, all loose stone they could pick up in the northeast ‘Platz would be loaded onto pallets. By day three, the materials would be moving virtually on their own leaving the team of workers solitarily directed at restoring structures. Would they had even more stone than they’d likely gather things could be even better… would they had twice the labor! (+1 cart of stone)


The Architect would likely not be disappointed. The gathering detail would likely bring more stone in the next three days than he likely expected… perhaps even moving up the construction timeline even further. The skilled workers “sliced the pie” for the job in the most efficient way possible… wasted effort for large or stubborn boulders would take deep backseats to “low hanging fruit” – Or was that low hanging brick? When the first plot was cleared, the men took rest on what they hoped to be new farmland. Many of the workers wistfully talked about how grand it would be to sow crops before the first summer rains came. Did it even rain here in the summer?” (+2 carts of stone, for total of 3)


As the men dreamed of their flourishing fields, they saw a wild-flower spring up, in moments, out on the fields… and four more in a dirt-pit which once held a boulder. A soft wind blew in the direction of the Tyren lands… a broken line of flowers seemed to pop up leading to the northeast-most part of boulder field…


3. The Engineer is to take 10 skilled workers and they are to begin investigating and explore more about the marketplatz such as trying to gain access to the jammed doors that lead to basements, the sealed temple, and the water system in place at the marketplatz.





“No warriors on this detail, so NOBODY TAKES NO RISKS FOR NOTHING!” Engineer Randall barked. “Every one of you is irreplaceable. Lord Caelis surely wants all his tools returned to him in working order! Do your best work for me, and tell me you’d have had ANY idea where you’d be in a year! This is my promise – if luck holds us, and we hold a hammer, then every bloody problem on this continent is gonna look like a NAIL!” The men set to work.


In one basement which might have apparently been a bronze-works, a series of 8 foot tall bronze statues, perhaps twelve of them, were seen slowly patina-ing from moisture – they looked to be of remarkable quality, material wise – but it was obvious that whatever décor or finishing was supposed to take place on them, never did. This was a good find just in the name of the metal as a resource, but if a little more love was given to them they might make a gorgeous complement to a home, square, or street…


(8 bronze statues +1 Luxury point, or 4 statues can make 1 cart of bronze)


A couple other basements revealed little more than cobwebs. The underground storage space made them prime locations for the first buildings the Attolians cared to make, though it was interesting that in one case it looked like the stairs and choke-points further in were blocked from the INSIDE, but dug out haphazardly from without. At the bottom of the under-area was a soil-floor room, with patches of wild growth growing under rays of light from cracks in the ceiling… The engineer had no doubt that this was at one point a Root Cellar.


“Looks like some people got stuck down here… lucky somebody seems to have came and got them, right?” The work detail mused together. One of them picked up the top part of a skull half-buried in the soil. “Indeed. Lucky for them.”


Under one of the hatches, a small shrine was found – two banks of 10 pews, which perhaps seated 40 people total. There was a dias on the far end, but it seemed the place was ransacked, or never finished… no holy symbol hung here… no tapestries, no mosaic, just a full two feet of accumulated dust. Still, a find.


As far west as the detail went, just beyond the fountain – was a potentially disconcerting find. The hatch was not new, but it was much more recently installed than anything in the ‘platz seen so far. It was also made of one solid piece of wood, and far thicker than it would seem necessary for such a portal meant for the inside of a house. The workers broke the hinges, and when they did they immediately heard the sounds of surprised scrabbling in the chambers below. Remembering what the Engineer said, they did not descend, but instead called a double detail and threw torches ahead of them when they were absolutely SURE there was no more activity below. Normal basement. A long guttered but fairly recent campfire covered the second landing of stairs down before they reached the room below, a full 3 flights down. On one side of the empty room below there was a hole dug in the wall, seemingly from the sewers beneath the ‘Platz INTO this basement… that is, most of the debris and brickwork had fallen or been pushed inward. In the dust and accumulated soot, strange wet footprints lead into the sewer tunnels… though the sewer tunnel on the other side looked bone dry – quite intact as well, it would seem. There was a pile of wood debris piled in the basement area – looking mostly like extremely old wood doors, rails and fittings from inside the sewer itself… firewood?


The engineers stuck their head into the sewer tunnel and saw the yawning darkness loom both ways down the tunnel, the brick wall on the other side of the tunnel barely lit by the caution of their torches.


They’d mark the sewer entrance here and file a report -- but if the sewers had even the possibility of danger, they'd want soldiers to stand with them. Just as they left, one of the workers kicked over some detritus and stepped on something soft… Encrusted with the dust and filth from his boot, it was unmistakably a crude doll… It’s fabric made of some kind of red hairy plant material with black fibrous stitching. It’s arms were cute and rounded, it’s head? Looked kind of like a Valentines heard, with two black nail-heads for eyes, similarly sewn in place.


If the sewers were inhabited, it wasn’t for these guys to find out. They covered the broken hatch with a large stone block, and put a bottle on it’s side on top of that. In the short term the hole was secure, and if somebody tried to move the stone, they’d have proof if there was broken glass…


Altogether, They found three entrances to the sewer in their rounds -- the basement they just sealed off, a large rusted (but intact) grating near the center of the 'Platz, and a hole on the northeast corner of the 'platz that just seemed to cave into one of the sewer tunnels. As best as they could assess, relatively clean water came into the sewers in small amounts in the east, probably slowed by damage and blockages below. By the middle of the 'Platz the water was filthy and slow running -- a perfect environment for the capybaras. By the time it reached the west side of the 'platz is was guessed that no water flowed at all... and least none yet seen... either the water was draining elsewhere or cave-ins and blockages kept those tunnels dry.


As for the "Temple"... that would be a problem for another detail to handle... they'd have their hands full with all they'd seen above. It just looked like a tough nut to crack...


4. 1 Sundered King is to take 5 soldiers to the eastern outskirts of the ruins to scout the area and see if there's anything valuable or notable. However, they are not to go too far into the ruins, just the outer region.





The men walked shoulder to shoulder in front of the heavy-barded cavalryman. The sky was cloudy, so thankfully the Sundered would not quite be BAKING in his armored-getup. Not wanting to view the ruins through a tiny slit, the Sundered flipped up his visor and observed the east perimeter of the ruins with his footmen. The streets were good ground for a scrap, he thought – his foes, if any, would be clustered like knocking-pins should he need to charge. Sweeping the outside there was signs of campfires and other non-permanent settling, that couldn’t be more than a few months old. Several streets were criss-crossed with strange footprints… armored boots, steel-shod shoes, and far more common tracks of a type they really couldn’t recognize… the soldiers even argued if they were humanoid or animal tracks… but they were all over the streets in the ruin as they scouted. In straight lines, at 90 degree turns, all around the ruin as far as they cared to go these strange tracks were there. Caelis had given word that his Oracle would help them in their search of the outermost area of the ruins... but they had waited long enough. They would proceed without her, and Caelis would be notified.


The outermost three most blocks' constructions were shaved from knee-height to half a story... house after house, building after building just shattered footprints of the layouts of buildings and their foundations. They could see a distance away from them like this, but there was plenty of intervening debris. A little further in, a mostly intact Mastaba-like structure could be seen on their left. It seemed to cover a broad marble stairway that lead straight down into the ground, which was clean – perhaps from rain cascading down the steps over the years. The steps were so long the horseman had no trouble trotting his steed down into the area below… the infantry-men still leading the way. At the base of the broad steps was a large enclosed amphitheater, the kind that would house plays and public forums, and seat over 300 people. On the theater floor lay 5 or 6 bleached and shattered skeletons… and all throughout the seating… innumerable piles of bones. The ones closest to the stairway (and thus the men) were scattered in the aisle and upon and before the rows of marble seating. At the farthest ends of the venue it seemed some skeletons were even sitting intact, held in place by armor worn, or propped on the seating in front of them. The infantrymen lit torches, which did little more than cast eerie shadows throughout the enclosure. They wondered if what leveled the city had been at least partially shielded by this amphitheater… it looked like a packed crowd. 300 or so souls… and not a whisper between the men all wondering how all these lives might have been snuffed out at once in some cataclysm...


The Sundered King heartened his comrades. “Must have been a hell of a show, lads… but whatever it was I think we missed it.” He reeled his horse around and they returned to the streets. Another block in there seemed to be several rows of tracks or drag-marks… leading to another covered structure, a walled Agora of some kind with a covered marble edifice inside. The high walls, surprisingly intact relative to the flattened building footprints around it, cast long shadows inside the enclosure, where it seemed numerous skeletons lay or sat propped against them... but seemingly disproportionately laying in shadow.


The Sundered King slowly spurred his horse forth… the horse would never likely break, but his rider could tell it was agitated. The infantry followed the rider into the enclosure, a place where likely innumerable stalls once sported wares.


Inside, innumerable skeletons stood… as if waiting, silently, for some bell to ring. A particularly tall skeleton, clad in armor and leaning against one of the many pillars in the Agora… turned its head on the horse’s entry. Other skeletons began to turn their skulls towards the entrance… whether they lay sprawled on the ground, sitting against the walls, or on their knees on impossibly tattered rugs spread with filthy, rusted, corroded wares.


The soldiers held firm, waiting for a prompt from their Cavalryman in command…. The Sundered King had to wonder if this was what Caelis would consider “too far” into the ruins… and wondered equally if it was time to lower his visor…


Meanwhile, the seer had not caught up to the detachment searching the ruins… the fountain seemed to call to her, and since Caelis had indicated it as something she should investigate, she let the subtle pull of the fountain lead her onward. For a moment she closed her eyes and saw the street leading into the fountain square as it once must have been – buildings of gleaming marble, fountains, painted statues of various assortment… as she walked forward the sun fell on her face through a part in the clouds and she was snapped from her vision – still in a ghost town, but now the ruin as it was. Upon entering the square… a voice seemed to whisper from the fountain. Straining to hear it, she drew ever closer… until she laid her head on the outer rim of the fountain itself…


“Regard me…” The fountain seemed to plea.


“And if I do?” Cassandra asked –


The voice grew almost imperceptibly louder. “You can hear me… almost the very last of my power, I wasted calling to men who just walked away… I am on the boundary between worlds – Regard me, for without belief I can have no dominion… no place in this world…”


“Very well – I Regard you…” Cassandra replied. The voice grew slightly louder.


“I was pulled from… oh… what word would encapsulate it for your fragile mind… Tartarus – we shall call it Tartarus. A prison for Titans, fallen gods, and the agents thereof when gods ascendant deem that the beings who helped forge their creation become a threat to their power. So much else is fragmented. I somehow offended a Divine being when the current age was new. Later, I was worshipped, then forgotten, I was honored again, much later, and then too forgotten… now, with almost nothing left… you and your others appear… perhaps my tie to this world can be strengthened… I am not sure what I can offer you, even my memory is fragmented to the very final degree – but in ages past I had purpose, I was a valuable ally… I could be so again, If you would only bring me to greater notice! Believe…”


Cassandra was wary. Of affairs of mortals she could often see much, predict many futures – she had never come into contact with an entity of this kind… At the moment, it seemed at the brink of death – and if she were to wish it away or curse it perhaps indeed it would be gone. However, in her mind’s eye she could feel the power that this entity once wielded, and could yet wield again. She would have to tell Caelis Immediately.


The voice grew softer… pleading once again… “Belief. Sacrifice. Honor me… I am starving. Become my Prophet, and I shall serve in the name of any deity or lord you might choose. Attach me to something greater… any power, if even your prayers alone. You are a seeker… I can feel it… we have so much to show one another…”


Cassandra lifted her head from the cold stone of the fountain, and heard no more… she would run back to Caelis… at once.

1. The falconer has 5 skilled workers (hunters/people with experience in dealing with animals), to begin catching birds.
   

“Where are we going?” Stopping their dice game, the pack of squatting hunters looked up to the falconer, and rose to their feet… one of them stopping only a moment longer to swipe up the pot with a laugh and grin.


@SpiralErrant:


Holt, The Falconer Shrugged. "Caelis didn’t say, boys – that means he’s trusting us to know what in blood and fire we’re doing. We shall endeavor not to disappoint." They headed north first – just enough to get out into the fields and away from the ruins. Taking the hood off his falcon, he cast it skyward and it made a wide loop overhead – weaving above the boundaries of Boulder-field, shadowfields, and the hills of the Tyren beyond. The hunters saw there was a cluster of birds on a hill well north of them… a seeming flock of them gathered around what they first thought was a statue, but upon closer inspection saw it to be a hulking hooded form with massive horns. There was talk of minotaurs that way… indeed Caelis had gone out to meet them -- but it was still strange for the hunters to behold one. It sat as would a mayor to the birds of the field… The falcon did not miss the fact that seemingly all its quarry had gathered in one place below it. Before the falconer could call it back, it descended directly for the minotaur and the mass of birds around it…


As it neared the ground – High Shaman Ummush held out a single massive finger out for the falcon – it swooped down, and landed on this calloused digit – such an event would've shred the flesh of a regular human, but Ummush barely felt a pinch as it gently landed. The bird would not seek to hurt him… unless perhaps directed to do so. The birds that hopped around in his presence did not react to the presence of the raptor – it was as if Uumush quieted the nature of all the animals as he rested.


He turned his massive head slowly to look the bird in the eye. It too turned to look at him, barely aware that its master was calling to it…


…And then it took flight again, wheeling back to the glove of the falconer. Holt was puzzled by this, but he was not about to antagonize a minotaur – he would take his hunters elsewhere. Ummush went back to his quiet contemplation. This new group of hornless... at least their animals seemed to speak well of them. He would pass this information on to Orm when a moment permitted... Information worth knowing... To a Tyren this could be one of the best indicators for what Tyren considered "sense."


Where the cliffs met the great redwoods, there was better hunting for birds. While the falcon strangely would not go near one of the great redwoods, it repeatedly dove through the upper branches of the other two… at times it could fell several corpulent blackbirds in one pass… and after harrying the flock enough, great squadrons of them could be chased closer to ground where the hunters could get to them. What at first seemed like a bust rapidly turned around to a bumper-crop of blackbirds… Holt and the hunters could only wonder what in the high canopies could have made them so plump!


(Food source discovered: Fat Redwood Blackbirds)

 

[SpiralErrant]

@Beckoncall


Orm listened to the elders give out their smoke inspired thoughts. He hadn't even considered something like that but they did a good of selling it to him. He remembered wanting to do something like this after their big fight with that sea monster but the cramped conditions of the ship hadn't allowed it. Now they all had more food and space than they knew what to do with. Yeah, the wee-woods had proven themselves solid allies and though they didn't have close relations with the beach folk they seemed like a good sort. Just trying to get by the same as them and they'd proven to have a trustworthy word so far. Maybe this would be a good chance to bring the three crossing groups that remained even closer together. Orm had told himself to do that when they started, those strong ties could only help the herd heart.


["Aye! Aye sounds like a stompin' good idea there. And good on all of you for offering to fund it. We'll talk on this properly once I'm back from the woods, gotta see how this plays out first."] Orm nodded enthusiastically, giving the lead elder a pat on the shoulder before he and Rahg took their leave. He wondered if they should invite the new hornless he'd heard about, just to be polite. Orm knew chieftain types could take invitations like this very seriously. It always made large caravan gatherings a great pain.

*****

​

@Heyitsjiwon


With no one else to meet them it was up to Bruul to put his best foot forward and represent the tribe. His first bit of diplomacy in their newly named settlement, it was all pretty exciting, he even slicked back some of the stray fur on his head to be smart. He may not have been as fancy with word play as Shul was but he'd spent years living among the hornless in his youth and he could proudly boast a good knowledge of humans and their ways. Granted, the rougher ways more than most. These ones looked to be the fancy kind but he could greet them nicely enough.


Only they beat him to it! As one of the scrawnier hornless practically bellowed a hello at Bruul in his mother tongue. ["Greetings! We are children of Attolia! This is Chief Caelis..."] The rest of it just kind of washed over Bruul. At first he was pleasantly surprised to hear a hornless that had actually taken the time to learn his native language, however crudely. Then he noticed how the lead one that they named Caelis was saying the words first and giving them to his man to pass on in fragments the same way Orm did with Shul.


'Do they... they think I can't understand them? Okay then.' Bruul could go with that. He wasn't so stuffy yet that he couldn't have some fun with the hornless and besides, this could prove a crafty trick. In the past he'd played dumb just to avoid annoying conversations with fellow mercenaries but he'd also learned that folks let their guard down around you when they thought you couldn't understand them.


So dumb he played. Mooing and grunting along with them, drawing in the ground, tilting his head in confusion here and there. Bruul felt it wasn't boastful to admit that he judged himself a FANTASTIC actor. In another life he'd have been strutting the stage boards, if only he weren't heavy enough to fall right through them. This got less fun as he heard out the message they had to leave.


The offer of using their metal hunter man in exchange for half of what they found.


That sounded a lot like the mine labor work they used to hire their boys out when they passed through mining towns to Bruul. Only they'd already found themselves some metal from what he'd been told. True they hadn't brought back much but those doing it were confident they were close to a good load. Sounded like a poor deal to Bruul.


Then came talk of the Tyren moving closer to the market town.


That one didn't sit well with Bruul. They were already closer to the massed human settlement than a lot of the tribe felt comfortable with and it took their grocer folks less than a day to travel to it even with a wagon of goods. Besides they still had their tents if over night stays were needed or there was that fancy inn the ship dwellers had made, which was easily the fanciest public house the minotaurs had ever been given access to. Moving for a solid setup sounded foolish to Bruul's ears and arrogant on the part of this pompous little human. 'Typical hornless. What's good for them must be best for all.' But what really rubbed him the wrong way was how it sounded like an ultimatum. One they'd heard so many times. To move on, leave where they were and go somewhere else because these hornless said so. Even if this Caelis didn't mean it that way, that was how it sounded to Tyren ears and Bruul wasn't the only one within earshot through these thin tent walls.


Besides that... it just sounded so STRANGE. Here they were meeting for the first time and right out of it they were saying the Tyren should move their people around. Clearly this one was far too used to having every word obeyed. 'Well they are from Attolia.'


And finally he wanted to offer them this straw stuffed rag man to teach the Tyren the common language so they might talk better.


It took all Bruul had not to snort in outright disdain at that one. First they talk about moving their merchants and now they wanted to shove their language on them. It was downright condescending! 'Shove food down a mouth that's full and it'll just get spat out again.' You didn't have to be a shaman to work out that there were better ways of attracting students.


The only bull in this camp that needed language lessons was their chief. Apparently this lead hornless had lead just as sheltered a life as their blood-touched charger. The others had been through plenty of times when they had to communicate with folks of other races in one way or another. Some had some basic common under their belt already, maybe not as good as Bruul or Shul but they got by. Bruul would have taken a bet of silver right now that these hornless didn't even know the trade tongues. Maybe he was being overly judgmental but to hell with it! This whole meeting had soured his mood.


Bruul told these blue coats that he'd pass on all they'd said to Orm when he got back. They'd kept it as brief as they could and all of them left the tent together, stepping out into the middle of the camp. Bruul said he'd walk them to the far hills as they went home, at least he could be civilized. He went on quietly as the humans talked among themselves... and then he heard it.


"If only they stopped acting like animals..."


And Bruul felt his entire body tense. He had heard that insult so many times he'd lost count. Yet it never lost its sting. He tried not to let it show, as if they could read his face anyway. That was all the hornless cared to see and all they saw was an animal. He walked them to the far hills and waved them goodbye, reminding himself he was to be a diplomat.


He walked through the open for a little, taking the time to calm himself and resist the urge to unleash a punch on the next thing unlucky enough to cross his path. Not that there were any animals or people about anyway. In fact there was a strange lack of them. That was when he noticed a thick collection of birds fluttering around on spot and he knew exactly why.


Bruul found Ummush doing his usual thing and sat down next to him with a heavy thud, causing some of the birds to scatter and fly away.


["Attolia."] He growled. Ummush didn't say anything in response, as was his way but the word carried good weight for both of them. ["Of all the things that could have followed us across the great blue it had to be those..."] Bruul couldn't finish it. He let out a nasty, frustration filled snort and set to scratching at the back of his neck. The two of them sat in silence after that.

 

[Beckoncall]

@Leusis @SpiralErrant @General Deth Glitch :


"Meet the Natives"


Maeder’s men quietly moved with purpose towards the rally point in the hills that Belanor indicated was where their "diplomatic mission” was to begin. The sun was going down but the plan was supposedly to make contact with a clandestine patrol… so they supposed it made sense. Maeder’s countrymen had rubbed charcoal on their weapons and parts of exposed skin to hide them better in the dark. If stealth was called for, it would not be their fault that they were detected.


Coming up upon the rally hill, they saw Orm and a massive, scar-torn minotaur in repose under the moonlight, sitting in the grass. Thirteen elves revealed themselves in unison – all around them… if the action was meant to inspire confidence, it had the opposite effect… Wood elf feats of stealth made the Exiles nervous… only Maeder instead seemed amused – perhaps because for a change it was not him jumping out of the terrain and scaring people…


The task force fell in line allowing Belanor and his men to take point, Maeder and 10 countrymen followed as close behind as the elves felt comfortable, which wasn’t very close at all. Behind them, Orm and Rahg did their best to pantomime the stealth of the smaller humanoids, but it was a losing game. With nearly every step some litter would snap or their hooves made audible crunches in the terrain. This was already getting interesting…


Moments later, they began to pass the Herdsmen slingers and a few Tyren warriors on guard on the colony’s side of the bridge. Surveying carefully, Belanor and the Winterborn could see that just as the Tyren recognized the strategic significance of the bridge, this fact had not escaped the Gnolls either. A substantial number, perhaps three patrols, were camouflaged in the tree-line on the opposite bank of the river. The elves took steps to mask the scent of the humans and Tyren, applying a compact of grassy mulch which actually seemed to do the trick… but there was no way they were going to get the Tyren across the bridge without detection, and even the humans were a tall order. The elves were not about to shy from a challenge however…


Belanor and his elves managed to sneak across the bridge, and his glade guard were able to get into positions in the trees above the gnolls position. Making a diversion deeper in the woods, Eteel and Jareel lured two of the three patrols away from their position and deeper into the wood… in the confusion and shuffle of the movement of patrols, Maeder and his men were actually able to cross the bridge stealthfully and take cover in the brush and rocks on the far side of the river.


There was no way the Minotaurs would cross the bridge undetected… However Belanor had his isolated patrol. When the winterborn circled back to Belanor’s side, they presented themselves as was decided to the Gnolls, if things turned ugly at least there were more Tyren nearby if things became more… “conventional.”


Surprising perhaps to virtually no-one, the gnolls did not wait to be addressed when confronted by armed wood-elves pointing deadly weapons at them. They drew their flails and crude blades, and Howled a warning to split the night. Belanor wouldn’t have had to make the signal even if he had decided to with-hold the command – the Gnolls were trying something, and the Glade guard ventilated them utterly. Before Maeder’s men could even spring from the brush, five Gnolls did not so much as lie dead as they were propped on the infamous “Archer’s Thicket” – riddled with so many arrows they were fixed upright where they should have fell.


With no-one to witness them, Orm and Rahg, perhaps with slight resignation to the situation at hand, stomped as gingerly as they could across the creaking wooden span. The party converged on what remained of the patrol, steam rising from the multiple holes that vented their fading body-heat into the descending cool of night as it fell.


“Well, do you think they speak common?” Guffawed one of Maeders countrymen.


“If they did, we’ll never know and they sure as the High Fires never will again.” Replied another.


The wood elves could already hear the distracted patrols making their way back to the crossing… The task force of men and Tyren stood around the fallen patrol, the glade guard still in their positions in the trees.


…One of the malnourished-looking mud-covered Masked-wearers stepped into view from their place hidden in the brush where they must have watched the scene unfold. His open-mouthed grin and lolling tongue was as obvious sign of merriment at the current state of affairs. It spoke slowly, so it’s broken and bastardized common had a fair chance of being understood.


“Horned one want meeting sabotaged… So well you do that for me.”


The little bastard then threw a javelin for the second time Rahg had the displeasure to witness. The scarred Tyren recognized the voice, and anticipated the familiar challenge. Before the missile hit the ground behind him, he had charged into the reach zone of his massive bull-iron weapon and split the slimy imbecile from head to crotch where he stood. A cloud of steam rose at once from the corpse and the smell of elven blood pumped into his nostrils.


The other Gnolls were coming, and Eteel and Jareel were already gesturing to Belanor that a number of other Mask-folk were also TRYING to conceal themselves a bit downriver of their position.


The alarm had gone up on their side of the river… more minotaurs were moving in, no doubt moon-bent on protecting their chief. A handful of Tyren Slingers stood on their side of the river, swinging their leathers and waiting for any target to present itself… the situation was escalating, and showed no sign of slowing down.


Soon… A battle would be joined right where three of the leaders were standing…

 

[Beckoncall]

@SpiralErrant :


Baumong was FURIOUS. He had heard Bruul's exchange with the Attolians, and had a similar interpretation of the exchange with them as did the Shaman of the second ring. The "Feast of Great Caravan" was initially his idea, and he felt woefully embarrassed that not only he but his PEERS as well thought far less of the idea now. Baumong was leader of the craft-wagons, and was taking this very personally. Even if he had a mind to preserve the idea, the rest of the craft-elders talk had well burned the idea to the ground.


"THERE WILL BE NO FEAST, IF MY WORD MEANS ANYTHING IN THIS NEW ORDER!" He bellowed.


Things were changing rapidly for the Tyren, it was no doubt sobering for this sentiment to come crashing full-on with how much things had stayed the same it appeared with relation to the hornless...


It looked almost as if Baumong would kick the council fire into the plains beyond the wagons... but then the alarm ripped through the Tyren camp. A handful of herdsmen ran towards the bridge, while the rest of them prepared to guard their livelihood.


"Do not move the craft-wagons until ordered to do so by the Cheiftain!" Baumong roared again.


"DO NOT THINK FOR A MOMENT WE SHALL MOVE HRUN'TARAN!"

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

When Caelis returned to the marketplatz, he could see the progress that the building team had already made. While things were far from finished, his architect and the builders were doing a fantastic job. However, he soon saw a familiar concerned face approach as he walked into the settlement. Lady Cassandra spoke "We need to speak, privately." The two then walked a fair distance from the marketplatz into boulder field, but as they walked Caelis noticed the odd trail of flowers that led to the northeast. The line was too much of a coincidence to ignore, but for now Caelis had to talk with Lady Cassandra. When they were safely out of ear's reach, Lady Cassandra spoke up "I looked into the fountain. I don't know the exact way to say this, but a... forgotten deity resides there."


Caelis was surprised. He wasn't exactly sure what to say in fact as a silence fell between the two. For now all he could ask was "Is it a benevolent being?" Lady Cassandra replied "I don't know. It is on the verge of... "death" from being forgotten so long. It's powers and limited and so are it's memories, but once it was a powerful being. It asked for us to worship it and said that it could be a great ally." Caelis was unprepared to deal with such a spiritual being of that nature. He himself was never that religious. Perhaps, it was because the gods of the old world seemed to never be as direct as those here. However, he now faced a problem, a god was asking for help, but what kind of god was this being in the fountain? It could prove to be a divine protector of his people, but at the same time it could be a death sentence for his people and everyone from the old world.


Caelis saw a few options. He could ignore the god and wait for it to lose all presence in this world. Alternatively, he could perhaps try to limit the god's growth and see if he could learn more about the god before he became significantly powerful again, but was it wise to meddle in the matter of gods? Caelis did not know. Thus, he said "I want to speak with this being before I make any decision, but what do you think Lady Cassandra?" as the two began to walk towards the fountain so that Caelis could try to speak with this being.


---


When the two returned to the Marketplatz, Caelis ran into his brother who had just arrived from his meeting. It seemed like it went pretty well. However, soon after their reunion, Randall, the Engineer, came running to the two and told them of their discoveries, but most importantly the sewers and how there appeared to be some people who lived in the sewers. Lothar joked "Well then, it seems that we have neighbors! Well then, we should at the very least go say hello." Caelis nodded. The presence of beings in the sewers were concerning since there were so many potential entrances and exits in the marketplatz, and they hoped to have running water set up using the infrastructure. They would have to deal with this as this was not something that could be ignored. Caelis looked at Lothar and said "For now, let's try to make them think that we're not hostile. But, I want a constant watch of 5 soldiers around the area." Lothar nodded as he then proceeded to give orders to the 5 soldiers who had escorted him before.


Caelis then turned to Randall and said "Could you go back to the basement where you heard all that movement and leave some trinkets, coins and food? Hopefully, they'll come back to that basement and see the gift soon. I'll have soldiers make an expedition down there soon, but I don't want to start off on the wrong foot when we first meet them." Randall nodded and went back to his men.


Lothar then turned to Caelis and said "This place is rather strange. There's ruins that stretch far to the western horizon. There's been a lot of people here before." Caelis nodded "Question is, what happened to them? Hopefully, Sir Gaston's expedition into the ruins will provide some clues. Speaking of strange... the workers are talking about flowers that are popping up in bolder field, which is strange in itself. But, stranger yet is that the flowers seem to all be in a line... a trail of some sort that lead to the north east. Could you take 5 soldiers again and go see what this trail is about? Apparently, soon after they lift the rocks, flowers literally pops out of the ground." Lothar replied "Of course, I want to see more of the land as well." he then left to explore this flower trail.


With those pressing matters now dealt with, he returned his attention to Lady Cassandra and continued to walk to the fountain to meet with this "God of the Fountain".


Summary:


The building team keeps doing what it's doing.


Caelis asked Lady Cassandra for her opinion on the fountain god.


5 Soldiers are now guarding/patrolling the settlement.


The Attolians are leaving small trinkets, coins and food at the basement where they first had interaction with whatever lives in the basement.


Lothar and 5 soldiers and exploring the strange trail of flowers that popped up in Boulder Field.


Caelis is walking to the fountain to speak with this god himself.


---

Inside the Ruins

​

Sir Gaston pulled in the reins of his horse and brought the horse to a complete stop. Something fool was afoot, anyone with eyes that worked could tell as animated skeletons stirred in this accursed place. The drag marks seemed to make a lot of sense all of a sudden now that he had entered the agora. There really only seemed to be one solution to the situation, run.


Sir Gaston barked "Retreat! Double pace, lads! Stick together in a wedge! I'll clear the way if anything blocks us, so keep close to me! We'll break through any skeleton comes across our path!" as he led his horse back out into the street. The streets while narrow, would be a boon to these men after all it limited the number of fighters that the men had to fend off and in those situations the heavily armored soldiers fared much better.


The narrow roads were a place where these men shined at, at least against mortal foes. This wasn't a normal enemy. Still, some of the basics still applied. Sir Gaston believed that these skeletons would likely be brittle and easily be crushed with enough force. So, he planned to charge into the skeletons if they ever blocked their path in order to break their ranks and allow the infantrymen to push through the gap that Sir Gaston made by following close behind his charge. Hopefully, they would be able to get back to the settlement to warn everyone of the evil that rested within a mere kilometer away, as the bird flew. But, would they be able to fight off a true army of these things if they were to follow them back to the settlement? Sir Gaston wasn't sure. The only thing that he was sure was that next time, he would sure as hell listen to his horse more.


---

The Marketplatz

​

Dr. Fleming came to the marketplatz. It seemed that the were rat issue would soon be solved as long as nothing unexpected happened. That said he had to remain vigilant. At this point, he was treating the situation like a plague. Everyone had to be inspected, and the newly arrived Attolians were no exception. Even if one person were to have been infected, then there would be no telling what that chaos that could cause. He was given the duty of dealing with the were-rats, so he would see it through to the end. Dr. Fleming looked at the soldiers that were escorting him the entire time and said "Gentlemen, our job is not yet over. I want to inspect every single Attolian as well." He then led the men towards the settlement so that he could make sure that despite the short period of contact that no one among the Attolians were affected as well.

 

[Leusis]

This encounter had definitely not proceeded as Belanor had hoped. Not only were the gnolls put down due to their belief that they were under attack, something that was Belanor's fault, as he was the one who had come up with it. But as well as this, one of the masked men the Tyren had talked about emerged and challenged one of Orm's warriors. Of course the massive bull easily struck him down, but that was when thing became more disturbing. Moving closer to the vanquished foe Belanor could easily tell. This being was of elf lineage, though far removed from a pure blood, and not only this but it adorned itself with the bones of not only elves, but humans and gnolls as well. A pit forming in Belanor's stomach he would turn to the others who had followed him across the river, waving his hand to gesture for them to go back across the bridge. "All of you, go back across the river and stand down. This was not how this was intended to play out and I will take responsibility, however if they attack, I wish for the Glade Guard to cover my escape, but do not aim your arrows to kill, only to stop them from chasing. Eteel and Jareel, I want the two of you to remove the life from those masked men down river, they are the true enemy, take a few warriors with you if you find it necessary".


Waiting for the others to cross the bridge Belanor would stand quite a distance from the treeline, keeping on guard incase the gnolls or masked ones wished to attack him while he was alone. It was in the open that he would wait, keeping any kind of weapon out of his hands, hoping that the gnoll patrols would return so he could try and speak with them. If they did not attack immediately he would slowly, in the least agressive manner as possible draw one of his swords, gently placing it on the ground in front of him as he took a knee. Trying to show the gnolls who likely did not understand common that he meant no harm. From the little bit of gnoll speech that he understood he tried to convey that it was an accident, as the gnolls they encountered drew their weapons and Belanor and his kin were forced to respond with violence. He also tried to convey that they meant no harm and that it was a misunderstanding and that Belanor was willing to speak with their leader to make up for the deaths he had caused. His reasoning for doing all of this was simple. He understood why the gnolls were watching outsiders now, and why they seemed so concerned with finding the patrols Belanor had been sent into their forest. They were not the agressive faction in this forest, they were afraid that these new people were like the masked ones, that if they were discovered that they would be attacked. The bones that the masked man adorned himself with were evidence of this, it seems he had taken trophies, as if he and his people hunted the gnolls. The gnolls were not the true enemy, but instead it was the primitive elf-like race that lived within the gnolls forest.

 

[SpiralErrant]

This whole thing just felt embarrassing. Orm and Rahg were forced to swallow their pride as the elves smeared them in mulch and they tried to tip on toes that they didn't have. Now more than ever Orm could feel the unseen eyes in the forest. Stealth was not his strong suite and it never would be, at best the two of them could hope they wouldn't make the ground shake too much when they took a step. They made their way through the camp - no Hrun'taras - where it brought Orm some small comfort to see their eager slingers and fighters still guarding near the bridge. If things went badly wrong then help wouldn't be far away.


None of this felt right. Stealth was the death of diplomacy, if they wanted to speak then Orm would have entered the open space before the woods and called for the gnolls to meet him plainly. Yet the elves had sent scouts all through these woods and knew more of the dogs than he did, Orm hadn't even seen or heard from them until a few nights ago, they were the ones in the know here so he'd trust their leader's judgment. Besides, he'd had enough nasty encounters with gnolls to know to be wary of them. Not that he ever got to meet people when things went well. Still... the doubt wouldn't leave him.


Even as he watched the others disappear into the dark. ESPECIALLY then!


'Maybe we should have just done this ourselves.'





It felt like they had been waiting all night when an ear splitting howl pierced the night. Orm and Rahg looked at each other. That was their signal to step in if ever there was one. The two of them gingerly stepped onto the smooth rounded surface of the tree bridge. Wide as it was it still made Orm feel on edge. They'd have to make a new bridge if they lived through this. He'd bet having toes would have felt pretty nice about now.


By the time they got there it was long done. The gnolls were on clear display and looking more like blood soaked hedgehogs. ["No! No. Son of a mule, no!"] Orm growled trying to ignore the thick scent of blood in the air.


["That's not surprising. Dogs only know one language."] Rahg seemed more disappointed that he'd missed it than anything.


The group was still trying to work out a plan when a newcomer arrived on the scene.


“Horned one want meeting sabotaged… So well you do that for me.”


It was baring its teeth in some lurid fashion and Orm could grasp half of what he said. His mind was too frantic to focus enough on grasping at words. Some details stood out to him though. Horned one, it said horned one and wore a mask like how Rahg had told him. It was just as Orm was starting to put things together when Rahg pretty much gave him an answer and slashed the mask man wide open.


["That was the ones from the river, wasn't it?"]


["Damn right it was!"] Rahg said, all triumphant. ["Little shit thought to step to me, did he? Well this is mine now, fisrt named kill and all!"] He yanked the mask from the corpse's face and held it high like the trophy it now was. Both the tyren could smell the elfiness in the blood that had sprayed into the air though only one of them seemed to care about it. Mostly because it was like a thousand needles in Orm's self control. The burst of action, the sound and rush, the smell. The blood was calling to him.


'Not now, not now!'


["Give me that!"] Orm snapped, snatching the mask from Rahg's hand. ["And get moving, we need to get out of here."] The elf was issuing for people to get out of the forest and back across the river. On that at least they were of the same mind, they needed to get out of lands the gnolls could control and ambush them. They'd need the body too. Orm and Belanor seemed to be thinking the same thing and if it was to work then they'd need a clear display.


The minotaur shouldered the eviscerated corpse as their party made a dash for the river. The sound of padded paws was not far off. It was when they got to the bridge that Orm gave his next order. ["Rally the others... and go get Shul and Bruul!"] He snarled through panted breaths. Words, they needed words and those two were their best shot of speaking and fighting their way out of this. Orm didn't cross the bridge with the others, he stayed with the elf, planting the dead mask elf's body down for all to see in the clearing so the gnolls would have to see it before they got to them. He still held the mask, it should all have sent a clear message that they had crossed blades with a shared enemy. It was the clearest way Orm could think to send that message.


Orm stuck near the front. The two shaman could escape behind him if they had to, with covering fire from the slings and the archers. And that was the most strategy he could think of right now. The blood was scratching at his mind as it had done so many times before. But he'd fight it back and command it just as he'd done so many times before. But it had been so long since he'd let it out, too long. The flood gates were threatening to open but if they did they'd do it at his word, at his wish! And he'd let them flood over any gnoll fool enough not to back down.


Until then he'd try. He had to try for peace or he'd never be able to meet his ancestors for shame.

 

[Beckoncall]

@Leusis :


"Bow to the woodsie lord, and offer up your flesh eyes so that our eyes of ice may see..."


"...Breaketh bane and time and wind and song, and sing to him an anthem of blades that shall root in earth and shine each year in Rime and Rhyme"


"Fools and man-things spring each moment, and with every turn the Winter shall bring them to the ground, to rest."


"To us, every second is the year -- To us, every foe's spring is an invitation to harvest it in it's fall... and in the end, only the winter shall remain..."


"...In silence."


-- Song of Winter Vengeance Twinned, by Anfel of Ancient Glade Bruig; First season of landfall-new.


The Twins of Winter:


“Eteel and Jareel, I want the two of you to remove the life from those masked men down river, they are the true enemy, take a few warriors with you if you find it necessary".


The brothers grinned. Tonight there was to be a fight they’d been hoping for since first setting foot on that accursed ship. Jareel’s eyes, like cracked ice, shined with the scope of Belanor’s orders.


Eteel could see where this was going – and raced after his brother without pause. There would be no taking the glade guard if he hoped to keep up. Where Jareel would take him this night he doubted any of the glade guard would return… leaves and branches fell in slow motion ahead of him as he flew forward, legs pumping to catch his loosed kin – he sought to pass each leaf fallen ahead before they hit the ground… “steady, keep pace, and you will catch him” Eteel could hear himself thinking.


Too late so far. The six would-be ambushers, masked ones all, had been descended upon by the winterborn and hacked to pieces. Eteel vaulted over the still-steaming bodies and kicked against a tree behind him, landing in a small clearing where his brother already exalted in unrestrained slaughter. The woods were thick, but they could see the masked ones were running past them on either side, a great many streaming north they supposed to collide with the gnolls.


Eteel somersaulted ahead, coming to his feet back to back with his brother – heading north into them, a steady stream of masked-ones began to stack up against the whirling blades of the Winterborn. Jareel was show-boating – by keeping his back to the north he denied Eteel a “Zone of Control” where the masked-ones piled in, at least if Eteel meant to cover his brother's back in the manner Jareel intended. If his brother had any plan at all, it was a smart move to try to stick with it. Things were happening quickly… it was amazing how much one could get done in the span of a breath if one was truly determined…


So he was to face north – fine. Throwing his daggers casually to the right he pinned the body of a masked-one to a tree as it attempted to run past him. In the same fluid motion he dug one heel into the ground and rested his back on his brother behind him, lending him strength and weight against his tide of melee attackers just as he braced, breath held, for volley after volley of arrows into the backs and heads of the scum who sought to bypass them. He did not look behind him, but listened to the tempo of lopping noises versus the clatter of his brother’s steel when it met opposition.


Moments passed, an eternity in fight time, the heat of the blood spilling on the earth began to be perceptible to the expanding senses of the winterborn. When Eteel heard the clattering of parries in the fight behind him rise above the sound of blood spilled and falling limbs, He dug in his other heel…


Their spin in tandem was so fast, that it was likely certain that all but the closest would have no idea that it had even taken place. They had switched sides for exhaustion, but to the Mask folk they were staring at the same and seemingly tireless champion standing knee-deep in their dead – and if they believed the ruse – even if they somehow stopped the one, they would still have the other to contend with. The move had the predicted effect…


While a semi-winded Jareel took up Eteel’s task of firing arrows out at any movement in the dark, Eteel duplicated the dual-sword forms of his brother perfectly. Making it look as if the piled throng had merely been allowed to accumulate before cutting the dozen or so of them down, Eteel was left with more foes watching him in horror than those maniacally charging. He wasted no time shooting every vapid half-breed and sub-human who gawked at him dead where they stood. While scores of masked folk had passed them on either side, the entire column they were in line with had broken in terror. To the night-eyes of a wood-elf, the ground around them shone WHITE with the heat of spilled blood and bile. A few scum still floundering in their own guts Eteel shot summarily almost without a thought, each twitching once then laying forever still. Jareel, half mad with hatred climbed on all fours over a pile of slippery corpses to stare straight into the face of some kind of mud-covered war-leader, decked with feathers and wearing the scrimshawed skull of an elf woman for a hat. He reached into the gaping chest cavity of the dying half-breed with both hands, literally squeezing the offal from his intestines before the troglodytes very eyes as the dying cur succumbed in terror and shock.


Eteel knew well before now, that his twin was “lost on the path” – the highest passions of an elf can run deeper than the souls of men could likely ever know… his brother had given himself over to hatred and slaughter of the foe – and he would need to bring him back… literally and metaphorically. Who knew how long they had been fighting – though Eteel knew with growing authority his brother was nearing exhaustion… his own arms burned with the labor of all the arrows he had fired. Eteel gave his brother an arm and a knee and pulled him to his feet. In the same gesture Jareel had counted both of their remaining arrows and split them between them. They had four. Eteel cocked an eye at his rampaged brother, who panting, seemed delighted at this state of affairs.


“Dream of the dead in number” Jareel gestured silently.


“I dream of a fight where you do not brilliantly contrive a way for us to die at the hands of a lucky thousandth fool, brother.” He gestured back. He was not getting through. Jareel looked happier than he had in years, just for his brother’s admonishments. Eteel began to put his mind out of the scope of the concluded melee – He attempted to make reason of what they’d done to halt the Masked-one’s offensive, and the path of least resistance of Gnoll war parties pushing south if they had, as Eteel suspected, broken the Masked-one offensive for them single-handedly having cored out the middle of the masked-one’s advancing line. In the same moment his strategic accounting began to whirl down below a dizzying speed – his concerns were given flesh.


They were utterly surrounded by Gnolls. Not like the patrols… center-line infantry – big, black-furred ones with banded armor. Jareel crouched into a grass-snake martial sword-form, most likely because he lacked the strength to stand in a sufficiently threatening manner. Jareel laughed. In the last 200 years, the days that Jareel laughed had unilaterally been the worst. Eteel knew his brother was using all of his effort to keep his hands from shaking as he unclasped his gleamsplitter…


The Gnolls closed in from every direction, carefully, a closing ring of spears and shields, in two ranks, around the winterborn… If their service to the Autumn-Lord did not involve their capture, or worse… decisive action would need to be taken…


(Recall: Jareel does NOT speak, and Eteel considers even talking to the Autumn-lord briefly in passing a departure from a carefully gardened silence he has maintained for literally centuries -- and that most nobles are too filthy to be worthy of his voice. Just Fyi in going forward)

 

[Beckoncall]

@Leusis @General Deth Glitch @SpiralErrant :


Fighting… Howling… dying… the forest sounds like a crash of Rhinos, as the battle escalates. A tense border situation has erupted into a full scale conflict – The Tyren on the hills on the other side of the river see trees deep in the forest shake, some even fall. Howling of various tones and inflections seem to follow the pace of the struggle… Screaming, snarling, dying.


Some kind of rear-regiment of Gnolls with crude shortbows appear in the tree-line across from the Tyren camp – arcing arrows in broken volleys high into the air and amid the wagons of the Tyren. As the Tyren folk flee for cover, some are wounded – but at the moment none can tell how badly. The Holdfast of Hrun’Taras is rapidly spiraling into chaos – a volley of BOULDERS goes flying across the river and into the wood. Likewise casualties cannot be determined, but it breaks up their formation and allows the Tyren folk to take cover behind and in their wagons. One boulder hits the slope at the foot of the wood and goes rolling into the brush like a bouncing cannonball. Another shatters against the tree it strikes, nearly pulping half of the trunk at the point of impact and sending the tree cracking and falling into the wood behind it.


Random and intermittent sling fire flies from the home-side hills above the river… Orm has difficulty determining what has happened, but I believes he sees a stone the size of a pint-glass shatter the jaw of a Gnoll in the brush.


All at once the glade-guard loosed their own staggered volleys that utterly pinned and suppressed Gnoll resistance at the head of the river. Once all their heads were down, they focused on letting any Gnoll who sought to pop his head up that there was an arrow for him. The regiment withdrew.


The patrols arrived and saw the group of Gnolls pitilessly slaughtered in the tree-line where they stood. They saw the glade guard maintaining their suppression. The glade guard had fallen back across the bridge, and Maeder’s forces covered their rear falling back as well to come into line with three Tyren warriors that were previously tasked with guarding their side of the bridge. Belanor took his knee as a show of contrition, with Orm awash in the blood of the mask-kin he carried then laid at the clear before the bridge. He held the mask up, just as Belanor laid his weapon down.


Almost at once a rank of Gnolls bearing wooden shields most resembling iron-shod doors formed in an echelon screening the side of the Gnolls advancing on the bridge from flanking arrow and sling fire, were it to come. Behind this strategic barrier a large force of gnolls came to the very edge of the treeline, less than 40 yards separating where they came to a growling, snapping and salivating halt in cover from where Orm and Belanor resided in near the broken cover and brush of the riverside.


Behind this regiment, or perhaps at the back of it, was a stark white Gnoll – not large, but clearly regarded with deference. Belanor could see for a moment that this Gnoll had seen him too.


All attempts Belanor took to speak to the Gnolls was responded to with even louder barking, snarling, and more aggressive posturing… the front rank of Gnolls seemed as if straining on leashes to keep from bounding to the waterside and descending on them en masse…


…In response to Belanor’s attempts at de-escalation, Gnolls seemed to repeatedly look back to the utterly demolished patrol they had only begun to pull away from the scene of their demise.


The Gnolls began to do two things, clearly evident… They threw four sets of crude shackles out of the wood and within a stone’s throw of where Orm and Belanor were standing, and they began to light a few arrows and fire them at the Elf-bridge. The Gnolls bayed and snapped and shouted and nobody could guess a single word of what anybody was saying – but the message was clear – They wanted everyone already on the other side of the river to stay there, they wanted to demolish the bridge, and they wanted to take Belanor and Orm prisoner.


The shackles provided were for man-sized creatures however – so even if Orm wished to show compliance by surrendering there was no way to cuff his wrists, and only one spot at his ankle was narrow enough to accommodate such shackles on his legs, and even that would preclude his ability to walk without falling face first. The Gnolls meant it though… The fighting in this area of the wood was starting to die down, perhaps one side had already routed – but these Gnolls were focused on securing this flank from Invaders…


…If Belanor made a break for it, he could likely get to bridge swiftly and escape, but the same could not at all be said of Orm, who would likely be charged by an entire regiment of Gnoll infantry…

 

[Beckoncall]

@SpiralErrant


Shul hangs some kind of wicker censer full of smoking embers from one of his horns, occasionally fanning the fumes from it into his eyes, nose, and mouth. Blowing smoke on some of the wounds, he rapidly "field treats" a couple of Tyren workers struck by arrows in the conflict. The warriors roared to the Herdsmen, and the Herdsmen roared to the Elders, and the Elders roared to them, the Shamans... and Shamans would come. Uumush had given Shul a black stone when Bruul called him from their tent, with it Shul could give the Tyren he chose "The moon eye" -- or the ability to see more clearly in the darkness. Shul ran along the northmost point of the line over the river and raised the vigilance of the Warriors and Slingers her passed... Bruul had taken a more direct approach, coming to a stop on the Tyren side of the bridge, looking in stunned amazement at how Orm was out of position with the entirety of his forces, and so seemed also the lord of the elves...

 

[Elucid]

ADMIRALS QUARTERS


"You saw what?!!!" a bewildered and confused Vorenus shouted at Ebon who with a completely straight face had just told him that they were not on an Isle of any kind but were indeed on the back of some giant fish of some kind.


"You heard me sire we're on a living , breathing "fish" although I presume it is in some state of physical or mental inactivity , we should still tread lightly lest we wish to awaken a sleeping giant or in this case a fish" The man had a smirk across his face as if this new revelation brought him enjoyment , something that Vorenus found very disturbing.


"You are certain , beyond any reasonable doubt that this is true?" Vorenus had seen many a strange occurrence in his time as admiral but never something nearly to the scale of what Ebon had just described.


"Well Yes , of course M'lord iv'e seen it with my own eyes or at least through the eyes of the many subjects that you so graciously 'donated' ."


Vorenus sank into his seat without saying a word , he had thought of every possibility , every situation that could possibly transpire , this was something he could have never prepared for.


"Then , if there's nothing else my lord I shall be on my way ..... oh , word from your nephew , it seems he's been able to strike a deal with the 'Beast-men' for the sloop , the goods required for the repairs are being transported as we speak."

@SpiralErrant , @Beckoncall

​

ACTIONS:


-Negotiations with the Tyren have bore fruit and the sloop has been acquired by the company for the total of one wealth point, resources needed for repairs are being ferried so the work should begin shortly.


PROSPECTIVE ENTERPRISE


Grigor had been at work all afternoon supervising the work of his Thralls and skilled worker detail , it seemed that if they continued to work such as they had the investment would come to fruition , as far as the possibility of fermenting the juices of the berries in order to produce berry-wines , lambics ect. Grigor had been given the all clear by Vorenus and the resources along with additional thralls and skilled workers were provided for the task of constructing a winery of some sorts.


ACTIONS:


-An additional 5 thralls and 5 skilled workers were sent to assist Grigor in setting up a Winery.


THE OFFERING


The artisans had begun work on the coral rock brought in by Ebon and his entourage although they were of the opinion that surely the type of rock used in constructing the offering would be of little consequence but Vorenus was not a man to be argued with and hence kept their mouths shut . The work was easy enough since they had been through a "test run" before , It was suggested that this particular object be a crown of some type.The Healer is notified that as soon as the crown is constructed Vorenus shall have audience with the God(s) of the land.

(Something along these lines)​

ACTIONS:


-The group of artisans get to work in constructing the crown . the obsidian that was found will be used as the jewels pictured above (Should be easy enough and quick with their experience and the relatively easy design.)

 

[Leusis]

The twins were surrounded, and sadly by the same race they were sent to help, by defeating a ridiculous number of the masked ones. Sad really how simple minded these creatures were, even when the twins were surrounded by the bodies of the gnolls enemy they could not tell that Eteel and Jareel were trying to help. Both of them unsheathing their gleamsplitters in unison they need not even glance at each other to discover what the other was thinking. Back to back they would raise their blades, unleashing a torrent of light so bright that it not only blinded the gnolls that surrounded them, but also likely caused intense pain in their eyes. This sudden flash of brilliance mixed with the fact their eyes were already adjusted to the dark of night was an excrutiating combo, something that could likely faulter even the most disciplined of lines. It was of course in this instant that the twins took their chance, dashing towards the north, either slipping by the gnolls or hacking them down as they ran, only needing to bypass four at most as their ranks were only two deep.


From this point on it would be a game of cat and mouse, evading any gnoll they came across with expert skill as they were the best of the Glade Guard, unmatched in stealth and combat among the kin who crossed the ocean. Proceeding north quickly but silently they would make their way to the fallen Tree-Ent, the ominous crossing that now elf up to this point had even thought of using. However, this was their only way of moderately safe escape, though if they fell in they would likely be carried far down river if not drowned. But at least they would not be forced to cross under fire and assault by foolish gnolls who wished for only their heads, despite them slaughtering their enemy for them. Moving across the fallen Ent slowly they would make sure to keep their steps light, never keeping weight on an area that seemed or felt weak to their delicate touch. If they made it across, their trip would be simple, move along just south of Shearcliffs until they could head south back into their forests.


- Twins used gleamsplitters to blind gnolls so they can escape the surrounding formation.


- Travel north to cross the river via dead Ent and proceed back to the forests.


Belanor, watching as the gnolls growled and barked took particular notice of a white gnoll near the back, one who seemed to be the leader, and a foolish one at that if he thought he could get away with attacking either the Tyren or Elves. Due to the fact that if he unleashed the wrath of the Elves and Tyren, he would also have to deal with the masked ones and it would become a two front war for his people, something that would doom them. Seeing the shackles thrown to he and Orm he looked to the crowd of gnolls, each one full of piss and vinegar, not understanding what their actions could mean for themselves, their mates, and their pups. If it was prisoners they wanted, they would not recieve them, but if it was war, then they would have it, and feel the sting of elvish arrows and bitter edge of Tyren blades alike.


Glancing over at Orm for mere moments he gave him an unmistakeable look, a look that declared that he was willing to fight for their escape or die along side this honorable bull who seemed to be willing to do the same. They had given it their all, but at this point war was unavoidable, and thus Belanor whistled the tone of a Robin, the signal for the Glade Guard to unleash hell. However, the Glade Guard knowing the size of the stones the Tyren used and the strength of their arm, waited for them to send their first volley, hoping the massive stones that could bring down entire trees would smash and break the gnoll line. It was then, when the gnolls were vulnerable that they would loose their arrows, aiming only for vital areas on the gnolls, hoping to thin their line quick enough that they would not dare leave the cover of the tree line. Hopefully this would give Belanor and Orm enough time to cross the bridge. Surprisingly enough however Belanor would wait for Orm to proceed across the bridge first, walking backwards, his back pressed against the Bull so that he could guide him across. Bow held firmly in his hands Belanor would begin loosing several arrows at any gnoll foolish enough to try and rush after them, and with his impressive aim he didn't just aim for center mass. Any exposed flesh that was not protected by a shield or tree would be free game, disabling of the enemy being enough for him as he only wished to escape with his and Orm's life intact.


- Order the Glade Guard to fire volleys at the gnolls while the Tyren sling their stones to try and give supressing fire for Belanor and Orm to escape.


- Belanor fires at any approaching gnolls while crossing the bridge behind Orm.